#I had no idea where exactly to go with this one

[lacedwithsuguru]

❦ pt. five — pt. four here

it’s been three months since you’ve last spoken to your olderbrothersbestfriend!sukuna.

it didn’t take long for you to get over him and his confusion. you knew you didn’t need that kind of energy in your life and truthfully, you’ve felt a hell of a lot more free.

his reputation that you’d always been aware of held true—sukuna was a dick and he spent his free-time inside way too many girls. see, if you had pursued that, who’s to tell that you wouldn’t contract some sort of std had you gone a step further with him? you were frankly better off.

but, there was something a little off about him, something off about his character. sukuna was a guy who enjoyed taking up space, never one to apologize for it. yet, maybe it was out of respect for you, or maybe it was sukuna just being petty out of spite—but he has been going to so much trouble to avoid you.

he doesn’t spend the night at your place at all anymore, having your brother meet him at his apartment instead. your brother didn’t seem too shocked at the change, nor did he bring it up to you, so obviously sukuna has kept his mouth shut about your previous interactions.

the reason for that was obvious. the jerk didn't want his head on a spit.

anytime you’d see him in passing, his eyes would flicker to you and he would make himself scarce.

you weren’t complaining, though. ever since, you’d been enjoying your peace. but a part of you enjoyed seeing him the slightest bit uneasy around you.

everytime you saw him, his eyes would always widen slightly before returning to his unreadable, flat expression. just a sliver of recognition and worry that never went unnoticed by you. you had to stop your lip from quirking into a mocking grin.

“c’monnnnn,” shoko drawled out, tugging your limbs from your bed. you sighed, pulling your sheet up and over your head in an attempt to hermit yourself from her.

“i’m not going,” you whined, gripping the fabric and drawing it back to drape yourself.

“so what if he’s there? it’s not like a third of the campus won’t be in attendance,” she insisted, dragging her hands over her face.

you scrunched your brows, turning back at her and scowling. “that’s not my issue, sho.”

“oh really?” she quirked, unimpressed as she crossed her arms. “humor me, then. what exactly is stopping you from going?”

your mood soured immediately.

shoko was attempting to convince you to attend this nights frat party—hosted by one of the most well-known frats on campus. a frat that sukuna used to be a part of before he opted for his own apartment, yet he was still in good graces with everyone there.

practically assuring his attendance tonight.

“leave me alone,” you grumbled, stuffing your face in your pillow.

“i’ll be damned if i’m leaving you alone in your apartment while everyone’s celebrating the end to that hellish mid-terms week. plus, i can phone my emergency.”

slowly, you rose from your bed and met her gaze with a hardened, annoyed stare. “emergency? really? FOR THIS?”

the two of you had a couple emergency options you had stored away where you could force one another to do what the other wanted as long as it was manageable. of course, this was more than manageable as it was just a party but the thought of it truly made your blood simmer.

and now here you were, sporting a brown babydoll tank and white jean shorts with your hair neatly done, standing outside the frat. it’d been quite some time since you’ve gone out as you’d been cramming since the semester started with a heavy workload.

a part of you thought that maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to let go tonight. you deserved this. and so what if you ran into sukun-. no. you weren’t going to think about him tonight. you might not even see him tonight so why worry yourself?

an arm slung across your shoulder, squeezing your bicep. you peered up to see utahime grinning at you.

“i am SO ready to get incredibly drunk,” she giggled, to which her girlfriend ruffled her hair.

“and i am so ready to take care of you,” shoko whispered, kissing utahime’s cheek.

“get a room,” you groaned, rolling your shoulders and tossing them a teasing frown. they only chuckled and headed up the steps.

the fallen leaves and grass crunched under your sneakers as you padded up the stone stairs and shuffled past a couple people into the bustling brick beauty.

defeaning trap music filled your ears with the smell of sweat and booze. a keg was set up beside the stairs, a jock doing a handstand with the hose in his mouth as some drunk students chanted “chug chug chug” and he coolly complied.

you scoffed, somewhat impressed, as you turned away and watched shoko and utahime shove their way into a pool game.

“over here!” yelled utahime, beckoning you with a wave of her hand.

you dismissed it, cupping your mouth to shout back at her. “lemme get a drink first!”

she nodded and focused on her girlfriend who was already not-so-subtly pinning her from behind to guide her movements with the stick, an obvious blush painting the shorter girls cheeks.

your phone vibrated as you manuvered your way towards the kitchen, pulling it out from your back pocket, the screen illuminating your face.

it was your brother, asking if you were attending the party. you furrowed your brows and typed back a reply to let him know you were already there and his name popped up on your screen, an incoming phone call.

confusion painted your expression as you accepted the call brought the device to your ear. “what’s up?” you spoke, doing your best to speak straight into the speaker.

you had to plug your other ear to even pick up on what he was saying. he explained to you that he wasn’t going to be able to make it to the party since he was stuck at work and you asked why that was exactly your issue. he scoffed and told you that he was supposed to watch over sukuna for the night because he was worried for him.

the mention of his name brought a bitter taste to your mouth. “why’re you worried about him?” you poked, doing the best to mask your irritation.

“he’s been off these past couple of months. getting insanely drunk and sleeping on the street.” your brother replied.

not like that’s something he isn’t used to, you thought, but bit your tongue for the sake of peace.

“alright, and what do i have to do with this?” you asked, though you had some semblance of an idea as to where this was going.

“need you to check up on him, make sure he gets home safe.”

after gritting your teeth and wrapping up the phone call, you hung up and slid your phone back into your pocket. you’d be an asshole, not as bad as sukuna, but an asshole regardless to ignore your brothers request.

especially since it was coming from a good place.

you weren’t doing this out of the good of your own heart. that part was caged away from sukuna a while back and you knew it.

it was only for your brother who couldn’t make it down and watch after his sleazy best friend.

speaking of, what is up with sukuna? getting drunk to the point he couldn’t get back to his apartment? that sounded incredibly out of character for him.

the prospect of him going through something flickered in your mind, but you quickly shook it off. why should you even care in the first place?

one job tonight. babysit the one and only ryomen sukuna.

you stepped into the kitchen, eyes scanning your surroundings and making note that he wasn’t there. you nodded briskly, grabbing a plastic solo cup and ladling some of the punch in before taking a swig.

spiked. of course it is.

you set the full cup down, knowing you needed to be clear-minded tonight despite your want of getting insanely intoxicated, but that was a complaint to your brother for another time.

slipping past the drunk bodies jumping up and down, you strode past the pool table to see utahime and shoko making out against a nearby wall. they barely lasted a round before they got all over each other.

tapping the brunettes shoulder, she turned around and smiled, looking already somewhat drunk.

“what happened to being designated driver?” you questioned, a grin on your lips as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“oh, i’m sober. s’my girlfriend that’s got me like this,” she beamed, leaning down to peck another kiss on utahimes lips. the purple-haired girl pushed her girlfriend back, frowning.

“she’s drunk,” utahime replied flatly, though there was a lilt of humor as she scanned shoko’s face. “looks like im in charge.”

“ah, well. you two have fun. use protection. i’ll be heading out early, i’m on babysitting duty,” you spoke sarcastically, waving your hands in annoyance.

shokos brows furrowed, resting her head atop utahimes. “babysitting…?”

“i’ll tell you tomorrow. text me when you guys are leaving, alright?”

the two girls exchanged a glance, before nodding. “and you better text us when you get back home!” utahime has always been one for mom duty.

a tired smile made its way to your face before you left them to their bubble of privacy.

making your way past the crowd of drunken, sweaty bodies wearing way too many neon accessories while sober was a feat you should be applauded for. truly, parties were murky when you weren’t intoxicated so the frustration bubbling beneath your skin only intensified as time went on.

your eyes continued to scan the sea of revelers, coming up fruitless each time you couldn’t spot sukuna.

shoko wasn’t kidding. a third of the campus must’ve made their way here by now. you checked the time and it was nearing midnight, meaning that this crowd wasn’t going to be dying down anytime soon.

padding over to the living room, you pushed a couple that was all over each other out of your way before stepping in.

with wide orbs darting across the room, you spotted a familiar mess of salmon-colored hair.

an incredulous laugh left your lips.

there he was. in all his glory. making out with a girl you somewhat recognized. her name was hana, a cheerleader and sister of a well-known sorority on campus.

his grey sweats were manspread as she straddled him, cupping his cheeks and practically shoving her tongue down his throat.

the burly man’s hands were nothing short of scandalous, groping the flesh of her ass as she grinded down onto him.

“‘needs help,’ my ass,” you bit through teeth clamped, turning on your heel. your anger was at an all-time high, a feeling that’s been absent to you for months now.

but before you could exit the area, you heard a loud slap! echo, the room drawing quiet.

“disgusting asshole!” a girl cried out, and you swung your head in that direction.

hana, who was just making out with sukuna, was pushing off of him, grabbing her things and storming in your direction. she stopped beside you, her cheeks flushed and her chest heaving. “go get your man,” she whispered angrily, before stomping out.

the entire room stilled, eyes darting between the door and sukuna, obviously missing hana's last comment.

the main offender was still on the couch, hunched over with his head in his hands, nearly ripping the hair from his scalp.

this was your chance. you could escape and let your brother know that he was perfectly fine.

but no.

luck wasn't in your cards. when was it ever? because the man in question tossed his head back in annoyance, exhaustion coiled in his face, and making eye contact with you.

the two of you stilled in an awkward and heated stare, acknowledging each other's presence.

you averted your gaze after a few excruciating seconds, settling it on a potted plant to your side. your fidgeted with your fingernails, a show of your obvious nerves.

should you make a break for it now? or would that be weird seeing as you would basically be running from him. no... you can't do that. but your only other option was actually going up to him and making conversation. about what? that was completely unbeknownst to you.

"hey," sukuna called out, peering over you as you spun to meet his gaze. he had dark bags beneath his eyes, his hair somewhat unkempt but didn't diminish his looks.

there was a flush along his cheeks and the crown of his ears were tinged a heated red. he was probably somewhat drunk. he took a step towards you and you unconsciously shuffled backwards, his eyes darting to your footwork and stilling.

fumbling with the hem of your top, you pursed your lips. "hi."

the high-strung tension between the two of you was damn near suffocating but you didn't know how to cut it.

to your rescue, sukuna rubbed the nape of his neck with his palm and sighed. "you heard that," he said, without the inquisitive nature and more like a fact.

"kinda hard to miss," you teased, tilting your head and scanning him. he was sporting a black wife-beater, decorative stripes of ink sprawled across his biceps and shoulders.

the unspoken dissonance from months ago still hung in the air.

"you alright?" you posed, feeling unsure as how to continue this stifling conversation.

"yeah, just some girl," he exhaled, eyes fixed on the floor as flexed his fingers.

you nodded in annoyance. his casual dismissal of women was just in his nature. "right. just some girl," you spoke flatly and his eyes flickered to yours, darting between your right and left as he searched for answers he couldn't place while you remembered why you were even here in the first place. "hold on."

his mind worked to undo your comment and he grimaced at his word choice. how does he explain how every girl was now 'just some girl' ever since that day in the kitchen? every girl but you.

puling your phone from your pocket, your thumbs tapped away against the screen. sukuna allowed you to do whatever you needed, standing over you quietly.

you texted your brother, letting him know you found sukuna and he immediately sent a thumbs up, making you question the phone policy as his job.

"that's that," you said, slipping the device back into your pocket.

"well, i think i'm gonna head out. this place has got shit for drinks and the bar down the street-."

"i'm on babysitting duty," you interrupted, clasping your hands in front of you and staring up at him.

his eyebrows scrunched, cocking his head slightly. "what?"

"my brother said i'm in charge of you for the evening," you sarcastically beamed.

"...really?"

"yup!"

a scowl made it's way across his expression as he dragged a hand over his cheek before rubbing his twitching jaw. the frustration was evident.

you awaited his outburst, telling you that he's a grown man and fine on his own to which you'd curse him out smoothly and leave him to deal with his own shit and possibly make something out of your evening... but it didn't come.

he simply nodded, his lips pursed as he turned on his heel and grabbed his zip-up from a stool and making his way out of the room.

his formidable figure had no issue maneuvering through the crowd, as nearly everyone stepped out of his way and his line of sight was well over their heads.

you took this chance to trail him and easily make your way out, earning a few stares from the partyers.

as you stepped into the night, the chill of the night nipped at your bare skin. shuffling down the steps, you muttered curses to yourself for not bringing a hoodie to change into.

sukuna peered over his shoulder to witness your inner turmoil. his crimson orbs flickered down your figure and scoffed at your... lack of clothing, to say. how could you not cover up when it's freezing out?

"here," he said, holding his zip-up towards you.

you glanced up, eyes darting between the fabric he was holding and his solemn expression.

"yeah, no," you laughed mockingly and turning away, watching your breath condensate in the air before dissipating. as if you would do him the favor of holding onto the fabric he obviously didn't want to carry, his bare skin nearly covered in a layer of perspiration. "i'd rather die."

staring at you wide-eyed, sukuna dropped his outstretched hand after a couple of moments and nodded. the wrenching feeling of rejection washed over him, a feeling that was all too unfamiliar to him.

before you, sukuna had never entertained the idea of insignificant feelings. it was all too mundane for him. at the end of the day, he didn't care too much if he wronged someone.

it was easier to pretend like nothing and pray the other person wouldn't whine about, or he simply pretended the person didn't exist. either option never weighed on him too heavily.

he was also not the kind to ever apologize.

yet, the idea of you being upset with him had only managed to gut him after all this time. he'd attempted to drown him himself in intoxicants, which proved fruitless.

pretending you didn't exist wasn't all that helpful, either. even when you weren't physically around, your presence lingered every fucking place he turned. he'd randomly smell your shampoo lingering in the air which would throw him off, the mention of your fucking major would make him dizzy, and even names that sounded remotely like yours would make him flinch.

which is why, he'd rehearsed an apology to you for weeks now in hopes that one day, you'd accept it.

he didn't understand why he was feeling like this, but the hope that it might go away stuffed that corroded hole in his chest temporarily.

"you okay?"

"what?" sukuna replied irritated, head swiveling towards you, making you notice the slight slur of his words now.

for a few minutes now, he'd been muttering to himself with sweat beading along his forehead, his eyes fixed on the sidewalk. you had to muster up the courage to ask him, but you ultimately regret it.

"nothing, jeez," you scoffed, crossing your arms.

sukuna's hand was trembling in his pocket, fingers flexing and unflexing every couple of seconds. "sorry," he muttered. "didn't mean to..." he trailed off, his shoulder's slumping.

"yeah, alright." at this point, you've become so detached and used to his random tantrums so you didn't want to entertain this. but it didn't go without battering your self-esteem, making you want to slither away from this entire ordeal.

sukuna took notice of the change in your demeanor as well, his fists balling up and wanting to jump into traffic. "wait," he said, halting and turning to you.

you came to a stop a few feet ahead, glancing past your shoulder and turning around. "what is it?"

he stared at you, almost in what looked to be awe, before shaking his head and you could see the way his shoulders flexed, the way he balled the zip-up in his hand. what had him so uptight?

"i'm sorry," he shot out, eyes trained on the ground.

"...w-what?" you didn't know if you were hearing this right. was the one and only ryomen sukuna apologizing to you right now?

"i'm sorry, pea. i fucked up like crazy with you. the shit that happened a couple months back, i-in the kitchen... i shouldn't have said you're not worth it," he rambled, words on his tongue burning him. "you're more than fucking worth it and i was an idiot for hurting you like that, i realized it too late..."

you swallowed hard, the gulp nearly audibly, as you attempted to digest everything he just said. the guy you'd been adamant on hating for three months has finally got the balls to try to fix things? seriously?

he took a step towards you, then a step back as if he'd regretted entering your space. a heavy silence hung between the two of you, your head downcast as your mind raced and sukuna's eyes fixed on your figure.

"y-you don't have to respond. honestly, i'm not here for your forgiveness," he said after a couple minutes, the air smothering.

you gave it a couple of moments of thought before meeting his gaze. "okay."

sukuna flinched hearing your voice. "...okay?"

"okay," you repeated, pinching your bicep. "you're an asshole, you're a dick, and you're selfish."

his heart stammered and tore hearing you say those things. "and...?"

you laughed humorlessly. "and my point is, that is who you are. i don't think you'll ever change or grow out of it. so i'm just saying okay. it's not forgiveness, and i'm sure as hell not forgetting it. i'm just... saying okay."

"okay," he parroted, nodding his head in acceptance before you saw a smile tug at his lips that looked unlike him. "i can do okay."

"okay then."

the walk back to your apartment was nothing short of freezing and uncomfortable. he offered his zip-up again, to which you denied, then offered just walking back to his place, but for the sake of the cold, both of your exhaustion's, and the accessibility of it, you allowed him to crash on the couch.

he filed through your brother's clothes in his bedroom while you showered and slipped into your bedroom, allowing yourself space away from his overwhelming presence.

after changing into your pajama's, you couldn't help but stare at your ceiling in utter shock, wondering what in the fuck had happened today.

no, this doesn't change anything. the guy just looked miserable and whatever is weighing on him has gotta be taking a toll on him.

plus, it's not like you let him off the hook, right? there was no way in hell you were letting this guy walk over you and use you. if he wanted to be in your life, he had to respect you.

that was your unwavering resolve.

❦ m.list > pt. six

tags (open): @samoankpoper21 @nina-from-317 @l0v3m3-p13as3 @kunasthiast @poopooindamouf @sukubusss @actuallynarii @teenbreakup @linaaeatsfamilies @funicidals @weeezeerrss @uncertainlyours @for-hearthand-home @bnbaochauuu @beomgyusonlywife @federicaakira @joh-ahae @entumtum @ravenpumpkin1

[prettydaisygirl]

after reading your fratjames potter x reader work it did something for me! And it made me think of angsty idea

May I request a modern au where the reader and James are already in an established relationship ship

And because of a bad friend of James they have misunderstanding and some incident happen and reader happens to be present at the wrong time and because of that the bad friend spread misinfo and James believe that friend ....so it kinda leads to James hurting readers feelings

Pls feel free to ignore if i couldn't get my idea across ❤️

Hi, lovely! Thank you so much for your request! It also spawned another idea in my brain so there's another James fic coming soon also inspired by you! I hope this is what you were looking for, I appreciate you taking the time to send me a request. Much love <3

boyfriend!James Potter x fem!reader who disagree about Peter ✿ 927 words

cw: fem reader, Peter is the worst, misunderstanding, angst, open ended.

james potter masterlist

°˖✧✿✧˖°

part 2

You really, really try to like Peter. He’s the only member of James’ group that you don’t consider a good friend. 

It’s not that you think Peter is a bad person. But sometimes he says things about people that you think are… harsh. Sometimes even cruel. And usually these things are said behind the targeted person’s back. You don’t like that.

Every time you bring it up to James, voice whispered and hesitant so you don’t rock the boat, he tells you that he and the other boys have just learned not to listen to Peter’s cruel words. 

“But how can you just… let him sit there and say things like that?” You’ll argue, though your tone is soft and your fingers will brush over his chest like they belong there. Because they do.

James will take a heavy breath and meet your eyes, barely able to see the glint of your pupils in the darkness of the bedroom. “After a while… you start to realize that the things that Peter says are true.” Silence will fill the air for just a moment and then, “He usually just says a meaner version of what everyone else is already thinking.”

So you put on a smile, and you tolerate Peter. 

You sip your glass of wine, eyes moving over the restaurant’s fancy decor. The tall ceilings and shimmering chandeliers do nothing to aid the awkward silence at the dinner table. 

For whatever reason, James had agreed for the two of you to go on a double date with Peter and his new girlfriend. She sits across from you, typing away on her phone without a care in the world. James had just stood up to go to the bathroom, leaving you and Peter in awkward, tense silence. 

Your eyes land on Peter when he clears his throat, a smirk appearing on his lips. You hate the way it makes your skin crawl. 

“Don’t you think James is a bit obnoxious?” He asks, and you’re sure anyone else would laugh out loud at the face you make. 

“What?” You ask, disbelief and offense dripping in your tone, “Of course, I don’t!”

Peter’s eyebrows raise and the corner of his lip turns up even more like you said exactly what he wanted to hear. His girlfriend’s eyes raise up from her phone long enough to look between the two of you before lowering again. 

“Oh, come on,” Peter encourages cruelly, “You don’t really buy that whole teddy bear, lover-boy act, do you?” His eyes roll, “I’ve known James for years, and it’s always the same. He finds a girl he really likes, absolutely fawns over her until he gets bored, and then he finds another one. Simple as that.”

Your stomach churns, your ears ring and you’re sure if looks could kill Peter would already be six feet under. “That’s not true.”

“It is, and you know it.” Peter tilts his head condescendingly and you wish you’d pretended to be sick instead of coming to this stupid dinner. “He’s going to find someone new and leave you in the dust. Like clockwork.”

“Stop.” You try not to let his words get to you but he seems to know every single soft spot in your armor. Your worst fears that you’ve never even spoken out loud to James himself. 

“It’s only a matter of time,” Peter continues, swirling his own glass of wine before taking a long sip. “It could be tonight. Maybe one of the wait staff will catch his eye.”

“Listen, Peter,” You break, eyes dialed in on the man sitting across from you. If you can call him a man. More like a rat. “I have always thought you were cruel and disgusting. You invited us to dinner, and I came because James asked me to. But I won’t do this anymore. You’re an absolute weasel of a man and I hate you.”

But Peter doesn’t look upset by your words. In fact, he looks delighted, almost like a happy schoolboy. You realize why when you hear James’ voice behind you, your name stated in a cracking tone full of disbelief and hurt.  

You turn in your chair to look at him, guilt taking over your features. 

“James-” You try to say, the hurt look on his face making your chest physically ache.

“How can you speak to one of my friends like that?” He asks, eyes dark and voice low. He doesn’t sit back down at your table. “I know you don’t like Peter, but calling him names and saying you hate him? That’s cruel.”

You can feel your world crumbling around you, and Peter doesn’t even bother hiding his glee. In fact, it radiates off of him. His girlfriend looks like she’s enjoying the show now, phone in her lap. 

“I don’t know what has gotten into you lately, why you are so hateful and full of anger.” James grabs for his jacket and you reach for it too. He shoots you a look and you pull your hand away, feeling utterly shamed and scolded. You want to tell him that this is all a misunderstanding, that if he heard the things Peter said about him, he would agree with you. 

But you can’t. Because Peter is standing then, too, and so is his girlfriend. James sends you a look, and when he leans down to kiss you he only presses a chaste one to your hair, not one to your lips like usual.

“I’ll call you.” He says. 

And you wonder if he ever will. 

°˖✧✿✧˖°

© prettydaisygirl

[httpvomitello]

helloooo stunner!!

I just had a thought, so Bucky and reader are dating and they're out shopping for an upcoming event, maybe a fancy dinner at the compound that Stark is organising and when Bucky suggests a dress he finds reader says it's pretty but it's more a "going out" dress but not an "out-out" kind of dress

cue the old man confusion while he tries to compute that women assign outfits an "out"-ness level and poor boy is just lost

please drink enough water and have a lovely rest of your weekend xx

Ooh no! Poor dude would be so lost, but also really funny to watch, hehe. I hope you like it ~ ☆

(don't forget to stay hydrated and eat well!)

Levels of Out .｡*･ﾟﾟ

Summary: Shopping with your boyfriend Bucky Barnes for a Stark-organized dinner sounded simple. Until you realized he had no idea that women have different "out levels" for outfits—and you were about to break his super-soldier brain trying to explain it.

bucky barnes x f!reader

“Are you sure you don’t wanna just wear one of the dresses you already have?” Bucky asked, adjusting the cuff of his leather jacket as he followed you into the boutique.

You grinned over your shoulder. “You haven’t seen my closet lately, Barnes. I have ‘casual cute,’ ‘casual deadly,’ and ‘oops, I accidentally look like I’m about to rob a bank.’ None of those scream ‘classy dinner party.’”

Bucky snorted. “Pretty sure Tony’s just gonna show up in a suit made outta LEDs.”

“Exactly,” you said, laughing. “I need to at least pretend I’m not a walking threat.”

He huffed, but you could see the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You both wandered through the racks for a few minutes. Bucky trailed behind you like a giant, brooding puppy, occasionally picking up a hanger, inspecting whatever fabric monstrosity he found, and then setting it back down like it might bite him.

You loved him.

You really, really did.

But fashion?

Not his battlefield.

You were flipping through a rack of cocktail dresses when Bucky’s voice floated over:

“What about this one?”

