#...at least they had a nice dream before you know...

[rancidpancakebatter]

No Monsters in the Light - [P.P.]

Pairings: TASM!Peter Parker x Female!Reader

Summary: Once, you were an orphan, but now you're an Osborn. The family you had always dreamed of soon became one you resented. Between the distant father and the spoiled brother, you still felt alone. But at least you had Peter, A bright-eyed, kind boy who always made you smile. After years of running from the past, you're brought back to New York, and it seems your home has changed just as much as you have.

Word Count: 15k words

Content: MINORS DNI: 18+ Swearing, Mentions of Death, Smoking, Marijuana, Drinking, Friends to Lovers, Smut, P in V Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Praise Kink, Oral (f receiving), Fingering (F receiving), Choking, Size Kink, Overstimulation, Squirting (Is that a warning? IDK?), Dom Peter (Kinda), Sub Reader, Mentions of Whimpering and Whining, after care,

A/N: Look, guys, I don't know what this is. It just is. Enjoy.

Life as an Osborn was never boring. You felt very fortunate to be an Osborn. You were once a Jones or Smith or Something else, but one fateful day, you were selected by Norman Osborn and adopted into his family. As a kid, you were excited at the prospect of finally getting a Mom and a Dad. But you quickly learned that there was no mom, and even his own son didn’t feel he had much of a dad. You were adopted to be the companion of the future billionaire. 

You and Harry were the same age and raised as twins, complete with matching outfits and hobbies. There was the soccer phase, then the music lessons, and even partner figure skating at one point. It was nice that you were never pitted against each other, though. The goal was always for you to be friends. 

And you were. 

Now. 

There had been times when Harry resented you, feeling his father favoured you more. There were times you resented Harry, thinking he was a spoiled brat who couldn’t appreciate the silver spoon he was born with, wedged between his perfect teeth. 

But one day, during the summer after your first year of college, floating on a yacht in the middle of the Atlantic off the beautiful coast of Grenada, you grew up and realised you ate with the same silverware he did. And somewhere along the way, perhaps overlapping Harry’s bender backpacking trip across the Swiss Alps around the same time, he realised that you were the only person on the planet who knew what it was like to be the child of Norman Osborn. But anyone with siblings gets that. 

That summer, you guys met up in Italy. It was great, and you got to know each other once again. When Harry talked about his life of girls and booze and easy classes, he had a dazzling smile across his face and a glimmer in his eye. He also observed the way your face lit up when you told him where your studies had taken you and all the things you had seen. 

Neither of you brought up the past. It was a silent agreement you had come to at the realization that both of you were much happier now. Running away had worked out for you, so like true runaways, you let the past stay right where it was. 

But anyone who’s been on the run knows, the past doesn’t stay far behind; it’s always breathing down the side of your neck, catching up to you just as fast as you slow down. 

It was in the halls of Museo di Capodimonte that it suddenly caught up to the both of you. You had seen the picture a million times, but pixels on your screen did nothing compared to seeing the grand scale of vibrant oils stretched over old canvas covering the wall before you. Your eyes darted wildly, bouncing around every detail, in awe as you unravelled more. The piece seemed to breathe, and you could feel the rage of Judith in her tightly clenched fist, you felt Abra’s fiery judgement, and when gazing in the dying eyes of Holofernes, you felt a morsel of vindication. 

As you looked to Harry, you knew he felt it too. His chest was tight and unmoving, his fists clenched at his sides, and his jaw set so tight it filled out some of the stark hollows of his cheeks. His entire body had gone rigid. 

All but his eyes. His eyes glistened like stars, wide and round as they travelled between the faces. They had not yet begun to pool, but there was a glassy film there now that could not be denied. Then, it seemed the same wave that had rolled through you had finished washing over him. His glassy eyes met yours as he finally let out the air trapped in his lungs. 

No one said anything; it would almost be rude. This was not something anyone but an audacious poet would try to put words to. You both knew. His hurt matched yours. And for the past few years, you and Harry had been killing off the same man–or trying to at least–by chasing down all the things he hated and being all the things he said not to be. 

You took a step closer, then wrapped your arms around your brother. This sort of intimacy was usually reserved in your family for photos or curing cancer or other such accomplishments, but, despite the almost foreign approach, Harry met you quickly in the hug. 

When you broke away, Harry’s eyes met yours once again, and his heart tugged at the sight of your now glassy eyes.

“So,” Harry tried awkwardly, breaking the tension, “wanna try out those street waffle things we saw outside?”

You chuckled, the tears slowly dissipating from your water line. 

“Yeah,” you agreed, “glad to know we’re on the same page.”

He offered you a hand, and you took it as he led you away from the painting.

That trip humanized both of you, and now you were thick as thieves. You often talked on the phone and tried to hang out whenever your travels brought you close enough. For the past few years, you and your brother acted as long-distance besties, and you loved it. 

But mostly because your father was nowhere to be seen. No longer looming over you, but somehow silent. And much like any estranged family, nothing brings everyone together better than a wedding. Or a funeral. Which is what finally brought the Osborn children back to New York. 

You had received a call on the coast of Hvar summoning you, and when you came home, you saw Harry standing on the last step of the staircase, your father’s room just a few feet away. He seemed frozen there as if scared to take his hand from the railing. His eyes were glued to the brass handle that kept the room sealed, the ornate details woven into the metal. You understood his fear. You were never welcomed there. Or in this wing of the mansion. This was Norman’s space, and it was terrifying to enter it. 

You called out to your brother and he flew down the steps, with a speed that told you he was already looking for any excuse to turn back. 

The small talk was small. How’s life? Where are you now? Seeing anyone? Etc. You stood there awkwardly, delighted to see your oldest friend and brother, but terrified he wasn’t as ecstatic. At first, it was awkward seeing Harry again. He hadn’t changed much, but his face was sharper– the bags under his eyes were heavier. Harry immediately was jealous of your tanned, glowing skin, your time in Croatia obvious from one glance.

Hacking and coughing interrupted the long silence between you, and you remembered that Harry was about to say goodbye to his father. 

You offered him a hug, and to your surprise, he accepted it. You were beginning to love this new family tradition.

He looked at you with a small smile, then at the door. You grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze before making your way in. Norman looked worse than you remembered, and you held back a gag at the smell of imminent death permeating the room. 

Norman called out to you first, which made your gut twist. He told you how proud he was of you, for overcoming so much despite your “bad blood.” You bit your tongue instead of blowing up on him. However, Harry didn’t. It seemed all twenty years of his anger was unleashed all at once. You watched in awe as Harry tore into the now decrepit man, listing his offences with ease, as spit flew from his lips like venom. Neither of you listened to his justification of how it made you better children. 

When you left, Harry slammed the door behind you. You took a breath, digging your sunglasses and a pack of cigarettes out of your purse. Harry's eyes landed on the familiar glint of silver in your palm. You had found that Dupont Lighter in a locked desk drawer, along with your confiscated lip gloss, and decided the stuffy nun wasn’t going to use either. You had held onto it ever since. 

In his moment of grief–no, maybe contempt was a better word–he had missed you placing your sunglasses upon your head. As always, you never stopped moving. 

His whole life, Harry felt like he was chasing you down. You never stayed in the same spot for ten minutes. You created such mischief in school, the feral Osborn. You chased anything you wanted with ardour. Many adults called you driven but Harry always saw it as something closer to fury, he could just never pin down what exactly pissed you off so much.

And even now, in the face of their changing future and dreadful pasts, you move forward; not even reaching the hall before moving on to the next thing. It made him chuckle. He’s not entirely sure why–the human brain is a great mystery after all–but seeing you so casually shake the pack at him in a silent question to join made him laugh. 

You walked down heretofore longer hallways to a set of French doors you had both trudged through often. There were many nights the “Osborn Twins” would meet here for a walk, sneaking out after a disastrous holiday. The wide, white archway marked a sort of physical truce. Once on the other side, they were somehow farther away from anywhere they’d ever been before. Harry remembers one particular Christmas in grade ten, you had stumbled upon him smoking a crudely rolled joint in the peony bushes.

You took a seat at the bench carved into those very bushes now, and lit a cig for Harry, passing it to him before sparking your own. Neither of you speak as you both sit in the wake of Norman’s words, soaking in the inquietude of walking these halls again. Harry occasionally takes a glimpse of your face as the tobacco crackles under flame and sees your brows furrow deeper and deeper in your thought. 

“Is it too soon to say ‘fuck that guy’?”

“Nah,” Harry laughed, a plume of smoke leaving his lips in broken clouds. “We should have said it sooner.”

You took another drag. There was so much you wanted to say, but you couldn’t find the words. The best you could settle on was, “I’m sorry your dad’s a dick.”

Harry laughed at that, too. 

“Hey,” he said, checking your shoulder lightly when you didn’t look at him, “I’m sorry both your dads are dicks.”

You grinned, and Harry did too. You felt better; he was joking with you again. Maybe you guys would be okay after all. You opened your mouth to say something else when you heard someone shout for Harry. 

Footsteps crunching in the grass grow closer, and both of you straighten up. It did not occur to you or your brother at that moment that you were both more than old enough to indulge, only that you were sure to be scolded by whoever your father had sent to find you. Harry coughed as he whipped to the side, snuffing out the ember of his cig on the pale concrete of the bench you sat on. You opt to let yours fall from your lip and stomp it once it hit the ground. 

“Harry?” The voice called out again, “You out here?”

The man was just around the corner, a shadow barely visible behind the hedges. You pull your foot back, kicking the evidence under the bench into the bushes, lost forever. 

A young man appeared through the leaves, his slender hands reaching to remove his hood. His eyes landed on you and your brother, running wildly between you, then he smiled. Even in the halo of the sun, you knew this man. Though you hadn’t seen him in years, you knew that smile well.

A similar beam spread across your face, delighted by the wonderful vision before you. 

“It’s like seeing a ghost,” Harry said softly. 

The man took a tentative step towards where you sat, but stopped his advance quickly, as if scared.

“Hey, Harry,” he smiled anyway. 

You couldn’t contain the joy you felt looking at the man above you, the warm brown eyes and soft laugh that filled your childhood. 

“Do my eyes deceive me, or is that you, Peter Parker?”

A laugh tumbled from his lips, and he drew closer, stopping just out of your reach. “Still as funny as ever, (Y/N). I’m glad your time away hasn’t changed that.”

He directed that ever-warm smile your way, and your heart melted a bit. 

“Yeah,” Harry said, looking to you with a similar look. “Me too.”

“What’s it been?” He now asked Peter, “Ten years?”

“Eight,” Peter said, His shoulders jumping up in a quick shrug, “But close.”

He said it like a joke, yet a dormant ball of guilt awakened in your stomach. It twitched at the memory of a teary-eyed boy begging you to stay. His chubby cheeks flushed, and clammy hands clinging to your shirt. 

“I Uh…” The muscles in his face pull awkwardly for a moment, but he pushes through it. “ I came to say I’m sorry…about your dad.”

Your tongue moved faster than you could think, jerking forward the same way your knee does when smacked in the right spot. 

“Not my father.”

The words came out cold, and the chill froze Peter, icing him over where he stood with his hands in his pockets. His eyes were wide, and his mouth flapped uselessly as he continued to stutter and trip. 

“Right,” He tried to correct, “I uh– I just meant, um–”

Harry smacked your arm very hard, and you let out a long, annoyed “ow.”

“She meant to say,” Harry piped up, saving Peter, “Thank you.”

You rolled your eyes, hating it when anyone spoke for you, but especially hating when your brother did so. 

“Yeah,” Peter said, unsure, “No problem.” 

As you looked at the man standing before you, your brain pulled forward many memories of laughter and blue skies and mischief. Memories of a bright, round boy with a sensitive heart that often brought him to tears. Memories of hideouts hidden from the scary world, and even more of kicking other little boys' assess for giving Peter a reason to hide. Now he stood before you, tall and trim– a fully realized Peter Parker, hewn and charming. 

“You lost your braces,” you observed, “And you’re tall.”

“Now there’s nothing to distract from his unibrow.” Harry teased. 

“Or his ears.” You quickly add. 

Peter let out a dry laugh, his head falling to the side slightly. 

“I’ll let that slide given the current situation, but any more teasing and I might have to retaliate.”

You stood up, stretching your back before pulling your bag further up your shoulder. “Yeah, right, you just snitched on us to May.”

Harry rose with you, his smile falling slightly as he looked to his old friend. “Please tell me she’s still around.”

“Oh yeah, she’s still kickin’,” Peter chuckled. “And spry enough to still whip both of your asses.”

You watched as the boys stood in front of each other, hands firmly placed in pockets and their weight shifting from their heels to the balls of their feet. You could feel the platonic tension in the air and rolled your eyes thinking, boys. 

“Oh my god, just hug already!”

They laughed at you, then slowly opened their arms to each other. Your heart warmed at the sight, and you didn’t wait long to join yourself to the outside. If you were still children, you could be expected to be thrown off and chided for your antics, but today they giggled. When you pulled away, you let out a relaxed sigh. 

“That feels better,” You said before walking off. 

Both men called out to you, wondering where you were going. 

“We are going.” You corrected, turning over your shoulder to shout, “Come on, boys!”

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You went on a walk through the park, catching up on anything and everything. Harry could now handle spicy foods, and Peter had learned to appreciate sour candies. Though he no longer liked peppermint, which you found appalling. Everyone was in school, but studying different things. Peter got better at skateboarding, and Harry now did his hair all on his own. 

When you got tired of walking, the boys claimed a space on the sidewalk. You couldn’t ride a skateboard, but you insisted that Peter let you. This led to a conversation held in an odd game of monkey-in-the-middle. You held your hands out to the side, legs firmly planted where he instructed, and the boys pushed you back and forth between them as you all spoke. 

“So, Harry,” Peter teased, “I saw you on a magazine the other day.”

Harry’s eyes were protected by his sunglasses, but you could sense the unseen eye roll. 

You teasingly ooooh’ed at your brother as you approached him. 

“Did you get caught with another model?”

“Shut up,” He replied lazily with no true anger, “You know, the whole model thing is so exhausting.”

Harry stopped you from slamming into him, face bored.

“I know,” Peter said, mimicking his tone, making you giggle. 

“Alright, alright!” Harry pushed you away from him with more force this time; his extended hand turned to flip you off before turning towards the water. “I can see I’m outnumbered by the poor people.”

You were sailing quickly and your eyes widened as your collision with Peter seemed imminent. He met your panicked expression with a small smile, a silent reassurance. You reached your arm out as far as it would go without tipping over. Peter caught it effortlessly, then intertwined your fingers. Your heart stuttered at the action, then stopped entirely when he pulled you closer, the skateboard picking up speed. 

Just a moment before impact, Peter’s toes raised to stop the board. You felt the moment it stopped and a small yelp left your lips as you clenched your eyes closed. You sailed into what felt like a solid wall, the side of your face landing against his chest with a thump. 

“Hey,” his lips brushed against your hair, his voice was barely above a whisper. “You alright?”

It had been a while since you had seen Peter. You had almost forgotten all about him in your years away. But as he held you, all the feelings you had forgotten came back. Suddenly, you felt like you were thirteen again, and it was hard to calm your quickening breath when he was being so gentle and kind. When his eyes twinkled at you fondly. When his thumb was stroking the back of your hand, and his other hand held you just above the tailbone, keeping you against his body. You nodded dumbly, and his smile stretched. 

Peter then turned away from you, and you felt his chest expand as he started to raise his voice. 

“I’m not entirely sure Os-bought here counts as poor.” 

Your brother laughed in the distance, and you playfully glared at Peter, which earned you a chuckle. 

“Whatever, Os-mooch.” You said it soft enough that only Peter heard, and his head reared towards you. His eyes widened, and a blinding grin covered his face at the long-forgotten nickname. 

“And what about you, Peter?” Harry asked, reaching the railing that protects civilians from the ocean. “You got a girl?”

At that, the man before you deflated a bit, dropping his hand from your back and stepping to the side so he stood beside you. You tried not to hope for any specific answer.

“I don’t think so,” he said, using your intertwined hands to steady you as you stepped off the skateboard.  “Maybe- I don’t know.”

You let go of Peter’s hand once on solid ground and raced to sit yourself on the railing Harry leaned against. 

“What does that mean?” Harry asked as Peter joined you both, resting his forearms against the metal, the same as Harry. 

Peter’s eyes found yours, but his gaze was calculating. You didn’t get to dwell on it long, as he just as quickly dropped his head with a sigh. His silence intrigued your brother enough to look his friend over. Peter straightened his arms a few times, rocking back and forth as a long, hushed groan left his lips. He raised his head once again, but this time his eyes looked sad as they locked with yours. You found your own face falling at the expression. 

He then turned to Harry with a shrug, “It means what it means.” 

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It was sufficient to say the gang was back together. You, Harry, and Peter picked up like nothing had changed. Obviously, a lot had. You had to schedule around work, school, and adult responsibilities now, but you scheduled nonetheless. You saw Harry plenty now that you had become neighbours. After Norman passed, you both decided to sell the manor. There was nothing there for either of you in that house. You instead spent the money on matching penthouses, having never broken the habit of “matching gifts” even in adulthood. You decided to transfer to ESU with Peter and stay in New York. Now that Harry ran Oscorp and Norman was gone, you had no reason to run away. 

Everyone was currently gathered in the living room of Harry’s lavish New York Penthouse. You had returned from the movies– a new thriller that terrified the three of you, though none of you admitted it– and somehow, some three hours later, you guys had gone through half a bottle of honey whiskey. It was late, and smiles were wide. 

Norman’s funeral was just a few days ago, and it had you feeling oddly reminiscent. You couldn’t say that you missed him, but the relationship was complicated. You were grateful for the life you had, and as you looked around the room, you felt immense gratitude. Because of him, you have met two of the best people in the world. 

Harry was walking awkwardly around the room, hunching his shoulders and bringing his knees high as he strutted, all while speaking in a high-pitched, gruff voice. 

“Ms Osborn!” he pointed a crooked finger your way, “If you insist on talking so much, maybe I should send you to the chapel so you can talk to God instead. Perhaps he might want to hear what you have to say.”

You were gripping your stomach, laughing so hard that tears came to your eyes. “Oh my god, Harry, she sounded just like that!”

His impression had Peter in shambles, although he never had the pleasure of meeting the retched Sister Nilsson. His back was against the couch and his feet kicked in the air. Harry laughed too, feeling a bit of pride in his wisecracking. 

“I hated Nilsson; she was the worst.” You said between laughs, “Loved her class though.”

Harry barked more than laughed at the statement, straightening his back and letting his head fall to the side. 

“No, you didn’t,” He smirked, “You just liked Justin.”

You rolled your eyes, taking another swig from your glass. 

“Justin?” Peter asked, picking up on your embarrassment. He often had teamed up with Harry to get on your nerves, and it seemed like not much had changed. “Who’s Justin?”

Harry threw himself over the back of the couch, now only addressing Peter, though his eyes found yours, and you saw a mischievous glint resting in his irises. “Justin Meyers was a boy in Sister Nilsson’s class. My sister was completely infatuated with him.”

Peter sat up some, his interest piqued. “Well, what was so cool about Justin?”

You clocked Peter’s tone immediately. The way he said Justin’s name, as if this old crush had offended him somehow. But he tried to cover it under the guise of a joke. You took another sip of your glass, ready to fire back at the teasing.  

“He was smart and tall,” You said dreamily, “He was so cool. He had an electric guitar in his dorm room.”

You watched as Peter bristled a bit. “He doesn’t sound that cool.”

“He wasn’t,” Harry confirmed. 

“Shut up, Hares,” You warned, “He was much cooler than the girls you ran after.”

At that, Harry laughed, “Yeah, well, my goal was never ‘cool’. Just hot.”

You threw a pillow at him, and it knocked him off balance enough that he fell to the floor. Laughter filled the room again. 

Time passed, though you were too drunk to count the minutes. Everyone was lounging around and singing along to the music you had put on, or sometimes jumping up and singing a song word for word. 

After about six songs thumping through drunken limbs, the group had rearranged themselves. Peter now joined you on the carpet, parked directly in front of the sound system. He had asked to queue some music, so you passed him your phone. He took the opportunity to look through your music, noting the similarities, overlaps, and differences. 

“Wow,” he commented, “You’re quite the romantic.”

Your cheeks warmed, and you brought your hands up to cover them, shocked by the response.

“Nu-uh,” you weakly defended, making Peter chuckle. 

“It’s okay, it’s not a bad thing. I just wasn’t expecting it.”

You felt yourself enamoured by his easiness. His brown, doed eyes met yours, and his smile stretched politely. He looked beautiful in the soft light. Outside, New York was cold and dark, but here he was bathed in a light, goldenrod haze. And through the haze, Peter had never been more defined. As you gazed at him, your childhood friend, you realised he was no longer a child. Instead, he was a handsome young man. 

“I think you might be a bit of a freak too,” He joked. 

Your jaw dropped as he showed you the playlist he was now investigating. You reached quickly for your phone, not wanting Peter to see which songs you felt belonged in your “I’m sexy and horny” playlist. He laughed, switching the phone to the other hand, and you followed it, rolling on top of him. You straddled him, then used one arm to pin his down and the other to reach for the phone. It did nothing as he just switched it again with his free hand, laughing. 

“I mean, Super Freak by Rick James says it all.” His thumb pressed the song, and it blared through the sound system. 

“Pete,” You tried, reaching helplessly for the phone again, “Please don’t blare this with my brother in the room.”

At the mention of him, you both looked to see what Harry was doing. He had been quiet for a while now, you realised. Behind you, Harry was stretched out on the couch, his mouth hanging open as he drooled. 

“Uh-oh, guess Harry can’t stop me,” Peter snickered. “Let’s see what other goodies are on here.”

He started to scroll again, and you tried desperately to stop him, but it was too late. His face lit up as he gasped.

“Oh my god, you are a freak! A self-proclaimed one!”

Suddenly, “Freak” by Doja Cat began playing, and you collapsed in embarrassment. Your hands cradled your face as you folded yourself over, your head falling to Peter’s side, but your body flat against his. He let you hide for a moment, but then he began to poke you. You spazzed a bit as he tickled you, your laugh breaking free despite your best attempts. When you had had enough, you sat back up, swatting his hand away. Peter beamed at you while mouthing the chorus. 

You decided to call him out on it, saying, “You seem to be a freak too. You know the song pretty well.”

Peter made a face like he was thinking, before saying, “I guess you're right.”

There was a look in his eye that you wanted to pull forward and study under a microscope. His face was still as beautiful as ever, but it had changed ever so slightly, and the thought sent a shiver down your spine. Your shoulders rolled back, and you remembered that you had all but mounted Peter, and were still sitting atop him. 

You got up as gracefully as you could, hoping he didn’t notice how flustered you had grown in the silence. In an attempt to busy yourself, you cleaned up the glasses in the living room and walked them to the kitchen. You took your time away attempting to level your breathing. When you returned, Peter had turned off the music and was now standing awkwardly in the space, staring up at the ceiling with a hand in his curls, as if lost in his thoughts. You couldn’t help the adoring smile that crept onto your face. 

Then Harry snored. The bellow came from below you, and as you looked over the couch, there your brother lay, rolled over on top of himself, the drool now trailing from the side of his gaping mouth to a small pool on the cushion. A sigh left yours at the pitiful sight of the possible end of a good night.

“I think it’s time for bed,” you said, then turned to Peter, who had seemed to notice you in the shattered silence and had straightened at attention. “You’re not drunk, are you?”

Peter’s face flushed slightly, his hand returning to scratch at the base of his neck. “No, I didn’t drink that much. I can head out.”

“No, no,” You reassured. You immediately felt bad, thinking that he thought you wanted him gone. “It’s late. You should stay. You can crash with Harry if you like, or you’re welcome to stay at mine.” 

Pete threw his hand around like he was trying to brush away any awkwardness. “I don’t wanna put you out, it’s no big deal.”

“Peter,” You said in a warning tone that reminded him oddly of May. “It’s nearly midnight. There’s no reason for you to travel home this late. Besides, it’s always nice having you around. You’re never ‘putting us out’ by staying.”

Pete let out a laugh that was a little tense, “If you insist.”

“Oh, I do.” You confirmed. 

Peter’s smile was tender, bright, and kind. It made your heart melt, and you hoped he didn’t notice it oozing through your shirt. 

“Okay then, if the lady insists.” 

He moved to scoop Harry from the couch, and before you could stop him to tell him you were just gonna wake the sorry bastard up and make him take himself to bed, Harry was fully in Peter’s arms– bridal style. He picked him up as easily as you do your purse, and you felt your heart beat a little harder at the display.

“I’ll get this mess into bed.”

You led the way, flicking off switches and opening doors as Peter’s hands were full. Once Harry was tucked in– and he was, upon Peter’s insistence –you stepped back into the hallway, leaning your back against the wall. Your eyes wandered down the long expanse before you, towards the window at the very end of the hall. The only light came from wicked moonlight creeping through Harry’s drapes. The wind howled angrily as rain violently crashed against the pane. You hadn’t noticed how bad the storm had gotten downstairs, surrounded by light and laughter. 

Your heart pounded faster and faster in the still night, the shadows warping in the hall coming out to grab you. It felt exactly like that scene from the movie you watched today. The protagonist had to face a curse of sorts. There was an entity that existed only in darkness, following them through every moment of their life. And though you never saw the monster lurking in the darkness, you knew it was there, and felt its presence now. You could feel its piercing stare through the stale air. You could feel it drawing nearer and nearer. 

“Hey.”

It was a faint whisper, but your terrified mind mistook Peter for the lurching monster you were so sure was moments from seizing you. A gasp ripped from your throat as a small piece of your soul tried to leave with it, your hand flew up to your chest as if to hold it down. Peter’s eyes widened, though you didn’t notice, and he quickly leapt into action: closing Harry’s door and then grabbing your shoulders to shield you. He moved so quickly that it took your brain a moment to catch up. But once it did, it completely forgot about whatever creature might be lying in the deep, dark. Instead, it was focused on Peter’s cologne and how it might be the best thing you’ve ever smelled. 

“Are you good?”

“Yeah.” You tried your best to make your body match what you were saying– blinking back into consciousness– but you weren’t sure it was convincing. It came out faint, barely slipping off your tongue. Peter was giving you a look again, one you couldn’t read. It made you feel like he knew something you didn’t.

His head tilted down so that his eyes were closer to yours, inescapable. 

“Are you sure?” He asked gently, “You look a bit flushed.”

You laughed humourlessly, trying not to let his words or charm work on you. “Yeah, I’m sure. I was just thinking about the movie we saw tonight.”

Peter seemed to relax a bit then. His shoulders dropped, like he was holding a big breath and finally let it go. His hands slid down your arms as he took a few steps back, then fell back onto the wall opposite you. 

He chuckled lowly to himself, shaking his head at the floor before mumbling, “Yeah, it was a bit freaky.”

You felt an airy laugh leave your lips, “I’ll probably have to sleep with the lights on for the rest of my life.”

Peter’s head raised to meet your eyes in the darkness as he brought his arms across his chest, and you couldn’t help but marvel at the way his arms flexed to accommodate the motion. Surely, he was doing this on purpose. 

“Well, if you want, I can stay with you,” he offered, voice still soft in the quiet night. “Harry seems like he’ll be sleeping just fine tonight, but I don’t want you losing sleep over monsters.”

You chuckled lightly, and the dark hid the way Peter seemed to light up at the sound. 

“I don’t wanna put you between me and any of my monsters.” 

It was a warning, a gentle one said through a joke, but there all the same. You didn’t need Peter to fight your battles, and you wanted him to know that, now. You felt like things were still changing, your world still shifting into place. Whatever this was between you and Peter felt like a big piece of it. It scared you. Whatever this was, it would have consequences. You needed Peter to understand that you were not asking him to fix you. He seemed to understand the deeper meaning of your words (or at least some of it), and he considered them for a moment. 

“I’m not scared of monsters.” He finally declared, stepping away from the wall and bringing himself closer to you. You had to lift your chin to meet his eyes now. “But how about– just for tonight– we just focus on just the one?”

His smile was relaxed but oozing with sincerity, and it was all the convincing you needed. 

He let you lead, despite knowing the way well–you only lived across the hall–taking anything you picked up in your hands to carry as you both collected your things. Arguing with Peter over your ability to carry your own purse was something you stopped doing weeks ago, though you still felt the urge to every time. 

As you stepped inside your apartment, it was dark. The thunder rolled deafeningly through the skies, assaulting your eardrums. You flinched but felt much less afraid when Peter reached out to you, his palms lying against your biceps and his body heat radiating from behind you.

You took a deep breath, and he removed one hand to flick on a light. The kitchen to the right was illuminated, and the beams strayed into the living room, casting parts of it in bright light. 

“That better?” He asked, with no hint of teasing or malice.

You nodded and thanked him, though he noticed the way your eyes travelled to the darkness warily. He moved past you to the kitchen counter and emptied your purse. You would have scolded him if you had noticed, but you were much too busy trying to find a path to the stairs that stayed in the light. He pushed aside your cosmetics and receipts, his fingers scanning through the rubbish. He returned to you with a timid smile and his prize held high in his hand. 

“Would a little bedtime smoke help?”

You looked away from the inky black night to where Peter held your cigs and lighter, a smile spreading across your face. 

“I thought you didn’t like me smoking?” you teased.

“I don’t.” He said firmly, “But I hate your stressed face even more.”

You strolled up to him, smiling widely as you pinched the bulb of his nose between your fingers and wiggled it. His face scrunched as you did so, and you released him to grab the contents from his hand. 

“You’re a peach.” You said warmly as you walked towards your balcony. 

The wind was howling, shaking the door slightly with its might. You hesitated for a second, suddenly unsure of how covered your covered balcony was, before you felt a soft blanket being thrown over your shoulders. You smiled at Peter in thanks, and he nodded before opening the door for you. You tensed but released the hold on your muscles when you were not assaulted by anything but a slight chill. The concrete walls did well to protect you from the storm, and you stepped outside. 

The rain was coming down sideways, big, fat drops whizzing past you in the night. You could see the city lights catching in each one as they passed. You watched them as you leaned against the wall, then sank down to sit on the floor. Peter joined you there, casting his backpack to the side, and watched as you gracefully flicked open the carton and shook one out. 

You had wrapped yourself in a cocoon with your blanket, yet your cold fingers struggled with the lighter. Peter didn’t watch you fight for long before he gently guided it from your hands and lit your cig for you. The flame cast a warm glow over his face for just a moment before he moved his thumb away from the spark wheel. 

His eyes never left yours, even now as the cig crackled and the cherry ember began to glow. You held your first puff in your lungs for a few seconds before finally releasing it, welcoming the fuzzy feeling in your brain. 

“There you go,” Peter’s voice barely carried over the sounds of the storm swirling around you, and his thumb raised to coax out the tension carried in the wrinkles on your face. “Much better.”

When your shock wore off, you turned your head, unable to face his unyielding gaze, and replaced the soft chuckle leaving your lips with a filter. You took a few more puffs, both of you watching the storm pass in silence. Sometimes the clouds would ignite– bright light flashing– but what worried you was how much closer the thunder seemed now. It was loud before, but now you could feel it rumble through your bones. You shivered. 

“Aren’t you cold?” Peter’s only protection from the elements was his layered shirts and jeans; you were sure he was freezing. 

“I’m okay.” His smile was tight-lipped before it fell completely, now replaced by concern. “Why? Are you still cold? Do you want me to get you another blanket?”

“No, no need,” you chuckled, then scooted closer to wrap some of your blanket around him. His heart was pounding with the gentle gestures you gave him, readjusting the fabric so it enveloped him fully, as it did you. You gently tugged on the front, ensuring his neck and shoulders weren’t too exposed, then patted his chest. “I’m fine, but looking at you is making me cold.”

Under the blanket, your thighs and arms were right against each other. As you continued to puff on your cig, you started to consider that Peter really might not have been cold, as your cocoon began to feel rather toasty in mere minutes from his presence. You felt so cozy, despite the raging storm. A contented sigh left your lips as your head fell to rest on Peter’s shoulder. As you settled your head, Peter dropped his shoulder ever so slightly, so you didn’t have to strain as far to reach it.

The rain continued to pummel the concrete streets, and lightning cracked the sky. The thunder was right behind it now, barely letting the light shine before interrupting with its bellowing. You winced at the volume, curling a little deeper into Peter to hide, and closed your eyes. He let you stay there, no teasing words of how you seemed afraid of the rain, only a gentle hand resting on your thigh. 

You heard the sound of zippers but paid it no mind, that is, until you heard the familiar click of a lighter. You opened your eyes to find Peter’s hand barely peeking out of the blanket, a flame inches from his face. 

The ember caught, and he discarded the lighter, a plume of smoke leaving his lips around the cone in his mouth. The smoke was taken quickly by the wind, cutting up and down in the harsh breeze. It didn’t smell as harsh as your cigarette, but you recognised the herbal smell all the same. His hand slowly came up to remove the filter from his mouth as his head fell to rest against the wall. 

You moved your head to prop your chin on his shoulder, and only then did Peter seem to realise he had an audience. 

“I hope you don’t mind if I indulge.”

His face was so close to yours when he turned to look at you. It made it hard to think about anything else. 

The shadows cast made him look as if he were carved from marble. His jaw cut like stone, and his nose sharp, but soft-- politely rounded at the end. The apples of his cheeks were lost to you, but his amber eyes bore into yours. If he noticed the way you were admiring him, he said nothing. Instead, blowing out the smoke in a steady stream, then hitting it again.

“I thought smoking was bad for you?” You teased, reaching for the joint hanging from his lip.

He made no objections through his wide smile.

“Well, green,” He said as you puffed, “is carcinogen free.”

You chuckled at that, passing it back to him and returning to what was left of your cig.

You did that a few more times until your cig had died, then passed the joint back and forth. Peter had begun rambling about something, though you couldn’t remember what he had first begun rambling about, and you found yourself giggling every so often.

Somewhere between the time he sparked the joint and the seven minutes it lasted, you had stretched your legs to lie across him, and his free arm had moved around your waist. The wind continued to howl and the thunder shook the building, but you couldn’t care less, so safe and mellow here. Peter felt so nice in your arms, and there was an intimacy here that was not foreign, but definitely different. Suddenly, passing something between lips with Peter felt special, almost sacred. Like a ritual meant to bring you two closer, though you weren’t sure how much closer you could get.

