#I'm just going to keep going until someone stops me

[neochan]

THE PROMISCUOUS TUTOR (M) | PART TWO

SERIES MASTERLIST LINK | remember this is the final half of part three of a series! read part one & two for context!

PAIRING | tutor!jaemin x reader

SYNOPSIS |  na jaemin is too sexy to be holed up in the campus library, but once you catch wind of what he does between the shelves, you know it’s your time to see just how well his reputation proceeds him.

WC | 17.7k

WARNINGS | cursing, mentions of alcohol & weed, sexual comments, explicit smut, breeding kink, wall fucking, mirror fucking, complete mess of mc's inner thoughts, big muscled jaemin :), jaehyun says annoying perverted things. uh angst at the end i'm sorry, please forgive me.

A.N | tumblr is being stupid and won't let me put it all in one part, so i'm splitting it into two. the first part will be linked on the masterlist. please send asks after you finish reading. i want to hear your thoughts!

Jaemin doesn’t care when you point out Haechan’s shoes near the entrance.

He merely kicks them to the side and pushes you up against the wooden door, hands instinctively finding your waist. They dip under the hem of your shirt and brush against your stomach – forcing a shiver out of you. He was so warm, hands soft against you.

“H-hyuck.” You stammer out.

Jaemin nips at your bottom lip, “Sorry angel, my name's Jaemin.”

“No, Hyuck's home.”

He casts a cursory glance toward the dark hallway, “And?”

“And what if he comes out of his room?” He couldn't catch you making out with Jaemin - hell would break loose.

Jaemin rolls his eyes, leaning in to kiss you again. “He won’t.”

“Jaem,” you whine, clutching on to the tops of his shoulders.

“He’s probably jerking off to some e-girl, he won’t.” Jaemin reaffirms, pressing his lips against yours to stop you from babbling on about Haechan. He was kissing you. You shouldn’t be thinking about someone else.

His hand abandons your waist and finds home on the side of your face, fingers curling underneath your jaw so he could taste more of you. He kisses you slow, afraid that if he does what he really wants, he’ll overwhelm you. But when you part your lips, just slightly enough to where Jaemin can taste the alcohol on your tongue, he thinks he might just lose it. He sighs into your mouth, tongue dipping slightly – testing the waters.

You open up more, letting him bully his tongue into your mouth. It’s hot and wet and desperate – the way he licks up your own tongue, hands fervently inching higher up your waist until your shirt is caught just beneath your bra. You think he’s going to stop there, but he doesn’t. He keeps going until his hands are hooked underneath your arms and then he’s pulling you in the air – instinctively, your legs find his waist, arms circling his neck.

God damn. You knew he was strong, but not that strong.

“What, didn’t think I’d be able to pick you up?” he questions, both hands grabbing your ass to keep you from falling. You shake your head, afraid to speak or move. The last thing you wanted him to do was drop you. “Angel,” he purrs, “Why do you think I’m in the gym all the time? Gotta make sure I’m able to surprise every woman I’m with.”

“Don’t really wanna hear about other women right now Jaem.” You mumble.

He lets out a barely audible chuckle as he continues to carry you to his room. It takes a moment for him to push open the door; throughout, your head remains on a swivel, silently pleading to whatever higher power that Haechan wouldn’t open the door and catch you swept up in Jaemin's arms.

As Jaemin fumbles into the room, he suddenly hoists you up and swiftly hurls you onto his bed with a whoosh of air, catching you off guard with his unexpected strength. You land with a startled thud, momentarily stunned by the forceful motion. Wide-eyed, you gaze up at Jaemin, surprise and exhilaration coursing through you. His playful grin tells you that he enjoys catching you off balance.

“Told you I was stronger than I looked.”

He’s pleased with your reaction, getting cockier the longer you sit there and stare up at him in awe. You were cute like that; a little dazed, with parted lips and windblown hair. He wanted to devour you.

“You can’t do that!” you hiss, righting yourself onto his bed, until your back hit the solid wood headboard. You draw your knees up and swing an arm around them.

Jaemin’s jaw drops dramatically, “Why not?”

You jerk a thumb at the wall – the one that Haechan shared.

Jaemin rolls his eyes, and yells so loud you think you might just die from embarrassment, “Yo! Hyuck!”

Through the wall you hear Haechan yell, “What?”

Eyes going wide, you slap a hand over your mouth. Was Jaemin crazy? What the fuck was he doing?

Jaemin just grins at you like this was the funniest thing in the world. “I got a girl in here so don’t come nosing around!”

A faint grunt sounds through the wall, no doubt from Haechan playing some video game, “Whatever man. Just keep it down, I got a test to study for.” You hear a slew of curses from Haechan’s room. Even though he had a test tomorrow, he surely didn’t intend to study.

“There, happy?”

Your furrowed brow clearly expressed your discontent. Jaemin, once more, rolls his eyes in exasperation before hopping onto the bed. His fingers, icy cold, grasp your ankles and tug you towards him. You struggle to suppress the shriek threatening to escape your throat, your whole body tensing against the sudden movement.

Jaemin isn’t fazed though. Instead, he settles on leaning over your figure, his arms braced on either side of your body to hold up his weight. With you underneath him, he can’t help but admire the sight. You looked fucking beautiful.

He wants to kiss you again.

And Jaemin always gets what he wants.

"He’s not gonna come in here." Jaemin hushes your worries as he starts kissing you. You wanted to protest, but his lips begin trailing sloppy wet kisses down the side of your neck and the words get caught in the back of your throat. "You like that? You like it when I kiss your neck?"

You nod your head, scared that if you spoke, your sentence would be less of a sentence and more of a moan.

"I want you to use your words, baby." Jaemin nudges his knee between your legs as he urges you to give him a vocal response. "I want to hear you say that you like it when I kiss your neck. Like this." He swipes his tongue against the soft skin of your neck and lightly blows, your body shivering at the cold sensation, but relaxing as soon as he presses another warm kiss to your neck.

"I- Jaem... I love it when you kiss my neck." You whimper out, squirming impatiently underneath his touch.

Jaemin snickers at you, "Oh, Y/N, look at you. You’re that desperate for someone good to please you?”

It’s embarrassing that he was right. You were that desperate. It’d been a while since the pleasure was about you. In fact, it wouldn’t be so crazy of a statement to say that you’d finished more times with yourself than you had with another man. But if you told Jaemin that, you’re not sure if he’d laugh or take it as a challenge.

“I’m so embarrassed—” You blurt out.

Jaemin sits up straight as if on cue. His hand grabs your jaw so that you were looking into his eyes. “Hey, you don’t have to be embarrassed with me. It’s a safe space, okay?” You nod your head as much as his hand would allow, “You tell me what you’re comfortable with. And if I do anything wrong, tell me to stop. I’ll stop the second you say something.”

“Okay.” You whisper.

Maybe it was because he was being understanding, and sweet. Or maybe it was because he looked so god damn sexy, watching you through hooded eyes – but you grab a handful of his shirt and tug him back down.

His lips find yours first, soft and commanding, coaxing a whimper out of you. Moving in rhythm, he presses into you, feverishly consuming your taste like it was a fucking drug. When you try to pull away, he chases, not wanting to let you go just yet.

He parts his lips, mumbling against yours, “Oh, don’t get cocky now…You’re mine for tonight and I plan on getting my fill.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, heat pooling low in your stomach. Jaemin tilts his head, deepening the kiss, his tongue flicking against yours with a slow, deliberate tease. His hand slides down your neck, fingers grazing your collarbone before trailing lower, mapping your body like he wants to memorize every dip, every reaction.

You arch into him as he moves closer, his weight pressing you into the mattress. The warmth of his palm finds the exposed skin at your waist, thumb stroking slow, calculated circles that make your breath hitch.

"Tell me what you want," he murmurs, lips ghosting over your jaw, your cheek, the shell of your ear.

Your fingers fist into the fabric of his shirt, tugging him impossibly closer. "I just…want you."

Jaemin hums, pleased, as he kisses down the column of your throat. "That’s all I needed to hear."

His hand slips beneath your shirt, fingers skimming up your ribs, teasing just under the curve of your breast—but before he can go any further, he pauses, searching your face for any sign of hesitation.

"Can I take this off?"

The second you nod your head, Jaemin is up and moving.

He takes your clothes off in record time. It’s nearly hysterical how you’re completely dressed one second, and the next, your outfit has joined the pile of others on the floor. He gets himself undressed equally as fast, but when you watch it’s like time slows down.

You want to remember all of this, intently observing when he lifts his shirt over his head. His torso was toned, abs tensing and relaxing with the effort of tossing his shirt into the corner of his room. Faint veins peak through the skin of his forearms, and his hands…. his hands. So large and veiny, you can’t help but want two of his thick fingers between your thighs, right then.

“Like what you see?” He comments, fingers already working fast to undo the buttons on his pants.

You don’t respond, too infatuated by the sight that was Na Jaemin. You can’t wait to appreciate what the fuck he was hiding behind the heavy denim fabric. But just as he’s about to pull them down and give you a taste of what you were craving to see; he stops himself.

“Don’t know why I’m taking these off,” he says it like it slipped his mind. “This is about you.”

Jaemin doesn’t give you time to protest before he’s guiding you back onto the bed, lips never leaving your skin. He kisses down your body like he’s savoring every inch, slow and deliberate, leaving a trail of warmth and desperation in his wake. His lips graze over your collarbone, your sternum, the sensitive spot just below your ribs. Every kiss is a promise, a whispered devotion against your skin.

“So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, his hands sliding down your waist, gripping your hips like he’s trying to ground himself. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

His mouth moves lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses down your stomach, tongue flicking out to taste the soft skin. He hums against you, satisfied, dragging his lips lower, lower, until he’s just above where you need him most. His breath fans over your inner thighs, and you twitch beneath him, anticipation making you lightheaded.

“Relax, baby,” he coos, looking up at you through dark lashes. “Gonna make you feel good.”

He presses one last teasing kiss to the inside of your thigh before gripping your hips and flipping you onto your knees. The movement makes you gasp, hands scrambling against the sheets as he settles onto his back beneath you.

“Sit down,” he murmurs, voice thick with hunger. He tugs you forward, urging you to straddle his face, but you hesitate, knees pressing into the mattress beside his head.

His hands find your thighs, fingers kneading the flesh as he urges you down. “Don’t make me say it again,” he breathes, lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

Jaemins fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs, and it takes everything in you not to cry out, “I said sit the fuck down.”

“But what if I–”

“Y/n, I don’t care!” his fingers tighten again, biceps flexing with the exertion of trying to get you to just give in and ride his face.

“Suffocation.” you declare.

“What?”

“What if I suffocate you.”

Jaemin laughs and you can feel his breath against the inside of your thigh. Embarrassment licks your spine. You should have just shut up and gotten on with it.

“Okay one,” he starts, tilting his head to the side to kiss your leg, “I don’t think that’s gonna happen.” he catches your gaze and licks a long stripe up your inner thigh, “And two, even if it did happen theoretically. I think any man would be happy to be suffocated by you. I mean look at you—” he gives another trail of kisses on your other thigh, “Such a pretty girl. Such a pretty pussy”

“Jaem–”

“You’re already straddling my head, just sit down and enjoy yourself.” His eyes soften, “I promised you at least one orgasm.”

Your breath stutters as his words settle in, heavy and warm like his hands on your thighs. His grip is firm, but there’s patience in his touch, an unspoken promise that he won’t rush you—at least, not yet.

“Jaemin…” His name is barely a whisper, more of a plea than a protest now.

“Yes, baby?” His lips graze your skin, teasing, waiting. His voice is silk, smooth and coaxing, laced with the kind of confidence that makes your stomach tighten.

You don’t have a response—not one that makes sense, anyway. Your fingers curl into his hair, your hesitation dissolving with every deliberate kiss he presses to your thighs. His hands slide up, guiding, encouraging.

“That’s it,” he murmurs. “Let me take care of you.”

The last of your resistance crumbles as you let yourself sink into his touch, into him—because if there’s one thing you know for certain, it’s that Jaemin always keeps his promises.

His hands slide further up, gripping your hips firmly as he pulls you down, guiding you to settle against his mouth. The first slow, deliberate swipe of his tongue sends a shock through your body, making you grip onto his hair tighter, a soft gasp tumbling from your lips.

Jaemin groans beneath you, the vibration making your thighs shake. He eats you like he’s been starving for it, like he’s wanted to do this for so long. His tongue flicks against your clit, teasing, before he seals his lips around it and sucks.

“Fuck,” you whimper, hips stuttering against his face.

He hums in response, clearly satisfied with the sounds you’re making. His grip on your hips tightens as he presses you down harder against his mouth, his tongue working you over with precise, devastating strokes.

“Jaemin,” you pant, trying to lift yourself off, but he’s not having it. His arms flex as he locks you in place, a quiet, muffled growl leaving him.

Jaemin’s fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs, and it takes everything in you not to cry out.

“Suffocation,” you blurt out again.

Jaemin chuckles against you, the vibration making your whole body shudder. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

His tongue flicks against your clit with devastating precision, alternating between slow, teasing circles and deep, hungry sucks that have your thighs trembling around his head. He’s relentless—lapping at you like he’s memorizing every sound you make, every little shudder, every sharp gasp.

Your hands fist into his hair, nails scraping against his scalp, and the groan that rumbles from him is downright sinful. He likes this—loves this, having you like this, falling apart above him with no escape. The control is his, and you’re drowning in it.

He pulls back just enough to look up at you, lips shining, eyes dark with something dangerous. “See? Still breathing,” he teases, before diving back in like he has no intention of stopping anytime soon.

And with the way he’s holding you, tasting you, worshiping you—you don’t think you’ll be able to stop either.

Jaemin, I—”

“I know, baby,” he coos, one hand leaving your thigh to slide up your spine, pressing firm between your shoulder blades to keep you exactly where he wants you. “I got you.”

His mouth closes around your clit again, sucking just hard enough to have your back arching, a strangled moan spilling from your lips. The wet, obscene sounds of his tongue working against you fill the room, and you don’t know whether to feel embarrassed or completely undone.

But Jaemin wants you like this—desperate, messy, his.

“Come on,” he murmurs between drench kisses, his voice dripping with something dark and coaxing. “Let go for me.”

Your thighs start to tremble, heat coiling tight in your stomach, spiraling higher and higher as his tongue works you over. He notices, of course—he always notices—his grip tightening as he murmurs, “That’s it, baby. Give it to me.”

You try to hold back, try to ride the edge a little longer, but Jaemin doesn’t let you. He flicks his tongue faster, lips sealing around your clit with one last devastating pull, and it’s over. Your release crashes through you, your body jerking, a sharp gasp ripping from your throat as pleasure swallows you whole.

Jaemin groans beneath you, drinking it down like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted, his hands gripping you through every shudder, every twitch.

When the aftershocks finally subside, your body slackens, thighs trembling as you try to catch your breath. Jaemin presses one last lingering kiss to your inner thigh before looking up at you, smug, satisfied, and completely wrecked.

“Told you I’d take care of you,” he murmurs, one hand reaching up to wipe at your face. A tear just rolled down your cheek and you didn’t even realize. “I haven’t even given you my cock yet and you’re already crying?”

Your body is still buzzing, chest rising and falling in uneven breaths as you blink down at him. This is it, you think. You’re done. Your legs feel like jelly, and the warmth of his hands on your skin is grounding enough to bring you back down to reality.

You can't believe you just sat on Na Jaemins face.

Still in shock, you move, sliding down from your place above him, hands reaching for the waistband of his pants, ready to return the favor, to touch him, to finally satisfy him—

But Jaemin catches your wrist, stopping you.

“Did you think I was done?” His voice is sweet, teasing, but there’s another promise behind his words that makes your stomach flip. His grip tightens just slightly, his thumb rubbing slow circles against the inside of your wrist.

“Oh, no.” His other hand moves, tracing up your still-sensitive thigh, fingertips grazing higher and higher until they slip between your legs, making you jolt.

“This is about you, baby,” he murmurs, dragging his fingers through your slick folds, groaning at how wet you still are. “And I can make you come again.”

Your breath catches, body still sensitive from the first orgasm, but Jaemin doesn’t give you time to recover. Two fingers slip inside you with ease, curling immediately, finding that spot that makes you see stars.

His pace is slow at first, teasing, letting you feel every inch of his fingers as they move inside you. The stretch is perfect, just enough to keep you teetering on the edge of sensitivity, the remnants of your last orgasm making you gasp at every motion.

“You can give me another one, can’t you?” he taunts, lips dragging along your inner thigh. “I know you can.”

Your fingers grip at his wrist, not sure if you’re trying to stop him or pull him deeper. “Jaemin—”

“Shh, I got you,” he soothes, his voice pure sin. His thumb circles your clit in slow, devastating strokes, and your whole body tenses.

He watches you, completely enthralled, eyes dark with something unreadable—something possessive. His fingers pick up the pace, pressing deeper, curling just right, and your thighs twitch with the overwhelming pleasure.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, lips quirking in satisfaction when he feels you clench around him. “Fuck, you like being called mine, hm?”

The heat inside you builds too fast, Jaemin’s touch sending you spiraling again, and before you can stop it, the pleasure snaps—your body jerking, another broken moan leaving your lips as you come undone for the second time.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” he coos, his thumb pressing against your clit as he works his fingers deep, stretching you open. “Come on NaNa’s fingers.”

Jaemin works you through it, easing his pace, letting you ride the high as he coaxes every last bit of pleasure from you. When your body finally sags, his fingers slip out, his hand smoothing over your hip to soothe you.

“There you go,” he whispers, kissing the inside of your knee. “Knew you had one more for me.”

Your head spins, your chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. But before you can fully process it, Jaemin is shifting, his lips finding yours in a slow, indulgent kiss.

And then, he pulls himself up on the bed so that he’s laying on his back with you snuggled against his chest.

“I can give you another.” He grabs your hand and presses it to his bare chest, eyes glinting in the dim light filtering through the window, “You want another, baby?”

Gingerly, you nod your head, feeling his heartbeat beneath your palm. It was faster than it should be.

He smiles, “Greedy girl…I like it.”

Pushing himself up onto his knees, he shimmies backwards on the bed until his head in pushed between your thighs again. He looks up at you, lips curled, and eyebrows raised. “You want my fingers or my tongue?”

You’ve had both tonight…but you want more. “Want your cock.”

“Oh baby,” He chuckles, “I told you this was about you, not me.”

“But it’s what I want!” You whine, throwing your head back against the pillows.

You can’t see his reaction, but he licks a long stripe up the inner part of your leg, forcing a shier out of you. “Not tonight, angel. So, tongue, or fingers.”

God, this was gonna be a long night.

The sunlight streaming through the curtains casts a harsh glow on your face as you begin to stir. Disoriented and exhausted, you roll over to escape the brightness, hoping to get a few more minutes of sleep.

Realization hits you like a semi-truck.

This bed is not your own.

The sheets feel different, the mattress unfamiliar. Your eyes snap open, and a fleeting moment of confusion sweeps over you.

Oh.

Jaemin’s room—familiar yet disorienting—greets you.

The cream-colored walls are plastered with luxury car and playboy posters, shelves showcasing an impressive array of camera models and strips of film. The floor is strewn with clothes – including your own. His desk sits abandoned of textbooks, and his backpack, which was there last night, is gone.

Looking towards the other side of the bed – it’s apparent that he’s gone too.

At least he had the decency to let you sleep.

Beneath the covers, you become aware of your state of undress, a blush warming your cheeks as the memories of the night flood back.

Just as you start to collect your thoughts, the room’s silence is shattered by the insanely loud ringing of your phone. Panic sets in as you fumble around the bed, searching for the source of the sound.

After a moment of frantic searching, your gaze lands on Jaemin’s desk. There it is – your phone, innocently plugged in to charge.

And the decency to plug in your phone? Unheard of, really.

With a hasty movement, you extricate yourself from the tangled sheets and leap to answer the phone.

Mark’s name flashes across the screen.

“Shit.” You curse, fumbling to press the answer button. Before he can get a word out, you’re already mumbling apologies and promises to make it up to him.

“Dude, calm down.”  Mark's voice, though edged with frustration, carries a note of understanding. You take a deep breath, attempting to steady your nerves as you continue to explain.

"I overslept, Mark, seriously. I lost track of time. I'm on my way to the library right now. We can still work on the project, I promise."

There's a brief pause on the other end, and Mark finally answers. "I already came back to my dorm. If you wanna meet here, I don’t mind. My roommates are here though."

Shit.

Mark was one of the unlucky students this year that got placed in the freshman dorms due to a shortage of upperclassmen housing. Instead of sharing an apartment with one other person, and getting his own room, he was cramped with three other guys. And he had to share his room.

“You don’t wanna meet back at the library?”

On the other end of the line he sighs, “I waited for you to show up for an hour dude. When I left, my seat was the only one open. I’m sure it’s taken now.”

Apologizing again seemed futile. “I’ll just come to you. Be there in no time.”

“Ok, just knock when you get here. See ya.” And with that Mark hangs up.

You take a deep breath and set your phone back on the desk.

It’s only when you catch sight of yourself in his full-length mirror that you remember you’re standing naked in the middle of Jaemins room. Your tits are completely out, and judging by the dark bruises painting your chest like some kind of twisted art piece, you were definitely put through it last night.

Jesus, was he trying to brand you? Like, yeah, you get it, he’s good—but was this necessary? Now you have to strategize every outfit for the next week so you don’t look like you got into a street fight with a vacuum cleaner.

The four orgasms were totally worth it though.

You sigh, understanding that this probably wasn’t the moment to bask in the after-non-sex glow, and that you really need to get dressed and get the fuck up out of Jaemins room before 1. Haechan decided to come snooping around or 2. Mark chose to cut you loose from the project and do it himself.

You reluctantly bend down and gather your clothes from the pile on the floor. Frowning, you hold up a crumpled shirt to your nose, wrinkling in distaste. It smelled like a week-old mini bar.

Of course, the one drink you had last night would make an impression on your clothes. It’s clear that decision have consequences, and now you have to deal with the aftermath, because there’s only one option.

Borrow something from Jaemins closet.

Shit.

The closet beckons from across the room. You approach it tentatively, knowing you're crossing into personal territory. Opening the door, you scan the hangers, searching for something that won't scream 'borrowed.' But there aren’t many options for that. You see, Jaemin had three options in his wardrobe: tank tops & gym shorts, oversized hoodies & sweats, and button ups & dress pants.

Sighing, you reach for the closest hoodie, and rifle through the bottom drawers for some sweats. After a moment, you find the ones that weren’t going to be too big on you – a simple grey hoodie that had the logo of NCTU plastered across the back, and the matching pants. At least this combination would give you the cute ‘wearing your boyfriends clothes around campus’ aesthetic. Except he wasn’t your boyfriend – just your best friend who ate pussy like a starved man.

You tug the hoodie over your head and try it make it fit as comfortably as possible. It’s a little too big, but beggars can’t be choosers. Glancing at yourself in the mirror, you take in your disheveled appearance.

A part of you wants to nose around the bathroom to find a hairbrush, maybe a spare toothbrush, but that’d be too much of a risk. Haechan could not catch you in a position like this.

After taking a final look around the room, you gather your belongings and prepare to make a hasty exit. The door creaks open, and you freeze, half-expecting Haechan to walk out and catch you in the act.

With one peek around the hallway, you see his door swung wide open. Chancing it, you take a couple steps out and realize that his room is empty.

The universe keeps granting you pardon after pardon.

This string of luck continues as you fumble your way out of the dorm and bolt down the stairs – still no Haechan in sight. In fact, you don’t see a single soul until you find yourself outside of the freshman dormitory. Students lounge on the hammocks situated in front of the building and you walk by without a word.

You’d only been to Marks dorm one other time, and it takes a moment to recall his room number. Honestly, each door looked the same. By some miracle you find the right one – or what you hoped to be the right one.

