#BUT IT TURNS OUT THE ONE CONTRIBUTION I HAD WAS THE SOLUTION

[general-kalani]

Have at least three fc's considered I'll do a poll on them tomorrow. Back home now yeah but I am. Fucked LMFAO.

I forgot how much I hate puzzles---

[desertdragon]

This shit is so ass I just want it to be over

[mullermilkshake]

I’ll look after you, second

Part 4 <- Part 5 -> Part 6

Things are tense, but you come up with a solution.

Yandere!Jinwoo Sung x Fem Hunter!reader Tags - Smut, Car sex, Vaginal Sex, p in v sex, quickie, unprotected sex, creampie, trying for a baby, breeding, possessive thoughts, mentions of infertility, strained pressure in a relationship, Jinwoo just wants a family with you

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EDIT - I have only watched the anime and haven't gotten round to reading the manhwa yet. Please refrain from spoilers.

Jinwoo never got a chance to fuck you before the association dinner, you trudged off towards the bedroom and slammed the door shut for a whole hour before emerging in a dress that took his breath away.

It was evident that you’d been crying and for the first time, Jinwoo was unsure how to approach you.

Besides making his feelings partly known that first night, there’d been too much emphasis from the association that you and he never fully had that chance to explore each other emotionally.

You were well aware of Jinwoo’s thoughts towards you, yet you never acted on them, not unless it was in the bedroom. You cooed all sorts of little sweet nothings into his ear, and only then did you make him think you felt that way. As soon as he came and you were finished, it all stopped.

He craved more than just a facade. More than just a show for the association. He wanted you to want him too. He had already killed for you to ensure you slept next to him at night, that you uttered his name with pleasure and ensured he was the first and last person you saw in the morning and before bed.

So why was everything falling apart and becoming so difficult?

Jinwoo wasn’t sure, he wanted to get to the bottom of it, so he thought of the most logical way and just asked on the drive to the restaurant. “So… I know things have been difficult. I wanted to let you know that I appreciate everything you’re doing.”

“You do?”

“I do. It’s not easy and I can’t imagine how awkward things are for you…” He started soft and respectful for now. “We’re in this together and I want you to know that just because the association wants to turn their backs on us in a month, it doesn’t mean I will.”

You were silent for a while, looking over at Jinwoo in the car every so often from his periphery, he could tell that you were conflicted. Each time you opened your mouth to speak, you stopped yourself until he looked over at you behind a red traffic light.

“I guess we haven’t really had time to find more about each other, huh?” You looked down at your laced fingers nestled neatly on your lap. “I guess this whole thing has thrown me a little.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“It’s just… If I’m less involved with you, Jinwoo, then I won’t get attached. And the pressure of all these negative tests is stressing me out- I want to get to know you better, but Jin-chul said it himself, in a month they’ll split us up, so what’s the point?”

What’s the point? The point is everything, it’s the very essence of this programme, the point is to get to know each other and make a baby. When Jinwoo eventually got you pregnant, because he wouldn’t ever give up, he wanted to be a family. That was his main goal.

He didn’t want some other woman’s child, he wanted yours. 

“There’s a point, but that’s probably a contributing factor to why nothing’s happened yet… Y’know, the whole ‘why bother if it isn’t going to work’, I think we need to reevaluate our stance on this.”

“So… this is all my fault?”

“No, no, no, I never said that.” Well, in honesty, it was. But how could he tell you that when you looked so hurt as he pulled up in the darkened parking lot, right by the streetlamp with the busted light. “All I’m saying is that it’s a cycle, and we’re stuck in it, so let’s pull ourselves out of it, okay?”

“So what are you suggesting exactly, Jinwoo?”

He had one idea, and that was to fuck you senseless in the car right now, but he went with the secondary option instead. “Why don’t we go on a real date and see how you feel then?”

When you turned to him, pulling off your seatbelt in the most adorable way, Jinwoo saw the cogs turning. “You want that?”

“I told you how I felt about you, remember? This is more than just an agreement to me, and it can be for you if you let it. But it’s your decision to make.” 

Making it sound like your choice made it easier for your brain to comprehend someone else making decisions for you without even realising. Eventually, Jinwoo would coerce you into picking every option he chose, darting around the wrong ones like a river around a rock.

The right choices were the ones involving Jinwoo.

“I don’t-” You didn’t flinch, not at Jinwoo’s touch to brush a hair from your face. “I don’t know what I want.”

“I can show you a few options. If that’s what you want?” Jinwoo’s touch never let up, his thumb traced your bottom lip, his eyes watching you softly under the interior light. “I want you to be comfortable and look forward to being with me, not dreading it.”

You swallowed deeply, biting your bottom lip and contemplating your life choices. “Why do you- how am I good enough to-”

Jinwoo kissed you, it was the only way to show you instead of spilling pointless words for you to deny. Actions spoke louder than words and it was about time you saw that. The kiss was quick and sweet, firm enough to mean business but shallow enough to stop you bolting.

And when you kissed him back, it was a sealed moment in the relationship. Not once outside of the bedroom had you kissed or even spoken about Jinwoo’s feelings about you since the beginning. He hoped once Hae-in fell pregnant, you’d stop with the barrage of guilt for sitting on Jinwoo’s cock in Hae-in's place. She was pregnant now and it was about time you were.

It was probably the reason Jinwoo was caught off guard when you pawed at his suit jacket, becoming more feverish and passionate so quickly, going as far as to turn the interior light off.

“What do you need?” He managed to get in between touches, heated exchanges in the passenger side after you slipped your stilettos off.

“Want you to- I need you to fuck me.” You were already hiking your dress up.

To fuck here, in the parking lot when the resturant was maybe fifty metres away, the association table most probably already collecting with hunters and you wanted to fuck?

Jinwoo was already at half mast just from your kiss and here you were, about to slip your underwear off.

“Leave them on-” Jinwoo launched his driver's seat back as far as it could possibly go and took a hold of your waist, pulling you on top of him as close as he could.

He gripped your hips and weighed you down over his growing erection until you ground on him instinctively. You were beautiful, breasts stuffed into your dress jittering perfectly with each stolen breath to make the car windows steam.

“What’s caused this?” Jinwoo wasn’t sure why he asked, but he did.

“I-I don’t know, I just need you right now.”  It was good enough for him, you caused friction over his suit pants that drove him wild.

Jinwoo chuckled, shoving his face against your chest and trying his damndest to keep his composure. He couldn’t ruin you, not right here before the dinner, but he could leave you with a present. He pulled your dress up further, past your waist and admired your body begging for his touch, each kiss was electric, every touch a lit fire under his skin. You were coming round to this idea eventually, the only thing getting in his way of keeping you permanently was a baby.

Before Jinwoo could really settle himself in the moment, you were tugging at his belt, lips locked in a hurried fashion with feverish tongues exploring each other's tastes. You tasted of spearmint toothpaste, gentle, refreshing mint right on his tongue. Jinwoo wondered what he tasted like to you, but that thought quickly flew away when you hurriedly pulled out his hardened cock to sit on.

It happened so quickly, yet earned no complaints from either participant.

Jinwoo pulled your lace underwear to the side, the softness gathering at his fingertips as he moved and and slowly pushed the tip of his cock inside you. You sat down quick enough to make him gasp, bottoming out with an overcharged huff, sexually activated.

Perhaps now you and he were joined as one as a couple could be.

You moved, slowly picking up the pace while Jinwoo held on for dear life, cursing under his breath at the very sight of you initiating something like this. It was more than just sex now, that much he understood. How could you say this was just sex?

So beautiful. He wanted so desperately to make you a mommy, filling you up time after time was his only way to truly get that ownership over your fierce independence you displayed out of the public eye. He couldn’t wait to break it down in exchange for codependency. You might be one of the country’s sweetheart S-Ranks, but Jinwoo knew you to be filthy, riled up and stubborn enough to give him a run for his money. Taming that was his ultimate adrenaline rush.

Jinwoo pushed you down further, watching your breasts bounce, the whole car trembling with the anticipation of an orgasm. His kink took over. 

“We’ll finish this tonight, but I’m coming inside you and I want you to keep it in for the entire dinner, can you do that for me?”

You nodded immediately. “Y-yes. Yes.” 

“Good girl.”  

He pulled you down to kiss, both tongues and saliva joining in desperation which seemed to spur you on further, ass bouncing and cupped in his hands for safe keeping. 

“Give it to me- now, I want it now, shit - we’re going to be late-“ 

“Don’t look at the clock, we have plenty of time, hold on.”

Jinwoo fucked you good. The little driven breaths from your lips drove him insane, fingers clenched around his suit lapels for support, ravenous at everything you did. The way your pussy sucked him in like it was meant for him, made for him. Fate enough that you fit so perfectly in his arms, the accentuation of your waist enough for his hands to sit like a carved art piece. So much perfection.

He loved it.

He loved you.

And he’d love the body you got while it made his baby and especially after that.

A family. He wanted a family with you so desperately. Give that to me, please. 

“J-Jinwoo, I’m com- I’m coming- oh fuck!” 

He wanted to kiss you so your moan escaped into his mouth, but that would have been a waste. “Let me hear you, don’t keep it in- please don’t keep it in.” 

You did as you were told and let it out, the most sensual and romantic gesture you had done for Jinwoo to date. When your hips jerked, you pushed Jinwoo’s back into the seat which made his heart swell three times the size.

Perfect. Just perfect. 

“Are you ready for me? Take everything I give you and keep it there-” He pulled you in for one last kiss. “You can’t waste a drop-”

There was something that mulled over in your eyes, like a darkness, but nothing like Jinwoo could produce when he was pissed off. Because you weren’t angry, you weren’t enraged or engulfed with fury. No, you were hungry, ravenous.

“You better fill me up good, or we’ll never make it to that dinner.”

Fuuuck. 

Well that just spurred him on and when Jinwoo did come inside you, it was positively the strongest orgasm he ever had in his life, not just with you, but in his entire existence. He held onto you tight like you would disappear in thin air, like you would leave if he didn’t have you in his clutches already.

Jinwoo wanted to forget about the dinner and in fact, he did forget as his toes tried to curl in his shoes, his knuckles seizing up at his iron grip on your hips and digging into the plush skin that would most definitely bruise tomorrow.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. The scene was sublime, the actions and words and everything happened as it should. Never for a second did he ever think you would do something so risky so early. In the grand scheme of things, two months was nothing, and you were bending to him like you needed him as much as he needed you in no time at all.

When it calmed down, you leant over to kiss him, your lips less passionate and more sweet like honey, though your face did not match it. It was like you were troubled over something you didn’t want to share, or thought it wasn’t worth acknowledging because you smiled sleepily right after.

If Jinwoo blinked at that moment, he would have missed it. So, he took a stab in the dark to gain your trust a little better. “Don’t worry, we still have time to do this.”

“I know… I just- I don’t want to have to start over again because they’re impatient. But…”

“What is it?” Jinwoo ran his fingers over your forearm, tickling them into goosebumps.

“What if I can’t- I mean, they never tested to make sure before we started this and I don’t want to be a disappointment.”

You weren’t really thinking that, were you? This was the association's doing, not yours, and Jinwoo would be damned if he let you think that way, just when you and he were making headway.

“Please don’t think that way. It just takes time, don’t compare yourself to Hae-in, she just got lucky, but we still have time. So let’s make the most of it, hm?”

It seemed to settle you. You didn’t get off of him initially and Jinwoo assumed it was to keep his fluids inside a little while longer, but that wasn’t exactly that. You laid down and rested your head on his shoulder for comfort, you even allowed him to stroke your hair in the process.

“Okay… Alright then, let’s do this. We can do it.”

Well this night became a whole lot more interesting than I initially thought. 

Originally, Jinwoo fully accepted that you were either going to ignore the issue and therefore ignore him, or it would blow up into an argument. Though you never really had it in for Jinwoo, he was the closest one to air your frustrations about the association. He tried to stay on side for the most part, but then he’d say something that didn’t align with your frustration and he’d get both barrels. While he never took it personally, it was getting kind of boring.

So when you and he straightened yourselves up, left the car with you full of his semen and holding hands like a real couple towards the restaurant, Jinwoo had high hopes of succeeding his untouched year long quest.

All he was waiting for now, were those two little lines on a pregnancy test and the first step of keeping you was complete.

One hell of a bumpy ride, but his suspension still seemed intact.

Part 4 <- Part 5 -> Part 6

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DISCLAIMER - Crossposted from my AO3 - I do not own any of the characters or anything from the anime or manhwa. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

Also please don’t post any of my work without permission thank you!

[anghraine]

It's interesting (if often frustrating) to see the renewed Orc Discourse after the last few episodes of ROP. I've seen arguments that orcs have to be personifications of evil rather than people as such or else the ethics of our heroes' approach to them becomes much more fraught. Tolkien's work, as written, seems an odd choice to me for not wrangling with difficult questions, and of course, more diehard fans are going to immediately bring up Shagrat and Gorbag.

If you haven't read LOTR recently, Shagrat and Gorbag are two orcs who briefly have a conversation about how they're being screwed over by Sauron but have no other real options, about their opinions of mistakes that have been made, that they think Sauron himself has made one, but it's not safe to discuss because Sauron has spies in their own ranks. They reminisce about better times when they had more freedom and fantasize about a future when they can go elsewhere and set up a small-scale banditry operation rather than being involved in this huge-scale war. Eventually, however, they end up turning on each other.

Basically any time that someone brings up the "humanity" of this conversation, someone else will point out that they're still bad people. They're not at all guilty about what they're part of. They just resent the dangers to themselves, the pressure from above, failures of competence, the surveillance they're under, and their lack of realistic alternative options. The dream of another life mentioned in the conversation is still one of preying on innocent people, just on a much smaller and more immediate scale, etc.

I think this misses the reason it keeps getting brought up, though. The point is not that Shagrat and Gorbag are good people. The point is that they are people.

There's something very normal and recognizable about their resentment of their superiors, their fears of reprisal and betrayal that ultimately are realized, their dislike of this kind of industrial war machine that erases their individual work and contributions, the tinge of wistfulness in their hope of escape into a different kind of life. Their dialect is deliberately "common"—and there's a lot more to say about that and the fact that it's another commoner, Sam, who outwits them—but one of the main effects is to make them sound familiar and ordinary. And it's interesting that one of the points they specifically raise is that they're not going to get better treatment from "the good guys" so they can't defect, either.

This is self-interested, yes, but it's not the self-interest of some mystical being or spirit or whatnot, but of people.

Tolkien's later remarks tend to back this up. He said that female orcs do exist, but are rarely seen in the story because the characters only interact with the all-male warrior class of orcs. Whatever female orcs "do," it isn't going to war. Maybe they do a lot of the agricultural work that is apparently happening in distant parts of Mordor, maybe they are chiefly responsible for young orcs, maybe both and/or something else, we don't know. But we know they're out there and we know that they reproduce sexually and we know that they're not part of the orcish warrior class.

Regardless of all the problems with this, the idea that orcs have a gender-restricted warrior class at all and we're just not seeing any of their other classes because of where the story is set doesn't sound like automatons of evil. It sounds like an actual culture of people that we only see along the fringes.

And this whole matter of "but if they're people, we have to think about ethics, so they can't be people" is a weird circular argument that cannot account for what's in LOTR or for much of what Tolkien said afterwards. Yes, he struggled with The Problem of Orcs and how to reconcile it with his world building and his ethical system, but "maybe they're not people" is ultimately not a workable solution as far as LOTR goes and can't even account for much of the later evolution of his ideas, including explicit statements in his letters.

And in the end, the real response that comes to mind to that circular argument is "maybe you should think about ethics more."

[melanchoire]

please do bballplayer!yujin x cheerleader!reader. i love your fics so muchhhhg😚😚

SMACK THAT ──── ahn yujin.

── ( 🏀 ) in a world where cheerleaders and athletes are seen as allies, your world turns upside down when a heated clash with the stunning captain of the women's basketball team, ahn yujin, ignites a fiery passion that threatens to turn rivalry into something much wilder that leaves you questioning your loyalties—and igniting a burning desire that neither of you can resist.

pairing. bratty dom!basketball player!ahn yujin x sub!cheerleader!fem reader

warning(s). cum eating, cunnilingus, dirty talk, fingering, nipple play, semi exhibitionism, squirting.

word count. 5,5k

the move was a whirlwind. boxes overflowing with your life were crammed into the back of your parents’ car, the goodbye hugs from your friends lingered in the air, and the endless miles of highway blurred into a monotonous landscape. new house, new neighborhood, new faces — it was all a bit overwhelming. but the biggest hurdle, the one that filled you with a quiet dread, was the new school.

surprisingly, it wasn’t the social apocalypse you’d envisioned. your classmates were… tolerable. the teachers seemed genuinely invested in their subjects. the school itself was modern and well–equipped. the problem, as always, was sports. or rather, the mandatory sports selection. unlike your old school, where PE was a shared misery endured by all, here you had to choose a specific athletic activity. a cold sweat prickled your skin. this was your everest.

you didn’t even like sports. what could you do? in elementary school your classmates always hated teaming up with you because you had no interest in participating in class or playing the silliest sports and games.

you’d always been the kid picked last. the clumsy one. the one who tripped over air and whose athletic contributions usually involved apologizing profusely. elementary school recess was a blur of mortification, the crushing weight of your teammates’ disappointment a constant companion. the thought of reliving those days made your stomach churn.

lunchtimes became a minefield of awkward conversation and forced smiles. afternoons were spent strategically avoiding the gym, the fields, anywhere remotely athletic. you were a ghost, flitting through the hallways, desperate for a safe haven in a world that seemed obsessed with athleticism.

during lunch on your third day, you sought refuge in the near–empty classroom during recess, hunched over your phone, fingers flying across the screen as you texted yizhuo, your best friend from your old school. you typed furiously, lamenting your predicament: “it’s literally sports or nothing. what am i supposed to do, zhuo? fake an injury for the entire year?”

suddenly, as you waited for her reply, a shadow fell across your phone screen. you looked up to see a girl standing before you, a beacon of bright red hair and an even brighter smile. she was tall, with a lithe, athletic build, and an almost cartoonishly cute bunny smile.

“hey.” she said, her voice surprisingly gentle. “i’m yuna. me and the girls… we saw you’ve been having a little trouble figuring out the whole sports thing.”

you shifted uncomfortably, feeling your cheeks flush. “yeah, you could say that.”

yuna’s smile widened. “so, listen. well, we might have a solution. the cheerleading team is thinking about opening auditions to add a new member this year, and we thought… well, we thought you might be interested. it’s kind of a secret right now, but we thought you might be interested. before everyone else finds out and the tryouts are even harder.”

cheerleading? you blinked, completely taken aback. you? a cheerleader? you’d never considered cheerleading. the idea seemed so absurd, so utterly out of character, that you almost laughed. it wasn’t exactly graceful, but maybe, just maybe, it was something you could do. but the desperation in your heart outweighed the absurdity. any port in a storm, right?

“i… i don’t know, yuna.” you stammered. “i’m not exactly known for my athleticism.”

yuna waved a dismissive hand. “don’t worry about that.” yuna said, her voice reassuring. “we can teach you everything. just… give it a try?”

what did you have to lose? at least this was better than the embarrassment of fumbling your way through a soccer game or, heaven forbid, trying to dribble a basketball.

you looked into her bright eyes, saw the genuine kindness there, and something inside you cracked. “okay…” you breathed. “okay, i’ll try.”

yuna squealed with delight, grabbing your hand and pulling you to your feet. “great! c’mon, the girls are waiting!”

she practically dragged you across the campus, her energy infectious. you ended up on the sidelines of the university’s athletic fields, next to the basketball court. a group of girls was laughing and chatting amongst themselves.

“guys, this is… umh…” yuna trailed off, realizing she hadn’t actually asked your name.

“it’s (y/n).” you supplied, feeling your cheeks flush.

“okay, (y/n)–ssi. this is chaewon, karina, and wonyoung.” yuna beamed, gesturing to each girl in turn. they all greeted you with warm smiles and polite introductions, instantly making you feel more at ease.

yuna introduced them with a flourish: chaewon, all boundless energy and infectious enthusiasm; karina, radiating warmth and a mischievous glint in her eyes; and wonyoung, with her quiet confidence and elegant demeanor. they welcomed you with genuine smiles and polite introductions, making you feel instantly at ease.

“sometimes other girls join for practices.” yuna continued, “but the four of us are usually the main cheerleaders during the games.”

“welcome to the cheerleading squad where there's free entertainment.” chaewon joked.

as if on cue, a chorus of giggles erupted from the bleachers overlooking the basketball court. you glanced over to see a group of girls huddled together, their eyes fixed on your group. even from a distance, you could sense their amusement.

wonyoung rolled her eyes. “ugh, it’s them. don’t mind them.” she said dismissively. “that’s the basketball team.”

yuna, who followed wonyoung’s gaze almost immediately, can’t help but let out a scoff at the sight of the basketball team, sweeping them with her gaze in the dirtiest way: you wouldn’t lie, if she did the same thing to you, you probably would have peed your pants and fainted from embarrassment right then and there. “they think they’re so cool.”

you looked closer. you didn’t recognize any of them, which wasn’t surprising, given you were still practically a stranger. but they certainly looked like they belonged: athletic builds, confident swagger, and an air of effortless cool. they weren’t all dressed in athletic wear — some wore their school uniforms, others casual clothing.

then you noticed something else. two girls with short, dark hair were playfully shoving the shoulders of a taller girl with wide, puppy–dog eyes who was wearing her cap backwards. smirks danced on their faces as two other girls murmured things to the other three.

and then they looked at you. a not–so–disguised look, filled with a mixture of amusement and something you couldn’y quite place. you felt your stomach clench.

wonyoung scoffed. “yeah.” she muttered, “typical losers.” she proceeded to give you a rundown of the team: kazuha, ryujin, yujin, yunjin, and a girl nicknamed “winter.”, whose real name was minjeong, but apparently only her close friends used it. she painted them as the stereotypical jocks, surrounded by adoring admirers, whose lives revolved around basketball and popularity.

“they’re like the typical frat boys or playboys in the movies, you know?” yuna added, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “except, you know, girls.”

the way wonyoung and yuna talked about them, trading gossip and inside jokes, made it clear that this wasn’t just casual observation. there was a history there, a rivalry, maybe even a touch of… something else.

karina, sensing your unease, stepped forward with a warm smile. “don’t worry about them. we’re happy to have you. hey, why don’t you join us later? the school gym will be free, and you can show us what you’ve got.” her tone was casual, but the intensity in her gaze made it clear: they wanted you. not just on the team, but… well, you weren’t sure what else.

and so it was. that afternoon, you found yourself in the echoing expanse of the school gym, attempting to contort your body into positions it hadn’t seen since… well, never. the girls patiently guided you through stretches, jumps, and basic tumbling, their encouragement a welcome balm to your self–consciousness. after testing your skills and flexibility, the four girls welcomed you into the team with open arms.

of course, since you were still a newbie, they told you that at first it would be better if you were not the one who was the “flyer” (the athlete who is lifted into the air during a stunt or pyramid) when they did the group stunts, putting yourself together with another of the girls as “bases” (the athletes that hold the flyer or “top girl” in the air during the stunt) until you gained enough confidence to take on the more challenging role, but in this case, wonyoung and yuna would be the main ones that would catch you, since they were the ones with more training and experience than the other two, they knowing how to grab or hold you when you didn’t have much experience or confidence.

cheerleading practice quickly became the highlight of your day. the girls were supportive and encouraging, and you found yourself enjoying the challenge of learning new skills. you even started to feel… dare you say it… athletic?

practices quickly became routine, a bizarre mix of grueling physical exertion and surprisingly fun camaraderie. you learned to trust your teammates, to rely on their strength and support, both literally and figuratively. you even started to enjoy the challenge, the feeling of pushing your body beyond its perceived limits.

the basketball team, however, remained a constant, and unwelcome, presence. karina explained that since the cheerleaders preferred to train outside on the basketball court because it was better than the stinky gym, so it was obvious that you would see the basketball players around here.

their behavior was bizarre. you felt like they were like perverts, wearing their stupid jerseys and basketball pants along with those backwards caps, having smirks or shit–eating grins and seemed to be enjoying themselves every time the cheerleaders practiced. you caught them smirking and exchanging knowing glances, like they were in on some private joke.

yujin’s gaze, in particular, made you uneasy. you always felt her eyes on you, burning a hole in your back. whenever you were the flyer, you could hear her teammates cheering her on, clapping her back, and pushing her shoulders towards the basket. whenever you looked over your shoulder at her or turned around you saw her eyes quickly move from your ass to your face, grinning or biting her lip to avoid a smirk, her grin a mix of amusement and… something else you couldn’t quite decipher.

one night, you were at a party, trying to navigate the crowded dance floor, when a ridiculously handsome guy approached you. he leaned in close, his voice barely audible over the thumping bass.