His head turned to find that you were already looking at him. Peter hoped that the dark night could hide the rising rosy tint in his cheeks. Your eyes were a little glassy now, and your body felt so relaxed in his hold. But it was the small smile on your lips that was really doing him in. It seemed to glow in the darkness, the warmth you looked at him with. 

He wordlessly offered you the joint again, and you took two quick puffs before returning it. 

“You can have the rest,” you told him before wrapping both of your arms around him and laying your head back into the crook of his neck. 

He hoped you couldn’t feel the way his heart was beating. However, you were much too busy with the floaty feeling washing over you. Your brain seemed muddled in the best kind of way, and it told you that you needed to be fully attached to Peter. As the boys knew, you were rarely wrong, and so you listened to your stoned intuition. 

He pulled the blanket tighter around both of you, being careful to tuck some of your face but not your nose. 

“Are you still cold?” He whispered.

You shook your head no, and Peter struggled internally as you cuddled into him deeper, as your hand traced circles on his back.

This was all he had wanted since he was a kid. For her to look at him like that– to hold him like this. But she had never seen him. He was a dork, a fart-face, a total numb-knuckle. And she was beautiful and smart and never let anyone tell her anything. Her tongue was sharp, but her fists were fiercer, and she had used both against any kids she caught giving him strife. Many saw her as cruel and scary– even her own brother had once warned Peter of the dangers of stealing food from a “wild animal’s” plate– but she was only ever kind to him. 

Anytime he visited Harry, you were sure to see him and ask how he was. You asked about his family and school and whatever special project he was working on. You remembered his favourite colour and would bring him various things in that shade, just because you thought of him. While Harry’s gifts were always lavish, yours were thoughtful. And if he teased you, in the same manner as your brother, you were much less violent in your retaliation. 

That wasn’t to say you never fought. Peter often got on your nerves as children. He would tease and make faces. He would side with your brother in almost every argument. But worst of all, he would suck up to your father. Norman passed Peter compliments as easily as he swiped his Amex, but never you. On most occasions, he would praise Peter, then lock eyes with you and Harry, as if to say, “Be better. Be like him.” You had punched him many times as children. 

You were his whole world until you moved away. He can still remember how his heart broke when Harry told him you guys were going to boarding school in Europe. Before he left that day, he came to your room. You had been crying, and Peter’s pudgy fists balled at his side before he released them. You would punch anything that made Peter cry, but he wasn’t you. He couldn’t punch anything hard enough to make you feel better. 

He begged you not to leave him. And as a fellow orphan, you knew that this was the greatest crime you could commit. But his tears stopped nothing, and you were gone the next week. It took him years to get over it, and if May ever mentioned the Osborns, the grief would resurface. 

When you returned to his life, you had grown and changed. You had long since retired from fighting, but your wit was just as sharp. You had somehow become even more beautiful. So much so, Peter had to convince himself that you were a real person, and not some fucked up vison pulled from his imagination. And you were kind. Just as thoughtful in small ways. Ways that made Peter’s heart stutter and flip. 

You yawned, breaking his reminiscing. 

“We should go inside,” he whispered, “It’s late.”

You groaned into his throat like a petulant child. 

“I don’t wanna,” you whined, snuggling closer, “you’re warm.”

Peter chuckled, his heart swelling in his chest, and allowed you a moment more rest before moving to scoop you up. 

You yelped, not expecting to be lifted, and your arms wrapped tightly around his neck. 

“Don’t worry,” he chuckled, “I won’t drop you.”

Your heart was beating fast in your chest. He was so strong, and you could feel his muscles tensing underneath you. In your less-than-sober state, you had the urge to bite him, though you suppressed it. 

He carried you up the stairs and to the master bedroom, where once inside, he placed you gently on your bed. 

“Do you want me to leave a light on?” he asked.

You nodded, and he made his way to the bathroom, flicking on the light and cracking the door before returning. 

“Thanks, Pete,” you smiled at him, “for everything.”

The way you were looking up at him was too much for his heart to take, so he walked back out the door, just to peek at you from the door frame. 

“No problem,” his smile became more of a smirk in the moonlight, “Good night, Os-bought.”

You flipped him off, and he laughed, making his way to the guest room. Once you heard the door shut, you rose to your closet, undressed– throwing on a random T-shirt in the dark–, then crawled under the covers. Your mind continued to think of Peter. You couldn’t appreciate it then, but earlier, when you were straddling him on the living room floor, you could feel how solid his muscles were, almost like cable wire against you. His hands were big too. Nice and vascular, but soft and warm. Your side tingled from where he had laid one before, like it was calling out for him, asking for more gentle touches. And also less gentle touches.

You thought about how it might feel to have his hands on your waist, in a less friendly context than you’ve become accustomed to. You thought about how easily he carried you, and how he would probably have no trouble throwing you around. You thought of his lips and how they may taste. His lips always look so soft and plush. He must use Chapstick, and you wondered what flavour. Maybe just the regular kind, or perhaps cherry. 

And now you were stoned and thinking about the cherry pie in the fridge. You peeked your head out of the door, then crept through the hall and down the stairs into the kitchen. You tensed when the silverware rattled, selecting a fork. The fridge light blinds you temporarily, your eyes now fully adjusted to the darkness. When your retinas recover, you realise there is no pie in the fridge, so you were forced to scavenge for a new treat to satisfy your tastebuds, as you fear they would be the only thing satisfied tonight. 

Despite your best efforts, you weren’t quiet enough to keep from disturbing your guest. However, he had an unfair secret advantage of heightened hearing and an odd sort of sixth sense, which really wasn’t your fault. Peter heard you creeping down the hall, and at first, he thought he might just stay where he was. But his curious mind wouldn’t allow it. If you were awake, Peter wanted to see you. Plus, he could go for a snack. Really, it was a win-win. 

He was much quieter than you and followed the gentle sounds you were making in the kitchen. As he turned the corner, you opened the fridge. He could see the silhouette of your figure in the light and greedily traced over it, committing it to memory. You looked gorgeous, wrapped up in a baggy shirt with your hair strewn about. Peter appreciated the shirt more when you bent over to look deeper into the fridge. He appreciated even more that you weren’t wearing any sleep shorts. He felt bad, perverted even, for looking, but he couldn’t help but admire it. He could make out some lace trimming on the sides that perfectly framed your ass. Suddenly, his clothes felt a little tighter. 

There’s no pie, but there is a box of Crumble Cookies that you had tucked in the back where your brother couldn’t see. Harry would often come check your fridge when his left him bored. If you had to guess, that’s where your pie went. You grabbed the cookies with haste, then turned around. 

You gasped, throwing your hands up to cover your mouth, forgetting the box entirely. Luckily for you, Peter was quick. He moved across the floor to catch them. When he stood, he was a breath away. 

“Jesus, Parker, you scared me.” You exhaled. 

“Sorry, Os-bought,” he said shyly, “didn’t mean to.”

He absentmindedly scratched his pec, but when he tucked his hand under his shirt, the cotton rose with it, giving you just a glimpse of his abs. Your legs clenched at the sight, and you had to look away. You got your bearings, took a centring breath, then grabbed the box from him and closed the fridge. The kitchen returned to the shadows. 

“What are you doing up?” You asked, still whispering. 

He pointed at the box in your hands, “Same as you, I imagine.”

“Well, lucky you,” You chuckle, opening the box for him. “I have your favourite.”

He gasps, grabbing a sugar cookie with Pink Frosting.

“A Lemon sugar cookie!” He excitedly whispers, “You had these the whole time?”

“I got them when I was out earlier, but I had to hide them from Harry so he didn’t eat them all.” 

“Well, I’m glad you did.”

He puts it in his mouth, taking a bite and groaning. You feel your thighs clench at the sound and the way he chases the crumbs from his lips with his tongue. 

“You okay?”

You, again, try your best to act normal. To behave as if the distance between you, or lack thereof, wasn’t suffocating. As if everything he did didn’t make you want him more. As if you didn’t want him at all. 

“Yeah,” You tore your eyes away from his lips, “Yeah, I’m fine.

You take a step away, turning to the fridge again. You reach for the filtered water pitcher, then bring it to the counter, grabbing a glass before offering.

“Do you want any?”

“Nah, I’m alright”

You’ve known Peter Parker for a while, and even if you spent a lot of that time knowing each other apart, there were some fundamental truths about Peter that you knew would never change. Like how he drinks any beverage but his own. Peter won’t ever accept a drink, but he’ll ask for a sip of yours eventually. And he’ll take more than a sip, half of your water source depleted in one long gulp. He has always been this way, and you have adapted accordingly. You filled your glass nearly to the brim, then turned back. He smiled at you warmly, then tilted his head to the side. 

“Hey, is that my shirt?”

You looked down at the worn cotton and wanted to melt into the floor out of embarrassment. It was an inconspicuous brown shirt, but the print was very obviously not yours. It was the Foo Fighters' debut album promo poster, a band that you didn’t particularly follow or care about. But Peter loved them, and you knew that’s how you got the shirt. Of course– of course– you were wearing his old clothes right now, when it’s taking everything in you not to jump his bones. 

“Huh?” You attempted ignorance and nonchalance, “Oh yeah, I think you left it here forever ago.”

“I haven’t seen that since middle school.” He noted.

“Heh, yeah. Harry and I used to fight over it all the time.”

Peter made a face. “Harry likes the Foo Fighters?”

You snorted at that, “No, it just pissed off Dad.”

Peter smiled at that, then let his eyes roam over your figure again. You had turned to return the pitcher to the fridge, placing it back on the lower shelf. 

“Well, I’m glad you got it. You look good in it.”

He’s wearing a cheeky smile when you turn around to look over your shoulder. You notice him not so subtly checking out your ass. You smirk, growing confident and standing tall.

“Are you just saying that because my ass is out?”

“No,” Peter says, then shrugs, “but it certainly helps.”

You didn't expect him to be so forward, to admit to looking at your ass or liking that it was out. You expected a much more “sibling” response, assuming that was how he saw you. Your jaw dropped, unable to keep the surprise off your face. 

“Peter!” You gasp. 

“What?”

The amusement on his face is obvious, and you hate that it makes you want to smile. Especially when you know it’s at your expense. But you refuse to indulge in it and pass him the water, being sure to return to his space. The room is nearly pitch black again, so you place your arm out and squeeze his bicep so you can feel where he is. 

“Sorry, it’s dark in here”

He rests his hand just under your shoulder blade, pulling you closer while guiding your cup to his free one.

“It’s alright, I got ya.”

Your knees feel weak when he says that in the Queens accent, and you're suddenly glad he’s holding you close. He finally tears his gaze away, and you watch his Adam’s apple bob as he sips from the cup, biting your lip.

He looks back down at you and smiles.

“What?” He asks, setting the glass down on the counter beside him.

“What?” You repeat.

“You’re lookin' at me funny,” He says with that same mischievous glint in his eye. 

“No, ’m not,” You lied. 

His now free hand moves the hair that had fallen in front of your eyes and pushes it behind your ear. You feel a jolt of electricity course through you at the contact of his gentle fingers on your skin. 

“Yeah, you are.” He all but whispers.

You look for a retort but find none, because he’s right. You want him to fuck you, and you’re sure your face says the same. The air is getting thicker, and it’s harder to breathe. Or maybe it’s just the way he’s looking at you. 

“You okay?” He teases, “Your heart’s beating pretty fast.”

You shift your weight so your pelvis is pressed up against him, adding pressure to where you were already touching. He takes a sharp breath, his hands instinctively grabbing your sides to keep you there. The hold is firm, and you feel your body respond to this new touch. You feel a bit of pride in the way he’s holding you close, in knowing that he seems to want you, too. Maybe you weren’t stupid, maybe you were a genius. His eyes are trained on you, and you decide to do a little teasing of your own. 

“I’m fine.” You bring a cookie to your lips, humming as you take a bite.

His fingers are tracing circles where they lie. 

“What flavour is that?” He asks, though he sounds distracted. 

“Snickerdoodle,” You offer. “Wanna taste?

You hold out your bite of cookie, but Peter ignores it, instead putting his lips on yours. You melt into the kiss instantly. 

His hands trail from your sides until they rest just above the curve of your ass, bunching up the worn cotton covering it. You shiver at the newly exposed skin. Time is lost as his lips meld to yours with a firm pressure that isn’t too aggressive, but just enough. You turn your head, deepening the kiss, your hands moving from his arms to tangle in his hair. The groan he lets out goes straight to your core. You feel his tongue swipe across your lips, and though it’s tempting, you don’t allow him entrance. Peter had no problem teasing, and you wanted to pay it forward. 

He pulls away, slowly separating his lips from yours. His forehead rests against yours as your breathing levels. 

“Delicious.” He concluded. 

You can’t help the small laugh that bubbles up at the comment. And when you look up, Peter is smiling down at you. Not smiling with you, but because of you, and that’s a feeling you could get used to. 

One of his hands comes up to smooth your hair, and you nearly swoon. 

“I think I may have to go in for seconds.”

You smirk, giving his hair a little tug, which he groans at. “You better.”

Peter has never been one to disobey a pretty woman. He kisses you again, this time a little sweeter. You play a game of cat and mouse with his lips, taking turns pulling away and chasing. Peter gets frustrated with the game, though, and pinches your side. You gasp, and he takes the opportunity to invade. You can feel the desperation–the desire–and taste the lemony, ginger notes on his tongue. It’s intoxicating. 

One of his hands trails lower and lower, skating down your thigh, leaving goosebumps in the wake of his fingertips. He guided your leg up, and you hooked it on his hip. 

Your skin was burning hot as he continued to steal your breath. You could feel a stiffness against your core, and you testedly rolled your hips. Peter’s breath hitched at the contact, and you did it again. This time, you were rewarded with the opportunity to catch his moan in your mouth. Peter pulled you closer by your raised leg, eliminating space you didn’t think could even be there. He rolled his hips into you and it felt amazing, the little bit of friction you got from his boxers (You hadn’t realised until then that he too was walking around in his underwear). The weed in your system made you extra sensitive. Every touch was a tidal wave, and it didn’t take much to wind you up. 

Peter’s lips pulled away to kiss his way down your throat as your hands freely roamed his body. Hands skate over lovers by the oven light to the sounds of heavy breathing. A song and dance familiar to both, but never like this. You felt life in his lips. His teeth dig into your flesh, and you realise that you would be completely content if you died there. Your life was in his hands, and you would let him do whatever he deemed fit.

Soon, he was picking you up. He lifted you off the ground and guided your legs around him. From this new angle, you could gaze down at the man your heart beat for. You couldn’t stop your fingers from tracing shapes on his soft skin.

“What?” He breathed between kiss-bitten lips stretched into a small smile. 

“What?” You repeated. 

“You’re looking at me funny again.”

You weren’t sure why you said it. You had a strict rule against complementing the men you fucked. Most of them didn’t need the ego boost. They knew they were hot, which is why they shot their shot at an Osborn. But Peter was different. 

He was your friend, a trusted confidante. He was light, he was warmth. He was comfort, he was strength against all odds. He was everything and more. 

“You’re just so beautiful,” you whispered, voice full of awe. 

Peter tried not to show how your words affected him. The way you looked at him like some precious thing, like you cared for him. 

“You’re stealing my lines, gorgeous.”

He kissed you again, so he wouldn’t drown in your fervid gaze. Your fingers remained on his face, trailing down his throat, and he hoped your touch would never leave. 

He spins you around and sets you down on the island, all without his lips stumbling against yours. His hands begin to explore your body, trailing up your legs and stomach. 

You're beginning to get a little frustrated. Kissing Peter is nice, for sure, but you want more. Your fingers dig into his shirt, trying to pull him closer, and he follows. Soon he’s rolling his hips into you again, with a hand skating under your shirt and the other tangled in the hair at the base of your neck, swallowing every noise you make for him. 

He pulls on your hair, moving your head farther to the side so he can begin sucking on your jaw and neck. His teeth graze across your skin, and your eyes roll back in pleasure. But still, it’s not enough. Your hands worm their way under his shirt, your fingers tracing over the abs you all but drooled over earlier. You feel the muscles twitch under your touch and continue to work your way down. Your hand grips the band of his boxers, and your fingers brush the head of his cock. 

A low hum that resembles a growl comes from his throat. 

“Baby, if you touch me right now,” he warns, “I will cum.”

His words tickle your neck, but the gruffness of his voice, the way “baby” tumbled from his desperate lips, makes you tremble. It was intoxicating, just his lips had you transfixed, you wanted desperately to know what else he could do to you.

“What if I want you to?”

Peter pulls away from your neck, and your hands move back up towards his sternum. He looks at you with shock that he can’t hide, and you're about to pull away, worried you had said something wrong, but then he shakes his head with a small laugh. 

“Oh, you’re gonna be the death of me.”

Soon he’s on top of you again, his lips on yours and his thumbs rubbing over the swell of your breasts. The way his tongue flicks around your mouth leaves you dizzy. Then he pulls away, and you bite your lip to keep from whining. His eyes never leave yours as he slowly pulls his shirt from his body, allowing you to see him completely. Your eyes hungrily look him over, drinking in every bulge and divot. 

You begin to follow his lead, your hands coming to the hem of your worn t-shirt before his hands stop you. Your brows furrow in confusion. 

“No, no,” he says softly. “The shirt stays on.”

“Then what comes off?” You ask.

You giggle a little, the dopey look on his face warming you. 

“I got a feeling there’s not many other options.”

His finger pulls on the waist of your panties, the elastic snapping loudly against your skin. You suck your teeth, the jolt exciting you more than you care to admit. 

“Peter parker,” Your tone sounds offended, but the grin across your lips hides nothing, “are you calling me a slut?”

“Not at all, sweetheart.” You watch as he slowly sinks to his knees, his gaze unwavering as he places sweet kisses on your thighs. You shudder, and you can feel him smirk against your plush skin. His fingers trace the path he makes, feather-soft. “Not, unless you want me to.”

Your body trembles with anticipation as he comes closer and closer to where you need him most. But just as you think he’s about to end his teasing, he skips over your panties and kisses your stomach. You whine as his head slowly enters your shirt, and he chuckles. 

“Lay down for me, baby.” He’s using his nose to raise the cotton of your shirt and his words to melt you into pliable goo.

You follow his instructions, a small gasp leaving your chest as the cold marble hits your back. You're quickly distracted though, as Peter wraps his lips around one of your perked nipples. Your hand flies to his hair, your hips buck in pleasure. You were so distracted that you didn’t even notice his hands slipping your panties to the side. He moaned as he flicked his tongue around you, then grazed his teeth over the sensitive bud. 

Your breath hitched at the action and the noise went straight to his cock. Peter would have loved to tease you like this for hours, but he didn’t think he could hold out that long. He needed you. God, how he needed you. 

He trailed a finger through your slit and you moaned, so close to relief. He made a few passes as you squirmed before landing on your clit. He began moving his fingers in slow circles before switching boobs. Your chest rose into his mouth, your back arching from his touch. You looked heavenly, all splayed out for him, lost in your pleasure. 

It wasn’t long until his fingers moved to insert a single digit into your cunt. You gasped and he groaned as your walls squeezed him tightly. 

“Fuck, babygirl,” You preened at the nickname, “You’re so tight.”

He worked his finger slowly, until he felt you relax some, being sure to distract you with other pleasures. Soon you were bucking your hips into him and the sight of you fucking yourself on his finger made him feral. His chest heaved as he watched, trying to convince himself not to fuck you senceless then and there. Instead, he added another finger, watching you squirm in pleasure at the intrusion. 

He could barely fit two, and worried for a moment that he might hurt you, but soon you were moaning his name, a soft please leaving your lips. He thought he might burst then and there. 

“What is it, hmm?” He asked, keeping his steady pace, “What do you need?”

Your eyes met his, all glassy and shot with pleasure. It was a good look on you. 

“Faster,” you panted. “Please, faster.”

Peter grinned before setting a brutal pace. Your hand came to cover your mouth as you shrieked. He was hitting you deeper, faster; the spongy part of your walls brutalized in the best way. You felt so sensitive from the weed before, your brain still pleasantly foggy. It didn’t take long for your legs to start shaking. As soon as Peter noticed, he brought his other hand down to rub at your clit. You came with a shout, eyes rolling back as you arched against the counter. Peter doesn’t think he’s ever seen a more beautiful sight than that. 

Your hand fell gently on the one moving your clit and Peter begrudgenly stopped, though he wanted nothing more than to watch you keep twitching. The other raised to rest on his cheek, and he followed it as you brought him closer. 

You crushed your lips together. It was messy and passionate, and Peter wouldn’t have had it any other way, but he needed more. After a few moments, he pulled away, his brows furrowed and eyes closed like he was focusing hard. 

“What’s wrong?” You found yourself asking, insecurity slipping in between the syllables. 

At that, his eyes snapped open, guilt washing over his features as his eyes landed on yours. 

“Nothing,” he rushed out, kissing you on the cheek, then all over your face. “Absolutely nothing.”

His kisses tickled and you couldn’t help the giggle rising from your chest. 

“I was just thinking about eating you out,” Suddenly the laughter dies, and he feels your legs begin to close around him, “and I was trying really hard not to cum from the thought of it.”

Any witty comeback is lost to you when Peter’s hands begin to massage your thighs. It had never occurred to you that Peter was a munch, but the idea of him getting off to you getting off was extremely hot. 

“I uh, well,” you found yourself stammering, “you’re welcome to, if you want.”

Peter laughed, kissing your cheek again before trailing down your throat. Once he reaches your shirt collar, he gathers the material under your chin, his hands then working off your panties. 

“Don’t mind if I do,” he jokes as his kisses continue to trail down your body. 

Soon, he’s on his knees again, and you prop yourself up on your elbows to see him better. He carefully guides your legs over his shoulders as his nose trails the skin of your inner thighs. The sound of him drawing your scent through his nose makes you nervous for a moment, but any insecurity is squashed at the resounding groan he emits. 

His eyes flash up to yours, and even in the darkness, you can see how lost he’s become. His eyes look glazed as his mouth lazily hangs open. You swallow, almost nervous for what’s to come. 

In a flash, his tongue darts out, planted flatly against your hole, then moves up to your clit. His moan is almost drowned out by the sharp gasp that rips from your throat. He felt so warm against you. He made a few more passes, his eyes drooping closed as he began to lose himself in your taste. It was intoxicating. The tip of his tongue caught on the edge of your hole, penetrating for just a moment, a ghost of a promise, and his name fell from your lips in a beg. 

Suddenly, his eyes shot open, a look of determination on his face. 

He laid is tongue flat against your clit, whipping it back and forth with a sure pressure. The jump from such gentle touches to rough depravity stole your breath in a shriek. Your nails raked uselessly against the polished marble countertop as he began to suckle on your sensitive bud. He broke off of it with a gentle kiss, before pointing his tongue and flicking over it quickly. Your back arched, shoving you deeper into his face, and his hands around your thighs tightened in response. A string of expletives fell from your lips as he alternated between his movements, as you squirmed more and more, he pulled you closer and closer. 

You wanted desperately to pull at his hair, but the thought of hurting him pulled you back. You could barely breathe, the world around you blurring as you approached your second orgasm. You grasped at your chest, twisting and pulling at your nipples, then massaging the flesh when that too became too much. 

“That’s right,” Peter praised, making you squirm all the more as he spoke into your sensitive cunt. “Play with those pretty tits.”

Your back arched as you continued your ministrations, and soon his fingers carried on simulating your clit so that he could fuck you with his tounge. You were shaking in no time, incoherent babbling leaving your lips. Peter couldn’t help but groan into you. A small pool was forming on the counter where he had artfully laid you out, and his tongue had been swallowed by your walls, sucking him in further as they pulse around him. His tongue twisted and twirled, collecting everything he could on his taste buds, before he found that ridged spot deep within you. 

A shout came from your panting chest, and Peter could see tears leaking from your eyes. Your head whipped frantically, and he could feel your shaking legs instinctively pulling away, overwhelmed by pleasure. He knew you were close. Hell, he was close himself. But he had to keep going. He wanted to give you everything and more. He’d eat you out till dawn if you let him. 

“Cum for me baby.” He spoke in a near whisper, and you were barely coherent enough to catch it. You whined, unable to form words, and he felt as you pushed yourself deeper into his hands, grinning widely through the slick that now covered his face. “That’s it, atta girl.”

His praise sent you over the edge. You came with a cry, your body jolting as your high hit you, before it cut off into a silent scream. Peter’s tongue was quick to enter you again, catching everything he could on his greedy face. It was like a dam broke, and Peter revelled in the pride of having made you squirt, bathing himself in it. 

You’re panting, barely present on this planet, when you feel his lips on yours again. You grasp him desperately, your hands almost painfully gripping at his curls. You can taste yourself on his lips, and he moans into your mouth as your tongue dives deeper. You can feel the way his chest rises and falls against yours, and the hard bugle pressed against you. You reach for his boxers again, and this time he doesn’t stop you. 

You feel him in your hands, and he captures your gasp in your mouth. Your fingers strain to wrap around him, and you throb at the thought. Your thumb comes to nudge at his slit, wetting it with pre-cum. He groans, the sound coming deep from his chest, and suddenly, the rooms run out of oxygen. You slowly angle it down, so he’s perfectly in line. He wastes no time thrusting forward. 

You nearly fold in half, a mix of pain and immense pleasure overtaking you as he fills you. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” He breathes, “I’m sorry baby, I’m trynna go slow.”

His brows are knitted tightly, and there are beads of sweat brewing at his hairline. Your hand reaches up to hold his cheek, and his eyes snap back to yours. 

“Don’t care,” You managed. “Want you.”

He buried his head in your neck, unable to control himself if he gazed into your fucked out gaze filled with adoration. He huffed and puffed as he forced himself to push forward slowly. You squirmed and wriggled as he moved, and his grip on your hips was painful as he held you still. He was only about halfway before he felt the wall of your cervix, and stilled for a moment to let you adjust. 

You were just as breathless, having never felt so full before. Your brain wasn’t running as it usually did, and you had to fight for any form of lucidity, but one thought flittered across your mind: You had officially been ruined for any other man. Peter had eaten you out enough to make you squirt, and now, just having him inside you was enough to almost make you do it again. 

He gave a shaky breath as he slowly pulled back, leaving only his tip inside you. He counted to three, then pushed slowly back in, watching as your head fell back. He did this a few more times, until it felt like you had relaxed some. It was hard to gauge as your walls were so tightly surrounding him, he was afraid he might rip you in half. You didn’t seem very concerned though, babbling as your jaw hung open. 

He carefully lifted a leg to his shoulder, opening you up just a little more, and then pushed in further. The moan he recieved went straight to his cock. He found himself moving at a much faster pace, no longer able to control himself with the way your body was begging him for more. 

Your hands flew to his arms, where he felt your nails digging into his flesh. Your back was arched so far only your head and ass remained on the counter, before you fell back down, no longer having the strength to do more than lie there. He moved a hand from your waist to your cheek in an attempt to ground you, like you had for him before. 

“Doing so good for me,” he cooed. 

He felt you tighten around him as he spoke, and hissed as he did his best not to cum. You nuzzled your face deeper into his hand, your eyes unfocused as they searched for him. Your lips gently brushed his thumb, and to his amazement, your tongue came forward to pull it into your mouth. 

“God,” Your tongue swirled around his digit before you began drawing it further into your lips. Peter had to tear his eyes away from the display, listing every state and capital in his head so he could keep going. “Fuck, baby.”

As his focus shifted, he was no longer thinking about speed and began thrusting into you at a brutal pace. You cried out, another orgasm coming forth, and drool dripped down the side of your mouth, gathering around his fingers. 

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” You babbled, and Peter was never one to deny a pretty woman. 

He watched as your eyes scrunched closed and your mouth continued to slacken. He leaned forward, greedily swallowing your beautiful moans. As you came, a hand came down on the muscled plains of his back, and your nails raked up them. He hissed as you shook beneath him, the leg over his shoulder locking at the knee. He slowed his pace while your breathing began to level out, until eventually he stilled. 

His hand rubbed soothingly at your thigh, while the other wiped sweat and loose hair from your eyes. You blinked dumbly, finally finding him. Once you did, your hands grasped desperately at his face, bringing it to yours. It was messy, teeth and tongues knocking against each other. You devoured him, and Peter felt his cock twitching inside you at the thought. 

“Need you to come,” You muttered across his lips. “Please, need you.”

Peter rubbed a soothing hand up your side, shushing you. 

“It’s okay, baby.” He spoke so softly, like you were an avalanche waiting to happen. “Just take it easy.”

“No,” You whined. “Want you, want all of you. Please, please, want you.”

You bucked your hips, and you both groaned at the movement. Peter laid a hand on the base of your stomach, trying to still you. 

“I won’t fit, baby.” He tried to reason, “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

Tears of frustration began to pool in your eyes. If you hadn’t just had your brains fucked out three ways from Sunday, you might have been ashamed of your behaviour. But for now, all you could think about was more: more Peter, more pleasure, more, more, more. 

You tried to sit up, but your arms began to give. Peter was quick to catch you, helping you the rest of the way up. Your hands rested on his shoulders, moving up his neck and then back down. 

“Please,” you pleaded, “I’ll be good.”

You pulled him in for a kiss, trying to suck the very soul from his being, and you could feel Peter nudge forward, pushing into you a bit more. You gasped into his mouth, your hands pawing at him to bring him closer still. 

“I’ll be so good,” You promised. “Please, please; need you.”

Peter looked into your eyes and knew he was doomed. He would do anything you asked of him, and anything you wouldn’t. He’d march into battle in boxers. He’d swim the whole English Channel. He would assassinate a senator if you asked.  Anything your heart desired, he’d serve to you on a silver platter. And what you were asking of him now, how could he deny you?

“Okay, baby, okay.” He cooed, “Come ‘ere.”

He slowly pulled out of you, and you whined. He placed gentle kisses on your cheeks as an apology as he pulled you forward. You slid across the counter and he held you up as your useless legs came to stand. He had one arm wrapped around your waist, holding you up, while the other rubbed circles on your back. You pawed at him, and he kissed away your tears. 

“It’s okay,” he murmured, “I got you.”

He turned you around, guiding your hands to the counter and lifting your hips up with his forearm. 

“You have to tell me if it hurts, okay?”

You nodded your head fast enough to make you dizzy, your ass wiggling towards him. He pressed soft kisses across your spine, then you felt his bulbous tip prodding at your folds. You bit your lip to contain a whine, then all at once, he entered you again. You jostled forward with the force, the act knocking the wind out of you. 

“You okay?” He asked, his voice shaking. 

“Fuck, Peter!” You cried, your head bobbing, “Yes, yes, please.”

You shoved yourself back, trying to take him yourself. At this angle, you felt him go deeper, and your body melted in the pleasure, your cheek hitting the cold marble as you gasped. Peter hissed, his body trembling against you. He gained his composure and ripped your arms from the counter, pulling them behind your back, then leaned down into your ear. 

“Don’t do that, I don’t wanna hurt you.” He warned, his warm breath fanning across the shell of your ear. “Now, be good.”

You preened against him, trying your best not to wiggle as he arched your back. He moved slowly, dragging himself out to the tip then back in, getting deeper and deeper each time. You hummed and panted, trying your best to relax so you could take more. Soon enough, you felt Peter’s pelvis brush against your ass and you felt a pressure in your stomach. Satisfied moans filled the room, and your body trembled in anticipation. Peter stilled for a moment, gathering himself. 

He had sex before, a few times even. He had gotten some pretty good reviews, but he was no sex god. But this, with you, was something else entirely. Maybe it was the fact that he knew you, trusted you. Maybe it was because you had always been so kind to him, a true friend he always needed. Maybe it had been that he had loved you for as long as he could remember. Maybe it was that he had never bottomed out in anyone before, but he was on a high he wasn’t sure he would ever get again. 

He pulled out again, then thrust back in quickly. You whimpered, and he did it again. By the third time, you were crying out his name. He continued thrusting, slowly getting lost in the feeling of your walls closing around him. You were a moaning mess, and Peter loved the sound. He also rather enjoyed the view of your ass bouncing against him with each thrust. 

He spreads your legs farther, giving himself more room to work, and in a moment, you're practically screaming in pleasure, expletives and pleas leaving your lips. He released your hands, gathering your shirt in his hands before gently stuffing it in your mouth. You took it easily, a look of relief softening your brows. 

“You’re gonna wake up the whole damn neighborhood,” he chuckled to himself. 

His hands trailed down slowly, grasping your breasts in his big hands, and using the leverage to meet his thrusts. Your hands desperately gripped the counter’s edge, trying to find purchase as you felt your soul being rearranged. Peter was panting as you babbled around the cotton, drool staining the fabric darker. Your brain melted away as your high continued to rise. Your eyes rolled back in your skull, and your body began to shake. Peter felt this and almost laughed, full of euphoria. 

“Take it, yeah, there you go.” He barely recognised his own voice. In you, he was discovering things about himself, things you seemed to enjoy. “Such a good girl.”

He began thrusting faster, watching you tremble and shake bellow him. He knew you were close, and he wasn’t far behind. He focused hard, letting himself revel in your pulsing velvet walls. He felt a small hand cover the one on your breast and let you guide it to your throat. 

He placed it gently, unsure, but you warped his fingers around it and squeezed. As he applied pleasure, he felt how tightly you squeezed around him, how your muscles tensed. 

“Oh, fuck, omigod!” He was practically breathless. 

In his frenzy, he continued to fuck you on his cock, a bruising grip on your hip and another on your throat. You felt him wrap around you to massage your clit, his fingers lubed with your slick, cum, and spit. You let out a final cry, muffled through your shirt but loud enough that anyone awake at this late hour would hear it. He was overwhelmed by the vision of your slick spewing around him. He gulped, then felt his resolve crumble as he came with a shout of his own. 

You began to crumble forward and he scooped you up, bringing your back to his chest. Neither of you seemed to mind the sweat as you worked hard to steady your breaths. You were limp in his arms, your head lolling to the side as he held you close. You looked beautiful. You always did, but the lazy smile across your lax face was a wonder to behold.

His fingers reached up to your hairline, brushing some strands off your sweat-soaked forehead, then began leaving kisses along the side of your neck. 

You giggled, and Peter found himself chuckling too. Your arms came around to wrap around the ones that held you, and Peter felt his heart swell in the hug. 

