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bahngnxxx · 3 days ago

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୧ ‧₊🎧 No turning back once we’re connected.

Dentist bangchan x !f!paitent

author's note: I was at the dentist and I was sleepy asf, but then this fineass doctor came in and absolutely PENATRATED my mouth with his hands and that got me thinking about bangchan, since earlier i was watching thirst traps before entering the appointment lol. Im ovulating so i jus wanna get straight to the smut... pls spare me, this is my first fic. Ill write better ones, not just pure smut. TmT Anygays, enjoy!!

word count: 5.3k

warnings: (NOT PROOF RED) p in v (unprotected, NAURRR) vaginal creampie, multiple orgasms, fem overstimulation, nipple pinching/biting, biting overall, vaginal fingering, eating out (both fxm), dirty talk, slight sadism, spanking, squirting, possible impregnation, dry humping, a bit of piss, clitplay.. Too lazy to list anymore. Lmk if sumn catches your eye, but overall this is just a really filthy one.🤷‍♀️

A cold, chilling woosh of air hits you, the automatic doors swinging open, the gentle cool breeze of the AC brushing against your skin, causing a slight grow of goosebumps against you. You clocked in at the entrance for your first dentist appointment after 3 months of being abroad, so the difference between the humid air of palm springs and the cool contrasting air of Canada really didn’t sit well with you. You were still jetlagged too, so maybe you could shut your eyes during your appointment, I don’t think the doctor would mind. You don’t think you could keep your eyes open for any longer, anyways.

You gently sat down on a coach in the distance. You had booked an appointment down near the south, suburb corner of town. The places lounge was small, crowded, but managed to still have a nice cozy essence to it, a tv table at front, small beige couches stacked all around, plants and trees hanging off from the wooden plated walls and light spruce floors, the scent of minty Colgate mixed with a fresh smell of coffee filling the lounge. You nuzzled into the pale couch, scrolling away on your phone to some k-pop thirst traps on your free time, adjusting the bra strap that hung out of your off shouldered white sweater, clinging around your curves slightly, your body slumped down lazily, legs spread out shamelessly, until a doctor had called out for you, startling you. You stood up straight, brushing off yourself before bowing down apologetically, following the lady down a long hall, until you had arrived to the room.

As usual, the room was white like an asylum, a long chair centered in the middle of the chaos, a large light gazing over it as well as a tv attached to the ceiling. There was a crack of golden sunlight peeking through the room, giving a nice crisp color to it. You laid down onto the seat as the doctor told you to, and did the average things like plucking and tapping at your teeth with a bunch of pointy gadgets, blah blah, the usual. She then nodded and went outside the room, assumingly calling your new doctor.

Ever since you had switched to the southern side of town, and doing things, there seemed to be a lot of Koreans working in the area, not that you were complaining, and you had a suspicion for your new doctor. He went by Chris, or Christopher, but you did a little digging to catch a glimpse of the name ‘Bang Chan’ and that unleashed a fantasy in you, so you’d hope that you would get a nice Korean doctor. You were single and in your mid-twenties anyways, it’s time you’d find a partner.

You heard some shuffling in the halls, and they approached closer before a black heeled shoe entered the room, then another, and then he popped into the room. A man who looked a year or two older then you, his hair a crisp black and middle parted, going down to his neck, slightly shaggy and curly, his eyes wide and kind, but also so seducing in a way, his nose larger than usual and a diamond piercing on one side, as well as small hoops in his ears and a chain around his thick slender neck, and oh my gosh, he had his coat off, and had this BODY CLENCHING black shirt on, revealing the massive tits and curved abs he had. His lips were large and plump, nothing like you’ve seen before, his tongue slightly out as his eyes slowly crept their way towards your gaze, his mouth crinkling into a jaw dropping smile, dimples forming on both sides of his cheeks, his aegyo Sal puffing up and his eyes wrinkling on the sides as he did. His eyes formed to small crescents as he smiled, a kind twinkle in them. HOLY FUCK.

Your jaw was dropped. You sat there on the long chair, your body hunched over as you stared at him with wide eyes, you looked like an idiot, honestly. He let out a breathless chuckle as he walked over to you, spinning the scaler perfectly in between his gloved, veiny hands. “So how’ya doing today?”

He spoke in a deep, but kind voice, with a rich Australian accent. You let out a stuttered, shy response as he pumped the seat downwards until you were lying flat, his face towering over yours, only his eyes visible now, the mask covering the rest. “U-uh yeah, I’m good.. How about you..?”

He smiled back down at you, his chest heaving over your head as he moved the strands of messy hair off of your face, sending heat through your abdomen through your stomach. It felt like there were butterflies—no, birds flying in your stomach. You bit on your lower lip, as he set a gentle thumb on your chin. “Hmm, pretty good, thanks. How ‘bout you open wide for me, yeah?”

and you almost immediately followed his command, widening your jaw, a line of spit against your tongue and tooth. Two of his fingers entered your jaw, coated in your spit as he pressed down on your tongue lightly. You were ovulating too, so this didn’t make it any better at all. You held back a whimper, fighting demons against yourself. You fidgeted with your hands below your lap, curling your feet upwards, and he could sense your nervousness, letting out small breathy laughs. “Good girl, relax. I’m not gonna eat’chya.”

and again, immediately, your body loosened--almost a little too much—going limp and melting under his words. There was a calm jazz playing over the radio, the crisp golden sunlight hitting his blazing eyes, and ever so lightly brushing against his black, curled locks.

All through his work, he didn’t seem to be paying attention to your mouth, not at all, honestly. He just kept staring into your eyes, his eyes crinkled up ever so slightly, meaning that he must still have a smile under his face. He just wouldn’t stop smiling, it staying, his intense gaze remaining on you as he tapped on each of your teeth, his fingers tracing around your mouth, exploring it. His eyes just got heavier and heavier on you, narrowing slightly down subtly before he stood up and grabbed those mini mirror things up from a shelf, unwrapping it from its shell and discarding of the flimsy plastic before he shone that damn light from above onto you, blinding you. You squinted at the light before looking back at him. He provided some sort of shadow from the light, so you relied on staring at him back, since you didn't really have any other choice.

The wind outside started to densen up, the once sunny outside sending a dark shadow through the room, the dim lamp now being your only support of light. You hated the light at first, but now you were holding onto your dear life with it. You don’t think you could survive farther then 5 more minutes, or you would go wild. You clenched your thighs shut tight, which he immediately and shamelessly switched his attention to. His eyes narrowed further at your legs, his seducing gaze running up and down them. Theres no way that your dentist is doing this. No way hes checking you out, but no matter how much you denied it, he totally was. He looked back up at you, now only one of his eyes crinkled, his eyebrow cocked up. “Something bothering you?”

he spoke in a low, more breathy tone now, taking his hands out of your mouth and sliding his gloves off, his veiny hands now clear to you. You breathe caught in your throat as you let out a shakey response.

“You.” you whispered; you don’t know why you said that. You slapped a hand over your mouth, your eyes slightly wide, cheeks turning red, and almost immediately, Chan smiled deviously, removing his mask and closing the door behind him, sitting back on the wheelie chair, spinning back to you, his hands now levitating over your chest. “Hm? What was that? Couldn’t quite hear you.”

You let out a hitched breath, your eyes fluttering shut halfway as your back arched towards his hands until you were now sitting up, lodged up against the chair in a restrained position, both his veiny slender forearms propped up in the crevasses of your waist. “Gettin’ comfy, hm? If you want it, say it.”

“P-please Bang Chan.”

he let out that deep, incredibly sexy chuckle, smooth as butter, and almost instantly did your panties fill with a gush of arousal. With that, his final strings of restraint tore apart, his mouth drifting over to yours, his lips lush against your thirsted tongue. He fought a rough battle with your mouth, his tongue darting delving deeper into you, exploring every inch of your wet throat, his fingers now grazing over and under your thick sweater, pulling your shirt up with a swipe as he unclipped your bra with one veiny hand, still working at your mouth. His rough thumbs drifting over your plump bottom lip, extending your jaw for deeper access. His lips parted away from yours, his breath growly and panting before he looked up at you with that damned, deep dimpled grin, his mouth leaving a wet trail down your chin and neck, to your collarbone and straight to the cleavage of your breasts, the tips of his fingers slowly making its way to your tits, curling around the velvety, thick material.

You let out a high-pitched whine—near a yelp as you bucked your breasts up toward his hands, another quick gush of arousal filling your already soaked panties. “F-fuck Chris--.. what if.. We get caught...?”

he looked up at you, his mouth still latched at you like a leech, with wide eyes, almost innocent looking despite the situation, but quickly they narrowed to those same teasing eyes as he hooked off you, a string of spit on his tongue that dribbled down the cleavage of your boobs. He silently brought a finger to his mouth, shushing you before he slowly led his soft puckered mouth to your tit, his breathe hot against your hardened, perked up brown patch. He agonizingly brought his tongue around it, his lips curling around the tip of it as he suckled on your soft breast. You couldn’t help but let out small squeals as he licked and slurped at you, his free hand sliding down the side of your waist and to your small pretty jeaned up pussy, clenching the fat top layer before a finger slid slick into your folds, the outline of your throbbing clit palpable through the thick fabric. Your hips buckled towards his fingers in a desperate attempt for some sort of friction, his slender calloused hands curling up into your aching core through the fabric, his plump lips latching off your nipples with a soft moan. He soothed the aching sensation on your nips with a few gentle kisses as he pulled off your shirt, you were bare and had those porn star like tits. Not too big, but perky and rounded for sure. He led his hungered gaze over them. “So pretty.”

he breathed out. The soon admiring gaze snapped back to in between your legs, you were clamping them shut against his hands, needily grinding and humping against him. He popped his hand from between your heat and with one swift motion, picked you up from the chair and SAT in it HIMSELF. You were about to scoff before he pulled you onto his lap, in the type of position where your perfect little ass was laid above his muscular thighs, your legs straddling him from both sides, his dick standing straight up right before your camel toed pussy, your cheeks tinting a bright rosey red. “Move those hips pretty girl. Need your clit rubbing ‘gainst me, yeah?”

you are NOT his strongest solider because holy shit, the way this man has spells over you.. You start to transfer your heavy hips atop his and grinding downwards to his cock, but he lets out a ‘tch’ and holds your love handles to stop you from moving. “This won’t do. Need you in those pretty pink panties.”

now how the hell did he know what color it was? Whatever, and with a huff you start to unzip those tight jeans from off your legs until your pants were on the floor. His own slacks met yours on the floor in a crumpled mess, and God was it huge, full of girth and length, it was dying to be released from the boxers, like a huge water bottle in his garments.

You were so turned on, you knew exactly the feeling, you needed him now. You were a hot mess, you wanted and needed him so quickly and without much thought, you sat back on his lap, trying to put your embarrassment aside, you sat down facing him, with your legs in the air on either side of the chair, Chan was surprised and felt so delightful your weight on his erection, he didn’t think you were going to position yourself like that but you left him absolutely charmed. You were dealing with the bulge between his pants pressing against your pussy. He was so hard, you could feel it if only through the slightly thick, rough cotton of his black garments. Just the thought of seeing his cock made your skin bristle with excitement. And suddenly, a wave of confidence hit you, a little too strong like a slap in the face, and now you were gliding your flaps perfectly through his shaft, apparent through boxers. You could feel the way the hard girth pulsated and pushed into your wet entrance even through the fabric, the mix of his precum in his shorts and your slick making it intoxicating and barely bare able. As the grinding of yours against him got more intense, small pants left his parted lips, hips bucking up often with every push of your pussy down against him.

Chan moaned, letting out soft, melodic “A-aah, mmnh..” and then he raised his gaze, staring into your eyes, causing you to shiver at his lustful stare. “Fuck, look at you moving for me like that, keep doing what ‘your doing, just like that.. So good, love.” he licked his lips, leveling his face with yours, talking to you in such a sultry tone that it made your cheeks hot. You were so pathetically horny and starved that you were enjoying to the fullest-- bouncing on Chan’s cock under the hard cotton, pressing all over your pussy, your labia, moving them nimbly that it made you blur your vision.

“God yeah-- you’re doing so good, beautiful.” His voice aroused you more and more bringing you so close to your orgasm, you were so concentrated in the sensation of your movements on his cock, you couldn’t stop, you moved your hips and Chan helped you with his hands squeezing your waist, guiding your every hump; you felt so hot and trapped, so desperate to get your clothes off but you didn’t want to stop, you weren’t going to stop until you were tired, it was as if you had no choice but to climax right now, just like this, and under his gaze it was physically impossible, flushed and sweaty, eager, watching you with keen, firey eyes. Chan was sighing and straining to make you feel good at the same time you were making him feel that effect on him, squeezing his cock so hard, expelling precum and not so far from his ejaculation.

Chris bit his lower lip and caught your mouth again, touching your restless and desperate body, he was about to cum. You were starting to get tired but it was a tiredness so inexplicably pleasurable, your chest was burning from the constant strong heartbeat. You were at your limit and you were doing almost nothing, but both of you were a mess of heaving breaths, Chan didn’t want to change anything about you either at that moment, he just squeezed you tightly enjoying every movement until he cum inside his underwear, in a gasp, throwing his head back, feeling one pressure release pleasantly but another coming so abruptly and quickly not wanting to finish yet with you. You held onto his shoulders tightly, pressed your legs into his body, Chan knew you were close so he encouraged you, with a kiss on your mouth half open and words that warmed even your ears. “Go on, cum, princess, let yourself go… Cum for me.”

You gasped in despair and a little high-pitched moan, you cum all over your panties, leaving you flushed, breathless and with your pussy sticky. Seconds later you wanted to catch your breath, you still felt immobile before his big hands squeezing your body, you were at levels of agitation you didn’t think you’d reach in the near future with another guy. He was so the one, no matter a side chick from a new dentist you just met, you’d be booking appointments weekly with the daily pathetic excuse of tooth aches. That's one way to go.

One orgasm down, so many more to go, left a sloppy panting mess atop him, he gently carries you until you're sitting at the side of the chair, on the edge, legs spread wide, head in a daze, not a care in your eyes until the sensation of his cold hands hits your underwear – a loss of warmth but a new sensation. Only when you look down is when you catch the concentrated man on his knees for you, peeling off your pink panties and licking the slick off of it so none went to waste, letting out an approving hum.

“You taste so fucking good.”

Chan said it, in such a thick voice so lost in the image of your pussy. You were a hot trembling mess, letting out a shuddered moan as you felt his warm, full lips on the skin of your plump mons pubis, giving you kisses and leaving little hickeys down his way until his mouth took your clit, making you squeal; you were beginning to relax and let yourself be carried away by the tingling of the tip of his index finger caressing your soft, moist vulva, playing with your wetness, until two of his fingers teased your entrance until he inserted his fingers, while his mouth never let go of your sensitive spot, licking and sucking it gently, causing you pleasure and the beginning of trembling in your legs.

Chan fucked you gently and deeply for a few moments, teasing you and reaching sweet places inside your tight pussy, but he withdrew his fingers from you, positioned both his hands on your thighs, squeezing them gently and began to move his mouth all the way down your vulva, licking the right places, sucking delightfully on your labia and filling himself with you, from his chin to his nose, so focused working on you. You felt so hot, and he looked so good eating you out while you were a panting mess, arching your back and being pleasured. Your slick dripped its way down his chin, covering his faces with your whipped up, once clear but now creamy and sweet juices. “Fuck," He groaned out, lapping up and sucking at your clit, then going back down to collect your juices.

You were close, again, your hips stuttering against his plump lips as he alternated from eating your pussy to sucking at your clit. He could feel the way your hips bucked up, the way your needy pussy clenched around his tongue, before with one last suck of your vagina, he slid up and started going savage onto your clit, opening his mouth with a wide grin, flicking his tongue against you as he plunged two fingers, slick with spit inside of your already seeping pussy, thrusting in and out and curling his fingers up in a way that was sure to drive you over the edge, and so it did, a mix of juices and release spewing all over his fingers, up to the muscles of his forearms, squealing out his name in a desperate moan.

“Chris- chrischris—c-christopher!! Cumming!!”

He stared at you in awe and immense pleasure, cock twitching in his boxers as he witnessed your climax, shaking and trembling, heartbeat pounding, sweat dripping, hot and messy flushed face, hips bucking up so high he could have sworn he was seeing stars, and before you knew it the sound of fabric sliding down filled your sensitive, worn-out ears, and a deep sensation hit your overstimulated pussy.

Within seconds, as you came down from your haze, you were immediately sent back to that trance but so much deeper as his girthed cock unmercifully pounded its way deep into your pussy, kissing your cervix with every deep thrust. His hips slam against yours as he slides back in, you're so warm and wet around him that he's losing his mind. He's like a rabbit in heat as he moves his hips, harder and harder, his balls hitting your ass and the sounds that leaves your lips encourages him more. One minute you have your legs wrapped around his waist pulling him deeper and the next your legs are against your chest as Chan's large hands are on the back of your thighs as he slams his hips against yours again. He's hypnotized. Your pussy sucking in dick so well, and you're taking it like a good girl too. Tears falling from your eyes and words leave your lips but he doesn't really understand what you're saying. The word daddy leaves your lips, and you chant it over and over.

You felt so full, his dick filling you up so nicely and you honestly believe that you could cum just like this. And the way the tip of his head hits your sweet spot it makes you feel on cloud nine. Thrusting into you with a sharp hit of his hips, and you internally cringe at yourself for hiccupping at the force. “G-god-!!” is all you manage to say as he continues slamming his hips into you at a painfully slow pace, looking you dead in the eye as you crumble beneath his intense gaze.

gripping at his biceps and biting your lip as an attempt to keep your moans in, but the little whimpers and whines end up spilling out anyway. You can feel Chan's cock twitch inside you every time you say yes for him, especially with the way your walls are throbbing around his length as he groans the words “good girl” in the midst of it all.

“So so good for me,” he continues, grinding his hips in a way that makes his pelvis graze your clit rhythmically, and you’re sure you’re seeing stars once his hand finds your neck, just resting it there to get your attention. “W-want you to fill me up so bad,” you whimper, and he lets a groan out right after you… one that makes your stomach flutter with emotions given how beautiful it sounded.

“Channie--” you blabber out pathetically, your own mouth filling with saliva at how amazing he’s making you feel right now. “P-please-!!” you cry out, and it’s a weak cry. He finally lets his lips find yours in a needy kiss, and a string of spit keeps y’all together as he breaks away to let out a moan of his own, but you’re pulling him back into you, wanting him to be as close as possible to you in this moment.

“Feels so fucking good inside you, sooo fucking good,” he grunts, and you know he’s almost close just from the way his eyebrows are screwing into adorable little crinkles, his thrusts becoming sloppier and sloppier by the second.

“F-fuck-” you mewl against his lips, feeling the knot in your own stomach tighten as his cock hit mesmerizing places inside you. He keeps his hand snug around your neck while looking into your eyes, and his hips can’t bare to piston into your cunt any longer once your walls clench around him, making him feel dizzy in the head. At that point, hes too far in to care about anything, gripping your ass cheek with an intense need as his hands lands a hard slap against it, leaving a red stain of his handprint on your cheek, the stinging pain of his hands and soothing rubs making you go insane.

With each 3-4 hard thrusts, he adds in a hard WACK, marking both cheeks with a rosey red that looked like it was blushing, and soon enough he was lifting one leg straight up like a candle, toes curled as he fucked deep into you, with a new refreshment that was only yours to claim, luckily enough. He fucked into you with a matched fervor that can only be described as wild, and with that, chan finally lets himself go, barely getting any extra thrusts in before painting your walls with his hot release, groaning shamelessly like a porn star. “Oh my God,” he grunts with a strained voice, using his last bit of strength to prevent himself from collapsing on top of you given how spent he is now. He pops out of you soon enough, after having his soft cock warmed up by your wet walls, his cum seeping out of your used pussy, but his cock doesn’t look... normal. Its soft yet still kind of up, like maybe his balls were too big and propping it up? No, it was infact still semi-hard, his eyes meeting yours with a mutual agreement, a challenge, as if asking to help him out, and so you did, backing up into the marbled countertops containing of those small sinks and that random hole filled with garbage.

His hand slides to the back of your neck, firm but gentle, and pulls you closer. “Good girl,” he praises, voice laced with an almost indistinguishable amount of contempt, and it has you reeling. You lick a bit along his tip, slowly and gently kissing along the sensitive skin, and you can already feel it start to rise along your lips. His fingers weave through your hair with a slow sigh. You press another kiss to the side of his cock, soft at first, as if tasting the moment before plunging in. His body shudders. The saltiness lingers on your tongue as you part your lips wider, slowly taking him into your mouth. “Fuck,” he breathes, the word barely audible, more an exhale than speech.

His hand slightly tightens in your hair, not pulling, just holding, grounding himself. You hollow your cheeks, sliding further forward, and the groan that rumbles in his chest sends a thrill through you. The weight of him is heavy on your tongue, and you let yourself sink into a languid pace, drawing him in, inch by inch, savoring the way his body reacts. His hips jerk, just a little, involuntarily, and you can’t help the slight moan that leaves your throat. The sound and vibration seem to undo him.

“You’re so fucking good at this,” Chan grunts, his voice rough around the edges, raw with need. His hand cups the back of your head, guiding you—not forcing, but encouraging—as you take him deeper, working with a mix of tongue, lips, and a shit ton of spit.

You glance up, catching his gaze. A carnal glint is in his stare, and he smiles. Fuck. The sight of him nearly takes your breath away. His jaw falls slack, his lips part, and his eyes lock on you—heavy-lidded and burning with something primal. The tension in his thighs grow as you continue, a gradual acceleration in the way you take him in. The soft, wet sounds fill the air, mingling with his labored breaths and low groans. His thumb brushes your cheek, a ticklish touch that feels oddly tender amidst the heat. “Just like that,” Chan murmurs, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Don’t stop. You’re—perfect.” You give an hum, letting it thrum in your mouth. Chan whimpers and it’s an absolutely beautiful thing to hear. You hum again, louder this time. Your chest heaves at the limited breathing but Chan is slowly losing his sense of control and it arouses you, motivates you to keep going. “God, your skilled. I work in oral care, yet you seem to be better at it.” Chan laughs to himself, head thrown back, words spiked with unmistakable lust. His hands move to your shoulders, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he fights the urge to thrust into your mouth. “I won’t last if you keep going like that.” His voice cracks, betraying the thin line of self-control he’s holding onto. You pull back slightly, just enough to take a breath, then bob your head back into his girth, but this time you take him deep and you swear you can catch glimpse of his soul leaving his body, eyes rolling back and brows furrowed in a pornographic way. You choke and gag slightly on his cock, but being the sadistic girl you are, you take pleasure in the way he thrusts less carelessly into your mouth, fucking into you as he tugs on your hair as a guide, the only pillar of support besides the cold counter behind him, his other hand holding onto the edge so he wouldn’t slip, but the moment you hollow your cheeks again and gaze up at him with that stare is when he looses it. Before he could mutter any more words, he just lets out a series of swears. “F-fucking hell-! O-oh my god cumming--”

And a hot liquid fills your throat, forcing its way inside until your throat is sore, raw and hot from his salty liquids. It’s murky and a bit penny-like in a way, but your addicted to the taste that would normally seem gross. As you pull back with a mix of spit and cum on your tongue, he ruffles up your hair and helps stand you up, kissing an awkward kiss onto your messy forehead as he sets you back down onto the chair, scooping out the remains of his liquid out of your spent pussy and dabbing it up with a tissue, the light fabric teasing your overstimulated clit, drawing a whine out of you. He gently hushes you and continues to clean you up and pack up his stuff.

“Until next time, yeah? And wear those pink panties again, they look good on you.” He waves out with a charming wink, despite his current state.

God, this man. Guess your next appointment won’t just be one type of oral...

#bang chan #smut #christopher bang #dentist #stray kids #skz #skz x reader #bangchan x reader #HELPIDKWHATIMDOING #firstpost #thirsty #no plotline #pls no hate #hornyyy #chan x reader #bangchan smut #stray kids smut #bang chan x you

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unfortunate-brat · 2 days ago

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Forbidden Fruit

winchester!twins x latina!reader

synopsis: when adam and eve stumbled into the garden of eden, god had only one rule. the fruit that came from the tree, with it’s beautiful green leaves and delicious looking fruit was forbidden. neither one would eat it, or they shall face a consequence worse than death. yet when both twins meet you, a face far too beautiful for a school like this, they face the same temptation that adam and eve once did.

series warnings: smut, angst, jealousy, dark themes, sibling rivalry

yazzy's comments:okay i do have to give credit to @floralscented because their stanford!dean fics came out before my own. i love a good twins au and love triangle. this will not have chapters in order as each piece can be read as a standalone. also ave and I were discussing this so they are also credited for the brain rot we had with these fuckers.

jackles crew: @deansbeer / @soldiersgirl / @stereotypicalbarbie

18+, must have age in bio to interact. minors and ageless accounts will be blocked !!

follow @unfortunate-bratfics for just new posted imagines !!

you met the boys in the fall at stanford during orientation, noting their similar features and contradicting behaviors.

michael, the oldest, was reserved. didn’t speak much and often used his eyes to communicate. his clothes were ironed and tailored to every single inch of skin. glasses perched on his freckled nose, pillows of pink pursed into a thin line unless he turned them upside down for a brief frown. hair parted and combed neatly to the side. you’d find him in the library, in his own reserved study room getting a head start on other assignments or reading greek history. book in one hand and an apple in another. the man was a health freak.

dean, the youngest of the two was more outgoing. that charming smile and way with words had anyone practically under his spell. usually his hair was spiky, not really combed out and left alone. unlike his older twin, dean had no issue speaking his mind, yet when it came to feelings he would keep them inside. his eyes always a soft green, ones any girl would lose themselves in. you’d often see him on the football field running laps or drills. being captain was a tough position but he made it seem easy. his diet was terrible, always ditching lunch breaks for burgers across the street. the cheesier the better.

both boys gained lots of attention that first year and though it took time to not confuse them, eventually people spotted the differences. knew which twin like or didn’t like, sometimes the hard way. michael didn’t like to make chitchat, so when the cheerleaders would spot him in the hallway and rush over, he’d flash them a glare before walking away. and when dean spotted those same cheerleaders later, flaunting his infamous smile, they’d walk away. dean hated how michael ruined his reputation sometimes, he wanted to fit in for once. or at least try to.

you had spotted signs to not get the twins confused, recalling michael always carried his watch and had a slightly darker shade of green in his eyes. though that’s if you could stand looking at him in the eyes long enough. the older twin was easily annoyed, looking down upon everyone like a god and his mortals.

when it came to dean, the young man instantly brightened up the room. his hair was either spiky or somewhat shaggy. eyes a bright green like a candy apple, lips curled into a sweet smile. a total sweetheart and the poster boy for any rom com. sometimes though, he carried a faint smell of cigarettes. if anyone were to ask, no he hadn’t been smoking.

·̩͙།† ͝ ︶ ͝ ⏝ ͝ ︶ ͝ †། ·̩͙

Please note; I do not allow translations or redistributions of my work by anyone else except myself. MDNI, if your account is ageless or empty, I will block you !! Minors are NOT welcome here.

#yazzy’s works !!#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x latina!reader #michael!dean x reader #michael!dean x latina!reader #forbidden fruit au 🍓 !!#angst #smut #fluff #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #dean winchester fanfiction #michael!dean #Dean Winchester x you #dean x you #dean winchester fic #dean winchester smut #dean winchester angst

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1ntaks · 3 days ago

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we overlap.

☆ lee hyunjae x fem!reader — warnings: fluff; fem!reader who wears makeup, more feminine clothing, and has implied long hair that can have fingers run through it; mild miscommunication; drinking; cursing; unspecified small age gap; use of sunbae, hyung (sorry); hyunjae (deserves a warning of his own); flirting; kissing; a lil cringe ☆ 16.6k words, not proofread — author's note: writing style probably changes a lot, this took me a while to write and i am writing academically once more so that affects my writing. it also just took three months, i'm very slow. this is a stand alone work and the only expansion i'm willing to do is what i choose to write and publish, or small asks about their dynamic! thank you so much to my icon and savior @heedeungism for hyping me up and beta-reading. and also obligatory shout out to @cloudykyu sorry i sent you the draft and posted before you replied i love u so bad

You’d always known of Lee Hyunjae.

Not personally. He was popular, a distant figure you’d heard about via whispers in the comms department, a cool upperclassman that people looked up to. Smart. Handsome. You’d heard some people call him friendly and sweet. (Namely, your own friend, Sangyeon, who shared a friend group with the man. You’d never run into Hyunjae yourself despite this, preferring one-on-one hangouts with your, self-proclaimed, older brother.)

Most commonly, you heard that he was unapproachable. He didn’t go out much.

Which is why it was so surprising to see him walk into the math lab, holding a huge box of materials. It must’ve been heavy, his forearm muscles clearly straining as he maneuvered it on top of one of the linoleum tables against the wall.

“Hey, Sangyeon,” Hyunjae pokes his head out in the hall, and you perk up at the mention of him. “Where am I putting the books?” You can’t hear the muffled reply, but you watch him walk back to the table, only to unpack textbook on top of textbook and slide them onto shelves.

You only regain your focus when a pencil jabs your side. “Ow!” You whine, whipping around to glare at Jimin.

She smiles at you sweetly before responding, voice dropped to a whisper. “You’re drooling. Focus on pre-calc.” You huff, looking back over at Hyunjae. He is handsome, you decide, admiring the tight black shirt and his arm muscles. You can’t see much of his face, just a furrowed brow as he tries to organize the materials.

“I’m not drooling,” you reply finally, lamely, to your friend as you twist back towards the table. “I’m… admiring.”

She scoffs. “Right. Well, you can admire after you pass your exam,” she points the pencil at you before shaking her head and sighing. Rude. “Besides, we’re meeting Ryu in like an hour. Hurry up.”

Right. Ryujin had dance practice this morning and demanded to be taken out for lunch after. And you didn’t want to argue with her, ever, but especially not when she was hangry — you swore up and down that your life flashed before your eyes the one time you made that mistake in high school. You still had nightmares.

“I don’t understand any of this,” you whine, looking at the jumble of print on your worksheet. “Can I give up?” You pout at her. She shakes her head ‘no’ and keeps scribbling on her own paper, so you ignore her to lay your head down on the table and watch as Hyunjae breaks down the box. Sangyeon pops his head in and waves at you before checking the time.

“We gotta go, Jae,”

Hyunjae hums, following Sangyeon’s eyes to where you rest. You smile, the small corners up one for strangers, and he gives a small smile back before turning back around. “Then c’mon.”

After a few beats of silence and the faint ding of the elevator, you turn back to Jimin. “So, um, what… what department is he in?”

She laughs, bright and genuine. “You, my friend,” she ruffles your hair and you whine, trying to smooth back the strands as you lean away from her. “Are helpless.”

“I can’t be curious?” She smiles at you. Smugly. Knowingly. Damn her. “Jimin!”

“Alright, alright,” she raises her hand in surrender. “He’s in comms, just like you.”

You hum, smiling softly. He was your upperclassman, technically, more than he was hers. Every department had one of those, right? It didn’t matter. He seemed to live up to the hype you’d heard — helpful, handsome… damn, what other ‘h’ adjective could you tack on?

“You already knew that.” Her words cut off your train of thought and you give a shy nod. “I know just as much about him as you do. If you want to know more about him, why don’t you just ask Sangyeon? They’re in the same friend group.”

“It’s not that easy,” you sulk, doodling roses in the upper right corner of your worksheet. In an ideal world, you’d get extra credit points for making the math prettier. “Sangy will think I’m into him.”

She levels an unimpressed stare at you and sighs, packing up quickly. “Then suffer. I don’t know.” You scrunch up your face in distaste at her words, but hold her water bottle without complaint as she finishes cleaning off your table. “Let’s go. I would kill for some pho right now.”

Her words spur you to scramble after her towards the elevator. Worries about Sangyeon’s nosiness aside, you hadn’t eaten since seven-thirty and you were almost positive that you were starting to see noises as the hunger got to you.

Jimin told you that you were insane. You took it as a compliment.

Sangyeon invited you to his birthday party with his closest friend group. They had planned it, apparently as a surprise but he told you they were god awful at hiding it.

You were a bit hesitant, since you were awkward around new people, but you wanted to be able to celebrate his birthday with him for the first time since you’d become friends. You’d met in late November last year, when you were crying over finals. He’d never let you live it down, but you were glad it happened, as embarrassing as it was. When you’d confirmed, he’d grinned and made you pinky-promise that you wouldn’t flake on him.

So, here you were, the day before his birthday (unfortunately for him, it fell on a Monday), staring at your closet like it had personally offended you. Everything seemed too dressy or way too casual, and despite his reassurances that you could show up in pajamas and be fine, you were worried about what you were going to wear. You wanted to make a good impression on the people he cared about.

You settle on jeans and a black shirt you had definitely bought for a job interview at some point. You slip your lip tint into your bag and study yourself in the mirror. Was your eyeliner uneven? Before you can fix it, you get a text from Sangyeon lighting up your screen — telling you that the “surprise” went well and it’s at his friend’s place.

The address comes in seconds later and you sigh. No going back now.

When you show up, you wish you had brought a jacket, the wind having bit your arms on the way over. You ring the doorbell, rocking back and forth on your feet until it swings open to a smiley face and then — “Sangyeon, your girl is here!”

“She’s like my sister!” He doesn’t even miss a beat in shutting down that teasing, appearing in the doorway a few seconds later. “Hi, Y/N-ie.”

You smile and hug him. “Hi, Sangy,” you shift closer to his side as they shut the door. “Nice to meet you…” you trail off and look at the guy who answered the door. You should know his name. Why don’t you remember? (You’d had Sangyeon give you a crash course over text last night, after you practically begged him to send you pictures with their names. But you didn’t remember seeing anyone with long, wavy black hair, so you realize the pictures must be old and practically useless.)

“Kevin!” He doesn’t seem to mind you not knowing. That eases the tightness in your chest. “You can put anything you got him over here on the table—” and with that, you’re dragged away from your friend, helplessly shooting him a wide-eyed look. “Or if it’s something we can’t see, in a closed room…”

The wiggle of his eyebrows offends you.

“Oh, god, no. He really is like my brother,” you laugh. “He found me crying over finals last year and took me under his wing.”

Kevin hums. “I knew he couldn’t pull!”

You let out a startled laugh before you can help yourself, and look over your shoulder to make sure Sangyeon didn’t hear. “Well, nice to meet you, Kevin,” you smile at him softly. “He wanted to introduce me so…” Kevin waves you away with a good-natured smile as you make your way back over to Sangyeon, where he’s talking to Hyunjae.

It stops you in your tracks. Yes, you knew they were friends, but it was different seeing him in front of you. (And that definitely wasn’t because you were shy, knowing you spent like ten minutes looking at the picture of him Sangyeon had sent, where he’s all bundled up in a winter coat and when you hold down on the live, you can hear him laughing, boyish and sweet. And it wasn’t because he was handsome either!)

It was just weird to see a senior your whole department practically adored in a more casual setting. And everyone said he never went out, so it was just like you’d spotted a rare creature.

That was all.

And, well, despite the rumors, Hyunjae didn’t look like he never went out. There’s a small necklace dangling on his neck and it leads your eyes down to a distressingly low V-neck, showing smooth planes of skin and muscle. His jeans fit him well, and the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up perfectly. It looked like he had his going-out outfit down to a T, and you feel your face burn when he looks up from his cup and waves you over.

You hoped he didn’t see your stare.

“Hi, Y/N, right?” He smiles at you and you nod, looking at Sangyeon curiously. “He talks about you a lot. Nice to meet you, I’m Hyunjae!”

“I know,” you squeak out, wincing at how high your voice pitches and the awkwardness of it. “I mean — well, I’m also in comms… everyone looks up to you, sunbae…”

He shakes his head. “Ah, don’t call me that. I feel old.”

You nod shyly, fidgeting with your fingers. “Sorry…”

“It’s okay,” his smile is warm and you relax slightly.

“Well, nice to meet you, Hyunjae,” you try out his name on your tongue. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” His brows raise. “Good things! A lot of people talk about how handsome you are…” You trail off, frowning and furrowing your brows. “Sorry, that was weird.”

Hyunjae laughs. “I don’t mind being called handsome. I think it’d be weirder if I did mind.”

Sangyeon comes back and you startle, not having realized he even left. He hands you a can of Milkis, and you realize it’s your favorite flavor. “Did you buy these for me?”

Sangyeon smiles. “I have to have something other than coffee for you when we hang out. C’mon, you’ve got to meet everyone else.”

After a dizzying round of introductions and some chatter, you all end up sitting in a deformed circle. Eric — a math major and comms minor, he’d told you just a bit before. It was curious how you’d never run into him before — wanted to play truth or dare, and you perch anxiously on the edge of the sofa, fiddling with a pillow’s cover.

It’s hard to keep up with the laughter and noise, eyes darting back and forth as jokes and teasing jabs fly over your head, clearly based upon years of friendship and memories. When you’re finally asked, it takes a second to register that it’s directed towards you. “Um…” you look at Sangyeon and then to the guy asking you, Sunwoo, whose eyes have a devilish glint that makes you nervous. “Truth?”

“Is that a question?” he asks and you shake your head. He sighs. “I got it! Who do you think is the hottest in the room?”

You frown. You have a feeling picking dare would’ve been the same question — but with the caveat you had to kiss them. Sangyeon hands you the soju shot wordlessly, seeing how you tense up. With one last glare at Sunwoo, you take it, shuddering and wincing at the burn.

Sangyeon gestures over at Jacob (you think it’s Jacob) and leans over to whisper a question for him into your ear. “Ask him if he actually asked his crush out for lunch like he said he would.” Your eyes widen but he urges you on.

“Jacob, truth or dare?”

He stares at you before picking truth, which everyone must have expected by the chorus of sighs that the group lets out. “Did you actually ask out your crush like you said you would?”