Delivering a semi-confident knock, you sway awkwardly. You really hoped this was the right room.

From the other side, you hear shuffling and then the door is being swung wide open.

“Hello…” This is not mark. However, the only telltale sign that you were at the right place was this guy’s bright ass silver hair. Looks like someone had fallen victim to Marks hair dye tendencies. “Can I help you?”

He leans against the door frame and crosses his arms over his chest, giving you a once over.

“I’m here to see Mark.” You reply, hoping he’d just let you in.

Of course not.

“I’m Chenle.” He responds.

You don’t know what to say, “Okay, nice to meet you.” What was this kid going to do? Interview you? Interrogate you?

“Are you a freshman?” He asks.

After about three seconds of hesitation, you respond, “Can you let me in? I’m late to meet Mark for our project.” You didn’t want to be mean, but you were over guys flirting with you. There was some actual schoolwork that needed to get done. And this scrawny, silver haired kid was in the way.

“Mark’s not here, but you can come chill with me.” His smirk lights up his entire face, eyes crinkling in delight.

“Chenle, fucking move and let her in.”

Mark’s voice comes from behind Chenle and the boy in question moves backwards in a huff. “I was just getting to know her.” He pouts.

Mark gives you a half-hearted wave and a smile, beckoning you into the dorm. As you step inside, gently closing the door behind you, you realize at how cramped the freshman dorms really were. How could four men live in these conditions?

Barbaric, really.

“Sorry about Chenle. He likes to flirt with anything that walks.” Mark gives a pointed glare to the younger boy, and it makes you giggle.

"Looks like you got a mini Jaemin on your hands” you joke, looking around the room. The small space is cluttered with textbooks, clothes, and various other items – definitely a men’s dorm.

"I was just being friendly," Chenle protests, flashing a charming smile in your direction. "Unlike someone, I know how to make a girl feel welcome."

Mark scoffs, “Oh, please.” He grabs your wrist and starts to tug you to his room, “Come on Y/N, let’s go do this project.”

As Mark pulls you away, Chenle calls after you, "If you get bored, I’m out here.”

You think his determination is kinda cute. Apparently, this offends mark “She’s never gonna go for you dude! Give it up!”

And with that, Mark slams his door shut.

See, it wasn’t that you were stupid, but composing, creating, and editing an entire song longer than a minute and a half wasn’t exactly the easiest thing to do. Which, by the way, literally had nothing to do with theory.

Thankfully Mark knew guitar, could sing, and already had the song written. You decided to stick to the editing part.

Before long, the assignment was complete and turned in. And it only took half an hour – most of which consisted of trying to figure out the controls on the soundboard without deleting the recorded parts.

It took you a minute, but you finally got the hang of it.

After finishing up, Mark suggested grabbing lunch, and you agreed. The two of you headed to the campus cafe, chatting about everything from music to hockey (that conversation was fleeting), to the latest campus-wide trend of jumping into the fountains.

As you eagerly settled into your seat, ready to indulge in the heavenly experience that awaited you with the loaded tacos, a familiar voice pierced the air.

“Y/N!”

God-fucking-damn-it.

Two seconds later, a wind-blown Hyuck joins your table. His hair was in wild tangles at the top of his head, jacket precariously hanging off one shoulder, and his cheeks sported a subtle shade of tinged pink.

Mark, busy shoveling a forkful of green beans into his mouth, couldn't help but comment, "Why do you look like that?"

"Took the words right outta my mouth," you mumbled, side-eyeing Haechan.

Haechan scoffed, "Why do I look so beautiful, handsome, and sexy?"

"You wish.”

The new addition to your table shoots a glare at you. “You just don’t want to admit it.”

Mark chimed in, “You look like you got caught in a tornado.”

Haechan bangs a fist onto the tabletop, making your water ripple in your glass, “I had to run here.”

“To the café?” You question, taking a tentative bite of your taco.

Haechan rolls his eyes, “No, to the architecture building – yes, to the café.”

Mark, ever the voice of reason, took a drink of water before asking, “Why?”

Haechan gave a dead serious look, treating you and Mark like you were the dumbest people on Earth. "Because it’s taco day."

“So tacos equal running?” You giggle.

Haechan glares at you again, giving you a once over. His eyebrow pops up, “Why are you wearing Jaemins clothes?”

You choke on your taco.

Swallowing hard, you respond, "What? No, these are definitely mine."

Haechan narrows his eyes, clearly skeptical. "Come on, Y/N. I’ve literally scene him wear that exact outfit, like, last week."

Of course you had to pick the one outfit Jaemin wore recently. What were the odds? Actually, knowing your luck? One hundred percent. Should’ve grabbed something from the back of his closet. Maybe a damn tuxedo, just to throw Haechan off your scent.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, attempting to downplay the situation. "Well, maybe it's just a similar style. Lots of people wear sweat suits like this."

Mark, clueless as could be, chimes in through another mouthful of green beans, "Yeah, Haechan, don't jump to conclusions. It's just an outfit."

Haechan, however, wasn't convinced. He leaned in, scrutinizing the fabric. "I know Jaemin's style like the back of my hand. I’m literally his roommate."

Your heart raced as you desperately tried to deflect his suspicion. Perhaps the best thing to do in this situation was gaslight him. "You're imagining things. It's probably just a coincidence."

He narrowed his eyes, the gears in his mischievous mind audibly turning. "Maybe, but you can't deny it looks good on you. Fits better than it ever did on Jaemin."

That catches you off guard and you struggle to reply, stammering out, “Well, um, I guess people have different body types, right?"

It made no sense. This hoodie literally swallowed you whole.

Mark couldn't contain his laughter, and Haechan throws him an annoyed look. "Stop laughing, Mark. This is serious business."

“Yeah,” Mark wipes away the tears forming in the corner of his eyes, “If you count hitting on Y/N as serious business.”

As Haechan turns to defend himself against Marks allegations, your phone buzzed on the table. A sense of relief washes over you as you check the caller ID. It was Jennie. "Sorry, guys, gotta run. Duty calls," you announce, seizing the opportunity to escape this disappointing lunch date.

Haechan, still fixated on the fact that you were definitely wearing Jaemin’s clothes, smirked. "Sure, dodge the question. Perhaps I’ll go ask Jaem about it later."

Rolling your eyes, you shot back, "You're just mad I went with him last night instead of you."

It was his turn to stammer out a half-muttered response, the apples of his cheeks turning a dark shade of pink. So, what if you’d chosen Jaemin over him? It’s not like he really cared. Okay maybe he did, but really that’s only because he didn’t trust Jaemin to take care of you like you should be taken care of.

Oh, the things he didn’t know.

“Whatever,” he brushes off casually, “I’m eating your tacos if you’re leaving.”

“Have at it.” You retort.

With a quick farewell, you stepped away from the table, answering Jennie’s call as you made your way through the bustling dining room. “Hey, what’s up.”

“Y/N, it’s an emergency! Literally capital E! Can you meet me at the quad foutain? I’m begging you; I desperately need your help! This event is spiraling into a complete disaster!”

You almost get hit in the head with a flying football the moment you step out of the cafeteria doors.

Ducking just in time, you glance around and find the culprit – a shirtless boy in cargos and a beanie – weird combo.

“My bad.” He apologizes, jogging to where you were still reeling. He scoops up the ball and spares you a glance, “You okay?”

“’M fine.” You mumble, brushing off the close call.

He gives you a grin and jogs back to where his friends were waiting impatiently. You feel like you knew him from somewhere – Johnny, you think his name was. You shrug it off and continue walking.

Just another typical day at this stupid university.

With your backpack slung over one shoulder, you navigate through clusters of students, the chatter of voices filling the air. The sun beats down warmly, casting long shadows across the pathway as you make your way towards the heart of the campus—the quad.

The quad, with its lush greenery and towering trees, serves as the central gathering point for students. As you approach, you catch glimpses of the glistening fountain at its center, water dancing in the sunlight.

Students lounge on the grass, textbooks sprawled open, while others toss frisbees or kick soccer balls around. You make sure to keep an eye out for more flying objects.

Laughter mingles with the sound of music drifting from portable speakers as you draw closer to the fountain, searching for Jennie’s familiar figure among the crowd. Yet, as you reach the edge of the quad, your heart sinks a fraction. Jennie is nowhere to be seen.

Instead, standing by the fountain like some Greek god of fuckboy temptation, is Jaemin—crisp white t-shirt, grey sweats hanging just right, and that faded pink hair. You should turn around. You should pretend you never saw him. You should call Jennie and fake an emergency. But nope. Here you are, walking straight toward your doom.

If it weren't for the grin that lights up Jaemin's face as he spots you approaching, you would have probably just walked past him without a word. “Nice outfit.” Jaemin teases, carding a hand through his faded pink hair.

You glance down at yourself, remember you're clad in Jaemin's hoodie and sweatpants, and now you’re face to face with him. A faint blush creeps onto your cheeks. "Uh, thanks," you mumble, tugging at the hem of the oversized hoodie self-consciously. "My clothes smelled like alcohol…I’m sorry if–”

"Y/n, It’s not a big deal," he interrupts, his tone light as he gives you a playful wink.

You nod, grateful for his easy acceptance. "Okay good.”

As you're about to explain your presence, Jaemin beats you to the question. "So what’s up? Whaddya doing here?"

You hesitate, wondering how much to disclose before deciding to keep it simple. "Jennie called, said she needed help with something."

Jaemin's eyebrows raise in amusement. "What a coincidence, me too."

Before you can inquire further, a commotion at the edge of the quad catches your attention. Your eyes widen as you watch Jennie darting through the crowd, her figure unmistakable, clad only in a bright green bikini.

"Girl, what's up?" you exclaim, wondering why your roommate was running through campus barely dressed.

Jennie skids to a stop in front of you, panting slightly but grinning ear to ear. "Hey, sorry I'm late! I called you guys because I need both of you to help with our event.”

You raise an eyebrow, but before you can respond, a few obnoxious catcalls pierce the air, directed at Jennie. Your jaw clenches instinctively, ready to defend your friend, but before you can react, Jennie flips the offenders the most glorious middle finger you've ever seen.

“Perverts.” She grumbles, “Anyways, it’s simple. Walk and talk, okay?”

You and Jaemin nod, following behind her as she guides you through the crowd while explaining what the hell was going on.

"Okay, so," she begins, her voice carrying a hint of exasperation, "Delta Gamma and Pike are hosting a car wash event to raise money for one of the local hospitals. It's all part of our philosophy, you know, brother-sister Greek life thing, whatever." Jaemin shoots you a glance, and you just shrug. You didn’t know much about Greek life either.

"But literally only four sisters and six brothers showed up – which is another problem entirely because I swear half of those new recruits are gonna get dropped for putting me through this much stress." You roll your eyes, knowing she would never do that. "And with only ten people and…"

"Holy shit," you breathe out, stunned by the sheer number of cars lined up.

The three of you halt at the roundabout on the edge of campus, two lines of cars waiting to be washed. There had to be at least thirty, all gleaming in the sunlight, eagerly awaiting their turn for a scrub-down.

Shirtless frat boys were washing one line of cars – spraying the hose water all over their chests and hurling soap bombs at each other. Laughter echoes as soap bubbles fly through the air.

On the opposite side, sorority girls in matching bikinis handle the other line of cars with finesse and charm. Their smiles are as radiant as the sunlight, their laughter tinkling like wind chimes. Despite the heat, they maintain their composure, efficiently scrubbing away dirt and grime while maintaining their impeccable appearance. Boys hang out of their cars, hooting and hollering and cheering.

Jaemin whistles lowly, his eyes scanning the line of vehicles. "Looks like we're in for a busy day," he remarks, a hint of excitement in his voice.

For a split second, you wonder if he’s checking out the girls, but he turns to you and gives you a smile.

Jennie nods, her expression determined. "I know.” she declares, a spark of determination igniting in her eyes. "If you could help out, even for half an hour, I’d appreciate it."

"Of course," Jaemin replies with a grin, his enthusiasm contagious. "We're here to help however we can."

You nod in agreement, "Count us in," you say, your voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in your stomach. If Jaemin was staying, you sure as hell weren’t leaving—because what kind of idiot passes up the opportunity to watch six feet of pink-haired temptation scrub cars in slow motion?

“It’s not really about cleaning the cars. Just look sexy and pretend to scrub!” Jennie explains, setting her hands on her hip. She cocks her head to the side, practically begging.

Jaemin grins, “Well, if that’s the case, I can do sexy.”

You snort, “Okay. Fine. Let’s do this.”

Jaemin swiftly hoists his shirt over his head, casually discarding it on the ground. You can't help but notice how good he looks—toned chest, and a stone wall of abs. As he stretches, the muscles in his arms and torso flex and contract, and you watch in fascination.

He jogs over to the boys' side, greeting them with enthusiasm. Their ritualistic embraces appear almost painful to the untrained eye—open hands slapping backs and clasped fists.

However, for you, there was one problem: you didn’t have a bathing suit. So, you opt for the next best thing. With a hint of uncertainty, you peel off Jaemin's hoodie, standing there in your bra. Sure, it was a lacy delicate thing, but it covered up the areas that needed to be.

“Y/n!” Jennie nearly shrieks. You can sense a few other pairs of eyes turning your way, including Jaemin’s. His gaze darkens the second he sees you, a muscle twitching in his jaw. His fingers curl slightly—like he’s resisting the urge to reach for you. There’s something heavy in the way he looks at you, as if he’s fighting an internal battle between restraint and instinct.. “What are you wearing.”

“What?” You grumbled, hands peppering your chest. Maybe you shouldn’t have done that– or maybe Jaemin’s gaze made all this worth it. “I know it’s not a bathing suit, but what can you expect on such short notice? I’m gonna keep the sweats on anyway.”

She shakes her head, “I have a spare bathing suit in my car if you wanna go change into that.” It’s obvious she isn’t going to take no for an answer, so you oblige, snatching the keys out of her hand.

You jog over to Jennie’s car parked in the lot down the brick path. Unlocking the car, you climb inside, glancing around nervously to ensure no wandering students catch you in the midst of your impromptu wardrobe change. Thankfully, there’s parked cars on either side of you, blocking you in. You just hope their owners don’t come out wanting to take a midday drive.

The car’s interior is stifling, heat clinging to your skin like a second layer. The scent of worn leather and faint perfume from Jennie’s air freshener fills the small space as you hurriedly peel off your clothes, the fabric sticking slightly to your damp skin. You hope the tinted windows provide enough cover. The spare bathing suit is a tucked into the pocket on the back of the passenger side seat, and you struggle to get it on without elbowing the car door.

As you struggle with the straps, a pair of familiar eyes catches you off guard. Jaemin, passing by, raises an eyebrow in surprise. Panicking, you duck behind the backseat, using it as a makeshift shield.

Three seconds later there’s a sharp rap on the window.

When you look up, Jaemins face is peering in.

You grab the handle and push open the door – thankful that you at least managed to get on most of the bikini.

“Well look at you.” He grins, climbing into the backseat and closing the door behind himself.

“Jaem–”

You don’t get to finish your sentence because the boy in question grabs your jaw and pushes his lips against yours. It takes you by surprise, but you find his rhythm almost immediately. It’s sweltering in the car, but nothing compares to the heat radiating off his chest as he pushes his body into yours. His tongue drives shamelessly into your mouth, and you open wider, letting him taste you.

His hands slide under you, strong and unyielding, pressing you flush against him. The heat between your bodies is suffocating, but you don’t pull away. One of your legs instinctively wraps around his waist, the friction sending a sharp jolt through your core. He exhales sharply, his breath fanning against your lips, his grip tightening ever so slightly—like he’s holding himself back.

“You look good.” He mumbles against your lips, before pulling back and tugging on the bottom one with his teeth, “Can’t believe everyone else gets to see you like this.” You don’t even realize your eyes are shut before they’re fluttering open. He rests his forehead on your own, “Thought it was just for me?”

You laugh breathlessly, “What happened to it only being friends helping out friends.”

He shares the laugh, “Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I kinda got a problem and could definitely use your help. It’s your fault after all.”

His confession makes pride bloom in your chest.

Reaching a hand down between what little space there was between you, you grab him through his shorts – a heavy hand palming his growing hard-on. “Oh, this problem?”

“Yeah.” He groans, hips bucking into your touch. “That one.”

You grin up at him, making sure to look deep into his eyes, “Well, I hate to disappoint…”

“No!” He groans, rutting against you to try and feel any dwindling friction, “Don’t say that!”

His response makes you giggle, “If we stay in here much longer, Jennie's bound to come looking.”

He pouts, bottom lip jutting out, eyes like a puppy dog. When he finally understands that he won’t – that he can’t get what he wants, he smiles and steal another kiss. This one is shorter but still makes you shiver.

“After?” You ask, the hope evident in your tone.

“You just can’t get enough of me.”

“Not true!” you swat his arm, “But seeing you out there all buff and shirtless, well, I’ll probably have a problem later too.”

His response is instantaneous, “And I’ll be more than happy to help you out with that…after.”

It was your turn to steal a kiss from him. Grabbing his broad shoulders, you halfway sit up and nip at his lips. He catches you and pulls you deeper – and he keeps going into your head grows thick, and you become dizzy.

“Okay, okay.” You assert, banging weak fist on his shoulder, “We got to go.”

“Want some help with the top? I saw you struggling with it. Let me tie it for you.”

You see, Jaemin was so damn sweet sometimes – especially when he was horny and wanted something – someone. And right now, all he wanted was you.

Twisting around in the cramped back seat was hard, but you manage, and Jaemin expertly ties the back of the bikini so that it wouldn’t fall off halfway through washing someone’s beat up Toyota.

“Thanks.”

"Don’t mention it.” He dismisses the gratitude with a wave, and you push open the door, stepping out. The heat that had built up in the car hits you, and as you emerge, you feel the immediate relief of being able to finally catch a breath.

When he doesn’t immediately follow, you bend down to peek back into the car, “Are you coming?”

“You’re gonna have to give me a minute to…cool down.” He grins sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck and gesturing to his lap that sported a rather impressive tent.

“Okay.” You laugh, shutting the door and leaving Jaemin to ‘cool down’.

The smile on your face doesn’t dissipate at you walk back to the growing line of cars waiting to be washed by hot sorority sisters in skimpy bathing suits – and Jennie notices, but for the wrong reason.

“You like the bathing suit?” she chirps, “It’s kinda small on you but it looks good!!”

“I love it.” It made Jaemin climb into a hot car with you in the middle of campus, what was there to hate?

She beams, “I knew you would! Now, it’s really simple, just grab a bucket, a sponge, and claim a car that pulls up. The rest is up to you, but as we’ve learned so far, people tend to tip if you put on a little show.” She points to where one of her fellow sisters was leaning over the hood of a Jeep Wrangler and practically using her boobs to wipe around the soapy water. The frat guys leaning out of the windows hoot and holler and cheer for her.

The last thing you wanted to be doing today was putting on a show for sleazy frat boys, but you’d do anything for your roommate.

“I really appreciate this y/n.” she remarked, pulling you in for an embrace.

Like you said, you’d do anything for this pure soul.

“Don’t mention it girl.” You take a look around at the waiting line of cars. There had to be at least fifty. "‘Now, where’s my bucket? And preferably, someone rich enough to make this performance worth it."

Washing cars isn’t so bad – you only get soap in your eye once.

The only reason you got soap in your eye?

Na Jaemin.

Because how were you supposed to focus when he looked like that?

Water sprayed against his chest, each droplet clinging to the ridges of his abs like it had nowhere better to be. His pink hair dripped, plastered to his forehead, and when he ran a hand through it—fuck—you forgot how to breathe for a second.

Was dragging him back to Jennie’s car a bad idea? Probably. Was it on your mind? Absolutely.

But before you could entertain the thought any longer, Jaemin caught your stare—and winked. And like a complete idiot, you freaked out so hard you ended up blinding yourself with soap.

His laugh carried across the row of cars, embarrassment climbing your spine.

But he was looking too. In fact, Jaemin was staring. No—Jaemin was mesmerized. He thought your tits were distracting—but this? This was something else entirely. Because when you turned, revealing bare skin and that goddamn thong bikini, Jaemin forgot how to function. His brain short-circuited, mouth going completely dry, and suddenly, he understood religion. Because this? This was divine intervention.

He must have been staring too long, because Yuta elbowed him—hard.

"That your girl?" Yuta grinned, knowing damn well Jaemin was acting like a man down bad.

Jaemin nearly choked on air. "N-no, she’s just a friend."

Yuta didn’t believe that for a damn second."*

Yuta looks back and forth between the two of you, catching the way you peek up through your lashes in search of Jaemin. When you catch Yuta looking, you duck your head.

“She’s pretty.” Yuta breathes, reaching for the bucket of soapy water he had put down five minutes before.

Jaemin nods his head absentmindedly, “Yeah she is.”

Yuta is no stranger to love. His girlfriend, Chloe, and him have been together for years – ever since they were inexperienced freshmen at NCTU. Chloe was the light of his life, his forever. And the way that Jaemin was eyeing you right now was exactly how Yuta had looked at his girl during orientation at NCTU. A gaze filled with adoration and longing. Yuta bet that if he took Jaemins pulse right now it would be elevated as fuck.

Just as Yuta is about to tell Jaemin to go over there and ask you out, a sleek BMW pulls up to the curb with a soft purr.

The owner parks the car and Jaehyun steps out.

Jaemin can't hear from where he's standing, but he watches as Jaehyun strolls up to you and Jennie with a shit-eating grin.

“Excuse me one second.” Jaemin voices, dropping the sponge in his hand on the sidewalk.

If they weren’t dating yet, it wouldn’t be long, Yuta thinks.

Jaemin reaches you just in time to catch the tail end of Jaehyun’s sentence—and honestly, it takes every ounce of self-control not to swing on him right then and there.. His fists clenching at his sides, Jaemin forces a tight-lipped smile. The sight of you, standing there with a hint of uncertainty in your eyes, serves as a reminder to keep his composure.

"Hey, Jaehyun," Jaemin interjects, his voice steady despite the itch of anger climbing in his throat. "Glad you could make it. We've got plenty of cars to wash."

He doesn’t understand the source of his anger. There's no logical explanation for it. Jaehyun hasn't done anything wrong to you. Perhaps it's because Jaemin has unofficially claimed you as his own, even if only temporarily.

Jaehyun chuckles, “I’m not here to wash cars, this isn’t NEO’s philosophy.  Our philosophy is military related. But we’re having a volleyball tournament next week where people can bet, and the money will go to families of fallen soldiers. You can swing by if you’d like.”

"I'll keep that in mind, Jaehyun," Jaemin replies, his voice softer now, the edges of his frustration smoothing out.

Jennie speaks up, “I’ll definitely be there.”

Jaemin’s anger slowly dissipates. He can’t really be mad at a dude that did charity.

“I am here to get my car washed though.” Jaehyun continues, and he turns to look at you.

You don’t say a word, instead, Jennie takes charge, “Well lucky for you, that’s exactly what we’re doing. Don’t worry about payment.” She gives him a smile and Jaehyun doesn’t even bother looking in her direction.

“I was really hoping y/n here could do it?” You didn’t really know what to say. Why Jaehyun was specifically requesting you was odd. If he thought there was something between the two of you last night, he was sadly mistaken. The last thing you wanted was to be subjected to his banter.

And Jaemin wouldn’t let that happen anyways.

You exchange a hesitant glance with Jaemin, who stands beside you, his jaw set. When you look at Jennie, you can tell her heart deflates a little.

Jaehyun's request hangs in the air, and you feel a knot of unease tighten in your stomach.

"How about we all help?" Jaemin's voice cuts through the tension, his words a veiled warning to Jaehyun.

With a forced smile, you nod in agreement, grateful for Jaemin.

All four of you walk over to where Jaehyun’s car is parked, buckets and sponges in hand. Jaehyun persistent gaze lingers on you, and when Jaemin catches him staring at your ass, his anger flares up again.