“hey.” he said, his eyes sparkling. “my friend wants to kiss you.”

you felt a jolt of surprise, followed by a surge of nervous excitement. he gestured behind you, stepping aside so you could see who his friend was. your smile faltered. the excitement evaporated.

standing a few feet away, surrounded by a gaggle of friends and the ubiquitous basketball team, was yujin. she’s smiling even with her eyes, holding a can of beer while the other idiots chant her name and push her by the shoulders between them, pushing her forward, the backward cap casting a shadow over her eyes.

that cap, that oversized hoodie, those baggy jeans, those beat–up converse sneakers… suddenly, you found yourself noticing the curve of her jaw, the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled, the confident swagger in her posture.

wait a minute…were you drooling over ahn yujin? your own consciousness shook you back to reality. it couldn’t be, could it?

you glared at the well–meaning messenger and abruptly turned away, heading back to your group of friends. but even over the noise of the party, you could hear the sound of your name being called, followed by a wave of raucous laughter.

the air crackled with nervous energy. you straightened your new cheer uniform, the fabric feeling stiff and unfamiliar against your skin. the basketball game was about to start, a cacophony of cheers and shouts already echoing from the stands. you were still new to this whole cheerleading thing, still trying to memorize the routines, still acutely aware of yujin’s persistent gaze.

as you made your way to the court, practically vibrating with apprehension, a familiar figure blocked your path. ahn yujin, radiating cocky confidence, stood grinning in front of you. her backwards cap cast a shadow over her mischievous eyes, which sparkled with amusement.

“well, well, look who it is…” she drawled, her voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine against your will. “hey there, cheerleader. heard you’re heading in. gonna cheer me on, huh?”

you crossed your arms, trying to project an air of indifference you definitely didn’t feel. “don’t flatter yourself. i’m here to support the team, not you specifically.”

yujin chuckled, a sound that was somehow both infuriating and strangely appealing. “sure you are. but i know you’ve been thinking about me. a lot, probably.”

“in your dreams.” you scoffed, but your cheeks betrayed you with a telltale flush.

“oh, i have plenty of dreams.” yujin said, her eyes gleaming suggestively. “and you’re in most of them. wearing that little skirt, too.”

“okay, pervert alert.” you muttered, rolling your eyes. although you tried to avoid it, your cheeks slowly began to turn a reddish color. you hated how she could easily have an effect on you.

yujin laughed, undeterred. “listen, about that kiss…”

it doesn’t take long for your brain to work to understand what she’s talking about. of course, that kiss that her friend asked you for at that party — honestly, you thought they were just joking around and looking to annoy and piss someone off to pass the time, but knowing yujin’s reputation, you knew she wasn’t entirely joking.

“don’t even start.” you snapped. “i don’t owe you anything.”

“oh, i think you do.” she chuckled, her voice low and teasing. “you love playing hard to get; i admire that about you.”

“c’mon~...” she persisted, stepping closer. “why don’t we make it interesting? a little wager, maybe?”

you raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite yourself. “what kind of wager?”

“if we win today, you’ll give me a kiss. a real one. aand if we lose…” she paused, leaning in closer, her breath warm against your ear. “... i’ll stop bothering you. completely. no more staring, no more teasing, no more showing up at cheer practice just to make you blush. deal?”

the offer was tempting, ridiculously tempting. the thought of yujin’s attention, her constant presence, finally fading away was almost a relief. but the idea of actually kissing her… despite the annoyance, the frustration, the undeniable fact that she was a major pain in the ass, a thrill shot through you.

the words were out of your mouth before you could stop them. “you’re on.” you tried to sound confident, but you were sure your voice quivered slightly. “and if you cheat, i get to pick your punishment.” you added, a smirk playing on your lips.

yujin grinned, her eyes sparkling with challenge. “deal. don’t say i didn’t warn you.”

“fine.” you said, trying to sound nonchalant. “but don’t expect me to pucker up. you’re going down.”

“we’ll see about that.” yujin whispered, her grin widening as she turned and jogged towards the court. “see you after the game, babe.”

you watched her go, your heart pounding in your chest. you’d just made a bet with the biggest flirt in school, a bet that could end with you kissing her or, blissfully, never having to deal with her again.

the game was a blur of squeaking sneakers, bouncing balls, and roaring crowds. you tried to focus on the cheer routines, but your eyes kept drifting back to yujin. she played with an intensity that was mesmerizing, a raw energy that crackled in the air. every time yujin made a perfect shot, which was often, she’d blow a kiss in your direction, her eyes sparkling with triumph.

and then, it happened. the final buzzer sounded, the score displayed in bright, unforgiving numbers on the scoreboard. they had won. and not just won, but dominated. yujin, MVP, was grinning triumphantly, her gaze locked on you.

your stomach dropped. you had lost. you owed yujin a kiss.

fueled by a mixture of anger and mortification, you practically stormed toward the locker room after the game, yujin hot on your heels.

you slammed the locker room door behind you, breathing heavily. you leaned against it, trying to calm your racing heart.

then, the door creaked open. yujin sauntered in, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “running away?” she teased, easily catching up to you. “i thought you were the feisty type.”

“shut up, ahn.” you snapped, stopping abruptly and turning to face her. “you wouldn’t stop annoying me and now what? are you happy for winning?”

she grinned, thoroughly enjoying your anger. “extremely, yes.” she admitted, taking a step closer.

"this is ridiculous.” you protested, crossing your arms. “it was just a stupid bet.”

“a bet is a bet.” yujin said, stepping closer. “and i won fair and square.”

“you cheated somehow, i know it.” you accused, your voice rising slightly.

yujin laughed, shaking her head. “jealous much? I'm just that good, baby.”

“don’t call me baby.” you snapped, your cheeks burning.

“why not?” yujin teased, closing the distance between you. “you like it when i call you that.”

“i do not!” you retorted, but the lie hung in the air between you.

yujin stopped right in front of you, her gaze intense. “you’re so cute when you’re angry.” she murmured, reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face.

you glared at her, your fists clenched. “i’m not kissing you.”

“oh, i think you are.” she whispered, her voice laced with playful challenge. “unless you’re going to chicken out?”

that was all it took. you grabbed her by the collar of her jersey and pulled her in. your lips crashed together in a kiss that was far more heated and desperate than you had anticipated. you were angry, frustrated, and caught up in a moment of reckless abandon.

yujin moaned softly, her hand cupping your face as she deepened the kiss. your own arms reached up to wrap around her neck, pulling her closer. the kiss was electric, a rush of heat and sensation that made your head spin.

you lost yourself in her, the scent of her skin, the taste of her lips, the feel of her body pressed against yours. her hands moved down your back, pulling you impossibly closer, and you gasped against her mouth.

the kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, more demanding. you felt your own body responding, your need for her growing with each passing second. her hands slipped under your cheerleading top, tracing the curve of your waist, and you moaned against her lips.

you were both breathless, desperate. you wanted more, needed more.

yujin pulled back slightly, her chest heaving as her eyes, dark with desire, looked into yours. “i still have a few minutes before my post–game interview, do you want to...?”

“just fuck me already, yujin.”

the locker room was dimly lit and empty, the air thick with the scent of sweat and the distant echo of cheers from the basketball court outside. yujin backed you up against the wall, caging you in with her arms on either side of your head. she leaned in until her lips were a mere whisper from yours, her breath hot against your skin.

“this will be your way of paying me back for taking so long to give me what you owed me.” she breathed, before capturing your mouth in a searing, hungry kiss. her lips moved demandingly against yours, her tongue delving past your teeth to explore the warm cavern of your mouth. yujin kissed like she did everything else — with wild, reckless abandon.

one hand slid up to tangle in your hair combed in a half ponytail, tugging lightly as she deepened the kiss, while the other gripped your hip, pulling your body flush against the hard planes of her own. you could feel every inch of her lithe, toned physique pressed against you, from her plush breasts to the lean muscles of her stomach and thighs.

yujin broke the kiss with a soft, wicked laugh, smirking down at your undoubtedly kiss–swollen lips and dazed expression. she licked her lips, tasting you on them. “fuck, you taste even better than i thought you would.” she praised, her voice a low, seductive rasp. “i’m going to have so much fun ruining you, baby.”

“just—... try not to mess up my uniform too much. you know, my team will suspect things if they see me leaving here in a bad state with you.”

obviously. both the cheerleading team and the basketball team, as soon as the game ended, you two headed to the dresses in the blink of an eye. of course, your initial intentions were clearly not to be alone to fuck the girl who was always trying to piss you off on purpose by flirting with you… maybe in part yes, but you wouldn't admit it out loud!

yujin threw her head back and laughed, a rich, throaty sound that echoed off the locker room walls. she looked down at you, her dark eyes glinting with amusement and lust. her hand slid from your hip to your ass, giving it a firm, possessive squeeze.

“oh, baby, don’t worry about your cute cheerleader outfit. i’ll make sure you're presentable enough for your squad...eventually.” she purred, her voice dripping with wicked promise. “but first, i’m going to mess you up in ways you’ve never been messed up before.”

with that declaration, yujin crashed her lips back onto yours in a brutal, demanding kiss. her tongue pushed into your mouth, dominating you, claiming you. she kissed you like she owned you, like you belonged to her.

yujin’s hands slid under your cheerleading top, pushing it up and over your chest. she broke the kiss just long enough to yank the garment off over your head and toss it carelessly to the side. her fingers found your breasts, palming the soft mounds, feeling the stiff peaks of your nipples through the thin fabric of your bra.

yujin attacked your neck with bites and kisses, sucking dark marks into your skin. her teeth grazed your pulse point, and she licked over it, feeling it jump beneath her tongue. one hand slid down your stomach to the waistband of your cheer shorts, slipping inside to cup your mound.

“you’re already so fucking wet, aren’t you?” yujin breathed against your neck, her fingers rubbing your clothed slit, feeling the dampness seeping through. she nipped at your earlobe and whispered. “don’t worry, baby. i’ll take good care of this cute pussy… once i’m done playing with it.”

she punctuated her words by shoving your cheer shorts and panties down your thighs, letting them pool around your ankles. cool air hit your heated skin, but it was quickly replaced by the scorching heat of yujin’s fingers as they pushed between your legs and found your naked, dripping sex.

yujin groaned softly against your neck as she felt your slick folds, your arousal coating her fingers. she circled your clit with the pad of her thumb, applying just the right amount of pressure to make your hips buck forward, seeking more of that delicious friction.

“that’t it, baby. grind on my fingers just like that.” yujin encouraged, her voice with a low, seductive murmur. she slid one long finger inside your tight heat, feeling your walls clench around the intrusion. she pumped it slowly, shallowly, teasing you with the promise of more.

her other hand pushed down the cups of your bra, freeing your breasts to the cool air. yujin’s mouth found your nipple, drawing it into her hot mouth and suckling greedily. she licked and bit at the sensitive bud, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

yujin added a second finger, pumping them faster, harder, curling them to hit that special spot inside you with every thrust. her palm pressed against your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in time with the plunging of her fingers.

she could feel your body tensing, your muscles tightening as your orgasm approached. yujin knew your body better than you knew it yourself. she could feel the fluttering of your walls, the way your breathing grew ragged and shallow.

just as you were about to tumble over the edge, yujin pulled her fingers out of you and stepped back. she brought her soaked fingers to her mouth, sucking your essence from them with a moan of appreciation.

“fuck, you taste divine.” yujin praised, her eyes dark and hungry as she looked at your disheveled, desperate form. she licked her lips, savoring your flavor.

the sudden emptiness inside you made you open your eyes. rilting your head still against the wall behind you, you look at her with half–lidded eyes, still somewhat shaken from your near–orgasm. “why did you stop?”

yujin smirked at your breathless, frustrated question. she could see the desperation in your eyes, the way your chest heaved with each ragged breath. she loved reducing you to this state of need, knowing that she held the power to give you the pleasure you craved… or deny it.

“shhh, baby. patience.” yujin cooed, trailing her fingers teasingly along your inner thigh, staying maddeningly far from your aching core. “i stopped because i want to taste you. i want to bury my face between your thighs and devour this sweet cunt until you’re screaming my name.”

yujin gripped your thighs, pushing them further apart as she sank to her knees before you. she looked up at you through sooty lashes and with a wicked and hungry grin, her dark eyes filled with lust and promise with a gaze intense and hungry. her hands gripped your thighs, pushing them further apart, opening you up to her eagerly exploring mouth. without breaking eye contact, she leaned in, her breath ghosting over your dripping folds.

“you smell incredible… and i bet you taste even better.” yujin murmured, inhaling deeply. her fingers spread your lips, exposing your glistening pink flesh to her appreciative gaze. “i can’t wait to taste you, baby. i’m going to eat this pretty pussy until you’re begging me to stop… and then i’ll keep going.”

with those words, yujin dove in, burying her face between your thighs. her tongue, hot and slick, dragged up your slit in one long, slow lick. she moaned at the first taste of your arousal, her eyes fluttering shut in bliss.

yujin licked and sucked at your folds, her mouth covering your slit entirely as she lapped at your essence. she focused her attention on your clit, suckling the sensitive bundle of nerves with single–minded focus. her tongue flicked and circled, teasing out more of your delectable juices. yujin pushed your thighs further apart, burying her face deeper into your cunt, eating you out like a starving woman.

as she ate you out, yujin’s hands gripped your ass, kneading the firm globes and pulling you harder against her mouth. she consumed you like a woman starved, like she needed your taste to survive.

yujin paused briefly to hook one of your legs over her shoulder, having your thigh over her shoulder and your leg resting on her back, opening you up even more to her hungry mouth. she licked her lips at the sight of your glistening, dripping folds, now fully exposed and vulnerable to her teasing ministrations.

“look at this pretty pussy, all wet and ready for me…” yujin purred, running a single finger along your slit, feeling the slick heat. she brought her finger to her mouth, sucking your essence off with a moan of appreciation. “you taste even better than i imagined, baby. i could eat this sweet cunt for hours.”

with that declaration, yujin dove back in, burying her face between your thighs. she licked and sucked at your clit with reckless abandon, spurred on by your desperate moans and the way your body squirmed against her. one hand reached up to pinch and tug at your nipple, rolling the stiff peak between her fingers.

yujin could feel your walls fluttering, your body tensing as your orgasm approached. she knew you were close, and she wanted to taste your release, to feel your cum coating her tongue as you screamed her name.

she focused her attention on your entrance, plunging her tongue deep inside your tight channel. she fucked you with her tongue, thrusting in and out, feeling your velvet walls clench and grip at the slick muscle. at the same time, she rubbed your clit with the pad of her thumb, applying just the right amount of pressure to send you flying over the edge.

determined to give you more, she slid three fingers inside your dripping sex, pumping them in time with the thrusts of her tongue. she curled them, rubbing that special spot inside you, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. yujin could feel your walls starting to flutter, your body trembling with impending ecstasy.

“yes, that’s it baby. come for me.” yujin urged, her voice muffled against your sex. she looked up at you, her dark eyes blazing with lust and hunger as she gazed at your face, watching your every expression. she wanted to see your beautiful face as you lost yourself to the pleasure she was giving you.

with a final, hard suck to your clit and a deep thrust of her fingers, yujin pushed you over the precipice. she felt your pussy clench down hard on her fingers, your walls spasming and fluttering as your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave.

your cries of ecstasy filled the locker room as you came undone, your fingers gripping yujin’s hair, holding her in place as she rode out the aftershocks of your release. yujin just moaned against your sex, the vibrations adding to your pleasure, drawing out your high.

yujin could feel your body stiffening, your muscles pulling taut as your climax crashed over you like a tidal wave. she didn’t let up, continuing to thrust her tongue and fingersdeep inside your spasming cunt, fucking you through your intense orgasm. your essence gushed out, flooding yujin’s mouth and chin as she lapped it up greedily.

finally, after long, blissful moments, your body went limp, your leg slipping from yujin’s shoulder as you slumped back against the wall. yujin slowly pulled away, sitting back on her heels and looking up at you with a self–satisfied smirk.

yujin licked her lips, savoring the taste of your release that still lingered in her mouth. she took a moment to admire her handiwork — your chest heaving, your skin flushed, your hair a wild mess around your face. you looked thoroughly debauched, and yujin felt an intense sense of pride at being the one to reduce you to this state.

rising to her feet, yujin leaned in close, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispered. “that was so hot. watching you come undone on my tongue, feeling your pussy spasm and gush all over my face... i could get addicted to making you scream like that.”

she nipped at your earlobe before trailing her lips down the column of your throat, sucking a dark mark into the sensitive skin. her hands slid up your sides, cupping your breasts, kneading the soft mounds. she could feel your heart pounding beneath your ribcage, still racing from the intensity of your orgasm.

yujin’s fingers found your nipples, rolling and tugging at the stiff peaks. she could feel them harden even further under her touch, your body responding eagerly to her ministrations. she smiled against your skin, knowing that she could easily work you up to another peak.

yujin pulled back slightly, glancing at her smartwatch and cursing under her breath. she had lost track of time, too caught up in pleasuring you to pay attention to the ticking seconds. reluctantly, she released your breasts and stepped away, straightening her clothes and running her fingers through her disheveled hair.

“shit, i can’t believe it, but i’m going to be late for my post–game interview if i don’t hurry.” yujin muttered, grabbing her phone from where she had tossed it earlier. she shot you a wicked grin, her eyes glinting with unspent lust. “rain check on the rest of our fun, baby. i promise, next time i won’t let anything interrupt me wrecking this sexy little body of yours.”

yujin leaned in for one last searing kiss, plundering your mouth with her tongue. she nipped at your bottom lip before pulling away and giving your ass a firm smack. “think of me when you’re getting ready for your cheer game later. i hope the next time you touch yourself you imagine it’s my fingers buried deep in this tight cunt, and if you’re good enough, you can pick me up after my training with my team, i wouldn’t mind a fuck after playing.”

she purred, delivering one last filthy promise before turning and sauntering towards the door.

with a final wink thrown over her shoulder, yujin disappeared through the locker room door, leaving you alone and desperately aroused, already craving her touch once more. you knew it wouldn’t be the last time she left you in such a state — yujin always got what she wanted, and right now, she wanted you.

[beholdthebangs]

Stress Reliever

Kent x F!Reader / Sam x F!Reader

~ 18+ ~

Synopsis: Smut - Sam invites himself and Kent over to your house for dinner one night, seemingly an opportunity to get to know your boyfriend’s father better after his recent arrival to town. Things take a turn when you try to give Kent some ideas to relax, Sam having his own thoughts on the subject when he offers you up as a solution. Only under his supervision, of course.

Word count: 7.3k

Warnings: Drinking, brief references to PTSD, affair, indirect(?) incest, creampie, unprotected sex, rough sex, free use, daddy kink, dirty talk, praise, vaginal sex, oral sex, light choking

A/N: There’s not enough Kent smut to go around so this is my contribution.

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Sam

2:43 AM: My dad and I are gonna come over tmrw nite for dinner

2:44 AM: Wear something I like 😜💦

2:51 AM: n make sumthing good plz 🥺

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Kent had returned to Pelican Town only a few months ago and you’d had few interactions with him since, limited to a brief introduction and exchanging of pleasantries when you stopped by 1 Willow Lane to see Sam. The older man had always been standoffish, understandably so given everything he’d gone through in his time away. Still, it was difficult to find some way to relate with him, something you desperately wanted given your relationship with his son. It was discouraging to have such a poor relationship with the man who may one day be your father-in-law. Sam had assured you that he was always quiet, even with his family.

Sam rarely talked about him before he came back, and Jodi seemed just as stressed out as she was when she was acting as a single mother. The family didn’t seem to change dynamics at all with Kent’s return; it didn’t adjust to make room for him. It’s like all the gaps had been filled when he left and there was no space now that he was back. You hadn’t been around before Kent had been deployed. Sometimes you’d ask Sam what things were like back then, but he would shrug it off, telling you he didn’t remember that far back. Sure, his brain was crowded with hyperactive tendencies, but you knew he also didn’t want to open up. You tried not to jump to conclusions but it was hard having nothing else to draw from but the blond’s abnormally clouded demeanor.

You stir a pot of pasta sauce absentmindedly as it simmers, the pasta waiting in a colander in the sink to be added. Three chicken breasts are sizzling in the cast iron pan in your oven, nearing temperature. It seems like the end a recipe always feels the most chaotic, everything timed to finish at once. You have to pull yourself out of your head to focus on not burning anything. You brush a piece of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear. 5:45 pm on the clock in the living room; perfect.

You pull the chicken out, allowing it to rest while you combine the pasta and toss together the salad comprised of veggies you’d picked this morning. You set out the blueberry tarts along with a bowl of roasted hazelnuts, your most overt plea for friendship with Kent as he’d mentioned once how much he enjoyed them.

Once the pasta is dished out, chicken cut into strips and placed neatly on top, you set everything at your dining table and take a step back, leaning in to fix silverware placements and adjust the flower pot in the center of the table. You also grab the boxy bottle of fancy whiskey Pam had gifted you last winter and pour a small amount in each short glass set at the table, leaving it in the middle as you’d surely need seconds to calm your nerves. In fact—

You take a quick sip from the bottle before replacing it on the table, smoothing your sweaty palms over your thin skirt, hem resting above your kneecaps. The alcohol content will clean any germs you leave behind, right? The way your body begins to buzz only a minute later feels like assurance of that.

As you finish cleaning up your kitchen, you hear the door close and look over. Sam has his hands stuffed in his jean jacket, hair pushed up as if he’s been running his fingers through it. Kent is behind him in a light brown corduroy jacket and dark jeans. “Hey!” you greet, hurrying over. “I can grab your jackets.”

“Hey,” Sam smiles, shrugging his off and handing it over while leaning in to give you a quick kiss on the cheek. “Smells good, huh Dad?”

Kent grunts. As you look over at him, he gives one nod as he pulls his own jacket past his broad shoulders and holds it in his hand. You take it from him, turning and standing on your toes, reaching up to hang both on the coat rack by your door. “Thanks for having us.” As you turn, both men’s eyes snap upward to yours, a twisted expression on Kent’s face and a nervous one on Sam’s.

“Of course! Come sit, everything is ready.” You press your lips together, rubbing in the pink gloss placed on them. Your fingers toy with the end of your shirt, glancing down at yourself as you try to pinpoint what they were looking at. Maybe you’d gotten a bit more messy than you thought while cooking.

You allow the men to walk ahead of you and take their places at the rounded table before filling in the empty spot between them. They dig in without hesitation, talking more to one another than to you. Once in a while, Sam will say something to bring you into the conversation like, “Y/n is great at that. Tell him.” It allows you to talk about yourself for a moment, often getting nothing but a nod in response. To be fair, Sam carries the conversation between the two of them as he babbles on, so you try not to take it too personally. The way he speaks without leaving enough pauses between sentences to truly converse reminds you of the way he acted before you started dating. He’d let his racing brain take full control of his mouth and he never shut up until you kissed him. He never shut up until he got comfortable and lost his nerves… It makes you wonder what he might be hiding now. Maybe it’s just the pressure of the night, and he wants it to go well as much as you do.

As you’re finishing up the last of your pasta, you hear Kent say, “Roasted hazelnuts?” Your attention snaps up to him and you nod.

“Yeah! I thought you might enjoy them.”

“I love them.” He grabs a couple and pops them in his mouth, teeth crunching down on them. After he swallows, he says a quiet, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. There’s more where those came from.”

Sam grins, leaning back in his chair. “I told you how caring she is.”

Kent stiffens a bit. “Yeah, you did.” He grabs another handful.

With your last bite of food in your mouth, you stand and clear the plates from the table, setting them in the sink. Sam pours himself and his dad another glass of whiskey while Kent excuses himself to the bathroom. As you scrub at the dishes, Sam stands behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, chin on your shoulder.

“Thanks for making dinner, baby. So good.”

“Thanks Sammy.” You lean your head against his for a moment.

“I like your skirt,” he comments as his hands begin to slide down the fabric covering your thighs. You clench them together, his tone mixed with wandering hands all too familiar.

“We can’t do this right now,” you whisper, barely audible over the sound of running water as you scrub the dish.

“Just a little, baby.” You don’t move. “Please?”