You turned — and immediately bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing.

He was holding up a tiny, black, strappy number that looked like it belonged in a Vegas club at two a.m., not a classy Stark event.

Bucky’s face was hopeful. A little proud, even.

You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow. “Where exactly do you think we’re going?”

He blinked, utterly lost. “The dinner? At the compound?”

You laughed. “Bucky, that’s a ‘going out’ dress. Not an ‘out-out’ dress.”

Bucky stared at you like you’d just started speaking ancient Latin.

“I—” he paused, narrowing his eyes. “I don’t understand. You’re either going out or you’re not, right?”

You shook your head, walking closer and taking the hanger from his hand. “No, see, there’s levels.”

“Levels,” he repeated flatly, frowning.

You nodded solemnly. “Levels. Like—okay. ‘Going out’ means dinner, fancy drinks, maybe mingling. A nice dress, maybe some heels, but nothing too wild. ‘Out-out’ is like... shots at midnight, dancing till your feet hurt, glitter everywhere, waking up the next morning missing at least one earring and half your dignity.”

Bucky looked painfully confused.

“So... this—” he pointed at the dress, “—this is an ‘out-out’ dress?”

“Exactly,” you said, beaming at him like he was your favorite student. “This is, 'we’re not making it to brunch', vibes.”

He opened his mouth, closed it, rubbed a hand over his jaw.

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered. “In my day, you just wore your best suit and hoped for the best.”

You laughed, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “Welcome to modern womanhood, Sergeant Barnes.”

He sighed dramatically but smiled when you brushed his hair back affectionately.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he said, voice low.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” you teased.

The poor man spent the next thirty minutes gamely following you from rack to rack, solemnly inspecting dresses and every so often checking in:

“Is this ‘out’ or ‘out-out’?”

“This one’s ‘out,’ right? I don’t see glitter.”

You couldn’t stop laughing.

Finally, you found it—a sleek, elegant navy dress that hit all the right notes. Formal without being stiff. Flattering without being scandalous. It made you feel beautiful, powerful.

You stepped out of the fitting room, smoothing the fabric nervously.

Bucky turned—and his whole face changed.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at you, slow and careful, like he needed a second to catch up.

You shifted awkwardly. “Too much?”

He shook his head immediately, walking over. “You look…”

He swallowed, voice rough.

“You look incredible, doll.”

You smiled, feeling your cheeks warm.

“Good ‘out’ level?” you teased.

He huffed a soft laugh, cupping your face gently in his big, calloused hands. “Perfect level.”

You leaned into him, grinning.

And when he kissed you, there in the middle of the boutique, it was slow and reverent—the kind of kiss that made you forget you were surrounded by overpriced perfume and strangers pretending not to stare.

When he finally pulled back, he kept his forehead pressed to yours.

“Still think you should’ve worn the glittery one, though,” he muttered, just to make you laugh.

You shoved his shoulder playfully.

“Behave, Barnes,” you said.

He smirked. “No promises.”

The Stark compound had never looked fancier.

Somewhere between the glittering fairy lights, the jazz band playing a little too loudly, and the suspiciously expensive hors d'oeuvres, you were starting to wonder if Tony had bribed an entire team of wedding planners just for a dinner party.

You smoothed your dress again, nerves buzzing.

Bucky caught your hand, squeezing it gently.

“You look beautiful,” he said under his breath, like he needed to remind you (or himself) every five minutes.

Before you could thank him, you both heard a familiar voice:

“Well, well, well,” Tony Stark said, sauntering up with a drink in hand and a shit-eating grin. “If it isn’t the Winter Snuggle Soldier.”

Bucky stiffened immediately. “Don’t start, Stark.”

Tony ignored him completely, turning to you with an exaggerated bow. “Ma’am. Congratulations on successfully domesticating Barnes. We thought it couldn’t be done.”

You bit back a laugh.

“Pretty sure he domesticated himself,” you said sweetly, watching Bucky’s jaw tick.

Tony winked. “Sure, sure. Next thing you know, he’s gonna be carrying your purse and getting really passionate about paint swatches.”

“Shut up, Stark,” Bucky muttered, reaching for one of the tiny champagne flutes on a passing tray like it might save him.

Tony just grinned wider.

“Seriously though,” Tony said, tone suddenly a little softer. “Good look on you, Barnes. You’re almost... bearable.”

Bucky just grunted, but you saw the way his ears turned pink.

Tony tapped his glass against Bucky’s. “To being whipped,” he said cheerfully, and before Bucky could retaliate, Tony was already disappearing into the crowd.

You leaned closer to Bucky, smiling into your glass.

“You know... he’s not wrong.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes at you in mock suspicion. “You planning to make me carry your purse?”

You shrugged innocently.

“Depends. Would you?”

He grunted again, but his hand found yours automatically, threading your fingers together.

“For you?”

He pressed a kiss to your knuckles, soft and quick.

“Yeah. I would.”

Your heart did a stupid, messy somersault in your chest.

You bumped your shoulder against his.

“Whipped.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t let go of your hand.

Not even for a second.

[rhiannonsknife]

I have ideas for the little pervert Jackie, what about the reader who slowly starts to crush on Jackie and it just makes it so much worse. Like arm around the shoulder, or giving Jackie kisses on the cheek before getting up to go somewhere, swinging their legs over Jackie’s lap at parties, resting their head on her shoulder in the backseat while Shauna drives them home? I can just imagine how poor Jackie woukd respond to it, or even how she’d respond to the reader mumbling about how they love her and something about wanting to touch her and hold her close while drunk only to completely be oblivious in the morning.

poor jackie would be the only one who remembers because the minute you kicked your legs over her lap she felt instantly sober while you’re too drunk :((

it didn’t matter that she had multiple drinks in her system or that the music was pounding so loud she could feel it reverberating in her chest. suddenly, all she could focus on was the weight of you, warm across her thighs. you tilted your head back against the couch, laughing at something someone said, hand lazily looping around jackie’s back as if it was the most normal thing in the world for you to lounge across her like that.

it just kept getting worse when you asked her to dance, only to grind your hips back into her, laughing when she grabbed your waist to steady you. every so often you’d toss a look over your shoulder, cheeks flushed as if you knew exactly what you were doing to her, moving your ass against her crotch like that.

the ride home is as much of a blur as the party had been: you slide into the backseat with jackie and instantly lean your head on her shoulder comfortably, your breath warm against her collarbone. jackie doesn’t dare move, doesn’t dare breathe too deeply, terrified she’d scare you off or somehow make it weird. (as if it wasn’t already weird before that. as if she isn’t already so wet she can barely think.)

when you finally stumble into jackie’s house, half-asleep and clumsy with exhaustion, you drag her to bed, flopping down and tugging her with you like a stubborn child. once jackie lies down, you curl up against her side, nose tucked against the crook of her neck, one leg hooking over her hips

jackie goes completely still, her hands hovering awkwardly over the sheets, unsure where to put them.

“love you, jax” you slur. “love you so much. wanna hold you forever. wanna-” your words dissolve into a sigh as you fall asleep before you can finish the thought.

now i’m having another thought but like…drunk reader grinding against jackie’s thigh, whining when she tries to stop you because “it just feels so good”…….? OR jackie waking up in the middle of the night because you’re very obviously having a dream…moaning softly in your sleep…

[amirawrah]

⭐︎ This is all i want

with JOBE BELLINGHAM⭐︎

synopsis: After a playful movie night turns into a chaotic pillow fight, you and Jobe find yourselves tangled up in laughter—and something even deeper. A heart-melting confession and a soft morning after prove that this love is exactly where you both belong.

The evening was set. The lights in your living room were dimmed low, your favorite blanket was spread out across the couch, and a bowl of popcorn sat beside you. Everything was perfect for your cozy movie night with Jobe—except for one thing.

You were both in the middle of trying to pick a movie.

Jobe scrolled through your list of favorites, clearly unimpressed with each option. He let out a dramatic sigh.

“Why do you even like these?” he said, teasing, flicking through the options. “They’re all, like, the same thing. Sad and dramatic.”

You raised an eyebrow, turning your head to look at him. “Excuse me?”

You were both laying on the couch, a pile of pillows surrounding you, your legs tangled together under the blanket. You gave a light tug on the corner of the blanket, pulling it tighter around the two of you. “My movies are classics, Jobe. You just don’t get it. They’re emotional, heart-wrenching. They’re art.”

Jobe snorted, his eyes glinting mischievously. “Yeah, art that makes me cry. No thanks.”

You glared at him playfully. “You’re just mad because your taste in movies is... well, I don’t know how to say this nicely—terrible.”

Jobe’s eyes widened as if you had just insulted his entire existence. “Terrible?! What do you mean, terrible? I have impeccable taste. I’m all about the classics. Action, adventure, you know, something that actually makes me feel alive, not sad for no reason.”

You giggled, shaking your head. “Please, we both know your idea of a ‘classic’ is some boring superhero movie with explosions and people yelling at each other.”

“Excuse me, The Dark Knight is a masterpiece,” Jobe argued, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back into the couch.

You scoffed, leaning in toward him. “It’s literally just a man in a bat suit throwing punches. It’s not even that deep. You know what’s deep? The Notebook. Now that’s a movie that makes you feel all the things.”

“Ugh,” Jobe groaned, dramatically rolling his eyes. “You’re not serious. Are you telling me you would pick The Notebook over Inception? Come on, babe, that’s a no-brainer. Inception blows The Notebook out of the water.”

You threw your hands up in the air, mock-exasperated. “You’re impossible! There is no way you can convince me that Inception is better than The Notebook—not in a million years.”

He tilted his head and gave you a sly smile. “I bet you five pounds you can’t even follow the plot of Inception. It’s way too complicated for you.”

“Me? Not understand Inception?” You gasped in mock horror. “I get it just fine, thank you very much. I’m not the one who falls asleep halfway through a movie, Mr. ‘I only watch action scenes."

“Oh, we’re going there?” Jobe raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You always fall asleep halfway through every movie. The only reason we’re having this debate is because I have to keep rewinding scenes that I know you missed because you were too busy snoring.”

“I do not snore!” you protested, your cheeks turning a little pink.

“Oh, yes you do,” he said, his grin widening. “And don’t even try to lie about it. You always make that cute little snoring sound right around the climax or something.” He laughed as you playfully slapped his arm.

“That’s it,” you huffed, turning away from him. “I’m choosing the next movie. No more superhero nonsense, no more confusing plots—just something sweet.”

Jobe grinned. “Fine. You choose. But I’m picking the snack. No more of this weird popcorn with chocolate in it.”

Your eyes widened in mock offense. “What do you have against chocolate popcorn? It’s delicious, Jobe. Get with the program.”

“I’ll never understand you,” he muttered, shaking his head.

You both stared at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter, the whole room filled with the sound of your playful banter. It was always like this—easy, fun, and light-hearted. There were no pretenses, no pressure. Just the two of you, enjoying each other’s company and being unapologetically yourselves.

You picked a movie—The Princess Bride, naturally—and tossed the remote back on the coffee table. You pulled the blanket tighter around you, leaning back into the pillows, ready to settle in. But before you could fully relax, Jobe suddenly reached over and grabbed one of the pillows, pulling it playfully toward him.

“What are you—”

Before you could finish, he launched the pillow at you. It hit you right in the face, and you gasped dramatically. “Oh fuck you Bellingham!”

You grabbed a pillow from the couch and threw it back at him with as much force as you could muster, but he was already diving at you, his arms pulling you into a pillow fight that quickly escalated from playful throws to full-on chaos. You found yourself laughing uncontrollably as the two of you rolled around on the floor.

You were both so caught up in the moment that you didn’t even realize netflix was asking 'are you still watching'. The floor was now covered in scattered pillows and blankets, the remnants of a chaotic but incredibly fun night. You lay there for a moment, breathless, with your head resting against his chest, your laughter still echoing in the room.

He looked down at you, a soft smile on his face, his fingers brushing through your hair. “This is what I want every night with you,” he said, his voice low but sincere.

Your heart skipped a beat. The sound of his words, so simple yet so full of meaning, made the room feel like it was spinning, but in the best way. You couldn’t help but smile, your cheeks flushing just a little.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel the same,” you whispered back.

You stayed like that for a while—tangled up in blankets and pillows, his arms around you, the two of you just enjoying the silence and the quiet intimacy of the moment. No movie, no distractions, just you and him.

And somehow, in that peaceful, perfect chaos, you knew this was exactly what you wanted too.

You both lay there in the aftermath of your chaotic pillow fight, the soft hum of your breathing the only sound filling the air. Jobe’s hand was resting casually on your waist, but the way his thumb lightly traced small circles on your skin sent a tingle straight to your core. You shifted slightly, realizing just how close you were. Your heart picked up the pace, and you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks as you met his gaze.

He was looking down at you, his expression soft but intense, like he was considering something more than just the playful banter you’d been indulging in. You swallowed, suddenly feeling aware of how his body was pressed against yours, the space between you shrinking with every passing second.

“You know, you look pretty cute when you're flustered,” he said, his voice a low murmur that made your stomach flip. There was something in his tone—playful, yes, but there was an underlying hunger there too.

You couldn’t help the shy smile that tugged at your lips, but it wasn’t enough to hide the way your body reacted. The way his eyes were on you now—focused, intense, a little too quiet—made your pulse quicken.

“Really?” you teased, trying to keep the tension light. You shifted again, this time to get a better look at him, but your movement brought you even closer, your chest brushing against his.

Jobe’s breath caught in his throat, and you saw the way his jaw clenched just slightly. His hand, which had been resting on your waist, slid slowly to the small of your back, pulling you closer until your bodies were flush. The shift was subtle, but it was enough to make you feel how much he wanted you—how much he’d always wanted you.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The room seemed to shrink, the playful atmosphere from earlier replaced with something heavier, more urgent. Jobe’s lips parted slightly as he leaned down toward you, his nose grazing the side of your face.

“Mhmm,” he whispered, his voice thick with longing, “I don’t think I can go another night without kissing you like this.”

And with that, the playful teasing of earlier gave way to something more primal. You didn’t need another word—his lips crashed against yours, urgent and heated, with all the desire he’d been holding back since the moment you two had started teasing each other.

Your hands found their way to his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt as you responded with equal intensity. His lips were soft but demanding, pressing against yours with a hunger that made your stomach tighten. You melted into him, your body naturally arching toward his, desperate for more.

Jobe let out a soft groan as he deepened the kiss, his hand moving from your back to the side of your neck, his thumb gently tracing the curve of your jaw. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn’t help but respond, your hands slipping beneath the hem of his shirt, grazing the warmth of his skin.

He pulled away just enough to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours. His eyes were dark with desire, pupils blown wide. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he murmured, his voice rough. “You have no idea how hard it is, being this close to you and not being able to… to feel you like this.”

A rush of heat flooded through you, and you pushed yourself up to meet him, closing the distance again, your lips brushing against his in a softer, slower kiss this time. The sensation of his lips on yours felt electric, like every touch, every breath was building toward something more.

He responded by pulling you on top of him, the change in position allowing you to straddle him, your body now fully pressed against his. The contact sent a jolt of electricity through you, and for a brief moment, you hesitated, your body tingling with anticipation.

“Jobe…” you whispered, your voice shaking slightly, unsure whether you should push further or just enjoy the intimacy you’d already built.

“Shh,” he whispered, his hands running down your back, his fingertips barely grazing your skin in a way that made you shiver. “Don’t think. Just feel.”

He brought your lips back to his, and this time the kiss was deeper, more urgent, as if you both had been waiting for this moment for too long to stop now. His hands roamed under your shirt, brushing against your skin, and every touch made your breath hitch. You responded by tugging at the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head in a desperate need to feel more of him.

The air between you both was thick with the electricity of your connection, and with every movement, the urgency grew. Your fingers found their way to the waistband of his pants, your mind now clouded with the heat of the moment. But before you could go further, he gently grabbed your wrists, stopping you.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, but the intensity of his gaze made your heart race. He was asking for your consent, your comfort, and you realized how deeply he respected you.

You looked down at him, eyes searching his. Your heart was pounding in your chest, your body on fire with desire, but you needed that moment to be as much about trust as it was about passion.

“Absolutely,” you whispered back, your voice steady despite the rush of emotions flooding through you.

A slow smile curled on his lips, and he pulled you back into a deep kiss. The world outside your little bubble ceased to exist as you both gave in to the connection, the passion that had been building for so long.

You woke up to the soft glow of morning light peeking through the curtains, painting the room in a hazy, golden hue. For a moment, you didn’t move—you just let yourself breathe, wrapped up in the warmth and quiet that surrounded you.

Your body felt heavy in the most delicious way, like every muscle was still humming from last night. Every memory rushed back at once—the laughter, the teasing, the way Jobe had touched you like you were something sacred.

You shifted slightly, feeling the barest brush of skin against skin—and that’s when you realized you weren’t alone.

Jobe’s arm was draped lazily around your waist, his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his breath warm and slow against your skin. His body was pressed against yours, tangled in the mess of blankets you both hadn’t bothered to fix after collapsing into bed hours ago.

You smiled to yourself, heart swelling. It felt… easy. Natural. Like you belonged there, in his arms, like you always had.

You twisted a little to face him, careful not to wake him, but your movement must’ve stirred him because he let out a low, sleepy groan and tightened his arm around you.

“Mm… stay,” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep, his lips brushing against your shoulder.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered back, running your fingers through his messy curls.

He shifted again, finally lifting his head enough to blink at you through heavy eyelids. His hair was a chaotic mess, and his face was still flushed with leftover warmth from sleep.

And he was smiling. That soft, lazy kind of smile that made your heart ache with how beautiful he was.

“Morning,” he rasped, his voice deep and rough in a way that made you shiver.

“Morning,” you replied, feeling your cheeks heat under his sleepy gaze.

For a long moment, neither of you said anything. You just stared at each other, grinning like idiots, soaking it all in—the closeness, the quiet, the fact that there was nowhere else you’d rather be.

Finally, Jobe stretched, letting out a soft groan as he pulled you even closer, burying his face in the curve of your neck again.

“You’re too good to be real,” he muttered against your skin.

You laughed, the sound muffled by his hair. “Says the guy who’s literally clinging to me like a koala.”

He grumbled sleepily, clearly not in the mood for teasing yet. “'Cause you’re comfy,” he defended weakly, his hand smoothing over your back in slow, lazy strokes. “And warm. And… mine.”

The last word was whispered, almost too quietly to catch, but you heard it—and it made your heart flip so hard you were sure he could feel it beating against his chest.

You tilted your head back to look at him properly. “Yours, huh?” you teased gently, smiling against his hair.

He lifted his head just enough to meet your eyes, his expression completely serious despite the playful words.

“Yeah. Mine,” he said, voice low and certain. “And I’m yours. If you’ll have me.”

Your breath caught. You didn’t even have to think about it.

“I already do, Jobe,” you whispered.

His smile turned into something softer, almost shy, before he dipped his head and kissed you. It wasn’t heated like the night before—it was slow, sweet, like he had all the time in the world to show you how much he meant it.

When you finally pulled apart, you rested your forehead against his, both of you smiling so wide it was almost ridiculous.

“So…” you said after a while, voice teasing. “What’s the plan for today? Stay in bed forever?”

He smirked, eyes glinting with mischief. “Sounds about right. Maybe we can argue about movies again, have another pillow fight…” He trailed his fingers lightly up your side, making you squirm. “…maybe repeat a few things from last night.”

You laughed, swatting at him playfully. “Wow.”

He gave you a mock-offended look. “It’s your fault. You’re too pretty to leave alone.”

You rolled your eyes dramatically, but you couldn’t stop smiling. How could you, when Jobe Bellingham was holding you like you were his whole world—and when you felt exactly the same way about him?

And in that messy, sun-drenched room, tangled up in him, you realized you wouldn’t change a single thing.

[overadores]

٠࣪⭑ star lover

٠࣪⭑ pairing: lara raj x reader ٠࣪⭑ about: Lara, Katseye’s stunning vocalist, lives for the stage — and for you. What starts as a passing glance at a concert spirals into a dark obsession. Behind her perfect smile hides a dangerous secret: she'll lie, stalk, and destroy anyone who gets between you and the life she’s decided you’ll share. To Lara, you’re not just a fan. You’re hers — and she’ll do anything to keep it that way. ٠࣪⭑ genre: psychological thriller, thriller, romance. ٠࣪⭑ cw: obsession, stalking, language, drugs, alcohol, kidnapping. ٠࣪⭑ wc: 2.4k words ٠࣪⭑ tune in: paparazzi by lady gaga ٠࣪⭑ a/n: i kinda copied joe's glass room where he kept hostage his lovers and also this is an open ending, y'all be the one deciding if you want y/n get killed (like beck did), or got escaped with the help of sophia lol.

You were never the type to stan a group. In fact, you thought it was pathetic—the way people threw money, time, and emotions into strangers who wouldn’t even remember their faces. After One Direction shattered your teenage heart, you swore off idols entirely. Never again, you promised yourself. Never again would you let someone you didn’t even know hurt you.

That vow lasted exactly until the moment you saw her.

It started harmlessly enough. Your sibling had another survival show playing in the living room, just background noise while you scrolled through your phone. You didn’t even look up—didn’t care—until "Buttons" by the Pussycat Dolls blasted through the speakers and something inside you shifted. You glanced at the screen—and there she was.

Curly black hair whipping around her face, voice smooth as silk, moves sharp and dripping with confidence.

You didn’t know it yet, but you were already falling.

"Who’s that?" you asked, trying and failing to sound indifferent as your pulse hammered in your ears. Your sibling smirked knowingly. "I thought you don’t stan groups anymore?"

"I can make an exception," you muttered.

And just like that, you were gone.

You streamed every episode, voted religiously, prayed to gods you didn’t even believe in just to hear her name called during the final lineup. Daniela. Your bias. Your exception. Your secret.

When they finally debuted as Katseye, you were first in line — albums, merch, concert tickets you couldn’t afford—all for a girl who didn’t even know you existed. Or so you thought.

The night of the concert, something changed.

You didn’t dress flashy. You didn’t scream. You just existed—wide-eyed, genuine, different. And Lara Raj—Katseye’s glittering main vocalist—noticed. She noticed the way you lit up the moment Daniela walked by, the gravitational pull you couldn't hide if you tried.

It should’ve ended there. Just another fan interaction. Another fleeting spark in a sea of millions.

But Lara was different.

She didn’t ask for your number. She didn’t have to. She played it smarter. Patiently, methodically, she combed through Daniela’s followers, fan accounts, tagged posts—until she found you. Your profile was public. Wide open. So beautifully reckless.

Lara smiled when she clicked ‘Follow’ on her burner account. And from that moment on, she watched.

She devoured your life one post at a time—your late-night rants, your drunken party selfies, your lonely 3AM tweets about feeling invisible. You were an open book, and Lara read every word.

The club was her idea.

You had posted a story — a shot glass, a tagged location dangerously close to the arena. It wasn’t hard to drag Manon and Daniela along under the excuse of running errands. They didn’t ask questions. They never did.

Inside, the bass thudded through her chest as Lara scanned the crowd. Sweaty bodies blurred together, but you were crystal clear—swaying, laughing, drunk enough to stumble but still devastatingly beautiful.

Lara’s throat went dry. She grabbed Daniela’s wrist and shoved her forward. "Go. Say hi," she ordered.

Daniela, sweet and oblivious, approached you with a smile that made your knees weak. Lara watched the way you lit up, the way you leaned closer instinctively. Everyone would think it was Daniela you needed. Even you.

But Lara knew better.

It wasn’t Daniela. It was her.

She slid seamlessly into the conversation with Manon in tow, pretending it was a coincidence. When your wide, disbelieving eyes met hers, Lara felt it—the click. The spark.

You didn’t know it yet, but you were already hers.

After that night, Lara started seeing you everywhere. Or rather, she put herself everywhere you would be.

She watched every Weverse Live, heart pounding when your username popped up. She saved your blurry mirror selfies. Memorized your Spotify playlists. She knew your favorite drink when you were happy and when you were sad. She knew your favorite color (not just blue—a deep, tragic blue).

She knew your loneliness. She knew your craving to be seen.

And Lara? Lara saw you.

Because real love—real, consuming love—wasn’t about waiting politely. It was about claiming what was yours.

The signs started small.

She would answer your Weverse questions within seconds. Casually mention a song you had posted about just hours earlier. You chalked it up to fate. Harmless.

Because what were the odds that someone like Lara Raj would even know you existed?

You didn’t know that she was already following you. Already memorizing you.