When you bend down to place your bucket by your feet, Jaehyun leans in a little too close, his voice dripping with perversion as he addresses you directly. "I must say, y/n, I've been looking forward to spending some time with you again."

Your stomach churns at his words—the implication is clear, no matter how polite he tries to sound. This isn’t what you signed up for

With a subtle shift, Jaemin steps forward, effectively intercepting Jaehyun's advances. "Let's get started," he declares, his tone authoritative.

The task at hand becomes a welcome distraction, the rhythmic swish of water against the car offering a momentary reprieve from Jaehyun’s flirtation.

Well, until he opened his mouth again.

"So, have you always been this skilled with your hands?" Jaehyun's voice comes from behind you and when you look at him, you catch him smirking. "Or is it just with cars?"

Jaemin snaps.

"Okay, you know what?" he lets out a sharp, humorless laugh, hurling his bucket onto the ground with a loud slap. "I think we’re done here."

Jaehyun smirks. "What, can’t take a joke?"

Jaemin takes a step forward. "Oh, I can take a joke just fine. But here’s the thing—I don’t think Y/N finds you very funny."

You blink, caught off guard, and Jaemin doesn’t miss it.

Your heart breaks a little for your roommate. It was apparent that Jaehyuns move on you hurt her even more. And there was nothing you could do about it because you made this happen. It was your fault.

Jaemin doesn’t care to listen to Jaehyuns stammered out apology. You don’t either. You just let Jaemin grab your hand and tug you down the path. The pile of his clothes from earlier lies forgotten on the ground, completely abandoned.

Like last time, Haechans shoes sit tauntingly at the front door.

Unlike last time, Jaemin wastes no time in dragging you to his room, closing the door, and locking it.

His words come out in a low growl while he paces the room, “Don’t know why that guy thinks he can flirt with you like that. It’s so fucking weird. I mean, I know you look good,” he stops mid rant to look at you, eyes widening at the small bikini barely covering your exposed body, “So fucking good…but that doesn’t mean he can be a perv.”

Yeah, okay, hypocrite.

“Jaemin.” You whisper.

He throws a hand out, back to pacing. You watch his muscles contract and ripple with the force of his breathing. It didn’t make sense why he was getting so worked up.

“No, I get it. He’s a good-looking guy. But you…He shouldn’t even think about you. It’s like you’re here.” Jaemin puts a hand up over his head, and one far below his waist, “And he’s down here. You’re way too good for him.” Jaemin lets out a breathless chuckle, “And to do it in front of me, no less. Bastards got some really big balls.”

You barely stop yourself from rolling your eyes. The way he’s talking, you’d think Jaehyun was a bridge troll. Sighing, you sit back on the bed, not caring if you get it wet. “Not that big.” You mutter to yourself.

He ignores you again.

And you’re about sick of it.

“I mean, could he have been any more fucking pathetic? ‘Have you always been skilled with your hands? Or is it just with cars?’ Like what kind of shit is that. Any pickup line he could’ve chosen and he went with that?”

Jaemin's words echoed off the walls, his frustration palpable in the air, while you come to the realization that your slightly damp bathing suit was rather uncomfortable to be lounging around in.

And perhaps if he saw you without the bikini top, he’d finally stop his ranting and do something useful.

Like, say, fuck you into next week.

Because watching Jaemin pace shirtless, ranting about how other men didn’t deserve you, looking like he was one sentence away from going full caveman and staking a claim— well, it made you all hot and bothered.

You hated to use that phrase, but it was true.

With deft fingers, you unfastened the ties of your bikini top, the fabric slipping from your shoulders as you held it aloft in your hand. With a swift and calculated motion, you tossed it gently in Jaemin's direction, the fabric fluttering through the air before landing squarely on his path.

"Hey, what the—?" Jaemin's voice trailed off as he stooped to pick up the discarded bikini top, his confusion giving way to amusement as he held it up before him. "Well, well, well..." Jaemin turned towards you, a bemused smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Looks like you're missing something there, sweetheart."

You meet his gaze, feeling light and playful, warmth bubbling in your chest at the way he’s looking at you now—like he’s finally snapped out of his irritation and sees you for what you are: his.

“Oops! Must’ve slipped off,” you quip, stretching out lazily on the bed like you’ve got all the time in the world. “Thanks for catching that for me.”

Jaemin’s laughter fills the room, shaking his head as he steps closer, tossing the bikini top back in your direction, the fabric landing softly at your feet.

"Anytime," Jaemin replied, his tone biting.

His gaze drags down your body, taking his time, drinking you in like he doesn’t know where he wants to touch first. His jaw tenses as his fingers twitch at his sides.

“You think you’re funny, huh?” He tilts his head, voice dipping lower, more serious now.

You smirk, confidence flooding through you at the way he’s looking at you—hungry, wanting, aching. “I think you’re talking too much.”

Jaemin exhales a sharp breath through his nose, like he’s trying to hold onto the last bit of restraint he has left. Then, in a blur of movement, he’s on you—one knee pressing into the mattress, hands grabbing your hips, dragging you toward him like he owns you.

“Oh, you’re gonna regret that, sweetheart,” he mutters, voice laced with something dark and promising.

And you can’t fucking wait.

His mouth is on you before you can even breathe, kissing you with enough force to knock every last coherent thought from your mind. His hands grip your waist, fingers digging into the soft skin as he presses you down beneath him.

“You wanna tease me, baby?” he murmurs against your lips, nipping at your bottom one. “You wanna throw your little bikini at me like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing?”

You hum against his mouth, hands slipping up his bare chest, nails raking lightly over his toned muscles. “What if I did?”

Jaemin groans, pressing his forehead against yours. “Then I’m gonna have to remind you who you belong to.”

His hands move fast, slipping beneath your body to grip your ass, lifting you against him. You can feel the heat of him through his swim trunks, his hardness pressing right where you need him most. The sensation makes you gasp, fingers tangling in his hair.

Jaemin takes the sound as an invitation, trailing kisses down your jaw, your neck, pausing only to suck a mark into your collarbone before moving lower. His lips trace over the tops of your breasts, teasing, never quite where you want him, and it makes you squirm beneath him.

“Jaem—”

He tuts, dragging his teeth over your sensitive skin. “Patience, pretty girl.”

His tongue flicks against your nipple, a slow, agonizing tease before he finally closes his lips around it, sucking just enough to send a sharp wave of pleasure through you.

Your back arches instinctively, a soft moan slipping past your lips, and Jaemin groans at the sound, switching to the other breast, lavishing the same attention before continuing his descent down your body.

He pauses just above the waistband of your bikini bottoms, glancing up at you with hooded eyes. “You gonna stop me?”

You shake your head quickly, breathless. “Not a chance.”

Jaemin smirks, fingers hooking into the damp fabric, slowly peeling them down your legs, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Good,” he murmurs. “Because I’ve been waiting for this for a long, long time.”

Jaemin doesn’t waste time.

One second, you’re sprawled beneath him, breathless and burning from the way his lips and hands explore your skin, and the next, you’re being lifted. A startled gasp leaves you as Jaemin hauls you up effortlessly, arms securing you against his chest like you weigh nothing.

“Jaemin—”

You barely get his name out before your back meets the wall, his body pressing flush against yours, caging you in. The cool surface is a stark contrast to the heat radiating off him, sending a shiver down your spine. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, hands clutching at his shoulders.

Then you realize which wall he’s pinned you against.

The one that separates his room from Haechan’s.

“Haechan.” You murmur.

Jaemin freezes for half a second before his grip on you tightens, fingers pressing deeper into your thighs where he holds you against the wall. His eyes flick to yours, dark, curious.

"God, why are you so fucking worried about him?" His voice is rough, teasing, but there’s an edge to it, like he’s daring you to say more.

"I-I just don’t want him to hear us," you whisper, even though your heart is pounding for an entirely different reason now.

Jaemin’s lips curl into a slow smirk, his hips rolling just enough to remind you of the position you’re in. "You know what?"

"What?" Your breath hitches when his hands shift, pressing you harder against the wall.

"Let’s play a game." His voice is low, dripping with amusement. "It’s called ‘don’t get caught.’"

Your stomach flips, heat rushing through you. "How do you p-play?"

Jaemin leans in, his lips brushing over the shell of your ear, voice nothing but a sinful whisper. "Well, I get to fuck you against this wall, and you have to try and keep your pretty little mouth shut."

Oh.

Oh, no.

Your pulse spikes—not just at his words, but at the absolute confidence in his tone. The way he’s so sure he’s about to ruin you.

Which, okay—fair assumption.

But keeping quiet?

With Jaemin?

You were already losing.

Your head falls back against the wall with a quiet thud, a shaky breath leaving you as his words sink in. You shouldn’t be this turned on. Not by the risk, not by the idea of Haechan being just feet away, completely unaware of what’s about to happen.

But you are.

And Jaemin knows it.

"You like that idea, don’t you?" He tilts his head, pressing a soft, taunting kiss to your jawline before dragging his lips down the side of your throat. "Bet it makes you even wetter."

You let out a shaky exhale, fingers curling into his shoulders. "Jaemin—"

He cuts you off by rolling his hips again, pressing the hard length of him right against your core. A strangled sound catches in your throat, and his smirk only grows.

"Shhh, baby," he coos, mockingly sweet. "You wouldn’t want him to hear, right?"

Your face burns, but you still can’t find it in yourself to stop him. You don’t want to. The thrill, the way Jaemin looks at you like he wants to devour you—it’s all too much.

His lips ghost over your collarbone, hands gripping tighter. "You trust me?"

You swallow, nodding without hesitation. "Yeah."

Jaemin hums in satisfaction, his tongue flicking over the sensitive spot beneath your ear. "Then be a good girl and take everything I give you."

His hands grip your thighs tighter, pressing you further into the wall, the cool surface grounding you for all of two seconds before he shifts his hips and drags the thick length of him against your soaked core. The friction alone sends a shudder through you, and Jaemin chuckles lowly, completely aware of how wrecked you already are.

“You really don’t want him to hear, huh?” His voice is dripping with amusement, teasing, as he rolls his hips again, letting the head of his cock nudge against your entrance but not pushing in. “Then you better keep those pretty little noises to yourself.”

You swallow down a whimper, biting your lip as your fingers dig into his shoulders. “Jaemin, please.”

He hums, pretending to think about it before shaking his head. “Nah. I like hearing you beg.”

Without warning, he pushes in, stretching you open in one slow, torturous thrust. Your breath catches in your throat, body tensing at the sheer pressure of him inside you. Jaemin groans at the feeling, forehead pressing against yours as his fingers dig into your skin.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathes, his voice rough. “So tight for me.”

Your nails scrape down his back, mouth parting as you struggle to keep yourself from moaning out loud. The stretch is too much, too good, and Jaemin knows it. He gives you a second to adjust before rolling his hips again, thrusting deep, setting a pace that has your head spinning.

The sound of skin against skin fills the room, each movement pressing you harder into the wall, the force of his thrusts making the drywall creak. Your heartbeat thunders in your ears as Jaemin buries his face in the crook of your neck, sucking a mark into your skin.

“Jaemin—” You choke on your own voice, pleasure coiling tight in your stomach.

“Shhh,” he warns, nipping at your jaw. “Don’t want our best friend knowing you’re getting dicked down by your other best friend, right?”A deep thrust punctuates his words, knocking the breath from your lungs. Jaemin pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes heavy-lidded and dark with something possessive. “But, since you can’t keep quiet, how about you open that pretty mouth and moan a little louder, yeah?” His smirk is wicked, taunting. “Give him a taste of what he can’t have.”

Your whole body tenses, shame and arousal intertwining into something dangerously intoxicating. “Jaemin, you’re such an ass—”

“But you love it,” he interrupts, grinning. “You love knowing he’s right there. That he could hear if you get too loud.” Your walls clench around him involuntarily, and Jaemin groans, his grip tightening on your hips. “Yeah, just like that. Let him know exactly how good I make you feel.”

You try to fight it, try to keep yourself quiet, but Jaemin’s pace is merciless, dragging pleasure out of you with every snap of his hips. Your thighs tremble around his waist, nails leaving half-moon marks on his skin as the tension inside you coils tighter and tighter.

“Go on, baby,” he coaxes, voice pure sin. “Let him hear you.”

Jaemin can feel you unraveling, your legs tightening around him, body trembling with every deep thrust he drives into you against the wall. But he’s not done.

Not even close.

With one last punishing snap of his hips, he pulls back, arms still secure beneath your thighs as he carries you away from the wall. You barely have time to whimper a protest before your back hits the mattress, the shift so sudden that it knocks the air from your lungs.

Jaemin hovers over you, eyes glazed, lips slick and parted as he drinks in the sight of you spread out beneath him. “Thought I was gonna let you off easy?” he taunts, gripping your chin between his fingers. “You should know me better than that.”

You barely have a second to respond before he flips you over, forcing you flat on your stomach, his body pressing over yours. A warm, heavy weight settles at the nape of your neck as he leans in, voice rough in your ear. “You feel that, baby?” He drags his cock through your slick folds, teasing, making you squirm. “Still so fucking wet for me.”

A strangled whine leaves you, and Jaemin chuckles, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “That’s my girl.”

Then, with no warning, he thrusts back inside you, punching a moan from your lips as your fingers fist into the sheets. The angle is brutal—deeper, sharper, every inch of him dragging against your walls in a way that has your mind short-circuiting.

Jaemin doesn’t ease into it. He’s lost now, completely caught in the way you take him, how your body sucks him in like you were made for him. His bicep curls around your throat, locking you in place, pinning you beneath him as he fucks you senseless.

“Look at you,” he groans, his jaw slack, eyes fixed on the mirror in front of you both. The reflection is obscene—your body rocking against his, his arm flexing where it holds you still, veins peeking from beneath his flushed skin.

His grin spreads, animalistic, as you let out a choked sound, your face growing hotter the longer he keeps you in that hold, pressed against hard muscle, body burning from the sheer intensity of it all.

“You can take it, baby,” he murmurs, his free hand dragging down your spine, pressing into the small of your back. “You’re so fucking pretty like this.”

His pace falters for half a second—just a fraction—before he lets out a shuddered breath, head dropping against your shoulder. He’s losing his grip, caught in the way you clench around him, how perfect you feel.

“She’s so pretty,” he thinks to himself, mind spinning, thoughts slurring as he fucks you through his own haze. “Need to—fuck—need to breed her.”

His teeth sink into your shoulder, a possessive growl ripping through him as he drives into you harder, deeper, lost in the only thought circling in his head:

Jaemin is gone.

There’s nothing left in his head but you—the way your body squeezes him so perfectly, the way your voice breaks every time he thrusts deeper, the way you’re letting him ruin you.

His grip around your throat tightens just a little, keeping you pressed against him, keeping you where he wants you. His breath is ragged, uneven groans slipping past his lips as he watches the way your mouth parts, the dazed look in your eyes reflecting in the mirror.

“Fuck, baby,” he grits out, thrusts turning erratic, desperate. His fingers dig into your hip, holding you down as he pounds into you. “You feel so fucking good. Can’t—shit—can’t hold out much longer.”

You don’t think you can either.

Your entire body is trembling, pleasure pooling low in your stomach, so tight it’s unbearable. You can’t think, can’t breathe, can only feel the way Jaemin is slamming into you, his muscles flexing beneath you as his control slips entirely.

“J-Jaemin—”

“Yeah, baby,” he pants, pressing his forehead against your shoulder. “I know. Just—fuck, just let go for me.”

And then—

A loud bang shakes the wall.

Your eyes snap open in horror, and Jaemin stills for half a second before a voice—Haechan’s voice—cuts through the air.

“Can you two shut the fuck up?! Some of us are trying to sleep!”

A sharp, startled gasp rips from your throat, but Jaemin—Jaemin just laughs.

The sound is low, deep, cocky, vibrating against your back as he picks up his pace again, rolling his hips into you with new determination. “Oh, baby,” he taunts, voice dripping with amusement, “you hear that?”

You can’t respond—you’re too busy trying to not completely fall apart, but Jaemin doesn’t care. His hand slips between your legs, fingers finding your clit, rubbing fast, desperate circles that make you arch into him, keening.

“Guess he heard after all.” His voice is rough, laced with a breathless chuckle. “Pretty girl getting fucked so good she’s keeping Haechan awake? And she likes it?”

You shake your head wildly, but your body betrays you, walls clenching around him so tight he nearly chokes on his own moan.

“Oh, you do,” Jaemin groans, thrusts turning punishing. “God, you fucking do.”

You can’t take it. The pressure, the tension, the way everything is building so fast—

“Jaem—”

“I got you, baby,” he grits out, fingers moving faster, hips snapping against yours. “Come for me. Come with me.”

One last thrust—deep, perfect, devastating—and you fall.

A choked cry slips past your lips as your orgasm crashes over you, white-hot pleasure consuming you whole. Your entire body convulses, squeezing Jaemin so tight he snaps, burying himself to the hilt as he follows you over the edge.

A guttural moan rips from his throat as he spills inside you, hips jerking in short, stuttering thrusts, riding out both of your highs. His arms tighten around you, holding you through every pulse, every tremor, every aftershock that leaves you utterly spent beneath him.

The room is thick with heat, with the sounds of heavy breathing, with the weight of what just happened.

Jaemin should stop.

He should be too spent. But he’s not. He can’t be.

Even as he shudders against you, panting against your shoulder. Even as his arms tremble from holding you so tight. He’s still moving. Still rolling his hips into you. Slower now but deeper, grinding himself into your swollen, overstimulated walls like he never wants to leave.

“J-Jaemin,” you whimper, voice wrecked. Your body still twitching from your orgasm.

He groans; mouth hot against your neck. His breath is ragged. “Just a little more,” he murmurs. Desperation thick in his voice. “Just—fuck—just let me give you all of it.”

His pace picks up again. Sharp. Desperate thrusts drag overstimulation through you. Making you gasp. Making you cling to him. He’s whining now. His breath hitching as he forces himself through his own sensitivity. Chasing something only he understands.

“You feel so fucking good,” he breathes. His forehead presses into the crook of your neck. “So fucking perfect—fuck—”

His body is shaking. His fingers bruising where they grip your hips. His thrusts erratic. Mindless. Every muscle in his body working toward one thing—

Filling you up. Making sure you get all of him.

His jaw slackens. Eyes flutter shut. His head drops back. His mouth parts around a helpless moan. “God, baby—taking me so well—taking all of it—”

And then he’s coming again.

His whole body seizes. A wrecked cry breaks from his lips as he spills into you. Warmth floods deep inside you. Making your head spin. His hips jerk. Pushing himself as deep as he can go. His cock twitches with every last pulse. Every last drop he forces into you.

He’s whimpering. Gripping you tight. Hips stuttering through the aftershocks. Milking himself dry.

It’s too much. Too good. You don’t even realize you’re moaning his name again until Jaemin shudders and collapses on top of you.

The weight of him. The heat of him. The feeling of him still buried inside you. It’s all too much.

But you don’t want him to move.

Neither does he.

The warmth of Jaemin’s body lingers against yours, the weight of him heavy, grounding. His breath is still uneven, ghosting over your shoulder as his chest rises and falls in ragged intervals.

For a moment, neither of you move. The room is thick with heat, with the scent of sweat and sex, with the quiet hum of something that feels good. Right.

But then, Jaemin shifts.

His muscles tense beneath your touch. His hands, once gripping you like he never wanted to let go, loosen and slide away. Before you can register what’s happening, he’s pulling out, the loss of him sudden, leaving you sensitive and dazed.

You recline comfortably on the bed, the softness of the sheets embracing you like a warm hug. Jaemin stands by the door, his bare torso glistening in the soft light filtering through the window. With a mischievous grin, he slips out of the room, leaving you alone.

As the front door creaks open, confusion flits across your mind. Where could he be going, and why now? Your thoughts race with possibilities, each more curious than the last. You strain your ears, trying to catch any sound that might offer a clue. Did he really just leave the fucking dorm?

Minutes stretch into eternity until, finally, the door swings open once more, and Jaemin steps back into the room, a triumphant smile lighting up his face. In his hands, he carries two plastic take out bags, their savory aroma filling the air.

“I ordered us food when we were on the way back,” Jaemin announces with a grin as he approaches the bed, setting the tray down before you. “I got you chicken nuggets!”

It’s two am when you’re jolted awake by nothing in particular.

You suspect it has something to do with Jaemins low snoring – just softly into the shell of your ear. His arms are slung around you, one curled over your hip, the other underneath your neck acting like a makeshift pillow. Despite his hard lined muscles, he was surprisingly soft.

And it all felt a little too domestic.

Not that that’s bad – but it’s Jaemin you’re talking about here, and when did he ever do domestic.

As you lay there, a subtle panic begins to creep in. You couldn’t stay the night. Not when you were wide awake and freaking out over him cuddling you. But the sheets were so warm – he was warm – and maybe it wouldn’t hurt to close your eyes and just sleep.

No. You couldn’t. No matter if you wanted to or not.

Carefully disentangling yourself from Jaemin's embrace, you glance at the clock, anxiety settling in as you calculate the time it would take to slip out unnoticed.

The room is dimly lit – just enough for you to fumble through the pile of clothes on the floor and find his clothes you were wearing earlier. It’s kinda shitty that you’re stealing his clothes and dipping at the same time, but you don’t think he’ll mind.

You grab your phone off the desk and stuff it in your back pocket. Now was the tricky part – opening the door without it creaking and waking up the entire dorm floor. But just as you reached for the doorknob, Jaemin's voice broke the silence. "Leaving so soon?" he asked, his eyes barely visible in the dim light.

Startled, you turned to face him. Of course, he’d wake up and ruin your attempted escape plan that you spent five minutes freaking out over.

Jaemin sat up, his expression unreadable.

"I didn't want to be here when Haechan woke up." you explained in a hushed tone.

Jaemin nodded, understanding evident in his gaze. "You don't have to sneak out, you know. It's not like you're one of my hoes. You're a friend, and you can stay as long as you need. You can crash on the couch if you want?"

Surprised by his nonchalant response, you stammered out a thanks. "I really should just get back. Haechan asks too many questions. Plus, he already thinks something up because of the outfit thing.” You sway awkwardly in front of the door, “By the way, with the clothes and everything, I’ll wash them and bring them back when I can…"

Jaemin interrupted with a reassuring smile. "Don't worry about it. Friends help each other out. It's not a big deal."

Relieved, you thanked him again. When you’re about to turn around and book it, Jaemin's speaks up, catching you off guard.

"Are you going to Jeno's hockey game tomorrow?" he asked, a casual note in his voice.

You nodded, "Yeah, I was planning to."

"Great," Jaemin replied. "Get home safe, Y/N. See you tomorrow."

With that, he rolled over, settling back into bed. His fluffy pink hair being the only thing you could see.

Well, that was a lot easier than you thought.

When you get home, the first thing you do is sit on your bed and stare at the wall.

Because what the fuck just happened?

You fucked Jaemin.

Like—actual, real-life, no-going-back, holy-shit-it-finally-happened fucked Jaemin.

It still doesn’t feel real.

Like, there should have been a warning, some kind of celestial sign that this was the day you’d cross that line. Maybe an earthquake. A shooting star. Haechan suddenly becoming abstinent from redbull.

Something.

But instead? You’re here, legs still wobbly, brain still fried, and the most whorish man you’ve ever met is currently leading the leaderboard of the best dick you’ve had in your entire life.

So, naturally, there’s only one thing left to do.

You grab your journal.

Like Haechan’s rating, there isn’t really a system—just gut feelings, raw statistics, and some level of pettiness. But that doesn’t matter.

Pen scratches against the paper as you start taking notes.

Points for multiple orgasms. (Your soul left your body at least twice.)

Points for teasing. (Menace. Absolute menace.)

Points for reassuring you. (Somehow both the softest and filthiest man alive.)

Points for talking you through your orgasm. (What the fuck was that? Like, actually?)

Major points for acting like everything was normal after. (Like he didn’t just ruin you against a wall.)