“How you feeling, beautiful?”

You sighed whistlefully, rolling your head onto his shoulder. 

“Greaaaat,” you sighed. 

Peter chuckled again. 

“Good, good.” He said softly, “Me too.”

He pulled his hips back, slowly pulling out of you, and grimaced when you winced. 

“Are you sure I didn’t hurt you?”

You attempted to turn around, and Peter caught you when you stumbled. Your arms hung loosely around his neck, your fingers absent-mindedly playing with his hair. 

“It’s okay,” You smiled with heavy eyelids, “You jus’ have to carry me to bed again.”

Peter smiled a boyish grin, picking you up with ease and guiding your legs around his waist. You clung to him easily as Peter carried you back to your room, laying you down on the sheets before disappearing into the bathroom. You gazed at him in the light, the way he seemed to glow. 

“Hey Pete?” you asked. He looked at you as he ran a rag under the sink. “When’d you get all buff?”

He let out a hearty chuckle, returning to you and gently opening your legs. You winced again as he wiped, and he placed a gentle kiss on your thigh as an apology. 

“That’s something I only tell girlfriends,” He said with a smirk, holding out his pinky, “So, you’d have to say yes to breakfast tomorrow before I could tell you.”

You giggled at the man, then linked your pinky with his. “I would love to go to breakfast tomorrow as your girlfriend.”

He pulled your linked fingers to his chest, smiling as he leaned down to kiss you. It was gentle, a soft peck that held the promise of something more. He pulled away, sitting on the edge of your bed, and just looked at you. There was a look in his eye, one so raw and gleeful that you almost couldn’t take it. 

“Okay, then,” You said, shuffling to pull the covers back, “Go turn off the light, and come to bed.”

Peter obeyed, and you felt a great relief when his body pressed against yours, his arms coming to cradle you. You forgot all about the monster in the dark. And you could face the others later. For now, there was none in his radiant light. 

A/N: cute little happy ending for y'all. I hope you enjoyed! Please refrain from flooding my ask box with questions about when I'm finishing/updating a series. I'm mentally ill and stubborn. Every time I see one, all progress gets delayed at least another month :))

Tag List: @actuallypeterparker, @andrews-lovr, @barbecuetiddy, @cherriescherriesred25, @heejinw0rld, @ilovemoonknight, @invisibletrolleyson-jeremy, @Isshecrazyorissheclever, @mirrorballin24, @miwagila, @negasonic-teenage-asshole, @onlyangel-444, @preciousbabypeter, @princesskittycatofmeowland, @purple-amaranthe, @raajali3, @remuslupinsdocs, @rudy-the-winged-wolf, @scorpiolystoned, @supernerdycookietrashblrr, @tayswiftlovebot, @wannapizzamymind, @whoreforklitz

[antimony-medusa]

We've just had one battleship, yes, but what about second battleship?

Multifandom battleship is live and looking for prompts!

There are 280 people signed up to the multifandom event getting ready to make 2000 works in three weeks, and all of those gifts are going to need to be gifts for people. If you want to Enrich The Game (and you're 18-plus) you can stop by and offer prompts! I am specifically hoping for MCYT prompts, but there are So Many Fandoms in the event that are also looking for prompts! Come on down!

Prompts are made at the collection here by clicking on Prompt Form. Detailed instructions about how to prompt are here (ignore anything it says about signing up, that was for people signing up to play the game and we're already at max players).

Each prompt needs to have a Fandom, Relationship or Character, the mediums you're okay with, any Major Archive Warnings you're okay with, at least one Freeform tag for people to match on, and then the body of the prompt itself, which is where you put your Do Not Want and any details about the prompt itself you want. For freeform tags, you can pick from this list of almost 600 tags, or there's a ticky spreadsheet you can make a copy of to use on your own computer and have them export into a nice list you can just copy-paste onto Ao3! People only have to match to one freeform tag for their gift to be valid, so you can put as few as one or as many as every single freeform on there and let people go shopping. You can put 20 freeforms in the "additional tags" slot and an unlimited number in the "optional tags" spot, and there's no mechanical difference between them, people will still be picking from that whole list to try and gift to people! Note that you need to only put tags that are on the list or your prompt may be deleted, because mods don't want people trying to hit "friends to family" and then it turns out that that's not on the gameplay board.

Prompts can be as detailed (scarian cyberpunk arranged marriage wedding night) or as broad ranging (any of these 300 tags as long as it's team PE) as you like! You have to pick from the list of relationship tags in the tag set to be able to fill out a prompt, but if the relationships you are interested in aren't there, you can click on "nominate" in the top right-hand corner and nominate the tags you want and check back a few hours later! All tags have to be disambiguated (have the fandom in parentheses after the tag itself, like Ranboo/Tubbo (Dream SMP)), so if the tag gets unstuck from the fandom the mods can know where it goes to put it back. There are I think 12,000 tags in the tag set already so mods have a lot of fandoms in there they're not familiar with! You can also request character-focused work and not relationship in the format 1: Grian (Life Series), but the 1: before the name is very important, that's to keep the tag set from snarling cause it thinks we're putting a character tag in the relationship slot. (Which we are, but that's because you gotta break the tag set over your knee a little to make an event of this size work.) Note that if you request a solo character tag people can also include any other characters in canon, including romantic relationships, so be sure to DNW it if you don't want shipping or you have specific notps you don't want in your gift.

DNW? DNW stands for Do Not Want, and it's anything that would annoy, trigger, or squick you that you don't want in your gift. DNWs have to be polite (so no "no abuse because that's creepy to write about abuse), and they must be reasonable (so no "no blood/injury" if you also opted into MCD, and no trying to box someone into a very specific gift, so no "DNW anything that isn't a gladiator au where technoblade fights with a trident and phil has clipped wings and fights with a bow and they learn how to enchant things secretly and in the middle of a rainstorm technoblade uses riptide to escape the ring"), and they must be precise and easily understood (so no "no dark content"). If you're requesting any NSFW tags it's a good idea to have a NSFW DNW specifically, because there are a lot of kinks in the world and you never know what tags someone is trying to hit.

So— fandom, relationship/character, medium, any archive warnings, freeform tags for people to match on, and your DNW and any details about your prompt in the text box. If you don't have any DNW you can just put DNW - No Restrictions, but be aware that that opens you up to Anything, and I do mean Anything. You're ready to prompt for battleship! Go forth, enrich the game with your story and art ideas, your niche blorbos, your fandoms of the heart and the new hyperfixation you discovered last week. I'll see you in the gameplay!

[dootznbootz]

Cursed thought: The Trojan Horse but you can hear Caramelldansen from inside as the colored lights flash can be seen between the boards.

[subaru-meteorlight]

💫.

[nappingpaperclip]

honestly I’m fucking tired of calling my reps and begging them to care

I’ve been calling them over and over and over for the past four months begging and pleading them to speak out about what is obviously genocide

I don’t think they listen, most likely their underpaid interns got instructed to throw notes or voicemails out, but even if they do they don’t fucking care. It’s exhausting.

The White House comment line is only open for 4 hours 4 days of the week during hours most people work. If you’re able to call and wait for 20 minutes to finally speak to an intern they take a brief note and you can only hope they don’t immediately throw it out.

I’ve been doing this since I was a child. begging my reps to care about children being shot in school. begging them to care about my own schools getting bomb and gun threats every year. begging them to care about the fact that people don’t feel safe around cops. begging them to care about the growing number of people in my city becoming jobless and homeless and dying of covid. begging them like a dog to care at all about people’s lives and happiness.

I don’t know. I’m just fuckin’ tired

I won’t give up though. It’s not the only form of activism I do or the main one I give my energy to. I hope the same thing for anyone reading this. You shouldn’t just be boycotting and calling your reps, you should be attending vigils and protests and speaking about the issue of genocide to your friends and family

I’m just tired of people pretending like our representatives actually give a fuck what we think over their lobbyists and investors cause it is and has always been clear to me that they don’t. America has never been a democracy and if you think that you are deluded.

[freebooter4ever]

awww basketball again

[intromortal]

⭑ INCH BY INCH ⸻ park sunghoon

you have a boyfriend gifted with a pornstar cock, but he refuses to use it on you, too scared he'll end up hurting you. so your best shot is to devise a plan to get him to crumble, and even if things don't unfold quite as expected, what matters is the result anyway... right?

starring ⋆ f!reader x park sunghoon, besties!jaykewon

this work contains ⋆ smut ⋆ minors so not interact ⋆ barely any plot, way too much smut, sunghoon being diabolically hung, my extremely poor attempts at humor, established relationship, nasty nasty shit... brat tamer sunghoon, alcohol consumption, implied driving under the influence, jealousy, slut shaming (not from hoon), a tiny bit of violence, blood, size & bulge kink, fingering, dry humping, slight degradation, partially clothed sex, a freaky voice message, edging & overstim, oral (f!rec), mutual masturbation, lube, squirting, unprotected sex ⸻ rules m.list

length ⋆ one shot ⸻ 23.6k words

⭑ NIA ⸻ i'm in pain and my period is abt to start ANDD antibiotics fucked my stomach up so if you see typos no you don't. anyways. big fat cock. who agrees!! shoutout to my homies vivi and stella for putting up with my ass and deactivation threats anytime i write anything ever!!! and for having read this before anyone else

Having a dick so big multiple people suggest you make a career out of it isn't half as nice as it sounds, Sunghoon would know that better than anyone.

Even before getting any experience, he'd been aware of just how comically large his dick was. He'd known ever since he had to go out of his way to search for porn with ‘massive cock!’ in the title for it to look anything like his, and even then he often found himself thinking they had to be exaggerating a bit for the sake of clicks.

Turns out, the comparison with real life average sizes is even more ridiculous.

He knows it sounds silly, there are hordes of men out there that would pay good money to swap places with him—his dear friend Jake being the first in line.

Sunghoon still cringes when he remembers the first time he'd oh so innocently asked Jake for his opinion on the matter. Truthfully, all he wanted to hear from his bleached blonde friend was some reassurance, maybe how it was all in his head, or how at the end of the day the right person would love and appreciate every part of him no matter what, or whatever you tell people in situations like these. His first mistake was believing Jake out of all his friends would do the most tactful thing.

“That thing’s like—fucking huge!” Jake shrieked, grabbing Sunghoon’s phone out of his hands, every protest falling on deaf ears. “There’s no fucking way, man.”

“It’s not that b—” Sunghoon tries to speak, but Jake stops him before he even gets a sentence in, calling Jay’s name at the top of his lungs. 

“What are you—”

“WHAT,” Jay yells back from the kitchen, over the deafening sound of the food processor in use, annoyed by Jake’s continuous interruptions that day. Of which at least four were to show him some nasty looking recipe he found on tiktok.

“You gotta come take a look at this!”

At the time, Sunghoon was still vaguely uncomfortable around Jay. He was nice enough, and he was a great roommate, so there was that at least. It was a good trade off because the other option was staying at the way too crowded shitty dorms, and he liked the privacy that this deal got him. He wasn't always on board with it, Jake had to talk him into it when high school ended, but he swore him and Jay would be the bestest of friends if only he could let his reservations behind for a little, at least give him a chance.

Sunghoon moved away halfway through the second year of high school, and for a while it felt like Jay had swapped places with him and taken the life he was supposed to live for himself. First his best friend, Jake. Then the girl of his dreams, the one he never found the courage to confess to, you.

Thing is, while Sunghoon could recognize Jay had done absolutely nothing wrong to him per se, he still felt betrayed by him in a way. Truly it was just envy.

The food processor comes to an abrupt halt, and all that can be heard from the other room is a deep sigh, followed by the sound of dragged footsteps as their tall friend walks into the messy—in the way only college boys living spaces can be—living room with resignation. “Fine. But this better have nothing to do with Cheetos or tacos.” 

“Much better.” Jake winks at him, nudging Sunghoon’s hands away with his elbow, the younger hissing in pain. “Behold,” he turns the phone towards an unassuming Jay, aware of the fact he's about to change the older's view of Sunghoon forever.“Sunghoon’s monster of a cock.”

Jay’s hands stop on his apron, (the ridiculous one with a bodybuilder torso and cheetah boxers Jungwon got him for a secret Santa) and his mouth hangs open for a second too long, before he comes back to his senses and notices how Sunghoon slumps back on the couch, cheeks burning red. Jay swats the phone out of Jake’s hand. “What the fuck is your problem, dude.”

“What? I’m just saying it’s way larger than average!”

“He’s uncomfortable.” Jay says, going back to drying his hands on the apron. “Leave him be.”

This only makes Sunghoon’s cheeks redder, his ears a bright pink too. Jake scoffs, eyeing him suspiciously. “Sure. I’m sure having a porn star cock must be so mortifying. Who even complains about stuff like this?” he snickers before making his voice a pitch higher. “‘Poor me! My dick’s too heavy! What will I do!”

“Oh my god,” Sunghoon runs a hand through his hair, pulling the ends a bit. “It is not that big.” He looks at Jay for support, expecting him to disagree with Jake.

Jay’s gaze falters to his pants for a split second. His mouth twists but he remains silent.

“Not you too.” Sunghoon's hands now hold his face as he sinks into the cushions further, legs spreading. “Just say what you wanna say.”

“I mean…” Jay gestures towards Sunghoon's crotch. “I suspected you were big but… that’s crazy, man.”

“It’s not that cra—”

“Yes it is! You’ve got a fucking gas storage tank in your pants and you wanna sit here and tell us it’s not crazy?” Jake says, exasperated by that point. “And stop playing dumb. It’s big. That’s good. I’m sure the ladies go crazy over it. Or the gentlemen. Or whoever it is you fuck.” He kisses his teeth, muttering under his breath. “Lucky bastard.”

“Jake’s right, Hoon. I don’t know why you're so… negative about it. It's a good thing."

“I wouldn’t know,” Sunghoon mutters under breath, more to himself than to the guys, but it’s still loud enough for them to catch it.

“Oh? Then whenever the time comes, you’ll see how much they’ll love it,” Jay says.

"I'm just worried." Sunghoon tries his best to avoid both sets of eyes staring intently at him. "What… what if I end up hurting someone?"

Jake coos, then moves closer to Sunghoon on the couch, his breath fanning over his ear as he whispers, “Always so concerned about other people. Aren't you such a cutie pie?”

The boys weren't exactly wrong, but with big dick come great responsibilities—as Jake said. Yup, roll your eyes at him, not Sunghoon. He's innocent—like having to finger and eat out your partners for what feels like an eternity before even trying to push the tip in, which is not exactly the best situation to be in as a virgin. Current Sunghoon thinks that's the best part, but it took a while to get here.

Sunghoon has always been a very patient man though, a gentle giant in every sense of the phrase. The last thing he would ever want to do is inflict pain accidentally on another human being.

When he got his first actual girlfriend, he'd been so nervous and honestly quite scared to have sex with her. So he got on Google whenever he had free time to study ways to make it as comfortable as possible, watching all kinds of video explanations or reading through feminine pleasure blogs written by women for women specifically, because that's where Jay told him the good stuff was at.

By the time he got to actually have sex with her, his mind was so overwhelmed by all this information that he essentially forgot how to even think. It was anything but romantic, so deeply embarrassing Sunghoon still cringes even after all this time when his mind betrays him and reminds him of it while trying to fall asleep at night.

And then, to add insult to injury, his girlfriend cheated on him and left him for this guy she'd only just met, because 'it might not be as big, but at least he knows how to use it'.

Heartbroken and with an hurt ego, Sunghoon did that thing all boys do when their first relationship doesn't work out: hit the gym and promise themselves they're never gonna fall in love ever again.

That second part ended up failing, because from the moment you showed up at his doorstep to visit (your now ex boyfriend, but a beloved friend nonetheless) Jay and Jake, five different bags around you, with eyes as big as saucers and staring at him like he had invaded his own apartment, all the feelings younger Sunghoon had for you hit him like a brick to his nape all over again.

You two dating came as a shock to everyone around you, mostly because while you were aware of Park Sunghoon's existence and vice versa, you'd never given it too much thought. You remembered him as the scrawny kid with the cute moles from math that you used to always catch staring. He was often around Jungwon because they were neighbors, but was way too shy to even say hi to you. That, and he was also always around Jake—who you were not exactly fond of, given his reputation—so you steered clear of him when you could manage to.

Then, when the third year of high school started, you stopped seeing him around, and Jungwon told you he had moved away to follow his dad's business. You wouldn't admit it at the time but the hallways seemed duller than usual for a few days, but that probably was also due to Jake not being as loud and energetic with his best friend gone.

Last year of high school, you went on a few dates with Jay from history class, and while he was the closest you have ever thought a man to be perfect, you both agreed you worked better as friends than anything more. Usually that means 'you're cool but I'm gonna try my best to not have to say hi to you if I see you around', but Jay is so wonderful, you actually kept in touch and became quite close, even if platonically.

By the time the year ended, you had a very tight group of friends consisting of yourself, Jungwon, Jay, and even Jake—who, for the record, isn't nearly as bad as all the crazy rumors make him out to be. It saddened you that it took so long to find your group, but you were grateful you had one nonetheless, a lot of people never get that luxury, so you weren't about to let a little graduation get in between you all. You spent a good five days consoling Jake that no, no one was going anywhere and yes, you will all be best friends for life.

But then college started, and it became difficult to stay in touch because Jay and Jake had to move. Jake reassured you that you and Jungwon would be more than welcome to visit and stay over at their apartment—which you found funny because that is technically not Jake's apartment at all, at least not until Hoon moved in too and the three of them started sharing the costs, but he has a way of making every place he steps foot in his, like he's meant to be there, so Jay let it slide.

So the first thing you did when you finally had some free time was getting on the cheapest flight available to go visit your friends. Heavy luggage in hand and stained sweatpants on, you were dumbfounded when the one who opened the door for you was none other than Park Sunghoon, and not Jay like you expected.

He was no longer the shy kid you remembered him to be, and he had grown nicely into his features, his hair now a jet back instead of the brown you were accustomed to see. Over those two weeks you realized that while you have know Sunghoon all your life, you had never really seen him, and it made you want to go back in time and hand a little paper note to the shy boy always staring at you during class.

Your head sinks further into your pillow with a whine, the case enveloping it sporting gray spots of wetness, where your tears and drool had accumulated over the last torturous half an hour Sunghoon spent fucking you open with his fingers. You don't know what he means, because you feel like you could take his entire fist by now, that's how wet you are. If your pillowcase is such a mess, you don't even wanna think about what your bed sheets look like.

"I can– take you," you protest, breath hitching mid sentence at a particularly deep curl of his fingers inside you.

"Yeah?" Sunghoon quirks an eyebrow at you, moving his thumb to suddenly hover over your clit. It's not a full touch, nor does he really move it from there, but just the expectation of it has your walls involuntary flutter around his digits. A wicked grin overtakes his face, in a way you think it would clash with his prince-like features. But it looks right at home on him, the canines poking out only adding to his devilish charm.

"Then what's this? Gripping me even tighter," he says against your lips again, like he can't pick between kissing you or speaking, like anything he does he needs to do it with your taste on his mouth. He shakes his head, pouting at you before you get the chance to retort. "Squeeze me this tight when I'm inside you, and I'll believe you're trying to push me out, baby."

The press of his length against your thigh doesn't help, and when your eyes roll to the back of your head, half the reason is the new spot he's now reaching making you see stars, the other is your frustration with him. You know he's huge, and you know he cares about your comfort above all, but a little sting as he bottoms out inside you would be a hundred times better than the 'prep' he's subjecting you to. It took so long to even get here, and now he plans on making you wait even more? You have half the idea to push him off of you and get on top of him, take what's yours. If he's not gonna believe you can take him, you might as well just show him.

Of course, that wouldn't work, because Sunghoon is infinitely stronger than you are and the only thing you would accomplish is looking stupid thrashing under him as he keeps you pinned down. Probably with one arm only too, to really get his point across.

"Add another finger then." There's a certain bark in your tone that makes him chuckle. That's all it is: bark and no bite. You can do nothing but demand, and demand, and demand again, but if he's not willing to give it to you, there is close to nothing you can do about it. And it makes Sunghoon's cock twitch against the slick skin of your thighs. He loves knowing he has you at his mercy.

"Woah!" he gasps, and the fake surprise only irritates you further. Or at least that's what you tell yourself, because Sunghoon doesn't miss the way you clench around his fingers whenever he talks to you like this. "Missy, you're so bratty today… where are your manners?"

The retort is ready on your tongue, but the words mold into a surprised hiss when he actually prods your hole with a third digit, feeling around for a way to slowly ease it into you. You fear it won't be as easy as you hoped, but you also don't want to back down now that he's giving in.

"Just put it in." You angle your hips to give Sunghoon easier access.

"Easy there." He leans back on his knees, and you hate how you're so needy. Even when he's still so close, fingers pumping in and out of you at a torturous pace, you crave for every inch of your body to be touched by his, for your breaths to mingle for as long as possible. You wonder how it's possible to miss someone who's right in front of you, but your heart yearns to hear the rhythmic beat of his own against your chest all the same.

You don't get to dwell on it too long, because the sensation of something wet dribbling right where Sunghoon's fingers meet you rips you out of your thoughts.

It takes a few seconds for you to realize what's happening, but when it sinks in, your mouth slowly hangs open in a moan, eyes closed to relish the feeling.

"You like that?" Sunghoon asks, and for once you can't bring yourself to care about the cockiness in his tone. In fact, it's the last thing you could care about—not when his digits are working to spread his spit all over you, and his third finger is slowly making its way inside you right next to the others. It's a tight fit, and Sunghoon can't really move his fingers like he wishes to, but it'll do for now. He can always do it over and over again until you're ready, as long as you keep making those faces for him. "Look at you," he continues. "You were so demanding earlier, now you're falling apart and I'm barely just getting started."

You clench around him hard, body all tensed up as you accommodate the sudden change in thickness.

Sunghoon bends down again when he notices you're not easing up, trailing his way back up your body with pecks, giving you a few on your lips once he reaches your face. "Does it burn, baby?" he asks, the playful edge in his tone from earlier completely gone, smoothed down to the usual soft timbre you love so much. "Do you want me to take it out? I'll make you cum with two fingers, it's okay."

You shake your head. The stretch does burn, but you also want to prove to him that you can take him.

"You sure?" The murmur vibrates against your ear, the sound of his voice close enough to have you arching your back, pushing your stomach against his harder figure. If you had any sort of reservation about continuing, it's totally gone now. His insistence to make you comfortable always ignites pure want in you.

You nod, but your eyes are still screwed shut because of the burn, so it's not enough for Sunghoon to let go yet.

He slows down his movements, trying to help you out, but the whine you let out is enough to let him know you actually want what he's giving you and more. Still, he needs to hear it. "Use your big girl words, I know you can."

"Wanna keep going."

"Aaand?"

"Please, Hoon." You know you're far gone when you don't even care about how whiny you sound, you would get onto your knees and beg if he asked you to right then. You would want to forget about it right after, but still, you would do it in a heartbeat.

Thankfully, your boyfriend is very nice to you, so 'please and thank you's are enough to keep him satiated, at least for now.

"Good girl."

The praise goes straight to your cunt, further tightening the grip you have on his fingers. Sunghoon is flattered, but that's not what you need in that moment. So he reminds you.

"Take deep breaths, baby. It's only gonna hurt more if you don't ease up."

"Hoon, want more."

"I know baby, I know. But it'll feel better if you stop tensing up. Here, follow my breaths and let go." He kisses both of your shut eyelids. "Eyes on me, pretty. Okay?"

You obey him like it's second nature, but when you open your eyes and you're met with the downright angelic sight of your boyfriend, black strands of hair framing his face and his chain dangling slightly from his neck, you don't understand how you're supposed to calm down. He starts taking deep breaths, ones you try your best to mirror. And despite what you thought, the focus on your chest rising and falling and the warmth in Sunghoon's eyes does make the stretch a lot better. You were enjoying yourself before too, all things considered. Now it's different, you're struggling to keep your sounds in, and any other time you would be mortified by how much wetness is seeping out of your cunt, but Sunghoon's presence is relaxing in a way no one else's has ever been for you.

The more you explore each other's bodies, the more you start to think that maybe, just maybe, there is not a single thing you could do with Sunghoon that you would ever regret. The safety of a judgment free zone with someone who obviously cares deeply for you makes the experience so much better than you could have ever imagined. What other people did to you, no matter how pleasurable, just didn't measure up to what Sunghoon does with you. And you haven't even gone all the way in.

"Theeere we go, see how much better it feels when you're not being a brat?"

Sunghoon is careful with you, watching your every reaction and studying your expressions so he can learn exactly what makes crumble and what brings you closer to the edge, what makes you forget you have to breathe and when to pause so he can drag your pleasure out for as long as he wants, for as long as you can handle. His cock is rock hard, casually rutting against you from time to time. You have half a mind to reach into his boxers and help him out, but you're not sure you could do a good enough job at it, not when he's starting to bend the tips of his fingers to reach right where you need him.

You can feel yourself getting closer, so you grab his wrists—whether to stop him or push him further, you don't know yourself. What you do know, is that just fingers have never felt this good before, and if you had the choice to feel like this forever, you would take it.

The sudden grip doesn't deter Sunghoon, it encourages him instead. His movements are faster, deeper, but still just as precise. It's like he already knows the ins and outs of what brings you pleasure. "Gonna come all over my hand, baby? I know you're close."

You nod desperately, throat too raw and dry to produce sounds more complex than little whines—which Sunghoon finds adorable, he can't wait to find out what sounds you make when he's splitting you open on his cock. He coos, and that alone almost makes you cum. Almost, because what really does you in is his thumb moving to finally circle your clit, really touch it.

Your body tenses up again when your vision goes a searing white, but Sunghoon's other hand finds your thighs right away to prevent you from caging his hands between your legs. He worked hard to make you cum, so you're not gonna take the sight of your fluttering pussy away from him, not when he has rightfully earned it.

"You did so well," he says, his hand caressing the skin of your inner thigh as a reminder to relax your muscles, his thumb slowing down its movement on your clit as your walls flutter around his digits at longer intervals each time.

You eventually even out your breathing, your vision still a little fuzzy, but you feel lighter and content. Once Sunghoon is sure you're okay, he pulls you in for a sweet kiss, like he wasn't just rearranging your guts with his fingers alone moments ago.

"Perfect, you're so perfect," he whispers between kisses, landing a wet smack on your nose when you scrunch it in response. "You're always gorgeous but this—fuck, you're beautiful." He keeps kissing you, each kiss waking up a different butterfly in your stomach. You feel giddy like you haven't ever since you were a kid running through the meadow on a spring evening. You giggle when he reaches the valley of your breasts, and run your fingertips through his hair, his head resting on your chest.

"I love you," Sunghoon whispers, and for the first time in your life you know those words to be true, no hidden intention behind them, no cruel joke waiting for you at the end of the line. It feels right when they're coming out of Sunghoon's mouth.

"I know, I love you t—what are you doing." It's much more of an accusation rather than a question, because you see the little wicked glint in his eyes as he resumes kissing his way down your body—first down your navel, then between your thighs.

"Showing you how much I love you, duh." He spreads your legs as open as he can get them before you start protesting again. "Besides, I haven't gotten a taste yet."

You should stop him, because suddenly you're reminded of how he still hasn't come yet, and you would feel bad to neglect him. The look in his eyes though—needy, almost feral— keeps you pinned right in your spot. "What… about you?"

Sunghoon looks at you, genuinely confused. "What about me?"

"Yeah, I should be… helping you out." You glance down at him, and the wet patch on his boxers makes you clench around nothing. Had you not witnessed first hand how messy Sunghoon can get, you would assume he cummed already. Knowing that's only pre though, makes saliva flood into your mouth at the mere thought of your boyfriend's cock pumping load after load down your throat. Screw 'not hurting' you, you would be happy gagging and choking endlessly around him if it meant you got a tiny little taste.

"Oh baby, but you are helping me out. Just lay back and let me." Sunghoon pops two of his fingers in his mouth, tasting the residues of you high still lingering on his skin, rich and divine on his tongue. "So good, now let me get a real taste."

He trails his wet fingers up your body, relishing in the way you shiver under his touch when he brushes over your nipples. He grabs your face once he reaches it, and forces you to look at him. "Wanting to please me… aren’t you such a generous girl? So, so good for me. So eager to please, you’re so cute.” He doesn't miss how your lip twitches in response to his words, and how your hand slides between your thighs and how they close around it. “But, I'm still not done.”

“But—”

“Shhh,” he silences you right away. He parts your lips with his thumb, and your response to it is immediate, sucking on it without needing to be told what to do. You swirl your tongue around his finger eagerly, as if trying to show him what he is missing by not letting you take his cock out his pants. “See? So perfect for me. Such a pretty and obedient girl, am I right?” 

You nod subconsciously, like he has you under a spell, ready to comply with anything he asks out of you. Maybe he does.

“I know that’s right.” Sunghoon takes the thumb out of your mouth, coating your lips with your own spit as he caresses them with it. “Then do what you’re told and lay back. I can fuck you another time. Now spread those legs for me mkay? Yeah, just like that. So much we can do in the meantime."

"I just don't get why he won't stick it in me."

"You have such a way with words."

You throw a fry at your best friend, only to get more irritated when he catches it midair with his mouth. Jungwon chews it loudly with his mouth open—because he knows it annoys you to death—then washes it down with his coconut milkshake that he won't let you get a sip of because 'using the same straw as me counts as cheating now that you're dating Sunghoon'.

"Okay but why? You're a man. What's the thought process behind this? Tell me."

"Girl, it's your boyfriend. You tell me."

"What if he doesn't fine me att—" A fry hits you right on your forehead, and it's like the impact activates your brain cells, because of course Sunghoon finds you attractive, that is not the problem.

"Now, let's be honest with ourselves please. None of that shit."

Your back hits the bed with a soft thud, arms spread out as you stare at the very familiar ceiling of your room. A sight you've been taking in quite often recently, while trying to come up with a plan to get Sunghoon to dick you down good.

Jungwon shoves a fist of fries in his mouth, barely chewing before speaking again. "I don't get why it's such a big deal."

You roll onto your side, facing the blonde little gremlin occupying the space next to you. "It's a big deal because— why is your ass on my pillow. Jungwon get—"

He silences you by feeding you a handful of fries from the container on his lap. "You were saying?"

You gulp them down quickly before replying, because you're civilized enough to do so, unlike someone else. "We've done it all, and I know he's scared of hurting me, but I can also tell he's holding back. I'm ready– I've been ready. It's just… whenever I think it's gonna happen he pulls back so suddenly, like he's restraining himself."

"Mhh… you've talked to him about this, right?" Jungwon looks at you in a way that feels entirely too judgmental, like skipping the communication part is something you do often enough for it to be a pattern. Something he needs to check off of a list before he gives you more advice.

He's not completely wrong. As in, at one point in your life you had made an habit out of assuming people's thoughts and intentions, but that is in the past. And those people are not your Park Sunghoon.

The polaroids messily scattered on the wall above your desk, like someone had dropped them and they'd defied gravity to stay there, glimmer as the sun starts its golden descent into the horizon. Old, more ruined around the edges ones you took right after Jungwon got you a polaroid camera with his very first salary from working at an ice cream shop over the summer. Pictures of sunsets and dumb words carved into sandy beaches, of thumbs digging into teenager Jungwon's dimples. Newer, glossier ones that you took when Sunghoon gifted you a new camera, after the one Jungwon got you finally broke down after years. You'd cried so hard that day, because it had felt like growing up.

The charger is still hidden under all the mess of receipts in your comforter's drawer, you still hope one day the pink sticker covered camera will turn on if you charge it long enough.

But some things are meant to stay in the past, and better ones are always hiding behind the corner, ready to come your way.

You aren't the young girl with the pink polaroid camera anymore, just like you're not the girl that is scared to voice her thoughts and troubles any longer.

"Of course I have."

"And?"

"Won, he just tells me I need more prep. I've had plenty of that, trust me. Like, he's spent the last month using this toy on—"

"Okay, okay I get it. I trust you, spare me the details."

"—Point is, I'm more than ready. I know it's gonna be uncomfortable and a bit painful at first, he's like… so huge it's—"

"I get it."

"—but that's a given with how big he is. I think it's just… him being nervous, really."

"Have you… tried to, uhm. Take charge? Maybe you calling the shots would make it easier for him to let loose." Jungwon looks down on his lap as he plays with the rings adorning his fingers. You wouldn't say he has ever been particularly shy per se, not when it comes to discussing your sexual life, even in heavy detail. He was the boy your mother made you take a bath with after a whole day of rolling around in dirt as a kid, because his wasn't around a lot of the time. The same boy who has seen you toothless and with horrible haircuts, who has seen all your embarrassing phases. Talking to Jungwon was much more akin to talking to yourself rather than venting to a diary, because he stored secrets in his heart that you would never be comfortable writing down on paper. Except he also calls you a dumbass when he needs to.

It's been a little different ever since you started dating Sunghoon freshly out of college, but you imagine it can't be helped since Jungwon is also very close to him.

You take a deep breath, shoulders slumping with the motion. Yeah, like that would ever work. "He doesn't give up dominance ever, really. I have tried a few times but…" you trail off, thoughts suddenly plagued with images of Sunghoon putting you back in your place instantly whenever you tried to take charge. You have already given it some thought, a lot of thought, actually. What wouldn't you do to have Sunghoon under you and at your mercy, so responsive to every touch, perhaps even tied down. Yeah, you're gonna have to bring it up more seriously to him, maybe then he would let you—

"Are you seriously fantasizing about dominating your boyfriend right in front of my cheddar fries?"

But you're gonna continue that thought another time.

"Let's see then…" Jungwon continues, evidently determined to find a solution to your problem. "Maybe act out? Would that work? Mhhh… I don't know, you're already very annoying day to day and he puts up with that…so."

Jungwon genuinely looks like he is putting so much thought into it, somehow it makes it more offensive.

"Yeah. And who grew up next to him? You. Exactly. You trained his patience, if anything," you retort, but Jungwon doesn't even give you the satisfaction of acknowledging it, because you both know that you do love to be a nuisance to your boyfriend whenever you get the chance.

"Wait." Jungwon perks up after a seconds of deep thought, making the plushies on your bed fall on the floor, but the situation is so dire that you don't scold him. Instead, you cast a hopeful glance in his direction. Please let his brain cells work for once in his life.