She sat two tables behind you at your favorite cafe every Saturday morning, hidden behind a hoodie and sunglasses, sipping coffee slowly, savoring the proximity.

You never noticed.

You were too busy posting another photo of your croissant and latte. Lara smiled behind her cup.

You had no idea what real love looked like.

But you would.

The bookstore was next.

You posted about your "safe haven," and when you arrived, Lara was already there—flipping through a poetry collection she knew you loved.

You bumped into her, literally, and apologized, laughing shyly. You didn’t even recognize her—not under the hoodie and glasses.

"Maybe we were meant to meet," she said with a tilt of her head, voice low and sweet.

That night, you posted about the encounter: "Met someone today who felt like a character from a book. Strange...but nice."

Lara liked the post from her burner account, then sat back in her darkened hotel room, your photo open on her phone, thumb caressing your face through the glass.

It escalated.

You posted about a food truck festival. She was already there when you arrived.

You went to a pop-up thrift store three cities away. She found you there, flipping through vinyl records.

It was starting to feel...wrong.

But flattering too.

Because why would someone like Lara chase you?

You told yourself not to think too hard. You deserved good things.

You didn’t see the warning signs.

Until one night, during a Weverse Live, Lara laughed and said, almost casually, "You really shouldn’t leave your windows unlocked. It’s dangerous, you know."

Your heart stopped.

Because you had forgotten to lock your window that night.

You pulled away after that. Stopped posting. Stopped answering.

But Lara didn’t like that.

One night, you came home late, exhausted. You didn’t notice the faint smell of her perfume. You didn’t notice the slightly ajar closet door—until it creaked.

Your blood ran cold.

You turned—and she stepped out. Calm. Smiling.

"Hey," she said softly. "I missed you."

You backed away, heart slamming against your ribs.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" you gasped.

Her smile faltered, just for a second.

"You wouldn’t answer me," she said, voice trembling—not with fear, but with rage held tightly in check. "You don’t understand. I’m the only one who truly sees you."

You ran.

But you weren’t fast enough.

She grabbed you from behind, arms iron-strong, whispering into your ear, "No more running, baby. I’m here now."

And nobody heard your screams.

Because Lara had planned this night down to the last detail.

When you woke up, the world was lavender-scented. Soft. Fake.

You were chained to a bed.

And Lara was there, sitting beside you, carrying a tray of your favorite breakfast — because she knew everything about you.

"Eat," she cooed, brushing your hair back. "I know you’re scared. But you’ll see. In time...you’ll love me."

She punished you with silence when you resisted. Rewarded you with soft touches and laughter when you obeyed. Slowly, she filled every corner of your world until you needed her to break the silence.

Until even your nightmares wore her face.

When you finally escaped—slipping through a forgotten window—you thought you had won.

You ran barefoot through the night, found a road, flagged down a car—only to find her waiting behind the wheel.

She smiled as she jabbed the needle into your neck.

"You can’t run from me," she whispered as darkness swallowed you.

You woke up back in her bed.

Back in her arms.

And this time, you understood.

There was no escape.

Not from Lara Raj.

Not from love.

Sophia had always known there was something different about Lara.

At first, she told herself it was nothing. Lara was just...private. Everyone in the group had their quirks. But lately, Lara’s absences had become impossible to ignore. Recording would finish late into the evening, their bodies sore from dance practice, and while the others collapsed into their beds with tired laughter, Lara would slip away. Unannounced. Unbothered.

Sophia noticed the first few times by accident—the quiet sound of their door clicking shut at odd hours. Midnight. Two in the morning. Then the pattern became clearer. Every night, after practice, Lara would disappear.

She tried asking casually once, a joke tossed between the bedposts. “Hey, are you meeting your secret boyfriend or something?” But Lara just laughed it off, her smile too tight, too quick to fade.

It gnawed at Sophia. The unanswered questions, the empty bed across the room, the air of secrets Lara left behind.

Until one night, Sophia couldn’t take it anymore.

She waited up, pretending to scroll through her phone as the clock ticked past one-thirty. Her eyes burned from exhaustion. Around two a.m., like clockwork, she heard it: the faint rustle of movement. Lara, slipping into a hoodie, tugging a baseball cap low over her face.

Sophia’s heart hammered in her ears as she threw on a jacket and followed, careful to leave enough distance between them.

The night was cold, the streets breathing with the quiet hum of neon signs and faraway traffic. Lara moved fast, head down, blending into the shadows. Sophia’s nerves tightly stretched with every step, her mind racing ahead. Where could she be going? A lover’s place? An underground club?

But none of her guesses prepared her for where Lara led her.

A storage facility.

The massive rows of units loomed under harsh fluorescent lights, endless and cold. Sophia hung back behind a corner, watching Lara punch in a code at one of the rusted gates. The roll-up door groaned as it lifted, just enough for her to slip inside.

Sophia hesitated.

This was insane. She should turn back. Pretend she saw nothing. But her feet moved on their own, drawn by a force stronger than her fear. Curiosity. Or maybe, something deeper. Some fragile thread tethered to Lara she couldn’t bear to snap.

She crept inside.

The air smelled of dust and oil. Corridors stretched out in every direction, endless rows of locked units. Sophia’s heart pounded louder than her footsteps. She glanced around, desperate to spot Lara—then she saw it.

An open door. A soft sliver of light spilling onto the concrete floor.

Sophia swallowed hard and edged closer.

And that’s when she saw you.

Inside a glass room.

It didn’t make sense at first—her brain scrambled to process what she was seeing. A bed, neatly made. A bookshelf lined with worn novels. A typewriter perched on a small wooden desk. And in the center of it all...you.

Alive.

Trapped.

You stirred when she knocked on the glass, your eyes fluttering open, disoriented. For a moment, hope flashed across your face—you thought she was someone else. Then your gaze met hers, panic blooming immediately. You scrambled to your feet, pressing your palms to the glass, mouthing something Sophia couldn’t hear.

Help me.

Sophia’s breath caught in her throat. Her hands fumbled for the door, trying to find a lock, anything—

A shadow fell across her.

"You shouldn't have followed me, Soph," came Lara's voice, low and strangely calm.

Sophia whirled around.

Lara stood behind her, arms folded across her chest, her expression unreadable. In the fluorescent light, she didn’t look like Lara, Sophia knew. There was something sharper about her now. Harder. The kind of sharp that could cut.

“Lara…” Sophia choked out. “What the hell is this? Who is she? Why—?”

"You weren’t supposed to see this," Lara said simply, stepping closer. “You should have just minded your own business.”

Sophia stumbled back, her mind reeling. She kept glancing between Lara and the glass prison behind her, as if it would rearrange itself into something more logical if she just blinked enough times.

"You..." Sophia’s voice broke. "You kidnapped someone?"

Lara’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t deny it.

"It’s not like that," she said after a moment. "You wouldn’t understand."

"Then make me understand!" Sophia shouted, her hands trembling.

Lara hesitated, and for the first time that night, something flickered across her face—something close to regret.

"She’s... important," Lara said finally. "I’m protecting her."

"Protecting her?!" Sophia gestures wildly at the glass room. "She’s locked up like a goddamn zoo exhibit, Lara!"

"You don’t know what’s out there," Lara hissed. Her voice cracked at the edges, a raw desperation Sophia had never heard before. "You don’t know what they’d do to her if they found her. She’s safer here."

Sophia shook her head, tears stinging her eyes. "You’re sick. You’re sick and you need help."

The words tasted like betrayal in her mouth. She wanted to take them back the second she saw how Lara flinched. How she looked, for a fleeting moment, like she was breaking too.

"You’re just like everyone else," Lara said quietly. "You look at me and you see a monster."

Sophia pressed a hand to her mouth, heart breaking in a thousand different ways. Because she didn’t want to believe it. Didn’t want to believe that the girl who made her laugh during rehearsals, who shared midnight snacks with her on the dorm floor, who sat beside her on long bus rides with sleepy smiles—that girl could also be capable of this.

But here they were.

The glass. The locks. The lies.

"You need to go," Lara said finally, her voice hollow. She turned away, shoulders tense with grief she didn’t bother to hide. "Before you make things worse."

Sophia staggered back a step, the weight of it all crushing her lungs.

And then she turned and ran.

It wasn’t over.

A week passed.

Sophia stayed silent, terrified, paralyzed by the choice in front of her. If she spoke, if she told someone—it could ruin Lara’s life. Their careers. Their safety. But if she said nothing...

The girl in the glass room would stay trapped.

Sleep became impossible. Food tasted like ash. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw your face, wide with terror, mouthing silent cries for help.

On the seventh night, Sophia made her decision.

She waited again until two a.m., heart thrumming painfully in her ribs. She pulled on a hoodie, slid into sneakers, and crept out while the others slept.

This time, she wasn’t going to watch.

She was going to end it.

[halfway-happyyy]

frank looking out for s/o who works at a diner, even though frank can't blame how pretty she looks in that cute waitress outfit and lace aprin but whenever a guy tries to be a creep around her, he saves her but not cause a scene cuz he doesn't want s/o to lose her job but as soon as that guy gets out of that diner, frank as his own way to tarch this guy a lesson.

I kind of love the idea of this, so allow me to run with it a bit.

warnings: mentions of blood, frank tunes a guy UP

frank had stumbled upon the diner by total fluke one morning. the rain that had begun as a drizzle when he first left his apartment had morphed into a full-on downpour, and the mere thought of a fresh cup of hot coffee was too enticing to pass up. so, soaked to the bone and in dire need of a caffeine boost, he stepped into the unassuming hideout.

he hadn't expected the place to be as soothing as it was, but for some inexplicable reason, he felt entirely at home tucked away in the cracked leather booth in the far corner. the mouth-watering scent of frying butter and freshly ground coffee beans permeated the entire establishment and helped to cement the notion that he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

small black and white tiles decorated the floor, and a myriad of vinyl records from the 50s and 60s took up space up on the wood-paneled walls. it reminded him of the spot in jersey that his old man used to take him to after his baseball games; the unexpected familiarity of it all causing a lump of emotion to swell in the hollow of his throat.

"goodness, you look cold..." her voice startled him from his reverie as she reached for his cup. "this'll do wonders for you, fresh from about five minutes ago."

frank swallowed hard and nodded his head. "thank you, ma'am."

she turned to leave, but hesitated. "I can take your coat for you, if you want... sling it over a vent in the back?"

frank was surprised at how much her offer touched him. eventually, he shook his head.

"ah, i'll be alright. thank you, though."

she seemed unconvinced but offered him a small smile regardless.

"alright, well you're welcome to stay as long as you need. i'll be sure to come around again before your cup runs empty."

"thank you, ma'am."

while he tried in vain to focus on the novel he was halfway through reading, he couldn't help but be a bit enamored with her. she moved around the place with a grace that only came from doing the same job for a long time; greeting everyone with a genuine zeal. while it was out of the realm of normality for him entirely, he could not help but be charmed by her. and true to her word, she never once let his cup run low.

when she brought him the bill, she subtly set a small to-go box beside it.

"I couldn't help noticing that you didn't order anything to eat, and in the interest of wanting to keep my customers happy, and returning, I insist that you take a slice of honey crisp apple pie home with you."

at a loss for what to say, frank simply nodded. "yes ma'am. thank you."

"I do hope to see you again, soon."

he couldn't think of a single thing that might hinder him from returning, so he simply cleared his throat and said, "I'll be back."

He made a habit out of spending most mornings in his booth. He could blame it on being annoyingly routine-driven, but deep down, he knew it was more than that. There was something about her that kept him coming back. He'd spent most of his life (after maria and the kids) denying himself of any semblance of goodness, so he figured he would let himself off the hook a bit with her.

"good morning, frank."

that damn voice - like warm honey.

"mornin', ma'am."

her frown was unmistakable as she reached for his mug.

"you've been coming here for months, frank, we must be on a first-name basis now, don't you think?"

he wasn't exactly sure how to explain to her that it was simply a respect thing. he had seen so many customers refer to her with disrespectful pet names that the idea of being lumped into the same category as them made his skin crawl.

he eventually murmured her name, liking the way it rolled off his tongue and smiled softly. "you look really nice today, by the way."

her cheeks turned a rosy hue, which made his smile even wider, and did a once-over of the lace apron that covered the ankle-length dress she wore underneath. "I wear the same thing every day, frank."

He nodded. "You look nice every day."

with a breathless sigh, she shook her head and murmured - "you silver-tongued devil, you."

"hey sweet cheeks!" a patron smacked the table twice and beckoned her toward him. "need a little help over here."

she glanced at frank with wide eyes and then left to tend to the men a couple tables over.

frank had been gripping the coffee mug so tightly, his knuckles grew white.

"tell me, sweetie, is this a standard diner uniform you got on, or do they make you wear a sexier one on account of that sweet, sweet ass you got behind ya?"

the men with him erupted in a cacophony of obnoxious laughter, and it was all he could do, not to wander over there and knock their blocks off on the spot.

she kept it professional and polite the entire time, and when she went back to refill frank's cup, she noticed the expression on his face immediately.

"it's okay," she urged. "I get it all of the time."

frank's lips twisted into a scowl. "it's not even remotely okay. it's disgusting."

"yeah, well, unfortunately for us women, they don't really make men like you anymore, frank." she glanced at the watch on the underside of her wrist and sighed. "I'm done in about an hour anyway - please don't make a scene."

frank took a deep breath and tried to savor the rich taste of the coffee on his tongue. tried to focus on anything other than ringing all of those - pathetic excuses for men's - bells. "I won't, of course." silence settled between them before he quirked a brow in mild amusment and mumbled, "I look like the kinda guy who would make a scene?"

"honestly, yes." she laughed.

he wasn't sure where the need to protect her had come from. he hardly knew her. but it was there, and he was growing tired of ignoring it.

he didn't offer to walk her to her subway stop this time, instead telling her that he wanted to stay a little longer to finish his book. she seemed dubious, but she didn't question him about it, only asking him if she would see him tomorrow morning.

he nodded once before confirming that he would be there.

"bye, frank."

he lifted a hand in a wave. "take care of yourself, kid."

it slipped out before he could catch it. he wasn't sure of her exact age, but he figured she was younger than him by a good stretch. in any regard - she didn't seem to mind the nickname at all. he might have even spotted the ghost of a smile on her face as she turned to leave.

frank waited patiently for the men to finish their meals, and when they rose to leave after paying their bills, he did too. there were three of them; all of which - he noted with satisfaction - could be overpowered all too easily. it took the one who was beaking off at her a good ten minutes to realize they were being followed, and he turned to frank, chest puffed and ready to rumble.

"there a reason you're following us?"

frank had backed them into a dead-end alley.

he hooked a thumb over his shoulder and spoke in a low, measured way.

"you owe that lady back there an apology for the way you spoke to her."

the men exploded in a fit of laughter that itched just beneath the surface of his skin, and caused his fists to flex at his sides.

"I don't owe that piece of ass a goddamn thing, asshole."

frank was on him in seconds, wailing on every part of the man's body he could get his fists on. he had expected the friends to join in - frank would have taken them as well, but when he glanced back, they were gone.

the roar that erupted from him was inherently primal - unfamiliar even to his own ears, and he knew then that he was reaching a precipice, of which there could be no return once crossed.

"you had enough yet? huh? you done?"

the man could barely form words - blood gushed from a myriad of cuts in his face, and he was missing a couple of teeth. frank ripped himself away from the sack of flesh in front of him, before wiping away the sweat from his brow.

"learn some fucking manners, man. try thinking twice before you ever speak to a girl like that again." he spit on the man for good measure and stalked off.

true to his word, he was back in his booth the very next morning.

"rough night?" she simpered, as she leaned over to fill his cup.

frank flexed his impossibly sore knuckles and shrugged. "I've had worse."

she slipped into the seat before him, and reached over to run a cool fingertip over the swollen curves of his knuckles. he fought the urge to shiver into the pleasant sensation.

"are you alright, frank?"

he cleared his throat. "yeah, I'm fine."

she gave him a last, longing gaze before getting up to continue her rounds. he caught her just as she was about to head to next table.

now or never, frankie-boy.

"will you have dinner with me?"

she seemed surprised, but in the place of that surprise, a wry smile tugged at the edges of her lips.

"are you asking me on a date, Mr. Castle?"

frank nodded. "yes ma'am, I am."

"well alright then," she beamed, and frank felt the warmth from her smile like a ray of sunshine on his face. "I'd love to grab dinner with you."

[luvfae]

BEST FRIENDS MAKE THE WORST LOVERS

summary: he was yours first and if you can’t have him, no one can.

parings: thanos x f!reader

warnings: cheating, smut, swearing

You've always had a thing for your best friend, Su-bong.

You don't know exactly when it happened — the shift, the slip, the quiet fall. Maybe it was after that night at a mutual friend's seventeenth birthday, both of you half-drunk and grinning, tipsy on cheap vodka and shared frustration. You'd looked at each other, shrugged, and decided you were tired of waiting, tired of wondering. Virginity was overrated anyway. So you'd fucked — clumsy, curious, urgent. Just to say you had.

Or maybe it was before that. Before you ever touched. When the laughter came easy, and his hoodie always ended up on your shoulders, and you'd catch yourself staring at the slope of his neck, wondering how it would taste. Wondering why no one else ever made you feel quite the same.

Whatever the case — the truth settled in after. Quiet and permanent. A part of you.

You want him.

But not in the way that's noble or romantic. Not in the way you could explain to your friends without sounding unhinged. You want him selfishly — he doesn’t have to love you or be your boyfriend.

You just want him to be yours.

In the way that matters in private. In the way that doesn't need labels, or promises, or futures. In the way that makes you the only one who knows how he sounds when he comes.

And he's still your best friend. Always has been. You're good at that part — loyal, ride-or-die, first to answer the phone at 3am. You show up. You look out. You hold the parts of him that no one else gets to see. The sharp and the soft.

But you also keep his bed warm when he needs it. Keep his mouth busy. Keep his balls empty.

And for a while, that was enough.

Until he got a girlfriend.

At first, it was fine. Truly. She was pretty in a harmless way. Nice in a way that didn't raise your hackles. She didn't try to separate him from you — not at first. She smiled when you walked into the room. Laughed at your jokes. Let him lean against you at parties and never questioned how easily your bodies fit together.

You even tried to be happy for him. Because you do love him — in that complicated, sideways, back-of-your-throat kind of way.

And you thought you could handle it. Thought you could go without. Thought you could be just friends again.

At first.

Until the jealousy started to rot you from the inside.

Not loud. Not sharp. Just a slow, creeping burn that sank into your bones.

It wasn't just the loss of the best dick of your life — it was the silence. No more lazy smoke sessions on your balcony. No more co-op missions at midnight, legs tangled on the couch. No more FaceTime rings answered on the first buzz, no matter the hour, no matter the reason.

You weren't just losing the sex.

You were losing him.

And you could live without the fucking, maybe. But not the version of him that belonged to you. The version that lived on your couch, barefoot and loud. The version that rolled your joints better than you did, who knew your Panda Express order by heart, who'd watched you cry over boys he never liked anyway.

You could feel her pulling him away in inches. And you were never one to beg. So you made sure he remembered where he came from.

The first fight hits hard — and loud.

You don't get the details. You don't ask. He just shows up at your apartment at 11:42PM, hoodie half-zipped, phone clenched in one fist like he wants to throw it through the wall.

"Bad night?" you ask.

He exhales, tight and bitter. "You have no idea."

You hand him the joint before you say anything else. He takes it wordlessly, flicks the lighter like second nature, and leans against your kitchen counter like it's his.

Like he never left.

"She says I don't talk to her," he mutters, exhaling smoke. "Says I shut down. But then when I do say something, it's wrong. Too much, too blunt, too—" he waves a hand, "—me."

You let him talk.

Let him pace.

He moves like the words are eating him alive, like if he stands still too long they'll rot a hole through his ribs.

You sit on the couch, pull your knees up. Watch him unravel.

"I try," he mutters. "I fucking try. But I'm not soft like she wants me to be. I'm not—"

You tilt your head. "You don't have to be soft with me."

His gaze flicks to you.

You tap the cushion beside you. He doesn't hesitate. Just drops down, exhales hard, passes the joint back.

The silence that follows is familiar.

Laced with old habits. Old sins.

Your legs are over his in the next minute — casual, innocent on the surface. Then your hand on his chest. Then your lips at his jaw.

He doesn't move.

"She just doesn't get me, you know?" he murmurs, voice low, almost broken.

You kiss his neck. Slow. You feel him shudder. Feel his hand drop to your thigh.

"I do," you whisper.

And then, without thinking — or maybe because you've thought about it too much — you straddle him, rock your hips against him.

Just once.

It's not enough to cross the line.

But it's enough to smear it.

His head drops back against the couch, a low sound breaking in his throat. Your name, half-spoken.

You move again. A little slower. A little deeper.

He doesn't stop you.

Doesn't even try.

His hand grabs your hip, hard.

And then he's fucking into you — desperate, panting like he's been starving for weeks. You're still on top of him, still pretending you didn't plan this, and he's still trying to pretend he's not cheating.

But he is.

And you're moaning into his mouth like it's the first time all over again.

You're his best friend.

And you've never made it so easy to forget someone else.

It becomes a pattern — ritual, even. Every time they fight, he ends up here. Knuckles tense. Mouth tight. Carrying anger like it's stuffed in the lining of his jacket, waiting for you to tear it out of him.

And you always do.

You fuck him like you own him. Like you're the only one who could ever handle him. You ride him until his voice cracks and his grip bruises and the heat behind his eyes dissolves into something messier. Needier.

His fury fades between your thighs — swallowed by how fucking tight you are, how perfectly you take him, how your pussy milks the stress out of him like it's your job.

And maybe it is. Maybe you made it your job the night he chose someone else.

You drag orgasms out of him like confessions. Make him moan in ways she's never heard. Make him forget what he was mad about in the first place.

Because she argues.

You open your legs.

She gives him space.

You give him your throat.

And when you sink to your knees, slow and smug, dragging your tongue along the base of his cock before wrapping your mouth around him like you're starved — he breaks.

Every time.

One hand in your hair, the other gripping the back of your neck like he needs to feel you taking it. Eyes rolling back. Chest heaving.

"Fuck, you're warm," he groans, voice wrecked. "Always so good to me."

You hum around him. Eyes glassy. Drool on your chin.

She never sucked him like this. Never let him fuck her face until he was twitching, nearly crying, emptying everything down your throat because he couldn't hold back even if he wanted to.

And the worst part?

You know that.

You want him ruined. You want him addicted. You want him thinking about you when he's inside her.

And he does.

Because her moans are soft.

Yours are filthy.

She kisses him sweet.

You beg him to breed you.

You whisper, between gasps and trembles, "I want your cum. Want it deep. Want to feel it leaking out when I walk."

She tells him to slow down.

You tell him to break you.

She arches away.

You arch into it.

And every time he's sure he's going to end it — every time he's buttoning his jeans with shaking hands and the taste of you still in his mouth — he remembers.

She's not you.

But you're not her, either.

Because where you fuck and praise and give him everything he wants, she holds his face and tells him things he doesn't want to hear. Things that make him better. Things that make him human.

You make him forget.

She makes him try.

And that's the difference. That's why he hasn't left her.

But you? You don't need him to stay. You just need him to come back.

And he always does.

It's happened enough times now that it feels like fate.

Fucked-up. Familiar. You, bent over your bed. Him, buried inside you. Whispering things he swore he'd never say again. Praising your cunt. Cursing himself. Saying your name like a sin and a salvation.

And still — he goes back to her.

You know this pattern by heart.

You know she doesn't suspect yet — but she will.

Because she's not blind. Not anymore.

It starts at a party.

It always starts at a party.

You're wearing that dress you know he likes — the one that rides a little too high when you bend, clings a little too tight when you sit.

You feel his eyes before you see them. Heavy. Heat-soaked. Lingering too long on your legs. His beer stalls halfway to his mouth. Frozen. Like he forgot anyone else existed.

You don't look at him. Not directly. You just sip your drink and laugh at something someone else said — as if you can't feel the weight of his stare branded into the inside of your thigh.

But she sees it.

The way his jaw tightens.

The way his chest rises when you cross your legs.

The way his pupils don't move until you finally get up to leave the room.

She doesn't say anything then. But it eats at her.

Later, when the noise fades and they're alone in her car, she turns to him. "Do you have feelings for her?"

He scoffs. Too quick. Too sharp. "She's just my best friend."

And maybe he believes it.

Or maybe he's just repeating it — like a mantra.

