#... that said i will take those bragging rights | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

written-in-flowers · 1 day ago

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Good Girl Gone Brat: Rafe x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Rafe x Fem!Reader

Genre: Smug, angst, fluff

Word Count: 7k

Summary: Missing Rafe's undivided attention, you came up with a special plan to get it back. Too bad it backfires on you, but it'll be worth it in the end...right?

Tags: Established relationship, dom/sub relationship, spanking, pussy slapping, clit slapping, whipping, brat!reader, humiliation, free use, multiple orgasms, edging, sex toys, punishment (long-form), mindfucking the reader, slight hurt/comfort, brat!reader

****

Is it possible to miss someone you live with? You see them in the morning, but then the house is empty until night time. You swore you used to see Rafe more when you lived separately. You remembered his soft grin when he dropped by unexpectedly. He’d ask if you wanted to go on a ride with him somewhere, and you’d hop on his bike. You recalled wrapping your arms around him as he sped through town to the beach. Rafe Cameron didn’t show his soft side to anyone except you. It made you feel special. You thought living together meant you’d see him even more, but since he took over the family business, it was less so. Meetings, phone calls, site visits, development projects filled his schedule. You might think more was going on if you didn’t trust Rafe like you did.

You used to be his baby doll. His good girl. He'd dress you up himself, meticulously picking out an outfit for the day. He’d take you on dates; show you off to friends and brag about you. Sometimes, he’d spoil you with gifts and trips to exotic locations. You yearned for his touch at night. You thought of his warm, strong hands on your body while he kissed down your neck. You thought extra good behavior might get his attention: making his favorite meals, dressing exactly how he chose, taking care of the house and tending to his needs. He provided and took care of you, so it was only fair you did the same for him. But, this only got you forehead kisses and a thank you. You missed him. You missed him so much it hurt. You thought of talking about it, but work and family matters took up most of his head. Adding yourself to that list of worries made you turn away.

You couldn’t help noticing him that morning. In the kitchen, you made coffee and breakfast while he prepared for the day. His height. His size. His strength. It all turned you on in a way you couldn’t stand. Whenever he gave the slightest squeeze or lifted you like you weighed nothing, a small tingle shivered down to your core. You couldn’t help noticing his shirt nicely framed out his broad shoulders and stretched around his biceps. You never met a guy who worked you up on looks alone. Yes, you loved Rafe for a plethora of reasons most didn’t understand. But, you admit his ability to turn you into jelly ranked high on the list. It was the reason you enjoyed irritating him sometimes. Not enough to cause a real fight, but enough to stoke the fire in him.

It was the best strategy.

“Where are you off to?” you asked him, turning around with eggs in a pan.

“I gotta go down to a site,” he answered without looking at you. “I’ll be home later. Topper and the guys are coming over to discuss the zoning project.”

“Should I make something?”

“If you want,” he shrugged. He put his phone in his back pocket, and looked up at you. “I’ll see you later, baby,” he kissed you briefly.

“Don’t you want to eat first?”

“I gotta run.” He picked up a piece of toast, then started for the kitchen entryway.

“But, Rafe…”

When did it become like this? When did the Rafe you knew suddenly disappear? Friends of yours mentioned it’s because you live together and do “wife shit” for him. They claimed once a guy trapped you into domesticity, they stopped being romantic. They said you should stop and teach him a lesson. But, you liked doing those things for him. You’d always been a caregiver type, which they claim he takes advantage of. You didn't think Rafe did it on purpose. At least, you liked to think so.

Putting the bacon into a container for later, you thought back to the earlier days. Rafe, broad and tall with slicked back hair, used to smile whenever he saw you. He’d instantly pull you into his arms, and never left you without a proper kiss. Maybe that Rafe was gone. This new Rafe might not like good girls anymore.

If being good wouldn’t get you what you wanted, you’d go the other way.

Rafe came home around the afternoon with Topper, Kelce, Caleb and Aaron in tow. The perfect group for your plan. You greeted them in a white blouse and shorts Rafe picked out for you, smiling and offering drinks. You played the perfect hostess, setting out snacks for them to nibble while they talked. When they settled out by the pool, you went back inside to initiate your plan. Quickly, you went upstairs and peeled off all your clothes. Rather than pick the Rafe-approved swimsuits, you chose a skimpy red bikini that showed off just enough of your body. Rafe had been working on his possessiveness, but you knew it was in there. If you did it enough, he’d get that flare up. Then, you’d get what you’d been wanting.

You’d been doing things to kindle his flames all week. Since you had a poor sleeping schedule, Rafe instated a bedtime for you. By 9pm, you needed to be in bed. The other night, you’d stayed up way past that and left traces to prove it. The next morning, when he confronted you, you told him you had no idea what he was talking about. It earned you a stern warning.

After you mentioned having bad self-control and wishing you ate healthier, he made it a rule. He bought the groceries and he planned the meals for the week. Never straying from the meal plans except for emergencies was another big rule. You’d done it twice in a week: the teriyaki rice bowls became tacos and the grilled salmon and salad became take out from a pizza place. Rafe scolded you again, asking what had gotten into you before leaving. You thought a guy as smart as him might figure it out. You lost dessert privileges and thirty minutes in the closet with no phone and total silence. He’d cuddled you after he let you out, which you relished in right away.

Two strikes. You giggled thinking about what strike three might get you.

Walking back out in your red bikini and cover up, you pretended not to notice the men across from you. You stripped down to your bikini by a chair, slowly and in full view of the group. Sunbathing, you made sure they saw every luscious curve. You tried hiding your mischievous smiles when you heard them whispering amongst themselves. Their eyes stayed glued to you the entire time. They’d been drooling by the time you went back inside, flashing your stony boyfriend a knowing smile.

“Run.”

He said this the moment the last guest left. Blue eyes stony and irritated, your entire body rushed into heat seeing him there. Standing in the kitchen eating strawberries, you perked your head up innocently.

“Huh?”

“You heard me,” he said firmly, “Fucking run. Now. One…Two…Three…”

He loved giving you a head start. You knew the chase alone turned him on. Quickly, you dropped everything and dashed out of the kitchen. Bare feet scurried across the house, a giggle building in your chest as you imagined what he might do when he caught you. A short ten seconds gave you time for a hiding spot, and you had one place in mind. Finding the storage closet on the first floor, you quietly closed the door and peeked through the slits in the paneling. You took deep breaths to calm your hammering heart, though adrenaline pumped right through it. In nothing but your bikini and a flimsy cover up dress, he’d have no trouble tearing it off. You couldn’t wait. A stirring started in your gut when more images filled your head.

“Ten,” he said with finality as he walked out of the kitchen. “Come on out, baby…”

Your fingernails dug into the painted wooden door, inhaling deeply to hold your breath. You watched him idly search around for you. Wearing a dark blue collared shirt, you couldn't help noticing his large arms and shoulders again. You already saw those muscles tensing when he holds you, hips slamming into yours. His large hands, which hung at his sides, brought equal measures of pain and pleasure every time. Your core warmed when you pictured what he had in mind for you.

You gulped once he drew closer to the door. He didn’t walk directly to it. He pretended to search the curtains by the hallway window before walking into the nearby bathroom. The moment you saw him disappear, you carefully opened the door and stepped out. On tiptoes, you slunk away from the storage closet, and headed for the staircase while keeping your eyes on the bathroom door.

You nearly squealed when you saw him come out, eyes scanning the living room for you. Rafe changed over the years. He went from the arrogant, entitled rich boy to something colder and harder. He’d shaved his dirty blond hair into a buzzcut, and the island sun gave him a golden skin tone. He appears more mature nowadays. He’d done and seen things that would force anyone to grow up a bit. However, the one thing that didn’t change was his feelings for you. Even if you lacked attention, you knew he loved you and it isn’t on purpose.

“You think you can flaunt your ass in front of other guys, and I wasn’t going to notice, hm?” He asked, walking into the middle of the room. He didn’t see you hiding on the top of the staircase, but you saw him. “They couldn’t stop staring. They were drooling all over you, but you knew that. It’s what you wanted, right?” He held onto the knob of the storage closet, leaning into it, “You could never resist the attention.”

You bit on your lower lip to suppress a laugh. He nodded at the empty closet, impressed, and closed it again. “I should have spanked you right there in front of them,” he said, creeping towards the stairs. “You know, get you the attention you crave so much.”

That’s when you moved. Making your way to the nearest guestroom, the sound of his footsteps sparked more adrenaline. Bypassing the bedroom, you went into the adjacent bathroom. You pressed yourself to the wall beside the door, barely out of the view of the large mirror. In the reflection, you saw him enter the room. He stood close to the bed, no skirt covering the bottom. Already, the dominance crept out of him. You saw the sternness in his eyes as he swept the room. Your body tingled as you took in his strong body, knowing he'd easily overpower you.

“I remember the first time I saw you do that,” he said, fingers tracing the edge of the bed. You imagined them trailing up your spine, the phantom feeling of his breath on your neck making you shudder. “You came over to tutor Sarah for something, and afterwards you guys hung out by the water. I was going to the Island Club with Topper, but once I saw that nice ass of yours, I had an immediate change of plans. I mean, how could I resist such a nice view?” He curled his fingers around the cover, “Now, I get it whenever I want!”

A sudden lift of the cover revealed nothing under the bed. He hissed a curse, then stood up again. You recalled the memory while watching him search the room for you. Ward occasionally paid you to tutor Sarah in math since she struggled with the subject. Yes, your family had money, but you liked having your own to spend. While you adored his little sisters, you mainly took up the gig with hopes of running into him. Several steamy scenarios used to run through your head every time you parked outside their house. You pictured him fingering you in their kitchen, forcing you on your knees in the bathroom or bending you over the arm of their couch. You thought of all the times you’d walk past his room to imagine yourself naked on his bed, being ravaged by him until you couldn’t think straight. Turns out, he felt the same way.

Love came around later on.

“I swear it was fate for us to meet on the boat,” he said, glancing over to the guest bathroom. In the mirror, you saw him zero in on it like a predator stalking its prey. “I’d gone there to get some of my dad’s scotch, but instead found you in there enjoying the air conditioning.” He took a few steps forward, “You looked incredible in that bathing suit. It was that little pink one with the hearts on it. I didn’t know whether I wanted to fuck you sensless or worship you,” he added with a soft laugh. “It turned out I could do both.”

Slowly, you moved along the wall to the door, which you opened quietly. You’d gone to the family boat knowing he’d go there. You recalled lounging in your one piece, pretending to be taking a break from swimming, when he walked in. With a bit of suggestive flirting, you ended up in his lap.

“You really ruined other women for me,” he chuckled softly. “I don’t want anyone else. I have my good girl, so why would I want them?” He popped suddenly into the bathroom right as you were stepping out, and smirked. Eyes gleaming in satisfaction, he said, “There you are.”

You gave a small squeal and rushed off. Jolts of excitement hit your stomach, bringing out small giggles before a pair of arms lifted you off the ground.

“Gotcha!” he laughed, carrying you to your bedroom. “Now, you’re gonna get it.”

“Rafe, let me go!” you cried, though not very convincingly. Your smile as he tossed you onto your bed gave it all away.

“No, you wanted attention,” he said at the edge of the bed. On your front, you tried scrambling away from him, but was captured by the ankle right away. He leaned over you, grabbing at your bikini bottoms. “You’re going to get it.”

“Rafe!” you yelped when he roughly tore them down your legs.

He sat down beside you, and pulled your lower half onto his lap without a problem. One arm pinning you down, he locked your legs between his thighs. Arousal inflamed inside you, making you twist in his grip with the need for friction. You couldn't escape at all, which is exactly what you wanted. Rafe said nothing as one hand smoothed over your bare ass. You whined as he squeezed each cheek, giving a small shake to watch it ripple in his hand.

Then he gave the right side a hard smack. A sharp sting shot up your spine, though stimulated another part of you at the same time. Your soft squeals followed the quick, harsh slaps every time. He’d stop spanking to grab one of the cheeks or rub down to your thighs before smacking it again. You realized then Rafe had come upstairs before he confronted you. This connected to the fact you sat on his side of the bed. In the ornate wooden bedside table, he’d likely stashed everything he planned to punish you with. This joined the brewing arousal right away.

“Rafe,” you cried after another slap, “That hurts!”

“It’s supposed to,” he said, rubbing the tender flesh. “You wanted to be a brat; you get a brat’s punishment.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” you huffed, kicking your feet.

“Oh no?” Several smacks came in quick succession, causing you to wine and cry out. “Flaunting this body in front of my friends to piss me off isn’t wrong, hm? It’s not?”

“I wasn’t doing that!”

“Yeah, you were.”

Deciding his hand wasn't enough, your stomach flopped when you heard the drawer open. “Which is weird since you’re usually such a good girl,” he said, almost cooing. Something smooth and small touched your buttock now. You couldn’t make out the actual shape, but you knew the tiny square riding crop when you felt it. “You always listen to me. You always wear the things I pick out for you. You always follow the house rules,” he tapped the whip on the left side, then rubbed it out. “If you wanted my attention, all you had to do was ask.”

“I wasn’t being bad,” you whined, knowing denial only made it worse. Good. You wanted worse.

“You’re really gonna keep that up, huh?” His low chuckle made your stomach twitch and clit throb. “You’re stubborn, I’ll give you that.”

You wriggled in his lap as he continued spanking you. The dull pain slipped to your core, and you couldn’t fight off your arousal. His hands imprinted themselves into your memory; every sting reminded you who was in charge. Being in his sole focus satisfied you.

“Come on, off my lap,” he ordered, already moving you onto the bed. “I didn’t say you could move,” he smacked you with the whip when you shuffled away. “Did you hear me say you could move?”

“No, sir.”

“Then stay where you are,” he ordered with a harsh smack.

Your ass burned by the time you knelt on all fours. It remained raised in the air, thighs spread as Rafe continued the punishment. Your fingers balled up the covers for support. You put all your strength into keeping yourself upright. Normally, he stuck a pillow underneath you, but this is a punishment. You only rested on the bed when Rafe directed you with a hand on your back. This left both your ass and sex exposed which Rafe took advantage of. Sliding the small whip over the lips, he gave your cunt a light tap. Seeing you jolt, he did it again. The brief touch and sting sent shocks through your body. You gripped the bed as his hits became harder. Not full swings, you still felt the burn after each one. Rafe chuckled when you started sobbing into the bed covers.

“Awe, does this hurt?” he taunted, landing a few whip lashes on your ass.

“Yes!” You cried, eyes watering.

“Hm, strange how that happens, huh?” He laid a few more hits to the backs of your thighs. “If you'd been a good girl, maybe I'd be kissing this instead,” he mused, “But no, you wanted to be bad.”

“Sir, please! I promise I'll be good. I promise.”

“I don't believe you,” he replied, the spanks sounding in the room. Your cries started mingling with them. “You've been testing me all week. First, you lied about being up past your bedtime,” he spanked you again. “Then, you went off our meal plan,” he gave another hit to the middle of your cheeks. “On top of that, you start showing off my body to other people.”

You’d be getting your third strike now. Strike three was a punishment of his choosing. He never did the same punishment twice in a row. You still shivered remembering the last one: leaving you suspended in your bedroom with clamps and toys in you. You loved testing his nerves. It always ended so deliciously.

“I wonder where my good girl went,” he said, tracing your ass with his whip. “I miss my sweet YN.”

“I'm still your good girl!” you said, anticipating the next blow.

He came up behind you, pressing himself against your backside. The roughness of his pants caused a friction that tightened your insides. “Then tell me why you behaved so badly? If you're still my good girl, what happened to make you so bratty, hm?”

“I wanted your attention, sir,” you sniffled, turning your head.

“You wanted my attention?”

“Yes.”

“Baby doll,” he put the whip aside and grinded into you, “If you wanted my attention, all you had to do was ask. You didn't have to misbehave. It hurts when you don't tell me things. You know you can tell me anything. Now, I have to punish you instead of reward you.”

“I'm sorry, sir.”

“You will be when we’re done, trust me,” he said. He pulled you up to his chest by your hair. Being pressed to his body amplified your arousal more. You'd kill for his touch, even if for a second. “No clothes for the rest of the week.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” he said, “You don't want to wear appropriate clothes, then you wear nothing at all.”

“But what if somebody comes over?”

“Then they're getting the peek you wanted to give them.”

The thought alone burned your cheeks. Rafe gave your shoulder a soft kiss, then released you. “Let me get the lotion and some ice for you,” he said, “Be right back.”

You nodded, sniffling and wiping your cheeks as he left the room. Not exactly what you'd expected, but you knew the wait would be worth it. You laid on your front and patiently waited for Rafe to come back. Eyes closed, you enjoyed his hands spreading the lotion over your sore bottom and thighs. Even with ice, it will last for a while. Cuddling close to him was the best part. You easily fell asleep in his arms, his hand slowly scratching your back up and down. Nothing made you feel as good as Rafe’s attention.

*****

Rafe took punishments seriously. He never changed his mind or bent the rules. When he said you'd be naked, he meant it. No socks. No accessories. Only skin and your white lace collar. He gave you a chore list the first day, expecting everything done before he got home. You'd be going through your usual routine, just without clothes. It didn't involve anything too strenuous. You tried your best not to show the awkwardness. Walking around naked wasn't something you were used to, not even in your bedroom. A bout of humiliation remained inside you when you walked around. You didn’t think that your nakedness would stir anything in him. Rafe’s self-control changed when he came back home. You could flaunt yourself around him, and he didn’t jump for you once. You thought it’d be the same during your punishment, but you’d been wrong.

“Arch your back,” he said, trapping you against the sink as you washed dishes the morning after. “Spread your legs.”

Your body lit up right when his chest hit your back. You automatically did as he said, gripping the sides of the sink. Your chest rose and fell in heavy breaths when his hands gripped your breasts.

“Keep cleaning. The dishes aren't going to clean themselves.”

He wet both himself and you before pushing inside. Not a single word from either of you. You focused on the plate in your hand despite the long length entering you. He held onto your breasts as he pumped in and out of you, squeezing and pinching them. Only the sound of the sink and his hips hitting yours went around. You already knew not to make a sound when he used your body like this. You put a dish on the drying rack, then picked up a bowl. Your body adapting to his size, it didn't take long for you to start trembling. The head hit too accurately to control it, but you held on strongly. It didn't take him long. He'd likely gotten worked up at dinner, and now wanted you. When you heard his raspy moans, and felt his grip tighten, you knew he was close. Knowing you did this to him brought you closer to the edge.

“No,” he grabbed your hair when you started shaking, “You're not cumming today.”

“Sir…”

“Good girls cum when they're told to,” he huffed. “You want to be my good girl again, don't you? Don't you?”

“Yes!” You cried as he started going faster. “I want to be your good girl again, sir! I want to be your good girl again!”

Rafe came right then in several deep, hard thrusts. Feeling him fill you normally sent you over right away, but not now. The sponge in your hand lost all suds from your grip, and your toes curled into themselves. You took steady breaths to try beating back the urge. Typical dumb thoughts became your delay tactic: are tomatoes a fruit or vegetable? Why do hotdogs come in packs of ten when buns come in packs of eight? Do you really need to separate clothes by color when doing laundry? In a single motion, you felt his cum spill onto your thighs.

“Finish here,” he commanded when he finished. “You got more work to do.”

“Yes, sir,” you replied shakily.

Not that you did much of it that day. Pulling clothes out of the dryer, you’d gotten onto your knees to grab a lone sock from the back. Rafe must’ve noticed and took his chance.

His hands started at your hips and went up the middle of your back. His touch immediately reignited your arousal. Light fingers trailed down between your ass cheeks to your pussy, rolling around the nub. You stuffed the sock into your mouth to muffle your moans from him. That need you’d manage to bury rose like the dead at his hands. Your body tensed when he pushed his fingers inside. The long digits dragged across your walls to hit deep within. Your teeth bit into the sock, hand fisting it tightly when he picked up the pace. It was mind numbing after being edged in the morning. Every part of you burned from your bent position, but you remained still as he put cock inside. Soon, your eyes rolled back at his measured thrusts. In the empty dryer, your whimpers echoed even though the small garment. These made Rafe go slower, causing you to shiver as your orgasm approached.

“No, no, no,” he said, stopping right away. “What did I tell you this morning, hm?”

“Good girls cum when they're told.”

“And you're a good girl, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then that means you hold on for as long as I want.”

“But, s-sir, it feels really good,” you whined, clenching the cock inside you. “Don't you want to feel me cum on it? I know how much you like that.”

“That's not working on me,” he said, smacking your ass.

Though, you felt like it might have. All the signs showed as he grew closer to a climax. You squeezed your thighs together and clenched again just to hear him pant and groan. His cock hit the same spot like a child abusing a button, getting you closer to your orgasm. You bit down into the sock to stifle your pathetic mewling. You shut your eyes to focus on other things: complicated math, the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell, or the ending of Game of Thrones. You knew the punishment would be elevated if you came right now. He might make you go outside like this or tape a bullet to your clit to overstimulate you. When he withdrew, thick streams fell over your ass and back. You took deep breaths, counting down from ten to keep the orgasm from hitting. It hurt but what Rafe will do could hurt more.

He used one of the towels to wipe you down, then he left without a word. It was when you got out of the machine that you realized this was for the first offense: lying and staying up late.

It happened again right before dinner in the dining room. You’d been putting down places for you both when he lifted you onto the table. Pussy on full display, he shoved himself inside you again. You kept putting down the utensils on both place mats while he used you. Shaky hands slid china plates and handled delicate wine glasses. You desperately wanted to cum, but you knew he’d only pull it away at the last minute. Rafe’s stamina and libido could be both good or bad depending on the situation.

“The forks are in the wrong place, YN,” he breathed, sliding fully within you and staying there.

Rafe never cared about dinner placement. Not once. This was only to torture you further. You reached your side of the table first. Switching out the forks on each side, Rafe suddenly started pounding. Your fingers gripped the silver fork as the pleasure pounced on you. It came back harder than before, and you fought it back. His girth stretched and filled you so well, and you almost started losing your grip. How important do you have to be to be considered assassinated and not murdered? That time you saw Topper lick the back of a yogurt lid. You could not cum. Not even a little bit.

You had moved silverware around two more times before he finally finished.

He patted your butt cheek, panting as he said, “Maybe you are a good girl, huh?”

You sat through dinner with his cum still inside you.

Since you wanted to stay up past your bedtime, Rafe made sure it happened this time.

“You've held it in this long, baby doll,” he said as he rolled the wand around your drench clit once again. “You can go one more time for me.”

He'd been at it for ages. Once on the bed, Rafe strapped you down, gagged you, and pulled out all your favorites. He kept the movements light and languid, lazily teasing you until you trembled. You couldn't control it anymore. Your wrists cuffed to your ankles, you had no chance of escaping him. You could only lay there and take what he gave you. Tears squeezed from the corners of your eyes and into your temples. A tight pressure filled your sex that burned whenever he stopped halfway. It was like releasing pressure only to then close it up again. As if you were a champagne bottle he only halfway opened. When he slipped a thick, pink dildo within you, adding to the wand's vibrating patterns, you dug your nails into your palms. Rafe went fast, hitting it once again and causing you to shake. You bit down hard on your ball gag, you thought you might break it. Unable to escape it, you felt your grip slipping once more. How many times had he done this? Five? Six times? You lost count.

“I think I know a good way to end this.”

His smirk excited and worried you. Switched hands, he pressed the wand to the plug nestled inside your ass. It turned the small toy into a vibrating menace. This new sensation had you screaming through your gag, and shaking like a leaf. Good thing nobody else was in the house. Your chest heaving, your entire body tense and tight, you held onto it with all your might right before he pulled away. Rafe laughed at your frustrated cries, amused as you wriggled side to side in your position.

“Aw, does my good girl want to cum?” he sneered, tilting your chin so you looked at him. “Yeah?” he confirmed when you nodded quickly. “I guess you can now. Come on,” he put the toys aside and put himself at your entrance, “You've done so well, I'll let you cum on my dick.”

It took no effort at all. All the pressure unleashed. Ripping through you like lightning, you didn’t hold back a single ounce. His cock bottoming up into you, hand pulling on your nipple chains, you hoped your orgasm never ended. When you finished in a few shuddering jerks, the weight of the day hit you right after. Rafe quietly removed your restraints, the plug and chains before dotting you in kisses. The usual aftercare items nearby, you laid there sweaty and panting as he took care of you. Once he finished, you snuggled into his arms. Exactly where you wanted to be.

****

“YN,” he called you to the upstairs terrace the third day, “Come here.”

