#absolutely no cheat sheets here

[chaotic-orphan]

Hiii, this is your girly 💍 You actually responded much faster to my ask than I expected you to aha- 😅

First off, thank you sooo much for responding to my ask, it’s always very much appreciated :))

I just want to let you know I love receiving AND responding to your replies. And you wrote SO much length which, like, makes me superrrr happy and, in the moment, excited. To be honest, asking asks kinda gets me out of my writer’s block if you can believe it- It’s forcing me to write, since my brain is itching to respond, and so it’s like making me write, which is good, because I need to write lol- Even if it’s not with creative fiction, it’s just- like, excessive fangirl posts in dedication and/or honor of you-

Thank you so much for the tips on writing superpowers!! After reading your suggestions, I do have a few notes to make!

Now that I look at it, Kit’s superpower DOES fit his personality- And Ambrose’s does too- I don’t think I’ve ever consciously noticed the subtlety of that in your writing lol, so I thank you a lot for that, since giving them a power that fits their overall character is literally an ingredient to making a good craft, so like thank you- I’ll definitely keep that in mind when trying to come up with what ability a character should get!

And OMG, I’ve found that Pinterest actually really helps with fueling up characters and their superpowers- So, thank you for that tip as well, since it kinda starts up the supernatural writing mechanics in my brain-

Also, you said: “I can write more advice I’ve learned if you want a more detailed reply to this question, just shoot me an ask and-” And I just want you to know, you will be receiving an ask in all caps that you can give me more advice underneath 😀 So, like, the topic of that ask isn’t built off you answering my barely-strung-together-rambles, but actually zeroed in on a main subject (aka writing superpowers-)

Thank you so so SO much for all the tips, I really think they’ll help me out! Like, a lot-

Also, I kinda assumed you weren’t in school, lol, since I saw you were 25 in your bio but I literally couldn’t remember for the life of me if it was you who got the, as I see, the undergrad lol– (Late) Congratulations btw!!

I alsooooo kinda assumed you’d be writing drabbles for Febuwhump, lol- Like, as I was asking if you were gonna do a series or drabbles, I kinda already guessed, since you are more prone to writing these magnificent masterpieces that I want like 80 continuing parts to, but like their one standalone was perfectly curated to be, like, alone?? Like, to be glorified without a continuation in progress?? Idk! But I loveee your drabbles. And your series. And your asks. And your reblogs. Anything you post on your blog, really. 

Also, I actually managed to write some of my layout for Febuwhump today which I’m very proud of ☺️Though, I’m not pleased with two of the layouts, so I might scrap it and try something different- I think I’m going to do a little more than half of the febuwhump prompts for a series, and then the rest as just drabbles. So, I'll be writing a short series, lol. So, I don’t burn out-

Also- (omg, why do I keep transitioning these paragraphs with “Also” Like it’s becoming repetitive, even to me-) I am, and have forever been, very shy about my writing. And I know I’ve probably regressed over the year when it comes to my literacy capabilities, butttttttttt I have to remind myself that I might aspire to do something with writing in the future. And I should get over my stage fright when it comes to presenting my writing for others to behold and see. And, sooooo, there’s a chance I’ll tag you in a febuwhump post, lol, but only! on the ones I think you’d actually like, because, please be warned, I’m incredibly rusty. AND, just so you know, I would never say “ew no” to you 🥺 You are too precious- And I know no pressure! But, also the pressure IS kinda on because like I want to write something good that you’d enjoy, and actually I don’t wanna pressure YOU into reading it, because idk- You already know I have a thing for lengthy replies, so you’d expect my writing to be lengthy (but who knows because I haven’t written anything in a while), and I don’t want you to force yourself to read something you won’t enjoy, and anyway- it’s totally up to you, and it won’t hurt my feelings if I like tag you in something during Febuwhump and you don’t like it and you can literally give me (constructive; I’m still slightly fragile 😀) criticism, because like, yah. And anyway, I’m going to stop this overthinking ramble, right nowwww

YESSSS, now to your rambles section of your replyyyyyyyyy

I have definitely noticed you match the vibes of others, actually sometimes you OUTmatch them 😭 But I can tell it's because the person said something and it was about something you were passionate about and you just had to get it out lol- which I totallyyyyy understand to the fullest extent- I was very hesitant when I sent my first ever ask to you on New Years Eve, since I, like, didn’t use my deductive reasoning intuition and check the comments to your posts and actually see the way you responded to others- and you always responded to others with the vibes in tact-

I would like to let you know that I actually prefer responses to my asks that aren’t immediate lol- Of course I get SUPER excited when I get a reply back, but it kinda feels like a penpal ya know? Like, letters kinda? I kinda like not being overwhelmed with answering as quickly as possible, and actually being given time to send and then receive responses- It feels much more chill---more calm, if you, like, know what I mean- Idk-

Thank you for your concern about me not stressing out- Nothing about responding to you stressed me out, so don’t worry! It makes me HAPPY to endorse in my favorite orphan- Because here’s the thing! I loveeee spending my time responding, and getting into the flow of things, and literally, I know I don’t owe you anything, but I’ve been reading on your blog for a little over a year, so it kinda feels refreshing to just actually get to talk to the blogger I’ve come to adore (be it inconsistently, as I hopped on and off tumblr)-

By the way, and this is totally random, but you said “reinforce” in your ask, and I though that was funny, because that was a vocabulary word I learned at school this week lol- 

Reverting to female Whumpees, I really just think it comes down to being more polite with them, ya know? But at the same time, since I’m female and don’t have as strict qualms around the hurt revolving around female whumpees, it doesn’t really pull me back from wanting to write them- It’s just, certain instances, just seem literally closed off or off bounds to be used with or against female whumpees-

I think that’s kinda why I want to do the female whumpee and female whumper combination, since it’s like they are both the same gender so there wouldn't be anything holding me back from any suffering happening- But at the same time, a nicely written male whumper would also do wonders in making a female whumpees suffering more- idk?? Like, appetizing? Just something about it ya know- Like a nicely written male whumper and nicely written female whumpee would piece together so fluidly- A compatible whump match, if I may. I think that’s why I really like Supervillain and Morgan’s interactions so much because of how compatible the two are (and I don’t mean this romantic-wise, or friendship-wise, but I mean it whump-wise). But the two fit! And their fluidness with one another really brings together the Heroic Betrayal story! and I don't think that fluidness would prevail as much if Morgan was instead a Mason, or a Mark, ya know? Like, sometimes female whumpees slide into a story more smoothly than male whumpess 🤷 And I think another thing is that I read male whumpees alllll the time it feels like- And that’s not necessarily a bad thing! But it really was refreshing when I picked up Heroic Betrayal and came across Morgan’s character, because, like- I feel like I don't get to see that often-

(Plus, I can sympathize more easily with my whumped girlies than my whumped baby boys-)

FYI, you are nottt delayed, you could withstand from responding to my ask for WEEKS and it still wouldn’t count as delayed to me- Like, you literally responding to my ask WAYYYYY sooner than I expected, a pleasant surprise! But, a surprise nontheless lol- Like, literally the first thing I see after school- 

Though, I must admit. it’s hard not to feel like I kinda do overstep with my responses- Since it feels like I’m rambling the whole time, but like I’ll make sure to remind myself that you don’t mind- and I think my self-doubt stems from my overthinking tendencies, so I’ll make sure to push past that loll

And just to note I LOVE your replies, short and (guiltily, but especially) the lengthy ones- And I really appreciate you making your replies divided into sections and also always keeping them very concise and structured- It’s very pleasing to the eyes-

Onto the writer’s block section!

Thank you for putting my feelings into your own words, hello?? You literally just explained to me how I was feeling- in like perfect words and vocabulary?? Everything in this section was really motivationally inspiring which I really appreciate! And I’ll take heed to your suggestions- I’ll definitely check out Stephen King’s Interviews! I have to remind myself, often, that the first draft is notttt going to be good, loll-

On the Motivation section.

I really liked this section because, for one, comparing motivation to a “cruel mistress” made my writing euphoria happy, because that line ate?? Oh, and I do see the ages posted in bios! I get a little intimidated when I see people surpass 18 years old, because I’m like, “oh, should I back off?” Since I am on the younger side of things (a couple years till 18), I try to avoid crossing dangerous territory. Despite you being slightly older, I still really enjoy your blog, and I honestly feel like it suits my age range. Like, it’s more focused on character depth and plot and that stuff so it’s like a comfort zone for me- And you’re also, like, really nice- Which, like, draws me in like a moth to a flame (? I THINK that’s the right phrase??) And I kinda see you as a role model to look up to when it comes to my writing- So, there's that-

Okay, I knowwww I should focus on school, but I loveeee replying to you alsooooooo

Anyway, thank you again for your reply! They really mean the whole world and more to me!

-From your girly 💍

PS. (I totally did not giggle when you called me “you little cinnamon roll” 🫢)

-Just FYI, school is closed tomorrow because it’s a snow day :) I’m very pleased- Day 1 of me asking you to write a book 😃

Dear 💍 girly,

You are right, we are letter writers now, this a pen-palship📮📫📬

I’m glad our conversation is forcing you to write more and forcing you out of the dreaded writer’s block!!! I am so sorry for how late this reply is, I didn’t even realise until I got another ask today, I am so sorry!!! So, let me answer now, and it will probably be as long as yours hehehe – I saw your superpower ask as well, I will reply to that after this!!! Get some good links and stuff that I use too for you XD

On Superpowers and Fanfic

Yes, superpowers matching people’s personalities are really good at making superpower characters – that’s something I learned from fanfics hehehe and superpower AUs on A03, which if you don’t know, you probably do, but AO3 has some of the best fucking writers ever, and fanfic in general is also just such a big fun thing

On Pinterest

AND PINTEREST!!! Is the best, I make pinterest boards for my stories when they get long and I need more creative vibes, I need to visually see it – for example Morgan in Heroic Betrayal didn’t have a hair colour until like chapter 9 because I didn’t have a character reference for her yet ahahahahahh - but actually, then I started playing Witcher 3 and she is literally Ciri in my head (sorry I am also a big game nerd, love video game bosses, so whumpy)

On Your Writing Progress

CONGRATULATIONS!!!!

YOU WROTE SOME LAYOUT FOR FEBUWHUMP!!! That is brilliant, if you want to, please tag me in your drabbles or the ones you like (totally cool if not XD No pressure)

OH NEVERMIND, I JUST READ THE NEXT PARAGRAPH AHAHHAHAHA – I don’t want you to feel like you have to write something good that I’ll like! Perfection is the enemy of creativity and I have written some god awful things when I started writing and I still look back on it with pride (in my personal writing journals) because I wrote so much and because of it this love of writing has stayed with me for yearrrsss!!!

Hahahah, I am glad you prefer later replies, it does feel more like pen pals this way!! Reading and responding to all the little paragraphs hehehe!!

OH MY GOD NEW VOCAB WORD, REINFORCED heheheh what a coincidence!!

If you like Heroic betrayal – the dynamic between Morgan and Supervillain, I would recommend reading @/whumblr’s Bookish series – really good fem Whumpee and male whumper dynamic – just delicious O Mo Dhia

On Female whumpee/whumpers

But I totally agree with your opinion, like fem Whumpee and fem whumper would be no holds barred all out smackdown, and that is because they’re equals like male whumper, male Whumpee – but even then the dynamic changes!

Because women are so much more subtle in their domination than men who respond more to violence and so are more violent! But fem Whumpee/whumper would be soooooo good!!! I am only delving into that dynamic recently!!! And fem Whumpee/whumper is really interesting to write.

On Ranting and Self-consciousness

No, please, ramble, rant, tell me your every thought, you are NOT overstepping!!! like I am (obviously) paying attention to this and replying and giving it thought, but like I am not self-conscious about how it will be read or picked up and I think that comes with age ahahaha…

I have a lot of sisters, and my younger sisters are embarrassed by little things that I try to tell them won’t matter in a few years, but it matters a lot to them at the time!!! And self-consciousness is something everyone has to battle in life, like I would never dream of sharing my whump fics with anyone I know hehehe, we all got to lock that voice in a cage and throw it in a river

And I am having a lot of fun talking to you!

On First Drafts���

THE FIRST DRAFT IS A PERFECT EXAMPLE OF CRINGE, likeeee first drafts succkkkkk so bad O Mo Dhia, it is actually just… GAH INFURIATING and you’re like “this is the worst writing ever” and there are so many quotes on writing – “like books aren’t written, they’re re-written,” and that “all good writing is re-writing” etc.  

On Motivation

Hahahah, I think in my last reply I was struggling with motivation and reading a dramatic book and I was feeling edgy, cruel mistress hehehe, it’s so true though!!! GAH!