His face falls. “Hyung!” He whines. It is an unfair question, you realize belatedly. If he drinks, it’s a ‘no.’ If he answers, he’ll get grilled regardless of the response.

Sorry! You mouth at him. He smiles at you, then not your fault before downing the shot.

Sangyeon cackles next to you, pleased with his orchestration of events. The game crumbles for a bit as everyone turns on a now beet-red Jacob, sinking behind the pillow he’d been holding like it can hide the blush high on his cheekbones.

“It’s not that I didn’t ask her, I just—”

They seem used to his dodging though, with Juyeon going “like you didn’t accidentally run into her after her lectures for weeks?”

A chorus of rowdy laughter. He really waited for her lecture to end? That’s cute. “Okay, so, maybe I didn’t ask her yet. Someone else drink, I didn’t have to take a shot if you’re going to press anyway.” He whines.

Sangyeon takes the penalty with a grin.

The next person that has you in their sights is Changmin. “Truth or dare, Y/N?”

You feel like it’s risky, but you want to seem a little cool. At least, until they get to know you better. “Dare.” Changmin’s brows raise, pleased, and he whispers back and forth with Chanhee for a bit.

“Dare you to send a risky text to someone.”

You groan. “I don’t even have anyone to send a risky text to. I know like three people.”

Changmin grins. He looks a little evil and you wonder if he’s always like this. “You can send a risky text to a friend.”

You roll your eyes. “Can I send it to Sangyeon?” He’s ruled out quickly because he’s there and knows it’s not real. (Which sucks, because he wouldn’t care anyways. He knows you’re not into him and he’s not into you.) You could send it to Jimin, but you think she’d show up at your house, worried about you. And Ryujin was busy, you didn’t want to send her a weird text and confuse her when she has a big project coming up. “Give me the soju.”

They give you a bigger penalty glass and you look at the amount, a little worried. You weren’t huge on hard liquor (or any liquor, really. Only fruity cocktails were tolerable). But before you can steel your nerves, a hand brushes against yours and the glass is whisked away. Your head follows the movement before you can register what’s going on, and you watch Hyunjae down it smoothly.

His brows don’t even furrow, and he gives you a lazy smile, eyes sparkling with humor, as he sets it down on the table. “You know you owe me a favor for each one, right?” You nod. “Ask your question.”

There’s a round of cat calls and you squirm under the attention, asking Eric for a lame dare. You know his question for whoever he picks will take the eyes off you.

You turn to Hyunjae. “Why’d you take it?”

“You looked like you might throw up just from the idea of it,” he deadpans, and you frown. “Kidding. You just didn’t seem okay with it. I’ll take them if you don’t want to.”

“Why?”

“Why not?” He smiles. “You do owe me a favor each time.”

Your head bobs in a nod, eyes silently tracing his features. “What kind of favor?”

He shrugs. “I’ll figure something out. Nothing weird. I’m not a creep.”

You giggle. “I didn’t imply you were. You’re awfully defensive.”

“Hey!” he exclaims, and you watch a blush crawl slowly up the back of his neck. “This is what I get for being your knight in shining armor? The first time we’ve met and you already call me weird?”

Chuckling, you shake your head. “I didn’t call you anything.”

“You implied it,” he huffs, childish and petulant.

After a few more rounds of questions, you’re exhausted. Everyone is getting more drunk — and, somehow, louder, with the exception of Sunwoo, who crashed like twenty minutes ago onto Younghoon.

“Hey, Sangy, I think I’m gonna head out.” You whisper to your friend, drawing his attention from the new game of Jenga (where they got it from, you’re not sure).

“Okay. You think you can get home safe?”

“Mhm!” You chirp, smiling sleepily at him. “Happy birthday.”

You run into Hyunjae coming back out of one of the bedrooms. He’s changed clothes into a nice sweater, a little worn. It looks soft.

“Heading out?” You nod. “Hey, before you go—” his voice stops your hand on the doorknob. “You don't actually think I’m weird, do you?”

Snorting, you shake your head. “No. Definitely not.” You study him a little longer, the slightly parted lips and hopeful glint in his dark eyes. “Can I get your number..? For help with school, you know. Just in case I need a really cool sunbae to be my knight in shining armor again.”

Hyunjae grins. “You got it.”

You and Hyunjae don’t talk again after Sangyeon’s party.

Both of you were busy with exams and final projects, and, well, he never asked you for the favors you owed him. You thought you’d run back into him at some point and remind him then. It felt weird to text him out of the blue — the only message you’d sent being you saying, hi, this is Y/N! that you’d sent after the party so he could save your contact.

With a new quarter comes new classes, where you likely don’t know anyone in it and dread the inevitability of a group project with strangers.

When you walk into the classroom for your three p.m, you’re hesitant. You’d heard great things about the professor, and it was marked as a multicultural class focusing on world religions (an actual variety of religions, using texts written by scholars and actual practitioners. No long sections just discussing Christianity, which was exciting). But you didn’t know anyone there, and some of the seats were already taken fifteen minutes before it was meant to start. You didn’t want to just sit down next to someone you didn’t know, instead scanning for the emptiest section of the room before walking across the threshold.

You find an empty chair near the end of a row at the back, away from the dotting of people who’d already found their seats. It had a decent enough view of the podium and projector so you claim it, putting your bag down as you fold the pull-out desk over your knees.

“Mind if I sit here?”

You really try not to jump at the sudden noise, but the smile you see on Hyunjae’s face as you bolt up and turn around tells you that you failed. “Yeah— I mean, no. No. I don’t mind. You can…” you sigh and slap your cheeks, trying to slap some sense back into yourself. “Sorry. Yes, you can sit there.”

Hyunjae chuckles softly and sets his backpack on the ground. “How have you been, Y/N? It’s been a bit.”

It takes a bit for you to respond, focusing on lining up your pens how you want. “Um, okay… you know, same old. Just existing.” You don’t have any fun stories to regale him with. Really, you just studied, spent time with Jimin, Ryujin, or Sangyeon — or with classmates you had become kind-of acquaintances with in preparation for a hard exam. You liked to cook for yourself and your roommate, Lily, who was nice enough and easy to live with, so you did that too.

The only thing you could remember going to solo (for fun, not for school) even semi-recently had been a play the theater department was putting on, because you didn’t have the heart to tell one of the girls you sometimes studied with that you hated Shakespeare adaptations. (She had made the props and wanted to show them off.)

Hyunjae tilts his head. “Nothing for fun?”

“Not much.” You mumble, suddenly embarrassed. ”’m a homebody.”

There’s a clamor up front as a group of friends stumble in and try to find seats together. You sigh as you watch them, a little envious. “Nothing wrong with that.” Hyunjae chuckles. “Remember those favors you owe me?”

You sit up. “Yeah!”

“I know what I want.”

“Okay..?” you trail off curiously, turning your head to look at the sparkle in his eyes.

“You have to study with me and Eric. No backing out. All semester.” He grins at you like he didn’t just completely claim a huge part of your schedule as his own. Before you can even open your mouth to whine, he shakes his head and does a shushing motion. “You owe me like five favors. This will count for all of them.”

He jerks to attention as the professor comes in and you chew on your lip. Fine. He was smart, so it couldn’t be too bad. Maybe he could give you answers for classes that he’d already taken.

“Okay, well… I guess we need to figure out when and where we’ll meet, right?”

Hyunjae nods. “It’ll be fun.”

The three of you were free from four to six on Tuesdays and Thursdays, so that became your dedicated study time. The location? Wherever worked, in Eric’s own words.

That Thursday, the first time you all meet, you end up at a small square table in the corner of an on campus coffee shop connected to the library. It’s always super busy, which is how you find yourself crammed against the wall and struggling to even hear what’s being said.

Eric and Hyunjae are working on homework for some math class they’re both in. You wouldn’t be of any help, even if you were in the same class, so you quietly put due dates in your planner and start on a longer reading.

You don’t know exactly how long it takes you to get through half of the article and take notes, but when you take a break to straighten your posture because of the ache in your shoulders and lower back, you find yourself getting distracted by Hyunjae and Eric bickering about the best flavors of Pepero and Pocky.

Hyunjae is defending the honor of Pepero coated in white chocolate against Eric’s matcha green tea Pocky. Your eyes drift up to the snack stand where, sure enough, there is a box of classic Pocky right in your line of sight.

You figure that’s how they got to the topic.

“Ready to work on comms, guys?” You ask softly, brows raising as they get more heated. Eric coughs and Hyunjae gives you a sheepish smile, head bobbing in a small nod as he pulls back out his binder. (He keeps all his classes in the same multi-subject one, and, honestly, the folder sections are stuffed comically with papers. You wonder how he can even find what he needs in there, seeing as most of the pages are dog-eared and crumpled against each other.)

“Did you finish the reading you were doing?” Hyunjae asks as he tugs out his printed lecture notes. “We can wait.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to focus on Buddhism when there’s a riveting debate about Pocky in front of me,” you drawl, a teasing smile playing across your lips. “I’ll finish it later.”

Eric takes the lead on the study session, and you’re trying your best to follow along. (Really, you are! It’s not your fault your coffee cup is empty. Well, actually, it is, but you don’t want to go get a third one for the day when it’s five p.m.) You’re a little distracted, though, when Eric delves into coerced admissions, their legality, and the confessions of innocent people.

It was a class on legal communications. But you were tired and confused, putting your head down on the table with a whine as the two men seemingly have no difficulty parsing the laws and imagined scenarios in front of them.

“Y/N—” Hyunjae’s voice, oddly close to you. And then, a hand on your thigh. “Want help?”

You nod and sit up straight, probably a bit too quickly, looking down at the worksheet in front of you. Hyunjae’s explaining it — you’re sure he is, from the way Eric is taking notes while he talks and Hyunjae drags his pen across the words and scribbles notes in the margins for you — but you don’t even hear the words. He’s so close to you, hand warm where it rests on your leg, and he smells really good.

Why does he smell so good?

And then, with a brief glance out of the corner of your eyes, you feel your breath being taken away. He’s gorgeous, with his hair falling gently into his brows and eyes, and your throat dries as he delicately flicks it away and furrows his brows.

He’s warm, even if his hand wasn’t on your thigh, like a heater in your personal space. Not that you mind.

“Got it?”

You nod dumbly. “Um, yeah. Got it! Thanks, Hyunjae.” You smile sweetly at him and his eyes crinkle as he smiles back before sliding back to where his stuff is. Suddenly, you’re cold.

“Hyung, can we please go get food—”

“We have thirty minutes left, Eric.”

“Please?” He drags out the ‘e’, whiny and endearing. “I’ll pay.”

Hyunjae laughs loudly. “I’m holding you to that. Y/N, you coming?”

You shake your head. You had dinner plans with Ryujin. And you think that’d be good for your sanity, to hear her talk about her dance classes. “Maybe next time.”

Hyunjae was a lot more social than you expected, given his reputation within the department. On top of your study sessions twice a week, he often texted you about homework (the one time you got a frantic text from him at one a.m. asking if you saw the essay requirements posted for religions, you felt your heart stop beating for a moment. If he was struggling, how were you going to survive?).

You weren’t necessarily close, but apparently he considered the two of you close enough that he invited you to parties sometimes as a way to get you out and meeting people (that was surprising too. You didn’t know he was into that scene, but you supposed his and Sangyeon’s friend group was big enough for everything to turn into a party).

It was sweet he didn’t want you to rot in your dorm all the time, though.

He’d sulk some when you turned down the invite, sending “so you hate me?” with a string of frowny faces and crying copypastas. If you disliked more than three, he’d stop whining and move on like nothing happened.

Tonight was different. You were more than tired of looking at homework, and everyone you knew was busy. So when Hyunjae messages around seven asking if you want to go to a party (“smaller, this time! just me and sangyeon’s friends. and some girls the other guys are into and their friends. some of them are in comms, and you know all of us…”)

You don’t tell him that’s still a lot of people. Instead, why should i?

please please please please please please please fills your screen. i’ll take you home the second you’re bored. You heart that message. Barely a second later, he’s calling you.

“Are you going to come? Please say yes. I’m not above begging.”

“I don’t know you like that, Hyunjae. Keep that to the bedroom,” you tease lightly. “I’m holding you to your promise to be my chauffeur though.”

You hear him sigh softly before laughing. “Okay, okay. But seriously, are you coming?”

You hum and look at a skirt hanging on a rack in your closet — Jimin got it for you when you went shopping last time after you eyed it for a bit. It still had the tag on since you’d never had an occasion to wear it. “I guess I could make an appearance.”

“Guess?” Hyunjae drawls, and you can practically hear the pout on his face. “Or know?”

“Pick me up and it’ll be a yes.”

“Deal.” He answers before you can even try to figure out plans. “See you in twenty.”

He showed up in exactly twenty minutes, and you were beyond grateful you hadn’t removed your makeup from the day yet. Your hair was still a little messy and you were fixing your eyeliner to be heavier when the doorbell rang.

At the house (you’re not even sure whose), Hyunjae grabs you a cocktail. You tilt your head at him curiously but accept it, wondering if the fact you’re not into other alcohol is written somewhere on your face.

After a few awkward introductions and fifteen minutes stuck to Hyunjae’s side like a leech, you start to relax a little. Maybe it’s the cocktail, perfectly sweet, or maybe it’s the way the party really does seem small and chill compared to most on campus. You’re not really sure, but it doesn’t matter anyways, as Sunwoo ropes you into a game of beer pong with a promise he’ll drink whatever cups you two lose.

He’s laughing, boyish and charming, as you sink a cup against Eric and tell him to “suck it!” when he tries to protest his fate. Sunwoo’s arms wrap around your shoulders, clinging onto you as he gets more and more drunk (outside of the game, not just the beer in the cups. Chanhee kept mysteriously appearing with KGB and shots of soju every so often and goading Sunwoo into drinking. You have a feeling he has an ulterior motive for the night).

You don’t mind, though, relaxing into his hold and cheering as the two of you defeat Eric (and a girl you think he might be into, from the way he smiles and comforts her. Unfortunately, you didn’t catch her name).

“We make a good team, Sunwoo,” you giggle softly, and you feel a little warm from the alcohol. He smiles back at you, face wrinkling up happily. You squish his cheek firmly until he yelps. “Do you wanna go find Sangyeon? I think he was setting up something.”

Sunwoo starts dragging you towards the living room before the words even finish leaving your mouth, both of you giggling as you stumble down the hall. “Guys—” he announces before you’re even across the threshold, tripping over the next words as he stumbles into the room. “This is my new game buddy, Y/N.”

You nod solemnly. “We have a pact.”

It takes only a second or two of unimpressed stares for you both to start laughing again, falling into open seats in front of one of the couches, right in front of Sangyeon and a girl from comms — you think her name is Hyeri. Sangyeon helps you balance on the way down, smiling fondly when you try to whisper that “Sunwoo’s fun!” to him.

“Is he?” Sangyeon asks, smoothing out your hair. You nod eagerly and he seems content that you’re having a good time. “Well, we’re going to watch a movie. That’s also fun.”

You nod, leaning into his knee as the group bickers and figures out what to play. You’re tired now, energy drained from the amount of people around you. The blanket that hangs by your side is interesting enough, and you find yourself picking at the fluffy fibers as the noise dies down enough for the movie to be audible.

Your eyes drift to Hyunjae, sitting by a girl named Soobin. You’ve had a class with her before, and a god-awful group project to boot. She was smart and nice, and you appreciated her being a voice of reason when your other members dragged their feet on every aspect of what was due. She’s looking at Hyunjae, too, you realize, looking at the way her expression softens as she shifts a little closer to him.

A ball forms in your stomach, brows furrowing as you take in the sight. Maybe the alcohol was getting to you and that’s why you felt something turning over in your stomach, but you’re not quite sure that’s the cause as she leans and whispers something — a joke, you assume, about the scene flickering across the TV — in his ear.

Hyunjae smiles, laughs, charming as ever and nods, leans over to whisper something back before turning his attention back to the glowing screen. Sangyeon’s hand on your shoulder snaps your focus away and you sigh, a little embarrassed.

“You okay, Y/N-ie?” He asks softly, and you tilt your head up to see his eyes, soft with concern. “You can go home if you want, I know you’re not huge on parties.”

Nodding, you swallow the sudden lump in your throat before croaking out. “Yeah, Hyunjae’s my ride. I’ll ask him when we take a break for snacks or something.”

He doesn’t seem content with your answer but nods, hand sliding off you. You appreciated the way he read your tense shoulders and backed off, reading your overstimulation and reducing it.

Sangyeon calls for a break maybe ten minutes later and whispers that you should go as he stands. You rise, eyes finding Soobin and Hyunjae again as you gather your things.

People are quiet, asleep or filtering into the kitchen to get snacks and drinks, and you hear her — soft spoken and easy to miss, but sweet as can be — ask if “he’d like to go out sometime?” and that she thinks they get along well. You pause in your tracks, and the way Hyunjae’s smile drops, expression cold and disinterested as he rejects her, with no ambiguity, has you feeling more sick than the drinks or seeing her lean on him earlier.

Soobin looks like she might cry, but she takes it with more grace than you think you could manage — a nod, a smile, and thanking him for being honest with his rejection.

When she walks off, Hyunjae’s eyes flit to you and he raises his brows. “What’s up?”

“Just ready to go home.” You mumble, hearing the ring of him saying there’s no chance, and I’m sorry if I made you think there was. I wish you well but don’t contact me again, if this is the intent in your ears. “Did you drink?”

Hyunjae shakes his head. “Want a ride?”

“Um…” you pause. “It’s fine, actually. You were liking the movie, right?” Hyunjae nods slowly. “I’ll get an Uber. Just wanted to say bye and make sure you knew I left — I didn’t want you to worry. I’m tired.”

Hyunjae smiles at you, the normal boyish grin that you’re used to seeing. “Okay, rest well, Y/N!” and, then, you make your way out, with a wave to Sunwoo and not one more look behind you.

A girl’s day was long overdue, so when your schedule aligns with Jimin’s and Ryujin’s for lunch, you’re dragged to a nearby Greek place that Jimin’s friend, Yizhuo, had mentioned. They were beyond excited that you didn’t back out of lunch (not that you had a tendency to do that. They just knew you had gone to a party and would be tired, hungover, or both and less willing to come because of that).

Once you’ve placed your orders, Ryujin squints at you from where she sits across the table. “How was the party?” The ‘you look tired’ is unsaid, but you don’t feel hurt. It’s true, you were tired, having tossed and turned trying to understand Hyunjae’s sudden switch up with Soobin when he seemed so receptive to her jokes and closeness. (When you did fall asleep, it was restless, and your head was throbbing now despite taking hangover cures.)

“Fine.” Your voice is softer than normal, and somehow wavers on just one word. Jimin’s eyes narrow as you fiddle with the corner of a napkin. “I made a friend.”

You’re talking about Sunwoo. Of course, you already knew him, but it felt nice to be closer to another person in the group. You don’t say more. (Mainly because you didn’t want to think about why you were so bothered by Hyunjae rejecting Soobin — you didn’t really know her, you weren’t privy to Hyunjae’s romantic life, understandably, and he wasn’t necessarily mean, just… too firm for your tastes).

“What’s bothering you then?” Ryujin asks pointedly, and you scowl at her. “Don’t frown at me! You’re sulking.”

With a long sigh, you shake your head. “It’s nothing. Stupid.”

Jimin pats your hand, an attempt at soothing contact without pressing too far into your space. “Babe, it’s bothering you. That’s not stupid.”

Damn her.

“It’s just — you all know Hyunjae. And how we’re friends? He took me to the party, which was really nice, and this girl — Soobin, she’s super pretty and sweet, I had a project with her last semester. They were flirting, or at least being close? I guess. All night. But when she did actually ask him out, he was suddenly super cold and it just… it was weird, you know? Not how he normally is.” You pause, a little embarrassed by your rambling. “I took an Uber home.”

Silence.

“He invited me.”

Then, a knowing ohh from Ryujin and a frown on Jimin’s face.

“You like him.” Jimin hums after a few more seconds of silence, taking a sip of her water like she didn’t just say something world-changing and earth-shattering. “And you’re worried he’d do that to you.”

“No?” Your voice is high and strained, stunned. You can’t even begin to track how she got to that conclusion, and you can’t believe she’s saying it so confidently either. “It’s just out of character for him!”

“You don’t know his character that well yet,” Ryujin cuts in, fighting back a smile. “We know you think he’s hot. Jimin told me about when you were studying in the math lab…”

You think your face might catch on fire with how hot it feels. “That doesn’t mean I like him!”

“Sure…” she laughs, and she’s so lucky you’re not at your apartment because she deserved a pillow to the face to wipe the smug smile off.

Jimin rescues you. “If you don’t like him, that’s fine. But would you be weirded out if… I don’t know, Younghoon did that to a girl?”

Shaking your head, you lean back against the chair and stretch. “But I don’t know him, really. I study with Hyunjae all the time, and I feel like I’m actually friends with him and Eric. Like, yes, it’s mainly based on school, but we’re close… for my standards. I guess it’s just weird because he seems so warm and bubbly that seeing such a quick and complete rejection was unusual.”

Ryujin hums. “Well, at least he didn’t lead her on?”

“Yeah, because making a girl almost cry is better!”

“It is…” Jimin says softly. “I mean, it’s not great, but it’s better than her getting more attached and him using her and keeping her around just for the attention.”

You hated when she was right.

She normally was. You think you’d be used to it by now, but you still sulk and pout at her clear and concise understanding of situations.

“I hate making friends,” you whine. “Can’t I just keep you two and Sangyeon, that’s it, forever?”

Both respond with variations on no quickly, and you pout more. “So you hate me. And you don’t want to be friends.” You’re being dramatic, but you have to be. It’s somewhere in your DNA.

“You’re stuck with us,” Jimin soothes. “But you like having friends, even if getting close is hard. You’ll be happier.” She pauses, thanks the waiter as they put down your food. “Besides, hot guys always have something wrong with them. This must be his — he’s an iron wall man.”

“What the hell is an iron wall man?” Ryujin asks through a mouthful, and you throw a napkin at her for it. She sticks her tongue out at you after she’s done chewing, but you know she’ll finish her next bites before talking again.

“Guys who put up clear and obvious walls and are super hard to get close to and have the attention of,” Jimin shrugs. “Seems like he gets a lot of attention but doesn’t want it. If he rejects girls like that, it stops.”

You sigh. “Hot men do always have something wrong with them.”

“Why do you sound like you’re in mourning?”

“I’m mourning the concept of a decent boyfriend,” you whine back without a moment of pause. “Is it too much to ask for a hot and normal guy?”

Ryujin nods. “Also, Hyunjae isn’t normal.”

“You don’t even know him!” You protest quickly.

“He’s friends with Sangyeon,” Jimin points out. “He has to be a little weird.”

You end up with Ryujin and Jimin at your place, setting up an honestly ridiculous amount of blankets on the couch and floor to watch the classic Barbie movies. The three of you had raided the nearby convenience store and set up your coffee table with snacks and drinks to last the whole marathon. (The convenience store was your favorite nearby. The woman who owned it loved you, and often gave a small bag of chips or some other snack, on the house even if you said she didn’t have to and shouldn’t. Sometimes, you brought her extra food from making dinner in a Tupperware as thanks).

After rifling through your skincare, you’d found face masks that suited all three of your needs (even if you did scold Jimin for saying her skin looked dull recently, since she was literally glowing). Ryujin had found nail polish you forgot you owned, buried at the bottom of the small closet in your bathroom. She’d triumphantly showed the forest green bottle and shoved it towards you. It was what your nails would have to end up as now.

You’re maybe halfway into Princess and the Pauper when your nails finally feel dry enough to do anything without the polish shifting or chipping, so you carefully make your way to your room.

Somewhere in your desk, you’d shoved a bunch of charms and trinkets you’d bought for the two and forgotten to give to them for months. It was one of your bigger flaws, being forgetful of small things like that. You’d gotten some for Sangyeon too, but remembered to add them to his birthday present.

Triumphantly, after five minutes of searching, you emerge and find them in their face masks. You snap a photo of them quickly despite the complaints that they “look awful!” and the threat that “if you post that, I’m blocking you.”

When you toss them at them, their threats and jokes soften.

“But I don’t have anything to give you…” Jimin pouts, spinning the cute black cat keychain around in her fingers as she investigates the details painted on. “I feel bad.”

“You two are always here for me.” You shrug. The silent reference to lunch goes unsaid — the ‘thank you for dealing with my whining, thank you for reassuring me, and for putting up with my codependency as I try to be more social and improve’. (Of course, it wasn’t just because of the gossiping about Hyunjae. It was that they, as much as they teased and joked, wanted the best for you and knew when to stop or change their approach.)

Ryujin finally looks up from the sticker sheets you gave her, muttering curses under her breath as she struggles to pick off the smallest ones to put on her phone case. “Love you, Y/N.”

It’s weird. She doesn’t say it often. A good weird, though, sparking a warmth in your chest. “I love you, too,” you grin, pulling out your phone and swiping to the camera app. “Can you say it again?”

“I’m not giving you evidence against me.”

(By this point, as Jimin excitedly puts on Barbie in the Twelve Dancing Princesses, you’d pretty much forgotten about the Hyunjae thing. Besides, it’s not like you’d ever been asked out or done anything with a guy —maybe his approach really was the best one to reject people you were into. You didn’t know. It didn’t really matter, ultimately, and you knew he’d still be your friend just as he was before the party.)

The temperature had dropped starkly in the past few weeks, taking with it the sun. By five-thirty, it’s dark out. You’re cold and tired, and honestly, grumpy. You’d stayed up until three. Most of that was sneaking out of the dance building at two a.m. with Ryujin after helping her for a few hours, just workshopping awkward parts of a routine she had to choreograph.

The other hour was spent getting ready for bed and scrolling through Instagram until your eyes couldn’t stay awake. No one could fault you for ending up in Hyunjae’s tagged photos — he didn’t post much anyways, and a lot of them had Sangyeon. And your other new friends too. It was only natural.

By the evening, you’re tired. But you didn’t want to leave Hyunjae hanging (Eric had some club meeting), so it’s just you two, working quietly in one of the study rooms in the library. It’s cozy, with lamps newly added this semester (and thank god they were, with the room feeling so dark, cold, and unwelcoming in semesters prior without any windows), and a nice warmth compared to the way wind bit your skin when you walked over to the library.

Warm light washes over your notes and you sigh, resting your head down on the table. Your hand hurts, and this professor required handwritten assignments. It’s intended to be a short break, but the way your chin nestles and your shoulders relax is so comfortable you can’t bring yourself to get back to work, even after five minutes of silently staring at nothing. With a sigh, you shift to slump further in the chair and let your eyes drift to Hyunjae.

He’s studiously working on one of his classes — you’re not in it, and thankful for it. The printed letters on his assignment sheet alone hurt your head. His dark green sweater looks comfortable, a little large on him, and around the same color as the chipped nail polish that remains from your last girl’s night with Ryujin and Karina. His hair is darker than it was when you first met, with less sunlight adding warm blonde tones. It also seems curlier, but you’re not sure if your eyes are playing a trick on you, narrowing your focus on a stray strand that he keeps flicking out of his eyes.

“Why are you staring at me?” Hyunjae asks without a pause in his writing. “Is there something on my clothes?”

You shoot up and slam your knee into the underside of the table, whining in pain.

“Are you okay?” Hyunjae laughs softly, fondness taking over his gaze as he leans over and moves your drink from the edge towards the center. “That sounded painful.”

“It was,” you whine. “And I wasn’t staring.” The second part is weak. You don’t even believe yourself, eyes darting away from the way the golden lamplight shimmers in his eyes now that he’s turned to face you.

His hum is disapproving. “Liar.”

You shake your head stubbornly. “I wasn’t staring at you. It was your hair.”

“Which is part of me.” Hyunjae deadpans. “Why? Does it look weird?”

“No, just… is it curly now?”

Hyunjae tilts his head. “Yeah. My hair is naturally curly.”

“Huh.” It does suit him, you decide. Not that you’d tell him. “We, um, we should finish our work.”

While you say that, Hyunjae packs up his things haphazardly in his criminally organized binder. “You look exhausted, Y/N-ie. We can call it for the night.”

YN-ie. Sangyeon called you that. And it felt good coming from him, but the familiarity and softness of Hyunjae’s voice makes your stomach turn.

“Yeah. Sounds good.” You mumble, looking at the small smile on his face. Did he see you how Sangyeon did?

It comes up again when you’re walking through street food stalls with Sangyeon.

You’re holding both of your dalgona by the wooden stick as he chats to the stall owner, picking out new flavors of jeon for you to try. Somehow, the conversation drifts to the man’s kids, and Sangyeon coos at the grainy film camera pictures in the man’s camera roll.

The fondness in both their voices is cute. How Sangyeon talks to you. How Hyunjae spoke to you in the study room.

“Hey, Y/N-ie, come on,” Sangyeon urges and you look up, accepting the rolled pancake in the small cardboard container. “What’s on your mind?”

You hum, skipping over the lines of the cobbled street, keeping count of how many you pass in eights. “Fondness.”

There’s so much of it around you. Families walking by, attempting to keep their little children in line as they scamper from sweet food stall to sweet food stall, amazed by the colors and smells of each dessert. Couples, hands locked together, wrapped in a small bubble of intimacy separating them from the throngs of people hustling and bustling by. Sangyeon, concerned about your silence.

“Are you a philosopher?”

“I try to be,” you smile softly. “Just thinking.”

“That’s what they do, isn’t it?” Sangyeon tears a piece of his jeon and hands it to you. “Think.”

“They also talk a lot.” You mumble before finishing the bite. “Ooh, what flavor is this?”

“Fondness,” Sangyeon laughs at his own joke and you scowl.

“How do you know when a guy thinks you’re like a sibling? Like you see me?”

He pauses and falters in his step before rematching his stride to yours. “Suddenly?”

“Not that suddenly.”

Sangyeon’s eyebrows raise. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

Your turn to pause. With a frown, you shake your head and look away pointedly. “There isn’t one. I just want to know. You know I have no experience with any of that.”

“Keep walking.” He doesn’t even need to look at you to know, and that annoys you even more. With a huff, you catch up to him. “I can’t believe you like a guy. They grow up so fast.”

“I’ve been an adult since you met me.”

Sangyeon hums. “And you’re still a baby.”

“Can you at least answer my question?”

He ruffles your hair. “Well, you see, when a guy likes a girl—”

“Okay.” You sigh. “You’re not helpful, you know that? I’m going to keep this dalgona.” You wave his in front of his face, twirling it around. “Stop teasing me.”

“But it’s so fun, can you blame me, Y/N-ie?”

He takes pity on you, eventually.

“If he likes you, you’ll be able to tell. It might not be certain, but his behavior will change from how it was. If he views you like I do — a little sister, a little annoying—” he yelps as you smack his shoulder. “It’s true! And as I was saying, you’d know if he saw you like that.” Sangyeon snatches his dalgona from you. “The fondness you’re thinking about would be a little exasperated.”

“So you’re sick of me.”

“No, don’t put words in my mouth and hurt your own feelings,” he cuts you off quickly. “I love you very much. But you annoy me in many ways. None of them make me want to kiss you. A guy who really likes you would want to kiss you anyways.”

You hum. “So if I want to see if he’s into me?”

“Be more open about your feelings and ease up around him. If you hint at it, he’ll probably give himself away.”

You think you’ll take his advice, falling into contemplative silence as you snap the edges around the triangle stamp in your candy.

Ryujin had been antsy for weeks. Maybe even months.

You think her nerves paid off, if your shaky video of her performance drowned out by you cheering so loudly you can’t hear half the instrumental is anything to go by. Your throat is hoarse by the time you manage to slip backstage and jump to hug her, whisper-yelling that ‘I have flowers in my car for you!’ so she can hear you over the thrum of noise as staff and students prepare for the next set of performances.

When you spot Intak, her dance partner for the night, you compliment him too. He blushes shyly and bows, clearly delighted with the outcome of the night.

“Seriously, Ryu, I can’t believe you’re not famous,” you lament from where you’re cuddled into her side, clinging to her waist as you rest your chin on her shoulder. “Everyone should know you.”

She huffs out a laugh. “Then you’d have to be in line to be my number one fan.”

“I already fight Karina and your other friends for the spot,” you mumble. “I can handle a little more competition if it means you succeed.”

Her giggle is so comforting, pure joy and relief as she can finally stop worrying about this performance. She’d bitched about it enough that you felt like you were preparing to dance on stage with her (not that you could’ve held a candle to her or matched Intak’s skill level). She’d complained mostly about the fact it was a duet, scowling as she realized her grades weren’t dependent on her own performance and skill, but you were able to see the respect that she had for Intak.

He’d always been a good dancer and you’d known that — having seen him on a few other performing nights, and a few dance practices Ryujin snuck you into — but the way she spoke was different.

It was probably because they were done working together, and her frustration with the assignment stopped projecting onto him.

Intak lights up as the door creaks open and you look up, tilting your head curiously as Hyunjae comes into view under a, frankly, ridiculous amount of flowers.

“Did you buy out a florist?” You ask softly and he chuckles.

“It’s for both of them. They all have tags with letters from who they’re from. I got used as a pack mule.”

“Poor baby,” you coo sarcastically, a fond smile taking over your face despite your tone. You detach from Ryujin while she and Intak look through the bouquets, watching as the smile grows on their faces until both their eyes crinkle. They deserved it.

Intak perks up after reading a message and then, suddenly, “Y/N, you should come with us as Ryu’s plus one! We were going to have a celebratory dinner.”

You try to shake your head and back away, but Hyunjae’s hand behind your back keeps you from getting to the door. You glare at him before smiling at Intak. “Oh, I don’t know, I’m nervous around people I don’t know that well. I’m not that fun.”

“That’s okay, this is how you can get to know them!”

With the way he’s so eager and his eyes light up, something tells you he won’t take no for an answer. You begrudgingly nod, relaxing slightly as Hyunjae adds he’ll come and Ryujin mentions Jimin meeting you all at the restaurant they chose. Intak’s friends were apparently coming, too, so you mentally brace for the amount of conversation that will inevitably go on.

Most of the time you’re in the diner, you’re flattened to the booth chair and listening to the conversation around you. A lot of it is spent praising the performers of the hour, but as it dissolves into inside jokes, you feel more and more exhausted with trying to keep up.

Hyunjae feeds you a fry at one point, dipped sneakily in Ryujin’s milkshake. That’s a highlight of your night.

When everyone finally starts to scatter, Hyunjae walks you home. It was nice that he lived nearby, but he promised you (with his pinky and everything!) that he’d walk you home anyways, because a girl shouldn’t be walking home alone late at night, especially if she’s tired.

“Yeah, so, the project is going okay—” he’s talking about a math class. How there’s a group project in a math class, when there’s barely even numbers in the math he’s in is beyond you, but you nod anyway. “I think we’ll be able to turn it in early, which is nice. I’ll have time to do stuff.”

“It’s always nice to finish early,” you sigh, stretching your back. That booth had been stiff as a board. “I’d use it to hibernate.”

“You’re always hibernating,” he teases softly. “It’ll give me more time to talk to this girl before we go on a date, so that’s nice. I think we get along well. We’ll see.”

You perk up. “Date? I thought you didn’t like dating?”

Hyunjae laughs. “I never said that? I don’t do it often, but it’s nice to talk to a pretty girl.” You deflate a little, hoping he doesn’t notice. He doesn’t seem to, checking his phone before swiping away a notification with a small smile. “What gave you that idea?”

“Must’ve been the voices.” You hum, voice deceptively light. “They tell me things.”

“Weirdo.” Hyunjae chuckles, ruffling your hair.

“Meanie,” you poke your tongue out at him. “Thanks for walking me home.”

“Mm.” Hyunjae smiles at you, obviously sleepy himself. “I’ll see you soon?”

“When do you not?”

Sangyeon figured you out. Somehow.

You almost choke on a noodle in your pho when he brings it up randomly during lunch.

“How long have you liked Hyunjae?”

It takes a second to breathe right and you hold your palm out to him, a silent plea for him to stop. “What are you talking about?”

He smiles at you and the sparkle in his eye sends a shiver down your spine. “Well, a little birdie told me that you thought Hyunjae didn’t date anyone… and when you pair that with you whining about wanting guys to not see you like I do…”

The thing he is implying with how he trails off is, honestly, offensive.

“I don’t like him like that?” You scoff, setting down your spoon and chopsticks. “I genuinely thought he didn’t date — I mean, we all saw how he shut down Soobin when we watched movies that one time.”

Sangyeon scoffs. “Who is we?”

You frown. “Me? And Sunwoo? And everyone else there?”

“No one was paying attention to them like that, Y/N-ie. I think you were jealous.”

With a huff, you grab your phone and check your schedule. You didn’t have any excuse to leave, but you could come up with one. “I have an assignment I forgot about…”

“Liar.” Sangyeon doesn’t miss a beat. “It’s okay if you like him. Even if you don’t. That one day — that fondness shit, where you were possessed by a philosopher. Was that about him?”

With a small sigh, you nod. “Yeah. I want to be seen as an equal and a friend. Not like a baby sister. How he treats all of his friends.”

“Well, then you’ve failed already. He’s extra nice to you.”

Your shoulders drop, rounding in. “Yeah. I’m the annoying kid sister type, huh?”

Sangyeon’s smile is weirdly knowing. “I don’t think it’s like that. But I mean, hey, he doesn’t hate you. That’s enough, isn’t it?” You nod. “Just don’t get your hopes up about dating him.”

“I don’t want to date him!” You grumble and he just laughs.

Asshole.

Hyunjae did, in fact, like you — like he did all his friends, not like a little sister.

You had gotten closer to him and his friends (Sangyeon’s friends, too), enough that you would occasionally go out with Kevin and Jacob or spend time chatting with Haknyeon on the phone. It was… overwhelming, to have gone from having a small circle to so many more.

But it was nice.

Hyunjae was nice, too, as finals crept closer. At study sessions, he’d buy your coffee (since you predictably got the same order every time) before you even arrived, and tell Eric to shut up if he laughed at it.