And finally, points for ordering takeout after. (Chicken nuggets? Unreal.)

After much deliberation, it’s decided. Jaemin receives a 9.3/10.

You pause.

Then suddenly scribble in an extra half point for Haechan and his voyeuristic ass at the library, bumping him up to a 7.9/10.

For a moment, you debate adding Jaehyun. He wasn’t part of the challenge, but keeping a record of all your endeavors might be beneficial.

Beneficial for what, you don’t know.

Still, after a minute of deliberation, you write his name down. And next to it?

1/10. So sad. Too bad.

With a satisfied sigh, you lean back and admire your work.

Congratulations, Jaemin.

You are currently ranked as the number one best fuck in the friend group.

For now.

Everything’s fine.

Everything is jussssst fine.

Except the two boys – your best friends to be precise – are sitting on either side of your body in a densely packed stadium, and perhaps your adrenaline is at an all-time high.

Like, who even cares that you took Haechans virginity. And honestly, fucking Jaemin was going to happen sooner or later…he was running out of fresh bodies on campus.

Right?

Right??

“You want a hotdog?”

Jaemin, clad in an NCTU hockey jersey, turns his attention to you, breaking you out of your thoughts. His pink hair falls into his eyes and you resist the urge to brush it away.

“Thanks, but I’m good.” You mumble. It felt like he’d caught you in something. For a moment, you wonder if he could tell you were slightly panicking.

But if he did, he doesn’t show it. He just gets out of his seat and starts heading up the concrete stairs towards the concession stand.

Haechan watches him leave, voice whiny, “Why didn’t he offer to get me one.”

Alone now, the crowd's buzz envelops you, the distant echo of cheers mingling with the hushed anticipation of halftime. Haechan's disappointment hangs in the air like a lingering question mark, drawing your attention to the empty seat beside you.

“Want to grab one yourself?” you snark, gesturing towards the concession stand where Jaemin disappeared into the crowd.

Haechan huffs, crossing his hands over his chest, “No need to be mean.”

Jaemin returns ten minutes later, clutching a steaming hotdog wrapped in foil. The aroma wafts through the air, triggering a wave of nausea that swirls in your stomach like a tempest. He settles back into his seat beside you, a grin lighting up his face as he unwraps the hotdog with eager anticipation. “Missed out, huh?” he teases, gesturing towards the now-opened concession.

You manage a weak smile, trying to ignore the churning in your stomach. “Yeah, looks like it,” you murmur, your voice strained against the rising discomfort.

As Jaemin takes a bite, relishing the taste of the hotdog, you fight the urge to turn away, the scent overpowering your senses. Each breath feels heavier, laden with the aroma that now threatens to engulf you.

Desperate to escape the suffocating smell, you rise from your seat, a wave of dizziness washing over you. “I think I need some fresh air,” you mutter, your words barely audible over the crowd’s clamor.

Jaemin’s expression shifts, concern flickering across his features as he watches you retreat. “You, okay?” he calls after you, the worry evident in his voice.

You offer a weak nod, a feeble attempt to reassure him as you navigate through the throng of spectators. You don’t notice Haechan following behind until you pass security and step out of the arena doors.

“Hey,” his voice cuts through the cool night air, “You sure you’re okay?”

Your steps falter for a moment, “Yeah,” you manage, your voice a mere whisper against the backdrop of cheering within the arena. “Just needed a breather.”

Haechan nods, his gaze unwavering as he studies you. In the quiet stillness of the night, the distant echoes of the game fade into the background, replaced by the steady rhythm of your shared breaths.

“Thanks for checking on me,” you offer, gratitude genuine in your voice.

A soft smile graces Haechan’s lips, “Just because you’re mean to me doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”

His words hang heavy in the air, and once again, you’re reminded of what Mark said, ‘It meant so much more to him’.

You want to believe that he’s saying this as your friend. That it’s just a friendly gesture and nothing more. But one look at his face tells you it’s not. This is something he’s been wanting to say for a while – and your stomach coils at the thought.

“Haechan.” How were you supposed to navigate this…this rejection. “We can’t do this.”

He doesn’t bother teasing you. Doesn’t bother pretending like he doesn’t know what you mean.

"I know," he murmurs, "I just had to say it." There's a palpable ache in his words, as if they’re restrained. Oh, there’s so much more he wants to say.

"I appreciate you, Haechan," you offer, your voice barely above a whisper.

His gaze meets yours, and you fight the urge to back track on everything you just said. The look is broken beyond repair – his water line already filled with tears that threatened to spill on his honey gold cheeks.

“Y/n.” he starts, taking a step towards you. When he reaches his hand out, aiming to land on the side of your cheek, a touch that was surely to end in a kiss, you take a hesitant step backwards.

“Haechan, don’t,” you murmur, the words catching in your throat like a plea for understanding.

His hand hesitates mid-air, fingers curling back as if recoiling from the sting of rejection. The anguish in his eyes mirrors your own turmoil.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice a fragile thread, "I didn't mean to push you."

You swallow thickly, “We can’t.”

“But we can.” He counters, taking another step towards you. His eyes search yours for any ounce of longing. It couldn’t be one sided. It couldn’t. “Just give me a chance, please.” His voice breaks on the last words and so does your heart.

This was so out of the blue. You came to watch Jeno’s hockey game, and instead you’re breaking your best friend’s heart. Why did you have to be the bad guy all the time.

Haechan reaches for you again and this time you have to brush his hand away. “We can’t.” You affirm. You hated this. “I’m sorry if you’ve gotten the wrong idea­–”

“So, it meant nothing?” His voice is rising, eyes swimming with anger, with hurt, “Everything that happened, everything we did…it meant nothing?”

“It didn’t mean nothing, but we already discussed–”

“Yeah.” He spits angrily. “I remember. Trust me I do. I lay awake at night going over that fucking conversation like clockwork. Over and over and over again. I’ve been getting drunk just to stop thinking about it.” His hands tear at the roots of his hair in frustration, “Fuck, y/n, I can’t get you out of my head and it’s driving me crazy.”

“Haechan…” You want to reach out, give him a hug, get your friend back. Something. Anything.

He takes another step forward, grabbing your shoulders, grip tight with desperation. “Please. I need you. I want you. Fuck, I want you so bad. It’s killing me.” You think he’s about to lean in for a kiss, but he just cocks his head to the side, “Please.”

Your heart clenches as his words hang heavy in the air, the weight of his emotions pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. You're thankful that this side of the stadium laid empty, because onlookers would have made this so much worse.

“It was a one-time thing.” you mumble, voice firm despite the tremble in your words.

“But it wasn’t.” he whispers, “The library, remember? That’s how I know this can’t just be a me thing. You have to feel something too. I know you do.”

 "I..." Your voice falters, the weight of his gaze bearing down on you like a heavy burden. "Haechan, I care about you, but..." The words catch in your throat.

Tears glisten in his eyes as he takes a step back, the anguish written across his face. “Y/n…”

“Don’t say it, please, don’t say it.”

But the words tumble from his lips, a final plea, “Y/n, I love you.”

Everything comes to a crescendo, sounds and thoughts clashing together. The choked sob rips from your throat, and you let it. You let him see the pain you were feeling too. But you couldn’t return his testament. You couldn’t.

“No, you don’t.”

“I do.” His voice is strong, even if the tears were streaming down his face and his throat felt thick, “I do.”

What the hell were you supposed to do. He wasn’t listening to you.

“Haechan, go home.” You plead. He couldn’t keep this up. Not here, not now. But he stands there, rooted in place, his gaze fixed on yours with a fierce determination that sends shivers down your spine.

“You have to feel the same.” He murmurs, more to himself than you.

He wasn’t going to stop this until you broke his heart completely. You might be the villain, but he wasn’t giving you any opportunities to be the hero here.

“I don’t.” You declare, not bothering to look him in the eyes. You couldn’t. “I don’t love you, Haechan. I never did, and I never will. I’m sorry.”

Avoiding his gaze, you hear him laugh bitterly. He spits on the sidewalk and shoves his hands deep into the pockets of his letterman jacket. “Wow.” He breathes, “Jennie was right. You really are a cold, stone-hearted bitch.”

What? Jennie?

You don’t have the opportunity to ask him what he means, because when you look back up, he’s already walking away, his figure fading into the night like a ghost.

He should have never followed you. Should have kept his mouth fucking shut. How could he be so stupid? To think you’d want him the same. What did he expect? That you’d throw yourself at him? That you’d accept him as yours. He should have known girls like you didn’t want to be tied down. Especially not to guys like Haechan.

Tears blur your vision as you watch him go, the weight of his words cutting deeper than you care to admit. You take a shaky breath, willing yourself to hold it together, but the floodgates open, and you're left gasping for air amidst a torrent of emotions.

Haechan's accusation echoes in your mind, a painful reminder of the fractures in your facade, the cracks in your carefully constructed armor. You overthink every word, every action, wondering if you truly deserve the label he's bestowed upon you.

You told him on night one that this wasn’t going to be anything. That it couldn’t. Yet, he was still hopeful. You ruined him.

Amidst the chaos of your thoughts, a flicker of defiance ignites within you—a reminder that you are more than the sum of his accusations, more than the pain etched into his departing figure.

His hurt is not your own.

You just hope you haven’t lost him forever.

With trembling hands, you wipe away the tears, steeling yourself to go back into the stadium. You didn’t want to. You wanted to go home and cry until you passed out with puffy eyes and a stopped-up nose. But Jaemin was waiting for your return, and Jeno needed you as his good luck charm.

You couldn’t disappoint everyone tonight.

When you return to your seat, Jaemin immediately knows something is wrong.

He shoots you a concerned glance, but you brush off his constant questions. You admit that Haechan went home, but you lie, saying it was because he was feeling sick.

As the hockey game continues before you, you find yourself lost in a whirlwind of thoughts, unable to focus on the action unfolding on the ice. Not even when Jeno nearly gets into a fight with the opposing team does it manage to capture your attention. You merely watch the refs get between the clashing boys, holding on to Jeno’s fist that was already bloody from beating on the other guy’s helmet.

Jaemin doesn't press you further either, deciding to leave you alone entirely.

You only half-heartedly clap and cheer when Jeno scores the winning goal, securing victory for the NCTU hockey team. The crowd erupts in hoots and hollers, but your mind remains elsewhere.

As the final buzzer sounds and the crowd begins to filter out of the stadium, you and Jaemin make your way to the plexiglass that separates the rink from the seats. The victory celebrations fade into the background as you focus on finding Jeno amidst the chaos.

Finally spotting him, you and Jaemin exchange a glance before pressing your hands against the cold surface of the plexiglass. Jeno's eyes meet yours, a mixture of exhaustion and triumph reflected in their depths.

"Congratulations," you say, your voice barely above a whisper, but the genuine warmth behind your words is unmistakable.

Jeno offers a tired smile, his fist bumping against the glass in silent acknowledgment.

That was all you could do before his coach started yelling for him to get in the locker room. Watching him skate away, you turn to Jaemin. “You going home?” 

Jaemin looks at you, concern etched into his features. “Yeah, do you need me to walk you home?” he asks gently.

You shake your head, forcing a small smile. “No, I think I’ll wait around for Jeno,” you reply, “You can go ahead.”

Jaemin studies you for a moment, his gaze searching yours for any sign of reassurance. “Are you really okay?” he asks.

He knows something is up. He wished you would just tell him.

You offer a weak nod. “Yeah,” you say quietly. “I just... I don’t really want to talk about it right now.”

Understanding flickers in Jaemin’s eyes as he steps closer, wrapping you in a comforting hug. “I’m here if you need anything,” he murmurs, his voice a soothing balm against the confusion raging within you. You cling to the embrace for a moment longer, drawing strength from the warmth of his presence. And as you pull away, a sense of resolve settles over you.

He walks away with a smile, his steps echoing through the nearly empty stadium. Turning back to the locker room, you wait patiently for Jeno, your heart heavy with anticipation. Minutes stretch into eternity as you watch the hockey players leave one by one, the coach giving you a curious glance but saying nothing.

With a deep breath, you gather your courage and approach the locker room door. “Jeno?” you call out.

The door creaks open, revealing Jeno’s tired face. “Come in,” you hear him say faintly.

You push open the door and see him sitting on a wooden bench surrounded by dark blue, metal lockers. The one in front of his hunched figure is open, hockey gear spilling out. Jeno sits shirtless, nursing the hand that was bleeding earlier.

In the dimly lit locker room, silence hangs heavy between you and Jeno at first, each of you lost in your own thoughts.

“You were amazing out there,” you finally say, breaking the silence. He had been amazing, even if you hadn’t been paying attention – too caught up in Haechan’s admittance.

Jeno meets your gaze, gratitude shining in his tired eyes. “Thank you,” he replies. “The team is going out to celebrate,” he continues, his tone hesitant. “Are you... are you going with us?”

“Didn’t know I was invited,” you laugh.

He cracks a smile too, “Well, I wasn’t going to go, but I will if you go with me.”

You consider it for a second but shake your head. “I’m a bit tired. Probably just gonna go home.”

Jeno nods, “Same. I’ll probably just go back and smoke.”

You sense a shift in the atmosphere of the locker room. Something calmer – less high-tension. Jeno's next words catch you off guard.

“My coach really thinks I’m going to get scouted for the NHL,” he says, a mixture of excitement and apprehension in his voice.

“That’s amazing,” you reply, “It’s everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”

He leans forward and reaches into the locker, retrieving white gauze. Carefully, he unwraps the roll and starts to tightly wind it around his hand. You want to help him, but you didn’t know how. You were far from the medic friend ­– that was Jaemins job.

“I know.” He replies, “Means I gotta be on my best these next few games though.”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine.” You murmur.

He nods but doesn’t say anything, so you decide to sit next to him on the bench. When you sit down, he leans into you. His chest was burning, despite the frigid temperature, and you feel the heat seep through your jersey. Despite playing a long game, he smelled good. Like cologne and mint. A good combo.

He starts humming some random tune, and you find your eyelids drooping. You were beyond tired. Beyond emotions. Beyond words. If anything, you wouldn’t mind staying like this forever. The comforting presence of being beside one of your best friends in the entire world.

Before you know it, Jeno is shaking your shoulder. “Y/n.” He murmurs. You snap your eyes open, and his face was dangerously close to yours, “You dozed off.” A smile breaks out on his face, and a heat creeps up your spine.

“S-Sorry,” you blurt, standing up a little too fast. The room starts to spin and Jeno has to grab your shoulders to keep you from falling down.

“Are you okay?” He questions, eyes piercing your own.

You rub your eyes tiredly, “Yeah, I’m just…fuck, I don’t know Jeno, I just feel off.”

Jeno's brow furrows with concern, and he pulls you into a comforting embrace. In that moment, everything you’ve tried keeping hidden away for the last hour, tumbles out, and you find yourself completely losing it, sobbing uncontrollably against his chest. He doesn't know what to do at first, his arms awkwardly encircling you as you cry. But then, with a gentleness that belies his strength, he brings your face into his hands and asks softly, “Are you okay? What's wrong?”

You shake your head, tears streaming down your face. “I don’t know,” you manage between sobs. “I just... I feel lost, and I don’t know what to do.”

His thumb brushes away your tears, his touch a soothing balm against the storm raging within you. And looking up at him, you realize this is what you need. Not clingy like Haechan, not overly sweet, like Jaemin. You needed strong, steady, understanding.

You needed Jeno.

You don’t know if it’s genuine. Or if it’s the challenge. Or if you just welcomed the distraction, but words are tumbling from your lips before you know it. “Kiss me.”

He's so close. inches away, no, centimeters away. His breath, warm and enticing, mingles with the taste of mint and ice. The room contracts as he leans in. you open your mouth, he opens his.

"I can't, not like this," the words hang, lingering in the air. Tension doesn't dissipate; it transforms, a subtle shift in the locker room. "I'm not Jaemin."

“W-what?”

You may not be Jaemin, but don’t worry Jeno, you’ll get your turn.

A. NOTE. read the the note at the beginning of this post. and don't forget to reblog :)

TAGLIST. @newdeobi @jijihyunah @saintlyhyuck @mrkis @peachjaem00 @angelwonie @aliceinwhateverland @cabaretyun @allaboutthedongs @donutswithjaminthemiddle @bundleleeknow @sunshinedhyuck @kuingjuing @haechanalpha @thiccfullsun @jenoxygen @ishireads @greentealatte97 @aquamxrina @whymarkieyournameismark @marklexleaf @its-taeil-time @j4d @dearj43 @roohnyk @stargrll13 @hykwrld @leeluc @haechie @xuxisins @rainyjeno

[smutallyouwant]

Twice Fic World chp. 7

Twisted Company

Word Count: 2.5k

Mina x M reader, Momo and Sana x M reader

[ Spit play, Hard fucking ]

" Mhhhh, mhhhh, ugh~~ Y/N your dick is just the best " Mina moaned.

You've done your work early as usual and Mina took a time off to let out some steam with you. Mina' s cries of pleasure echoed in the emergency exit as you give her back shots while she held on tight to the steel handrail.

All of your things and clothes were on the floor except Mina' s top.

" Mmrmrhhh, hhhhushh, mhh "

Mina grinned and muffled her moans trying to silence herself. You then reached for her chin and held her face backwards to give her some kisses for her to release the tension.

Her lips were sweet as usual and both your tongue passionately rubs with each other and brings you tingle every time.

" I'm cumming baby, please don't stop, don't stop fucking me even if my body limped from the pleasure, ~~~ughh it feels so fucking good! " Mina pleaded in your face.

" Yes baby I'll keep fucking you until I burst this cum inside you "

" Yess babyy, that's right I'm cumming! I'm cumming! "

Mina covered her mouth to muffle her moans as her body trembles and her knee loses strength. Her eyes rolled in delight, she's now gripping the handrail barely maintaining her balance so you moved her facing the wall. You hugged her tightly and your other arm gripped her waist.

Mina' s sweet juices dripped to the floor and she's now letting her moan out not thinking that someone might hear her.

" Ughhh~~ ughhh~~ fuck, fuck, yessss babyy aaregh ! "

" Do you like fucking me Y/N? " Mina turned and asked with a cute but lustful smile.

" Yes baby, I love fucking you "

" Then cum for me baby, take it all out in my dripping pussy "

" Take it all out in your work slut' s pussy, see I'm still trembling from your dick hehe"

Mina teases you as she trembles from your work. She's been climaxing for a while, her body twitches and her pussy becomes tight as juices flow out in her.

" I'm cumming baby ! "

" Yessss, yesss, cum!cum! Cum already"

" Mhhhhhh~~~ ~~ughhh "

You moaned in unison as you plunged your length deep in her. Cum flowed out from her pussy mixed with her juices as you two made out while maintaining the position.

" That was so good baby "

Mina said after tidying up, you pecked her cheeks and lips more as the two of you hugged for a couple of seconds. You went out first before texting Mina that the outside is clear before both of you went to each other's office.

You waited for your time out while enjoying poker on your desktop and playing some offline games on your phone.

" Hey Y/N, I'll go home now Chae is waiting for me, bye "

Mina went to your block and said goodbye before leaving you with a smirk and a wink.

" Okay Mina, take care " you said with a smile.

You get ready to go home yourself. After arriving home, you took a nap right after taking off your pants.

It was 8:30 in the night when you were awakened by a phone call.

" What the heck, who's calling in this time? " You whispered to yourself.

Oh it's OIC Sana

Hey Y/N, Can you come here? *address* Please come I'll wait for you.

: Okay Sana, I'll be there.

You quickly took a quick bath and wore casual pants and polo. You went to the address and you're welcomed by two women giving you such alluring glances.

" Hi! Y/N ! " Sana greeted you with a smile before approaching you with a hug.

As you hugged Sana and felt her supple bossom, you're checking out the other girl she brought with her.

" Oh, you're... What was your name again? Sorry hehe " You pointed at the girl and apologized.

" Oh it's, Momo. We never talked at work so it's alright that you don't know my name Y/N "

" Oh yeah it's you, Momo "

" She's a friend of mine, I referred her to Jihyo to work for the company" Sana boasted.

" Oh, nice to meet you tonight Momo "

" Let's go Y/N, were drinking together tonight" Sana said as she pulled you by your biceps.

You can feel her side boob touch your skin from her tank top.

" Really? You woke me up from my sleep to have a drink? And I have work tomorrow Sana " you declined.

" Come on Y/N, just tonight pleaseee. Also so you can know Momo more hihi " Sana enticed you with her cute smiles.

" Okayy okayy fine, I guess, I'm not going to drink much okay? "

" Okay Y/N! " Sana excitedly answered.

" Sorry Y/N, my friend here is so high maintenance hahaha" Momo jokingly said.

" Yeah you're right"

" Hey, don't pick a fight on me! " Sana implied with a pinch to your cheeks.

You walked by a dimly lit alley and to an unfamiliar road.

" Btw, where are we going? I don't think there's a bar right around here "

" We're not going to a bar, stupid "Sana teases.

" We're going to Momo's place, we already bought our drinks inside Momo's bag "

Momo then let you take a look in her bag.

" Wow you're really prepared huh "

You arrived inside Sana's apartment and quickly prepared for the drinking sessions on the floor with a low table. Momo brought out roasted chicken legs and wings from her fridge and heated it in her microwave.

Sana took off her blazer polo and set it aside. You can now take glances on her silky white skin and observe her boobs shape from outside her top.

" Wait for me okay, I'll just change my clothes " Momo said to the two of you.

As Momo turned her back Sana faces you.

" Hey Y/N " Sana whispered as she pulled you for a kiss.

It started with some gentle pecks of your lips before it turned into a passionate make out. You grab Sana's neck as she caress your hair. Her lips are as sweet as pie and you can't get enough of her kisses. Your lips traced her chin with kisses falling down through her neck.

Sana just bit her lips and her gaze to you was seductive. But suddenly her grip into your hair loosens and she gently pushes you away.

Momo just arrived with piping hot chicken from the kitchen.

Both of you gave Momo some awkward smiles before Momo sat on the floor and started opening the drinks that they bought.

Sana is clingier as ever, casually hugging your biceps and pressing your legs as the three of you converse on the table.

Time went by and Sana was dizzy and was evidently drunk. Sana just stared at you like a statue for the whole 5 minutes while you talked with Momo about silly things.

" Hey Sana, you can kiss Y/N, you should not hold yourself "

As Momo said this, Sana smiled and pulled you for a make out session. You didn't dare to pull out but your eyes were locked to Momo drinking her shots. It looks like she doesn't mind so you continue on what you're doing.

Sana pulled out the kiss and looked at you with her gloomy and cute eyes. Before taking her shot that Momo made.

" You should tell me how you two ended up like this, aren't that just right Sana? "

" Hahaha yes, I'm sorry Y/N but Momo knows that we fucked in the office "

You were shocked and asked how she knows.

" Well I just told her hahaha, I told her that I fucked someone in the company and that I'll invite him to drink tonight, it was you Y/N " Sana said.

" I never thought it was Y/N, because she have a girlfriend"

" Ohhhh, hehehe " you said as you scratch your head.

" Aren't Mina your girlfriend? " Momo asked with a puzzled face.

" Uhmmm... no, it's just how we act together",

" That's it huh, so she's the one that joined you and Sana? "

Sana laughed as Momo deducted it all.

" My friend Jihyo, the company owner told me that she has a man that replaced me in sucking her boobs, it's kinda sad so I went to know who it is " Momo explained.

" Hey Momo, Y/N love big boobs, show him yours " she added.

" Huh? What? No it's alright Momo " you said in disbelief.

" It's alright Y/N we're all adults here, take a good look "

Momo said as she lower her tank top's straps and lowered it revealing her plump bosomy boobs.

" It's definitely big, I say it's close to Jihyo's but it's much more plump I love it"

" See he loves it already hahaha " Sana teased you.

You pulled Sana and put her on your lap. You caress her ass and pushes it the way that she grinds on your bulge.