"Isn't Hoon like, terribly jealous every time someone brings up that time you and Jay dated in high school?"

The cogs in your brain turn, and if someone was to walk into the room at that moment they would be able to smell the fumes coming out of your and Jungwon's head.

Jungwon continues, though he doesn't need to, because you have caught what he is hinting to already. "You need him to snap? What better reason to if not some good ol' jealousy. Am I right?"

But of course he is, that little gremlin genius.

"And, it just happens that a few high school acquaintances are organizing a get together soon. You know people will bring up you and Jay, just drag Hoon along. It's fate."

"Have I ever told you that you're my bestest friend ever and that I owe you my life, Won?"

Your plan is not working out as expected.

Getting everyone on board took you and Jungwon some time, but they all eventually agreed to come along. Sunghoon himself was the one with the most reservations, since he moved away halfway through high school and he missed a good chunk of it. Most importantly, he missed how you and the others became friends in the first place, so he's always been a little bitter about it.

Calling it a plan was an overstatement. You wore a skimpy little outfit, black miniskirt and sheer thighs, and bet on someone bringing up how you and Jay used to date in front of Sunghoon. You hoped that would make him jealous enough to grab you and drag you home, maybe teach you a lesson that you would inevitably learn nothing from.

Instead, you get sulky Sunghoon with a beer in his hand, looking at you like a kicked puppy as you and Jay make conversation with your old acquaintances. It doesn't help that Jungwon refuses to pick up his phone so you two can come up with something quick to stir the night towards your desired outcome.

The call goes into voicemail again, and you sigh for the hundredth time that night as you end it and open up his chat to type in another text.

"No answer yet?" Jay asks, smoothing his pink dress shirt. He's always the classier looking guy in the room, no matter where he goes, but the hue of pink he chose for the night makes him stand out further in the sea of swarming bodies.

You shake your head. You're in a quieter corner, away from the thumping speakers, but your throat is sore after all the screaming you did over the deafening music. You thought you would get used to the volume when a few of the people at the reunion suggested moving to a club across the street to end the night with a bang, just like the old times, but it somehow got progressively worse instead.

From your side, Jake puts two fingers in his mouth and whistles to catch someone's attention, and when it doesn't work, Jay laughs at him.

"Sunghoon looks bored, I think we should call it a night," Jay says.

"Bored? He looks like he's gonna murder the next poor soul that steps too close to Y\N," Jake takes a swing of the drink he's holding, something that looks like aged whiskey. Very much unlike anything Jake would order. He hisses after the liquid burns his throat, even when diluted by the melted ice. "Jay, my man, your taste is so ass."

You give the interaction a half hearted laugh. Despite your original plan, you hate seeing Sunghoon so uncomfortable, especially when you know he only came along to make you happy. He insists he doesn't belong surrounded by people who pretend to remember who he is and keep bringing up stuff that happened in the past expecting a glint of recognition from him. You tell him there are multiple people with a similar experience to his even when they attended all years, you tell him he belongs anywhere as long as you and the other guys are there. He tells you those are the people that don't get invited to these sort of events.

"It's getting late anyway, maybe we should just go," you say, checking your notification bar for any sign of life from Jungwon. Still nothing.

"I'll go get Won." Jake throws back the remaining drink, scrunching his eyes and hissing at the bitter taste he still isn't accustomed to.

You take a second to scan your surroundings, and the swaying mass of sweaty bodies makes you nauseous. You used to love getting rocked back and forth by the music, uncaring for a single thing in the world if not the overwhelming love you felt for everyone and everything around you when alcohol buzzed through your system. When you were younger, it felt like ibuprofen for your soul. Now, it only amplifies the hurt in your chest when you think about how heavy this night must have been for your boyfriend.

Before you can make your way to him, someone grabs your attention.

"Jay! And you over there, it's been a while."

You instinctively turn towards the loud voice, finding a vaguely familiar face cockily grinning in your direction.

"She has a name." Jay takes a deep breath and gives you a look, his jaw tense, and that alone is enough to let you know right away the guy in front of you is nothing but trouble.

The guy continues as if you weren't even there to listen to the conversation. A ghost. "Doesn't matter, being your girlfriend is all she was known for back then." He takes a swing of his beer, taste as bitter as his voice. He's very obviously drunk out of his mind, words slurring and step unsteady, but his words annoy you anyway.

"Excuse m—" you try to interject, but he speaks right over you.

"You two back together?"

Jay looks like he's seconds away from punching him, but you simply shake your head no. "Oh! No, and I'm not single actually. My boyfriend's here—" you turn around to look for Sunghoon where you last saw him, and beam when you find him right as he walks up to you. His shoulders relax just the tiniest bit when he notices how relieved you look when you meet his gaze, the way you reserve that look to him only, the way you light up as soon as you spot him. "There he is! Perfect timing, baby."

Sunghoon slides a hand around your waist possessively, placing a soft kiss to your temple to really get the point across. "I was looking for you."

Truth is, he wasn't. He had his eyes on you the entire time, but you were playing with your rings and kept readjusting your clothes as the conversation was unfolding, and Jay looked uneasy too, so he figured nothing good was being said.

"Yeah, sorry! Just catching up with friends from back in the day. Y'know, reminiscing and stuff. Have you seen Won around?" You want to diffuse the situation before the idiot in front of you says anything he might regret. You want Hoon to be a little jealous, not for him to get you all kicked out of a party because someone decided to run their mouth a little too much. Your hand finds his exposed biceps, and it looks like he made the right choice by stepping in, because now that he is all up in your space, you're visibly more comfortable.

Sunghoon shakes his head. Last time he caught a sight of Jungwon in the crowded space was when the night had barely started, and he wore a cowboy hat as he shoved his tongue down some girl's throat. Good for him. "He's probably… catching up with acquaintances too."

You look like you are about to say something, but the nameless guy interrupts you before you get a single word out. It gives Sunghoon all the more reason to dislike him, even before he listens to what he has to says. "And you are? I don't recall seeing you around."

"Oh! Hoon just moved to a different school halfway through high school, but we're all friends," Jay replies instead, familiar with his best friend's feelings about his high school years.

"Then why is he here?"

Sunghoon's jaw clenches. You squeeze his arm as if to remind him you are next to him, and he melts instantly into your touch.

"I'm here because my girl and my friends are. Now if you'd be so kind, we are trying to have a nice night, and you're interfering with that." Sunghoon turns around, holding you against his chest as he starts to make his way to the bar to grab another beer.

"Yeah? You know your friend and your girl used to fuck? Maybe they still do."

Sunghoon was raised to be a patient man. One that counts to ten before reacting, a man who wouldn't even hurt a fly. So it must be the alcohol fueling his actions, because before he realizes what he is doing, he grabs the guy by his shirt, knuckles white as a ghost making the material wrinkle in his hold. "What the fuck did you just say?"

Sunghoon knows he is being provoked, but not even Jay trying to step between them can do anything to calm his anger, not when the poor bastard spits on his shirt, then says something that he really shouldn't have.

"I mean look at her." The man laughs, and it's bitter, filled with something more sinister than mere disgust. It's envy. "Are you surprised? She's dressed like a whore."

Sunghoon moves before you have the time to grab him, right fist colliding with so much force against the man's face, his lip breaks on contact. He wobbles a bit, hit taking him by surprise, but he just gathers the blood dripping inside his mouth and spits it by Sunghoon's feet.

"Hey! Hey." Jay grabs the guy's arm, roughly yanking him back as a crowd of people starts to notice the commotion, heading to take a look at what's happening, a few bodyguards included.

"So tough," the man starts a laughs interrupted by winching when his broken lip curls too much. "Take that out on your so called friend—"

Your voice drowns out the rest of the sentence. "Baby, please."

Sunghoon looks at you, and for a second you doubt he sees you. There's so much anger in his eyes, like he wants nothing more than to rip the little bitch in front of him to pieces. They're almost unfamiliar in a way that send shivers down your spine. You hate the fact that you can't tell if it's fear or lust. But the storm behind his gaze clears out for a second when he sees the alarm on your pretty face, just the one you need. "I wanna go home."

No matter the anger coursing through Sunghoon's bloodstream like venom, thick black poison inciting him to turn back and finish the job, his conscience always prioritizes your well being and what you want. So when you take his hand a make a beeline for the exit, he follows without a single complaint.

The car ride back home is uncomfortably silent.

Sunghoon doesn't hum the random tune playing on the radio like he usually does, he doesn't hold your thigh nor does he even spare you a glance, and you start worrying he might be mad at you.

The words said about you earlier sting, but they don't hold a candle next to Sunghoon's silence. You want to speak up, fill the void that is so uncharacteristically awkward, but the words die in your throat the second you try to push them out.

A ding! followed by your phone screen lighting up signals a new notification, and you swipe through your phone to find out if Jungwon has finally made his existence known.

It's a text from Jay. You notice how Sunghoon's eyes dart to your phone for a split second before going back to focusing on the road ahead, his jaw twitching under the street lights.

00:27 AM. Jongie <3: You guys made it home yet?

00:28 AM. you: not yet, you? did you find the others?

Last thing you heard as you dragged Sunghoon out of the club was Jay arguing with both the still nameless guy and two bodyguards who had been notified of commotion next to the bar. Your main goal was to get your boyfriend the hell out of there before he broke someone's face in, but now that you're away from the mess and the dizziness from the alcohol has started to die down, leaving your muscles and bones tired, you worry for your friends too.

00:29 AM. Jongie <3: Heading back now, Jake texted me he found Won.

00:29 AM. Jongie <3: Wasted, ofc. But apparently Jake's taking care of him now.

00:31 AM. you: don't know if i like the sound of that. will they ever let us back in there?

00:33 AM. Jongie <3: Yeah no chance, Won won't be happy when he finds out.

00:35 AM. you: how did him and jake even get home?

You lock your phone for good after Jay confirms Jake mumbled something about a really nice girl with a great rack driving them home, deciding you'll deal with their bullshit another day, when you're completely sober and not worried about what your unusually silent boyfriend might be thinking.

Just in time for Sunghoon to pull into his driveway. He doesn't remind you to take your bag with you as he always does, he doesn't wait for you to be out of the car before heading straight towards his front door. Truth be told, you're more shocked he didn't just drop you off at your own apartment because now you're really sure he must be upset with you.

It's dumb, really. What that guy said is anything but your fault. But your panicked mind makes up scenarios in which Sunghoon knows you wanted to make him jealous, wanted to get a reaction out of him for something as silly as getting him to properly fuck you. It convinces you he has every right to be upset.

His hand twitches in pain for a second while unlocking the door, dried blood—both his and not—staining his pristine knuckles, and it only aids in making you feel worse. You follow him through the entrance, and he waits for you to walk inside before locking the door for the night. It's now or never.

It takes all the courage you can find within yourself to speak, and still your voice comes out uneven, shaky, things your voice has never been when talking to Park Sunghoon. "I'm really, really sorry."

He turns back to you like you just said the most shocking sentence he's ever heard in his life, and he quickly grabs you by your hips when he notices just how scared you look. He quickly realizes you must've mistaken his silent attempt at calming down his anger at the situation for coldness towards you for some reason, and his heart breaks a little at the thought of having made you doubt yourself. When he answers, it's the softest you've ever heard him. "What for, pretty girl?"

Tears well in your eyes when you fail to find the words. You're sorry for so many things, you don't even know where to start. You're sorry for dragging him somewhere he didn't even wanna be in the first place, sorry for taking advantage of his kindness for your own benefit, you're sorry his knuckles are raw and bloodied just because he had to defend you. Above all, you're sorry for being so damn selfish.

Sunghoon carefully caresses your face with his clean hand, so none of that bastard's blood goes anywhere near your pretty features. His thumb swipes across your bottom lip like it's second nature, silently waiting for you to say what's on your mind. He searches your gaze, but you're too busy trying to not burst into tears right there in front of him, so he lowers his hand to your jaw and gently angles your head upwards.

His eyes are kind and warm, no hint of the searing coldness they held mere minutes ago. "None of what happened today is your fault," he speaks slowly, sincerely. He makes sure every single word leaving his lips is loud and clear, no room for misunderstanding or doubt. Sunghoon is smart, he knows you like no one ever has put in the effort to. "I'm sorry if I made you doubt yourself back there, I should've said something. I'm sorry." He sounds secure and confident in what he's saying, but the little unsteady breath and the sharp swallow that come right after betray him. His hand slightly trembles on your skin, and it makes your heart sink even more.

Something else to add to the list. You're also sorry for making Sunghoon feel guilty over your emotions when he never did anything wrong to begin with.

You still struggle to speak, especially when Sunghoon is looking into your eyes as one would towards the light shining through the water surface after holding their breath in far too long, like it means being able to breathe again. There's a devotion in him you've never seen, something actors on a stage cannot replicate, something you don't think words to describe it have been spoken out yet. Something purely unique to you and him.

When your words fail you, you show him your own devotion in a different way.

There's a medication kit Sunghoon got forever ago solely to patch up Jake and Won whenever their Jake and Won antics get them hurt (very often, comically often). Never in your life would you have imagined Sunghoon to be on the receiving end of the care, but here you are.

Sunghoon follows you wordlessly to the couch, giving no protest when you point to sit down while you take your spot next to him.

The saline stings as you carefully clean the wound, but Sunghoon makes no show of it. You finally have a reason to look at somethings else other than his eyes as you gather your thoughts, but he doesn't lose sight of the frown deepening on your face.

Sunghoon watches you intently through his now messy bangs as you hold his bigger hand in yours as if it were made out of the most precious, frail glass. His fingers are way thicker than yours are, but you brush against his knuckles with the cotton just as softly as he kisses your forehead seconds before you let yourself be taken by slumber in his arms every night. He sees all the expressions fluttering on your face, he gives you the time he knows you need. He knows there's something you need to get off your chest.

When the blood stains the cotton instead of his skin, you speak up, "Does it hurt?"

Sunghoon hums in disagreement, the sound dry in his throat. You press into the raw skin a little harder, earning a low hiss from him. "Don't lie to me. We don't lie to each other."

"We don't, but you're hiding something from me." He stops before continuing, his voice a mere whisper, "what's wrong?"

"You got hurt because of me."

"That's not—"

"Yes you did." And once the river of words tumbling out of your mouth starts, it can't be stopped any longer. "I know how you feel about high school and—"

"It's not that—"

"But it is. I don't care if it was five years ago or ten or fifteen, I know you feel a certain way about it and don't lie to me to spare my feelings because it makes me only feel worse. You feel a way about it and I still went out of my way to take advantage of it for such a stupid reason and now I feel like a fucking idiot. And it also got you hurt."

"Baby," Sunghoon says after a moment of quiet, only filled by your heavy breathing. "Hey."

You busy yourself by grabbing the gauze in the little med kit next to you, but you make the mistake of glancing at him for a second, and the little smile dancing on his lips keeps your eyes glued to the sight.

"It's only a few scratches. What's all this really about?"

"I just… fuck, I'm never living this down." You stretch the white bandage over Sunghoon's wound, wrapping it a few times to fully secure it. You take a deep breath, buying yourself more time by inspecting your boyfriend's fingers like they're the most interesting thing you've ever seen in your life. He playfully taps his index against your palm. It makes you smile despite your best efforts not to. "I just wanted to make you jealous."

You say it so quietly even Sunghoon, barely inches away from you, almost misses it. Almost, because you hear the teasing in his tone loud and clear. "Jealous?"

Cat's out of the bag anyway, so you might as well explain yourself. "Before you say anything, Won gave me the idea."

"Of course."

"I just, y'know. Best friend stuff," you say, as if it's the answer to everything.

"Best friend stuff… as in?" Sunghoon keeps prodding, and the faint smile you hear as he speaks without having to take a look at him simultaneously makes you want to grin and roll your eyes at him. You bite your inner cheek instead.

"As in… complaining about my boyfriend…"

"Oh, you must have so much to complain about."

"Well, for starters, my boyfriend doesn't want to fuck me—"

Sunghoon erupts in a fits of boyish giggles when he finally figures out what's going on, delighted to see how embarrassed you are by this whole ordeal. He grabs you by your hips and sits you right on top of his lap so suddenly you let out a little shriek of surprise. "Trust me, your boyfriend would love nothing more than to fuck you through the mattress."

Your hands rest on his shoulders, and you lower your chest against his, noses brushing each other. "Then what's stopping him?"

Sunghoon's warm breath tickles your lips when he whispers, "Maybe he thinks your pretty little pussy can't take it yet."

A warm feeling travels through your body, settling into your lower abdomen, and just when you think he's gonna kiss you, he pulls back and rests his back on the cushion behind him, sinking further into the soft couch and pulling you down with him.

"Hoon—"

"Mh-mh. You haven't told me what Won's idea was yet."

"You know it." You raise your hand to playfully hit his chest, but he's faster than you are and catches your wrist midway with his injured hand.

"I don't know a damn thing," Sunghoon says as he brings his lips to the back of your hand, letting them brush gently against your soft skin before placing a small peck. "Go on, enlighten me."

You pout, but Sunghoon's set on making you talk, and even though you're stubborn and embarrassed, you know he won't let it go until he's satisfied with your response.

And, the slowly growing hardness under your exposed panties, combined with the residuals of alcohol still buzzing through your system are making it hard for you to stand your ground. Not when Sunghoon looks as good as he does with his bangs messily covering his eyes, and fitted short sleeve highlighting his hard chest underneath the cotton. Unfortunately for you.

You move on his lap, adjusting your position so you can feel more of him through the thin material covering you. You crave the harsh coarseness of his jeans on you, for the heat seeping out of him to envelope you fully. You're on top of him, thighs straddling his, yet you feel the invisible push to be even closer. As close as you physically can be.

Sunghoon sees the hunger in your eyes, he has all this time. He too is barely hanging on by a thread, and the self restraint he's miraculously managed to keep until now is dwindling by the second. All the times you've begged for him, all the times he's fucked your pretty pussy open with different toys, bigger and thicker each time. All the times he's had to take cold showers after seeing the raw need for him to claim you fully reflected in your eyes, even after coaxing orgasm after of orgasm out of you. You're so insatiable, but he might be even worse. Once he gives in, he doesn't think he'll be able to let you go ever.

Sunghoon knows you've felt ready for a long time, and even if he thinks you could use more getting used to bigger sizes before he allows himself to finally sink into you, the temptation gnaws at him all the same.

He just needs a little confirmation.

"Tell me, what was this master plan of yours?" he speaks with his mouth pressed to your palm, softly running his nose down to your wrist, allowing himself to bask in the warmness of the scent you chose for the night.

"Won's, not mine."

"That you willingly agreed to."

"I just… wanted to make you jealous." You finally admit, avoiding Sunghoon's gaze at all costs.

"How so? Wearing this tiny little dress?" His voice is lower, more dangerous. He slides his free hand to grab a handful of your barely covered ass, the skirt having ridden up to your waist almost completely. "You know I like it when the attention's on you. They can look all they want, you're mine." The movement causes you to jerk up against his crotch, earning a low grunt from the man beneath you.

"Tell me, baby," Sunghoon rocks you slowly against his hard bulge, caging his bottom lip between his teeth as he takes in your needy and embarrassed form. "How did you plan to make me jealous? Why?"

Your hand slides down his chest and dips under the thin shirt before caressing just over the waistband of his underwear peeking out of the dark jeans. "I thought it would be a smart idea to drag you along to the get together, and I guess I hoped someone would bring me and Jay up. I know how you feel about it and I wanted to use it to my advantage, but I also didn't consider how you'd feel surrounded by strangers reminding you of all the time you and the guys lost. All the time we lost. You came to make me happy and I was being selfish the entire time. You even got hurt because of me—"

"Not because of you. He should be thankful you were there to stop me or I would've broken his ugly face in."

"Still. I'm so sorry. It was childish."

A beat passes without either of you saying anything, and you twitch uncomfortably in his lap.

"Why?"

Your lip trembles, and your heart sinks at the thought of having angered your angel of a boyfriend. Tears well up in your eyes before you even attempt to explain yourself, but Sunghoon gently angles your chin toward him until you're met with his gaze. It's intense, darker than you've ever seen in all your time knowing him. He searches your face for something, and you realize it's not anger casting shadows behind his eyes. It's pure, unfiltered lust.

"Why did you want me jealous?" His voice is raw, like it pains him to produce a single sound, like whatever you answer him with is the honey that will soothe it.

You twitch again, and this time you're not scared, but your insides twist all the same. He rest heavy and hot under you, and you don't know how you'll handle another rejection if that's what this is leading to.

"I wanted you to fuck me, really fuck me. I hoped it would be enough to push you to the breaking point, Sunghoon.“ You swallow hard, and the saliva in your mouth feels thicker than usual. Maybe it is, maybe you're just more aware of all the sensations within your body. "I need you to break."

It's all Sunghoon needs to hear.

He lurches forward to capture your lips with his, harsh and messy, like an animal that has finally broken out of the restraint keeping it chained. His hands roam all over your body, eager to explore every single inch as if it's the first time he ever does.

You reciprocate him with just as much hunger behind every movement, hands slipping from his body to his hair to pull his head back. You grind your hips against his, moves deliberately slow compared to the feverish kiss. "I need you. I don't wanna wait anymore."

Sunghoon moans into your mouth when you release his hair, and he doubles his efforts, sliding his fingers through the wide gaps of the fishnets covering your thighs, big palms fully working you on top of his bulge.

"You want it so bad, baby?" He says between open mouthed kisses, full lips raw and red from the fight with yours. "I'm gonna give it all to you."

Uncaring for the mess of knocked over stuff you two leave in your wake, from Sunghoon's keys loudly hitting the ground to your heels abandoned somewhere on the carpet, you make your way to his room without ever letting go of each other. All around you is just background noise and things you'll think of later, the only thing that seems to matter is to get in bed and get rid of all the pent up frustration clouding your minds.

The door shuts closed and soon your back hits the bed with a soft thud, Sunghoon's hands heavy on your hips and mouth hot on your neck as he carves a wet path on your sensitive skin, caging you between his hard chest and the mattress. He wraps your leg around his middle, and when your cores touch again, you both sigh in relief.

You've spent all this time on the cusp of finally getting something more, waiting—albeit not so patiently on your part—for the right moment, and now that you both know you're just moments away from it, seconds seem to stretch out into hours and even the slightest teasing feels unbearable.

That's what you think, at least. Because Sunghoon is nothing but a tease at heart, and he has very different plans in store for you.

You take advantage of the little moment of pause to undress yourself, but Sunghoon stops you as soon as he notices what you're trying to do.

"Keep it on," he murmurs along your neck, feeling your pulse quicken right under his full lips. He kisses along your collarbones, to your shoulder, exactly where the strap of your dress rests. His teeth graze the material, and he draws back slightly before letting it snap back into place, the slight sting making you jump just the tiniest bit in his hold. "You wanted to make me jealous in this? Then I'll fuck you in it." He mouths his way back up, until he reaches your ear, teeth gently biting right where he knows it makes shivers spread all over your body. "Next time you wear it, my cock is all you'll be able to think about."

You can't hide the way your body reacts to his words, thighs pressing together from the sheer excitement.

Sunghoon toys with the strings of your fishnets, and for a moment you think you should take them off, but he just rips a hole through them, allowing his hand to finally slide underneath them and grab your ass as harshly as he wants. "These were getting on my nerves."

"I can take them—"

Sunghoon silences you with a kiss, slower than the previous one, calculated and meticulous but every bit as passionate. His teeth sink into your bottom lip until you gasp against his mouth, his tongue gently licking away at your lip to soothe the sting. He pulls your core closer to his, unabashedly moaning into your mouth as he ruts his hips into yours.

The tights start to frustrate you the more he works himself against your panties. You want to be closer, you need to feel him push against you completely, and they're in the way. So once again, you try to rid yourself of them.

Sunghoon keeps you still. "These stay on until I tell you to take them off." His tone is commanding, but not abrasive, muffled by your skin. "Understood?"

You barely nod when suddenly he's bending you at his will like you're his to drag around as he pleases, and while usually you would've fought back just for the sake of it, you play nice this time, doing anything to not have him changes his mind and leave you hanging once again.

He sets you on your knees, facing the headboard of his king sized bed, a sturdy and thick thing, wood carved with elegant loops and twirls all around the edges. They gleam and cast shadows alike when Sunghoon reaches over you to turn on the bedside lamp.

The same hand steadies your hip as he lowers himself onto you, pressing his chest to your back and littering kisses from your temple to your neck. "Aren't you such a cute little thing?" he whispers into your ear, chucking when he feels you shudder under his weight. "So needy and desperate, making up plans just to have my cock in your tight pussy." He's so big, so warm. So strong. It makes your knees weak, and you would crumble on the soft mattress if not for his large hand keeping you still. "Should've just come to me right away, should've begged for my cock like the good girl I know you can be." His other hand starts to travel down your body, and your thighs instinctively spread open to accommodate him.

Pride blooms in Sunghoon's heart. You're so pliant for him, sweetly allowing him to touch you all over, your body responding so well to his slightest touch, to his softest word. The trust you have in him makes his cock harder in his pants, but he's always been a patient man. A man that enjoys taking his time playing with his meal before sinking his teeth into it.

That, and you still have a lesson to learn. "But you've been bad, so bad." He bites your earlobe as his fingers hook onto one of the little holes in your tights, right over your throbbing core, so needy and ready to be claimed by him. You hear a loud rip before you realize what's going on.

His fingers immediately find your panties, slick and stuck to your drooling lips, and he starts touching you over them like all the teasing he's subjected you to until then isn't enough to satisfy him. "You'll make it up to me, yeah? You'll make me proud and happy." He licks along the shell of your ear, and your thighs shake, spreading open once more to coax him into touching you better. "I'll only fuck you when I'm satisfied with how sorry you are."

"Hoon—"

"Don't worry, baby." His fingers dip under the fabric, finally really touching you for the first time that night. He slides two fingers between your lips to coat them in your juices as he keeps talking to you in a tone that almost seems belittling, the pout in his voice too heavy and pronounced for it to be honest. "I'll make it worth it. All the time we waited will be worth it. I just have to get you nice and ready, dripping for me."

You have half a mind to turn around and fight him, because you don't understand how you could physically get wetter even if you wanted to be patient and take it. "I'm already wet," you say, and it comes out a little harsher than you intend for it to.

"Look at you," Sunghoon mocks you, the bite in your response only making him chuckle lowly in your ear, the vibrations from the sound make wetness pool on his digits, much to his amusement. "Can't keep the brattiness in check even when you should feel sorry. How can I take your apologies seriously?"

You open your mouth to answer, but his fingers pinch your clit before you get a single word out, replaced by a shriek that sounds something right in between pleasure and pain.

"Less talking." Sunghoon doesn't stop or lessen his touch on your poor sensitive bundle of nerves. Instead, he rolls it between his fingers, coaxing loud moans out of you with every single movement. "More of this."

The bed creaks under Sunghoon's knees as he detaches from your already quivering form and gets up to grab something. You complain with a little whine at the sudden loss, but just a quick glance in his direction tells you to stay still and be patient.

"Where's your phone?" Sunghoon asks. It sounds a lot more like an order.

"My… huh? My phone?"

"Your phone. Where is it?"

You gawk at him for a second, still in the same position despite the dull ache in your knees slowly but surely setting in, your mouth agape as you try to rack your brain for an explanation as to why the fuck Sunghoon needs your phone since he doesn't seem to be planning on offering you one. "In my bag. On the couch, I think."

It's only a few seconds before your boyfriend returns with your phone in his hand, and throws it carelessly on the bed next to you. He returns to his previous position, the warmth radiating from his body soothing you even when you don't know what to expect next.

You'd be lying if you said you don't enjoy this stricter version of your ever so loving and doting boyfriend, thighs clenching at the thought of the danger lurking behind his sweet demeanor.

"Unlock your phone and open Jay's chat." Sunghoon's calm facade is completely gone, replaced by pure fire.

"What?"

"You heard me." His grip on your thighs tightens, possessive and angry. "You're gonna open Jay's chat and record while I fuck your pussy with my fingers, and you'll have him hear how good I make you feel."

You're breathless, adrenaline pumping through your system and ears ringing at the thought of doing something so obscene, with one of your best friends on the other end of it no less. "Hoon, Jay didn't have anything to do with this… we shouldn't—"

"I don't care." Sunghoon bites your neck, sharp canines poking you just enough to elicit a gasp out of you. "You'll do as I say and tell him you won't ever go back."

He sounds so possessive, so unlike any version of him you have experienced, and just this little taste has you obsessed. You love the soft spoken, big sweetheart he always is, and you love the sleeping beast hidden just beneath the surface too. You love the anticipation of what's to come, not knowing which side of Sunghoon you're gonna get.

Your hand trembles as you reach for the phone, his is sure and steady as it makes its descent down to your wet pussy again. Sunghoon takes his time, letting his fingers ghost on your thighs for a little before sliding the panties off of you. You hear him moan behind you, and you're glad you don't get to see what you suspect is him licking off the wetness off the fabric he just rid you of. That would be way too much for you in the moment, you think.

The Jongie <3 contact in your favorites section seems so silly now that you're mere seconds away from letting him hear how your boyfriend fucks you, so you take a few deep breaths in preparation. As if sensing your hesitation, Sunghoon quickly places a gentle kiss to your temple, and just like that, he's back to his caring self. "You said you're sorry, baby. You should show me, but you don't have to."

You press the voice message recording button moments later, heart thrumming loudly in your ears as you slide your finger up so it keeps recording hands free.

"Such a brave girl. So, so good for me." Sunghoon praises you, and it soothes some of the anxiety you feel, his tone thick and sweet as honey, you barely recognize it as the same one that was giving you harsh commands earlier.

The downright filthy sound of Sunghoon's digits spreading your pussy lips open has you cowering in embarrassment, but your boyfriend doesn't care. He needs Jay to hear how absolutely soaked you are. He wastes no time, pushing in three fingers inside you.

Your mouth is hung open in a silent moan, eyebrows knit together and eyes closed, taking a moment to adjust to the sudden sensation. It stings, even when you're so wet it's dripping down your thighs by now, but his fingers are so long and thick the initial stretch is always uncomfortable, despite all the training.

Sunghoon doesn't like that, so he gives you no time, no warning, and just starts pumping in and out of you, curling the tips just like he does when you're about to cum and need the tiniest push. He's unfair, so unfair, because how are you supposed to keep your sounds down like you planned to when he's finger fucking you like it's his life mission to have you come undone in record time?

You don't know if it's an ego thing, or he just wants to make your punishment that much harder. It must be both, because within seconds you're moaning and gasping out in pleasure for him and Jay so beautifully, really putting on a show for the both of them. But it's so hard to focus and remember what you're supposed to say, and the longer the voice message is, the more mortified you'll be in the morning.

For now, satisfying Sunghoon's thirst for punishment and placating the jealousy you yourself caused is your top priority. You'll think about the consequences another time.

"Aren't you gonna say hi? Where are your manners?" Sunghoon's mouth drops to your ear, the movement of his fingers inside of your cunt relentless and not giving you a single second to breathe properly. It doesn't matter to him, how much harder he's making for you to accomplish your task. He basks in it, even. He's proud of how just his fingers are enough to turn you dumb with pleasure.

"I—mh," you try your best to muffle the moans cascading from your lips, to no avail. Even if you managed to do so, the incredibly loud squelching noises in the background would betray you.

"Need a hand?" he laughs dryly, and you feel the faint presence of a fourth finger next to the other three, waiting to slide in and stretch you open further.

"Hoon!" you gasp in surprise.

"That's right, baby. That's who you belong to. Tell Jay."

"I—I belong to—Hoon! I can't!"

His fourth digit keeps prodding around to find a possible entrance, but you're already so full you think any more would actually break you. "How do you plan to let me fuck you, then?"

He's teasing you. You both know you can and you will. It's just a matter of taking it slowly. His finger is suddenly not trying to inch inside you anymore, despite how lost you both are in the moment, your comfort comes first always. It just means Sunghoon will find another way.

He speaks lowly against your ear, but it's enough for your phone to pick it up clearly, "Once I'll split you open on my cock like you've been begging for, nothing else will ever satisfy you. No one else will. Once I claim your little hole, it's mine. Jay's seen how big I am. He knows it too. Tell him whose pussy I'm about to split open."

"Mine." You gasp at a particularly harsh thrust.

"No. Mine." The sheer command in his voice makes you clench even more around his fingers, as if the fit isn't already tight enough. "Try again."

"Yours! It's yours."

"Good fucking girl." He moans against you, his hot breath rising goose bumps all over your skin. "Tell him you'll never go back to him," he adds after a moment, quieter.

The pace he is fingering you at slows down just enough so you can actually get a coherent sentence out, and you're silently grateful for this little show of mercifulness on Sunghoon's part. If not for this, the voice mail would probably end up being an hour long.

"I'll never—mh. Go back to you."

"Good. So good. Now tell him how happy you are with me, happier than you ever were with him. Tell him you love me," he rasps, high on the reassurance you're providing him. High on how obedient you are for him.

"Love Hoon so much, I love him. I love him so so much. Hoon, please." You're a mess, dripping down onto the bedsheets and clamping around his fingers so hard any more would probably cut Sunghoon's blood flow. The more you grip him, the wider you spread your thighs to accommodate him, like you're silently begging for him to be harsher. He has half a mind to fulfill your body's wordless plea.

"Look at you, spreading your pretty legs for me. You like it when I talk to you like this? Does it make your little pussy wetter?"

You're so tight, so wet, and Sunghoon is so impossibly hard. He could cum right there just thinking about how good you'll feel wrapped around him, walls convulsing and milking him for all he's worth with every orgasm he gives you. For every orgasm you bless him with.

A sight for sore eyes, one Jay will never see nor hear. Because as soon as he can sense you climbing up your high, getting so close, your walls fluttering against his curled up digits in preparation and juices plentifully seeping out of you, he grabs your phone and ends the recording himself.

Sunghoon moves, and suddenly you miss the weight of his chest pressing into your back, but the pace of his fingers inside you slows down again. You wail as you feel the climax you were so close to dissipate, and suddenly you feel like invisible ropes are keeping your front tied to the bed. Your back gives in under the pressure, arching in ways that should be uncomfortable but it's the only outlet other than the plentiful sounds being pushed out of you your body has to ground itself in the midst of all the pleasure.