Dusting in the adjacent hallway, you froze. Up until now, he'd kept you confined to the house. You knew he didn't want people seeing you, but that could change. You should have known. Before he called you a second time, you stopped dusting and went to the threshold. Gazing around the expansive backyard, you saw the ocean far beyond with the dock leading out to his yacht. Nobody in sight, yet you couldn't help picturing people hiding somewhere.

“YN,” he said your name again from the couch, “I said come here.”

“But, sir-”

“-Oh, now you're shy? You weren't shy when you were showing off. Come here now,” he nodded to the spot across from the coffee table.

You heard the irritation in his voice and immediately obeyed. You stood there, hands clasped in front of you and waited. Foolishly, you thought your performance last night might grant you early release. The way he'd held you so close, smothering you in his love, felt better than any orgasm he could bring. But, you knew better. You could do everything right, and your long form punishment would continue. You didn't speak right away, typing on his laptop. You kept glancing around, expecting any moment someone to walk by and see you bare naked. Nothing is covered at all. They'd see everything, and that created a lump in your throat.

“We're having a dinner party Saturday,” he said, finishing the email.

“What?”

“We're having a dinner party Saturday,” he repeated himself. “I have clients coming from out of town and Alice wants me to host. I told her what an excellent hostess you are, and that we'd be happy to.”

“Rafe, we can’t have the dinner here.”

“Why not?”

“Because, you know,” you looked down to your naked body, “I'm still being punished.”

“Then I guess you're gonna have to host like that,” he laughed on the last word, amused at your shame.

“Can't they come another time?”

“They're only in town this week, so no,” he answered. “You wanted attention, sweetheart, and now you're getting it.”

“Sir,” you gulped, already feeling eyes on you, “Won't they get upset if they see me like…this?”

“They're guys, and you're a gorgeous woman. You do the math.” He went back to his laptop, “You can pick out all the details. Alice is allergic to shellfish though, so just avoid seafood stuff.”

“Rafe,” you used your normal voice, “Are you sure-”

“-More than sure. This deal is important,” he began typing again. “It'll bring in tons of money if it goes through. Shit, if anything they might agree once they see that nice ass of yours.”

“But Rafe-”

“-Question me one more time.”

The threat went all the way down to your core. Bright blues dared you to speak. You wanted more than anything for him to touch you again. When you bowed your head, he nodded.

“You can go now.”

****

The days leading up to the party were the worst. In three days, people will walk into your home and see you naked. They’d see everything Rafe sees and without an ounce of makeup or hairspray. It crawled on your skin whenever you thought about it. You pictured Alice, older and blond, looking shocked and appalled when you open the door. The clients, two faceless burly men, would smirk and make comments about you. You felt their eyes burning into you even before you met them. Rafe letting people see you naked sounded hard to believe at first, but you wouldn't put it past him. He's leveled up punishments before if he thinks they're too lax or dull. Maybe he was bored of free use and watching you walk around. You barely slept the night before imagining what might happen. You didn’t see his business partners taking him seriously or going through with it. They'd be watching you the whole time. They won't care about the food if you're at the table, nude and having to pretend it's okay.

You threw yourself into party planning to avoid the dread. Tannyhill needed to sparkle. Normally you'd call a professional cleaning service, but considering the rule, you couldn't. You went about cleaning drapes, rugs, surfaces, couch cushions, and lampshades yourself. You picked out the nicest place settings for the table, and fashioned a centerpiece from candles and ribbons. Rafe bought expensive wine and brandy, while you planned a lavish menu. Light but filling, you hoped the food will be so good they won't notice you walking around naked.

“They'll be here at five,” Rafe told you the morning of the party.

“Five? Isn't that a bit early?” You asked, whisking batter in a bowl.

“They have an early flight so it has to be earlier.” He grabbed water from the fridge. In his collared shirt and shorts, you noticed he wore his golfing glove on one hand.

“Are you…Are you going golfing right now?” you asked, stepping out of submissive space. “Rafe, we're having people here in,” you checked your countdown clock, “Seven hours!”

“It's a short game, and hey, drop the tone. You’re still on punishment,” he warned. “I'll be back in time. No worries.”

Actually, many worries. All of them. He kissed your cheek, then left with his golf bag. You couldn't believe it. You're having company. You're naked. You're shaking like a dog on the Fourth of July, and he’s going golfing. You grumbled under your breath as you continued prepping for dinner. The countdown clock on your phone ticked away the hours. You kept listening for his truck while you cleaned. Perhaps he'll have a change of heart and let you put on a dress or underwear. He couldn’t be serious about you being naked at dinner. After finishing preparing appetizers for cocktails, you checked the countdown clock again.

An hour.

Rafe never said you couldn't do your hair or wear makeup. That isn't clothes. You put it into a half up-half down style, letting the bottom half hang down your back. Your face glowed and shimmered with light makeup. Since you couldn't wear jewelry, you dusted a fine powder over your shoulders and chest that made you shimmer. If these people saw your body, you'd put on a pretty face to match. Maybe it will make Rafe change his mind. You double checked your countdown clock on your vanity. Thirty minutes.

Twenty minutes.

Fifteen minutes.

Ten minutes.

“Baby doll,” Rafe’s voice reached you from the front door, “I’m home.”

Everything in you screamed to scold him. His guests will be arriving in ten minutes, and he’s just gotten home. You came downstairs to see him putting his golf bag in the nearby closet. This is unlike Rafe. He may not reach your level of manic, but he did care when you had company over.

“Sir,” you addressed him, still keeping that soft submissive tone, “Everybody will be here in ten minutes-”

“-Don’t you look beautiful?” He grinned when he saw you, giving you butterflies. Putting an arm around your waist, he kissed you softly. “What perfume is that? You smell amazing.”

“Rafe,” you said, “You should go and change.”

“Why?”

“Because our guests will be here any minute,” you replied. You felt yourself slipping from your submissive space again. The exhaustion of preparations tired you, but you kept yourself upright. “I put out some options for you so you don’t waste time going through your closet. I’d tell you to shave, but you don’t have enough time for that-

“-Baby, I think I got more than enough time for that,” he said, mouth lifted into a smirk.

“Oh, so you can shower, shave, and pick out a nice suit in ten minutes? When did you become The Flash, huh?” you quipped, submissive baby doll gone entirely. “Maybe my being naked will work in our favor. They’ll see me and forget you exist. Go now. We’re wasting time. They’ll be here soon-”

“-But, nobody’s coming until tomorrow-” he said above you.

You stopped ushering him to the staircase. “What?” you said quietly.

“Yeah,” he smiled, hands in his pockets. “The dinner’s tomorrow.”

“You told me Saturday. Today is Saturday, Rafe.”

“Did I say Saturday?” he asked with a teasing grin. “I meant to say Sunday.”

You stared at him in disbelief. It’d be like Rafe to mess with you mentally and physically. You thought he’d stop at the first two miniature punishments, but you knew better. Stepping closer to him, you crossed your arms, “You’re telling me that I’ve spent the past three days preparing, planning, cooking, cleaning, and organizing this monster of a house…” you took a deep breath, “For people who aren’t even coming?”

“Bit of a mindfuck, I know,” he said, hands in his pockets. “I thought it’d be fun to amp up your punishment a bit, that’s all. You didn’t really think I’d let other people see you naked, did you? It’s one of the reasons you’re being punished in the first place.” He brought you into his arms, unbothered by your scowl, and kissed you. “You’re my baby girl. Nobody sees you like this but me.” He guided you to the staircase, “You’ve done such a good job this week, I think we’ll end your punishment a bit early.”

“You never end them early.”

“I think it will make up for today.”

The both of you went into your bedroom. Rafe let you rest against the pillows as he pulled you in for a deep kiss. Being on your bed after a stressful day was blissful. Your boyfriend being on top of you, removing his shirt, made it better. Your skin against him somehow made him real to you. You didn’t hesitate to start feeling up his arms to his hard biceps. Nothing in the world beats this. You’d go through a hundred party panics for moments like this one.

“I'm sorry, angel,” he whispered before kissing your neck. He settled between your legs, his body weighing you down. “I should be making time for my girl,” he nuzzled the curve and kissed it.

“I should have said something,” you said, eyes falling shut. Arms snaking around his middle, your fingers pressed into his back. “I should have talked to you, but you had so much going on, I didn't want to burden you with stupid-”

“-It's not stupid if it's upsetting you,” he tugged off his bottoms, leaving nothing between you two. “You shouldn't be afraid to approach me about it. You don't have to misbehave to get my attention.” You let out a small gasp when he grinded himself into you. “You shouldn't have to, since I'm supposed to be taking care of you.”

“You do take care of me.”

“Not in ways that matter,” he murmured, kissing down your chest. “I like to think I can make up for all that right now.”

He'd started to kiss further down, but you stopped him. “Can we just cuddle for now?” you asked.

“Sure,” he said, brushing your nose with his. “We'll do anything you want.”

He rolled onto his back and you both settled under the covers. Most couples ended this sort of thing with wild sex and lots of dirty talk. You normally wanted that, but you melted into his arms. Your head on his shoulder, you draped one leg over his and your arm across his stomach. His face buried in your hair and arms wrapped around you made you feel cocooned in him. All your senses grabbed at him. The weight of your week-long punishment started pulling you into sleep; Rafe’s murmured praises and words of love faded away.

This felt better than anything else.

#outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #drew starkey #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe obx #obx fanfic #obx fanfiction #drew starkey outer banks #rafe smut #rafe cameron x reader

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rafesgreasycurtainbangs · 3 months ago

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❛ YOU AND RAFE TAKE HONEY PACKETS BUT HE CAVES FIRST ❜

girlfriend¡reader . . . rafe cameron

“Okay, but you guys have to hear this,” Mia said, swirling her wine before taking a dramatic sip. “Last weekend, Aiden and I tried those aphrodisiac honeypacks—you know, the ones they’re always hyping up on TikTok? Holy shit, it was insane.”

You raised an eyebrow, setting your glass down on the table with a soft clink. “Insane how?” you asked, curiosity piqued. Beside you, Lila, who’d been scrolling her phone absentmindedly, perked up, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear.

Mia grinned, leaning forward like she was about to spill a state secret. “Okay, so you know those little packets you can get at sketchy gas stations or online? They’re like honey mixed with some herbal stuff—supposedly gets your blood pumping or whatever. We each took one, and I swear to God, within twenty minutes, we were clawing at each other like animals. I don’t even know how to explain it. It’s like every touch felt electric, and I couldn’t think about anything except jumping him.”

Lila burst out laughing, her voice bright and sharp. “Oh my God, that’s fucking hot. Did you plan it, or just wing it?”

“Totally spontaneous,” Mia said, her cheeks flushing slightly—not from embarrassment, but from the memory. “We barely made it to the bedroom. I’m telling you, it’s like someone turned the dial up to eleven on every nerve in my body.”

You shifted in your seat, the wicker creaking beneath you, a slow heat creeping up your neck as you pictured it. Rafe flashed into your mind—his broad shoulders, the cocky tilt of his smirk, the way his hands felt when they gripped your hips.

You’d been dating him long enough to know he’d be game for something like this, but the thought of him losing control? That was a whole different level of intriguing.

“Wait,” you said, cutting through their giggles. “So it’s not just hype? It actually works?”

“Works?” Mia echoed, incredulous. “Babe, I’m saying it’s dangerous. Aiden was begging me to touch him by the end of the night, and he’s usually the one playing it cool. You should try it with Rafe. Bet he’d lose his mind.”

Lila nodded enthusiastically, her eyes gleaming. “Oh, he totally would. Rafe’s got that whole ‘I’m in charge’ vibe, but I bet you could break him with this. Make it a game or something—see who caves first.”

You chewed your lip, the idea taking root like a seed in fertile soil. The thought of Rafe—your Rafe, all sharp edges and simmering intensity—reduced to a needy mess because of you? It sent a shiver down your spine, one that had nothing to do with the cooling evening air. “Okay,” you said slowly, a grin tugging at your lips. “I’m in. Next weekend.”

Mia clapped her hands together, delighted. “Yes! Report back. I need details.”

. . .

“Hey,” you said casually, tilting your head to look up at him. His blue eyes flicked down to meet yours, a faint smirk already playing on his lips like he knew you were up to something.

“What’s up, princess?” he drawled, his voice low and rough, the kind that always made your stomach flip.

You shifted, sitting up a little straighter, your knee brushing against his thigh. “So, Mia was telling me about this thing she tried with Aiden. Those aphrodisiac honeypacks—you heard of ‘em?”

Rafe’s smirk deepened, his brows lifting slightly. “Those horny honey things? Yeah, I’ve seen ‘em around. Why? You wanna get freaky?” He chuckled, but there was a spark in his eyes, a flicker of interest that told you he was already hooked.

“Maybe,” you teased, running your fingers lightly over his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath his T-shirt. “But I was thinking we make it fun. Like a game. We each take one, no touching allowed, and the first one to cave loses. Winner gets bragging rights—or whatever else they want.”

He tilted his head, studying you with that predatory glint he got when he was intrigued. “You think you can outlast me, huh?” His voice dropped an octave, thick with challenge. “Baby, I’m made of steel. You’re gonna be begging me to touch you in ten minutes flat.”

You laughed, the sound light but edged with defiance. “Oh, please. You’re the one who can’t keep your hands off me half the time. I give it five minutes before you’re on your knees.”

Rafe’s jaw tightened, his smirk turning into something darker, hungrier. He leaned in close, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “You’re on, sweetheart. Next weekend. But when I win, you’re gonna owe me big.”

The heat of his breath against your skin sent a thrill through you, but you pulled back, meeting his gaze with a wicked smile. “We’ll see about that.”

. . .

The following Saturday night, the air in Rafe’s bedroom was thick with anticipation. You sat cross-legged on his bed, the navy comforter rumpled beneath you, wearing nothing but one of his oversized T-shirts and a pair of lacy black panties. Rafe stood across the room, leaning against the dresser, shirtless in a pair of gray sweats that hung low on his hips. His chest was broad and tan, a faint sheen of sweat already glistening in the warm light.

On the nightstand sat two small golden packets, their shiny foil catching the glow of the lamp. You picked one up, turning it over in your hands, the weight of it surprisingly light for something that promised so much chaos. “Last chance to back out,” you said, smirking at him as you tore the corner open.

Rafe snorted, grabbing his own packet. “Not a chance. You’re going down, baby.” He ripped his open with his teeth, the gesture primal and a little too hot for your liking, and squeezed the thick, amber honey onto his tongue. You followed suit, the sweet, herbal taste coating your mouth, a faint warmth spreading down your throat as you swallowed.

For the first few minutes, it was all bravado. Rafe paced the room like a caged animal, cracking his knuckles, his smirk intact. “Feeling anything yet?” he asked, voice cocky as he flexed his arms, the muscles rippling under his skin.

You shrugged, playing it cool even as a subtle heat began to bloom in your chest. “Nope. You?”

He shook his head, but there was a tightness in his jaw, a slight flush creeping up his neck. “Nah.”

Ten minutes in, the air shifted. The warmth in your body intensified, sinking lower, pooling between your thighs. Your skin prickled, every brush of the T-shirt against your nipples sending a jolt through you. You shifted on the bed, pressing your legs together, trying to ignore the growing ache.

Across the room, Rafe stopped pacing. His breathing was heavier now, his chest rising and falling faster. He ran a hand through his hair, the strands sticking to his forehead, and when his eyes met yours, they were dark—pupils blown wide, a storm brewing behind them.

“Fuck,” he muttered, almost to himself. He leaned back against the dresser, gripping the edge so hard his knuckles whitened. “This shit’s no joke.”

You bit your lip, the sight of him unraveling doing dangerous things to you. “What’s wrong, Rafe? Cracking already?” Your voice was teasing, but it came out breathier than you intended, the need starting to seep through your composure.

He laughed, but it was strained, jagged. “You wish. I could bend you over right now and still win this.” But his hands stayed glued to the dresser, and his hips shifted—just a fraction, enough to tell you he was fighting the same war you were.

Fifteen minutes, and the room felt like a furnace. Your pulse hammered in your ears, your body screaming for contact. The air smelled of him—sweat and musk and that damn cologne—and it was driving you insane. You curled your fingers into the comforter, nails digging in as you watched Rafe.

He was a mess now, his sweats tented embarrassingly, his jaw clenched so tight you thought it might crack. His eyes raked over you, lingering on the way the T-shirt rode up your thighs, and he groaned—a low, guttural sound that hit you like a freight train.

“Goddamn it, baby,” he rasped, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re killing me. Just—fuck—just let me touch you. Please.”

You smirked, though it took everything in you to hold it together. “That sounds like caving, Rafe.”

He growled, stepping forward, then stopping himself, fists balled at his sides. “You’re such a fucking tease,” he panted, his voice raw, desperate. “Look at you, sitting there all smug. I bet you’re soaked, aren’t you? Bet you’re dying for it just as bad.”

He wasn’t wrong. Your thighs trembled, slickness pooling in your panties, but you weren’t about to admit it. “Guess you’ll never know unless you lose,” you shot back, voice shaking but defiant.

Twenty minutes, and Rafe snapped—or tried to. He crossed the room in two strides, dropping to his knees in front of you, his hands hovering an inch from your thighs. “Fuck it,” he breathed, his voice wrecked. “I lose. I fucking lose, okay? Just—please, baby, I need you. I’m going crazy here.”

You tilted your head, savoring the power, the way he looked up at you like a man unhinged. “Not yet,” you said, voice low and deliberate, your hand reaching out to graze his cheek—just a featherlight touch, enough to make him shudder. “You can wait a little longer.”

His eyes widened, a mix of shock and pure torment flashing across his face. “You’re kidding,” he choked out, his hands twitching, aching to close the distance. “Baby, I’m dying here. You can’t do this to me.”

“Oh, I can,” you replied, leaning back on your elbows, letting the T-shirt ride up higher, exposing more of your thighs, the edge of your panties just visible. His gaze dropped, and he let out a strangled sound, his whole body tensing like a coiled spring. “You said you’re made of steel, right? Prove it.”

Twenty-five minutes, and Rafe was a wreck. He’d slumped back onto his heels, hands dragging through his hair, sweat dripping down his chest. His cock strained against his sweats, a dark spot forming where he was leaking, and his breathing was so ragged it sounded like he’d run a marathon. “You’re evil,” he muttered, voice hoarse, his eyes locked on you with a mix of reverence and desperation. “Fucking evil, you know that?”

You shifted again, letting one leg fall open slightly, giving him a glimpse that made his jaw drop. “Maybe,” you said, smirking. “But you love it.”

Thirty minutes, and he was begging—really begging. “Please, baby,” he whispered, crawling closer, his hands trembling as they hovered over your knees. “I can’t—I can’t do this anymore. I’ll do anything you want, just let me touch you. I’m fucking losing it.”

You held his gaze, letting the tension stretch one agonizing second longer, then nodded. “Okay,” you said softly, victorious. “You lose.”

. . .

His mouth latched onto your nipple, sucking hard while his other hand kneaded the opposite side. The sensation—amplified by the honey packets still coursing through you—had you arching into him, a sharp cry escaping your lips as your nails dug into his scalp.

“Rafe—slow down,” you gasped, half-laughing, but he shook his head, his teeth grazing your skin as he moved lower, kissing and biting a frantic path down your stomach.

“No chance,” he growled, hooking his fingers into your panties and dragging them down your legs in one swift motion. He paused then, just for a second, staring at you—spread out, glistening, trembling—and the look in his eyes was feral, reverent, like he couldn’t believe you were real. “You’re so fucking wet,” he murmured, almost to himself, before diving in.

His mouth was relentless, tongue plunging into you, lapping up every drop like he’d been starved for it. You screamed, hips bucking, but he pinned you down with an arm across your waist, his other hand spreading you wider for him. He sucked at your clit, hard and fast, then slow and teasing, every movement driving you higher, the aphrodisiac making it all too much, too good.

Your hands twisted in his hair, pulling hard, and he moaned against you, the vibration sending you spiraling.

“Rafe—oh God—I’m gonna—” You couldn’t finish the sentence before it hit, a blinding orgasm that had you shaking, clenching around nothing as he kept going, drawing it out until you were whimpering, oversensitive and boneless.

He pulled back, lips shiny, chest heaving, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning like a man who’d just won the lottery. “You taste so fucking good,” he said, voice rough as he shoved his sweats down, freeing his cock—red, leaking, impossibly hard. He climbed onto the bed, grabbing your hips and flipping you onto your stomach with ease, pulling you up onto your knees.

“Been thinking about this for thirty fucking minutes,” he rasped, lining himself up and thrusting in deep in one brutal stroke. You cried out, the stretch overwhelming, perfect, your walls fluttering around him as he set a punishing pace. His hands gripped your hips so hard you knew you’d bruise, but you didn’t care—every slap of his skin against yours, every grunt and curse spilling from his lips, was worth it.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groaned, one hand sliding up your back to fist in your hair, pulling your head back as he pounded into you. “So perfect—shit, I’m not gonna last.”

“Don’t,” you managed, pushing back against him, meeting every thrust. “Come for me, Rafe.”

He did—hard—his hips stuttering as he buried himself deep, spilling inside you with a broken moan, his fingers digging into your skin. The feel of him, hot and pulsing, tipped you over again, a second wave crashing through you as you clenched around him, milking him dry.

He collapsed beside you, both of you slick with sweat, breathing like you’d run a race. His arm snaked around you, pulling you close, and he pressed a lazy kiss to your temple. “You’re a fucking sadist,” he muttered, but there was a grin in his voice. “Making me wait like that.”

You laughed, breathless, nuzzling into his chest. “Worth it, though, right?” “Fuck yeah,” he said, already sounding half-ready for round two. “But next time, I’m winning.”

𓂅 notes ―

return home ⸝⸝

©RAFESGREASYCURTAINBANGS ꪆৎ est. 2025

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eatingoutmen · 11 months ago

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The thought of having a calm and smart boyfriend as your partner. His composed demeanor was something people really loved about him. The way he’s so calculated and focused makes you fall even harder for him. The hard part was when people think that he’s the top in the relationship. It was fine for you at first, people assume stuff all the time after all. But it escalated so fast when rumors spread like wild fire, rumors of you getting pounded by your boyfriend, it was insane. And the worst part about is that he was so cocky and bragged about it, saying that it’s true. He looked over to you and gave you a smirk and walks away. You stood there as you chuckled to yourself, he was gonna regret all about it soon…

And here he was, moaning so desperately and loud as you thrust your cock deep inside him, his legs spread open as his hands gripped the sheets below. You chuckled mockingly seeing his cock leaked with pre-cum. You stared into his gaze, those lust-filled eyes he had, you couldn’t but be drawn in by his moans, his voice like a siren’s call that was impossible to resist. “Aww, what’s wrong, gorgeous? Thought you said you can take this?” You teased, your voice a mixture of desire and dominance as you gripped his waist, your nails digging into his skin which caused him to let out a needy whimper.

You chuckled mockingly seeing him struggle to form coherent words to respond to your taunts towards him. You smiled in amusement seeing him so submissive all for you, it was pathetic but a lovely sight to see. You continued on moving in a fast and rough pace as he threw his head back against the pillows.“Ah- I-I’m sorry! Please!…” He slurs out as his breath quickened, as he gripped the sheets tightly. His body arching for more of your touch as his legs instinctively wrap around your waist tightly. “Say it louder, sweetheart…” You whispered, as you continued to abuse that sweet spot of his with your cock. He lets out loud and desperate moans as his tears welled up from his eyes.

“I-I’m sorry… s-sorry… mph! Sorry, sir!...” He sobs loudly as he squirms under the sheets. The head board of the bed rocked loudly against the wall as it mingled with his moans of pleasure. “That’s it, my love, such a good boy you are for me…” You whispered softly, as you thrusted your cock deep inside him, you felt his walls clenching around you as your dick continued to abuse that sweet spot inside of him. “Mph… fuck! Oh, God… feels so good sir, feels so good! Let me cum, sir… please!” He begged, as he looked at you with those puppy eyes he had, his gaze filled with submission and need. “Shh, it’s okay, pretty boy… Go ahead, cum for me…” You whispered softly as you continued to thrust your cock deep inside him. He lets out loud moans as he felt the tip of your dick hitting his sweet spot.

You continued to thrust your dick inside of him, with one final movement. You groaned as your nails dug through his waist deeply till you came inside of him. Completely giving him his craving desire as you watch his body convulse and the way his cock spurted out cum all over his stomach and moaned your name out loudly. His walls hugging your cock tighter as you filled him with your seed, you were both breathing heavily as you chuckled breathlessly seeing him squirm and pull out, you instinctively pulled him close as you tilted your head and met his gaze. "Who said we were done, gorgeous?" you said, as you chuckled seeing his eyes widened in surprise and lets out a needy whine. A shit eating grin played on your lips, "Come on, baby, you can take it right? I know you can cum for me again..."