Like a lie he's told so often it's starting to sound like truth. But his voice cracks just slightly when he says it. And she hears that too.

It's not just that night.

It's not just the look.

There are other moments — quiet things, easy to brush off on the surface, but wrong if you stare too long.

She stares too long now.

You're curled up on the couch in Su-bong's hoodie, barefoot, legs tucked under you. He's in the kitchen pouring drinks, and she watches the way he glances at you — like a habit, like gravity. You don't notice. Or pretend not to.

When he comes back and hands you a glass, she says, a little too light, "Su-bong never lets me wear that hoodie."

You grin. Sip. "I was cold."

Her laugh is thin. She doesn't say what she's thinking. That you're never cold when she's around. Only when she isn't.

Or the time, she walked in on him helping you zip up a dress. His fingers are at your spine. Your hair is swept to the side. He's laughing at something you said, low and under his breath.

You both freeze when she opens the door.

You turn. Smile. "This thing's impossible without help."

She nods. Smiles back.

But later that night, she whispers in the dark, "Why didn't she just ask me?"

He doesn't have an answer. He just kisses her shoulder and pulls her closer, like she won't notice how his hands don't linger the way they lingered on you.

The parties were always the worst. Too much alcohol. Too many people.

One time, she finds you both in the hallway, laughing too hard. Your hand on his chest. His arm above your head on the wall.

The moment stretches.

"What's going on?" she asks, voice sharp.

You pull away immediately. Too quick. "Nothing," you say. "He was just being an idiot."

Su-bong nods. Eyes down. "Just messing around."

But she sees the way your lipstick's smudged.

The way his hand brushes your back when he walks past her.

She doesn't say anything that night. Doesn't cause a scene. But when they get home, she doesn't kiss him. She doesn't even look at him.

And he doesn't ask why.

Because he already knows.

It's well past midnight when the knock comes.

Soft. Hesitant. Familiar.

You're not even surprised — just rise from the couch in silence, heart already bruising in your chest.

You open the door and he's there.

Su-bong.

Shoulders hunched. Hoodie soaked from the rain. Eyes rimmed red.

His mouth moves like he's trying to speak, but nothing comes out. Just a breath, jagged and raw, and then he's pulling you into him, holding you like you're the only solid thing left in the world.

And that's when you feel it — not just the weight of him, not just the tremble in his arms, but the wet warmth that hits your collarbone.

Tears.

You freeze. You've seen him at his worst — high, drunk, bruised, broken. But never this.

He's crying.

And not because he lost her.

Because he didn't.

Because she's still there, still waiting for him to come home.

And he's not sorry.

Not really.

Not enough.

That's what's killing him.

You guide him inside without a word. Sit him down. Wrap a blanket around his shoulders like you're bandaging a wound that never bled right. He stares at the floor like it's going to collapse under him.

Minutes pass.

Then, softly — voice shredded, "she doesn't deserve a fucking asshole like me."

You smile.

Not cruel. Not smug. Just... knowing. You reach out. Brush wet strands of hair from his forehead. Let your fingers linger.

"Maybe not," you hum, warm and quiet. "But I do."

He looks at you. Eyes wide. Bloodshot. Searching.

And you say the thing that's lived in your chest for years.

"I've never asked you to be anyone but yourself, Su-bong."

Something breaks in him then. Not the way it did in her hallway, not in anger or panic — but quietly.

Like relief.

Like love.

His hand finds yours. Brings it to his mouth. Kisses your knuckles like he's never touched you before.

And when he leans in, when his lips meet yours, it's not rushed. Not hungry.

It's soft. Slow. The kind of kiss that tastes like apology and something almost sacred.

He doesn't take you to the bed. He follows you there.

Undresses you carefully, like he's worried you'll disappear. Like this version of you is something new — or maybe something he's just now letting himself see.

And when he pushes into you, slow and deep, chest to chest, your name on his tongue — it hits different.

Not like every other time. Not like fucking to forget. He's not fucking you now. He's making love to you.

And that terrifies you.

Because when he groans into your neck, "God, you feel like home," your body arches into his and your heart whispers, Please. Choose me.

And for the first time, you let yourself imagine what that might look like. Not the secret. Not the backup. Not the girl he runs to when he's wrecked.

But the girl he stays with when he's okay.

The girl he wakes up beside in the morning.

The girl he picks.

Out loud.

All the way.

And when he holds your face after, panting and dazed, whispering thank you, you don't say anything back. You just press your lips to his cheek and let yourself hope.

You don't sleep that night.

He does.

Right beside you, sprawled on your sheets like he's always belonged there, like the fight that sent him here never existed. One arm draped over your waist, breath slow and steady, skin still damp with the memory of what you let him do — of what he let himself feel.

And you watch him. In the quiet. In the dark.

You trace the lines of his jaw with your eyes, the way his mouth softens in sleep, the curve of his bare shoulder where it catches the first hint of dawn.

You could love him like this.

You do.

But it's no longer enough.

Because you're tired of hiding. Tired of being the secret he comes to when he's aching, the mouth he fucks when he's angry, the name he moans into a pillow he doesn't get to keep.

You're tired of being good at it.

Of being his best friend.

Of being the one who listens, and waits, and swallows.

You've seen what's left of him after a fight. You've seen what he looks like when he breaks. And now you've seen what he looks like when he gives himself to you — not rough, not reckless — but soft.

Yours.

And if you can have that version of him — even for one night — you know you can have it again.

If she wasn't in the way.

You think about her when you kiss his temple. Think about how she clings to what little of him he gives her.

How she thinks she knows him.

Thinks she has him.

But you've felt him cry.

You've felt him come apart.

You've felt him say nothing and mean everything.

She doesn't have that.

She never did.

So maybe it's time she finds out what you already know — That he was never really hers to begin with.

Not the way that matters. Not where it counts.

And maybe that makes you cruel. But cruelty is a small price for ownership.

For love.

For him.

So you lay back down beside him, head on his chest, heart thudding with quiet resolve.

You're done sharing.

And if he won't choose you outright — you'll make it so he can't keep hiding.

It starts small.

A text.

I miss you, when you know he's in bed with her.

You don't expect him to answer — not right away.

But you know he sees it. You know he thinks about it. And that's enough. At first.

Then come the games.

You start leaving things behind — panties tucked half-visible under his pillow, lip gloss on his sink, a stray earring on the floor of his passenger seat. Things she'll find if she's even half paying attention.

You press hickeys just above his collarbone — places too risky to ignore, but too intimate to blame on anyone else.

He gets mad, sometimes. Tells you to be careful. Says she's suspicious.

But you know him.

If he really wanted to stop you, he would.

And when he doesn't?

You push harder.

Nudes at 3:14AM.

Soft lighting. Lip bitten. Panties pushed aside.

Wish you were here.

You pray she checks his phone. That she sees the way his hands linger too long, the way he won't meet her eyes the morning after he's been inside you.

But it doesn't work.

She never finds the panties. He wears hoodies to hide the bruises. She doesn't go through his phone.

So you get bolder.

The comments come next. Sweet. Polished. Laced with venom.

When Su-bong is out of earshot — fetching drinks, answering a call — you smile at her, too wide, too warm, and say things like:

"I hope you don't mind that he still comes to me when he's upset. Old habits die hard, I guess."

"He's always been... generous. I'm sure you appreciate that, too."

"It's the little things, you know? Like how he knows just where to put his hands. Always so intuitive."

"I've always loved how... responsive he is. Even the smallest touch gets a reaction."

And you get a reaction. Every time. She flinches. Smiles too tight. Looks to Su-bong with that look — like she's trying to catch him looking at you first.

She never does.

Because he's careful.

But not careful enough.

Eventually, she tells him:

"I don't want you seeing her anymore."

And for a while — you don't hear from him. No texts. No calls. Not even a half-assed excuse.

So you show up. Late afternoon. Hair down. Hoodie oversized. Nothing underneath but perfume and patience.

She's not home.

He opens the door like he expected this — like he hoped you wouldn't come, and knew you would anyway.

He doesn't invite you in.

You step in anyway.

His voice is quiet. Heavy.

"She's onto us." A beat. "She wants me to stop seeing you."

You nod. Say nothing. Let the silence choke him for a moment before you sit on the edge of his bed.

Then you say it.

"I was the one who held you when you were nothing." Not loud. Not bitter. Just... true. "You only love her because I taught you how."

And he doesn't move.

Doesn't blink.

So you stand. Walk up slow. Put your hand on his chest — right where you can feel the thud of his guilty heart — and lean in.

You kiss him.

Soft. Final.

And he kisses you back.

Because he always does.

His mouth is still on yours.

Soft. Then not.

The kind of kiss that shouldn't happen. The kind that tastes like final decisions and fucked-up truths and everything he swore he wasn't going to do again.

But he doesn't pull away.

And you don't let him.

His hands slide to your waist — grip tightening like he's trying to stop himself from shaking. He presses his forehead to yours for a beat, breath shallow.

"I shouldn't," he whispers.

You smile against his lips. "Then don't."

He groans. A low, guttural sound that vibrates in his throat — and then he kisses you again, this time deeper, hungrier, teeth grazing, tongue pushing past your lips like he needs to taste every second you've been apart.

Your fingers curl in his shirt. Tug. Yank. You want skin.

"Su-bong—" you gasp into his mouth, "—I want you to touch me."

"I fucking am touching you," he snaps, hand sliding down to your ass, squeezing hard.

"Not enough."

He curses under his breath — like the request hurts — like it lights something up under his ribs.

You shove him back a step, just enough to grab the edge of your hoodie and pull it over your head in one motion. No bra. Just skin.

His breath catches. "Jesus fuck."

He stares for a second too long — like he forgot how good you looked underneath all your attitude — then grabs your jaw and kisses you hard, dragging his other hand up your side, palm rough against your bare breast. He groans into your mouth when your nipple tightens under his thumb.

"You do this on purpose," he growls. "Show up like this, act like you didn't plan the whole fucking thing."

You moan, arching into his touch. "Of course I did."

"Brat," he mutters. "You're fucking evil."

You just grin, gasping when his mouth drops to your neck, tongue dragging over your pulse before he bites — not gently — and sucks a bruise into the skin just below your collarbone.

You gasp again as he starts walking you backward, fast and clumsy, until the backs of your knees hit his bed. You fall with a soft thud, legs spreading instinctively, panties already damp and sticking to your skin.

"I don't have time—" he pants, eyes locked on the wet patch.

"You have time," you breathe.

He grabs your thighs, spreads them wide, pushes them up until your knees are almost to your chest, panties stretched tight across your cunt.

"I should make you beg," he mutters.

"I already am," you whisper.

His mouth crashes down.

Right over your panties.

And you cry out — hips lifting, thighs twitching — as he drags his tongue hard over the soaked fabric, lips curling when he feels how fucking wet you are.

"Goddamn," he groans. "You missed me that bad?"

You nod, breathless.

"I didn't even touch you yet."

"You don't need to," you whimper.

He's licking you through your panties like it's the only thing keeping him sane, but when his watch buzzes on his wrist, he pulls back just an inch — breathless, flushed, mouth glistening.

"Shit," he mutters. Checks the time. "She's gonna be home soon."

Your head tips back, eyes fluttering. "Then you better be quick."

That breaks him.

His mouth crashes to yours as he fumbles for his belt, yanking it open one-handed, pants halfway down his thighs. You reach for him at the same time, push your panties to the side, pull him between your legs like he belongs there — like he never left.

"I shouldn't be doing this," he pants against your lips.

"Then don't make it slow," you whisper. "Just make it worth it."

And he does.

He shoves into you in one desperate thrust — so deep, so fucking full it rips a moan straight out of your chest. His hands are braced on either side of your head for a second before one slides to your throat, gripping just enough to make your breath catch.

"Fuck—this pussy," he gasps. "Every fucking time. It's like you were made to fuck me."

You choke out a laugh, nails digging into his back. "Maybe I was."

He fucks you hard. Deep. Not rushed — but urgent. Like he's trying to memorize every sound you make, every clench, every tremble. His body presses you down into the mattress, your legs over his shoulders, angle so brutal it leaves you speechless.

"You like this?" he grunts, tightening his grip on your throat.

You can't even answer. Just nod, eyes rolled back, mouth open in a silent scream.

"Use your words," he growls. "You want it like this, don't you?"

"Y-Yes—yes—Su-bong—please—"

"Say what you want, baby," he pants, eyes locked on your face. "Tell me."

"Choke me—fuck—choke me harder," you gasp. "You know I love it. You know I love when you ruin me—"

He does.

His hand tightens. Your head tips back.

He leans in close, mouth brushing your cheek, voice rough and tender all at once.

"My girl," he murmurs. "My pretty fucking girl. Gonna fill you up. Don't worry."

Your breath hitches. "Please—please—inside—please—"

And that's when the door opens.

A pause.

The world stops.

You don't see her.

But you hear her.

A gasp. A stutter.

And then—shattered glass.

You twist your head toward the doorway — and she's there. Frozen. Face pale. Eyes wide. Tears spilling.

Su-bong freezes inside you. Hands still on your throat.

Your eyes widen. You try to speak, but nothing comes out.

She breaks the silence.

"You told me not to worry about her!" Her voice cracks. "You said she was your best friend!" She's shaking now, yelling, chest heaving. "You told me I could trust you!"

Su-bong still hasn't moved.

He looks down at you — stunned, guilty, still hard inside you. And you — eyes glassy, lips parted — look up at him like this is the moment you've been waiting for.

Because now?

There's no hiding.

There's no going back.

And someone's about to burn for it.

The silence stretches thick — heavy enough to suffocate.

Your chest rises and falls, your heart hammering somewhere near your throat, but your smile is steady.

You sit there, half-naked under the covers, legs spread slightly, still slick and throbbing, Su-bong's cock still twitching against your inner thigh.

You meet her eyes.

Hold her gaze.

And you smirk.

Soft. Lethal.

The final nail in the coffin.

Then you tilt your head, voice syrupy sweet, “he only fucks me like this because he can't with you."

The words land like a slap.

Her whole face crumples — color draining, mouth trembling — and Su-bong jolts like you physically punched him. His hand shoots out, grabbing the edge of the bed, knuckles white.

"Jesus—" he growls under his breath, glaring at you. “Why the fuck would you say that?"

But it's too late.

The damage is done.

She stumbles backward, tears spilling down her cheeks, choking on a sob so broken it barely sounds human.

Su-bong yanks the covers over your body, muttering furious, useless curses under his breath as he shoves away from the bed — pulling his jeans up, erection angrily straining against the denim.

He catches her in the hallway.

"Babe, wait—"

You hear her voice crack like glass, “don’t call me that. Don't you dare fucking call me that."

A slam of a door.

And then silence.

You give it a beat. Two.

Then you slide out of his bed, bare feet padding across the floor, still naked, sticky, shameless. You find him slumped on the couch, head in his hands, shoulders hunched like he's trying to disappear inside himself.

For a second — just a second — you feel almost sorry for him.

But then the old ache tugs at your ribs — the jealousy, the hunger, the way he always picked her first even if it was just for the sake of appearances — and it washes clean away.

You move without thinking.

Sink to your knees between his legs.

His hands tense where they grip his hair, but he doesn't look up — not even when you rub your palms soothingly along his thighs, slow, careful, patient.

You nudge your head under his hands, tipping your chin up.

His red-rimmed eyes meet yours.

Broken. Defeated. Addicted.

"Want me to make it better?" you murmur, voice dripping with false innocence. You blink up at him, lashes fluttering sweet and slow. “Want me to finish you off, baby?"

He exhales — wrecked, trembling.

You see the exact second he caves. The way his shoulders drop, his mouth slackens, his thighs part just slightly under your touch.

He nods. Small. Miserable.

"Yeah," he rasps, almost inaudible. “Yeah, baby. Please."

You smile — soft, secret — and lean forward, pressing a kiss to the damp denim over his cock.

He shudders.

He's still hard for you.

Even after all that.

Even after her.

And that?

That's the sweetest victory of all.

[microwavesaferat]

What videogames the Batfam play, I will take absolutely zero criticism.

Bruce

- Mortal Combat

- Explicitly the old arcade cabinet version.

- He sometimes copies moves from the games.

- Claims it's good for improving instincts.

Dick

- Tony Hawk's Pro Skater

- Played all of the Pro Skater games as they came out.

- The sort of person to try and launch themselves halfway across the map.

- Tried to get Tim to show him how to skate, didn't go well (he broke his nose trying to do a trick).

- Despite being an accomplished acrobat, it hasn't transferred well to doing skateboard tricks.

Jason

- The sort of guy to play Doom Eternal and Animal Crossing religiously.

- He will be sitting on the sofa, with unbridled rage on his face while he stares at a switch. Everyone thinks he's struggling with a stage in Doom (it was Animal Crossing, Tom Nook can go fuck himself).

- Has dipped from patrol before cause he realises it was a Sunday and had to sell his turnips before midnight (he will not change the time, that's cheating).

Tim

- Portal 1 and 2

- The puzzles aren't exactly difficult for him, especially after he's completed the game so many times, so now he speedruns the game, seeing what he can exploit.

- Constantly switching between no. 1 and 2 on the leaderboards (the other person he's switching with is actually the Riddler, he was allowed 1 video game in Arkham).

- Managed to rig up controls so he can play multiplayer by himself.

Damian

- Has no such time for childish wastes of time!

- How dare you assume he would sully his mind with such trivial acts!

- I mean really, he spends his time pursuing actually meaningful stimulation such as reading or research.

- It's Pokémon.

- He wanted to play Doom after seeing Jason play it, but he's like 12.

- He has played every single Pokémon game and knows all the meta.

- He has qualms with the idea of animal fighting, but Dick told him that Pokémon like to fight, like how dogs and cats will play fight.

Barbara

- Any of those CCTV horror games.

- Since her work as Oracle, these games are a piece of cake, so she plays them while doing other stuff, just in the background.

- She has completed Fnaf UCN 50/20 mode multiple times now, sometimes while monitoring the Bats in patrol.

Stephanie

- Sims

- She has made all the family and the rogues in the Sims.

- She has made Bruce and Clark 'woohoo' multiple times.

- When someone pisses her off, she will torture them in the Sims and send footage to the group chat.

- Tim has been locked in a 1x1 room for 3 weeks now (he still doesn't know what he did) (he didn't bring her anything from Batburger when he went).

Cassandra

- Story-based games like What Remains of Edith Finch and Life is Strange.

- Any competitive game is out of the questions as it's too easy to read her component. She has beaten Bruce at MK soooo many times.

- Like these games cause she finds it half way between reading a book and watching a soap-opera at times.

- Doesn't need to "be the best" as there isn't a goal, so she can just relax and enjoy herself.

- Also likes playing DDR with Duke.

Duke

- Beatsaber

- In training for We Are Robin, he used several rhythm games to improve his reaction time as it's a good way to practice without actually getting into danger.

- Absolutely dominates at DDR with the Batfam, like him and Cass will be at an arcade and it'll be like one of those scenes from a movie where they switch sides, do tricks, and are so in sync, it's insane.

- Beatsaber is fun cause he will project it in front of him as well to physically hit the blocks. He needs VR when he can just make it exist.

- The others swear he uses his powers to cheat at it cause he's so much better than the rest of them (he does on occasion when one of them annoys him).

Alfred

- Master Bruce, I do not have time to play video games and have no such interest. These things are for the younger generation anyway.

- Bloodborne.

[sirxaibs]

BLACK BUTLER IDEA!!!

I still will probably write this but I want to know if there is a demand at all for black butler content. Please like and reply if you’re up for a new fic!!!! here is a sample of what I was thinking

݁ᛪ༙The clock ticked steadily in the dim sitting room. Moonlight spilled through the large windows, catching the sharp gleam of Y/n’s eyes as she stood by the fireplace, arms crossed tightly over her chest.

Sebastian entered soundlessly, like a shadow come to life. He bowed with his usual mockery of politeness.

“You wished to speak with me, Lady Y/n?”

Y/n said nothing at first, letting the silence stretch and coil between them.

She studied him the impeccable suit, the flawless manners, the thin smile that never reached his eyes. Everything about him felt wrong.

Finally, she spoke, voice low and edged with steel.

“I know what you are,” she said. “Maybe not the name for it, but I know you are not human.”

Sebastian’s smile didn’t falter. If anything, it grew.

“How very observant,” he mused, clasping his hands neatly behind his back. “And what, may I ask, do you intend to do with this knowledge?”

Y/n stepped closer, her boots whispering against the rug. She tilted her head slightly, the fire casting half her face in shadow.

“Nothing,” she said. “Because Ciel trusts you. For now.”

Her eyes hardened.

“But know this, Sebastian Michaelis: if you harm him if you let him slip further into whatever darkness is trying to swallow him I will tear you apart myself. Piece by piece.”

Sebastian chuckled, the sound low and amused, like a cat toying with a mouse.

“You are quite ferocious for someone so…fragile.”

Y/n didn’t flinch. She stepped even closer, close enough to smell the unnatural, cold clean scent of him.

“You think I’m fragile?” she whispered. “Try me. You’ll find out exactly how far a sister will go for her brother.”

For the first time, something flickered in Sebastian’s gaze interest, perhaps. Amusement tinged with a thread of caution.

“Noted,” he said smoothly, bowing his head slightly. “I shall continue to serve the Young Master with the utmost…care.”

Y/n stared him down a moment longer before turning away, her heart pounding.

“See that you do,” she said coldly. “Because if you don’t hell won’t be the only place you’ll answer to.”

As she left the room, Sebastian stood still, a gloved hand resting lightly on his chest where, for a brief, strange moment, he thought he might have felt something almost human: respect.

݁ᛪ༙݁ᛪ༙݁ᛪ༙ The hem of your dress swirled around your ankles as you hurried through the entrance hall, the air thick with the scent of polished wood and new paint.

The rebuilt Phantomhive Manor loomed above you, so pristine it almost mocked the memory of ashes and ruin still seared into your heart.

You clutched the sides of your gown an elegant deep navy silk dress with delicate lace sleeves, a gift from Aunt Angelina. But you hardly noticed its weight now.

All you could hear was the hammering of your heart.

Ciel.

Your little brother your baby was alive.

You had been staying with Aunt Angelina ever since the fire, trapped in a haze of grief and guilt, believing there was nothing left. When the letter arrived, hastily penned with shaking hands by your aunt herself, you thought it a cruel dream. But now standing here the heavy doors of the manor open, the world spinning in your ears he was truly here.

A butler you didn’t recognize bowed you inside. His voice was smooth.

“Welcome home, Lady Y/n. The Young Master is awaiting you in the drawing room.”

You barely heard him. Your body moved of its own accord, feet flying across the marble, ignoring decorum, ignoring appearances. You needed to see him.The door to the drawing room creaked as you pushed it open.

And there he was. Ciel stood by the window, framed in silver light. He was wearing a black velvet suit, a rich blue eye staring outward only one eye. The other hidden behind a black eyepatch.

His posture was perfect, his chin tilted up in practiced nobility.

But he was still so small.

Still just a boy.

Your throat closed. A sob broke free before you could contain it. He turned at the sound and his eye widened, just barely.

“Y/n,” he said, voice smooth and measured, as if tasting the word for the first time in years.

Your vision blurred with tears.

Before you knew it, your knees buckled beneath you. You fell. Not out of weakness out of relief. You crashed to the carpeted floor, arms flinging around him, dragging his tiny, stiff body against yours. You pressed your forehead to his stomach, clutching him as if he might vanish again if you let go.

“My Ciel,” you gasped out, voice cracking. “My sweet boy, my precious ”

For a long, breathless moment, he said nothing. You felt the way he tensed, the way he hesitated awkward, uncertain, like a child who no longer knew how to receive love. Then slowly one small, gloved hand touched your head. Not like he used to not with the easy affection of the boy you remembered.

It was a stiff, careful gesture.

“…You’re wrinkling your dress,” he muttered, trying for irritation but failing miserably. His voice shook ever so slightly.

You let out a watery laugh, pulling back just enough to look up at him. He was trying so hard to be composed. To be grown. But you could see it the glimmer of your little brother beneath the armor. The scared, exhausted boy who had come home. You reached up, cupping his cheek gently with your gloved hand.

“You’re home,” you whispered, tears slipping down your cheeks. “You’re home, and I will never, ever leave you again.”

His eye softened so quick, you might have missed it if you hadn’t known him so well.

“You’re being dramatic,” he said, brushing a hand down his jacket, pretending indifference.

You smiled through your tears, standing finally and straightening your dress. You took a deep, trembling breath, smoothing his hair back with motherly care.