On older writers

I felt that intimidation too back in the days of my youth😭😭😭– but no just as long as your safe on the internet (oh god, I really am old) and just y’know, you’re very nice and sweet, but do be careful with that openness too and yeah, I mean, obviously trust your gut and be savvy – okay, I am stopping this rant, I am not your dad ahhaahaha – INTERNET SAFETY GUYS, NOT A JOKING MATTER

Although I’m honoured to be your role model when it comes to writing, you are just so cute agghhhhh – you are a cinnamon roll ahahhahah, thank you for your last letter, these are letters now, we are pen pals now, writing with quills by candlelight in plague ridden France mmmmm yes ahahahhahah

SNOW DAY!!!!!!!!!! LET’S GO!!!!! Oh my god I used to love when our school pipes burst and we didn’t have school for a few days, 10/10

I am currently writing a book, writing two, but one is more prose fiction like contemporary fiction, but MY FAVE IS the one about two brothers in a magic world with powers (which is basically glorified fable (another old video game) fanfiction but I LOVE THEM) so yes 😊

[cloudtransprncy]

Dumb/Problem

Kim Chaewon x Male Reader | 4k words Tags: cheating, light bratty elements, backshots, reckless decisions, tension, guilty pleasure Next Pt 2.

Cutting class to get a break? Nah. Cutting class to fuck your girlfriends best friend? Yesssssir

Is this dumb?

Skipping class just to fuck your girlfriend's best friend?

Absolutely.

But with her soft bed under your knees and your hands gripping her hips—who gives a shit about being smart right now?

Chaewon's room is exactly like her—carefully curated chaos that feels effortless.

All-white sheets that tangle around your legs, a fuzzy cream blanket kicked to the side. Squishmallows stacked against her headboard, now knocked over from how hard the bed's shaking. BTS watching from a poster on the wall, vinyls of SZA and Keshi mounted near her mirror like trophies. Polaroids scattered across her wall—blurry concert nights, drunken smiles, memories you're not part of.

Her dresser is a mess of half-open products—lip masks, serums in glass bottles, perfumes that cost more than you make in a week. The scent of her hangs in the air—sweet vanilla with something darker underneath, something that gets under your skin and stays there.

A Bath & Body Works candle sits for show, not for burning. Makeup scattered like she got ready in a hurry—an open tube of lip gloss, an eyelash curler abandoned.

Nike slides kicked off by the bed, a Starbucks cup still half-full on the nightstand. Your hoodie thrown over her chair—she took it last week and never gave it back.

Chaewon's face is pressed into the mattress, her messy bun barely hanging on, blonde strands sticking to her neck as she gasps. She's arching her back for you, pressing her ass against you as you sink your cock into her, her pussy gripping you so tight it makes your vision blur. The wet sounds of her taking you fill the room—slick, obscene, mixed with the slap of skin on skin and those breathy little moans she tries to muffle in her pillow.

Her skin is hot beneath your hands, a thin layer of sweat making her glow in the dim light coming through her curtains. That sweet vanilla scent gets stronger as her body heats up, mixing with the unmistakable smell of sex.

Her white tank top is riding up her back, bunched around her ribs. You keep pushing it higher, needing to see more of her, to feel more of her skin under your hands. Your eyes can't get enough of her—the curve where her waist dips before flaring to her hips, the way her body trembles when you hit just right.

Rough. Desperate.

She shudders when you dig your fingers harder into her waist, leaving marks that will still be there tomorrow. Her nails claw at the sheets, hips rocking back, trying to take control, but you don't let her. You decide the pace. You decide how deep. She just has to take it.

Her breath catches on a moan when you thrust harder. She feels too fucking good, squeezing around your cock like she was made to take you, like she's trying to break your self-control.

Then—light cuts through the moment.

Your phone, half-buried in the rumpled sheets, screen glowing bright. You don't need to check it.

Eunbi.

Your actual girlfriend.

Chaewon's supposed best friend.

She has no clue. No idea you're not in calculus right now. No idea you've got her best friend's ass pressed against you, your cock buried inside her.

Probably just asking about hanging out later, or sending you some stupid TikTok that made her think of you. Something sweet and normal because that's who Eunbi is.

You flip the phone over, face down against the bed. You shouldn't be here. You should be in class. Or with Eunbi. But Chaewon pushes back against you, and those thoughts disappear real fucking quick.

Chaewon turns her head, looking back over her shoulder, breathless but still fucking smirking. "Going to ignore her like that?"

Instead of answering, you press your hand between her shoulder blades, shoving her face back into the mattress.

She moans, the sound muffled by sheets, but you can hear the smile in it. Even with your cock inside her, she's still playing games.

"Bet she'd cry if she saw you like this."

Something dark twists inside you at her words. Your grip turns bruising, thrusts harder, deeper, and whatever smugness she had vanishes in an instant.

Chaewon whimpers, nails digging into the sheets hard enough to tear them, thighs trembling. She can't keep up anymore, can't match your rhythm as you fuck her harder than anyone has before.

She gasps out something—your name, "fuck," maybe both—but it breaks into a high, desperate sound that lets you know you've won.

Eunbi is good. Beautiful. Sweet. She gives head like she read about it in a magazine. She's the kind of girl people expect you to stay loyal to.

But Chaewon? Chaewon is filthy, tight, and knows exactly how to crawl under your skin and live there.

Eunbi texts you good morning with heart emojis. Chaewon sends you pictures of her tits when she knows her best friend is sitting right beside her.

Eunbi kisses you like she's making promises. Chaewon bites your lip until you taste blood and laughs when you wince.

Eunbi's the girl you bring to prom. The girl your mom loves. The girl who makes you lunch and saves you a seat in the cafeteria. But Chaewon's the girl you ruin your life for.

She's still testing you, still pushing back against you even as she falls apart. "You're holding back," she accuses between gasps, her voice shaky but challenging.

Your jaw tightens. She always does this shit. Always wants to see how far she can push before you break.

You answer with a thrust so hard it knocks her flat against the mattress, her blonde hair spilling across the white sheets. She gasps, a shocked sound that's almost a yelp, but when she looks back at you, that fucking smirk is still there, daring you for more.

"Fuck—slow down—" she starts, but you both know she doesn't mean it.

Your fingers dig into her hips, dragging her back onto your cock as you set a pace that finally wipes that smug look off her face. Whatever game she was playing dissolves into gasping breaths and desperate moans she can't hold back anymore.

She's squeezing you so tight it's hard to think, too good to remember why this is such a fucking bad idea, too perfect to care about who keeps blowing up your phone from the other side of the bed.

Your phone vibrates against the sheets. Again. And again.

Chaewon notices, of course she does. She lets out this breathless little laugh that makes your stomach flip, barely turning her head, voice syrupy and taunting like the cherry slushies she's always drinking between classes. "Does she even make you feel this good?"

You don't answer. You push her face into the mattress instead, feeling a rush that's better than any post-game high you've ever chased.

She moans, muffled against floral sheets, but you can hear the fucking amusement in it, the way she's still enjoying this too much, like she's winning some bet with herself.

If she wants it rough, she's going to get it. And God, every bone in your stupid teenage body is screaming to give it to her.

Your hand slides up her back, fingers wrapping lightly around her throat as you lean down, your varsity track team t-shirt sticking to your chest with sweat, voice low in her ear. "Take it, take that dick."

She instantly becomes a whimpering, moaning mess beneath you, her whole body quivering. You can feel her pussy clench tight around you, gripping your cock like she's desperate to keep you inside. She licks her lips—you can feel the sticky gloss against your palm—her breath hitching in that way that makes you dizzy, and pushes her hips back against you again. A deliberate roll that makes you forget there's a calc test tomorrow you should be studying for.

That's all you need.

Your grip tightens, forcing her still, making sure she takes it. She chokes out a gasp, her whole body shuddering against yours, her thighs—always toned from cheer practice—trembling as you fuck her deeper, harder, until her teasing completely breaks apart.

At this angle, with your weight pressing her down, you can feel everything—every slick, desperate clench around your length, the obscene wetness that spreads between you each time you push back in. It's suffocating, consuming, a vice of heat wrapped around you, pulling you deeper into something you shouldn't want this badly but fuck, you'd fail every class for this feeling.

Her hand reaches back, grabbing blindly for anything to hold onto—your wrist, your thigh—until she finds your arm. She grips it hard, nails dragging over your skin, feeling the way your muscles flex under her fingers. Feeling you as she feels you inside, the same fingers that wave to Eunbi across the cafeteria now digging into your skin.

Your phone vibrates again, the buzz muffled against the rumpled sheets where you flipped it face down earlier. Neither of you look at it. Neither of you dare.

Chaewon's breathless now, moaning into the sheets, a mess beneath you, every ounce of her earlier cockiness gone, replaced by something desperate and hungry that makes you feel ten feet tall. The most popular girl in school, falling apart for you.

If you were a better person, you wouldn't be here.

But you're not. You're the kind of person who thinks about this—about her—even during fourth period when Eunbi is passing you notes with little hearts drawn in the margins.

A noise outside the room—soft, but distinct. A car door? Her mom home early? Your body tenses, every muscle tight, your breath catching mid-thrust, the reality of where you are crashing in.

Chaewon hears it too. Feels you hesitate.

And then she laughs. Breathless, airy, like this is the funniest thing that's happened all day, like the thought of getting caught is just another cheap thrill.

"Aww, scared someone's gonna catch you balls deep in me?" Her voice is teasing, dripping with amusement, even as her legs tremble beneath you, her Victoria's Secret Pink thong still dangling from one ankle.

Your fingers flex around her throat in retaliation, squeezing just enough to make her gasp. She barely has a second to process it before you slam her down, your grip unrelenting, then flip her onto her back so fast she barely has time to catch her breath, her blonde hair—perfectly highlighted last weekend at a salon that costs more than your car payment—slipping free from its messy bun, wild against the sheets.

Your cock slips free in the motion, and you grab it tight, feeling the obscene slickness coating your length, dripping from her. It's wet—wet as fuck—before you slap it against her swollen folds. The sound is loud, filthy, obscene—wet as hell. Your cock slides against her, dragging through the mess between them before you shove it back in. She shudders, her breath hitching, her thighs twitching as you tease her with the weight of it before pressing forward, sinking back inside.

Chaewon's eyes flutter, her breath catching as you force her legs up, pressing her thighs flush to her chest, pinning her in place, giving her no room to squirm away. The new angle has her gasping, hands flying up to your arms, gripping tight, her nails—freshly done in that pale pink Eunbi helped her pick out yesterday—dig into your arms, clinging tight like she's bracing for impact, like she needs something to hold onto before she breaks completely.

The bed shifts beneath you, and your phone vibrates once more, the buzz reverberating through the mattress, felt through every grinding thrust. You both feel it. Neither of you care. Not when you should be in Mr. Kim's class right now, not when Eunbi thinks you're taking notes instead of taking her best friend.

Your only focus is on the way she clenches around you, the way she gasps your name between ragged moans, the way she completely melts beneath you, nothing like the ice queen who rules the hallways.

Chaewon's hands fly to your shoulders, nails digging into your skin as she pulls you down to her. There's nothing delicate about it—her kiss is messy, frantic, her lips parted, her breath hot and ragged against yours. She kisses like she's starving for it, like she wants to taste herself on your tongue, like she doesn't care how sloppy it gets.

Your tongues tangle, wet and uncoordinated, her mouth opening wider, drool slicking your chin, mixing with the sweat beading along your skin. She moans into it, needy, desperate, hips shifting beneath you, trying to keep up with the way you fuck her, so different from the composed way she presents herself in class.

You pull back just enough to catch her dazed expression, lips swollen, spit-glossed. A strand of saliva still connects you, snapping when she licks her lips, pupils blown wide with something dangerously close to obsession.

"You don't kiss her like that," she breathes, and it's not a question. It's a victory lap.

No, you don't.

Eunbi kisses soft, slow, careful—under the bleachers after school, sweet and innocent. Chaewon kisses like she wants to ruin you for anyone else. And you let her.

Your response is a sharp thrust, making her yelp, making her arms tighten around your shoulders. Her back arches off the bed, the tiny gold cross necklace her parents gave her for her birthday sliding against her collarbone, and you take the moment to move, dragging yourself out until just the tip remains before shoving back in, hard. Her breath hitches, body tightening, legs shaking.

Then you stop moving.

She whines immediately, brows furrowing, her legs squeezing around you, trying to force you to keep going. But you don't. You let the frustration build, watching her squirm, watching her writhe beneath you—wet, glistening, flushed deep with arousal. She's a fucking mess, and you're not done making her one.

You let the moment hang, let the desperation settle before tilting your head down and spitting—right on her clit. The thick glob lands exactly where you want it, shining against her swollen bud. Before she can even process it, your thumb is there, pressing in, rubbing it in slow, deliberate circles as you start moving again.

She chokes on her breath, body jolting like she just got caught cheating on a test.

"Fuck," she whimpers, fingers clawing at your forearms, legs shaking with every tight, controlled rub.

You're still hovering above her, watching her squirm, watching her fall apart beneath you, burning this image into your brain to replay during the classes you actually attend.

"Eunbi wouldn't let you do that," she gasps, voice breaking, teasing even as she crumbles, the same mouth that gives morning announcements over the school intercom now whimpering your name.

No, she wouldn't.