#⋆ ᴡʜᴏʀᴇ.ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛꜱᵎᵎ ⋆#dom male reader #top male reader #seme male reader #x top male reader #x male reader #male reader #male y/n #bottom male character #sub male character #sub character #bottom character #dom reader #top reader #smut

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no-144444 · 3 months ago

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the oscars- o.piastri

꩜ summary: you bring your own oscar to the oscar's!

꩜ pairing: married! oscar piastri x actress! fem! reader

꩜ a/n: just realised i never posted this and it has been sitting in my drafts for over a month and a half ish lol

I want you to come with me.

Those words had run through his head like a fucking jack-hammer for weeks. What did that even entail? Acquiring a tux, sure. He could do that. Learn all the names of the people he could potentially meet, any celebrities or old co-stars he’d probably met but didn’t remember. Again, he could do that. Sit beside you all night and let you be your wonderful self as he got a first class seat and bragging rights about the fact that he was yours, he did that all day everyday.

So why did this feel so different? He’d been to award shows before. Not the award show, but motorsports ones. You’d come as his date. The world knew about you two. He’d gone to the BAFTAs with you one year. He should be fine. He knows he’s just there to hold your hand all night and make sure you don’t forget to eat something, but this just feels… different. This was the Oscars. The one night all of Hollywood steps out in their very best, hoping to get something back. And you were nominated in 3 categories.

“Fix your bowtie,” Hattie fussed over him as he rolled his eyes. You’d even invited his whole family. You weren’t super close with yours and they hadn’t really supported your career, but the Piastri’s had. Nicole went to every premiere you offered her, sometimes flying last minute just to be there to support you. He remembered how touched you’d been when she showed up at your Cannes debut, you called him crying that night, not even knowing what to do with yourself because you thought it was just so nice. You were 14 then, but you were 24 now, and you weren’t just his girlfriend, you were his wife. You were officially part of the family, even though you had been from the moment he’d brought you home. He started playing with his ring, a nervous habit he’d picked up since getting married.

“It is fixed,” he snapped back as she fiddled with it. “Mum said it looked fine-”

“I wasn’t looking at you when I said that!” she called from the other room. Oscar rolled his eyes again.

“Your eyes are on swivels today,” Mae teased, looking up from her phone. Oscar fought back rolling them again, and instead went for a scoff.

“I’m the only reason you guys are even coming,” he scoffed, Hattie still fixing his tie. Mae’s jaw dropped in offence.

She gasped. “Excuse you! I think Y/n would still invite us even if you guys got a divorce.”

A shiver went up his spine at that thought. Leaving you? He couldn’t do it. He knew in his bones he’d adore you until he was old and grey, and probably a while after that too.

“She definitely would,” Eddie added, walking in. “Plus, she’s dressed now, if you want to see her.”

Oscar tried to pull away from Hattie, but he just got choked by his bowtie, resulting in a fit of coughs and a gaggle of laughter from his sisters.

He heard a chuckle he knew all too well and he turned his head. You were radiant. A burgundy formal gown, your hair exactly the way you loved it, and that wonderful look in your eyes. The one he saw when he woke up next to you. The one that made him blush no matter how long you’d been together. “You alright there?” you questioned.

He chuckled and Hattie finally finished with his bowtie, so he turned to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his lips to yours as he lifted you off the ground- just slightly. You grinned against his lips and he felt the panic that had been building completely subside. You pulled back as your feet reached the ground again, and chuckled. “Do I have lipstick?” he asked, a question he asked most days. You nodded, but Mae got up to take a photo, giggling at her brother with you. It didn’t bother him. You finally just wiped it off and smiled at him.

“What do you think?” you asked, pulling back and giving him a spin. You showed off the low back and he knew he’d be ripping this dress off of you tonight. He swore the breath was knocked from his lungs every time you looked at him, but truly, you were breathtaking.

“I think you’re the most beautiful woman in the entire world,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

“Oh yeah?” you smirked. He nodded.

“Oh yeah.”

The Red Carpet was as overwhelming as usual, but he enjoyed watching his sisters interact with the few fans of theirs that were there. He watched you with so much love and pride in his eyes, so much so that Tim had to nudge him to remember to walk on and not just stand in the back of your photos looking at you lovingly. When you finally finished up, you grabbed his hand as he led you into the auditorium.

“You still have my speeches?’ you questioned. He tapped his chest, signalling that it was in his breast pocket. You smiled. “Thank you.”

“Always,” he smiled back. “Forever.”

As soon as your moment began, it ended, because Nicole pulled you away to go talk to people and he fucked off to the dinner table. He watched as you worked the room, animatedly speaking to people as he watched on from his seat at the table, thoroughly enjoying his food.

It was his dad who pulled him out of his daze, asking how he was feeling.

“I’m fine,” he nodded, only slightly lying.

Chris smiled. “She’s going to win ‘em, I bet you.”

“She will,” Oscar nodded. “Her work has been incredible this year.”

“You’re telling me,” he chuckled. “I cried for three days over the Outrun.”

Oscar laughed out loud as his dad shook his head. “I know what you mean.”

Just then, Oscar caught your eye from the other side of the ballroom and you smiled at him, waving. He waved back. You were a vision in burgundy. He swore to go he was going to get heart palpitations from how beautiful you were.

“Starting soon now,” Tim clapped his hands on Oscar’s shoulders. “Better be ready with those acceptance speeches.”

Chris smiled at Tim. “Took the words out of my mouth,” he chuckled. “Also have to practice your shocked face. Even though we all know she’s going to win every single one of them,” Chris tapped his leg. “Like how she pretends to be shocked when you win.”

Oscar laughed, his cheeks going red. Why was he being embarrassed by his own father and step-father at the Oscars right now? He wanted you back, you could always calm them down, make them less… whatever they were.

“Busy?” you asked, coming up to the table, your question directed at him. He stood up immediately.

“Not at all,” he shook his head, the boys behind him chuckling like schoolgirls. He took your hand and you led him to the foot of the stage, squeezing his hand.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” you whispered, leaning to his shoulder. “Thank you for coming.”

“I'm so proud of you,” he smiled, his hand sneaking around your waist to pull you closer. He loved this. These quiet moments between all the hustle and bustle of your own lives. The room melted away behind you as you both stared at the stage you hoped you’d end up on tonight, but he knew you would. “I’ll always come.”

You chuckled. “You said cum.”

He rolled his eyes, the soft moment between the two of you, now abruptly over due to his choice of words. He looked down at you and you laughed at his unimpressed stare. “I love you?” you offered, cupping his cheek.

“I guess I love you too,” he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours gently, but quickly- as to not get lipstick all over his mouth.

“And the nominees are; Anora, written by Sean Baker. The Brutalist, written by Brady Corbet, Mona Fastvold. A Real Pain, written by Jesse Eisenberg. , September 5, written by Moritz Binder, Tim Fehlbaum; co-written by Alex David. The Substance, written by Y/n Y/l/n,” the crowd cheered and he felt your hand squeeze his just a little tighter. “And the winner is… Anora, written by Sean Baker!”

Despite the loss, you stood and clapped for him. Oscar joined you, though he thought you should’ve probably won. You both sat back down as his speech began and he took your hand again. “You alright?”

You nodded beside him, your eyes fixed to Sean and his speech. “There’s still like 4 hours left, don’t worry.”

He chuckled and pressed a soft kiss to your hand. Ever the positive person.

“And the nominees are; Anora, Sean Baker. The Brutalist, David Jancso. Conclave, Nick Emerson. The Outrun, Y/n Y/l/n. Wicked, Myron Kerstein,” you tensed beside him. “And the winner is… Y/n Y/l/n, The Outrun!”

And the room stood for you. He felt like he was in slow motion. You both stood up at the same time, a bright smile on your face (he was sure he looked ridiculous), and you turned to him and you hugged him.

“Holy shit,” you whispered. He smiled back, nodding.

“You fucking did it,” he cheered as he pulled the speech out of his pocket. “Go accept it.”

You nodded and started your descent down the stairs. The entirety of Hollywood was on their feet for you. You’d been working in the industry since you were a kid. Everyone knew how wonderful you were. Only he got to see it everyday. He watched, pride practically spilling from every pore as you stood up on that stage, taking the award in your hand, the sheet of paper in your hand. You looked up, a teary smile on your lips. “Wow,” you breathed out, looking at the room, but your eyes immediately met Oscar’s, and you both smiled again. “Hello, and thank you,” you started. “Umm… alright, speech- yes!” you unfolded the piece of paper in your hand and took a deep breath. “Well… first of all, I’d like to thank the academy, because this-” you held up your award. “Is incredible. And next, I’d like to thank my family. Nicole, Tim, Chris, Hattie, Eddie, Mae,” Oscar was already tearing up, and he was sure his mom was at the floodgates stage of it all. “You’ve been so incredibly kind to me over the past decade. You took me in when I was just a random 14 year old your son or brother was dating, and you gave me a family, and I'll always be grateful. Next, I’d like to thank my husband-” he felt a tear fall down his cheek and he knew there were about twenty cameras on him. There were a few cheers from the crowd. “- Oscar, you’ve made me insanely happy, and you’re my everything. But you’re also the only person I’ll ever let in my editing room. I love how curious you were at the start, and now, how effortlessly you help me. Truly, this is half yours-” you chuckled, and so did he. “No matter what. Whether you were coming in from a race weekend, totally exhausted, or just come back from a run, you’ll sit beside me in silence and help me make it all work. I don’t think you understand how much that means to me, so, thank you. I love you all, thank you!” you finished off, just wiping the small tear that had fallen away, as the crowd rose for you again. Oscar was a goner, tears falling freely as he tried to wipe them away. God, you were too kind. He adored you.

The night ended at 3am, you walked away with two Oscar awards, and one Oscar. He was grinning the whole time, too. Couldn’t stop. You won Best Editing and Best Supporting Actress. His family were elated and you giggled on the way back tot he hotel as you watched videos of them react to you winning, since they weren't sitting beside you.

Both you and Oscar were exhausted, so you fell into bed, immediately tangling with each other and knocking out.

He ran a hand through your hair as he lazily closed his eyes. "Y/n?"

You hummed against his skin, sign enough that you were slightly conscious.

"I adore you," he whispered, the silence of the room seeming even quieter in the dark. You looked up at him through tired eyes, a soft smile on your lips.

"I feel it," you smiled. "And I love you too."

Best night ever.

mclaren masterlist

navigation for my blog :)

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ochacoca · 2 months ago

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msby boyfriend! atsumu who still gets nervous around you even though you've been dating for years. he'll always deny it but you can't dismiss the way you can feel how clammy his palms get when you intertwine your fingers with his.

msby boyfriend! atsumu who would marry you this very second if he could. he's joked about it for years. ‘let's just go to city hall and sign the papers.’ he would say, his tone underlying with a hint of tease. but you could tell by the look in his eyes he meant what he said.

msby boyfriend! atsumu who talks about you constantly. whether it'd be to his parents, osamu, his friends, during interviews, one way or another he'll always mention your name. he claims he isn't trying to brag (he is), he just simply can't shut up about you.

msby boyfriend! atsumu who is the same drama queen as he was when you guys were younger. they say you mature with age, but atsumu will still throw himself and sprawl out on the floor just because you forgot to give him a kiss goodbye.

msby boyfriend! atsumu who takes the worst candid photos of you. the amount of pictures you've found as you scrolled through his camera roll of pictures of you mid-sneeze or sleeping with your mouth open was concerning. but he claimed you were the cutest thing he'd ever seen and saw nothing wrong with those pictures.

msby boyfriend! atsumu who hates arguing with you. getting into small, petty arguments with him was common. but guarantee that 5 minutes later he'll come knocking on your shared bedroom, with a small pout and glistened eyes while wrapping his arms around your waist. ‘i don't want to fight anymore.’ he mumbled into your neck. ‘i hate fighting with you.’

msby boyfriend! atsumu who lets you do whatever you want to him. you want to give him a makeover? go ahead. you want to give him a manicure? have at it. a pedicure too? make sure it's a pretty color.

msby boyfriend! atsumu who gives you random life updates throughout the day. you both could be doing with own thing, going on with your life, when you'd suddenly get an every minute update on what he's doing. ‘i'm brushing my teeth.’ ‘i'm putting clothes on.’ ‘i'm putting on my left shoe rn.’ ‘now i'm doing the right.’

msby boyfriend! atsumu who's love language is annoying you. he'll tickle you, lick stripes up your cheek, bite you, ruffle your hair, do anything to bother you because his heart can't handle seeing how cute you look annoyed at him.

msby boyfriend! atsumu who loves you unconditionally. more than words and even his actions can describe. when it's late at night and you're fast asleep, he looks at you softly while gently smoothing the hair off of your face as he presses a fat kiss on your forehead. the love physically hurts, and he can't wait to put the ring that was buried in the drawer next to your bed on your finger and call you his forever.

"we love you atsumu!" my ovaries shout in unison.

©OCHACOCA 2025 | please do not copy, translate, or repost my work onto other platforms!

#rea writes !#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu smut #atsumu x reader #haikyuu atsumu #miya atsumu #hq atsumu #atsumu x you #atsumu headcanons #atsumu smut #hq x y/n #hq x you #hq x reader #hq fluff #hq

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y2kstarr · 5 months ago

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gimme attention - c. sturniolo

part 1 | part 2

˖ ִ⭑ ࣪ warning : thigh fucking, needy sub!Chris, usage of mama and pup/puppy

"C'monnn ma," Chris whined whilst snuggled up against you, his chin resting on your tummy as his arms were wrapped around your frame, his big blue puppy eyes coming into effect, only to be trifled by your attention rather catered to your phone than to him. "Pay attention to me, please??"

But you just kept looking at your phone, scrolling through your feed instead of paying him any mind. Was it petty? Yeah. Did he deserve it? Probably not. But he should've thought better before bragging to his friends that he was nothing less than some godlike dom in bed and had you, quote unquote "begging till your makeup ran down your cheeks in pretty tears."

He wasn't... wrong, to some extent. He was damn good in bed when you let him take over, but in no way did those few times warrant you getting reduced to some cliché whore from a porno in a conversation with his friends... ok maybe a little too far, but still, you had the right to be petty.

You heard him let out a huff before you felt as he started to sit up, his hands grasping under your knees to lift them a bit, hooking your legs over his thighs as he sat on his knees with his legs open, feeling as he gave a playful press against your ass, which made you aware of the already forming bulge in his sweats.

"No, Chris." You simply said without looking up from your phone, practically hearing his pout as he let out a needy whine, his hands sliding down your thighs to grip at your hips and waist, leaning down as you felt his lips start to press kisses against your tummy from where your shirt rose up.

"Please?" He begged between kisses, hands slowly sliding up your shirt as he looked up at you in search of any attention you might give him. Nothing. "'M sorry bout what I said, I didn't mean it.." You almost fell for his pleading voice, his sweetly sorrowful, begging words, but then you felt as his hand started to tug at your shorts.

The moment you moved the phone away from your face, your eyes glared at him... but you stopped yourself from shoving him off. Seeing the way he looked at you like a puppy begging for treats, annoyance turned to interest as an idea formed in your head.

"Y'know what, baby?..." You cooed, putting your phone down on the sheets, watching him perk up as you slowly parted your thighs a bit more, an invitation for him that had him taking in an excited breath.

Before you can say anything else, he's instantly tugging your shorts off, tossing them aside as his palms slide against the soft expanse of your plush thighs. "Thank you, ma, thank you," He grinned happily against your tummy, kissing your soft skin and trailing down as his hands slid to your hips, fingertips inching under the lace of your panties.

One, two, three more kisses, right along your abdomen before he goes to press one more where he's been dying to touch...

Suddenly, you grip his hair before his lips even meet the lace fabric, a sharp inhale sounding from him at your fingers tangled within his brunet curls, his sweet blue eyes looking up at you in confusion, his hands stopping themselves from pulling your panties down.

"Uh-uh, bad pups don't get a treat," You scolded him, the pet name making him visibly perk up and twitch in his boxers, his adorably confused yet attentive expression making you give false sympathy. "Aww, what? If you're gonna act like such a filthy dog around your friends, I might as well treat you like the mutt you are, right?"

You lift his head up from between your thighs, closing them together and hearing the pathetic whimper he lets out. "Please, mama? Please? 'Said I was sorry—"

You felt as he gave a weak grind against your closed thighs, the position he was now reduced to giving you such a power high, and in a single moment, your beautiful idea solidified. As fun as it would be to deprive him of anything for the day, it was so much better to watch him act like a bitch in heat for you.

"You make use of what I'm giving you, Chris, or you're getting nothing." You threatened, watching as he looked a bit confused, looking down at your plush, pressed together thighs, before it seemed to click in his head.

He looked as if he internally battled with himself, weighing his options here between getting nothing or going to that extent just to get himself off.

"C'mon, Chris," You gave a little wiggle with your hips just to seal it, a devilish smirk on your lips. "You know you want to."

Oh, fuck it.

With your bottom lip between your teeth, you watched as he tugged down his sweats and boxers, his cock springing out as the head already weeped pre-cum, a held back whine barely heard as it pressed a bit against your thighs, already showing how needy he was getting.

He looked up at you with pleading eyes, making you wonder what he was asking for, before his eyes signaled over to the drawer on your bedside table that held a bottle of lube.

You raised an eyebrow at him before crossing your arms. "What? You said you do everything in bed, right?" You reminded him of his words to his friends, watching as he practically gave you an apology bow, guilty puppy dog eyes looking at you before he moved towards the bedside table and tugged the drawer open, pulling out the lube and getting back into place.

His hands opened your thighs just a bit, his palm smearing lube between them before stroking his cock with some, a whimper bit back as you gave him a sharp look, his hand moving away and tossing the bottle aside in a near scrambled motion.

God... you should totally get him a collar and leash after this.

Shaky hands pushed your thighs together, his adorable puppy eyes looking at you for permission, a smirk coming to your lips as you gave a nod. "Go ahead, pup."

Holding your thighs together and positioning just right, he finally moved. "O–oh fuck—" Chris whimpered as he pushed his cock between your plush thighs with ease, his hands tightening their grip as he slowly thrusted his hips, both of you watching the tip of his leaking cock peaking out.

"That's it, puppy." You cooed, watching the head of his cock retreat back between your thighs before peaking back out. A shaky groan was heard from Chris as he trained his eyes on the sight too before starting to thrust a bit more, the slick sound of his cock between your thighs making your cunt clench around nothing.

"Look at that. So desperate, you're fucking my thighs," You teased with a mean giggle as he whined, his hips sputtering as he picked up pace a bit.

The bed creaked softly beneath the two of you, the sound mixing with Chris fucking your thighs and his needy whines, the state of him making you watch his face instead. Each thrust, each squeeze of your thighs, made his face contort beautifully in pleasure, his fingers digging into your skin.

"Mm– Fuck– mama—" Whines poured from his lips, the tip of his cock pressing against the lace fabric of your panties as he thrusted once more, his hips starting to move a bit faster as he panted and whined like a needy dog.

Continuing with watching the show in front of you, your hands moved to his knees, loosely holding them before you squeezed your thighs tightly together, hearing the choked out moan Chris gave at the feeling.

"Oh fu— m–mama— oh god, p–please—" He begged you, hips faltering for a moment as his palms slipped, instead finding purchase on your hips as he started fucking your thighs faster. His whines mixed with the increasing creak of the bed, pants spilling from his open mouth as you noticed drool on his bottom lip.

"Shit, puppy," You giggled as you caressed his knees with your nails, feeling his thigh tense from the tingling sensation. "Feel so good it's got you drooling now?"

The only response you could get from him was a quick nod and more whines, your nails then digging into his knees to get a better answer whilst you loosened your thighs around his cock, making him whine pathetically in need.

"Nn– Yes y–yes mama— so fucking good—" He babbled, tears visibly coming to his eyes as you granted him the treat of squeezing your thighs together once more. A blissful whimper escaped him before his hips pistoned forward once more, pants leaving him as his grip tightened on your hips, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through your room.

"'M– 'M so close, mama– please— please lemme cum mama– please—" He begged and babbled helplessly, near tears as his body started to tremble, knowing damn well that, in times like this, he had to hold it until you said he could cum.

Oh how he wanted you to not be so cruel this time, but with the way your lips curled into a devilish smirk, there was no way in hell that would be the case.

"You wanna cum, pup?"

"yes mama—"

"Hmm?"

"Y–yes mama—"

"Ohh... I don't know if I should let you, puppy."

"Please, mommy, pleasee—" He nearly sobbed as his body tensed and shook, his hips stilling as he held himself back the best he could, panting hard as his cock twitched and throbbed between your thighs, just begging to spill his load.

His forehead rested against your knees, whines leaving his mouth pathetically as you watched him twitch and tremble a few moments more. Oh, that collar and leash were getting delivered this coming weekend. 100 fucking percent.

His breathing hitched as he felt your nails caress his knees again, your hips rolling slowly to give him that friction he was dying for, before you finally cooed those heavenly words to him. "Cum for me, puppy."

"Oh thank you— thank you mama— thank you thank you thank you—" He babbled mindlessly as he thrusted his hips once more, pants leaving his lips as he started to tremble and quicken his motions, his breaths getting shaky and choppy as his grip on you tightened.

"O–oh god— 'm cum— 'm cumming!" A pathetic, whiny moan left his lips as his hips stuttered before he finally came, hot and thick glossy ropes spurting from his cock over your panties, your tummy, even up to your chest– and fuck he was lost.

"F–fuck— Oh my fu—" His voice cracked, all wrecked and fucked out, as eyes rolled back into his head, his hips twitching and pressing hard against your thighs, as if they were milking his cock entirely.

His cock gave a few more pathetic little spurts of cum until he was finally done, his head falling to her knees once more as he took hard and shaky breaths, his thighs quivering, his hands stuck gripping your hips tightly.

You smiled at the sight of him, so utterly fucked out without you having to do hardly anything. A whine pulled from him as you squeezed your thighs one more time before loosening, giggling at his state before reaching a hand up and running your fingers through his hair, your nails caressing his scalp.

"Feelin' better now, puppy?" You cooed softly.

"y—yes.. mama.."

"You learn your lesson?"

"yes... yes mama.."

You giggled softly as his body started to melt and loosen now, all spent and tired. Clean up could wait, you'd handle the rest later.

"Good boy."

a/n : Got inspo from this twitter vid (nsfw p!link) and thought "mhmmm- Chris 😋"

I miiight have an obsession with either party getting fucked dumb/fucking themselves dumb 🙄😔

Thank you guys so much for all the love on my last drabble!!! KFNOSNFKDN- (me tryna be nonchalant and failing miserably ToT) I seriously can't express how happy it makes me, can't wait to make more for y'all :]

Hope you guys like! Inbox is wide open for requests or just chatting :3

tags : @sillysillymatt, @jcsturniolo11, @strnilolover, @whore4mattsturniolo

(wanna be added to the list for future works? just click this link sweets ;3)

dividers → @dollywons

#y2kstarr★#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo blurb #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo drabble #sub chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x you #sturniolo fanfic

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lizardho · 8 months ago

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I was like 11-12 years old when I figured out at a boring-ass church activity that you could put rocks into little plastic spoons and then pelt people who annoyed me with them. I did this for the rest of the activity, and at Sunday dinner the next night was bragging about my victory (cornering the mean kid who picked on my youngest brother and pelting him with rocks). One of my cousins was like “no way, that sounds SO fun! Let’s do that RIGHT NOW!” So we grabbed spoons and went and got pebbles from the back yard and launched them at each other.

The problem was my grandma sold her soul for the world’s most resilient plastic spoons so we could launch those fuckers HARD. I gave out welts like candy on Halloween, and I got them back in kind.

So we resorted to taking cover and giggling until we got whacked, then yelping, then returning fire.

My cousin hid in my grandpa’s little fishing boat. It was a good boat, but simple and honestly underused. We didn’t know the little windows on it, meant to keep the wind out of my grandpa’s face while he drove, were cracking. However, they were definitely cracking. Eventually it became obvious and we realized we had been being dumb.

This was NOT the first time in my life I’d been dumb roughhousing and broken something, and I had developed a reputation in my family as being “suicidally honest” so I was the one to deliver the bad news. My grandpa let out a pretty good chuckle and said it was OK, tousled my hair, and asked my grandma to bring me cake. I am not kidding. I learned later he hated his boat and only bought it for his kids’ sakes, since he thought everyone needed to know how to fish. At the time though I was just bewildered and pleased at my good fortune. FINALLY, at long last, being honest and telling the truth about breaking something expensive was getting me cake. I knew if I kept trying it would eventually serve me, and now so had CAKE. I was pleased as could be.