He waits for protests, but receives none. His hands slide back up your thighs, this time pulling your skirt with them. His fingers loop themselves around your panties and pull them down your legs, letting go of you to lean down and grab them as you step out of them. He stays on his knees, spreading your feet apart and coaxing you into a wider stance. You lean over the sink just slightly, your hole exposed and positioned toward your boyfriend. His tongue licks a strip from your clit back to your pussy and you shiver at the contact, the metal of his tongue piercing providing extra sensation you had grown especially fond of.

You try desperately to focus on the dishes, sudsing up the sponge as you press it against each plate and lather it up while Sam rubs his tongue expertly along your clit, a finger snaking into you and curling at your sensitive spot. With great focus, you manage to finish cleaning and washing off each dish while he works on your wet pussy. You throw the sponge in the sink, excited to be able to just grip the counter and enjoy him. Just as you start to give in, the bathroom door opens from the other side of the room and Sam quickly pulls back, fixing your skirt for you before Kent walks out. You turn in time to see Sam tuck your panties in his pocket, unable to protest as his dad sits on your couch only feet away. Sam winks, wiping his mouth with the back of his arm and walking over to join him, whiskey glasses in hand.

You take a breath, reaching over to grab a dishrag and dry off the plates, setting them back in the cupboard one by one. You manage to regain your composure rather quickly; the times you’d spend at Sam’s had trained you to get your fix in where you could but stay on edge with the threat of his mother walking in always looming over the two of you. The dynamic had yielded a… unique sexual relationship between you and Sam. Him having such a high sex drive had you bending to his will, metaphorically and often physically, any time he wanted it without so much as word.

After you put away the dishes, you join the two men on the couch. They’re holding their glasses, yours already refilled and set on the coffee table in front of you. You take it, sitting carefully in the spot between the two of them. Your back is twisted slightly toward Sam and you’re almost positive he saw your ass in the process, still naked from his assault on your clit minutes ago. Stealing a glance, his bottom lip is tucked between his teeth, eyes lingering at the edge of your skirt.

“We’re just talking about how my dad’s been since coming home,” Sam explains, reaching forward to put his palm on your thigh, rubbing his thumb along your skin casually.

“I imagine it’s hard getting back into a routine,” you say as you turn your attention to the gruff man in front of you. You’d noticed Kent’s inconsistent patterns, often coming across him staring out at the river in front of his home in the morning or in the saloon at night.

He nods, eyes trained on the brown liquid in his hands. “You’d be right. I don’t remember having a free moment before I left. Now, I got far too many.”

“I can’t imagine how hard it must be. Now would be a good time to pick up some hobbies,” you offer, though the advice feels a bit shallow considering the magnitude of emotions he must be going through.

“I’ve tried fishing, jogging, drinking… none of it eases my mind like it used to.”

Sam squeezes your leg. “Why don’t you tell him what we do to destress.”

You look back, shooting him a confused glance. Sam twists in his spot, positioning himself to lean against the armrest of the couch, his chest parallel to your back. He places his hands on either side of your waist, pulling you toward him. “Sam,” you snap quietly behind you, but he doesn’t stop until you’re sat on his lap, your legs stretched along the couch toward Kent. As much as you want to tuck yourself in, you fear doing so would expose too much skin to your boyfriend’s father.

“Tell him how you deal with stress,” Sam repeats in your ear.

Your mind spins with Sam’s affection in front of his father; you’d never dream of sitting on his lap as you share a couch with his parent. Still, you wrack your brain for answers. “Visiting the beach, walking in Cindersap forest or the mountains… the spa is always nice after a long day.”

Sam chuckles lowly. “Remember what we did last time we went there?”

You laugh nervously, patting his knee. “Yep. What else…”

Sam presses a kiss to your neck, lips still curled into a smile as he reminisces in your late night escapade in the steamy pool last winter. You’re frozen, unable to pull your gaze from Kent, his eyes intently looking over you. Your face is surely bright red now, unsure how to process anything going on at the moment.

“That night is more along the lines of what I was thinking, baby,” Sam admits, hot breath on your neck. “My dad and I were talking about how I manage stress, and… well, I told him.”

“You told him?” you repeat in a quiet voice, quirking an eyebrow upward.

He nods. “I told him about our arrangement.”

“What arrangement?” Your tone is harsher now; surely he isn’t saying what you think he’s saying.

Sam moves his hand from your waist down to your inner thigh, pressing it hard enough to part your legs despite your physical resistance. His fingertips glide over your clit, still wet from your previous encounter, the obscene sound filling the room much to your embarrassment. Kent has a straight view to his son’s hand working you.

“The one where I have free will with your body… any time, any place, any way I want it…”

“Sam,” you hiss, squeezing your thighs together around his hand.

“Y/n,” he replies, matching your tone mockingly. He hastily pushes your thighs back apart as if annoyed at the inconvenience you’d caused by closing your legs. “I’ve been talking you up to my dad for weeks. I told him how much it’s helped me. I think it could help him too.”

Your mind is swirling. You can’t get the fact that Kent can see straight up your skirt as his son touches you out of your head. The way his eyes won’t leave you makes your skin burn. The knowledge that your boyfriend has fully divulged your sex life to his dad over the course of the month is too much to process in the moment. “What are you suggesting?”

He breathes in deep, nose pressed to your hair. “I’m suggesting… my dad can make the same arrangement with you… the only stipulation being my approval.”

You look between Sam, trying to appear confident and powerful with his nerves seeping through the cracks of his facade, to Kent who can hardly bear to make eye contact. “You have a wife!”

Sam scoffs. “You think she has enough time left in her day to let him free use her like you let me?”

“But you love her.” You’re trying to appeal to Kent’s soft spot, if he has one.

“I do,” he agrees, finally speaking up. “But this isn’t a problem she’s equipped to fix. Because I love her, she can’t help me.” You shake your head, beckoning him for clarification. “I can’t…”

“Use her,” Sam finishes his thought, finger flicking at your clit as the words leave his mouth.

“Can’t use her,” Kent confirms. “Sam says that’s your area of expertise.”

He hums. “And you can keep a secret, can’t ya?” Sam reaches around, pulling the neck of your shirt down along with your bra as he exposes one of your breasts. He toys with your nipple as the pad of his finger strokes your slit, messy sounds emanating from it despite your conflicted feelings. “Baby,” Sam coos gently against your ear. “You need to turn your brain off. It’s not doing you any good.”

A part of you wants to fight him. This is a weird situation and you’d be right to kick them both out right now. At the same time, a more submissive version of yourself is clouding your judgment. Sam tends to flip a switch in your brain; it’s like your body is physically attuned to what he needs, and it’s your mission to deliver it to him no matter what. You’d spent a large portion of your relationship doing anything he could ask, so much so that it had become the expectation that you would let him take you in whatever way he needed and you would allow it with a smile. And every time before this, you had done that.

He begins to leave kisses down your neck, nipping at your ear. His hands sneak around your ass, managing to unbutton his jeans and pull them down his thighs just enough to retrieve his hard cock. He strokes it, the feel of the soft, hot skin meeting your back with every thrust against his palm. Sam finally lifts you up, setting your hole just above his entrance. Slowly, he lets you down until your ass is back in his lap, cock now nestled deep inside you. Your head rolls back, falling onto his shoulder as you moan, your walls stretching to take in his cock. His tip almost immediately finds the spongy spot inside you that seems to short-circuit you. That special part of your brain reserved for Sam is taking over. You watch Kent through droopy lids as Sam manages small thrusts into you, him studying your body intently.

“Look at her,” the blond chuckles. “She just melts around a good dick.” He presses his cheek against your hair once more. “So what do you say, baby? I just need one little ‘yes.’”

You study the man before you. Kent looks so much like Sam but more mature, chiseled. If that’s what waits for you in your future with his son, you would happily accept it. His broad shoulders on display as he leans back against the couch, arm stretched over the top, fingers twitching like he’s fighting himself from touching you. His legs spread open, you can’t help but look at his groin and view the tented fabric there, your legs squirming as you do, heels dragging across the cushion separating you from him as you bring your knees toward yourself.

Your voice feels like it will surely get caught in your throat, but you squeak out the word anyway. “Yes.”

You can practically feel Sam’s lips twist up into a smirk and he looks over at Kent whose eyebrow is quirked upward, a small smile on his face too. He slowly lifts his arm, reaching forward to place his palm on your shin and rub it soothingly.

“Good girl,” Sam purrs. He pats the side of your ass, helping you off him. His cock slides out with a quiet pop as you lean forward, pulling your legs back toward you to fold them beneath you as you move off Sam’s lap and wait for further instruction. “She’s all yours,” Sam says to his father.

Kent reaches over, running his fingers over your side as he takes on his role. “On your knees.” His voice is quiet but strong, though the intonation of his words is less confident than you’d expect. You do as he says, never one to make a man wait.

You look up at him through your eyelashes, hands on his knees as your legs fold below you on the floor. His expression is stoic as always, and you can’t read him no matter how hard you try. Sam is easy— his lip is always between his teeth when you’re in this position with him, hand roaming through your hair as he waits for your hot mouth to please him. Kent hasn’t moved an inch.

You glance nervously between father and son, and Sam is the one to give you an encouraging nod. “Help him get his cock out, baby.”

You slowly reach forward, toying with the metallic button on his jeans. You take your time, giving him the opportunity to stop you but of course he doesn’t, only focusing intently on you. You pull the zipper down and he finally moves, helping you tug his jeans down his legs and discarding them on the ground off to the side of the couch. All that’s left is the thin fabric of the tight black boxer briefs he sports.

His jeans, made of thick denim, had given you a hint as to how he may have been feeling, but with less fabric, it’s evident. You can see the shape of his twitchy cock so clearly now that you could trace the outline of him from his pelvis down to his upper thigh; and you do. He breathes in sharply at first contact, fingertips once again shaking at his sides like he wants to grab you and take control. Sam has never shown restraint like that, always handsy.

The younger man snaps his fingers from the other side of the couch and you pull yourself out of your thoughts, running your hand down Kent’s toned stomach and underneath his boxers. You hold the thick length in your hand, hardly able to get your fingers all the way around it. Admittedly eager, you free it from the constraints of his underwear and sit back on your heels to admire the way it throbs and bounces against the brown hair sprinkling his stomach.

Kent questions, voice low, “Too big?” You shake your head hesitantly. “Good. Show me you can take it.”

Kent grabs his length and holds it toward your mouth, seemingly having found some confidence. You lean forward, sucking on the tip, only able to put as much of him in your mouth as he allows with his hand blocking access to much of his length. Your tongue swirls around the big head, greedily swallowing the precum that rested there moments ago. It’s salty but subtle, only a teaser of what he has to offer if you can satisfy him. Gradually, he moves his hand further down his length and you take more and more in, lips smacking against the side of his palm with each head bob. “You’re teasing,” Sam tsks, directed at Kent. “She’s used to having dick down her throat.”

“‘Cause you can’t last long ‘nough to do this?” he replies, not even gracing Sam with a glance over.

You look at him in your peripheral, propped up on the couch with one leg bent, his hand stroking slowly at his own cock pulled out from the waistband of his boxers as he watches you. His eyes roll in silent response to his father.

Kent asks you, “That true? Just want it down your throat?”

You nod around him, humming in agreement and sending a wave of pleasure through his cock. He concedes, removing his hand and tangling it into the hair on the back of your head. Without warning, he shoves you down and helps you meet the skin of his pelvis with a sharp thrust of his hips. You gag at the sudden intrusion, but you can also feel your slick begin to drip down to your inner thighs.

“She can take it,” Sam reassures him. “Do it again.”

Kent does. Once, then another, until he’s throat fucking you and all you can do is keep your mouth open and let him abuse it. Your drool is spilling down his thick cock, and by the time he finally pulls out, a long strand of spit keeps you connected to his tip. You’re still slack jawed from the force of it, drool running from your mouth to your chin as you catch your breath. “No complains?” Kent questions, leaning forward to run his thumb over your wet face and gather more lubrication.

“No,” you manage to get out.

“Good girl.” He motions for you to get back on the couch, helping you kneel in the spot between him and Sam. “Been too long since I got to use a sweet li’l mouth.” Kent rests a hand on the nape of your neck, bringing you back to his groin. You lick along the underside of it as it rests against his stomach while he reaches back, running his middle finger along your spread slit. A low groan comes from between his barely-parted lips. “You really fuckin’ like this, huh?”

You take him in your mouth, in no rush as you bring his tip to the back of your throat while using your tongue to tease over the throbbing vein running along the underside of his length . As he continues to run his digits over your core, you set an even pace on his dick.

You can’t help the moans and whimpers escaping your throat as Kent’s fingers glide effortlessly around your clit, and you can tell by the way his muscles constrict that he can feel it reverberate around his cock. A thick finger slips into your cunt and despite the quick fuck Sam had provided you just a few minutes ago, Kent grunts at how your walls suck his digit in and collapse around it. “She ever taken a cock this big before?” he asks Sam.

“She’s taken mine.”

Kent uses his free hand to brush your hair over your shoulder, exposing the side of your face to him as you suck on his cock. “Nev’r had such a thick cock before, huh, doll?”

You know you’ll upset one of the men no matter how you answer, so you just look up at Kent the best you can and give him a good view of his dick sliding up and down your tongue. Your foot, pressed against Sam’s leg, wiggles just enough to let him know you haven’t forgotten him. He grabs it and gives it a quick squeeze. You can feel the wet of his precum mixed with the slick of your pussy left behind on his member coating his hand as he does so.

“Her cunt takes it better if you make her cum first,” Sam says.

“She’ll take it fine long as she’s horny,” Kent argues. “‘Nd she is.”

“Which one of us has fucked her?”

“Fine,” Kent says with a roll of his eyes. “We’ll do it your way. But next time, I’m doing it mine.”

Next time.

Before you can ruminate too much on the statement, Kent adds another finger to your slick cunt and begins fucking in and out of you faster. His thumb reaches around to continue attacking your clit with harsh circles. Sam’s hands join in, groping at your thighs and hips, squeezing and stretching your delicate skin.

You find yourself getting distracted with all the sensations, mouth hanging open. Kent’s cock twitches and it falls from between your lips, slapping his stomach before bouncing back up to idle in the air, pumping blood keeping it at attention. His free hand grips at your jaw, forcing your mouth open and he shoves himself back inside, holding you to the base of his length. “I know you got better manners ‘n that.”

Sam’s palm makes sharp contact with your ass. “Apologize.” As soon as Kent releases you from his cock, you choke out an apology, trying to catch your breath and soothe your gag reflex all at once. He strokes your cheek with his thumb, directing you back to his cock with a gentler touch.

Kent’s fingers, thicker and rougher than Sam’s, stretch at your tight walls. His thumb, though a secondary concern to the digits pumping in and out of you, is still quite skilled. He catches the right spots of the sensitive nub, applying enough pressure to have you rolling your hips in time. As your moans grow louder around his cock, he picks up his intensity.

“You have to ask before you cum?” Kent inquires.

You pull off his cock to answer, holding it to your lips as you stroke the hot, thick flesh in your hand. “If Daddy says so.”

“‘Daddy,’” he repeats. You don’t need to look up at him to know he’s smirking over at Sam. Your cheeks flush red, mouth returning to work.

“She calls me that sometimes,” Sam says. You wonder if he looks as embarrassed as you imagine him to be. He clearly didn’t think that part important enough to divulge earlier.

“You already like fuckin’ daddies, huh, darlin’?” You nod hesitantly, still refusing eye contact. “Let’s see how ya like the real thing. Gotta cum first.”

You prepare for the finger fucking to speed up, but instead, Kent pulls out. Your eyes quickly snap up to his while his hands grab your sides, helping you to your knees to straddle his lap. Kent bunches the fabric of your skirt up around your stomach before pulling your shirt over your head. He makes quick work of your bra, unhooking it with ease and tossing it away. His eyes are locked on your breasts in front of his face, nipples hardened as they’re exposed to the cool air.

“Isn’t she pretty,” Sam coos. You look over at him still palming his cock at the other end of the couch. “Lips all red and puffy and used.” He’s turning himself on as he takes in the sight of you and your instinct is to reach over and help him, but Kent seems intent on having you to himself right now. His cock has nestled its way between your swollen pussy lips, dripping in your spit and the wet leaking from your cunt. He humps against you, his shaft running along your pussy and his tip snagging your hole just enough to make you jump, the threat of his length entering you present each time he repeats the motion.

“Gotta ask before you cum on Daddy’s dick,” he instructs over your whimpers. Kents lips wrap around your nipple, teeth giving it little nips as he sucks it into his mouth. If not for his forearms on your back, hands curled over your shoulders to keep you down on his throbbing length, you’d have collapsed as the knot in your stomach grows unbearably tight, head foggy with lust. You can’t believe you’re grinding on your boyfriend’s dad’s cock in front of him, but even more, you can’t believe how much you’re enjoying it.

“Gonna cum,” you cry out, head rolling as your back arches, tits pushed further into Kent’s face. He gives your nipple a quick bite.

“Ask.”

“Please!”

He scoffs, not letting up on his thrusts against you. “Try again.”

“Please let me cum,” you whimper, fingernails digging into Kent’s thighs below you, eyelids sealed tight as you try to hold back your orgasm.

“Haven’t taught her any manners?” Kent directs at Sam.

The younger blond narrows his eyes at you, and you meet his gaze through hooded lids. Your lips are parted, sucking in shallow breaths as your hips buck involuntarily with the stimulation to your core. “Don’t fucking embarrass me,” he hisses. “Ask Daddy if you can cum.” Your brows furrow. He nods pointedly to Kent, as if to clarify which of your daddies he’s talking about. “Look at ‘im.”

Your eyes latch onto the older man’s beneath you. His hips snap to yours a little harsher now. “Daddy,” you breathe, and a smirk tugs at the corner of his lip, spurring you on. “Please, Daddy, let me cum. Feels so good! Please!”

The way Kent pushes down on your shoulders has your pussy pressed down on his dick moving between your sweet lips, and with a little upward movement from the man’s hips, his fat leaky tip fits snugly into your hole, plugging you and teasing you just enough that you feel the knot in your stomach tighten one final time before promptly beginning to undo itself. You look frantically at the rugged blond, and thank Yoba he gives you permission as a moan fights its way from your throat. “C’mon, baby girl. Let go.”

His hands move to your hair cascading down your back, tugging on it and lifting your chin upward. He continues to thrust, maintaining the angle to keep his tip inside your spasming hole without entering any further. You feel the duality of being empty whilst having the sting of his fat head stretching your opening and all you want is for him to shove inside you and fuck you through your orgasm. Kent clearly knows it from the look on your face and the way your hips move on top of him, but he doesn’t allow you to take what you need from him. His tongue flicks your other nipple as you ride it out, your fingers finding their way into the hair at the back of his head and tugging gently at the dirty blond strands.

You finally drop down, burrowing your face in his neck. He smells like expensive cologne and whiskey, a hint of smokiness you can’t place marrying the two distinctive scents. Before you can relax, Kent finally angles his hips further down, just enough to push his heavy dick inside you. His hips meet yours as he bottoms out. Despite your orgasm and the abundance of wet between your thighs and coating Kent’s dick, the stretch still shocks a gasp out from between your lips. He holds you there for a moment, allowing just a second to adjust before pulling most of his length out and bullying it back in.

Each rough thrust earns a breathy moan until he sets a lazy pace, rolling his hips with every meet of your hips. The motion directs the head of his cock into your g-spot and you feel so full, so good. Kent wraps his hand lightly around your neck, squeezing just enough to increase your lightheadedness and pull you closer to him. Your eyes meet, faces only inches away. He licks his lips hungrily before leaning forward and pressing them to your swollen ones. It’s slow at first, trying to pick up one another’s rhythm. Your tongue grazes his bottom lip and he quickly opens his mouth to you, shoving his own past your lips. His hands grow grabby, fingers burying into the fat of your ass to help you meet his deep thrusts.

Kent has managed to maintain a rather stoic, dominant appearance thus far, but the mask begins to slip. He groans into your mouth, chest heaving under your palms, maneuvering your body to get himself off. As he pulls back to catch his breath, you whine, “Feels so good, Daddy.”

“Yeah, baby girl,” he agrees, stroking your cheek with his thumb. Glancing over, you notice Sam’s hard expression, clearly not having enjoyed watching the two of you make out the way you’d enjoyed doing it. Kent follows your gaze. “Think your boyfriend is jealous.”

“I think so too.” You stick your bottom lip out, looking at the younger blond through your lashes as his dad fucks your slick cunt. “What’s wrong, Sammy?” The look on his face tells you that you’ll have a punishment to face after this is over. Being patronized in front of others never sits well with him, and his father is far from an exception in any scenario.

Kent pats your hip. “How ‘bout you kneel down and give him some attention.”

You slowly climb off his length, the void of his cock from your pussy almost paining you as you’d been well on your way to your next orgasm. Kent directs you to the middle cushion of the couch, your face at Sam’s crotch. At some point, he’d stopped playing with his cock and when you pull it back out from his boxers, it’s only half erect. With Sam, it never takes much to get the blood flowing to his dick and you love running your fingers over the silky length, watching it begin to throb and grow with minimal contact. Precum begins to pool in the tip again, leaking out onto his stomach as he gets hard and creating little strings of fluid connecting his cock head to his abdomen as his cock throbs in front of you. You feel the couch dip behind you, Kent kneeling as he positions his cock at your hole and reenters, filling you so good.

You take Sam’s cock in your hand, swirling his red tip around your tongue. You love to run it along the ridge of the underside of his head, Sam always so sensitive and responsive there. He lets out a deep breath, hand resting instinctively on the back of your head. You take your que, opening your mouth and letting his dick enter as Kent begins toying with your clit.

You’re not sure if it’s on purpose, but Sam and Kent set near identical paces on each hole. You feel so stuffed with Kent’s fat cock filling all the space in your pussy, walls clenching desperately around him each time he forces his way in, while Sam’s long dick reaches the back of your throat and forces drool to spill from your lips and down his shaft as he pushes your head down. His free hand grips at your neck; he loves to feel the head of his dick through your skin as he fights to get himself all the way into your mouth. The constant push and pull has you taking the full length of both cocks, no other option left with the men on either side of you both looking to bottom out inside you with each thrust. Fully used for their pleasure, and you love it as much as they seem to.

Deepthroating Sam for so long has his cock twitching wildly, raspy moans coming out with no control. “Gonna make your Daddy cum, baby,” he whines. He secures you by your hair, thrusts growing deeper and slower until he’s holding himself in your mouth with shallow little bucks of his hips. Your tongue licks the underside of his cock as you wait for the thick white strands to shoot down your throat. As he releases, he whimpers your name. It’s a sound that always brings you to the edge and tonight is no exception, cunt clenching around the cock inside it as you swallow up Sam’s cum, pulling off with a smile and a lick of your lips.

“So good, baby. C’mere.” Sam tilts your head upward as you lift yourself onto your palms, accepting his kisses while his father continues to fuck you. One hand rubs at your clit still while the other gropes at your waist, pulling you back onto him with each thrust. “Getting close?” Sam knows you so well, he can pick up on these things just by the sounds you make. You nod fervently. Kent grabs your tit, pushing your torso up quickly so your back hits his chest. He continues to pound you as his fingers toy with your clit and one of your nipples, fully on display for Sam. He climbs to his knees, running a thumb over your cheek so sweet while he studies your face twisting in pleasure, so close to your peak. The way Kent gropes you, you think he may be getting close too. “Don’t finish in her,” Sam says, receiving an irritated grunt from Kent.

“That’s her call.”

Sam gives you a pointed look. You know you should agree with him, but you’re not one to say no, especially when you’re this close to cumming and the last thing you want is to clench around nothing as you hit your peak. You skirt around giving a straight answer. “Whatever Daddy wants.”

Sam glares over your shoulder and you’re sure Kent is returning the gesture as he begins to fuck meanly into your cunt. He leans his chin on your shoulder, whispering, “Cum for Daddy.” It only takes moments before you can follow his order, your hands clinging to Sam as you bury your face against his neck, unable to hold back loud, high-pitched moans. Sam holds you, running fingers through your hair as you’re fucked through your second orgasm. As you begin to come down, Kent delivers a few quick thrusts, hands tight on your hips as he bottoms out in you. A spurt of cum coats your cervix and you think he’s ignored Sam’s ask until he suddenly pulls out and sprays the rest of his load over your puffy wet lips. Sam seems to think he’s won, still not happy with the location of Kent’s cum but willing to accept it over a creampie. You stay quiet, sneaking a glance back at Kent as he strokes the last of his cum out of his cock, who gives you a subtle wink as he acknowledges his secret slight to Sam. The sound of his hand rubbing over his sticky cock fills the room, growing quiet as he finishes and collapses back to the couch. Sam dismisses you to the bathroom to get cleaned up.