" Let me get this off " Sana muttered as she unbuttoned your pants and removed it.

She's now grinding on her own as your arms linger on her back and thighs.

" Want to see my boobs too? "

" Yess please " you said with a smile.

Sana removed her top showing her perky tits that she made you suckle. Her grinding intensifies and her arms are wrapped in your head.

Momo grabbed the bottle of the gin that is nearly empty and drank all of its content before crawling near your face.

Sana grabbed you for a deep kiss and guided you to kiss her shoulders next.

" What can you say Momo? Aren't he good looking? "

" Yeah, he's not too bad "

Sana then palmed your face and guided it facing Momo, her tongue invaded your mouth, and your body responded to it naturally. After being satisfied with the kiss she bumped her boobs into your face ordering you to worship them.

You immediately obliged. Both your hands groped her tits as you suckle on her nipples simultaneously.

" That's it Y/N, show me how you love my titties "

While you're working on Momo, Sana takes the opportunity to lick and kiss every inch of your body. She first teases your nipples before going down and lucking up your toned abs. Sana is obviously a big 'abs ' girl, she massages your abs while licking them feeling every bump and corner that it has.

Momo switches to deep passionate kissing once in a while as Sana unbuckled your pants showing how hard you are even with your boxers on. She immediately removed them exposing your pumping hard dick.

" God I missed this so much "

Sana whispered before licking its head and shaft. She gently kissed your length covering it completely with her saliva before giving it some good sucking. You and Momo watched her as she gave you a passionate blowjob, her face shows how she loves sucking your big dick. She's not taking it too deep but her blowjob skills compensate for it. Her tongue swirls and licks the head every time she suckles it out, her checks gently presses your dick in between them but with accurate pressure that it doesn't hurt but feels too good. The stimulation makes your breath heavy and Momo anticipated that you're cumming. Momo caressed your back and she leaned towards you to suck your nipples adding pleasure to your body.

" Just like that Sana, I'm cumming "

Sana didn't dare to stop but kept the pace she was doing. As cum spurts in her mouth she kept on sucking but slowed down the pace to not overstimulate you. Cum kept on spraying on her mouth but nothing spilled in her mouth. She skillfully swallowed every batch of your cum every stride of her mouth.

" Was that good Y/N? " Momo asked as Sana kept on doing her work.

You nodded.

" Is my kiss good?" She added.

" Yes it was sweet and a little bit spicy "

" Then open your mouth " she commanded.

You obliged and she palmed your cheeks as she leaned forward and took out her tongue. Saliva dripped on it and you happily took it and swallowed it, it was weirdly good. Momo gently pulled in her tongue collecting more of her mouth water and out again for your another drink. After taking it, Momo made you suck her tongue.

" Very good Y/N, was that good? "

You nodded.

You did not know that you had this kink before having what had happened now.

" Is my blowjob really that good daddy? " Sana asked.

" Yes Sana it was so fucking good "

" Just call me baby, and we'll call you daddy "

" No, I'll call him my good boy. Is that right my good boy? " Momo asserted.

You nodded.

" Do you like my spit? "

" Yes Mo... "

Momo put a finger on your lips.

" Call me noona "

" Yes noona "

" Good boy "

Sana wasn't happy at all, she quickly removed her bottom and rode your dick that is already hard again. Momo positioned herself on the side and made you lay on your back. Momo stimulates your hard nipples again as Sana works in bouncing on your dick.

" Fuckk~~ it's so deep daddy it feels so good"

" I can't take it anymore " Momo mumbled.

" I'll sit on you okay? You'll drink my pussy juice this time "

Momo sat on your face, Sana switched into rocking motion as she leaned on Momo's back and fondled her boobs.

" Your boobs are so nice Momo, it makes me so comfortable " Sana teases Momo before giving her shoulders and neck some kisses.

You suckled Momo's clit and inserted your tongue in her pussy licking the top part of her insides, that made her moan in pleasure.

" Yes yes, just like that, ughh~~ good boy "

Momo started grinding gently on your face. Sana stimulates Momo's body, two women using your body to pleasure themselves.

" Yesshhh~ yeshhhh it's coming " Momo moaned.

" I'm cumming too baby! " Sana added.

The two of them began rocking their hips intensely.

" Aaaahgh!!! Uaarrghhhh! "

Momo screeched as she lifted hed hips up and squirted just above your head. A few pussy juice drips on your face but you don't mind at all. You just closed your eyes and did not breathe so you won't drown. Sana on the other hand plunged your dick deep in her tightening pussy and squirted on the spot.

" Ughhhh~ fuckkk that was so good "

Sana moaned as she trembled in pleasure, her pinch on Momo's nipples hardened.

" You ate me so good Y/N , that was really good " Momo said as she catch her breath and fixes her hair.

" Yeshhh it was so good "

Sana said as she pulled herself out of your dick, she was shaking.

" Whooo! Let me rest a bit " Sana implied.

" Then rest, I'll take his dick finally "

The three of you went to Momo's room where you fucked Momo from the back.

" Fuck it was really big, I'm full of your cock baby boy "

You pulled Momo's hair that made her scream she stared at you with an annoyed grin mixed with lust.

" I'm not your good boy, when I'm fucking you, you're my slut okay? I'm your daddy, you understand? "

Momo nodded.

" Then say it "

" Yes daddy, I'm your little fuck slut "

" Good girl "

You spat on her face, Momo was shocked but she instinctively collected the spit with her fingers and sucked on them.

" Fuck that was hot " you whispered

You repeated it two more times before you spat on your palm and painted Momo's face with your spit.

" Open your mouth "

Momo obliged and you used three of your fingers to play with her mouth. You gathered her saliva and made Sana suckle on your fingers.

" Slap my face daddy, punish your little slut"

You wasted no time shaping her well in the face. You slapped a few more times with your back hand and every time you did, her insides tightened and she couldn't help but scream her moans. After a few seconds, you felt a warm liquid flow through your dick, and Momo was trembling from pleasure.

" How dare you reach your climax before me you fucking bitch "

You then fucked her fast and you grabbed her cheeks to her mouth.

" I'll cum inside you, take it all! "

Momo's inside tightened up as you cum inside her.

" Good girl, good job tightening your pussy as I cum here's your reward"

You leaned towards her to give her a spoonful of your saliva.

" Let me have too! " Sana said

You gave her some of it too.

" You two share it "

Momo and Sana made out as you rest from the side, after catching your breaths you joined them and the three of you made out for a couple of minutes.

" That's so fucking hot, I can't believe how hard you're going with Momo "

" That's how she likes it, I loved it too though, right Momo? "

" Yess, fuck I didn't expect your dick to be that big and that good "

" What the fuck Y/N, are you planning to make a harem at our company? Hahahaha " Sana jokingly said and three of you laughed.

As much as you want to fuck the two of them a few more times, you still have to rest and work tomorrow. You made that clear to Sana earlier so she let you leave after waving goodbye to the two of them.

The next day...

You arrived early at the office intending to finish your work early again. You went directly into your block desk.

" Hey Y/N you're so early today "

Momo greeted you and it looks like she waited for you besides your desk.

" There's still no people in here at this time, would you like me to suck you off? I didn't get a chance yesterday"

" Fuck, okay let's to that, we have 20 minutes at most so you better be good at it "

" You bet, take it out and I'll start "

END

[thewitchblue]

"Did you join the fucking military?"

Jason asked Tim, who blinked blankly at Jason until he noticed what he was holding. Jason was holding your military tags, which Tim's selfishly kept to himself when you "lost" them. Technically, he stole the tags from you, but you can always get a new set. You'll be matching! He did feel a little bad that you got in trouble with leadership when you asked for new ones, but he's sure you'd be fine without the old pair.

"No."

Tim didn't elaborate further. The tags have practically lived on him since he stole them. He only ever takes them off for showers, which is how Jason found them. Jason scoffed,

"Good. You'd be a shit soldier. Why do you have military dog tags?"

Tim tried to take them back, but Jason held them above his head. Your dog tags are air jailed until he gets answers. Jason needed to know.

"Answer or I'll find a place to smelt them down."

Tim knew he was serious by the gleam in Jason's eyes, so he said,

"My girlfriend is in a special forces unit for the marines. She refuses to tell me which unit she's in, but I've narrowed it down."

Jason was too stunned to notice that he dropped your dog tags. Tim snatched them off the floor and put them safely around his neck again and tucked under his shirt where they belonged. He likes to say that you're closer to his heart with your tags under his shirt with the bonus of protecting him from any potential bullets. Even when you are gone, you promise that you will always come back. He's used to your deployment and the limbo you have him in.

"When do I get to meet her?"

Dick said from the doorway. He was passing by and overheard. His little Timmy has a girlfriend? When did that happen?

Tim touches the tags while thinking of what to reveal and what to keep private. He's never been good at respecting privacy, but he has been learning for you. He knows to keep anything you say to him a secret, but what about other things relating to you?

"Whenever she wants. I'm not her keeper."

Tim answered vaguely. He's flying to see you soon, and he doesn't want to be followed. You've been together for three years, but you met kind of awkwardly. You tackled him to the ground and wrestled with him after mistaking him for one of your friends.

Your willpower eventually overcame his reflexes, and he stopped struggling. You had laughed when you pinned him down and ruffled his hair in victory. It was embarrassing to him how quickly he submitted to you. He watched your eyes widen when you noticed he's not your friend. You took in the scene too slowly. You, straddling who you had assumed was your friend with your hands pinning his wrists to both sides of his head, and Tim blushing underneath you. Tim didn't know how to react either, so you both stared at each other before you started awkwardly apologising.

Tim was a mess, but he was an adorable mess. His hair was ruffled, and his clothes were wrinkled, but there were no bruises nor any scrapes. You were always careful to leave no injuries. He was breathless, just staring at you with wide eyes and a shyness that almost made you smile. He was so cute that you wanted to squish him.

You quickly got off of him once you realised how long you've been staring at him. You pulled him up from the ground when he didn't make a move to stand by himself and actually almost fell right back to the ground because his legs refused to work for him. He was understandly stunned.

This is awkward. How do you explain the tradition of you fighting your friend on sight? Your friend does the exact same thing with you. It was excellent training for your deployment to fight each other on sight without any prep. Enemy soldiers aren't going to reveal themselves before attacking, so surprise attacks help keep your reflexes sharp.

"Sorry. I thought you were someone else."

He couldn't get the image of you pinning him down out of his head. Nobody has ever pinned him down so intimately. You were gentle. Your hold would have been easy to break out of if he didn't stop struggling. It was like you only played until one of you got pinned, and then the fight was over.

Tim was still trying to remember how to function. What does he do? What does he say? He's all shaken up. He had to look away from you. He managed to say,

"It's fine."

He tried to sound like it was no big deal, but it sounded strained. He was pretending like the wrestling really took it out of him by fake panting, but you both knew better. You narrowed your eyes suspiciously, but pat his back and attempted to leave.

Attempted, being the key word. Tim caught your wrist loosely and nervously said,

"I, uh... would you... Can we... Let's... I'm sorry."

He didn't have the words with you looking at him like that. He was nervous. You smiled softly at him, and he forgot how to speak entirely. He could only stare until you took the initiative and asked him to go on a date before you leave for boot camp. He nodded, and that was that. You gave him your number and continued your run like nothing happened.

The date went amazing. It was a bit unconventional as you took him to a paint gun fight after showing him the gun and explaining the rules. You grinned every time he landed a hit and even wiped away the paint that splattered onto him with a fond expression. You opened up about the fear you have about joining the military, but your desire to help. You want to make a difference, however small or large that may be.

You kissed the bruising wounds softly and banaged the bleeding ones before he could even reach for the first aid kit you brought. You helped him up with a wild grin, and he kissed you until the adrenaline ran out. The guns were empty, and you both were messes, but your hearts were full, and Tim can safely say he hates paintballing. You took him to see a movie like a normal person next date.

Jason and Dick watched their brother soften further and further as he went down memory lane. Dick was ecstatic and already plotting to meet you, but Jason was confused why anybody would date Tim. Yeah, he's had his fair share of partners, but he's surprised every time he gets a date, let alone a girlfriend.

You were his mystery girl, and their family loves a good mystery.

[nerdygirlramblings]

someone's in a rut 🤭 and we meet Ren's family (part 1)

a/n: part of this chapter inspired by Broken Beyond Bearing by @lostintransist and by comments from @pyxrin

cw: poorly executed accents, omegaverse biology, heat/rut cycles

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Days begin to blur together. A run followed by infiltration and exfil trainings on the moon (what the others called the rubble-strewn field). Or weight training and asset retrieval in the brick, the windowless building in the hangar, before sparring. Grift work, your own term for information retrieval, before the shooting range. Never the same thing two days in a row. On rare occasions, either Soap or Gaz had you along while training recruits. It was the closest thing to working with your old squad.

And each time, just as you find your footing with the advanced field training, Price introduces new elements: time restraints, 'enemy' combatants. You have never felt as lost before, so unsure of your place. The only thing that keeps it from being completely disheartening isn't Gaz's reassurances or Price's praise or Soap's compliments. It's Adam. It's stopping in to requisition a windcheater in your size and hearing how you made it out of the brick faster than Ghost or how Soap struggled for a long time with grift work. It's confirmation from an outside, and thus unbiased, source that your progress is fine. That they won't regret asking for you.

Until Price calls you into his office. All you can think about is how you didn't know about the standardized step size and the trouble it caused on the moon. Or how you went three rounds without finding the needed intel before Price called time. That Soap teasingly pointed out, "Yer thinkin' tae hard," like saying it will make you get out of your own head even though it's all you know how to do. Crowded pubs and loud, dark clubs flash in your memory, each one a failed attempt to manipulate a mark.

You're sure he's going to put you back into the rank and file. Who needs a woman, and an omega at that, who can't master the basic things the task force needs to do. You're terrified and heartbroken before you even get into his office.

The desk seems more imposing than ever, and Price's face, for the first time, is unreadable. Even his scent is locked down, no dying ember smell wafting around. He's smiling, but you've been taking pseudo acting classes from him for more than a fortnight. The smile could easily hide his intentions.

He clears his throat, and you pull your gaze from where you'd been staring at your hands. For the first time since you met the man, Price seems nervous. He reaches up, scratching his beard and running his hand over his scent gland. "Er, we 'ave some leave coming, me an' the others, and I wan'ed ta see if ya'd like to stay here or go home?"

A long moment passes before you respond. "I'm not sure I understand, sir. You take leave tagether, but I'd go home?" The furrow between your brows deepens. Before he can clarify, you ask what's been eating at you. "Is this yer way 'a transferrin' me off the team?" Even you can hear the plea in your voice. Please don't let me go.

"Oh, Ren, no! No. Tha's not what this is," he rushes to say. The blush that creeps up his neck is a surprise. Is he embarrassed?

"'S just, well, we try not to use suppressants unless we're on a mission. Fucks too much wi' the body's natural rhythm, yeah? Throws off anyone on 'em too long." You nod in understanding. If you didn't have such a bad reaction to them - foggy thoughts and slow movements - you'd prefer to be on suppressants all the time. Instead, when your heart hits, you take yourself to medical for a heat-induced isolation. They're horrendous on the system, but it's a short-term problem while you're in the service, though your omega purrs that a pack would remedy that problem.

"So, er, we made the decision years ago to take our leave together when, er, one of the alphas has a rut." He's fully blushing now, and you get it. He's just told you either he or Ghost - he didn't specify, and betas like Gaz and Soap don't have ruts- is going to lose themselves to their base instincts soon.

You're quiet through all these revelations, and he plows ahead, only the faintest hint of ozone in the air to alert you to his distress. "Simon's rut is in another week or so, so we'll take leave from this Wednesday ta the following Friday ta give everyone a cushion on either end for prep and recovery." The room feels warmer, and you know it's because your own internal temperature is spiking, your omega excited about the idea of Simon's knot.

"So, er, ye'll all be gone, sir?" you clarify, forcing your omega to think of other things.

He nods, a hint of smoke in the air. You can smell his distress dissipating, replaced slowly by ease and contentment. "Yes. We 'ave a place on the edge 'a the Lakes. We'll head there and be back after the rut. Adam said yer dad's due with a litter soon?"

The idea that Adam shared that bit of your family with Price puts you on edge until he adds, "Adam suggested ya take leave when we do but go an' see yer family." He rushes to add, "If ya want."

Now it's your turn to be embarrassed. Once again, it's Adam to the rescue. It warms you down to your center that Adam made such a thoughtful recommendation to Price and that Price took it. If you hadn't heard it yourself, you'd think he was takin' the piss.

"Yes, sir," you stammer, lost at what else you could say to this plan. "That would be lovely. I know my family pack will be happy ta have me home."

next

~~

taglist: @sirbonesly @z-wantstowrite @thriving-n-jiving @cecelia97 @theycallmevalen @boogeysmoth @cryingpages @riley13 @luxylucylou @lucienofthelakes @ilyztwo @chaosundcoffee @lostintransist @thegreyjoyed @honestlymassivetrash @thebumbqueen @maliamaiden

[woozinhos]

Js thinking about gym bro shua 😮‍💨😮‍💨

Notes: hope you enjoyyy gonna be hooked on gym idols now fr

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.

Joshua had been working out a lot lately, and you could tell by the way his muscles bulged under his shirt. You had noticed him sneaking off to the gym after work more often than usual, but you hadn't realized just how much it was affecting him. One night, after a long day at work, you found yourself pinned against the wall by him. His hands were on your hips, holding you in place as he pressed his body against yours.

"I've been waiting all day to get you alone," he growled, his breath hot against your ear. "I need you so badly." You could feel his hardness pressing against your thigh, and you knew he was serious.

"Someone's been working out a lot," you teased, running your hands over his chest. "You're all muscle now." Joshua chuckled, his grip on your hips tightening. "You have no idea," he said, his voice low and rough. "I've been putting in extra time at the gym, working out until I'm exhausted."

He leaned in and nipped at your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. "And I've been thinking about you the whole time. Imagining what I'd do to you when I finally had you alone." You moaned as he began to kiss and suck on your neck, leaving a trail of love bites in his wake. "And what do you want to do to me?" you asked, your voice breathless.

"I want to take you right here against this wall," Joshua said, his hands sliding down to your thighs. "I want to show you just how strong I've gotten." He lifted you up effortlessly, wrapping your legs around his waist. You gasped as you felt the cold wall against your back, the rough texture sending shivers down your spine.

"You're so light," he murmured, his lips moving down to your collarbone. "I could hold you up all night if I wanted to." And boy he wasn’t lying. Joshua's stamina was incredible, and he proved it as he held you up against the wall for what felt like hours. He pounded into you relentlessly, his muscles straining with the effort of keeping you in place. You clung to him desperately, your nails digging into his shoulders as he hit all the right spots inside you. "Joshua," you moaned, your head thrown back in ecstasy. "You're going to break me."

Joshua smirked, clearly enjoying the way you were falling apart in his arms. "You can take it," he grunted, his pace never faltering. "I know you can. You're my good girl, aren't you?" You nodded, unable to form a coherent sentence as he continued to drive you to the edge. The wall behind you was creaking under the force of his thrusts, and you were sure it was going to give way at any moment.

"I'm gonna make you cum so hard," he promised, his voice thick with lust. "You're going to scream my name and beg for more." You couldn't hold back any longer, the pleasure building inside you until it exploded like a supernova. You screamed his name as you came, your body trembling in his arms. Joshua held you through it, his hips still moving as he chased his own release. He groaned as he felt you clenching around him, his thrusts becoming more erratic.

"That's it, baby," he panted. "Cum for me again. I'm not done with you yet." You were oversensitive and overstimulated, but Joshua didn't stop. He kept going, his thrusts becoming slower and deeper as he neared his own climax.

"I can feel you shaking," he said, his voice hoarse. "You're so sensitive. I love it." He captured your lips in a heated kiss, swallowing your moans as he fucked you against the wall. His grip on your thighs was almost bruising now, but you didn't care. You were too lost in the pleasure to even think about anything else. Finally, with one last deep thrust, Joshua came undone. He buried himself inside you as he released, filling you with his hot seed. He panted heavily, his forehead resting against yours as he tried to catch his breath.

"Fuck," he whispered, slowly lowering you back down to the ground. "That was... incredible." You clung to him, your legs shaking too much to support your weight. You could feel his cum dripping down your thighs, and you knew you were going to be sore in the morning. Joshua scooped you up into his arms and carried you to the bedroom, laying you down gently on the bed. He crawled in beside you, pulling you close to his chest.

"You did so well," he murmured, running his fingers through your hair. "You took everything I gave you." You snuggled into him, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you. "You're going to have to carry me around for a week now," you joked, your voice hoarse from screaming.

[snowysosturn]

Fire & Desire - Matt Sturniolo Part 22

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22

Pairing: Y/n x Matt Sturniolo

Summary: Y/n has always clashed with Matt. Despite working for Chris’s clothing brand and being close with Nick, her relationship with Matt has always been tense at best. While being forced to be around each other more, their animosity turns into something deeper. Can they overcome their differences, or will their fiery emotions tear them apart?

Warnings: Angst, tension, feeling of betrayal, mentions of loss of appetite, arguments, this ones a looooooong one

The sun is beginning its slow descent by the time I finally drag myself out of bed. My body feels heavy, like I’ve been carrying the weight of the world in my chest. I need something, anything, to ground me, and right now, a cup of tea sounds like the only thing that might help.

That’s the plan. Go to the kitchen, make it, and come straight back up to my room. I’ll sit on my balcony and watch the last bits of sunlight disappear while I think about what to do next.

 But my main goal: avoid Matt.

I slip out of my room, moving as quietly as possible. The last thing I want is to draw attention to myself. The house is silent apart from the distant murmur of voices outside on the patio. I catch a glimpse through the window, figures sitting around, but I can’t make out exactly who. Not that it matters. I’m not stopping to find out.

The only sound that gives away my presence is the low whirl of the kettle. I stand there, staring at it as it heats up, feeling every second drag out like an eternity. I grab a mug and put the tea bag in it so as soon as it clicks off, I can pour the water and milk, moving quickly but carefully. Just get in, get out.

Successfully, I make my tea. 

Mission accomplished. 

Now, I just need to make it back upstairs.

But just as I start up the steps, the sound of the patio door sliding open sends a jolt of panic through me. 

Shit.

I don’t even turn to see who it is, I just pick up my pace, practically going up the steps two at a time.

I reach the top of the stairs and turn the corner, then..

BAM.

I nearly spill my tea everywhere as I slam into someone, my breath catching in my throat. I look up, and my stomach drops.

Matt.

For a split second, time slows. His eyes lock onto mine, searching, but I don’t give him the chance. Like I’m on autopilot, my feet keep moving, my mouth stays shut, and I walk right past him without a single word.

I don’t stop. I don’t hesitate. I reach my room, step inside, and lock the door behind me.

I let out a shaky breath, gripping my mug a little tighter. I try my best to shake it off. It was just a few seconds. Just an unfortunate encounter in a house that now feels way too small.

I know I’m going to have to face him sooner or later. There’s no avoiding it forever. But I’m not ready right now, not for a one on one, not for the inevitable conversation.

So, instead of dwelling on it, I step onto the balcony. The sun is slowly dropping lower, so I sit here and try an appreciate the sky, and for the first time all day, I feel like I can breathe..

Until there's a knock at my door.

I freeze.

No. No, no, no. If this is Matt, I swear to god.

But then I hear a familiar voice from the other side of the door.

“Y/n? It’s me.”

Nick.

Relief washes over me so quickly it almost knocks me over. I exhale, setting my tea down on the small table before walking back inside. I hesitate for just a second before unlocking the door.

Nick steps into the room, his expression soft but searching mine. "How you doing?"

I shrug lightly, forcing a small smile. "I'm okay.. I just made a cup of tea. Was gonna sit out on the balcony while the sun sets."

Nick nods, his eyes flicking toward the open balcony doors. "Mind if I sit with you?"