You even wore his hoodie a few nights, when the two of you were staying until the library closed. They were large and comfortable, and you had been tempted to keep them when you saw them in your room the next morning, still smelling of his cologne.

It took great effort to wash and return them, but you did it with a smile (and when Hyunjae said you didn’t have to wash them, you’d jokingly called him a creep for wanting to wear something you had worn without cleaning it. The wide-eyed, red-cheeked look he had after was priceless).

Even more nice was how much more often you talked. It felt like you had graduated from school friend to real friend, often seeing texts from random hours (one time, a heinous 4:52 a.m.) sending you memes and Tiktoks and whatever thought happened to cross his mind he thought you’d enjoy.

Apparently, you seemed like a girl who enjoyed the dad jokes he found and screenshotted from the depths of the internet, grainy and hard to read. You didn’t enjoy them. But you hearted each one he sent you and would take the fact you hated them to your grave.

The one that got your hopes up — that maybe, somehow, you are special to him, like Sangyeon implied, when he said Hyunjae was extra nice to you — was after a hard test you’d been dreading and complaining about.

Hyunjae showed up with your favorite coffee and a hug, letting you vent and complain, voice muffled into the fabric of his sweater. The embarrassment you felt seeing a hint of makeup on his shoulder was quickly squashed when he laughed and said “huh, a mini Y/N for my day. Score!” with a voice so light, you thought you misheard him.

“I’m sure you did great,” he whispers, more sincerely and sweetly, moving a stray hair away from and off your temples. “You’re really smart, you know that?”

“Not compared to you,” you mumble, chest still tight with anxiety.

“Yes, compared to me,” Hyunjae hums, grabbing your bag and walking you towards the dining hall. “In many ways I am not.”

It’s so real and you know he means it. “You don’t need to comfort me, I’m not a baby…”

“I want to.”

God, he was so sweet.

“Thank you,” your voice is soft and genuine, a little awed by his kindness.

“Don’t thank me for the bare minimum,” he scolds. “You should thank me for being really hot and sexy.”

You scoff. “Please shut up.”

And there was normal Hyunjae again, the you-specific extra kindness melting away.

It’s when you realize you don’t want anyone else getting that sweetness that you get that you realize you do, in fact, like Hyunjae. One could even say you have a crush.

You’re in a cute little black dress, makeup and hair done, wearing some jewelry that Ryujin just got you, and you’re tipsy.

Chanhee had been feeding you KGB and soju shots like he had to Sunwoo when the two of you were beer pong buddies and got close, and your face is warm, and everything is a little blurry and the world spins a little around you.

Or maybe the world is spinning around Hyunjae.

You think it should. He’s so stunning, and you spend some time looking at his dark curly hair — worn natural, for once, pretty where it lands on his brow, eyes sparkling and bright as he laughs and chats with the people he stands with. Even the way he holds the red solo cup is pretty, and you stare at the new bracelet on his wrist curiously — where did he get it? you wonder, but the thought vanishes as quickly as you had it when he smiles and waves at you.

You wave back, smiling too. And then your eyes drop to the rest of his outfit, and the amount of skin his shirt showing is, honestly, criminal. It’s like you took another shot, the way heat pours through you as you study the necklace that leads your eyes to his collarbones perfectly.

How planned. How scandalous.

Jimin finds you maybe ten minutes later, glued to your spot and swaying, staring at Hyunjae and the conversation across the room with big, wide eyes. “Babe, how much did you have?” She asks softly, pressing the back of her hand to your forehead. “You’re burning up.”

“Dunno, ask Chanhee,” you mumble, words slurred as you smile at her.

She grabs your arm and you stumble, letting yourself be dragged outside. The night air is cold and welcome on your heated skin. “Stay here. I’ll find Ryujin and we’ll go back to yours, okay? No more drinks.”

You pout at her but nod, sitting down on the stair to the deck. The sky is pretty, stars twinkling overhead. It doesn’t take long before your eyes flutter shut, though, letting all the overwhelming things around you fade away.

It’s cold now that you’ve been outside for a few minutes, your dress too thin for respite, and your jacket draped on your chair back at home (because “I don’t need it, Ryu, I’ll be fine!”).

You jump when Hyunjae calls your name and settles next to you, but the warmth he radiates is comforting. His thigh rests against yours and even through his pants, it warms where you have goosebumps.

Shuddering, you tilt your head at him. “Hi.” Your voice is soft and small, a little giggle slipping out as you look at him.

“Hi,” he echoes, squinting. “Are you getting sick? You’re shivering.” The concern in his voice is cute, but you wish he was drunk enough to be staring at you like you hung the moon up next to the stars overhead.

You think you’re probably looking at him like that.

“I’m okay,” you mumble, smile playing on your lips for no reason. “I feel great, honestly.”

Hyunjae’s brows furrow. “How much did you have to drink?”

You hum, looking at your fingers as if they’ll tell you. “Chanhee gave them to me. So a lot, I think.” You wonder if Hyunjae even heard you from the silence that follows, but you just settle against him, leaning into his side. He’s big and firm next to you, and he blocks the wind, and god, he smells good.

But he stiffens how he never has before from your proximity.

Oh.

“Sorry,” you mumble, belatedly realizing you complimented his cologne out loud. Your hand slips off his leg — you’re not sure when it ended up there, honestly. “I’m out of it.”

“I know,” his voice is a little tense and your eyes sting suddenly. “I’ll call you an uber. You’re really drunk, Y/N-ie.”

It’s like someone poured ice water over you. “No, ‘s okay,” you can’t bear to look at him, suddenly terrified his eyes will be like they were when he rejected Soobin. “Jimin is getting me home.”

Hyunjae doesn’t move. But you don’t speak and neither does he.

The only goodbye you get is a small and stiff smile and a nod to Jimin as she loops your arm over her shoulder and brings you to the front.

For a week and a half, you manage to avoid Hyunjae and sulk.

It really does feel like the world is ending, having realized you have a crush on him and he, clearly, did not reciprocate. But he was your friend and you couldn’t avoid him forever, as much as it stung to see him while you were nursing your feelings.

Case in point, when he and Eric show up on your doorstep unannounced on a Tuesday.

“Why are you here?” You grumble, arms crossed. Thankfully, Lily was out so you wouldn’t have to worry about them disturbing her.

”To study,” Eric grins at you, boyish and charming. “You haven’t been coming! So we came to you.”

You sigh heavily. “Come on in, then.”

Honestly, you are a little miffed. But you’re touched, too, knowing they care and were worried enough to show up and pull you out of whatever sulky mood you were in. Hyunjae mouths ‘you okay?’ at you, so you know the main reason was concern if you were okay, not studying for the legal communications final.

But it’s perfectly fine, and Eric makes ramen (you’d have to buy more for your pantry, since using six packets for the three of you was, in your opinion, excessive).

Hyunjae doesn’t seem to remember the party. Or if he does, he has the decency to not embarrass you. You’re not sure which you’d prefer.

After that day and how awkward you felt, you stopped avoiding them and everything seemed… normal.

Studying, hang-outs with their friend group (yours, now, too you supposed), conversations that were just you and Hyunjae on the quad — studying, doom scrolling, eating, really whatever struck your fancy that day.

The most memorable one was an oddly warm day for the fact it was November, with the sun out and not behind clouds. The two of you were capitalizing on the small bit of warmth and vitamin D, lounging on a far too small towel and chatting.

Hyunjae was done with his work, so he was scrolling Tiktok while you lamented over the article you were reading. He had the answers too, having done this class the semester prior, but your pride refused his help.

Instead, he settled for resting with his head next to your knee, sprawled out as he watched (what you hoped were) animal videos. Your train of thought is interrupted when he shows you one — his screen blocking your vision of your messily annotated print-out and you focus instead on the pout on his face.

“Watch!”

So you do, giving the appropriate horrified gasp when the cat in the video (Waffle) smacked the dog of the house (Maple) for daring to lay down in its own bed.

“Isn’t it so mean?” Hyunjae laments as the video loops, and he mutes it quickly. “What did the poor doggie do?”

You hum. “Exist, probably. Cats are assholes.”

“Cute assholes,” Hyunjae nods sagely, the pout still stuck on his face. “Why are they like that?”

You chuckle, shoving your work to the side and stretching out slowly. “We let ‘em get away with it.”

“Who is we?”

“People who have them. And who are liked by their family dog.”

His offended gasp makes you chuckle. “Take that back!” Hyunjae whines, jostling your shoulder. “I am so nice to him.”

“And he still doesn’t like you…” you trail off, trying to hide your grin and failing. “It’s okay. Everyone has something wrong with them.”

Hyunjae shakes his head. “I’m perfect.”

“Add big ego to the cons list.”

Work forgotten, the two of you bantered and laughed until it got too cold to stay outside, and your heart was so fond and you were so into him. It was enough to be his friend, though, to bask in some of the light and love he had.

The weather is too cold for studying on the quad, and the library coffee shop is always packed to a level that is claustrophobic. Naturally, without any real discussion, the study group moved to Hyunjae (and Haknyeon)’s apartment.

It was a nice place, and you realize it’s where Sangyeon’s surprise birthday party was held. Hyunjae mentions another roommate, but apparently he doesn’t care if people are over and spends most of his time at his girlfriend’s place.

It’s how you find yourself, a week before winter break, stressed out of your mind as you sit cross legged on Hyunjae’s bed. Eric had left for some dinner plans a few hours ago and Haknyeon needed the living room.

Hyunjae’s room is nice, and shockingly clean. He has pictures of friends and family scattered about, a neutral and green color scheme, and an expensive looking gaming setup he now sits at while you work. He had finished all his work already, so you’re left struggling with your math homework alone.

Your eyes are tired and his comforter is soft. You don’t even remember falling asleep (it’s impressive you did, since he had been bickering with whoever he was playing with on the mic). When you wake up, it’s dark. Your homework and pens are scattered next to you and you hear Hyunjae humming along to soft music.

When a wet wipe touches your cheek, it wakes you up enough to look at him and try to sit up. “Sorry,” you mumble, staring at the makeup wipe in his hand curiously. You don’t think you want to know why he has them. His touch is gentle and soft, and he carefully wipes off your base makeup. “What time is it?”

Hyunjae smiles, booping your nose as he wipes off the last of your foundation. “One,” and then he’s quiet again, wiping away your eye makeup carefully, only speaking to tell you to open or close your eyes.

You sit up quickly and try to gather your things clumsily, crumpling the worksheet some as you do. “Shit, I’m so sorry, I’ll head home.”

“It’s okay,” Hyunjae soothes, one hand grabbing your shoulder as he holds you down. “Just stay for the night, I don’t feel okay letting you walk home at this hour.” He brushes your hair back and smiles again, and the flickering fondness and light in his eyes has your heart racing.

His proximity is nerve-wracking, and you wonder if he might kiss you, this close, this fucking pretty, smelling as good as he does. He doesn’t. “Are you hungry?”

You nod shyly.

“I’ll make something. You can pack your things but don’t you dare slip out and go home,” his tone is light but you know he means it so you agree and quietly gather your things while you hear movement in their kitchen.

He comes back a bit later with chapagetti, and your stomach rumbles at the sight. Once you’re finished eating, he hands you his unlocked laptop and says “pick any of the ghibli movies I have saved.” Then gone again, to do the dishes.

You settle on Princess Mononoke and really try not to stare while Hyunjae tugs off his shirt and changes into a different one. You fail miserably, burning the sight of his back muscles flexing and rippling into your brain. He gives you a toothbrush and you get ready quickly before awkwardly perching on the side of his bed, suddenly nervous when he’s dressed down and laying there.

It’s too domestic, for you to be friends and do this.

“I don’t bite. Come on.” He pats the bed and you quietly crawl in, holding your breath every time his hand or arm brushes against you as he settles the screen where you can both see it.

Light from the window wakes you in the morning. Somehow, you curled into him in your sleep, coming to with a steady heartbeat thrumming under your head and your limbs curling around him.

Fuck, you were screwed, heart skipping a beat from the proximity. You study the gentleness to his features, the fluttering of his eyelashes as the light shifts higher, and you know your time is limited.

But god, you wanted to stay like this.

Over winter break, you were practically always on a call with Hyunjae or texting. You feared how your phone bill was going to look, but the financial repercussions couldn’t tear you off — it wasn’t even that interesting, mostly silence or small jokes and conversations as you two went about your day, too far apart to spend it together.

You wouldn’t trade it for the world, heart fluttering any time he changed it to a facetime, or when he sent a picture of a snowman he made, saying it was you. (When you asked why it was you, he said it was because it was cute, as if it was obvious as the weather that that was the reason. You might’ve screenshotted it and saved it to a folder, simply titled with the blue heart emoji, which is just dedicated to Hyunjae. It’s filled with texts, facetime photos, and that one photo Sangyeon had sent you so many months back — the live photo of him in the snow, laughing. Who could blame you?)

Back in person, it feels like your dynamic has shifted. It's weird, a good weird, with you more on his side than Sangyeon, Ryujin, or Jimin’s — where the first person you think to tell news to is him, and vice versa, where he shares updates with you before anyone.

Part of you wonders if he likes you back, but you don’t dare press it or test the waters in case you lose his friendship. Selfishly, you liked him too much to picture a life without him in it and would have him any way you could get him.

Halfway through the first week of the next quarter, when everyone is back on campus, you all have a get together at Kevin’s. Initially, it was meant to be you helping him learn how to bake, but with everyone trying to make plans, it just became a drop-in and hangout.

You spend most of it in the kitchen with Kevin.

“Kev, oh my god,” you gasp, a little stunned. “That is so much sugar.”

“They’re meant to be sweet!”

“Yeah, but they’re not meant to use four cups of sugar…” the mountain of plain granulated sugar on top of the butter in the mixer hurts your heart. “Do we have more butter?”

Kevin pouts. “Yeah. Did I fuck up?”

“Not enough that we can’t fix it,”

Haknyeon pipes up from where he sits at the island, spinning on the bar stool. “Do not bring those cookies near me when they’re done.”

“I’ll force feed them to you,” Kevin scoffs grumpily, handing you two more sticks of butter per your request. “Shut up.” Haknyeon raises his hands in surrender but mouths ‘crazy’ to you once Kevin turns his back to him.

You snicker and help Kevin fix the dough, praying it will turn out alright despite his “measuring sucks” approach and the fear it instills in your heart.

Hyunjae shows up at some point — you think it might’ve been when Kevin asked if you had to hit ‘start’ for the oven to start preheating. In his own apartment. He’s quiet for the most part, chatting quietly with Younghoon and Changmin.

The first time he speaks up is when the cookies are finally baking and you have a break. “Hi, Y/N-ie,” you hear him croon and you make your way over, smiling at him. It’s tired but genuine, and he hugs you quickly. “Free?”

“For now,” you sigh, rubbing your temples. “Who knew it was such a chore to bake?”

Hyunjae shrugs, keeping his hand by yours. The brush of his fingers on your wrist startles you slightly, and you look over to Sangyeon on the couch — he must feel your eyes on him, because he turns around and studies you two suspiciously. Your phone buzzes.

‘You two seem close’ is what you manage to read, eyes flicking back up in time to see Sangyeon wiggle his brows. You scowl and turn your attention back to Younghoon and Changmin’s stories until Kevin drags you away when the timer goes off.

They’re surprisingly tasty. A little bit bitter from a heavy-handed pour of vanilla extract, but you drizzle some melted chocolate over top and deem them “good enough!” for Kevin to call everyone who wanted some in.

Hyunjae doesn’t move so you go to him with a cookie, and he studies it carefully, hesitantly. “Are you poisoning me?”

“If anyone is, it’s Kevin,” you laugh. “And no. I tried them first. They’re pretty good.”

He scrunches up his nose. “I don’t believe you.”

“Damn. Got so close to killing you by cookie,” you play up a sigh. “Time for Plan E.”

“What were the other four?” Hyunjae laughs, and he takes a bite of the cookie anyways.

“Well, the cookie was Plan D but I’m too good at baking,” you giggle, leaning your head on top of his. “The others are secrets.”

“I’ll have to keep my guard up then.”It’s not until later you check your messages, and see one from Hak — Hyunjae hates cookies. What did you threaten to get him to eat one? — that you think he may like you back.

And, of course, you have to test your theory. Haknyeon’s theory. God’s?

It doesn’t matter, not really. Hyunjae has an exam early in the semester, and he’d been stressed about it for days (“It’s going to ruin my GPA! What if I can’t call myself an academic weapon anymore?” and then: “Hyung, you aren’t one anyways.” You never knew Eric was a liar).

You make a picnic basket that morning, and your face burns with heat when Lily asks you what it’s for. You stumble over a high-pitched “nothing!” and her laughter had been ringing in your head since.

Sandwiches, cookies (of course. This was Plan E — the E stood for ‘eating this means he likes me, because I want to think he does’), his favorite Milkis since you had gotten him hooked on them, and a bunch of cut up fruit.

He looks exhausted when he walks out of the building, sighing and eyes heavy. He does his best to match your energy when you run up, but he can’t. It’s alright.

“Hyunjae!” you smile, and he smiles back, bemused, looking at the basket. “I made lunch.”

Hyunjae’s smile becomes a genuine grin. “For lil’ ol’ me?”

“Yeah,” you hum, and walk slowly towards the willow tree on the quad, making sure he’s following you. “You had a hard exam. Why not?”

“You’re sweet,” Hyunjae chuckles, and you watch the way he stumbles over his own feet when he speeds up seeing that you set up a blanket too. “Can we watch movies?”

You sigh, knowing exactly what he’ll pick. “Get your laptop out.”

His giddiness is childish and adorable, and your heart races watching how at home he gets in your presence, how quickly he does so, as he pulls up Howl’s Moving Castle for what must be the thirtieth time.

He enjoys the food, and you quietly observe him — you’re sure it’s creepy, how your eyes dart around his face and watch him, but you will write it off as making sure he’s not too out of it from the all-nighter he did. If he asks.

And you do notice that he avoids the cookies.

“Jae?”

“Yeah?” He asks, after a startled pause. You wonder what caused it.

“Are the cookies any good? I tried a new recipe.”

He takes the bait, eating one. “They’re delicious.” He sounds genuine, but the way he tries to gulp water when you pointedly look away tells you everything you need to know.

Jimin was right. There is something wrong with every hot guy — how on earth could someone hate cookies?

“Don’t you hate cookies?”

He hums, looking up from where he’s pillowed his head on his sweatshirt. “Just—” he clears his throat. “Just bad ones.” The lie falls flat, and he knows it too.

“So mine are an exception?”

Without missing a beat — “always.”

Nothing really happens after that picnic.

You still think he’s one of the most beautiful people on the planet, so handsome your heart aches when you look at him. But you think you might end up moving on from your crush — not because you don’t want him, you do, but because you think he’ll never make a move. And you know you won’t.

But your resolve is destroyed at a pool party (one he convinced you to go to by begging on call for thirty minutes while you failed to make progress on an essay).

He’s shirtless. That alone is enough for your skin to feel hot when you look at him, but any thoughts of ‘do I actually have a crush or do I just like his attention?’ are dissolved when (and, yes, you do definitely have a crush on him still) you see him laughing and smiling when a girl named Dahyun talks to him.

He’s in the pool, hair curly and dripping water he keeps wiping away, and god, that makes his muscles flex. He looks beautiful in the golden hour light. You know Dahyun notices too, by the way her lashes flutter and she wades a little closer. It makes you feel sick.

Trying to distract yourself from the jealousy that twists and churns in your stomach, you go inside and raid the cooler for a shitty beer. It’s disgusting and cheap, but the alcohol is something else to focus on. You grab a second to hand Sunwoo, who had been setting up at the table next to yours.

“Damn,” he whistles playfully, a small smirk on his lips when you hand him the beer. “A pretty girl getting me a beer? I must be in heaven.”

“Maybe if you saved all your game for the girl you actually liked,” you laugh when he scowls at you. “But thank you, you’re not too bad yourself.”

It’s a silly bit that started a few parties back (you honestly don’t remember when), where you’d hype one another up. Juyeon had asked one time — you think he was concerned — if you actually had a crush on Sunwoo. You didn’t, but apparently it seemed real.

Which is why it was all the weirder when you feel a wet hand grab your shoulder. You glance up and sideways, trying to meet Hyunjae’s gaze. It’s trained on Sunwoo and he squints, frowns, before smiling at you and murmuring a quiet “hi.”

The air feels charged. Sunwoo shifts anxiously and eyes the two of you, and you think you see him sigh in relief when Eric calls him over for something.

“Hi, Jae,” you whisper softly, turning to fully face him. His expression is unreadable. “You okay? Headed out?”

Hyunjae shakes his head, and you flinch back at the small bit of water landing on you with a playful pout. “We’re gonna play Marco Polo. Wanna join?” It takes one glance at Dahyun, whose attention is still trained on Hyunjae, before you nod in agreement.

You hold onto his arm for balance as you pull off your cover up. “Let’s go,”

Hyunjae slips on the wet tile in his hurry to follow you, and you giggle at the shock on his face as he catches himself. The water is cold, but you dip under and get your hair wet to acclimate and twirl to face him, beaming.

“C’mon, Jae, we gotta win,”

Sunwoo and Changmin keep bringing you drinks in between rounds, and you definitely have a buzz by the time the sun has finished setting and the game fizzles out as people head home.

You’re shivering while you pack up your things, and your teeth chatter when you try to say something to Hyunjae — your ride this time.

He laughs and wraps your towel around you tightly, using the fabric to tug you towards him. He’s too strong for his own good, and the warmth of his bare chest against you has you speechless. “Want help drying your hair?”

You nod dumbly, and let him spin you to face away. Your back is against his chest, and you shiver again as he tugs the towel away again. You really hope he’ll think it’s from the wind, and not every nerve of yours lighting up as his back presses against you and he carefully towel dries your hair with a touch so gentle it feels practiced.

It’s quiet, with just the buzz of bugs and chatter somewhere inside to fill the air. It feels heavier and more intimate without noise, and you’re hyper aware of every brush of his hand or skin against yours.

“Jae?” you ask, barely above a whisper.

The toweling pauses. “Yeah?”

You don’t have the courage to ask him what you want, and you don’t want to lose the warmth of him behind you, basking in his attention and the buzz you have going. “Nothing,” you mumble, letting him spin you around to check if your hairline is dry enough. Your eyes flutter open when his hands pull away, and you know your gaze lingers on his lips for several beats too long.

Hyunjae puts up your towel, hands you your cover up, and smiles. “Homeward?”

“Homeward.”

‘help with hyunjae sos’ is what Haknyeon’s message reads when you look at it at eight p.m. on a Monday. You reply, simply, with ‘???’

‘he’s forcing me to do math :( make him stop.’ You react with haha, and head over to their apartment after gathering your homework — you figured you could study with Hyunjae and that’s what Haknyeon was getting at.

You don’t find Hyunjae chasing Haknyeon with a packet of his terrible math class homework. When Haknyeon answers the door alone, he says “in his room” before you can even ask the question.

Frowning, you make your way over and knock on his open door. He’s sitting at his desk, head in his hands, and he jumps at the sound. There’s tear stains on his cheeks and you can feel your heart break a little looking at how he’s curled in on himself.

And you feel like a shitty friend. You’ve always thought he had everything together and never really struggled, and you never questioned that perception. “Oh, Jae, sweetheart,” you coo softly, the pet name barely registering before it slips out. He welcomes your hug, melting into your arms with soft, broken sobs and shaky breaths as all he can get out.

You trail your fingers over his back and soothingly rub over the fabric of his t-shirt until his breathing slows and gets more normal. When you try to pull back, his fingers clutch at you and you stop in your tracks.

“Let’s work on it together, okay?” You offer softly. You know you’re not much help with math, but it’s at least something to offer it. Even if you end up just being a good distraction.

Hyunjae shakes his head. “‘M done. I… I can’t.”

“Okay,” you soothe, brushing a hand through his hair and tilting his head up so you can meet his eyes, glassy and tired. “Then let’s watch some movies. You get ready for bed, I’ll set it up.”

And he smiles for the first time since you got there.

By the time he feels better, it’s too late for you to get home, and he doesn’t need to say much to convince you to stay over (you like being near him, but this also doubles as making sure he’s truly and genuinely okay).

“Is it okay if I shower and use your shampoo and stuff?” You ask softly.

Hyunjae smiles. “Yeah. Here, you can have some clothes too.” He tosses sweats and a shirt and you pull at the fabric.

“I don’t know if it’ll fit, Jae,”

“It’s big on me. It’ll fit.”

He was right. Honestly, you look ridiculous in it, drowning in fabric. You should’ve expected that, considering how muscular he is.

When you finally begin drifting off, his arms are wrapped around your waist and his breath tickles the skin of your neck. It’s that way when you wake up, too, and it takes Herculean effort to climb out of his embrace (instead of remaining snuggled into him).

After waking up enough, you decide to start making breakfast for you, him, and Haknyeon — french toast, thank god they had ingredients in their fridge and pantry (Eric’s still haunts you). You make coffee as well, humming songs stuck in your head as you work.

The clink of a mug catches your attention, and then your mouth is dry.

Hyunjae. Shirtless. It takes a few seconds for you to even register that he’s showered, curls having droplets trail down his toned torso. You stare shamelessly at one that rolls down into his sweats, looking at the light that catches on his bare skin.

“Um,” you clear your throat and take a big sip of coffee, face on fire. “What classes do you have today?”

Hyunjae sighs softly, happily. “Just a senior seminar. My other one got cancelled.” If he noticed how pitchy and weird you sounded asking the question, he doesn’t say anything.

Haknyeon seems too tired to comment on the way you stare at Hyunjae all morning. Or maybe he’s grateful enough for the food that he chooses to be kind and keep his mouth shut.

It feels like it’s been years since you hung out with just Ryujin and Jimin. And with the somersaults your heart does every time you see Hyunjae, it was also far overdue. It takes well over an hour to explain your crush and every little thing you’ve read into (and hoped meant him liking you too), because you kept getting derailed and telling mini-stories.

Neither of them mind, though Ryujin does comment that she needed popcorn to get into your rant (honestly, you think it would’ve added to the experience if she had it).

“I’m… I don’t know, it just feels like I’m in limbo, you know?” You finally start wrapping it up. “I like him so much. But I’m terrified of ruining what we already have, and I don’t know how to read him. I can’t.”

Jimin nods. “There is something wrong with every hot man.”

“I know!” you whine. “You’ve said. He doesn’t like cookies. Surely he’s not afraid of commitment too.”

Ryujin snorts. “He could so be afraid of commitment.”

“Not helpful,” Jimin chides. Then, to you, “she’s joking.”

After being jabbed in the side, Ryujin sighs and nods. “I mean, it sounds like he likes you, yeah. Why else would he glare at Sunwoo?”

“Because he thought his friend was being weird and hitting on me?”

“And why would a friend care about that?” Jimin asks.

“Because he’s a good person?”

Ryujin groans. “Because he’s jealous. Girl, please open your eyes.”

You blink at her. “They’re open.” You can feel the cussing out she wants to give you bubbling up, so you quickly apologize. “Okay, I’m sorry. I just… do I go for it?”

“Yes.” and, then, “if you feel ready for it.”

Ryujin snatches your phone off the couch and you see her screen light up with a message from you: Y/N shared a contact: jae 💙🪻. “Thank me later,”

You watch her quickly type a text, and you feel your heart sink. “Ryujin!”

She grins. “Trust me.”

“What did you say? Seriously, this is so not cool.”

Jimin watches the two of you like a tennis match as you pick up a pillow and whack the other girl, chasing her around and around your living room until the two of you topple over, breathless. And she still refuses to tell you what she said.

But it gets defused and forgotten about by the time you all make Ghirardelli box brownies, eating them with a scoop of vanilla ice cream as you begin gossiping about their crushes and life updates.

By midnight, all the brownies are gone and you’re practically starving. You hadn’t refilled your pantry since Eric’s latest raid, so with several reassurances that “yes, I’ll be safe” and a resharing of your location with Ryujin and Jimin, you go to the nearby convenience store.

The one owned by the woman who loved you (and you, her).

You’re pondering what Selection ice cream to get for you and Lily to have in the freezer when you hear the door chime and running footsteps.

“Is it true?” Hyunjae asks, forgoing even a ‘hi.’ He’s breathless, sounding and looking almost frantic. His bag is half unzipped, clutched in his right hand. “Is it true?” He asks again, softly, hand grabbing your wrist.

“Is what true? Elaborate, Jae.” You zip up his bag and look at him curiously, watch his heaving chest as he catches his breath. “I thought you were studying in the library for another hour.”

“I was. I…” Hyunjae takes a moment. “Do you not know what Ryujin sent?”

Your heart skips a beat. “No, just that she texted you. She refused to let me see it.”

Hyunjae takes a deep breath and — his hands are shaking as he draws his phone out of his pocket. Your frown deepens, and you watch him unlock it and navigate to the two messages in the conversation.

‘Y/N has a crush on you, do something about it’ and ‘she’s at the convenience store a block away now, you can catch her if you hurry’.

You swallow, suddenly wanting to look anywhere but at him. But you can’t help it, can’t help yourself as you look at him and the softness to his lips and eyes, the sharpness of his bone structure, the delicacy of his features. Even the mole on his nose catches and hooks your attention.

You couldn’t say you didn’t have a crush on him. You did. God, you did. But it’s so hard to just say it. “Depends,” you chuckle, forcing bravado and a confident front. “What are you gonna do about it, if it is?”

Don’t reject me runs through your head like a prayer.

“Y/N,” Hyunjae says, eyes softening. His voice is equally soft, warm and gentle. There’s a desperation and rawness to it too, and your heart speeds up in anticipation despite your fears. “Is it true?”

You swallow. No turning back. A soft nod.

Hyunjae’s entire body relaxes. “Say it.”

“It’s true,” you whisper.

“Good,” he steps closer, and your pulse thrums with excitement as his hand slides up the back of your neck and his thumb rubs over your cheek, lingering at the corner of your mouth. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please.”

His bag falls — and then his mouth is on yours, and his other hand holds your hip as he tugs you into him. His head tilts and matches your rhythm as if it was his own, as natural as breathing. The world spins as you lean into him, gently curling your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck.

He smells good, and he’s warm, and he’s soft, and he’s kind, and he’s kissing you until you have to pull back slightly, breathless. You leave your forehead against his, and you swear you could count stars in his eyes as he drinks in the sight of you.

“Y/N,” he whispers softly and you nod, “I like you too. So much.”

You initiate this time, softer and slower. He melts into you, weakens against you — sighing when you pull away as he quietly chases your lips for a beat longer before his eyes flutter open again.

His hand laces with yours, wordless. It’s like he can’t find them, mouth still slightly parted as he studies you — and you, him, admiring the red flush high on his cheekbones and the slight sheen on your lipgloss on his mouth.

“I think I’m done studying for the night,” is what he manages after a few minutes.

“Yeah?” It comes out as a small, amused huff.

“Yeah,” he repeats. “I have something much more important to do.”

“Care to share?”

Hyunjae blushes. “I have to ask the girl I like to be mine.”

— thank you so much for reading! if you enjoyed, consider replying, reblogging, sending an ask, or in some way telling me your fav parts!

#the boyz x reader #tbz x reader #the boyz imagines #tbz imagines #the boyz fic #tbz fic #the boyz fluff #tbz fluff #lee hyunjae x reader #hyunjae x reader #lee hyunjae fluff #hyunjae fluff

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thelastspeecher · 2 months ago

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me rereading the Redwall books for the first time in years: oh so that's why my first foray into writing was in the form of poetry

#there are so many songs in these fucking books!#tho I can't completely credit them for me writing poetry #bc I was actually like actively a fan of poetry I think before I got into Redwall #big fan of Emily Dickinson right here folks #(also side note I looked up one word that was in one of the books #bc I was like ''hmm wait am I pronouncing this right in my head''#and NO I was NOT I v much was NOT #it was an Irish word turns out so yeah it didn't follow English pronunciation #but the funniest thing is that later in the book this word is rhymed with another word #and somehow I NEVER fucking caught onto me pronouncing this word wrong before #but I mean it's a British author they rhyme things weird sometimes)#speecher speaks

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sceletaflores · 3 months ago

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I COULD PLAY THE DOCTOR (I CAN CURE YOUR DISEASE)

pair: logan howlett x fem!reader

wc: 4.1k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, established relationship, logan's pov, written with origins!logan in mind, nat veering dangerously closer to a/b/o territory with every passing day, rut cycles, oral sex (fem!receiving), fingering (fem!receiving), multiple orgasms, gratuitous amounts of dirty talk, p in v, rough sex, biting, hair pulling, size kink, belly bulging, pussy pronouns, one (1) single use of the word daddy, scent kink, pain kink, breeding kink ofc, knotting (don’t look at me…), squirting, porn w/ plot, no use of y/n.

nat’s note: don’t look at me…i don’t know how many times i swore up and down i’d never write something like this but i’m a confirmed liar apparently so…here. i mean i just figured i'm in a rut artistically so therefore the only answer is writing logan in a rut physically...i can do what i want and i don't need to explain myself or my horny thoughts. also, i debated posting this in the wake of everything that's gone down over the past two days that is still escalating and will continue to escalate in the coming weeks, but i think everyone could use a little escape from how scary things may seem right now. take a break from all the terrifying news sites and read about logan wanting to breed you :) kisses!

divider by angel @saradika-graphics!

it's been another six months, and logan needs your help...

The burn starts on the walk home from work, a pulse of heat deep in Logan's gut that grows with every step.

It spreads slowly, sinking into his muscles and seeping up his spine as he rounds the last corner, your place less than a block away now.

It caught him off guard this time, an itch burying itself under his skin earlier in the day only to get worse and worse as he worked.

He usually knew the signs well enough to feel them start creeping in, and he was dead sure it wasn't for another few weeks.

Apparently, he was wrong.

Logan’s jaw clenches as he picks up his pace, every nerve ending in his body straining to break into a full blown sprint at the thought of you, all alone and waiting for him.

His fingers curl into tight fists, nails pressing into his palms to ground himself, though it’s hardly enough. The faint scent of you drifts up from his shirt, not even a long day at the lumberyard enough to drown it out.

By the time he reaches your door, his heartbeat is a heavy thud in his ears, syncing with the building ache of desire wracking through his body like the earth rattling boom of a raging thunder storm.

He fumbles through getting his key into the lock, hands unsteady as he tugs the door open with a little more force than necessary and finally steps inside.

The second he closes the door behind him, the heat surges, thrumming through his veins and flooding his chest. Your scent fills the air completely, stronger now, wrapping around him so thick and sweet.

"Darlin'?" His voice comes out rougher than he intends, but he's beyond caring.

Your voice floats from the other room, casual, warm enough to send a jolt through him. Logan drops his axe from his shoulder, leaning it against the door as he starts down the familiar path to your bedroom.

You're spread out on his side of the bed—oblivious, curled up with a book, wrapped in one of the flannels he must have left the last time he stayed over.

Just the sight of you does something to him, like a match dragged against a strike pad, damned on setting everything ablaze.

You glance up, and the soft smile on your lips falters as you catch sight of him.

Logan knows what he must look like, his eyes all dark and predatory, chest heaving as he rakes his hungry gaze over you like a wolf watches a lamb grazing too close to its den.

He doesn’t say anything at first, just stalks toward you with a purpose that’s as undeniable as the heat pouring off him in waves.

The book slips from your fingers, forgotten, as you lean back, the small sound of your breath hitching under the weight of his gaze is music to his ears.

Logan pauses at the edge of the bed, towering over you, letting himself drink in the way you look. So soft and serene, like some kind of invitation that begs him closer. His flannel draped loosely over your shoulders–shrouding you in his scent.

The urge to pounce on you fights against his normal instinct to savor every second, to draw it out until the heat pooling in his gut becomes downright unbearable.

“Been thinkin’ about you all damn day,” he mutters, voice thick and dark as molasses, rough from restraint he’s quickly losing. His knuckles brush against your thigh, then tighten, holding you in place as he leans down, his breath hot against your neck. “Thinkin’ about what I was gonna when I finally got my hands on you.”

Your skin blooms with warmth beneath his touch, and he grins against your neck, the edge of his teeth grazing you just enough to make you squirm. He growls low in his throat, that itch he’s been fighting nearly all day clawing its way up to the surface with a vengeance.

The primal urge inside of him screaming to claim claim claim take take take mate mate mate breed breed breed.

You tilt your head to the side with a soft sigh, freeing up more space for him to nose along your skin. “Is it time?”

Logan's breath catches as your question hangs in the air, thick with anticipation. The soft simplicity of it ignites the wildfire burning in his gut, every ounce of restraint slipping away like sand through his fingers.

“Yeah, baby,” he growls, slipping his fingers under the worn cotton of your shorts, feeling the bare skin beneath. “It’s time.”

You shift, hands going to the buttons of his flannel like you’re going to take it off. Logan stops you, taking your wrists in his free hand.

“Don’t,” he breathes, shaking his head hard enough that his hair flows with it. “Leave it on.”

The thought of you covered in his scent, of his scent mixing with yours to claim you on a level only he can discern sends his mind buzzing.

You look up at him with those wide, trusting eyes, and something in him cracks wide open. The tenderness of your gaze pulls at him, like a tether pulling him back from the edge, but that heat still smolders in his blood, fierce and unyielding.

Logan runs his thumb along the racing pulse of your wrist before he drops them. His hands venture lower, fingers pressing against the inside of your thigh, tracing a deliberate path that makes your body tremble under his touch.

You let out a shuddering breath, the scent of your arousal swirling through the air is enough to make him crave more.

In one rough tug, Logan yanks you towards the edge of the bed as he falls to his knees. Your hips held tight in his hands as he lurches forward, burying his nose in the soft junction where your leg and inner thigh meet.

He inhales deep, greedy lungfuls of your scent. A guttural growl rumbles through his chest, his eyes screwing shut at the sheer amount of too much that courses through him. He feels dizzy with it, high on the pheromones pumping from you in waves.