The loneliness your heart feels whenever he deprives you of his body heat for as much as a few seconds has tiny broken sobs and whines lurch out of your throat, but like every single time, Sunghoon is there to soothe you. "I know, baby, I know. Just let me help you feel good. Yeah?"

Even when you're supposedly being punished, he can't help but go a little easy on you, his gorgeous angel. His spoiled baby. But it's okay, because you did such a good job, listened and obeyed to his every command.

Sunghoon's warm breath tickles the skin of your bottom, and his nose brushes up from your mid thigh to your ass, giving you a playful yet gentle bite on the plushy skin. Air gets stuck in your throat in anticipation, but like every single thing he does, he takes his time in savoring all the moments leading up to finally get your sweet taste to coat his tongue like he's craved for this entire time.

You're twitchy and so responsive in his hold, and Sunghoon is enamored with the sight of your fluttering walls trying their best to suck his thick digits in even more. Greedy little cunt for a spoiled little girl. A perfect match.

He watches intently how you react to every single thrust of his fingers inside you, how your knees shake and body flops forward when he bends the tips in just the right direction when you least expect it. He pushes in deeper, and deeper, until you're gushing on his palm, your essence dripping down his wrist and a few droplets down to his elbow too. He registers your every moan, every beg for more, imprints all your sounds in his memory like they're the dearest ones he's ever made.

Sunghoon remembers all your reactions from times you'd consider unimportant, from the little moan when you first bite into anything he's cooked—whether you really like it not—to the way your leg bounces when following the rhythm of a song you said you despised because they played it on the radio too often, to the way your eyebrow twitches when he mentions a name you haven't heard before.

When you catch him with that sweet look in his eyes, staring at you with a toothy grin and canines peeking out, it's because he's watching you and storing everything in his mind, no matter how mundane, no matter how dumb, no matter how silly. It's a no brainer he'd do this in times like these too, even when he's witnessed you come undone under his gaze plenty of times, he doesn't want to miss a single one.

It's not really about learning what brings you pleasure faster and what prolongs it, he's familiar with all of that already, Sunghoon just happens to really enjoy watching you, even if you think it's the most embarrassing thing in the world.

So he does exactly that, inspects you carefully as he keeps fucking you open with his fingers, taking guesses about how hard or deep he should make his pumps, pride blooming in his chest—and cock throbbing in his pants—when you react exactly like he expects. While usually he watches you with a lovesick smile, the grin on his face and fiery glint behind his eyes are different now, hungrier and needier, but every bit as obsessed.

Because that's exactly what Sunghoon is, deeply and unashamedly obsessed with you.

He builds your orgasm up again, brick by brick, flick of his wrist by flick of his wrist, until you're quivering and shaking and begging him to not take it away this time.

"Please," you moan, hand clenching onto the bedsheets beside you so hard you'll be shocked if by the end there won't be a hole ripped in them. "I'm so close."

Sunghoon notices how you hold onto your orgasm, waiting for his approval. It makes his hips twitch forward involuntary, eager to please and eager to give you anything you want. "I got you baby, let go. Let me hear the pretty sounds you make when you cum for me."

It's all it takes for the coil in your stomach to completely snap, and the second your warm walls flutter around Sunghoon's fingers for the first time, you feel a sense of emptiness that lasts only a moment, before you're full again. It's not as thick, shorter but so much wetter, and through the thick fog clouding your mind as your body is overtaken by uncontrollable shivers spreading from your core to every extremity of your body, you realize he just replaced his fingers with his tongue.

Another lightning strike shoots right through you, head to feet, as Sunghoon keeps fucking you through your orgasm with his tongue. You're still fluttering around it and releasing all of your juices right into his awaiting mouth when the ringing in your ears slowly fades, replaced by the downright obscene sounds of Sunghoon slurping up all he can get out of you. It's messy and nasty, the lower half of his face completely coated in your essence but he doesn't care. He wants more.

He moans into your pussy like he's the one being pleasured, and once that single second of bliss between fully coming down from an orgasm and overstimulation setting in goes by, he pulls you in closer when you start moving too much. You're still too sensitive, but if Sunghoon thinks you're greedy, you have to realize he's even worse. Feeling the dull throbbing of your walls as you come around his tongue one time just isn't enough. If it were up to him, he'd have you wet his mouth again and again until you physically can't withstand any more. Until you're barely coherent and slipping into a peaceful sleep, completely tired out.

Sunghoon grabs a handful of your ass with his still dripping hand as he licks a stripe down from your hole into your lips, spreading them open with his tongue to find your clit, throbbing and raw from your previous orgasm. He rolls it between his lips, toys with it with his tongue, uncaring for the way your body pushes away from his mouth. After all the begging you did, you have no business running from it, if you ask him.

"Stay still," he growls into you, both of his hands tied together on your lower back as he fully pushes you down on the mattress with his strength, leaving you nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. He nuzzles his face into you, enveloping all he can get with his warm mouth, sighing and groaning contently with every bit of wetness you gush right on his tongue.

He explores every inch of you, every nook and cranny he can get into, cleaning you up with each lick and wetting you even more with every other. "So fucking good," he moans into you, dragging you back against him when you think you can't physically be closer, when the tip of his nose pushes into your hole and when the only way he has to breathe is through his mouth which is full of you. He pants and gasps against your cunt so much you fear he might suffocate himself just to not come up for air a single time.

Your own face is pushed against the bed, mouth biting down on the cotton fabric beneath you to ground yourself in the immense cloud of pleasure Sunghoon is giving you. He's so lost in your taste he doesn't even remind you to not muffle your sounds, the only thing in his mind is to have you come undone on his mouth once more.

Sunghoon knows he's close to his goal when your little pained whines start turning into longer, more drawn out moans, when you stop running away from his tongue and instead start thrusting yourself back into his hold, back into his mouth. All your senses are ablaze, nerve endings lit and confused but so pleased at the same time. You yourself don't know when the it stopped hurting and became that dull, impending feeling of almost there to something more that both maddens you and keeps you hooked, but you roll your hips anyway in search of just the little nudge in the right direction your body violently craves.

Like always, Sunghoon knows exactly what you need.

"Go on, baby. Touch your little clit for me." His voice is full and rich of that low gravel you barely get to hear, but that has tingles run down your body when you do. "Help me make you cum." Sunghoon lets his tongue run back up from your clit to your slit again, inching closer to your throbbing hole as you let a hand sneak under your body to your pussy, immediately finding your sensitive bundle of nerves.

You're so drenched by now you don't need to wet your hand before drawing circles all over it, dragging it in all the directions you know have your toes curl. Sunghoon likes it messy though, so he gathers a glob of spit and loudly releases it on your cunt, the position making it dribble down right where your hand is working to bring you closer to your peak.

The onslaught of wetness pooling down only adds to the already embarrassingly loud noises coming from your cunt, and you're so wet, your own fingers slip a few times. It doesn't help that your arm shakes under you even when pinned down by your entire body weight when Sunghoon shoves his entire tongue down your hole again, using both of his hands on your lower back to move you so you're fucking his muscle as if it were a toy. His nose drags on your perineum with every movement of your bottom half against his face, and under any other circumstance you'd be mortified, but Sunghoon has a way of soothing you in the most embarrassing situations without really having to do anything but be there with you, like nothing matters in the grand scheme of things when his body is heating yours.

You speed your movements up to match the pace he sets, and with every thrust of his tongue combined with every flick of your wrist, you feel the band in your lower tummy stretch and warm up, until your sight turns searing white and warmth envelops your body from your core to all your limbs in rhythmic waves, first every other second, and then gradually slowing down.

You release on Sunghoon's tongue, and he wastes no time, gulping down all he can manage to, moaning into your heat like he's tasting the most divine nectar. You can't see it as you're busy catching your breath and slowing down your heartbeat as the rush of pleasure dissipates into a calmer buzzing felt all over your body, but Sunghoon's eyebrows crease in the middle, his eyes closed as he commits the taste of your cum to his memory, right beside all the indecent bits of you he treasures in his mind.

Sunghoon pulls his tongue out of you, already missing the way you flutter against it when you come undone, and leaves a trail of pecks all over your bottom, first on the plush of your ass still kept up by his strong hold despite you having completely given up on keeping yourself upright long ago, then all over your thighs, switching from one to the other as he runs a reassuring hand all over your skin, wordlessly soothing you. His palms are big and thick on your thighs as he moves to wrap his hands to the front, steadying you one last time to capture your clit in a gentle suckle, just enough to have your body convulse in overstimulation, but too tired and spent to fight back.

He pulls off of you with a pop after hollowing his cheeks around it one last time. "Did so good for me, baby. You're so perfect."

Without Sunghoon's hands keeping you up, you slump on the bed, completely this time, groaning when the burn in your lower body fully sets in now that you can move it again. It's dull and persistent, and especially fiery right where Sunghoon's hands stayed locked for most of it.

"You okay, pretty? Was I too rough?" He sounds concerned when you take longer than usual to regain your strength, his hands immediately roaming all over your body to massage any sore spot. His touch is light like a breeze but welcome like the sun on a spring day, warming up all the knots in your muscles. The dangerous edge seems to have completely evaporated, only leaving your sweet boyfriend behind. In the moment, it's exactly what you need.

You give him a vague sound of approval in response, but you know it's not enough for him when he gently maneuvers your body around to face him, holding you so carefully one would think him scared of damaging you.

The warm light shining from the night stand casts shadows on his face, but the slight concern etched on his features is bright as day. It's an intimate moment, and you'd giggle because of the sheer difference in his behavior if you had the energy to do so. Instead, you reach for his hand. The same hand that held a bruising grip on you just moments before, the same hand that hit the man who disrespected you.

Sunghoon returns you touch right away, locking your fingers with his as if second nature. You place a featherlight kiss on them, allowing your lips to linger on his salty skin as you speak. "I'm great. Perfect even." It comes out a little raspy, like you haven't fully caught your breath yet, but it's a start.

"Yeah. You are."

"And you? You doing okay?"

Sunghoon gifts you one of his cannot-possibly-contain-it smiles, the ones where he looks down for a split second as his eyes crinkle and somehow smile wider than his lips do. Your favorite kind of Sunghoon Smiles you'd say in the moment, though if you were to compile a list they would all be in the number one spot.

"Perfect, even."

"Hey, that's my line—" you start, but Sunghoon finishes your sentence for you.

"—Don't steal it."

You hum, the taste of skin still on your lips as you bask in the moment for a little, neither of you daring to break the peaceful quiet that wraps like a fuzzy blanket around you. Sunghoon flinches just the tiniest bit when your fingers graze the bandaged scratches, making you ease up your hold on his hand. He immediately squeezes yours to tell you it's okay.

"You know," you say after you let the silence linger for a few more seconds, only your heartbeats and shallow breaths filling the air in the dimly lit room. "You look really hot when you're mad."

Fits of giggles pour in the almost nonexistent space between you—first Sunghoon's, yours following suit.

"I must look super hot when I'm jealous then," he says with that teasing edge in his tone you're all too familiar with. He dips down to catch your lips in a slow kiss, suckling on your bottom lip gently, the corners of his mouth still raised. He hasn't stopped smiling once.

"Absolutely," you say before Sunghoon pecks you again, and then keeps doing it as you try to continue. "And when you're happy—" another peck. "And when you're bored." Another peck. "And when you're—sorry if I say this but you look like a cute kicked puppy—sad.

"So you're gonna keep finding ways to make me jealous, I assume."

It's not meant to be a jab, you know he's being playful. But it stings you just in the right way, and suddenly you're in the passenger seat of Sunghoon's black Bentley again, worrying about having hurt his feelings past redemption.

Like all things you, Sunghoon catches it right away.

"Hey there, it's okay. I'm not upset, baby." Sunghoon's hands are secure around your hips, his thumb running soothing circles on your skin while your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer because it's simply never enough.

"You should be. You're too nice."

Sunghoon presses his lips on your fluttering lashes. "You being a little brat is nothing new. I think I know how to handle you pretty well, don't I?" His breath, minty but also vaguely bitter from the beer still, warms your cheekbone. Sunghoon's proximity to you is intoxicating in ways no amount of alcohol could ever be, and you hate beer, but god, what wouldn't you do to taste it off of his lips for the rest of your life.

Whoever is up there must be gracious because your prayers are answered the very next second, with Sunghoon ghosting his lips on yours, looking at you with tenfold the intensity and fire from earlier, like someone drenched the space behind his eyes with gasoline and lit it up without you noticing it. The switch is so sudden, and by now you should be used to this, but you don't think you ever will. Not when your boyfriend is looking at you like he might devour you whole any moment, and you'd let him. You'd love to let him.

"Act out all you want," Sunghoon says, voice dripping in possessiveness, right against your awaiting mouth. You want to swallow every last bit of it. "Go out there in short little skirts barely covering your ass. Make up all the silly plans you want, even ones where Jay's involved. Let everyone get a good look at you because that's all they'll ever fucking get." His hand reaches for your inner thigh, then folds it to give himself better access. His bulge is heavy and hard against your bare core, the weight of it enough to have you shiver and mewl, but when Sunghoon starts grinding his hips into yours, the noises spill out of you like you have no control over them. "At the end of the night, after you've had your fun, you'll always come back to me. In my bed, soaking my pants with your little pussy because you only get wet like this for me."

It's embarrassing how fast you feel like you could come again, but Sunghoon's hard thickness slides so perfectly over your folds even through the fabric, and the harshness of his jeans catches your clit every so often in such a delicious way. His pants are soaked through in your essence, both of you moaning and panting in each other's mouths so messily you don't even know if it could be classifies as a kiss or a mere exchange of spit.

"You're mine," Sunghoon rasps, like his life depends on it. He fumbles with his pants, depriving you of the mouth watering friction. You make a few noises of complaints, but his teeth are quick to sink into your bottom lip to silence them. "A spoiled little brat. But mine."

The heaviness of him finds your dripping core again, this time so much warmer, only his underwear separating your most sensitive parts from touching. It's the closest you've ever been to feeling his cock on you, and it's overwhelming. Electricity shocks run through your body when he starts moving his pelvis against you, completely coating the already damp material with the mix of your arousal and release. He's not unaffected—his own precum shows up right where the little slit in his tip is, the fabric of the boxers a darker shade of gray there.

"Mine to love, mine to discipline, mine to train. Mine." You don't know wether the hoarseness coming from his throat is due to the anything but proper activity you two are partaking in or simply the raw need for you to really let his words sink in, but the effect it has on you is clear. The proof is right where your cores meet.

You tentatively roll your hips into his, movements emboldening when you earn a few low grunts from him.

"This pussy is gonna be mine too now. Mine to worship and please. Mine to fuck open like she never has been before. I'm gonna ruin you for everyone else. You want that, right?"

You nod frantically, your hips running after Sunghoon's in a relentless chase, like they have a mind of their own.

"Say it. Say you want me to ruin your little hole."

"Ruin it—Hoon, please."

His hips falter when he hears just how desperate you sound, his eyebrows scrunched up in the middle and you can tell he's biting down on his tongue to ground himself. It only encourages you.

You reach for his boxers, wrapping your hand around the outline of his bulge and trying to contain your facial expressions at the reminder of just how ridiculously large he is. You squeeze it with your palm, his eyelids fluttering closed and his chest heaving from your touch alone. You try not to think too much about how outrageously wet the fabric is, all thanks to you. "Please, I need to feel you inside," you beg, arms pushing your tits—now basically spilling out of your dress—together and looking up at him with the most innocent doe eyed expression you can muster up.

Sunghoon's jaw leaps, and you feel like under a microscope as he watches you. "Little minx you are." He reaches for the first drawer of his night stand, rummaging though it quickly before pulling a tiny bottle out of it. It's lube.

"I don't need—"

Sunghoon silences you by spitting right on your pussy, your complaint turning into a whimper at the contact. "You do, baby. You need all the help you can get." Complaining more will get you nowhere but tucked into bed, still needy, horny and with a wet pussy, so you decide to play your cards cleverly and let him do his thing.

You paw at his boxers, fingers dipping into the waistband and trying to tug them down to get to the prize hidden behind. You spread your legs open even more as Sunghoon rips a larger hole into your tights, the veins running down his arms slightly bulging from the effort.

The sudden coldness of the lube dripping down on your puffy folds surprises you enough to rip a little yelp out of you, and Sunghoon's wide palms find their rightful place on your thighs, pushing them against your hips and lower stomach. He takes a good look at your cunt, spreading you open to his liking and leaving no inch of your skin hidden from his sight. "Such a pretty pussy." Your joints still ache and burn from all the exertion they already endured, but Sunghoon's words are like a soothing balm for your body and mind. "Prettiest cunt in the whole fucking world, all wet and ready for me to fuck."

You finally manage to free his cock fully, despite his filthy words sending waves of weakness through your body, and immediately wrap your palm around the middle, mouth watering when your thumb doesn't reach your other fingers. Not only is it way longer than average, it's also thick beyond comprehension, perfectly curved to hit all the right spots in you and so fucking veiny you can feel more slick pour out of you in anticipation. You quite literally cannot stop gawking at it, trying to move your hand up to his tip, just as thick if not thicker than the base, and you gulp as you watch beads of semi transparent liquid pour out of it.

"What is it, baby?" Sunghoon asks, Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he tries to not buck his hips into your hand. "We can stop if you want."

"No!" Your grip around him tightens, earning a gasp and a shallow thrust from him. Your thumb swipes over the head to spread his need all over, making it easier for you to slowly jerk him off. "Please," you add, quieter, afraid he might take the opportunity away from you.

The sight of you laying down so prettily with your much smaller hand enveloping his length, has all the blood in Sunghoon's body rush straight to his groin. He could cum at any moment, just from having you right in front of him like this, but he's set on making it worth the wait.

"You're so fucking hot like this." His hand finds your cunt again, fingers spreading your folds open so he can take a good look at the sensitive bud he loves so much, finding it so swollen he wishes to just bend down and suck on it again.

Once the lube fully coats his digits, he brings them down to your hole again, prodding it just enough to make sure it's slick with the cold essence. He squirts more of it right onto his cock while you keep fisting him as best as you can, spreading the lube all over it until all that can be heard in the room is the loud squelching noises and both of your heavy pants and low groans. His fingers keep rubbing your folds, coaxing more of your own arousal out of you, the feeling so distracting the pace you set on his cock falters a bit. To compensate, you add your other hand too, milking him with both at the same time.

"Fuck yeah, just like that," Sunghoon moans, and he looks divine above you with his lip caught between his teeth, gaze flickering from where his hips have started fucking into your fists, to where his fingers are playing with your pussy, like he cannot decide which view is best.

His cock throbs in your hands every time your hold tightens or your movements get faster, and you're stuck watching every reaction. His chest heaves, sometimes he looks like he forgets to breathe and then he has to make up for it. His cheeks are flushed, and when you notice how his bangs are sticking to his forehead because of the sweat accumulating on his hairline, you suspect he might be close.

"Gonna come?" you ask, battling your lashes at him, hoping he'll do just that from your hands alone. That's enough to wake him from his daze, and you almost regret asking when he breaks free from your hold and stops playing with your pussy.

The disappointment is short lived, because without wasting any time, Sunghoon brings your legs close together around his cock and sets both of your feet on one of his shoulders. He fucks your thighs just like that, with slow thrusts, making sure to slide his cock between your folds and let you feel every single vein running down his length. "You'd love that wouldn't you? Me coming all over your pussy. You're so fucking messy."

The shirt still covering his torso leaves close to nothing to the imagination now, clinging to every ridge of his abs and chest because of the sweat, and you're basically drooling at the sight. The feeling of Sunghoon's cock between your thighs and on your cunt is too much for you already, clit throbbing with need every time his tip catches on it, balls pushing against your hole every now and then, but you make the mistake of looking down when his thrusts get faster, and the view you're met with has you absolutely obsessed.

The head of Sunghoon's cock peeks out from your thighs every time his hips move forward, red and leaking so fucking much on your lower tummy it looks like he's cumming all over you already. But then it just keeps going, reaching close to your belly button, and when his head rests right on it, your mouth goes slack. It's one thing to see how big he is normally, but to have it compared directly against you, it makes the room spin in circles and your body feel even weaker. You need him inside you now.

"You like the view, baby? That's how deep I'm gonna be inside you, how deep I'll be fucking you," Sunghoon laughs, a little manically, and you hate how much it turns you on, like you need to be any more than you already are. "You'll feel me riiight here." He stops his thrusts to tap his cock on your stomach, the sounds of the tiny slaps reverberating through the room. "All up in your guts."

You gasp out his name when his hips go back to working his cock between your thighs, in an attempt to get his attention, but he already knows what you want.

"I know, baby. I know. Just a little more I promise." His gaze flicks up to meet yours, watching you intently for any sign of discomfort, any indication that you might want to stop. He knows it's unlikely—Hell, he's sure you were about to beg him to fuck you for the nth time that night just now—but he needs you to be absolutely sure. The weight on his chest, the slightest hint of uneasiness looming over him despite all the excitement fades in the background when all he finds on your face is pure lust, unfiltered need for him.

The pace slows down a little, and Sunghoon keeps eye contact with you as he speaks with his full lips brushing the skin of your ankle, giving you a few kisses there to ease up any anxiety you might feel. "Are you sure, pretty? We can wait a bit more. We don't have to—"

"Hoon. For the love of God just put it in or i might actually die within the next two minutes."

An amused wheeze tickles your skin, followed by a gentle nibble right where his lips kissed you. He rests your legs back down while he still kneels on the bed "Alright, alright."

He's spent all this time preparing you, telling you to take it slow for your own well being, but as you watch the way his eyes hesitantly shift focus around your body, you think maybe he's not the one ready yet. "Hoon?" you catch his attention, voice meek but it's like music to his ears, always.

Sunghoon hums in acknowledgement, but he looks deep in thought. His thumb follows the ridge of your jaw to your chin, then swipes over it a few times as if to encourage you to continue.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Had a change of heart? Weren't you just about to die a few seconds ago?"

"I'm asking you."

He exhales, then bends down to place a soft kiss right on your parted lips. "Of course I'm sure. I'm just…" He trails off, but you already know what he's thinking.

"You won't hurt me," you say, keeping eye contact to really get the point across. "Besides, even if you did. I'd enjoy it a bit."

The corner of his lips lift up, and you know you've finally cracked through him. "I suppose you would."

His elbow rests by your head, while his other hand grabs his cock and gives it a few pumps in preparation—not that he needs it, Sunghoon doesn't think he's ever been this goddamn hard in his entire life. "Give me a few taps anywhere if you want me to stop, if it helps you can bite me when it hurts." He positions himself, hand still guiding his tip to your leaking entrance, but doesn't push in just yet. "Where should I cum?"

You're about to lose your mind, hips slowly rolling against his tip to try to coax it inside of you and he's still talking instead of doing something about it. "Huh?"

"Where do you want my cum baby? You won't be able to talk when I'm fucking you."

The sheer seriousness in his tone has shivers run down your spine, but you don't dwell on it too long. "Inside. Anywhere you want just please—Oh my god."

The sting of his tip slowly pushing in stops you from finishing your sentence. It's a mild discomfort for now, but the feeling of it stretching you open is better than any of the toys you and Sunghoon experimented with could've ever provided. He's just getting started, but your mouth is already ajar, and more wetness seeps out of you when your boyfriend rewards you with the most beautiful moan you've ever heard.

"God, it's like she's begging me to slam all the way in." His thumb swipes over your clit in circular motions to help you ease up so the first few inches aren't too harsh on your poor drooling pussy, and even though the tip isn't even the entire way in, the sight of his cock slowly disappearing inside your heat quickly shoots up to his favorite spot. "Deep breaths baby, remember what I taught you—No, don't tense up, it's okay. You've got this."

Your eyes roll all the way to the back of your head, pleasure and discomfort blending into one slowly as he waits for you to adjust. How are you supposed to not clench around him when he's encouraging you like this? It's beyond you.

Your hand shoots to grab Sunghoon's muscular biceps when he starts moving again, and he stills right away, waiting with bated breath for the taps to come.

They don't.

"Is it all in yet?" you ask, because truly, you feel so fucking full already, fuller than you have ever been. But the amused look on Sunghoon's face tells you exactly what you need to know.

"I mean." He moves a little more, and the burning—even if eased up a bit by all the juices and lube coating both of you—resumes. "A little more than the tip is."

"The tip?"

"The tip." Sunghoon thrusts out gently before pushing in again, both of you moaning at the same time. "I can fuck you with just that, it's enough to make you come harder than you ever have." He doesn't wait for you to tell him what to do, opting to give you shallow thrusts to test the waters, his thumb never parting from your clit.

The way you shudder and the little sweet sounds you make because of his tip alone has his stomach knot in all kinds of ways and his cock leap and throb so much it fucking hurts. Sunghoon would want nothing more than to shove it in and claim you fully, mold your pussy around his girth so perfectly no one else would ever be able to give you a cock half as good as his—like he would let that happen in the first place.

You're writhing under him, legs kicking a little when he feels the slide in and out slowly get more comfortable and slippier. That doesn't mean you're not clenching around him so hard he could cum at any given moment, but for your own pleasure—and his, really. He wants to shoot his load as deep as he possibly can—he tries to hold off to the best of his capabilities.

But fuck if it's not the hardest thing he's ever tried to do.

He almost breaks when your own hand reaches down for the one working on your pussy, smaller palm attempting to cover the back of his and to coax it into moving faster. There's a bit of drool on the corner of your lips, and you look so wrecked already, Sunghoon hates how a shiver runs down his spine at the mere thought of how you'll look like when he's balls deep inside you. "Hoon—fuck. I want more."

He coos at you, pretending he's not a wreck himself, pretending the thread thin sliver of sanity he has left isn't the only thing preventing him to fold your legs all the way up to your chest and fuck you into oblivion, but the arm next to your head shakes with restraint, and the knuckles on his fist are ghostly white by now, even if you're too blissed out to pay attention. His voice is shaky, uneven, but his words are careful and patient, even when you'd rather them not be. "We gotta get your pretty parts used to it first baby, come like this just once, it's only the last stretch."

Your whines turn into moans when his movements on your clit fasten and his tip nudges inside you a little deeper, just enough to momentarily satisfy your craving for more.

"Aren't you a greedy little thing," Sunghoon rasps, holding back his own impending orgasm with all his strength, beads of sweat now rolling down his neck deliciously, and you kinda wish you could bend forward and lick them off of him. "Asking for more, and more, and more after the stunt you pulled today. My pretty baby," his thumb pushes more forcefully on your bud, making it hurt so good for a second as you adjust to the pressure, then giving you harsher drags, meant to have you come undone and quivering under him in no time. "So desperate for cock you just had to go ahead and try to make me jealous. You like it when I'm jealous?"

You gasp, nodding frantically as you feel the familiar knot in your stomach tighten more and more, an embarrassing amount of slick pouring out of you and running downwards.

"You're so fucking lucky this is the first time we do this," his voice is rough, an octave lower than usual. "Or I would've bent you over and fucked you so silly the second we got home without stretching your pretty pussy open. But I'm so kind. Thank me for it."

You clench hard around him at his words, toes bending because you don't know what else to do with all the pleasure coursing through you, and he gives a gorgeous deep groan in response. "I'm gonna—"

"Then thank me for it."

You come around him hard, harder than you ever have, thank you's pouring out of your lips like a broken prayer, entire body shaking head to toe from the intense orgasm. The buzz in your ears persists for a while as you try to come down from it, and you can see but it feels like you can't, like your brain isn't registering any of the images your eyes capture. Bright, static, dark spots, so many things at once. It feels like you blacked out for a second even if you didn't, all your senses dulled to make space for all the other sensations your climax provides.

When you slowly start to regain power over them, you're met with the sight of Sunghoon panting like a dog, eyes closed and fist wrapped around his cock, the head poking out and redder than you've ever seen it, looking like he just ran a fucking marathon. Somehow, he managed not to cum. He was so close though, so close he had to pull out the second your walls started to involuntary flutter around him or he would've been done for.

The tight black shirt is still clinging to him like a second skin, and the first coherent thought of yours after the fog around brain clears is to get him out of it as soon as you can. You tug at the hem, still panting and blood buzzing from the release. "Off."

Sunghoon doesn't answer you with words, but he rips the shirt off his torso, throwing it somewhere on the floor behind him. His hands are shaky as they travel from your waist to your hips, then reaching your thighs, spreading you open further in front of him and allowing him to take a look at the big mess you—both of you, really—made. Sunghoon's cock is rock hard, tip oozing enough precum to make all the prep you've endured so far pointless. (Not really, you know better than that.)

Sunghoon goes back to nudging his tip on your hole, just holding it there without pushing in quite yet, casting a last questioning glance your way because he needs the reassurance that you're okay with this one last time before he fully commits.

When you nod, he slowly eases himself back into you with a low moan accompanying the motion, this time his gaze holding yours. The face you make as his tip stretches you open makes it a hundred times harder for him to keep his chill, wanting nothing more than to say fuck it and pound you stupid like you've been begging him to do ever since things first got handsy between you two.

The burn isn't nearly as bad as it was the first time, leaving space for so much more pleasure to course right through you, and you can't help the relieved sigh that leaves you when his tip is fully back inside you again, like it's a need for you to be filled by it. And Sunghoon sees that. He sees the fire in your eyes, the greediness slowly pooling behind those pupils he loves so much, how your hips look for his even if taking any more in hurts.

His hips jerk forward more than he intends them to, but he can't help it, not when you're looking at him like he's the prey. More of your wetness coats him, and both of you loudly moan into the night.

"You feel so fucking good, baby," Sunghoon whines, actual tears filling his waterline because he can't believe how much you're gripping him, pussy fluttering around his girth with every little bit he pushes forward, welcoming him like no one has ever done. "Tightest little pussy ever."

The hold on your thighs is bruising, but it helps you stay at least a little grounded so you wouldn't have it any other way. Whenever you think you're too full and cannot possibly take anymore, you feel a little more of Sunghoon's cock slide in you, so you get on your elbows with what little strength you have left and take a look for yourself. He's barely halfway in, and the burning sensation is starting to set in again. It hurts, but it hurts so good, you need more and you need less at the same time.

"Yeah, that's right, angel. Watch how your greedy needy cunt swallows me." Sunghoon's eyebrows are creased, sweat now not only dripping from his scalp, but little droplets constellating his broad chest, following the paths preset by his sculpted physique, all the way down to his vline. A mouthwatering sight.

"So full," you sigh, eyes never leaving from where you're connected, clit throbbing the more he fucks his cock into you, begging for a lick of attention.

"You'll be so much fuller. Can you behave and handle that for me, mhh?"

You bite down on your bottom lip, nodding along to his words and sneaking down your hand to play with your clit when you come to the conclusion that Sunghoon's hands are way too busy gripping your plushy skin like his sanity depends on it.

"Smart girl," he praises.

The wetter you become, the easier and more pleasurable the slide is. Sunghoon watches you for any sign of unbearable discomfort, slowing down when you bite your tongue or picking his speed back up when you bless him with those precious needy whines of yours. "You're doing so well, my gorgeous girl. So fucking amazing, making me feel so good already, God, you're perfect."

His words of encouragement play a big part in easing the pain for you, soothing you enough to make it easier for you to not tense up when his cock nudges a particularly sensitive spot inside of you. Your hand flies to your lower belly and you swear you feel him right there, so much deeper than you've ever had anyone—or anything—be.

"There we go," Sunghoon puffs out like he's been holding himself back from breathing this entire time, his pelvis grinding against your folds deliberately. And you finally realize he's all the way in for the first time ever. "Squeezin' me so tight, are you scared I'll run away?" He pulls back a bit before fully thrusting inside again, the curve of his cock aiding in making him hit all the right spots you could've never reached yourself. "No fucking chance. Not after I've got a taste of this. Gonna fuck your pretty pussy open every fucking night, until I've trained her to take me in without any complaints."

He sets a slow pace, not wanting to overwhelm you just yet, then adds, in a softer tone, "Does it hurt too bad, baby?"

If he keeps the back and forth up for much longer, you're gonna end up getting whiplash. But between groans and higher pitches sounds, you manage to answer him. "Any more and you would've popped me like a balloon."

Sunghoon giggles as he bends down to capture your lips in a sweet kiss, hands finally loosening his grip on your legs and traveling all over your body. "You begged, and begged and—"

"I'm not complaining, am I?" you ask, breaking the kiss and resting your forehead on his, the saliva string connecting you two shining under the warm light of the lamp. "Harder."

Sunghoon complies instantly, speeding up his movements and giving you actual thrusts instead of the messy mix of grinding and nudges he'd taken a liking to. His hot, wet mouth finds your neck, too greedy and selfish, in desperate need of hearing the beautiful sounds you make instead of swallowing them down. His tongue skates over your pulse point, a shiver traveling down your entire body when he gives you the lightest nibble right there before licking it up again in apology.

"I can still taste you in my mouth." His breath tickles the wet skin of your neck, your front arching into his when goosebumps appear all over your exposed arms. "Always want to—mh, taste it. You'll let me eat your pretty pussy again after you gush on my cock?"

Even if you want to reply, you really can't, not when the pace he's drilling into you at is knocking the air out of your lungs, and the bolder his movements get, the more you understand why he asked where he should cum before even staring. You want to look at him, take in every expression on his beautiful face, but the pleasure is too much to handle and the only thing that seems to help is closing your eyes and letting them roll back into your skull.

Your lips are raw from all the biting, and you're so incredibly thankful when Sunghoon's hand swats yours away from your clit to replace it, allowing you to sink your fingers into his broad shoulders, clawing at them with every languid thrust he gives you. He feels so perfect, filling you up to the brim and then some more, stretching you out so fucking good you suspect you won't ever be able to scratch the itch if not with his cock.

"I'm in love with this fucking pussy, baby," he moans, loud and unapologetic, making his way with open mouthed kisses down your neck, then following the line of your clavicle, only to dip down between the valley of your breasts. Your tits have spilled out of the tiny little dress due to bouncing around with every precise thrust Sunghoon gave you, and your nipples are perky and hard, begging for his attention right in his face.

"And your tits, fuck. So pretty, I'm gonna eat you right up." He licks a stripe on one of your hardened buds before enveloping it fully between his lips and sucking on it lightly, sighing contently into it when you push your tits on his face further, loud whines spilling out of you.