"Of course not" I say, stepping aside so he can follow me out.

We settle into the chairs. The silence between us is comforting, a huge difference to the chaos of the past twenty four hours.

After a minute, Nick clears his throat. "I ran into Matt coming up the stairs."

My body stiffens, fingers tightening around my mug. "Oh."

“I just asked if he had spoken to you yet, and he said no."

I huff out a breath, looking back toward the view. I take a slow sip of my tea before turning back to Nick. "So, what's your plan for the night?"

He leans back in his chair, stretching his legs out in front of him. "I'm gonna go meet that guy."

I raise an eyebrow. "That guy? You’ve been talking about him for days, and I still don’t even know his name."

Nick hesitates, his expression shifting slightly. He looks at me like he's bracing for something.

I narrow my eyes. "Nick.. what?"

He winces, rubbing the back of his neck. "His name is.. George."

For a second, we just stare at each other. Then, at the exact same moment, we both burst out laughing.

"George?!" I manage between laughs.

"I know! I know!" Nick groans, covering his face. "I was hoping you wouldn’t ask."

"I'm sorry, but that’s just- " I laugh harder, shaking my head.

Nick grins, finally giving in. "I know I never pictured myself with a George but I swear, the way he is makes up for it though!"

"I'm sure it does.." I say, still giggling. "It's just.. George."

We end our fit of laughter and I don’t bother asking what everyone else’s plans are, especially after overhearing Chris earlier. My guess is he’s going to meet Rachel. Whether Matt tags along to meet Christina too is a different story. I don’t want to know. All I know is that I’m not moving from this room.

Nick doesn’t press the conversation any further, and I appreciate that. Instead, we sit there, laughter lingering in the air between us. I'm glad Nick came into me because suddenly I feel a little bit lighter.

Eventually, he checks his phone and sighs. "I should probably start getting ready."

I nod, still staring at the sunset. "Yeah. Have fun."

Nick hesitates for a second before standing. "You sure you’re good?"

I glance at him, offering a small smile. "Yeah, I’m good." I mean it is a lie, but he doesn’t call me out on it.

He squeezes my shoulder before heading out. I exhale, setting my empty mug down on the table beside me. I know I should eat something, try to distract myself, maybe even attempt to sleep, but I don’t move. I stay curled up in my chair, staring at the fading sky, wondering how everything changed so fast.

When I finally move to my bed, I pull the covers up around me, but even laying here feels weird. The sheets feel awful against me now, tainted with memories that once brought comfort but now only make my stomach churn. My mind spirals, picturing how easily our history could be replicated in his bed, with someone else. The thought makes my chest tighten, and I squeeze my eyes shut, wanting it all to stop.

I take a deep breath, then another, but it doesn’t help. My mind keeps circling back to the same place, the same questions, the same ache in my chest that refuses to go away. How could he do this? Did any of it mean anything? Was I just another passing moment for him?

I need to make it stop.

I turn onto my side, curling into myself, exhausted from it all. Being honest, my eyes hurt that much from crying, I don’t find it hard to fall asleep.

I wake up the next morning determined to be a new woman. I have a shower to wash away all of yesterday's sorrow, before pulling out the smallest blue bikini I could find. I make my way downstairs and throw myself together a small breakfast, considering I haven't eaten in over 24 hours but not forcing myself too much as my appetite still isn't fully back yet.

I take my breakfast outside to the patio and I settle onto a lounger, my plate resting on my lap. The villa is silent. Everyone must still be asleep, sleeping off their drunken choices, their reckless mistakes.

Good. I need the peace.

I take a slow bite of my food, staring out at the water. The pool glistens under the morning light, the water undisturbed. Today is a new day. A fresh start.

I adjust my sunglasses and stretch out after putting my plate under my lounger, determined to soak in the sun and let it warm the parts of me that feel cold and bitter. If anyone sees me out here, I want them to see that I’m unbothered. That I’m fine.

A few minutes pass in silence before I hear the sliding door creak open behind me. I don't turn to look. I don't react.

I realise it’s Nate and Nick coming out, both looking more awake than I expected.

"Morning" they say in unison, and I greet them with a small smile “Morning early birds.”

I turn to Nick first. "Soooo? How was your night with George?"

Nick rubs the back of his neck, and I can tell he’s holding back his excitement for my sake. "It was good" he says simply.

I narrow my eyes at him. "Nick."

He sighs, then finally lets the grin slip through. "Okay, fine. It was great, actually. We got drinks, had a laugh. He’s funny, really easy to talk to."

I smile at him, genuinely happy. "That’s what I like to hear. You deserve a good time."

Nick gives me a look, like he’s checking if I really mean it. I do. Just because my love life is a disaster doesn’t mean I want everyone else to be miserable with me.

I turn to Nate next. "And what about you? What were you up to?"

Nate stretches his arms over his head, looking far too well rested. "Didn’t move from my bed. Best sleep I’ve had in weeks."

I laugh. "Of course you did. You look like you just got back from a spa retreat while the rest of us look like we barely survived the night."

The three of us settle into conversation, and for a moment, I let myself enjoy the lightness of it. But in the back of my mind, I know this moment won’t last. The rest of the villa is still asleep, for now. And soon enough, I’ll have to face the reality I’ve been trying to avoid.

"Is Chris up?" I ask Nate, trying to sound casual.

Nate shakes his head. "Don’t think he even came back here last night."

I swallow hard, nodding slowly. "Oh right"

There's been no sign of Matt either. That tells me everything I need to know.

Guess that means he went out with Chris and stayed with Christina last night again.

I should’ve expected it, but expecting something doesn’t make it hurt any less.

For the rest of the morning, it stays just me, Nick, and Nate chilling outside. The sun climbs higher, and the villa remains quiet, no sign of Chris or Matt. I sip on my water, listening to the distant waves crashing on the shore, slipping in and out of conversation with Nick and Nate as a distraction.

By midday, that peacefulness is interrupted. I hear the sliding door open, followed by the sound of footsteps approaching.

I lift my head slightly, peering through my sunglasses. Chris and Matt step outside together. Just seeing them like this, together, appearing at the same time, only further confirms what I already knew. 

Matt was with Christina last night.

I can feel my heart break over again, but I refuse to let it show.

Without a word, I rest my head back down on the lounger, keeping my sunglasses on, blocking them out. I’m not ready for any type of conversation. Not yet.

Nate and Nick casually greet them, like nothing is out of the ordinary. Chris stretches, rubbing the back of his neck, and asks if anyone’s hungry.

My stomach twists at the thought of food. The second I saw Matt, my appetite vanished again. So I keep my mouth closed.

Nate says he is and disappears inside with them, leaving just me and Nick alone by the pool.

The quiet settles between us for a moment before Nick turns to me. “Are you coming to dinner tonight?” His tone sounds like he wants me to be there, even though he understands If I don’t want to.

I hesitate. The idea of sitting at a table with Matt, pretending everything is fine, feels impossible. I open my mouth to say no, but Nick is already cutting me off.

“You don’t have to talk to him at all” he reassures me. “I’ll be there the whole time.”

I exhale, chewing on my bottom lip. I do feel bad if I don’t go. It’s just dinner, right? I mean, the tension between Matt and I is like old times, nothing I haven’t had to deal with or experience before. The only thing is, the feeling in my chest is a hundred times worse than it ever was before.

“Okay” I finally say. “I’ll come.”

Nick grins, tapping my arm lightly. “We’ll have a good time, I promise.”

I nod, but the weight in my chest doesn’t lift.

By now, it’s nearly 3pm, and the sun has drained me but nowhere near as much as the situation with Matt has. The exhaustion clings to me, both physical and emotional, and I know if I don’t rest now, I’ll be useless later.

“I think I’m gonna go for a nap” I mumble, pushing myself up from the lounger.

Nick gives me a small smile. “Good idea. I’ll wake you if you’re not up in time.”

I nod again, grateful, and make my way inside. The second I hit my bed, the world around me fades.

When I wake up, the air in my room feels heavier, the remnants of my dreams still in my brain. I shake them off and head straight for the shower.

By the time I step out, wrapped in a towel, I feel better. Maybe, tonight won’t be as bad as I think.

I walk out and go to sit at the vanity, but I feel like I need to lift the vibe even more.

A drink and music.

That’s what I need if I have any chance of enjoying myself tonight.

Still in my towel, I make my way downstairs, moving quickly so I don’t run into anyone. I pour myself a vodka lemonade, throwing pieces of ice into the fancy glass.

Running back up to my room, I shut the door, take a sip, and set my speaker on full blast. I turn on It’s ok, i’m ok by Tate McRae, the lyrics hitting a little too close to home. I let the music drown out my thoughts as I start getting ready, determined to feel like myself again, even if it’s just for tonight.

I move through my routine on autopilot, letting the music and the slight buzz from my drink carry me through. I’m not overthinking my outfit, my makeup, or my hair, yet somehow, when I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I look effortlessly put together. Maybe it’s the lighting, maybe it’s the fact that I’ve just given up on caring, but either way, I feel like this is the best I’ve ever looked.

I pick up my phone and text Nick, asking him to come to my room to take pictures. It barely takes a minute before he’s knocking on my door, slipping inside with an approving grin.

“Damnnnn!” he says, dragging the word out. “You look amazing.”

I roll my eyes, but I can’t help the smile that creeps onto my lips. “You have to say that.”

“I really don’t” he laughs, already pulling his phone out. “We need evidence of this moment.”

We take a few pictures together, Nick hyping me up between shots, making me laugh just enough to keep it natural.

When we’re satisfied with the pictures, I wonder where it is we’re actually going to eat. “So, where are we even going for dinner?”

“Some Italian place Chris booked” Nick says, glancing at his phone. “He said he made the reservation earlier.

I nod, I love italian food, so I’m hoping this whole thing is just easy. I grab my purse, double checking that I have everything, phone, keys to the villa, money. I take a deep breath before heading downstairs with Nick.

The moment we step into the foyer, I see them. Chris, Nate, and Matt are all standing together, talking casually like nothing has changed, like the last few days haven’t flipped my world upside down. Matt looks up first. For the briefest second, our eyes meet, and I swear I see something flash across his face, it’s something, but I can’t make out what. But I don’t let myself dwell on it.

I adjust the strap of my purse on my shoulder, forcing my expression to remain neutral. This is the closest I’ve been to Matt since the nightclub, since everything, but I refuse to let it get to me. Not tonight.

I tilt my chin up slightly, gripping onto my confidence like it’s my lifeline, and step forward like I don’t have a care in the world.

I stay locked in conversation with Nick as we leave the villa to make our way to the restaurant, trying to distract myself from the tension in the air. Chris lingers back slightly, eventually matching my pace as we walk. His presence next to me is quiet at first, almost hesitant, before he finally speaks.

"You okay?" His voice is low, careful, like he already knows the answer but feels the need to ask anyway.

It’s a weird one. I haven't heard from Chris since everything went down. He’s been distant, not in a hostile way, but in a way that tells me he didn’t know how to approach me. And now, here he is, finally asking.

I glance at him briefly, weighing my response before settling on, "I will be."

Chris nods slowly, seeming to accept that answer. “Can we talk later? About everything?”

I exhale softly, not quite ready to dive into whatever everything entails but knowing that it’s overdue. I don’t think there was any malice from him in this situation. And I’m not mad at him at all. I would like to know what his thought process was throughout all this. And maybe, he's actually done me a favour. “Yeah,” I agree. “Later.”

That seems to be enough for now. The group keeps moving, making our way toward the restaurant. When we arrive, the guys step inside ahead of us, but I notice them mumbling amongst themselves, their voices low and almost hurried, like there’s some sort of confusion.

Something about their body language makes me pause, and I follow their line of sight before realizing exactly what has caught their attention.

Rachel and Christina.

They’re seated at a table near the back. Five empty seats are pulled out beside them, waiting.

A sharp, sinking feeling settles in my stomach.

Of course. 

Of course they’re here. It was already bad enough having to see Matt, to sit across from him and pretend I wasn’t still breaking, but now, this?

I don’t even have to look at him to know. I can feel his presence, his hesitation. I wonder if he knew they’d be here. If this was always the plan.

My fingers tighten slightly around the strap of my purse as I will myself to keep my composure.

This night just got a whole lot harder.

Nick squeezes my hand gently, a silent reassurance that he’s here, that I’m not alone in this. “What do you wanna do?” he asks quietly, his voice just for me.

I take a breath, steadying myself. “Sit at the other end” I say, keeping my voice even, refusing to let this shake me any more than it already has.

Without hesitation, Nick follows my lead, guiding me toward the farthest end of the table, away from Rachel and Christina. I slide into my seat, positioning myself as far as I can from them, while Nick sits beside me, his presence like a barrier between me and whatever mess is sitting across the table.

Matt and Chris take their seats. Chris next to Rachel and Matt next to Christina. Whether it was planned or just happened naturally, I don’t know, but it doesn’t make a difference, the damage is done. 

The tension is suffocating. You could cut it with a knife. I never thought at the start of this trip I’d be sitting diagonally across from Matt and another girl.

Nobody speaks at first. There’s an awkward shuffle of menus being picked up, the quiet clinking of silverware as waiters move around us, but no real conversation. 

I keep my gaze down, focused on the menu even though I’m not really reading it. My appetite had started to come back earlier, but now? Completely gone again.

Nick, ever my lifeline in this nightmare, leans in slightly constantly making sure I’m okay. “You good?” he murmurs, his voice low enough that only I can hear.

I nod once, though I’m not sure if I mean it. “Yeah” I lie. “I’m fine.”

But we both know I’m not.

I try to keep my focus on the menu, pretending to be absorbed in the options, but it’s impossible to ignore Christina. She is relentless, shifting in her seat so she’s angled toward Matt, her body language screaming interest. The way she leans forward, the way her fingers reach out casually to graze his forearm as she talks, it’s all so intentional.

“Oh my God, Matt, you look so good tonight” she purrs, tilting her head as she studies him. “Did you do something different? Your hair? A new cologne?”

Matt barely reacts, only offering a tight lipped smile as he glances at her briefly. “Uh, no. Same as always.” he replies, going back to his menu.

But Christina isn’t deterred. She lets out a soft, exaggerated sigh. “God, I can’t believe we’re all in Hawaii together. It feels like such a movie moment, don’t you think?” She flicks her gaze up at him through her lashes. “Like, if this was a movie, we’d be the main characters.”

Matt huffs a small laugh through his nose, shaking his head. “Yeah, I don’t know about that, don’t really take myself as the main character type of guy.” His tone is light, but there’s no real engagement. He’s keeping it neutral.

She’s not giving up, though. She leans in again, dropping her voice to something more sultry. “You know, I had so much fun the other night” she murmurs, just loud enough for me to hear. 

My stomach twists, but I don’t react. I refuse to. Instead, I lift my glass of water to my lips, taking a slow sip as if I’m completely unbothered.

Nick shifts beside me, subtly kicking my foot under the table as if to say don’t react. I know he’s watching me closely, waiting for me to crack, but I won’t.

Chris, who’s been silent this whole time, suddenly clears his throat. “Christina, didn’t you say this was your first time in Hawaii?”

It’s so obviously a distraction tactic, and I can’t tell if he’s doing it to get her off Matt’s back or because he knows I’m sitting here, silently absorbing every word.

Christina finally tears her gaze away from Matt and glances at Chris. “Oh, yeah it is.” she says, waving a hand dismissively. 

Matt doesn’t say anything. He just flips a page of the menu, like none of this is even phasing him. Meanwhile, Rachel is watching me like a hawk, waiting for a reaction.

I meet her eyes for a split second and give her the most nonchalant look I can muster before turning to Nick. “What are you getting?” I ask, my voice steady.

Nick glances at me, eyes scanning my face for any sign of weakness before answering, “Probably the carbonara.”

I nod. “Good choice.”

Nate, ever the sweetheart, seems to pick up on everything, the way I’m keeping my head down, the way Nick keeps a protective presence beside me, the way Matt and Christina’s exchange is unfolding just within earshot. Without missing a beat, he slides into conversation with me and Nick as he’s seated opposite us, as if we’re in our own little bubble, separate from the tension on the other side of the table.

“So, what’s the plan for tomorrow?” Nate asks, leaning forward with a smile. “I was thinking of heading down to the beach early. Maybe rent a jet ski or something. You two in?”

Nick catches on immediately, grateful for the shift in attention. “Absolutely. I’d love to see you wipe out within the first five minutes.”

Nate pretends to be offended, placing a hand over his chest. “Excuse you, I’m actually a professional. Very experienced!”

I can’t help but smile at their antics, grateful for the distraction. “Professional, huh? I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Nate smirks. “Oh, you will. And when I leave you both in my wake, don’t come crying to me.”

Nick scoffs. “Yeah, okay, Nate. Keep dreaming.”

As we laugh, it’s almost easy to forget the rest of the table exists, almost. Because out of the corner of my eye, I see Chris sitting stiffly, glancing between me and the rest of the group, like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He hasn’t even touched his menu. He just sits there, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, like he’s caught in the middle of something he never signed up for.

At one point, he opens his mouth like he wants to say something,to me, but then he hesitates, pressing his lips together instead. His fingers drum restlessly against the table. It’s almost like he wants to acknowledge the elephant in the room, but he can’t.

I keep my focus on Nate and Nick as everyone gives their orders, letting them carry me through the moment, keeping me occupied. And for now, that’s all I need.

The food arrives shortly after, and I focus on my meal, keeping my eyes down, keeping my composure. If I just get through dinner, I’ll be fine.

But Christina doesn’t make it easy.

She just doesn’t stop, her voice carrying just loud enough to ensure I hear every flirtatious remark, every exaggerated giggle. It’s all so obvious, the way she leans toward Matt, twirling a piece of her hair around her finger. 

“Oh my God, Matt, you’re so funny” she forces, brushing her fingers against his wrist like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He hasn’t even said anything that funny.

“We should totally do something after this!” Christina continues, tilting her head. “Maybe check out that tiki bar? It would be so fun.”

Matt doesn’t commit. “Maybe.”

Maybe.

That single word twists something in my stomach, because it means he hasn’t outright said no. And I know it shouldn’t matter but that doesn’t stop the sting.

As everyone starts discussing where to go next, I stay quiet, already knowing my answer. The only place I want to be right now is home. I only ever agreed to dinner, nothing more. The idea of trailing behind while Christina continues her performance, while Matt does whatever he’s doing, is unbearable.

I lean toward Nick and quietly tell him, “I’m heading back.”

He nods in understanding, not even questioning it. “That’s fair. I’ll go for one drink, then I’ll be home after. We can debrief, I’ll try to get more info.”

I manage a small smile at that. If there’s anyone I can count on to feed me the details later, it’s Nick.

We both stand, and I feel Chris’s eyes on me, but I don’t meet them. If he wants to talk, he can find me when I’m not on the verge of either snapping or crying.

Nick walks me to the taxi rank just outside the restaurant, following behind me as we weave through the crowd. I should want to stay out, to drown out my thoughts with drinks and distractions, but all I want is to be alone.

“You sure you’re okay going back on your own?” Nick asks as we wait for a taxi to pull up.

I let out a breath. “Yeah. Just over it.”

Nick doesn’t push. “I’ll text you when I’m on my way back.”

A taxi pulls up, and he opens the door for me. Before I get in, he squeezes my hand briefly, just a reminder that I’m not alone in all of this.

I nod my thanks, slide into the backseat, and as the car pulls away, I finally let out a breath I didn’t even realize I was holding.

I pull up to the villa and thank the taxi man, paying him for the fare. I step out of the car and as I do one pulls up directly behind me.

I freeze for a second, my stomach tightening as I watch Matt step out of the taxi behind me. Of all people, of all times, it has to be him.

I don’t wait for him to say anything. I turn toward the villa, walking quickly up the steps, my heels clicking against the cobblestone pavement. I take my keys out of my bag, unlocking the front door.

I can hear him behind me, his footsteps unhurried, like he’s debating whether to call my name.

“Wait” Matt’s voice finally breaks the silence, and I feel his presence closer than I expected. “Can we talk?”

I let out a slow breath before turning to face him, the front door slightly open behind me. His eyes search mine, like he’s trying to figure out where my head is at.

“Talk about what, Matt?” My voice is steady, but I can feel the exhaustion creeping in.

He rubs the back of his neck, looking almost.. nervous? “About this. About everything.”

“I’m not too sure what there is to talk about” I say, my voice surprisingly steady. “I’ve seen it all. I saw Christina in your bed. I saw how she was with you tonight.”

Matt’s face falls, and he opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, but I don’t let him.

“And now, what? You think you can stand here and make some sorry excuse for your actions? Do you even realize how disrespectful that is?” My voice rises slightly, frustration taking over. “You can’t just act like nothing happened, Matt. You don’t get to do that.”

He sighs, rubbing his hand over his jaw. "I never wanted to hurt you."

"Well, it’s a bit too late for that now.” I say, my voice sharp. 

"I’m sorry." he mutters.

I let out a short laugh. "Yeah. So am I.”

Matt stands there looking at me, almost confused.

“I'm sorry I let you play with me for so long. Sorry I let you in, that I actually believed there was something real between us. But it’s clear now, isn’t it? Whatever tension was there, it was only ever sexual for you."

Matt steps forward, opening his mouth to protest, but I cut him off.

"So what now?" I snap, my voice shaking with anger. "What’s your next move? You feel bad for how you’ve treated me, so you’ll do what? Buy me flowers? But never actually give them to me? Did you ever track down Christina’s ex to get her locket back too? Or was that just a special little stunt for me?"

I let out a short, humorless laugh, shaking my head. "And don’t you dare try to tell me you haven’t been with anyone else since that night in the house. Christina basically spelled out what happened in Vegas to me at the club.”

Then realisation hits me. “It makes sense to me now, the real reason you customised your jacket that way. You didn’t do it because you felt something for me. You did it so if the topic of her in Vegas came up, you had something to sway me from believing it, so you could keep stringing me along.”

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Can you please listen to me? I didn’t even know they were coming out here” he says quickly, almost desperately, like that one fact will make any of this better.

I scoff, shaking my head. “That doesn’t change anything.”

“It changes a lot” he insists, stepping forward. “Chris was the one that brought them out here, he has a thing with Rachel and probably just-”

"-wants to smash?" I finish for him, my voice sharp. 

"Yeah, Matt, I know. Just like you said before, that Chris only gave me a job because he wants to smash?" I tilt my head, watching as realization dawns on his face. "Yeah. I heard you when you said that."

Matt shifts uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck. "I never meant that" he mutters. "I swear, I didn’t mean it like that."

"Oh really?" I fold my arms, my patience running dangerously thin. "How exactly did you mean it then, Matt?" My voice is sharp, no bullshit. "Because it sounded a lot like you were trying to discredit any of the work I do."

Matt exhales sharply, looking away. "It wasn’t about that, okay?" His voice is tight, like he’s struggling to find the right words. "Maybe I was jealous, maybe I was pissed off at the whole situation, maybe I just-" He stops himself, his jaw locking.

"Maybe you just what?" I push, my voice rising slightly.

His silence is louder than anything he could say. And then, it hits me.

I let out a hollow laugh, shaking my head. "Oh my god. It was projection, wasn’t it?" I take a step closer, my words like a slap to the face. "You said Chris only gave me a job because he wanted to smash, but really, that was just you speaking for yourself. You only ever kept me around because that’s what you wanted."

I take a breath, my heart pounding. "And congratulations, Matt. You got it."

Matt’s face falls completely.

"And then you got it from her too, only a matter of hours later." My voice is laced with disgust, and I see the tears welling in Matt's eyes, but I don’t stop. "It’s obvious to me now, you never had feelings for me. You never cared."

I take another step closer, my chest rising and falling with the force of everything I’ve kept inside. "I know you saw me leave the club that night. I know you saw me walk out. And not once did you check on me. Not once did you care enough to see if I was okay. It was like, out of sight, out of mind. I disappeared, and you moved on like I was nothing."