You’re soaked already, the wet fabric of your shorts melded to the shape of your cunt. He can’t help but run his nose along the slick seam of you, reveling in the way your legs twitch on either side of his head, in the short gasp you let out.

“Logan.” Your voice is nothing but a mewl, pleading and desperate.

“Missed you,” he rasps, his voice rough, almost unrecognizable. The edge of need in him makes his hands shake, sliding up your thighs, urging them even further apart as he settles between them.

Logan’s fingers dig into your skin, he lets his thumbs brush up, hooking them into the waistband of your shorts to tug them down your legs in one sharp yank. He groans at the sight of you completely bare, no underwear.

“Fuck, look at you,” he grates, his thumb coming down to slip through your dripping cunt. Your hole flutters desperately around him, needy little clenches like it’s trying to suck him in. “She’s all ready for me, huh? Been waiting for me to come home and give her some attention?”

“Please,” you whimper, your voice thick with longing, the sound going straight to his head, clouding his thoughts.

Logan’s pulse races as he watches your body arch instinctively toward his touch, the desperate need in your eyes igniting the raw urges coursing through him.

He can’t deny you; he never could. You’re a feast laid out before him, and he’s starving.

Logan leans closer, letting his tongue flick out to taste you like he’s wanted to since he left for work this morning.

“Fuck,” he breathes, closing his eyes and losing himself in the moment. He licks a broad stripe from your entrance to your clit, savoring the way your body responds, the way your legs tremble and your hips twitch against his mouth, seeking more. “Tastes like fuckin’ heaven, sweetheart.”

The taste of you is intoxicating—sweet and tangy, flooding his senses with every drag and swirl of his tongue.

Logan can’t help but moan against you, the sound vibrating through your body as he dives deeper, his nose nudging against your slick entrance as he shakes his head back and forth like an animal—rubbing the plush skin of your inner thighs red and raw with each rough drag of his coarse beard.

Every flick of his tongue sends a shockwave through you, and he revels in the sounds you make—each whimper, each moan, a siren’s call urging him deeper. He laves his tongue around your clit, sucking it gently, pulling at it with his lips as you writhe beneath him, begging for more.

He keeps your thighs spread wide, two strong hands pinning them to the mattress so he can devour you just the way you deserve, the sharp dig of your heels into his shoulders only spurs him on.

Your hands bury themselves in his hair, tugging him closer, and he groans into you, letting his tongue delve deeper, seeking out every bit of sweetness he can coax from you.

It’s pure sin, each sound you make, each shiver that runs through you as he takes his time, drinking you down like a man starved.

The ache in him intensifies, his own need growing, pulsing. He’s hard, has been hard since he walked through the front door.

His cock strains against the zipper of his jeans, need pulsing in time with each pump of his blood through his shaft, circling around the base, threatening to expand even without the tight grip of your pussy surrounding him. His hips jerk up on their own volition, desperate for any friction.

“Just like that, Logan,” you gasp, voice breathy and trembling with pleasure.

The way you say his name—raw, desperate—makes his blood run hotter. He grips your thighs tighter, anchoring you to the bed as he drinks you in, wanting to lose himself in you completely.

Logan pulls away just long enough to catch his breath, looking up at you with lust-drunk eyes, drinking in the sight of your sweaty cheeks, your heavy-lidded gaze, the way your chest rises and falls with each shuddering breath.

The pulse of his cock intensifies, urging him to speed things along. The base desire of his own instincts is getting harder and harder to ignore under your adoring stare.

He feeds his fingers into your clenching hole with no warning, a satisfied smirk tugging his lips up at your sharp gasp. He runs his tongue along his bottom lip, the entire lower half of his face still shining with your essence.

Your cunt swallows him, two thick fingers sinking into the velvety heat like it’s nothing.

Logan groans as he feels you clench around him, your walls fluttering and drawing him in deeper. “That’s it, baby,” he mutters, his voice hoarse with need. “So fuckin’ ready for me, so ready for daddy’s fingers in your pussy.”

Your mouth drops open in another devastatingly desperate noise, your hands twist his hair roughly, soft breasts rising and falling each time you gasp for air. The dim light of the sunset filters in through the blinds, highlighting the curves of your body, slick and shining with a thin sheen of sweat.

Every clench of your walls around his fingers shoots a thrill straight to his cock, making him ache with the urge to bury himself inside you. The overwhelming need to take you completely, to mark you and fill you, pulses through his veins until he feels like he might explode.

But he’s not done tasting you yet. Not until you’re practically dripping onto the sheets.

He lowers his mouth back to your core, sucking your clit into his mouth as his fingers pump faster. The sudden intensity makes your thighs shake around his head, and he grins against you. He wants to see you fall apart—wants to feel it.

“Logan—please, I…” You can barely get the words out, voice breaking as your whole body strains against him, desperate and needy.

The wet slap of his palm against your spit soaked cunt is loud in the quiet of your bedroom, blending with the loud keens that fall from your parted lips. He crooks his fingers, rubbing at that soft, spongy spot inside of you.

“Come on,” he mutters, slick lips brushing against your clit as he speaks. “Give it to me, baby. Show me you're ready for my cock."

He drags the sharp edge of his canine against your pulsing clit with barely any pressure, and you're coming.

Your whole body tenses, back bowing off the mattress as you let out a broken cry of his name. The bite of your nails digging into his scalp feels harsh enough to draw blood, a feeble attempt at grounding yourself against the onslaught of pleasure.

Your trembling thighs tighten around his shoulders, gripping him like a vice as your shaking cunt gushes around his fingers. Logan groans at the feeling, eyes slipping shut as you drench his wrist and chin in your juices.

Even then, he doesn’t let up, fingers pumping relentlessly as he draws out every pulse, every aftershock of your climax, every tiny spray of your release splashing against his wrist.

He’s lost in the feel of you—slick and trembling under his hands, the scent of your release filling his lungs, thick and intoxicating.

You slump back against the bed, body limp and spent. His own need is a driving, aching force now, clawing at his insides, demanding more.

He slips his fingers free from your dripping heat, dragging them through the wetness coating his chin as he licks them clean with a growl, savoring every taste.

“Good girl,” he purrs, voice thick with pride and satisfaction as he pulls back, leaving your thighs twitching in the wake of his touch. But he still isn’t finished. Not even close.

You barely have time to catch your breath before Logan crawls up the bed, his eyes locked on you, pupils blown with need. He looms over you, hands planting on either side of your head. His cock grinds against you through the rough denim, and you can feel just how thick and hard he is, throbbing through the fabric, demanding to be freed.

With a low groan, he shifts his hips, dragging his bulge along your soaked cunt, sending another jolt of pleasure racing through you. His hands are all over you, gripping your waist, hot and possessive.

“Feel that?” he asks, pressing his lips the wild flutter of your pulse, the need to sink his teeth in the soft skin of your neck raises the hair on the back of his neck. “That’s what you do to me baby. Got me hard as a fuckin’ rock, just aching to be inside you.”

Your arms circle his shoulders, clawing at the fabric off his shirt. “Need you inside me, Logan. Please, want it so bad.”

The pure need lacing your words, your scent calling out to him, the way he can feel the front of his jeans getting soaked through with the slick pouring from your cunt all pull him deeper into the recesses of his hind-brain.

The mounting desperation to stuff you full of his cock finally reaches a fever pitch.

With a deep growl, Logan rears back as far as he can bear, just enough to tear his shirt over his head before he fumbles with the heavy buckle of his belt to free his aching cock.

He shoves his jeans down, boxers quickly following until there’s nothing separating him from the cool air of your bedroom. His cock springs free, hot and flushed an angry red color, drooling from the tip enough that it drips down to stain the pretty floral sheets of your bed.

Your eyes zero in on him, mouth dropping open at the sight. His cock so heavy it doesn’t curve upward to slap against his stomach, instead it hangs down to sway between his thighs as he moves closer.

Your legs spread as he nears, slick covered thighs parting to make room for him to slot between them. So obedient, so good, so well trained.

Logan takes himself in his hand, nearly wincing at the blazing temperature of his skin. He secures his hand around the base, squeezing where his knot threatens to pop before he’s even got in you.

He slips the angry head through the folds of your cunt, slapping it against your clit with a wet ‘thwack’ sound. He can feel the way it twitches and shakes, just as desperate as him.

“Look at that,” he mutters darkly, eyes glued to where he’s laid his cock flat against your stomach, leaking pre-come all over your soft skin. “How’s it gonna fit, baby?” He shifts his hips, sawing his length back and forth to see just how deep in you he’ll be.

Your glassy eyes drop, a broken moan passing through your slack lips when you take in the sight. Your hips rise off the bed, grinding your cunt along the seam of his heavy balls, along the prominent vein trailing up the underside.

“Don’t worry, baby,” Logan grits out, eyes hooded and dark as he watches you grind against him. “You’re gonna take it all. Gonna make you feel every last fuckin’ bit of me.”

He groans, gritting his teeth as he presses in further, each inch a battle against the tight, molten heat that grips him like a vice. Your body shudders as he fills you, your slick warmth pulling him deeper and deeper, and he sinks down until he’s fully seated, his hips flush with yours.

The pressure is mind-numbing, your walls clenching around him in rhythmic pulses that make his vision blur. He stills for just a second, savoring the way your body stretches around him, hugging him in a way that feels like it was made for him alone.

Logan watches your face as you adjust to the stretch, your brows pinched together, each breath coming fast and shallow, your eyes glazed with pleasure.

Then, your hands come to his shoulders, nails digging little crescent moons into his skin as you nod your head, ready.

It’s all the confirmation he needs. His hips pull back before he slams in again, the force of it jolting your whole body. He presses his forehead to your shoulder, teeth bared as he muffles a snarl against your skin.

Logan thrusts again, and again, and again, hips setting a merciless pace as he watches the way your breasts bounce with each thrust, each little shudder.

His mouth waters with the need to taste, to sink his teeth into your supple skin hard enough to pierce clean through, hard enough to scar.

Sweat drips down the length of his spine, across his brow. It mats down the hair scattered over his chest, his dog tags slick with it when they bounce off his skin with each thrust. The grip of his hands tightens on your hips, it’s taking everything in him to hold back and yet he knows you’ll still bruise tomorrow.

Pretty hues of dark purples and yellows in the shape of his fingers, ones he’ll catch you admiring in the bathroom mirror, pressing your own fingertips into them to feel the dull ache—to remember this moment.

“Made for this, aren’t you?” he rasps, his voice dark and possessive. “Made to take me, to be mine.”

The words barely leave his mouth before he’s bending down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your cries as he drives into you, pushing you both closer to that sweet edge.

“Fuck, Logan,” you gasp, breaking the kiss as your body trembles under him. “Can–ah!–can feel you in my stomach…”

Your hand drops from his shoulder, slipping between your bodies to rest over the sweaty expanse of your belly. Logan’s eyes follow your path, a feral growl bursting from his chest before he can stop it.

He’s transfixed by it, sure that if he pressed his hand to the soft skin of your lower stomach right over your own, that he’d feel it. Feel the way his cock punches up against your insides, so deep it's like he’s rearranging your guts to make room.

“Fuck.” His voice is nothing but a gravelly rumble, hoarse and dark as midnight. His hips speed up impossibly faster, chasing the feeling of your clenching walls choking the length of his cock so tight he thinks it might snap off at the base.

The flimsy headboard of your bed slams against the wall, creaky mattress springs screaming under his ministrations.

You feel like salvation, like the first rays of light after too many years spent in the dark.

He feels it with each kiss of his cock against your cervix, in the way your lips fit in the junction of his neck, in the red welts your nails leave on the skin of his back. He feels alive, truly alive, for the first time in decades.

“Say my name,” he grates, his hand cupping the back of your neck, coaxing you to look up at him, lips close enough to taste the heat radiating from his skin. “Tell me who you belong to.”

"Logan," you gasp, your voice breathy, edged with desperation as he pushes you closer to the brink. "Yours. Only yours."

A broken, shaky noise falls from his lips as he buries his face in your neck. He mouths at your skin desperately, presses his nose to where your scent is the strongest.

Flashes of his release spraying your insides play behind his closed eyes, thoughts of drenching you so thoroughly that it has to take only forcing his hips to slam against the rippling muscle of your ass like you have your own magnetic pull. He feels it building, the slow swell of his knot presses against your folds, ready to burst.

“Come on, honey,” he begs, thumb coming down to rub slow circles over your slick clit. “Come with me, soak my cock. Show me how much you love it, how much you love me.”

Pathetic little uh uh uh’s fall from you with every thrust, broken up only by the breathy whines of his name as he pounds into you hard enough to push your body higher up the mattress. Finally, with a loud roar, he stuffs his growing knot inside of your cunt.

Logan’s teeth sink into your neck before he can even think twice about it, the thick spray of his come filling you as his hands pull your hips down even further over his cock. He needs to be as deep in you as possible, to press forward until he can’t anymore, until his aching balls are flush with your gushing cunt.

He watches with rapt attention as you come with a loud wail, just from the feeling of his knot slotting into place. The clamp of your thighs over his hips is nearly as tight as the way your cunt seizes around him like it’s scared he’ll leave.

He groans at the over stimulation of your cunt milking his cock. Your slick leaks around the base of him, your shaking hole plugged so full it can only slip along the creamy ring to splash weakly against his thighs and hips.

Logan licks along the spot where his teeth pierced your skin, planting one last kiss before he’s taking you in his arms and rolling onto his back atop the mattress. The plush comforter sticks to his skin, your own sweaty body slipping against his as he tries his best to not jostle you too much while keeping you stuffed full of his cock.

He holds you to his chest until your breathing evens out, until your body stops trembling on top of his, until you’re nosing along the column of his neck.

“Logan?” Your voice is tiny, hoarse and scratchy. He feels your hand drawing absent minded shapes along the skin of his stomach. A circle, a star, a figure eight, a heart.

“Yeah baby?” he says, pressing his lips to the crown of your head, eyes slipping shut at the content feeling that spreads through him.

“Love you,” you murmur, voice soft but sure, the words slipping out without hesitation.

It’s the first time you’ve said it today, and hearing those three words from you sends warmth flooding through him.

Logan shifts slightly, pulling you even closer, his hand moving to the back of your head, cradling you with a kind of tenderness he used to think he’d never be capable of. “I love you too, darlin’. More than you know.”

Your body relaxes against him, the lingering effects of your shared intimacy still buzzing through your limbs, but now there’s a sense of peace, of safety, and a deeper connection.

He can feel the way your fingers curl lightly against his skin, the quiet smile that must be tugging at your lips as you press a kiss to the side of his neck.

And in that moment, with everything settled around him, Logan knows that this, right here, is everything.

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

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inupibaldspot · 1 year ago

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Walk him like a dog

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader

Note ₊˚⊹♡ : The first year trio are watching Gojo who is completely head over heels for you.

To the world, Gojo Satoru is the strongest but to the people who know him Gojo Satoru is a menace.

When he was in high school, he was a different breed. Yaga could not sleep at times from all the stress Gojo would cause; be it either an earful from the higher ups or checking the news only to find out there had been an explosion conveniently where Gojo’s mission was assigned.

Sometimes he would get pictured sent to him by the problem student himself, a picture with a beaten up enemy and Gojo winking at the camera with a note saying ‘Yay~ another victory! I mean it’s as normal as breathing for me (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ’

Even when Yaga would use his authority and lecture him, sometimes Gojo Satoru would not listen; be it simply ignoring or rebutting it with his opinion— an opinion no one asks for.

And when that happens, Yaga would pull out his secret weapon ‘You’! He didn’t use this card all the time but at time Gojo was simply so uncooperative, he had to! Any word coming from you would be listened to by him as if it were law. Right now, at the age of 28 he seemed to have matured- no stopped acting as childish and Yaga didn’t have to rely on you so often.

That same Yaga watches from the window at his new first years— Kugisaki Nobara, Itadori Yuji and Fushiguro Megumi— behind a bush, hiding peeking over to you and Gojo who were on a bench.

“Ah…” Kugisaki sweat dropped at the pair. “Gojo-sensei is so smitten.” She said observing at how you were simply reading a book, as Gojo yaps away but one thing very obvious was the gentle look he gave you.

When you finally looked Gojo’s way, their white haired teacher suddenly stops, they notice a faint blush peeping under his blindfolds and when he does starts talking he stammers. THE Gojo Satoru was stammering, biting his tongue simply because you were looking at him.

“Kugisaki, let’s leave.” Itadori covers his eyes, his right eye peeps through the cracks of his fingers. “Sensei is doing such a bad job at flirting with y/n, I’m getting embarrassed.”

Kugisaki lifts her hands and grabs the collar of Itadori’s and starts shaking it. “This is the closest we’re getting to romance in this school and I want to be the witness.” She grits her teeth.

Just then Nanami walks along the path, making the pair look over. You smile as you call out. “Nanami-kun.”

Nanami stops and waits as you stand from your bench, walking over to greet him. The students stare; as soon as you got off the bench and walks Gojo follows suit not even a millisecond later.

Kugisaki cringes. “He is like a puppy…”

They could vaguely hear Gojo start to make fun of Nanami, but when you think his ‘joke’ was a slight bit too harsh; they watch you give Gojo a side eye and almost immediately their teacher shuts up.

‘y/n has the strongest sorcerer at the palm of their hands .’ Kugisaki and Itadori collectively thought.

Before Kugisaki could comment she senses a small wet feeling on her forehead, then another and then she was drowning in it. Suddenly it started raining.

“Geh. Let’s get out of here.” Kugisaki says as she quickly brought her hands up to cover her bangs. “I don’t want my hair to frizz up.”

Itadori and Fushiguro follows her lead as they walk away to the nearby building and when they did reach shelter, Kugisaki quickly turns around to check on their teacher and you, a fellow sorcerer.

Her mouth drops slightly taking in the situation at hand, Nanami was no where in sight. She assumes he left because of the rain too.

But that wasn’t the focus.

Her eyes were focused on Gojo and you, holding hands smiling fondly at each other, she also noted that he was using ‘Infinity’ to not get wet from the rain.

Gojo laughs as he raises one of your hands high which makes you let out laugh, but complies as you proceed to twirl. As soon as you make two twirls, their teacher places his hands on your face as his leans down, his lips on yours.

Kugisaki and Itadori squeal and blushes at the intimate scene infront of them, jumping. “Sensei, finally did it! He kissed y/n—!” Itadori smiles.

They watch you smile into the kiss and you bring your hands up behind his neck, slowly trailing them into his hair, deepening the kiss.

“I’m so happy,Kugisaki.” Itadori wipes his tears with the back of his hands, extremely happy for his teacher’s happiness and success in his love life.

“I don’t know why you guys are making such a fuss.” Fushiguro finally decides to add into the antics of his classmates.

“Huh?” Kugisaki quickly turns and glares at the dark haired man. ”Is your heart made of stone or something,Fushiguro?”

“Yeah! I heard Gojo-sensei basically raised you.” Itadori chirps in. “You should be more happy for him.”

Kugisaki nods in agreement.

“I mean…” Fushiguro sighs as his hands are up massaging his temple, mentally preparing for the outburst to come.

“They’re married…”

“Ehhhhh???”

Reblogs, like and comment are appreciated! Love this work? out other here

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mochinomnoms · 3 months ago

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say you can't sleep, baby, I know

NSFW!Trey x Reader

Synopsis

You're doing this on purpose, aren't you? You're trying to rile him up, right? He's supposed to be the responsible, big brother of Heartslabyul, he tries so hard. So, so hard to stay out of trouble and have a normal day-to-day life. Trey used to pride himself on his levelheadedness and restraint, but that all went out the window into a swan dive into the lake when he saw you in his bed in that damn one-piece. “Happy Birthday Trey~”

[wc} - 5,258

[cw/tags] - afab!gn!reader (im sorry folks it's all i know how to write still), NRC is a university in this, domesticity kink, birthday sex, breeding kink (sue me), oral (giving & receiving), trey can be a little mean as a treat

[notes] - i apologize for the person i've become after seeing trey's new b-day card. it does things to me and this is 100% self-indulgent for me. also, tried to use very neutral descriptors for reader so tell me how that went and if it reads well! lastly, the outfit the reader wears is based on sabrina carpenter's outfits from her short n' sweet tour, specifically the baby doll one!

Written while listening to “Espresso” by Sabrina Carpenter, I recommend listening to it while reading :)

Let’s consider exactly the type of person Trey is.

Ever since he’s started school at NRC, he’s always taken a bit of a parental role in Heartslabyul, even before he became vice housewarden. Even Cater would joke about it when they first became friends:

“You’re, like, a total big bro! O-M-G, no! You’re like a dad friend! I’m totes willing to bet that the incoming freshmen are gonna slip up! Call you Dad or something!”

Evidently, when Riddle came into the picture and Trey was appointed his vice, Cater was proven right. He didn’t mind it too much, despite what others might think.

He liked the familiarity of it, being the oldest at home, it translated well into his position at Heartslabyul, and it came with the added bonus of being able to minimize any chaos that arose.

That was his main goal, especially with Riddle’s temper during his freshman and at the beginning of his sophomore year. Honestly, he had phenomenal conflict resolution skills, and he just wanted to make his life as easy as possible.

Everyone at this school liked to make that difficult, though, especially the freshmen of this year.

“Oh fu—I mean sh—dam—fuc—shi—FIDDLESTICKS!”

“Dude, just say fuck, why you gotta say the corniest shit—OW—Treyyy! Deuce hit me!”

Deuce had a guilty look on his face as Trey looked up from his notebook to raise a brow at the two.

“W-well, Ace cussed, so he has to put money in the swear jar!”

“Aw what! Come on Trey!” Ace whined, shoving Deuce’s face to the side as the latter grunted and started pulling at his cheeks and arm. “Riddle’s not here, he’ll never know, so I don’t gotta! Don’t make me!”

Trey simply smirked and gestured to the jar on the fireplace mantle, helpfully available to everyone in the lounge.

“You know the rules, bud, two thaurmarks for the f-bomb and a .50 cent for the other.”

Ace tossed his head back and groaned, begrudgingly dragging himself over to the jar as he dug around his pocket for change.

“Don’t be rude to your father, Ace.” A few giggles and snorts vibrated amongst the small group studying in the lounge as you wagged a finger at Ace, Grim squinting angrily at the book in your lap.

Your lips quivered as you hid a laugh, jokingly chastising the ginger.

“No need to be a brat.”

Trey had to withhold a snort at that comment, rich coming from you. He knew better than anyone that you could be as much of a brat as you were another parental figure.

“Oh ha-ha, very funny, Prefect. What, does that make you, Mom or Dad 2?” Ace stuck his tongue out at you as you grinned and focused back on Grim.

“Okay Grimmy, so remember, what alchemy recipes need mandrake root?”

Watching from the corner of his eye, Trey watched fondly as you murmured soft words to Grim. It reminded him of his Mom talking to his siblings after a nightmare, or of his Dad after one of them would get hurt in the kitchen.

Soft, soothing, parental. You’d make an excellent parent one day.

Trey felt himself get warm at the thought, adjusting himself in his seat and looking back at his musicology notes. He couldn’t sing very well, but he can memorize notes, and that’s what the upcoming exam was focused on.

That’s what he needed to focus on, not the way you cradled Grim against you like a parent with their child. Focus on his alchemy flashcards, and not the way you cleaned up the mess on the table so you could bring everyone a tray of snacks he’d prepared earlier that day. Focus on the history textbook in front of him, and not the way you cleaned up the lounge as it got later and later.

It wasn’t fair. It was so unfair how well you fell into the role. Cleaning and humming, one of his spare aprons on you as you wiped down the tables of crumbs and stacked a pile of dishes. It was unfair how sweetly you murmured to the few remaining students, and told them to go to bed and rest up.

They obliged, probably half asleep at this rate, since it was an hour until midnight. Ace and Deuce had retired a while ago, the latter leaning on the former as they haphazardly stumbled to their room.

Riddle had dropped by after his housewarden meeting, satisfied by the study group, but ultimately stuck to his very strict evening routine.

Now it was just you two. Even Grim had been tugged along with Ace and Deuce earlier, not unlike a rag doll slung over their shoulders.

“Trey? Honey, when are you going to sleep? It’s almost midnight.” His eyes fluttered tiredly as he felt your hands slide over his shoulders and a kiss pressed against his temple.

He felt warm again, heat pooling in his belly. You were so unfair.

“You should go to bed soon, come on, I’ll take care of you.”

He can think of a few ways you could ‘take care’ of him.

“It’s fine, why don’t you get Grim and head back to Ramshackle? Curfew is in 30 minutes, you know?”

You rolled your eyes, sighing into his ear, making a tingle go down his spine.

“Okay, but please go to bed soon? I left you a little birthday surprise in your bedroom~”

Trey perked up at that, eyeing your mischievous grin as you waved your fingers goodbye, going down the hallway to the dorms to grab Grim.

To be honest, he’d forgotten that his birthday was tomorrow, he’d been so focused on his midterms that it just slipped his mind. Well, he can’t say he’s not excited to see what you got him, especially since you’d been not too subtly probing him for preferences.

He groaned, running his hands over his face and sighing, heavy and exhausted.

“Ugh, just a bit more and I’ll retire for the night.” Trey reassured himself, eyes straining as he looked between the books in front of him.

The words on the papers blurred after a bit, the sound of the grandclock lulling him further into sleep, his head nodding off until a ping from his phone started him awake.

It was Cater, his Magicam user popping up on his screen.

cay-cay_diamond: hbd trey!! 🥳🎉🎉🎉grats on being an old man now!

Blinking at the clock, Trey realized that it was now a few minutes past midnight, so it was technically his birthday. He’s lucky that Riddle followed his own sleep schedule so rigorously, or else he’d be getting a scolding for breaking curfew.

luckyclover: Old? I’m only like 4 months older than you cay-cay_diamond: yeah. old. cay-cay_diamond: anyways! enjoy the gift in ur room!!! i helped (name) pick out the wrapping 😘😘😘

Trey hummed, a small smile on his face as he imagined the two of you bickering over wrapping paper and messily wrapping up a box with a bow. You did seem very excited for him to find it earlier, maybe you two picked something out together.

He was curious on what exactly you got him and why you hadn’t waited to give it to him at his actual birthday party. And why did you need Cater to help you…you’d always shoo him away when he’d tried helping you with gifts for other’s birthdays.

Stacking his books into his left hand and walking towards the junior dorm rooms, Trey looked at his phone as it pinged again.

cay-cay_diamond: on that topic thooo…u should rly go 2 ur room and get ur present! the poor thing! they’ve been w8ing very patiently 4 u~ luckyclover: Waiting? (Name)??? cay-cay_diamond: 🤭🤫😉

Trey sighed, shaking his head and tucking his phone away and digging out his room keys. It was times like these, deep into the night, when he was thankful for having his own room. He felt a bit bad now, you probably fell asleep in his bed waiting for him.

Though, the thought of you clutching one of his pillows, maybe in one of his sweaters to keep warm, made him smile. Then he could come in, gently take your clothes and shoes off to get you more comfortable, and dress down himself to slip in right behind you.

As he finally managed to get to his room, he heard shuffling as he turned the keys. Trey smirked, noticing that only his rose lamp remained on, and all the drapes to his canopy were now closed.

He could just barely make out the shadow of you moving behind them, hearing you gasp and the bed squeak, making him let out a soft laugh under his breath.

“You’re breaking curfew, you should be asleep you know? You're such a troublemaker sometimes.” Trey teased you as placed his books on his desk, tossing his hat onto its stand and slipping his shoes off to throw them into his wardrobe and grab his slippers.

He yawned, the late night really starting to sink into his body as he started undressing, his jacket and vest getting hung back up in the closet as he worked on his sash and unbuttoning his pants.

“Only like a third of the time!” You whined, the bed softly squeaking as you followed his movements behind the canopy. “Besides, I really wanted to give you your present. Don’t you want to unwrap me?”

Trey paused at the purr in your voice, narrowing his gaze as he saw your hand ever so slightly move the curtain at the end of the bed to peek at him. You were still mostly shrouded in darkness, but there was a very soft glow coming from inside the canopy, so he could just barely make out your mischievous smile.

Though, you quickly frowned, eyeing him up and down out of concern.

“Not if you’re too tired though, you have bags under your eyes, Trey. Do you just wanna go to sleep?”

Giving you a weary smile, Trey finally tossed his sash to the side and reached for the curtains, pushing them to the side to finally take a look at your “mysterious” present.

“In a bit, let me see what you got me…”

Trey’s breath hitched, he suddenly felt very wide awake as his eyes roamed up and down your body.

From the corner of his eye, he could see that you set up string lights along the top of the canopy for ambiance, making you look like you were almost glowing. Though it wasn’t that that made him lose his voice.

You were sitting on the edge of his bed with your legs curled underneath you, dressed in the most darling sage-green, sheer baby doll dress. The dress's puffy sleeves and hem were lacy, matching the lace on the stockings.

Holy shit you were wearing stockings.

“Ha, I wanted to surprise you, I thought you could use a stress reliever.”

You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?

“I should’ve realized that you’d be tired from studying for midterms, sorry.”

You're trying to rile him up, right?

“But, still, do you like it? I wrapped myself up just for you~”

He's supposed to be the responsible, big brother of Heartslabyul, he tries so hard. So, so hard to stay out of trouble and have a normal day-to-day life. To behave.

“In any case,” You shifted onto your knees, the dress splitting in the middle, the only thing keeping it together being a small bow at the base of your neck, revealing the lack of undergarments, just your bare skin underneath. “Even if you’re too tired and just want to sleep, I just wanted to say…”

Trey leaned in as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in, batting your eyelashes and ghosting your lips over his with a teasing smile. Your hands caressed the back of his neck, a thumb rubbing soothing circles, making him melt.

“Happy Birthday Trey~”

It’s now that he noticed that you even added a gloss to your lips, and he could smell the warm perfume on your neck as you pressed your lips to his, tongue swiping over his mouth, asking for permission to enter. Obliging, Trey sighed into the kiss and tangled his tongue with yours, his hands slipping underneath the baby doll and squeezing at your waist.

He really should go to sleep. He has to wake up early for the party. He has to dress in his birthday robes. He has to make sure that the others don’t burn down the kitchen or damage his expensive bakeware as they made his cake.

But the way your skin felt under his gloved hands, skin meeting skin, lace, skin, and lace again.

How could he be expected to sleep now?

Trey used to pride himself on his level headedness and restraint, but that all went out the window into a swan dive into the lake when he saw you in his bed in that damn one-piece.

Humming in delight against your mouth, Trey slid his hands down, as you curled into his body in response, and squeezed at the fat of your thighs before picking you up.

A yelp left your mouth as he picked you up and tossed you up the bed, pulling off his shirt and tossing it behind him as he crawled on top of you.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips as he saw the way the dress fell open to expose your body, your chest moving up and down as you watched him with a giddy smile.

“Oh! I guess you’re not that tired—ah!”

You gasped as Trey grabbed your calves, tugging you up to place the back of your knees on his shoulders. He leaned in to press a chaste kiss to your right thigh, smirking against the lace.

“I was tired. I should be asleep,” Trey murmured against your stocking laced skin, pressing kisses as he went farther and farther down. “Resting—kiss—Up—kiss—but no.”

He gave you a half-hearted glare, which you responded with a smile and lacing your hands through his hair as he pressed another kiss to the bend where your thigh met your sex.

“You broke curfew, you wanted to keep me up with your little ‘present’, you know I’d get in trouble for hiding you out in my room.”

Trey gave you a bite on your thigh, groaning as he felt your hands tighten in his hair, moving back to press a soothing kiss to the mark he left.

“Are you trying to get me in trouble? Throw me in the doghouse?” “Cause I’ll make sure you come right with me, after a little taste of my birthday treat.”

The same time he ran his tongue up your sex, Trey could feel you shiver and pull on his hair as he ate you feverishly, like a man starved from food or water for ages.

“Mmm! Trey!” You threw your head back, bringing one hand up to slam a hand over your mouth to muffle your cries, the walls here weren’t known to be sound-proof.

He should probably care a bit more, especially when you let out a particularly high-pitched squeal as his tongue began fucking into your hole.

“Trey! Oooh, Trey~”

Bringing a finger to join his tongue, Trey smiled against your skin as you squeezed your thighs around his head, using his free hand to push his pants and underwear down to palm at his dick.

“Trey—aaaah—wait, let me—mmph—Honey—” You let out a shuddering gasp, pulling his head up from your sex. Trey locked eyes with you, leaning into the hand you slid down to cup his cheek and caress his lower lips, wiping the slick and drool from the corner of his mouth.

“Yes? Honey?” Removing his hand from inside you to cover your own hand and kiss your palm, Trey smiled and hummed, “I like that, you know, reminds me of a husband coming home to his spouse.”

Pressing kisses up your body, soft and tingly, up your neck, and back to your lips where they belonged.

“Hmm, I really like the sound of that, (Name) Clover.” You murmured against his lips, smiling as you wrapped a leg around his waist to bring his dick closer to your sex, rubbing against him as you both sighed into each other’s mouths.

“Is that what you want? You want me to be a cute little spouse? Dress up in a cute apron? Greet you when you come home from work?”

So focused on the softness of your lips and the wetness sliding against his dick, Trey didn’t even notice you twisting your body to turn him onto his back, the back of his head hitting the back of his pillows as you sat on top with a cheeky grin.

“Hm? How would my husband want me to welcome him home? A hug? A kiss? Mm, what about…me?” Trey watched you with flushed cheeks as you kissed down his body, mimicking his earlier actions as you helped him tug off the rest of his clothes.

“Oh, how nice it would be for you to come back to a warm, clean home with a spouse…” Looking up at him through your eyelashes and giving him a kitten lick to his tip. “...ready to give soft wet holes for you to fill~”

Giving him a vision into that sweet, sweet future, you swallowed his tip, down his shaft, and started sucking.

“Haaah—”

Trey lolled his head back into his pillow, letting out a breathless moan as you bobbed your head up and down his length, your hand working the rest that didn’t fit into your mouth.

“Fuuuuck. That does sound nice—mmh!” Reaching his hand down, you immediately took one of your hands to lace it with his, squeezing it as you hummed around his cock.

“My lovely spouse—nnnngh—their pretty mouth—unnnh—soft holes—aaaah—all for me to come home to every day, what a dream~”

A particularly harsh suck made Trey arch his back and squeeze your hand harder, a giggle vibrating his dick as you pulled off.

“Hehe, is this your way of proposing? Kinda dirty to do it with your dick on my mouth.” You giggled, pressing kisses and quick licks along his shaft.

“That’s okay though, you and I both know that deep down, you’re a bit of a pervert. Right?”

Trey scoffed, tugging you up with a bemused smile. “Yeah? How can you tell? Thought I hid that pretty well.”

A soft laugh escaping you, you held both of his hands, bringing them up to press kisses on his knuckles, making the green-haired man sigh fondly.

“The way you look at me sometimes, like you’re undressing me. It makes me feel all warm and tingly, especially when I piss you off.”

Both of you let out a breathless moan as your wetness rubbed against his hard dick, grinding against one another as the tip occasionally caught against your hole, making you shiver.

“Is it bad that sometimes I wanna get you mad so you’ll fuck me real mean? Is it bad that I want you to use me? To fuck your stress out with me?”

A lump forming in his throat, Trey let go of your hands to pull at the string holding your flimsy baby doll together. Eyes half lidded, he pushed the fabric off your shoulders, watching it pool at your elbows as you placed your hands on his chest to steady yourself as your grinding turned into vigorous humping against him, making you both gasp in pleasure.

“Ooh, Trey, honey, baby, hubby~ Won’t you use me? Be a little mean? Pleeeease? Fuck me, fill me up like I know you want! Pleeeeease Trey? Pretty, pretty please?”

Lips smashed against yours as Trey bolted up, groaning into your mouth as he grabbed your hips in an almost painful grip.

He picked you up once again, throwing you on all fours, covers tangling against your knees and hands, as he ripped your dress off and tossed it.

Trey’s left hand placed itself on your hip, while his right pushed down on your back, following up your spine to the base of your neck where he pushed you down to shove your face into the sheets, forcing you into a doggy pose.

“So you do like getting me in trouble, little brat. Fine, I’ll be mean.”

Trey lined his dick against your throbbing hole, leaning down to press a tender kiss to your ear and moving the hand on your neck to wove with your right, squeezing it reassuringly.

“Squeeze three times if you need me to stop, otherwise, I’m going to fuck that brain right out of your pretty little head, since you don’t seem to be wanting to use it.”

In one, swift move, Trey slammed his hips to your ass, sinking nearly half his length into your warm, waiting hole.

“FUCK! YES—MMMPH” Burying your face into the sheets to muffle your cries, Trey did the same into your shoulder, shivering at your tightness around him.

Setting a rhythm, hips smacking into your ass, Trey worked the rest of his cock into you until he could hear the smack of your ass against his hips, the sound echoing with the creak of the bed.

Your tightness around him was heavenly, as was the sight of you sinking further into the bed and arching your ass to sloppily meet his thrusts. Straightening again, bending your arm back so that your hands could remain intertwined.

His left hand caressed your back and the fat of your behind, before bringing it down in a harsh slap to your ass, making you yelp and squeeze his hand in a vice grip, though you also tightened around his cock.

Rubbing a soothing circle against the reddening skin, slowed his thrusts, making you whine and push against him.

“Haaah, that okay? Feel good?” Trey murmured, smiling at the frantic nod and wiggle against him. “Want me to keep going?”

“Mmmph... yessshh... mmmore, mmmore... pleeeashh, honey~” Your sounds were muffled as you bit into the blanket, getting higher and higher as he obliged, not one to deny you after all.

Every other thrust was met with a slap to one cheek, then the other, the skin turning redder and redder with his handprints marking you. The harder he went, the more and more slack you went, until he was eventually just fucking you like his personal toy.

Though, you did offer yourself as his present, didn’t you? So it was only fair that he got to use his present as he wished, and right now, he wanted to feel you cumming around him.

Ceasing his smacks, making you whine, Trey instead melded his body against yours, the weight both overwhelming and comforting, as his left hand instead moved to your sex to rub you to completion.