Eunbi wouldn't moan like this, wouldn't beg like this, wouldn't be dripping like this. Eunbi wouldn't take you like this, wouldn't even dream of skipping AP Lit to fuck in an empty house. Eunbi is SAT prep courses and college applications and volunteer hours.

Chaewon is this.

And that's why you fuck her harder.

Your thrusts grow rougher, deeper, driven by something reckless and insatiable, something you're too young to name but old enough to crave. Chaewon's body rocks beneath you, her moans turning sharper, breathless, spilling into the thick heat of the room. You press down, pinning her fully against the mattress, making sure she takes every inch, making sure she feels all of it.

Her nails scrape against your back, leaving marks that'll sting in the shower after practice, her legs tightening around your waist, pulling you closer, needing you deeper. Her breath stutters between gasps, each one catching higher as you fuck her harder, hungrier, as if there's no tomorrow—no girlfriend still calling, no consequence waiting outside this room, no college future that could evaporate if this gets out.

Risk of getting caught? Forgotten.

Guilt of cheating on your girlfriend? Forgotten.

Eunbi? Forgotten.

The only thing that matters is the way your cock fits so snug against Chaewon's walls, the way she clenches down, tight and desperate, squeezing you with every frantic, high-pitched moan as she completely loses all composure. The Queen Bee of your high school reduced to a whimpering mess beneath you.

She's right there, on the edge, her nails dragging, her hips bucking up, desperate to finish. But you don't let her have it. Not yet. Not when seeing her like this—completely undone, completely yours—is better than any high you've ever chased on the field.

You slow—not in pace, but in control. Shift your weight, dragging her with you, rolling her onto her side without ever slipping out. One of her legs hitches over yours, your grip securing it in place as you push in again, deeper, the angle hitting something inside her that makes her whimper, makes her entire body tense up like she's been shocked.

Her fingers claw at your arm, nails pressing into taut muscle built from varsity workouts, her breath breaking apart into sharp little gasps that fill the bedroom. She's trying to speak, trying to say something, but it keeps getting swallowed between ragged moans.

"I'm—" she tries, voice cracking, "I—fuck—"

The way she stumbles over it, how she can barely get the words out—the girl who always has a comeback, who never shuts up in class—makes something snap inside you. Your cock throbs, swelling even harder, stretching her more as her walls squeeze around you in desperation. Your grip tightens—on her thighs, her ass, her waist. You need to feel her, need to hold every part of her as she comes undone.

Your hands roam—palming the curve of her back, gripping her tits, feeling the way they bounce with every thrust. Then up, fingers tangling into her blonde hair, tugging her head back against the pillows, making sure she feels all of it, all of you.

She pulls a pillow close, biting into it, eyes squeezed shut, drowning in the way you fuck her. The room is thick with the sound of skin against skin, her breathless whimpers breaking into something higher, needier. The air is heavy, thick with sweat, with the intoxicating scent of her—her Victoria's Secret body spray mixing with the raw, musky heat of sex, the sheets carrying the evidence of it. It's overwhelming, suffocating, consuming, every breath filled with her.

You're barely holding on yourself, tension winding tight in your spine, in your stomach, but seeing her like this—seeing her break beneath you, seeing her fall apart in your hands—that's what pushes you closer to the edge.

You grit your teeth, feel your cock twitch inside her, aching, swollen, so fucking close you can taste it. "I'm close," you manage, voice rough, strained, barely holding on.

Chaewon doesn't answer—not with words. Just a moan, high-pitched and wrecked, a breathless whimper spilling past her swollen lips. She turns her head, eyes hazy, half-lidded, looking at you through the blur of sweat and pleasure. Her gaze drops, trailing down your body, watching the way you're fucking into her, the way you stretch her open, the way you own her—this girl who has everything, who everyone wants to be.

Then her hand moves—sliding between her legs, fingers brushing over her swollen, messy clit. She gasps at the contact, whines as she rubs tight, fast circles, her entire body tensing, back arching into you.

The slick, obscene sounds of it mix with her gasps, her slurred curses, her whimpers breaking into desperate, breathless pleas. "Fuck—fuck, fuck, fuck—"

You're right there. So fucking close. This moment of perfect, terrible clarity where nothing exists outside this room—not school, not your future, not even tomorrow.

Chaewon gets there first. Her entire body seizes up, legs trembling, thighs squeezing tight around your waist as she crashes into her orgasm. Her grip turns bruising, hands clawing at you—your back, your arms, your shoulders—grasping for anything, everything as she spirals.

"Oh my fuck!" she screams, head thrown back, voice breaking into something raw and desperate, loud enough that you're suddenly grateful her parents won't be home for hours.

That's it. That's what fucking wrecks you.

Your body locks up, heat pooling at the base of your spine, surging through you like a live wire, so intense it knocks the breath from your lungs. Your cock twitches violently inside her, pulsing, aching, your entire body seizing up—legs tensing, toes curling, muscles locking in place as the pleasure crashes through you. You bury yourself deep one last time before instinct kicks in, before you yank yourself out, your hands shoving her onto her back.

You stroke yourself fast, frantic, desperate, your abs clenching, hips jerking on instinct, chasing that last pulse of pleasure. The sight of her wrecked beneath you, her skin still flushed, her thighs twitching, sends you over the fucking edge. "Shit—" you groan, voice wrecked, guttural, as your cock throbs violently in your grip. The first thick spurt shoots out, streaking across her stomach, hot and filthy, splashing across the curve of her waist, her navel. The rest follows in messy ropes, dribbling down her skin, pooling between her ribs. It's everywhere—sticky, raw, a fucking mess. Chaewon shudders at the sensation, her breath hitching, her thighs still twitching from the aftershocks of her own release.

She exhales, still trembling, thighs twitching, completely spent. A fucked-out smile tugs lazily at her lips as she drags a slow, shaky breath in, her chest rising, coated in the evidence of what you just did to her.

You sit back, gasping, running a hand through your sweat-damp hair, trying to catch your breath. The room smells like sex and sweat and her perfume—a combination that's going to haunt your dreams for weeks.

Chaewon stirs, reaching down without hesitation. Her fingers trail over her stomach, gathering the mess you left on her, scooping up a streak from her skin and bringing it to her mouth. Her tongue flicks out, tasting it, humming low in her throat. Then she does it again—this time from her chest, then her waist, dragging her fingers through the sticky warmth, licking it up like it's second nature.

"Fuck," you breathe, voice wrecked, hand finding her thigh and squeezing it tight.

She moans softly at the contact, smirking as she stretches out beneath you, shameless. "You fucked the shit out of me," she purrs, voice thick, teasing. "Now you gonna think about it the next time you fuck Eunbi, huh?"

Your jaw tightens. The mention of her—your girlfriend—after everything you just did, after the way Chaewon looks right now, smug and satisfied and so fucking filthy, makes something snap.

Your hand flies to her throat, gripping, pinning her back into the sheets. She gasps, but it's not in protest—it's in pleasure. Her lips part, her breath hitches, eyes darkening as she tilts her chin up, inviting more, daring you.

And then your phone rings.

Not just a vibration this time. A full-blown call.

Loud. Shrill. Eunbi.

A cold weight sinks into your chest, heavy, suffocating. The real world crashing back in like a bucket of ice water.

Post-nut clarity slams into you, cutting through the heat still clinging to your skin. Everything crashes in at once—who you are, what you've done, what this means.

You let go of Chaewon's neck like she burns you, scrambling off of her, off the bed, reaching blindly for your phone. Your hands are still shaky as you grab it, answering as fast as you can, voice rough, breath unsteady.

"Hey."

Eunbi's voice is light, sweet, unaware. "Hey, why weren't you replying? It's class change."

Fuck. You swallow hard, running a hand through your damp hair. Your skin is still hot, sticky, the air thick with the lingering heat and smell of musk.

"Uh—I had to walk home to grab something."

A lie. A weak one. But it makes sense. You live close enough to the school that it's not impossible. You just hope she buys it, hope she doesn't hear how your heart is still hammering against your ribs.

"Oh," Eunbi hums. "I got worried."

As she talks, you don't notice Chaewon moving. Not until she's right there, sliding down the bed, her bare body pressing into your side, her face hovering way too close to your cock.

Your breath hitches. Your grip on the phone tightens.

She's smirking. Watching you. Waiting. The same look she gives when she knows the answer to a question no one else can solve.

"You weren't answering," Eunbi says. "I thought something happened."

"Sorry, babe. Didn't mean to worry you."

And that's when Chaewon makes her move.

She doesn't touch your cock. Not yet. Instead, her mouth goes lower, latching onto your balls, sucking wet and slow, tongue swirling over sensitive skin.

A bolt of heat spikes down your spine. Your muscles go tight, your breath cuts short, your fingers dig into the sheets.

"Shit," you almost say out loud—but bite your tongue last second.

Eunbi's still talking. You don't even register what she's saying. Something about meeting at lunch, something about the chem test next period.

Chaewon's fucking grinning, lips stretched around you, her eyes locked onto yours, waiting for you to slip up, to lose control, to moan or gasp or fucking break. The thrill of it clear in her eyes—the risk, the power she has over you right now.

You shove her back, her shoulders hitting the mattress, but all it does is make her giggle—low and sultry, like she's savoring your panic, like she enjoys watching you squirm. Too loudly. Dangerously loud.

Panic seizes your whole body. Your eyes go wide. You press a finger to your lips, mouthing, "Shhh."

Eunbi pauses on the other end. "You okay?"

You force yourself to act normal. To breathe. You push Chaewon away—physically shove her back. She pouts, but she listens, sitting back on her heels, smug and satisfied, before stretching her arms over her head, languid and unbothered. Then, just as easily, she steps off the bed, stretching like a cat, unbothered, like this was nothing more than a game to her.

"Yeah," you say, somehow steady. "I'm fine."

Through the phone, you hear Eunbi giggling, the sound of footsteps, her friends chattering in the background. She's walking to her next class. Completely unaware. The girlfriend who trusts you, who saves you a seat at lunch, who helps you study for tests you're barely passing.

"Okay," she says. "I'll see you at lunch then, babe. Love you."

Silence lingers. A pause that stretches too long.

You should say it back. You need to. But then, you look up.

Chaewon's standing at her closet, slipping on fresh clothes. Her ass is in clear view, the length of her body stretching as she moves, her legs lean and smooth. Her messy tank top clings to her body, damp with sweat, a streak of dried cum still visible on the fabric.

Your mouth feels dry. Your brain short-circuits, caught between what you should feel and what you do feel.

"I love you too," you manage to say, through everything weighing on you, and the call ends with a soft beep.

Chaewon turns to face you.

And she gives you a look.

Not smug. Not teasing.

Just dirty. Unreadable. Something dark and lingering in her eyes.

She doesn't say a word. Just grabs her shorts, turns, and walks out to the bathroom.

The door shuts.

You sit there, still gripping your phone, staring at the space she left behind. Your pulse won't slow down. Not from the panic. Not from the guilt. Not from the fact that even now, even after all of it—you still want her.

Your skin burns, your body tense, still stuck in it. Still feeling it. What you shouldn't have done. But you did. And the worst part? Some fucked-up part of you knows that if she pulled you back into that bed, you wouldn't stop her.

You should feel worse. You should hate yourself.

But Chaewon's still hot as fuck, and that's the problem.

AN: This was originally going to be a longer fic, but I ended up with a newer Chaewon idea, and she’s my ult bias so i cut this down to just the sex.

Sorry to all the Eunbi fans, dw she’ll get her own

[kismetlotts]

cw: angst, mentions of sex, best friend Simon Riley, mentions of knives, mentions of hurting yourself but no implications of actually doing so or having done in the past, mentions of cheating, mentions of alcohol, clueless Simon Riley, crying in each others arms, helping out your best friend, reader is self less

part 2 of Best Friend Simon Riley Angst (I recommend reading part one first to understand certain elements better)

You woke up in the morning, daylight shining through your curtains and you already knew it wasn’t sunshine- bound to be nothing but grey clouds out there, flooding the sky like a polluted ocean. Your nose and head ached in the silent flood of last nights memories, your crying, your actions and worst of all, your best friend.

Oh Simon, what a dickhead you were. Why did you have to come here?

Your body flushed against the cold sheets behind you, a weightless bed, giving you the impression he’d done a runner. Typical him honestly- you wouldn’t be surprised if that was what initiated their breakup; the same breakup that was at fault for all of this.

He was always so forward, front and confrontational within the field. The notorious ‘Ghost’ that installs fear in every enemy he has to face. He’s a fighter at work but ironically, in life, all he knew was how to retreat. Pull away before he can cause anymore damage, pull out before the mess gets bigger.

You flung the covers off you, their pretty, pink, innocent pattern already making vomit surface in your throat. He’d flopped down on that bedding countless times in the past: memories which made it hurt more came to mind. The knives that were already jammed in your gut, heart and what’s seemed as your brain, twisting a little deeper before freezing up in place.

You remembered the times when his body would accidentally fling you around the mattress, grunting and smirking while he settle down and got comfy. You remembered the way his fingers tapped on the cotton as he leaned over to see what you were looking at on your phone. Nosy but never prying in too much.