“You’ll have to get used to it,” you said, voice steadying. “Because I plan to be dramatic for the rest of your life, Ciel Phantomhive.”

The corners of his mouth twitched just slightly. A ghost of a smile. And you felt it you knew that somewhere deep inside, he was still your brother. you would love him with every fiber of your soul, no matter how cold he tried to be.

You linked your arm through his before he could protest, guiding him further into the room like you used to when he was a shy toddler hiding behind your skirts.

“Now,” you said brightly, “you’re going to sit with me and tell me everything.”

He sighed, a sound of long suffering patience far too old for his little body.

“…I suppose I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” he said.

You smiled, squeezing his arm gently.

“Not when it comes to me, dear heart. Never.”

You hadn’t felt this complete in so long.

But then a presence. You felt it like a prickle at the back of your neck, a gentle tug in the air, a ripple where everything should have been still. Your eyes drifted, pulled by instinct toward the doorway.

There he stood. The butler. Tall, impossibly composed, crimson eyes gleaming like molten garnets in the low light. His hands were folded neatly behind his back, posture perfect, expression unreadable.

The sight of him sent a strange chill along your spine not fear exactly, but something close to wrongness.

And something else, too something painfully familiar. For just a moment, your heart squeezed. He looks like Father.

Not exactly your father’s features had been warmer, his smiles real. there was something in the way this man carried himself, the precise way he tilted his head, the quiet strength wrapped in civility.

You tore your gaze away and turned to Ciel, lowering your voice.

“Who is that?” you asked, smoothing your skirts with trembling hands to hide your nerves.

Ciel followed your gaze casually, as if he hadn’t noticed the butler lingering nearby until now.

“Sebastian Michaelis,” Ciel said. His tone was clipped but neutral. “My butler. He’s been serving me since… I returned.”

You nodded slowly, lips pressing together.

You wanted to ask more but Ciel’s body language warned you off.

The stiff shoulders, the slight narrowing of his eye. He trusted this man. you had just gotten your brother back. You would not push. Not yet. You turned back toward the butler, offering a polite, practiced smile that didn’t reach your eyes.

“Thank you,” you said softly, inclining your head just slightly, as a lady should. “For taking care of my brother.”

Sebastian’s crimson gaze flickered briefly curiosity, perhaps but his bow was perfect.

“It is my duty and my pleasure, Lady Y/n,” he said smoothly.

[flux1563]

A Regret ft. Yujin, Karina, Wonyoung

Words : 13k

"You know what I've been craving lately?" Karina mused, her eyes glinting mischievously at her friends Yujin and Wonyoung. They were lounging in their shared apartment, the walls adorned with posters of their favorite rock bands and the faint smell of incense lingering in the air.

"What's that?" Yujin asked, her curiosity piqued as she glanced up from her phone.

"To lick the sweat off a hot, muscular guy's body," Karina said, her voice dripping with desire.

Wonyoung chuckled, setting down her magazine. "Only you would say something like that out of the blue."

"But seriously," Karina leaned in, her voice a sultry whisper, "Wouldn't that be amazing? The saltiness, the warmth... it's like a forbidden dessert."

Yujin's cheeks flushed a shade darker as she considered the idea. "I've never thought about it that way before."

"Well, I have," Wonyoung confessed, a sly smile playing on her lips. "And I've always wanted to try it."

The three friends looked at each other, their thoughts racing. They had always shared a unique bond, their friendship unshakeable despite their wildly different personalities. Karina was the fearless leader, always eager to explore new boundaries, while Yujin was the more cautious one, preferring to think things through. Wonyoung, the youngest, often found herself caught in the middle, but her adventurous spirit made her a perfect fit for their trio.

"What if we made a pact?" Karina suggested, her eyes lighting up. "We'll travel to America, find the sweatiest, most muscular guys, and live out our fantasies."

The room grew quiet as they contemplated the idea. It was daring, it was risky, but it was also incredibly tempting. They had all heard the rumors about the men in America, particularly the ones who frequented gyms. The thought of their desires becoming reality was intoxicating.

"But guys in gyms are usually... well, not exactly our type," Yujin pointed out, breaking the spell.

"That's where the challenge comes in," Karina said with a wink. "We're not looking for just any guys. We want the ones with the biggest... assets."

Wonyoung's eyes widened. "You mean...?"

"Yes," Karina nodded, her voice growing more excited, "Big, black cocks. We're going to find them and make them ours."

The room was electrified with anticipation. They had always shared their kinks and desires with each other, but this was a step beyond anything they had ever dared to dream.

"But where would we even start?" Wonyoung asked, her voice a mix of excitement and apprehension.

Karina had it all figured out. "We'll start at the gym. It's the perfect place to find guys who are both fit and sweaty. And who knows, we might even get to fulfill our other little fantasy."

Yujin bit her bottom lip, her pulse quickening at the thought. "Double penetration?"

Karina nodded. "Yeah, baby. And not just by any guys. By the biggest, blackest, and sweatiest ones we can find."

Their conversation grew heated, and the three friends knew that there was no turning back. They had set their sights on a wild adventure, and they were going to see it through. Little did they know that their journey would lead them to a fateful encounter with six men named Marcus, Tyronne, Darius, Omari, Amon, and Zubari. These men would change their lives forever, fulfilling desires they had never dared to speak aloud.

The three friends decided to make their fantasy a reality. They packed their bags, booked their flights, and set off to conquer America, one gym at a time. As they stepped into the bustling New York City, their hearts raced with excitement and nerves. The Big Apple was their playground, and they were ready to indulge in the sweetest fruit it had to offer.

Their first evening in the apartment was filled with anticipation. Karina, ever the planner, had found a place that was close to a gym that was known for its diverse and fit clientele. The apartment itself was modern and minimalist, with a single, large bed that they would share for the duration of their stay. It was a small sacrifice for the thrill that awaited them tomorrow.

"Let's go rest up," Karina suggested after they had settled in. "Tomorrow is going to be a big day."

Yujin and Wonyoung nodded in agreement.

The following morning, the sun began to rise, casting a warm glow through the apartment's windows. The trio woke up with a sense of excitement that was palpable in the air. They each picked out their most revealing gym outfits, showcasing their toned bodies and ample curves. Karina went with a neon pink sports bra and tiny shorts that accentuated her voluptuous figure, while Yujin chose a pair of tight black yoga pants and a crop top that highlighted her slender waist. Wonyoung, not to be outdone, wore a skimpy red ensemble that left little to the imagination. They were dressed to impress, each outfit designed to catch the eye of the men they so desired.

As they got ready, they giggled nervously, applying just the right amount of makeup to look both natural and seductive. The scent of their perfumes mingled with the faint aroma of coffee, creating an atmosphere of anticipation. They were about to embark on an adventure that would push their boundaries and fulfill their wildest fantasies.

Finally, dressed and ready, they made their way to the gym. The streets of New York were already bustling with life, but the gym was their destination. Their hearts raced as they stepped through the doors, the thumping bass of the workout music echoing in their ears. They scanned the room, eyes darting from one sweaty, muscular body to the next.

The gym was a veritable buffet of fitness enthusiasts, but it was the six black men that had caught their eye the day before that truly stood out. Marcus, Tyronne, Darius, Omari, Amon, and Zubari were all present, their dark skin glistening with sweat as they pushed their bodies to the limit. The sight of them made the three friends' knees wobble slightly, their stomachs fluttering with a mix of excitement and nerves.

They approached the water fountain, each taking a deep breath before they started their workout. As they hydrated, they couldn't help but feel the heat of the men's gazes on them. They knew they had the power to make their desires come true, and they were going to use it.

The gym was a dance of muscles and sweat, with each machine and weight station filled with grunts and the clank of metal. The women began their workout, subtly positioning themselves near the men they had their sights set on. The tension grew as they stretched and bent, their eyes meeting and holding, the promise of something more hanging in the air.

Marcus, the tallest and most muscular of the group, noticed them first. His eyes locked onto Karina as she bent over to tie her shoe, her ass sticking out in a way that was both innocent and tantalizing. He licked his lips, his eyes filled with a hunger that was unmistakable. The other men followed his gaze, and soon all six were watching the three friends with open interest.

The women continued their workout, their movements growing more sensual with each passing minute. They knew they had the men's attention and they reveled in it, their confidence soaring. The air in the gym grew thick with desire, and it was clear that the game had begun.

Marcus, unable to resist the allure of Karina's voluptuous figure, sauntered over to her, a towel slung low over his hips. His muscles bulged beneath his tight tank top, and his deep-set eyes bore into her as he spoke. "Can we join you?" he asked, his voice a smooth rumble that seemed to vibrate through her very core.

Karina looked up, her heart racing. "Sure," she breathed, her voice a seductive purr. "I'm Zubari," he said with a smile, his teeth gleaming. "And this is my friend Marcus."

While Tyronne and Darius came close to Yujin, they couldn't help but be drawn to her sleek, black hair and piercing gaze. Yujin felt a shiver run down her spine as their muscular forms approached. She had never been so close to such power and masculinity before. Her legs trembled slightly as Tyronne offered her a hand to help her up from the floor, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through her.

"Hey, I'm Tyronne," he said with a grin, his teeth shimmering against his dark skin. He was tall with broad shoulders, his abs rippling as he breathed. Darius followed suit, extending his hand as well. "And I'm Darius," he said, his voice a low growl that made her knees feel like jelly. His eyes were a piercing blue, a stark contrast to his chocolate skin.

Wonyoung looked up at the towering figures before her, feeling a thrill of excitement. "I'm Wonyoung," she replied, her voice a little shakier than she intended. "What can I do for you two?"

"Oh, you're gonna do more than enough," Omari said, his grin widening as he took in her skimpy outfit. His eyes roved over her body, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. He was broad-shouldered and muscular, with a beard that was trimmed to perfection. "I'm Omari," he introduced himself, placing a hand on her shoulder. "And this is my friend, Amon."

Amon, equally as tall and muscular, stepped forward, his eyes gleaming with interest. He had a shaved head and a tattoo that snaked down his neck and disappeared beneath his shirt. "We couldn't help but notice you three," he said, his voice deep and gruff. "You seem like you know how to handle yourselves around some real men."

Wonyoung felt a blush spread across her cheeks as she took in their impressive forms. "We like to think we can handle ourselves," she said, a coy smile playing on her lips.

"Well, let's see," Omari challenged, guiding her over to the hip abductor machine. He positioned her in front of the contraption, her legs spread apart and her ass sticking out just enough to be provocative. "Ever tried this before?"

Wonyoung's eyes widened, but she nodded eagerly. The thought of having two such powerful men train her was thrilling beyond belief. Amon took up position behind her, his bulging biceps flexing as he adjusted the weight. She felt his hot breath on the back of her neck as he leaned in close, whispering instructions in her ear.

Her heart raced as she began to lift the weight, the sensation of her muscles stretching and contracting almost as tantalizing as the feel of Amon's hands on her hips, guiding her movements. The fabric of her shorts grew wetter with each rep, the outline of her arousal becoming more and more prominent.

Marcus and Zubari led Karina to the bench press, the metal gleaming under the fluorescent lights. She positioned herself on the bench, her legs spread open to accommodate the wide stance required for the exercise. The fabric of her shorts grew damp as her pussy grew wetter with each passing second. Marcus took the weight from her, placing it gently on the rack before taking a spot beside her. "Let me show you how it's done," he said, his voice a low murmur that sent shivers down her spine.

He laid down, his muscles bulging as he pushed the barbell upwards, his eyes never leaving hers. Karina could feel the heat emanating from his body, and she knew that he was just as turned on as she was. Zubari stood behind the bench, spotting Marcus, his own eyes glued to the apex of her thighs. Her breath grew ragged as she watched the two men, their power and strength an aphrodisiac that she couldn't resist.

As Marcus completed his final rep, he sat up, his chest heaving with exertion. He took a sip of water, his eyes never leaving hers as he wiped his brow with the back of his hand. "Your turn," he said, his voice thick with desire. Karina's legs trembled as she laid down on the bench, the cold metal pressing against her hot skin. She knew that she was on display, that the other men in the gym could see her wetness, and she reveled in it.

Marcus took his place at the end of the bench, his thigh brushing against hers. Zubari took the barbell from her, placing it on her chest with surprising gentleness. "Remember to breathe," he said, his voice a soothing balm to her racing thoughts.

With a deep breath, she pushed the weight up, her muscles straining with the effort.

Darius and Tyronne watched as Yujin approached the chest fly machine, her tight black yoga pants stretching over her curvy ass as she walked. They exchanged knowing glances, both aware of the effect they had on the Asian beauty.

"You've got a good form," Darius said, his voice a low rumble as he stepped closer to her, his hand brushing against her hip. "But I think you could use a little help."

Yujin's pulse quickened as she felt the heat of his body beside her. She nodded, trying to keep her cool as Tyronne took the opposite side of the machine, his muscular arm reaching over her to grab the handle. Together, they guided her through the motion, their bodies so close she could feel the heat of their skin.

As she pushed the weight away from her body, she could feel the fabric of her pants stretching against her growing arousal. The smell of sweat and cologne was intoxicating, and she had to bite back a moan.

The two men made a show of adjusting the weight for her, their hands lingering on the bars, their eyes never leaving her chest as it bounced with each rep. They whispered instructions, their breath hot against her ear, their fingers brushing against her skin as if by accident.

The tension grew with each passing moment, the air around them thick with desire. Yujin knew she was playing with fire, but she couldn't help herself. She was so close to the men she had fantasized about for so long, and she wanted to feel their touch, to taste their sweat.

Her breath grew ragged, her body responding to the intimate dance of muscles and power. She could feel the heat of their gazes on her, and it only served to fuel her passion.

Marcus leaned in closer, whispering in her ear, "You're doing great, baby," as his hand slid down to grip her hip firmly. His thumb brushed against her skin, sending a jolt of pleasure through her body. Karina's cheeks flushed, and she bit her lip, trying to focus on her reps as the pressure of his grip grew more insistent.

On the other side of the gym, Tyronne and Darius had moved on to helping Yujin with her leg press. They positioned themselves at the base of the machine, each taking one of her legs and placing it on the platform. As she began to push the weight, their hands slid up her thighs, their grips tightening around her hips.

Their touch was electric, sending waves of desire through her body. Yujin's eyes fluttered closed as she felt them tease her, their fingers digging into her flesh just enough to leave marks. She knew she was their plaything, and the thrill of it all made her pussy throb.

The men's laughter filled the room as they watched the women struggle under their watchful eyes, their grips on their hips growing firmer with every passing second. The sound of metal clanking and the scent of sweat grew more intense as the tension mounted.

Wonyoung's heart raced as Omari and Amon pushed her limits on the hip abductor, their hands on her hips, guiding her movements. They leaned in closer, their breath hot against her neck, whispering words of encouragement that had her pussy begging for more. The fabric of her shorts was soaked through, and she knew that everyone in the gym could see her arousal.

As the women pushed themselves further into their workout, the men's grips grew more possessive. They whispered sweet nothings into their ears, their breath hot and ragged. The girls couldn't help but let out soft moans, their bodies responding to the power dynamics at play.

Suddenly, Darius's deep voice echoed through the gym. "Alright, ladies, it's time for a new kind of workout," he said with a smirk, his eyes gleaming with a wicked intent. "Let's go to the locker room, we'll teach you the next routine."

The other men chuckled in agreement, their eyes never leaving the three friends. The air was thick with desire and the promise of something more. The gym-goers around them had noticed the intense scene playing out, and whispers began to spread.

Karina, Yujin, and Wonyoung exchanged glances, their hearts racing with excitement. This was it, the moment they had been waiting for. They nodded in unison, their bodies trembling with anticipation. The six men led them through the gym, the eyes of everyone in the room following their every move.

As they approached the locker room, Marcus couldn't resist the temptation anymore. He reached out and squeezed Karina's ass, his fingers digging into her flesh. She gasped, her body reacting instinctively, arching into his touch. The sound of his hand connecting with her skin echoed through the room, and the other men followed suit, their hands roaming over the three women's bodies.

Yujin felt the hot, firm grip of Darius on her ass as he guided her through the door. She bit her lip to stifle a moan, the pressure from his hand sending waves of pleasure through her. Tyronne was right behind her, his hands caressing her curves as they walked. The feel of their hands on her made her legs weak, but she managed to stay upright, her body buzzing with desire.

Wonyoung's eyes rolled back in her head as Omari and Amon took turns squeezing her ass, their fingers brushing against the fabric of her shorts. The sensation was overwhelming, and she stumbled slightly, only to be caught by their strong arms. They chuckled, their grips tightening, as if they were claiming her as their own.

When they finally entered the locker room, the men didn't waste any time. With a swift motion, Marcus tore the fabric of Karina's pink sports bra, exposing her heavy breasts to the cool air. The sound of ripping fabric echoed through the room, and the other girls gasped in shock.

Yujin felt Tyronne's hands on her yoga pants, his thumbs hooking into the waistband as he began to pull them down. She looked over her shoulder, her eyes meeting his, and she saw the hunger in his gaze. He was going to take her, and she was going to let him. The fabric gave way easily, and her pants slid down to her ankles, revealing her bare pussy.

Wonyoung watched in amazement as the men's expressions grew more intense. They had expected some resistance, some shyness, but these girls were ready, willing, and completely bare. The sight was almost too much for them to handle.

"Wow, these girls are sluts," Amon exclaimed, his eyes wide with lust as he took in the scene. "They're not even wearing panties."

The locker room erupted into laughter, a mix of shock and excitement. The tension was palpable, the air thick with the scent of sweat and desire. The men couldn't believe their luck, and the women basked in the attention.

"Now, all of you get to your knees," one of the men said, his voice commanding and authoritative. The three friends obeyed without hesitation, dropping down to the cold, tiled floor.

The six men had shed their gym clothes, standing before them in all their naked glory. The sight was overwhelming: each one more muscular and more intimidating than the last. Their cocks stood erect, varying in size and girth, but all of them were substantial. The girls looked at each other, their eyes wide with excitement and a hint of trepidation.

Marcus and Zubari stood before Karina, their chests heaving with excitement. Marcus's cock was the largest she had ever seen, thick and veiny, the tip glistening with pre-cum. Zubari's was slightly smaller, but no less impressive, curving slightly upwards as if begging for attention.

Yujin couldn't tear her eyes away from Tyronne and Darius. Tyronne's cock was long and lean, bobbing slightly as he stepped closer. Darius's was thick and powerful, the head a dark shade of purple, promising a night of unbridled passion.

Wonyoung's knees grew even weaker as she took in Omari and Amon. Omari's cock was thick and heavy, the kind that would fill her to the brim, while Amon's was long and smooth, the perfect length to hit all the right spots.

Karina licked her lips, her eyes locked on Marcus and Zubari's cocks. "Our fantasy," she began, her voice a seductive whisper, "is to lick every inch of your sweaty bodies. We want to taste your power, your strength, and your passion."

The men's eyes grew dark with lust, their cocks twitching in response to her words. Yujin added, "And we want to be filled by the biggest black cocks we can find. Double penetration is the ultimate prize."

Wonyoung nodded in agreement, her voice shaky with anticipation. "We've never been with guys like you before," she confessed. "But we've dreamed of it. We want to be taken, to be used, to feel what it's like to have no control."

The men's grips on their hips tightened, and they shared a knowing look. This was more than they could have hoped for. They had stumbled upon a trio of eager, submissive women who were begging to be claimed.

With a nod from Marcus, Karina leaned in, her tongue darting out to taste the salty tang of sweat on his inner thigh. She traced the path of his muscles, moving closer and closer to his ass. The room grew silent as the sound of her tongue slurping against his skin filled the air. She took her time, savoring every inch of him, her eyes closed in ecstasy.

Her hands followed her tongue, cupping his firm cheeks before moving to his tight asshole. She licked around the edges, her tongue delving into his crack as he let out a low groan. His cock grew harder beneath her, the precum pooling at the tip.

Zubari watched, his own cock twitching with anticipation. He knew that he was next, and the thought made him lightheaded. He stepped closer, his hand guiding Karina's face to his own body, urging her to taste him. She didn't need much encouragement, eagerly lapping at his sweat-slicked skin.

Her tongue slid over his muscled ass, tracing the contours of his cheeks before she moved to his asshole. She licked it, her tongue probing gently, the taste of him making her pussy throb. The sound of her moan was muffled by the flesh she was worshipping.

Marcus's hand reached down to stroke her hair, his cock bobbing in front of her face. She looked up at him, her eyes glazed with desire, and took his length into her mouth, sucking and licking him with an enthusiasm that had him grunting with pleasure.

Meanwhile, Yujin had Darius's cock in her hand, her slender fingers barely able to wrap around his girth. She licked a path from his ass to his balls, her tongue swirling around each one before moving to the base of his cock. Tyronne stepped closer, his cock brushing against her cheek, and she eagerly opened her mouth to take him in as well, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked him off.

Wonyoung couldn't help but copy Karina's movements, her eyes on fire as she licked her way down Omari's muscular body. Amon's cock was next, and she took him in her mouth, her cheeks bulging as she tried to accommodate his size. She could feel his hands in her hair, guiding her movements, his hips bucking slightly as she worked her magic.

The men watched, their cocks swelling as the three friends took turns pleasuring them. The locker room was filled with the sounds of wet, sloppy kisses and guttural moans, the sight of the women on their knees, eager to serve, was more than they could have ever asked for.

The tension grew as the men grew closer to climax. Karina's eyes watered as she deep-throated Zubari, her throat muscles working overtime as she tried to take all of him. Marcus's hand tightened in her hair, his hips rocking back and forth as he fucked her mouth.

Yujin's jaw grew sore as she switched between Tyronne and Darius, her tongue dancing around their swollen heads. Darius's fingers tightened around her ponytail, pulling her closer as he neared his peak.

Wonyoung's eyes rolled back in her head as she tasted the precum from Amon's cock, her pussy begging for the same attention she was giving the men. Omari's hand slid down to cup her face, his thumb tracing her plump bottom lip as she worked on his cock.

"You're all so good at this," he murmured, his voice thick with lust.

The girls took the compliment as a challenge, redoubling their efforts. They knew what was coming and were eager to be the ones to push the men over the edge. Yujin could feel Tyronne's cock pulsing in her mouth, and she knew he was close.

Karina felt a sudden warmth on her face as Marcus and Zubari both erupted with a roar. Their cum shot out, painting her face in thick ropes, the sticky fluid dripping down her chin and onto her chest. She didn't flinch, instead leaning into it, letting it cover her as a badge of honor. Yujin and Wonyoung watched, their own mouths watering at the sight.

Yujin took Darius's cock out of her mouth and turned to Tyronne, her cheeks already flushed from his earlier attentions. She looked up at him, her eyes pleading, and with a smirk, he stepped closer. His cock twitched in her hand as she stroked him, her other hand playing with the tip of Darius's still-hard shaft.

With a grunt, Tyronne came, his cum spurting across her face, mixing with Darius's as it painted her features. Yujin's eyes widened with shock and pleasure as she felt the hot jets hit her nose, her cheeks, her eyes. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her vision, her heart racing with excitement.

Wonyoung watched as Karina and Yujin were showered with cum, her own pussy dripping with need. She had never felt so alive, so wanted, so consumed by desire. Omari and Amon's eyes bore into hers, their cocks rock-hard and demanding. She knew it was her turn.

The men stepped back, watching as the three friends knelt before them, their faces a canvas of their desire. Omari stepped closer, his cock in his hand, stroking it slowly as he admired Wonyoung's eager expression. She leaned in, her tongue darting out to lick the precum from the tip, her eyes never leaving his.

With a growl, Omari came, his cum spurting across her face, a warm, sticky mess that she greedily licked away. Amon was next, his cock pulsing in her hand as he painted her features with his seed. Wonyoung reveled in the feeling of being used, the power dynamic making her wetter and wetter.

As the men caught their breath, the girls turned to each other, their faces a mess of cum. Without a word, they leaned in, their tongues reaching out to clean the sticky residue from each other's skin. They tasted the salty, musky flavor of the men's release, the intimate act driving their arousal to new heights.

Karina looked up at Yujin, her eyes glazed with lust. She reached out and wiped a trail of cum from Yujin's cheek, bringing her fingers to her own mouth to lick them clean. Yujin watched, her breath hitching, before leaning in to kiss her friend, sharing the taste of their conquests. Wonyoung moaned, feeling left out, and they both turned to her, their tongues swirling together, sharing the cum that had been spilled.