My dad, on the other hand, was livid. He LOVED that boat. He spent several weeks each summer recovering from breaking ribs in that boat every year for about 7 years prior to this incident. He had great memories and memories that boat. So he told my Grandma NO cake for me AND that I’d be coming by this weekend to fix stuff around the house and pay for the broken window with my babysitting/lawn mowing money.

Obviously I was devastated, but that felt more in-line with the way things normally went when I broke something expensive so I just figured it was OK. My grandpa gave my grandma a look and sadly said “Ok, have her here on Saturday to help me with some yard work.”

That Saturday my dad woke me up at 6:00 sharp and drove me, sleepy and bewildered, to my grandpa’s house. He was mumbling under his breath the whole time but he thought he was teaching me consequences for my actions so he was ultimately OK with it.

We get to my grandpa’s house at 6:15. My grandpa is outside with a ladder hanging Christmas lights. The lawn is freshly mowed, the trees and garden are weeded and well-tended to, the carnations in the front yard look immaculate, and my grandpa has this giddy mischievous look on his face. He tells me he was so excited that I was coming over that he couldn’t sleep, so he did all the yard work himself. He asked me to help him put up Christmas lights and decorate the Christmas tree, which I did, then said that because I was such a good helper I could have some pancakes for breakfast. I was sent home with the slice of cake I had been denied the week before, wrapped to keep it as fresh as possible.

The whole way home my dad looked a little miffed, but told me that he was glad I had been honest and was proud of me for helping grandpa. I know he wanted me to Learn a Lesson™️the cowboy way, like he had as a kid, but didn’t have much room to complain since I’d still been Put To Work.

I think that was a lesson for both of us, although I’m not totally sure what it was supposed to show me. I think it was my grandpa’s way of showing my dad that discipline without tenderness doesn’t count as much. He died last year and I miss him terribly, as does my dad. I hope that my story of victory, drama, punishment, and ultimately a secret second victory is meaningful to someone else out there, but if not it still means a lot to me ❤️

#grandpa #grampa #nostalgia #ex mormon #mormon #parental discipline #love

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caffeinewitchcraft · 8 months ago

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AITA for going no contact with my brother after he pulled a scare on my husband?

EDIT: For those of you coming here from my brother’s post (X) to shit on me, you look like idiots. Try to have an original thought and really contemplate who’s telling the truth after hearing both sides.

I (32f) am one of three siblings. We come from a very well off family. My dad is a former Cryptid and he pioneered the Hook Man in the 70s, so he still gets residuals off of that. We grew up very comfortable and with the ability to do anything we wanted in life. My older brother went to a very prestigious school and my dad gave him the money for tuition. Because my older brother got scholarships, he was able to save some of that money. Right now he works in human tech (very lucrative), but his long-term plan is to use the money to start a Cyber Spook business once he is satisfied with his knowledge foundation.

I ended up taking a gap year before going to community college, but I never felt anything click. I worked part-time jobs spinning out scarer costumes and even did some part-time work as a slasher before deciding it wasn’t for me. I finally found my calling when I offered to help cater for my high school reunion, and now I run a fairly successful catering business.

When it came time for my younger brother, “Steve,” to get his money, he didn’t tell anyone what he was going to use it for. He was working as a Slasher at a small firm in town. We all assumed he’d either go to Scare School or invest the money to start a business like our older brother did.

So when Steve showed up to Halloween dinner one day, six feet taller with extra joints in his arms and legs, we were all shocked.

Dad was furious. He gave us all the same talk about the scare industry when we got our first part-time jobs documenting missions at his company. He told us that scare work was hard and backbreaking. We couldn’t buy our way into it or use his connections to become successful. If we were interested in it, we had to work our way up from the ground like he did. If we didn’t, we’d more than likely end up dead at the hands of a final girl.

He especially emphasized that mods had to be considered carefully and were NOT a substitute for skill.

Steve thought they were. When his company didn’t pay him back for his body modification AND didn’t promote him from Slasher to Regional Nightmare, he quit. But the surgeries drained his cash and he couldn’t afford his apartment anymore. He had to move back in with Mom and Dad. As always, Mom totally coddled him. She said that he didn’t have to pay rent and agreed with whatever he said when he’d go on these long tirades about his former company.

I could tell Dad wasn’t happy with the arrangement, but he’s never been able to go against Mom. So he mostly kept his mouth shut though he did try to get Steve a job at his old company. However, last I heard, Steve was set against anything corporate and was spending a dozen hours a day driving around using the app SlashDash to find jobs.

About a year and a half ago, I was over for dinner with Steve, Mom and Dad. Steve was talking about work. He said SlashDash wasn’t working out for him and was taking too many fees out. I offered advice since I’d done Slashing in high school. I recommended sites like Scarework and Midnighterr to get more gigs.

Mom told me I interrupted Steve. She gestured for him to continue and tell me about his exciting new setup.

Steve told me he was beyond the sites I recommended. He said he’d bought a scanner so he could listen to broadcasts of active corporate missions. When those fail, he arrives on scene to kill any straggling humans before the scare company in question can send a cleanup crew. And since he’s a Slasher on their scene, they have to give him emergency pay for doing it. It’s a total ambulance-chaser, bottom-feeder move.

Dad was just staring at his plate, not saying anything, but I could tell he was ashamed of Steve. Steve was bragging about being a vulture in the profession Dad helped build.

I asked Steve if he was proud of himself for living off of leftovers. Steve blew up at me, but so did Mom. She chided me for not respecting my brother’s hard work and that his idea to get a scanner was genius, not predatory.

After that dinner, Steve and I rarely talked. Most of the news I got about him came from our older brother bitching about Steve badgering him for scare connections or Mom bragging about Steve killing and “meeting quota.” She would get very cold with me when I told her he was finishing a quota someone else started and not doing his own work. She told me if I couldn’t respect Steve, then I was welcome to not come over while he lived with her.

(Yes, Steve’s always been the golden child.)

I stopped interfering with Steve and focused on my own life. Shortly after, I met my wonderful fiancé “Reginald” while catering an event at Dad’s old company. Reginald is the head of sanitation and he’s the one who gets sent out to clean up any unexpected events during a Scare (like any magical residue or body parts that can’t be explained away through human means). He used to want to be a Cryptid, but he’s got a heart condition that prevents him from working in the field. He says that he’s happy being the “janitor” and happier being with me 😊

Reginald and I got engaged after only eight months of dating. Dad always says that when you know, you know. I invited everyone in my family to an engagement party. Steve didn’t bother answering the invitation. Even though Steve and I weren’t on good terms, I was still hurt when he didn’t show.

When I confronted him about it afterwards, he said that he’d been promoted to Regional Nightmare and he was patrolling his territory, and that’s why he couldn’t come. I asked him what company he was working for, and he said he was still using the scanner.

I pointed out that he couldn’t be a Regional Nightmare without a state license since only the state can assign territories. He started going on and on about being his own “Monster” (and let me tell you, extra joints DOESN’T make you a Monster, those guys are way more committed) and that he had passed the state exam.

When I told Reginald about my brother calling himself a Regional Nightmare, he was concerned. He works closely with the legal department, and he said that Steve is opening himself up to lawsuits by declaring public slashing grounds as his “territory.” He offered to talk to Steve.

We went over to Mom and Dad’s house together to confront him. Dad didn’t know he was calling himself a Regional Nightmare and he went pale when I told them why we were there. Reginald explained to Steve and Mom that being certified was different than being licensed. Legally, Steve is a Slasher even if he can control shadows now (which is a VERY expensive talent to acquire if you aren’t born with it. I think Mom may have paid for it).

The conversation didn’t go well. Steve said a lot of nasty things about Reginald not hacking it as Slasher and claimed he was just jealous. He picked on Reginald’s health which I had me seeing red. I asked Steve what there was to be jealous of since he still mooches off of our parents? Mom got involved and it went downhill from there.

All this to say that I didn’t expect Steve to show up at my gender reveal party less than 5 months later.

Reginald and I weren’t planning on kids this early, but we knew it was meant to be as soon as I got that pregnancy test back. We decided to put off our wedding so that our baby can be part of the ceremony that makes us a family. That being said, I did still have a lot of things ordered for the wedding so I turned the day into a baby shower/gender reveal instead.

That brings us to the party my lovely brother wrote about. First of all, he wasn’t invited by me. Mom invited him, and when I found out, I wasn’t happy with her, considering he never apologized to Reginald after our last fight.

Reginald was stuck at work (some idiot brought together a whole summer camp of final girls and the aftermath was brutal) so I had to force myself to be a good hostess. It was mostly fine. We have good friends and my older brother was very kind in helping me with some of the baby games we were planning to play when Reginald finally got there.

Steve, however, was NOT helpful.

He was annoying the whole time. He messed with the kitchen and he hounded the guests. I’m PREGNANT and the smell of raw meat triggers my gag reflex. He took the meat off the heat without me noticing and basically prevented me from eating lunch with everyone else.

Additionally, Steve claimed in his post that the party was dying??? Reginald and Dad have a lot of friends in common so the party did NOT die. They were all interested in talking to Dad. Dad’s voice is very quiet and raspy from strain over the years, so everyone was being quiet to hear him better. Steve was the one practically screaming over him to talk about his scummy job. The new Hook Man who succeeded Dad was there and Steve basically treated the poor man like a novice even though he’s a Cryptid.

Reginald finally got home and I could tell he was exhausted when I met him at the door. He still put on a smile for me though and said he didn’t need to miss out even when I told him it would be okay. He wanted to be there in our big moment to celebrate our family. He went upstairs to change.

I went back to the guests to tell them that we would start the games soon. That’s when I heard Reginald scream and fall down the stairs.

I’ll never forget the look on Reginald’s face. He was lying at the base of the stairs and looked like he was dying. He was gasping for breath and clutching at his chest. I was terrified his heart was giving up. I asked Hook Man to call an ambulance.

That’s when Steve started laughing.

I lost it. I screamed at Steve to get out. He told me to calm down, he’d just scared Reginald a little bit as a joke. I told him he knew about Reginald’s heart condition and that it was incredibly disrespectful to scare my fiancé in our own house.

He said he didn’t mean to scare him that bad, but that he was just better at it than he thought. His scares were too powerful. He seemed smug and was still laughing.

I accused him of intentionally hurting Reginald because of the licensing versus certification argument we had. I said he was a bully and an idiot.

Mom jumped in and said it was an accident.

Dad FINALLY said something. He shadow-walked (the first time in YEARS) up the stairs and hooked Steve by the neck. He dragged all twelve feet of him down the stairs and told him to get out.

Steve said, “For what? It’s not my fault that weak-hearted son of a bitch can’t take a joke.”

Dad lost it. He told Steve a REAL scarer wouldn’t use their abilities like that on their own families. He told Mom and Steve it didn’t matter if he meant it as a joke. The fact is he used his scare tactics on a layperson, and he could get blacklisted from the profession for it.

Dad kicked Steve out and told him he wasn’t welcome back into the basement until he got a REAL job. Steve kept arguing, but the paramedics arrived then and I lost track of the rest of it.

I went with Reginald to the hospital where Reginald insisted we both get checked out. The stress wasn’t good for the baby and doctor told me it might be best to go on maternity leave sooner rather than later. Reginald is also going to be taking a leave from work. He had a heart attack because of my brother.

Things could have ended worse, but they didn’t end well. I told my parents that I refuse to have Steve at my wedding or even to see my child after they’re born (and now I STILL don’t know the gender! Only our older brother knows since he got the gender reveal cake).

Mom started to protest, but Dad said he understood. He said that both he and Mom just wanted me to be happy and healthy and that they would take care of Steve.

So now I leave it up to you. Having read both of our posts, who do you think is the real asshole? My brother for being “proud” of scaring my fiancé into a heart attack at our baby’s gender reveal party? Or me for never talking to said brother again for the health of my future family?

AITA?

----

Thanks for reading! If you'd like to support me and/or see these stories a week before I post them here, please check me out on Patreon (X)!

See you next week!

This week's story is based on this (x) prompt from Writing-prompt-s:

You are a person who covers your counter space in clutter and inadvertently makes a shrine to a long forgotten god who shows up to thank you.

#my writing #reddit parody #aita reddit parody

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5sospenguinqueen · 1 year ago

Text

Bedtime Stories | Daniel Ricciardo x Author! Reader

Summary: For the past six years, you've been dreaming of a future with Daniel. Until one silly little interview shatters every illusion.

Warnings: Swearing. Angst. Baby fever. End of a relationship. Daniel bashing.

Female reader with various faceclaims. Takes place in the 2022 season.

Main Masterlist

next.

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user2 no, it's not an announcement. her best friend is currently pregnant and she was gushing about looking forward to aunty duties

user3 omg her and daniel would make the cutest babies though

→ user4 i bet she can't wait until they have their own mini-me

user5 imagine our rom-com queen going from writing the cutest but filthiest fiction imaginable to writing about why you should eat your carrots

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22•05•22

user6 i can't believe this man was talking about being in the height of his career when he's been nothing but a flop since leaving red bull

user7 the way he's been stringing this poor woman along for 6 years, knowing how badly she wants children, to then decide in a random interview that he's never going to have kids because they would be a 'distraction'

user8 fans spotted y/n running from the pits once she saw that daniel was safely done with racing

user9 i fear we may be witnessing the downfall of something we once held sacred

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16•06•22

fallontonight just posted

liked by YourUserName, kellypiquet and others

fallontonight did you know @/YourUser Name was once chased by a kangaroo? find out how in tonight's episode of the tonight show 📚🦘

4,477 comments

YourUserName thanks for having me! ✨

user11 excuse me, ma’am, reassess what

user12 daniel has been absent from her last 3 posts

→ user1 not even in the likes or comments

→ user2 and he didn't even congratulate her on the recent book launch

→ user3 ya’ll are reaching. he's busy racing. she's busy doing book promo. they still follow each other

user4 anyone notice she didn't look as happy as she usually does

→ user5 yes! and i swear she got teary when talking about her life plans 🥺

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YourUserName just posted

liked by maxverstappen1, mclaren and others

YourUserName my happy place 🌊🐚🦀 aug '22

4,990 comments

user6 does this mean a new book is coming soon

→ user7 girl, we’ve just had one. let the woman rest

→ YourUserName sorry, my lovelies but i don’t think i'm in the right headspace to be writing a romance novel at this time

→ user6 confirmation??!?!

→ user7 we’re children of divorce

→ user8 honestly fuck those two because i couldn’t have cared less about vroom vroom boys until mother started dating one and now i'm crying in class ‘cause they’re over

landonorris get that bread, queen 🍞

→ YourUserName who let you out of daycare

→ user9 not y/n and lando interacting like she didn’t break his teammates heart

→ user10 more like his teammate broke y/n’s heart. let's not make daniel out to be the victim here

kellypiquet p said get writing those children’s books so she can brag about aunty y/n to her friends

→ YourUserName my sweet girl. i saw the cutest dress the other day for her so I’ll pop round soon x

→ user11 i love their friendship

→ user12 get this woman a child. She’s too sweet to be stuck in cool aunt mode forever

user13 anyone notice she didn't do her annual birthday post for daniel?

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04•09•22

user14 no because the interviewer was so real for that. checo has a few children and he’s currently 2nd best. max is nowhere to be seen on the grid he's that far ahead and he makes sure p is his priority when she’s there so???

→ user15 and the way he stormed out. i bet PR are sooo happy with him

user16 nah because mclaren recently announced that they’re not extending his contract so he currently doesn't have his seat and doesn't have his y/n, all because he thought he was better than that

YourUserName posted a new story danielricciardo posted a new story

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danielricciardo just posted

liked by landonorris, estebanocon and others

danielricciardo yesterday was something. p17 wasn't the result we were expecting, and the media were a challenge but it's always a delight to be in suzuka. moving on to the americas

5,509 comments

user1maybe if y/n was there, you wouldn't have done so badly

user2 maybe if he had a baby waiting in the paddock he would’ve had more incentive to do better

mclaren we’ll get them next time 💪

user3 letting mclaren and lando down

→ user4 the real reason he and y/n broke up is because he has no wins. she should move onto lando or something

→ user5 he’s way too young for her

→ user4 they'd make a good looking couple tho

(comments have been disabled for this post)

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19•10•22

YourUserName just posted

liked by charles_leclerc, bloomsburypublishing and others

YourUserName thirty, flirty and thriving. please enjoy a small snippet of my 30th birthday, organised by my favourite girl. these are the nice moments before she plies me full of cocktails and i become the sloppiest person in monaco tagged: kellypiquet

kellypiquet any chance to celebrate you 🤍🤍

→ kellypiquet and an even better chance to drink the entire bar and force max to carry us home

→ maxverstappen1 i'm just glad i was able to pull you both out of the sea before you drowned

landonorris can't believe you tried (and failed) to stop us from gatecrashing

→ YourUserName it was an exclusive event, we don't let randos in

→ landonorris i know you're joking but it still hurts my feelings

maxverstappen1 happy birthday, sloppy. you don't look a day over 40

→ YourUserName i'm gonna let that slide but only because i love the bag that kelly told you to buy

user7 happy birthday to the best author

user8 happy birthday queen

carlossainz55 happy birthday, y/n 💐

liked by YourUserName

danielricciardo happy birthday x

user5 kelly and y/n look like the funnest people to hang out with

→ user6 literally need to know how to become part of their duo

lewishamilton happy birthday, y/n. have a lovely night 💕

liked by YourUserName

mclaren happy birthday to papaya's favourite author (we're still waiting for a racing rom-com that is quite clearly about your favourite f1 team and their super sexy admin) 🥳🥳

liked by YourUserName

Request are open!

Baby Fever Angst Series

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 1 year ago

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Yandere Fantasy Villain

Imagine you’ve been transported to a DnD-Fantasy-like world. Quests, adventurers, and mystical beasts are everything you could dream of. You’ve already established your little troupe; becoming an important cornerstone of the group. Whatever your class, you’re excelling at they really rely on which is why things go badly when you meet him—-the recurring villain of this world.

“Oh my–oh my Zoth.”

“What? Do I horrify the little hero!?”

“No, you’re–”

“Worse than you imagined?”

“No, you’re–”

“(Y/n) stop freezing up!”

“You’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever met!”

The group is horrified as they plan a tactical retreat, finding it easier to thwart the Fantasy Villain’s attacks which are suddenly less frequent. The group just assumes you’ve been enchanted because since you’ve locked eyes with him you’ve been unable to stand on your feet. Wide-eyed and breathing heavy you just can’t stop the heat climbing over your face and ears as you replay the moment you met over and over.

“You realize he’s a part of the ugliest most horrible race known to all of Azarothan.”

“If that’s ugly then I’m dead!”

“M-maybe he did enchant them?”

Meanwhile, the Villain’s returned to home base, shedding his armor and dismissing his entourage. Sat on his throne he replays the words you’ve said to him…over and over….and over again. His ears are turning a deep blue and he can’t help the involuntary reaction of the volcano attached to his castle bubbling with excitement.

“They-they think I’m beautiful?!”

He’s reeling with an overflow of energy and unknown vigor when he recalls your awestruck face as you fell to your knees clutching your enchanted tool. He can’t stop the thought of you in that same position but in a different setting. Cursing his lacking imagination he concocts his usual magic to spy on the troupe with his crystal ball but this time he’s focused solely on you.

“Surely they’ll brag about the enchantment they left on me…..and maybe talk about their own infatuation again.”

It strokes a different kind of pride when he hears you deny being cursed. The feelings are mutual. He’s over the moon all four of them. You have to understand the Fantasy Villain has never been told something so flattering.

“From another world….figures. This world could never make such…a perfect soul.”

Since their upbringing, they’ve been met with nothing but scorn and hatred. Vowing to rule and change the world that did that to him. If others did express interest it was because he had power or was literally about to kill them. Your reaction, your unadulterated feelings for him, the tug at his soul is the only sign he needs before his objective changes.

“I wanted to rule the world so I could change the world for me. But now I’m going to change the world so I can rule with them.”

He means it. The troops are given new orders, the deadly nightmarish beasts are given new tasks, and he’s already concocting a million different plans to attain you. He watches the crystal ball relentlessly trying to hear and see as much as he can to learn more about you. He realizes very quickly that he really hates those adventurers of yours.

“C’mon (Y/n)! Just because you’re attracted to the enemy doesn’t mean he isn’t trying to destroy the world!”

“Yeah (Y/n), you’ve got to get your head in the game. We need you!”

“I–your right…sorry guys…I just don’t think I’ve ever seen someone who fits my preferences so perfectly.”

“You don’t even know him!”

“But one look in his galaxy-like eyes and it felt like I did.”

He really hates them. Listening to them talk you out of your feelings for him. Before you arrived they were minor pests. Simply a small roadblock that he would eventually crush to shatter the hopes of the people when they needed them most. Now they were just obstacles in the way of his goal–you.

“Sire those adventurers you told us to keep an eye on are on the move. Should I give the order to attack?”

“No…summon the siren I’d like to take a different approach.”

He gets incredibly crafty, despite only meeting you once he can tell you aren’t heartless like he. He’s certain should you find him to be responsible for the death of anyone you’ve met you’d reject his love. So he’ll make it his plan to slowly break your little troupe, such spunky and erratic individuals may be just the only tool he needs.

“My orders, My Ruler?”

“Join their group. Do what you like with whoever you wish.

“?”

“Bring discord how you see fit.”

“Yes, My Ruler!”

His plan is perfect and the group isn’t nearly suspicious enough to reject his double agent. Who’s presence triggers the cracks that this group had always had. When the group splits apart needing to cool off you’re left alone, a perfect chance for a moment with you.

“Hello, little hero.”

“Whoa, what are you doing here? My troupe’s not too far! A-a-a-nd I–I’m willing to fight this time!”

“That’s a shame because I came to speak to you.”

“Really! Ahem, I mean about what?”

“About those words, you said to me….I wonder did you know what they’ve ignited.”

Taking advantage of your easily lowered guard, he speaks the truth. Coming in close enough to feel the heat escaping from your armor, he’ll share the tale of his past. Which as he predicted makes you so sympathetic and just as willing to sing his praises as the moment you met.

“But you’re not ugly or horrid like they all say.”

“No?”

“I think you’re beyond handsome. One of the most ethereal beings I’ve ever met.”

“Do you truly think so?”

“I know so… I’m just sorry no one else has told you that.”

“I’m happy it was you.”

When you let him dive in for a kiss, naturally you accept it. Returning his vigor in kind if not with sympathy or just your attraction, you miss how he places a magical mark on your neck. Or how he casually enchants your armor to protect you better. Or how he influences the flora and fauna of the forest to curve in the direction you came from essentially blocking the path back to your camp. When he reluctantly releases you he further promises he’s never letting you leave his grasp. Promising to one day have you on the throne beside him.

“I must return and so must you. Your friends will worry.”

“Oh…you’re right.”

“Don’t sound so sad, we’ll meet again.”

“Not just in my dreams.”

“Not just in your dreams.”

He leaves not only giddy with love but with a new plan in mind. He prepared to be faced with a struggle, to have to fight for your affection as the enemy you’d be fighting. But he wasn’t prepared for your heart to be swayed so easily. Licking your remnants on his lips, he knows that you can be deceived, and conveniently so can the rest of the world.

Fantasy Villain devises that if the history of his race’s banishment and exile were portrayed in a certain light. You could defect to his side without guilt and if some of the more stubborn adventurers were to also agree that’d make things so much easier. Pretending to be persuaded to sign some peace treaty after being gifted enough land to rule over with you beside him didn’t sound too bad.

Even if that didn’t work the Fantasy Villain has decided you will rule beside him whether he has to trick, drug, or force you to be his. Though he adores the honest love in your eyes when he looks at you and he’s going to do whatever he needs to have it.

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woollypoison · 5 days ago

Text

Comeback of a lifetime: Fromiscuity

Fromis_9 Lee Chaeyoung x m reader x Lee Nagyung

a/n: this is a continuation of the very first fic I ever wrote alone, Comeback of a lifetime. I learned a lot about writing since then lmao.

Word count: 12k words

Let’s recap. You didn’t stop going to the PC bang.

You said you would, and you had all of the intention to. Swore up and down that night was your last. Just one final send off before quitting cold turkey. But then Nagyung crawled in your lap, moaned sweet nothings in your ear, and sucked your dick under the desk while you wiped the floor with a silver ADC—which isn’t even your main role, mind you—and all of sudden, the withdrawal plan didn’t seem like it was all that urgent.