Imagining how you looked when you watched his hand sweep across the duvet on movie night, pushing every crumb onto your bedroom floor with a laugh and an apology leaving his lips. His hands, shooting into the air as he surrendered in playful shame. Not really paying attention as your voice scolded him for eating in your bed.

Your fingers stripped the bedding from its covers. Tossing them into a pile on the floor beside your laundry basket, the sheets so stained with both of your sweat and dirt from the situation, your nose scrunched up at the sight. You left it there ready to put in the wash later.

Though, a part of you can’t help but wonder if they will ever feel as clean as they did before.

If they’ll ever give you the warm, comforting sensation you got every night before nodding off to sleep. Would you ever hear their soft cries to slip back in bed when you wake up early for work? The covers flopped back in agony, silently pleading for you to come back and have five more minutes?

No. Now they just feel like you never got out of that bed, the duvet still wrapped around your body keeping you hostage and forcing you to go about your day. The weight of everything on your shoulders enough for you to trip and fall on the material.

You’d burn them if they weren’t so big.

The whole thing was absolutely ridiculous, why the fuck did you let it happen anyway? The sex with him wasn’t anything like you’d wished or dreamed of nor would it have never been.

He didn’t love you but something inside you obviously can’t comprehend that. Every chance you get to show or pretend that the two of you were more than what you were- you’d leap for it: eyes sparkling with the same hope a lost kid has.

He used you last night and you let him like the pathetic, lovesick loser you always were. It wasn’t sex, it was nothing more than a mere distraction and waste of time. A waste of his time, more hassle just for him.

Your fingers wrapped around your smooth doorknob as you pushed open your bedroom door, trailing into the kitchen before an aroma of pancake batter and fresh baking gripped you by the throat. Your big eyes meeting Simons, his familiar, large figure pressed against your kitchen counter as he sucked on his bottom lip.

His face was pale and his brown pupils never left the plate of fucked up pancakes, left on a placemat on the table.

You laughed. You laughed because you couldn’t trust anything else to come out- You couldn’t trust that you wouldn’t break down crying, that you wouldn’t scream or hurt yourself in front of him, that you wouldn’t wince at this- idiotic gesture.

Was this an apology? Was this all you meant to him? A plate of sweet treats you’d have to force yourself to eat, to swallow down and help you forget everything bad that happened. Maybe, or perhaps it was pure coincidence it summed up his perspective of the night; perfectly.

“Did you make me pancakes?” The tremble and nerves in your voice was apparent and he nodded slowly, gesturing to the massive bag of groceries on the countertop.

“With berries and sugar on top. I’ve got some other things here though, chocolate- all kinds, some syrup and honey and other fruit in that bag if you want any. I just added berries because I know they’re your favourite.” He rambled on.

“When did I tell you that?” Your head turned to the side, twitching in uncertainty as you sat down in front of the plate. Eyes squinting as you bit the inside of your cheek.

“You said when we…-oh.”

That’s not her, Simon.

His hand lifted to his eyes, rubbing them to avoid looking anywhere. The rise and fall of his chest grew faster and you just knew how is heart felt, flooding with guilt and embarrassment at his own actions.

Staying mad at him was hard when you knew him so well. Mistakes get made and feeling get trampled on but he wasn’t a bad person. That’s why you fell for him all that time ago.

The knife in your hand cut through the pancakes like butter, your posture up straight and distant from the plate while your appetite warned you not to bite. Your eyes flickered over to Simon again, seeing his hands still firmly placed over his eyes, broad shoulders retracted inwards as his body jolted in silent cries. The metal rattled against the table as you put the knife down and jumped out of your chair.

“Simon don’t do this-“ You spoke comfortingly, lunging over towards his body. Your soft skin met with the roughness of his arm but before you could say another word he shoved your body away from him.

A voice you’d never heard before coming out loud and brute, as you took a step back from his harsh rejection.

“Can you just fuck off trying to make me feel better constantly- I know i’ve fucked up and I know i’ve upset you. Stop acting like everything is alright when it isn’t, you do this every time- i’m not a kid!” His fist clawed at his shirt. Pulling it away from his chest as if he wanted to rip his heart out to stop the torture he was suffering.

Spit flew from his mouth and his eyes looked red, sunken with despair. Your voice died in your mouth, tongue soaking up all your saliva and you tried to swallow.

He was lost. He ruined the thing he needed the most- fucked about and caused chaos with his lifeline. You were his saviour and always had been. He didn’t need for you to fix his relationship or his problems, he needed you to fix him. He didn’t sleep with you to use you intentionally, it was a drunken mistake and a shitty timing.

He inhaled through his mouth, his throat croaking as he gripped the counter for stabilisation. Face was locked down to the floor, glued and staring at his shoes on your kitchen floor.

The drops of his tears on the black leather of his boots and the drops on your tiles reminding him of how pathetic he was being. He was a man, he worked in the military. He had slept with people before, cheated, and ruined relationships but nothing hurt like this hurt. Nothing knocked him down so hard he was afraid to get back up, he was afraid to lose you. Simon was scared.

“I made a mistake and I’m so fucking sorry. I don’t know what I can even do to make it up to you- fucking pancakes- it is stupid I should know better and I should know what to do but I-” The whiteness in his knuckles disappeared as he lessened his grip on the counter. Hands falling to his side as he broke down on the spot.

The hard armour he lived in unraveling like flimsy pieces of ribbon. His wet eyelashes hitting his cheeks as he wiped his nose and face on the back of his wrist.

“I can’t think. I can’t be me without you here and I don’t know what to do, please, i’m so sorry just please come back to me. I know i’ve lost a part of you and I will fight until the end of day to get it back, but for now just let me have the rest back. I need my best friend back.” His hands met your lower back as you flung your arms around his neck, your own eyes dripping with tears of outrage and hurt but above all you needed Simon too.

You sobbed silently into his shoulder as he held you close to him finally getting his breathing back to normal. You bit your lips shut and breathed slowly so he couldn’t feel your body shake for air. You didn’t want him to realise how much you were struggling in his arms- how lost and abused you felt. You didn’t want your emotions to worsen his because he had to come first.

He’d lost the love of his life and he needs someone to be strong for him, help him get on his own feet. Be beside him with wide arms and a welcoming face. It wasn’t him being selfish, it was something you had to understand Simon to understand.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment before you hesitantly sat down and talked. It was a long talk hidden by cheap smiles and forced laughter but of course, he didn’t catch on. You let him speak, you gave him advice- hugged it out and as weeks passed by, the two of you were back to normality again.

He’d found a new girl quicker than you thought he wouldn’t, pretty girl and ironically she your figure and eye colour. The more you watched them interact the more they seemed to happy together, kissing, hugging, buying each other gifts. It felt just like how it was before.

Back to Simon and his lovesick best friend that will always be there for him even if he’s never there for her. Back to Simon and his awful dating life as he hops from one awful breakup to the next because they all are missing something.

All he wants, is girl with your hair colour. A girl with your eye colour and your smile. All he longs for is a girl that he can hold hands with but can also roll his eyes at when she teases him for being too cheesy. He wants a girl who can laugh and joke with him but still support him and by there for him in more ways than one. Not just a girlfriend but almost as if a best friend at the same time. That’s all he wants and asks the world for but for some reason she just isn’t out there for him.

And until he realises why he looks for you in every girl he meets. Until he steps back and opens his eyelids to everything right in front of him. She won’t ever be.

[st7rnioioss]

࿐ ˚ ⋆ ֹ CHRIS DOESN'T KNOW

— based off the song "scotty doesn't know" by lustra

˚𝜗𝜚 warnings... don't like, don't read! chratt fic!!, threesum (no incest shit), dom!matt, softdom!chris, cheating (don't do this in real life), unprotected sex (wrap it), slightly public sex (? in a car), minor angst (mentions of cheating + arguing), protected sex, oral (f + m receiving), praise kink, dumbification kink, slight dacryphilia.

𝒢𝜚 wc: 5.3k

𝜗𝜚˚࿔ notes: wow wow woooww.. first chratt fic i've ever written! i can't tell if i like or absolutely despise this, but here you are. i love u, freaks!!🤍

chris doesn’t know we do it in my van every sunday she tells him she’s in church but she doesn’t go still, she’s on her knees and chris doesn’t know

“o-oh, matt-“ you moaned, head thrown back against the window of matt’s car, one of your hands gripping onto his shoulders as he basically pounded his cock into you, the other one holding onto the hand grip on the door.

“fuuuckk… c-can’t believe chris gets to see this every day, huh? so pretty..” he ducked his head down to leave a trail of kisses down your neck and collarbone, his pace not halting one bit as his fingertips dug into your hips.

this had become sort of a routine.. every sunday you’d tell chris you were going to church when really you were doing something way more sinful. something that definitely didn’t belong in a church—far from it, even.

you had arranged a specific spot where matt would drive by every sunday, and he’d either have you on your knees in his car or, like right now, sprawled out in the backseat.

“matt! d-don’t stop, please!” you wailed, his thumb connecting to your bud making your back arch and eyes squeeze shut.

“oh, i don’t plan on it.. w-we have ‘til ten thirty-“ he groaned, throwing his head back when he felt your sticky walls clamp around him. “th-think you can keep going?”

oh, chris doesn’t know so don’t tell chris

you knew all this was very wrong.. cheating on your boyfriend, first of all. but with his brother? there was really no excuse.

restless nights were one way to describe the pit in your stomach. staring at the ceiling, asking yourself what drove you to do such a fucked up thing.

chris was perfect… he treated you like there was no other girl in the world, showering you with gifts, and receiving endless kisses from him, and the praise and sweet words he gave you whenever you had sex were more than enough of what you needed.

it left you wondering. couldn’t matt give you the same? they were so similar, yet different. whenever you were having sex with chris, you couldn’t deny you missed matt’s cruel effort to make you cry, rather than chris’s effort to make you smile. yet chris’s compliments is what kept you so flustered and shy around him.

it was complicated. you used to have this “friends with benefits” situation with matt before you got with chris.. and disturbingly enough, it lasted. but you still loved chris, very much.. you just also happened to have sex with matt?

“hey, um.. i don’t mean to be nosy, but like.. you’ve been kinda off lately. are you okay?” chris whispered from behind you, his arms wrapped securely around you.

you sighed, but not in annoyance, messily turning around under the sheets. you met his eyes that had a somewhat worryingly look to them.

“chris, i’m okay. i promise, i’ve just.. i’ve just been tired,” you whispered back, leaving a kiss on his forehead. “don’t worry about me.” sure, you were lying straight through your teeth, but you couldn’t tell him yet. he wasn’t ready to know.

he smiled back at you, nodding slowly as an answer, not wanting to take this thing further. he returned the kiss but to your lips.

oh, chris doesn’t know so don’t tell chris

you were sat in your bed, music playing softly in the background while you scrolled through whatever social media app was interesting at the moment until you were interrupted.

a sigh escaped your lips. you hated keeping this from chris.

even though you saw stars every time you were with matt, it felt so wrong—that pit in your stomach only grew time after time… but yet you craved more from him.

she says she’s out shopping but she’s under me and i’m not stopping

your phone was going off from your nightstand, chris sending messages about letting him see what you had gotten yourself—but that was the last thing you wanted to focus on right now.

chris had called you just earlier, asking if he could come over to hang out with you. but you were.. busy with some other stuff. stuff, as in, matt was over.

“what do i say? i can’t just tell him i’m having sex with his brother,” you groaned, staring down at the confused message from chris.

matt shrugged, taking a sip of his canned soda. “i dunno.. just say you’re out shopping or somethin’, he won’t bat an eye,”

“y-you’re so fucking wet.. listen to that,” matt groaned from on top of you, listening to the wet squelching his dick elicited from your pussy. “y’like it raw that much?”

ecstasy was all you could describe it as. as much as you liked all the positions matt could manhandle you into, this was easily your favorite—along with the raw feeling of his cock buried to the hilt inside of you.

you had always kept a promise that no matter what, you’d never let matt fuck you raw. it was intimate to another level, even the thought of him finishing inside of you making your stomach churn weirdly. but this..?

“m-mm..” you babbled, eyes stuck to the back of your skull as he fucked his hips into the back of your thighs, your legs thrown over his shoulders.

he chuckled, reaching a thumb out to wipe the spit off the corner of your mouth. “so dumb.. you like being fucked stupid on my cock, don’t you?”

you weren’t even processing his words, nodding dumbly at the clouded words before you squeezed around him for the second time that evening. a loud moan of his name escaped your puffy lips, your release creating a ring around his cock.

oh, chris doesn’t know so don’t tell chris

a few months had passed since you got together with chris while keeping up this thing with matt, and honestly, you were surprised you first of all hadn’t told him yet, and second of all that he still hadn’t noticed. you were being quite risky with this after all.

“do you want anything?” chris whispers from next to you, nuzzling his nose into the side of your face making you chuckle.