Trey watched as you gasped for breath, completely burying your head into the bed to muffled your screams as you came around him, trembling and squeezing him.

The feeling of your walls pulsating around his shaft was becoming dangerously addicting, and he was very greedy for more of that.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! I’m so close! You can give me another one, right?”

Slipping his arms around your waist and pulling you up, Trey adjusted you so that you sat on his dick, kissing the side of your neck for reassurance as he let go of your hand to quickly slide his arms under your knees.

From all his years of tossing bags of flour and sugar, from kneading dough, from all the labor he’s done as a baker, picking you up was like child’s play.

Folding your knees up to your chest so he could hold you, back flush to his chest, was nothing for him. Everything for you, though, your over sensitive hole squeezing down on him again.

“FUCK! I caaame! Treytreytreytrey—” You dug a hand into his arm, tossing your head back and lolling your tongue out with a dumb, drooly smile on your lips.

“A-almost there—nngh—just squeeze if I need to stop—I’m so close~”

Smashing his lips against yours for an open mouth, wet kiss, Trey pounded faster into you, determined to feel your walls pulsate again, this time as he filled your insides up like one of his pastries.

Then, an awful, perverted thought filled his head, like a devil was whispering in his ear.

Why doesn’t he fill them up with his kids? Don’t stop until his cum is drooling out of their hole, and go again to make up for the lost seed. He already wants them to be his spouse, why not add a few little ones to that picture?

Trey was losing any bit of restraint that he may have had as he was now determined to fullfill his fantasy. Even if you couldn’t do it, magic made anything here possible, and right now is good practice anyway.

“I’m—aaaahhh—I’m gonna come inside, okay? Fill you up, yeah?”

Digging your nails into his skin, you nodded against his mouth and whined.

“Yessssss! Fill me up! Inside! Gimme a baby Trey! I wanna make you a daaaaddy~”

Squeezing your legs further against your chest, Trey pounded faster and faster, trembling as he reached close and closer to his peak.

Warmth flooded his body, tingles, and he swears sparks, flying over his skin as he felt you clamp down on him for a third time.

Your voice squealed higher and higher, any previous attempt to be quiet for naught as you practically screamed.

Trey shuddered as he finally came, cum flooding your warm insides as you went limp in his arms.

Panting for air, both of you remained still for a minute, the bed feeling stuffy with the curtains still closed. After another minute, Trey pulled you up and off of him, shaky as his now limp dick left your warm, comfortable embrace.

Doing his best to gently place you on the bed, Trey let out a breathless laugh as you collapsed on the bed like a rag doll, blinking your eyes tiredly at the ceiling of the canopy.

“Haah, sorry, I went too hard there, huh?”

You shook your head, giving him a tired smile and reaching a hand for him, which he took and brought up to kiss.

“It was good, really, good. You liked your present?”

Snorting and nodding, Trey carefully scooped you up to move your head onto the pillows and gently roll off your garter stocking, thumbs rubbing soothing circles as he did.

“Yeah, I did. Come on, let me get you a shirt.”

You whined as he pulled away, exhaustion starting to steep into him as he tied back the curtains to the canopy to let the stuffiness out. Trey picked up the baby doll he’d tossed earlier, placing it into his wardrobe drawer as he dug out a shirt and sweatpants for himself and a shirt for you.

As he closed the drawer, he noticed your backpack hidden underneath it, digging in it to grab you some underwear. You had packed a pair of pajamas, apparently, but…he’d rather see you in his clothes.

“Hmm, honey? Come to bed…” You whined, hands reaching out for him impatiently as he slipped on his clothes, crawling over to you and helping you slip your underwear and his shirt on.

“I’m here, I’m here.”

Trey slowly blinked, eyelids heavy as he scoop you up to place you two under the covers, the soft mattress making him practically become one with the bed and you as you nestled into his chest.

Your legs tangled with his as Trey wrapped his arms around you and tucked your head under his chin. He could feel fatigue and sleep quickly taking over him as your voice vibrated against his chest, soft and sleepy.

“Happy birthday honey, I—yawn—love…you…”

A different kind of warmth, soft and sweet, filled him as he squeezed you tighter against him, murmuring back.

“I love you too…”

*Riiiing* *Riiiiiiiing* *Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing*

An irritating, loud noise filled Trey’s ears as he groaned, half-awake as he turned over to smack his hand on his phone, silencing the alarm.

“Aah…Noisy…hhggh.” Trey groaned, rolling over, careful to not crush you under him to blindly reach for his glasses.

“Glasses…glasses…ah..”

Plastic and glass finally under his palm, Trey slipped his glasses on his face, ultimately throwing himself back into bed next to you, who’d begun shifting awake.

“Mmm, honey?”

Grunting in response, Trey threw an arm over his eyes, irritated at the sun seeping through the window into his eyes.

“Early…”

You chuckled, a yawn escaping you as you decided to move closer and slip a hand under his shirt to rub at his chest, pressing kisses into his neck as well.

“You’re so grumpy in the morning. Come on, you've got a big day ahead.”

“…Ugh, I do?”

Snorting at his response, Trey grunted as he felt you move, peaking under his arm to see you resting on your elbow. You had puffy, dark circles under your eyes from the little sleep you managed to get.

“Birthdays are a pretty big deal, right?” Smiling at him, Trey squinted an eye and groaned, squeezing his eyes shut in protest.

“Ugggh, yeah…”

Hearing you hum, Trey groaned in surprise as he felt you straddle his waist and caress his neck and cheeks, making him remove his arm to blink up at you.

Your hair was a tangled mess, sticking up in all sorts of places. The bags under your eyes more noticeable under the night. His shirt dwarfed you. You were a hot mess, all things considered.

He probably wouldn’t say it out loud, with how cute you were last night, but he thinks you look most beautiful like this. Better than any frilly, skimpy, or tight outfit.

“Come on, Birthday Boy, want me to give you a little pick me up?”

Kissing him with a smile, Trey moaned into the lazy, sloppy morning kiss, tilting his head back as you pressed kissed down his neck, deciding to work on leaving a love bite at the nape of his neck.

Trey’s phone chimed, making him sigh as he reached for it, letting you continue your love bites and kisses,

Squinting at the few messages, it seemed like a few of his friends and classmates were already sending him birthday wishes. Though, a message from Cater made him blot up, a sudden shock of alertness running down his spine.

“Ah! Trey, what is it?”

cay-cay_diamond: morning!! happy bday 2 the bday boi again! thought i let u no tht u owe me a favor, had 2 cast a silencing spell on ur roum last nite. totes ruined my beauty sleep! cay-cay_diamond: also i know u got ur lil cutie 2 distract ya, but liek dont b l8 2 ur bday breakfast, grimmy might eat it!

“Shit, we were too loud, Cater had to cast a silencing spell on the room.”

You made an ‘oh’ shape with your mouth, giving Trey an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, but at least you enjoyed it, right?”

Trey smiled, more awake now, and nodded, sharing a sweet kiss with you.

“Definitely. You might have to consider making your go-to gift for now on, it’s gotta be my favorite one I’ve ever gotten.”

He solidified that statement with one more, firm, assuring kiss with you, before having to leave your sweet dream into the real world.

At least he could have one part of that dream with him at his side from now on: you.

comments and reblogs appreciated 🩷

#mochi fic #twst #twisted wonderland #trey clover #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #trey clover x reader #twst trey #twisted wonderland smut #twst smut #trey clover smut #happy birthday trey #anyways thats my husband and i probably wont get this out of my system for a while

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aangelinakii · 19 days ago

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BATBOYS + SITTING ON THEIR BACK DURING PUSH-UPS.

note : personally i would love someone to push up w me on their back ,,, and also no damian just becquse i couldn't rhink of a scenario soz aloz

BRUCE WAYNE.

the kids had forced offered bruce a night off, after performing his nightly duties too many months in a row. now, sitting in bed with a book, you found it difficult to concentrate on the printed words as your partner lingered on the floor by his side of the bed, his quick breaths huffing through your shared bedroom. what on earth could he be doing? flipping the corner of your page down to save your place, you folded the book shut and put it down, rolling over the bed to peer over the side... only to find your wonderous bruce wayne... doing push ups?

"what are you doing?" you'd chuckled with a soft shake of your head.

muscles rippling beneath the flesh of his back, bruce brought his body down, and then pushed himself back up again, his triceps straining against skin. with a grunt he glanced back at you, never ceasing movement. "i need to get energy out before i go to bed. mind you, i'm not usually relaxing by this time."

another laugh brushed past your lips. "then that's not tiring you out." but bruce only sent you another glance, more sheepish this time; you couldn't blame him, not being accustomed to how one normally retires for the evening.

before he could reply again, you were slinging a leg over the side of the mattress and landing on the plush carpeting. bruce's exercise ceased in curiosity, his head turning to run his gaze over your legs. "oh, no, don't stop on my behalf," you grinned, carefully tucking one of your shins along his back and lowing the rest of your weight onto him.

but bruce wayne didn't falter a bit.

instead, he took it in his stride, tucking his arms and moving down, and then pushing up even faster than he'd been doing before. but he couldn't hide the crescent of his eyes and lines at the corners of his mouth as they turned up — he could do this all night.

DICK GRAYSON.

bullets of sweat shot to the floor with each punch, his flesh grunting against the boxing bag hanging from the ceiling. it never had the chance to swing too far, for he was already hitting it from the other side. although you weren't going as hard at it as your boyfriend, your own limbs were straining from exercise.

with a loud exhale, dick stepped away from the swinging sand bag, holding out a shaking hand to steady it. before it could stop, he was already moving to one of the ready-laid mats.

without a second too long of a break, he was down on his palms, moving up and down, his triceps tensing and bulging in his flesh. the way he kept glancing at you every few moments was making it very difficult to focus on your own workout.

ceasing your movements, you looked over at him with crossed arms. "anything i can help you with?" it was half a joke, expecting him to just grunt a chuckle and shake his head, getting caught red-handed checking you out. instead, he allowed a few seconds' silence, and then hummed.

"yes, actually." his voice was strained against his action, but he'd be damned if he stopped now just to speak. "come here, will you?"

it's not like you're busy or anything. but who were you to deny one dashingly handsome dick grayson your time and energy; especially when that's what you were dating him for.

unable to bite back a smile, you made your way over. "okay... what now?"

"sit on my back."

despite the tension in his throat as he spoke, dick didn't pause his push-ups — and you were supposed to sit on him like this? right...

however strange it may have been to try sit down on a moving man's back, the sheer fact dick could push-up your body weight made it worth it (no matter how many times you fell off before finally sticking it).

JASON TODD.

relaxing days — no work, no appointments, nothing to do — had to be the best days. especially here, as you and jason lay belly-down on the floor, using your glorious free time to complete a puzzle book you'd found at the grocery store the other day.

well... jason was belly-down on the floor; you were belly-down on his back, peering over his shoulder and pointing at the page, giving your contributions.

it got to the point where you were both on the last page, pen marks etched into the paper from where you'd scribbled answers and numbers and words, but you were stumped. with a huff, jason flicked the pen from his fingers, landing with a thump a metre away. "how are they gonna make puzzles you can't even solve? stupid..."

"hey, hey," you chuckled, bringing your fingers to scratch lovingly at his jaw. "i can get us a new one. want to go now?" as the words left your mouth, you moved one leg from where it lay entwined with his, preparing to get ready for an outing.

but jason was too quick, and too stubborn. before you could react, he'd pulled one arm from beneath him and lightly pressed down on your back, keeping you in place. "no, i'm joking," he mumbled. "please, let's just stay."

anything for him.

and so you fell limp against him once more, arms folding beneath your chin so you could rest your head, eyes fluttering closed. silence ran through the apartment, aside from the soft workings of jason's breathing beneath your ear; outside the city buzzed, but, by now, it was more background noise. perhaps a little nap wouldn't hurt—

something was moving beneath you, and your eyes shot open in alarm, arms shooting out from beneath you and clinging to the nearest thing – which happened to be around jason's waist. although you weren't moving, the coffee table beside you was bobbing up and down, and you couldn't possiblt fathom what was happning, until you realised...

"don't want to miss a workout," jason grunted from below, as if reading your mind. no lazy day was truly lazy when you had a jason peter todd to mind.

TIM DRAKE.

"i bet i could do that," tim spoke from the other end of the couch, where his socked feet were prodding your legs, probably in a surreptitious attempt to get them massaged. "no sweat."

you glanced between the tv and him, your lovely boyfriend tim, who would come up in the dictionary if you searched for the word overzealous. on the screen, playing the scene of a bizarre film you'd flipped to, the main love interest was working out when the main character stumbled into the room; there was some fleeting dialogue, and then, before you could find an explanation for it, she was sitting on his back as he continued his workout.

"what, you—" now when you looked over at tim, he had that wide grin on his face, and you knew you were in for something. "you want to try it now?"

without much of an answer, tim was rising to his feet, adjusting the waistband of the linen pyjama pants he wore, and fell to his hands and knees. "i mean, if you insist," he scoffed playfully. "try not to fall in love with me even more."

something about this didn't feel right... tim was certainly muscular, certainly strong — you'd seen him in action — but you didn't have much trust in him this time. regardless of your worries, you shimmied from your seat on the couch and carefully arranged yourself, legs crossed, on tim's back.

he only shook a bit at first, his legs now outstretched behind him, arms firm as logs. but he wasn't moving, just frozen in the plank position.

peering over his shoulder at him, you asked, "what's with the hold-up?"

pink in the cheeks, jaw clenched, tim's voice barely came out through his teeth. "yeah, just... wait—"

carefully – and very slowly – tim lowered himself, and in addition you, down, until his toned chest was millimetres away from the floor, and then, just as slowly, he pushed back against the ground.

once he was back in his starting position, he shifted beneath you, almost toppling you overboard. "okay, okay, i'm done!" he gasped. "my abs are gonna kill me!"

DUKE THOMAS.

being sick for the past week, you'd found it difficult to encourage yourself out of the house to go visit the gym — so, instead, you'd resorted to working out at home.

duke returned home the moment the sun began to dip below darkening clouds, his warmth radiating through the house as he closed the door behind him. he called something into the living room, but it went unheard beneath the instructions playing on the telly.

"oh, you working out?" he hummed as he entered, raking his eyes over your form and the synchronised movements on the tv screen.

mid-movement, you grunted a yeah, and duke edged around you to sit on the couch.

finally, when your break came, you collapsed to your mat and turned to him, grabbing your water bottle on the coffee table. "how was patrol?" you breathed.

the corners of duke's mouth turned up in a grin, clearly bemused by the sheen of sweat along your brow. "yeah, great." his eyes glanced over to the screen — two more minutes of your break, and it looked like you'd be attempting a five-minute plank. "mind if i work in with you?"

you glanced back, sipping at your water, and gave a half-chuckle. "i would've thought you'd be too tired for more exercise."

duke's bottom lip jutted out with a casual shrug. "i've missed you, we can do it together."

unfortunately, you couldn't ignore that little smile, that charm he held like a secret. and so you put your water bottle back on the table and duke joined you, beside your mat.

when the timer was up, you braced yourself for your plank, but duke, also on his knees, caught your attention — some stupid smile lingered on his lips, like he had a cheeky plan. "i don't know if a plank will be difficult enough for me."

"well done," you scoffed playfully. "just because it's easy for you, doesn't mean it's easy for me."

he held out a hand to diffuse any wrong ideas. "no, i just meant i think i know a way to break a sweat."

at this, you eyed him suspiciously, albeit curiously. before you could question him any further, he was on his palms and tip of his toes, gesturing you to sit on his back.

after a few "are you crazy?"s, you found yourself sitting on his back, trying not to touch him too much with your overly-warm limbs, lowering and raising with ease, your youtube workout by now forgotten.

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junovrsmp4 · 10 months ago

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three is not a crowd

5 times Chris walks in on you and Matt fucking + 1 time he gets to join in on the fun

pairing: established!matt x reader, chris x reader, matt x reader x chris

summary: what it says on the tin basically

warnings: THREESOME, PURE FILTH, dick riding, oral (female & male receiving), teasing, edging, over-stimulation, multiple orgasms, squirting, p in v, slight degradation/praising, slight angst, happy ending yay

word count: 6.9K

author’s note: im a whore for both of them. that is all. (also this has plot, and is mostly beta read but i havent slept in hrs so if some mistakes did slip thru my bad

“Hey Matt, have you seen my-” Chris begins to ask as he pushes Matt’s bedroom door open, expecting his brother to either be lazing around in bed or be at his desk, gaming.

What he doesn't expect is the sight he is instead greeted by, of you, Matt’s girlfriend of the last year and a half, astride Matt’s lap, riding his dick while he leans against his headboard, head thrown back and hands grabbing your hips, guiding you, slowly.

Chris is shocked, understandably, and he should just turn around and book it. Instead, he stands frozen, watching the way your head is nestled into the crook of Matt’s neck, your shoulders shaking. If Chris ignores the sound of his own pounding heart, he can almost hear the soft whimpers you’re letting out at each downward thrust of your hips.

At the sound of a soft, deep groan, Chris’ attention shifts to Matt, who has his eyes shut, and his bottom lip pinched between his teeth. There’s something surreal about this scene, seeing Matt, who looks nothing like Chris, but also looks the most like him, fucking this beautiful girl who’s been on his mind for months now.

“Matt…,” he hears you whine loudly against his brother’s neck, and Chris has to grit his teeth, fight against the urge to shove his hands into his pants and fist his growing erection. This shouldn't turn him on so much, hell, he shouldn't even be here right now. He should have run in the opposite direction as soon as he realized what he’d walked in on, but he’s mesmerized by the way you move, your back arching as your hips move back and forth. The slow, sensual, almost hypnotic, movements of your body as you ride Matt’s dick has him clenching his fists, nails digging into his palms and it’s easy to imagine him in Matt’s place as he gets this view of what it might look like to fuck you. Your moans grow louder, and Chris thinks it might be because you’re getting close, and god, he feels so hot underneath his skin.

“Shh baby, didn't you say we needed to be quiet?” Matt whispers against the side of your head. “Can’t have Chris hearing us, can we?”

At the sound of his name, Chris’ heart hammers faster, and he looks up at Matt’s face, only to see that his brother’s gaze was already on him, watching him with a slight smirk before thrusting his hips up, presumably driving his cock deeper into you, making you moan even louder than you already were.

Breaking out of his stupor, Chris stumbles backwards before hightailing it to his room, slamming the door behind him. It takes all of five seconds for him to get his cock out of his sweatpants, furiously jerking off as he leans against his door, biting into the hem of his t-shirt that he’d pulled up over his chest, and only another five seconds before he shoots his cum all over himself.

Chris knows its wrong, wanting his brother's girl. This was never a problem before, because any time he found out Matt liked someone, Chris immediately lost interest. It was the brothers’ code; they never fought over girls, and besides, they always just liked different ones.

You, though…it was hard not to like you, even after he found out Matt had his eyes on you.

Chris remembers the first time he met you, how nice you’d been to him and his brothers, how easily you’d fit into their lives. He’s not going to lie and say he’d wanted you right from the start. It was a gradual thing, slowly creeping up on him before he realized what had gotten him.

You just made him feel so comfortable, and surprisingly, the two of you had a lot in common. But then again, you had a lot in common with Matt, and Nick. And yet, you were so different. You were smart, playful, and so, so kind. You were just the right amount of goofy and serious, and you just, fit well into the dynamic Chris and his brothers shared.

It shouldn't have surprised him when Matt eventually told him and Nick that he was into you and planned to ask you out. It all happened so quickly after that. You and Matt had gotten together and, now you weren't just the new friend that Chris and his brothers were always hanging out with, but his brother's (his brother who was also his best friend, really) girlfriend.

Which is why Chris knows it’s fucked up. Wanting you. And he knows it’s even more fucked up that he wishes he could have a repeat of what happened a few weeks ago when he accidentally walked in on you and Matt. The amount of times he’s jacked off to that memory alone the past few nights is insane, his mind supplying images to create his own version of events where he doesn't run away.

Especially fucked up is the fact that Matt had seen him, had looked cocky that he’d caught Chris watching them, and even that fact hadn’t deterred Chris from chasing orgasm after orgasm to the thought of fucking you, imagining how tight and wet your pussy might be, what it might taste like.

Speaking of the fucker who seemed totally unfazed by recent events, Matt sat across Chris, scrolling through his phone, while Nick sat beside him, editing their latest video. Chris was trying his hardest not to flip the fuck out, but his whole nervous system seemed like it was fried. Nick had already yelled at him twice to stop moving so much because he was apparently jostling the table too much, and Matt had just let out a bemused chuckle without lifting his eyes from his phone the entire time.

Just as Chris was about to get up and retreat to him room, the doorbell rings, before Matt gets a series of texts.

“Oh, she’s here-” Matt says, before shooting out of his chair and rushing to great you at the front door.

“Hey, hey, hey!” your cheery voice rings through the hallway, as you and Matt make your way into the kitchen, and Chris almost chokes on the sip of Pepsi he’d just taken because holy fuck-

You were wearing a short, tight black dress that hugged the lines and curves of your body just right, the square neckline barely covering your chest. His eyes slipped further down to the way the fabric of the dress cinched at your waist, and to the slit at the side of the dress that came up to mid-thigh. That and the combination of tall strappy heels you had on made your legs look…really good. So good that Chris wishes he was between those legs, licking a path up your calf to your inner thighs, leaving bruising kisses to mar the smooth, unblemished skin of your legs, before finally, finally-

Nick hoots just then, exclaiming about how hot your fit looks, pulling Chris out of his daze. He watches as you bask in the compliments being showered onto you by both Nick and Matt now, and can't help but smile at the way you try to hide your blushing face.

So, it’s completely out of left field when he sees you again later that night, sitting on the couch with your hands covering your face but this time it’s to hide the loud moans that threaten to slip from your mouth as you watch Matt kneel in front of you, his mouth pressing kisses into your inner thighs…just like Chris had imagined doing earlier.

It’s ridiculous really, how Chris had been feeling slightly normal after dinner with you and his brothers, because as awkward as he may have been feeling about you and Matt, being around you and his brothers, having good food and just laughing about random shit made him feel really fucking good. Like everything was normal and he wasn't fantasizing about fucking his brother’s girlfriend. Like he hadn't accidentally walked in on them fucking.

Of course it’s just his fucking luck that as soon he’s feeling just that slightest bit of normalcy, he’d decided to go to the kitchen and grab a Pepsi from the fridge at 3 AM, only to find his brother about to eat you out on the couch.

“Matt-” you whine, as your back arches off the couch, one of your hands moving to grab Matt’s hair, the other trying and failing to hold back your moans. “Matt, please- nnggh- stop teasing.”

Chris feels all his blood rush down south and it leaves him lightheaded. The low lighting in the room accentuates the shadows of your body and he can see the muscles in your legs flex as your thighs clench around Matt’s head, trying to get him to move his mouth closer to where you want him. You’re not in the tight black dress he’d seen you in earlier, but in a blue baby tee and black lace-trimmed hipster briefs. There’s an almost imperceptible quiver that wracks through your entire body in anticipation for what’s to come.

Matt doesn't keep you waiting for long. Chris' breathing grows even more jagged as he watches Matt’s fingers push your panties to the side before he runs his tongue flat up your pussy. Chris can't see as much as he’d like to, but his overactive imagination does the job for him, imagining how wet you must be.

Chris feels like such a sick perv for still standing there, watching with wide eyes as Matt (his literal brother) enthusiastically licks and kisses your pussy, and he almost wonders how neither of you haven't noticed him yet. Then again, you and Matt seem so lost in each other, and now there’s another ugly thought circling Chris’ brain, one that makes his chest hurt a little.

He forgoes his Pepsi for the night and quietly returns back to his room, cock half-hard, and his heart just the slightest bit heavy.

“Alright, what’s going on with you?” Nick asks him, while his eyes are still fixed on his phone.

He and Chris were sitting on the couch (Chris had been avoiding the section that you and Matt had used during your late night rendezvous), and Chris was idly flipping through his Netflix watch list.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Chris says with a heavy sigh, slumping further into the couch.

It’s quiet, and the silence makes Chris look up at Nick, who was already looking at him with a curious frown.

“Seriously, what the fuck is up with you?” Nick asks, and he actually looks concerned, which throws Chris off a bit. “You’re usually bouncing off the walls and annoying the shit out of everyone in your nearest vicinity, but lately you've just been, I don't know- I’m like actually worried, did something happen? Is everything okay?”

Chris swallows around the lump that had formed in his throat and takes a minute. To do what, he doesn't know. It’s not like he’s going to prepare himself to tell Nick what he’d witnessed, twice, and how he was feeling about it. Really, how does one go about telling their triplet brother that they’d accidentally witnessed their other brother in an intimate situation with said brother’s partner, not once, but twice, and had enjoyed it, to the point of having nightly fantasies about it?

There were more complicated feelings lurking just under the surface, more than just Chris wanting to fuck you, but he did not have the mental bandwidth to unpack all that, so that was that. It’s not like he had honest to god feelings-

“See, at this point, you would’ve been yapping away-” Nick says, interrupting his train of thought, “-but instead, you’re just sitting there, looking all sad and miserable.”

“Okay, I don't look sad and miserable,” Chris says with a roll of his eyes. At least, he hopes he doesn't. “I’m just tired dude. Haven't been sleeping well lately.”

“Right.”

“What? It’s the truth.”

“Didn't say you were lying,” Nick says, matter-of-factually, in that signature Nick tone that lets everyone know when he isn't buying their bullshit.

“I’m fine,” Chris says slowly, waiting for Nick to stop looking at him so intensely.

“Sure,” Nick drawls out. “You’re also a shitty liar.”

“Fuck you,” Chris grumbles, chucking the TV remote at Nick, who flails to try and dodge it, letting out an indignant squawk when it bounces off his shoulder and falls to the ground.

This, of course, results in Nick throwing whatever was closest to him at Chris, which happens to be an empty water bottle, and eventually they're just chucking it back and forth, cursing at each other in between laughter.

It’s the most relaxed Chris has felt in weeks.

Too bad you had to walk in at that exact moment.

“Hey guys!” you say cheerily, plopping down on the couch, next to Chris. You’d stayed over for a couple of nights now, as you usually do, and Chris should be extremely used to your presence, except he feels his skin prickle as soon as your close to him, close enough for him to feel the warmth radiating off of your skin.

“God, how are you so chipper every morning?” Nick asks, shaking his head with a poorly hidden smile.

You twirl a strand of your hair around your finger, and bit the corner of your bottom lip. “It helps that I wake up to one of the hottest guys ever, and then get to hang out with his hot as fuck brothers,” you say with a smirk, waggling your eyebrows at Nick.

Chris wishes you hadn't just said that because now his mind wanders (more like sprints) to the memory of this morning, when he’d walked past Matt’s open bedroom. He’d heard the telltale sounds of skin slapping against skin, and your voice, whining Matt’s name over and over, which had him stopping right before Matt’s door, eyes wide, mouth agape. This couldn't be happening right? There was no way he’d walked into this situation for a third time.

Chris debates on whether he should just turn back around, go downstairs, out the front door, and bash his head against a tree, or if he should soldier on and just walk past to get to his room.

The sounds were getting to him. His cock strained against his grey sweatpants, creating a very obvious tent. His clothes suddenly felt a size too small, the air around him too thick, and he felt sweat break out on his forehead. He should leave, run far, far away from his house probably, but a sick part of him wants more than anything to see what’s got you moaning this time.

He rounds the corner and is met with a sight that almost has him falling to his knees.

It’s unfair, how incredibly gorgeous you look straddling Matt’s thighs, bouncing on his dick rhythmically, your head thrown back. You’re leaning back on your hands, supported on Matt’s knees, and Chris watches the way your body undulates as you swivel your hips, ribs flaring as your chest heaves. Every gasp you let out is a punch to Chris’ gut, leaving him feeling winded.

You’re so lost in the throes of pleasure that you don't hear when Chris groans out loud, but he knows exactly when Matt hears him, because his head rolls lazily towards him, his hands that had been grabbing your hips tightening, and there’s little to no warning before Matt’s flipping you over and thrusting into you with vigor.

“Does that feel good baby?” Chris hears Matt ask, his voice rough and low. “Tell me how good my dick makes you feel.”

“Fuck, so good, Matt- please, please, please-” your moans turning into whimpers as Matt’s thrust pick up in pace. Chris can tell exactly when Matt hits the bundle of nerves inside you that has you seeing stars because your back arches off his bed, hands scrambling to find purchase. Your fingers clench into the pillow above your head, as you beg Matt to go harder, faster.

Chris’ eyes bounce back to Matt, who’s watching you in awe, and he’s seen that look on his face numerous times before, like Matt can't get enough of you. Chris’ breath hitches, because he wishes it was him, in Matt’s place. Him, worshiping you, making you feel good. He wishes he was the one that was ripping those sounds out of you.

He catches Matt’s eyes just then, and Chris has never wanted to punch him in the face more than he does in that moment, because it almost feels like he’s mocking Chris.

See what I have, what you so desperately want…

Chris holds up a middle finger, directed at Matt and whatever god was up there who’d clearly forsaken him. He had half the mind to just yell but the last thing he wanted to do was embarrass you. So with a scathing look at Matt, and a mouthed fuck you, he walks to his room, the sound of Matt’s laughter the last thing he hears before Chris angrily slams the door and sheds his clothes, pumping his cock to the memory of your voice.

It’s the hardest he’s cum all week.

Chris walks in on Matt pounding you against the wall leading to the garage. At this point, it had to be on purpose. The two of you had to be planning this, because how was it always Chris that ended up walking in on them, and not Nick? Knowing his brother, Nick would’ve gone around voicing his disgust at having caught you and Matt fucking, any chance he got.

So, it had to be on purpose.

Matt’s whispering dirty things in your ear, loud enough for Chris to hear every word.

“You’re so fucking pretty baby-”

“I want to ruin you, want you to feel me for days-”

“You’re such a dirty little slut, aren’t you?” and that has you letting out a particularly loud whine. The next bit Matt whispers into your ear is too inaudible for Chris to comprehend but he can tell how much it affects you, because you absolutely lose it just then.

Fuck this. Fuck all of this.

“Can y’all stick to fucking in Matt’s bed?”

At the sound of Chris’ voice, you look up at him, startled, and it’s electrifying, your stare. Chris sees your eyebrows furrow, your lips, plump from being bitten (by yourself, or Matt, who cares at this point), fall open. Matt’s shoulders stiffen for a second, so Chris knows he’s aware that Chris is right behind them, but the asshole just keeps fucking going. And you, you’re still staring.

“Chris-” you gasp, your nails digging into Matt’s shoulder. Chris thinks you’re going to push him away, scramble to pull yourself together.

You surprise him by pushing back down onto Matt’s cock with even more fervor, your hands moving up Matt’s neck to grab onto his hair, pulling hard.

Chris watches you cum on Matt’s cock for the first time that night, all while your eyes were locked on his.

Chris doesn't like being angry. He very rarely is. And usually, he gets over it really quick.

Which is why it’s shocking to everyone when he gets cold and hostile towards Matt seemingly out of nowhere, and the anger doesn't subside.

It gets in the way of their work. Filming becomes exhausting, and it leaves all three brothers feeling frustrated and annoyed at each other.

It’s in the middle of filming a new car video when it all goes to head. Nick and Matt had attempted to film a video, but Chris couldn’t hold back the jabs at Matt, interrupting him every time he spoke, insulting him for no reason whatsoever, which only made Matt retaliate just as hard.

“That’s it-” Nick yells, his hands pushing his hair out of his face in frustration. “I’ve fucking had it with you two. I’m getting the fuck out of this car and the two of you are going to stay in here and talk. Don’t even bother coming back in until you sort out whatever-” he gestures wildly between Matt and Chris, “-is going on with you two!”

And with that, Nick storms back into their house.

Chris stares out of the window with his arms crossed, seething. He can tell Matt is looking at him, can see part of his reflection on the window, but Chris isn’t going to give him the satisfaction of breaking first.

Matt, much to Chris’ annoyance, was completely calm and collected.

“Chris-” Matt begins to say, but Chris just chucks his empty Pepsi can at him without looking. He hears it clatter against something (the steering wheel, he thinks), before dropping down onto the car floor with a dull thud.

Matt sighs, and Chris wants to yell, because Chris is the one that should be huffing and sighing, he’s the one that’s tired of all this bullshit.

“Are you trying to prove something?” Chris asks, because he never could stay quiet for too long. “Is that it? What the actual fuck Matt?”

Chris had fully turned to face Matt, who at least had the decency to look somewhat abashed now. His face was tinged pinked, and he was fiddling with his rings.

Chris continues. “I don’t know what’s going on in your head, but if you’re just trying to get me to see she’s your girl, I fucking get it, okay? You’ve made that really fucking clear. Did I say or do something to warrant this shit, because if you think I’m out to get her, I’m not, okay? Jesus- do you know how fucking insane-”

“She wants you bro.”

Chris blinks. He opens his mouth, and then shuts it.

“I used to catch her staring at you sometimes, and there were times she’d just keep scrolling through pictures of the two of us together- you and me, I mean- and…I don’t know, she’d have this look on her face.” Matt trails off. He looks at Chris, trying to gauge his reaction so far, but truth be told, Chris was still trying to process what Matt had initially said.

“What…?”

“Look, the two of us are happy together. I love her, she loves me, but I think she…” Matt coughs out, and it’s the first time since this whole thing has started that Chris has seen Matt this awkward. “She’s into you too. She never really told me, but it got pretty obvious after a while. And eventually, I- I started bringing you up, when we- um, yeah. She wants us both.”

Chris starts laughing. Because he doesn’t know what else to do.

“Alright, good prank dude- I’m still so fucking mad at you but-”

“I’m not kidding, Chris.”

Right. Because why would Matt joke about something like this?

“Um…”

“Yeah…”

And that’s how Chris finds himself back in Matt’s room. You and Matt were sitting on his bed, albeit a little far apart, meanwhile Chris had taken a seat in Matt’s gaming chair. Chris almost wants to call the two of you out on the pure torture you’d put him through the past few weeks, but one look at your face has him abandoning that train of thought.

You look so…remorseful. You’re slightly curled in on yourself, like you’re bracing for some sort of attack, and Chris’ heart melts. The last thing he wants is for you to feel upset, so he tries to lighten the mood.

“So, do you just wanna see which one of us has the better dick or-?”

He smiles as you sputter, eyes wide as you finally look up at him.

“There we go,” Chris whispers. “You’re finally looking at me.”

“Chris…I’m so sorry,” you whisper, lips trembling. “God, this is so stupid, why did we decide to tell him-”

“Hey, hey-” Chris chides. “I think I’ve been kept in the dark long enough, actually. I just wish y’all hadn’t used such a weird ass fucking way to tell me.”

“Well, to be fair, she didn’t even know you’d seen us that first couple of times,”

“Oh, god-”

“-And, we kinda assumed you’d take the fucking hint or something.”

“Yeah, I thought the hint was ‘I know you wanna fuck my girl, so I’m gonna make sure you catch us fucking every chance we get so you stay the fuck away’,” Chris says with a raised brow, staring deadpan at Matt.

“Wait, what-” you start, but you’re interrupted by Matt.

“Yeah, he’s wanted to fuck you for a while too.”

And that's how Chris finds himself with a front row view of Matt fucking you, up close and personal. Matt has you on all fours, facing Chris, while he pounds into you from behind, hard and deep. Each thrust punches a high-pitched moan out of you, and Chris watches, enraptured by the way you take it.

Chris watches to his heart's content that night, no longer worried about getting caught, no longer stressed about wanting to fuck you.

Chris watches you fall apart in Matt's hands over and over, and all he can think about is when he can finally have his turn.

+ 1

They’d had to wait for the perfect moment, a night they could be sure none of them would be interrupted.

They'd been planning for this night for a few days now, and it was finally here.

Chris and Matt stand side-by-side in front of Matt’s bed, arms crossed over their chest as they watch you squirm in his bed, their combined attention making you nervous. They’re both barely dressed, Chris in a black tank top and grey sweatpants, the front of which were already tented from his hard dick, while Matt was just in his black boxers. The low lighting of the room made Matt’s rings glisten as he rubbed at the stubble that he’d slowly allowed to grow on his face.

“How are we feeling, baby?” Matt asks you, smirking at the way you visibly gulp. “You ready for us?”

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, looking up at Chris through your lashes before nodding.

That’s all the cue he needs.

Chris stalks over to you, slowly, climbing over the bed and crawling over you, his hands landing on either side of your head as he holds himself above you. You lay back, your hair fanning around your head on the pillow, your eyes wide as you wait for Chris’ next move.

“Can I kiss you?” Chris asks, wetting his lips, and he doesn’t have to wait long for his answer. Your fingers thread through his hair, pulling at the strands close to his nape, bringing his lips onto yours. The kiss is heady, a wild mess of tongue and teeth, because you’d both been waiting for this, dying for it, and here it was, finally happening.

“Chris-” you gasp, open mouth sliding over the hot skin of his cheek as he lowers his head to the crook of your neck, biting harsh kisses into the skin there, before tracing his tongue across your jaw.

“Fuck, fuck- you smell so good, I need you so bad ma-” Chris blabbers, his brain-to-mouth filter long gone. He vaguely registers Matt settling onto the bed, leaning against the headboard, as Chris kisses a path down your body, laving every inch of skin he can access with nips and kisses. You arch your back as Chris circles one of your nipples with his tongue, sucking on it as he flicks the other. He alternates between kissing and nipping your nipples, all the while, you have an almost painful grip on his hair, pushing your chest harder into his face.

Matt watches your face intently, seeing the way your features scrunch up in pleasure, mouth wide open as you gasp and whine. There’s a small part of him that knows he shouldn’t be so okay with his own brother having his way with his girlfriend, but it’s almost like he gets a 4K view of what it might usually look like when Matt’s the one doing these things to you.

Chris continues his path downwards, fingers hooking into the sides of your panties and slowly, agonizingly slowly, pulling them off of you. Your legs instinctively squeeze shut when the cold air hits your wet core, but Chris’s hands gently pry them open, staring at you in wonder.