When you return, still feeling the squish of Kent’s cum threatening to spill out of your pussy, the men are fully clothed. You grab your shirt from the floor, throwing it on without your bra. Sam begrudgingly hands over your panties he’d taken earlier and you slide those on, readjusting your skirt and joining the two on the couch. “So…” you say, “do you feel better?”

Kent chuckles, placing his hand on your bare knee. “I do. Sam was right about you.”

The younger man slings his arm over your shoulders, pulling you close and pressing a wet kiss to your cheek. “Don’t get used to it. I have first dibs.”

“You don’t mind sharing,” Kent says.

Sam grunts. “Actually, I think that’s the last time I do anything nice.”

“Really? I liked being nice,” you smile innocently.

“You won’t like it later tonight,” he assures, confirming your theory of an impending punishment. “I’m going to clean up. You should probably get going, Dad. It’s getting late and Yoba knows Mom will freak out if you’re not home after Vincent goes to bed.”

Sam heads off to the bathroom, leaving you two alone as Kent pulls on his jacket near the front door. “That was… really nice,” he reiterates as you walk toward him to see him off. “Thank you. I hope you enjoyed yourself.”

“I did,” you blush.

“I mean what I said earlier.” You rack your brain, the recent events all blurring together right now. He leans in closer, voice dropping to that familiar tone that stirs something in your stomach. “Next time, you’re not cumming until my cock is in you. I don’t care if you take it better. It’s a waste to be doing that when I’m not inside you to fuck you dumb.” You bite your lip, looking up at him as you fidget with your fingers. “And next time, I’m not pulling out.” The sink in the bathroom begins to run, alerting the two of you to the closing gap of time you have alone. Kent leans in, stealing a long kiss that has you moving closer, not wanting to break away. He grins down at you, clearly satisfied with the way he’s able to lure you in now. “Thanks again, darlin’. See you soon.”

— Part 2 — Part 3 —

[midnightfantasiez]

Pineapple Slice | Octoberfest Day 4

➺ Pairing - one-night stand!Changmin x fem!reader

➺ Drink - Mimosa with a shot of vodka (aka one-night stand!au x public sex)

➺ Summary - All you wanted was to just drink the night away and forget about all of your problems, but what if someone offers you something much better than alcohol? Would you be able to reject the offer?

➺ Word Count - 1,881

➺ Warnings - Smut (18+, minors DNI), cursing, alcohol consumption, reader is pretty much drunk, messy makeouts, petnames (sweetheart, baby), dirty talk, hickeys, blowjob, cum tasting, public sex (which is also kinda rough-ish), unprotected p in v, hair pulling, reader digs her nails into Changmin's back 🫣

➺ Author’s note - hehe it's my turn for my contribution to our octoberfest collab!! surprise surprise this is written for my lovely @sungbeam / @beamtori happiest birthday 妹 i love you to the moon and back 😚❤️ this is also inspired by baekhyun's song so i highly suggest listening to it while reading this 🤭 (also hi hello @kyaroscuro 😙)

➺ Taglist - @deoboyznet @kflixnet @k-films @flwoie @mamuljji @synthwxve @j4edo @daisyvisions @momhwa-agenda @snowflakewhispers @h0mebody-heaven @nyu-topia @jaminthemiddle (join my permanent taglist here!)

➺ OctoberFest Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The sounds of the blaring music coming out from the speakers of the club were now beginning to annoy the fuck out of you instead of making you go high a couple of hours prior.

It has been a pretty rough week at work, and you needed a change of environment after being glued to your computer screen from 8 a.m. to 6 a.m. throughout the week. So you figured it wouldn’t hurt to visit a newly opened club just a few blocks from your apartment. 

Seoul was a bustling city, after all, so it’s without a doubt that the nightlife here is pretty wild and can last till sunrise the next day. It wasn’t something you were particularly fond of at the beginning since you grew up by the beach, but you figured that you had to accept it if you wanted to survive in the big city. 

Naturally, the club slowly became a place of comfort for you every once in a while after your co-workers introduced you to the party scene. You used to be terrified of even entering such places, but over time, you have loosened up and enjoyed the feeling of getting high once in a while—especially after a hectic week at work. 

Instead of calling your regulars up for company, you challenged yourself by going to the club alone. As much as you love your friends, there are also times when you rather enjoy your little alone time by yourself and take in everything that has happened throughout the week.

So off you went as you grabbed one of your jackets hanging by the doorstep, and you quickly made your way into the club by showing your ID. It was one of the largest ones you’ve been to, and it would’ve been a lie to say that you were slightly overwhelmed being in such places all alone.

Thinking of the best solution to calm your nerves, you head straight for the bar—order a cup of mimosa with a splash of vodka and almost chugging it down with a single gulp. Once the alcohol hit your systems, you knew that there was no turning back before you started ordering a couple more drinks to last throughout the night. 

Before you finally came to your senses, the bartender had to step in to stop you in your tracks��worrying that the amount of alcohol in your system would eventually bring out the opposite effect that you were planning to have. Frustrated, you snatched the bottle of vodka in his hand before slamming down a massive chunk of dollar bills onto the counter before you decided that it was good to get some fresh air at this point. 

Eventually, you didn’t end up too far from the club, where you spotted a dimly lit alleyway where you could lean back against the wall and drink to your heart's content. You couldn’t care less if people were passing by and were giving you looks—you just needed some time alone. 

Right before you were about to hit the halfway mark of drinking the vodka, a hand suddenly extended out from the side and grabbed your wrist—the figure slowly moving up close to you so that the one sole light source in the alleyway shone upon their faces, revealing a seemingly rather tall and good looking man. 

“Sweetheart, I don’t think it’s wise for you to finish that entire bottle like that. You’re going to have a horrible hangover after this,” he spoke firmly, his hand now wrapping over the bottle to try to take it away from your hands.

“Who are you, and why do you care? Leave me the hell alone! I can do whatever I want~” You slurred, slowly getting all worked up as the alcohol was taking control of your consciousness. 

But it seemed as if the man wasn’t going to give up easily, and he yanked the bottle away from your hands and placed it far up above his head, causing you to jump up and down, trying to reach for your liquor. 

“Stop it! Give it back to me!” You argued as you continued jumping before you realised that you accidentally stepped on the male’s shoe before falling straight into his embrace—his other free hand now wrapping around your waist. 

Your legs immediately go numb when you whiff the perfume he is wearing—a hint of vanilla with a mix of peony, which also happens to be one of your favourites. Unbeknownst to you, you slowly buried your face in the crook of his neck, your heavy breathing hitting the surface of his skin. 

The male was slightly taken aback by that sight, but he finally reassured you by caressing your hair a little bit before trying to pull you away so that he could talk to you face to face. “Let me escort you home, hmm? You’re better at crashing straight down onto the bed in your current state.” 

However, you refused to budge. “No~ I still can drink! I wanna drink!” 

The male shook his head for a while, seemingly trying to come up with something that could help distract you for a bit before he felt something on his pants. 

Or rather, his dick. 

The moment he looked down, your hands were slowly caressing his bulge as you looked at him full of lust. It was definitely the alcohol that made you feel this way, not to mention that invigorating scent of his that just made you want to have him. 

In the blink of an eye, you dove right in and crash your lips against his, moving your tongue around messily. The moment you felt his lips against yours, you knew you would not return home anytime soon. There was this pineapple scent on his lips—possibly from the liquor he had before crashing into you, or it was some sort of flavoured lip balm he had put on for the night.

Either way, it made you crave more, and you began to move your lips around messily before the male overpowered you by refuting back the same action. 

“Oh, now you’ve done it, sweetheart.” 

Without warning, he immediately pushed you to the walls of the alleyway before kissing you feverishly. He quickly pulled your collar down to expose that little part of your skin before he moved down to lick your sensitive spot. The moans slowly filled the alleyway and eventually the quiet night, and you did the same by unzipping his pants to dive your hands into his pants to feel him raw. 

“You like what you feel, baby? Do you wanna taste it?” The male smirked in between his kisses.

“Y-Yes, p-please I want it so bad, umm-”

“Ji Changmin, but just call me Changmin will do sweetheart,” he huffed before taking in a deep breath to continue unbuttoning your shirt to reveal your bra. 

As the tension in the air grew, you immediately bent down to pull out his full length before shoving it all into your throat. It hurt a little when you felt his cock tugging at the back of your throat, but the taste of it was what kept you going. 

His precum that was oozing out slightly from his tip tasted exactly like pineapples, just like the one on his lips that you had kissed earlier. And god, this was so much better than the vodka you were chugging down minutes ago. 

“It tastes good, doesn’t it? Much better than all of the alcohol you had consumed for the night, huh?” Changmin groaned as he grabbed a fistful of your hair to push your head deeper, making sure you wouldn’t put any of his liquids to waste.

“Mhm-mhm…” You responded to his comment as you tried to keep your mouth as wide open as you possibly could—god, you wished you could suck on this delicious cock all day long. 

With a few more jerks, you were beginning to feel more of his cum oozing out before you knew that he was close. So you decided to quicken the pace before he eventually gave in to release everything into your mouth, and you made sure to swallow every single drop of them before standing back up to wipe the excess off your lips. 

“God…you taste so sweet, Changmin…W-What’s your secret?” You asked while catching your breath.

“Would you like to find out?” He asked with a sly smile on his face before pinning you against the wall once more to lift one of your legs and pull your underwear aside to rub his dripping cock at your entrance. “Tell me how good I taste, baby. Give it to me one more time.” 

You rolled your eyes back the moment he pushed his whole length inside of you, tearing your tight walls apart. As he slowly quickened up the pace, you slammed one of your hands up against the wall as you wrapped your fingers around the concrete—the adrenaline rushing through your veins with the stimulation you were feeling with the alcohol and having sex with him at the same time.

“God! You’re so fucking good, Changmin!” You screamed as every push he made just made you crave more—the pain was now the least of your worries as you both went on for minutes. 

“You want it deeper? Do you think you can handle all of it?” He challenged with a smirk on his face.

“Y-Yes! Give it all to me!” 

“You like how sweet I taste, sweetheart?”

“Very! Ugh, harder. Harder! Changmin!” 

God, what a mess you’ve been for tonight. 

But this sight of you was a blessing to his eyes, and he was going to make sure you remember every inch of his cock and how it feels throughout your thick, sensitive walls. Most importantly, he was going to ensure that you were going to remember his taste forever.

“Hngh- I’m gonna cum, baby-” Changmin groans.

“Cum all of it for me, do it inside-” You pleaded as you placed your other hand onto his shoulders—your fingers digging deep into his skin. 

With a simple scoff that came out from his mouth, Changmin did a few more hard and deep thrusts before ejecting all of his warm, sweet liquid into you, having the excess ones drip down onto the floor as you both moaned out loud together at the same time. 

When you came down from your high, Changmin leaned in to give you a soft, gentle peck on the lips before he moved some strands of your hair that had fallen onto your face throughout that tremendous workout you both had. “So, do you still want your vodka, sweetheart?”

“Not anymore, now that I’ve tried something better,” you replied breathlessly as you rested one of your fingers on his chest, drawing circles to tease him for a bit. 

“Something tells me you want to stay, and you haven’t got enough of the sweet juices out of me, huh?” He chuckled. 

You simply just give him a teasing smile before you turn your back against him and bend down to rest against the walls as your hand reaches behind for his dripping cock to adjust it to your entrance once more.

“It’s all your fault that I got lost in your sweetness, Ji Changmin.” 

[shlonguru]

Lucifer x Fem!Reader - White Party in the Lust Ring

Pairing : Lucifer Morningstar x Fem!Reader (Alastor's sister)

Summary : Being Alastor's little sister can have its perks, but if you're fighting with him it can push you close to certain unexpected people.

Warning : 18+, Smut, oral, creampie, teasing, overstimulation, cunnilingus, daddy issues, daddy kink (shocker), edging, praise kink.

Word count : 5029 words (oml it keeps getting worse)

My hyperfixation on Lucifer is far from over (help) but I have received some requests that all contributed to this smut so I'm sorry that I couldn't reply to one specific request but I would like to thank you all. I hope you all enjoy~ Once again I want to thank @wipmoop for their amazing artwork for the cover! If you wanna check out the uncensored version of the cover, it'll be up on their page soon, they're genuinely awesome, check them out with love ♥ Shlonguru out! o/

~ At the Hazbin Hotel ~

Life was hard being Alastor’s little sister. He might have been very good at protecting you but he made sure your freedom was limited in return. In fact, you weren’t even sure if he protected you because he cared about you or because he was territorial. And he was hard to bargain with. You were living with him amongst others at the Hazbin Hotel and were more than bored during your days until you were offered a job working as Lucifer’s assistant. The only reason Alastor didn’t make a fuss about you working there, despite him absolutely hating Lucifer’s guts, was because Lucifer was powerful enough to make sure you were safe at all times.

This morning, you had just been in a fight. Some of your friends had invited you to a fun night out and Alastor had noticed you packing more than usual on your way to Lucifer’s. He had noticed as he walked by your room.

“Aren’t you packing a little heavy today?” He inquired.

You rolled your eyes already knowing what was coming.

“Yeah, my friends are going out in the Lust Ring tonight, so I packed another outfit and other stuff so I can change before I join them.” You replied.

“The Lust Ring? I don’t think so, dear. Do you want to end up like Angel Dust, with an Overlord owning your soul?” He calmly replied.

“Yeah, you’re right! Which is why I have the perfect solution for that, how about I don’t sell my soul to anyone? That should do it I think.” You stated snarkily, zipping up your bag.

“I’ve already explained to you that it isn’t that simple and that you have more value to the eyes of most people in hell than you seem to realize.” He countered, slightly losing his cool.

“Listen, I’m a fully grown adult, I know how to take care of myself.” You calmly tried to explain.

“You might be a grown adult, but you are not nearly as strong as you would need to be to take care of yourself.” He raised an eyebrow, knowing he had made a good point.

“Huh… So, what do you want me to do exactly? Rot here for the rest of eternity? No, I’m going out.” You started making your way out of the hotel when he snapped his fingers, making your bag teleport next to him.

You angrily walked back and grabbed it again.

“Stop that, will you? I said I’m going out!” You walked away only for him to snap his fingers again, repeating the same process.

You turned around red of anger. “You’re gonna make me late to work!” You shouted.

“You’re lucky I let you work for this minikin at all.” He replied defiantly.

“Fuck you!” You yelled, flipping him the finger and leaving, slamming the hotel’s door behind you and choosing to abandon your bag.

~ At Lucifer’s Tower ~

You got along with your boss really well, you both were very cheerful beings and your personalities just clicked, he had offered you the job of assistant because he was “having a hard time handling all of his important business”. You knew by now that he was actually just working on his ducks so much that he was never able to handle the rest of his business on time. He had also offered you the job when he saw how bored you were at the hotel, that and your common trait of fighting with Alastor almost every time you were in the same room. You enjoyed working for him and he was very grateful to have you.

You arrived at Lucifer’s tower a little late, but it wasn’t unusual for you. Lucifer was busy designing a new duck in his office when he heard you arrive and came to greet you.

“Hello y/n!” How are we doing in this fine morning?” He smiled, always happy to see you.

“Hello Sir, I’m ok.” You replied in an irritated tone, the difference with your usual cheerful self, alarming Lucifer.

“What’s up? You seem like, super down.” He questioned.

“Yeah, I got into a fight with Al.” You replied coldly, removing your coat and hanging it.

“Oh, that bastard, it’s like he can’t start his day if he hasn’t ruined someone else’s.” He rolled his eyes at the mention of Alastor.

“Right? That asshole...” You let out.

“What did he do this time?” He crossed his arms, resting his shoulder against the wall near you.

“My friends are going out tonight in the Lust Ring and they invited me, but he won’t let me go cause he’s afraid I’m gonna end up in danger. Fuck, I can’t do anything. Hell is literally filled with bad people, I can’t just stay locked up forever.” You whined.

“Wait, you frequent the Lust Ring?” He asked curiously. You looked at him and noticed a hint of red on his face.

“I would like to! But he won’t let me!” You moaned. “Why? Is that surprising?” You added.

“No…” He looked away, clearly embarrassed. “I guess I had never seen you under that light before.” He smiled. “But you are a bad bitch, so it’s not too surprising.” He finished.

Lucifer paused, looking away, kind of hesitant.

“What if I accompanied you? That way, he couldn’t say he’s afraid you’d end up in danger, you’d be with the strongest being of Hell~” He offered in a self-assured tone.   

“Really? You’d do that?” Your eyes sparkled at the offer.

“Sure! it’s been a while since I came by and said hi to Ozzie anyways.” He chuckled.

You paused for a second and remembered you had left without your bag.

“I left all of my clothes and stuff at the hotel though.” You sighed.

“I’ll get someone to go get your stuff for you, how does that sound?” He smiled.

“You’re the best!” You cheered excitedly hugging him. He smiled and hugged you back.

“Is there a theme to this party?” He asked.

“It’s a white party.” You smiled.

“Not very surprising of the Lust Ring if you ask me.” He stated.

You nodded and proceeded with your day, your mood back its usual merry self.

By the end of the day, you had gotten your bag back and had gotten ready at Lucifer’s place.

He was waiting in his living room for you to finish getting ready in the guest room. The blonde demon was wearing an all-white suit made perfectly for him.

He saw you come out of the room and looked like he had stopped breathing.

You were wearing a white dress that was perfectly balanced between cute and sexy, the contrast with your crimson mane was sumptuous. You had done your make-up for the party, a black smokey, making your usually ethereal ruby eyes look fierce.

“You like it?” You smiled, showing off your outfit.

“Oh damn…” He wiped his forehead, looking warm as he ventilated himself with his hand as he stood up. “You’re hot!” He blurted, catching himself and putting his hand over his mouth. “I mean, not that you usually aren’t, trust me I love your work outfits, you look very preppy it’s great, but you look, I mean, sexy!” He looked embarrassed at how surprised he was.

“Thank you?” You questioned. “Indeed, I wouldn’t wear that to work.” You chuckled. “It wouldn’t be very convenient don’t you think?” You teased, walking up to him. You were close in height, but you still won by a few inches.

“Right! Oh lord land me strength…” He muttered to himself.

“What was that?” You asked.

“Nothing! Let’s go!” He handed you his arm and you left together for the party.

~ At the White Party ~

You arrived at the party, it was huge, everything was screaming lust, and the whole venue was gorgeous. As you walked in, Lucifer spotted Asmodeus, with whom he had fun reconnecting with Asmodeus and even introduced the two of you.

“And this is y/n!” He introduced you after chatting for a while.

“Oh, is this your girl?” Ozzie asked boldly.

You unintentionally blushed and smiled to hide it.

“No…” He replied much more flushed than you. “She’s my assistant.” He added.

“You mean your assistant in bed, right? Cause you two got that chemistry if you know what I mean, it’s like, hard not to notice.” Ozzie continued, noticing how awkward you had both become, making him smirk.

“Stop it Ozzie! I told you it’s not like that.” Added Lucifer seriously before turning to you awkwardly. “Sorry about that y/n.”

“Yeah okay, Luci, then welcome to the Lust Ring to you and your totally-just-platonic-friend then.” He smiled mischievously before leading you to your VIP zone with your group of friends.

You and your friends enjoyed the party, and so did Lucifer. You danced with him, drank with him, in fact, you were all feeling tipsy and at this point acted much more casual with him than you thought possible, though he still made sure you didn’t go overboard. In fact, he had had way more than you but looked completely unaffected, however. You had noticed you two were getting closer and closer as the night went on. You enjoyed grinding against him and he enjoyed it just as much, as well as showing off his own dance moves. And after a few hours, you both sat down at your booth.

“Wow Luci! Thank you so much for tonight you sure know how to party!” You thanked him.

“Thanks! It’s been a while, but it seems like you don’t forget good habits.” He smiled.

“I can’t believe my dickhead of a brother would keep me from experiencing all of this.”

“I mean he sure is a dickhead, don’t get me wrong, but I think it’s fair that he doesn’t want anything bad happening to you.” He replied calmly.

“Well, I guess it depends on what you consider a bad thing?” You smiled teasingly at him.

“What do you mean?” He asked tilting his head slightly.

“Let’s just say I’m sure there are things he wouldn’t want happening to me that I wouldn’t consider bad in the slightest.” You looked at Lucifer intently getting a little closer.

“Oh yeah?” He said a smile forming in the corner of his mouth. “Such as what?” He leaned towards you slightly raising an eyebrow.

You took your opportunity and leaned in, pressing your lips against his, surprising him slightly but he immediately reciprocated, running his fingers through your hair. He pulled you slightly closer to him and you rested your hands against his chest. After a moment he started kissing you deeper, getting greedier by the seconds. He placed a hand on your cheek, and you felt his tongue slide in your mouth and your whole body became warm from the inside. You shared this deep kiss for what felt like hours but had probably been minutes before you slowly pulled away, your half-lidded eyes looking at Lucifer with nothing but lust.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that, or I won’t be able to restrain myself.” He said looking back at you, gently holding your chin up, looking as lustful as you did.

You laid your hand on his thigh, squeezing it softly and earning a groan from him.

“Are you sure that’s what you want y/n?” He asked one last time. “Our relationship might never be the same.”

You looked him dead in the eyes. “Fuck our old relationship.” You smiled.

He smiled back. “Alright, then.”

And with that he deployed his six wings and took off, surprising you and holding you princess style. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck and looked at him, you could tell from the serious and determined look on his face that he meant business.

You started kissing and sucking on his neck, making him shudder lightly.

“Hold on y/n, I’m going as fast as I can, but if you distract me, it’s only going to take longer.” He pleaded.

“I’m just trying to keep myself busy…” You whispered, licking his earlobe, making his flight pattern weaker.

“Okay, enjoy yourself, I’ll make sure to not restrain myself later…” He added, still looking ahead.

“I would hate it if you did.” You countered, reaching down, and placing your hand on his crotch. His pants were as tight as they could get and what was underneath was throbbing. He immediately stopped mid-flight, making you yelp in surprise.

“Now you’ve done it y/n.” He changed positions, wrapping your legs around him, pressing his crotch against yours and moving his hands to your ass. He proceeded to kiss you deeply, moaning softly as he felt your soft lips against his. You melted into the kiss, feeling how wet your own crotch had gotten already. He pulled out after a moment and looked deep into your eyes, you could see the desire burning in his eyes, though he managed to keep himself more composed than you.

“As much as I’d love to display such an amazing show to all of Hell, it is not really my style.” He smiled. “So, you’re going to be a good girl and behave so I can get us where we need to be.” He looked at you seriously.

You nodded.

“Good.” He smiled, before going ahead and moving you back to princess style as he continued forward.

~ Back at Lucifer's Tower ~

It was hard, but you had managed to keep your hands to yourself for the remaining 2 minutes of the flight.

Lucifer landed through his huge panoramic windows that were left open into his bedroom at the top of his tower.

You had never been into his personal bedroom, mostly just his office, but it was beautiful. The red theme was very elegant, and his Caesar size bed looked incredibly comfortable. You walked inside amazed at how luxurious everything looked.

“Y/n?” You heard from behind you.

You turned around only to be faced with Lucifer’s glowing figure, lit from behind by the moonlight. He had a plotting look on his face, a devilish smile perfectly formed on his confident face. He was calmly walking towards you, rolling up his sleeves.

“I hope you had fun with your little mid-flight teasing…” He fake-chuckled then sighed. “…because it’s time to take responsibility.” The smile was still there but his expression was much more serious.

You didn’t move, you just waited for him to walk up to you. When he reached you, he grabbed your face with both hands, kissing you softly at first. You kissed him back, but the kiss quickly turned into a much more heated one. You kept kissing as you stepped towards his bed, you removed his jacket from him, and he unzipped your dress as he approached the bed.

Your dress fell to the ground, exposing your white laced lingerie. As soon as your dress hit the ground you had found yourself with your legs wrapped around his hips once more, his hands holding you up effortlessly as you made out. You reached the bed, and he laid you on it. He took a good look at your figure, your expression, your curves, your hair.

“Stunning.” He whispered.

“You’re not bad yourself.” You smiled.

“Thanks!” He exclaimed, removing his shirt and exposing his fit figure. You stared just long enough for him to start smirking at you. “Are you okay?”

“Nope.” You answered truthfully.

He giggled.

“You’re funny, now get ready.”

You hadn’t had time to realize what he meant when you felt your thighs get lifted and spread with enough force to surprise you. You didn’t have time to vocally question what was happening that you felt your panties being pushed to the side and Lucifer give a slow lick to all of your womanhood, making you moan louder than you were comfortable with. You rapidly pressed your hands on your mouth. As soon as you had done so you heard him.

“Nuh huh~” He hummed.