I shake my head, a bitter laugh escaping me. "And then you brought her back here, to the same villa I’m staying in, to rub it in my fucking face? Like this is some sick joke to you?" And then to keep doing it, over and over again, like it wasn’t enough to break me once?" My voice shakes, but not from weakness, from the sheer weight of the betrayal burning inside me. "You didn’t just move on, Matt. You made sure I saw it. You made sure I felt it. Like twisting the knife wasn’t enough, you had to keep pushing it in, again and again."

I shake my head, my breathing uneven. "And for what? To prove a point? To get back at me for something you thought I’ve done? Or was it just fun for you? To watch me fall apart while you played pretend with her?"

Matt’s mouth opens like he wants to say something, to defend himself, but I cut him off before he can even try. "No. Don’t. Because there’s nothing you can say that will make this okay. Nothing you can do that will undo the fact that you chose this. You chose to hurt me. And I’m fucking done." I spit, my chest rising and falling with the force of everything I’ve held back. 

"Because all you’ve ever done is choose to hurt me. Over and over again, like it’s second nature to you." I stop for a second to catch my breath, realising how pointless this all is. "I don’t even understand why you’re standing in front of me right now, when what you want is down at the bar with everyone else. Stop bothering me, and go back down there and get it."

Matt looks at me, his jaw tight, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, like he wants to argue. Like he wants to fight his case. But he doesn’t get to, not now. Not after everything.

"In fact" I breathe out a bitter laugh, shaking my head, "don’t ever think of speaking to me again. Because it’s clear now, Matt, we were always better off when we didn’t speak. When we just ignored each other. Maybe that’s what we should’ve stayed."

My heart is hammering in my chest, my entire body shaking from the adrenaline coursing through me. 

I turn around and storm into the villa, slamming the door so hard behind me that the walls seem to shake with the force of it. But he doesn’t follow. He doesn’t even try. Probably heading straight back down to the bar to get exactly what he wants. What he’s always wanted.

My blood is boiling as I march into my room, every step fueled by the sheer rage burning inside me. I feel like a bull, seeing red, ready to destroy everything in my path. But I don’t, because I don’t have time to waste on any of this anymore.

I grab my phone with trembling fingers, my vision blurring from unshed tears as I unlock it.

 I can’t stay here.

I refuse.

I pull up the American Airlines website, my breathing heavy, my chest rising and falling too fast. I don’t even hesitate as I search for the first available flight back home. 

The sooner, the better.

And when I find one, first thing tomorrow morning, I don’t even think twice. I press confirm before I can second guess myself, before the pain can catch up with me.

I’m leaving.

I’m done.

a/n : OOOOF. thats gotta sting.

taglist : @mattybearnard @sturn-33 @ncm9696 @yourfavsturniologirl @crazy4jewel @sodakid1234 @stupendoustreewinner @lovealwayssturniolos @matthewsturniolosss @m4ttsmunch @loveexxx @ilusa @starkeyszn @wonnieeluvvr @dylnblue @valxrieq @maggot3647 @cigarettecemetary @ribread03 @chrisstvrns @bandasaruswrx @noplaceissafeanymore @amexiass @witchofthehour @mattssgf @jetaimevous @v33angel  @ivysturnss @urmom69lol @ashlishes @watercolorskyy @sturnioloshottiekay @amelia-sturniolo3 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @pvssychicken @alizestvrnss @chrisstxrnsaxe @sophand4n4 @vickytaa @marrykisskilled @bxtchboy69 @yourfavsturniologirl @julisturn @sydneyylainn @sophia-77n @trevorsgodmother @sturnslutz @yourmother29 @girl24cherry @astronea @pinkdyit

[emeraldserenade]

Connections ~ Joaquin Torres

synopsis: you and Joaquin keep meeting, yet you never seem to get his number. Not until someone pushes you together.

tw: limited use of y/n, someone tries to wear white to reader's sister's wedding, reader was a sharp shooter, violence, reader only briefly talks about their dead dog, reader gets hurt and goes into surgery, possible spoilers for cabnw, barely edited.

fic, ficlet, drabble, request

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It was at the hospital when you first met Joaquin Torres, he was being released and you were visiting your brother. Joaquin was by himself when you met him, waiting to be pick up.

"Hey, you're the new Falcon, right?" You asked, stopping only a few steps away from him.

"Uh, yeah, I am," he nodded and you smiled at him.

"Cool," you nodded before hesitating. "Thanks for what you did at Celestial Island, you saved my father from having to go back to a war zone," you told him, eyes shining from unshed tears. Joaquin did have time to answer you before you were ushered inside by your mother.

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The next time you met Joaquin was in a bookstore, he saw you first. He remembered you, how you recognized and thanked him. He wanted to tell you how much that had meant to him but got nervous. That changed, however, when you looked up from the book you were looking at and made eye contact with him.

"Hey, I don't know if you remember me but," you stopped talking when you realized you had started talking at the same time as Joaquin.

"No, I remember you. You're the girl from the hospital," he offered and you smiled.

"Yeah that's me," you laughed gently and pushed some hair behind your ear. "I'm y/n by the way," you told him.

"Joaquin Torres," he offered his name and hand. You took the latter for a handshake.

"Well, it was nice to officially meet you, Joaquin," you smiled at him before leaving. Joaquin cursing himself for not getting your number.

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The third time you met Joaquin was at your sister's wedding. You were the Maid of Honor and was tasked with making sure no one was wearing white after you finished getting ready. You greeted people as they walked in, a bottle of red wine hidden in the podium next to you just in case. You should have guessed that Joaquin was Sam Wilson's plus one, but you somehow didn't even think of that. The two walked in and you greeted Sam warmly before turning to Joaquin and greeting him just as warmly.

"You know Sam?" Joaquin had walked up to you a few minutes later, you were still greeting guests.

"Yeah, my sister and his sister have been friends for years," you told Joaquin.

"Did Sam tell you to thank me then?" Joaquin's voice took on a tone that you've never heard before.

"What? No, I haven't seen Sam in months until today," you spun to look at him, eyebrows scrunched together. "Joaquin, I swear, I thanked you because I wanted to," you told him, placing your hand against his arm. Joaquin didn't have a chance to answer before an uproar happened outside. You looked out the door and saw your soon-to-be brother-in-law's girlfriend outside in a wedding dress. "What is she doing here? She's not even invited," you mused to yourself. Joaquin followed you outside, his eyes darting down to the bottle of red wine in your hand.

"Just let me in!" She tried to push past the people around her but you just walked up and brandished the bottle you were holding. She didn't seem to realize but everyone around her did and took a step back. She huffed in amusement before whipping around and coming face to face with you and the bottle of red. You reached forward and tipped the bottle of her head, making sure to use your other hand to hold the bottom of your dress away from the splashes.

"There," you gave her a self satisfied smile and stepped out of the way as she lunged at you.

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It was later at the reception that you and Joaquin got to talk again, your sister, ever the loving person, paid for every bridesmaid to have a reception dress that was shorter and easier to move in. Which is how Joaquin convinced you to dance with him, which you did, for hours. You two were a little out of breath and laughing when you both left the dance floor. You noticed some of your sister's friends staring you two down but thought nothing of it.

"When Sam said he was brining a plus one, part of me was hoping it would be you," you confessed, looking over at Joaquin. He smiled but was interrupted by one of your sister's more brazen friends.

"Hey, handsome, do you want an escape from my friend's boring little sister? We can go dance," She was touching his shoulders, back, and chest as she spoke and you couldn't help but think about how if the roles were reversed it wouldn't even be ok.

"Oh, no thank you, I'm good here," Joaquin gave her a smile but she wasn't backing down.

"Are you sure? You don't have to be nice to her, I never was," she tried to whisper the last part as if it were a secret, but the alcohol she had been drinking wasn't helping her. Joaquin was saved from answering when the girl's boyfriend walked over, the two started fighting a few steps away and you made bewildered eye contact with Joaquin before you both started laughing.

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The fourth time you met Joaquin, you were helping him and Sam with a mission. You were, as someone you can't remember once said, the 'guy' in the chair. You weren't as good a Joaquin at computers but you knew your way around.

"Uh, Sam, you might want to move," you told him.

"Why?" He questioned, he was on a roof of a nearby building.

"You've got company coming up the stairs," you told him, watching as more started to go up the stairs of the building Joaquin was on too. "Joaquin, move now," you told him, desperate as you watched both boys get into fights. You called in backup, getting people there would take time, time the boys did not have. "Shit," you cursed and looked around the room you were in and spotted a sniper rifle. You got up and grabbed it, sprinting to the stairwell of the building you were in and up that stairs.

"y/n, are you there? We need backup, send people in!" You heard Sam yell through the comms.

"I did, they should be here in like 15 minutes," you told him, getting to the right spot to take aim at the building Joaquin was on. He needed your help more than Sam. You shot them down, none of them were wearing helmets or leg protection. That's where you aimed, you watched Joaquin look around for the person who was helping him but you didn't have time to wave at him. You moved your sights and aim to help Sam, shooting down the people he was having trouble with.

"I thought you said they wouldn't be here for 15 minutes," Sam panted into his comm. You stood up straight and looked directly over to Sam as you set the gun down.

"I was an FBI sharp shooter, did you forget?" You waved over to Joaquin as he flew back to the building, Sam not far behind.

"Yeah, I did," Sam admitted and you shook your head. The three of you started back down the stairs, Sam leading the way. Joaquin lagged a little behind with you.

"You were a sharp shooter?" Joaquin looked over at you as you two walked down the stairs side by side.

"Yeah, I quit after a job gone wrong," you sighed, shuddering as you remembered accidentally hitting a little girl after just following orders.

"What do you do now?" Joaquin asked.

"Oh, right now, nothing. I was helping out at the VA with Sam for a while after I got back but then I moved farther than I wanted to travel everyday. I still go and help every now and again, but not as often as I'd like," you admitted, walking back into the room you three had been holed up in.

"We probably need to move," Sam told you two and you nodded.

"I can get us in a hotel, I have a card that isn't in my name," you told Sam and he slowly nodded.

"Why do you have a credit card not in your name?" Same questioned.

"First off, it's a debit card, I am not putting someone into credit card debit. Secondly, I was given it after I helped this old rich man. He just handed me the card and a paper with the information and told me he would put money on it monthly," you explained, crossing your arms.

"A old man just gave you his debit card?" Sam looked at you with an incredulous look as you three started packing up the room.

"I mean, yeah. It's not like he was a complete stranger, he knows my dad," you shrugged.

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The fifth time you met Joaquin was the same day, when you had to tell the two that there was only one room left.

"Hey, so, I have some not great news," you announced as you walked up to the other two.

"What is it?" Sam asked.

"There's only one room," you cringed at Sam's annoyed face. "There's two beds and a couch," you told them and watched Sam relax a little.

You three walked into the room and you didn't even voice your decision before you hurried over to the couch.

"Uh, no. y/n you get a bed," Sam tried to argue with you but you gave him a pointed look.

"You're Captain America now, you need a bed. And Joaquin don't you even dare try and argue with me," you looked over at your shoulder at the boy you addressed.

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You shifted on the couch again before sitting up and looking over at the door, you had wanted to leave but didn't know how heavy of a sleeper Joaquin is. You knew Sam could sleep through just about anything. You sighed and got up, slipping on one of the slippers the hotel provided for you all.

"Can't sleep?" You jumped at Joaquin's voice, slapping your hand over your chest. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," he raised his hands up in surrender.

"No, it's ok," you sighed, calming your heartbeat. "And no, I can't. I don't get how Sam can sleep anywhere," you mused. "I didn't wake you, did I?"

"No, I couldn't sleep either," he told you and you nodded at him. "I'm not used to sleeping without another body in my bed," he told you and you raised your eyebrows at him.

"Really?" You teased and he backtracked a little.

"I have a dog, he lays in bed with me until I fall asleep," Joaquin told you and you laughed gently.

"I get that, I'm not used to being alone while I fall asleep either. My dog passed a few months ago and I'm still getting used to it," you admitted. You two stood in silence for a while before Joaquin broke it.

"Want to share the bed? That way both of us might be able to sleep," Joaquin offered and you thought about it.

"Sure," you and Joaquin walked in and both laid down on his bed. You two fell asleep and awoke in the morning to Sam taking pictures of you two cuddling, claiming he would be keeping them for your future wedding.

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The final time you met Joaquin was after the mission. You had gotten hurt while helping them, the others got smart about you being on another roof and taking them down. You were now in the hospital after your surgery, it wasn't major. You woke up to Joaquin in the chair next to your bed, it was clear he was in a state of disarray.

"Hey," you gently squeezed the hand that was gently resting in yours.

"Querida, you're awake," Joaquin shot up straight.

"Yeah, I am," you told him, letting him roam his eyes over you and rub the back of your hand with his thumb.

"I," Joaquin started to talk but cut himself off. "Sam told me that you like me and that I should just ask you out, so would you like to go on a date with me?" Joaquin looked nervous and his thumb stilled on the back of your hand.

"I would love to," you told him, smiling at him as he smiled back. "I do need your number though," you joked, laughing with Joaquin.

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Masterlist | Requests

[anamericangirl]

It happened again! Nother convo between me and a lib friend.

Me: I thought you didn't support the death penalty?

Friend: I don't! And I never well. Those are human beings in a correctional facility. The purpose of them being there is to help them transition back into society as a normal human being.

Me: As someone who studies criminal psychology I regret to inform you that the criminally insane do not magically become normal people while in prison.

Friend: That doesn't mean we shouldn't try. [This is my favorite quote in here because this friend says religion should be outlawed because if we can't see God he doesn't exist. So his logic of "Just because we've never seen it doesn't mean we shouldn't try" goes out the window when it's religion, but he's all for it when it's gender ideology, criminal correctional facilities or communism being a good form of government.]

Me: So can I ask you about all the memes you've been posting? [Context: He's been posting memes non stop about how that healthcare guy got shot and saying it's hilarious]

Friend: Dude there's a huge difference between someone who made a mistake and someone who deliberately fucked over millions of people with health care scams

Me: I really implore you to watch criminal psychology videos with me sometime. These are not people who made a mistake, these are people who take pleasure in murdering as many people as they can.

Friend: They can still be helped. CEOs can't be helped, they're too far gone.

Me: I literally just watched one about a woman who killed her pregnant daughter and then cut her open and ate the baby inside of her, and you think she can be helped but CEOs can't be?

Friend: Yes I do, she's still a human being.

Me: She's not, she's dead. She got the death penalty for that. It was in Texas.

Friend: And what problem did that solve?

Me: Well there's not a woman who killed her daughter and ate her unborn granddaughter in the world anymore, so she can't go on to do that again.

Friend: Yeah but that's one person. This CEO killed millions of people.

Me: It's two people, and I dunno about you but I really feel like when you literally murder someone you don't deserve the life you've been given anymore, no matter how many people you murder. If we're gonna weigh the severity of murder on a bell curve that's fucking retarded. We don't go "Yeah he killed 10 people but he doesn't lose his humanity card until he kills a lot closer to 6 million people." I feel like in both cases we should probably get rid of the murderer.

Friend: Well, you got your wish apparently since both are dead so what the hell are you complaining about?

Me: I'm not complaining, I'm trying to understand your logic. You're completely okay with someone getting shot to death because you claim they've killed millions of people, but then when someone kills 1-10 people and is in prison you fight for their human rights. I'm personally glad that in both cases they can't keep hurting people because I'm of the opinion that the death penalty for heinous criminals who are a danger to society is a good thing. My confusion starts with you being okay with one but not okay with the other. You're entirely inconsistent on who you're okay with being killed.

Friend: I'm completely consistent with who I'm okay with being killed. If they're nazis, billionaires, CEOs, maga, racist or antivaxxers they can get killed and I'll be happy.

Me: What's the bar for CEO? Because a small business owner is still a CEO. And when you say racist, do you mean specifically white racists who are racist against non-white or are you at least being consistent there and also hoping black and latino people who hate white people die too?

Friend: It's not racist to hate white people.

Me: Got it. And the CEO question?

Friend: CEO and billionaire are the same thing.

Me: They absolutely are not. The term "CEO" literally means "Whoever is in charge of a business or corporation." That means that a family owned business does in fact have a CEO, even if that business is only worth like $10,000.

Friend: That's not the definition of CEO, CEOs are billionaires in charge of companies like EA and Ubisoft. A small business owner is a small business owner.

Me: The guy who makes tiki torches is a small business owner, you want him killed?

Friend: He's a nazi.

Me: He's a nazi because the KKK bought his product?

Friend: Yep!

Me: It is shocking how easy it is for you to wish death upon someone. So you think the tiki torch guy should be shot?

Friend: Absolutely, yes.

Me: Let's change the subject, this is getting stupid. You still ride horses?

Friend: Yeah

Me: Fucking nazi.

Friend: [He sent a groggy anime girl emote]

Me: What? The KKK owns horses, haven't you seen Django Unchained?

Friend: I'm going to bed.

Me: By the way the tiki torch CEO is a left-winger who went on CNN to say he was appalled by the protesters using his torches.

Friend: Don't care.

Me: Still shoot him?

Friend: Yes. Good night.

Me: Aight.

I'm still reeling from "murderers can be helped but CEO's can't be because they're too far gone."

lol.

lmao even.

There's nothing wrong with being a CEO. It's not a crime. So wtf is he talking about they're too far gone and can't be helped? Like the problem with the United Healthcare CEO was that he was supposedly a murderer but I thought murderers could be helped???

Being in charge of a business isn't a bad thing omg. Sounds like your liberal friend, like most liberals, is just jealous some people make more money than he does.

Consistency would kill these people.

[lsunstreakerl]

For the kink prompt,

Not the most 'out there', but, a classic, cockwarming! (i just think it fits max and charles very well - "I love you and i want to get you out of your head so you can have some peace and quiet". But, i also think it fits max and danny very well too - "you are freaking the entire garage out with your bullshit so you are going to be quiet for the x amount of time until you become normal again")

but, if you did want to get freaky with it; tentacles, pet play (i'm taking kitten max to its logical conclusion), somnophilia, omorashi, knife play, to name just a few

So, I've written most everything on that list, somewhat including cockwarming- and I decided to go for knifeplay!

friendly reminder this is clearly a kink prompt fill so it's going to be explicit. in the case of this one it's also violent. 1k words, Max POV

pairings: max verstappen/martijn garrix

relevant heads up: uh, yeah. violence, post apocalyptic universe, gunplay, knifeplay, bloodplay.

"You're being a cunt, by the way."

Max snorts, tossing the dirty rag into the sink.

"Right, because being neat is undesirable now."

Martijn shrugs, shoving his dirty knife back into the sheath on his hip.

"You don't like to leave a mess, mate. It's cute, sure, but like– live a little, yes? Have some fun with it."

Max wrinkles his nose, sticking his head in the pantry to check for snacks.

"The rest of the world is still normal, Martijn. Maybe I would like to be well-adjusted when we get out of here."

Martijn laughs, loud and abrupt as he grabs a bottle of gin from a cabinet.

"We're not fucking getting out, babe. And you rigged up the most insane death trap I've ever seen outside the house, so I wouldn't call you 'well adjusted' either."

Max rolls his eyes, spotting a container of stroopwafels in the back– those are definitely coming back with them.

"Well, until I eventually snap and go as insane as the rest of you have, let me keep pretending."

Martijn leans over, plants a disgustingly wet kiss on the side of Max's face, even as he attempts to shove him away.

"Awww, of course."

------

It's been two and half years since their borders got locked down overnight, and Max has lost count of how many people he's ended up killing. Somewhere after 30 it got blurry– and it doesn't matter much anyways.

He's stretched out on the couch, watching Martijn methodically disassemble their guns to clean them. His fingers are smooth and confident, dancing over the rifle barrels like he used to on the turntables.

Max is bored. And also horny.

He sighs, watching Martijn's eyes flick up to his, eyebrow raised.

"I'm bored."

Martijn starts reassembling the rifle, soft snaps and clicks from where he's sitting on the floor.

"Where is that my problem?"

Max drops his head back with a groan.

"Remember when I was rich and famous and got whatever I wanted?"

Martijn hums softly, and the sound of the metal against the floor has stopped.

"Yes, you were very spoiled."

"I wonder who the champions have been, without me."

There's a rustle of fabric, and then Martijn is in his field of view, looking down at Max judgmentally.

"No one that could've won against you if you were still there, that's for sure."

Max grins, eyes scrunching.

"You say the sweetest things. I do miss the adrenaline though, mate, it is hard to replicate that."

Martijn scoffs, and then there's a heavy weight on Max's hips, arms pinned to his side by strong knees.

Max jolts, but–

There's cold gunmetal in his mouth, a slight sting at his throat.

Martijn leans down by his face, and Max feels the knife's edge against his throat push in– there's a warm trickle of blood beading down his neck.

"Really? Nothing gets your blood pumping anymore? Not when you're fighting for your life, or sneaking into someone else's base, or antagonizing me?"

Max swallows– the unforgiving ridge of the barrel presses hard into the roof of his mouth.

He's hard.

Martijn coos at him, rolling his hips down.

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

Martijn doesn't move the gun, but Max feels the point of the knife trace down his neck, drag lightly across his collarbones before digging in near his shoulder.

"You enjoy feeling like you're about to die."

Max tries to swallow again, drool pooling in the bottom of his mouth. He makes a pained noise as the knife sinks deeper into his shoulder.

Martijn grins down at him, but his eyes are fixed where the knife is in him, and Max feels him brush his thumb through the wetness that's starting to drip down his arm and chest.

Martijn brings his hand back up, tongue flicking at to lick at the red smearing on him. Max's hips jerk, and Martijn's still fucking smirking.

He slides down so his thigh is wedged between Max's legs, and then he's pulling the barrel of the gun out of Max's mouth, tossing it onto the floor nearby.

He yanks the knife back out of Max's shoulder as he cries out, holding it against his throat again.

"You want to get off, yes? Bored little cunt, so needy here all the fucking time."

Max tries to buck up, but the sweet slide of friction is accompanied by the sting of metal digging into his throat–

If he wants to get off against Martijn's leg, the knife is going to cut him.

He moans, trying anyway.

"Please, want to get off, please Martijn, leave a mark–"

Martijn laughs, sliding the knife down to cut across Max's collarbone. The sharp sting, the hot well of blood Max can feel dripping down him–

"Yeah yeah, go ahead. Maybe I'll put my name on you, a little return to sender."

Max drags his hips against Martijn's thigh. He's close, head fuzzy with the gun and the knife and the blood, Martijn's words ringing in his head.

"Please, please please–"

The knife digs deeper as Martijn shoves his thigh higher, and then Max is coming, making a mess, head dropping back.

There's the sound of a zipper, and Martijn is dragging his fingers across the blood from Max's neck and shoulders– followed by the slick sound of him jerking off, right before Max feels splashes of cum on his chest.

"Fuck, you're pretty like that."

Martijn's fingers come back down, smearing blood and cum together as Max shivers in the aftershocks.

"I mean, really, what would you even do if things went back to normal? You'd be so pathetic– nothing gets you hotter than this."

Martijn's fingers slip into his mouth, and Max laps at them, tastes the bitterness and the metallic tang all at once.

Martijn coos.

"It took you a little longer, but you're just as crazy as everyone else, aren't you?"

Max blinks up at him, tongue licking the last of the mess off Martijn's fingers.

He's right.

[currentlysleepingus]

Part 2? Of my previous post

The G.I.W.'s influence in Amity Park is almost.....cult like. They teach them to think a certain way and make those who object disappear. What of this started in full force when jazz was in elementary school. She has seen teenagers who objected and spoke up leave the town in body bags if they were lucky. Movements and advancements stopped because of what they G.I.W might do to them if they were found out. The teens leave for college and get taken to facilities for testing while the ones who were more public were turned into crazy people who were in kahoots with the ghosts.