That was two weeks ago. Nowadays, you’re a regular again. Or at least, sort of? You’re not spending your entire day there anymore. You’re also not there for the ranked grind.

No, you show up, because you know the hours Nagyung can show up and you’re there, for those three hours every single day, hoping to get some time with her again.

And sometimes, you do.

She’ll sit down in her usual, secluded spot, wearing a variety of oversized hoodies, a baseball cap pulled low over her eyes. No one notices her. No one ever does. You can’t help but spot her instantly every time.

You don’t make a big deal out of it. You’re just glad to see her. She always gives you this little nod, and slides into the seat next to you—oh, right, yeah, you also changed your favorite seat so you’re always next to her now—like she never left.

It’s not even a question anymore of whether you’ll play together. You just do. She boots up her client, you log into your smurf, and it’s off for another night of carrying and coaching her.

You lane with her. Peel for her. Shotcall for her. You ping retreat, and she ignores it. Every. Single. Time. Rages a little bit and then looks at you all guilty and cute and impossible to hold a grudge against. Sometimes, she turns around in her chair and beams at you like she just won Worlds. The only readable piece of her face is still her eyes, but you’ve learned to tell.

It’s fun. Still is. But it’s different from that first time.

You never asked her about it, either. About what she said—about next time, and blankets, and letting you fuck her on your lap. You figured if she wanted to follow up, she would.

She hasn’t.

It’s all toned down since then. You carry her, and she squeezes your thigh, rests her head against your shoulder during queue times or gives you a kiss on your cheek if she’s feeling generous after a win. It’s really not a bad deal, just different.

You even got her into Gold because of all that.

She squealed when she hit it. Climbed into your lap again, bounced in your chair, kissed your cheek twice and was going to brag about it for weeks. The closest you got to that original feeling.

That was three days ago. She hasn’t been back since.

She’s not here today, either. No disguise that you can see through in an instant. No oversized americano sitting dangerously close to her keyboard. No kisses on your cheek.

You play a couple of games on your main account. It’s miserable. Not because your teammates are tilting you (not for lack of trying, mind you), but because you’re just bored. The games don’t hit the same without her ignoring your pings and tanking tower shots chasing kills. So you head out.

You grab your shit, walk out the door, and that’s when you see her.

Leaning against the wall, just outside the PC bang entrance, scrolling through her phone. Face mask, cap, sunglasses. A crop top black hoodie. An interesting take on Nagyung’s incognito mode, but it’s not her. You can tell immediately.

This girl’s taller. Shoulders squarer, posture straighter. Her frame’s more athletic—less cute and bubbly smiles, more charismatic. Not petite, but not imposing either. Alluring. Almost your height. Almost.

And she’s switched to watching you.

She tilts her head at you. It’s not coy like Nagyung does. There’s no flirty cheerfulness, no expressive energy hiding under her hoodie. This isn’t a girl acting shy and rocking your world when she isn't.

This is a woman waiting for you to notice her—and being so damn sure you would.

She pushes off the wall, approaches you with too much confidence that you won’t run away. One hand pulls her mask down, the other lowers her mask just enough to reveal her eyes.

Almond-shaped, like a cat. Heavy-lidded. Confident. Sultry in a way that feels inherent, not something that can be taught.

You know those eyes. You know that beauty mark. You know that whole face.

How could you not, after everything you love and have been through?

Chaeyoung.

Oh.

Fromis_9’s Chaeyoung. So first Nagyung shows up inside your PC bang, and now Chaeyoung outside of it? How the fuck are you supposed to lampshade that?

“You know what’s crazy?” she says, way too confident again that you’re not in shock just from the fact that she’s talking to you. “Our dorm’s five minutes from here.”

You blink. “I’m not sure that’s the craziest thing happening here.”

She slips her phone into the pocket of her hoodie and steps a little closer, letting her face mask snap back into place but putting the sunglasses in her other pocket.

“We can agree on that, but it’s still weird, right?” she says, turning and glancing toward the PC bang entrance. “We’ve both got these big personal setups at our dorm. With the custom gaming chairs and everything.”

She smirks at you like that detail’s supposed to mean something. “That sounds comfortable.”

“I know. So I couldn’t figure out why she’d keep coming back here,” she continues. “I know she used to come here occasionally when she just wanted some me time. But now she’s here all the time. It’s like, obsessive. Right after a rant about quitting League for Overwatch.”

You shrug, pull your best confused face. “Maybe she just likes the snacks they have here?”

“I’d believe you if you didn’t exist,” Chaeyoung shoots back, but there’s no bite to it. She points a finger at you, not accusatory, just stating a fact. “I know you’re why she’s been ranking up rapidly.”

Okay, yeah. Busted. There’s no way to know what she knows, but there’s no point in denying any accusations she makes that hit the nail on the head.

“Was I not supposed to?” you question back, a bit more coy than you would have a month ago.

“Nah, relax,” she says. “I’m not here to criticize you or anything.”

You look at her, intrigued.

“I just figured it was time we met. I want your help to get my rank above Nakko back.”

You’re about to try and turn her down, some sort of loyalty to Nagyung shining through, but she doesn’t wait for you to catch up. “You free now?”

You nod, unsure why. Maybe because you’re not used to saying no to beautiful women, or maybe because Chaeyoung’s presence is more gravitational than conversational.

“Wait, no,” you interject before you even figure out anything further. “I don’t think I should be doing that. I think it might hurt my chances with Nagyung.” It seems your spine hasn’t left you fully just yet, or maybe this is the effect of being a spineless being. Who can tell?

“Look,” she says, stepping in just a little closer, physically looking up at you, just slightly, but really, looking down at you a little bit. “I know she hasn’t been here since she hit gold. Has to not feel great for you either, huh?”

You blink at her, all of her words causing your brain to lag behind. “You’re tracking her now?”

She just shrugs, and the difference in social skills and fluidity is just painful. “I live with her. Not that hard to figure out when she is or isn’t sneaking out in a disguise to go to a PC bang literally 5 minutes away.”

You try to come up with something clever, but nothing lands, not with those eyes piercing you. She keeps going.

“And I’m just saying,” she adds, tone dropping into a more persuasive and smooth version, “I have a reputation to uphold if I still want to get brand deals with HLE. What you get out of it, is a hyper competitive Nakko, one who gets so obsessed with beating my rank, that she won’t leave your side until she does.”

You cross your arms, trying to regain some footing. “So your plan is to get some random dude from a PC bang to coach you up to a meaningless rank in a videogame? Why not get someone with actual qualifications?”

“My plan,” she says, pointing at you again, “is to use you specifically to get a higher rank so I can get under her skin a bit because I fucking love teasing her.”

“Does it have to be me?“

“Yeah, kind of.“ Chaeyoung’s answer is so quick and so direct it makes you feel silly for asking, which is probably the point. “You’ve already proven you can get Nakko up there, and you’ve managed this entire conversation without turning into the worst fanboy. If it’s not you, it won’t work as well. Also, you’re easy on the eyes.“ She says it all with such calculated ease, the last part tacked on like an indulgence added on to a grocery list. The worst is that she doesn’t even look like she’s even remotely kidding.

You’re trying to hide your fluster. “You do realize we just met, right?“

“Yeah, but Nakko trusts you, so it’s probably fine.“

You actually laugh at that.

“So,” she says, tilting her head again, “you game?”

”Fine.” You sigh, then nod. “I’ll do it.”

There’s a lot to be said for all the horrible timelines this could create in where you fuck it all up. But you also know, deep down, this is the only way to move forward. No game-winning play was ever made without risk.

Chaeyoung’s smile is satisfied, like she was just waiting for you to catch up on how great of an idea this is. “Smart. Come on.“

Your instinct is to turn around, back into the colosseum of computers, but instead she starts walking briskly down the street, not even checking if you’re following. You have to jog a few steps just to catch up with her and her impossibly long legs.

“Where are we going?” you ask. Can’t assume anything with these idols after all.

She glances at you, then forward again. “Dorm. I wasn’t lying about the setups.”

You balk at that. “You’re just gonna let a random guy into your dorm?”

“Not a random guy,” she retorts. “My new coach. Try to keep up.“

“And I can’t be your new coach in a public setting? I’m not complaining, mind you.“

“Nope. Nakko might like it, but I hate PC bangs. Constant fear of people approaching me, having to wear this stupid disguise the entire team. I need to be in a good headspace to perform well, y’know?“

“If you were a prodigy, you wouldn’t be talking to me,” you shoot back.

“That’s… a surprisingly good instinct,“ you concede, matching her stride.

“See, I knew that deep down I’m a prodigy,“ Chaeyoung says, and you swear it’s accompanied with a smirk even with the mask in place.

“And if Nakko was gaming with you, you wouldn’t be talking to me.“

You wonder if this is normal for her—if she always is this comfortable and easy to banter with when meeting strangers.

She only lets a beat of silence linger. “Was that mean?“

“It wasn’t wrong.“

“Damn. At least you’re honest,” she says. “I can see how you’d be able to coach Nakko.“

“So.“ She glances over at you, “what’s your main?“

“Ahri,“ you say, and then regret it immediately, her stride stopping and looking at you like you just told her you’re actually three Teemo’s in a coat.

“Oh my god.“

“I take it you’re not the biggest fan of Ahri,” you question, and she’s quick to respond.

“No, I love Ahri. It’s the Ahri mains. They all either are perverts or think they’re hot shit,” she says, turning back on her heels and walking further. “I’m just trying to figure out which one you are.“

“What if I’m both?“ You raise an eyebrow.

She chuckles, and it’s a sound you could get used to. “Then you’re at least self-aware, and your coaching might work.“

“What about you then?“ you question back, seeing if hers is any better.

She strides further, and speaks filled with pride when she answers your question. “I main support. Seraphine.“

“Seriously?“

“Yeah, what about it?“

“That’s a little on the nose, don’t you think?“ You take a beat. “Tall and pretty idol plays tall and pretty popstar champion.“

“Aw, you think I’m pretty?“ she taunts back, clearly unaffected by you trying to make fun of her.

“Isn’t that, like, a requirement for your job?” you volley back, but it’s mostly a stall for time, because this is… something. It’s barely been three minutes and you’re already having more fun than you ever had in solo queue.

“Just like it’s a requirement for my job to tell you that from now on,“ you continue, “you’re not a support main anymore. You main mid now, because otherwise this climb is going to take years.“

“You’re the boss,” she says, matter-of-fact.

The dorm building is exactly five minutes away, like advertised. It’s a newer building, the kind with a digital keylock outside and a tidy little lobby that smells like pine cleaner.

Chaeyoung ushers you in like it’s nothing, and leads you up through the world’s quietest elevator.

You brace yourself, not sure what to expect from a girlgroup dorm; glitter, maybe. Plushies and pastel everything. But the living room is minimalist, almost monastic and monochromatic save from some plants introducing color. Dark gray couches, a glass coffee table with a magazine on it, and a kitchen visible through a wide pass-through. There’s a bowl of instant noodles and a half finished fruit smoothie.

It feels unmistakably normal.

Chaeyoung’s stride doesn’t diminish as she steps out of her shoes and keeps moving. She beelines for the far end of the hallway, and you follow like she has an invisible leash tied to you.

Multiple doors line the walls, and she grabs the handle to the last one on the left. Chaeyoung makes a sharp turn towards you, blocking the frame with her body.

“Wait here,“ she says, holding her hand up to your chest to stop you from following. “I wanna put on something a little more comfortable. Don’t touch anything, don’t go snooping around any of the rooms, just…yeah. Stand there. Wait for me. Try to blend in.“

You nod, she smiles, and she’s disappeared into her room.

You hear a storm of movement inside; drawers, a closet door, some fabric rustling, all at a speed you couldn’t possibly keep up with. Images of her changing pop into your head, and you try to stop yourself from visualising it lest you make it obvious, but that’s a losing battle.

The lock on the door clicks—after barely any time passing—and the door cracks open just the slightest amount. “You can come in now.“

You step inside—and your brain lags.

She’s done away with anything that could hide her identity, but didn’t stop there. She’s swapped the hoodie and joggers for a sleeveless HLE merch top, no doubt customized herself. The whole look is finished with a dark pleated skirt, and black thigh-high socks that stop barely underneath her skirt.

“Is this, like, some kind of power move?“ you ask, because you can’t not. Who has this in mind when they mean something more comfortable?

She clocks you staring, and makes a big show of stretching her arms overhead with a level of comfortable confidence you thought would be reserved for being on stage. “Do you like it? I figured you’d be more motivated if I gave you something good to look at.“

You swallow like an idiot, then try to regain some control. “You’re missing the cliche cat ears.“

She bursts out into laughter, and takes a seat in the only chair available at her desk. Her computer boots up in a matter of seconds, and she’s already logging in to League of Legends.

She smirks, opens a drawer—which had a small plushie of Ahri on a keyring hanging from the handle, the hypocrite—in her white desk where she houses her entire gaming rig, which is all aggressively pink and white, and pulls a pair of headphones with cat ears attached to them. She jams them on her head and strikes a pose, curling her fingers like a cat at you. “Better?“

“Oh my god.“

“So, coach, how do you want to do this?“ The way she says it is so casual, and so full of trust. Nagyung would have thrown a wink in, or added some dirty undertone, but Chaeyoung is all business.

“You comfortable playing mid? I can coach you for support, but if you want to climb fast—“

“Are you sure you don’t want to duo with me? Show me how good you really are?“ she asks, and it feels like a test.

You don’t even consider it for a second. “Well, if you want to drop to silver the second I step out of your room again, we can. But if you want to actually have a shot at staying above Nagyung, I’ll just watch and tell you what you can improve on.“

“You know,” she says as she nods, and looks actually kind of impressed, “most guys like you would jump on the chance to impress me.“

“Yeah, well, most guys like me haven’t been through what I’ve been through with Nagyung. I think.“

Chaeyoung furrows her brow at that, but it quickly disappears as her queue pops. She gets mid, and hovers over Seraphine for a second, then turns to you. “So should I also play Ahri, or…?“

“Play what you’re comfortable with. Seraphine is fine mid.“

She sighs from relief, then locks in Seraphine. The loading screen reveals the harsh truth: she’s Silver III. Better than what Nagyung was two weeks ago, but not a starting point you can get to Gold in a couple of hours. Probably.

The next fifteen minutes are a crash course in how not to play mid. She eats a full Syndra combo when she steps up for a cannon minion, causing her to miss it. But you call her out on it, and it only happened one more time. She tries to roam bot with no prio, while her jungle is top side. Obviously, she dies as she gets collapsed on by the enemy jungle. You explain to her why that was a bad play.

To her credit, she never tilts. She just keeps talking through her thought process, narrating the inner machinations of a Silver.

You even get her far enough ahead to, somehow, win that first game. Her mechanics are sufficient enough for Gold, it’s just game knowledge that’s holding her back.

She clicks past the victory screen, points to her damage stat (highest in the team, thanks to some great coaching), and smugly turns towards you. “See? I told you. Prodigy.“

“Yeah, you only inted like two times—“

“Thank you! I knew you recognized real talent.“

“—per minute.“ You finish, after her premature gloating.

She looks at you for a second, standing next to her, then at her bed. “Are you planning on coaching me while standing the entire time? You’re allowed to sit, you know. The bed is right there.“

You don’t argue with her about it. Plop down on her bed, carefully, and the perfectly made sheets barely crumble under you.

Chaeyoung looks at you as if to check if you’re fine there, and you nod. She’s in a new game already, again mid, again Seraphine, and you settle back into a growingly familiar rhythm of watching her play and you pointing out every single mistake she makes.

You even develop your own little micro-language. You say “risky cannon“ and she knows to back the fuck off; she says “trust me“ and you already know she’s about to int.

It isn’t even all game talk. Well, that still happens (“Chaeyoung, don’t chase, you have no vision.” “That’s a bad trade, you’re sitting on 1.2k unspent gold.“) and she’ll grumble, but she listens. But between deaths, between queues, there’s time and space for you to get to know each other.

She’s just farming, and doesn’t even bother to look at you when she speaks half the time. “You know, you’re not really what I expected from you. You don’t fit the vibe of like, the awkward gamer crowd, I mean.“

“Should I take that as a compliment?“ you ask, skeptical.

She shrugs. “Sure, why not? Most of them are, like, the moment they figure out you’re an idol, they get either weirdly awkward or weirdly… reverent? Like my identity suddenly demanded for them to change. You didn’t blink.“

“Well, yeah, you were disguised,“ you point out.

“Please, don’t bullshit me. You totally recognized me.“ You can see her look at you from the corner of her eye, a smirk to go with it. “I saw the double take you did.“

“A benefit from hanging out with Nagyung, I guess?“

“Probably. Doesn’t make it less refreshing for me.“

She locks in for a moment, you give her the quiet she needs to focus—and much to your surprise, she actually makes a really good play all by herself. Solo kills the enemy laner. This time, she doesn’t gloat, but just picks up where you left off.

“So, you and Nakko,“ she says, while recalling under her turret. “How’d that even start?“

You give a noncommittal shrug, she doesn’t catch it because her eyes are glued to the monitor. “I honestly thought you already knew.“

She chuckles. “She hasn’t told me a single thing. All I know is what I saw with my own eyes while out gathering intel on why she was climbing so fast.“

“Oh. So what did you see?“

“I saw her plant a kiss on your cheek. Like, in public.“

“I mean, it’s not a big deal,“ you say, hoping the casual will stick.

“Not a big deal?“ She spins her chair, casual having the opposite effect. “That’s a fucking big deal for an idol, and that makes you clearly one step above a regular coach helping her score some elo. You know, any guy in your position would have been bragging about how big of a deal that is.“

“I’m sorry?“

“So that can only mean one thing. You’re already desensitized to it.“

She’s so fucking sharp. No wonder coaching her is this easy, she catches anything you say and don’t say.

“Oh, I don’t—“

“So what’s the story?“ she interrupts your pussyfooting around it. “You don’t strike me as the type to hit on random girls. No offense.“

You can’t help but think she’s not wrong about that. “She kind of… chose me. I was just there. Some random in her game was getting on her nerves, and I helped her shit stomp him.“

“Ah, that makes sense,“ Chaeyoung says, but her tone is a gentle breeze. “Did she tell you about her bucket list?“

You shake your head, but she doesn’t catch it again. You kind of feel like an idiot for it, and use your words to say the same.

“She made one when we were in between companies,“ Chaeyoung explains, as if this is her secret to reveal, somehow. “All the stuff she wants to do but couldn’t because of strict company rules and tight schedules. Like hitting diamond in League.“

“That’s… actually kind of adorable,“ you chuckle.

“She is, annoyingly so,“ Chaeyoung says, and there’s this fond tone that carries her voice. “She obsesses over these little goals she gives herself. I guess it’s her style of coping with… life, I guess. She’ll tunnel vision, and then, the second it’s done, she forgets all about it.“

You realize you felt that last bit firsthand. “I just thought she got bored. Or maybe I was getting boring.“

“Wow, you really are dense,“ Chaeyoung says, but not mean. Same fond tone. This time a little more pity carried with it, like she’s teasing a puppy for not knowing how mirrors work. “She probably likes you. Otherwise she would have never played with you a second time. Trust me.“

You want to protest, but the conviction in Chaeyoung’s voice makes you second guess your entire history with Nakko.

Her game ends—already on a three game win streak—and she doesn’t queue, instead, swivels in her chair to turn towards you. “So. What really happened? What got you so desensitized?“

You can’t look at her face. “It’s not a big deal.“

“You saying that makes it sound like a big deal,“ she says. “Which makes me want to figure out what exactly happened.“

“She has me on a proverbial leash, keeping me satisfied with occasional affection.“

She doesn’t look impressed. “That’s not it. I promise I’m not going to use it against you. Besides, Nakko told you to keep this all quiet, didn’t she? Who else do you have to brag to about all this?“

You hesitate, she just waits.

Then finally, because it’s been sitting in your chest for weeks and she’s right and she asked nicely which is a stupid fucking reason but still—

“She sucked my dick.”

She blinks.

You dig a deeper hole.

“First night we met. I think I caught her at a weird time. Helped her put some guy that was flaming her in his place. She sat in my lap, and said I deserved a reward. Under the desk. Mid-game. Even said that next time, she’d let me fuck her. Same place. Blanket over us, wanted me inside her while she played.“

Her lips part just slightly. Not from disgust. Not even shock. Just pure, stunned intrigue.

“Holy shit. Nakko really is running her bucket list at top speed.“ She tilts her head, considering you for all this. “And you didn’t even question it?“

“Have you taken a good look at Nagyung? There’s no universe where I say no to her,“ you admit. “And she’s good at it too. But it’s not like—“

“Man, she's been obsessed with wanting to try public stuff for, like, ever. Used to show me all these fucked up twitter threads and say, ‘Can you imagine?’ like it was a normal thing for girls like us to want.“

“Right. That helps explain it somewhat.“

“So like, you two have fucked already? Why the fuck are you still here?“ she questions, like you’re making a big mistake just being here.

“Oh. No, eh, no we haven’t. That part never came to be. After that first night, she just stuck to giving me kisses on my cheek and other innocent stuff.“

Chaeyoung squints at you like you’ve just missed eight skillshots in a row.

“She promised to let you fuck her while playing videogames, and then just downgraded to cheek kisses?“

“Yeah. I guess.”

“And you didn’t say anything?“

“What the hell was I supposed to say? ‘Hey, remember when you offered to fuck a stranger in a public setting? I was just wondering where that fits into your schedule’?“

Chaeyoung turns back toward her screen, but doesn’t click anything. You can see her thinking—eyebrows slightly pulled, a little too amused to be concerned, a little too concerned to be just amused.

Then she says, like it just occurred to her, “Okay, but like… what if it’s your dick?”

You look at her. “What?”

“I’m just saying.” She holds up both hands like she’s presenting a neutral hypothesis. “Maybe you’ve got a weird one, and it scared her off.”

You look at her, stunned. “What?“

“I’m just saying.“ She holds up both hands like she’s presenting a neutral hypothesis. “Maybe you’ve got a weird weiner, and it scared her off.“

“My dick’s not weird.“

“Pretty defensive for a dude with a normal dick.“

You cross your arms, retreating. “Because it’s a weird thing to say.“

“Is it though? Maybe it’s like, aggressively curved. Like a candy cane.“

“What?” You can’t believe what you’re hearing. “No.“

“That’s not a thing.“

“It might be,“ she responds, way too excited. “I’m just trying to help you out here dude, damn. Unbiased third party. I could take a look and confirm, if you want.“

“Just kidding!“ she says immediately. Then pauses with a confused look on her face. “Wait, what? You don’t want me to?“

“Absolutely not.“

She frowns. “Why not?“

“Because that’s insane.“

“I mean, yeah, but like, most guys would kill to show their dick to an idol.“

You’re a little flabbergasted. “Still, I don’t—“

“C’mon, I’m literally doing you a favor. For science. To clear your name.“

You stare at her. She stares at you.

“…I’m not showing you my dick.“

She leans forward, her sharp eyes wide now. “Come on. Just a peek. Just enough to say it’s not cursed. I won’t touch. Swear.“

You shake your head.

She pouts, lower lip out, voice pitch rising into her best aegyo whine. “But oppa, how will I sleep without having seen the world's weirdest dick?“

“That works for Nagyung. It doesn’t work for you.“

“Wow, rude?“ she says. “You’ll have to show me your dick now to make it up to me.“

You stand your ground. She crosses her arms.

“Fine,“ she huffs. “Then I guess I have to take a look myself.“

“Wait, what—“

She lunges. Releases an infinite duress upon you.

You try to resist, but it’s hard. She’s agile, quick and stronger than she looks. And you’re trying your best not to hurt her or grab anything inappropriate. She’s already halfway in your lap, having way too much fun, hands fumbling and grasping at your waistband.

“Stop—hey—Chaeyoung—“

“Just a peek! I need to know!“

You try to twist away, but you’re laughing now too, trying and failing to hold her off without elbowing her in the face. She’s relentless.

She gets her hand in your waistband and then the rest is a blur. You’re not fully hard, but she’s got you in a grip, and the effect is changing that quickly. Her face reads, at first, like she’s just won a claw machine prize—a flash of triumph, then a drop into fascination as she pushes the elastic down and your cock springs free, thick and long and heavy against her wrist.

She doesn’t even move for a full second, just—stares at it. Then her eyes flick up at you, then back down. She lets go and pokes at it experimentally, like she’s afraid it might lunge at her. “Oh my god,” she says, under her breath, but there’s no punchline this time.