“What?” You questioned looking down at Lucifer buried between your thighs, though not doing anything to you anymore.

“Remove those hands and let me hear it.” He looked playful and serious.

You slowly removed your hands, and he immediately went back to his business, licking you thoroughly, you could tell not only did he know what he was doing but he was also greatly enjoying himself while doing so. It was like he could feel your pleasure, giving him the ability to always adjust perfectly. You felt his tongue enter you and go deeper than you thought possible. Your moans were getting louder, he knew what spots were the most sensitive, and he teased them, building your pleasure. He loved the control he had over how you were feeling, he ate you out as tenderly and as roughly as you needed to turn you into a moaning mess, grabbing at the sheets. Every time he felt you get closer, he started teasing another spot, building your frustration alongside your pleasure. It drove you insane and soon enough you found yourself pleading with him to let you come.

“Luci please!” You implored.

“Yes, what is it love?” He asked innocently, playing coy.

“Come on please, stop teasing me.” You pleaded.

“I wanna hear you say it.” He smiled, enjoying the situation to the fullest. “What do you want me to do?” He added.

���Luci please let me come!” You begged; any ounce of pride you had having left your body at this point.

Lucifer got visibly aroused at those words, his eyes turning red for an instant as he went back at it, passionately eating you out and making you come the next moment, unleashing all your pent-up pleasure as your back arched into the leg-shaking orgasm. You moaned his name loudly as you melted into the mattress. You could feel him smile as he finished enjoying you.

You were catching your breath and recovering as Lucifer started kissing up your body, your stomach, chest then neck. That’s when you heard him speak softly.

“That’s for teasing me.” He looked into your eyes before landing a soft kiss on your lips.

You were too astounded to talk back.

At this point his crotch was pressing against yours and he looked more excited than ever.

“Good start now let’s get a little more serious.” He grinned before flipping the both of you making you straddle him as he laid back. You realized at this moment just how much he had planned for you tonight.

“Hmm…we won’t need that.” He snapped his finger making any remnants of clothes either of you wore vanish, exposing your breasts to him for the first time. His eyes devoured you as you felt a false sense of control back. You rested your hands on his chest, pressing your breasts together.

“Is everything okay?” You asked with a teasing tone.

“Nope.” He replied, realizing what you were doing. You grabbed his hand and pressed it against your breast.

“Want some of that, Daddy?” You sneered.

He squeezed your breast in a way that sent jolt in all your body, letting a moan escape your mouth, you face immediately flushing.

“Oh, what was that?” He smirked then proceeded to fondle your breasts again, making you feel weak as you moaned.

“I don’t understand how you do this!” You whined.

“Do what?” He said as he did it again, sending jolts up your body.

“You’re not using dirty tricks on me, are you?” You asked skeptically.

He looked at you and laughed audibly, before composing himself and propping himself up with one hand, placing his mouth next to your ear.

“No y/n, I’m just that good.” He declared confidently. Your face went crimson as you felt embarrassed and tried to hold your moans in as he continued teasing your now rock-hard nipple.

“I mean, besides the fact that I’m pretty confident in my own skill, that must surely mean that we are particularly compatible, don’t you think?” He asked nonchalantly.

You nodded, trying your best not to get lost in the pleasure this tease was inflicting upon you.

Your eyes widened lightly as you realized that your clothes having now been removed from the equation, your private parts were now directly in contact, you used that to your advantage and softly grinded against his shaft, earning a loud moan from him, surprising the both of you.

“I guess you’re right.” You smiled from the corner of your mouth.

He grinned lightly blushing before grabbing your waist and flipping you around as if you were a feather. You were still on top of him but you had now found yourself in a 69, your crotch inches from his face and his throbbing member right in front of you. You didn’t need to look at him to know he was proud of it.

You didn’t want to give him time to take control, so you grabbed the base of his shaft and took his tip in your mouth. You heard him groan as you swirled your tongue around it before giving his cock a hungry lick from the bottom up.

“Easy there, we have all night.” He cheerfully declared, panting softly.

You ignored him and kept enjoying yourself, savoring him like a lollipop.

“I see how it’s- gonna be.” He exclaimed; you could feel him struggling to fake his composure.

In one movement he pulled you even closer to his face and spread your pussy before passionately starting to eat you out again. You quickly felt weak, you pulled his cock out of your mouth, letting a long moan escape as a trail of saliva still linked your mouth to his head.

“Take it easy, I wouldn’t want you to choke~” He taunted.

“Don’t worry about me, this is nothing.” You replied with conviction.

You proceeded to lower your mouth on his cock all the way to the base, his whole member tickling more than the entrance of your throat.

“Oh god-“You had taken him by surprise, forcing an intense moan out of him, as he gripped the sheets tightly, pausing his own activity.

“Oh dear, you might wanna slow down a little.” He gasped.

You had him and you knew it, you moved in swift motions, your tongue wrapped around his shaft, hitting all the way down each time as you felt his body contract and his dick pulsate more and more.

“Holy shit y/n wait, I’m gonna- “He moaned as you felt his cum explode your mouth. This surprised you as you had been so focused on getting back at him, but you swallowed everything. Enjoying every bit of it, sucking him dry, or so you thought.

You finished swallowing and peeked at him, his head laying on the mattress as he caught his breath. He noticed you and grinned through his panting. “Nice play Y/n, impressive even, I hope you had fun.”

“I very much did, thank you.” You replied cheekily.

“Cause now it’s my turn.” He announced. You immediately felt two fingers enter your hole. He voluntarily pressed hard against your G-spot, the sensation so intense you screamed in pleasure. He grabbed your thigh tightly with one hand and fingered you relentlessly with the other. The pleasure overwhelming as you helplessly melted into it.

“Luci…please-“ You attempted but were cut.

“I don’t wanna hear it.” He continued. You grabbed his thigh tightly as you felt yourself getting closer to the edge.

“Come on go ahead, come for me.” He groaned, his calm and sarcastic demeanor replaced progressively by a heated passion. You tried your best to resist but it was pointless. You turned around, catching a glimpse of him, and were caught off guard, witnessing his horns out and his eyes red while he looked like he was intensely enjoying himself. He pulled out his fingers and proceeded to eat you with all his might, his tongue hitting your spot just right to make you climax against his mouth as he savored all of it.

He finished enjoying himself while you recuperated from it all. When you peeked at him again, he had gone back to his usual self.

“Do you often get all red and…horny, I guess?” You asked.

He flipped you around, pressing you against his chest, face to face.

“What was that? Oh, you mean my horns and stuff? Only when I get heated. Do you not like it? Cause I can try to tone it down.” He asked, a worried look on his face.

“No, I like that I get you heated…” You looked away, a light blush appearing on your cheeks.

He smiled softly. He cupped your face then kissed you tenderly.

“You do have that effect on me.”

You felt his member back to its throbbing state. You kissed him deeply yet delicately before looking at him seductively.

“Luci, time for the main course don’t you think?” You rubbed your soaked entrance against his hard member. “I’m at my limit.” You begged.

Having witnessed his previous reactions, you weren’t surprised when you felt his member grow even bigger after you had pronounced those words.

“Good because I’m also reaching my limit.” He answered.

You felt his tip press against your entrance and slide all the way in as you both melted into each other, a deep sigh of relief escaping your mouths.

“Holy-…you feel so good.” He groaned. He sat up, setting you both in a lotus position before resting his hands on your hips and starting to thrust. The pleasure felt so visceral you both moved cautiously as if trying to not come too fast, but without noticing, you both picked up the pace, panting and moaning filling the air. Your hands were gripping his shoulders tightly as you rocked your hips. One of his hands had migrated to your ass, squeezing your cheek tightly and the other was fondling your breast. You cupped his face and kissed him deeply, playing with his tongue as you felt his member twitch inside of you. You ran your fingers through his hair while kissing him and noticed him moan more as you did so.

Soon, the position wasn’t allowing him to move as freely as he desired and he was now standing on his knees, holding both of your ass cheeks tightly as he pounded into you. You were panting heavily as you felt it coming once again.

“Coming already?” He teased, his own panting giving away how he also felt.

You nodded no, not very convincingly. He took that as a challenge and precisely hit your G-spot repeatedly until you came, whimpering and your grip weakening.

“Good thing you’re not coming dear.” He kissed your neck, slightly sucking on it leaving a hickey.

This position had become too much for you, so he laid you flat on your stomach.

“You’re hanging there Y/n?” He asked eagerly.

“Of course!” You replied enthusiastically, it felt like your stamina was bottomless for all this pleasure.

“Good.” He replied. You felt him enter you again hungrily from behind, his body hovering over yours as he held both of your wrists, pinning them down onto the bed. Each thrust forcing a louder moan out of you. It was like the more he fucked you, the easier it became for him to make you come. His moans had also become deeper as he kept thrusting, your own increasing tightness making it harder for him. He moved his hands to your hips and dug his nails into you, allowing him a better control as he thrusted even deeper than before. You held the sheets tightly as you tried your best to match his movements, both feeding off each other’s building pleasure.

“Y/n.” You heard from behind.

You tried turning around to tell him you felt yourself getting closer when you felt his lips roughly take yours. He could’ve sent you over the edge with that kiss alone, but he also thrusted deeper than he ever had at the same time, you could only lean into the kiss as you felt the two of you come simultaneously.

As soon as the wave had finished washing over you, you collapsed on the bed, and he collapsed on top of you. He quickly caught himself though, rolling next to you and pulling you into his arms. You both relaxed for a moment, holding each other.

“Oh, my lord, that was amazing!” You heard him speak first. You turned to him, and he was smiling at you.

“It really was.” You calmly replied.

“I told you I was confident in my skill.” He smiled turning from tender to confident as he traced his finger over your body.

“I guess it was alright.” You declared.

The silence following made you look up, only to be met with a devastated look on his face.

“I’m joking!” You added, feeling bad about your joke.

“Ah! I knew that!” He fake-laughed awkwardly trying to look confident. You laughed at how cute he looked.

You pecked his lips.

You cuddled for a while before you heard a buzzing sound.

“My phone! It must still be in my dress.” You reached your dress, covering yourself with the sheet of the bed, grabbing your phone then heading back to the bed.

You checked your phone and noticed 20 missed calls.

“Huh, fuck him.” You both exclaimed at the same time before staring at each other in surprise and bursting out laughing.

You heard another buzz and was expecting it from your phone, but no new notifications had appeared.

Lucifer grabbed his phone and started laughing nervously.

“What is it?” You inquired.

“That’s, hmm…” He showed you a message that read:

From 'Ozzie 🍆💦' : I saw you took off early with your totally-just-platonic-friend. How’s the banging? 😏🍑

You stared at it for a second then you both exchanged a look and blinked, before bursting out laughing this time even harder.

~ The End ~

[msschemmenti]

problem solved

jemily x reader

prompt: reader’s roommate is literally the worst but jj and emily have a simple solution for their third.

a/n: my roommate SUCKS and im a doormat when it comes to living situations so i need the outlet.

“where are you right now?” jj asked down the phone as she and emily drove through some deserted town in arizona. they’d been out in the dry heat for two days now and they were more than ready to go home. it didn’t particularly help that they’d just officially had a rather positive change in their relationship three weeks ago. having to jet off just days after such a big transition was proving to be a bit jarring. the sort of domestic bliss they’d found themselves living in was disrupted and neither of them liked it one bit.

“i’m sitting on a park bench. i can’t rant and rave like this in the apartment.” y/n sighed heavily down the phone.

jj pulled the phone from her ear to check the time and quickly moved it back to scold the younger woman. “it’s almost 8pm there, you shouldn’t be sitting on a park bench alone right now.”

emily scoffs in irritation, “put her on speaker.”

jj puts y/n on speaker and turns the phone in emily’s direction, “baby you’re on speaker now.”

“why are you sitting on a park bench alone at night?” emily interrogates.

“because i can’t openly complain in my apartment if my roommate is there. the walls are thin.” y/n explained again, feeling her frustration building as it got darker outside.

“well get to talking because i need you safely inside within the next 30 minutes.” emily prompted turning her attention back to the road.

“my roommate is literally the worst,” y/n groaned into the phone, slouching against the bench. “remember the whole getting another kitten without telling me thing, and the flea infestation thing, and the her girlfriend basically living here and using everything and not contributing to anything thing…” y/n listed.

the older women answered affirmatively, waiting to hear about the craziness of their girlfriend’s roommate this time. “my friend just called to let me know that my roommate was fired for playing hookie one too many times.”

“what?!” emily was the first to react. outrage festering at the surface.

“exactly! mind you, she’s not told me anything at all. so let’s see how long it takes her to mention something to me. it’s not like i don’t have bills of my own to pay— i can’t exactly afford this place on my own. if that was the case i wouldn’t have needed a roommate. and on top of that, they’ve got people over already and i could smell the weed from the parking lot. which is literally against the lease! why can’t they just eat an edible like the rest of us. also the illegal kitty they didn’t notify the office about. oh and also also don’t even get me started on the testing positive for—“ y/n ranted, frustration turning to anger.

jj, the self-appointed calm of the relationship, cut through the ranting in a calming voice. “baby, i hear you loud and clear. but can you take a deep breath for me.” she smiled hearing the younger woman huff but follow her instructions. she let her gaze shift to emily and shook her head, “you too emily.”

as both of her girlfriends took deep breaths, jj continued, “now that we’ve all calmed down a bit, let’s think of solutions. temporary ones or permanent ones. have you talked to your roommate about anything?”

“yes, and i mean at this point i feel like im wasting my breath.”

“when is your lease up? sometimes your landlord will let you out early. with a fee of course but we can deal with that later.” emily asked.

“i still have 5 months left. and trust me i’ve read the lease front and back and it’s going to cost me an arm and a leg to get out of this thing early.”

“well as i said we’ll handle that later.” emily mumbled pointedly. y/n groaned, already gearing up to refuse their help.

“why don’t you go stay at our place?” jj suggested quickly.

“but aren’t you in arizona?” y/n asked in confusion.

“yes, but that doesn’t mean you can’t go stay at our apartment. does it?” jj asked in her own confusion.

“yes it does. don’t you think it’d be weird for me to be in your space while y’all are away on a case?”

“no i don’t think it’d be weird. you’ve come over loads of times before. our space is just as much your space as it is ours.” emily replied.

“i don’t know em. i only officially became your girlfriend three weeks ago. if we’re looking at the traditional relationship timeline, we’re no where near the girlfriend staying in your apartment while you’re away.” y/n rambled.

“sweetheart, if we’re measuring our relationship in the traditional relationship timeline we were off before we even began.” jj reminded with a chuckle.

“yeah love, i don’t think casually sleeping together for months is how the traditional relationship timeline starts.” emily snorts. “plus, in sleeping together for months before officially becoming a couple, you’ve spent more nights in our apartment than your own at this point.”

“okay well.” y/n said quietly in defeat.

“exactly, you know where the key is and you know the security code. i want you to go pack your essentials and then head to our place.” emily spoke, letting some authority slip into her voice.

it had the desired response. “fine.” y/n groaned in exasperation. “but only because it’s getting dark and you know i can’t argue when you get all dom mommy on me.”

both emily and jj dissolve into laughter and y/n smiled sweetly as she made her way out of the park. once the older women quieted down jj spoke up casually, “call us when you get back to the apartment. and when we get back we’ll get you your own key.”

“my own key? you can’t say that so casually when you’re in arizona chasing a serial killer.”

“why does my location matter, when i get back i’ll say it just as casually as i said it now.” jj teased.

“i’ll even clean out part of my shoe closet when we get back so you can start keeping some things at the apartment as opposed to packing a bag everytime you come over.” emily added.

“cleaning out your shoe closet? your personal shoe vault. footwear heaven. just say you’re in love with me already.” y/n replied dramatically.

“i could, but i doubt you’d accept it since we’re in arizona chasing a serial killer.” emily chuckled.

“and you’d be right.” y/n nodded, settling into the seat of her car. “i’m in the car— heading to my place and then your place for the night.”

“the week.” jj corrected.

“for the week. i’ll call you when i get there. satisfied?”

“very. and we’ll deal with your lease when we get back.” emily said definitively. no room for argument.

“now drive safe— we’ll talk later.”

“okay,” y/n drawled slowly. “thank you.”

both women smiled softly, knowing the younger woman really struggled accepting help. “anytime, baby.”

[liillyliilly]

Halo

oikawa tooru x reader words; 10249 synopsis; He'd always been in love with her, it just took her a long time to feel the same.

When Oikawa was sixteen, she was eighteen.

“I swear you have a halo, just look at the way the sun curls itself around the edges of your hair. You have a halo around you.” She sat next to Oikawa and used her hands to create an imitation of a camera or frame that focused on how the sun backlit Oikawa.

The greenery of the hill they were pausing at, resting from a walk, was vibrant. The breeze filtered through the blades of grass and made a scent of earth linger around them. A setting sun was the backdrop of their conversation, she used it to flatter him.

He was so annoyed with her when she did that, his ambition was overwhelming for those around him but it never scared her off from him.

He wonders when that would change. It was a thought that remained; when would he cross a line and she would view his hunger as repulsive instead of laudable?

Oikawa scoffs, “You may think I’m an angel, but in reality, I’m just a drop in the ocean. Nothing special. One amongst many.”

“But just being counted among those many is still special. If the ocean didn’t have millions of small drops contributing and doing their part it wouldn’t exist in the first place.”

He bites his tongue. His deflections never worked on her.

She was older than him by two years, and she was best friends with his older sister. Oikawa also claimed her as a best friend.

Despite her being the younger of the duo, she was an outstanding example of poise and maturity in contrast to his older sister who was more like him, rash and immature. Oikawa could care less for his older sister’s other friends, but he loved it when she would come around. She could turn any moment into something special and memorable for him.

The halo moment with her happened when he started high school, while she was beginning the end of her journey in high school as a third-year student. His sister had already moved out and was living with her fiance.

While it was annoying that the older Oikawa sibling had asked her to watch over him, he didn’t mind her walking him to school in the mornings and her waiting at his volleyball practices to take him back home. She would always do homework or sit outside the gym and read with her headphones on.

“Let’s keep going, your mom is making katsu curry tonight.” She brushes off some grass from her school uniform, reaching out a hand for Oikawa to take so she can pull him up from the ground. He did have a halo in her eyes.

He tugs her back down, so she’s almost in his lap, “Ten more minutes.”

He likes it when she’s close to him. He’s sixteen, but he hopes that she could see beyond that. He hopes she doesn’t make this year the year she gets a boyfriend. She’s gone on dates with younger guys before, albeit, only one year younger than her. Maybe she’d make an exception for a two-year gap.

She takes her hand back from him and shoves him playfully. “You have five minutes and then we need to go.” He nods his head, staring at the mountain range that sits nearby.

She sighed, and laid back onto the ground, hands behind her head and legs crossed over each other. Her eyes were closed and she was soaking in the way the air cooled down slowly but surely as each second passed and night overtook day.

Oikawa tilted his head, resting his temple against folded arms that were lying on his knees that he had pulled up close to his chest. He just watched her.

When he was seven, she was nine. He’d felt ill when he heard that she’d be going camping instead of coming over to his house to spend time with his sister for an entire week. Just the thought of her being gone was agonizing.

That’s why during family dinner he declares a plan.

“I’m going to ask her to run away with me. It’s the only solution.” His face is covered in food and his mouth is full of mashed potatoes.

The older sister spits out her apple juice and laughs loudly. The mom chuckles from behind her napkin. She reaches over and touches Oikawa’s arm, “Honey, she’ll be gone for a week, and then back to keep playing for the rest of the summer break.”

Oikawa drags his hand down his face and complains. “That’s too long.”

His sister perks up and starts picking a fight with him, “You just want her not to leave so you can keep staring at her when she comes over here.” She makes a kissing face and puts her hands on her cheeks.

He turns red, calling for his mom to see what his sister is doing to him. Oikawa’s mom spent most of that week counting down the days until the soothing presence of a nine-year-old girl returned from camping in the woods.

Oikawa had spiraled down to the depths of volleyball sooner rather than later.

If he wanted to be the best, then he’d need to work harder than everyone else. Hours poured into practice, studying, focusing his lens on only volleyball.

In his second year of high school, he sustained a knee injury. He bottled it in. For a sport that was meant to be so much fun, he was in agony over his incapabilities at that moment. You play a sport for fun, you enjoy something for the love of it. If that was the case then why did he feel so utterly destroyed?

It wouldn’t be a problem, but when his mom took him to the doctor, the doctor said it was a stress fracture. He’d been playing too intensively for too long and would need a few months of recovery if he wanted to play the rest of the season. The antiseptic environment struck him as unloving. Medicine never understood the reality of sports, the deep driving passion that wasn’t bound by science.

Even if he couldn’t do serves or jumps, he could still run. He could still stay up late watching games of his opponents. He could still linger around practices and work on his tosses. He broke some rules and did receiving practices as well. But he made sure to take Mondays off, he only did low-intensive workouts on Mondays, long walks, and extensive stretching.

Maybe it was his fault for being addicted to volleyball.

His mom called her over one night when he refused to respond to his mom’s requests for him to go to sleep. She was at college now, her first year. She enjoyed what she was studying, and she liked that she had freedom. There was still a sense of responsibility for Oikawa Tooru that she carried.

Her best friend was married now and had given birth to Takeru who was growing up faster than expected.

When she got the call asking if there was anything she could do or say to get Oikawa out of his funk, she drove over and told the worried mom to go to bed, and that she could handle it.

Could she handle him, could she mitigate the tension in his soul? She knew that Oikawa loved volleyball and that his injury had made him bitter. When his actions began to worry others though, she drew a line there. Nothing was worth the hurt of worrying.

She knocked on his door, but he didn’t respond. She opened the door, and saw him at his desk, pen in hand taking notes of a volleyball video. It was of him playing against a rival school, each time he saw something he didn’t like he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and gritted his teeth.

She picked up his desk clock. Lightly beginning her approach to tell him to back down from his focus, “You never seem to look at the clock anymore, it’s nearly two in the morning. Tooru, you’re going to make yourself sick with all the time you spend watching those videos.” She tried to get him to look at the timekeeper in her hand. He pushed it away and she set it back on the counter.

The prodding she performed struck a cord in him.

“I can’t practice? I can’t analyze games? Do you want me to be a bad volleyball player?” Oikawa set the pen down, rubbing his eyes which felt dry and strained. The words he intended to come out as inquisitive came out accusingly instead.

“That’s not what I’m saying at all. You need to incorporate more moderation into your life. This obsessive hyperfixation on the gap between your dreams and current reality is driving you to the brink.” She rubbed a hand on his shoulder, trying to lull him away from the desk and towards his bed.

There was no use in focusing so intensely on the gaps between desire and truth. She thought he would see reason. She wanted him to understand that he needed to recover more fully before diving back into volleyball. There was nothing more important to her than helping him find out that life isn’t built upon strenuous achievement to get to the end, because the goal line was always being moved. How could Oikawa expect to get anything accomplished if the footing he was gaining would keep changing?

Oikawa slinks away, pulling his chair closer to the desk, and his face closer to the screen, “It’s the dreamer and reality face-off. And I’m losing. I’m losing and you can’t see it.”

She leans over and shuts his laptop, he spins around to her with a scowl. She puts her hands on each of the arms on his chair, boxing him in with her surrounding him from all sides.

“You are losing. You’re losing yourself. Tooru, you’re losing because you aren’t taking a step back to enjoy life right now. You think you’re losing, but no one else is playing this game with you.” She moves a hand and points to his bed, “Get out of this chair and go to bed, you dumbass.”

He feels bad that she’s here instead of in her bed sleeping. Her hair was messy and riddled with tiredness, her clothes were pajamas with a jacket over the top.

She was wearing the sandals that she got during a trip his family had taken that she went along with. When she was busy splashing around in the ocean with his big sister, he sat on a towel watching the way the water made her glow from the sun’s reflection on her skin. If only he’d gotten in the water instead of playing by himself and tossing volleyballs into the air, trying to reach the sunlight from his place in the sand.

He mumbles an agreement to her request, going to his bathroom to brush his teeth while she watches from the doorframe.

Clambering into his bed, Oikawa wraps himself in his blankets and ignores the way his body tenses up at first, but slowly eases into laying down on his bed.

There wasn’t a move from her to leave his room quite yet, but she was yawning. When she made a step forward, she stumbled a little.

He leaned up and spoke, “Can you even drive?”

Swallowing, she replies, “I’ll probably just sleep in my car, I thought I wasn’t that tired when I drove over here.” Another yawn she tries to muffle is released.

Oikawa grabs a pillow that was wedged in between his bed and the wall that it was against. He moves closer to the wall, trying to make room for her.