Amity is the most haunted town in the US are you telling me that ghosts didn't exist before the portal. No, they existed just to a lesser scale. Curses and beings lurked everywhere, and the people were fine with that. They lived in content and almost harmony with that. I want to imagine that the town used to produce non humans, and witches and wizards back in the like 1600s or something. I want to imagine that magic is outlawed in Amity. That talk of people like that and to think positively of ghosts and the undead is forbidden. What if Sam's parents don't want her to be goth because some of the Salem witch trails happened there. Because the G.I.W treats those who seem to be connected to witch's and the like far worse, but they couldn't say because the town was under constant servailance.

Anyway, jazz was determined to actually leave the town and start a life, ahead just needed to fake her death and hide her body because the G.I.W are not above keeping amities corpses. The cemetery is empty. She could get a false one, but that'll take too much time. She needs to get in contact with someone from the outside and get a good relationship so they'll notice when she goes missing. That way, she can come back with people and bring Danny.

Anyway Amity park is backwards with ideals out of date so a lot of amities youth think things that are perfectly normal and there is absolutely nothing wrong with are horrible because they were indoctrinated into thinking so. They were raised on it when they were younger because the G.I.W is basically a cult. The town is unter its influence

I'm not bringing religion into it but just make it close to it.

I want danny to feel bad about liking tim. I want tim to reassure him and show him that it is fine. I want gothamites hearing stories about Amity from the kids and immediately getting to work undoing all of the bad stuff that they were taught and making them feel accepted. I want them to show them movements and history, and basically, the teens are discovering themselves while being free for the first time. They aren't being constantly watched and are safe(r) during the siege on Gotham.

I want hurt with comfort. I want tim being furious and calling Wally. I want Wally telling YJ, I want clockwork to drop ghosts and ellie and Dan in Gotham.

I want Dan reformed because that man had been through enough already. He is grieving and in a town like that and spiraling until he ripped out his humanity, tell me he doesn't deserve redemption. Anyway elle meets konnor and they are now best friends slash siblings because danny sees him gets a sticker, writes his logo on it, walks over to him, and puts it over his chest and says" your a Fenton or nightingale now"

Point is everyone is aware of Amity and the anit-ecto acts and does their best to help. The gothamites don't need help with the siege, though, nor do they allow it. It's personal now.

I want Dan to befriend waylon( killer croc) and help him. I want him to go ballistic on the G.I.W. agents who dares enter. I want temporary mayham, I want chaos. I want the villians to help purely because they are the only ones who are allowed to destroy and torture Gotham and her people. The joker and that pig guy stay in arkum, though. So do the other ones like them.

I want jazz changing her plan when she realizes that the youngsters are actually planning on leaving during one of her visits. She left that town as soon as possible but didn't want to leave Danny. Danny thought she was abandoning him, so he didn't talk to her at graduation. He knows that people who leave town don't come back. Tucker, however, does not and made her a private phone as a gift so she can talk to Danny and them. He makes Danny one as well.

Jazz speaks to Danny almost every day when he starts returning her calls. So when danny started to tell her their plan, she was all for it. She came back and acted like she was visiting before pursuing a different degree.

[dubiousanon]

Do you have any more kakanaru ideas?

God, you don't even know the half of it. Here have a few but I'm dead serious, they're fucking unending. Title: 'Til Death Do Us Part Summary: In which Kakashi agrees to let Naruto practice seals on him, only for Naruto to go and "accidentally" bind them together for eternity in the first ten minutes. This wouldn't be the worst thing in the world if Kakashi weren't actively head over heels in love with him, and now their emotions are connected and Naruto knows it. -Post war, Kakashi falls in love with Naruto over the course of the village's reconstruction and sits silently on his crush for about two years, hoping it'll go away. News flash: it does not, in fact, go away. It gets like, ten times worse.

-Little does he realize, Naruto loves him back and the whole seal thing was fully intentional. Kakashi thinks that Naruto can't remove the seal. Naruto completely knows how to take it off, but after realizing Kakashi feels the same, he pretends he doesn't know how.

-Kurama cheers them on like the fangirl we all know he is and Naruto does his best to woo Kakashi, who is firmly in the "this is wrong, I'm a dirty old man, I couldn't possibly!" camp. So much so that, despite their emotions being connected, he remains blind to the fact that Naruto feels the same. Title: The You Inside of Me Summary: After Kakashi gets hit by a jutsu that de-ages him, suddenly he's nineteen years old again and has no idea what's going on, how he got here, or what to do with himself. When Naruto takes it upon himself to help Kakashi adjust, Kakashi can't help but notice how... pretty he is. Like, really, really pretty. -Naruto is also nineteen years old. It's just after the war and everything is kind of in shambles. Kakashi still believes himself to be ANBU and almost runs off thinking he's stuck in some genjutsu, but Naruto practically sparkles like gold in the sunlight, so Kakashi stays. -Naruto is unendingly kind to him to the point that Kakashi doesn't know how to react other than to melt. He's basically side-lined from missions while they try to bring him back to his actual age and with every passing day, he finds himself falling harder and harder for Naruto. To the point that he doesn't want to be aged back up again if it means he can't have this.

-As if age would stop Naruto Uzumaki from getting what he wants. Though honestly, he doesn't mind either way. Watching Kakashi discover Icha Icha for the first time is a true novelty.

Title: A Spoonful Of Sugar Summary: Post war, Naruto comes back to his apartment to find its been leveled to the ground. With so much destruction, Konoha is launched straight into a housing crisis that makes hunting for somewhere new to live impossible. Enter: Kakashi, who has an entire house to himself and is hardly ever there anyway now that he's Hokage.

-Kakashi thinks it's a great idea up until Naruto sleep walks into his bed in search of warmth in nothing but a tank top and the smallest shorts known to mankind and makes himself at home. Naruto's a cuddler, too, but Kakashi loves it so much that he silently hopes every night that he'll wander in. Even if the guilt practically devours him alive.

-Konoha is on pause for missions, but Naruto will die if he doesn't keep busy. Kakashi wasn't trying to get a live-in maid or anything, but the homecooked meals every time he comes home make his heart flutter. Naruto's also is helping with the reconstruction, which means he comes home sweaty. It does NOT help. -Basically, Naruto moves in, never leaves, and accidentally seduces Kakashi by doing absolutely nothing but being himself. Kakashi is helplessly enamored by it. Title: No Time (Like The Present) Summary: Naruto reaches adulthood and it's like a switch flips. Whereas he had absolutely no interest in relationships before, suddenly all he can think about is being with someone. Couple this with the strange urge he's had to let Kakashi-sensei bite him, he's pretty sure he knows exactly who he's going for.

-Or: Naruto's animal hindbrain belatedly kicks online and suddenly he's desperate to find someone. He feels naturally drawn to people who ALSO have animal hindbrains, whether he realizes it or not. This narrows his options down to Kakashi or... Kiba.

-Obviously he's not choosing Kiba, ew. After coming to the astute conclusion that he wants Kakashi to bite his neck and pound him into a mattress, he starts to relentlessly pursue him in the bluntest way possible. Which is to say he marches up to him and boldly declares that they should fuck.

-Kakashi is flabbergasted, terrified, and also desperate because now that Naruto's mentioned it, he can't stop thinking about it. And Naruto also smells really good, and Kakashi's hands would be so big on his waist, and it would be amazing. But also wrong. But also... well, he'll only hold out against Naruto for so long anyway, I guess.

Title: Planetary Summary: After a seal gone wrong, Naruto thinks he got off without any consequences. The sudden wet dreams he keeps having about Kakashi-sensei are weird, but he kind of enjoys them a ton, so he doesn't mind. It never occurs to him that they might be real.

-Naruto blows a seal up and suddenly he and Kakashi have connected dreams. Neither of them realize that they're both cognizant, that the dreams are real, and they're both lucid. Kakashi thinks he's having the same old wet dreams he's been having for the past year. Naruto thinks it's a cool, neat new feature.

-Kakashi basically ravishes Naruto every night thinking none of it is real and that he's finally just gone off the deep end and is having insanely detailed dreams as a result. Tons of filth, but also a lot of desperate kissing, 'I love you's, and various desperate apologies. Naruto is slightly taken aback but enthusiastically there for the ride.

-Eventually, a few vague mentions make it click that hey, they're both experiencing this same thing. The tension is insane. Naruto wants to climb him like a tree. Kakashi is drowning in self-righteous guilt. You know the drill.

[marzipanilla]

Partying on the could have beens and quietly sobbing into a red solo cup while staring into a corner waiting for the AUs to kick in...

Jasper: I am a TOOL-

Steven: Yeah you are : )

J: .. I am meant to be wielded in battle...

Connie just having to be like, Steven are you aware that ... ? Yeah, yeah I am. Ignore her, lets go on a walk show me your campus.

Yeah idk what Debbie and Aunt May would do but the vibes would be immaculate. dude. Peter getting hired as Mark's science tutor : ) Peter and Mark having one relationship, Invincible and Spidey having another, them slowly realizing who the other is (lbr Peter would figure it out idk if Mark would lol) Peter just hearing about Nolan but never meeting him bc he's always busy until one day Debbie invites him and Aunt May to dinner and Nolan is there and Peter is just internally screaming the whole time as his spidey senses go off. Debbie hearing that Peter is into photography and mentioning her husband got into it recently lol

Now I'm thinking about Art, JJ and Nolan on a fishing trip and it being just the most fucked up time ever for everyone xD Like not even supervillain attack type shit, just genuine mundane awful awkwardness and weird vibes off everyone. JJ instantly clocking Art is somehow involved w criminal elements/suspicious how a tailor in a strip mall is so financially secure... Nolan thinking everyone being hostile is Just Totally Normal behavior. Art being a bit of a shit to JJ, maybe he likes Spidey, appreciates someone who put so much detail and complexity into their costume, wishes he could chat w them etc..

The world conquering stops for one petty ass vendetta xD God what would the inciting incident between Omni-Man and Spider-man even be...

S1 had so many revisions and additions and changes and it made the narrative more solid but kept all the important beats!! they could have done that for S3!! stop just following the comic I effing beg show. What happened to your willingness to move things around??? Give plot points to other characters so they would have stuff to do ??

Bruh. Debbie confronting Powerplex and that being how she publicly reveals who her family is, YES then it being a very valid fucking concern for everybody because now The Public knows! (tho I will never not give the narrative shit for trying to say it is a ~dramatic thing she told Paul when only three ppl in the entire world apparently have civilian identities and literally anyone who actually wants to kill Mark already knows who he is and where he lives.. like.. there is 0 drama there bc it is so irrelevant. Mark didn't even think it was fucking weird that space aliens knew his name, but you're going to give your mom shit for saying something that you revealed on your own five seconds after the fact while walking through the door in your damn uniform? get your fucking priorities in order..)

And then it's not villains who come after them! It's heroes and wounded ppl like Powerplex who just want suffering when there is no justice! And then it's the villains who just want to appease Omni-Man who are keeping them safe. Eat your heart out on that moral clusterfuck Mark. Cecil losing his mind as this all out brawl erupts.

Oliver just being like, ah so there is no morality just who keeps whoever I care about safe! And Mark being like what?? no!! and Debbie being like, at the end of the day, yeah : /

I'm working it into something bc I realized another thing about Oliver's speech about his ~wonderful father that annoyed me- and it's that Nolan has never apologized. And I want so badly for someone to bring that point up, so it's getting integrated into a larger story. 'Cause yeah you can dream about a world of forgiveness kid, but that man has literally not done anything to combat the horrors. you cannot give him credit for something he has not done. still bitter he magically deleted two months of total city wide destruction and loss of life and devastation from his memory. Even if he waved it all away as the other viltrumites fault, fucking acknowledge that happening!!!

The Oliver thing is so weird bc I feel like the show is playing him as much more childish and human than they ever bothered w in the comic, while still trying to hold on to the very alien ideology he expressed in the comic (tho that fell so flat and was so flimsy for me I will never like the little shit heel lol) and its just like ?? I feel like the show is just trying to be 'look how cute he is! you shouldnt hate him cause hes cute!' and im just over here like you had a thousand ways to make him a layered character and ignored all of them. If you wont put the effort in I will continue to see 'plot device' in a trenchcoat insisting that its a fully fledged character please let them in to the deeper narrative and I'm just like, scram until you can justify your existence through character motivation.

I used to be totally fine with the Debbie dating narrative bc it kinda got to show her moving on (I do not believe Paul had nearly this much interaction w everyone in the comic, but Debbie is also barely in the comic so...) and I was worried if they didn't show her at least making the attempt they would fall into a 'she's just waiting for Nolan to return' narrative which also would have been awful. But now I'm just like why must I suffer this. what is happening. I think there is no way out and the writers would have done something stupid with her no matter what. Cause her just being happily single and doing other shit w her life would have been great! But seeing how couple obsessed the narrative is you know some motherfucker would have been like 'ah but isn't there a man shaped hole in your life?? clearly you are incomplete'. and that would piss me off more than her stupid relationship w Paul.

Let her be a bit of a dick to Oliver. let her get more aggressively competitive at work and piss off her coworkers. let her have fucked up villain friends. let her still struggle w drinking. I honestly wanted her to get in a drunk driving incident in S2 where someone died that way all the Graysons could have killed people under various circumstances lol Let her life be messy and motivated by her choices !! she can be an important voice of reason and pillar of morality and belief and still fuck up !! as bitter as I think she could get I do think she is an intensely change is possible oriented person (again I think she got into some stupid human level nonsense when she was younger and that motivates her belief in reform) I just want to see her living her life and not being an accessory to someone else's !!

While I'm not too familiar with the DCU- your batfam meta posts are intiguing- so in transfering some of the broader strokes from them- I think you tackling a 'Mark isn't Nolan's biological son' fic would be fascinating. Sort of a step to the side of the 'what if Mark never got his powers' fic that sometimes pop up in the fandom

OOOOOO chewing on this currently, hm, the much a distinct flavor of exactly what you’re talking about, but the potential for more family drama depending on WHO knows. Does Mark know?? Is he waiting every day only to be crushed? Does he confused non-Debbie features with Nolan’s? I suppose I’m not the most enthusiastic about non-power AUs, but I think there’s something very fun to explore about Mark having to settle with, if he knows all his life, he will never have powers? I think the trajectory of his dreams will obviously shift, I can see him still having that distinct fatherly idolization, but perhaps embraces being useful to the GDA? Cecil’s number one intern—only intern—curtesy of nepotism, ha! There is something tickling me about Mark taking the Robin Route/Role for the Teen Team in terms of having no powers, just insane skills, BUT there’s something way more delicious about intern Mark when s1e01 happens and Mark tries snooping around to find out the truth about what happened to his Dad.

I wonder if, with Mark having a whole another father, if they’re more or less distant relationship, depending on WHEN Nolan entered Mark’s life? Like if Debbie met Nolan later for this, or just for fun, they dated once, separated (Mark being born during then), then they happened to stumble into each others lives again and Mark’s already been born, anywhere from tween to teenager so there’s a gap in how close they are. I feel like one important aspect of the whole Family Drama is how close they’re supposed to be, a functional, loving family turned upside down? So I wonder what more distance does. I wonder how Nolan copes when his family is entirely human and he can’t project onto Mark.

I love thinking about these, omg.

[sophie-hatter-jenkins]

Part 1: Coastal

A March 2025 Hinny Microfic for @ginnystrophyhusband using Prompt 24

950 words (because I'm not terribly good at the actual 'micro' bit, but it's still technically okay. probably.)

Set in the same universe as this fic. A prequel of sorts, I suppose.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Apparating with her eyes closed is a very weird experience. Frankly, it’s disorientating enough without going in blind, but she trusts Harry. She stumbles when they arrive, but of course he steadies her, just like she knew he would.

Still, she’s still a bit annoyed about all the secrecy.

“I still don’t see why you couldn’t tell me where we’re going,” she grouses.

“I promise it’ll be worth it.” She can’t see his face, but she knows he’s smiling; she can hear it in his voice. That isn’t all she can hear; he’s bubbling with excitement, but he’s nervous too. Whatever this is, it means a lot to him. “Just keep your eyes closed until I say, yeah?”

She rolls her eyes behind her firmly shut eyelids. “Okay, okay.” 

“You’re a trooper, Gin.” There’s laughter in his voice as he takes her arm. “Right, it isn’t far now. I’ll guide you.”

She moves slowly and carefully in response to his gentle tug at her elbow, a little unsure of her footing. He’s right, though—it isn’t long before he announces that they’ve arrived, wherever the hell it is that he’s taking her.

“Can I open them yet?”

“No, not quite. Just… just hang on a sec.” He drops her elbow, and starts muttering under his breath. She doesn’t recognise the spell, and whatever it is seems quite complicated, because it takes a while.

While she waits, she thinks about what she can tell about her surroundings. Despite being deprived of her sight, it’s actually quite a lot.

She can hear the caw of seagulls, and not too far away, the crash of waves on the shore, so they’re near the coast. There's a tang of salt in the air so the sea must be very close, but the ground beneath her feet is level and solid, so they’re not actually on the beach. Harry stops muttering, and she hears the squeak of a reluctant gate, before he guides her forward a few more steps. She recognises the familiar warm tingle of a passing through a ward on her skin, and thinks she can smell lavender, and maybe… mint? They’re in someone’s garden, she decides. 

“Okay,” he tells her, proudly. “You can open your eyes.”

She’s right. She’s standing in a garden, and a very pretty one at that, but she pays absolutely no attention to it at all, because oh! The cottage that the garden belongs to, the cottage that’s right in front of her, is absolutely beautiful.

It’s got white-painted walls and a dark slate roof. The front door is painted blue, and there are matching window boxes filled with a variety of plants that she recognises from Herbology. She knows instantly that she’s somewhere very special.

“So,” he asks, and she can hear his nervousness again. “What do you think?”

“It’s gorgeous, Harry!” With some effort she manages to tear her eyes away from it to look at her boyfriend. He looks relieved, and happy and eager, and it absolutely melts her, like it always does. “But why are we here? And since I’m asking, where exactly is here?”

“Wales,” he tells her. “Pembrokeshire, actually. And we’re here because… well, because it’s mine. I bought it.”

“You live here?” It’s a shock, but not a surprise. She knew he wasn’t keen on staying at Grimmauld long term. She just hadn’t realised his escape was quite so imminent.

“No, not quite,” he explains. “But I will be. I’m moving in next weekend. I just wanted you to see it first, because… well, I didn’t just buy it for me, I bought it for us, because I was hoping you might consider moving here with me?”

They’ve talked about it already, of course, so he isn’t blindsiding her completely with this suggestion of moving in together. It’s just that all their conversations so far have been purely hypothetical—or at least, she thought they were. Apparently, she was mistaken. He’s actually bought her—them—a house? It’s simultaneously utterly insane and incredibly romantic, and so very, very Harry.

She spins slowly on the spot, taking in the neat garden, the sand dunes beyond the gate, and the stretch of sand leading down to the sea that seems to go on forever. It’s all as utterly gorgeous as the cottage.

Beside her, Harry’s still talking, rambling really. “...still quite a distance to Holyhead, but closer than Devon. Or London. Plus I know you weren’t keen on London, and to be honest neither am I, so I thought you might like it here better.” He doesn’t do it often; only when he’s really nervous, and only when something really matters to him, she’s noticed. “I’ve nearly finished the wards, and I thought Bill would check them for me so it’ll be really safe. You could help with the decorating, paint colours and wallpaper too if you like. We’ll need some furniture, I don’t want to bring anything from Grimmauld and you can—”

She grabs the front of his hoodie, fisting both hands into the fabric, and pulls him down towards her, crashing her lips into hers. As expected, it shuts him up pretty effectively. 

She doesn’t release him for several long, breathless moments, and when she does, his beautiful, sea-green eyes are darkened and glazed, but full of hope.

“Yes! Yes of course I’ll move here with you!”

His face absolutely lights up. “Really? You’re sure? I mean, you don’t want to see inside first?”

She shakes her head. “Don’t need to. I already know it’s going to be perfect.” 

She knows that’s true, because she’s going to make sure of it. Harry’s found them the perfect house. She’s going to make it their perfect home.

[ofrionstage]

If I had a nickel for every time there was a classical noval(that was also later adapted into a musical) that had a pathetically in love man doing something pretty stupid because of his love for the leading lady and eventually he's reluctantly dragged into the sewers by the old man with the morals, I'd have two nickels, which isn't a lot but it's weird that it happened twice.

[youdontknowhowtodiequietly]

@aurisartblog (it won't let me tag you??? for some reason???) i saw you asking for elaboration in the comments but idk how long my response would be and i despise typing under comments (it's just so squished - don't ask) so here ya go!

TW! Spoilers for TGR (I will only be talking about things I picked up in this book because I did not annotate TSC), mentions of SA, because, of course there is, it's these two.

To start off with: Jean is so aggressively loyal.

BUT

His aggression and violence is controlled. Idk if you saw the post someone made about Andrew never being out of control, even when others think he is, and I 100% stand by that and it's the same thing with Jean. We all saw how controlled he has been with everything - the game, practices, when ppl piss him off in general - but when it comes time where that aggression is needed to protect his people, it comes out in a measured dose that doesn't intend to seriously harm, but to get someone to back down. Like how a dog will give you a nip, or a cat will swat at you, to get you to back off? Yeah, like that.

Which leads me onto the dog thing.

Now, we're all aware of how Andrew is referred to as Kevin's guard dog, or something of the likes, with the leash and other metaphors. Well, Jean's is not so outwardly named, but he does display dog-like behaviours - especially an obedient one, even if that obedience has been abused into him.

For example, on page 13/14 (Kindle): "As usual, Jean finished first and went to wait on the bench near Jeremy’s locker." Tell me that is not a dog waiting obediently for its "owner" (not saying at all that Jeremy owns him, he does not, but Kevin did not own Andrew, so...) And going back to the whole control thing? If Jeremy said "bite", Jean would. It is Jeremy (and Rhemann, and his contract, but mainly Jeremy and Jean's fear of disappointing him) that keeps Jean at bay (most of the time - technically with Bryson Jeremy didn't say "go" but he also didn't put up much of a protest. I'm sure if Jeremy had been more confident and less afraid of his brother, he could have stopped Jean. But also, sometimes a guard dog will bite even if it isn't told to if it's owner(s) are in danger, and Jeremy and Laila were).

Another quote, which kind of made me really think "hmm, this guy is kind of a parallel to Andrew!" is one quote on page 335: "It makes you more interesting" after Jeremy insults the Bobcats. And quote on page 226 "Stop looking at me like that." (though I didn't realise how Andrew-like it was until I started writing this) are both almost exact copies of what Andrew has said - I think Andrew says "Interesting" to Neil once in the first trilogy? But I haven't read the books in yonks.

Also, just, the poker faces (though Jean's is less "I'm bored" and more, "I could not care less about anything going on"), how they're both so accepting yet filled with rage at what has happened to them (e.g., page 350 "I don’t care. It doesn’t matter. Then why did he want to scream until his throat bled?").

The fact that they are both victims of rape, yet believe that they would never get a true prosecution for their abusers (I'm sure that's why Andrew never spoke out, not just because he was trying to move on, but he knows how low the rates are of rapists getting prosecuted for women, and he no doubt made the connection that it would be even less between two men, even if it was CSA), and Jean doesn't really express this but I'm sure it's a thought.

And I don't doubt Andrew struggled to come to terms with his sexuality after everything that happened to him, and though it isn't the same as what happened to Jean, his struggle with his own attraction is similar.

If we were to get a POV of Andrew, and I were to read TSC again, I would probably be able to make more comparisons.

I hope you enjoyed anyways, and feel free to add to this if you wanna (anyone, btw, not just the person I tagged and am replying to) and sorry if it's a little incoherent, most of my posts usually are lmao.

everyone talks about the parallels between jean and neil, the misplaced forever partners, but no one talks about the parallels between jean and andrew

[taegularities]

some men are textbook villains fr