“no, i’m okay.” you whispered back.

you, chris, nick, and matt had gotten together to watch a movie, though matt’s eyes were not on the screen in front of him.

the tension was in the air—and it was thick. at least between you and matt. it always left you nervous when both chris and mag were in the same room as you. thinking about what went on behind closed doors.

a sense of jealousy was bottled up inside of matt. he’d never gotten to be intimate with you like that. the secret whispers, cuddling, kissing, all that jazz was only something you’d ever do with chris and not him.

still, he pushed that feeling away, reminding himself to appreciate he even got to be close to you.

and though you’d never like to admit, the thought of both chris and matt being with you, touching you had crossed your mind.. more often than you’d like it to.

it was a simple solution, right? both matt and chris having to share you, rather than you being torn inside from lying to chris and cheating on chris with matt.

chris doesn’t know don’t tell chris

“no, i’m serious. something is up, y-you’re not acting like yourself!” chris raised his voice, reaching out to take your hands in his.

the poor boy was so afraid to lose you, his heart pounding in his chest. he’d do anything for you, anything to keep you as his.

“chris, i said i’m okay! nothing is wrong, i’m just stressed lately, stop being like that!” you yelled back, but you didn’t let go of his hands.

you wanted to cry, you really did. your love for chris was so overwhelming, yet you felt so terrible when thinking of letting him know about you and matt. how would he react? would he leave you for good? did you want.. the both of them?

all those bottled-up emotions only left you to push chris away from you.

“no, i’m not- i’m not accepting that excuse anymore. you’ve been telling me that for weeks now, you have to tell me the truth,” he clung to you, pulling you closer to him while a pleading look made it to his face.

you only stared up at him for a while, momentarily considering telling him about this whole situation.

“but.. but what if i am telling the truth?”

chris nearly couldn’t believe what he was hearing, letting out a scoff while letting go of you, shoving your hands off.

“fine. if you wanna be like that, then go ahead. but i can’t help you.”

the whole situation fucked up chris and matt too. every passing second, matt got more and more possessive over you, leading him to bicker with chris.

chris didn’t understand why he was suddenly being pushed away from the both of you, leaving him on edge at all times as well.

the powder and the fuse—chris and matt. whenever they walked into the same room, you could only bet on how long it’d take before the two were arguing. whether it was pointless stuff that pissed the two guys off, or there was a deeper meaning behind the arguments.

all this caused nick to get upset as well. he couldn’t stand his brothers fighting all the time, leaving him pissy too.

whether it was breaking up the arguments between the two brothers or joining in, there was always a building tension in their relationship.

was there any escape from this? all you knew was that your lies and secrets only tore all of you further apart from each other.

i can’t believe he’s so trusting while i’m right behind you thrusting she’s got him on the phone and she’s trying not to moan it’s a three-way call and he knows nothing

the next time you spoke with chris after your little disagreement was over the phone. you had matt behind you, thrusting his cock into your soaked walls while you tried your best to focus on what chris was saying.

“wha.. yeah. yes, that’s- that’s perfect..” you bit back a whimper, your hand tightening its grip on your phone, your eyes pinched shut while matt drove his dick in and out of you.

it was so nice of chris—after the argument you had just a few days prior, he decided he could at least make it up to you by taking you out for a nice dinner, talking stuff through instead of staying mad at each other, even treat you with some make-up sex. hell, he’d even gotten you a pretty dress to wear.

“are you okay? you sound a little off,” chris’s voice could be hear through the speakers, the confused tone to his voice making you wish you could just hang up already.

with a weak and somewhat faux laugh, you answered him. “no, no i’m good.. s-seven thirty is fine,” you mumbled, a whimper falling from your lips, momentarily making you panic. “sorry, my shoe won’t- won’t come on,”

chris shrugged off your explanation. “uh, okay. i’ll see you at seven-thirty then, baby. goodb-“

“bye! i’ll see you,” you interrupted, hanging up immediately.

finally, you let the moans fall from your parted lips, muffled from the pillow you buried your face into, clutching for the sheets. the phone fell from your grasp, matt’s hand grabbing a good handful of your hair, driving your face further down into the soft pillow.

“he doesn’t have a clue in the fucking world.. his pretty girl getting her brains fucked out, huh? on his brother's cock?” he chuckled dryly, lifting your head up.

he gradually picked up his pace, allowing weak and whiny moans to flow freely from your swollen lips, skin slapping against skin.

“i don’t think he’d be too pleased to see this.. drooling over my fucking dick. is it really that good?” he taunted, referring to the patch of spit soaked into the fabric of your pillow.

chris doesn’t know so don’t tell chris ‘cause chris doesn’t know

you should’ve seen it coming, really. all the sneaking around would eventually come to an end, whether you broke it off with matt, or chris somehow found out…

which he did.

“hey, do you want anything? i could grab some food for us,” chris suggested, gently nudging your side to catch your attention.

chris had invited you to sleep over, as if you didn’t basically live with them by now, deciding to starts a movie-marathon. chris’s idea.

you looked up at him from your position on the bed, your limbs entangled. “yeah, sure. i’ll stay here tho, i’m too tired to move,”

chris laughed lightly at your response, but he eventually got out of your complicated position, leaving a kiss to your forehead.

“i’ll be back in no time,” he smiled, before waving goodbye, not forgetting his keys and wallet.

you blew a kiss his way, and not long after you could hear the car running.

tiredly, you stood up, deciding to why not go talk to matt while chris was gone, since nick was at the movies with a couple friends.

softly, you knocked on his door, hearing a faint ‘come on in’ from behind the door, carefully pushing it open.

“oh. hi there,” matt smiled at you, sitting by his desk.

“hello,” you returned the smile, waving at him from his doorframe, taking a quick glance at his room. though you weren’t exactly here to do anything specific, your stomach started swirling, making you nervous.

the second matt stood up and made his way over to you with a twinkle in his eye, you regretted going upstairs to say hi in the first place.

looking at you, he reached out to tug a couple strands of hair behind your ear, leaving you speechless and flustered, gazing straight into his blue eyes.

“did you want anything?” he asked, cupping the side of your face while tilting his head to the side in a questioning manner, though he definitely knew.

you weren’t here to have sex, it wasn’t the time and situation for that.. but now it seemed much more than tempting with nick and chris out of the house. you were supposed to just chat, and keep you entertained until chris came back.

you met his eyes, taking your bottom lip between your teeth, and that was all matt needed as an answer, quickly getting his hands on you.

matt was sprawled out under you, his head and back resting on the mattress beneath him, while your nails clawed for his chest.

“ff-fuck.. we have t-to hurry..” you whimpered, your legs already aching from being spread out on either side of his hips.

matt was trying his best not to buck his hips up to meet yours, the restraint wearing thinner and thinner while you squeezed and grinded on top of him.

“you gotta pick your pace up then, baby..” he mumbled weakly, giving the side of your thigh a gentle pat, as if that would help you go faster.

you shook your head, feeling matt’s hands rub down your sides, one of them eventually reaching for your breast, brushing his thumb over your bud.

“i-i can’t, matt..” you whined, the ache in your inner thighs too evident to keep moving, only continuing your weak and slow rocking, your pussy drooling around his stretch.

“cone on.. y-you just gotta-“ matt went to say, but immediately cut himself off when he heard a creak from the doorframe.

“oh.”

chris stood there by the door, staring at the two of you. the second you heard a voice that definitely wasn’t matt’s and was a little too familiar, your eyes flickered to meet chris’s.

and just like that, your heart immediately dropped to your stomach, blood running cold.

“i-i’m sorry..” you whispered, your voice quiet and barely coherent, staring back up at chris, before looking away from him.

though chris was more than shocked to see you literally sit on his brother's dick, he didn’t feel sad or betrayed like any other person would. sure, confusion and shock were running through his whole body.. but it wasn’t an uncomfortable feeling.

quickly, you reached for a blanket, wrapping it around yourself before getting off matt, leaving him to scramble around with his own blanket.

there was silence. not a single word, except the music playing from matt’s computer, nearly drowned out from the thick tension.

chris felt torn. he wanted to be mad, no, he had to. you cheated, didn’t you? but yet he couldn’t get himself to yell at you, instead feeling a sense of arousal both the sight of you right there, and the thought of.. sharing you.

he kicked the door shut behind him, stepping forward to look down at you sitting on matt’s bed.

“are you mad at me?” you whispered with a hurt expression plastered all across your face, patiently waiting for any chance of explanation.

“no.. i don’t- i don't know why. i’m not,” he mumbled back, taking off his cap to run his hands through his messy hair, before looking at matt.

relief washed through your veins, letting out a sigh of reassurance, yet a perplexed expression made its way to your face.

“can i ask you something..?” chris questioned, his eyes flickering between the both of you.

swiftly, you shot a glance matt’s way, before you both nodded hesitantly, making chris wonder how exactly to word this without being too straightforward.

“could we.. i mean, it’s fine if you think it’s weird, but- i’ve been thinking about us, me and matt, both.. going down on you?”

chris’s words lingered in the air, your earlobes turning pink, as well as your cheeks, staring at him. matt seemed just as shocked, yet neither of the two of you seemed opposed to the idea.

you had no clue that chris would think of such a thing. whenever you had sex, it wasn’t like he initiated more. but from chris’s point of view, he would just get to see more angles of how you’d react to another person's touch, his touch.

matt looked at you, a shrug pulling at his shoulders with an expression that said he definitely didn’t mind.

“i-i don’t.. i don’t mind,” a red hue tinted your cheeks, almost too shy to say the words, to even thinking about what would happen.

and immediately, it was like a switch had been flipped inside chris and matt.

“a-are you guys sure about this?” the words came mumbled from your lips, feeling more exposed than ever, though both brothers had seen you completely vulnerable and naked numerous times.

you weren’t unsure about your own situation, more about theirs. since.. well, they’re brothers?

“shh, don’t worry. it’s okay, we’re okay. just relax f’me, will you?” chris’s breath fans against your inner thighs, making your squirm.

but matt holds you in place, his legs on either side of yours, arms wrapped around your middle from behind you. he rested his chin your shoulder, just to get a clearer look of what was going on, to see how you’d react.

“stop squirmin’..” he husked, feeling your lean further back into his chest, your head thrown back into his shoulder, mumbling a quiet ‘sorry’.

chris wastes no time, pressing deliberate kisses to your inner thighs as you whined in desperation, your eyes fluttering shut.

matt’s fingers make their way up your chest, carefully cupping your breasts in each hand, rolling your sensitive buds between his fingers.

“so, so pretty.. and so wet for me?” chris’s breath was hot against your folds, making another whimper tug at your lips.

“for us..” matt broke in, making chris roll his eyes in response.

not another second passes before he attaches his tongue to your folds, causing you to gasp, instinctively allowing your fingers to reach for chris’s hair to tug on.

you can hear matt chuckle faintly behind you, but it was washed out from the buzzing in your head. chris deliberately lapping kitty-licks to your folds, before pressing his tongue to your clit, hooking your thighs up over his shoulders.

at this rate you didn’t care about his fingers leaving marks to your thighs, the only thought going through your head was the absolute pleasure you were receiving from the two.

“oh gosh, chris.. please keep going,” your lips parted, puffy and glistening while your eyes pinched shut, your senses filled with the faint smell of matt’s cologne that still lingered on his skin.

chris continues to lazily lick stripes up your folds before he lets one of your legs rest on the bed to allow his thumb to attach to your clit. the sudden change made your back arch, but matt held you down once more.

moans and whimpers are being ripped from your mouth, only adding to the fuel inside of chris, working his pink tongue in and out of your leaking hole.

“y’taste.. so fuckin’ good, princess..” chris mumbled from between your legs, the soft vibration of his words going straight up your spine.

chris’s hair was already disheveled and messed up from when you played with it earlier, but when you reached and tugged gently on the strands it only messed it up even further. your reaction adds to chris’s desire, knowing he was doing well.

he let his tongue run down your pussy again, before starting to swirl and prod the muscle at your entrance, his only goal in mind being giving you as much pleasure as he could.

shameless moans continued spilling from your lips, leaning further into matt’s body behind you, your legs closing around chris’s head.

“fuck! i’m gonna come, please-“ you whined, accidentally bucking your hips up, but chris didn’t seem to mind.

his thumb circled your bud even tighter, the slight stubble on his face scratching across your inner thighs, surely leaving a faint burn later.

“shh, y’need to quiet down a tad,” matt’s words were whispered from behind you, his lips close to graze your ear.

one of matt’s hands sneaks from your breast to your neck, gently but firmly gripping you to hold your shuddering body back as you lean into him, trying to get you to stay in place as chris worked you through your orgasm, fucking you with his tongue.

you just about lose it when matt’s fingers add a soft pressure to your neck, your skin heating up and breathing getting heavier—all this leads to your mind fogging up completely.

shockwaves gripped your body, dissolving into pleasure when you came, letting out strangled moans of chris’s name.

“ohhh, just like that.. doin’ so good,” matt chuckled, his fingers slipping from your throat, returning to cup your soft skin

chris’s chin and lips were basically covered in a mix of your release and his own spit, before using the back of his hand to wipe it off.

you chuckled breathlessly, letting your hands fall from chris’s hair, your chest heaving with every breath.