“Just stay.” With me.

She purses her lips. He’s still a child. He may be seventeen but he’s a child and he doesn’t know what he wants, that was her thought process. She was nineteen, she had to be the realistic one, a girl who didn’t give any kind of fake chance or inclination that would reciprocate feelings.

“I’ll see you later, Tooru. Don’t cause any more problems for your mom.”

She leaves, and he’s sitting up in his bed, hands curled up in his sheets, watching her leave.

It’s almost like she’s always the one to leave, she’s the one who puts the distance that he despises. He feels reduced to a kid. Like he’s a child that needs to be coddled and watched over. Although, he supposes his behavior did warrant a need for a babysitter.

When he was fourteen, she was sixteen. Blossoming into a young woman might have gone under the radar when it was his sister, but when it was her, he couldn’t think of anything else.

How could he think of anything else when she was right there sitting on the sidewalk making chalk drawings in a tank top and shorts? Her thighs had streaks of blue over them, and the legs of her shorts had handprints from where she rubbed off the excess chalk dust.

“Oi, Tooru! Come look at this!” She waved her hand so he’d move from his place on the porch to where she was sitting on the pavement. That’s when he noticed she’d accidentally gotten chalk handprints on the sides of her chest, standing out against the black spaghetti strap tank top. After he saw the chalk marks, naturally his eyes scanned the rest of her chest.

He almost chokes on his saliva, sticking his feet onto the panels of the front porch. “I, um, I’m good right where I am actually.” Beads of sweat were forming on his forehead and he silently prayed that his body would relax instead of shooting hot rushing blood through his body. He leaned back into the bench, trying to sink into it.

His sister knew better than that though, “Oh really? But she really wants you.” His sister had to have been pure evil, “She wants you to come over.” The slight pause between ‘come’ and ‘over’ went unnoticed by her but Oikawa hung onto the words like monkey bars.

“No, I’m sure I’m good.” He lets out a blase whistle, trying to think of anything but her body.

She throws him a thumbs up, “Sounds good.” When she goes back to drawing, her best friend leans into her ear. The laugh Oikawa’s sister lets out shocks his focus back to the pair of them.

Her eyes were darting anywhere but him and she was using a hand to slightly cover her face, using her other hand to bring the front of her top up a little more. He could’ve passed away from mortification right then and there.

When the pair of friends finally came back into the house, and Oikawa was playing video games with Iwaizumi who had come over, his ears were burning. She leaned into the living room to see what game they were playing, giving her input on the game, “Mario Kart is the best.” Her little chuckles at the way Iwaizumi was goading Oikawa had him addicted.

She laughed when Oikawa spun out of the track from spending just a little too much time looking at her rather than the screen.

Iwaizumi had left the house after an hour or so, and Oikawa’s sister was taking her turn in the tub. She was staying the night for a sleepover, waiting in the living room. Oikawa had forgotten to clean up the controllers so his mom told him to go clean up the TV area, only to be faced with her playing on her flip phone in the center of the couch.

He tried to pivot to avoid any more embarrassing exchanges between the two of them, but she told him to freeze where he was.

“Sit down.” She patted the space next to her.

Sitting down, he attempted to leave a huge canyon width of space.

She cleared her throat, “It’s okay that you think I’m attractive. Don’t be ashamed at all, it's perfectly fine and natural. As much as your sister does tease you, don’t let it make you feel gross or anything.”

He covered his face with his hands and groaned a little. The fact that they were even having this conversation made him want to go back in time and tell his parents to never have kids.

“You’re cute.” She ruffled his hair.

He blinked a few times and felt confidence flood in. “You think I’m cute?”

“Sure, you got pretty eyes and your hair is always super soft.” She crossed her legs, still messing with his hair as he slowly reclined on the couch.

Oikawa figures he’d been teased enough for one day, so it wouldn’t hurt to be just a little flirty back. “I think you should always have your hands in my hair. Feels like heaven.”

Her laughs run around his head before settling into his heart. “I’ll see what I can do about that then.”

“Great, that way I don’t have to ask you. You can just see me and know I want you to run your hands through my soft hair by default.” He wiggled his head a little from side to side, amplifying his attempt at charisma.

She just smiled at him in response.

Repressed feelings and self-loathing were most likely why his next fit was so soon after she had first pried him away from his screen during his second year. It was now nearing the end of his second year, and his injury had mostly recovered, it would never be the same knee, but it would function close to regularly again.

Much too late at night, once again, she’s knocking on his bedroom door, and he’s watching volleyball. Her voice is scratchy from a concert she attended the day before, with some guy who liked the same music as her. Oikawa never understood why people would want to date those who had the same music tastes. Maybe it was because he didn’t care all that much for music.

Iwaizumi was a music lover, and Oikawa just listened to whatever Iwaizumi played. Oikawa liked her music though. It was usually the sad kind of piano music. Her other favorite type of music was the kind of music that screams out into the universe and declares, no, demands, a presence.

She sounded scared. “Tooru. Open the door. I can hear your counterclock ticking. I’m listening to the ticking of the clock and I can’t hear you at all.” She wonders if he had escaped out the window to make stupid and rash teenage mistakes.

He sighed deeply, hoping she would hear that. She does. Oikawa had failed to make it to Nationals yet again, he had spent too much time this year working for his team to make it.

Ushijima had gone up to him and told him that Oikawa would have a better chance at making it further if he’d joined a different school. Ushijima knew nothing. Oikawa knew he was a good player, but why did every attempt to advance become reduced to another failure? Oikawa wanted to win with his team, with Iwaizumi, Takahiro, and Matsukawa. They were his team and Oikawa wanted to provide them an opportunity unlike any other.

It was an insult that Ushijima presented. The conditional offer to conceptualize the fact that Oikawa was not enough to bring his team through the games to a victory. That he couldn’t magically make a chance for them to fight on the main stage at Nationals. Ushijima had essentially told Oikawa that Oikawa was a talentless, worthless player, and if he wanted to win then he would’ve needed to join a team that could win with or without him. Oikawa was an inconsequential factor in the game of volleyball.

At least, that was how Oikawa interpreted the discussion with Ushijima after the tournament.

He’d have to work harder, he reasoned.

The door isn’t locked, so she finally enters. It isn’t quite as late as midnight, but it’s dark outside and the shadows slink into his room through the window. The moon casts a light in the center of his room.

He’s not sure if he’s crying or not. He’s cross-legged on his bed.

“Hey.” She scrutinizes his face, she can’t determine if she sees tears or if it's just the reminiscence of fear on his face. He makes a noise of acknowledgment. She sits on the corner of his bed.

He pours out his thoughts. The conversation with Ushijima, the way he feels his team looked at him, the way he hated his knee for being a physical reminder of his lack of talent.

She puts a hand on his face, guiding him to look at her.

“Do I see tears? Or is it just that the fear dwelling within you is making an annoying appearance again?” He shakes his head and uses his hand to wipe away at his face in case there are tears. Her thumb traces the bridge of his nose.

Anyone could tell that he seemed scared. But it was a deeper worry than just scared, it was a deep-rooted fear of lacking the abilities to be a good volleyball player. The ego he held close to his lungs was shattering and leaving shards, affecting his breathing.

He knew his internal locus of control wasn’t enough. He wanted to control more than was within his ability. Oikawa wanted the world on his shoulders, but he could barely balance it with open hands.

His chest starts to heave again, and his bottom lip wavers. She tries to shush him, but he lets out a strangled sob. Pulling him into her, she runs a hand on his head, soothing him by running her hand through his hair. She just keeps saying his name, pressing light kisses to the top of his head. The front of her shirt was covered in wet spots from how he had his face in her neck.

Shakily, he brings her into his lap, wraps his arms around her, and hugs her tightly.

“I’m sorry.” He kisses her with his whole heart, bumping their noses into each other. He kisses with too much force, but it conveys all the feelings he has. Love, pain, turmoil, affection.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He leans in again, but she puts a hand on his chest, putting space between them.

Patting his head, she tells him that she has to go back home. She thought that he just needed to get the kiss out of his system and that it didn’t mean anything.

When she pulls out of the driveway he yells into his pillow. His mom comes into his room and sees him hugging himself. Oikawa’s mom decides to leave well enough alone. She had only come to check on him again because Oikawa’s mom had asked, but it was all dependent on Oikawa and how he took what she said or did.

They never talk about the kiss in person. Oikawa thinks about it every day. It crosses her mind frequently enough to warrant a quick rant to Oikawa’s sister, replacing Oikawa with a differently named seventeen-year-old boy who used her as an emotional crutch.

In response to the rant, Oikawa’s sister had told her to let the boy off gently and to ghost him.

How could she ghost Oikawa Tooru though? Especially when he texted her and kept saying he was sorry for what he did and that all he wants is for them to be friends again.

She devours her pride and accepts his offer. They could be friends. Oikawa didn’t want just friendliness, he wanted love. He wanted her love.

When he was fifteen, she was seventeen. A third year in middle school, Oikawa had settled into the personality that he crafted. He wanted to be everything that a girl would like, charming, suave, and flippant. He wanted to be everything he thought she would like.

If it wasn’t for that annoying first-year genius, then Oikawa definitely would have had a chance to see if he could finally have a shot with her. Not necessarily ready to date her, but sensing if he at least was on a roster list for her.

She came to most of the games if she wasn’t busy with her part-time job or with schoolwork. He recalls how he had tossed her one of his backup Kitagawa Daiichi jerseys, with the captain’s mark and a shining number one on the front and back. He told her that if she was going to come to the games, she might as well show off who she was going to watch play.

She had said that the jersey would make it seem like she attended the junior high instead of her actual high school, he shrugged and said it didn’t matter. But each game that she went to, her wearing that jersey demonstrated how much it did matter to him. Beaming at her when he finally caught her eyes in the stands.

Oftentimes, Oikawa’s mom needed her to pick up Oikawa after practice since his older sister was out with her boyfriend. She didn’t mind going to Kitagawa Daiichi to pick him up since she liked the route to drive there. Covered in trees and a smooth straight road where she could go just a little over the speed limit and no cops cared enough to make her slow down.

Waiting at the entrance, she saw Oikawa cleaning up the gym. A black-haired boy had turned the corner and bumped into her.

“Ah, sorry.” He stood awkwardly like there was a ruler against his back preventing him from slouching at all.

“It’s all good!” She noticed his uniform, “You’re on this team aren’t you? What position are you?”

“I’m a setter.” Instinctively, the boy tries out a smile, it doesn’t look quite legitimate, but she dismisses the strangeness of it. He gives her his name, Kageyama Tobio. He questions her, “Who are you?”

She explains her relationship to Oikawa, being his older sister’s best friend. “Although, I’m another sister to him at this point.”

“A sister?” Kageyama makes a slightly bitter face, “You’re not blood-related though right?”

“No, no, just friends. But I’ve known him since he was in diapers.”

“Ahh, that’s why he was talking to Iwaizumi-san about what to get you for White Day.”

Furrowing an eyebrow, she thinks out loud, “I didn’t get him anything for Valentine’s Day this year though?”

Oikawa had rushed over once he saw Kageyama with her, shoving the mop into the closet and quickly getting to them. The floor was still wet though, so when she heard a thud and a string of curses, turning her head she saw Oikawa rubbing his back with a scrunched-up face.

She waved Kageyama off, going to Oikawa and crouching down next to him.

“Tooru, I think the floor is still wet.”

“No, really?” The words are laced with sarcasm. She giggles a little before giving him a hand, he takes it and stands up, still rubbing his backside.

As they made their way to her car, an old beater car that she had made into her dream car of sorts, she asked Oikawa what he was going to do on March 14th. Checking her review mirrors, and messing with the keychains she had hanging from the mirror, she backed the car up so she could get onto the main road.

“March 14th?” Oikawa faked dumb. “Nothing is happening on March 14th.” He folds his arms and settles into his seat. He wonders what Kageyama had told her during their conversation and if that had anything to do with her questioning his White Day plans.

“Okay good, I’ll be with Ito that day, so don’t have anything in mind.”

Oikawa grimaced. Ito Yuuta went to a different school than Aoba Johsai but was still way too involved in her life for Oikawa’s liking. His sister had shown Oikawa photos of Ito and her together at various hangouts.

“Ito Yuuta? The one that smells like he drowned in a forest?”

“Is that what she said he smells like? Yes, he does smell like evergreens. However, you betcha I love the smell of trees. He’s yummy.” She didn’t realize that she had begun to discuss someone she was interested in with someone who was extremely interested in her. “And his hair? Ugh, the way he gels it has me nearly weak in the knees.”

She pulled into his driveway, waiting for Oikawa to hop out. He didn’t.

“Tooru, we’re at your house?”

“Don’t leave yet, I have something for you.” Oikawa exits the car but keeps the door open so she can’t reverse.

He tossed a small box at her, and she barely caught it in her hands. She tugged at the small white ribbon on top of the blue box. “Wait!” She looked at him, “Don’t open it yet. Open it when you get home, okay?”

After he shut her car door and went to his room, he bounced his knee and waited for a text message from her.

Inside the white box was a card of course, but also a bracelet. It was a thin chain, with several charms attached to it. She picked up the card, and on the front was a legend of sorts, describing what each charm was for.

A key represented his wish for her to always have security and safety. A book charm was to show that he thought she was super smart. Her favorite charm though was the star, because he intended for it to mean how much she shined in his eyes.

The inside contents of the card were short, just about how glad he was to have her in his life. The other drafts of the card had been continually vetoed by Iwaizumi. Stealing poetry from Shakespeare would not have gotten the right emotion across. And confessing that he thought about her all the time would’ve come off as too stalker-ish. The best option Iwaizumi said was to go with the K.I.S.S method. And the K.I.S.S methodology went as follows, ‘Keep it simple, stupid.’

(tooru, thank you for the present.)

He saw that she was typing, and another message was loading.

(it’s sweet that you thought of getting me this for white day.)

He bit at the inside of his mouth. She had sent a photo of her holding up a peace sign, her wrist had the the bracelet on display.

(love you! 💛)

He sighed, falling back onto his bed. He wondered how embarrassing it would be if anyone knew he was fifteen and still kicked his feet a little to physically convey his blend of elation and how much fondness he had for her.

He hadn’t officially given her a White Day present, because he gave her the gift on March 12th. Which he thought was probably better than any sort of White Day gift. His present was special because of his simple desire to get her something rather than the bracelet being for a yearning for her to reciprocate something like a White Day confession.

The third year of high school was supposed to be his year. He bounced back from his second-year depression, using the time off of school to hone his skills, to practice being perfect. He felt as if he was close to attaining the perfection he aimed for. He still loses out on a chance to get to the Nationals. Losing to Karasuno in a devastatingly close game.

During the game, she saw him land on his bad knee and she almost jumped out of her seat. After the game, and watching how all the third years were struggling to hold back their tears, or the way that Oikawa harshly slapped Iwaizumi’s back to get him to line up, she appreciated volleyball just a little more.

When Oikawa threw his white kneepad into a garbage bin unceremoniously, she held back any comments or questions. His kneepad being thrown away was the end of a chapter for him. His mom got after him for throwing away a perfectly good kneepad, but she just gently put a hand on Oikawa’s mom’s shoulder and made an expression to not push the kneepad incident further. It’s not until a month after that loss to Karasuno that Oikawa and her get into an argument.

At the dinner party his parents throw annually Oikawa sneaks a glass of beer and sips it outside on the balcony. People chatter inside the house, talking about how much Takeru has grown up and what a lovely couple Oikawa’s sister and her husband are.

She comes out to the balcony to escape the adults asking her about her life. Too many questions about boys, books, and her future for her to have a settled stomach. Outdoor air always calmed her stomach down.

“Tooru, being naughty are you?” She puts a finger on the rim of his red plastic cup. He turns his head away to hide his blush. She just laughs a little in response.

“Are you ready to be done with high school?” She asks. Leaning over the railing, her hands clasp onto each other. Elbows splayed out on the metal railing, and Oikawa copies her so that his elbow is touching hers.

“I think so.” He answers. Oikawa takes a drink from his cup, the starchiness coating his throat uncomfortably. “I’ll be going away after graduation. Argentina.”

He wants her to ask him to not go.

“That’s amazing! Tooru, I’m so glad that you’ve found a path to follow.” Her smile betrays the way her stomach can hardly take the news. She’s just the friend of his older sister, she’s just someone who watches out for him. Why would he, a brilliant person, ever halt his destiny for her?

“Yeah, I’ll be playing for a team that I think could be fun.”

She forces another smile.

He forces a smile back. But then he gets upset. Why should he have to pretend like everything is fine? He thinks she deserves to know how he feels.

“You know, I’d be more fun if you were there too. With me.”

“You’re funny, did you know that?” She fakes a laugh, “Me in Argentina? I hate summers here, imagine how I’d react to the weather in Argentina.”

“You’d adapt. You always do.”

“That’s kind of you to say.”

He turns to her, putting the hand that wasn’t holding his drink on her hip. She tries to detach from him, but he just grips her tighter, linking a finger through her jean loop and tugging her into him closer. He loves it when she’s close to him. She relaxes into the hold he has on her.

“I want to offer you so much more than just kindness.”

Biting on her lip, it was her turn to move her face away from his stare, hiding the way her eyes kept flickering across his face and landing on his lips.

She wasn’t unaware that Oikawa felt something towards her, but she diminished his feelings as a crush that kids have on older girls. Each time they met, she realized that that wasn’t the truth. He saw her and she didn’t appreciate the way that he would look at her. He looked at her like she was his lifeline.

“I think your sister is calling for me.” Oikawa’s sister was in her old room putting her son to sleep.

Oikawa kept pulling her into him, their hips fully touching now. He ran a hand over her arm, from her elbow to her wrist. “You can’t keep avoiding me.” It’s a tone that is lightly sing-song but also carries a grittiness.

She hadn’t been around his house as frequently as of late. Using school or work as an excuse to not watch movies or let him try to teach her volleyball again.

“I’m not avoiding you.” She wriggled, trying to escape him but not putting much effort into her withdrawal.

“Don’t lie.” His tone now balances on the edge of a knife, one side was a typical cheeky silly tone, and the other was an abrasively tormented tone.

“I’m not interested in you like that, Tooru.” It was a last-ditch attempt to see how far he was willing to go. How close he was going to come to ripping apart their fragile friendship. She didn’t have any sewing materials left in store to repair what was going to occur.

He swallows thickly, eyes searing into hers. “You’re being mean.” His tone had fallen over and landed flat on the tormented side.

He lets the words sting her, not softening their blow. Oikawa wonders if she’s lying or telling the truth. It was a fine line between whether he should urge the issue to finally crack her shell or if she was being honest and she was totally out of his reach.

Managing to finally break away from the way Oikawa lured her in, she went into the main kitchen that opened into the living room where everyone was making conversation. He downs the rest of his alcohol and tosses the plastic cup into the outdoor trash can.

Oikawa doesn’t know how many more drinks he steals from the kitchen, watching her talk to people and gently touch shoulders in acknowledgment and understanding.

The moment Oikawa accidentally and drunkenly breaks a vase with zinnias, primroses, and calla lilies, his parents shut down the party. His sister heads out, asking her best friend if she needs a ride home. She says that she’s good, she’ll enjoy the February blossoms on a walk home.

Oikawa’s mom asks if she’ll check on Oikawa before she leaves. She says she doesn’t know if that would be a good idea, but Oikawa’s mom begs to differ. As it turns out, when she was outside the house, talking to her best friend, Oikawa hit his hand against the concrete wall of his house. His mom had bandaged most of the scrapes, but she couldn’t do anything about the way his eyes seemed empty.

She wonders if his aversion to her right now had anything to do with his earlier confession and her adamant rejection. Or if his anger is all due to his volleyball woes. She reasons that it ultimately has to be the loss to Karasuno.

“You’re letting yourself get bothered? You’re letting this moment tick you off and you go and punch a wall?” She’s knocking harder on his door. “Get off your ass and face me.”

“Go away.”

“You’re falling down a path that I can’t save you from. Tooru, listen to me please.” He doesn’t respond. She hears the ticking of the clock in his room from where she sits outside his bedroom door, her head resting against the wood.

On the other side of the door, he’s hugging his legs on his bed, his face on top of his knees as he glares at the doorknob where the lock is turned. His stubborn, obstinate, unyielding pride prevents him from getting up and opening the door so he can cry everything out and so she can hold him. He just wants her to hold him.

This fit isn’t about volleyball anymore, it’s about them. She knows it. The way that he sealed her into his life and now that she wants to be unstitched. He feels wounded.

She investigates. “Are you ready for whatever you’ll go through throughout your life? People will probe you, instigate you, and deride you infinitely worse than what I’ve ever said to you.” People will be able to say they love you and I can’t.

He opens the door, “No one will ever hurt me more than you hurt me. You hold so much more power over me than anyone else,” He waves his hand that’s wrapped in white cloth to emphasize his point. “You make me feel like this. Like every emotion is dialed to one hundred.”

“I can’t choose how you feel. I can’t make you feel anything.” She pokes him in the chest. “You’re a child and you’re acting like it too, get over your facade and get over your surface-level crush on me. You don’t know me and don’t you ever pretend like you do.”

He raises his hand, she reacts with a flinch. He finished the motion, he was going to run his hand through his hair. His stomach drops and he realizes that she just thought he was going to slap her.

It's a whisper of, “I’d never hurt you.”

He backs into his room, wanting to disappear from the exchange. The argument ended there.

“I know, I just reacted, it’s okay.” Hearing his barely audible whimpers, she crosses the threshold of his door. A suitcase is half-filled in the corner, with clothes hanging out of the case. A book on speaking Spanish is on top of his laptop.

The silence is cut with the shuffles of their feet on his carpet and intermittent sniffles.

His chest tightens, short releases of air paired with overzealous inhales. “I miss you even when you’re around. How is that possible?”

“I don’t know.” She sits on his bed, and he curls into her side, rubbing his nose on her shoulder. “I’m sorry. My words failed me, I’m a liar. Tooru, you know me better than my family does.”

He kisses her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her neck. Hot breath is on the side of her face.

“I need you to let me go. I’m not your person.” She wishes she was, but she felt like she just wasn’t.

Oikawa can’t help the crack in his voice, “Why do you get to decide that?”

“I don’t know. I don’t have all the answers.”

“To me you do, you have all my answers.”

They begin to cry at the same time.

He replicates what he remembers her doing to him so many times. Caressing her hair and pressing his lips to the top of her head repeatedly. She seems so much smaller than him nowadays. He’s been six feet tall for a while now but only when she began to seem removed did he realize that he’s bigger than her.

“Tooru.”

He mutters in response. They had begun to lay in his bed, with Oikawa pulling blankets up to cover the both of them, his arm encasing her waist and keeping her close to him. His ceiling fan kept spinning overhead. He had his head on the pillow and wanted her to just release the stiffness in her body and soften into his touch.

“Tooru?” She tries to sit up, but he’s tired of that and refuses to let her go. She faces him, twisting around in the embrace. Both their heads are on pillows now, he keeps his eyes closed. “I want you to know that I do love you.”

He raises his eyebrows in wariness, unsure of where she’s taking her words.

“I love you but I can’t be what you want. I can be a sister figure, I can be a best friend, I can be someone you can talk to, but I cannot be a lover.”

Oikawa wanted to hug her tighter, but he was already leaving imprints on her waist that were sure to leave light bruises and tenderness the next day. All he can say in response is a hum.

As soon as Oikawa had fallen asleep, she left.

The dreamer and reality face-off was Oikawa’s least favorite thing. The way that he could dream all he wanted, but reality failed to match those expectations. People always say that the future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams, but where’s the beauty in knowing that your future is sullied because of being born in the wrong year? For being born in the wrong life this time. For being born as the person she wasn’t going to end up with.

The spring after his graduation, Oikawa was messing around with her. He had to have been. Their fight at the dinner party weighed on them, but more so on her.

She wonders if she made the right choice. Her feelings had flipped on her and she knew it. Instead of pushing him away due to her unease about the age difference, she pushed him away because she was afraid of how deeply she would fall.

All the times her friends had teased her about being a cradle-robber, or a cougar for having such a smitten boy around her, she had let those comments get to her. It was ironic, the same hyperfixation that Oikawa had for volleyball was matched in her hyperfixation on the way she was older than him and tried to always act like it too.

Oikawa decided to stay persistent. He knew that she still appreciated that quality about him. He wanted to put his ambition to good use.

He lounged without a shirt around his sister’s place when she was there to visit. He’d caught her looking at him once, or three times, and the way he could see her begin to play with her fingers, wringing them out was more than enough for him to embrace a level of confidence he hadn’t shown to her before. He was on the older end of eighteen, she was on the cusp of twenty into twenty-one.