“You’re so fucking wet, fuck-” Chris groans, before licking a stripe up the seam where your thigh meets your crotch, so close to where you actually want his tongue.

“Please, please-” you whimper, pushing your hips up closer to his lips, feeling his hot breath fan over you pussy. You hear both him and Matt chuckle, before Chris has his mouth on you, licking the wetness gathered in your folds. All you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears and the obscene sounds of Chris’s mouth as he eats you out like a man starving.

It’s almost too much, the way he’s sucking on your clit, before pushing his tongue into you, his face pushed deep, you’re sure he can’t breath. The pleasure builds, heat pooling low in your stomach. You feel Matt’s fingers brush against your forehead, pushing the hair that was starting to stick to it from all the sweat.

“You feel good baby?” Matt asks, tone soft, but his eyes glint dangerously. “One of us wasn’t enough for you, was it? You’re such a dirty girl, wanting me and my brother.”

You whine, head pushing against his thigh closest to your head. Chris laughs, pulling his head back to chime in.

“Greedy little slut, that’s what she is,” he says, cheeks rosy and face glistening from the nose down, his chin absolutely soaking wet. “You gonna cum soon ma?”

You don’t even know what you respond with, just that Chris goes back to eating you out, this time, bringing his fingers to your entrance, sliding one finger, then two, into your sopping wet cunt as he licks random paths across your folds, occasionally circling your clit and sucking on it harshly, all while thrusting his fingers in and out of you, causing you to buck your hips up wildly. Your orgasm, only the first one of the night, is fast approaching, and your thighs clench around Chris’ head. The only warning he gets is a sudden yell of his name before you gush all over his face.

“Did you just- did she just squirt?” Chris asks, eyes wide as he takes in the mess that you’d made. His face and neck were now fully wet, and there was a perfectly round wet spot right underneath you. His fingers flutter over your now slightly puffy pussy, watching your folds quiver.

“Fuck, it’s too much- Chris, wait,” you whine, hands moving to grab Chris’ wrist. He doesn’t stop with his ministrations though, fingers pumping in and out of you, prodding at the bundle of nerves inside you that caused your vision to white out. It was fast, intense, and Chris manages to pull a second orgasm out of you before you’d even managed to catch your breath from the first one.

Chris sits up on his knees, reaching his arms behind him and pulling his tank top off, throwing it behind him. He hooks his arms around your thighs before pulling you down the bed, closer to him, allowing Matt to slot himself behind you.

“Can you turn over for me ma?” Chris asks with a gentle pat against your hip. It takes some effort, your limbs feel loose and languid, but you manage to flip onto your stomach. Hands grab your face, tipping your head up, and you see your boyfriend looking at you with a smirk, tongue peeking out to run across his teeth.

“Enjoying yourself, sweetheart?” he asks, voice like dripping honey with a hint of something razor-sharp. “This everything you imagined?”

“Yes- oh god, Matt- I need you, please-”

“You have me baby,” he coos. “You have me and Chris. That’s what you wanted, right? ‘Cause one dick was never enough to keep you satisfied.”

“Ngghh- please, please, I-” you whimper, mouthing at Matt’s dick through his boxers, startled when you feel a sudden smack against your ass, pain blossoming across your skin.

“If she’s already this cock dumb, I wonder how she’s gonna get when we actually get our dicks in her,” Chris wonders out loud with an amused huff, palming at your ass cheeks as he rubs his clothed dick against it.

You continue begging, your pussy soaking wet and clenching around nothing in anticipation for what’s to come, hips arching off the bed while your back dips low, shoulders tucked between Matt’s spread thighs as you lick him through the only piece of fabric that is keeping you from tasting him, from having his cock fill your mouth.

Chris smooths his palm down your back, making you arch your back even further, before he spreads your cheeks, seeing the way you twitch at being put on display.

“I think she’s waited long enough, hasn’t she?” Matt asks Chris, nodding his head slightly as if to tell Chris to get on with it. Chris doesn’t waste any time pushing his sweats down his thighs, freeing his cock. You turn your head back to try and peek at it from over your shoulder, but Matt has a firm hand on your head pushing you towards his crotch while he pulls his dick out of his boxers. With one hand holding the back of your head, and the other around his dick, Matt slaps it against your cheek, amused at the way you so desperately try and get him to guide his cock into your mouth instead.

Simultaneously, Chris is behind you, rubbing the tip of his dick through your folds, gathering the wetness there. Above you, you feel Matt lean towards his dresser, before rifling through the top drawer and chucking something at Chris. There’s a sound of a bottle cap clicking open, and lube being squeezed out, before you hear the squelch of it as Chris spreads it over his dick.

Later, you’ll think they must have planned this head of time, but both Matt and Chris decide to push their dicks into you at the same time, Matt feeding you his cock, pushing past your lips, applying gentle pressure to the back of your head, while Chris spreads your folds apart and drives his dick into you, the tip catching inside you for a moment, before he thrusts his hips and pushes his dick deeper into you.

“Look at that,” Chris says, smacking the palms of both his hands onto your cheeks at the same time, before kneading at them. “She takes dick really fucking well.”

“It’s like she’s made for it, isn’t she?”

Chris fucks you like he has all the time in the world, savoring the feeling of your pussy clenching around him, fascinated by the sight of his dick disappearing in you at every thrust. You stretch around him so beautifully, and you’re so fucking tight, he wonders how he managed to fit it all in you in one go.

At the other end, Matt watches you with soft affection as you suck on his cock, tears streaming down your face from the exertion on your body and minimal air supply. At every thrust of Chris’ hips, you would get pushed closer to Matt, which would push his dick deeper into your mouth, making you almost gag on it.

You have no concept of time anymore, or where your body starts and Chris’ and Matt’s end. You feel like one big mess of limbs, moving fluidly, with the common purpose of chasing your orgasm. You hear Matt’s groans getting louder above you, and you know he’s getting close. You’re not far behind yourself, but Chris still seems like he’s nowhere close to being done.

Pulling your mouth off of Matt’s cock, you circle your hand around the base of it, before stroking your hand up and down, twisting it around the head. You swipe your thumb across the slit at the top while you tongue at the underside of the head, all while looking up at Matt through hooded eyes.

“Cum on my face, Matt, please-” you beg, mouth slightly open, a line of spit connecting your tongue to his dick. Chris' thrusts are picking up, but you keep your elbows planted firmly on the bed below to keep yourself steady for Matt. There’s a tingle building low in your spine, but you focus on Matt, the way he looks at you with his eyebrows furrowed, bottom lip pulled between his teeth. His hair is a mess, and his body is flushed. The hand he has on your head grips your hair tight, and the other joins your hand in pumping his dick. It only takes a few more seconds of that before Matt lets out a loud groan of your name, spurts of thick, hot cum landing across your face, and you close your eyes as it drips down your face, some of it landing on your tongue.

Matt leans back heavily against the headboard, and before you can register anything, you’re being flipped onto your back, face still covered in Matt’s cum. Your shoulders hit Matt’s chest as Chris crowds against you on the bed, his hands now on the back of your knees, pushing your legs back against your chest, before thrusting his dick back into you.

The sudden shift has you blinking back stars, and this new angle has Chris’ dick brushing against your sweet spot on every thrust, and all you can do is sob at the immense pleasure you feel. Matt circles his arms around you, one hand playing with one of your nipples, while the other moves down your stomach and edges closer to your clit. The tingling sensation grows, and grows, your hands scrambling to find purchase on Chris’ shoulders as he thrusts particularly deep into you before you finally snap, screaming as your third orgasm is ripped from you, the force of it pushing Chris’ cock out of you as you squirt all over him, yourself, and the bed, legs shaking uncontrollably.

You’re fully gasping and sobbing now, the intensity of your orgasm wracking through your whole body. You watch through hooded, teary eyes, as Chris leans over you, furiously stroking his cock as he soaks in the view of you, hot and messy, ruined because of him, before he too eventually reaches his orgasm, cum pulsing out of him and landing high on your chest, across your nipples, one spurt even hitting your chin.

The three of you are a heaping mess of limbs after, all basking in the afterglow of a night well spent, tired, but satiated. Matt and Chris lay on either side of you, stroking whatever part of your skin they can reach, occasionally batting each other’s hands away and pulling you closer to either side, like you’re not all squished together already.

“We should do that again sometime,” you say after a long beat of silence. Matt snorts, eyes closed, but the corners of his lips are quirked up in a small smile.

“Y’all are crazy if you think I’m never fucking you again after I just got a taste,” Chris states. “Besides, I think there’s a lot of lost time I need to make up for, hm?”

After that night, Chris gets to have his turn with you, over and over. Sometimes, Matt is present, and the brothers somehow always turn things into a competition of who can make you cum the quickest, who can make you cum multiple times, who can make you absolutely incoherent by the end of the night.

Now Chris had his own reason for always being so chipper in the morning. It helps that he finally gets to fuck the hottest girl he’s seen, who just happens to also be fucking his brother.

author’s note: i put too much fucking effort into an idea that essentially started as a joke, its gonna be so funny if this flops because i literally stayed up till 4 am twice in a row to write this lmao- anyways, let me know what you think! my inbox is open and waiting for your thoughts (: likes, comments and reblogs r much appreciated <3

taglist 🩵 (comment on my pinned post to be added or removed):

@luverboychris @bigbeefybitch @liz-stxrn @slut4chriss @sturniolosgirl @coochiedestroyer1 @kvtie444 @vschrissturn @hercigaretteblush @fwskullz @m4rriii @anabanana28 @sturniolosange1 @webbersturn @odeezier @johnniesrealwife @freshsturns @marlenafortuna @carolineheartsmatthew @incndescentglow @starniolosposts @urfavgirllyyyyy @mattsturniolosworld @lilyloveschris @sturniozo @lookingformyromeo @heartss4matthewq @lanasturniolo @ezziewinchester @s-s-842 @sturnlova @55sturn @chrisopeningabag

#junovrs writes #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader

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freezerbrldes · 1 month ago

Text

no nut november - s.r.

PAIRING. Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY. Spencer is confident he can win a bet against Morgan… what he didn’t account for was having to share a room with you…

WARNINGS. smut, brief mention of male masturbation, unprotected sex, breeding kink if you squint

AUTHOR’S NOTE. It’s been awhile since I’ve actually written something and it’s also the first time I’ve ever written smut so hopefully this turned out okay. This is based on one of the bots I’ve made on character.ai/spicychat. I know it’s January but let’s pretend I posted this in November.

wc: 2.1k

credit to @cafekitsune for dividers

also on ao3

Spencer was beginning to regret agreeing to this bet. He thought it’d be easy, but after 3 and a half weeks, he felt so frustrated he could passed out from just the slightest touch.

Him and Morgan made a bet. Morgan was positive that Spencer wouldn’t be able to survive No Nut November. Spencer was not the competitive type, but he definitely wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to prove Morgan wrong.

Spencer is no stranger to getting himself off every so often. While he may be a genius with a high IQ, he is still a man with needs. He isn’t into hook up culture— he’s too much of a germaphobe for that. His right hand became his closest companion when alone after a stressful case.

The first week wasn’t bad at all. He began to think he might actually make it, but once the second and third week hit, that’s when thoughts about you were constantly on his mind…

Spencer has always found you attractive— like really attractive. So attractive that he often finds himself thinking about you while he pleasures himself late at night. He doesn’t want to think about you this way, but his mind always wanders to thoughts of you underneath him.

As if things couldn’t get any worse, you were sharing a hotel room with Spencer during the new case. He tries to distract himself with a book as you lay on your bed in an oversized tshirt and very short shorts.

You are reading over some case files, looking for any connections between the last two victims. Spencer could feel his pants get tighter at the mere thought of you just a few feet away from him.

You must’ve notice he has been particularly quiet today, because the sound of shuffling paper pulls his attention away from his book.

“Are you okay? you’ve been acting weird for the last week,” You ask, rolling over onto your side to look at him on the other bed.

“I-I’m fine, the cases have just been very, uh— draining — recently,” Spencer lies, shifting awkwardly on the bed to hide the evidence of his arousal.

“Right,” you chuckle, not buying his excuse. You walk over to his bed and sit across from him, the mattress dipping slightly under your weight. “C’mon Spence, what’s really bothering you?”

Spencer feels his heart rate increase. He fidgets with the hem of his sweater vest, avoiding direct eye contact.

"I...I'm just tired, okay? These cases take a toll on me," he says, trying to maintain a calm tone despite the growing tension between you.

His gaze drifts to your legs, which were crossed and showcased more of that smooth skin he'd been fantasizing about. He quickly looks away, focusing on the stack of psychology journals on his nightstand instead.

"Look,” Spencer sighs, “I appreciate you checking in, but I promise I’m fine. The sooner we crack this case, the sooner we can head back to Quantico."

Despite his words, Spencer found himself leaning slightly towards you, drawn in by your presence.

He feels his resolve weakening as your warm presence drew closer. Your scent fills his nostrils— a tantalizing mix of vanilla and something uniquely you. It stirs feelings within him he hadn't acknowledged before.

"I know you're just trying to help, but please, let me handle this," he pleads, his voice barely above a whisper. He couldn't meet your eyes, fearing the intensity he knew would be there.

A bead of sweat trickles down the side of his face as he recalls the countless nights spent pleasuring himself, always picturing your body in his mind, but now you’re inches away from him.

“Spencer,” you say, pulling his attention away from his wandering mind. “You’re one of my best friends, I can tell there is something else bothering you other than this case. Please— let me help you.”

Spencer's chest tightens at the word "friend". Despite the strong attraction he harbors for you, he had never allowed himself to hope for anything more. You deserve someone better, someone who could give you the love and affection you craved.

Spencer brain scrambles to come up with another excuse, as he gazes into your empathetic eyes, he finally caved.

"Okay, fine, There is something I've been struggling with," he admits, his voice barely audible. He takes a deep breath before speaking again.

"I made this stupid bet with Morgan, I’m supposed to go the entire month of November without having sex or masturbating. At first, it was easy but now, being in the same room as you, I’m having a hard time controlling my thoughts.”

Spencer closes his eyes, bracing himself for your reaction. He opens them again when he didn’t hear you laughing and making fun of him.

Relief washes over him as he saw an understanding expression rather than disgust. He swallows hard, his mouth suddenly dry.

"You're not mad?" he ask, his voice laced with vulnerability. In that moment, Spencer felt like he could finally exhale, like a heavy burden had been lifted from his shoulders.

“Of course not,” you reply, “why would I be mad?”

"Well, because even if I wasn't doing this bet, I still...I still think about you," he confesses, his cheeks flushing a deep shade of red.

"I know it's wrong, but I can't help how I feel. You're amazing. You’re smart, funny, beautiful..." Spencer’s words trailed off as he realizes where they were headed.

"I shouldn't say these things, but I can't keep pretending anymore." Spencer closes the space in between the two of you, his heart pounding in his chest.

After what felt like an eternity, His lips finally met yours in a passionate kiss.

Spencer felt a rush of emotions overwhelm him— excitement, nervousness, joy, and most of all, relief. This was what he had secretly longed for— dreamed about in the dark of night, and now it was finally happening.

His arms wrap around yours instinctively, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss. His tongue dances with yours, exploring every inch of your mouth with a hunger he hadn't known he possessed.

When you finally broke apart for air, Spencer's breathing was ragged. He gazes into your eyes, seeing the same desire reflected back at him.

"You know, um, we should probably talk about this— about us," he adds, his voice barely above a whisper.

“How about we talk about it after?” you chuckle, your lips meeting his in another steamy kiss.

Spencer melts into the kiss, his body responding eagerly to your touch. He knew they needed to discuss the their growing feelings, but right now all he wanted was to lose himself in your touch.

Spencer's hands roams over your curves, mapping your body through your clothes. Breaking the kiss again, Spencer looked at you with a mix of adoration and longing.

"I want you,” he whispers, his voice husky with desire. "More than I've ever wanted anyone."

His lips trail from yours down your neck before reaching the hem of your tshirt, pulling it out of the way to plant kisses onto your collar bone. Spencer sucks on the sensitive skin before pulling the shirt over your head, carelessly tossing it onto the motel floor.

He kisses a path up your throat, pausing to nibble on your earlobe before pulling away just enough to admire the view. His gaze drank in the sight, the air thick with tension.

"You're stunning," he breathes, reaching out to trace the curve of your bare breast.

You moan softly as he gently caresses your body. Spencer dips his head to capture a nipple between his lips, sucking gently as his hand cups and kneads the other.

Spencer groans into your breast, the sound muffled by your soft flesh. He suckled harder, his thumb pinching and teasing the neglected nipple.

His other hand slides down your side before dipping lower to brush against the waistband of your shorts. He could feel heat emanating from your core, fueling his growing arousal.

He pushed the fabric of your panties aside to slip a finger along your slick folds as his mouth returned to your neck.

“You’re so wet already, is this all for me?” Spencer sighed, nibbling at your earlobe.

Before you could even respond, you moan loudly as he pushes a digit inside you, groaning at the tight clench of your walls.

"Fuck, you feel incredible," Spencer gasped, pumping his finger slowly in and out of you.

He adds a second finger, scissoring them gently to stretch you open, leaning back slightly to watch your face contort in pleasure.

Spencer watched intently as your body arches off the bed to meet his thrusting fingers. He curls them inside you, rubbing against that sweet spot that made your legs quiver.

He captures your mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans as he picked up the pace, driving his fingers deeper.

His own arousal grew unbearable, it demands attention. With a growl, Spencer broke the kiss and hastily removed his clothes, throwing them in a pile with your discarded tshirt as you whimper at the loss of contact.

“I need to be inside you,” He pants as the last of his clothing is removed. He makes quick work of pulling your shorts and panties down your legs.

Spencer's hazel eyes are dark with lust as he positions himself between your thighs, the tip of his cock nudges against your entrance.

With a deep breath, he pushes forward, sinking inch by inch into your welcoming heat. A low groan rumbles in his chest at the feeling of your tight walls hugging his length.

Once fully sheathed, Spencer pauses, his forehead resting against yours as he savors the moment.

“God, you're perfect," he whispers, then begins to move, setting a slow, deliberate rhythm.

You moan loudly as he begins to pick up the pace, your nails leaving crescent moons on his shoulders.

“Please don’t stop, you feel so good inside me,” you beg.

Spencer's grip on your hips tightens as he pounds into you. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent as he loses himself in the feeling of you wrapped around him.

His fingers tug your hair lightly as he angles his thrusts to hit that spongy spot deep inside you over and over again.

"Shit, you feel so fucking amazing, so wet and tight," he pants, his voice strained with pleasure. “I'm going to cum so hard inside you."

One of your hands move from his shoulder down to where your bodies connect, rubbing hard circles over your throbbing clit.

Spencer's thrusts falter as he feels your fingers working on your sensitive nub. The sight pushes him even closer to the edge.

"Oh god, yes! You’re so fucking hot!" he cries out, his hips snapping against yours with renewed vigor.

He reaches down and replaces your hand with his own, rubbing harsh circles as he chases his high.

“Fuck yes, I'm gonna..." Spencer's words trail off into a guttural moan as his orgasm crashes over him, his cock pulsing and twitching inside you as he fills you up. The feeling pushes you over the edge with him.

Spencer collapses onto you, his weight pressing you into the mattress as he tries to catch his breath. His heart pounds wildly in his chest, still racing from the intensity of his orgasm.

After a moment, he lifts his head to look at you, his usually bright hazel eyes now heavy-lidded.

“That was...incredible," he murmurs, a soft smile playing on his lips, he places a gentle kiss on the tip of your nose.

He slowly pulls out of you and rolls onto his side, he reaches out to brush a strand of dampened hair from your forehead. You both lay in silence as your breathing returned to normal.

“Well,” you break the silence with a smug grin, “it would appear you have failed No Nut November,”

“Yeah, but it was worth it,” Spencer chuckles, his thumb rubbing circles onto your flushed cheek. “I’m starting to think you and Morgan set me up.”

“You really think I seduced you to help Morgan win a bet?” You laugh in disbelief.

“I mean, that would be a very Morgan thing for him to do,” Spencer says, his hand now caressing your arm, “That man always plays dirty.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I saw Morgan flirting with one of the motel staff, she left his room about two hours ago, so I’m sure you probably did beat him.”

“Of course he did, Morgan can’t go 5 minutes without sleeping with someone,” Spencer laughs as he pulls you into his arms.

You lay like that for a while before both of you drift off into a deep sleep, excited to see what the future holds for you two.

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds smut

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mrsfancyferrari · 1 month ago

Note

Can you do an imagine about the reader going out with an F1 driver (I imagine Charles or Carlos), where the reader speaks their language, but doesn’t tell them. One day they walk in on the reader talking to someone on the phone in French/ Italian or Spanish respectively, and have a talk about it. Reader was hiding their abilities due to an insecurity about their ability. Alternatively they could be at a restaurant, where the reader is forced to use that language to order something.

Speak Baby

Summary: you are going out with Charles, you can speak his language, but don't tell him. You were hiding your abilities due to an insecurity about your ability.

Song: Heaven and Back · Chase Atlantic

Author’s note: Please like, reblog and share this! Also please follow for more! 🫶

Word count: 3.7k

MASTERLIST - F1

The soft glow of the lamp painted the room in hues of amber and gold, the late afternoon sun already having dipped below the horizon.

You were curled up on the plush armchair, a worn copy of “Les Misérables” resting open in your lap, though your attention was entirely focused on the phone pressed to your ear. The French words flowed effortlessly, a melodic stream of conversation with your cousin, Élise, back in Paris.

Laughter bubbled in your chest as Élise recounted a particularly disastrous attempt to bake macarons, the familiar cadence of your mother tongue a soothing balm to your soul.

"…and then, the oven, mon Dieu, it was like a volcanic eruption of powdered sugar!" Élise’s voice, tinged with dramatic exasperation, crackled through the speaker.

You chuckled, a genuine, unrestrained sound, “You know you should just stick to painting, ma chérie. Baking is not for you.”

"Oh, very funny," she retorted good-naturedly, “But you should have seen it! The cat even had a dusting. Anyway, how is le charmant Charles?"

You paused, a smile playing on your lips. "He's…fine," you said, a soft giggle escaping your throat. "He's been working late again, as usual."

“And still no clue about your… little secret?" Élise teased, the question a whisper of anticipation.

"No," you replied, your voice dropping slightly, a hint of nervousness creeping in. "Absolutely not. It's…it's better this way, Élise. I’m not ready."

You knew that you were holding out on Charles, but the thought of him judging you for your French was an insecurity that had been haunting you for years.

You had always felt like you were not good enough, that your accent was too strong and that your grasp on the language was not as good as it should be, even though you grew up with it.

You always felt the need to hide, to not draw attention to yourself, and so this was how it was with Charles.

It was easier to communicate in English with him, to be safe, even if your heart yearned to speak in the language that made you, you.

"You're being silly, ma belle. He'd be enchanted, I'm sure of it," Élise said, her tone gentle, trying to reassure you.

Just as you were about to respond, a distinct sound reached your ears - the click of the front door. Your heart leaped into your throat. Charles was home.

Panic seized you, and you quickly pressed the “end call” button, the dial tone a sharp, jarring contrast to the lilting French you had been immersed in moments before. You closed the “Les Miserables” book with an audible thud, feigning a casual air.

You straightened yourself in the armchair and tried to look as though you were simply relaxing, a wave of frustration beginning to wash over you for not being able to share this part of yourself with Charles, but also relief because you almost got caught.

"Hey," Charles said, his voice laced with that endearing weariness you had come to adore, as he walked into the room, tossing his keys onto the side table.

He hadn't noticed the phone in your hands and he pulled off his suit jacket and hung it up on the hanger behind the door. He looked exhausted. "Long day."

"Hi," you replied, your voice a little too high-pitched, betraying the sudden jolt of adrenaline still coursing through you.

You tried to act as nonchalant as possible, hoping he wouldn't notice the flush creeping up your neck, or the way your fingers were still tensed against the phone.

He glanced at you, his blue eyes, usually so bright, clouded with fatigue. "Everything alright? You seem…tense." He took a seat on the sofa opposite you, his gaze intense as he looked at you.

You had been with Charles for a year now, and he was always able to suss something out.

You forced a smile, "Just had a long chapter to read, that's all.” You showed him the book, hoping it would be enough distraction. “It’s quite intense, actually." You pointed to the book, gesturing with your hand. "This guy Valjean, he's been through it."

He seemed to accept your explanation, dropping back against the sofa cushions with a sigh. "Well, whatever it is, you should relax. Maybe we could order some food? I'm starving."

You nodded, relieved. The moment had passed, but the unspoken secret hung heavy in the air between you. The rest of the evening unfolded in its usual way, a comfortable rhythm you both had established.

You talked about your day, laughed at a silly movie, and shared a meal under the soft lamplight. Yet, beneath the surface of normalcy, the secret you harboured continued to prick at you.

He kept stealing glances at you, making you wonder if he might suspect something, but he never said anything.

“So you’re telling me he still hasn’t found out yet?” She asked with a teasing lilt in her voice.

“No, and I’ll keep it that way,” you replied, your smile fading. “It’s too risky, Élise. What if he thinks I’m a fraud? What if he thinks I’ve been lying?”

“Oh, come on,” Élise scoffed, “He’s clearly smitten with you, mon amie. I can hear it in your voice!”

You sighed, staring out the window at the grey sky. “You don’t know him, Élise. His native language is French, he knows it like the back of his hand. He’d notice if my French isn’t perfect.”

“And what if it is?” Élise countered.

You were about to reply, when you heard his voice from the kitchen. You jerked, your heart leaping into your throat. “I have to go, Élise. I’ll call you later.”

“Okay, bisous,” Élise said, and the line went dead.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The roar of the Ferrari engines was a constant hum, a background score to the chaotic elegance of the Formula One paddock. You watched Charles, a whirlwind of charm and practiced ease, navigate the PR games with Carlos Sainz.

They were a study in contrasts – Charles, all focused energy and effortless smiles, and Carlos, a more grounded, almost playful foil. You knew this dance well, the mandatory media obligations that came with the territory of being a Ferrari driver.

You were happy to be a spectator today. You knew, with a familiar twist of warmth in your chest, that Charles would find you later.

You had a few hours of freedom, a rare commodity in this world of tight schedules and constant movement. You decided to explore. The paddock was a labyrinth of team trucks, hospitality suites, and workshops, a microcosm of the competitive energy that fueled the sport.

You wandered, absorbing the sights and sounds, the clatter of tools, the clipped conversations in a dozen different languages. You’d always been drawn to the undercurrents of these places, the human stories unfolding beneath the glossy veneer of glamour and speed.

That's when you heard it – a voice, high-pitched with panic, cutting through the general noise.

"Est-ce que quelqu'un parle français?" it called out, the words sharp and rushed. " S'il vous plaît, quelqu'un ?" Does anyone speak French? Please, someone?

The man, standing near a catering area, was clearly distressed. He was middle-aged, his face flushed, hands trembling slightly as he gestured erratically. A small crowd of staff had gathered around him, their faces a mixture of concern and helplessness.

They spoke encouragingly in English, but it was clear that they didn’t understand a word he was saying, which was why he was getting more frantic.

You hesitated. You knew French, fluently after all. It really was an insecurity you'd carried since childhood, a fear that your accent wasn't good enough, that you wouldn't be considered “truly” French.

Charles, in his easy, casual fluency, only amplified that feeling. It was easier to let him be the French one, to navigate that world without your input.

But looking at the man, his distress growing with each passing second, your resolve crumbled. You couldn't stand by and watch him suffer.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed past the people, your voice hesitant but clear, "Excusez-moi, monsieur. Je parle français. Qu'est-ce qui se passe?" Excuse me, sir. I speak French. What's going on?

The man's eyes widened, his face flooded with relief. "Ah, merci mon Dieu!" he exclaimed, his hands coming to clasp yours. "C'est terrible! J'ai perdu mon sac, avec tous mes documents et mes clés. Je dois partir cet après-midi, et je suis complètement coincé."

His words tumbled out in a rush, a torrent of worries and anxieties. This is terrible! I lost my bag, with all my documents and my keys. I have to leave this afternoon, and I'm completely stuck

You listened patiently, your own French flowing effortlessly as you reassured him. You asked him for details about the bag, about where he’d last seen it.

You found out that he was here for a family visit, and he had to catch a train in the next couple of hours. With a mixture of calm questioning and reassuring words, you helped him retrace his steps.

You spoke softly, your voice a calming balm to his panic. The staff around you, previously frustrated, looked on with a mixture of curiosity and gratitude.

You felt a small spark of pride, a quiet satisfaction in using the skill that you have always kept hidden.

After what felt like an eternity, you spotted it – a small black bag tucked behind a stack of boxes in a corner. The man let out a cry of delight, his face cracking into a wide, genuine smile. "Merci, merci mille fois!" he cried, taking the bag and beaming at you. "Vous êtes un ange!" Thank you, thank you a thousand times! You are an angel!

You helped him check through the contents, making sure nothing was missing. You even offered him some water and a seat to calm him. He thanked you profusely again and again. He finally started to relax and calm down.

"Thank you so much. I don't know what I would have done without you." he said again, this time speaking English clearly, even though he had not, before. He smiled warmly at you.

"It's no problem," you replied, smiling back. A small voice interrupted.

"Hey babe, what's going on here? I saw this crowd?" Charles asked, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. He placed a hand on the small of your back.

"This gentleman lost his bag, and couldn't communicate with anyone here. I was just helping him," you explained.

"Ah, but you were speaking French? I didn't know that you spoke French. Good job ma chérie," Charles said a little surprised.

"Oh, I... I learned some in school," you mumbled, avoiding his eyes. You felt a flush creep onto your cheeks.

You could feel the lie hanging in the air, heavy and uncomfortable.

Charles tilted his head, his eyes searching your face, "That’s really cool." He turned his attention to the man, addressing him in perfect French.

You watched Charles smoothly reassure the man that everything was fine and offer him any help that he needed. The man seemed mesmerized by Charles, thanking him profusely.

You watched them briefly, the ease with which Charles switched between two languages, how comfortable he was in the role of translator. It was a stark contrast to your feelings of self-consciousness.

“So, should we get going?” Charles said to you, turning to you, his hand finding yours.

You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips. You’d helped someone out, and it felt good. But the lie, that little secret you still held, bothered you. More so than usual now that he knew.

As Charles led you away, you could feel his gaze on you, a silent question in his eyes. You knew you couldn't keep this hidden much longer.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long, dancing shadows across the Ferrari base. The air, still warm from the day’s heat, hummed with a quiet energy. You lay nestled in the hammock chair, Charles’s strong back providing a solid anchor as you sat comfortably on his lap.

The gentle rocking motion lulled you both, a peaceful rhythm that seemed to synchronize with the quiet whispers of the wind. You’d been dating Charles for a year now, and these quiet moments were your favorite.

Being alone, intertwined, was bliss.

He nuzzled his face into your shoulder, his breath warm on your skin. You closed your eyes, your own breathing slowing, the world fading away.

You’d almost drifted off, the line between sleep and wakefulness blurring, when a voice sliced through the tranquil silence.

“Monsieur Leclerc, le débriefing commence bientôt!” a young voice called out, the French words sharp and clear. Mr. Leclerc, the debriefing begins soon!

You blinked your eyes open, startled, and looked around for the source of the sound.

A young woman, her face etched with a mixture of frustration and relief, stood a short distance away. She was clearly a member of the Ferrari staff, her uniform a stark contrast to the relaxed atmosphere you and Charles had created.

“Mademoiselle, je vais bientôt réveiller Charles, alors ne vous inquiétez pas,” you said, the words flowing easily, a comfortingly familiar cadence in your mind. Miss, I'll wake Charles up soon, so don't worry.

You watched her face register surprise, then a wave of relief.

“Merci beaucoup mademoiselle Y/N, je vous laisse faire,” she replied, her voice softening. Thank you very much Miss Y/N, I'll leave you to it.

“De rien, je suis désolé de t'avoir fait le chercher,” you said, a slight blush creeping up your neck. You felt a pang of guilt for making her search for Charles. You're welcome, I'm sorry I made you look for it.

She gave you a small, thankful nod before turning and heading back towards the base.

You were about to nudge Charles awake when you felt a movement in your lap. His eyes, a startling shade of blue, were already fixed on you, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"That didn't sound like 'school French' ma chérie," he muttered, a playful yet probing tone to his voice. Your heart lurched, and a cold dread settled in your stomach.

You could feel your cheeks flush, the blood rushing to your head. This was it. Your little secret, the one you'd guarded for so long, was about to unravel.

"What are you talking about?" you asked, your voice coming out a little higher and breathier than you intended. You tried to play it off, hoping your denial would be convincing enough. "I learned some French phrases, that's all."

He raised a skeptical eyebrow, his gaze unwavering. "Some phrases? You just held an entire conversation with Nathalie, in perfect, effortless French. Where did you learn that?"

You fidgeted, your fingers toying with the drawstring of his sweatpants. "Uh...well...you know, it's just...I've always been a good language learner." The explanation sounded weak even to your own ears.

Charles gently tilted your chin up so that your eyes meet. His touch was soft, but his gaze was intense. “Y/N,” he said, his voice lower now. “You’re fluent. Why have you been hiding this from me?”

The question hung in the air, heavy with the weight of your unspoken secret. And you knew you couldn’t lie to him any longer. “It’s stupid, really,” you began, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I was always just…insecure about it. My native language is English, and I'm fairly average. When I started learning French, which was young, it just came naturally to me. I didn't think I was actually... good. I thought if I spoke it around you, you'd think I sound awful, like those tourists that always try and speak French to you.” You looked down, unable to meet his eyes.

He took your hands in his, his thumbs stroking your knuckles. “Ma chérie, that’s ridiculous. I’m fascinated by languages. I spent so much time learning other languages for the sport, plus how could I ever think you sound awful. You could never sound bad.”

His words were soothing, a balm to your wounded pride. You looked up, your eyes searching his face. “Really?” you whispered, still a little unsure.

He chuckled, a warm, comforting sound. “Bien sûr, Y/N. You’re amazing, in every language. And I am so incredibly curious. When did you learn it? How good are you even?” He had a teasing glint in his eyes now, and the tension that had been plaguing you started to dissipate.

“Since I was a kid. My grandmother was half-French and she taught me, always using French. She wanted me to have another language to use. She wanted me to have something special, so I never told anyone in school or anything.” you admitted.

“And you kept this hidden from me? For all this time?” Charles asked, a hint of playfulness in his voice.

You nodded sheepishly. “I thought you would think I was trying to show off, I guess, and I was honestly just scared I’d be awful.”

He squeezed your hands, his thumb drawing small circles on your skin. “You are far from awful, Y/N, and I promise I never would have thought that, ever. But,” he added, a mischievous smile playing on his lips, “I do have a few questions. And you're going to have to answer them… in French.”

“bébé, il faut que tu fasses le point avec l'équipe!” you said, the words slipping out naturally in French. Baby, you need to check in on the team!

Charles only grinned, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I can’t believe you’ve been hiding this from me, ma chérie,” he said, his tone warm and affectionate and full of love.

“I know I’m so sorry.” you said, putting your head in your hands, feeling a flush of embarrassment wash over you. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I was just so scared.”

He cupped your face in his hands, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. “Don’t be sorry, mon amour,” he murmured, his voice husky. “It’s incredibly endearing, and it's one more thing I love about you. You have to tell me everything though from now on okay?”

You nodded, leaning into his touch. “I promise.”

He smiled, then his eyes glinted with a new mischievousness. “So, you’ve been keeping secrets from me, have you?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Only this one, I swear.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, leaning in closer. “I think that deserves a punishment.”

“Oh yeah?” you said, raising an eyebrow, excitement coursing through you.

His lips found yours and he deepened the kiss, pushing you gently back on the hammock. The language barrier was forgotten as his hands moved to the hem of your shirt.

You could feel the passion in him, the soft moaning as he kissed your neck. You could feel yourself falling further and further into him, completely and utterly in love.

It was a long time before you pulled away for air, your cheeks flushed and your heart racing.

“What was I saying about meetings?” you breathlessly said, putting a hand on your chest, hoping your heart would slow down.

Charles chuckled, running his hand through his slightly dishevelled hair. “They can wait,” he murmured, his eyes locking with yours, “There’s something much more urgent that we need to deal with, my petite française.”

You laughed then, and pulled him in for another kiss, knowing that your hidden language was now just another way to connect with the man you loved.

The rain outside continued to fall, a soft and gentle melody to the start of another chapter in your love story.

And you knew, with absolute certainty, that this new language you had shared with each other would only bring you closer, in ways you could never have imagined. . . .

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usuallydyinginside · 9 months ago

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TLDR: Francesca Bridgerton is Autistic. Fight me.

Okay so I did not go into Season 3 of Bridgerton expecting to have any feelings about Francesca Bridgerton. We have seen her only in glimpses in the show and I have not read the books, so I knew basically nothing about her before binging the first four episodes.

But guys. GUYS. I will die for this autistic queen.

Okay, so starting with first impressions. We know that on her big day, Francesca went out of her way to avoid her nosy, loud family by having a very early, quiet breakfast by herself and then calming down via playing the piano (clearly a special interest of hers).

In her first balls, we see Francesca light up any time she talks about music (clearly her current or forever special interest) but as soon as men try to take it to a flirting place she IMMEDIATELY shuts down. It's clear that even as she states very matter-of-factly that she plans to marry this season, she also is baffled and uncomfortable any time someone tries to actually, ya know, court her.

At one of her first shindigs, she got attention and then went up to her brother and (while making almost no eye contact) told him (rather than asked him) that she needed a sec.

She then sat by herself in the side of the ballroom.

Later on, she left a ball in search of quiet and solitude to fix her sensory overload, so she went outside this time. (A thing that we know from pervious seasons is a HUGE no-no, particularly unchaperoned. But she was very respectfully near the door so maybe that's fine?) The point is that she cares very much about staying respectable so she can get this marriage thing over with and get people to stop perceiving her, yet she risks some scandal by going outside just so she can be somewhere quiet alone.