“You were right,” she says, reverent, voice low. “It’s not weird at all. It’s just—” She cuts herself off, wrapping her fingers around the base like she’s limit testing what fits. “Jesus. It’s like, stupid big. I get it now.” She gives it a single, slow pump across the entire length, followed by two shallow and fast pumps. “I don’t know why you’d even try to hide this thing.“

You start to stammer out an apology, but she lets go, sits back, and watches as your cock slaps against your stomach, fully erect now and leaking at the tip. “Okay, so maybe,” she concedes, “Nagyung wasn’t running away from you, she was just… intimidated. Or maybe she didn’t want to die. Or she just wanted to properly seduce you so she could have you all to herself forever.”

You reach to pull your pants back up, but her hand swats yours away with cat-like reflexes. Her eyes flick up for just a second, before drifting back towards your tower. “What are you doing?“ she says, as if you’re the one acting crazy.

You try to muster a defensive laugh. “I figured you’d seen enough. Not a cursed cock, point proven, right?“

“Not cursed. Unbelievable,“ she mutters. “I had a phase, you know? Like, a legit size difference kink. Masturbating to any videos I could find online almost daily. Thought I got over it, but—“ She gives you another look, more hungry this time, one hand snaking around the base of your cock. “You might have just reactivated it.“

You cough, try to play it off, but your cock twitches in her grip and ruins any pretense that you’re unmoved by this.

She kneels between your legs, and looks up at you with her chin on your thigh. “Do you want me to stop?” she says, but the drip of her voice makes it obvious she doesn’t want you to. “Unless you only let Nakko touch you. There’s something respectable about that.” Her hand doesn’t move away, though.

“I mean—“ you begin, but she cuts you off. “Would be a shame though. I can stop, but you’re so hard right it feels a little rude to just put it away. It’s my fault after all.“

She leans in closer, studying the way your cock twitches under her gaze. “I mean… what if it’s bad for your health?“ she adds, deadpan, fully aware of her own bullshit with her face breaking into a smile luminous enough to bring you to your knees. So to speak.

She pumps you again, then lets her palm rest at the base, fingers splayed so she can appreciate the girth. “You’re not even trying to stop me,” she observes, voice dropping a half octave, which is more than enough to make any loyalty you had vaporize out of your body.

“Let it be known I actually did try. You’re just very convincing,“ you say.

You look down, and it’s a fucking beautiful sight. Her face is flushed, lips parted, pink tongue flicking at the corner of her mouth as she surveys your cock like a luxury item she’s been saving up for. You shake your head, just once.

Then, completely unselfconscious, she leans in and lays her cheek against your shaft, nuzzling it like it’s a plush toy. “It’s so warm.”

She rubs her cheek up and down your length, like the world’s most expensive back massager, sighing happily as she does it. Her palm doesn’t even move, just holds you, cradles you with all the care of an appraiser who just found a masterwork.

She’s not just teasing anymore; she’s shifted to full on stroking your cock up and down, two hands working in tandem.

“God, I can’t believe this,“ she murmurs, delighted. “I was gonna treat you to fried chicken as a thank you for coaching me, you know.“

“Right,“ you grunt out. “That would have been so generous of you.“

Her hand gives you a particularly firm tug. “Shut up! It’s not my fault. I saw your dick and what you did with Nakko and I just… lost the plot.“

She shifts her angle, one hand taking control over your base, and slaps your shaft playfully against her cheek. Once at first, then twice, maybe three times—each making a soft sound against her skin. Your cock is making a reverberating sound against the cheek of a famous idol.

She giggles with each one. “So like, Nakko only gives you kisses on your cheek now, right?“ she muses, eyes sparkling as she taps the tip against her cheekbone again. “How’s it feel letting your dick do the kissing for once?“

It’s obscene.

“Tell me… did she kiss you like this?“ she asks, and leans in, lips pursed against your tip, sloppy and wet and perfect as she presses one, two, three kisses onto you. “Hmm?“

Her tongue flattens out against you as she keeps pressing kisses, and soon it’s a flood—dozens, hundreds, affectionate and endless. She smears her lip gloss across your skin with every press of her mouth.

“C’mon,” she whispers, breath hot against you between kisses. “Whose kisses do you like better?”

This is bait, but you have no vision and you just need to know what happens if you step into it. You try to answer but she doesn’t give you the space. Her lips are everywhere, dotting kisses around the crown, along the shaft, over your slit like she’s worshiping it one kiss at a time.

She’s totally absorbed, the kind of focus you recognize from locking the fuck in to carry a teamfight. That’s not all you notice. She giggles, wipes her chin, and gives a couple more pumps before showering you with open-mouthed kisses again. Then she sits up onto her knees, wipes her palms on the hem of her skirt and inches beneath it.

Chaeyoung’s hand is moving inside, fingers clearly working herself as she looks at you with animal intent.

“Do you know how long it’s been since I had anyone touch me?” she asks, but it’s rhetorical, because her eyes are lustful, her free hand alternating between jerking you off and bracing herself against your thigh.

“You know, technically, you’re doing all the touching,“ you moan back, eyes only half open with a forced smirk.

She pulls her hand out of her cunt, glistening, and brings it up to your mouth, presses her fingers to your lips. “Lick. Please.“

You happily oblige. Her taste is tangy, sticky, unmistakably real—the kind of real you can’t even try to reproduce with the highest end computer builds. Chaeyoung smiles with a constricting satisfaction that doesn’t need to be spoken.

“Good boy,“ she says, velvet and equally sticky as her taste. “Nakko’s been blueballing you, hasn’t she?“

You try to protest—something, anything—but the words don’t come out. Your mouth is still full of her fingers, and she only slowly, teasingly withdraws them, watching your lips chase after the taste as she does.

“I bet you’ve been hoping to get another taste of her every single day you played with her, didn’t you?“

She stands up just enough to trail her fingers along your inner thighs, a line of slick being painted across them. “You’ve been walking around with this for weeks, and Nagyung never even gave you another handjob or anything? Your poor cock must feel so neglected.“

You’re about to answer when she lifts her shirt, exposing her tits and the absence of a bra. This must have been a part of changing into something more comfortable. Your jaw nearly hits the floor at the sight of her peaky nipples, and she gives you a look that tells you she knows you can’t look away.

“Are you just going to stare at them?” she says, fingers clutching the hem of her shirt so the fabric stays barely underneath her neck, as if she’s worried they’ll leap out and attack you. “I thought you Ahri players were supposed to be aggressive.”

You reach, not even pretending otherwise, and cup one in your hand. It’s firm, impossibly soft, the weight of it perfect in your palm. Her nipple is already hard. You run your thumb over it experimentally, and she sighs, eyelids fluttering as if you’d cast Exhaust on her brain.

You play like that for a few seconds, mentally comparing them to Nagyung’s but taking that thought to the grave, and then ask, “Can I suck on them?“

She looks down, one eye closed, the other hooded looking at you but struggling to stay open, before nodding.

The sight and permission hits you like a Rift Herald charge.

You get maybe a second with your mouth on her nipple—just long enough for your tongue to flick over the peak, for your lips to draw a soft gasp from her—before she laughs, pushes you back by the forehead, and pinches your cheek.

“Down, boy,” Chaeyoung says, smirk back in full effect. “You can have more later. Maybe. If you’re a good coach and don’t blow your load in the first minute.”

You’re dick twitches. “First minute?“

“I mean, look at you,” she says. “You’re aching. You’ve been hard since I laid eyes on it. Don’t you want to know how tight I feel with you inside of me? Not your imagination. Not what Nakko said she’d give you. Me. For real.”

“Are you being serious right now?“ you ask.

“You want to, don’t you?“ she whispers. “Because I fucking need to. The size, the stretch—fuck, I want it.“

“Of course I fucking want to. I’m pretty sure every guy ever has wanted to know how tight someone like you feels.“

“Someone like me?“ she asks, raised eyebrow and all. And now you have to be careful.

“Yeah I mean. You know. An idol. Body honed to perfection and all that,“ you blurt out, failing at your one single objective.

“God,“ she chuckles wryly. “You are so lucky you activated my kink like a fucking sleeper agent. You need a coach for flirting.“

You swallow. Your cock twitches again, visible and obvious.

“Say something,” she murmurs. “Tell me you want it too.”

“I do,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. “God, I do.”

She smiles—messy and relieved and impossibly turned on.

“I still haven’t hit Gold,” she says. “You promised to help. And I take promises very seriously. So I guess I just have to take responsibility for Nakko’s promise, don’t I?”

You’re thinking of what your next move should be, you know, to prove you’re not completely hopeless at flirting, and she has the audacity to let her tits bounce right in your face as she drops her ass back in her chair. She spreads her legs slowly, her skirt riding up, her underwear already gone (when the fuck did she take them off?), and you realize, with a sudden, sharp clarity, that she’s going to make good on Nagyung’s promise before her. Raw, right here, right now, in front of her computer, and you’re powerless to stop any of it.

Your next move should be to take charge, maybe get up and throw her onto the bed, or at least fuck her standing up so you can pretend you’re in control. Instead, you just look at her, hunched over her desk, skirt flipped up, ass pointed straight at you and a sopping wet slit practically begging for your attention.

She beckons you closer without a word, one hand resting at the top of her thigh, the other adjusting her headphones with cat ears like it’s part of the uniform. You step forward, but she’s already standing, stepping out of her chair, motioning for you to take it. You do, because what else would you do, and the warm indent of her body lingers in the cushion.

She reaches under the desk—no, wait, she’s grabbing something from the side—and with a practiced flourish, she pulls out a thick, fleece blanket and drapes it over both of your laps. “Have to give you the full experience, don’t I?” she says, as if this is all strictly professional.

She doesn’t ride you right away. Instead, she sits on your lap, back to you, skirt flipped up and her bare ass settled right against your cock. She’s warm, absurdly so, and the contact is enough to make you forget all common sense. She shimmies, grinding against you as she clicks back into League, the game humming to life and projecting doom.

“Don’t get comfortable just yet,” she says, and she leans forward, arms extended over to the keyboard and mouse, the whole pose pretentious and theatrical to draw your attention to the perfect arch of her back, the way her ass keeps her skirt nice and rumpled above her hips.

She lifts herself up, glances over her shoulder at you, one eyebrow raised, braces her hands on the armrests of her chair, and then—as fast as she can take it, which is excruciatingly slow—starts lowering herself gently onto your cock. The friction isn’t the issue, she’s so wet it was barely a thought. It’s the tightness.

The first inch is easy, and then there’s resistance, and then she’s shuddering with a full-body tremor as she takes another two. She pauses, breathing hard, eyes shut tight beneath the cat-eared headphones and the smirk that lets you know she still loves it.

“Oh my god,” she whispers, and it’s not performative, not for your benefit. She opens her eyes, gives you a look that’s half smug and half pleading, and then keeps going, lowering herself inch by inch, using her thighs to steady herself on you. You want to help her, but she’s got it handled. She’s so tight you’re worried you might actually break her, but it feels so fucking good you don’t care if you do.

She bottoms out with a gasp, her ass planted firmly against your hips, your cock buried so deep in her you can feel her heartbeat at the tip. She doesn’t move at first, her leg muscles spasming slightly against your thighs and breathing through her nose like she’s trying not to pass out.

“Are you good?“ you ask, hoping the answer is yeah because you can’t wait to start pounding up into her.

“I’m amazing,” she says, “you’re a perfect fit.“ She glances back at you again, lips curled up in a feline smile. “Don’t move. I need to get used to being your cockwarmer first.”

You don’t trust yourself to speak, so you just nod, jaw clenched as you try not to explode instantly. The blanket is doing its job, covering you both from the waist down, but the sight of her back, the motion of her hands as she readies the mouse and keyboard, is almost too much.

She logs back into League, queueing up for another game. You think you’re going to get a second to recover, but as soon as she’s loaded in, she starts to grind, subtle at first—tiny, controlled movements, her cunt massaging your cock in slow, deliberate pulses.

“Chaeyoung—” you manage, but she hushes you.

“I need to focus if I’m going to climb,” she says, but her hand reaches back and grabs your wrist, placing it on her thigh. “You can touch, just don’t distract me too much. And definitely don’t stop coaching me.”

You’re going to int. So is she. That’s just part of the deal now. You let your hand drift to the bare skin of her thigh, fingers slipping just under the edge of her sock and squeezing to hold on. She flexes her leg against your palm, then keeps playing, her body still rocking on your cock in the slow, torturous rhythm that’s going to kill you before the game even starts.

You try to watch the screen, see what she’s doing. She’s locked in Seraphine mid again, and you can actually tell she’s improved—her laning is cleaner, she’s dodging more skillshots, but every time she takes a trade, she clenches around you, and you have to bite back a groan.

That’s all you needed to hear. You begin slow, hands firmly gripping her hips, lifting her only slightly and slowly pushing into her, shallowly, just enough to make her know what she signed up for. She keeps playing, but her focus starts to drift, movements growing less precise, skillshots occasionally way off target. You don’t stay that nice though.

You’re not doing a great job of coaching. You’re just grunting, hands squeezing her thighs, occasionally daring to sneak under her skirt, ghosting her abs but no higher. She’s just grinding on you in sync with the action on her screen. It doesn’t really matter. Anytime you try to give her advice now, she doesn’t listen. She’s just enjoying the feeling of you inside her, molding around you, using your cock as a reward system for every good play she makes.

Laning phase ends, she doesn’t have to constantly focus on last hitting minions and wave control, so she leans back, rests her head on your shoulder as her eyes go skyward looking for you, and whispers into your ear, “You can start moving now if you want, Coach.“

You fuck her through a teamfight, already pounding half of your cocks worth in and out of her each thrust, the wet heat of her cunt milking you for all you’re worth, and when she misses a perfect ult opportunity, you lose control and slam into her with a force that nearly knocks her off the chair.

She squeals, high-pitched and utterly un-idol-like, then clamps a hand over her mouth, eyes wide as she looks at you. “You’re going to make me lose,” she protests, but she’s smiling, her cheeks flushed and her whole body vibrating with pleasure.

Another victory screen pops up. This one, less deserved. She doesn’t queue for another one, just hangs her head and finds your rhythm.

Chaeyoung’s head is thrown back onto your shoulder now, her breathing coming fast and uneven, and she’s not even pretending to care about the computer anymore. Her thighs are flexing with every bounce, her hands bracing on your knees as she fucks herself down onto you, greedy and desperate and still so tight you can barely move without seeing stars.

She’s moaning in sync with the rhythm of your hips, biting her lower lip to keep it from being audible beyond the walls. Your hands have abandoned all pretense and are everywhere: on her hips, on her tits, on her throat, and back to her thighs, where you squeeze so hard you’re sure to leave marks. She’s loving every second, and the closer you get, the more she grinds back onto you, desperate, greedy, relentless.

You’re so close. She is too—her voice has gone all high and shaky, little moans slipping out after every thrust, and you can feel her cunt start to flutter around you, the beginning of something huge.

You’re about to say something, anything, when the apartment’s outer door thunders open. There’s a thud, the jangle of keys, and then—Nagyung’s voice, bright and echoey from the foyer:

“Chaeng! Are you home? I brought the chicken you asked for!” A rustle, and again, “Chaeng?”

You freeze, but Chaeyoung doesn’t. She rides you harder, her ass clapping down on your lap with new urgency, and she doesn’t even look back as she hisses, “Just be quiet. It’s fine.”

You panic like you’ve been caught in a spotlight, but Chaeyoung just grinds down harder, one hand reaching back to clamp over your mouth. “Don’t stop,” she whispers “I’m so fucking close. ”

You’re not sure you could if you wanted to. The blanket, thank god, is still perfectly in place. Your cock is buried to the hilt in her, and your collective shame is the only thing keeping you both from screaming.

Chaeyoung is breathing so shallow you can see her ribs move. She slumps down into the chair, planting herself even deeper on your cock, grinding her ass in tiny circles to make it look like she’s just sitting, not impaled.

You want to believe it’ll work. You really do.

The door to Chaeyoung’s room swings open. Nagyung stands in the doorway, holding a convenience store bag in one hand and an iced coffee in the other, her hair tied up in a ponytail, a grey hoodie with a white fitted tank, matching grey gym shorts and thigh highs in the same hue to tie it all together..

All three of you freeze. Time stops, or maybe just slows down to the frame rate of a lagging game.

Nagyung blinks at you. Then at Chaeyoung. Then at the space between you. Her mouth forms a small, perfect circle.

“Oh,” she says. “You’re here.”

You open your mouth, but words don’t come.

She takes in the scene: Chaeyoung in your lap, her hands holding the desk, the two of you covered in a blanket even though it’s twenty-six degrees in the apartment. Her eyes narrow, the gears clicking into place.

“Why are you here?”

Chaeyoung sheepishly chimes in. “Nakko, you’re back earlier than I expected.”

“No, Chaeyoung,” she says, crossing her arms, “I’m actually later than I said I would be.”

Chaeyoung’s face twists into an expression you’ve never seen, not even mid-death streak—something between panic and orgasm, which, given the circumstances, might not be all that different. The wince is a full-body thing, and she inadvertently clamps down on you, squeezing so tight it’s like a heartbeat in reverse. Your hips jerk upward just as you try to freeze, and she grinds herself down to bury the evidence, but the blanket bunches and shifts awkwardly.

Nagyung’s gaze tracks the movement. First your face, then Chaeyoung’s, then the blanket, and finally to your lap—where the blanket has failed to hide the shuddering motion of your hips or the way Chaeyoung’s thighs are flush to yours, the tiniest flash of bare skin peeking out as the blanket rides up.

You try to say something, anything, but your entire vocabulary is being squeezed out of you by the girl in your lap.

Nagyung’s gaze slides down, zeroes in, and her nostrils flare. She takes a step closer, tosses the convenience bag on the bed, and points directly at the blanket like she just called a ward in the brush. “What’s under there?”

You start to answer, but Chaeyoung, who hasn’t let you go for a second, turns in your lap and tries to play it off, “I got cold.” She says it so flatly, so unconvincingly, that it lands like a failed flash.

“Take it off,” Nagyung says, tone flat, the kind of command that makes you wonder if you should salute. She’s not speaking to Chaeyoung. She’s speaking to you.

“Excuse me?” Chaeyoung tries to play dumb, ducking her chin into her own shoulder, which only makes her look more caught.

Nagyung drops her grocery bag on the bed. Iced coffee gets put down on the desk. She steps forward, all five feet nothing of her, and yanks the blanket away without warning.

The moment has a physics to it. The blanket peels off, and the tableau is revealed: Chaeyoung’s skirt bunched up, your cock visibly splitting her in half, every inch of you glistening and wet and so deep you can see the outline of your tip against her stomach. Your hands white-knuckled on her hips, her own fingers digging into the armrests for leverage. You’re both so red-faced you look like you’ve just run suicides.

Nagyung’s mouth doesn’t move. Her mask of a face doesn’t even twitch. She just stares.

Neither of you know what to do. Chaeyoung goes to stand, to get off your lap, but Nagyung steps forward and pins her in place with a single, tiny palm on her shoulder.

“Don’t move,” she says, and the command is so final, Chaeyoung shudders and obeys.

Nagyung circles you both, walks around the chair like she’s examining a new champion in the loading screen. Her eyes never leave the place where you’re joined with Chaeyoung. She’s breathing hard, her lips parted, tongue flicking out to wet them, and you realize she’s not mad. Not even a little. She’s jealous. Insanely, violently jealous.

“Are you mad?” Chaeyoung asks, still impaled, already inching up and down with tiny, slutty movements.

“I’m not mad! I’m just—” She looks down at the blanket, then at your face, then at Chaeyoung’s, like she’s running a system diagnostic and the results are inconclusive.

“I was going to ask if you wanted to coach me again tonight,” she says, voice trembling, “but you’re already inside Chae.”

The air in the room is thick with confusion and new possibilities. You try to apologize, but Nagyung just shushes you with a wave. “You were supposed to wait for me, you know. I was finally almost ready.”

You can’t even process that. “Ready for what?”

She ignores the question, instead focusing her attention on Chaeyoung. “And you, Kkwaeng, you couldn’t wait until I hit Platinum before stealing my coach? You’re unbelievable.”

She walks over, kneels in front of the chair, and looks up at the two of you. She reaches out, puts her hand on your thigh, right next to where you’re joined with Chaeyoung, and gives you a look that is pure confusion mixed with a kind of desperate curiosity.

“Does it feel good?” she asks Chaeyoung, her voice a whisper now.

Chaeyoung, mid-orgasmic crisis, manages a shaky nod. “It’s… a lot.”

She leans in, and in her snarkiest voice, says, “That’s my spot, you know.”

You can’t help yourself. “What were you almost ready for?” you blurt, cutting through the tension, because all your blood is below your brain and you need to know.

Nagyung looks up at you, eyes wide and then immediately rolling like she’s never been so offended by a question in her life. “God, you’re so—” She huffs, reaches up, and flicks your forehead, hard enough to sting. “What do you think I meant, genius?”

You stare at her, mouth open, and she shakes her head, exasperated. “You really are dense. I was getting ready, dumbass.” And then, as if this is more humiliating than anything else in the room, she mumbles, “I literally spent the last week stretching myself out with toys, every night, so I could take you for real this time.”

You blink. Then blink again. “You’ve been training for this?”

Chaeyoung, who’s been half-impaled and quietly losing her mind the whole time, bursts out laughing. “Holy shit, it was your cock! Nakko, You’re such a tryhard. I love it.”

Nagyung scowls at her, then at you. “And I had to time my period, too! I’m already taking enough risk sneaking into a PC bang, I’m sure as fuck not getting busted smuggling a condom into one.” She flicks your forehead again, softer this time, but the point lands.

You try to recalibrate your entire understanding of the last two weeks. “You just… didn’t want to say any of that?”

“I didn’t want to sound like a pervert,” Nagyung mutters, cheeks hot pink now, “even if I am one.” She glances at Chaeyoung, who is still fighting not to break character and cackle again. It’s clearly landing a lot more serious than Chaeyoung thought.

“I also wanted to be first,” Nagyung says. She looks down now, lower lip quivering in a way that is both adorable and heartbreaking at the same time. Chaeyoung’s demeanor instantly switches.

“We can stop,” she says, halting all movements.

“It’s too late for that now.” Nagyung looks back, and she crafts this devilish little smile in an instant. “But you are making it up to me.”

Chaeyoung and you share a look, then both look down at Nagyung, who is now on her knees, her face inches from where you’re joined.

“Can I…?” she asks, and you have no idea what she’s about to do, but you nod, because frankly, she could ask you for anything and you’d say yes.

Nagyung leans forward, and, with a delicacy you did not know she possessed, presses her lips to the spot where your cock meets Chaeyoung’s pussy. She kisses the place where you’re joined, then lets her tongue flick out, just a little, tasting the mix of her rival and you.

She licks again, slower this time, savoring it, never breaking eye contact with Chaeyoung, who looks like she might either faint or melt off your lap entirely. Then, with a gentleness that makes your toes curl, Nagyung runs her tongue the length of your shaft where you’re buried in Chaeyoung, tracing along the seam, lapping up the mixture of slick and sweat, never flinching at the taste of her rival.

Chaeyoung shudders, her head thrown back in shock, but she doesn't move—a statue, trembling with effort, as if moving would break the spell and send her body into a thousand pieces.

Nagyung looks up at Chaeyoung, her eyes glassy and wild. “This isn’t what I expected when you told me you’d be stuffing yourself right now.“

Chaeyoung clutches the armrests, barely able to keep her eyes open as she looks at Nagyung. “I’d share, but I’m just too full to move right now,“ she somehow manages to breathe out with her last bits of smugness, her head lolling back against your shoulder.

Nagyung’s tongue darts out, stronger this time, bold and demanding. She works the clit in tight little circles, her thumb pressing in counterpoint to her tongue, then moves up to Chaeyoung’s stomach, trailing slick fingerprints up her abs while her lips never leave the pressure point. She holds Chaeyoung’s gaze for a second, then leans in and, with a soft click, bites Chaeyoung’s clit, just barely, just enough to send a shockwave through her.

You look down and see her there, on her knees, worshipping the place where you and Chaeyoung are connected, her own thighs squeezed together so tight you’re not sure if she’ll break or combust.

“Holy fuck, Nakko, you’re going to kill me,” Chaeyoung whimpers, voice almost feather-light, eyelids fluttering in disbelief.

Nagyung hums as if to say, “You deserve it, you slut,” and you feel the vibration run through both of you.

She shifts her position, brings her hand between her own legs, and you realize, with an embarrassing thrill, that she’s been touching herself the whole time. Not lazily, not distractedly—she’s two knuckles deep in her own cunt, rubbing herself raw while she devours the sight of Chaeyoung writhing in your lap.