She had been looking at pictures, trying to avoid where Oikawa took up space in the living room. It had been ten minutes since his sister had left and she hadn’t said anything to him, not even a greeting. He did not appreciate that.

If she was so insistent on being anything to him but a lover, then he would treat her like that.

Wrapping arms around her may have been the breaking point, but he committed to the final blow, “Hey best friend.” She rattled out a titter, but any move she made would result in her brushing against the bare skin of his arms, or his chest, or worst-case his stomach.

He rests his chin on her shoulder, “Oh wait, you wanted to be called sister yeah?”

She gritted her teeth, still trying to decode a breakaway moment. Oikawa’s sister was stuck in traffic from picking up some fast food. Takeru was at daycare, the husband was at work. It would be just Oikawa and her for another twenty minutes or so. She hoped he wouldn’t be so insistent to keep touching her for the entire duration until his older sister returned.

“My name works perfectly fine Oikawa.”

He turns her around, still grasping her, “Oikawa?” He tisks, sliding his hands from her back to her waist. “That doesn’t sound right to me.”

Within her shoes, she kept wiggling her toes uncomfortably.

“I know your name, and you know mine,” He lowers his voice, “So use my name.”

Shaking her head she closes her eyes.

“C’mon, it’s just two syllables. Too-ru. Your turn.”

Adamantly she leaned away from where she could feel his breath, increasing the span between them.

“Sisters and brothers use each other's given names.” He tightens his hold, one hand on the small of her back and the other on her waist still. He leveraged his lack of a shirt to see how close he could get, knowing she didn’t want to touch him. She’d let him get away with slipping around her while she stayed frozen in place.

“Stop it! We are not related!” She opened her eyes and stomped her foot a little. Her jaw was clenched and her eyes were wide.

“Good. Never wanted you as a sister anyway.” He wanted her in extremely not sisterly ways.

“Tooru quit it.”

“Why? Isn’t this what best friends do? They tease, they taunt, they play.” Oikawa grips her face, smushing it gently in his left hand. He smiles at her. His grip was so delicate but his touch was heated.

The best response had to have been dishing up what he was serving. So she slid her hand over his chest, resting on his pectoral. He could feel the vein in his neck pulsing. He drops his hold on her and takes a step back, his calf hitting the coffee table. Her step forward to him is calculated.

He wishes he was wearing his shirt now.

“We can play whatever you want Tooru.”

He stutters.

“How cute.” She pinches his cheek, then puts her hand back on his chest.

The door handle turns and she drops her hand, fixing her shirt a little from where Oikawa had grabbed at her. Oikawa doesn’t even notice her move to pick up a book and scan through the pages in the far corner of the living room.

Oikawa’s sister had bags of greasy food and she jutted out her hip, “I got the good stuff.” His sister scans the room, “Put a shirt on. Is it too hot in here? You’re red from the ears down.”

“I’m good.”

“Weirdo.” Oikawa’s sister rolls her eyes at him, “Now, let’s eat.”

Their dynamic bounced between them. Oikawa pushing and pulling in various directions, while she tried her best to stay still. He did settle down, calming his nerves.

Could say he did everything if he didn’t give one last attempt for her heart?

He’s twenty now, and she’s twenty-two. He asked if she would go on a car ride with him. She agreed. Piling snacks and drinks into her passenger side, she asked where they would be going. He sidetracks.

They end up at a beach, far along the coastline. There’s a rocky platform, but they crawl down to the sandy area, where the water laps up the seashells trying to bring them home to the cold ocean.

He postponed Argentina for two years. One month was left on his pause before going where he knew he needed to be. His club would only wait so long for him before his spot would be filled.

He sits on the large towel he brought. She’s picking through seashells, squatting by the water.

An idea runs through his head. He doesn’t let it die out. He’s just a kid after all.

He pushes her into the water with a laugh, she splashes him by lifting her cupped hands and dumping salty water over his head. He catches her by the torso, but she manages an escape and starts going further into the water, he just follows after her.

They shiver as they stand both waist-deep in the ocean. His hair is sticking to his forehead, and her teeth chatter but it doesn’t detract from the way she’s smiling.

Oikawa swims closer to her. There’s maybe an inch between them. He lays all his cards on the table when he holds her face in his hands. Goosebumps riddle the expanse of their bodies.

“Since I can’t have you in this life, I want just one more memory with you.” A shiver runs through her. Oikawa continues, “So before I leave, I need you to promise that we’ll find each other in the next life regardless of who we are?”

“We’ll find each other, in every life. Just like how we found each other in this one.” She’s quiet, but he can hear her perfectly. She’s trying to make herself seem older with her words, more mature. She grasping onto straws making it seem like she isn’t wrecked by what he’s asking.

She moves her fingers through the water, he takes his hands away from her face so he can position her hands onto his shoulders. He goes back to cupping her face. She wraps her arms around his neck and lets their bodies mold against each other.

Their clothes are soaked through, her long sleeve is getting stretched out from the waves. Sweatpants absorb the icy water and stick to their legs. His shirt is clinging to him and leaving an exact outline of his torso.

Oikawa’s a little choked up but he wants her to know what he’s thinking so he gets the words out. “Promise we’ll end up together in the next life?” He moves his head so their foreheads are touching.

“How we are right now, again?” She splays her fingers, intertwining the hair at his nape between each finger, he shudders from the contact.

“No. Like we were meant to be. Like we were made for each other. I want to find us as lovers.”

She lets the weight of her head fall into his hands and he lets out a short muted sigh of relief at how the tip of her nose hits his.

“Okay.”

His eyes flicker to her lips, she notices. He brings his head down a little, “Just once? Once where you kiss back?”

She’s softer with how she kisses than he is. She’s more experienced, but she goes slower than Oikawa expects. It’s just pecks, and he wants more. When he licks her bottom lip, it’s salty from the ocean, but he thinks she tastes perfect. He can’t help the way that he moans into the kiss or the way he grabs her thighs and makes them wrap around his hips.

It’s all in the way she’s the first one to slide her tongue into his mouth slightly.

He wants to consume each noise she makes. He hardly notices the way he runs out of breath when he starts moving from her lips to her jaw and then back to her mouth. When she backs her head away, his head keeps coming to follow hers, trailing her lips with his.

Pressing a hand right below his neck, her fingers touching his shoulderbone, she makes distance between them so she can force Oikawa to pause and get some air.

“I lied.” Oikawa’s eyes are blown out, pupils dark and filling in his irises. She purses her lips, and she goes to loosen the way her legs are around him, but he holds her where he wants her. Legs still around him. “I lied because I know I can’t wait until our next life. I need you in this life, and all the other ones.”

She goes to speak, but he keeps going. “I’ll make it work, I’ll make everything work out the way it should. I just want you to say yes. I want you to want to say yes. I need you to say yes to me because I don’t think my soul could take anything less than your entirety.”

He pauses and she opens her mouth again, Oikawa doesn’t know when to stop and the words rush out, “One more- I’ll be quick.” He steals an open-mouthed kiss, running his tongue over hers.

She rolls her eyes, and Oikawa steals another peck on her lips.

“Okay, two more.” He shrugs a little, “I’m not any sort of genius, yet, but I know that I was meant to be yours. Maybe I knew it when I was seven, maybe I knew it when you shoved that stupid counterclock in my asinine face and told me to go to bed. But I know it.”

The sun officially setting made the water so much colder, so she tucked her head into his neck, “I love everything you’re saying right now but I’m freezing.”

“You love what I’m saying?”

“I’m cold Tooru. Focus please.” He lets out a sound of understanding. It’s cute how she waddles out of the water, but he realizes he’s probably doing the same side to side penguin walk.

He picks up the towel and waves it out so the sand gets off the fibers, then he wraps it around her shoulders. He’s hugging her from behind and pressing small kisses to the side of her face. Attempting to get back up to the car with him attached like a koala is difficult but not impossible.

The engine of the car is running, and he fidgets with the heater. He has a tic where he’ll mess with the amount of air blowing, then the level of heat, and then go back to the amount of air. Each knob he twists changes the temperature until he finally settles on a lull of heat.

Her head is resting against the window, getting slightly rocked by the movement of the car on the road. The towel was still wrapped around her. Oikawa had found another one in the trunk and had it wrapped around his waist, he had forgone a shirt since the heater was working just right and he didn’t want a wet t-shirt on anymore.

“I meant what I said you know.” Oikawa had one hand on the wheel and one hand on her armrest. “I’m going to make everything work out the way it needs to work out.”

“Mm-hm.”

“I’m yours now.” Oikawa lets his smug smile roam on his face.

“Mine? No title? Not boyfriend?”

Oikawa moves the hand from the armrest onto her thigh, “The title I’m settling for is husband or soulmate. Take your pick. I’ll propose soon, don’t worry angel.”

She tilts her head up and laughs. He rubs his thumb over her knee.

In contrast to the way his hair had a halo in the sun, she had a halo made of stars and the moon. Instead of creating an outline of her hair, the night sky embedded itself and adorned her. Rather than trying to amplify her, the moon and stars realized she naturally had a halo around her and wanted to say congratulations by shining through her rather than on her.

Although she declines the first four proposals, she accepts the one right before he leaves. Oikawa would never tell her but he was relieved that she accepted, he couldn’t handle the idea of him not being around and her getting moved in on by some other guy- despite her telling him consistently that she would turn other guys down.

The ring didn’t act like a perfect deterrent, but it made him feel secure. He liked that she wore all the stuff he got her on the same hand, his ring and his bracelet from way long ago.

Oikawa sends her a new jersey almost every month, with his signature across the front near his player number. He also sends all sorts of knick-knacks he finds in Argentina. He makes a point of calling when she’s eating lunch, and he’s about to go to bed so that she doesn’t have to stay awake to answer his calls. His mom and sister get annoyed that he spends hours talking to her but only minutes talking to them. He tells them that true love takes precedence over family.

She has to chastise him to get him to actually stay on call with his mom for longer than thirty minutes.

They fight a few times about where to live. He wins the argument and she moves to Argentina once she officially graduates college.

An apartment filled with her stuff and his stuff side by side makes him giddy. But he especially gets excited with the fact that he gets the side of the bed closest to the bedroom door, and she gets the side furthest away from the bedroom door.

Sometimes he’ll stay up much too late, his back against the headboard of their bed watching volleyball videos.

“Tooru, go to bed.” She nuzzles against her pillow a little more, her back towards him as she tries to avoid the light of the laptop screen on his legs.

“One more video.” He clicks on a replay of a match that goes all the way to five sets with commentary during each timeout instead of the video cutting to the next play.

When he chuckles a little, she turns over and shuts the laptop. “Bedtime.” She makes a fake sleeping sound. Oikawa sets the laptop on his side table, turning the table light off.

She lifts her head so Oikawa can put his arm under her head. She presses a kiss to his bicep.

“What’s the clock say?”

He slings his leg over her torso and puts his other arm across her stomach.

“It’s not even midnight yet.” She clicks her tongue and he fixes his response. “It’s 23:14.”

He kisses the corner of her mouth. When she doesn’t say anything, he gives her a real kiss. Still no response and he licks the length of her jaw to her chin. She lets out a small din of disgust.

“Fine! Goodnight Tooru.”

He whines a little.

She groans. She sits up a little and leans over him, ruining the positioning she had spent minutes working on. She rests the length of her arms on either side of his head, her face right above his.

One of her hands begins to play with his hair, which begins to twirl around her fingers, softly grazing her palm. He uses his arm to force her back down so that her chest is pressed to his, he lets out a coo to express gratification when her weight is on top of him.

“I love you, my pretty boy.” She kisses his cheek, “Handsome, intelligent, angelic, slightly egotistical-” He nips her bottom lip. “I love you, goodnight, I’ll be here in the morning.”

He’s living his dream. There’s no difference between his dreams and reality now. No gaps to fight against. Only a pair of invisible halos for the rest of their lives.

[seat-safety-switch]

One of the great things about hanging out with people is that you can solve problems differently. When you get together with a bunch of other folks, it's easy for someone's special perspective to provide the exact answer to leap over a bullshit problem. Of course, it's also possible for a bunch of you weirdos to argue endlessly and not get anything done. Not that I'm pointing any fingers at the model train club.

For decades, long before I was in this town, the model train club has met on the second Tuesday of alternating months. Barring some unfortunate interruptions, like the time our town was invaded by aliens, and World War II, things have pretty much gone on schedule. Part of that is because of Pat Bartholomew, the club secretary, who has been working hard to repeatedly corral a bunch of nerds into a rented meeting room at the public library for a number of years that is frankly quite difficult to comprehend.

Now, don't take me for one of those little-train weirdos. I don't believe in any form of efficient rail-based transportation, because it's too reliable and fast, which ruins the whole journey, just like eating a gourmet meal in five minutes. No. I'm there to huff glue. Or at least that's what I tell them. Model train enthusiasts have all kinds of weird glues, and some of those adhesives are really expensive.

Luxury imported stuff from Germany that can stitch a vinyl seat together like nothing. If I go to those meetings, then I can borrow a bottle for five minutes, go out to the parking lot, and stitch up whatever part of my car fell apart this week. Ted Thorne-Toucher even had a bunch of that weird Ford glue from Sweden that can paste a cracked cylinder head back together.

Which is not to sound like I'm some kind of parasite. Like I said, everyone contributes their own solutions to a thorny problem. Just last week, Daytona McSlaughter had the wrong trim package on the little 1/22-scale Plymouth Valiant on her layout. Right away, I chimed in: that shit has the front bumper from a Dodge Lancer, who are you trying to fool? Maybe a little bit too loudly, since it turns out one of the ways that Pat has dealt with conflicts such as these over the years is by making two scale rail enthusiasts fight it out in "the Thunderdome" to see which one feels more strongly about being correct. At least they had some super glue on hand to stitch my wounds back up.

[zablife]

Becoming Mrs. Shelby (Part 10)

Tommy Shelby x wife reader

Summary: Boredom sets in soon after Tommy leaves, but when you begin to explore Arrow House, you're unprepared for what you find.

Part 9 Masterlist

The day after Tommy’s departure was marked by cold, dreary rain, the gloom of it seeping into your bones from the moment you woke. However, you were determined to hold your chin up and follow his instruction to keep busy.

Heading off in search of Mary, you were eager to learn how you might contribute to the efforts of planning the gala. However, when you finally found her in the kitchen, she was engrossed in conversation with the chef. You listened for a moment as they discussed options for the hors d’oeuvres and secretly thrilled when you thought of a solution.

Heels clicking toward her with excitement you eagerly stated, “I couldn't help but overhear you talking about the hors d’oeuvres. You know, when T-tom…erm, Mr. Shelby and I were on our honeymoon we sampled the most delicious oysters," you grinned, pleased with yourself for your small contribution.

“The chef has suggested smoked trout croquettes," she informed you.

"Far more suitable for a single bite than oysters,” he explained, returning to his note taking.

Biting your tongue against the criticism you nodded in agreement. “Of course, very sensible,” you acquiesced. “Would you like me stay to hear the remainder of the menu?”

She smiled sweetly at you, eyes downcast as she demurred, “Surely you have more important things to attend to, ma’am.”

Her hint was not lost upon you, you were being dismissed. Rather than force your way into the planning, you shrunk away with feigned excuse. 

With little else to do, you decided to locate the missing steamer trunk misplaced when you’d arrived. Your footsteps echoed along every corridor, peeking into the unused rooms to find the piece. You faltered as you approached the last area of the house to be explored during your residence, the East wing. 

There was something haunting about the deep shades of red and dark wood that made you uneasy. Far more ornate than the rest of the house, you couldn’t help but feel out of place there. However, you were determined to check every door as you felt was your right as lady of the house. It wasn’t until you reached the last room at the end of the corridor that your racing heart nearly gave way to a fainting spell.

A large four poster bed stood regally at the far end, curtains drawn around it as though it held a great secret. You were immediately drawn to it, pulling back the sash to reveal a delicate lace negligee laid upon the mattress. You frowned at the sight of it, wondering who might be coming to claim it when you realized it must have belonged to Mrs. Shelby.

As you turned to survey the room, your heart caught in your throat realizing you’d been correct in your assumption. A dressing table decorated with gold brushes and comb engraved with a cursive G along with expensive perfume could have belonged to no one other than her.

With a sudden wave of curiosity overcoming you, you raised the crystal bottle to your nostrils and inhaled deeply. It was a heady mix of bergamot and jasmine, nothing like the light, sweet scent you wore. Suddenly Mrs. Fitzherbert’s insulting laugh came back to you,“You reek of cheap rosewater, my dear!” Replacing the small bottle in its rightful place, Grace's inherent sophistication seemed to paralyze you with inadequacy.

However, that was nothing compared to the small portrait nestled between the bottles. You reached for the emerald green frame, stabbed by jealousy as you studied the image it held. Immaculately preserved in crisp black and white, Tommy cradled Grace in his arms beneath the Statue of Liberty. Compelled for a closer look, you raised the delicate frame to your watery eyes, noting his blissful expression. Had you ever made him this happy? The thought mocked you as your hands began to shake with uncertainty. 

Heavy frame slipping precariously from your grasp, you failed to catch it before the glass shattered upon the floor. “No, no, no!” you uttered under your breath, stooping to retrieve the broken pieces just as a firm, clear voice rang out, “Is anyone there?”

You redoubled your efforts to sweep up the broken glass, a jagged edge slicing across your index finger. With a sharp intake of breath, you attempted to stifle your cries of pain, shoving the pieces to the side as you stood to collect yourself. 

Mary appeared in the door moments later and you couldn’t help but ask breathlessly, “What is all this?"

"I should think it rather obvious, ma'am. This was Mrs. Shelby's bedroom," she answered flatly.

"Did Mr. Shelby ask you to keep the room like this?” you gulped, unsure you wanted to hear the answer.

She snorted at the implication. “He doesn’t have to. She’s still here!”

You recoiled at her statement, glancing around the room as though you might find Grace's imposing figure watching from some dark corner. A shiver passed down your spine before you dismissed the ridiculous notion asserting, ”Well, I don’t believe in ghosts.”

Mary continued, completely unbothered. “I wonder what she’d think about you taking her husband and using her name?” she pondered as she approached you.

As a drop of blood fell from your fingertips onto the floor, Mary pulled a small handkerchief from her pocket to hold against the thrumming beat of your pulse.

“Perhaps she’d want us to be happy?” you answered in your distraction.

“Not likely. You won’t find happiness here,” Mary warned as she relinquished the soft linen to you.

As you dabbed at your finger, you noted the bright blue G stitched at the corner and a sudden rage overcame you. “I'm taking this up with Mr. Shelby the moment he returns," you threatened, tossing the bloody handkerchief on the ground with disgust.

————————-

That night without your husband by your side, you had great difficulty sleeping. You tossed and turned thinking of the encounter with Mary in Mrs. Shelby’s bedroom.

When exhaustion finally took hold, you felt yourself slip into a dense fog. It surrounded you as you walked the halls of Arrow House back to the dark red corridor that caused you such fear earlier in the day. But as you eased open the door to Grace's room, you found it empty, a sigh of relief turning to a smile of contentment.

Happily returning to the opposite side of the house, you basked in the knowledge Tommy had done it for you, proof of his love and devotion. The comforting thought wrapped you in a cocoon of protection until you came to your own bedroom. A shriek of horror tumbled from your lips at the sight of the tall blonde standing at the window. Grace was waiting for Tommy in her expensive, lace negligee, but upon hearing your cry, she turned to you with a piercing stare.

"What do you want?" your shaky voice called to her.

"My husband," her voice echoed around the room eerily. "He's only ever loved me," her cruel whisper taunted you.

You held her gaze as she stalked toward you, evil intent brewing in her gray blue eyes. As she came face to face with you before the roaring fire, she grabbed hold of your arms, fingernails sinking into flesh as she shook you with such ferocity your head began to spin. “This will always be my house!” she warned before you fell to the floor with her hovering over you in victory.

------------

You woke with a start, blinking against the bright light of the morning sun. 

“Good morning, ma'am,” Clara chirped at you before coming to turn down the covers. As she lowered the duvet, she observed the red marks upon your upper arms with a tiny gasp. “Oh, dear, you’ve been scratching!” she exclaimed, extending a hand to help you from bed.

"What?" you asked in confusion, racing to the mirror for a better look at the area that was beginning to throb.

“Look at your arms, ma’am. They’re covered!” Clara reiterated.

“Did I do this?” you asked in horror.

“Who else would have done it but yourself?” she replied with a puzzled look.

I don’t believe in ghosts, I don't believe in ghosts

Part 11

[artbyblastweave]

So to me, an understated aspect of Watchmen is that it deconstructs supervillainy. Without the need for a rotating rogues gallery in the name of endless serialization, wannabe supervillains end up dead, imprisoned, sticking to common profitable crimes, or going straight like Moloch. I think this a missing aspect of other attempts to deconstruct the genre like Marshall Law or the Boys, because if there isn't a threat on the level of the Legion of Doom or Darkseid, then superheroes are just a solution in search of a problem, and if there are supervillains, then the superheroes need to get their shit together. This was also a problem with the League of Extraordinary Gentleman, were told about much of a threat superheroes are, but all they do is lounge around to be marketed, while the League goes out and tackles issues that a superhero could actually help with, such as the aliens from War of the Worlds, actual authoritarians like Big Brother, or even the antichrist.

Hard agree with at least the parts pertaining to Watchmen. Moloch's quivering little "Oh God, I spent the 70s in jail." is such an effective refutation of such a huge number of tropes at once, and hits above its weight in contributing to the sense that Watchmen proper is set well after the party has wound down, so to speak. I really wish that it had made it into any of the adaptations.

My endorsement as this pertains to Marshall Law and The Boys is much more tentative. Marshall Law is simply on my to-read list. The Boys is almost entirely about the idea that superheroes are just a solution in search of a problem, but also doesn't commit to an actual in-universe angle on what supervillains are, or whether they exist at all, in a way that severely limits it's ability to say anything about anything at all; they go from a real issue to which superheroes are framed as a bad solution, to controlled opposition stage-managed by Vought, and it's not a clean transition; as a comic it's concerned with getting in a lot of (decently funny) shots at the meta-editorial level at the expense of being a well-realized world. The show is meaningfully better about this, because the for-profit cultural elevation of "heroes" without a clear-cut exigence is both analogous to several dynamics in contemporary American culture and reflects the cultural idea of the superhero as shaped by the MCU.

As far as League of Extraordinary Gentlemen goes- I only ever got around to the first two volumes. But the entire point of those first two volumes is that the conflicts between heroes and villains are in fact just different groups of monstrous shitheads working at cross-purposes- as is the nature of Victorian great-game politics. The twist at the end of the first volume is that Fu Manchu, while evil, isn't actually meaningfully worse than the people who sic the quote-unquote "heroes" on him- but he is foreign, and thus easier to paint as a legitimate target.

Then, in volume two, individual heroism very pointedly plays a very limited role in the defeat of the Martians. They're driven off Mars to earth in the first place after years of warfare with a guerilla coalition of several other fictional Martian species of note- led but not defined by the efforts of John Carter and Gullivar, and it's ultimately a lukewarm, unsatisfying victory. The League's involvement in the Martian situation actively causes setbacks at first because it puts The Invisible Man in a position to sell out the entire defensive strategy to save his own hide. Nemo is only able to provide an effective stalling action because he's assisted by his sizable crew. Hyde is the only one of the group who gets to do a traditional singular superhero moment, and he's motivated to do it entirely by his overwhelming desire to kill stuff over anything intrinsically heroic, and he dies doing it. And the tide is ultimately turned by black-ops germ warfare perpetuated by the English government, ultimately bringing the entire conflict down to the level of two packs of imperialists taking swings at each other with countless innocents caught in the crossfire.

(Man, I forgot how much I liked Nemo in these, by the way. Had to quickly reread both volumes in order to make sure I wasn't going to be talking out my ass, so thank you for motivating that. What a cool guy.)

[sxie-txt]

CATALYST | S.JY

Jake/Jaeyun x reader

+ft. Wonbin from Riize cause he's my baby

SUMMARY Getting paired with your crush for a chemistry group project would seem nerve-wracking to most. For you, it felt like the perfect chance to prove your skills and maybe something more.

But things don't go as planned, especially when someone else is determined to see you fail.

GENRE romance, angst, highschool au, slight fluff

WARNINGS swearing, chemistry inaccuracies, use of korean names, also Da-eun is just an oc. sorry if i missed anything. Not proofread

□ hi guys! This is my first ever story debut here in tumblr! I hope you enjoy my writing.

wc. 816 (ithink?)