The very familiar band in your tummy starts to tighten again the more he works on your nipples and clit at the same time, thrusts never once faltering. All of your senses are heightened to such a degree you don't even know what to do with yourself anymore if not lay under Sunghoon and let him absolutely ravage you, not a single thought but 'feels so good' crossing your mind. But it's fast, too fast, and you want it to last for longer, want Sunghoon to keep fucking you for hours until the only word you remember is his name.

You try to push his hand away from your clit, only earning a reprimanding yet gentle bite on your nipple, a warning. "I c-can't."

"Can't what, pretty girl?" He rolls your nipple between his lips, lapping away the tingling sensation the nibble left on it that has you jolt in his hold. "Use your words."

You throw your head back in frustration, feeling the impending climax approach you once again, the nth that night. "Don't want it to end," you gasp, using up all the strength left in you form a coherent sentence.

Sunghoon coos at you. Fucking coos at you only to deepen the strokes of his cock inside you, angling his hips to reach even deeper. "Cum for me baby, I'll just keep fucking you."

Your thighs shake as they wrap around his waist to pull him closer, his hips switching to grinding his cock into you instead of thrusting it, the fat tip poking the most delicious sensitive parts of your heat. You gasp and wheeze, claw and scratch and draw blood from his skin but it never hinders or stops his strokes. You clench around him time and time again, wrapping around his cock so nicely Sunghoon can feel his own orgasm build up in the pit of his stomach.

You come around him with a silent scream, every single part of your body twitching under him as he keeps fucking into you, now chasing his own high. He still takes a moment to watch you and how beautiful you look at the highest of your peak, eyes glazed over and mouth hung open, sweaty skin glistening so beautifully he wishes to be a painter and capture it forever. It's a sight he's never gonna grow accustomed to, and it has his stomach twist in knots. "That's it baby, so fucking gorgeous, keep cumming for me like that, milking my cock so well."

Even in the aftershocks of your orgasm, your body looks for his, hips rolling into his as if to silently ask for him to cum inside you, now that your voice has completely failed you.

"Just a bit more. We're almost there, my perfect little baby, so good for me," Sunghoon is babbling too by now, so damn enamored with the sight of you trying to keep your twitching under control even though you're still cumming around him and teetering on overstimulation so he can fully savor his own high. "The most perfect angel girl ever. I love you so fucking much."

Your head is light and Sunghoon's words reach you as if in slow motion, muffled by your own blood buzzing in your ears. You're completely drenched, and the bedding underneath you is too, but neither of you can bring yourselves to care. The slide is not painful anymore, and everything feels so warm and slippery, you never want it to end.

The image of Sunghoon still grinding and fucking his cock into you, his pace now reduced to a desperate mess and nowhere near as precise as it was, clears up slowly as your ears stop ringing, but your pleasure never does. You don't know if you're still cumming or if Sunghoon fucking you just feels this good you can't tell the difference, but you feel like you're on cloud nine and lighter than you've ever been.

Sunghoon's torso is completely glistening, and you feel some of that slick coat your skin too when he bends your legs into you, folding you against the bed and hitting even deeper inside you.

You're a moaning mess as he pistons his dick inside your heat, dragging perfectly against your gummy walls. You look down and see a bulge poke your lower tummy with each deep stroke of his. The sight alone is enough to have you on the edge again, but it feels different this time, like you cannot possibly contain what's about to happen.

"Hoon—"

"Shh," he silences you, hair a sweaty mess and dripping all over your figure. The squelching sounds of his skin slapping against yours, connected by white strips of slick on both of your thighs get even louder when his pace gets faster, the hand that played with your clit suddenly pushing down on the bulging of your stomach. "Give it all to me, soak my fucking dick—fuck, I'm gonna cum baby, gonna cum so deep inside you."

You cannot stop the dam from breaking, juices shooting out of you so suddenly you're taken aback too, coating his entire lower abdomen in it. Your cunt throbs around him so hard, almost like it's trying to push his cock out of you. You can't think of anything, cannot fathom anything that's not Sunghoon, and his perfect cock, and how good you feel, going completely limp on the bed.

He moans louder than you at the sight of your wetness drenching the bed and his cock. "Fuck, take it all baby. I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm—"

His hips stutter one final time against you, burying his cock deep inside you and shooting his seed in multiple thick spurts as deep as he possibly can, filling you up perfectly. He dips down to catch your mouth in a messy kiss, panting into your mouth even as you two are still both trying to catch your breath from your orgasms, but your lips on his are all the oxygen he needs.

"I love you," you whisper into the kiss, your words finally having found the way out of your throat again.

Sunghoon hums, his body weakened and tired but still hovering above you instead of slumping on you. "I love you more." He gives you a sweet peck like he wasn't just putting you through the matters moments ago. "You were perfect, baby. Did so amazing." He lets his body go beside you on the bed, dragging you between his arms and grimacing when the wet mess you made on the covers touches the back of his body. "A rag won't be enough."

You smile, weak but content. "And who's fault is that?"

Sunghoon pretends to think about it, but from the look on his face you can tell the answer is ready on his tongue. "I think it might be yours for being too hot I couldn't help myself."

You swat your hand on his chest, but there's no force behind the gesture.

"Aaand for making me jealous."

A groan leaves your lips, your arms coming up to cover your face. "How am i gonna ever face Jay again after this."

Sunghoon's chest vibrates against your skin. "You'll think about that after I clean you up."

You make a low noise of complaint, rolling over to push yourself on top of your boyfriend's body, hands resting on his toned chest as you reach for his huge cock and slowly sink yourself onto it, head thrown back in pleasure even if it's not fully hard anymore. Sunghoon's breath catches in his throat as he watches you lower yourself against him again, your head finding refuge on his shoulder. "Later."

You stay like that for a while, breaths slowly synchronizing in the peaceful quiet, Sunghoon's cock comfortably nested in your heat while his fingers lazily ghost over the entire expanse of your back. You could fall asleep at any moment, but you raise your head one more time to look at your boyfriend, his half lidded eyes meeting yours instantly. "You did not strike me as the type of guy to edge himself that much."

"Just go to sleep."

BONUS

You roll over to tentatively search Sunghoon's bedside table, ignoring the sound of the lube bottle hitting the floor, until the cold screen of your phone meets your spread hand.

Sunghoon is snoring lightly behind you, his nose nuzzled against your nape, and you hope to not wake him up as you unlock your phone. You recoil when the light that feels like a million suns momentarily blinds you, but even that is not enough to discourage you from completing the life-or-death task ahead of you.

You open up messages—promptly ignoring Jay's "never do this shit again. you two are nasty."— and click on Jungwon's chat, not wasting time to watch the several unloaded video files sitting in it (you can easily recognize the blonde silhouette of Jake's hair in half of them, so you're free to assume it's nothing of particular importance anyway) to type a quick text.

05:34 AM. You: mission accomplished ;p (cancel the hiking thing we planned for next week unless you carry me yourself. your girl can't walk)

Shockingly enough, he replies within the minute.

05:35 AM. twin: you shameless being (a whole week is crazy)

05:37 AM. twin: whatever, but I'm dragging you out for brunch so you figure out your means of transportation yourself. we need to catch up

05:38 AM. You: crazy night for both of us i assume

05:38 AM. twin: oh you have no idea

[diyahatnight]

How they ask for sex

Xavier, Rafayel, Zayne, Sylus, Caleb x gn!reader (Separately)

Warnings: Suggestive, sexual themes, established relationships, minors DNI, 18+

AN: Sorry if any of them are ooc.

Word count: 5.8k

Xavier

Xavier would be the type to tell you straight up, or at least hint at it. They wouldn’t be subtle hints either, he’d be straight up with his hints and make suggestive comments that on the surface don’t seem inappropriate, but most definitely are. Though before he ever gets to say anything, his body always speaks before his mouth.

You and Xavier were laid up in bed together, him behind you spooning you. He held you close to his body, arms tightly wrapped around your waist. He was holding you this close because—right before you both got into bed—you tried to kick him out of your apartment. As a joke, of course. But now he's making sure you can’t sneak away from him.

You assumed he was asleep while you mindlessly scrolled on your phone. Initially, he was sleep, but he had an oh-so-delicious dream about you that woke him right on up. You felt him shift behind you and assuming he was now awake, you spoke to him.

“Are you okay baby?” You asked… but no response. You shrugged it off and continued to scroll on your phone. After a couple minutes, you felt him shift behind you once again, this time pulling you impossibly closer, like he was trying to get in your skin. Or… your clothes.

Xavier waited a bit before loosening his arms around your waist and trailing them lower, finally slipping his hands beneath your shirt. He then pressed his body against your own and that’s when you felt something hard press against your backside. Xavier was rock hard and he wasn’t hiding it, he wanted you to know so you’d do something about it.

“Xav-” You choked out, before he cut you off. “You know, Honey, I’m quite hungry right now, but there’s something specific I’d like to eat and i’m not sure if I can have it.”

Xavier didn’t wait for a response before he started to kiss your neck and caress your body underneath your shirt. You let out a soft hum and bathed in the feeling of his touches before speaking.

“And what exactly are you craving right now Xavie?” He paused his kisses for a moment, before sticking out his tongue and swiping a quick lick from your shoulder to your jawline, and then sucking the area for a bit to leave a nice pretty hickey.

“This food is one of a kind…” Xavier started as he nibbled on your shoulder. “There’s only one in the whole world, you can’t get it anywhere else.”

Xavier started to explain the food he was craving and he described you in explicit detail before saying, “And I’m afraid I need a taste of this food or my hunger won’t be subsided.”

You hummed once again and then softly said, “There’s definitely something we can do about that.” You felt Xavier’s smile on your shoulder and he let’s go of you before getting up and climbing over your body, moving you to lay on your back.

Xavier spreads your legs and settled between them, moving them to rest around his hips. He turned off your phone that’s been sitting there, replaying the same video over and over since he started, and he sat it on your night stand. He leaned down into your neck and whispered into your ear.

“I hope you’re prepared, Honey. Because it’s going to be a longgg night. I’m not letting you go until I’ve had my fill—again, and again." He said before attacking your neck.

Rafayel

I feel like Rafayel wouldn’t be the type to ask you straight up to smash. He’d be a little too flustered to say anything. He expects you to know when he wants to have you. You know him so well right? So read him like an open book. Rafayel is soooo obvious when he wants to have sex.

You and Rafayel went out on a date to the beach. He wanted to collect a bunch of seashells for you and make you something special. But after not even five minutes, the rain started pouring down.

You two were still a twenty-minute walk from your apartment, but you didn’t feel like listening to your fishy complain about walking in the rain. So, you suggested that you both stay at a nearby hotel for the night.

The nearest hotel was a three-minute walk, which he was fine with, even though he complained a bit. You paid for one hotel room for both of you, with one bed and Rafayel thought that this day couldn’t get any better.

After settling into the room, Rafayel told you, “Hey cutie, I’m going to take a quick shower.” He winked as he said it and made his way to the bathroom, hoping you’d follow him. Instead, you told him you’d be back. He turned to you with an offended look on his face.

“What do you mean, you’ll be back?” he asked as if you just told him you ruined one of his paintings.

“I’m just going to the store down the street to get us some clothes to sleep in, I won’t be gone for long.” You said with confusion evident in your voice and a tilt to your head.

For some odd reason he looked even more offended “So you’re saying that you don’t want to bathe with the love of your life?” he scoffed.

You rolled your eyes, “Rafayel I did not say that.” You folded your arms, “Do you or do you not want warm clothes to sleep in?”

“Fine, hurry up.” He said as he shooed you off. You sighed as you walked out of the hotel door, closing it behind you. The two of you had just gotten here and he was already being a brat. He’s gonna get it when you get back.

After a bit, you returned to the hotel room with a bag of clothes and entered the bathroom. Rafayel was standing there in a towel, letting the shower water warm up.

“Took you long enough,” he said with his back turned to you. You rolled your eyes as you put the bag down and started to get undressed. “Rafayel, I was gone for five minutes.” Rafayel took off his towel and stepped into the shower, “Yeah five minutes too long.”

Rafayel watched you get undressed and then step into the shower with him. He turned his back towards you and grabbed a rag, putting soap in it, and began cleaning his body. He didn’t say a thing to you nor did he even offer to help clean your back. He’s usually sassy on the regular, but today in particular he’s being more bratty about simple things.

After the shower, the two of you stood in the hotel room in your towels. You offered to put lotion on Rafayel’s body and he declined. With a sigh, you tossed the lotion on the bed and approached him with your arms folded.

“Alright, what’s your problem Rafayel?” He folded his arms too and turned his head the other way. “I have no problem,” he said matter-of-factly.

Your arms unfolded, and you traced your hand down his torso while quietly speaking, “Come on, baby, you know I know you better than that.” Rafayel grabbed your wrist and guided it lower, letting you feel his hardness press insistently against his towel — practically begging to be let free.

“Well obviously you don’t know me enough, cutie,” he said as he turned his head back to you to watch your hand. You started to rub him a bit while he guided your hand.

“Aw, baby why didn’t you tell me sooner?” you said, while he let out soft sighs at the friction, simultaneously softly grinding his hardness against your hand.

“Well… now you know.” He said as he backed you up until you fell back onto the bed.

Zayne

Like Rafayel, Zayne doesn’t say anything at all. He usually just waits until you feel like you want to smash because he likes to please. But if he’s feeling extra needy and you’re not, you can tell by the way he gets super touchy. When he feels like it’s been a while since he bent you over, he’ll be a little extra clingy, like an extra shadow, but he’s subtle about it. He makes it just the perfect amount of obvious so you’d at least get the hint.

After a long day at work, Zayne returned home, putting all his stuff down, taking off his jacket, and slipping off his shoes. As he walked further into the house, he spotted you sitting on his couch watching TV and that brought a faint smile to his face.

The night prior, you had spent the night, and in the morning while he was getting ready for work, he suggested that you should spend the day at his house since you have the day off. He’d love to see your face first thing when he gets home, your face makes his day.

Zayne sat on the couch beside you, and before you could even turn and hug him, he pulled you into a hug, burying his face in your hair taking in your scent. He sat there for a minute just breathing you in like you were his lifeline —the very thing that kept him going. Oh, he loved your scent so much… It turned him on after a long day.

He sat there for a long while before you shifted and spoke, “You okay Zayne?” He didn’t respond immediately and lifted his head and pressed a kiss to your forehead and murmured, “Just fine.”

You shrugged it off and pointed to the kitchen, “Well, I made you dinner, you should go eat. It’s in the microwave.” He nodded to your words, before pressing a couple more kisses to your cheek and jawline before getting up.

He returned with the plate of food and sat beside you again, closer this time. He rested his hand on your thigh as he ate, slightly gripping the inner part every once in a while.

After he ate, he put the empty plate down on the coffee table and then brought your legs up to rest across his lap. He caressed and massaged your legs before speaking, “Must have had a long day, you need time to relax.”

You giggled. “Baby, I’ve been relaxing all day.” He hummed, “Mmm, as you should.” his words came out in almost a whisper.

Zayne’s eyes remained solely on those pretty legs of yours, his eyes sometimes trailing up the rest of your body. He continued to massage your legs until he felt your calf accidentally rub against his hardness. The feeling made him shudder and he abruptly stood up.

“I’m going to go shower,” he said, leaving before you could even say anything to him.

Thirty minutes later, he quietly returned, sneaking up behind you on the couch and wrapping his strong arms around your neck. He buried his head into your neck breathing in your scent once again — the sensation traveling straight down to his core.

He started to rub your shoulders, fighting everything in his being to trail his hands down your shirt and caress your chest. Instead, he settled with massaging your collar bones.

“Zayne are you sure you’re alright?” you asked him once again, you knew there was something wrong with him. Still, he didn't answer.

He started to kiss your neck and you felt the couch start to softly rock — he was grinding his hardness into the couch. Soft moans and sighs escaped him, right in your ear.

And finally, he let it out, with a soft audible moan, “Please… I need you so bad.”

Sylus

Would be the type to tell you straight up that he wants to fold you like a pretzel and make sweet, sweet love to you. But instead, he gets a thrill out of making you guess that he wants to smash, and then he twists the narrative and makes you beg for it instead.

There was a little festival going on and you and Sylus were out together. The two of you walked side by side while he watched you with a smirk pointed out different stalls. You wanted to buy little trinkets, play different games, try different foods, etc, etc. You were definitely in your element and that brought a smile to his face.

Even though it made him happy to see you happy, seeing you so giddy turned him on oh so much. It was so endearing, so much so that he was ready to take you to an alley and have his way with you there. But he decided that on this fine Saturday afternoon, he’ll keep it cute for the time being.

You had strayed away from him, trying one of the games at a stall and he approached you from behind, wrapping an arm around your waist and watching what you were doing over your shoulder.

“Having fun, Kitten?” He asked as his hand slightly squeezed your waist and he pulled you a little bit closer to him. He watched you nod your head as you played the game and that made him smile.

After you played the game, you showed him the prize that you won, it was a cute little cat plushy and you wanted to give it to him. He gladly took it from you, when he grabbed it his hand slightly grazed yours, and he realized that you were quite warm. He brought your hand up to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to the palm of it.

“Your body temperature is quite high, would you like some ice cream?” he nodded to the ice cream stand not too far away. When you said yes he led you to the stand.

While in line at the ice cream stand, he let you order while he stood directly behind you. You felt him push his body up against you and you turned your head back at him.

“Sylus why are you so close?” You asked, your expression quizzical. He had a sly smirk on his face, “Whatever do you mean Kitten?” he said, but as he did so, he ground his hips against the cleft of your backside and he looked around like he was confused.

“Sylus what the hell-” “Your ice cream is ready.” He cut you off, pointing at the guy holding out your ice cream to you. You scowled at him, before accepting the ice cream from the guy and thanking him, then Sylus paid.

The two of you sat on a bench while you enjoyed your ice cream and he rested his hand on your inner thigh. You felt him keep his hand up every once in a while and you ignored it. Things go away when you ignore them— allegedly.

Sylus noticed that you had ice cream spilling down your forearm and instead of being a normal person and grabbed a napkin. He brought your forearm up to his mouth and sensually licked up the melted ice cream while holding eye contact.

You watched him with your mouth agape and your eyes widened when his lips sealed around the tip of your ring finger, to get the last bit of melted ice cream off. He also noticed the bit of ice cream you had on the corner of your mouth and he leaned in to lap that up too.

You popped him with your hand and he sat back with a smile, oh was he ready to eat you whole. But to his dismay, you turned your back on him, though his smile never faltered.

Later that evening, both of you returned to your apartment. He slipped off his shoes and watched you with a hungry gaze as you took off your jacket. Without warning he walked up to you, pinning you to the side of your couch. He started to kiss your neck, leaving a nice hickey.

“Do you know what I want to do right now, Kitten?” he asked, his breath hot against your shoulder. You shuddered at the feeling and spoke, “What is it Sylus?”

And that’s when he just let go and walked away to the kitchen to wash his hands. You were confused, you were so sure that you and him were about to get down and dirty on the couch, but he just… walked away? You followed him to the kitchen, closing the fridge door on him as he was about to grab a bottle of water after washing his hands.

“What the hell was that, Sylus?!” you scoffed. “What are you talking about?” he said seemingly unbothered. You frowned at him and folded your arms before speaking again. “You can’t just... do that and walk away.”

Sylus smirked when he heard you say that, and he slowly approached you, backing you up against the fridge. “What do you want from me, baby. Tell me, I’m all ears,” he said as his eyes raked over your face, he was ready to pounce, but he was waiting for you.

“Just… please Sylus, don’t do this to me,” you said, but in an instant, you were picked up and placed on the kitchen counter.

“I thought you’d never ask,” he started as he began to slide off your shirt. “You know closed mouths don’t get fed, Kitten.”

Caleb

I actually don’t know how Caleb would ask for sex. I feel like he’d say it straight up but he’d mainly wait for the natural progression of sex to happen. When he’s feeling needy, he’s going to kiss you like he needs you oh so desperately and then let everything else smooth sail. (I will be feeding into pantie sniffer Caleb allegations.)

Caleb was over at your apartment fixing a plumbing issue that you’ve been having for the past couple of days. Yeah, you could’ve fixed it yourself but you loved seeing Caleb play big provider man… it turned you on. So you saved something that he can fix, just so you can watch.

After fixing the plumbing issue, he came into your room to let you know that the issue has been solved, “Hey, Pip. The issue has been fixed, your sink should be working just fine now.”

Aw, he fixed it too fast, you were just wondering if you should go out there while he lies on his back, working under your sink and ride him, for moral support… of course.

You sat up off the bed with a sigh, “Thank you for your hard work Caleb, are you thirsty?” you said, as you got up and walked your way to the kitchen and he followed you.

“If you’re offering, then yeah — I am,” he said, all too giddy.

As you got to the kitchen, you opened the cabinet and reached for a glass. Caleb’s eyes locked on your midsection — the way your shirt slightly rose, exposing your pretty skin to his hungry gaze.

The shorts you wore sat low on your hips, and when your shirt lifted just a bit more, he caught a perfect glimpse of your panties.

Freshly worn panties… mmm perfect for a sniff, he thought. He knows you smell delish, good enough to eat. His mind started to drift, daydreaming, wondering if you’d let him smell your panties while they were on you.

His nose pressed against your mound getting a good whiff, while fighting the urge to lick. Oh, the things he would do for that right now.

“Earth to Caleb,” you called out to him, waving a hand in his face. “Oh sorry, Pip Squeak, I was just thinking about how… nice the sun is today,” he said, subtly angling himself so you wouldn’t notice he was completely hard from his daydream.

Curse those stupid tight pants he decided to wear today. He knows how much you like his butt, so when you called him to come fix your sink, he put on the tightest pair he owned to make it look extra plump for you.

You nodded at his response and poured both him and you a glass of apple juice. He took his with a quiet “thank you” and looked around awkwardly as he sipped it.

Then his eyes landed on you once again, and widened the moment he saw a drip of apple juice trickle down your face and chin. He swallowed hard holding back a moan at the sight and the way his hardness jumped in his pants.

He choked on his drink and immediately you turned to him, grabbing a napkin, putting down your drink, and cleaning his face. “Oh my gosh, Caleb are you okay?” you asked concerned as you cleaned juice off his face. All he did was nod in response.

“Let’s go shower, babe,” you said, as you led him to the bathroom by his arm. While in the bathroom you started the shower and then turned to Caleb to help him remove his clothes. He immediately stopped you and told you that he could take care of it.

You shrugged your shoulders and undressed yourself then hopped in the shower. After a couple of minutes, he joined you and you noticed that he was (attempting), to cover himself and you raised a brow.

“Why are you covering up? You act like I’ve never seen before,” you said with a smirk on your face. A pink hue dusted his cheeks, and he changed the subject: “Would you like me to help you clean yourself?”

You said sure and passed him your rag after pumping soap into it. He took it and began cleaning you up. After a bit of time, it started to feel like he was just fondling you, well he definitely was.

“Caleb, what are you-” he cut you off by smashing his lips with yours, dropping your rag to the floor. He kissed you like a man starved and that he needed this to survive.

Caleb picked you up, wrapping your legs around his hips as he pressed your back against the glass door of the shower. He started to grind his thick hard on against your tummy, moaning into your mouth as the heat between you built.

Absolutely no words needed. You know what he wants…

[robinismywifesworld]

Ms. Manager (No Dating Rule!)

Saja boys x Female! Reader

Summary: Other men really need to stop hitting on you or they're gonna lose their minds.

Warning: Saja boys, possessive! saja boys, jealousy, yandere behaviour, oblivious! reader, dumb! reader, crybaby? reader, death (not reader or the saja boys), grammatical errors probably and incorrect spellings, english is not my first language, probably more.

Author's note: The first part reached over 3,000+ notes in just two days (I don't know if that's a good thing or not) but thank you nonetheless! This happens before the first part. This is not proofread lol

Part 1

Coming into the Korean pop music business as a group's manager wasn't exactly what you planned that would happen to you, it wasn't the job you dreamed of but it paid rent and the boys you were looking after weren't that bad, they were extremely clingy and a tad over protective for someone they appointed as their manager for 6 months. It was unexpected but the 5 boys seemed nice enough that immediately made you accept their offer as their manager, their looks were just bonuses.

Apparently, being their manager also requires you to bring them food (Baby said so) and while they offered to come with you, you disagreed because you didn't want to disrupt their dance practice. They gave you their money, of course.

So that's why you were currently in the supermarket, pushing the trolley as you tried to remember what it was that the boys liked to eat. It seemed only Baby loved the hot sauce after getting a free taste on one of the few times they came with you to the shops.

"You can buy what you want with the money too, pretty." they said before you walked off, handing you a butt load of money that wouldn't be able to fit in your wallet.

And that's what you did, throwing your favourite food after food inside the trolley with a giddy smile before stopping to think what your boys liked.

A tap on the shoulder interrupted you from your thoughts making you turn around to see an admittedly handsome man who seemed about your age, ginger hair, brown eyes and fair skin. He's a foreigner, that much was obvious. You blink in surprise and confusion, "Uh, hello? something wrong, sir?" You asked, voice laced with its usual softness and trying to speak in english.

The male cleared his throat, "Uh.." he was momentarily distracted by your looks and cute voice. "Uhm, ye-yes... I-" He cleared his throat again.

You raised an eyebrow, 'Is he alright?' you thought.

"I think you're really pretty and... I was wondering if you'd like to go on a date with me..." He finally says, cheeks tinted pink. British.

Your eyes widened, feeling your own cheeks heat up at his words and accent. This is the first time in years since someone had asked you out, someone this handsome and has a british accent! That's practically the sexiest accent in the world, at least that's what your friend said to you.

"Oh! My name is Brandon, I'm not from here and I just... I thought you very pretty and I'm rambling.." He stammered out, face reddening even more. "I don't know, I just- I wanted to try and have a friend... it doesn't have to be a date-date, just a friendl-"

You don't have an understanding of the whole english language but you definitely got the gist of that.

You interrupted him with a kind smile, "I accept!" You exclaim, trying to hide your excitement.

Brandon smiled back, "h-here... my number, call me? I mean w-we can meet tomorrow for that date.." He said as he handed me a piece of paper with his number that he wrote before walking towards me.

You gave him a nod and a small wave as he walked away with a skip.

You opened the door to the boy's dance rehearsal, carrying three bags of food (the two bags were for you). The boys stopped their practice and immediately went to fight each other on who could help you, practically pushing each other away before Abby grabbed the bags from your hand with a charming smile, "I'll handle them for you, pretty." He said as the rest scoffed.

"Thank you!" I smiled, "So how's practice going?"

Jinu sighs at the question, moving to stand beside you. You could practically smell him with how sweaty he is, no- you could smell all of their musky smell. "It's fine," He huffs, trying to cover up the fact that it was not doing well at all with how much the rest of the guys stressed him out a lot.

"I did tell you I could hire a dance instructor for you guys," I hum, trying to ignore their scent.

Baby rolls his eyes, "Don't. I don't want other people in here." He mutters. I don't want you talking to anybody else, especially if it's a guy.

"Don't worry your pretty little head about it," Romance reassures as he took the place on the other side of you. "Just watch us and look all beautiful for us... okay, Ms. Manager?" he adds with a flirty smile, placing a hand on your shoulder.

Mystery nods his head at what the heart shape haired male said.

I pout, "I just want to be useful, I am your manager after all..."

Abby chuckles, "you are useful, pretty girl. You're taking care of us right now, buying us all these food. You've been a good girl for us." He praised as Jinu hums in agreement.

Your cheeks heated up, they always seem to like mentioning everyday that you've been a good girl and it never stops to make your heart skip a beat.

Such a good girl, you like touching my muscles, don't you?

Thank you, pretty girl. I'm so proud of my good girl.

Don't stop doing that, it feels good... that's right, good girl.

The next day came by and you were giddy, all excited that the others couldn't help but notice it when you came by for another day of dance rehearsals.

Abby moved to flex his muscles, intentionally growing closer to you as the thin shirt made his abs more prominent. "What's got you all excited?" He questioned with a raised eyebrow as he looked down at your form.

"Well yesterday... a guy asked me out!" You exclaimed, "He was sooo handsome and he has this british accent that it just made my heart melt!" You place a hand on your chest for good measure.

The others stopped whatever it is they were doing to look at you, an unreadable expression plastered on their faces before Jinu gave you a small smile which was obviously fake but you didn't notice, practically buzzing with excitement.

"Is that so? I'm happy for you!" He says as he gave you a pat on the shoulder.

"We're actually going at this restaurant in town tonight and I'm gonna be wearing the prettiest dress," You giggle as Mystery grits his teeth in annoyance, trying to stop himself from barking angrily at whoever's taking you out.

They can't believe you had the nerve to just go on dates with some nobody, you were their manager so that practically means you're theirs. So that pretty dress you own is reserved for their eyes only. Who cares if that guy has an accent? They know they're much better than whatever nobody you found on the streets.

The day rolls by, the Saja boys couldn't focus on whatever dance routine they had to do because they have one goal in mind;

getting rid of the bastard who had the audacity to steal their pretty girl.

It was easy trying to find the guy you were going on a date with because you told them his description and where you were meeting, oblivious to their plans. They know you wouldn't accuse them of doing something because you were dumb like that and they love it.

Jinu was dressed as a waiter that they ganged up on to steal his clothes and his soul while the rest waited outside in a dark alleyway. You were still at your apartment, getting all dolled up for this ugly nobody who could never compare to their majestic beauty.

How did you ever find this piece of shit handsome?

The raven haired male plastered on a fake smile as he approached Brandon who looked nervous and sweaty, Jinu was glad he came here extra early. "Hello, sir. I just wanted to inform you that a pretty, young lady is waiting for you outside." he said in perfect english as the ginger male looked up at him in surprise before nodding his head to stand up, following after him.

Brandon looked confused as he was led to a dark and secluded place, he looks around. "Uh, where-" he turns to face Jinu and lets out a gasp, seeing 5 pairs of glowing eyes- yellow embers with orange slits that are razor-thin- glaring down at him from the shadows.

The brit lets out a nervous chuckle, stepping back. "I-is this a joke, mate? It's not really funny..." He mutters before his back felt the dirty and cold stone wall.

"You really thought you could take her... from me? from us?" one of them growls as they moved closer to him.

"Don't bother screaming for help, no one's here but us." another whispers tauntingly before they all simultaneously pounced at the male who let out a scream with other people none the wiser.

"I- I got stood up..." You whimper, having just gone to the restaurant and waited for hours for the guy but he never game. "I waited for him but he didn't come..."

You were in their house, practically dashing over to them in tears. They bit back the smile as you melted into a puddle in Jinu's arms who coo-ed and rubbed your back gently as you cried.

"A-and I was all dressed up too... h-he's such a jerk!" You sobbed, hiding your pretty face in his chest.

"It's gonna be okay, [Your name]" Abby moves towards you, fingers moving to take your chin, tilting your head to look at him so that they could see your pretty face even with the make up running down due to your tears.

Romance gave you a smile, "Besides, you've got us. You don't need some other guy to go on a date with, we're here for you." He said softly. "Oh look, you're ruining your make up now... but don't worry, you're still the prettiest girl in the world."

Mystery nods, "And... being on some date with a nobody would only deter you from your job as our manager... who's gonna take care of us now if you're gonna go off going on a date.." he mumbled, trying to act all upset.

You sniffle, "y-you're right... I- I'm suppose to be your manager... you guys are my priority." you mumbled as you wipe your tears away but the crying never stopped.

They all smirked, unknown to you. That's right. They are your priority and no one else.

"So you better not be getting into some dates again," Baby reprimands with an annoyed huff.

Because you're ours, pretty girl.

[cream1111]

🍎 weird dream . . .ᐟᅟ

⠀⎯⎯⠀⠀caleb/mc!reader, 1.5k, somno, noncon, fingering, dry humping. ao3 ! part 2

it's not uncommon for you to burst into caleb's room without knocking. it was the same no matter where he was, you'd walk straight to his bed, already talking, as if all his attention was yours to command the second you entered his periphery, as if it was your own room. sometimes he'd be by his desk, perking up at the sound of the door being opened and turning to face you, sometimes he's already in bed reading, scooting over to make room as he continues his book, not even having to look at you. you'd snuggle in, making yourself comfortable.

"you know you got your own bed, right?" he'd tease, as if he'd have it any other way.

"yeah, but yours is waaay more comfortable" you'd feign a pout. he never pushes, and you never expect him to.

you'd talk and talk, and he'd listen happily. and sometimes, you'd fall asleep in his bed, never asking, never thinking to. it had always been like this.

even after he moved out for school, summers still gave you the chance to live together once again. you'd seamlessly slip back into the routine, as if no time had passed.

tonight was no different.

you were snuggled up against him, you had been telling him about some gossip from school, some text conversation with a friend. using his outstretched arm as a pillow as you looked up at the ceiling, gesturing at nothing, looking over at him occasionally, catching his eye every time. his eyes never strayed from you. you were used to his gaze, the feeling was constant when he was around.

your story slowed, yawns every few minutes became every few words. until finally a comfortable silence filled the room. he let's out a little laugh. rubbing your shoulder to help ease you into a nice dream.

"must've been really sleepy, huh" he mutters into your hair, petting you, you offer a sleepy groan as a response. he can't help but smile, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head as you hum happily. it's not long before your breathing slows into that familiar pattern. your chest rising and falling evenly, you were sound asleep.

"there you go," caleb coos softly, shifting to be behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle. slowly, so slowly, he moves his hand to rub your stomach. small soothing circles, testing the waters. you've never woken up so far, but he doesn't want to push his luck.

his fingers drift lower, silk soft touches along the exposed skin between your slightly shifted top and the hem of your shorts. he could do this forever, feeling you under his hands, in between his arms, against his chest. he loved having you so close like this, he doesn't know if he could go without it. he knows you feel the same, you might not know it entirely, maybe you don't think about it too much, but he sees the way you look at him, the way you blush, the way you tease. you feel it too, you just aren't ready to act on it yet, you wanna keep the charade going. and that's fine, he's a patient man.

for the most part.

his fingers grow restless, sliding under the waistband of your shorts, under your panties, trailing lower and lower, slow and steady. he hovers over your clit, your breathing remains even.

he waits a second, just to be sure.

and he softly presses down. you don't stir at all. he begins to move in easy little circles, just the right amount of pressure. he thinks he's perfected it. he got a bit too eager with you once, and you almost woke up. you like soft touches, he knows that, for now at least.

he uses his arm around your waist to pull you closer, pressing your ass flush against his growing hard on. he has to bite back a moan, letting out a deep breath instead. he wants to grind into you so bad, but this isn't about him, it's all about you. he remains still, cock twitching against the layers that separate your skin.

he knows one day you'll be together. he can wait until then, but in the meantime, he just wants to open you up a bit. get you ready for him. he thinks it's sweet even, he knows you don't have any experience. he doesn't want you to feel embarrassed or scared he won't fit. he'll be able to assure you and mean it, he'll know your body so well already, you'll have nothing to worry about.

his finger against your clit presses harder, just a touch. your thighs shift, pressing into his bulge harder. he slows, not yet stopping. waiting, checking for any tell tale signs of you waking up.