Nagyung pulls back, just for a second, and looks up at you. “Don’t you dare finish before her,” she says, voice low and serious. Then she returns to her work, attacking the vulnerable, trembling bundle of nerves between Chaeyoung’s legs with a new level of focus.

You do your best to help. You steady Chaeyoung’s hips, thrusting up into her with controlled, shallow movements, making sure you don’t go too hard and ruin the moment. You want to cum—you need to—but you want to see how this plays out even more. Mostly you just want to survive. So you try not to black out from the pressure building in your balls. Every time Nagyung’s tongue flicks just right, Chaeyoung’s cunt clamps down on you so tight you see stars, real stars, not the kind working your dick right now.

Chaeyoung’s moaning now, high and whiny and desperate, her hands no longer on the desk but in your hair, pulling you closer, her whole body arched back and trembling. She tries to keep her composure, but Nagyung’s mouth is too much. Her fingers leave deep grooves in your thigh, her head locked back, and she starts cursing profanities that would get her chat banned for life.

Nagyung redoubles her efforts, sucking hard at her clit while her other hand finds Chaeyoung’s breast, pinching the nipple between slick fingers and twisting it, hard, just as she gives her clit another bite.

And that’s it. Chaeyoung explodes, her cunt clamping down on your cock like a vice, her whole body shuddering as she sobs out a laugh-cry into the air. You’re not even sure if the tears in her eyes are from pain or pleasure, but she’s definitely not faking it. She has to physically push herself off your cock before she passes out from the aftershocks. Nagyung sits back on her heels, panting, eyes shining, her mouth and chin a fucking mess.

Chaeyoung collapses forward, forehead thumping against the desk, her body still twitching with aftershocks, and you’re left bleeding precum down your shaft and desperate for release.

Nagyung stands up, wipes her mouth, and looks at you, triumphant. “Don’t disappoint me now, oppa,” she whispers, then gently pushes Chaeyoung off your cock. Chaeyoung slides to the floor, legs splayed, skirt bunched up around her waist, and stares up at the two of you with a dazed, fucked-dumb look that is equal parts awe and admiration.

She doesn’t waste a single second. She peels off her shorts in one smooth motion, crumples her white top above her tits, and straddles you—facing you, because there’s no way in hell she’s not going to look you in the eye while she takes what’s hers.

“Don’t cum,” she says, grabbing your cock and stroking it, getting it slick and shiny with the mix of all three of you. “Not until I say.”

You nod, but you’re not sure you can even speak.

She lines you up, then sinks down in one smooth, practiced motion—fucking herself onto you, slow and soft, like she’s scared to break but eager to find out. She gasps as the head pops inside her, then pushes down, taking more and more with each bounce, until her ass is flush against your thighs and your cock is buried to the hilt.

She doesn’t move at first. She just sits there, shivering, adjusting to the stretch, her hands braced on your shoulders. Then she starts to rock, slow at first, then faster, using her legs and core to ride you with perfect control.

She’s even tighter than Chaeyoung, her walls fluttering and spasming around your cock like she’s cumming a little bit with every thrust. The tip of your cock brushes her cervix and she whimpers, clutching at your shirt with both hands.

You look down and see Chaeyoung on the floor, watching the two of you with glazed eyes, one hand in between her legs and the other propping her up. She’s already fingering herself again, never taking her eyes off the place where you’re spearing Nagyung like she’s built to take it. She catches your gaze, gives you a lazy wink, and mouths, “Don’t let her win.”

Nagyung hears, and looks at you like you’ve made a huge mistake looking at anything but her right now. “Don’t hold back,” she commands, and you don’t. You bounce her in your lap, meeting her thrust for thrust, your hands gripping her ass hard enough to leave marks. Her hair is wild, her eyes wild, her whole body going taut with every slam.

You lose all sense of self. You fuck her, a lethal tempo, and she takes it, meeting every thrust with a hunger that’s been unfulfilled for weeks. She leans in, kisses you—full on the mouth for the first time, her tongue invading, desperate and sloppy. She tastes like coffee, like oxygen, like your new favorite flavor. She’s not giving you an inch, chasing after every sensation you have to offer, trying to catch up to you, and only then do you realize.

She wants to cum exactly when you do.

“I’m gonna cum,” you warn, and both girls react instantly. Chaeyoung reaches over and slides her fingers over Nagyung’s clit, rubbing it in hard, fast circles; Nagyung digs her nails into your shoulders at the sudden added sensations, leans in, and bites your neck, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to mark you.

You don’t even try to last. The tension, the jealousy, the weeks of being edged by Nagyung’s games—you grip her hips, slam her down, and explode, filling her with everything you’ve been holding back for weeks. She cums the moment you do, her cunt spasming around your cock, her body pressed tight to yours as she shakes and cries out, voice muffled by your shoulder.

The release is blinding. You can feel yourself pumping, her pussy milking it out of you, her whole body turned to jelly in your arms. When it’s over, she goes limp, collapsing against your chest, breathing so hard you think she might hyperventilate.

You hold her, stroking her back, and look down at Chaeyoung, who’s now on her knees sitting next to you both. She brings her face up to where Nagyung’s pussy is still stuffed full of your cock, and without hesitation, licks at the place where you’re joined, catching every glob of your cum that leaks out.

Nagyung groans, and you realize she’s still trembling, her body refusing to come down from the high. She lifts her head, looks at you, and for the first time, she doesn’t look like she’s about to bite your head off. She looks happy. Then she looks at Chaeyoung, leans in, cups her chin and pulls her up, and shares a kiss, cum and all, right in front of you.

It’s not a competition anymore. It’s a fucking alliance. And you’re just the coach who got lucky enough to make the playoffs.

You and Nagyung both feel yourself shrinking inside of her, and she stands up—albeit wobbly—and shuffles herself over to the bed, with you in tow, and collapses as soon as she’s in reach. You lie down next to her, and she tucks herself under your arm, head on your chest, and Chaeyoung flops down on your other side and does the same, all three of you wrapped up together like it’s the only arrangement that makes sense. You don’t talk about what just happened. You don’t need to.

Nagyung falls asleep first, out cold in seconds, arm slung across your stomach and her leg tangled with yours. You stare at the ceiling, and after a while, you feel Chaeyoung’s fingers tracing lazy shapes on your bare chest.

“You know,” she says, voice low and serious for once, “Nakko’s going to want to do this again.”

You turn to look at her. “Do what? This?” You gesture at the disaster zone you’ve collectively made of her sheets, the aftermath worse than a teamfight resulting in a double ace.

She grins. “All of it. Competition, games, whatever this is.” She runs her hand up to your face, brushing hair off your forehead. “You’re the first person who’s been more than a one-time-only type of deal. She’s never going to let you go now.”

“For the record, I don’t plan on running,” you say.

“Good,” she says, and kisses you, slow and warm and final. “Because I kind of like having you around, too.”

It’s strange, but you smile, fingers ghosting Nagyung’s back in soft circles as you kiss Chaeyoung back, and give in, letting yourself drift to sleep, the warmth of their bodies melting away any worries.

—

You wake up and it’s still night. No surprise with how early you all dozed off for a nap. You’re alone in the bed, but you can hear the giggling from the kitchen, the beeping of a microwave, and the unmistakable absence of a bag filled with fried chicken.

You stumble out, but not before getting dressed, and see both girls at the table, Chaeyoung filling her plate with food, both already changed into their pajamas but traces of your adventure still etched in places that you can find if you know where to search for them.

Nagyung looks up at you, mouth full, and points her chopsticks at the empty chair. “Come eat,” she says, as if that’s all you ever needed to do.

But before you even take a seat, Nagyung holds a finger to her lips and points over her shoulder at the hallway. “Shh,” she says, voice all soft and deadly serious, “everyone else is home.” You freeze, heart plummeting. She rolls her eyes at your panic, then breaks into a grin. “Jiwon, Hayoung, and Jiheon all came back while you were sleeping. They’re in their rooms. You have to be quiet. Like, actually quiet. Or you die.”

You look at Chaeyoung for any hints of sincerity, a subtle but desperate shift of your eyes. She just shrugs and devours another chicken wing. “Don’t freak out, dude,” she says, wholly unconcerned as she licks hot sauce from her fingers. “They know you’re here. If you want to stay the night, just do it.“ She grins, and offers you an iced americano with all the ice melted.

“Yeah. It’s not like they’ll care,” Nagyung adds, almost—almost—rolling her eyes. “Unless you wake them up. Then they care a lot.”

You’re not sure how to respond to this new paradigm where spending the night in a K-pop girl group’s dorm is less scandalous than laughing at the absurdity of being in this place, so you just do what you’re told and sit down.

The conversation stays light, almost mundane: which role is hardest to climb with (they’re both convinced it’s theirs), taking bets on whether or not you’re also good at Overwatch, which guy from HEARTSTEEL is the hottest. At some point, Nagyung leans over and picks a stray crumb from your cheek, like it’s the most normal thing in the world, and you realize you’ve crossed a line you didn’t know existed. You feel less like a one-night stand and more like a regular, an accepted variable in their dissonant, beautiful balance.

“So, coach,” Chaeyoung says, smirking as Nagyung curls into your other side, “when’s our next practice?”

#chaeyoung smut #nagyung smut #fromis_9 smut #girl group smut #kpop smut #male reader #reader x idol #reader insert

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chigsprincess · 2 months ago

Text

Got your name tattooed in an arrow heart

when they find out you got a tattoo related to them before you two formally knew each other. ft -y.isagi, m.kaiser, s.itoshi, s.nagi

a/n: I actually have a tattoo based on chigiri. that’s what inspired this one folks. imagine having this conversation with someone irl tho.

Isagi Yoichi

He was never supposed to see it. You were determined to keep it a secret until the end of times.

“Wait… is that my jersey number and signature?”

Game over. Literally. You wanted to disappear. It wasn’t even on a visible place, how the fuck did he notice.

You are worried he is going to think you’re a super fan or something.

You try to explain to him that you got it done before you met him, because he genuinely inspired you.

He wants to tease you, but is too touched to do so.

“Guess we really were meant to be.”

“Are those tears in your eyes?”

Definitely brags about it to his friends. “They got a tattoo of me even before we met. Beat that!”

You always joke about how you manifested him.

Kaiser Michael

“Is that my rose?”

Oh fuck. The time has come.

You knew it was only a matter of time, it wasn’t exactly hidden or anything.

You still try to deny it vehemently. You know he is about to get even more insufferable.

“You were already mine before I even knew it, huh?”

Always has his gremlin hands on it. No matter how professional the setting is.

“You inked it baby, there are no take-backs. You are mine forever.”

If someone (god bless them) tries to hit on you, he’ll literally just show it to them as undeniable proof that you are his.

Kisses it every day, no exceptions.

Nagi Seishiro

You got a tattoo of his signature: :x on the side of your finger. It’s tiny but definitely noticeable.

One day, as he is about to intertwine your fingers, he finally sees it.

“Is that me?” No smile, no teasing, just genuine curiosity. When you nod your head shyly, he just replies with a “cool”

Doesn’t gush or get dramatic, but you can tell it means a lot to him.

Creases it regularly.

Jokes about putting a ring on that specific finger when he proposes.

You just freeze every time, blushing like crazy, because: ‘propose?!’

Whenever you argue, he just lifts your hand up and ask: “You won’t get this removed right?”

You immediately forget about all your anger.

Itoshi Sae

“Is that supposed to be about me?”

You freeze. When your mother said you’d regret that tattoo one day, you waved her off. Look who’s laughing now.

You desperately try to deny it to no avail.

On the surface, he acts indifferent, but he thinks about it more than he’d care to admit.

He never fails to bring it up during arguments.

“You got me inked into your skin before you even knew me. Don’t act like I’m the crazy one here.”

Stares at it intensely whenever you sleep or just not paying attention.

Gets a tattoo that represents you and waits for you to find it.

word count: 510

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emmyrosee · 8 months ago

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Keiji is absolutely nothing if not an attentive, knowing husband.

He’s good, he’s good at the whole marriage thing, knowing what makes you tic and what makes you purr, your anniversaries and outings and just being an absolute maniac when it comes to knowing all about you.

So imagine your complete, your total, your absolute horrific discovery to find out that today, he’s not home.

There’s no flowers, no note, no chaotic breakfast that Mei insisted on making you with Keiji- she claims today is her favorite holiday- and there’s nothing.

Not one of those things, on this birthday of yours.

To be honest, you don’t really mind, he’s one for… however many years you’ve known him, he was bound to forget it at some point (you certainly know you’ve had a few close calls), it just feels strange to have a birthday just with you and not your loving husband or eager daughter.

You stretch, yawn and slowly get out of bed, making your way to the kitchen to prepare for your day off, eager to spend some time alone and not have to worry about anything until you pick up your four year old.

Who is just as surprised as you at Keiji’s forgetting. Who takes a vendetta against Keiji for forgetting.

“You mean daddy didn’t take care of you today?” She says sadly. “That’s not nice of him…”

You giggle, “it’s okay, it’s just one day, yeah?”

“But!” She whines. “I made you a card! ‘Nd we should have a cake! And a birffday party!”

You shrug as you continue to strap her in, “well, sometimes, things don’t exactly pan out like we’d expect them to. And that’s okay! Besides,” you take out your credit card and flash it to Mei, “now we can have a girls day, yeah? Brag to daddy all about it.”

She beams up at you, and you finish buckling her into her seat.

Nails have been painted, delicious pastries for dessert have been picked, a cake to be baked and decorated has been prettied up, and now, all you can do is wait for Keiji to come home and witness all the fun he’d missed today.

Sure enough, 15:34 rolls around, and Keiji comes through the door, sleepy smile on his face and jacket shrugging off of his shoulders. “Hey, my girls.”

“Hey,” you hum, making your way over to him. You toss your arms around his neck and pucker your lips out for a kiss, which he tenderly returns. “How was work?”

“Exhausting,” he says with a small whine. “So glad to be home with the two loves of my life.” He smiles and kisses you again, only to then make eye contact with his daughter, who eyes him in a scold. He crouches down and reaches out to pinch her cheeks, only for her to dodge him slightly.

“And how’s my favorite little-“

“Hmph!”

Immediately, Keiji is cut off by the sound of your four year old’s disapproval, and he watches with a displeased furrow as she stomps her foot with crossed arms and turns away from him. His jaw is slacked, at the mercy of Mei and your attempts to not cackle out loud.

His eyes, filled with incredulous confusion flick back up to you in search for your assistance in correcting her attitude, but you say nothing. Instead, you place your hands on your hips and look down your nose at him.

He straightened his back and took a deep inhale for patience, “excuse me?”

“I said:” once again, Mei stomps her foot and crosses her arms tighter over her tiny chest, “hmph!”

“Have i upset you, Mei?” He asks, crouching lower to try and get her to open up to him. “Is there something you need to tell me?”

“You should know,” she snips.

God she’s so cute, you could just bite her.

Keiji, right now however, may disagree with that sentiment.

“I don’t think I like this attitude, little miss-“

“Not my fault you didn’t wish mommy happy birffday today!” Mei pouts, and instantly, Keiji’s brows shoot up, from anger to surprise. When he turns to look at you in confirmation, your expression turns from one of amusement, to faux anger to match Mei’s. His gaze softens, and he reaches his hands out to you for your affection.

“R…Really?”

“Really really,” you confirm. “I was super surprised our four year old and Koutarou remembered before you did.”

All the color drains from his face, and for a moment your expression softens as he looks like he’s about to faint right in front of you. “Kou…Koutarou remembered?”

“Honestly all of the Jackals did- Kiyoomi even sent me a card that’s due to come.” The detail, all though a little unnecessary, again makes him deflate, and even if your intentions are cruel, he looks so cute trying to grovel for forgiveness.

“Baby… my love… I’m so, so sorry-“

“You should be,” you huff, crossing your arms dramatically. “It’s a good thing I had Mei to keep me company all day, apparently she’s the only Akaashi who loves me.”

“Yeah!” Mei’s voice echos behind Keiji. It makes him snort and drop his head against your shoulder, palms smoothing up your hips and sides in an attempt to be affectionate, though the action only has you melting into his embrace.

“I’m so sorry,” he hums from your neck, peppering soft kisses along the length. Your breath hitches and your own hands come up to rest on his own shoulders. “Is there anything I can do to make up for it?”

“Absolutely not,” you say, giggling softly when he tenses up, then looking up it you in betrayal. “I want ramen. I want ice cream and chips, and I want to watch classic Disney movies as a family, and I want to do those cute panda face masks Mei got us for our anniversary with Koutarou.”

“Okay… okay I can do that; what kind of chips?”

“All of them.”

“You got it.” With that, Keiji kisses your cheek and quickly turns on his heal to head back out to the corner store to stock up on everything you asked for.

“Mommy?” Mei asks, tugging your pant leg.

“What baby?”

“Are you mad at daddy?”

You smile and ruffle her hair, bending down to pick her up and help you set up the rest of your birthday wishes.

“Couldn’t be mad at daddy even if I wanted to be.”

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bloomseishiro · 26 days ago

Text

THE WAY TO NAGI’S HEART…IS FOOD

౨ৎ — your next door neighbor is pretty strange. he falls asleep outside his apartment, doesn’t know how to cook, and survives off of lemon tea and jellies. but he’s also cute, oddly funny, and looks great in grey sweatpants.

nagi seishiro x reader. fluff, neighbor au, cw: alc, reader can cook everyone say yes chef <3, i’ve been in a writing slump and this is the first fic i actually really liked writing in a while :3 i hope it shows hehe pls enjoy! xx

word count. 2.4k

When you first moved into your new apartment, the last thing you expected to see was your next door neighbor asleep at his front door.

You walked by his slumped body with concern. All your survival instincts were telling you to walk straight by him and enter your own apartment, but your heart stirred in slight guilt at the thought of ignoring him.

Sure, your apartment was in a relatively safe neighborhood, but you never knew what could happen. Sighing, you went against your better judgment and approached him, gently shaking his shoulder. The white-haired man’s eyes startled open as he stirred awake.

“Hm?” was the only noise that came out of his mouth.

You blinked, shifting your weight from foot-to-foot as your gaze darted away from his. “Er— Sorry for waking you, but…is there a reason you’re sleeping outside?”

He looked around with half-lidded eyes, as if only just now taking in his surroundings. “Oh. Right. Not really. Just got too lazy to unlock the door.”

You nodded slowly, trying to keep your expression neutral as your brain struggled to make sense of his log. “Oh, okay. I see.” You didn’t see.

“Mhm.”

He finally made a move to stand up, yawning as he fished his keys out of his front pocket. You wondered how he could’ve possibly been too lazy to unlock the door when his keys were simply in his pocket, but you tried not to judge. Everyone had those days, after all. Well, not you. But maybe other people…

Before opening his door, your neighbor turned back to look at you. “Thanks for waking me, though.”

You smiled brightly. “Anything for my new neighbor! I’ll see you around…”

“Nagi,” he supplied, lifting his hand to wave goodbye. “See you.”

──── ᢉ𐭩 ────

The next time you saw your neighbor was when you stood outside his door with a giant glass tupperware of fish soup.

Lately, you’ve been trying to learn how to cook instead of relying on eating out or surviving off of convenience store meals. It was going rather well, you had to brag. Except for the fact that the recipes you found online seemed to have horrible serving size estimates and you would occasionally find yourself with enough food to feed a small family of giants. It was certainly too much for one person living on their own.

Soon after you knocked on the door, your neighbor opened it a crack, peeping his head out. Once he spotted you, he nodded in greeting and opened the door fully.

“Oh. It’s you. Hi.”

“Hi there,” you said sheepishly, holding the container of soup in your arms. “Do you, um, want some soup?”

Nagi blinked and opened his mouth, but before he could get any words out, you began to ramble on.

“I hope you don’t think it’s weird or anything!” you exclaim in a rush. “I just made way too big of a portion and figured it would be better to share the food than have it rot away in my fridge all week.”

He tilted his head to the side before shrugging. “Sure, soup sounds great. What kind of fish?”

“Seabass,” you stated happily, excited you get to share your cooking with someone. “But, well, don’t expect it to taste that good! I’m still learning how to cook…”

“It’ll probably taste better than lemon tea and jellies,” said Nagi.

“One can hope.”

You extended the tupperware out to him and he accepted it with a small smile. You noticed he was wearing some baggy grey sweats and a plain white shirt, but somehow he still looked quite attractive. The disheveled look works for some people, you guessed.

Shooting him a dimpled smile in return, you waved and took a step back, not wanting to overstay your welcome.

“Well, I’ll head back now. Time for me to do some tidying up before bed!” you chirped, getting ready to walk back to your apartment right next door. “I’ll see you next time?”

He nodded. “See you soon. And thanks for the food.”

“You’re welcome,” you said. “Let me know how you like it!”

──── ᢉ𐭩 ────

Your third interaction with Nagi happened when he came over to return your tupperware. Unfortunately for the both of you (or, fortunately, in hindsight), you had just returned from a drunk night out with your closest friends.

“Ooh, Nagi!” you cheered excitedly when you saw him waiting outside your door. Throwing your door open all the way, you beckoned for him to come inside. “I’ve missed your pretty face!”

His eyes widened ever so slightly, but if he was annoyed, he didn’t complain. “Really? I saw you like, three days ago.”

“Three days too many!” you whined, taking your jacket off and throwing it onto the arm of your couch. Since you had just gotten home, you still had to get ready for bed. Your absolute least favorite part about going out. “Did you need something? Do you like dogs?”

“I’m more of a cactus person,” he answered, much to your confusion. Was a cactus also a pet? “Why, do you have a dog?”

“No. I want one though. I want a puppy soooo bad!” you gushed, your lower lip jutting out at the thought of a cute little puppy running around your apartment. “Like a Yorkiepoo! Or a golden retriever. Or…a Pomeranian! I guess, any dog really. Wait…why are you here again?”

“To bring you a dog.”

Your eyes widened in awe. Did Christmas come early this year? “Really?!”

“No.” Nagi held out the empty glass container to you. “I just wanted to return this.”

Crestfallen, tears welled up in the corners of your eyes. “An empty bowl?”

Now, an empty bowl wouldn’t have been so bad if he had not gotten your hopes up about a dog at first. But since that hope was maliciously torn from you, now you were devastated.

At the first sign of wet droplets on your face, Nagi looked slightly alarmed. “Oh. Are you crying?”

“No!” you insisted with a sniffle. “I’m just sad you didn’t bring me a dog.”

Hesitantly, he looked back at your front door and asked, “Do you really want me to run and get one? I can. I think most places are closed at night, though.”

You shake your head, giggling away your tears. “You can’t just get me a dog, silly. The landlord doesn’t even allow them. Stupid landlords.”

Nagi hummed in agreement.

Wiping the wetness off your face, you took the container from Nagi’s hands and placed it on your kitchen counter.

“Is there really no dog hiding in here?” you wondered aloud, clinging onto the tiny sliver of hope as you peered into the glass bowl.

“Not this time,” said Nagi, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. “Maybe another day.”

You sighed dramatically, nodding with a pout.

“I really liked it, by the way,” Nagi commented. “The soup.”

“You did?” you asked, beaming at the compliment. “Well, of course, you did! I put my heart and soul into that!”

“You took the bones out of the fish, so it was easy to eat. Would’ve been even better with rice.”

“Did you not make rice to eat with it?”

Nagi shook his head. “I don’t have a rice cooker.”

Your ears rang and the world stopped spinning. “No rice cooker?! How are you alive?”

He shrugged. “The jellies.”

“Is that all you eat?” you cried, eyeing him quite pitifully. Food not only nourished your body, but your soul! How could he survive off the same bland things for all his life?

“Mostly. But sometimes my friend brings me food.”

“You’re crazy for that,” you said, still in a state of shock. “You can’t live that way, Nagi! How can you expect to live life happily without delicious food?”

“But it’s too much work.”

You frowned, unable to follow his thought process. Cooking was tedious, but he could always order food. Why have a life full of squeezable jelly? “I don’t get it. But whatever. Did you like my cooking?”

He nodded.

“You liked it more than your jellies?”

He nodded once more.

“Okay, good! Then can I continue to give you my extra food?” you asked. “It might not be amazing, since I’m still new at this, but maybe you’d enjoy some variety in your life…”

Nagi glanced around the room, a thoughtful expression on his face. “I wouldn’t mind that.”

Cheering, you began to think of your next meal. “How about I try to make curry? Or fried chicken? Ooh! How about some braised tofu?”

You almost drooled at the thought of all your potential future meals. Hopefully, they would taste as good as you were imagining.

“All of it sounds good,” he said in approval. “I haven’t had homemade curry in ages…”

“I’ll try making curry first, then!” you promised, wanting to remind him of the joy of a home cooked meal.

Nagi lifted his hand to give you a lazy thumbs up.