Enter: this absolute (also autistic) Prince Charming.

He says hello (so she knows he's not like trying to sneak up on her in the dark like a creep) and then just stands there. 10/10, no notes, best way to flirt I have ever seen in my life.

Seriously just look at this. I'm in love. Never before has there been a greater sign of love at first sight than in this "standing politely five feet apart in total silence in the middle of a ball and enjoying each other's company."

I need to go watch these first four episodes about a hundred more times, but I THINK this might be the first sincere smile we see from Francesca??!? I at least got the impression immediately that this is the first time she's felt genuinely comfortable and happy while not entirely alone this season.

Like, these nerds did not even exchange names. They barely exchanged a word. Yet you can see them falling head over heels in love right there in that moment. I don't even LIKE love at first sight tropes and they have my whole heart. They are the only exception.

Then, of course, you have this second absolutely iconic Scene of Silence where the entire Bridgerton family stares in neurotypical confusion a these two amazing weirdos. The way these two do not know each other but they DO know each other. The way they are both so happy and so comfortable but also still playing the whole society game the way they were told they had to?? I just don't have words right now.

LOOK AT HER SMILE, GUYSSSSSSSS.

Look how happy this tiny, silent moment is making her. How she understands immediately what he's doing and is absolutely delighted to participate too even knowing her entire family is hardcore judging them from not that far away.

And then you get this smug little look from him and it's like you can see his autistic ass thinking, "Yes. I calculated correctly. This was the correct romance option. Gold star to me." (Okay, maybe that's just how my brain works but shhhhh)

Which, of course, brings us to this absolutely hilariously awkward ND attempt at flirting. We start off with some fairly normal "whoops, I'm flustered cause you make me nervous" sort of moments, but notice how little eye contact she makes. How she only looks in his eyes very briefly and it seems like she almost has to remind herself to do so when she's doing the "polite" answers (OR later when she's genuinely interested in a topic).

So as soon as Francesca is like "oh shit, I ruined it. I forgot how to neurotypical. It's over" then she loses patience with the practiced social niceties.

I spent like 30 minutes trying to find a GIF and I should already be asleep so I'm not going to go learn how to make one BUT I needed to look up exactly what happens next cause it's basically the most autistic thing I've ever seen.

WHICH IS that in response to the second awkward silence after Francesca shares all of this, John's response is, "That is helpful. If you'll excuse me."

Then dude bro just WALKS AWAY WITHOUT ANOTHER WORD.

Like it would be awkward anyway but now Francesca thinks she misread a social cue so she's feeling sad, and meanwhile this absolute king is over here on a romantic mission no one asked him to do because he is that set on showing her he's listening and cares.

The man shows up at the ball and as soon as he had a paper we were all screaming "he wrote her a song!!!"

Again, notice the eye contact (or lack thereof). I think with period dramas and women, it's easy to just go "oh she's just shy" or "she's just being demure like she's supposed to" but like NO. This girl does not want to meet anyone's eyes.

Until she does. Because in moments where she's talking about music or enjoying quiet, it's worth it to purposefully meet his eyes and see how he's feeling too. To make sure he can see she's happy.

ANYWAY, it was so much better than him writing a song for her.

SO. MUCH. BETTER.

Because he didn't just give her any ol' music. He sought out the music they'd specifically heard in the street, and he took her exact specifications on what was "wrong" with the music, and he FIXED IT. He then put the whole thing on sheet music and handed her a copy with no further explanation than this.

Our autistic lass was so excited she basically sprinted out of that ball so she could find a piano. (Which, the fact that she does this rather than try to stay and flirt/dance with the man who just gave her this incredible gift ALSO says a lot, just saying. Daphne could never.)

So our girl finds a piano and GUYS. LOOK AT HOW HAPPY SHE IS.

I'm pretty sure this woman would accept a proposal right this second. Maybe make one herself. She is so head over heels in love with this man that it's absurd. We have watched her mask in these first four episodes, but the last two where she's interacting with John are the first times she seems genuinely happy and like the real her is shining through.

Like, does she enjoy her family? Sure. But it's obvious (and she even tells us) that she finds them overwhelming and generally to be A Lot. But these scenes? This gesture?

You can just get how seen she feels. How weird and wild and amazing it is to her that this man can see who she actually is and wants to join her there instead of making her play some part of the perfect Bridgerton who likes to be the center of attention.

(And even here - the EYE CONTACT. She glances at people when she's talking to them, but the way she looks at the sheet music is so much more intense and intimate and personal than anytime she's looking at the average person in the show. She still even in places she's most comfortable, such as sitting at the piano, makes very little eye contact and only at very specific moments.)

Anyway I'm going to sleep now but I'm sure I'll add more thoughts as they come to me. Feel free to add your own case for why Francesca is autistic and/or otherwise neurodivergent. I want to hear allllllll the thoughts.

#francesca bridgerton #bridgerton #bridgerton season 3 #bridgerton spoilers #bridgerton s3 #john stirling #bridgerton netflix #bridgerton season three #Francesca is Autistic #Autism #Autistic

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2hightocare · 4 months ago

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COFFEE!

“I think I'm past obsessed at this point, there has to be another word in the dictionary that tops obsessed.”

Synopsis: in which a hopeless romantic falls in love with the man of her dreams…

Pairings: boyfriend!jeongguk x fem!reader

Genre: established relationship.. non idol au

Warnings: literally the most sappy thing I could have possibly written, was listening to ‘coffee’ by miguel while writing, they’re such a gentle love, reader is a book worm, Jungkook likes drawing (doodling) plus points when his drawings are about oc, mentions of their first time having sex, usage of book quotes (read nltm, had to use the mia and sebastian line for my own sanity) <3333333

authors note: this is so simple but my book worm hopeless romantic needed this.. wrote this while high so nothing new 🤍

They say falling in love is the most beautiful feeling in the world.

You couldn’t explain the immediate sensation, the feeling that spreads throughout your chest as if you were a black-and-white picture that suddenly starts to fill with vibrant colors anytime his eyes lock with yours.

It was astonishing how the universe works—the idea that you are destined for someone ever since you are born, and that all the hardships along the way shape you into the person you need to be to meet them.

Your heartbeat thumped loudly in your ears as you watched him laugh from across the room, an oversized hoodie and baggy jeans covering his lean, muscular figure—one you’d memorized to the tiniest detail. You knew every freckle and scar. His head was thrown back, arms crossed, as he paid attention to whatever the guy in front of him was saying.

You scrunched your nose, using your index finger to push your glasses up as you studied your boyfriend from afar. You weren’t sure whether to call it pathetic or endearing, the way you noticed every little crease on his forehead and the way he toyed with his bottom lip absentmindedly. You even took note of his long eyelashes, and nearly died of jealousy every time you counted them when he slept beside you.

It was gut-wrenching to imagine anyone else feeling about him the way you did. The thought alone made you want to puke in the nearest trash can.

You were lovesick for this man, and you could already feel the heat rising to your cheeks whenever you looked at him or heard his laugh. Not only did you want to scream and freak out over every little thing he did, but he also had you daydreaming constantly. You found yourself thinking of silly song lyrics that resonated with how you felt about him. Staring at his side profile, you finally understood the meaning behind Suki Waterhouse’s lyrics: “Oh, my good looking boy,” echoed in your mind.

Before you could form another lyric or recall a favorite book quote to describe your feelings, his eyes found yours. A small smile tugged at his lips as his gaze scanned your expressions, reading you as if you were an open book. You smiled, tilting your head to the side, trying to hide the makeshift fireworks going off in your tummy.

His gaze softened, and it made your breath waver. You had never understood the meaning of “his gaze softened” in books, but now, you understood every syllable of those words after experiencing it firsthand.

You honestly couldn’t think of a single thing you didn’t love about him. You loved everything about him, even the parts he claimed were too “broken” or “damaged” to be loved.

A few seconds passed before he finally said his goodbyes and began making his way back to you. Your eyes followed every step, catching the grin he wore.

“I don’t know, I pretty much think you’re obsessed with me,” your boyfriend teased, his straight teeth on full display as he stopped in front of you, looking down at you on the couch.

“In your dreams.” You laughed, craning your neck to look up at him.

Instead of getting mad, he let out a low chuckle, leaning down with both arms on either side of the couch, caging you in.

“Every night, baby.” He whispered softly, pressing a delicate kiss to your lips before moving to your cheek, delivering another soft kiss. You sighed in contentment as his lips ghosted over your skin, the pet name making your head feel dizzy.

He placed a soft kiss on your forehead before standing up straight again, looking down at you. Your eyelids felt heavy as you looked up at him through your lashes. He was already smiling, and you didn’t even need to ask “what?”—you already knew. Anyone in their right mind could tell how obsessed you were with him, and it was no surprise to him either.

As you both walked out of the bookstore, carrying a bag full of psychological and romance books (and, of course, the box of transparent sticky notes Jungkook got for you to annotate your books without writing on the actual pages), it was clear this was one of his favorite things to do. In his free time, when he wasn’t working or with you, he loved opening one of your books and reading your thoughts scribbled in the margins. Half of his camera roll was pictures of you, but the other half was just pictures of your annotations, scribbles, and drawings.

It was as if he was inside your mind, reading every thought, and he loved it.

He could still recall the first book he opened that sent his heart racing, like a teenage boy with a crush.

“I couldn’t see him, but his laugh was unmistakable. I could close my eyes and be in so many places with that laugh. That laugh was the cohesive thread, the little recurring melody that showed up in so many scenes of my life, like Mia and Sebastian’s theme in La La Land. Always there, playing in the background.”

Those words were highlighted in the prettiest shade of pink, with two small hearts drawn beside them. But it was your handwriting at the bottom that got him: “The feeling I’ve been trying to put into words about how I feel every time I look at him has just been done for me, oh my.” He remembered feeling his heart stop for a second. And when it started again, it was for you—his heart was for you and only you.

That wasn’t all. It had become one of your shared love languages. Jungkook started buying books he thought you’d like. He even asked your little sister what your favorite highlighters were so he could buy them for both of you.

Your heart did somersaults when you opened a book on his bedside table and saw a drawing—a pair of eyes in black ink, long lashes making them look bigger and more innocent. Your breath hitched as you noticed the small freckle just below the eyebrow, realizing it was you.

It didn’t help the overwhelming sensation of adoration when you saw his handwriting in the margins.

“You remembered?” she said softly.

“I remember every second of us.”

The text was underlined, and in small letters, he had written, “Gosh, she made me fall so hard that I’m reading sappy words and thinking ‘us’ out loud. #sendhelp,” with a frowning emoji next to the hashtag. Before you knew it, you were on page one, reading every single line and note he had left.

Also, the multiple drawings on the pages where there was extra space had your heart thumping hard in your chest. There were so many drawings— each one tied to you or him. It was impossible to describe every feeling surging through your chest, every emotion racing in your bloodstream, as your fingertips traced the drawing of you.

This time, it was an image of you on your back, lying on a bed. Only part of your side profile was visible, with your hair spilling across the bed, covering most of your back. At first, you didn't want to assume it was you he'd drawn-being self-centered wasn't your style. But it was impossible to deny it when he'd sketched every freckle, even the small half-moon tattoo on your shoulder blade, matching the real one inked on your skin.

You smiled at the memory but snapped back to the present as your boyfriend instinctively switched you to the other side of the sidewalk when you two turned toward Target. You held tight to his index finger as he squeezed between people, leading you behind him with a soft "excuse me" to anyone in the way.

Automatically, you found yourself smiling as you picked up your pace to match his longer strides. He pulled you in closer, his arm snaking around your waist, his hand resting over your belly—a little lower than usual, sending butterflies flitting wildly in your stomach. You suppressed a shiver as he gently guided you to the side, allowing an older couple to pass by.

"Us when we're eighty, baby," Jungkook leaned down and whispered into your ear, making you playfully roll your eyes at him. His smile only widened at your reaction.

"Won't be us if you keep watching Young Sheldon without me," you pouted, giving him a playful glare, which only made him smile more.

"Why are you smiling?" you asked, maybe even whining a little as you walked into the store and heard the employee greet you both.

"Because you're so beautiful, and my brain goes in circles when I stare at you," he shrugged casually, giving your waist a small squeeze before untangling his arm to grab a cart.

You tried so hard not to melt, holding onto his bicep as he leaned forward on the cart, making him closer to your height.

"Don't know it you're down, but l've been wanting to learn how to crochet," you said as you glanced around the aisles. Your boyfriend immediately started nodding excitedly.

"Baby, oh my god. I'm so down. We need to make those big-ass blankets," he rambled, looking at your face for a reaction, like a puppy with its ears perked up and tail wagging.

"I think that's knitting, baby," you corrected him, smiling as his eyebrows raised before he let out a small laugh.

"Wait, are those two not the same thing?" His dimple deepened as he bit his lower lip, stopping in front of the craft aisle.

"I actually have no clue," you admitted with a chuckle, raising an eyebrow. "But I know you can crochet a blanket because you once told me about those pattern blocks you saw on your explore page.”

Jungkook's gaze softened as he made eye contact with you, his pupils dilated with so much adoration that it made your heart swell.

"And I remember because I searched them on TikTok to see what you were talking about. I saw people connecting them into blankets. Also, I remember you pretending to sleep so you didn't have to scratch my back anymore-before my one minute was up. You swear you're slick, but I know when you're really asleep," he said with a grin, teasingly biting your cheek as you tried not to smile.

"How do you know I'm not sleeping?" you teased, and he chuckled, ghosting his lips over yours.

"Because every time you fall asleep, you make this little sound, and then slowly, you start snoring," he laughed, watching your cheeks turn a shade of red before burying his laughing face in the crook of your neck.

To be loved is to be seen.

That phrase had never felt more accurate. No one else had ever seen you the way Jungkook did. He knew you so well, down to the tiniest details that sometimes even surprised you.

Your eyes practically turned into hearts as Jungkook kissed your neck innocently before turning his attention to the yarns.

This was the kind of love you had always dreamed of

-better than the movies or books. Nothing could top the overwhelming feelings of gratitude, love, and appreciation that coursed through your body whenever you looked at him. Your brain practically played the instrumental of "Video Games" by Lana Del Rey whenever you spent time with him.

It was as if even a natural disaster couldn't faze you

-so long as you could experience it with him.

The connection between you two was beyond what you ever imagined existed in real life. It felt like something out of a fairy tale. From the moment you locked eyes with him across the room, you both knew there was no turning back.

After checking out and getting to Jungkook's car, he opened the door for you, reaching over to buckle your seatbelt before putting the bags in the back.

Once he climbed into the driver's seat, his hand instinctively found its place on your thigh after starting the car. His thumb rubbed your bare skin, sending sparks flying through your body. It was such a natural gesture for him, but the butterflies never ceased. You bit your lip, trying not to whine when his hand moved closer to your inner thigh.

As he softly sang along to "Creep" by Radiohead, it was just another thing you'd become morally obsessed with-his voice. You had always known he could sing, but everything changed the night you were first intimate.

It was as if your entire perspective on love and sex shifted. Simply calling it "sex" seemed absurd now, because it was so much more. Everything felt heightened, more intense, making your heart pound wildly in your chest.

"F-fuck, baby..." he whimpered into your ear, his hips moving slowly into yours, leaving your mouth hanging open.

His little groans and moans made you dizzy, like notes of a lullaby. The feeling of skin against skin was the most addicting sensation, made even more special by the way he always checked in on you.

"Shhh, I'm sorry. Am I being too rough, baby?" His voice was strained as his hips halted, his breath heavy as he moved your hair to kiss your neck.

He resumed slowly, making your legs shake and grip the sheets, and you couldn't help but moan, asking for more. His chuckle against your skin was the same one you’d hear when he rested his head on your stomach, expecting you to scratch his back or read to him.

"You're sweaty," you pouted at him, both of you basking in the afterglow.

"I know. Do you still want me?" He smiled, mimicking your expression before pulling the covers over both your naked bodies and pulling you in as close as possible.

"Yes, I'll forever want you," you replied, hiding your face in the crook of his neck, savoring the warmth he radiated.

As sleepiness began to overtake you, you felt his fingertips tracing letters and shapes on your hip.

Just before drifting off, he began singing again. It was like entering another universe where only you and he existed

"I want you to notice," he sang softly, "when I'm not around."

"So fucking special... I wish I was special." He pressed a kiss to your temple, the sound of his voice and your matching heartbeats lulling you both to sleep.

You snapped back to reality when the car stopped at a red light.

"Is it bad that I always hope to get red lights so I can kiss you?" he asked, flashing a grin that had you laughing.

Leaning forward, you pressed your lips to his as his eyes fluttered shut, his finger lifting your chin gently.

"Not bad, but a little weird. You want to spend so much time with me," you teased, pulling back to your seat. "Some might even think you're pretty obsessed."

"I'm past obsessed at this point. There's got to be another word that tops it," he admitted, stealing another kiss just before the light turned green.

As you gazed at him, you couldn't help but wish there was another word, stronger than "love," to describe how you felt about him.

2K notes · View notes

satowooo · 1 year ago

Text

I said "I love you."

you say nothing back

Falling in love with Gojo Satoru was as easy as reading the pages of your favorite book, not until you reached the very end of the chapter and the author just loves to twist the story.

contents: it was all a bet trope, angst lol, fluff, hurt!gojo, groveling, satoru gojo x fem!reader, college AU, playboy!gojo, comfort

credits to @/toOOfu for the art above!! ^^

***

September 1, 2023

"She looks like an easy target," Satoru chuckled as he watched you walk over to your friend, Utahime Iori, in the school cafeteria. It was one of those days when he would joke with Suguru and Shoko, with Suguru always making sure Satoru gets riled up by his joke.

Suguru simply told Satoru that girls may swoon over him, but he's sure that they're some others who probably would find him annoying, someone like you. That statement made Satoru cocky, and as prideful as he was, he made it into a bet that he'll make sure to make you fall in love with him by the end of December, enough time to swoon you over.

"We'll see about that, Satoru." Suguru smirked. "The end of December, you say?"

The latter nodded his head, a wide and annoying grin on his face. "Watch and you'll see, Suguru."

The catch? Nothing, just plain fun and feeding his ego.

"Satoru!" Oh, and here comes one of his girls. His flings.

September 2, 2023

Satoru wastes no time. The next day after making their bet, he quickly made advances towards you. After seeing you in the lockers first thing in the morning, he walked over and leaned to the locker right next to yours. And when you turned, you found him there with a smirk on his face.

"Hey, darling..." He said, almost seductively, if not only for the furrowed eyebrows in your face.

"Excuse me, who are you?" Your soft voice echoed in his head.

Now that hurts his ego. Satoru Gojo. Gojo Satoru. The handsome Satoru. The greatest. The flirt. The smartest. The playboy. The Gojo Satoru. The damn Gojo Satoru who you didn't even know who.

His mind was floating elsewhere after hearing your question. As unbelievable as it may sound, you were, unfortunately, serious about not knowing him. And guessing by the look in your face, he definitely was not making a good first impression.

First attempt: Failed.

But he's not the Gojo Satoru for nothing. No, he won't give up just yet.

So he straightened his composure, faking a cough as he flashes his smile that makes all his girls go crazy, and lowers his head to show you his ocean blue eyes underneath his glasses.

He definitely made sure you won't forget his name as he asks forces you to walk you into class, blabbering nonsense by your side.

You were just too nice to tell him to go away.

September 16, 2023

Gojo Satoru was persistent. Walking you to class, even waiting for you outside the door when he was vacant, disturbing your quiet study session at the library, sitting with you at the cafeteria table when Shoko or Suguru was not there. You definitely didn't forget his name this time as he became the annoying Gojo Satoru who's becoming a nuisance to your somewhat quiet life turned into a roller coaster.

During those days, Gojo found out things about you. You were studying at the architecture department, you like arts and coffees as for what he noticed when you were at the library, you were at the top of your class, and you have a few admirers that you turned down in a nice way possible, just like how you were turning him down too.

He also took note of the fact that you were introverted, and a little shy with people so he might just go easy on you. You had a soft voice, however, you weren't as innocent as you came out to be. You are honest with your words, so when you say you're not interested in him, then you're truly not.

You weren't an easy target after all. But Gojo Satoru loved the thrill, you challenged him so much that he wasn't about to give up now that you intrigued him. He wanted to prove to himself that he can get anyone, he can have whatever he wants, and he definitely will.

"It's raining, it won't hurt to get in my car, princess." He said nearly in your ears. You pushed his face away with a look of disgust.

"No way, Gojo. You probably took so many girls in there already, and how can I be so sure you won't do anything bad?" You frowned at him, shoving his chest away as you stand outside the doors of your building, waiting for the rain to stop. You were angry, but damn you can't even raise your voice at him.

Soft. Too damn soft. Can he break you?

Through the days that he came by to woo you, it didn't matter anymore what words came out of your mouth. People may see you as the shy type of girl, but you're not afraid to voice out your opinion, and your somewhat intimidating face speaks a lot for you.

"Jealous?" He laughed when you glared at him. "Princess, I can assure you I haven't taken anyone inside my car. Plus, I can even buy a new one exclusively just for you if it bothers you too much." He grinned, annoyingly.

You gave him a moment of silence, and that sparked a new hope in Satoru's ego that you might be considering his offer now.

"Well... no."

Oh.

But he could only smirk, assuming you were only playing hard to get. Girls always liked when boys chase after them, no?

"I'll walk you home then."

You shot daggers at his back as he ran to his car, and came back with an umbrella. His shirt got a bit soaked, hair a little wet after running to the car, but damn, he still got that annoying smirk on his face.

You sighed, how annoying.

September 29, 2023

He never gave up despite how you rejected him multiple times. He stuck by your side even though you don't want him to, and he was somehow getting into your system. He carries your bag when he walks you to class, or just about anywhere, and you didn't even give your bag to him—he practically forced you. He'd buy you coffee in the morning, making sure he gets the right order, and when you give money to pay, he'd refuse and shove the money back in your wallet. Sometimes, he'd give you sweets even if you don't ask him to, giving you the flavors that he likes the most.

Funny how you can't even get him to stop whatever he's trying to do. No man has ever pursued you like he does.

"Gojo–"

"That's Satoru for you, love." He cut you off with a playful smile. "Haven't I told you already?"

"Gojo." You repeated seriously. His eyes glinted with interest as he waited for your words. "Get lost, please."

How nice of you to say please.

He laughs. He had the audacity to laugh. "You know, you're really cute."

"Look," you sighed tiredly. "Whatever this is you're trying to do, stop. I'm not interested. If you want to get into my pants like you did to those other girls, that's not going to happen."

With one look at him, you snatched your bag from him and walked away with your heart beating loudly. Your face was heating up after saying each word, and never in your life have you turned someone down so harshly.

Satoru watched as you walked away. Sure, that hurt his pride, but he can't let his ego step on so easily.

He left you alone during the day, just giving you the space since he seemed to have pushed your buttons a bit. Plus, he was busy with basketball practice since his coach was already nagging him for not attending their training.

However, your assumptions were only proved to be true when you caught him with a girl at the parking lot the same day. A cheerleader, stroking his chest as if she was comforting him as her other hands wiped his sweat with a towel. You looked at his physique, Satoru Gojo was in his basketball uniform, showing a lot of his biceps. You watched as his adam's apple protruding as he drank his water.

You felt annoyed. Your eyes turning red when you see just how he didn't mind the cheerleader. Of course, Gojo Satoru was a playboy.

Who cares? You definitely didn't.

That's what you thought.

You walked in the opposite direction, just so you wouldn't cross paths. But of course, Gojo Satoru will always see you. After all, he was at the parking lot waiting just for you, and only you.

"Wait up!" You heard his voice from behind, and you didn't even look back, thinking he wasn't calling out for you. You wished he was calling for you.

Satoru grabbed your wrist, and forced you to look at him. "Hey!"

Your brows furrowed, trying to yank your wrist away at his strong hold. "What do you want?"

"Woah... slow down." He said as he grasped your elbows with both hands. His eyes searched yours, his piercing blue eyes staring at the raging fire burning in your gaze. "What's wrong?"

You swear, your brows almost met each other at him. But you didn't want to burst. At least, not in front of him. "Go back to your cheerleader, Gojo." You frowned at him.

He observed you for a minute, then a small smile crept on his lips. Realizing just how much he's finally having an effect on you.

"Sorry," he chuckled.

"What?!" You almost shout at him in annoyance.

"I said, I'm sorry, princess." He repeated. "I didn't think of you as the jealous type. Plus, she was just helping me."

"Help you what? Wipe off your sweat? Since you don't have the hands to do it for yourself?" You glared at his annoying handsome face. "You playboy. I knew you were just trying to play with me." You said, pushing his chest with your pointer finger.

He pursed his lips as he caught your wrist, stopping you. "Now, now, don't think like that." He chuckled. "I'm sorry, I'll be sure to push those girls away so you won't be mad at me anymore."

And damn, he was true to his words. He didn't know what got into him, but he definitely started rejecting every girl that came his way. He didn't even feel sorry, and he even stopped calling those poor girls with sweet endearments as he rejected them.

Gojo Satoru was slowly starting to feel something for you. But he doesn't even know it just yet.

In a span of a month, he successfully got into your system.

October 6, 2023

"How's the deal going?" Suguru asked as they walked together to their class.

"Poor girl, I heard from people that she's nice." Shoko added, shaking her head at them. "Though people may see her as intimidating, they said she's really kind. A soft voice, and all that. Shouldn't you stop, Satoru?"

"Nah, I think I'm enjoying this." Satoru shrugged.

Of course, Satoru definitely felt something tugging at his heart. He definitely liked having you around, since you were giving just the right thrill to rile him up, he loved every rejection, and every attention you gave him. But somehow, he was feeling a little guilty. But he's too prideful to even admit that.

"Plus, she's friends with Utahime. That girl hates you a lot, Satoru." Shoko said. "You wouldn't want to hurt her best friend."

October 13, 2023

"Didn't I tell you to call me Satoru?" He raised his eyebrows at you as he accompanied you in the library, placing a coffee and a small cookie right next to your books.

"We're not friends, Gojo."

"Right, since you're going to be my girlfriend."

You shot him a look, sighing as you turned the pages of your book. "What do you want this time?"

"Nothing, I just wanted to spend time with my favorite person." He smiled, opening his books too. "I'll study with you. I promise, I'll be quiet."

You didn't respond to that, just expecting him to keep his words. And when he did stay silent like he promised, you were already thanking god for having to hear your prayers.

As the hours went by, you slowly fell asleep, your head resting in your arms as your books laid discarded. Satoru looked at you, a small smile crept on his face as he gently stroked your hair.

He stood up, organizing your books in a pile, taking your pencil case as he shoved your pens in them and putting it inside your bag, he got the empty cup of coffee that he got for you and threw it in the trash can, and he did it all so as to not wake you. He waited for a few hours, tenderly watching you doze off, before he tapped your shoulders to wake you up so he could take you home.

October 18, 2023

Maybe Satoru felt guilty now.

He twists and turns in his bed, thinking of you and how you put up with him everyday. And everything you do, never escape in his eyes as he finds himself memorizing you.

You'd smile at him nicely, despite how your eyes show how annoyed you were.

Your feet would tap the floor when you get too nervous.

You don't even know but you unconsciously hold a piece of fabric in his shirt when it gets too crowded, hiding behind him when there's a lot of people.

He notices how your hands move gracefully as you trace your art project, eyes furrowed and focus on getting your work done.

Truthfully, he adores your smiles. The way your eyes would squint every time your lips stretch in delight. He held your hands once at his attempt of flirting, and it was so soft that he couldn't even get himself to let go. He loved playing with your soft, silky hair whenever you fell asleep in the library, staying by your side until you woke up. He also loved your silence, the comforting atmosphere that you give off seems to calm something in his heart. When he manages to get a proper conversation with you, he just wants to melt every time he hears your sooting voice.

And nervously, he thinks he's starting to like you.

October 23, 2023

Slowly, Satoru became a part of your day. Somehow, he managed to finally be friends with you, and still, you refused to call him Satoru, indicating that you still cannot allow yourself to be casual with him.

That's fine. He can settle for whatever you can give him. For now.

"Baby, there's a basketball game coming up this Friday..." Satoru trailed off. You were almost going to point out his endearment, but then again, it's Satoru, and you were slowly getting used to him.

"What?" You asked. "So?"

"I bought you tickets so you can watch. It's two tickets, so you can bring your friend."

He didn't even ask if you wanted to, but then again, for a hundredth time, it's Satoru. He wanted you to watch his game, nonetheless.

And you did. Your seat being close to their benches so he can see you easily.

October 27, 2023

"Seriously? I'm about to watch our school's basketball game, because Gojo Satoru invited you?" Utahime said annoyed as you both sat at your assigned seats.

"Well... yes..." You said shyly, looking around at the amount of people in the stadium. "You know, we've been hanging out a lot–"

"I told you, he's bad news." Utahime cut you off. "How am I supposed to get that in your head?"

"I know, I know... But he's actually been nice. Haven't you notice?"

Utahime thought for a moment. Of course, she noticed some changes. Gojo Satoru seemed to be spending his time with you lately. He didn't even care about his ex flings, or his admirers, he was solely focused on you. Usually, Gojo would take a girl wrapped around his fingers in a day, and then disposing them just as quick after he got what he wanted. He looks like he's not like that to you, Utahime thought. Though, she hated his guts, Utahime knew you were enjoying having him around.

She sighed, "Just... don't get hurt, okay?"

You chuckled at her. "Why would I?"

After the game ended, with your school cheering loudly at winning, Utahime said she had to go home quickly, so you were left alone.

You didn't know what to do, or where to go. Satoru was busy with his teammates, talking and congratulating each other. Satoru wanted to go to you quickly, but his fans surrounded him, stopping him from going your way as they celebrated their victory.

Satoru knew too well that you didn't like the crowd, so he was trying hard to escape from it.

Your eyes watched as his fans congratulated him, asking for pictures, and even giving him gifts. You sighed, texting him that you'll be going home since he wasn't about to finish anytime soon.

You understood that he was famous, and all that. He's Satoru Gojo, after all. And it's another part of him that you're still not used to.

A part of you was proud of him. And you couldn't possibly be selfish about him, especially if you only recently got to know him.

Satoru hurriedly ran away from the crowd, excusing himself politely as he saw you walking through the exit doors. He got his bag, and ran to catch up to you.

Thanks to his long legs, and his intense basketball training, he was able to catch up to you quickly. "Hey!" He called.

You turned as you heard his voice, seeing his disheveled hair and sweaty forehead as he ran to you. "Gojo, hey, I texted you and–"

"Hey..." He greeted, panting heavily.

You pursed your lips, getting a handkerchief from your pocket so you can wipe the sweat off his face. "Why did you leave them? Everyone was celebrating with you."

"You weren't there." He frowned. "What's the point of it..."

Satoru was tired after the game, but he was regaining his strength once he saw you.

"Nonsense." You chuckled, in which he frowned even more.

"I'll take you home." He said as he holds your hand to his, leading you to his car. "I invited you anyway, it's my responsibility to take care of you."

You nodded, getting in his car since you had been tired from all the crowd.

When he reached your home, he quickly got off so he could open the door for you.

Oh, the little things that he does.

You both stand outside of your house awkwardly, both trying to find the right words to say. You looked away, tapping your feet nervously as Satoru watches you.

"Congratulations... Satoru."

Satoru... Satoru... Satoru... His name never felt so good until you said it. It was like an achievement, a big prize that he won in his life. And his heart was almost about to explode when you finally called him by his name.

Satoru almost stuttered thanks to you. Slowly, he was approaching you until your back leaned in his car.

He closed his eyes, as his head fell on your shoulders. "Say that again... please?"

"Huh?" You were confused, your face blushing at the proximity. "Congratulations?"

"No... say my name... please, baby?"

His voice was so soft, desperately asking you to say the words he longed to hear from you. Satoru felt weak in his knees.

He looked up at you finally, his eyes searching your soul. Despite the darkness of the night, his eyes were glowing brighter than the moon.

"Satoru?"

"Fuck..."

Satoru Gojo knew he's in danger.

The moment he locked eyes with your eyes, looking at them until it darted on your lips. Before he knew it, he was leaning down for a kiss.

And fuck it, just how dangerous it was that you weren't even pulling away.

October 28, 2023

You were confused when you saw Satoru at your front door the next morning, his hands holding a bouquet of flowers. He looked absolutely handsome in his shirt, his sleeves tucked until his elbow.

You blush when you remember what happened last night. "Satoru, what are you doing here? It's a Saturday."

"I know," he said, handing you the bouquet of tulips. "I missed you."

"H-huh?"

"Will you allow me to take you out on a date?"

His heart was at bliss when you said yes to him. It was a simple coffee shop date, but you felt so happy as he made sure you were also comfortable and having fun. Having casual talks with you, but this time, there was a lying affection between you two.

And when he took you home, he slowly sealed your lips in a kiss. Exploring your mouth gently, smiling as he pulled away.

October 30, 2023

Satoru finally told Suguru he wants to stop whatever game they started with each other.

"Just about time you do."

Satoru swears he felt his ears heat up when Suguru said those words with a teasing grin. Shoko was laughing at his flushed state, clapping her hands in delight.

"Ah! I knew it!" She exclaimed. "Knew you were going to fall on your own trap. Well, that's actually good."

Satoru blushed even more. Finally, he can admit that he was starting to like you. Love you even.

In all honesty, he felt like he couldn't even live without you in his life. He felt like every moment with you was precious, and he was desperate to make you his, seriously this time.

All those times that he accompanied you to class, were influenced by his own choice. He could've just left you alone some days, but he didn't even know he was doing all those things unintentionally. Buying you snacks, and your coffee, he could've easily stopped that after every rejection, but he chose not to.

Gojo Satoru wanted to always be a part of your day. He was already a part of your present, and he wants to be there in your past, and still be in your future.

November 3, 2023

Satoru, as usual, was eating lunch with you in the cafeteria. Everyone in the school knew by now that he was not entertaining anyone anymore, just you. And he made it that obvious, looking at you so lovingly everyone who passed by would've looked at you in envy.

"Why aren't you with Shoko and Suguru?" You asked as you take a sip of your coffee. You looked over to the table where his friends sat, both busy at whatever conversation they had.

"They don't mind." Satoru replied, scooting closer in your seat. "You should get used to it by now."

"To what?"

"Sitting with you during lunch." He smiled when you looked away. "I like being with you."

Your mind wandered off somewhere when he said that. Does he like you or does he like the company that you give?

November 10, 2023

Satoru was frowning at you when he saw you sitting with another guy in the library. At your usual spot, in his seat, in front of you. He was annoyed that someone even had the guts to make a move to you.

Slowly, with heavy steps, he approached your table, sitting at the vacant chair next to you. His hands wrapped itself between your waist, as his jealousy pulled him to kiss your cheek in front of your innocent classmate.

"Baby..." He whispered closely in your ear. "I was looking for you."

He looked in front to shoot daggers at the guy you were with. The innocent stranger blushed as he looked away, "Uh... I guess I'll see you tomorrow. I'll message you if I need help."

The guy hurried on his feet, stumbling as he exited the library. Satoru's arms tighten on your waist and you looked at his angry face.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Who is he and why is he going to message you?" A frown was evident in his face, and he was getting a little too close. You had never seen him this intimidated.

"That's my partner for a group project, idiot." You muttered the last word. "You scared him off."

Satoru pulled you close, nuzzling his nose against your temple. "It's annoying..."

"What's annoying?"

Satoru cursed under his breath, "Come on, I'll take you out to dinner."

But while he was driving, it was painfully silent. You're not used to this kind of mood, he was always playful and teasing, but now, he was glaring ahead at the car in front of him, as if the car did something wrong.

His knuckles were white on the steering wheel, and for some reason, you find yourself putting your hands above his, running circles on his tensed ones.

His hold loosened up a bit, and he sighed heavily.

"Tell me, what's wrong, Satoru."

Satoru pulled over to the side, facing you with a nervous face. "I'm sorry..."

"For what?"

"I was... jealous." He answered truthfully. He frowned, not liking the feeling twisting in his stomach. "I've never felt this before, baby. I want to keep you to myself, to always have you by my side and not anyone else, and it's so selfish that I hate myself for it. You're driving me crazy, and fuck it, I love you. I love you for making me like this. You don't understand... I'm head over heels–"

You interrupted him with a kiss. Satoru didn't even realize that he was already confessing, not until he felt your mouth against his.

It felt like there were fireworks exploding in your surroundings. Feels like he was finally breathing for the first time ever. Like the summer melting his winter.

"I love you too, Satoru."

He felt like dying right then and there, cupping your cheeks in a hungry kiss. Pulling you to his lap as you both make out in his car.

"Can I be your boyfriend?"

How can he be so cute, muttering those words weakly underneath you?

His question was not even a 'will you be my girlfriend' but a 'can i be your boyfriend?'

It was so cute. He was asking you your permission, he was asking to be yours.

He was... surrendering his heart to you.

And who were you to deny him?

November 20, 2023

You found out Gojo Satoru is a clingy man. It was obvious, the first time that he never left you alone, but this time, it only got worse, in a good way though.

He holds your hand when you're together, not even caring when girls would look at the two of you jealously. He doesn't care if a teacher sees him snuggling his face against your neck, he just wants to be that close to you. He will ask for a cuddle every time you two spend your time in your house. He would dart his tongue out teasingly at Shoko and Suguru when all of you sat at the same table, and he was hugging your waist and leaning his head on your shoulder. And when you two are in a private space, especially his car, he'd pull you in his lap for a long make out session.

You weren't even complaining, since you loved him just as much.

"Utahime!" You smiled when you saw your best friend in the cafeteria. "Haven't seen you in a while."

Utahime gave out a tired sigh. "I know, the professor is always giving out so many tasks, I might pass out anytime soon." She chuckled. "How are you? You and Gojo? He's like a lovesick puppy always sticking by your tail."

You chuckled. "That's so exaggerated, Utahime... But I'm really really happy."