"mm..." you let out a tiny moan, still asleep. caleb can't help but let his eyes flutter closed at the sound. letting his face nuzzle deeper into your hair, peppering encouraging kisses against your head as he breathes in your scent.

"feels good?" he mutters, barely audible. "let's see..." his hand stills, moving lower, dipping between your lips towards your opening. he has to bite his lip again to hold back the low moan that almost escaped.

you're soaked.

he has a habit of giving you what you want. now is no exception, he won't make you wait.

he circles your opening, before slowly inching in. his cock twitches again, head weeping, wanting nothing more than to be buried inside you. he pushes in deeper and deeper.

"nngh⎯" you let out a soft groan, and he freezes. he's unsure if it's discomfort or pleasure. you're tense around him.

"i know, i know, it's why we're opening you up." he whispers in his most reassuring tone, hoping it'll reach you in your dreams and put you at ease. and it seems to work, you relax, sinking deeper into the bed, soft walls welcoming his finger.

"mhm, just like that..." he presses into you, his finger is as deep as it could go. he angles his wrist so the meat of his palm presses into your clit as he slips a second finger in.

"hah," you sigh sweetly. caleb takes a deep breath, trying to keep his desire in check. maybe, maybe you've done this enough times, maybe you can take a little more now. he justifies it to himself as he curls his fingers out just to push it back inside, a little harsher now, causing you to press harder against his needy cock. you tense again, but relax before he even has a chance to comfort you.

he's losing all composure now.

he repeats the motion, harder, grinding against you. and again, and again, falling into a steady rhythm.

"mmph!" the sweet sounds seem to pour out of your lips. he takes them as encouragement, moving his head lower to brush his lips against your neck. your body sways with each thrust from his fingers, pliant and so accepting of everything he's giving.

he's moving you so much he doesn't notice as you shift more against him.

you feel the pleasure bubbling within you first. it pulls you close to waking. you've had this dream before. being fondled and fucked. your eyes squeeze shut tighter, but it starts to sting, it feels real, you feel the pressure of your eyes against your skull. you twitch, and you suddenly become acutely aware of the ache in your core.

your eyes flutter, half lidded as you take in your surroundings. caleb, he's behind you, and he's ... his ⎯ you can't think straight. he's still moving. you're moving, he's moving your body along with his.

he's pressed against you, he's huffing in your ear, and his hand is in your panties.you try to keep your breathing in check, you want to pant, you feel so overwhelmed all over, you feel surrounded, filled.

right before you can fully acknowledge what is happening, you feel it, your peak is approaching, fast. it's all too much, all of it, his thrusts, his breath against you, his hard cock grinding on your ass, his fingers so, so deep. you try to stop it, whimpers tumble out, you try to speak, but it comes out as a lewd moan.

"w-wai⎯" but it's too late. it all comes crashing down, you come onto his fingers. he feels it, shoving his fingers deep and then holding them still, letting your walls milk him, fruitlessly.

"fuck, yeah, that's it," he whispers, kissing your neck. he was trembling, "mmm, yes."

as you come down you realize he's stopped moving as well, as he shifts you feel the cold air hit a fresh damp spot against your ass. he gently removes his hand for your panties, you crack your eye open as he raises it, past your face and out of sight. you hear him behind you, his lips part and he's sucking his fingers. he let's out a soft groan at your taste. you shudder.

"sooo good, you did so good." he murmurs into your hair. moving his arms to surround you again. you feel unsure, maybe, you're still dreaming. it's hard to tell, you feel so sleepy again. you lean further into him. he's so warm. it just feels right. and it's not unlike dreams you've had before. maybe, you liked it more than you're willing to admit.

you could worry about this in the morning.

[bruisedboys]

second nature — bob reynolds

bob tells you he’s never been kissed. you decide to change that. (post thunderbolts, spoiler free!)

bob reynolds x fem!reader, fluff, friends in love, kissing, thunderbolt!reader (or at least she is implied to live in avengers tower), 1.7k words

“You’re telling me you’ve never been kissed?”

Bob’s face is already hot, but now it burns like a furnace. You’re staring at him like he’s grown two heads.

“No,” Bob shakes his head, embarrassed under your gaze. He looks at his hands instead. “I mean… not properly.”

You must be able to tell he’s embarrassed about it, because you soften.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” you say gently. Bob didn't think you meant it like that, but it doesn’t make it any less embarrassing. You twist towards him. “I just meant … I don’t know, you’re cute. How come no one’s ever kissed you before?”

Bob goes a bit blind. He’s already nervous enough, having you in his room like this. You’re meant to be playing his new video game together, but you’d gotten talking about an old high school fling who used to play video games and was, incidentally, a terrible kisser. You’d asked Bob if he’d ever had a kiss so bad it made him want to brush his teeth five times over, and he’d blurted his secret before he’d even considered lying.

“I don’t know,” Bob mumbles. The tips of his ears burn. He wonders if he imagined you calling him cute. “Nobody’s ever liked me that much, I guess.”

There’s a beat of silence. Bob realises he’s made a pretty pathetic image of himself (as if he wasn’t enough of a loser already), and he goes to amend, but you beat him to it.

“I find that hard to believe,” you say. You put your controller down on the duvet by your hip and twist to face him. You’re sitting side by side on the end of his bed, legs dangling over the edge. It’s a big bed — it’s a big tower. Bob’s still not used to living in the Avengers old headquarters, and he doesn’t think he ever will be.

Bob swallows and finally looks up at you. You’ve got this look on your face that he can’t put a name to. The forgotten video game glowing on the TV reflects back, colouring your features different shades of blue and orange. You’re really pretty. He’s really nervous.

An awkward chuckle tumbles from his mouth, “Why’s that?” He asks.

You shrug one shoulder. “‘Cos you’re really nice. And funny. You’re handsome too, if that helps,” you say, grinning a bit now.

Bob just blinks at you, flummoxed. Is he dreaming? He doesn’t remember falling asleep.

“Are you making fun of me?” He asks eventually. He doesn’t think you ever would, but he can’t fathom that fact that maybe, you’re telling the truth.

You shake your head vehemently. “No. No, what? I’m serious, Bob, you’re a great guy,” you say earnestly. Then, like an afterthought, “I’d kiss you,” you add quietly.

Bob short circuits. He truly can’t figure out if he’s dreaming or not. Surely, he is. Surely you, the loveliest, prettiest girl he’s ever had the pleasure of knowing, doesn’t want to kiss him. He searches for something to say but all that comes out is,

“Oh.”

You grin, not teasing but getting close. “You don’t believe me?” You ask, raising an eyebrow.

Bob flounders, “I—no. I mean, yes? I… I don’t know.”

Smooth, he thinks sarcastically, then promptly shuts his mouth before he can say anything else stupid. Meanwhile, you’re leaning closer, your thigh pressing into his.

”I can prove it, if you like,” you say in a quiet voice.

Bob’s heart hammers. “Prove … what?”

It’s a stupid question, but you’ve never made him feel stupid and he doesn’t think you ever will. You just smile softly.

”Prove that I want to kiss you,” you say simply. “Can I?”

Bob doesn’t know how to respond to that. He’s not sure if he’s lightheaded from your proximity, your sweet perfume, your words, or a mix of all three. He finds himself nodding.

“Okay,” he says.

He watches in a sort of trance as your eyes flicker to his mouth and back up again.

“You sure?” You ask.

Bob’s never been more sure of anything in his life. He tries not to breathe too fast. “Yeah,” he nods.

You grin. Now Bob’s looking at your lips, the curve of your Cupid’s bow, your plump bottom lip. The tip of your tongue as it darts out to wet your top lip.

His heart thuds in his chest.

“Alright,” you say. “Shut your eyes, handsome.”

Bob slams his eyes shut and stays very still. He’s so nervous he can feel it in his bones, a warm sort of buzzing deep in his limbs. It’s unfamiliar and strange, but not uncomfortable. He feels you moving closer, and then feels your hand on his shoulder. Jolts of electricity go down his arm.

“You ready?” You ask in a whisper.

You’re so close now Bob can feel your breath on his lips when you speak. Meanwhile, he can’t speak, so he just tilts his chin up in response.

You take the hint. You press your lips to his and kiss him. Bob forgets how to think — your lips are warm, your kiss achingly soft. He doesn’t know what to do with himself but let himself be kissed, his heart pounding so hard now he’s sure you can hear it. You kiss him for longer than he’s expecting, your thumb pressing into the fleshy part of his shoulder. When you pull away, he wants more.

“How was that?” You whisper. You’re very, very close, so close Bob could count your eyelashes if he wanted to. The glow of the TV reflects warm orange in your eyes.

“Not a real kiss,” Bob murmurs. Your kissing has left him feeling braver than usual.

Your eyes glint and you grin, all Cheshire Cat-like. “I was just warming you up,” you say a little defensively. “You want to go again?”

Bob nods. His nose bumps yours. “Please.”

You kiss him again. You’re more sure this time, warmer, like you were waiting for him to ask for more. Your hand migrates to the very top of his back, your arm caging his shoulder as you push up into the kiss. Bob finds himself kissing back, though he doesn’t really know how, he’s just following your lead. Your thigh starts to squash his and he doesn’t care, ‘cos you taste like butter popcorn and something sweet, and you’re kissing him like you’ve wanted to do this about as long as he has.

You move closer, your kisses getting surer, and Bob’s hand starts to move of its own accord, an invisible thread tugging it towards your waist. His thumb skips over your sweater, and his hand aches with want, but he hesitates.

You break away from the kiss.

“You can touch me,” you murmur with a lopsided grin. “Go on.”

You reach down and take his hand in yours, pressing it to your waist. Bob swallows. You’re so warm, and his hand fits perfectly to the dip of your waist, his pinky finger sliding over the bump of your hip. If he’d known touching you would be like this, he’d have done it much earlier.

“S’that okay?” He asks you.

You nod. “Yeah. You can touch my face, too, if you want. Do you wanna try kissing me now?”

Bob does want to, very badly, but he’s afraid he’ll mess it up. “I don't know how,” he says honestly, past caring how pathetic he sounds.

You shrug. “That’s okay,” you say gently. Your hand returns to his shoulder and you push your palm up towards his neck. You lean close until your noses almost touch. “Just do what I did, okay? I’ll help you.”

You let your eyes fall shut. Bob, his heart rampant with nerves all over again, takes that as his sign and moves forward to slot his mouth with yours. It’s messy — his nose squashes into yours, and he’s not sure whether to part his lips or not. His decision gets made for him when your lips part very slightly under the pressure of his kiss.

“That’s good,” you murmur against his lips, nodding encouragingly. “Good job.”

You grab his neck and tug yourself closer. Your mouth is hot, your hand greedy at the nape of his neck. Bob remembers what you said before, and raises his free hand to very gently cup your jaw. You’re abnormally warm under his touch, and when he presses his palm to your neck, he can feel your pulse going almost as fast as his.

He pulls away from you an inch, suddenly concerned. “Are you okay?” He asks, frowning. “Your pulse is a riot.”

He must sound as clueless as he feels, because you give a breathless laugh.

“You’re making me nervous,” you say shyly.

Bob blinks. “Oh,” he says. He didn't know he had the capability to make you nervous.

You giggle breathlessly, lips all swollen and dark pink, and Bob decides he’s in love with you right then and there.

”Yeah, oh,” you echo, smiling like a fool. “Kiss me again, will you?”

Bob doesn’t need to be asked twice. His hand roves around to the small of your back and he kisses you again, and sure, it’s not perfect, but you make up for it by kissing him back so ardently that it���s a wonder Bob doesn’t pass out. Your hand pushes up into his hair, greedy as anything, and now he’s sure he’s gonna pass out. You tug at the strands of hair at the very nape of his neck and Bob makes a sound he can’t help. He whimpers.

He’s about to die of embarrassment when he feels you smile against his lips.

“Feels nice?” You ask, pulling back, but not before giving him a few short kisses.

”Sorry,” Bob says back. He’s almost certain he’s steaming at the ears right now.

You shake your head. “Nothing to be sorry for, handsome,” you kiss the side of his mouth, your fingers curling into his hair like it’s second nature. “You want me to keep going?”

Bob’s not sure he could handle it, but he nods anyway. If the others find him passed out or dead in his own bedroom in the morning, he’s blaming it on you.

-

thank you for reading! please consider reblogging if you enjoyed 🤍

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: implied nsfw, implied noncon/dubcon, poly yanderes, sprained ankle, captive reader, apocolypse au, talk of fertility, murder of unnamed characters, mentions of potentially killing reader

♡ FEM reader

♡ P2: Staying

Just thinking about the apocalypse, the two army men who’ve long survived it in their shelter with barely any trouble, and then you, a poor girl trying hard to outrun your last captives only to run into them.  

You didn’t realize back then that it was like trading piranhas for sharks, too caught up in begging for their aid to think better of it. You should have just kept running, but your ankle was sprained badly, maybe even broken, and you were wearing so little you would most likely have died from the cold during the night if they hadn’t taken you in.

It seems unfair of them to have kept the giant bunker all to themselves, only the two of them, but you don’t judge. You would likely have kept it all to yourself as well.

This new world has bred new humans, and they’re all monsters. It’s honestly quite surprising they’d even let you in, given this is what they’re protecting, this sanctuary from the past, a comfort most people would kill their closest friend in exchange for.

Trust is all but dead, and so is honor or any other morality—you would know, you’ve lived out there for it all, only having survived by spreading your legs at the right moments. It’s a shameful tactic, and many times, you’ve wondered if it wouldn’t have been better to spare yourself and just die. What was the purpose?

This—you think. This must be it. They have showers and working hot water.

You don’t know how it’s possible—the original owners of the shelter must have been some type of millionaire. You haven’t had a warm shower since the world went to shit—years ago. It’s been a choice of waiting for rain or finding a lake, hoping it wasn’t rancid. Meanwhile, they have soap—scented soap, the lush kind you’d forgotten existed. It feels so nice you have to cry—rejoice—sobbing while lathering yourself, watching all the filth go down the drain, leaving you smooth-skinned once again for the first time in forever. You can’t remember having ever been so clean before, feeling reborn.

They have fresh clothes for you too—new socks and underwear, all clean fabrics, so much more than what you wore—pants, a shirt, and a sweater to keep warm. You didn’t know there still existed people who lived like the old days—you’d thought it was long gone, a bittersweet dream you sometimes have the pleasure of at night instead of the usual nightmares. Never had you thought you’d experience anything even remotely similar, but here you are—looking yourself in the mirror after so long, surprised to see a human looking back at you.

And they feed you. Not scraps, not leftovers, not rot, or days-old flesh from the last successful hunt—but freshly baked bread, vegetables, fruit—for fuck’s sake, they even have juice. You cry again while eating, and then you find yourself begging them again, “Please, let me stay—please, I’ll do anything. I can cook, clean, work—anything at all, I can do it, just please let me stay…”

You’re on your knees, forehead pressed to the heated metal floors—toasty and comforting, you think you could sleep better than ever right there.

“We’ll think about it,” one of them mutters as he gathers the plates. His voice was so harsh he might as well have said, not a chance. It’s clear by his frown that he’d rather send you right out again, leave you to the monsters.

“We’ll at least let you stay until your ankle heals, so don’t worry.” The other is more sympathetic, helping you up. “For now, let’s get you to bed. You must be exhausted.”

It hadn’t crossed your mind that they’d have beds—actual real soft downy mattresses and duvets and pillows. The two of you help make it together. It feels so foreign that you wonder if you might have died earlier. Some years back, you wouldn’t have thought heaven would resemble a prison cell, but now it only made sense—safe metal walls and a bed. What more could one possibly want in the world?

“I’ll wrap your leg for you if you sit.” He holds out a bandage roll, gesturing to your ankle.

Blinking, you can’t even register what he’d just offered until he’s getting down on his knees before you.

You panic, then. Bandages are hard to come by—it hardly seems worth it. “There’s no blood, you shouldn’t waste it—”

“It’ll heal better and faster this way,” he adds reassuringly. His voice is so soft and compelling that you find yourself sitting down without further quarrel, even when it makes you feel spoiled.

He’s gentle with you—holding you steady while wrapping it just tightly enough to be supportive. There hasn’t been a man who’s touched you like it.

“Does that feel okay?”

You can barely tell he’s talking to you. It’s all so lost on you that you can only wordlessly nod your head.

He fastens it just as carefully before standing. “Is there anything else you might need?”

You shake your head just as wordlessly. You can’t believe how nice he’s being. It makes no sense at all. Not in this world. Not anymore.

“I’m sorry, but I’m gonna have to lock the door,” he apologizes with a sheepish look once standing on the threshold.

You’d been stuck thinking about how warm the room was, trying to remember a single time you hadn’t been freezing during the night. “That’s okay, I understand,” you say. After all, what’s a locked door in comparison?

“Good,” he smiles—it’s likely the kindest smile you’ve ever seen. “Alright then, good night.”

Once again, you’re left stunned. The last time you’d heard those words spoken must have been from a loved one long since dead. It makes your lip wobble again as you say it back, “Good night.”

It's strange—they could have left you for dead but didn’t. They don’t seem gullible—they can’t be if they’ve managed to protect this place for so long—but you suppose there still exist men who have a soft spot in their hearts for helpless damsels in distress.

As you sink into the comfort, draping your duvet atop your battered body, you don’t even care about the camera in the ceiling—blinking red while watching you.

“Did you have to bandage her up?” he grumbles as the other walks into the bedroom after having said his goodnights to you. 

He’s already in bed, observing through the cameras on a tablet—you were currently curling into the duvet, wrapping it around you close for comfort. You’d likely not slept on anything so soft in a while—it wouldn’t surprise him if you preferred the floor. But no, you drift asleep quite quickly.

“You know how badly things can heal without proper support,” the other answers, regarding it as no big deal. “And besides, it’s not like we often need it—we have plenty to spare.”

He removes his clothes and crawls onto the bed as well, lifting the covers to slot himself right next to the other man, who still has a scowl on his face.

“Oh, come on…” he drawls. “She’s exactly what we’ve been talking about, isn’t she?”

The grump doesn’t answer, still with keen eyes watching you, even as you’ve fallen asleep—as if waiting for you to do something befitting a wild animal in a cage. The other’s eyes fall to the screen as well, but he only awes in delight.

“Look at her, already fast asleep,” he purrs while zooming in on your face. “I mean, did you see how she was begging earlier, what she said? I’d do anything,” he continues, almost whining. “So cute, I could have fucked her right then and there.”

The other man sets the tablet aside with a disagreeing sigh. “We’ll wait at least a week for her system to detoxify from the wasteland,” he says strictly. “I’m not touching her before then, and neither are you unless you want to sleep alone.”

The other groans then, flopping down on his back. “Yeah, yeah, you and your safety protocols,” he dismisses before a smirk creeps up his face, glee twinkling in his eyes as he looks up at his grouchy counterpart. “But then we keep her, right?”

“Tch—we don’t even know if she’s fertile. The wasteland could have made her barren as long as she’s been out there,” the other shuffles down into the sheets as well, turning to look at his partner and the awfully keen look on his face.

“So we test her. Give her a medical check,” he says, again as if it’s not a problem, even when it very well could turn out to be.

They’ve already broken quarantine rules by letting you in here—and who knows what your real objectives truly are.

“I don’t trust her,” he states.

The other pouts. “I don’t see what one little lady can do—she’s hardly a threat. And we already purged the group that was following her. I doubt any of them made it out alive.”

True, he had gone out and sent several gas grenades into the settlement. Surely, none of them managed to escape, but then again—

“Pest control only works when you kill them all, and we’ve just let one inside our own house,” he grumbles.

The other one sighs. “Okay, so if it turns out she isn’t as cute as she looks, we’ll deal with her like the rest. But if I’m right, and she really is just a harmless little thing, we keep her, and I get to have the first go.”

Suppose there isn’t anything better to do aside from killing you straight away, which would only have been a waste of food, water, clothes, and bandages. 

“Fine.”

The other grins at the agreeance, humming, “I guess until then, we’ll just have to make do with each other—I've been hard since we watched her shower.” He leans forward for contact but is shut down as his bedmate rolls around with his back turned to him.

“Tch—take care of it yourself.” Tonight has been too stressful to tug each other’s dicks. 

He can hear him whine behind him, but he settles down soon enough.

Suppose it would be nice fucking a woman again. It’s been so many years he figured he wouldn’t need it anymore. They’ve made do with each other so far. But even he can’t deny, once you’d washed all the blood and muck off, once he saw the dewy hue of your soft skin and the silk of your hair, all those plush curves, and not to mention that awfully sweet look on your face—he felt the tug in his pants too.

He'll do a medical check on you tomorrow. He hopes you’re fertile. But even if you’re not, he might give in to the other’s wishes and keep you anyway. After all, they might have many luxuries, but the comfort of pussy is one they haven’t had in a long, long, long time.

♡ BNHA – KiriBaku, BakuDeku, ShinKami, DabiHawks, EndHawks, ErasurMic ♡ JJK – SatoSugu, ItaFushi, SukuIta, ♡ HQ – Miya twins, KageHina, BokuAka, ♡ CSM – AkiDen, YoshiDen ♡ BLLK – NagiReo

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[ovaryacted]

SPECIAL TREATMENT

─ Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x fem! reader || WC: 1.2k

CW: MDNI/18+. NSFW. SMUT. Age gap implied [Michael is canon age, reader is 25+]. Power imbalance situation [Attending/Resident]. FWB dynamic, sort of. Past mentions of smut in different instances. Oral (m & f receiving. Unprotected p in v. Heavy praise kink. Everything is consensual & mutual. They’re freaky idk. A tinge of yearning. Reader has hair & is a beast at medicine. Note: I have not watched The Pitt yet, so I apologize for any mischaracterizations lolz.

Hi. I honestly don't know what this is. It came to me in a dream after I yapped with @superhoeva in the DMS, and now she's tormenting me to keep writing for Mista Dr. Robby. Now I'm sucked into this world that I didn't even know existed lmao. Anywho, walk with me for a second here, let me cook! Reblogs, comments, and likes are greatly appreciated. Proofread by moi. <3

NAVIGATION | MASTERLIST | AO3

It all started with two simple words.

“Good job.”

Seven letters. One singular statement. A term of encouragement familiar to practitioners all over the Pitt, and of course it’s not unknown to you. Always said in recognition of one’s efforts, and in this family you’ve meshed with in the emergency department, it went a long way to hear that phrase after the intense shifts you all had to handle.

Though with Dr. Robby, it had a second meaning.

Sure, he recognized everyone’s hard efforts in saving lives, pairing his words with a nice pat on the shoulder and his signature smile. But he would never admit to giving you special treatment, at least away from prying eyes.

As a fourth year resident in the Pitt, you’ve already made somewhat of a name for yourself, and it didn’t go unnoticed by your other colleagues, especially Dr. Robby. You impress him on a daily basis, your quick reflexes in adapting to current situations is a trait he’s always admired, your ability to keep your cool in moments that would otherwise crack everyone else brings a mix of admiration and envy. You weren’t particularly the sensitive type, often reminding him of Dr. Abbott and his demeanor at times, but he knows it’s because you’re determined, because you hold yourself to a different standard and aim to command any room you step foot in regardless of the circumstances.

He can sympathize with that, he was like that years ago. It’s nice to watch the spark take over when you’re in your element.

You can be confident and borderline cocky at times, but never arrogant. You barely flinch when you need to crack open someone’s chest, or when you were covered with blood after a particularly extreme trauma, steady hands working despite the adrenaline running through you. Michael liked when you called the shots before he did, and usually he didn’t need to ask for your thoughts on the cases assigned to you when you were already so persistent in sharing your resolutions.

He had no choice but to commend you for your hard work, always slipping a quick “good job” after doing something right or a “job well done” once things were taken care of. You’d never show it to anyone else, but Michael knew the impact of his words, how your eyes gleamed for the slightest second as you fought off the urge to smile. It was amusing to say the least, so he didn’t stop, he couldn’t, not when it encouraged you to push your own limits, to be the best, if not for yourself then for him.

He reveled in it.

Your consistent performance is what resulted in this mess you found yourself in. Going from being Dr. Robby’s trusted and favorite resident to something more over the course of a year was enough to give you whiplash.

It began with a brief “pep talk” in an empty on-call room. You thought you had fucked up royally on the last patient you had, that maybe Dr. Robby had a different opinion towards your approach. Yet, he surprises you when he leans down to kiss you, your breath hitching in your throat and instantly reaching to grasp his shoulders, fingers digging into the material of his hoodie in an attempt to bring him closer.

Those two little words became a frequent saying in the safety of his apartment, where you often went after your shifts synched up. Michael always needed to give you more than just words, to feed you the reverence you deserved—craved even.

He always tells you when your lips were wrapped around his length, sucking lavishly while he keeps your hair out of your face. Your throat grew sore from the tip of him slipping inside, lips plump with your constant sucking. Pulling away with a smile on your spit covered face and placing a wet kiss to his crown, the words tumble out of him with a groan.

“That’s a good girl. Taking all of me like that. Good job, baby.”

Or when it was his head between your thighs, licking and eating at you with such fervor, your thighs shake every time. Clutching at his head, you’ve already fallen over the edge twice, and it was never enough for Michael. Like an addict, he ate you up until his jaw ached, refusing to leave his spot from your cunt until tears streaked down your face and your overworked pussy throbbed from all of his attention. Despite his overwhelming touch, he was always there to keep you grounded with his slick covered mouth.

“Doing such a good job for me. You got one more in you, right? One more and I’ll give you what you need.”

And the other instances where he was inside you? Those were probably your favorite pastimes.

Your legs were hanging loosely over his hips as he pummeled into you, back arching up as your arms slung around his neck. Moaning against the side of his throat, Michael cradled the back of your head with one hand, the other keeping your lower back at the right angle, letting his cock fill every crevice so deliciously you had no other choice but to just take him. Completely smothered under him, your senses were overwhelmed with him; his scent, his touch, his voice. Tears pooled at your lash line, cheeks warm under the intense gaze of the man hovering above you, stuttering on your own breath that turns into a moan at the precision of his thrusting. He only smirks above you, lifting up one of your thighs to his shoulder and diving inside you even deeper.

“Been such a good girl for me, letting me take care of you like this. I know, I know. I got you.”

Your moment of daydreaming is cut short as you’re back in the commotion of the Pitt, the beeping of the machines and people yelling here and there grab your attention once more, deciding to look down at your clipboard to review what else was on your roster for the day.

“Reviewing the caseload?”

You didn’t need to look in the direction of the person’s voice to know it was Dr. Robby, slyly eyeing up at you from where he sat, typing some notes on the computer. The black glasses he wore sat on his sharp nose, a staple to the rest of his appearance along with his cargo pants and baggy zip-up.

“Had so much on my plate I started to lose count. You still want me to handle that patient in Room 5? Heard it was a bad one.” He glances at you, slightly tilting his head to the side with the faintest smug grin on his aged face.

“Yeah, I do. Plus, I know you’re always up for a challenge. I’ll be there in five.” You rolled your eyes at that, shaking your head with a sigh and turning on your heel to head towards your next patient, fully aware of the set of eyes following you from behind.

You didn’t mind being Dr. Robby’s favorite resident. After all, a little special treatment never hurt.

©️ ovaryacted 2025. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

[shockercoco]

Peas in a Pod

Elias 'Stack' Moore x reader

Warnings - swearing, fluff, reader’s nickname is Pea

Word count - 4814

a/n - this was supposed to be posted like two weeks ago after I saw the film, but I couldn't figure out an ending lol. I'm currently out for the summer so hopefully more time for imagines, but no promises. I hope you enjoy and thanks for reading :) Part 2 out now!

Summary: After years have passed since the twins left town, you figured your feelings for one of them had dissipated and you had moved on, but that doesn't seem to be the case.

“I know that ain’t Pea I see,” you hear a voice say from behind. 

It’s a voice you haven’t heard in years, but it sounds just as familiar. You’re looking at the selection of produce in front of you, but you freeze at the sound. It only takes you another moment to turn around to reveal Stack standing there before you. 

You had been a friend to the twins ever since you all were children. You spent most of your childhood ignoring the chores your mama had instructed and hanging out with the twins instead. 

As you all got older, the boys started making a reputation for themselves, and of course your mama would tell you to leave them alone, but you never stopped. The twins weren’t that bad. Well, at least not around you. 

You would be lying if you were to say you never had feelings for one of them. After spending the majority of your life with them, it became inevitable and you found yourself developing feelings for the more eccentric twin, Elias, but everyone called him Stack.

It wasn’t a secret that you were closer to Stack, though everyone just figured it was because of Smoke’s more quiet and laid back demeanor. You never told anyone about your crush except for Mary, one of your close friends, and of course she encouraged you to confess, but you never did.

When the twins left home after their father’s death, you weren’t mad at them. How could you be?  You were happy for them. You knew what they had to endure, and you were just glad they took the first chance they had to live out their dreams.

You also thought your feelings for Stack would fade over time, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. 

“Stack? Is that really you?” You question, your eyebrows raised at the man in front of you. 

Stack’s hands are tucked in the pockets of his dress pants, which match the rest of his nicely tailored suit. A hat sits atop his head as he stares back at you with a handsome smirk on his face.

“Yes ma’am, it is,” he nods. He removes his hat as he takes a couple of steps closer towards you.

Stack was definitely in shape before he left town, but that doesn’t compare to how he looks now. You’re taken aback, but before you end up staring too long, you clear your throat to say something.

“I almost didn’t recognize you with that giant bush sleeping on your lip,” you joke, referring to the thick, but neat mustache growing above his lip.

You can’t help the small smile that spreads across your face as you hear him chuckle.

“That’s real funny. I should be the one surprised, though. I mean, look at you. You finally grew into that forehead of yours,” Stack smirks.

You scoff. “How dare you,” you playfully say as you fold your arms across your chest, your tone light.

“No, how dare you. The ladies happen to love how I look, especially the mustache,” he grins proudly, rubbing his fingers over the facial hair.

“What are you trying to say, that I'm not a lady?”

A loud laugh leaves Stack this time. 

“Well, if the boot fits,” Stack says, holding his hands up in surrender. He knows how much you hate him saying that. He watches with a smile as you roll your eyes and shake your head at him. “I’m just playin’, Pea, you know I’d never say such a thing.”

Pea was a nickname you had become stuck with after meeting twins. One day while the three of you were out playing as children do, an older woman that everyone knew from the church had pointed at how you all resembled peas in a pod. 

After that, Stack had decided to call you ‘Pea’ once as a joke to which you just brushed off. Somehow, though, the nickname stuck and ever since then everyone refers to you as Pea. 

Hearing that name come out of his mouth after these years makes your stomach flutter and your skin heat up, which only makes the hot summer sun feel worse. The sweat on your skin suddenly feels more prominent with Stack’s eyes on you.

You start using the hand fan you were holding to try and provide yourself with some relief.

“What brings you back in town, Stack? I know it isn’t just some friendly conversation.”

“And why can’t it be?” He asks, furrowing his eyebrows. You give him a look calling his bluff, and he easily quits the act. “You still know me well, I see.”

“Unfortunately,” you smile.

“Smoke and I are openin’ our own juke joint. We figured we split up so I can recruit some entertainment while he handles some other business. Tonight is the openin’ night. That is, if we get everything situated in time.”

Your expression contorts in confusion. “Juke joint? Where?”

“One of the abandoned barnhouses not too far from here,” Stack responds, motioning in what you assume is the direction of the barn house.

“Where the hell did you get the money to buy all of that, and who was dumb enough to take it?” You ask, lowering your voice as you look around you.

“You know how those folks are—all they care about is the cash. It wasn't a problem.”

“And they just took your money like that with no questions asked?”

“Oh, the man asked questions,” Stack nods, “he just didn’t get the answers he wanted.”

The two of you are quiet for another moment, both work for the other one to crack, before you both burst into laughter.

“Still the same after all this time, huh?” you ask once you both settle down, although, it’s not really a question.

“I’m not changin’ for just anyone,” Stack responds, shooting you a wink.

Before the two of you could continue catching up, someone else runs up behind Stack calling his name. You didn’t notice how much the two of you were stuck in your own world until Stack turns away from you, breaking you out of the trance.

“What the hell do you want, Sammy?” You hear Stack ask.

Your eyes widen as you move to look around Stack’s frame, but your confusion turns into surprise as you take in the young man standing in front of him with a guitar hanging from his neck. “Sammy? As in lil’ Sammy? As in Preacher boy?”

When Sammy finally notices your presence, he gives you a shy smile and a tip of his hat. “Oh, Pea, what are you doin’ out here?”

“I should be asking you the same thing? Does your mama know you’re all the way out here?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“She knows I’m with the twins, that’s all that matters,” Sammy says.

“I’ll take that as a no then,” you give him a look.

Sammy opens his mouth to say something else, but Stack hits the back of his head before he could continue. Sammy lets out a yelp as he looks up at Stack, while one of his hands rubs his head.

“You better have a damn good reason for comin’ over here and interruptin’ us.”

“Slim’s gettin’ tired of waitin’. He said to hurry up before he changes his mind because he’s getting older by the minute. He also said that there’ll be plenty of time to talk to pretty women t’night,” Sammy explains, glancing at you for the last part, but it goes over your head.

You follow Stack’s eyes when he looks over to Slim in the distance, a harmonica in one of his hands and a bottle in the other. Classic.

Stack mumbles something that you can’t quite hear, before telling Sammy to run off and that he’d be over in a second.

“I usually wouldn’t listen to a drunk, but he’s right. Daylight is wastin’ and I got some other things to take care of before tonight,” Stack admits. “You’ll be there, right?”

Oh.