The men watched, their cocks already starting to harden again. The sight of the three friends so eagerly devouring each other was more than they could take. "Let's take this to the next level," Marcus suggested, his eyes dark with hunger. The girls looked up at him, their lips swollen and shiny with cum, nodding eagerly.

Without hesitation, they dropped to their knees and began to lick the men's feet. The feeling of their tongues on his skin was like nothing Marcus had ever experienced before. He could feel the hunger in their movements, the desperation in every flick of their tongues. His cock grew harder as he watched them worship him and his friends.

Yujin took her time with Tyronne's foot, her tongue tracing the arch before moving to his toes. She could feel him shivering with pleasure, his cock jutting out towards her. She took each toe into her mouth, sucking gently, savoring the taste of his sweat and the power she had over him. Darius watched, his hand stroking his own cock as he felt the beginnings of his own climax build again.

Wonyoung licked her way up Omari's leg, her eyes never leaving his as she approached his cock. She took his foot in her hand, her thumb circling the sole before moving up to his toes. He groaned, the sensation driving him wild. "More," he murmured, his hips jerking forward slightly. She didn't need any further encouragement, her mouth closing around the tip of his foot.

Her teeth grazed the sensitive skin between his toes before she moved on to the next one, her eyes locked with Amon's. He watched her every move, his cock growing harder by the second. The smell of their sweat was intoxicating, a potent mix of pheromones and power that had the girls drooling.

Their mouths moved upwards, latching onto the men's sweaty armpits. They took deep breaths, inhaling the scent of their musk, the taste of their manhood. Karina moaned as she took in the scent of Marcus, her tongue swirling in circles, cleaning him of any trace of sweat.

"It's like nothing I've ever smelled before," Wonyoung said, her voice muffled by Omari's arm. "It's like... it's like the essence of a real man."

The men's chests rose and fell with excitement, their bodies trembling slightly as the girls worshiped them. The gym had become their personal playground, their desires laid bare for the world to see.

Yujin looked up at Darius, her eyes glazed with lust as she licked his armpit. "You taste so good," she whispered, her voice breathy. "I want more."

With a smirk, Darius leaned down, bringing his cock closer to her face. She took it in her hand, her eyes never leaving his as she took him into her mouth, her tongue flicking at his balls.

The locker room was filled with the sounds of wet licks and sighs of pleasure. The men's cocks grew harder with every touch, their bodies responding to the women's eager attentions. They had never felt so desired, so needed.

The tension grew as the girls continued their sensual exploration. They licked and sucked, their tongues tracing the paths of their muscles, tasting the salt of their sweat. The men's hands roamed, caressing their breasts, pinching their nipples, their touch setting the girls' skin alight.

"It's our time to give pleasure to yours," Marcus rumbled, his voice deep with desire. The six men stepped closer, their cocks standing at attention, eager to return the favor.

Karina, Yujin, and Wonyoung looked at each other, their eyes sparkling with excitement. They had come so far, their fantasy coming to life before their eyes. They lay back on the locker room benches, spreading their legs, offering themselves up to the men.

Marcus knelt before Karina, his tongue sliding along her inner thigh, moving closer and closer to her wet pussy. She gasped as he reached her clit, the sensation making her body arch off the bench. "So sweet," he murmured, his breath hot against her skin.

Yujin felt Tyronne's mouth on her neck, his teeth grazing her collarbone as his hand slid down to cup her breast. Darius took her nipple into his mouth, sucking gently at first, then more firmly as she whimpered.

Wonyoung looked up to see Omari leaning over her, his dark eyes filled with lust as he took in the sight of her swollen pussy. He leaned in, his breath hot against her skin before his tongue touched her clit. She let out a sharp cry, her body trembling with pleasure.

The girls' moans grew louder as the men worked their magic, their tongues and teeth exploring every inch of their bodies. The sensation of being licked and sucked by such powerful men was overwhelming, their every nerve ending alive with sensation.

They were lost in a haze of pleasure, their bodies writhing under the men's expert touch. The locker room echoed with their cries of ecstasy as the men took their time, savoring every moment.

Karina felt Zubari's hands spread her ass cheeks, his tongue delving into her tight hole. She gripped the bench, her knuckles white as she held on, her body tightening as she approached climax.

Yujin's eyes rolled back in her head as Tyronne and Darius took turns lapping at her clit, their tongues swirling and flicking in perfect harmony. She was close, so close, and she didn't want it to end.

Wonyoung's breath hitched as Amon's tongue slid into her ass, his hands playing with her pussy. She had never felt so full, so complete. Her moans grew more frantic as she felt herself on the brink.

The men didn't stop, their tongues and teeth working in tandem, bringing the girls closer and closer to the edge. They knew exactly what they were doing, and the girls were putty in their hands.

Their cries grew more urgent, their bodies begging for release. The air was thick with the scent of sex, the sound of wet licks and moans bouncing off the tiled walls.

Karina's pussy clenched around Marcus's tongue as he worked her clit, his thumb sliding into her tight asshole. She felt the beginnings of a squirt building deep within her, and she knew it was going to be intense. Her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to hold back, but it was no use. With a loud gasp, she squirted, her juices spraying across the bench and onto Marcus's face. He pulled away, laughing, and she looked down to see his face covered in her cum.

Yujin's body tightened as Tyronne and Darius took turns flicking her clit with their tongues, their fingers delving into her pussy and ass. The sensation was too much, and she lost control, her body spasming as she squirted all over them. They didn't flinch, instead, they eagerly lapped up her juices, sharing them in a passionate kiss.

Wonyoung felt the pressure build as Amon and Omari worked her over, their tongues swirling and probing her most intimate spots. She couldn't hold back any longer, and with a scream, she squirted, her juices coating the floor beneath her. They watched with fascination before leaning in to clean her up, their mouths greedily sucking up her sweet release.

The men were insatiable, and they didn't wait for the girls to catch their breath. "Back on your knees," Marcus growled, his cock still standing proud and gleaming from Karina's eager mouth. The girls obeyed, eager to continue their journey into the depths of their shared fantasy.

The sound of slapping skin filled the locker room as the six men began to slap their cocks against the girls' faces. The impact was surprisingly gentle, but the sensation was intense. Karina felt Zubari's thick cock hit her cheek, leaving a sticky trail of precum behind. She opened her mouth, eager to catch the next slap.

Yujin's eyes watered as Tyronne's and Darius's cocks slapped her face in unison, the smack echoing through the room. She leaned into the sensation, her mouth open, tongue flicking out to taste their salty, musky flavor.

Wonyoung took in the sight of Omari and Amon, their cocks slapping against her cheeks, leaving a sticky mess she was eager to clean up. She stuck her tongue out, catching a drop of precum, and the taste sent a jolt of electricity through her body.

"We want to taste all of you," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the symphony of moans and slaps. "We want to be spit-roasted, filled to the brim with your big, black cocks."

The men's eyes lit up at the mention of their favorite position. Marcus looked over at Tyronne and Darius, who had already moved into place behind Yujin. "Looks like our little sluts are eager to be used," he said with a wicked grin.

"More than you can imagine," Yujin panted, her face flushed and eyes sparkling with lust. She leaned back, her ass in the air, offering herself up to the men. "Take us, please. We're ready."

Marcus and Zubari didn't need any more encouragement. They positioned Karina on the bench, her legs spread wide as they lined up their cocks, both men eager to claim her. Marcus slid into her pussy first, his thick cock stretching her to the brink as he pushed deep. She gasped, her eyes squeezing shut as she felt the fullness of him. Then, without warning, Zubari pushed into her ass, his cock thick and unyielding as he filled her completely.

"Ahh!" Karina's scream echoed through the locker room, the pain and pleasure mixing in a heady cocktail. She had never felt so full before, so stretched, so claimed. Her body tensed as they both began to move, their rhythm matching perfectly as they fucked her.

Yujin watched, her own desire mounting as Tyronne and Darius positioned themselves behind her. Her heart raced as she felt the tip of Tyronne's cock at her pussy, Darius's at her ass. The men didn't hold back, pushing into her simultaneously. The pain was intense, but it only served to heighten the pleasure.

"Ahh, it hurts!" she screamed, her voice raw and desperate. But she didn't want them to stop. No, she wanted more. She pushed back, taking them deeper, her body adjusting to the intrusion. The men groaned, their cocks sinking into her tight holes, the pressure building.

They began to move in tandem, their thrusts long and deep. Yujin's screams grew louder as she was filled and stretched to the limit. The sensation was indescribable, a delicious agony that had her nails digging into the bench, her body writhing in ecstasy.

But the show wasn't just for them. Marcus and Zubari had moved aside to give Omari and Amon their turn with Wonyoung. They took their place behind her, their cocks slick with precum and desire. Wonyoung's eyes widened as she felt the tip of Omari's cock at her pussy, and Amon's at her ass. She braced herself, her heart racing.

With a powerful thrust, Omari filled her pussy, his thickness making her gasp. Amon didn't wait, pushing into her tight asshole, his cock stretching her even further. Wonyoung's scream of "Ahh, it hurts! I can't!" echoed through the locker room, but instead of pulling out, the men took it as a challenge, their strokes growing more forceful.

Her cries grew more desperate as they fucked her, the pain mixing with pleasure until she couldn't tell which was which. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she felt her body start to convulse, the pressure building, building, until she thought she'd explode.

Marcus and Zubari watched her intently, their own pleasure reflected in their eyes. "Her ass is so fucking tight," Marcus groaned, his voice strained with effort. "I've never felt anything like it."

Zubari nodded in agreement, his cock buried to the hilt in Karina's ass. "And that pussy," he added, his voice low and reverent. "It's like a vice grip around my dick."

The other men chuckled, their cocks slapping against the girls' faces as they watched their friends take the Asian beauties. "Look at her," Tyronne murmured, his voice thick with lust. "Look at how much she loves it."

Yujin's face was a mask of pleasure and pain as Tyronne and Darius fucked her, their cocks sliding in and out of her stretched holes. "It's like she was made for this," Darius said, his eyes never leaving the sight of his cock disappearing into her ass.

Wonyoung's moans grew louder as Omari and Amon took her, their powerful strokes pushing her closer and closer to the edge. "Her pussy is so tight," Omari grunted, his teeth clenched. "It's like a second skin around my cock."

Amon's breath was hot in her ear. "And that ass," he groaned. "It's like heaven."

The men's praise only spurred the girls on, their bodies moving in time with their partners'. They were lost in the moment, their every thought focused on the cocks inside them, the sweat and cum that coated their skin.

"Ahh, fuck!" Karina's scream pierced the air, her voice high and keening. "It's like being split in two, but in the best way possible!" She threw her head back, her eyes rolling up into her head. Marcus and Zubari's strokes grew more forceful, their muscles straining with the effort of holding back. "It's like you're tearing me apart," she panted, her voice trembling. "But I don't want it to stop. It's so good, so fucking good!"

Their rhythm grew more erratic, their bodies slapping together with every thrust. Karina's breasts bounced with the force of it, her nipples hard and sensitive. She felt the pressure building, her pussy clenching around Marcus's cock as Zubari hit her G-spot with every push into her ass. "I'm going to cum," she yelled, her voice echoing in the tiled locker room. "Oh my god, I'm going to cum so hard!"

Yujin watched her friend, the sight pushing her own pleasure to new heights. She could feel her own orgasm building, the sensation of being split open by two massive cocks driving her wild. She threw her head back and screamed, her voice joining the cacophony of passion. "It's so good," she panted. "So full, so deep."

Wonyoung's eyes rolled back in her head as Omari and Amon fucked her harder, their cocks moving in perfect sync. "Ahh, fuck me," she begged, her voice a desperate whine. "Fuck me like the sluts we are!"

The men laughed, their strokes growing more powerful as they felt the girls' bodies tighten around them. "It's like they're begging for it," Darius said, his voice filled with a mix of amazement and lust.

Marcus looked down at Karina, her pussy clenching around his cock. "You're getting tight, baby," he said, his voice low and seductive. "You're going to squirt all over us."

Sure enough, Karina's pussy tightened further, her body spasming as she felt the beginnings of her orgasm. "Ahh, I'm gonna... I'm gonna...," she stuttered, unable to form coherent words.

The men watched, their eyes widening as they felt the pressure build around their cocks. "Her pussy's like a vice," Zubari groaned, his grip on her hips tightening. "It's so fucking tight."

Marcus nodded, his breath coming in short gasps. "Yeah, she's going to squirt," he said, his voice filled with excitement.

The tension grew unbearable as the girls' squirts grew stronger. Yujin's body was wracked with spasms as Tyronne and Darius pounded into her, their cocks stretching her to the limit. "Fuck, I'm going to cum," she screamed, her voice breaking. "Make me squirt, please!"

The men didn't need any encouragement. They picked up their pace, their hips smacking against the girls' asses in a frenzied rhythm. Wonyoung felt the pressure in her own pussy and ass building, her body begging for release. "Do it," she panted. "Make us squirt all over you."

The force of their orgasms was explosive. Yujin's pussy clamped down around Tyronne and Darius's cocks, the sudden release of pressure sending them flying out of her. She collapsed forward, her body shaking with the aftershocks of pleasure. "Oh my god," she gasped, her voice hoarse. "That was incredible."

Marcus and Zubari pulled out of Karina with a wet pop, their cocks glistening with her juices. She looked up at them with a sly smile, her chest heaving with each ragged breath. "Your turn," she murmured, her voice still filled with desire.

Wonyoung's pussy and ass clenched around Omari and Amon, and with a final, powerful thrust, they were expelled from her tight holes. She slumped down onto the bench, her legs trembling. The men stepped back, their cocks still hard, their eyes glittering with excitement.

The locker room was a mess, a testament to the intense sexual encounter that had just taken place. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and sex, the sound of heavy breathing and the occasional giggle from the girls as they looked at each other with a mix of satisfaction and amazement.

"Alright, it's done," Karina said with a sigh, her legs still trembling from the exertion. "Our bodies just got what we need."

The girls walked out with trembling legs, and when they reached the door, they were shocked; suddenly, they were stopped by all the men."We're not done yet, I haven't cum." One of the men said.

Karina looked at her friends with a mix of fear and excitement. They had never gone this far before. But the desperate look in the men's eyes made it clear that they weren't going anywhere until they had all had their fill. "Please," she whimpered, "my ass is so sore, I can't take any more."

Yujin and Wonyoung nodded in agreement, their voices filled with a needy plea. "Our pussies are sore too," Yujin managed to say, her voice cracking. "We need a break."

But the men didn't listen. With a grin that was half mischief, half determination, Tyronne grabbed Yujin's hips and flipped her over, pushing her face-first into the bench. "You're not done until we say you are," he murmured, his hand smacking her ass playfully.

Darius chuckled, moving behind her, his cock still rock-hard. "You're going to love this," he said, lining up with her pussy. He didn't wait for a response, sliding in smoothly, his cock hitting her G-spot with ease.

Yujin's scream was muffled by the bench, her body jolting as she was filled once more. Tyronne's cock slammed into her ass, the pain making her eyes water. "Please," she whimpered, "not so deep."

But the men were lost in their lust, their eyes glazed over as they took what they wanted. The sound of their hips slapping against the girls' asses grew louder, the slap of flesh on flesh echoing through the locker room.

Karina felt her own pussy clench around Marcus's cock, the pain and pleasure blurring into one intense sensation. Zubari didn't wait, pushing into her ass, his girth stretching her even further. She screamed, her voice raw and desperate. "It's too much," she sobbed. "I can't take it!"

The men's laughter was low and dark, their hands moving to squeeze the girls' breasts and pinch their nipples. "You're going to take it," Marcus growled. "And you're going to love every second of it."

Their strokes grew more erratic, their bodies moving in a frenzied dance of desire. The girls' moans grew more frantic, their pleas for mercy falling on deaf ears. The men were like animals, driven by instinct and lust, their every thought consumed by the need to cum.

Wonyoung felt the beginnings of another orgasm building, her body already over-sensitized from the previous ones. "I can't," she moaned, her voice high and desperate. "I can't take it anymore."

But Omari and Amon didn't stop, their strokes growing more forceful. "You can," Omari murmured, his breath hot against her ear. "You can and you will."

The girls' bodies began to spasm once again, their juices spraying out as the men fucked them, painting the floor and benches with their desire. They couldn't believe they had another orgasm in them, but the men's relentless pounding brought it out of them, their cries of pleasure mixing with the sounds of the men's grunts and slaps.

Wonyoung looked over her shoulder at Omari and Amon, her eyes glazed with a mix of pain and pleasure. "My holes are getting sore," she panted, her voice barely above a whisper. "They feel like they're going to break."

The men's grins grew wider at her admission, their strokes becoming more powerful as they pushed her closer and closer to the edge. "Don't worry, baby," Amon murmured, his cock sliding in and out of her ass with ease. "We're going to fill you up until you can't take anymore."

Her pussy clenched around Omari's cock as he thrust into her, the sensation of being used so thoroughly sending her over the edge. "Ahh, I'm cumming!" she screamed, her body bucking as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her.

The men didn't stop, their cocks pumping into her until she thought she'd pass out. But she didn't. Instead, she felt another orgasm building, this one more intense than the last. "Fuck, it's too much," she moaned, her body trembling with the effort of taking them both.

Marcus and Zubari watched, their eyes on Karina's tight asshole as it stretched around their cocks. "Look at her," Zubari said with a smirk. "Her ass is going to be sore for days."

"And her pussy," Marcus added, his hips moving in a steady rhythm. "It's never been this good."

The room was a symphony of pleasure and pain, the girls' cries growing more desperate as the men pushed them to their limits. Yujin felt her body tighten around Tyronne and Darius, their cocks pounding into her with a force she had never felt before. "Please," she begged, "I can't take anymore."

But the men were too far gone, their own need for release driving them to fuck the girls harder and deeper. "You're going to take it," Tyronne said, his eyes never leaving hers in the mirror. "You're going to take it all."

Their strokes grew more erratic, their breathing ragged. The girls knew it was coming, the moment they had been waiting for, the moment they had all been building to. The pressure grew unbearable, their bodies begging for the release that was so close.

And then it was upon them, the men's cocks pulsing with their climax, filling the girls' pussies and asses with hot cum. The girls' screams were music to their ears, their bodies milking the men for every drop, eager for more.

As the men pulled out, their cocks still twitching, the girls collapsed onto the bench, their bodies spent and sore. They looked at each other, their eyes wide with amazement. They had done it. They had pushed their boundaries and come out the other side, forever changed by the experience.

The men stood before them, their cocks still hard, their bodies glistening with sweat and cum. "That was amazing," Marcus said, his voice filled with awe.

"The best we've ever had," Tyronne agreed, his eyes never leaving the girls' faces.

The girls giggled, their bodies still trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure. They had found what they were looking for, and it was better than they could have ever imagined. They had become the sluts they had always dreamed of being, and they had never felt more alive.

But the men weren't done with them yet. Marcus and Zubari stepped forward, their cocks still rock-hard and gleaming with Karina's juices. "We've got an idea," Marcus said, a wicked glint in his eye. "Something that will make you scream even louder."

Without waiting for a response, they pushed their cocks together, the heads touching and sliding along each other. Karina watched, her eyes widening in shock and excitement as they positioned themselves at her pussy, their cocks touching and teasing her swollen lips. "Oh my god," she whispered, her voice trembling. "What are you doing?"

The men chuckled darkly, their eyes meeting in the mirror. "We're going to give you a taste of something new," Marcus said, his voice low and seductive. "Something you've never had before."

With a grin, Zubari lined up his cock with Marcus's, both of them pressing the heads against Karina's stretched pussy. The sensation was unlike anything she had ever felt before, the heat and pressure of two massive cocks at her entrance. She gasped, her eyes wide with fear and anticipation. "Oh god, please," she whimpered, her body quivering.

The men didn't wait for further encouragement. With a powerful thrust, they pushed into her together, their cocks sliding in side by side. Karina's scream echoed through the locker room, the sensation of being split open so wide was almost too much to bear.

"It's painful," she gasped, her voice strained with the effort of speaking. "It's like nothing I've ever felt before."

Her eyes squeezed shut tightly, and she clutched the sides of the bench, her knuckles turning white with the force of her grip. The sensation of two thick cocks pushing into her at once was overwhelming, the pain so intense it was almost unbearable. But there was something else there, something dark and thrilling that had her hips bucking back to meet them, desperate for more.

"It's... it's too much," Karina managed to whisper, her voice tight with strain. The fullness was unbelievable, a pressure so great she thought she might burst. Yet she couldn't help but crave it, the pain morphing into a strange, twisted pleasure that made her wetter, her pussy clenching around the invading cocks.

Marcus leaned down, his breath hot on her neck. "You can take it, baby," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "Take it all."

Karina felt her body stretching to accommodate them, the pressure building until she thought she'd scream. And then she did, her voice echoing off the tiles as the men pushed deeper, filling her completely. The pain was intense, but there was something else there, a dark pleasure that had her hips rising to meet them, her body begging for more.

The men began to move, their strokes long and deep, their cocks sliding in and out of her in a rhythm that made her vision swim. Karina's screams grew louder, filling the locker room with the sound of her pleasure. "It's too much," she sobbed, her voice lost to the intensity of the moment. "It's so fucking good, but it's too much!"

But the men didn't stop, their bodies moving in a frenzied dance of lust and power. They watched her in the mirror, their eyes glittering with excitement as she took them both. "You can do it," Marcus whispered, his voice soothing despite the fierce grip he had on her hips. "You're a good girl."

Yujin, still face down on the bench, felt Tyronne and Darius move closer. She knew what they wanted, and the thought made her heart race. She tried to push herself up, to protest, but she didn't have the strength. "No," she whimpered, her voice weak. "It won't fit, I can't..."

Her protests fell on deaf ears as the men positioned themselves, their cocks pressing against her sore pussy. The head of one cock slid inside her, and she gasped, the pain making her eyes water. But the pleasure was there too, a dark, thrilling sensation that had her hips moving back, trying to take more. And then the second cock pushed in, and she felt herself stretched to the limit. "Ahh," she moaned, her voice strangled. "It's too much, please..."

But the men didn't stop, didn't even pause. They pushed in together, their cocks stretching her beyond what she thought possible. The pain was white-hot, but it was quickly overwhelmed by the feeling of fullness, of being utterly owned and used. "Fuck," she screamed, her voice hoarse with desire. "It's so good, so fucking good!"

Wonyoung's eyes widened in shock as Omari and Amon approached, their cocks still hard and gleaming. She tried to scoot away, her voice trembling. "No, please," she begged. "My pussy is too small."

They just laughed, the sound deep and dark. "That's what makes it even better," Omari said, his hand reaching out to stroke her cheek. "The tighter the better."

Their fingers trailed down her body, exploring her curves, and she shivered with anticipation. She knew she couldn't take them both, not after what she'd just been through, but the thought of trying had her pussy clenching with need. "I'll break," she whimpered, her voice small and scared.

"We'll go slow," Amon assured her, his voice a gentle rumble in her ear. "We'll make it good for you, baby."

Their cocks touched her, the tips sliding along her slit, teasing her clit. Wonyoung felt her body respond, felt her pussy start to clench and pulse with the need for release. "Please," she begged, her voice desperate. "Please make it feel good."

They didn't need any further invitation. With a grin, Omari pushed into her, his cock stretching her open with a delicious pain that had her nails digging into the bench. "Look at her," Amon murmured, his cock sliding in beside Omari's. "Look how much she wants it."

Wonyoung's eyes rolled back in her head as they began to fuck her, their strokes slow and deliberate. It was a new kind of fullness, a new kind of pleasure that had her toes curling and her back arching. "Oh god," she moaned, her voice shaking. "Oh god, it's too much, I can't... I can't..."

The men watched her in the mirror, their eyes filled with a hunger that made her stomach clench. They were enjoying every second of her struggle, every gasp and whine that escaped her lips. "You can take it," Omari murmured, his cock moving in a steady rhythm. "You're doing so good, baby."

Their strokes grew faster, their hands moving to grip her hips, holding her in place as they pushed deeper. Wonyoung felt her body start to shake, her pussy tightening around them as the orgasm built. "I'm going to cum," she panted, her voice tight with the effort of holding back. "Oh god, I'm going to cum so hard!"

The men grinned at each other, their eyes locked on Wonyoung's face as she squirted around their cocks. The sensation was unlike anything they had felt before, her pussy spasming and clenching as she came. "Fuck, she's squirting," Amon murmured, his voice filled with amazement.

Yujin watched her friend, her own pussy clenching with envy. The thought of being filled so completely, of having no control over her own body, was intoxicating. "I want to cum like that," she moaned, her voice desperate.