“come on.. let us take care of you,” matt said from behind, clearly growing impatient and eager, gently nudging your back to signal for you to move.

chris quickly stole a kiss, leaning forward to connect your lips, before leaving more down the side of your face, causing you to let out a giggle. he laughed along, before getting settled on the bed.

a second later you’re on all fours, feeling chris crawl up behind you, one of his large hands smoothing down the spine of your back.

your look over at matt, a confused look settling on your face. “are you not joining?”

he shrugs, shaking his head for a moment. “i just wanna watch for a minute.. don’t worry.”

a smug smile made its way onto his lips. really, he just wanted to watch you, how you shuddered and reacted while positioned like that. it was like his own, personal third-person view of how you’d look while being fucked by him.

you just nodded it off, before your legs were spread further apart by his thighs, the tip of his cock prodding at your weeping pussy, smearing the precum over your folds. the icky feeling made you whine, digging your nails into the sheets in both desperation and aching need.

“so, so pretty.. i could look at you all day,” chris whispered from behind you, hand hand reaching the ends of your hair to push out of the way, smoothing his palm up your back.

you smiled to yourself at his sweet words, until you felt him press the head of his cock through your opening. a gasp slipped from your parted lips, the stretch leaving a twinge between your legs.

“christ.. you take me so well..” he groaned from behind you, watching his cock disappear inside of you, a whimper ripping from the back of your throat. “do you wish it was matt touching you right now? this isn’t enough, is it?”

your ears perked up at his question, all blood running from your face. matt was already staring at the two of you, carefully wrapping his hand around his aching dick. chris never talked to you like this, making your stomach swirl—it was only something matt ever did.

truthfully, you shook your head. it wasn’t like matt didn’t make you feel good, but this was really all you needed. “n-no..”

a yelp elicited from your lips when he pressed his cock further inside of your drooling walls, echoing with the whimper falling past matt’s.

you turn your head to look at him, met with the sight of him fisting his erection, eyes locked on yours.

“really? i think you’re lying.. too busy running around fucking my brother. come on, matt,” chris waved him over, his fingertips digging into the soft skin of your hips, pulling you back to take more of his cock.

you felt nervous, more vulnerable than ever under both their eyes and chris’s harsh words, though they weren’t linked with malice, more something to get you both going. matt shuffled closer in front of you, and you twisted your neck to look up at him.

“come on.. you know what to do,” chris murmured, his length throbbing inside of you—it was getting hard to hold back from pumping his cock inside of you, watching your puffy walls suck him in.

nervously, you reached out to wrap your hand around matt, watching the sticky substance already smear from his tip, purposely rub your thumb over his slit, earning a groan from him.

carefully, your lips parted to wrap around his cock, swirling your tongue around the head. matt let out a quiet moan, his hand entangling in your hair, guiding you to take more of him. it wasn’t until he hit the back of your throat he stopped, loosening his grip on you but not letting go.

“fuck, you look so hot with my dick down your throat,” his head lolled back, eyes shut while you desperately tried to adjust to the restraint of breathing, your own eyes pinched shut.

suddenly, chris thrusted his hips forward, his hand on your back pressing down to arch your back as much as possible, the sudden shove forward making your gag around matt, tears prickling in the corner of your eyes.

“o-oh my god..” chris groaned, starting to pick up a slow rhythm, keeping it gentle since he didn’t actually want to hurt you.

“shiiitt.. fucking drooling around my cock, sweetheart..”

spit pooled around matt’s girth, hollowing your cheeks in an attempt to bob your head on his hardness, feeling every vein and ridge under your tongue, causing matt to groan.

it didn’t take long for chris’s pace to pick up, as well as your own, moaning and sputtering around his dick. his hand gripped the back of your head, accidentally bucking his hips into your mouth.

“you feel so good, angel.. so, so good, you’re doing so well..” chris cooed from behind you, gently massaging your hips in a way of comforting you, though his pace was a stark contrast to his dreamy words.

chocked whines were let out around matt, trying your best to signal your climax was close, your head going empty as the bliss took over you. the feeling, the pure ecstasy that ran through your veins seemed irreplaceable in the moment. nothing could add up to this.

the vibrations from your pretty noises and attempted words sent a shock of electricity up matt’s spine, guttural groans flowing past his lips.

you were throbbing around chris, your walls fluttering with every erratic pound, heat pooling in your lower tummy. and chris could feel it all, feel how your soaked hole pulsed and squeezed around his cock.

“you’re close, aren’t you? it’s okay.. it’s okay,

you can come,” chris shushed you, his chest heaving while letting out pathetic whimpers between pants.

you were writhing beneath the two, your clit swollen and a sheen of sweat prickling across your forehead and back. you lost composure, seeing stars from how overwhelming the whole situation was, your body going numb and hot.

“come on, she’s doing so good.. why don’t you tell her?” chris spoke between gritted teeth, looking up at matt.

he looked almost puzzled, not used to being so sweet with his words, but that was exactly was chris was going for. you deserved the world, not derogatory praised though he knew you didn’t mind either.

“yeah.. he’s right, you take it so well, hm? y’like being stuffed full like this?” matt complied, feeling your lips loosen around his length, your bobbing turning sloppy and halting.

your gut tightened, knees buckling under you when you came around chris’s dick, waves crashing upon you as your slick smeared over his length, tears escaping your waterline to roll down your cheek.

the repeated shudder around matt’s length was becoming too much, before his grip tightened on your hair, spilling his cum down your throat when he was pushed over the edge, spit seeping from the corner of your mouth.

“fuck! take it all, i know you can,” matt’s words stung when he continued to rut his hips forward, before tears were staining your cheeks, milking him completely dry.

with a pop, he pulled back, allowing you to heave for air, messy moans being ripped from your throat from chris’s unrelenting thrusts.

“ch-chris.. i can’t take it, please. it’s too much,” you whimpered between a quiet sob, sobs of ecstasy, clamping down around him while the tip of his dick kissed your cervix with every roll of his hips.

“y-you really think you could handle the both of us? at the same time?” matt cooed with faux sympathy, leaning down to cup the side of your face, his thumb wiping the mix of his release and saliva off your lips, “of course, you couldn’t,”

he tsked, shaking his head while giving your cheek a pat. chris then broke in, his eyes stuck to where your two bodies connected, your slick release covering his length, “shh.. just a little bit more, m’almost there doll, you’re doing so good..”

another whine slipped from your glistening, swollen lips, dipping forward to bury your face into a pillow, allowing chris to hit way deeper��inside your gummy walls.

you were basically clawing at the soft fabric, hot tears falling from your eyes like prior, the soft cries making his pace turn sloppy, indicating he was close.

with a final thrust, his movements stilled, before spurting the hot seed inside of you, the icky substance filling you up.

he groaned, basically collapsing on top of you, his fingertips trailing down your sides while mumbling mindless praise, “so, so pretty.. you did so well, don't cry. my girl,”

you wobbly made it onto your elbows, smiling dreamily to yourself at his words, completely fucked out and weak while his lips made their way down your back, “i love you too,”.

matt’s hand met the top of your head, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, leaving a gentle kiss to the side of your face.

“anyway.. pizza’s in the kitchen. go crazy,”

more of my work here!

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© ST7RNIOIOSS est. 2023

[twst-aceofhearts]

Ramshackle Midnight Mayhem

𝖆/𝖓: third years is finally here. ...I should probably have a better posting schedule

𝖙𝖜: ghosts, Idia passes out

𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: third years x reader

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉𝖘: 903

𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙: @luxaryllis @thegoldencontracts @waterthatsmoe @oya-oya-okay @writingattemptsxx

It started as a joke over lunch.

"If all of you think Ramshackle is so 'atmospheric,' you're welcome to stay a night and find out just how drafty and ghost-ridden it really is," you'd said, tossing a chip at Cater for teasing you about the "haunted mansion aesthetic."

"Bet," Cater grinned. "Slumber party at Ramshackle! I’ll bring the ring lights!"

You assumed that would be the end of it.

It wasn’t.

7:34 PM – Arrival

One by one, the third years arrived like ominous omens.

Trey came first with supplies — a cooler, a thermos, and a bakery box. "Crowley asked me to bring food, just in case," he said, eyeing the creaky porch. "And I packed some basic first aid. Just a precaution."

Cater followed, dragging two duffels. One held clothes, the other? Lights, skincare, a mushroom-shaped speaker, and a mini projector. "Time to give Ramshackle a makeover~!"

Leona strolled in, yawning. "Calling dibs on the couch. Anyone tries to move me, and they won't live to tell the tale."

Vil showed up in a shawl and gloves. "I brought cleansing mist, aromatherapy, and satin sheets. I will not sleep directly on any of your cursed mattresses."

Rook didn’t use the door. "Bonsoir~! The ambiance is exquisite! The mildew, the moonlight... the mystique!"

Idia blinked into the room via a glowing teleportation bubble. "I hate it here," he declared, hoodie drawn tight. "This is how horror games start."

Then came Malleus, regal as ever, touching the frame of the door. "What a charming dwelling. I sense the presence of three spirits."

Finally, Lilia descended from the ceiling. "Where's my coffin for the night? I brought snacks! Most are probably safe."

9:13 PM – Unstructured Chaos

Ramshackle became a hive of activity.

Trey claimed the kitchen and started unpacking food. Cater hung fairy lights and set up his tripod. Leona claimed his corner. Vil wiped down a chair and placed a barrier of lavender oil around himself. Rook wandered the halls, humming eerily.

Idia was buried in blankets, streaming from his handheld console. Malleus examined the toaster with intense curiosity. Lilia... well, no one could find Lilia until he reappeared with a cursed music box that played haunting lullabies.

Cater screamed. "Nope. Absolutely not. We’re not summoning anything tonight!"

"Yet," Lilia grinned.

10:45 PM – Games, Ghosts, and Pie

Board games were next. Rook treated Uno like a battle of wits. Lilia cheated. Vil caught him and threw down his cards. Malleus played Go Fish with the seriousness of international diplomacy.

When charades began, Malleus mimed a dragon so realistically that a real ghost fled the cupboard in fear. It waved apologetically and left a note that read: "love the vibe, be back later <3."

Trey unveiled an apple-caramel pie. Leona devoured a third before anyone else got a slice.

Midnight – The Great Pillow War

No one remembers who threw the first pillow. Maybe it was Lilia. Or Rook. Or Cater.

What mattered is that Leona retaliated.

Then Vil got hit.

And then it was war.

Blankets flew. Trey got knocked off his chair. Rook declared himself the "phantom of feathers" and dive-bombed the sofa. Cater live-streamed the chaos. Malleus summoned glowing pillows with mass. Idia retreated under the table.

You tried to protect the furniture.

Grim tried to join in.

Leona and Vil locked in a duel of precise strikes and petty vengeance until Cater yelled, "Omg you two are basically a married couple!"

They both stopped.

The war ended.

2:17 AM – Deep Thoughts and Weird Tea

Trey made cocoa. Malleus brewed a mysterious glowing tea that changed colors. Yours turned minty green. Idia's went pitch black. Lilia drank his glowing magenta without blinking.

The dorm finally started to quiet.

"Y'know," Cater mumbled from a bean bag, "this is kinda cozy."

Vil didn’t open his eyes. "The bar is very low."

"But still," Trey added, "it’s rare we all hang out like this."

You yawned. "You’re welcome any time."

Malleus smiled. "Truly? Then I shall return often."

"Warn me first."

Lilia cackled. "Where’s the fun in that?"

3:12 AM – Ghost Story Finale

Rook told a tale about a mirror that devoured reflections. Vil sighed but listened. Idia shivered.

At the climax of the story, the room temperature dropped.

A translucent woman drifted into view, clapped politely, and whispered, "10/10, very spooky," before fading into the wall.

Idia passed out as you left out a rubber duck with a mustache as a peace offering for the next time she came.

7:36 AM – Breakfast at Ramshackle

You woke to the smell of something surprisingly pleasant.

Trey was in the kitchen flipping pancakes, wearing an apron with a cracked egg on it. Malleus was watching attentively, having cracked all the eggs with perfect form.

Lilia served up skewers of grilled fruit. Cater had brewed fresh coffee with his own mini-press. Rook brought in wild herbs he'd foraged from the woods (you did not ask when).

Vil sipped from a bone china teacup he'd brought in his own bag.

Leona was still asleep, a pancake on his head.

Idia sat at the end of the table, bleary-eyed, chewing toast like it betrayed him.

Cater snapped a group selfie. "Best sleepover ever~!"

Crowley opened the front door, gasped at the sight of the ghost still humming lullabies, and immediately shut it again.

You passed the syrup. "Same time next month?"