Utahime was glad to hear her only best friend was this happy. She was thanking god that Gojo finally decided to be serious over a girl for once, and if he ever just breaks your heart, she'd be so sure to be the first to kick his ass.

December 4, 2023

"You're still with her?" Gojo's ex flings, Jia, asked him during his basketball training. Jia was the cheerleader girl that you saw him with in the parking lot, the fling that Satoru had for a month, longer than usual. He already rejected her, but she's still desperately trying to get with him.

"Of course, I am." He muttered, annoyingly. He snatched the towel that she was holding, her attempt to help him wipe his sweat. "Jia, I already told you–"

"Isn't she just a bet?"

Satoru froze, as if a bucket of ice was dropped all over his body. Her voice rang in his head, and he blinked furiously a few times.

"She's not–"

"But I heard you and Geto." Jia smirked, knowing she was just pushing the right buttons. "Come on, you were at the cafeteria, were you not expecting someone to hear you? I was pitying her when I saw the poor girl slowly starting to–"

"Whatever you heard, Jia, is none of your business." Satoru said in a cold-hearted tone. "I love her. Get that in that little brain of yours." He scoffed, walking away.

Jia was furious, her eyes turning black in anger. Oh, she wanted to hurt you. She was the last fling of Satoru, and just because of you, he was acting like this. She didn't like the fact that you easily stole him from her.

December 13, 2023

The fall. The breaking point.

Suguru was having a party in his house, a public year-end party with a few of his college friends and blockmates, everyone was invited to have fun. Satoru took you with him, making sure to just stay by your side so you won't get lost at the sea of people.

"How are you two holding up?" Suguru approached you two, handing a cup to Satoru. "You two having fun?"

You nodded your head quietly. "Yeah... there's a lot of people. Are they all from our university?"

"Some are outsiders," Suguru chuckled. "Satoru, we're about to play by the pool. We'll wait for you there."

Satoru nodded, pulling you by the waist as Suguru left. "You okay, baby? Do you want to go home?"

You shake your head, "No, no, it's fine. We can stay a bit more."

"Mhmm, just tell me if you get tired, okay?"

You two walked together to the backyard, where the swimming pool was at. It was a bit crowded, but definitely fewer than inside Suguru's house. Shoko was there, a few of Suguru's friends, and Satoru's basketball teammates. They were all passing out their drinks, mixing whatever liquor was there.

Everyone said hi to Satoru, even to you. You watched silently as a few of his friends talked to him.

"Satoru, I'll go to Shoko first." You whispered above the noise. He turned his head at you, stopping his conversation with his friends.

"What? I'll go with you then–"

"No, it's fine, Shoko's just there." You said, pointing at Shoko who was lighting a cigarette right next to Suguru. "Don't worry, I'll be fine."

Satoru nodded reluctantly as he let you approach Shoko and Suguru, turning back to his friends, glancing at you once in a while.

But when he wasn't looking, Jia just had the perfect timing to enter the scene, stopping you midway.

"Oh, it's Satoru's little toy." Jia slurred her words. You looked at her confused as she looked at you judging. "He's still not breaking up with you? He wants to hurt you that bad, huh?" She chuckled.

You were trying to assess her words. You recognized her as the cheerleader Satoru was with last time, and her aura and words were making you nervous. What was she trying to say? What did she mean by that?

Satoru saw you, and his breath hitch when he saw who you are with. He looked over at Shoko and Suguru, who both stood up to approach you, but Jia was already taking advantage of you being alone.

"Poor girl," she frowned teasingly. "I'm pretty sure Satoru didn't want to go too far with the bet."

"Bet?" Your voice came out hoarse. You looked over at Jia's shoulder, where Shoko and Suguru stood frozen in their spot, their eyes widened in horror, and it gave you just enough explanation about what's happening.

"Oh, they were just betting about how Satoru can make you fall in love 'til December." She laughed wickedly. "I'm sorry, honey, you had to find out this way, but really, I was feeling sorry that I have to tell you–"

Her words were cut short when you felt a hand on your wrist. And you turned to see Satoru, his eyes red and shaking, "Baby..."

"Satoru? Was that true?" You looked into his eyes, hopeful. Your eyes welled up in tears, and his silence just made it worse. His hold on you was trembling, and he couldn't even say the right words out of his mouth.

You looked at Suguru and Shoko, your eyes pleading. "Shoko? Suguru?"

Another silence. It's like something was pulling the strings of your heart, threatening to cut your lifeline. And it hurt so much when they couldn't even say something.

You heaved a gasp, trying to stop a sob to escape your lips. But you failed miserably as Satoru tried to pull you in his embrace. "Let me explain–"

You pushed him away furiously, eyes angrily glaring at him. "Explain? Explain what?! That what she said was true?!"

Satoru's hands balled in a fist, and he felt his eyes burning as you pushed him away from his touch. His heart aches when you look at him full of hatred, and hurt. He felt his world slowly crumbling apart when you ran away in a hurry.

You quickly called Utahime, asking her to pick you up as soon as possible. While Satoru stood there helpless, his feet glued to the ground. He looked at Suguru, his eyes searching for help.

All of you were equally shocked, and nervous.

"Fucking go after her, Satoru!" Shoko shouted as she pulled Jia's hair. "Fucking bitch!"

The latter cried, but Satoru couldn't care less as Suguru pushed him to move. As fast as he could, he ran outside the door of Suguru's house, walking past every dancing body, he didn't even care if he crashed into someone, he just wanted to get to you.

And when he found you walking by the sidewalk, his heart started crying at your panicked state. He approached you, holding your wrist to stop you from walking any further.

"Satoru!"

"Let's talk, please–"

"Let go of me!"

"Let's talk, baby. Let's talk this out." He pleaded desperately, hands grasping your shoulders to stop you from moving.

Your body trembled against him, hands covering your face as you tried to stop your tears from falling continuously. "I hate you."

"I know you do–"

"Fucking jerk."

"I know, I know–"

"Don't touch me!" You burst, pushing him away harshly. His heart crashed into pieces, his breath coming out shallow and slow. Just like you, he was crying just as bad. "I knew! I knew from the very start you were up to no good! Utahime warned me, my friends warned me! But fuck you! I thought you actually cared! I thought you loved–"

"I love you, baby..." He said, weakly.

"You lying skim! I thought you changed!"

"Please, baby, let's talk about this when we're not angry? Please?" He tried to reach out for you, but his heart felt like it was losing its strength when you back away.

"I don't want to see you–"

"N-no, you don't mean that..." His voice came out as a whisper, a desperate plea for you to listen to him. "I'll take you home, we'll talk, okay? I'll explain and–"

"There's no use, Gojo."

Cruel. How cruel of you to say his last name so coldly. It was a sign that Satoru refused to look at. A sign that you were tired, that you want to let this go already.

His beautiful blue eyes seemed to lose its life, the same way that he was losing you. One moment, you were there by his side, and now... you looked at him as if you wanted to get him out of your life.

And it hurt so bad. It hurt so bad when he tried to touch you, but you still furiously backed away.

"I love you." His voice cracked, looking at you weakly. His hands shake by his side, fighting the urge to reach out for you.

You breathed heavily, shaking your head at him as you said nothing back. You clenched your teeth, not wanting to let him hear your sobs. You're starting to pity yourself, of how stupid you had become. You should've listened to Utahime the first time.

December 14, 2023

Satoru had never felt this lifeless before. Even Shoko and Suguru couldn't help him as he refused to talk to any of them.

His eyes were searching for you everywhere in the cafeteria, but to his dismay, you never showed up the whole day, not even in your classes. He wanted to ask Utahime when he saw her walking down the hallways, but the girl only glared at him as she walked passed. And Gojo was just as helpless as ever.

He messaged and called you a few times, but you didn't answer. He wanted to go to your house, but he can't even find the courage to do it.

December 15, 2023

Satoru finally saw you after a day of absence. You looked tired, and he was mentally cursing at himself for making you like this. He was starting to hate himself, and he's not going to forgive himself anytime soon.

Satoru tried to approach you, but you didn't even dare look him in the eye. He bit his lower lip, trying his hardest to stabilize his breathing. Just like he usually does, he walks you to class, only a few steps behind this time.

Fine, he'll settle for this. He'll give you the space you needed first before anything else.

At the cafeteria, he didn't see you once again. That worried him as he left Shoko and Suguru to look for you. The first place he thought of was the library, and he was glad to see you there.

You glanced up from your book, feeling someone staring at you. And you were right as your eyes met with Satoru, and your heart ached as your brows furrowed at him.

You looked away, trying not to be affected.

All throughout the day, Satoru thought of you and your last interaction. Every time the memory flashed in his mind, he wanted to punch himself. Hurt himself twice as much.

He fucked up so bad, and he wanted to make it up to you.

So he finally had the courage to wait outside your classroom's door after his class, waiting for the professor to dismiss everyone. He didn't waste anymore time as he got by your side quickly when you walked out the door.

Your name rolled out his tongue slowly, and you stopped dead on your track.

"I'll t-take you home..." He stuttered, his eyes searching yours for any emotion. But your eyes were dead, not even a single anger, or love for him in there.

"I'm fine, Gojo. You can go away–"

"I'm not going away."

You turned to him furiously. It was like you two are back to square one, to the first time you two met, and no one should ever forget that Gojo Satoru was persistent. But this time, two hearts were breaking and in a need to mend.

"P-please, let's talk–"

You didn't respond as you walked away fast, but damn his legs for always being able to keep up with you. Despite how Satoru took the hint that you don't want to talk to him, he still didn't care. It didn't matter to Satoru if he couldn't take you home with his car, he'll walk with you instead, like how he used to.

He'll be quiet. He just wants to be with you.

December 16, 2023

You hated Saturday classes. And you hate it even more that Satoru Gojo was tailing you behind. Trying his best to get you to talk to him.

"Baby–"

"Don't call me that."

He coughed awkwardly, blinking his tears away. "You didn't eat lunch today again, let me take you–"

"Cut the crap, Gojo."

He gulped when you looked at him, with hatred in your eyes.

Maybe, just maybe he can settle for this. Look at him. Just look at him. At least look at him, even if you don't want to love him anymore. It's fine. He understands. Just look at him.

"Stop with the act already. I'm so tired of it. I'm so tired of you."

"I'm sorry..." He muttered against his breath. "But I can't. Not until you listen to me." Not until you take him back.

"There's nothing for you to explain anymore, Gojo. I've had enough, and I get it. I understand as bright as day that it was just a game–"

"It's fucking not." He gritted his teeth. As much as he didn't want to be harsh, he was so desperate in wanting you to lend your ears to him. "It wasn't a game for me. And I did love you. I fucking love you still. Yes, it was a bet at first, but I told Suguru that I wanted to stop. He knows just how much I love you. Shoko knows. Fucking everyone knows at this point. Why can't you just listen to me?"

He catches his breath as he finishes voicing out his words. But no, you were a little hard in the head. You wouldn't believe him that fast. You didn't want to hurt your heart again.

"I don't love you."

You didn't know what gave you the urge to say that. It wasn't really true, but the wrong words seem to be the only right words to cut it out.

If Satoru's heart is already breaking, he was sure it is now turning into ashes. You're a liar, he tried to convince himself. You love him, and he's not about to give up just yet.

December 18, 2023

You can hurt Satoru how much you want, but that will never stop him from loving and chasing after you.

Another frustrated sigh came out from you when he left a cookie on your table to your first class, with a note saying, 'I love you. Don't forget to eat.' with his name underneath and a heart. You didn't even know how he managed to put these on your table so early in the morning, and your heart just wants to surrender.

But no, you're not.

So, even if it comes out too heartless, you offered the cookie to the person next to you as you crumpled the note, throwing it away inside your bag so no one would see it.

During lunch, Satoru saw you at your usual table, and tried to sit with you. But you got up in a hurry, pulling Utahime who just got back from the bathroom with you.

Being angry at him is one thing, but avoiding him? No, he can't take that. He'd rather have you stay mad at him, scream and hurt him verbally, even slap him if you want, but giving him the cold shoulder was you telling him that he doesn't exist in your world anymore. Satoru's heart is barely living at this point.

Satoru cursed to himself, standing up and going back to Shoko and Suguru who looked at him with a sad smile.

"Give it time, Satoru."

But time doesn't seem to be on his side.

And fate doesn't get along with you on your most desperate days as you watched the rain poured down once again. It was like deja vu. Standing outside the building, waiting for the rain to stop so you can go home.

But the rain was falling a little too harsh, and you know it's not about to stop anytime soon. It was like the rain also had a turmoil within itself, crying heavily just the same way your heart did.

You hate yourself for always forgetting an umbrella as you take a step, lifting your bag to your head, as you let the rain soak your clothes. It's the last day of school today anyway, you're finally taking your Christmas vacation tomorrow, and it wouldn't hurt to get sick for a few days.

Unbeknownst to you, Satoru comes to the rescue at the right time.

He held an umbrella as he ran after you, being careful as he strides so he won't trip on his feet.

He called your name, stopping shortly when he finally got you under the umbrella and pulling you close by the waist.

"I'll take you home." He shouted above the rain.

Your body trembled in the cold, and Satoru was embracing you like he used to. He didn't even mind if you got his clothes wet. But you still have the guts to push him away. "No! I can go home by myself!"

"Stop being stubborn!" Despite holding you with one hand, his other hand holding the umbrella, he still managed to keep you on your feet, his hand squeezing your waist tightly.

"Gojo–"

"Stop it!"

"Let go of me!"

"You're going to get sick!"

"I don't fucking care!"

"No, I'll take you home–"

"Gojo Satoru!"

Satoru gave up as you writhed from his embrace. He dropped his umbrella, using both his hands to grab your waist, and kissing you in the rain.

His tongue was invading, seeking every corner of your mouth desperately. Fuck, he missed this. He missed you so much. And he didn't even care if the rain was slowly ruining his hair and clothes, as long as he had you right here in his arms.

It was a dangerous dance underneath the cold waters beneath the rain. Two lovers, hopelessly trying to heal their broken hearts. Their lips tangled together like it was their last chance to be like this again.

"Satoru..."

"I'll take you home..."

How did you let yourself become weak for him?

You handed him a towel as both of you entered your home. Despite how upset you are with him, you couldn't possibly just leave him wet by the rain and catch a cold. You were just being nice, you said to yourself. It's not because of your affection towards him, you're just being a helpful woman who still has a heart so you invited him into your house. Thats it, that's all there is, perhaps.

Before you can leave him, Satoru holds your hand, electrifying the two of you to stop you from your tracks. You tried to look at him in the eye, but it was impossible. Satoru doesn't even try to hide how much he's hurting in front of you, and that just doubles the pain that you're feeling right now.

"Let's talk..." He said weakly. "Please? I'm not leaving if we don't talk."

"Satoru, please, just let it go..."

"No," he shakes his head stubbornly. "You mean so much to me."

Your breath hitched as he pulled you close, cupping your cheeks with both hands as he leaned his forehead against yours.

"It's true, we did make a bet..." He closed his eyes, the words falling in his mouth felt like daggers shot straight to his heart. "And I hate myself for it. For being a prideful jerk who wanted to prove he can have whoever he wants, and hurting you in the process..."

Satoru breathed heavily, his hands rubbing circles on your cheek. "Before I knew it, I was down badly on my knees. I wanted you. I love you. I wanted to spend each and every waking moment with you. And I told Suguru, and Shoko, that I wanted to stop whatever game we agreed upon, so I can start loving you truthfully..."

"Satoru..."

"And I felt so alive, baby. When you told me you love me too, when you let me be your boyfriend, when you finally accepted my love for you. Fuck, I can die a happy man. I just... love you. I love being loved by you. I love it when you let me love you. I love it when you do nothing and it just drives me wild. I love it every time I see your eyes looking at me. I love hearing your voice, seeing you smile, and love it even more when you let me hold your hand! I love every single piece of your soul, and I want you. I want to always be with you. My heart aches for you, baby... please..."

He was crying. Oh, god, he was crying as he confessed everything to you. And you swear your heart wants to come out from your chest.

Your heart was swelling, he was mending your bruises, healing your scars in every word he uttered. Your tears were falling nonstop, and your hands quiver to place it above his.

"Satoru..." You sobbed, looking at his helpless blue eyes who'd been crying buckets as well. "I hate the fact that I love you so much."

Satoru heaved a gasp as he pulled you to his embrace, sealing you in a wet kiss. Somehow, it didn't even feel cold anymore now that you have your arms around him again.

His face settled on your neck, and he was catching his breath. He ran his hands in your hair, holding you tight as if he was afraid to let you go.

"Don't leave me again..."

"I won't. I promise." You let out a low chuckle. This time, you cupped his cheek so he could look at you. "I love you so much, Satoru. I'm so sorry for hurting you."

"I deserved it." He smiled. Finally, he was smiling at you. "And I love you more."

Satoru made sure he's not letting you escape this time. Everyday, he's going to make it up to you. He's going to tell you how much he loves you, and he's going to make sure you'll never even forget it until you fall asleep. He's going to love you like it's breathing, and he promised to himself he's going to love you until the next lifetime.

***

i know i said I'll do the part 2 of my Suguru fic, but im so sorry this was in my head for ages 😭 i promised ill start part 2 in a while... anyways, thanks for reading! its not proofread so im sorry for any typographical errors and spelling ^^

6K notes · View notes

puckinghischier · 4 months ago

Text

Quick Study

Quinn Hughes x fem!reader

WARNING: SMUT! minors DNI. 18+. unprotected sex, fingering, oral fem!recieving, oral m!receiving, p in v, smut with the smallest sliver of plot. praise kink if you squint sideways and upside down.

summary: quinn loves to help you experience new things

notes: so…i don’t know what happened i think i blacked out tbh. this is kinda on theme with the request but also kinda not?? more so inexperienced!reader than in innocent!reader. idk my fingers had a mind of their own okay? enjoy 🫶🏼

request: I read a post that headcanons Quinn getting off on teaching you things and how to do things well, and that has just convinced me he has a thing for innocence… feel like that could be a great premise for smut

[4.4k]

Quinn has always been praised for his patience and willingness to teach those around him. It’s likely what landed him his new captain residency, but he likes teaching. He always said if he didn’t make it in the league he’d like to be a teacher and a coach, spreading his knowledge of history and hockey to the next generation.

What he didn’t realize until he met you, though, was how much he really enjoyed teaching.

He loved explaining the game to you, seeing your eagerness to pay attention and learn for him. Watching you glance at the cheat sheet he made you on your phone during games, making sure you’re able to keep up with the various penalties called, has him puffing out his chest a bit.

He loved explaining to you the most recent book he was reading, telling you all about the time period and the historical context of whatever story piqued his interest that week. He’d notice the empty space on the bookshelf after he finishes the book, glancing over to your side of the bed to discover the book with your bookmark tucked neatly between its pages, heart swelling when you’d bring it up over dinner, wanting to learn about his interests.

What he loved the most, though, was figuring out everything he could teach you.

He knew when the two of you first met that you were fairly inexperienced, not having ever really dated much before, but once he realized how inexperienced you really were? His mind went wild with the possibilities.

There was a certain pride he felt in being the person to guide you through all of these new experiences, never rushing you, always making sure you were one hundred percent comfortable before he tried anything new. He encouraged you to ask as many questions as you needed, telling you there’s never any reason to feel embarrassed around him.

He’d note the way you’d sit there and take in every word as he explained the different scenarios and sensations certain actions could elicit from your body, eyes wide and hungry. The second he would open the conversation for any questions or clarifications he could see the nervousness creep in, almost retracting into yourself out of embarrassment.

“I just…I don’t know exactly what you mean. You can…you know…feel that just from your mouth?” you’d ask him, voice barely above a whisper and eyes darting all over the room.

“Oh, darling, I can’t wait for you to experience the amount of things I can make you feel with my mouth,” he would nearly groan out, both angered and thankful that no other guy you’ve ever been with allowed you to experience all that the body has to offer.

Your cheeks would instantly heat, but not out of embarrassment. Quinn could see the gears turning in your head, the slight adjustment of your thighs coming closer together hinting to him how much you’re enjoying the picture painted in your head.

The day you told Quinn you had never experienced an orgasm, though? He was nearly seeing red.

“What do you mean you’ve never ‘gotten there’” he repeated your own words, not realizing the harsh tone of his voice until you looked away from him, watching your face contort into an expression of guilt.

“I- I don’t know. I mean, the couple of times I’ve actually…you know…went there with a guy, it never really happened. I guess I was doing something wrong, I don’t know,” you spoke softly, shrugging meekly.

Quinn took a deep breath, calming himself the way he would on the ice, before scooting closer to you and grabbing your hands. “You could never do anything wrong, you hear me? The fact that the fools you were with before were too sorry to make sure you were taken care of, and apparently didn’t know what the hell foreplay was, is not your fault.”

Nodding slowly, you sucked your bottom lip into your mouth and chewed on it lightly. “I think…I want you to show me,” you said so quietly Quinn thought he imagined it.

“Say that again?” he needed you to clarify, wanting to make sure he’s not just hearing what his dick wants to hear.

You inhale, preparing yourself to put on your brave face and finally find the courage to tell a guy what you want. “I want you to show me. Teach me what it’s like. I want to experience it with you.”

And damn. If that didn’t get Quinn’s dick rock fucking hard. The idea of showing you everything you’ve been missing, everything he knows he can make you feel? He could almost come right here on the couch, never even having to touch your skin.

Quinn didn’t say a word, simply grabbing your hand and prompting you to stand, leading you to the bedroom that was practically shared at this point, considering how often you stayed at his apartment.

He sat you down on the edge of the bed, standing in front of you and looking down at your big, round eyes. He had to remind himself this was about you, and not to get too ahead of himself.

Bringing a hand up to caress your face, brushing away a small strand of hair, he rests his hand on your jaw, thumb brushing over your soft, pink lips. Using the slightest bit of pressure, he wedges his thumb in-between them, causing them to part just enough for him to slip it into your warm and inviting mouth.

He feels your tongue swirl around the tip of his finger, never once breaking eye contact with him. He closes his eyes, the image in front of him overloading his brain. The second you start to suckle on the rough pad of his digit, he jerks his hand back, surprising you.

“Sorry, did I do something wro-“

“No, never,” he interrupts you, voice low and gravely. “But this is about you and I can’t let myself get carried away.”

Opening his eyes, he sees the flush come back to your cheeks, watching the outline of your tongue rolling around in your cheek. “I want to learn,” you look at him with pleading eyes.

“I know, baby, we’re gonna get there, promise,” he assures you, catching your chin between his thumb and index finger.

You shake your head back and forth, “No, I want to learn how to please you.”

Quinn can feel every ounce of blood in his body make its way straight to his already near painful cock. The innocence and eagerness on your face making his knees buckle.

“I’ve never…given a…a blowjob before,” you stuttered, your bashfulness from earlier coming back. “I never felt like I’d do a good job, and I didn’t want to disappoint anyone and scare them away, so I always said no. But I want you to teach me. Please?” you pleaded, using your eyes to convey your willingness.

If there was ever a world record for how fast a man can come without even being touched, Quinn would say he’s a pretty close contender right now.

He clears his throat, trying to choke down the groan that nearly came out. “I- uh. Are you sure?” is all he’s able to sigh out, feeling like an idiot because he can’t even form words.

You nod your head silently, not knowing if you could find the courage to ask again.

“Fuck, baby,” Quinn shudders, swallowing thickly, bringing a hand down to readjust himself in his sweats.

Figuring you need to show some sort of initiative, you bring your hand up to replace his, cupping him over the thin material.

Quinn’s entire body jerks forward at the feeling of your small hand covering him, resting his hands on your shoulders for support.

Your breath catches, not expecting to receive such a reaction from him, but it only encourages you to keep going, squeezing just enough to apply a slight pressure to his length.

Quinn grunts, shuddering at the sensation. “Fuck, Y/N.”

The sound of his voice, a slight whine but still deep and powerful, shoots a bolt of arousal straight between your legs. You start stroking his still clothed shaft, enjoying teasing him.

“Show me what to do, Q,” you whisper seductively, his actions only growing your confidence in your actions.

With his eyes squeezed shut in pleasure, he wastes no time in moving your hand and ripping the sweatpants down so roughly his dick literally springs free. He sighs at the lack of constriction, creating a sweet friction with his own hand.

Seeing him bare for the first time, you feel the extra saliva form in your mouth, wanting nothing more than to wrap your lips around him and find out how his skin tastes.

Too lost in the beauty of the man in front of you, you don’t realize he’s gazing down at you, watching how in awe you are of him.

“Babygirl, you can’t look at me like that and expect me to last longer than three seconds once you start touching me,” he snaps you out of your daze, drawing your eyes to his face.

You blush, focusing on the bedroom floor to hide your eyes from him.

Bringing his hand back up to your face, he forces you to look up at him, the intensity of the moment making you squirm.

“Touch me,” he commands, rubbing his thumb back and forth on your chin.

Following his instructions, you grasp him in your hand again, moving your hand gently across the textured skin.

You pump slowly, waiting for Quinn to tell you your next move.

“Shit, faster,” is all he whimpered, moving his hips to meet your motions.

Moving your wrist a little faster, you’re so taken with the sounds he’s making you hardly feel the bruising grip he has on your shoulder, grounding himself to you.

“Quinn, wanna taste you,” you whined, watching the precum leak from his pink tip, tongue darting out to lick your lips in anticipation.

“Okay, just-” he shudders, interrupted by a moan, “just, no teeth. And don’t take too much, hollow your mouth out a bit, and keep using your hand if you need to.”

Belly swirling with nerves and excitement, you position yourself a little farther onto the edge of the bed, face to face with his strained cock.

Taking a deep breathe, you test the waters by placing a chaste kiss on his tip, licking the salty precum off of your lips. Opening your mouth, you take the plunge and follow his instructions, hollowing out your cheeks as your mouth rolls over his length, your tongue feeling the weight of his thickness.

You look up at him as he watches you, waiting for any hint of praise in what you’re doing, wanting to make sure you’re doing it right.

“Shit, just like that, baby, keep going,” he encourages, feeling you stop when his tip tickles the back of your throat.

You will yourself not to gag, enjoying the feeling of your tongue against his cock too much. Trying to combat the feeling, you swirl your tongue around him, feeling every ridge and vein.

Quinn is fighting against every muscle in his body, from wanting to bring his hands to your head and push your mouth further onto him, to wanting to snap his hips forward and bury his dick in your throat.

“Can move a bit if you want,” he hisses out as your tongue runs across his sensitive tip once again. “Doing so good, though. Feels unreal. Don’t know how you’ve never done this before.”

You want to smile, but can’t with your mouth full of him, so you start bobbing your head instead, slow and careful. You bring your hand up to cup his balls, remembering one of your friends telling you guys seem to like that.

Quinn jerks his hips forward at the feeling, not being able to control his actions at that point, dangerously close to blowing his load down your throat.

He removes himself from your mouth, watching the spit trail down your chin. The sight is so pornographic he almost finishes anyways, digging his nails into his palms as a distraction.

“Was-,” you start, wiping the dribble off of your mouth, “was I not doing it right? I remember someone telling me once guys liked when you touched them like that. Did I scrape you with my teeth? Did I-“ your hoarse voice is abruptly cut off by Quinn shoving his hands under your arms and lifting you to your feet.

“You were amazing. Too good. If you would’ve kept doing that for even thirty more seconds I would have come in your mouth, and while the thought drives me insane, there’s only one place I want to come tonight,” he tells you, bringing his hand down to untie your soft pajama pants as he finishes his sentence, fingers ghosting over the exposed skin of your stomach.

You suck in a sharp breathe as he starts rolling the pants down your hips, exposing your simple, cotton underwear.

“Well, if I knew this is what we were doing tonight I would’ve dressed more appropriately,” you said softly, wanting nothing more than to bring your arms down to cover the exposed skin.

Quinn chuckles. “You could be wearing a diaper for all I care. I’d still be rock hard at the sight of you like this.”

“Weird, but sweet?” you respond, trying to break up the intensity you feel as you kick the bottoms off of your feet.

Amused smile on his face, Quinn shakes his head at you, toying with the hem of your shirt.

“Can I?” he asks, tugging at the thin material.

You shake your head yes, knowing there’s no going back after this moment.

“Words, babydoll, ‘member?” he mumbles, staring at your taut nipples through the shirt.

“Yes. To everything. I trust you,” you breathe out.

Quinn’s heart jumps to his throat, surprised at how excited the confession makes him. Knowing he has your complete and total trust with something as important as this adds a whole new level to what he’s about to experience with you.

The shirt is over your head before you can think twice, standing almost bare in front of him.

“Shit baby, knew you were stunning,” he starts but pauses, letting his eyes rake over every inch of exposed skin. “but think you were painted just for me,” he worships your body, trailing his fingers over the dips in your collar bones in awe, watching the goosebumps rise in their wake.

“Your turn,” you whisper, feeling the flush on your cheeks, not wanting to be the only one on display.

Not being able to take his eyes off of the smooth skin of your body, he removes the rest of his clothing before you can even blink, staring at the toned man standing in front of you.

Of course you’ve seen him shirtless before, considering he never likes to wear a shirt to bed, and having spent a weekend at his lake home a few months ago. But to see him completely naked before you is a sight you never want to forget.

Breaking the stare you both hold on each other, he moves your body to lay down on the bed, guiding you to move further up the bed as he crawls over you, stopping when your head rests on one of the million pillows.

“Gonna make you feel so good,” he pants from above you, bringing his mouth down to place wet kisses along your neck.

You inhale deeply, the feeling lighting all of your nerves on fire.

Too distracted by the feeling of his tongue darting out to swirl along your skin, you don’t notice his hand has made its way to the band of your underwear, slipping a finger just under the barrier.

“Off, take them off,” you pant out, wanting the fabric gone.

“Yes, ma’am,” he obeys, sliding the material off of your body in record time.

Quinn forgot everything he was supposed to be doing when he saw you bare before him. He could practically smell your arousal, watching your pussy glisten in the low light of the bedroom.

“Bet you taste so good, hmm?” he rasped out, sounding like a man starved.

Squirming, your body fights to find some sort of friction to ease the ache between your legs, never having felt so turned on before.

“What do I need to do? Tell me what to do, Quinny,” you whimper, wanting to know what you’re supposed to be doing, desperate for relief.

Your desperation makes his cock throb, having forgot how hard he was, too distracted by you. But to watch you writhe and whine and look to him for guidance makes him painfully aware of how much this is all affecting him.

“Absolutely nothing. Now it’s my turn to make you feel good, darling,” he all but pants, licking his lips like he’s about to eat a five-star meal.

He moves his body down yours, shamelessly dragging his lips down your warm skin, taking his time and savoring every inch.

Once he reaches your soaking cunt, he teases you with hot breaths, wanting to admire every fold and crevice before exploring you with his mouth.

Placing small kisses on both thighs, letting his scruff scratch the sensitive skin, he finally lets his mouth find your core.

Licking a clean stripe up from your hole to your clit, he grips onto your legs, baffled by how good you taste on his tongue. He dives in like he’s never known such a luxury, slurping and sucking every inch of your perfect pussy.

You’ve never felt anything like this before, the pleasure overwhelming. You don’t know what to do with yourself, feeling like you’re flailing your limbs all over the place. Moaning and grunting, Quinn can sense your frustration with not knowing how to express your pleasure.

“Touch my hair. Pull it, tug it, hold on to it. Whatever you need to do. Just touch me,” he instructs you, the vibration of his words on your clit causing you to cry out, tangling both hands into his soft hair.

Quinn groans at the delicious pull on his scalp as you use his hair as your outlet, feeling his dick brush against the comforter as it twitches. He starts to grind against the mattress, not enough to push him over the edge, but enough to provide him with temporary relief.

He continues his assault on your dripping core, not caring if he were to drown in your arousal, loving how it practically leaks out of you, not wasting a single drop.

Once he feels you’re ready, he brings a finger up, slipping it inside of you and feeling your walls instantly clench around him. The sensation only drives him further, burying his nose deeper into you, if that was even possible.

Pumping his finger in and out of you slowly, he adds a second, ensuring you’re ready for him in the minutes yet to come.

Arching your back at the fullness of two of his long, thick fingers, you carry out a particularly rough tug of his hair, earning a moan so loud you want to do whatever you can to hear it again.

“Feel so good, Q. Never – ah! – knew I could feel like this,” you groaned, digging your heels into the bare skin of his shoulders.

“C’mon, know you’re almost there. Gotta let go f’me,” he grunts against you, feeling the flutter of your walls around him.

The unfamiliar pit in your stomach grows at his voice, never wanting him to stop talking to you.

“Oh, like that, huh? Like when I talk to you, pretty girl? Like when I use my voice while pressed up against your pussy?” Quinn asks you, feeling how you clenched when he spoke.

His vulgarness made the ball of pleasure grow even larger, threatening to pop at any moment.

Quinn hummed against your clit, wrapping his lips around the sensitive bud, inhaling just enough to create a small vacuum of suction.

The new feeling caused something inside of you to explode, a pleasure burning throughout your whole body so intense you think you lose your hearing for a few moments.

Quinn rides you through your orgasm, licking and sucking every drop of physical pleasure from your body. When he removes his mouth from you, you’re laying limp under him, the look of bliss on your face sparking a feeling of pride within him.

You have no clue what just happened to your body, not registering a single thing until you felt Quinn’s fingers running through your damp hair, fluttering your heavy lids open.

“There she is. Thought you went and fell asleep on me,” he chuckles, caressing your bright red cheek.

“mmmm” you hummed out. “Think I can taste colors. What did you just do to me?” you ask him, starting to gain control over your body again.

Quinn full on laughs at you, hiding his face in his bicep. “I think that’s the nicest thing a woman has ever said to me,” he marvels down at your state, knowing he was the first man to ever make you feel like this.

You’re trying to think of a clever or sexy response, but get distracted by something poking your leg. Looking down, you notice how hard and red Quinn’s dick is, remembering that he never finished earlier when you had him in your mouth.

“Oh!” you say in surprise, drawing attention to his…situation.

“What can I say? That was the hottest thing I’ve ever witnessed,” he references your intense release.

You bite your lip, almost embarrassed. “Well, I can think of something hotter,” you say quietly, reaching your hand down to grab his length.

Quinn gasps as the contact, the most sensitive he thinks he’s ever been.

“Now I want to watch you,” you can recognize the sound of your voice, not knowing what having an orgasm did to you.

Crashing his mouth onto yours, the first time he’s kissed you all night, your grips falls from his shaft, bringing your hands up to pull his shoulders closer to your body. The friction of his skin on your hard nipples alone is about to drive you over the edge again.

“Gonna wreck you, you know that? Wreck you like you’ve wrecked me,” Quinn says on your lips, bringing your bottom lip between his teeth before letting it snap back into place.

You don’t know where the sudden rush and roughness came from, but you can’t say you’re disappointed. Something within him snapped hearing you express wanting to watch him come undone under your influence, and Quinn can’t control himself anymore.

“Show me, Q. Show me what I’ve missed all this time,” your mouth is operating on a mind of its own, not sure what part of your brain has been unlocked by Quinn’s magical mouth.

Quinn growls, hiking your leg up to rest around his waist, leaving the other flat on the bed, standing on his knees as he brings his hand to line himself up with your still dripping cunt, causing your hands to fall from his body. His own hand finds one of your full breasts, toying with the nipple, causing a sharp gasp to fall from your lips.

“Ready?” his voice goes soft for a second, wanting to make sure you’re still good.

“Please,” you whine in response, shaking your head yes.

As he slowly sinks himself into you, he realizes that he’s found his new favorite place. Buried deep inside of your heat, the warm squeeze against his rigid cock, is what he was put on this earth to enjoy, he thinks to himself.

Your whimpers are the perfect soundtrack as he slides himself in and out of your slick, worried he’ll slip right out if he pulls out too much. The ease with which he glides through convinces him you were made for him. Every inch of you, made to be ruined by him.

“Tell me how to move,” you moan out. “Tell me how to make this – shit! – better for you. Teach me.”

Just like before, hearing you whine and beg for him to teach you, wanting to learn from him, has him losing all of his resolve. He completely slips himself out of you, slamming back into you with such force it takes your breathe away.

Hearing your gasp, Quinn brings his hand down, pressing on your lower belly to intensify the feeling of how deep he is inside of you right now.

“You’re perfect. Doing so good f’me. Best little student ever, know exactly what to do without even being told,” Quinn praises you, causing your brain to short circuit.

“Just wanna make you feel good, Q. Don’t wanna take all the fun for myself,” you respond to him, bringing your arms back up to the skin of his broad shoulders, raking your nails down the clammy skin, not realizing the burn of your nails down his back is the final string for Quinn.

He cries out, not wanting to come before you, but he’s so close he doesn’t think he can hold out any longer.

Mustering all the resolve he has left, he removes his hand from your belly, bringing it down to circle your clit, pinching it every so lightly.

He feels it the second you reach your second release tonight, the squeeze of your walls as they clench around him making it impossible for him to pull out, triggering his own orgasm to leave his body and leak into you in spurts.

His body shakes from the sensation, letting out some of the most pornographic noises even he’s ever heard. And he was once a teenage boy with unlimited access to the internet.

The two of you come down from your highs together, Quinn’s hand letting your leg fall back down onto the bed, and slowly removing his softening cock from you, both of you whining at the loss of contact.

He flops down next to you, needing a moment to recover before he made any move to clean either of you up.

“So…that’s what I’ve missed out on for all these years?” you asked out loud through shallow breaths, not even turning your head to look at Quinn.

Quinn managed a small laugh, replying with a small “Told you it was them, not you.”

You turned on your side to finally look at your sexed out boyfriend, admiring the way his hair was damp with sweat and his lip was swollen and red from biting it out of pleasure.

“Well…I don’t think I quite grasped the concept. I think we need to do it again,” you proposed. “You know, for study purposes,” you shrugged.

And Quinn knew you were (mostly) joking, but he’ll be damned if his dick wasn’t already half hard again, not knowing what he was going to do with you now. A monster of his own creation.

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