"And you will," Tyronne assured her, his strokes growing more forceful. "You're going to squirt all over us, baby."

The pressure in Karina's pussy grew, her body stretching to accommodate the two massive cocks. She could feel the beginnings of another orgasm, her pussy clenching around them as they fucked her with a ferocity that bordered on brutal. "I can't," she gasped, her eyes squeezed shut. "It's too much, I'm going to pass out."

Marcus chuckled darkly, his grip on her hips tightening. "Not before you cum for us," he said, his voice a command. "You're going to scream our names as you squirt all over our cocks."

The girls' bodies were a symphony of pleasure and pain, their cries of ecstasy mixing with the sounds of the men's grunts. They had never felt so full, so used, and it was driving them wild. Their pussies spasmed, releasing a flood of juices that soaked the bench beneath them.

Marcus and Zubari didn't let up, their strokes deep and punishing. Karina's pussy was stretched to the limit, the pain and pleasure melding into a white-hot need that had her begging for more. "Cum for us," Marcus growled, his teeth clenched as he watched her in the mirror.

Yujin felt her pussy tightening around Tyronne and Darius, their cocks pumping in and out of her like pistons. The men's eyes were locked on her, their smiles predatory as they watched her approach the edge. "Do it," Darius murmured, his hand sliding up to pinch her clit. "Squirt for us."

Their words were like a command, and her body obeyed, her pussy clenching around their cocks as she squirted, the warmth of her release coating their cocks. "Ahh, yes," she screamed, her body bucking with the force of her orgasm.

Wonyoung's pussy was on fire, the sensation of Omari and Amon's cocks moving inside her almost unbearable. "I can't," she whimpered, her voice tight with strain. "Please, I need to cum."

The men chuckled, their strokes growing more forceful. "You will," Omari promised, his voice dark and seductive. "You're going to cum all over us."

Their hips slammed into her, their cocks hitting her deepest spots, pushing her closer and closer to the edge. And then it was there, the orgasm tearing through her like a storm, making her body shake and her eyes roll back in her head. "Oh fuck," she screamed, her voice hoarse with need. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!"

The men watched the girls, their cocks swelling with every scream and spurt of juice. They knew they were close, their balls tight and heavy with the need to release. "Ready to fill these sluts up?" Tyronne asked, his voice a low growl.

"More than ready," Darius grinned, his cock pumping in and out of Yujin's tight pussy.

The men moved together, their cocks sliding out of the girls' pussies with a wet sound that made them all shiver. They stepped back, their eyes on the prize, their bodies tense with anticipation. "Open up," Marcus said, his voice a low, guttural growl.

The girls obeyed, their legs spread wide, their pussies gaping and begging for more. The men didn't waste any time, pushing back in, filling them to the brim with their cum. The girls' bodies jerked as the hot, thick fluid filled them, the sensation overwhelming.

They came together, their screams mixing with the sound of the men's grunts. The locker room was a sea of sweat, cum, and desire, the air thick with the scent of sex. The men's cocks twitched as they emptied themselves into the girls, their eyes never leaving the sight of their swollen, filled pussies.

But the men weren't done. They had been waiting for this moment for too long, and they were going to take everything they wanted. As the girls lay there, panting and exhausted, the men pulled out, their cocks still hard. "Again," Marcus said, his voice a command.

Karina's eyes snapped open, her body tensing. "No," she gasped. "Please, no more." But the men didn't listen. Zubari pushed her legs apart, his cock sliding back into her pussy with ease. Marcus followed suit, filling her ass with his own thick length.

Yujin and Wonyoung watched in horror as the men began to fuck Karina once more, her body already stretched to the brink. They knew that if they didn't do something, they'd be next. But their protests were cut short as Tyronne and Darius pushed their cocks back into them, filling their pussies and asses with their thick, cum-covered lengths.

The men fucked them without mercy, their strokes powerful and relentless. They switched positions, sometimes filling their pussies together, sometimes taking turns with their asses, the girls' cries of pain and pleasure melding into one. "Please," Wonyoung begged, her voice a desperate whimper. "Please, I can't take anymore."

But the men just laughed, their eyes gleaming with lust. They were in control now, and they weren't going to stop until they were fully satisfied. They pounded into the girls, their balls slapping against their asses, their cocks hitting deep inside them, making them scream.

The girls felt their bodies betray them, their pussies clenching and releasing, their muscles spasming with each thrust. They were powerless to resist, their need for release overwhelming them. They begged and pleaded, but the men just fucked them harder, their strokes never slowing.

The locker room was a cacophony of sounds, the slap of skin on skin, the wet squelch of cocks sliding in and out of tight, filled pussies, the girls' desperate cries for mercy. But the men didn't stop, didn't even slow down. They fucked them through one orgasm and into the next, their own pleasure building with every thrust.

Karina felt her body giving out, her pussy and ass feeling like they were on fire. She was so full, so used, she didn't think she could take anymore. "Please," she sobbed. "Please, no more."

Marcus leaned down, his teeth grazing her ear. "You're going to take every drop," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "You're going to be our little cum sluts."

The girls looked at each other, their eyes wide with terror and desire. They knew that they had no choice but to submit, to take everything the men had to give. And as they felt the cocks inside them swell, they knew that the end was near.

The men's strokes grew faster, their bodies tense as they approached their climax. The girls could feel it, the pressure building inside them, the inevitable release that would fill them once more. And then it was upon them, the men's cum flooding into their pussies and asses, mixing with their own juices and spilling out onto the floor.

They screamed, their bodies shaking with the force of it, their pussies clenching around the cocks, desperately trying to hold onto every drop. But the men kept fucking them, their cocks never leaving, their seed never stopping. It was an endless cycle of pain and pleasure that the girls were trapped in, their cries for help lost in the symphony of their own desperate moans.

Finally, with a roar of triumph, the men pulled out, their cocks still spurting cum. It rained down on the girls, mixing with the sweat and the juices that coated their bodies. They lay there, panting and spent, their eyes glazed with the overwhelming sensation of being completely used.

The men stepped back, their chests heaving with the exertion. They looked at each other, grinning with satisfaction. "That was some of the best pussy I've ever had," Darius said, wiping the sweat from his brow.

"Agreed," Tyronne chuckled, his eyes still on Yujin's trembling body. "But I think we've worn them out."

The girls lay there, unable to move, their muscles quivering with the aftermath of their orgasms. They were covered in cum, their bodies sticky and wet, their pussies and asses gaping. They had never felt so used, so utterly owned.

But the men weren't finished. With a wicked grin, Marcus picked Karina up by the neck, lifting her to her knees. "Open your mouth," he ordered, his cock pointing at her face. She tried to shake her head, her eyes wide with horror, but she had no strength to resist.

Wonyoung watched in shock as Omari and Amon did the same to her, their cocks thick and pulsing. "No," she whispered, her voice trembling. "It's not what we... we didn't agree to this."

The men ignored her protests, their eyes dark with desire. They had taken them to the edge of pleasure, and now they were going to push them over into something else entirely. "You're going to swallow," Tyronne said, his grip on Yujin's neck tightening. "You're going to swallow every drop."

The first spurt of hot, golden liquid hit Karina's face, making her gasp. She tried to turn away, but Marcus's grip was like steel, forcing her to take the stream of piss into her mouth. She gagged, her eyes watering, but she couldn't stop the flow. The taste was bitter, the sensation overwhelming, and she choked, trying to breathe.

Yujin and Wonyoung watched in horror as their friends were degraded before them. "No," Wonyoung sobbed, her voice weak. "Please, no more." But the men just laughed, their piss arcing through the air as they emptied their bladders into the girls' mouths.

The scene was one of complete domination, the men's power on full display. The girls' bodies trembled, their eyes wide with shock and fear. They had come looking for a kinky adventure, but this was more than they had bargained for. They had become the toys of these six black gods, their desires and boundaries pushed to the limit.

The piss filled their mouths, their throats, their stomachs, and the smell of it filled the locker room. They choked and gagged, their eyes watering, as the men used them for their own pleasure. It was a final act of submission, a demonstration of just how far they would go to satisfy their dark desires.

The men watched them, their smiles wide and cruel. They knew they had broken the girls, pushed them to a place they had never been before. And as they finished, their cocks still twitching with the last drops of piss, they felt a sense of triumph that was almost as intense as their orgasms.

But the girls had reached their breaking point. As the last drops fell from their chins, they collapsed onto the floor, their bodies heaving with sobs. They had never felt so violated, so used. And yet, as they lay there, their pussies clenched, the faintest echo of pleasure still lingering.

The men stepped back, their eyes on the sobbing, trembling girls. They had given them an experience they would never forget, one that would stay with them forever. And as they zipped up their pants, their eyes never leaving the scene before them, they knew they had found what they were looking for. They had found the ultimate in submission, the ultimate in pleasure.

With a laugh, Marcus turned to the others. "Spread the word," he said, his voice filled with excitement. "We've got living toilets in here."

The men filed out of the locker room, their footsteps echoing in the silence. The door swung open, and in streamed a line of eager gym-goers, their eyes on the girls on the floor. Karina, Yujin, and Wonyoung looked up, their eyes wide with terror as they realized what was about to happen.

One by one, the men approached, their cocks in hand. They didn't even bother to aim, just letting their piss spray over the girls, soaking them from head to toe. The girls choked on the foul liquid, their bodies convulsing with the humiliation and the pain. They had never felt so low, so used.

But even as the piss rained down on them, their bodies betrayed them. Their pussies clenched and released, their asses quivered, and they couldn't help but feel a dark thrill at the degradation. It was as if their kink had been taken to a new level, one that they had never even imagined.

The gym patrons took turns, some pissing in their mouths, some on their faces, and others on their breasts and stomachs. The girls' bodies were a canvas for the men's desires, their cries of protest lost in the symphony of male laughter and the hiss of piss hitting the tiles.

The scene was one of complete and utter degradation, a testament to the power of the men's desire. And as the last man finished, the locker room was filled with the acrid smell of urine, a scent that would stay with the girls forever.

They lay there, sobbing, their bodies trembling with the aftermath of their ordeal. They had never felt so dirty, so used, so completely owned. But somewhere in the back of their minds, a part of them knew that they had found what they were looking for, a part of them that reveled in the pain and the pleasure of it all.

Slowly, they managed to get to their hands and knees, their legs wobbly as they crawled towards the locker room door. The floor was sticky with cum and piss, making it difficult to move, but they had to get out. They had to find someone to help them, to save them from this living nightmare.

But as they reached the door, it was blocked by a figure, a man they hadn't seen before. He was tall and muscular, his skin dark like the night, his eyes gleaming with lust. "Where do you think you're going?" he asked, his voice a low purr.

The girls looked up at him, their eyes wide with fear. "Please," Wonyoung begged, her voice barely a whisper. "Help us."

The stranger chuckled, his hand reaching out to stroke her cheek. "Oh, I'll help you alright," he said, his eyes raking over their bodies. "But first, you're going to show me what you're really made of."

With surprising strength, he grabbed them by the hair, dragging them out of the locker room and down the empty walk street. They struggled, their cries echoing off the walls, but it was no use. He was too strong, too powerful. They were helpless in his grasp, their bodies his to do with as he pleased.

As they stumbled out into the night, the cool air hit their soaked skin, sending shivers down their spines. The street was deserted, a perfect stage for their ongoing degradation. The stranger's words hung in the air, a promise of further humiliation that made their stomachs churn. "You're going to be the talk of the town," he sneered. "Living toilets, ready for anyone to use."

The girls looked around frantically, their eyes searching for an escape, for a glimmer of hope. But the street was eerily silent, the only sounds the distant sirens of the city and the squelch of their cum-filled pussies. They were trapped, their fates in the hands of this sadistic man.

"Please," Karina managed to gasp, her voice hoarse from screaming. "We'll do anything."

He chuckled, his eyes glinting with malicious amusement. "Oh, I know you will," he said, his voice a dark caress. "You're going to be everyone's little sluts, aren't you?" He said.

The girls complied, their bodies trembling with fear and arousal. They couldn't believe what was happening to them, that their kink had led them to this dark, twisted place.

The news of their depraved activities in the gym had spread like wildfire, reaching every corner of the city. Men from all walks of life now sought them out, eager to use their bodies for their own perverse pleasures. Each day brought new faces, new cocks, new humiliations.

The streets were their new playground, where they were fucked by the homeless, criminals, and any kind of people their cries of pleasure and pain echoing through the alleyways. They had become the ultimate sex toys, available for anyone's use.

Their lives had become a never-ending cycle of degradation, each day a blur of sweat, cum, and piss. They had lost count of the number of times they had been filled and emptied, their pussies and asses stretched beyond their limits.

The regret grew with each passing moment, a constant reminder of their fall from grace. If only they had been able to control their desires, they wouldn't be the public sluts and toilets they had become.

Their days were spent on their knees, servicing the never-ending line of men who sought them out, their nights were even worse, as they were passed around like property, their bodies used and discarded without a second thought.

Their fantasies had become a prison, a nightmare they couldn't escape. They had become the very thing they had once dreamed of, but now, it was a reality they wished they could wake up from.

Their eyes held a haunting mix of desperation and lust, a testament to the depths they had sunk. They had no control, no say in what happened to them, their lives now dictated by the whims of the men who used them.

Each new act of debasement brought a fresh wave of pain, yet they couldn't help but crave more. The very thing that had brought them to this point had now become their undoing, a cycle they were trapped in with no end in sight.

Their cries for help fell on deaf ears, their pleas for mercy only serving to excite their users further. They were no longer Karina, Yujin, and Wonyoung, just three holes to be filled, three mouths to be used, three sets of tits to be played with.

And yet, amidst the pain and the humiliation, there was a dark thrill that pulsed through them, a need to be used, to be owned, to be filled with cum and piss. It was a part of them now, a twisted part that had grown too strong to ignore.

As the days turned into weeks, the weeks into months, they became known as the gym sluts, the girls who would do anything for a taste of a black cock. They were the talk of the town, the legend that grew with every retelling, their degradation becoming a part of the fabric of the city's underbelly.

Their names were forgotten, their past lives a distant memory. They had become living embodiments of the darkest desires of the men who used them, their existence solely to satisfy the most depraved appetites.

The regret lingered, a constant presence in their minds, a reminder of what they had lost. But with each passing day, it grew fainter, replaced by a need to serve, to be used, to be filled with the very fluids that had once disgusted them.

Their bodies had become a canvas for the men's lust, a toilet for their cum and piss. They had become what they had once fantasized about, and the only thing they had left was the hope that one day, they might find a way out of the hell they had created for themselves.

[differenteagletragedy]

Heyyy !!

So i had an idea.

Since Simon doesn’t celebrate birthdays at all, let’s imagine a world where reader’s birthday comes before his.

How would he react?

I thought that maybe he would ignore it just like anyone else’s birthday which would sadden reader A HELL LOT.

I absolutely live for angst so I believe that Simon would be crushed once he realizes his mistake and try to fix it.

Anyway, I hope that was understandable! Your writing is so good, I’m a 100% sure you’ll turn this into a masterpiece !

THANK YOU!??!!?! I live for the angst too, big big time, I hope you like it!!!

Simon keeps a watchful eye on you as you get ready for a night out with friends. He watches you do your hair and makeup, slide into a tight little dress, and it's a pleasant sight to see, but something's off. There's a tenseness in your shoulders, and he can't figure out the source.

"Everything all right?" he asks from his spot on the bed while you move to the closet to find a pair of shoes.

"Yep," you answer in a tone that tells him that everything is not, in fact, all right.

He stands, making his way to you, and you still when he puts his hands on your hips, pulling you so that your back rests against his chest.

"Can't fix the problem if I don't know what it is, love."

"The problem," you tell him, sliding around to face him, "is that I'm going to be late if you keep being handsy."

He lets you slip away from him.

Later that night, when you come home, you're buzzed enough to be honest but not enough to be belligerent about it. He meets you at the door, kneels to take your shoes off for you, and you begin.

"I'm sad."

He sets the shoes down and stands, taking your hands in his, and says, "Well, we can't have that, now can we?"

"It's my birthday," you tell him.

"As of midnight, yes."

"... You knew?"

There's hurt in your eyes, and Simon understands immediately that he's played this all wrong, but he's still trying to work out where exactly he failed.

"'Course I knew," he answers truthfully. "I know everything about you."

"Then why didn't you say anything? My friends took me out for my birthday, and you ... you didn't even say anything. You didn't want to come. Why not?"

"Because I knew you'd have more fun with your friends than you'd have with me."

It's another truth, but it's just the tip of the iceberg.

You sigh, then drop one of his hands, taking the other and leading him to the couch. You've been together long enough that he knows what this is -- you've just realized you've uncovered another piece of Simon Riley that is a little bit peculiar, and you want to talk it out.

"So here's the thing," you begin, sitting next to him. "I love you. I love being around you. And I want to be around you on my birthday."

He fights against the din that begins immediately in his mind -- the too-loud thoughts about how he doesn't deserve this understanding, doesn't deserve your kindness, doesn't deserve you, and he tries to speak.

Nothing comes out.

It's too many things, too many mistakes. It's the deep-seated feeling that plagued him at the beginning of the relationship, that quietened over time but is now back in full force, screaming through the silence in the room and making the patience in your stare painful: he's not cut out for this.

Finally, in a small, defeated voice, he says, "I was going to tell you happy birthday."

You pull him into a hug, then push him down until he's half-laying on the couch, his head in your lap and your fingers running through his hair. He closes his eyes, part of him waiting for this to be the final straw for you and part of him knowing, somehow, that you love him too much to let him go.

"Listen," you say softly, "I know sometimes you feel like you're not enough. But I need you to know that you are, ok? You're more than enough for me, Simon, you're everything. And that means spending birthdays with me and holidays and good times and bad times and everything else that makes up a life, because I want to share my life with you. Is that what you want?"

He can't say it in words, he doesn't know any that would suffice. He tries to say it in actions, in the way he gives you the first cup of tea, how he scrapes the ice off your windshield when it frosts and how he stops the radio in the car on your favorite songs, even when he can't stand them. He tries to press it into you too, through his hands and his mouth when he holds you.

Now, in the moment, he nods, his head still resting in your lap, and he hopes you can feel everything else. How hard he tries.

Your touch turns softer, and you pause to lean down and press a soft kiss on his temple.

"So tell me."

He hesitates, then turns to lay on his back so that he can look up at you. He feels the corners of his mouth tug upwards into a smile, small but genuine. It still feels strange, even after all these months, like a muscle that's never quite developed. It aches a little less every time.

"Happy birthday, sweetheart," he says.

[krirebr]

Lips Like Sugar 1

Pairing: sugar baby Ransom x late 40s female reader

Word Count: ~3.1k

Summary: Finally cut off by his mother and grandfather, Ransom has to find a new way to access the lifestyle he's accustomed to. He figures it won't be too hard to find some rich old lady willing to bankroll him in exchange for sex. You aren't exactly what he expected.

Warnings: sugar baby au, sex work, d/s relationship, power imbalance, explicit language—All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by me

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: This one's a little different for me, but I had so much fun writing it! I hope you enjoy it too. But don't worry, my trademarked angst isn't gone forever. 🤭

Huge thanks to @biteofcherry for talking through the initial idea with me and @bigtreefest for being a sounding board throughout the whole writing process.

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. And if you need to come scream at me, that's ok too!

As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

Sixty days.

That’s what the certified letter said. The one he had to sign for. The one from Linda.

When she and Harlan had told him they were cutting him off, he’d rolled his eyes. What did that actually mean? He wouldn’t have access to his trust anymore? Whatever, that was fine. He had his checking account. He had his house. He had credit cards. The only thing he thought it really meant was that he wouldn’t have to see any of his asshole family ever again. He was coming out ahead, all things considered.

Except. He didn’t actually have much of anything, as it turned out. His parents were on his bank accounts and credit cards. The deed to the house was under Linda’s name. And she was fucking evicting him.

It was this panic, wrapping itself around his chest and squeezing, that he wasn’t used to. That he didn’t know what to do with. He’d gone out of his way, worked hard to make sure he never felt this way. To make sure his life was comfortable and easy. And now his asshole granddad and bitch mother had ruined all that. Now he had sixty days to find a place to live.

He needed to come up with a plan. He could do that. He was good at plans. But where to start? He couldn’t afford a place he’d actually be willing to live in on his own right now (he couldn’t afford a shitty place either, but he wasn’t going to dwell on that). His grandfather, during the announcement of Ransom’s new status, had suggested he get a job, but fuck that. Ransom knew, deep in his bones, that he wasn’t meant for work. And also, any job that wouldn’t make him want to shoot himself required relevant experience and degrees and all sorts of other things Ransom didn’t have. So getting a job was out.

He could sell his things but, as he’d been so rudely informed by this entire situation, he didn’t actually own much. The only thing of significant value that his name was actually on was his car. But he’d rather cut off his own arm than sell his vintage BMW. So he marked that down as an absolute last resort. 

He could see if he could stay with a friend until he got things figured out, but all of his friends were assholes and he already knew that none of them would say yes. Plus, all of his friends were assholes and he’d sell his own body before he asked any of them for a favor.

Actually…

Okay, that wasn’t a half-bad idea. He knew exactly how hot he was. He’d been very aware of that since he was a teenager. And if he sat down and actually thought about what his biggest skills were, it’d be fucking and talking. In that order. This could work.

But how to go about it? He wasn’t eager to go out and stand on a corner in barely anything at all hours. Same went for sitting in a hotel bar and hoping for the best. Plus, he didn’t like the uncertainty of all that. He needed a reliable, steady stream of income that would be there whenever he needed it.

And that’s when he remembered Andrea. 

His friend Chad had dated her for about six months. Well, “dated.” Everyone in their circle knew exactly what that arrangement was, even if Chad had never admitted it. Ransom pulled out his phone and sent off a quick text.

Hey, where did you meet Andrea?

The dick took two hours to respond.

Andrea? At the grocery store. Why???

 Ransom responded immediately with an eyeroll emoji and followed it with

Cut the shit, asshole. What was the app?

The three dots to show Chad was typing appeared and disappeared three separate times before Ransom finally got the truth.

SUGR

But watch out, bro. That shit was way more expensive than it was worth.

Ransom smiled. That was exactly what he was counting on. 

He didn’t bother correcting Chad about which side of this arrangement he was hoping to be on. He didn’t need the embarrassment of anyone knowing that mommy and (grand)daddy had finally cut him off. And if this worked the way he hoped it would, no one would ever need to know. 

The first setback was that he had to pass a background check before he could join the app. What a fucking hassle. And it took a whole week before he got the email telling him he could move forward with setting up a profile. He could physically feel the number of days he had to find another place to live ticking down. The constriction around his chest got tighter with each one. 

But in that week of waiting, he became even more convinced that this was a good idea. There had to be tons of old hags desperate enough to bankroll him in exchange for sex with a hot youngish thing. And he’d be able to suck it up and do what was needed if it meant his lifestyle wouldn’t have to change. Hell, that's what viagra was for.

The other thing he’d done while he waited was take about a hundred pictures of himself. He’d used all his best outfits—designer sweaters, skintight t-shirts, pants that hugged his ass. He did fifty pushups and then took a bunch shirtless so that he was sweaty and his abs popped. He had a few that were just of his junk in gray sweatpants. And then he threw in a couple straight up dick pics for good measure. He was ready.

But, ugh, there were so many forms to fill out first. He had to agree to all of the terms and conditions. The company reserves the right to blah blah blah. The company does not guarantee yada yada yada. Agree, agree, agree. 

There were forms that asked him to detail the expenses he wanted covered and another that wanted him to rate kinks based on his interest. These were both optional so he skipped them. Was he the only one who understood what was happening here? He'd do whatever she wanted that guaranteed him the most money. That was it.

Finally, he got to the point where he could build his actual profile. It automatically imported some of the biographical information he had to give to set up his account, which wasn’t ideal. Hugh D. 35, stared back at him. He normally hated his given name, but he didn’t hate the way it kind of seemed like Huge Dick here. He could work with that. But that 35. That– that felt old for this sort of thing. He tried to change it to 30, but it wasn’t editable. Well. That was fine, right? He was going after women. Weren’t they known for being less shallow than men? That was part of the whole thing, wasn’t it? Yeah. It’d be fine. It just meant he knew what he was doing in bed. That’s what mattered.

He moved on to pictures. They only let you add fifteen, so he combed through all the ones he’d taken and picked the fifteen best. He scrolled through the ones he’d chosen before he clicked save and nodded to himself. Yeah, this was good. He was hot as fuck.