Malleus raised his teacup. "Indeed.”

credit to @cursed-carmine for divider

[buckysleftbicep]

where it truly lies 𐙚 b.b

pairing: ex!bucky barnes x fem!reader, steve rogers x cheating!fem!reader

warnings: nsfw, 18+, minors dni, infidelity, degradation, rough sex, unprotected sex, toxic relationship dynamics, overstimulation, creampie, possessiveness, guilt/shame (please read the warnings)

summary: you swore you were done with him, but every time steve touches you see bucky instead. one text drags you back to the motel, back to the lies, and steve will never know.

word count: 2.8k

author's note: hi, so this fic was highly inspired by moth to a flame by the weeknd who i absolutely love. kinda had it in my head for a few days now, and i'm glad i finally got it out! i hope you enjoy it! thank you for reading love!

also, look at him. raw, no questions asked.

cause he seems like he's good for you. and he makes you feel like you should

You used to believe love could be enough.

That the right man, the right timing, the right kind of affection—could cleanse you of all the pieces you gave away to the wrong one. You believed, foolishly, that once someone made you feel safe, you’d never crave danger again.

And Steve made you believe that again.

He brought peace into your life like it was something easy. Like it was something you actually deserved. He never demanded more than you could give. Never made you feel like you were too much or not enough. He listens, remembers, stays.

The kind of man who folds your laundry and leaves little notes in your coat pocket. Who warms your side of the bed before you crawl in, who touches you like you’re something sacred.

The kind of man who kisses your forehead in the morning and remembers exactly how you take your coffee. Who holds your hand in public just to remind you—I’m here, I see you and I will always choose you.

Who never raises his voice, never ever makes you feel small, never makes you question your worth.

He’s everything love should be.

Which makes the ache in your chest feel even more like a betrayal.

Because here you are—in Steve's bed, in his arms—with his soft, loving words tangled in your hair, and all you can think about is Bucky.

Your ex, your addiction, your god damn curse.

The sex was never quiet with Bucky. Never tender like how it was with Steve. It was teeth against skin, fists in the sheets, breathless begging, filthy promises whispered in the dark. It was rough, ravenous and desperate. He touched you like he was trying to own you, ruin you, keep you so high on him you would forget how to breathe without it.

You left him because you had to. Because love isn’t supposed to feel like drowning.

But it doesn’t matter how far you run—there are nights you still wake up with your thighs clenched tight, gasping his name like a sin.

Nights where Steve’s soft, steady love feels more like a lie you’re trying too hard to believe in.

Tonight is one of those nights.

Steve’s hand strokes your hair as he kisses the inside of your wrist. “I love you,” he whispers, voice thick with emotion, eyes soft in the dark.

And god, he means it. He means every word.

“I love you too,” you whisper back. And part of you means it, you really do.

Steve rolls over you slowly, gently, treating your body like something precious. His hands skim your skin with reverence, his lips brushing yours with care. His cock nudges at your entrance and slides in slowly, stretching you with aching tenderness.

He moves like a man who worships. Like a man who wants to be your forever.

And you cling to him like a coward, letting him fill you, letting the warmth of him sink in deep. His breath is soft against your cheek. His fingers lace with yours.

It should be enough.

But it starts anyway—the shift, the betrayal.

You close your eyes… and suddenly it’s not Steve above you.

It’s Bucky.

It’s the past coming back in full colour and full heat, all-consuming. Bucky dragging you by the hips to the edge of his bed, slamming into you from behind while your scream cracked the silence. His metal hand at your throat, pinning you down like a ragdoll while he fucked the fight out of you. His filthy voice in your ear: "you missed this, didn’t you? You missed me."

You remember his tongue between your legs, relentless. The way he’d make you come until you sobbed. The way he laughed when your body begged for mercy and gave it to you anyway.

“One more, sweetheart. Come on, I know you’ve got it in you.”

You remember how he left you trembling. Ruined and grateful.

And fuck—your body responds before your mind can stop it. You clench around Steve without meaning to, a whimper breaking past your lips.

He mistakes it for pleasure. “You okay, baby?”

You force your eyes open, force your smile. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m—good. So good.”

But your mind is still back there.

Back in that dingy apartment with the blinds half-closed, the sheets damp with sweat and sin, Bucky buried so deep inside you that you swore you’d never be clean again. The way he’d whisper “cum for me, doll,” and you would. Over and over.

Because nothing else ever made you feel that alive.

And Steve—he’ll never know.

He’ll never know what Bucky did to you. What you let him do.

What you liked.

Steve makes love to you like you’re breakable. Like he’d die before hurting you.

And you let him. You love him for it.

But inside, your body is screaming for something rougher. Darker. The kind of touch that leaves bruises behind. The kind of voice that tells you when to open your mouth, when to spread your legs, when to shut up and take it.

Steve moans softly, hips stuttering as he finishes inside you, holding you close like you’re his home.

“You’re everything to me,” he whispers.

And you smile through the guilt, through the ache, through the hollow echo that Bucky left behind.

Because Steve has your body tonight.

But your mind, your heart...

They still lie somewhere else.

Somewhere darker, colder. Somewhere Bucky never really let go.

it's just one call away. and you'll leave him, you're loyal to me

It starts with a vibration.

You’re curled up on the couch, still wearing Steve’s sweatshirt—oversized, soft, worn in all the right places. It smells like him, that clean, warm scent of cedar and soap, tinged faintly with the aftershave he only wears on Sundays. It wraps around you like a comfort you didn’t realise you were clinging to. Outside, the morning sun pours through the windows, gilding everything with a false sense of calm.

Your coffee’s has went lukewarm. A quiet song hums through the speakers. For a moment, it all feels deceptively peaceful.

And then your phone buzzes. Just once.

A short, sharp vibration against the wood of the coffee table.

You glance over without thinking, eyes still soft with sleep, mind slow with the kind of haze that only exists on lazy mornings.

And then you see it.

Bucky Barnes Can we talk? Just us.

Your breath catches in your throat.

You sit up too quickly, heart kicking into your ribs. Your pulse spikes before your brain can even catch up. It’s just a name. A message. But it feels like the floor’s tilted beneath you.

Bucky.

You haven’t seen that name in weeks. You made sure of it, you deleted your message history. You told yourself it was over. Swore it was over. And yet—

There he is.

And just like that, the quiet peace you were holding onto splinters into something jagged.

Your thumb hovers over the screen. Every rational part of you screams don’t. Ignore it. Block him. Tell Steve. Do the right thing.

But your hands are already shaking. Your stomach’s already tight with something ugly and electric. That coiling tension you thought you’d buried deep. The one that only ever came alive around him.

Before you can even think to reply—or delete the message entirely—your phone buzzes again.

Bucky Barnes I still know what you need, doll. Don’t pretend he gives it to you.

Your mouth goes dry.

And suddenly, everything inside you turns traitor.

You hate how fast your thighs press together. You hate the heat pooling low in your belly. You hate how your body remembers every word, every bruise, every orgasm he wrung out of you until you were crying his name into the mattress.

You hate that he’s right.

Because as good as Steve is—safe, kind, gentle—he doesn’t undo you. Not like Bucky. Not even close.

Behind you, footsteps pad softly into the room.

You fumble your phone screen off just as Steve slips his arms around you from behind, leaning in to kiss your temple. His lips are warm, familiar and comforting.

“I’m gonna head out for my run,” he murmurs. “You good here for a while?”

You nod, trying to smile as you clutch the mug a little too tightly. “Yeah. Of course. Be safe.”

He squeezes your hip, gives you one last kiss, and heads for the door. It closes behind him with a quiet click.

And then—

Silence.

Except for the pounding in your chest.

You stare at the blank screen of your phone like it’s cursed. Like it’s holding a live wire to your skin. Your hands tremble as you set your mug down, untouched now. Cold.

You don’t think. You don’t plan.

Ten minutes later, you’re shrugging into a coat, keys in hand, heart hammering so loud you swear someone might hear it.

And you leave.

Out the back stairwell. Quiet. Cowardly.

Still wearing Steve’s sweatshirt.

But walking straight into Bucky’s orbit as if leaving was only ever an illusion.

i'll pull you in, i'll pull you back to what you need initially

You meet Bucky at a run-down motel just outside the city—one of those places with a flickering vacancy sign and curtains that never open. He’s leaning against the wall outside Room 11, a black jacket clinging to his large frame, boots scuffed, hands buried in the pockets of his jacket like he’s got nowhere better to be.

But the moment his eyes lift to meet yours—steel-blue, sharp, familiar, you know you’ve already made the worst kind of mistake.

“You look good,” he murmurs, voice low and razor-edged.

You don’t return the compliment. “This is a mistake.”

He doesn’t flinch. “Probably. Still came, though.”

You shoulder past him, into the room. The air smells like smoke and old sweat, the curtains drawn tight against the daylight. You spin around, pulse thrumming in your neck. “This isn’t fair. You don’t get to text me out of nowhere—”

Bucky steps inside and kicks the door shut behind him. “Don’t talk to me about fair.” His gaze drops to your hands—trembling. “You’re shaking.”

“I have a boyfriend.”

“No. You have a security blanket.”

Your jaw tenses. “Steve loves me.”

“Yeah? But does he fuck you like you need to be fucked?” His eyes drop to your lips. “Or do you close your eyes and wish it was me—pinning you down, fucking you raw, choking you while you cum screaming my name?”

Your hand flies before you think. The slap cracks across his cheek, the sound echoing through the silence.

He barely reacts. Just licks the inside of his cheek, then smirks. “There she is.”

You backpedal, heart slamming. “I shouldn’t have come. I need to go—”

But he’s on you in two strides. You’re slammed against the wall, his mouth crushing yours with a violence you forgot you craved. His kiss is all tongue and teeth and anger, tasting like cigarettes and buried need.

You moan into it, helpless, bitter, clawing at his jacket like you’re starved.

He spins you fast, yanks your leggings down to your knees, and kicks your feet apart with his boot. It’s rough. Disrespectful. Fucking filthy. Your palms slap the wall, breath punching out of you.

His fingers slide between your thighs. “Already soaked,” he mutters. “Fucking pathetic. You walked in dripping for me, didn’t you?”

“Bucky—please—”

“Don’t beg yet.” His metal hand fists in your hair and jerks your head back, cheek pressed to the plaster. “Say it. Say you missed my cock.”

You gasp, heat roaring low in your belly. “I—fuck—I missed it.”

“That’s not good enough.” His voice goes guttural. “Say you missed me ruining you.”

You barely get the words out before he’s pushing inside—hard, unrelenting, no prep, no pause.

You scream, hand slamming the wall.

He fills you so deep, so fast, it knocks the air out of your lungs. His hips snap into yours, pace brutal from the start. The slap of skin on skin drowns out your guilt.

“You miss this?” he pants, breath hot at your ear. “Miss getting used like a little fucking toy?”

“Yes,” you sob. “God—yes, Bucky—”

He slams into you harder, both hands gripping your hips now, fucking you like he wants to break you. “Steve doesn’t fuck you like this. He can’t. He doesn’t know how to make this sweet cunt beg.”

His hand snakes around your throat again, squeezing just enough to make your head swim.

“You gonna cum already? Gonna fall apart just from getting pounded like a filthy little slut?”

You try to answer, but your body betrays you—clenching around him, hips jerking. It crashes over you like a wave, white-hot and devastating. You cry out, face crumpling against the wall as you cum hard, thighs shaking.

But Bucky doesn’t stop.

He keeps fucking you through it, drawing another broken moan from your raw throat.

“I’m not done with you,” he growls. “Not until I fill you up. Gonna send you home dripping my cum like the little slut you are.”

You whimper, overstimulated and wrecked.

And he groans low when he cums, hips pressed flush to yours, cock twitching deep inside. You feel it—hot, thick, spilling into you as he bites down on your shoulder.

When he finally pulls out, you slump against the wall, legs shaking, your thighs slick with everything he gave you.

You’re still catching your breath when your phone buzzes from the nightstand.

Steve Hey sweetheart, just got back, where did you go?

You stare at the message, numb.

Guilt claws up your spine, tangling with the aftershocks still rolling through your body. You pull your leggings up with trembling hands, fingers fumbling with the waistband.

Behind you, Bucky lights a cigarette by the window. He exhales slow, watching you through the smoke like he already knows.

You’ll come back.

Because you always do.

Because no matter how good Steve is— Bucky fucks you like he owns you. And some part of you still wants to be his.

does he know where your heart lies? where it truly lies

Steve’s breathing is steady next to you, soft in the dark. His hand brushes your arm, gentle and warm—the way he always is. But your mind is somewhere else.

The way Bucky’s hands grip your hips. The way his mouth claims yours, rough and urgent. The way he makes you come, harder than Steve ever has, with a fire that leaves you raw and desperate for more.

Your phone buzzes silently on the nightstand. You see Bucky’s name. A single message:

I'm nearby. Come.

You swallow hard, heart pounding—not with excitement, but with guilt.

You look at Steve, peaceful and trusting, and for a moment it nearly breaks you. But your body betrays you. Again.

Careful not to wake him, you slip out of bed, dress quickly, and grab your coat. The night air hits your skin cold, but you don’t care. Every step away from your apartment feels like stepping further from yourself.

You find Bucky waiting in the shadows, his eyes dark, hungry. Without a word, he pulls you into his arms, and the ache inside you shifts into something sharper.

The second he touches you, everything else disappears.