It all started with a clipboard and a randomly assigned group list. Your Chemistry teacher pinned the paper on the bulletin board with a bit too much enthusiasm, as if she hadn’t just sealed everyone’s academic fate for the next two weeks. You scanned the list with half-lidded eyes, expecting the usual — people you barely talked to, the quiet kid who did all the work, the loud one who never did any. But then you saw it.

Group 3: Jaeyun Sim, Da-eun Lee, Wonbin Park, and [Y/N].

Your heart did this embarrassing little flutter thing. You weren’t proud of it, but you couldn’t help it. Jaeyun — or Jake, as everyone called him, was the kind of boy who made classrooms feel just a little warmer. He wasn’t just good-looking; he was kind in this casual, effortless way, the kind that made you pay attention when he spoke. You’d had a quiet crush on him since mid-semester. And now, you were going to spend the next two weeks in his orbit.

You looked around the classroom to find your group mates. And you saw him already looking at you. He gave you a small little smile before turning away to the front. You were too moonstrucked to even smile back. A blush appeared on your cheeks.

You turned to look a Da-eun.

She wasn’t thrilled. You caught the way her eyes narrowed when she saw the list. She masked it well, with that polite smile she wore like perfume, visible but never quite sincere. You hadn’t done anything to her, not really, but you could feel it every time she looked at you. Like she was sizing you up. Measuring your threat level.

You thought maybe it was all in your head.

The first group meeting was awkward. Wonbin was chill and mostly just let everyone talk, nodding and taking notes when necessary. Jake, as expected, tried to bring everyone together, suggesting ideas, cracking a few jokes to break the ice. He was the smartest in the class, and it showed. He had this easy confidence when he spoke, like he already saw the solution five steps ahead. You contributed too, offering to work on the experiment plan. But Da-eun… she was quiet. Not unfriendly, just calculated. She always sat a little closer to Jake than necessary, always offered to partner with him when it came to mixing chemicals or running tests.

You noticed. She noticed you noticing.

And Jake? He didn’t seem to notice at all.

Still, you tried not to let it bother you. You stayed focused, especially when the experiment wasn’t working. Your goal was to find the correct chemical ratio that would create a stable reaction, a glowing solution that represented a perfect molecular balance. It was supposed to be simple in theory, but in practice, it kept failing.

So one afternoon, with the deadline looming and everyone too frustrated to care anymore, you stayed behind to work on it. You researched formulas, reviewed notes, and finally, you thought you had it.

“I think I found the right compound,” you said, your voice a mix of excitement and nerves. “It has to be potassium iodide. It balances out the reaction when mixed slowly with hydrogen peroxide —”

“You sure?” Jake asked, stepping closer to the lab bench. His sleeves were rolled up, his hands smudged with graphite. He looked at you like he wanted to believe you.

You nodded, heart hammering. “I double-checked. This should work.”

But when you ran the experiment… it didn’t.

Instead of glowing blue, the solution turned murky and began to smoke faintly. You had to scramble to turn on the fume hood. Everyone panicked, and the entire test had to be scrapped. The solution was ruined. The materials were wasted.

Da-eun was the first to speak, voice like honey laced with something sharp. “Well… that was a choice.”

“I know I got the chemical right,” you said quickly, turning to Jake. “I think someone might’ve—look, I double-checked the labels before I added anything, but when I turned around, it looked like the bottle had been moved. I swear it wasn’t potassium iodide anymore. It felt like—”

“What are you saying?” Da-eun asked, her smile stretching a little too tight.

You hesitated. “I think you switched the chemical.”

Jake’s eyes widened. “You think Da-eun sabotaged the experiment?”

You turned to him, your chest tight. “I know it sounds crazy, but I was careful, Jake. I swear. It was working until—until someone messed with it.”

He looked at you for a long time. But then he shook his head. “Come on… Da-eun wouldn’t do that.”

“But—”

“It’s just a project,” he said, softer now. “Let’s not turn it into drama, okay?”

That was the part that stung the most? the way he dismissed you. Not angrily. Just like he didn’t believe you. Like he couldn’t imagine that Da-eun, perfect, sweet Da-eun — would ever do something so petty.

And maybe that was the moment you realized: having a crush on someone doesn’t mean they’ll take your side.

Especially not when someone else is better at playing the part.

Maybe he was right.

As much as it hurt to admit, the words stuck with you as you cleaned up the mess in silence. The murky solution, the wasted time, the panic. Maybe you had made a mistake. Maybe you had been too tired or distracted, too eager to prove yourself. And accusing Da-eun like that… it felt so far from who you were. You weren’t the kind of person who pointed fingers.

But in that moment, you had.

So you kept your head down and said nothing more, even as Da-eun lingered behind a little too long, organizing bottles and giving Jake a soft laugh when he helped her straighten the labels.

The next day, Da-eun showed up to class with a fresh page of calculations and a neat little proposal written in her handwriting. She handed it to the group with a casual shrug.

“I think I figured it out last night,” she said, not looking at you. “It’s probably better if we just move forward with this formula. We don’t really have time to waste experimenting again.”

Jake skimmed the paper, nodding slowly. “This actually makes sense…”

You didn’t say anything. You just stared at the paper, the neat columns of data, the highlighted reaction sequence. It wasn’t far off from the research you had been working on, just tweaked. Cleaned up. Framed like it was hers all along.

And maybe it was. Maybe she had figured it out after all.

But then Da-eun added, “I mean, not everyone’s cut out for lab work. It’s fine. We all have different strengths.”

You blinked. It wasn’t what she said, it was how she said it. With that sugary voice and a glance that didn’t linger long enough to be obvious, but just long enough to land.

Jake glanced between you two, brows drawing together slightly.

You tried to smile, to laugh it off like it didn’t get under your skin. Like her words didn’t feel like a slap dressed up in politeness. But it must not have been very convincing, because Jake hesitated before speaking again.

“You okay?” he asked later, when the others were packing up.

You shrugged, not meeting his eyes. “Yeah. Just tired.”

There was a pause, just long enough to feel like he didn’t believe you.

“You know…” he started, then stopped. “If something’s bothering you, you can talk to me.”

You looked at him, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “It’s nothing.”

Jake didn’t push. He just gave a small nod, but his expression lingered a little longer, as if trying to read between the lines.

And as he turned to go, you couldn’t help but wonder... if he’d noticed earlier, would he have believed you?

Or were you always meant to play the part of the girl who almost got it right, only to be quietly outshined?

You didn’t stop contributing. You still showed up, still researched, still stayed late to refine the data. Next to Jake, you probably did the most. But somehow, it never looked like that from the outside. Da-eun always managed to say the right thing at the right time, always delivered her ideas with this polished confidence that made people listen. And when something worked, the credit tilted her way like it was natural.

You didn’t fight it. You didn’t see the point.

They were wrapping up another late session in the lab. Da-eun was packing her bag, chatting easily with Jake about how they should format the results, and you were hunched over the data logs, organizing the numbers that didn’t want to stay in line.

“That part’s from [Y/N]’s notes, right?” Wonbin asked, pointing to the graph Da-eun had just handed to Jake.

She froze for half a second—just long enough.

Jake looked down. “Oh? I thought you said you ran these tests last night.”

Da-eun smiled, brushing hair behind her ear. “I mean, I did. I just, uh, referenced her notes for comparison.”

Wonbin didn’t look up from his phone. “That’s weird. [Y/N] ran those results with me during our last session. You weren’t even there.”

There was a pause.

Small. Sharp. Almost forgettable.

Jake didn’t say anything at first. But something shifted in his face. A crack in the ease.

Later, after Da-eun left with a quick excuse, Jake lingered by the bench, pretending to sort through supplies. You were already halfway out the door when he called your name.

“Hey,” he said, quietly. “Can I ask you something?”

You turned, slowly. “Sure.”

“That day. When the experiment failed.” He scratched the back of his neck. “You really think she switched the chemical?”

You didn’t answer right away. You just looked at him, tired and worn down.

Jake let out a breath. “I think you were right.”

You blinked. “What changed?”

“I noticed some of the labels in the cabinet were moved,” he said, voice low. “Not just that day. A few times, actually. And Da-eun always insisted on prepping things ‘just to be safe.’”

He hesitated, eyes meeting yours.

“I didn’t want to believe she’d do something like that. But the more I looked at the work we’ve done… the more I realized most of it—was yours.”

You stared at him. It didn’t feel satisfying, or even relieving. It just felt late.

“I’ve been an idiot,” he added. “I should’ve seen it sooner.”

“No,” you said, voice calm but distant. “You just didn’t want to.”

He flinched a little. And for once, he didn’t have a clever comeback. Just silence.

Wonbin walked by then, raising an eyebrow at the two of you.

“Guess we’re finally having that conversation,” he muttered, before heading out.

You couldn’t help it. You laughed. Not because it was funny. Just because it was easier than being angry.

And Jake looked at you like he’d missed that sound.

Like maybe he was only just now realizing what he'd been ignoring all along.

The next day, you kept your distance.

You didn’t sit next to Jake. You didn’t speak unless someone asked you a direct question. You stuck to the background, finishing the report, double-checking calculations, highlighting errors. You didn’t even look up when Da-eun walked in like she hadn’t spent the past week rewriting your work and smiling like it was hers.

Jake kept glancing at you.

You felt it, every time. But you didn’t meet his eyes.

Not because you were being petty, but because it hurt to. Because it hurt to pretend nothing happened, to pretend you hadn't meant what you said. Jake hurt you, whether he realized it or not. And right now, you didn’t know how to make yourself smaller just to make him feel better about it.

Jake finally said something when class ended and the others filtered out.

“[Y/N]—can we talk?”

You didn’t stop packing your bag. “Is it about the project?”

“No. Not really.”

“Then maybe later.”

You walked out before he could answer.

Your steps felt heavier than you wanted to admit. But you kept walking anyway.

You were about to leave school but then you remember that you left your calculator in the locker. Your locker was not far off from the lab—it was pretty near actually.

You stuff a few books before you heard voices outside the lab. Your hand freezes midway from pushing the book inside your bag. You notcied the door was slightly ajar. You decide to go nearer to listen.

Da-eun’s tone was light, but there was an edge to it, like sugar over glass.

“I don’t know why you’re suddenly so obsessed with her.”

You didn’t move. Just froze where you stood, still behind the cracked door.

“She made one good guess and now she’s the backbone of the project?”

Jake didn’t answer immediately. But when he did, his voice was low and clear.

“No. She’s always been the backbone. I was just too blind to see it.”

Silence.

Then Da-eun laughed, sharp and defensive. “Come on. She’s average at best. She only shines because you let her.”

There was a pause.

“No,” Jake said, sharper this time. “She shines because she’s actually good. Better than you. Smarter than me, even.”

You blinked.

Da-eun’s voice dropped, venom just beneath the surface. “So what now? You think defending her makes you the good guy?”

“No,” he said. “It doesn't justify that I didn't believe her.”

You hurriedly closed your bag and completely forgot about your calculator.

Jake looked up first, eyes wide when he saw you through the glass door. Da-eun turned, her expression falling for a split second before she pulled it back together.

You just brushed past them, and you heard Jake say, quieter this time, but loud enough for you to hear, “She deserved better than both of us.”

You didn’t say anything.

Didn’t need to.

Da-eun’s silence followed you all the way down the hall.

The next day in class, Da-eun tried to act like nothing happened. She sat next to Jake again, placed her notebook between them, leaned over to ask questions that didn’t need answers. She smiled, soft and calculated.

But Jake wasn’t playing along anymore.

He barely glanced at her. Answered with short nods. Moved his chair half a step away without even realizing it.

Wonbin noticed.

He gave you a look across the room, a small, satisfied smirk that didn’t say I told you so, but definitely meant it.

And then, during the final presentation review, the teacher pulled up the group’s documentation on the projector. The parts with names attached to each segment of the experiment.

Every page.

Every test.

Every formula.

Almost all of them had your name on them.

The rest were Jake’s and Wonbin’s.

Da-eun’s name appeared once — and only because you had included her in a group summary early on.

The room was quiet. You weren’t looking around, but you could feel the shift. The glances. The whispers. The realization.

Even the teacher paused. “Is this correct?” she asked, brows raised.

Jake spoke first.

“It is.”

Then Wonbin replied casually, “Yeah. We double-checked everything last night.”

The teacher gave a small nod and moved on, but the silence stayed heavy around Da-eun. She didn’t say a word for the rest of class. Her smile was gone. Her hands didn’t touch her notebook once.

You kept your eyes on your desk.

But you didn’t have to say anything.

The truth was loud enough.

It was over. The grades came in a week later. Your group got the highest mark in the class. The project had been a success, technically. But no one really talked about it.

Da-eun stopped sitting near Jake. Actually, she stopped talking altogether in Chemistry, her usual sharp presence dulled into silence. She avoided your eyes in the hallway. Not that you were looking for hers anymore.

You thought it would feel better. But it didn’t. Not really.

Jake hadn’t tried to talk to you since the day outside the lab. You figured maybe that was his version of an apology, letting it all die quietly. No more damage. You tried to move on too. Buried yourself in other assignments, laughed a little louder with your friends, acted like Jake Sim hadn’t made something twist in your chest every time he looked at you.

It didn’t work. Not really.

You stayed behind one afternoon to wipe down your station. Everyone else had left, except for Wonbin, who gave you a lazy salute on his way out and mumbled something like “later, genius.”

You almost smiled.

Then you heard footsteps stop behind you.

“You don’t have to clean everything, you know,” Jake said.

You didn’t turn around. “I like clean things.”

“I know,” he said softly. He sounded like he’d always known. Like he hadn’t stopped knowing even after everything.

You kept wiping the counter, focusing on the smudges even though your hands were still. Your heart was not.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry,” he said.

You didn’t look at him, didn’t trust yourself to. “You said that already.”

“Not properly,” he replied. “Not like this.”

You stayed quiet, watching your reflection blur in the polished surface.

“I should’ve believed you,” he said. “I did. Deep down. I just didn’t want to admit I was wrong about her. And I hate that it hurt you.”

You nodded slowly. “Yeah. It did.”

He exhaled, like he’d been holding his breath since the day everything fell apart. “You were the best part of that group. Always were. You carried us.”

You let out a soft laugh, tired and a little bitter. “Not that it mattered.”

“It did,” he said. “I noticed. I always noticed. Before the project, too. I just... never knew how to say it.”

That made you look up.

He looked nervous. But more than that, he looked at you like he meant every word. Like it physically hurt him not to.

“I liked working with you,” you said quietly. “Even when I hated it. Even when I hated you.”

“I deserved that.”

“You did.”

Another breath, and then, “But you were still the only part I looked forward to.”

He froze at that. Just a flicker, but it was enough.

Then he stepped closer, carefully. “Are we okay?”

You paused, searching his face. The part of you that wanted to stay mad was tired. The part of you that still liked him, that never really stopped, was louder.

“You’re still annoying,” you said.

“But...?”

You didn’t answer. Not with words.

Instead, before you could overthink it, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

It was quick. Just a brush of your lips against skin, warm and barely there. But he went completely still, like the whole world had just paused to catch its breath.

You stepped back, eyes meeting his.

“But I’m glad it was you,” you said.

Jake stared at you like he couldn’t believe what just happened. Then he smiled. Really smiled. The kind that reached his eyes and made your stomach flutter.

You grabbed your bag and brushed past him, sleeve grazing his. He didn’t stop you.

But at the door, you turned back.

He was still watching you. Not like he was waiting. More like he just couldn’t help it. Like if you took one more step, he'd follow.

And truthfully?

You hoped he would.

□ you made it to the enddd!!! Thank you so much dear reader for reading >.< I hope you enjoy and stay tuned for the other stories im gonna publish soon hehe. I hope you like this little fic i made for jake cause i love him sm. 💜 reblog and like if you liked it <3

[jupitersswiftie]

THE ALCHEMY - PROLOGUE

prohero! deku x popstar! reader

(slight prohero! kiribaku x reader)

How many times could she pace her dorm room? How deep could her finger nails dig into her skin? Was she even allowed to cry at such a situation?

Y/n L/n found herself in the predicament of a lifetime. One that many daydreamed of. Her stress levels were, safe to say, off the charts. Her mind was racing, still in heavy disbelief that this was reality. The tension in her room was thick. Everyone could feel it.

“I, just, I. .I don’t know what to do, you guys!” Y/n worried aloud to her friend group, her voice more exasperated with each syllable.

Katsuki Bakugo was visibly growing agitated as he watched his girlfriend fret over something with such an obvious solution. Eijiro Kirishima watched his friend with worried eyes, hating to see her so upset. Denki Kaminari and Mina Ashido simply appeared bored as they knew precisely what she was to do. Hanta Sero was slightly confused as he had arrived late to the emergency bakusquad meeting in Y/n’s dorm room.

“Can I ask what’s going on?” Sero piped up, taking a cautious seat on Y/n’s lavender couch next to Kirishima.

Denki swiped on his phone, his expression and tone as monotone as ever. “She got a record deal and she’s debating whether she should drop out of the hero course and take it or whether she should stay and be a hero.”

Sero’s eyes widened with excitement before he turned to Y/n’s distressed state and scoffed, “Easy, take the deal.”

To Y/n’s close friends and family, this was a ridiculous ultimatum Y/n was giving herself. Even in the top hero school, Y/n lived and breathed for music. She would play guitar until her fingers bled and piano until her fingers cramped so heavily it was difficult to write the next day. She would abruptly leave conversations to take a quick voice note on her phone as she had just gotten a lyric or melody that she simply couldn’t forget. She had a whole mini studio in her room a lot like Jiro and Denki. She would stay up at night with them collaborating more times than they all care to admit.

While she was a good student, she evidently prioritized her artistry over her coursework and hero work. Yet, what beat her passion for music was the fact that her work was actually good. Class 1-A could not get enough of her music. They all eagerly awaited her melodies. Even the most monotone of the bunch enjoyed her work. Some even connected to her words on a deep level.

To her friends and family her purpose in life was painfully obvious. She was made for music.

Yet, Y/n was clearly second guessing herself.

Being at UA was an honor and a privilege to say the least. She decided to enter the hero course because she wanted to help people. She wanted to make a difference. She came from a long line of heroes and the impact that they made on the world was astonishing. She wanted to contribute in some way. She couldn’t leave people astray all because she had a silly dream.

She took a deep breath, hoping to communicate her viewpoint. “Yeah, but it’s not that simple!” She dragged her hand through her hair. “Yes, I absolutely love music and, yes, I would absolutely internally regret it for the rest of my life if I didn’t take the deal. But, people would kill to have my spot here at UA right now. We only have a year left before we graduate and I don’t want to be selfish. Why would I spend my life writing words and melodies when I could be saving people?!”

Her final sentence was Bakugo’s final straw. He stood up from her bed and grabbed her face gently but firmly. “Now, you’re gonna listen to me, Y/n. Cut the shit. You know what you fuckin’ need to do. You’re not being selfish or whatever the hell you think that you are being by taking this deal. People don’t just need physical saving. They need it emotionally too . Your music will impact people in ways you’re being too damn closed minded to dream of. So take the fuckin deal and see what the school can accommodate. Got it?”

The silence in the room was loud. The bakusquad simply stared at the couple as Y/n peered up at her boyfriend, looking directly into his fiery, ruby eyes. They screamed confidence. Confidence in her.

She gently placed her hands atop of his and she mumbled in soft agreement, “Okay.”

An almost unnoticeable smile formed on Bakugo’s lips. “I’m so fuckin’ proud of you. You hear me?” He whispered gently gazing into her glossy eyes. He pressed a firm, reassuring kiss to her lips before pulling her right up against him in a tight hug.

The moment between the couple was a rare but sweet sight for the bakusquad as they weren’t usually too keen on pda. They would hold hands at times and occasionally snuggle up on the couch with one another. Denki even caught a few chaste kisses every now and then. Yet, they had never seen a moment so intimate shared between the two.

To Y/n, as Bakugo held her in his arms, the background faded. She knew that everything was going to be okay. She knew that she was making the right decision. As long as she had him, everything would always be okay.

While they were wrapped up in one another and the sweet moment of victory, they failed to notice was Kirishima’s angsty but loving gaze upon them. His stomach swirled with mixed, bittersweet emotion. Oh, how he loved them both so dearly. He longed to be a part of them. To share in this moment. To hold them close, pepper kisses across both of their faces, and celebrate Y/n’s much deserved success.

But, he knew that it would never be possible.

Not in this life.

When it was time for everyone to leave, he left the couple behind with much hesitation. What if he ran back in there? What if he told them everything? Then where would they stand?

He ultimately brushed the temptation off. Just as he always did. He walked slowly back to his dorm, his heart ached with each beat. He silently hoped that if he walked slow enough Y/n’s door would open and he would hear them call for him. They would invite him to join their celebration. But that moment never came. Instead, he heard their private laughter as he turned the corner towards his room.

He couldn’t help the tear that fell down his cheek. He wiped it quickly thinking to himself, ‘How unmanly.’

Months passed and much had changed. Y/n L/n was a quick rising new star that the world could not get enough of. UA had surprisingly been extremely accommodating to her situation. Denki and Mina theorized that it was because Principal Nezu and All Might were quite huge (but closeted) fans of her work and longed to see her graduate from their institution. They provided her with portable academic work for when she was on the road and only required that she keep her hero license up to date while she attended UA. She could pop in and out of in person schooling as she needed.

When Y/n was gone, Bakugo found himself mostly at Kirishima’s side. They were best friends after all. They spared, played video games, and had developed the more recent habit of deep late night chats. These chats were a dangerous game. They both knew it. Kirishima cautiously danced around the fact that he was actively in love with him and his girlfriend. While Bakugo internally wrestled with the fact that he was indeed developing feelings for his shark toothed best friend. All while he was dating the woman of his dreams.

How messed up could he be?

The amount of times that the truth had nearly came out was frightening. Oh, how they knew they were playing with fire. But fire is comforting if you don’t get too close. Right?

[eatmangoesnekkid]

A Cluttered Mind is a Rapidly Aging and Degenerating Body

In life, it is so easy to be attracted to and overly-focused on things that clutter the mind with information and inflate the ego: Celebrity culture. Pop spirituality. Clickbait. Trauma porn. Self-help videos. Even astrology, particularly when generally consumed as factual over one’s own internal wisdom and divine knowing.

I’m not saying we shouldn’t interact with these things. But you have to be mindful of how much information you’re taking into your female body and whether that information brings you closer to yourself or pulls you further away. You have to be deeply honest too.

The truth is: much of what we consume pulls us out of relationship with our bodies. And when we lose relationship with the body, we lose connection to our most sacred compass and wisdom keeper.

Ultimately, anything that clutters the mind is also feeding the ego which lowers the quality of our life force. Overtime, this disconnection contributes to the degeneration of the physical body and the fragmentation of our energy.

There are so many distractions in the world influencing our physiology that can have us thinking thoughts that are not really our own. But when we choose to take in less, we begin to feel the whispers of truth more. We are home in the intuitive, psychic nature of our female bodies. And from this wombed place, our bodies will tell us everything we need to know. Or we can filter what we learn externally through our bodies. Either way, our bodies have the final say.

Taking in less…allows us to truly come home to the intuitive psychic nature of our bodies and they will tell us everything we need to know. They will show us how to participate in life with more clarity and grace, and less unnecessary karma and shadow. —India Ame’ye—India Ame’ye

—

The Mind-Body Disconnect

There was a time when I thought that if I could just “learn enough,” I’d finally feel whole. I was absorbing everything I could I find—books, teachings, rituals, and practices. I was curious, yes. But also subtly addicted to the feelings of “not enough” and “almost there.” I kept thinking the next download, the next insight, or the next video would bring me home to myself and the clarity and solutions I was seeking. Then I learned to declutter my mind. Read a good book over and over again for months, sometimes years. To slow down and take my time with everything.

For so long my body was tired. My energy was scattered. I wasn’t rooted in anything real. And it took a series of slowing downs—either forced by life or invited by the grace of my divine hand—for me to realize that I had become more devoted to consuming “truth” than embodying it. Information wasn’t the problem. The problem was disconnection and overconsumption. The over-identification with mind over body. With ego over soul. With “learning more thing” instead of “listening deeper” “singing louder” or do ordinary things like going for a walk and twirling as I turned corners.

But now the latter is my normal everyday life. Information is not the same as wisdom. Information is something you take in. Wisdom is something you embody. And embodiment can only happen when you’re quiet and empty enough for your body to speak. But when your mind is overfed, your body starves, and imbalances begin to show up everywhere.

*** thoughhts that are not our own and shallow breathing thorugh our mouths.