He skipped through all of the useless essay questions. Who cared what his interests were or what he was offering?? His dick pics spoke for themselves. 

But he did put something in the headline area. Call me Ransom. >20k/month only

Perfect. Done. Save. Now he just needed to sit back and wait for the DMs to roll in.

The DMs did not roll in. It’d been forty-eight hours, and he’d gotten absolutely nothing. He couldn’t understand it. What was wrong with these women? He was offering himself up at a fucking steal.

He’d figured the onus was on the buyer to make the first move, but maybe he’d gotten the etiquette wrong. Maybe he needed to sell himself a little more aggressively. 

He went to the browse feature and set his filters for women with the biggest budgets. Then he sent a random ten of them a simple “hey”. Then he made himself close the app.

When he came back a few hours later, he was chagrined to find that he hadn’t gotten any responses. There must be something wrong. When he went to the chats to make sure he hadn't missed something, half of them weren't even there anymore, and he couldn't find the corresponding profiles either. He refreshed the notifications page. He restarted his phone. He uninstalled then reinstalled the app. Nothing made a difference.

Finally, as he was checking his settings, a message popped up.

Honey, what are you doing?

Yes! Finally! 

He clicked on the profile. Carolyn M., 55. Under what she was offering was rent, living expenses, and a negotiated allowance. Perfect. 

He wrote back

I'm looking at your pictures and touching myself. What are you doing?

The response was immediate. 

Oh my god, no. That's not what I meant.

He stared at her message, confused, but then she sent another. 

I'm going against all of my instincts to just block you, and I'm going to take pity on you instead. 

He was typing before he even fully processed what she'd said.

Excuse me??

This is not the way to get what you want.

What the fuck??

You’re obviously new to this, so let me explain something to you. Yes, these relationships are transactional, but most of us are looking for a genuine connection as well. No one who wants that is going to contact you based on your profile. 

Who the hell did she think she was? Ransom knew what he was doing. He’d never had any issues picking up women. He didn’t need help. He locked his phone with a scoff and threw it on the couch as he got up and moved to his bar. He deserved a drink after dealing with that bullshit. 

As he poured himself a glass of eighteen-year-old scotch, he paused. This bottle was $700. Who knows what everything in this bar totaled to? And this whole house. Fucking shit. He was down to forty-nine days. He didn’t have time to fuck around.

He took a large gulp of his drink and then picked his phone back up. He could do this. He could play the game. He could fake anything if it meant his life didn’t have to change.

Fine. How do I fix it?

Start by filling out the information. Be honest. Any prospective match will want to get a sense of who you are. Right now the only thing I can tell about you from your profile is how highly you think of your own dick.

This fucking bitch.

Okay, sure. What else?

You are demanding a lot of money without giving any details about how that money will be spent. Anyone who sees that will immediately feel taken advantage of. The best version of these relationships is an equal give and take. A lot of us are here because we enjoy taking care of someone. We don’t enjoy feeling like a faceless ATM. Give an actual, honest account of the expenses you would like covered.

God, this was annoying. But he had to keep his eye on the prize.

Anything else??

Put some actual effort into your first message to someone. Something you think you might have in common, something you liked about their profile, or a relevant fact about yourself. ‘Hey’ isn’t going to get you anywhere. And don't just jump into sexting immediately. 

Despite himself, he took a screenshot of the conversation. If it helped him get more money, it was worth it.

Alright. I’ll do it.

You know, it’s customary to say thank you when someone helps you out like this.

He rolled his eyes.

Thank you.

He hoped she could feel the sarcasm coming through the screen.

Well, look at that. Maybe you can be someone’s good boy after all.

The heat that rushed to his face at that– He didn’t know what that was. Annoyance probably. What else could it be?

He was about to send something snarky back when her status suddenly switched to offline. Goddamn bitch.

Ugh. It took so much effort to take things seriously. To act like he cared. This was exhausting. 

But he could do it if he kept the goal in mind: being the pampered pet of some rich old lady. Once he’d achieved that, all he’d ever have to do again was get it up for her once or twice a week, tops. He just had to get there.

So he poured himself another glass of whiskey and took a slow sip as he looked at the first section of his profile he’d previously left blank. The About Me header stared back at him as the cursor blinked. Come on. He could do this. What did these women want to hear?? He wished he could see other prospective babies’ profiles. Do some market research. 

He skipped down to the next section: Looking For. He’d already selected women with no age restrictions. Now he just had to get into the specifics. Ok, this he could do. Buttering people up was a skill he’d been honing his entire life.

A woman with life experience who knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to go out and get it. Someone to share good times, good food, and good sex with. And yes, someone to spoil me rotten. 😉

That was cute, right? Yeah, these old bats would love that.

Ok, now it was on to what he offered. He remembered what Carolyn had said about not wanting to feel like an ATM. He needed to make it seem like he’s was bringing something to the table (more than just his dick, that is, which, honesly, should have been enough).

I’m offering companionship with plenty of intelligent conversation. I’ll keep you from being bored at any functions you may need to attend, and I’ll look great on your arm doing it.

That seemed good enough for now. He could change it up depending on what he found waiting for him out there. 

He switched to the form for expenses. For rent, he put approximately 10k a month (he’d looked around the Boston area for what was available and that seemed to be the going price for the sort of place he wanted) with a note that his lease was ending soon and he’d need a new place to stay. That was close enough to the truth and made him seem like more of a charity case, which would normally bother him, but right now was exactly what he wanted. He divided up the rest of his asking price across utilities, clothing, and other expenses.

On the kink list, he started by putting yes to everything, figuring that’d make him more expensive. But would that look weird? Desperate? Fake? He went back and randomly switched a few to maybe and a couple to no. Ok, that was done. 

He went back to his photos and removed the straight up dick pics. He left the sweatpants one, but moved it to the end. And he added a couple more of himself in sweaters that he knew made people drool.

There was only one thing left. This fucking About Me. Come on! Okay. Okay.

The only thing I love more than reading is getting to talk about what I’ve read. I’m well-educated, and I’m at a point in my life where I just want to be able to enjoy things with good company. I love trying new restaurants, and I know my way around a whiskey menu. And as for other realms of experience you might be curious about, let’s just say I know what I’m doing. 😏

Ugh. God. He hated this. The whole thing was so fucking corny. That had to be good enough right? The last thing he did was delete everything but Call me Ransom from his header. And then, without overthinking it, he hit save and immediately put down his phone.

Goddamnit, fucking Carolyn was fucking right. The whole thing made his blood boil. But now, finally, the messages were rolling in. Sort of. Moderately. But it was something.

He’d gone back and tweaked a few things based on the response he was getting, and each improvement seemed to have made a difference. He was starting to get the hang of this bullshit.

But, frustratingly, he hadn’t managed to hook a whale yet. He’d had some promising conversations, but none had ultimately gone anywhere. How exactly were these conversations supposed to move from “Hi, how are you?” to “What say we make this official and you bankroll my entire life? I promise I’ll lay the pipe real good.” The one time he’d tried that, it hadn’t gone over well.

But god, the days were running out.

He sat down with his phone, hoping to find something that would help him strategize, when a new message popped up at the top of the screen. 

God, you’re pretty.

Ransom stopped and stared at the message. 

He couldn’t remember ever being called pretty before. Handsome, sure. Gorgeous, hot, all the time. But pretty– Pretty felt different. And he couldn’t explain why.

He clicked through to the profile.

And there you were.

Don’t you want to be good for me? the line under your profile picture read. Ransom swallowed involuntarily as he kept reading.

You were forty-nine, had founded your own business (although you gave no clues as to what that was), and you were looking for someone to take care of. Glancing at what you were offering, Ransom surmised that what he needed wasn’t outside of your budget.

He moved on to your photos. He picked up a little more caginess there. There were no straight-on pictures of your face, but he spent several moments looking at a close-up of just your smirk, soft lines framing your mouth. Then, as he continued to swipe through the pictures, he stopped again at one that was just of the back of your legs clad in shiny, thigh-high boots, with some of the tallest stilettos he’d ever seen.  Something about that image made his breath catch in his throat.

He moved back to your message and stared at it again, his fingers drumming against his leg. After thinking about it for far too long, he fired off a short response.

I know.

Your reply was immediate.

Yeah, I bet you do.

Tag List is open!

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[teaguehq]

Anywhere is better when you get to be there with me? It's no wonder you're so charming, and needless to say that's mutual and I always love it when you keep me warm, too. It's only the truth, since I'll always think you're the sexier date! Added bonus that it makes you blush. I'm so excited to see Fantastic four, and of course they chose right putting you in the film. I might be working on a couple of drawings for you that I'm planning for giving to you on the release date. You don't have to thank me for supporting you since I always will, and you know I love coming along with you on promo! I'm just sorry I couldn't be there for your premiere either, though it made me so happy that you could come to New York afterward. I'm just hoping now that your promo's finished, you can stay with me in New Jersey for a little while longer while I'm filming, since you know I'd always rather us be together. I know exactly what you mean when I felt the same way about visiting your family in London and seeing where you grew up! Which, thank you for that and reassuring me they'd like me, which you know I was nervous about. I didn't mind your parents' questions either since I understand the curiosity. My parents are already asking when you can visit again, they liked you so much. I hope your family knows I'm serious about you too, since I'm in love with you and all. And it makes me happy that they liked me, especially when they were so nice. I'm all for going on another romantic holiday when we're able, and even whisking away somewhere for a weekend between filming would be nice, too. I'm all for going to see live shows too, and maybe we'll get lucky enough to find some in New Jersey too?! I know we haven't had much time to explore, but that would be fun. I know we both miss the hot springs, although nothing stopping us from recreating them by drawing a bath, right? We could do that tonight. You're going to make me blush again, though it means the world to me too, that I'm yours and you're mine. I still can't believe you're knitting me a blanket, and I honestly can't wait to see it! I know it'll be my favorite blanket by default. It's a great idea to get a cat, and I think Bach would be really into having a little playmate. So taking him to a shelter to see who gets along with would be perfect. Orange cats definitely come with a side of chaos, though maybe that's exactly what Bach needs, too. I'll always be here to hold your hand and protect you, both on haunted adventures and otherwise. I never thought I'd like dancing as much as I do, but it's nice with you. Same with cooking, and even though I'd always liked that some, it's all the more fun with you. We'll have to give some more recipes a try, too, since they always taste better when we make them together. I'd love it if you found a zookeeper role, given you're already passionate about it! It's always the goal to make you happy, love, and I'm glad your family sees that too. You weren't in the best headspace before me, though? How come? It makes me so happy I've brought that feeling into your life though, especially since you've definitely brought happiness into mine. You're making me blush again, though I've told my folks that we love each other, too. Naturally, they're happy for us! We can definitely go camping again sometime, and of course I had a great time in Turkey with you! Which you're right, for how crazy things have been, I'm glad we had the time there together. You know I wouldn't be anywhere else, though, Fashion Week and everything in between.

I know it's been nuts with everything from promo to the Beatles announcement, though I'm so proud of you! And I love that the Beatles announcement was a bit like you guys were playing the new Avengers or something, and everyone was so excited! As they should be, since I know you'll be incredible in the film. I'd have to be crazy not to want a future with you, I'll have you know. I'm just thrilled you want one with me too, and that we're on the same page. Plus I could never hear you say that you love me too many times, just like I could never say I love you too many times. Especially when it makes you blush! I'm with you that New York means something to the both of us, so it feels only natural to look for a place there together. And we can always talk about getting married when it feels right, which makes me smile to think about. Would you want a big ceremony or more an intimate one? You're thinking about a bigger place in London? I'd love to help you look, since I like to think I'll be there a lot. Though would it be both of ours, or…? I mean, it's okay if not because we're getting a place in New York together at some point, though I was just curious. Of course I wouldn't have run in the other direction hearing you love me, even though I understand that fear since it's a big word. I just feel lucky you love me too, and that you feel safe with me. I feel so safe with you, too. And I'm grateful you feel safe telling me what's on your mind too, since I'd always want to know that. Don't worry, I'm always going to give you plenty of kisses, especially knowing you like them so much! Which is lucky since I love kissing you, too. I can't help myself since it's always so sweet whenever you surprise me with anything! Well, you get to be my Valentine for as long as you'd like, Joseph. You're doing great with the mandolin! I'm thinking you won't even need me as a guide after a while. That necklace is my favorite one, hands down, and it makes me smile every time I look at it, knowing what you wanted to say. I'm all for taking the cruise whenever we can, and I know it'll be a lot of fun. You were my first Times Square kiss, so pretty special, I'd say. And of course my only Times Square kiss! You're just amazing at finding gifts, so of course I'll have to get on your level, love. I know I'm going to wear my Fantastic Four t-shirt when the film comes out too, and whichever premieres you have. Norway was fun, and so was fishing and the dance! Sorry, my date for the dance rivaled yours in the sexy department, easily. I'd be all for going out dancing with you again, for the record. Well, it's always my goal to take the best care of you, especially with how much you have going on right now. I wouldn't ever want you to burn out, you know? I love you, and you certainly deserve having someone always here for you, and I'm lucky that someone is me. I should be thanking you too, for coming to New Jersey with me to start filming, since the first days of filming are always the most stressful! But they haven't been since it's good having you here with me, especially filming something else that's a little dark material-wise. I don't know what it is about me that makes people want to put me in their films about murderers and serial killers, but hey, I'm not going to complain about having a job at this point. I'm just happy you're here with me while you can be, is what I'm trying to say, so thank you and I love you. | @josephafq

it's safe to say that anywhere is better when i get to be there with you, so i understand -- and i love keeping you warm the whole time, just throwing that out there. you are the sexiest date! i feel so lucky that i get to have you on my arm. but you always make me blush when you say that i'm sexier, though. but i'm glad you feel that way, love. i'm glad you're excited to see fantastic four, and you're making me laugh calling me that hot, but also making me blush so much. i'm glad you think they chose right for the role. i know promo has been a little crazy for all the different projects i've got coming up, but thank you for being there to support me when you can, love. i'm just sorry i missed out on being there for your premiere because i had my own. i really wanted to be there for you. but i'm glad we're back together and we didn't have to stay apart for long, because i'm like you, i'd rather us be together than be away from each other, and i'm so glad you can be with me right now. i'm glad we had the time we did to go to florida before things got a little bit crazy -- and it was fun getting to see your parents, and i loved getting to know them better. plus, i loved all the places that you ended up showing me too, and i can see why they were favorites of yours while you were growing up. plus, it just was fun getting to see where you grew up and get to enjoy the things you enjoyed when you were younger, you know? and i completely get why you like the outdoors so much, and i think it's so neat that you live so close to a swamp. i loved the walks that we took around your parents place! i figured if i were in their shoes, i'd be asking a lot of questions too, you know? so i don't mind, plus my parents did the same thing to you! and since i'm only the second person that you've introduced them too, they must know it's serious, so of course they're going to want to know me better, love. my family pretty much adored you, you realize that right? my mum was completely charmed by you, so were my dad and my stepdad! well, since i'm going to be a little busy with my current projects, i'm not sure when we'll have time for another holiday, but as soon as we've got time we'll pick someplace amazing, yeah? maybe go on another romantic holiday. what do you think? it makes me smile every time i hear you say you want to be with me forever and that you don't want to let me go. i love seeing live music with you too, so maybe we'll have to search out some live music to go see while we're in london. what do you think? find some places as good as the places we went to in tampa! it's safe to say that i'm very much missing the hot springs, and i'm wishing we could find a place like that near where i'm filming. you spoiled me so much on my birthday, by the way, and i loved every minute of it. i'm glad we're each other's. i hope you know that? it means the world to me to be yours and for you to be mine. it makes me happy you love all the things i knit for you, and i know you realize that i'm knitting a blanket for you next, and honestly it's taking longer than i thought it would! i'm always happy when i get to spend time with you too, love, there's no doubt about that.

i can't help it, i just love the attitude cats have, you know? but yeah? i value your thoughts, of course, so if you're leaning towards saying i should get one, then i'm thinking that's what i should do. maybe take bach to a shelter and see how he behaves around some kittens? i kind of really want an orange cat so bad, so be prepared for complete chaos, i'm told. me too! because it really does seem like they have new ones to explore every time we see them, and each time they're scarier than the time before. i'm just so glad i have you to hold my hand and protect me, love. i'm glad we got to spend time at both our places in new york over the weekend and just get to spend some time in the city together in general. i'm glad you love dancing with me, because i love having you in my arms and dancing with you. and cooking with you is one of my favorite things to do, no doubt about that. and i'm glad that you agree with me about the classes being fun, but cooking at home is just much better. plus, i love when we look up recipes together and give them a try! and i think everything we've made so far has been amazing, don't you think? you know i'm all for going back to the sanctuary sometime, and i love that bentley liked me, since he's important to you! hey, just think about it! i would be a fun zookeeper! but maybe after marvel and the beatles, I'll be like, find me a zookeeper role! and i'm always going to say that you're the amazing one, love, because you are -- and you always will be! you make me so happy, and my family sees just how happy i am because of you. you know, i wasn't in the best headspace before you, but you've brought me such happiness in my life that i can't even put it into words, you know? well, i couldn't help but tell them that we've said i love you to each other because i was so excited that you love me and all, plus i wanted them to realize how serious we are as well. i love that you're open to camping out on more ranches and around cattle, because we really did have a good time with it! and you're right about the cows being adorable, and it still makes me laugh that they took to me so well. i'm glad we went to turkey when we did since things are getting kind of crazy now again, which can i say again that i appreciate you so much for being along with me on this crazy ride! though thank you for doing fashion week with me as well, love, and we really needed the relaxation after that, i feel like. i also liked not having to get out of bed in the mornings either, since staying in bed with you is my favorite thing to do. the promo for warfare, i'll admit has been a lot, and then with announcing the beatles that's been crazy too, so you're right about it being a beast. but you make me smile when you say you can't wait to see my films, love, and that you're proud of me. i love hearing you're proud of me.

i'm still pretty happy that i didn't scare you off, of course, and it makes me so happy that you see a future with the two of us as well, i'm glad we're on the same page. and i know that i'm very lucky that you love me, and i love you so much and i hope you're prepared to hear that a whole lot. it might make me blush a little when you tell me you love me though, just saying. yeah? i'm glad you're into the idea of us living together and getting married when it feels right, and glad that you're good with us living in new york when it happens as well, especially since i feel like the city means something special to the both of us and our relationship, you know? though i will say that i've been thinking about getting a bigger place in london because i feel like i've outgrown my flat -- maybe you can help me look while i'm filming here? i'm glad you'll never run in the other direction hearing me say that i love you, and again, i can't help but blush when you say you love me, which i love you so much right back. it means the world that you're all in with me too, you know? and i'm glad that i can always tell you what's on my mind, love. i feel safe telling you everything, though -- just so you know that. well, i'll just throw out there right now that i always want your kisses, so whenever you want to give them to me, i'll be happy to have them! i'm glad you think i come up with the best surprises, because i love surprising you so much, you get the cutest look on your face when i surprise you! oh, you're the best valentine a guy could have, hands down, as well, and i'm glad you're mine. you really think i'm doing good with my mandolin lessons, love? plus, you're sweet saying i'll be playing like a pro in no time, i'm glad you have such faith in me. i'm still giddy that you love that necklace so much, and you're right, it was the only way i can think of to say i love you without saying it because i was so nervous. i know the cruise is being pushed back a little, but i'm hoping we can take it when i have a break in filming, love. it'll be exactly what we need to relax! i was your first time square kiss? i love hearing that, and love knowing i'll be your only times square kiss too! now you're just being too sweet saying you have to get on my level with the gifts since i give amazing ones, which your gifts are perfect! i'm glad you loved your valentine's day gifts as well though, love, and it makes me smile thinking about you wearing that fantastic four shirt of course! i loved norway with you, and i'm glad we went and glad we went to the valentine's dance as well. because again, had the sexiest date there! but it was fun dancing with you, love, and i feel like i should take you out dancing more often! you already do take the best care of me, so i have no doubt that you always will. i was just thinking about burning out the other day with all the stuff i've got going on, i know you're going to be just what i need to help me not burn out, my love. so thank you again for being an amazing boyfriend, and i love you. || @teaguehq

[whytheylosttheirminds]

Did Rafe ever hope to run into reader when they were home from college? Reader admitted that she didn’t go out much when she was home but I can totally see Rafe wishing to see a glimpse of reader out with Carter or with their old group.

he saw you once.

you were coming out of a shop on main street, one of those bougie fashion boutiques where you can buy a silk scarf for $95 dollars. it was Christmas Eve, the shopping bags on your arms and the stressed look on your mom's face as she dragged you along were evidence that you were doing some last minute gift shopping.

he had no idea why he did it, some strange instinct he didn't know he had - at the sight of you emerging from the shop, he jumped behind one of the large streetlamp poles, arms tight to his side to try and stay completely out of view. heart pounding under his knit sweater, he tipped his head around the pole to see you again (he had to make sure he wasn't imagining it).

you were there, for real, looking entirely different and exactly the same. your mom pointed out something in one of the shop windows and you laughed with her, surely mocking the displays of obscene wealth some of these kooks call 'style.' you were in a blue sweater, denim jacket, jeans, boots. simple, and yet the object of every thought he'd have for the rest of the holiday.

he left the New Year's Eve party at 11:49. he overheard Carter tell topper you had already gone back to school. if he wasn't going to kiss you at midnight, what was the fucking point?

(tysm for asking this was fun to write!!!)

[maxdibert]

I know that the fact we don't meet any of Lily's friends outside of the marauders is more like a plot hole. But if we consider it canon that she had no other friends, it does make me wonder... Maybe Severus was her only real friend, even with all the dysfunction. After all, he's the only one who seems to remember her outside of being James' wife and Harry's mother. She may have been popular, with many people around who liked her, but no one who really understood her at a deeper level. And yeah, Severus put Lily on a pedestal, but they were real friends at one point, when they were kids and things were simpler. And I'm sure that mattered for something.

Oh, but I don’t think Severus truly understood Lily on a deeper level by the time they stopped being friends, because he never really grasped what it was about him that upset her so much. Not that I particularly blame him. Lily wasn’t any better in that regard. She never really understood what was going on with Severus either, or why he behaved the way he did.

And something I find both very curious and very realistic is that neither of them really wanted to understand. Because it didn’t suit either of them to do so. Severus couldn’t afford to confront his cognitive dissonance, he didn’t want to face the idea that the people who had accepted him, given him a safe place at Hogwarts, and offered him some hope for the future, might actually be awful or fundamentally incompatible with having any sort of relationship with someone like Lily. But at the same time, Lily wasn’t interested in questioning why Severus had ended up where he did, or how the people she surrounded herself with (the Gryffindors, mainly) — the ones she defended — had actually played a fairly significant role in Severus’s radicalisation.

Lily didn’t want to consider that the boys who saw her as the pretty girl, the potential girlfriend, the popular darling, might well have been absolute pieces of shit, just as Severus didn’t want to consider that his housemates might be the same. Because Lily enjoyed the attention, and Severus needed the security. Neither of them truly understood each other at the time, even though, in truth, their choices made a certain amount of sense.

That aside, of course Severus was her childhood friend — and really, out of everyone at Hogwarts, he was the one who had known her before she became Lily the popular girl, Lily the teachers’ favourite, Lily the object of James Potter’s obsession. He knew her beyond being someone’s girlfriend, someone’s wife, someone’s mother; he knew her as a person.

Whether she had other close friends, I don’t know, because, as @lilithofpenandbook pointed out in another post, it doesn’t even seem like she was truly close to Mary Macdonald. I mean, she’s mentioned as an example, but Lily always refers to her by her full name, and you don’t usually talk about your close friends like that. You don’t mention a friend’s name and surname when speaking to someone who supposedly knows who you’re talking about, it’s ridiculous. And even if it wasn’t someone particularly close, if you’re always hanging around with someone, people will know exactly who you mean just by the first name. So it doesn’t really seem like Lily and Mary were actually that close, and beyond her, there’s no one else mentioned apart from James’s friends.

You can be popular without having any real friends or meaningful connections to anyone, and it does feel like that was a bit the case with Lily. Or at least it seems that way, and I’ll always insist it’s absolutely ridiculous that we know even the names of James’s parents, but we know virtually nothing about Lily’s family. All we know comes from Severus’s memories, and the tiny scraps we get about her home life come from Petunia’s comments. And, ironically enough, in both cases, they’re relationships Lily herself cut off. Even more ironic is that James was indirectly involved in both of those breakages.