“And in return, you get me a puppy,” you chirped with a smug grin.

He blinked, unamused.

“Okay, fine. Not a puppy then,” you pouted. “How about… In return, you take me out on a date!”

As soon as the words left your mouth, the buzzing in your head cleared and the fog began to lift. Before you could take back what you impulsively blurted out, Nagi let out a small chuckle. The sound was deep yet soft. It surprised you. In a good way.

He didn’t seem like one to show much of his emotions, so the fact that you heard this come out of him made you think that perhaps, your impending embarrassment was worth it.

“Ask me again when you’re not drunk.” Nagi ruffled the top of your head before heading out the door for the night. “Then, yeah, probably.”

──── ᢉ𐭩 ────

As soon as you woke up today, the events of last night’s conversation with your neighbor rushed in like a flood. And while most of the things you said drunk, you would’ve said sober, there was one tiny thing you couldn’t believe had escaped from your mouth.

“Take me out on a date!” you had said, much to your chagrin. You’ve only met the man a few times before! How could you say something that forward so soon?

You wanted to rub your temples and hide under your pillow all day, but you knew better than that. What happened, happened. And you could only move on from here!

After you recovered from your hangover, the first thing you did was make Nagi an “I’m-sorry-I’m-an-idiot” breakfast that consisted of chocolate chip pancakes with a smiley face-shaped whipped cream on top and some eggs. An easy Western breakfast you’ve seen plenty of times before.

That was how you found yourself in front of Nagi’s door once more with food in hand. This time, it was on a plate.

“Good morning,” he greeted as soon as he opened the door. At this point, he no longer seemed surprised that you were here.

“Morning,” you greeted bashfully. “Er— I made you breakfast. To say I’m so sorry if I made things weird for you last night! My friends and I drank a little too much and I wasn’t expecting to see anyone after!”

“It wasn’t weird,” he assured, peering at the food you held out to him. Instead of taking the plate, Nagi asked, “Did you eat yet?”

You blinked, slowly shaking your head. “No, not yet. I was going to eat after I dropped this off. Didn’t want your plate getting cold.”

He nodded, closing his door behind him and walking over to your apartment, his hand gently placed on your back to guide your frozen legs forward.

“Let’s eat this together, then,” he said. “At your place.”

Your brain short-circuited at his words. What the hell was going on? So you impulsively asking him to take you on a date didn’t put him off? Your delusions told you that maybe it’s because he was interested as well…

Snapping yourself out of the thoughts, you nod fervently. “Oh, okay. Yeah, sure! You can join me for breakfast.”

“Thanks.”

The two of you settled down around your round dining table after you prepared a plate for yourself and poured out some glasses of water.

“So, did I say anything embarrassing last night?” you asked, carefully taking a bite of your pancake.

Nagi shook his head. “I don’t think so. Unless you count crying over not getting a puppy embarrassing.”

Yes. That was exactly what you counted as embarrassing.

“Nah, that’s just another day in the life,” you said simply.

“Then nope, nothing.”

“Thank goodness for that.”

A few beats of silence passed as you and Nagi enjoyed your breakfast.

“So… If you don’t like to cook, what are the things you enjoy doing?” you asked after taking a large sip of water.

Nagi put his fork down as he considered your question. “Ah, I like gaming. And reading webcomics. And I guess I like soccer, too.”

Games and webcomics? A man of your own heart, you internally swooned.

“Ooh, those all sound fun!” you said excitedly, glad you were able to find something in common with him. “What games do you play? I like gachas and shooter games, mainly.”

“I play mainly gachas, too. Especially the ones with auto battles.”

You laughed at that. Somehow, Nagi liking auto battle mechanics fully checked out. “Okay, those ones are my least favorite, I have to admit. I like the ones with interactive combat more! It’s like you’re in the game.”

“That’s true. I haven’t thought of it that way.”

You nodded proudly. “And you like soccer, too?”

“Yes.”

“Do you play in, like, soccer matches or something?” you asked, eyeing his stature. While Nagi looked tall and lean, you could see the defined muscles on his arms. You weren’t too surprised that he was active.

He nodded but didn’t elaborate. “Yeah. Do you want to watch one?”

“Of course!” you gushed at the invitation. You weren't too athletic yourself, but you enjoyed watching a good sports game. The feeling of anticipation and anxiety and secondhand adrenaline gave you a rush. “I would love that!”

“I can get you in,” he promised.

“Then after, take me on a date?” you wondered, half-teasing, half-serious. It would depend on his response.

Nagi pursed his lips slightly as if in deep thought. “I’d have to shower and change first, but yes. Sure. We can go on a date after that. I think that would be…fun.”

You grinned. “I hope so. I have fun whenever I’m talking to you, so I know I’ll enjoy the date.”

He returned your smile before finishing his last bite of chocolate chip pancakes. “I like talking to you too. And eating the food you cook. I guess being with you is fun.”

“I think so too,” you said earnestly, stomach flipping at his words. “If the date goes well, maybe we can keep enjoying life together.”

“I think I’d like that.”

#🌸.writings #nagi x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #nagi seishiro x reader #seishiro nagi x reader #blue lock #bllk #blue lock x you #bllk x you #bllk fluff #nagi fluff #nagi seishiro #bllk nagi #bllk oneshot #bllk fanfic #nagi x you

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notarmedandnotdangerous · 30 days ago

Text

+18 mdni! faux innocence; a fic where you're the newest member of the thunderbolts*, and bucky tries to bed you the entire week, thinking you were a virgin. boy, was he so wrong.

cw: faux innocent!m!reader, bucky tries to fuck you the entire week, no actual smut yet, mention of the thunderbolts*, suggestive, (accidental) thigh grinding, drinking (alcohol), dirty talk, bucky is weirdly affected by you ..

word count: >3.9k

[1] [2]

!! @swiftie-fault

a/n: so i broke my phone, changed to this new one and it lags like crazy whenever i type out something long in my posts, someone please help! also .. showed my irl this acc.. if ure reading this, hi .... next part is actually filthy i swear

-------------------------------------------------------

you’re the kind of person that people overlook in rooms like this.

hq was all harsh lights, and harsher personalities, and then there’s you.

you always wore dark colours, sleeves rolled up carefully to your forearms, like you were trying to stay neat in a place that doesn’t care about it.

this persona of yours worked for most of the team. you’re the quiet, shy, polite one, somewhat similar to bob, in a way. you always nodded when spoken to, said ‘please’, and ‘thank you’ in the softest tones, you don’t spar loud, you don’t flirt, and you definitely don’t brag. you have those soft, kind eyes, and the kind of mouth that was made to whimper.

bucky decided you’re soft, a little shy, and a little delicate, completely forgetting the fact that you were a dangerous person. he also decides you’re definitely a virgin, definitely a bottom, definitely needs someone to show you the ropes.

he had built a whole delusion around it. in his head, you didn’t know how to touch yourself properly, get nervous when someone flirts with you, and you would probably blush the moment someone said something slightly perverted.

he’s a slut for the chase, especially for the ones who look like they wouldn’t know what to do with a tongue down their throat, and a hand down their pants.

—

for your first day on the team, you sat quietly at the edge of the gym, watching the others train while reading a book. you weren’t part of the session today, not technically.

to bucky, you looked like you belonged somewhere much gentler than this place, somewhere with tea, blankets, and not five ex-assasins trying to kill each other for warm-up.

he pauses mid-spar, because what the actual fuck are you doing looking like that?

his mouth went dry the moment he noticed you. he completely forgets what he was doing, and ends up walking right off the mat. he walks over to you, and he leans over.

“hey.”

your eyes blink up to meet his, slow, curious, and wide. you didn’t even notice him at first, so caught up in your book that it takes him standing right in front of you to pull you out of it.

“hi, sergeant. did you need something?”

he blinks hard.

god, your voice is soft. so soft like you’ve never raised it before in your life, so soft in a way that makes his stomach flip.

“nothing. just thought i’d keep you company.” he shrugs.

“oh, sure.” you blink, and smile faintly.

bucky let his eyes roam, subtle, but hungry. you were wearing simple athletic gear: a compression shirt, and black shorts. he swore there was no edge to you, just mild, harmless stillness.

“you always sit like that?” he quirks a brow.

“like.. what?” you tilt your head.

“innocent.”

you laugh, it was small. to him, it felt like you didn’t quite know how to take a compliment, or maybe you thought he was joking.

“i guess so.” you glance back down at your book, thumb brushing the edge of the page like you’re debating whether to return to it. “i just like watching everyone train. learning.” you don’t turn away from him completely, you’re still listening, still open, and kind.

bucky though? he takes it the wrong way, kinda. he looks you, and sighs. you’re the kind of guy he thinks he could pin down with one hand, the kind who would grab the sheets if he so much as touched you.

he doesn’t realise he’s staring.

“you ever get out there?” he asks, trying to sound casual, as if he didn’t just think about you in the most perverted, depraved way.

“sometimes.” you nod.

“bet you’re good.”

“i try to be.” you shrug.

you were so modest, it was unbearable. you could tell bucky you’d never thrown a punch, and he’d fucking believe it. he thinks you’re hiding behind all that softness because you’re shy, because you’re submissive.

“you don’t talk much.”

you look down at your book for a moment.

“i don’t really need to.”

that makes him pause, just for a second. he thinks it’s flirtation, thinks you’re just being shy, thinks he’s charming enough to wear you down if he keeps at it.

he doesn’t know you’re hiding behind it because it’s fun watching people misjudge you. and he definitely doesn’t know you could break his nose in three moves, or the fact that you’ve been thinking about what he’d look like sobbing on your cock since the moment he approached you.

“well, i’m around, you know? if you ever want to.. spar.” he leans back with a grin.

“sure, maybe.” you gave him a small smile.

bucky leaves thinking he’s got you wrapped around his finger.

but you? you’re barely affected at all.

—

the next day, you finally participate in training.

bucky clocks the teams forming around him. former mercenaries, spies, assassins, all vicious in their own way, except for you.

you’re adjusting your gloves with precise little tugs, head slightly downcast. you nod politely when called, even your stance was humble, like you’re expecting to take the first hit,

he smirks, he can’t help it.

you’re sweet. he’s seen the way you sit in the common room with your knees tucked up, not wanting to take up space, the way you tilt your head when you’re listening. to him, you weren’t built for violence.

bucky walks over, and taps you gently on the shoulder.

“guess we’re partners?” he says. “try not to go easy on me, handsome.”

“i’ll try.” you glance up.

the whistle blows, and he makes the first move, you let him.

bucky circles you with a cocky smirk, going for a quick jab to your ribs to test the waters, but you dodge it easily.

you’ve already calculated his reach, angle, and the slight giveaway in the way he shifts his weight.

he tries again, and you sidestep, letting him chase you. he wasn’t used to being toyed with like this.

and then you strike, quick, clean, and efficient. you catch his arm, use his momentum against him, and suddenly he’s on the floor.

the air slams out of him. he’s stunned, not because it hurt, but because he didn’t see it coming.

you straddle him smoothly, knees planted on either side of his hips. your hands find his wrists, and you pin them above his head. you don’t flinch, don’t even tremble. you were just focused, eyes narrowed, lips parted, breath calm. you weren’t smiling, you looked like someone solving a puzzle.

bucky’s heart was pounding. not from the impact, but because he realised how heavy you felt on top of him. your hips were pressed flush to his, your ass right against his lower stomach, your fingers tight on his wrists, and you’re looking down at him. he tries to break free, but you stop him.

“careful,” you murmur. “nearly dislocated your elbow with that angle.”

he blinks up at you, dazed.

then you get off of him smoothly, as if the whole thing wasn’t significant. you stand, dust off your palms, and offer him your hand to help him up.

“you’re good. fast, really good.” you said it like a genuine compliment, like you didn’t just pin him down like a wet dream on a tuesday afternoon.

he takes your hand, and fuck he’s hard. you walk off the mats, while he stays on his knees for a second longer than necessary. he doesn’t talk for ten minutes.

in the locker room afterwards, he peels off his shirt, and stands under a cold shower, trying to will his boner away. he was this close to embarrassing himself, almost came in his shorts like a fucking virgin. he couldn’t stop thinking about your thighs, your breath, and the tone of your voice telling him to be careful.

you’re dangerous, but he still thinks you’re completely oblivious.

—

it’s a late-night operation, storm clouds gathered around the ship. it was a standard sweep: infiltrate a suspected black-market weapons hub, disable the network, extract any hostels for questioning. it seemed easy, until it wasn’t.

the thunderbolts* split into a few teams. ava, yelena, and bob were together in the control center, alexei, and john covering the perimeter, while you, and bucky get to the main floor.

he was pleased with you. you’re easy to be around. quiet, respectful, doesn’t talk too much, just good traits for a partner in general. sure, he may have a habit of letting his eyes linger a bit too long when you bend over to check a crate, or wipe your face off with your sleeve, or just exist in general. but it’s fine, he thinks you’re soft, innocent, and he’s bored.

“stay behind me.” he says as the both of you step into the main hall. there were rows of crates, wires, and the overhead lights flickered like a horror movie.

you nodded, gripping your weapon neatly. your steps were quiet, and precise. you were calm, eyes alert, almost like you were playing along with his little game.

bucky doesn’t notice that part though.

you keep a polite half-step behind him as he leads the both of you through the warehouse. he peeks around corners, give hand signals, and you follow him. you weren’t just surveying the mission, you were surveying him.

everything goes sideways five minutes later. motion sensors trip, the lights slam red, steel shutters start closing, fast.

“shit, ambush.” he spoke. before he can react, a spray of bullets tore through the far wall. there were men shouting in spanish, the hallways were crawling with these armed men.

“this way.” you grab his wrist, and shove him down the nearest corridor. you move fast, faster than he expected. he barely registers the blur of your body until his back slams into a supply room door. you shut the door with a quiet click, then flip the lock without hesitation.

it was dark, cramped. bucky’s back was pressed against a metal shelf, and you, fuck, you’re right up against him. chest to chest, thigh between his legs, arm braced by his head.

‘oh fuck.’

you weren’t even breathing heavily, not flustered, not apologising for slamming him into a room, and standing obscenely close. you’re facing him, one hand braced against the wall near his head. your thigh slots naturally in between his legs as you leaned forward, listening at the door. your body was pressing him into the shelves, like you don’t even notice how intimate the position is, like your thigh wasn’t grazing his half-hard cock, like you didn’t set this up perfectly.

he was trying so hard to keep it together, trying so hard to not let his hips shift forward.

you pressed your index finger to your lips, signalling for him to stay quiet.

bucky chokes on his own spit.

“you okay?” you ask after a second. your face was close, too close, and your lips looked so soft in the dim light.

he swears he’s going to pass out.

“f-fine.. peachy.” he rasps.

then, your thigh shifts. just slightly, unintentionally.

unfortunately, the pressure lands perfectly against the underside of his hardening cock, and he lets out a broken noise.

“..mmph.” he instantly regrets it.

‘did he just hear that?’

your head turns, just a little.

‘fuck. oh fuck. i’m done for. please don’t look at me-’

“did i hurt you, sergeant?” your voice was so soft, so sincere, it was criminal.

bucky couldn’t even look at you. he shook his head quickly, breath catching. “no- uh, just surprised me.”

‘holy shit, that felt good.’

‘does he know?’

‘there’s no way, he’s so.. sweet.’

‘god, what if he does know?’

you nod, and go back to listening at the door as if nothing had ever happened. your thigh doesn’t move, you don’t step back, you stay exactly where you are.

his pulse was in his throat now, he clenches his jaw as he feels the flush spreading all the way up his neck, and to the tips of his ears. his cock was throbbing, and your thigh was right there. you were just so calm, so quiet, so innocent, it’s unbearable. he swears that it is.

you were so calm, like this wasn’t the most unintentionally filthy thing you had ever done to him.

when you finally step back, unlock the door, and glance over your shoulder, he can’t find one single piece of proof. your face was polite, your eyes were gentle.

‘i swear to fucking god, if he tells me i did great when we leave this closet, i will actually cum in my fucking pants.’

“let’s move. you did great, bucky.” you walk off, silent, and graceful.

‘i hate it here.’

bucky stumbles after you, his pants are way too tight, his face is flushed, and his dignity shattered.

—

your room was quiet, dim. your tv screen glows with a soft, desaturated colour. you were playing a foreign film, and half curled under a blanket. a soft lamp light glowed on your bedside table.

you don’t even look up when bucky knocks.

“yeah?”

“just me.” he says, as if it explains anything.

“you want to come in?”

he hesitates, before he opens your door.

“hey, everything okay?” you scoot over a bit on the bed, making just enough room for him, still polite, still gentle.

“yeah, just- uh, couldn’t sleep.” bucky sits down on your bed.

his stomach flips. he doesn’t deserve this kind of invitation. the way your voice hums so gently when you speak to him? the way you smell like clean sheets, and honey tea? the fact that your god damn room felt safe? it was all too much for him.

“what’s this?” he broke the silence.

“it’s called wings of desire. it’s german, and really pretty.”

“sounds depressing.”

“a little.” you smiled faintly. “but it’s soft, i like that.”

you rest your chin on your hand, elbow braced on a pillow, fully focused on the screen. you were so quiet, but so present at the same time. to him, you seemed like the type of person who listens to old jazz vinyl records, and writes real letters, the type of person who really means it when he says “i like this part.” when watching a movie.

bucky was going to fucking combust.

after a minute, you lifted your blanket, and offer it to him.

he takes it, and slips beneath it with a very awkward inch between your thighs, and his.

“you sure you’re okay?” you sipped your tea. “you wander around at night often?”

“just needed some quiet.”

you hummed, nodding.

“i’ll rewind a bit, it just started.”

“you don’t have to-”

“i don’t mind.” you did anyway, with no hesitation, like bucky belonged here, like you don’t realise just how hard he already is.

you shifted under the blanket, and your thigh bumps against his. you don’t move away, or tense, just rest your mug against your knee, and lean slightly forward to press play again.

“you’re warm.” he blurts suddenly.

you glance at him, and blink, as if the comment surprised you.

“am i?”

“yeah.”

“probably the tea.” you smile again, barely, before turning back to the movie.

ten minutes pass, and bucky doesn’t watch a second of the film.

his focus was entirely on you. the occasional shift of your shoulder brushing his, the sound of you chuckling whenever the film makes a silly joke. you’re so close, so sweet, so gentle.

he wants to bite you.

“you always this quiet?”

“mhm.” you glance at him. “too quiet?”

“no- no. it’s.. nice. peaceful.”

“you can talk if you want to.” you say it like an offer.

“you always let people just hang out in your room?”

“not really, no.“

“so why me?”

“you looked like you needed it.” you shrugged.

finally, bucky does the one thing he swore he would never do. he closes his eyes, rolls onto his side, and pretends to fall asleep. he lets his arm ‘accidentally’ settle across your waist.

still, you don’t say anything, you don’t move it, you don’t react at all. you just reached for your mug, and sipped again.

a few minutes pass like that, then you adjust slightly, stretch your arm, and accidentally bumped into something.

bucky gasps audibly.

you pause the movie.

“sorry, did i hurt you?”

“no, just sore from the mission yesterday.” he’s beet red, and half-hard.

“you should ice it, or get a massage.” you frown. concerned. your tone is so sweet, so genuine, and so unassuming.

bucky just nods like an idiot.

“yeah, maybe i will.”

and you? you just unpause the movie.

the thoughts inside his head were running wild.

‘i could fucking die right now.’

’he’s so sweet, so good.’

‘i can’t corrupt him, i won’t.. unless he asks for it, then i’m ruined.’

you don’t move again, don’t say a word. but when the movie ends, and he’s still lying there beside you, you glance down.

“falling asleep?”

“..maybe.”

“you can stay, i’ll wake you up before sunrise.”

‘he has no idea.’ bucky thinks. ‘he has no clue what he’s doing to me.’

except you do, you’re just playing along.

—

you don’t normally drink like this. usually, you’re measured, calm, and a quiet presence at the edge of the crowd. you were the gentle teammate, polite, steady, respectful.

so bucky definitely wasn’t expecting this.

the mission a few days ago went well, the thunderbolts* actually worked like a team. there were minimal injuries, and clean execution. so naturally, alexei offered to pay for drinks, and now all of you are cramped into a dark booth at a bar two blocks away from base.

ava’s in a heated pool game with john, bob’s trying to finish bingo, bucky’s sipping his whiskey, alexei’s talking to the bartender, and yelena’s slumped beside you with an arm around your shoulders, she’s the reason you’re already five drinks in.

“come on, sweet thing.” yelena grinned, pushing another glass into your hand. “we didn’t nearly die for you to sip water.”

“that’s.. not water.” you blinked.

“exactly.”

you laughed, soft, and tipsy.

bucky sat across from you, drink in hand, and he’s watching you with a downright feral fascination. he didn’t think it would be this easy to get you drunk.

you were drunk. you kept blinking slowly, and rubbing your eyes with the back of your hands. every time yelena laughed too loud, you’d just smile softly. you were touchier than usual too. your knee kept brushing his under the table, and you’re leaning into yelena’s shoulder with a soft hum.

when yelena slides out of the booth to get more drinks, he decides to strike. he leans forward, grinning.

“going to grab another round, don’t move.” she shoots the both of you a quick grin, and heads to the bar.

he waited for yelena to walk a bit further, before starting.

“you alright, sweetheart?”

you tilted your head at bucky, and your pupils were blown wide.

“mhm. you’re always so nice to me.”

“well, you make it easy.” he drawls.

“you’re just saying that.. you always tease me.”

“would you let me, if i wasn’t joking?” he tilts his head at you.

“hm?”

“if i actually tried something, would you stop me?” he raises his brows.

that shy smile of yours spreads again, and you don’t answer. instead, you lean in closer, not even on purpose, just soft, and unsteady, and your thigh brushes against his again.

bucky’s heart pounds. he sees an opening, and leans in closer from across the table.

“careful, sweetheart. someone might think you’re trying to get me to touch you.”

the second yelena was out of earshot, he got bolder. he leaned forward, just a little more, but enough that his voice can drop low, and filthy.

“if we were alone right now, i’d have you under me. spread out, moaning so loud i’d have to cover your pretty mouth.”

you kept sipping your drink.

“you’d be shaking for it, wouldn’t you? i’d have you begging for more, gripping my arms like you can’t handle it.” he’s grinning now, drunk on his own confidence.

you sigh, and then you speak. quiet, steady, and terrifyingly soft.

“bucky, you’d be crying before i even touched your cock.”

his jaw drops.

‘what the fuck?’

“you’d be the one begging. you’d forget your own name before i’m even finished with you.”

bucky lets out the tiniest breath, half a gasp, and half a moan.

‘what the actual fuck was that.’

his pupils were blown wide, and his hand clenches on his own thigh like he needed something to hold onto to physically ground himself. his mouth opens like he’s about to say something, maybe ask you to prove it, until yelena comes back.

“okay, i’m back. here’s your drinks, what did i miss?” she sets down three more drinks on the table, and drops back into her seat next to you like she had never left.

“thank you, ‘lena.” you smiled softly at her.

he lurches upright like someone had just yanked a collar around his neck. his eyes darted to yelena, and then back to you, then down to the table. he was panicked, flushed, and clearly hard.

“you good, barnes?” yelena asks.

“me? yeah. great. fine. normal.” he replies.

“what’s going on?” she turned towards you, and you shrugged.

“nothing. we were just.. uh, talking. about the mission.” he stutters.

bucky doesn’t hear the next sentence.

his mind was still stuck on your voice, stuck on the way you said such obscene things with such a sweet tone as if it wasn’t dirty at all.

you took another sip of your drink, knuckles brushing the condensation off the glass, and his gaze drops, just for a second, to your hand, to the way your fingers wrapped around the glass.

something short-circuits in his brain, because the glass looked small, like it didn’t belong there. it wasn’t even a shot glass, it was a full rocks glass.

and now bucky’s thinking about something else, about your grip. he thought about how solid it is, how sure, and how your palm alone could probably cover half of his stomach.

‘what would it feel like-’ he cut himself off by pressing his fingers to his temples. this definitely wasn’t the time to be having depraved thoughts about his fucking coworker, not when the coworker in question was literally sitting across from him.

no, no. he shouldn’t be thinking about that. except he is. he’s thinking about your fingers wrapping around something else, about your palm dragging over his cock with that innocent look in your face.

‘if his hands are big, then his cock is-’

bucky swallows hard, and shifts in his seat. he crosses his legs, and looks anywhere but at your hands, anywhere but at the fingers that could probably hold his wrists down like they’re nothing.

it broke something in him, because he definitely wasn’t prepared for all that.

fuck. he’s going to hell.

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