“And what if I had plans?”

You don’t.

Stack laughs. “Oh, really? What plans?”

“You say it like you don’t believe me,” you raise an eyebrow.

“Oh, no, no. I’m just curious about these plans.”

“I’m a grown woman, I don’t have to tell you anything,” you huff.

“Fair enough, fair enough,” Stack nods in agreement. When he realizes you aren’t going to say anything else, he continues. “C’mon, Pea, it’ll be worth it. There’ll be good food and drinks along with good entertainment.”

“I take it that Sammy and Slim are part of that entertainment?” You ask. 

You tear your eyes away from Stack and to the small crowd beginning to form around the musical pair. Even from a distance you can hear Sammy’s powerful voice accompanied by Slim’s skilled fingers playing his harmonica.

“You know I only like the best of the best,” Stack smirks. “So, what do you say, Pea? It’ll be just like old times.”

“Hm, I don’t know. It’s not safe for a lady at night,” you say.

Yes, you do want to go, but parties were never really your thing. You usually chose to stay home when someone asked you, especially when the twins would try to encourage you to sneak out when you were kids.

“And I’ll make sure you’ll get home safe, there’s nothin’ to worry about. C’mon, I know Smoke is bringin’ Annie, don’t make me be the only one without a date.”

“Oh, so that’s why you want me to come, so you won’t be alone?” you give him a look.

“Of course, why else would I want you there?” he plays along, trying to keep a straight face, but fails.

“There’ll be plenty of other women without a date there to keep you company.”

“Yeah, but that don’t matter if I want you to be the one keepin’ me company,” Stack tells you.

And just like that all of those feelings that you thought were gone resurface, fluttering through your heart and stomach.

You hesitate for a moment, before finally giving him an answer. “I guess I could come. Besides, I want to be there to see if this juke joint of yours fails.”

“Now, that’s just wrong.”

~

Later that night as you’re getting ready, you can’t seem to calm your nerves. It’s just the twins—it’s just Stack. 

And it’s not like it’s a date anyways because why would it be? Or maybe it is? No, Stack just invited you so you could keep him company and so the two of you could catch up. But, why do you specifically need to keep him company?

You’re checking your appearance in the mirror, stuck in your thoughts as you turn from side to side,, when Mary walks into your room already dressed and ready to go.

“By the time we get there, the damn party will be over. What is the hold up?” Mary throws her hands up for dramatics.

“Would you relax? The party doesn’t start for, like, another 30 minutes, and we don’t want to be too early do we?” You tell her, looking at her through the reflection in the mirror.

“I just figured you’d want to be early in order to have as much time with Stack as possible.” Mary smirks at the glare you give her. “I mean, it’s been so long since he’s last been in town, aren’t you excited? I would be.”

“I don’t know if that’s the word I’d use.”

“Why, what’s wrong? Don’t tell me you're nervous.”

Your silence is enough of an answer. You fiddle with your dress and adjust yourself in order to avoid looking over at Mary. Mary scoffs and walks over to stand next to you as you look in the mirror.

“Oh come on, you can’t be serious. There’s no reason you should be nervous over that man. You guys have been friends since birth-“

“Not birth, it was more like-“

Mary raises a hand to cut you off and finally makes you face her. “You know what I’m trying to say. You guys have practically known each other since the beginning. Stack knows everything about you and you know everything about Stack—well, that is excludin’ whatever the hell the twins have been doing these past couple of years.”

“That’s exactly my point,” you throw your hands up before taking a step back and placing your hands on your hip. “I mean, yeah, we’ve written to each other while he’s been away, but it’s been a while since we’ve actually talked face to face. It seems like he’s still the same, but if he’s not? What if he actually has changed?”

You can feel your nerves picking up at the thought of talking to Stack tonight and all the possibilities of how tonight will go.

Mary knows you like the back of her hand, and your overthinking doesn’t go unnoticed. 

Mary rolls her eyes. “Please, that man is exactly the same as he was the day he left here. Besides, you saw him earlier today, were you nervous when you were talkin’ to him then?”

“Well, not really, but I didn’t exactly have time to be. He snuck up on me while I was shopping and we just started talking.”

“Exactly, the two of you are so close that you started talkin’ like nothin’ has changed. Believe me, everything’ll be fine, and when Stack sees you in this dress, he’ll fall to his knees to propose. If he doesn’t just come and find me so I can handle his ass.”

You snicker as you walk away from Mary to finish getting ready. She follows right behind you.

“Relax, Stack is not going to pick me to propose to out of all the beautiful women in this town. Not to mention all the women he’s probably encountered during his travels.”

“A girl can dream can’t she? Just suckin’ all the fun out of my night.”

-

The noise from the juke joint can be heard all the way down the road, the sounds only getting louder and more clear as you and Mary approach. Your heart speeds up in both anticipation and nervousness as you take in the scene. 

Dozens can be seen either arriving on foot or by car, their excitement obvious from miles away. The land outside the farmhouse is packed with vehicles and it’s obvious there will be many more given the constant flow of traffic.

Cornbread’s eyes widen in surprise as he watches from the entrance as you and Mary walk up. He greets you with a smile.

“You two look gorgeous, but I’ll be damned, Pea. What brings you here? I know this ain’t your kinda scene,” he points out.

You playfully point at Mary, “You’re looking right at the culprit. She convinced me to come.”

“I shoulda known,” Cornbread shakes his head in amusement, but then his expression shifts to confusion as he looks at Mary. “Wait a minute, ain’t you married? What are you doing out this late?”

Mary folds her arms across her chest. “I could ask you the same, don’t you have a family to take care of?” Mary asks while folding her arms across her chest.

Cornbread puts his hands up in surrender. “Stack offered me a good amount of cash to be here tonight, I’m not turnin’ that down.”

“And I don’t blame you. Now, are you going to let us come in or are you going to leave two ladies stranded outside all night?” Mary questions.

Cornbread lets out a laugh, but quickly moves aside to let you both in.

The dusty, rundown appearance of the barnhouse from the outside is a completely different vibe from the atmosphere on the inside. 

Slim is playing his heart out at the piano at the front of the room while people laugh and dance to the music. Lights are hanging from the ceiling, illuminating the space as guests move around freely. The mouthwatering smell of freshly fried catfish fills the air along with the smell of sweat and alcohol.

“Wow, the twins definitely outdid themselves didn’t they?” Mary admits as the both of you take in everything.

“They really did,” you murmur mostly to yourself, your mind still stuck and amazed at how Smoke and Stack pulled this off.

“We can’t start dancing without a drink,” Mary smirks.

“Yeah, you can, it’s easy,” you say.

Mary gives you a look before saying, “Well, if you’re going to talk to Stack, you’re gonna need a little something in your system.”

You open your mouth to object, but you decide against it.. Alcohol does loosen you up, which would help you get through the night.

When Mary doesn’t hear a response, she pulls you towards the bar. After Mrs. Chow hands you both your drinks, the two of you decide to linger at the bar.

“Is that Lil Sammy over there flirtin’ with a girl?” Mary asks you. 

You turn to look in the direction of Mary’s eyes to, sure enough, see Sammy flirting with a woman—a woman who looks a little bit older than him.

“Isn’t she married?” Mary continues.

“Well so are you, but you’re still here tonight,” you say. 

This makes Mary whip her head back towards you and send you a glare, one you pretend to ignore as you take a sip of your drink and pretend to be really interested in the guests dancing to the music.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” she says after you don’t respond, before a smile grows on her face.

Suddenly you hear a gasp come from behind the bar, catching your attention and making you turn around. You see Smoke, Stack, and Annie come from a back room.

“Am I seein’ things or is that really Pea standin’ in front of me at a party?” Annie smiles, her hands on her hips.

You playfully roll your eyes. “No, you’re not seeing things.”

Annie makes her way from behind the bar to give you a hug, and after she pulls away, Smoke comes up to do the same. The way Stack looks you up and down as you hug Smoke goes unnoticed by you but not by Mary as she watches with a smirk. Stack notices Mary’s eyes on him and quickly clears his throat.

“I’m glad you came,” Stack says, smiling at you as he comes up to hug you last.

“Well I couldn’t miss the famous Moore twins’ big grand opening,” you beam, motioning to the large crowd that has formed. Smoke smiles at your compliment. “I don’t know how you guys pulled it off, but everything looks great. I’m impressed.”

“Nothin’ is too out of reach for us,” Smoke adds with a nod. Stack claps his brother on the back as a sign of his agreement.

“Alright, enough of this lovey dovey shit. Let’s get this place poppin’ like fish grease and get it started for real!” Stack exclaims with a smirk.

Stack walks over to Sammy, pulling him away from the woman he was talking to and motions to the stage. As Sammy joins Slim at the front, people begin to gather around to listen. 

Now, you knew Sammy was talented, but watching him sing his heart out and play the hell out of his guitar gave you goosebumps and made you emotional.

It was obvious that you weren’t the only one who felt this way as you notice everyone’s expressions change as they begin to cheer and clap while they move their bodies to the rhythm. Close friends, couples, and singles make their way about the room.

Much to your dismay, Mary pulls you into the dancing crowd. You’re uncertain of what to do with yourself at first, but after seeing everyone in their own world, the body movements just come naturally. 

You watch with admiration and a smile as Smoke grabs Annie to join him for a dance. Even after all of that time apart, Smoke and Annie still seem to be as in love with each other as the first day they met. The little bit of alcohol you have on your system does make a difference.

Your eyes wander just a little bit to the right and you see Stack dancing with two women. It’s no secret that the twins are attractive, but oh how you wish for just one night where women didn’t climb all over them—mainly Stack.

After a while, you become overheated and overstimulated with all the hot bodies surrounding you. Once you tell Mary that you’ll be back, you leave to find a place to take a breather.

You come across a set of stairs and somehow find yourself overlooking the inside of the entire building. 

You catch sight of Mary from your spot and laugh to yourself at how easily it is for her to find some stranger to dance with.

Eventually, someone else makes their way up the stairs and stands next to you. Your nostrils become aware of him before your eyes do.

“Too much goin’ on down there?” Stack asks as he leans on the railing and takes in the view.

“Just needed a little break,” you shrug, your eyes still on the crowd below you. “What about you, don’t you have some guests to entertain? This is your place after all.”

“As an owner, I have people to do the entertainin’ for me. I just make sure there are no problems,” Stack responds, the smirk evident in his tone.

There’s a moment of comfortable silence that grows between the two of you. Earlier you were stressing on what would happen once you saw Stack, but here he is, and your heartbeat is still somewhat calm.  

“How’s everything, Pea?” Stack asks, breaking the silence. 

“Oh, you know, just getting through day by day and taking things slow,” you shrug.

“What are you up to these days?” 

“Helping my mama out with the shop most days. When I’m not working I’m running errands around town or helping others out.”

“How’s the shop and your mama doin’?”

“Mama’s great. Her happiness really comes from the shop and being able to have a safe place for people to come back to over and over again. We’re still getting plenty of customers, and we’ve recently renovated it.”

Stack nods along. “That’s good, that’s good. How are you doing though?”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “You already asked that.”

“I phrased it differently this time, though. First time was more of a casual ask and this time I wanna know what’s really goin’ on with you.”

You’re slightly taken aback by his forwardness, until you remember that this is how Stack has always been.

Stack turns his body to face yours, keeping an elbow on the railing. “Come on now, Junebug. It’s been a long time since we’ve sat down and talked down and talked, y’know?”

“Is this really the time to be having a conversation like this?” you ask.

Stack is quick but genuine with his reply. “For you, there’s always time.”

The nerves the alcohol had been holding back, finally hit you with full force after hearing his words. Your heart rate begins to pick up, and you’re suddenly extremely aware of the high temperature in the building. 

You wish you had brought a fan with you.

Stack’s eyes never leave yours as he waits for an answer, not even when you hear a glass bottle break somewhere in the crowd below you. 

You give him a shy smile, but you have to tear your eyes away from him.

“I’m fine, really Stack. You know, you never told me exactly how you got the money for all this.”

Stack scoffs. “I know you didn’t just try and change the conversation.”

“It worked didn’t it,” you laugh. Stack shakes his head in disappointment, but he can’t help the laugh that slips out.

“That’s alright, Pea. There’ll be plenty of time to talk since Smoke and I aren’t goin’ anywhere anytime soon.”

Your heart flutters.

“Really?” you ask, and you wish you would’ve been able to stop your voice from changing pitch. 

Damn.

“Just admit that you missed us,” Stack smirks.

“I don’t know, I mean, I feel like everyone’s life has been calm without you and Smoke being here to terrorize everyone.”

“That was one time! Plus, Jimmy had it comin’. I can’t let anyone steal from us and just walk away without a scratch,” Stack throws his head back as he laughs.

“Well, yeah, but that doesn’t mean you had to chase him all over,” you join in, beginning to double over in laughter. 

“It was either me or Smoke, and that boy Smoke was fumin’ when he found out, so it was better that Jenkins dealt with me instead of him,” Stack snorts.

“Whew, I remember that day like it was yesterday. Y’all had the whole town confused with Jimmy running by screaming bloody murder.”

“And I hadn’t even done anything to him yet!”

You clutch your stomach as you try to collect yourself, wiping the tears from your eyes as you blow out a breath. Stack does the same alongside you. 

“I really did miss you, y’know,” Stack admits.

And there goes your breath.

“Of course you did, why wouldn’t you,”you say, causing Stack to smile, “but I’m sure you and Smoke had plenty of fun on your adventures with seeing new places and meeting all those new people. You didn’t meet any women after all this time?”

“There were a few women, but none of 'em kept me interested.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, yeah, I forgot who I was talking to for a second. No one is good enough to tie you down, right?”

Stack pretends to think to himself for a second, before speaking, “Well, there is one person that I’m thinkin’ about.”

Your heart drops so low it almost hits the first floor of the barnhouse.

You clear your throat and keep your eyes in front of you. “And does this woman know that you like her?”

“I don’t think so.”

“What makes you say that? I’m sure you’ve made your flirting pretty obvious.”

Stack has never been one to keep his feelings to himself. If he sees a lady he likes, he’ll pursue her and most likely succeed.

“She’s on the shy side, so I don’t think she realizes. She keeps to herself and thinks others don’t notice her.”

Who has he been hanging around with? Didn’t he just get back in town. 

“I’m sure she does.”

“Nah, I don’t think she does,” Stack shakes his head with a sly smile. “You wanna bet?”

“I don’t have anything to bet, but sure.”

“How about if I’m right and she doesn’t know, then you have to dance with me,” Stack smirks, raising his eyebrows at you.

“And if I’m right?”

“What would you like in return?”

You contemplate for a moment. “For you to tell me in detail how you got the money to afford this barnhouse.”

Stack rolls his eyes. “You’re on.”

“So, who is it?”

Stack turns toward the railing once again, a teasing look on his face. “You sure you just don’t wanna know because you’re jealous?”

“You think you’re funny, huh?”

Stack chuckles in response, before going quiet. Then, there’s a moment of silence where you give him a look as you wait for an answer.

“You.”

You.

You feel your heart stop. “Me?” you ask, not fully believing him yet. Stack gives you a nod, and you try to look for any sign of lying on his face, but you can’t find any. “Stack, be serious for a second.”

“I am, Pea.”

All of a sudden, the music being played in the background just sounds like noise. You feel nauseous, relieved, confused, and happy all at once. 

“What the hell do you mean?” you ask. Your voice is quieter now as you look up at him. 

Before Stack could give you an answer, he’s interrupted by a voice from down below.

“Yo, Stack, come on down he-!” Sammy shouts, but cuts himself with the look that Smoke shoots at him. 

Stack clenches his jaw and whips his head towards Sammy. “Sammy, I’m gonna come down there and beat your ass. You need to learn when to read the room. Matter o’fact, I should come down there and break that damn guitar.”

“But you gave it to me.”

“And now I’m about to come take it away,” Stack replies causally. He makes a move to turn and walk down the stairs, but stops himself to look at you. “We’ll finish this conversation later, I promise,” he tells you, before giving you a quick wink and continuing down the stairs.

Then you hear, “Don’t run now, Sammy.”

Mary’s eyes meet yours from below, giving you one of her signature smirks. 

Like what you see? Check out my masterlist :)

[emmyrosee]

Bakugou works. A lot.

It was, admittedly, something you forced yourself to look past. Bakugou Katsuki warned you from the beginning that his work was first. It always would be, his dreams and goals, that was who he was.

“Take it or leave it,” he’d told you once, many years ago. “This is what I do.”

And back then, a fool completely head over heels for Katsuki, you’d take it. That was your life, too- texts that went unanswered for days, random updates about his day, calling maybe twice a week to see how you were, and you were fine to sacrifice that part of your sanity all those years ago.

But now, Kirishima posts the random flowers he got his partner on any random Wednesday. Midoriya’s hand clasped under the left hand of his fiancée’s on his timeline. Even Kaminari, who posts tangled legs of his person before he gets up to start the day. It makes you feel sick.

All you want, all you crave, all you’d sell for, is for flowers on any day. A wedding ring that would mean something. Tangled legs in the morning that beg and plead to stay in the warmth of the sheets.

But Katsuki has never been good at giving you that; he’s not a Prince Charming and his life is not a fairytale, you are not his number one priority and it fucking destroys you on the inside.

For years, you try to let it go, to no damn avail. It just hurts too much to think about for too long, knowing that nothings to change or give, and as long as your heart will love him, you’ll be right there waiting, and knowing not whether that love and excitement will always be returned.

But tonight, your dinner sits cold. One place setting untouched, unused and unloved, with your head resting on your hand as the rest of dinner is untouched. The steam stopped flowing from the plates hours ago, and you find yourself still sitting at the table. Your elbows grow sore from perching your chin in your palm.

Your lip quivers as you move to hang your head in sadness, hopelessness, until a knock rouses you from your wallowing. You wipe your eyes and make your way to the locked door, and smile at the guest on the otherside.

"Shoto," you sigh. "Here for your key?"

"Yes," he says simply, nodding his head in appreciation. "I can't tell you how much I appreciate you taking care of the cats. It truly means a lot."

You raise your hand in an attempt to show nonchalance, "it's no big deal at all. I know how busy you get, it's the least I can do for such a good neighbor."

He chuckles, and you forgot how good the sound felt falling from someone else's lips. It feels like it's been ages since you've heard it. He nods his head again, "well, thank you again," he turns on his heel to start walking away.

"Shoto," you say. He stops in his tracks and turns to look at you. You fiddle with the door handle, "could I interest you in some cold dinner? I cooked for Katsuki, but he's not here and leftovers never get eaten in this house, and... I... don't mind reheating some for you."

A glimmer of sympathy crosses his eyes, offering a hum, "I would certainly appreciate the warm meal. Thank you."

It's not the guest you'd hoped, but you've had dinner with worse people. Todoroki's been in your life for longer than you care to remember, what's one more dinner shared together?

It's not like Katsuki is here to say otherwise.

Over a lukewarm, slightly-rubberized-from-microwaving dinner, Todoroki listens to you, holding onto every word as he always does when you speak. It feels nice to be heard again, to not be forced to talk to the walls of your home.

You're not sure how long it's been before the front door opens again, and you feel yourself tense up at the heavy boots crossing the threshold, a snarly "I'm home" ringing in the air.

"Hey," you call back. "Shoto and I were wrapping up dinner, I saved-"

"The fuck's he doing here?" He snarls, and Todoroki merely blinks, bored.

"Is it not friendly to drop in for some company?" He asks, and if you knew Todoroki any less, you'd never know it was his way of riling Katsuki up.

And it hasn't failed once.

Katsuki balls his fist, "not when I'm not fucking home, you freak!"

"Katsuki, enough," you snarl back. Two heads whip towards you, one set of eyes filled with fury, the other with surprise. “Maybe you should’ve been here when Shoto stopped by. This weird complex you’re in wouldn’t be a damn issue.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” His words are a growl deep behind a wall of teeth, but you’re so tired it doesn’t deter you. You clench your hands and finally curl them into fists. “You got something to say to me?”

You grit your teeth, “Shoto's been here for how long? You haven’t. You wanted him out so bad? You should’ve fucking been here. You weren’t. So bite me.” You quickly spin on your heel as stinging tears burn your waterline, leaving the two heroes alone in the living room.

Katsuki barks your name, “we’re not done here!”

“I am.”

You purposely slam the door, knowing it’s one of his biggest pet peeves. He deserves it, and a lot more. Katsuki yells a bit more, too much of a ferocious tone to fully grasp what he’s saying, and it’s matched with Todoroki’s calm demeanor. He kicks Todoroki out, which you hear, and you brace yourself as he stomps into the bedroom, ready for the explosion that's hurdling straight towards you.

But it never comes.

Instead, you watch the bathroom door open and close, and then a few moments later, you hear the shower turn on. Confusion twists through your mind as you try to piece together just exactly what happened, but ultimately drawing only blanks. You sigh and strip into your pajamas, deciding to call it a night before he comes in and stirs the pot more.

He can do it tomorrow.

Though your heart does break a little when you wake up to find the bed next to you cold and made; he must’ve crashed on the couch last night, too enveloped with his fury to come and make amends.

That's fine. You're patient.

Sunday is tense, a day Katsuki usually reserves off to spend time at home, he's made the executive decision to go into work, leaving you to mourn the love lost in the day, love you usually receive in the melting day. Todoroki comes by again, this time to check in on you after the fight he'd witnessed the day before. And to your disappointment, Katsuki arrives home at the same time, briskly brushing past you and your friend.

Monday comes and goes, once again the bed next to you remains cold in wordless grudge. You're not going to apologize, you have no need to.

Even if this is the end of your relationship.

What's there to work through? After forcing you into a life where affection is miniscule and tokes of appreciation are seen as nothing more than an option, perhaps its for the best to let the embers die, and-

No.

You don't want it to be the end. Not like this. Not now. Not after years of giving Bakugou Katsuki your entire life, promising to stand by him through thick and thin.

You'll bite your tongue until it hurts. Until he decides what he wants to do. You're loyal as a dog to him, after all. The ball remains in his court, always.

By Tuesday, Katsuki comes in, and he doesn’t even look at you. He washes his hands before shambling off to the showers to mimic some form of warmth you’d once provided him. When you hear the shower head turn on, you curl deeper into your corner of the couch, lowering your eyes to try and fight back the tears that sting at your waterline.

Maybe he is done. Maybe this is it. He’s sick of waiting for you, sick of your shit and tired of the exhaust you put on his mentality. Work comes first, and if there was ever a time to enforce it, it would be now.

With a soft whimper to mask your cries, you click off the tv and creep your way up the stairs. It’s dark in your room, the pictures of you and Katsuki invisible until you flick on the light- even then, they’re not as pristine as they had looked just days ago.

The bed is once again cold and feels far too big as you curl up on your side, knowing if you roll onto his, you’ll be met with a hand waking you up and pushing you away.

You’re not in the mood for that tonight.

Not when for months at a time, he’s been shoving you away, be it with mean words or snaps of venom or just actually moving you from his space, you can’t possibly conjure the mood in your little pity party to care for him to disregard you in such brutal ways.

But fuck, god, no matter how much you want to believe it, that you can just as easily fall asleep without him next to you, snores punching through the air and the occasional lull of his head next to yours, you can't, and you hate how bitter and horrible a life without Bakugou Katsuki sounds.

You hate how your life revolves around him, and you wish it didn't, you hate how empty your soul would be without his name coming up on your phone, you hate that you fell so hard for Bakugou Katsuki that a life without him doesn't exist.

You'll never leave him. It makes you feel sick.

What you wouldn't sell, what you wouldn't give, to have Bakugou Katsuki love you just as much as you do, him.

But, as if manifested, no more than an hour later, he does come in. Your name falling from his lips sounds timid, like he's unsure if he should be saying it. "Listen," he snips, lip quivering as he sinks his teeth into the fat, eyes swollen from tears and looking so defeated you're almost convinced it’s not even the Bakugou Katsuki you fell in love with all those years ago.

You slowly sit up, curling up by the pillows as he stands in the doorway, disheveled and frustrated and extremely, clearly, hurt.

“You win,” he whimpers, hands cupped over his mouth to mimic a paper bag, regulating his breathing. They suddenly drop to the side, “you-you-you win. I can’t do this anymore, I won’t, I fucking give, you win-“

“Win what?” You ask, but it’s clear in your demeanor that you know exactly what he’s confessing to, even as you’re dazed from sleep.

You just want him to say it.

Katsuki uses his sleeve to roughly rub the tears out of his eyes, “just fucking stop, okay?” He growls, and it sends a shiver through you as it passes his teeth. “You fucking win, okay? I-I-I was wrong, I never should’ve said shit about you and Todoroki’s friendship, or said shit-fuck about you spending time with him when I should’ve been here.” He lets one, saliva filled sob sneak past his lips, it’s like a dam of words break loose. “But fuck, please just fucking look at me again, I’m sorry, I just hate the idea that you’ll fall for him while trying to get back at me, so please just love me again-“

At that, you jump up to your feet and quickly scurry over to him, brows furrowed in concern but lip pouting out as you toss your arms around him, his knees buckling under your touch and arms limply hanging. “-because I sure wouldn’t blame you if you did leave me for him after how I’ve been treating you.”

“Katsuki,” you soothe, a hand reaching up to scratch at his scalp. “That’s not going to happen. That’s not what this was to show you.” You plant kisses along his jawline, hating the feeling of it quivering under your affection. “This wasn’t to show you that my feelings for Shoto become more romantic when you’re not here; it was to show you what you were missing when you could’ve been here.” He slouches further at your words, and you wonder if they were the correct ones to say.

“Katsuki,” you say again, firmly, gathering his cheeks in your hands. They’re hot, fuck they’re so warm from his distress, and and you feel what little coolness your palms held disappear into the swells. “You’re not going to lose me to Shoto. I would never leave you for Shoto- I’d never leave you for anyone.” He blinks unconvinced at you, and one of his tears roll over your fingers. “But you will miss dinners. You will miss movies. You will miss time with me if you don’t stop only thinking of yourself in this relationship. What you’re doing now clearly isn’t meshing with what I need. What we need from each other. I can only be so flexible before I wonder when we’ll… when I’ll stop bothering.”

“I don’t want to stop,” he mumbles, trying to chase even more coolness in your palms. “I just… I want to be the best-“

“And you are, but you can’t betray yourself by overworking yourself-“

“No,” he bites through his teeth. “The best for you. But… Todoroki can give you the best shit effortlessly, I fucking see it. And…” he winces as he stands up, as if disgusted to even say what dares to slip past his tongue. “And he can give you the life you want, the life you deserve; I just cant fucking watch it anymore.”

“Shhh,” you soothe, pulling his reluctant form into a hug. He tenses, but eventually rests his head in the crook of your neck, trembling hands settling on your waist gently, as if scared you’d break under the touch. Your nails move up to his scalp, scratching lovingly.

“Shoto is a mild-mannered, quiet spoken person who thinks logically about everything he says and does,” You whisper, planting a soft kiss to his pounding temple.

“I love that about him, as a friend- but you, Katsuki, are exciting. And you make loving you just as addictive.”

He does, finally, perk up at that, and you smile against his skin. “Say more stuff like that,” he mumbles, sniffling, but you tighten your arms around him while you giggle softly at the idea of having your old Bakugo back.

“Shoto and I go to the market together, we’re in and out in twenty minutes tops- but if that’s what I wanted, I’d go alone,” he lets out a breathy chuckle, and you grin, “I like bickering with you in the dairy aisle about flavors of milk to get.”

“If I wanted chocolate milk, I’d get the syrup,” he defends, as if you’re standing in the aisle and not picking up the pieces of your relationship in your bedroom.

“And then when the milk is all gone, I have you bitching at me about the syrup getting wasted,” you snort. “It’s just easier if I get-“

“I love you,” he whispers, his hot breath fanning out over your neck. You pause and smile, relishing in the scent of his post-shower aroma.

“I love you,” you say back, kissing whatever your lips can reach against his head. “Once a week, Katsuki. I want to go to bed with you at least once a week, and not be left away absolutely panicked over where the hell you may have gone. I’d like to have dinner with you at some point in the week. I hate missing you, I always have, even when we were teens.” When he finally nods softly, you pull back with your hands cupping his cheeks, the swollen apples looking foreign on your usually solid man. You smirk and use your thumb to wipe his tears, “you’ve always been an ugly crier.”

He chokes softly on a laugh, “why do you think I never do it?” He licks his dry lips before looking you up and down, “leave that shit to you.”

“It is nice seeing you emotional over me for once.”

“Yeah?” He rasps. Then, he tugs you in for a kiss, one that sears and tears at your teeth and tongue, one that feels exhilarating and exhausting all at once, one that encapsulates Katsuki in one swift, dominating move.

It’s jagged and rough, but familiar enough to have you swooning in his bulky, caring arms.

“You got me in love with you, or some shit.”

[nanamisgirly]

cw geto is maybe bi here idk, chubby nerd!reader with a bit of attitude, tbh there's no cw it's borderline between smut and fluff

part.2 part.3 part.4

˖ 𑣲 comments and reblogs are always appreciated ma girliees :33

womanizer!geto loves fucking women. truly he does! they are all wrapped around his fingers and all he has to do is glancing at them. and this goes for the whole campus!! even boys would fuck him if he'd give them the chance. and maybe, if the mood struck just right at a party or in a messy, drunken threesome/orgies, he does fuck the boys.

but womanizer!geto has also a nerd bestie. the typical nerd girl. she was everything but his type. nothing that looked like his usual hookup girls. she was not fit, but not exactly fat. just chubby. her acne scars from high school still there with still some pimples that comes and go. and of course the infamous nerd glasses that didn't seem to want to stay on her nose.

you were not someone womanizer!geto would ever fuck. that's why you're friends. strictly platonic. he liked how you never batted an eye at his reputation, never judged, never treated him like a conquest. you both grow close through the years together in the same degree, during the late nights session study in the library before exams, for you it was monnnths before exams, you're a little ball of stress.

womanizer!geto doesn't like when guys approached you. not because he cares—why would he? it just...doesn't make sense. you're not the kind of girl men chase. not the kind they brag about. so he makes sure to lecture you about it—especially about frat boys. "they’re the worst," he mutters, arm slung lazily over your chair as his knee bumped against yours under the table. "trust me, nerd. they only act nice 'cause they wanna see how you moan." you rolled your eyes, setting your pen down with an amused scoff. "do you think i've never fucked, suguru?" you shrugged, smirking at his clueless expression "just 'cause i'm shy and a 'nerd' doesn't mean I don't enjoy a good fuck." well, you were lying but he doesn't need to know that. you were probably having sex every couples of months and it wasn't even that good. your voice was light when you added, "thanks for the concern, though." something in his chest stutters. and for some reason, he has to look away.

womanizer!geto has no shame. he lets girls climb into his lap, lets their hands wander, lets them grind against him right on the couch with people around. almost fucking them on the spot. but never when you're around! why? well, he tells himself it's respect. at least, that's the excuse he clings to. because why else would he pull away from a pretty thing palming his cock just to go talk to you? right? he's just...pitying you. that's all. and yet—when he finally starts to feel his cock hardening in his pants, he tells himself it has nothing to do with your wide, innocent eyes blinking up at him. nothing to do with the way your lips part, soft and expectant. his dick is...delayed. yeah. just slow to catch up to the last girl's game. horrible by the way.

and of course womanizer!geto is trying to subtly adjust his pants. he's forcing his mind elsewhere—anywhere else—because if he lets himself think too hard about how fucking pretty you look right now, he's going to have a problem. a big one.

womanizer!geto keeps a polaroid of you in his wallet. only because you are his bestie! don't get any ideas on that. he found the picture cute that's it. the two of you, standing under a canopy of cherry blossom, petals floating around you like something out of a dream. his strong arm wrapped tightly around your plush waist, your round soft tits pressing against his chest. it had been an innocent day. really. he had dragged you out after hours of studying, calling you a nerd and insisting you needed air before your brain cells ended up smeared on the library table. what was supposed to be a thirty minutes walk turned into four hours. and when you reaching this pretty alley he couldn't help but suggest a pic—just for the memory! and obviously his arm was around you only to male sur you both fit in the camera frame. obviously. he was not dying to touch you!

and now here it was. the damn polaroid in gojo's hand. the white-haired menace grinning like he just found the greatest blackmail material of all time. "damn, suguru, you look so whipped." geto's eye twitched.

"look at this! holding our nerd like she's breakable—aww, how so sweet!!" gojo snickered, flipping the photo dramatically. "and—hold on. did she kiss your cheek?" suguru said nothing, jaw locked as his mind instantly flashed back to that moment—how you rose on your tiptoes, one hand pressing slightly on his broad shoulder to steady yourself as you leaned in, brushing a soft kiss to his cheek. he had frozen for a second and he vividly recall your flushed face, wide eyes as you apologized profusely, muttering something about being 'carried away by the moment' and how it was simply a 'friendly' gesture.

his cock begins to stir at the memory of your soft lips against his skin. his heart skipping some beats.

"wait—holy shit." gojo barks out a laugh. "you keep this in your wallet? what, you jerk off to it?" your entire soul leaves your body. geto sees the way your eyes go wide, the way your hands fly to your face in horror.

and that's it. geto slowly stands up, cracking his knuckles and rolls his shoulders. "satoru," he said, voice eerily calm. gojo gulped. he was a dead man walking.

womanizer!geto tells himself he's just messing with you—that the way his fingers linger when he wipes a stray drop of your melting ice cream isn’t because he’s imagining how warm and soft your mouth would feel wrapped around his fingers. he convinces himself that when you lick your spoon, tongue flicking over the tip—his cock is not aching dreaming to be at the metal-stenciled place. and his rock-hard cock has definitely nothing to do with the way your thighs spread soft and full against the couch or the way your tits bouncy sightly every time you shift.

womanizer!geto is totally fine when you stretch on the couch next to him. arms up, back arching, body pushing forward, making your curves more prominent, making that cute little tummy press out—wait what?? geto shook his head trying to get back to his senses. no need to highlight it was impossible with the way his cock twitched in his pants.

womanizer!geto, obviously, does not want something with you..he does not want to bury himself into the plush softness of his nerd best friend, does not want to hear how sweetly you'd whimper his name. she's not his type!!!!

°‧★ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁( 。 •̀ ᴖ •́ 。)

a/n chubby girls are the biggest win 🙂‍↕️☝️