His hands are hard, rough—pulling your hair, gripping your waist, pushing you against the brick wall. His mouth is on your neck, biting, sucking, marking. You tremble because you’re his—only his.

He tears at your clothes like he’s been starving for you.

His touch is fierce, relentless. He fucks you like he owns every part of you, deep, fast, bruising, but somehow still so damn good you can’t catch your breath. He calls your name like a curse, whispers filthy promises between gritted teeth, telling you exactly how much you’re his, how much you need him.

You scream into the night, nails digging into his back as he drives into you harder, faster—until you shatter, collapsing against him, trembling.

When it’s over, Bucky pulls you close, but there’s no softness—only possession lingering in his touch. You can still feel the heat of him inside you, the harshness of his grip on your hair.

You pull away, slipping out of his apartment as quietly as you can, the cold night air biting your skin again. Every step back feels heavier, like you were dragging your own shame behind you.

Back inside your apartment, you don’t have the strength to face Steve. You crawl into bed beside him, careful not to wake him, but the weight of your guilt is crushing.

You stare at the ceiling, heart pounding, breath uneven. The darkness isn’t peaceful—it’s suffocating.

Because you’re here, lying next to Steve’s steady warmth, but your mind—and your body—still belong to Bucky.

And that truth claws at you like a knife.

[martinsace]

SHE A GOOD GIRL, FOR ME SHE A…

‣‣‣ pairing: uconn paige bueckers x fem! journalist oc

‣‣‣ warnings: cheating (on oc’s lame bf), sexual content with little plot, cursing and sexual language, religious guilt, minors dni

‣‣‣ summary: in front of cameras and her very, very straight boyfriend, lacey is the perfect girl next door type. but when she’s alone with paige? that’s a different story.

‣‣‣ author speaks: this is my first time writing smut eek i hope it lives up to your hopes and dreams

————————————————————————————

“paige, how does it feel to have beat the number one team in the nation?” i ask the blonde in front of me.

paige bueckers’ eyes are piercing into me with an intensity that makes me knees weak, a coy smile playing at her lips. she does those stupid fucking rizz hands and i swear i feel my heart drop down to my ass.

“it feels great. i definitely had some extra motivation today, so i still feel pretty fired up.” she smiles innocently, pretending what she just said has absolutely nothing to do with the person who was holding the microphone to her face in front of a camera projecting to the gamecast. this bitch.

i fight back every urge in my body trying to get me to smile and keep a straight face. “that’s awesome, should we be expecting more of this energy in the future?” loaded question, but that’s my job. screw this, with the way she’s looking at me i wish i could take off this media badge now.

she shrugged her shoulders. “hopefully.” oh my god.

“that’s all we have time for, thanks so much paige.”

she jogs away, not before subtly winking. i swear to god im going to kill her. after i fuck her.

paige had a great game, leading the game in both points in assists and filling out the stat sheet all around. not only did they beat south carolina, but she got a career high with 36 points.

needless to say, she was motivated.

3 hours before the game

“fuck, paige, don’t fucking stop-”

lacey cut herself off with a moan as her acrylics dug into paige’s shoulders. she rocked her hips feverishly against the blondes fingers, grinding her hips down into her lap over and over again. paige curled into her, watching the brunette borderline ride her fingers with an open mouthed smile as her tits bounced in paige’s face.

truth be told, the reason lacey had come over was to pick up her hoodie. it was an innocent visit, but they never ended up that way. not with paige. she was intoxicating.

“i know ma, i got you. here, lay back”

paige tenderly moved the girl from her lap and laid her so her back was on the bed and her head on a pillow so her whole body was on display. paige positioned herself between her legs and threw one over her shoulder, sliding two of her fingers back in sloppily. lacey let out another moan, arching her back off the bed. paige’s name ripped through her throat and fell from her lips like a prayer, though she wasn’t sure what she was praying for.

she had always been the most christian, by the book straight girl you could conjure in your imagination. until she met paige, drunk at her first frat party. she caught the basketball players attention, and the affair began. lacey almost didn’t even remember it the next day. yet then she did, and she couldn’t forget it. she couldn’t forget paige. she could hardly remember her boyfriend at this point.

paige’s fingers fit inside her like lacey was made as a mold for the blonde. she plunged in and out of her messily, but with ease and grace. lacey was gripping the sheets, ministrations and guttural moans spilling from her lips without a second thought. paige just had that effect on her.

“fuck— fuck p, i’m close, you’re so fucking good, baby—“

paige put a hand on her stomach, pressing down with every thrust into her. “yeah? i’m good? you close ma?” every word fueled her confidence, drinking in the praise like an elixir. her thumb came up to press circles onto the brunettes clit, forcing another moan out of her. “shit, yes, fuck yes you’re so good—“ she was cut off by a loud moan as paige used the hand on her stomach to circle under her hips and prop her hips up.

“FUCK, aw shit paige fuck, i’m gonna fucking cum-“

paige leaned over, peppering hot kisses to the thigh of the leg that was thrown over her shoulder and muttering against it, “i got you baby. cum for me ma, make a mess on my hand, you got that.”

it was like that flipped a switch, that was all she needed. her orgasm practically ripped through her body, leaving her limp. paige kept fucking her through it, huskily praising her. when lacey’s breathing became heavy and her leg began to get limp, she slowed her pace and pulled her fingers out. she let the brunettes leg down and pulled her arm out from under her and, after examining her fingers for a moment, looked at the fucked out girl under her. “open your mouth.”

without a second thought, she did. she would do anything paige said, and she didn’t even know why. she shouldn’t even know paige. but here she was, about to suck cum off her fingers.

she took paige’s fingers into her mouth slowly, making eye contact with paige’s ocean blue eyes as she swirled her tongue around the digits and released them with a pop. “aw shit” paige muttered. she reexamined her fingers and, once satisfied, grabbed her shirt from the end of the bed and pulled it over her head. she gave lacey her discarded clothes as well before laying down next to her, beginning to doomscroll on instagram.

they laid like that for a short while, both looking at their respective phones before lacey spoke. “anthony’s probably coming to the game tonight.”

this piqued paige’s interest. she looked at lacey almost curiously, somewhat skeptically, still holding her phone. “your boyfriend anthony?”

“yeah. that one.”

paige didn’t really know what to make of this. she knew lacey had a boyfriend. she didn’t really care. she didn’t ever plan on meeting him, so she wasn’t sure why lacey was bringing him to one of the most defining games in her career.

“you’re bringing him?” she asked, testing the waters.

lacey scrunched up her nose at the sheer thought of 2 and a half hours with her boyfriend. “god, no. he’s going with his frat brothers or whatever.”

this relaxed paige. it wasn’t like they were together, or that she wanted to be, but she didn’t really want to meet the boyfriend of the girl she’s fucking.

but it definitely made her want to put on a show.

tags: @dennyluvsblog @averyisnotpresent

[nonotnolan]

No Regrets

My roommate's body keeps looking at me like I'm supposed to be making the first move. It was weird enough when my roommate and his girlfriend swapped bodies for the weekend, but the unspoken tension was starting to become unbearable. "Seriously, Tiffany, you're starting to creep me out. Don't you and Daniel have plans for tonight?"

She just smiled at me. "No plans. I'm still deciding how I want to spend my evening. Daniel, though... he's taking my body out clubbing tonight. He wants to see how many free drinks he can score, and I think he's also planning to get laid." Gross. I knew better than to say anything out loud, but my face must have given me away. "Don't be such a prude, Jeff. You know we have an open relationship."

I tugged at my collar. "I know, Tiff, I'm sorry. I just... body swaps that cross the gender line still make me uncomfortable. It feels wrong, somehow. And, I mean, technically they are illegal."

"Oh please, get over yourself," she said, tossing herself onto his bed. "Swaps over 12 hours are also illegal, but that didn't stop you from hiring someone to take your Calc exam two weeks ago. You need to learn how to relax. Not everything you were told on Sundays is true, you know. Some things aren't actually all that bad. You're only clutching your pearls because society told you that swapping genders was bad. What harm is there, as long as both people consent?"

I wanted to argue, but I knew Tiffany was absolutely correct. There wasn't anything wrong with the two of them swapping bodies outside of society telling us that men and women could only swap with other men and other women. Which... given the way that their open relationship also defied societal expectations, I suppose it wasn't too much of a surprise that the two of them thought so little about swapping like this. "You're right, and I'm sorry. I... I'm trying, really. You've heard how conservative my childhood was. It's a lot to unlearn."

"Well, maybe it's time to start unlearning," she said, beckoning me closer. "You want to know the real reason I'm still here? It's because of you, stud. I'm here to see you." Did Tiffany just call me a stud? She had to be mocking me, but I could feel myself blushing all the same.

Tiffany started to unbutton my shirt, brushing her fingers along my exposed chest as she did so. I could feel myself growing erect. Were we... were we really doing this? They were in an open relationship, after all, it wasn't like he was helping Tiffany cheat on his roommate. With his roommate? God, Swappers made things confusing.

"I've seen the way you look at Daniel," she said, rubbing a hand across the stubble on my chin. "I love the man, but he's too straight and too clueless to pick up on those stares. And honestly, I can't help but think that you're too sheltered to realize you're even doing it half the time."

"I... thought I was hiding it better," I said, trying to steady my emotions. Her fingers started to tease my nipples, leaving me squirming with raw pleasure. "I still don't know if I'm bisexual, or gay, or just... Mormon. But I didn't think it mattered. He's already in a relationship with you. What I want isn't important."

"He's in an open relationship," she said, staring at me like I was a hunk of meat to be devoured. "He's also not here right now. I'm in control of this body right now, and I want to fuck you senseless. If that's what you want too, well..." Tiffany slipped her hand inside my waistband, giving my manhood a firm squeeze that had me gasping for breath. "Tonight's a perfect night to let loose. No regrets."

I couldn't hold back anymore. I leaned in for a quick kiss, which Tiffany returned with tongue. The two of us stripped down as fast as we could, though I made certain not to let her pull me onto the bed with her. "Not on Daniel's bed," I said, dragging her over to my part of the bedroom. "His sheets reek of frat boy sweat, and I doubt he has any lube."

"I, uhh... you're alright with being on top, right?" I asked, as I handed her the bottle of lube from my nightstand. It occurred to me that we hadn't actually talked through any plans, set boundaries, or anything like that. "The way you phrased it, I'm assuming that's what you meant, I just--"

"Stop. Thinking." Seeing Daniel's face looming over me, with a look of pure lust on his face, it was everything I never knew I needed. I started rolling over onto my knees before she yelled at me. "Not like that, stay on your back. I want to see your face as I fuck you senseless."

Tiffany spent the entire time telling me exactly what to do, and it was everything I could have ever wanted. She got me lubed, eased me onto her massive manhood, and railed me like there was no tomorrow. My chest was coated in strands of my own cum, while Daniel's cum slowly leaked out of my ass. I'd never had a no-hands orgasm before, but holy hell I could not believe how amazing that felt.

"I can't believe we just did that," I said, trying to catch my breath. She responded by scooping up some of the jizz off of my torso and putting it into her mouth. She was making an entire production out of licking it off of her finger, and I could feel myself getting hard again. "So, uhh... you... you'll be in Daniel's body for the entire evening?"

"If that's your way of asking me if I'd like to fuck you again? The answer is yes," she said, giving me a wink. "Even better, we might be able to make this a weekly thing," she added, standing up to grab some towels. "I don't think I'll have to fight too hard to convince Daniel to swap. What sort of straight man doesn't enjoy having boobs?"

God, I was falling for her so hard. What had I gotten myself into? Life was going to be a long, awkward hell once my roommate was back in his own body. And yet... I had to admit, I had no regrets.

[uronlywon]

I'M NOT HIM - s.jy ( 심재윤 ) ; drabble ➤ an attempt to get over your ex . . .

pairing .ᐟ best friend!jake x afab!reader

contains .ᐟ dom!jake, mention of heeseung as an ex, jealous jake !!

warnings .ᐟ MINORS DNI, smut smut smut, porn with little plot, slight dubcon, pet name use (baby, good girl), little blindfold use, skin biting/sucking, mentions of mark making, unprotected sex (use protection pls), creampie, let me know if i missed something !

vee's note .ᐟ first drabble? it's more like a scenario but idrk... i'm afraid that this might be really terrible but i need some sort of filler while i continue to write bittersweet, which might i say, is taking forever.

wc .ᐟ [ 1.4k ]　　other works . . . masterlist ; read more !

YOU HAD JUST BROKEN UP WITH YOUR EX, LEE HEESEUNG.

To be honest, you kind of saw it coming, but it still painfully hurt you, you two had been together for almost 2 years. You caught him cheating on you with another woman in your shared bedroom, which you found absolutely disgusting.

If you weren’t going to be with Heeseung anymore, who else would satisfy you as good as him?

Maybe your best friend can; Jaeyun.

So you showed up at his place, holding nothing but a blindfold in one of your hands.

You quickly found your back pressed into the soft mattress of Jaeyun’s bed. Clothes were discarded all over the ground, the blindfold tied around your head.

For a few minutes now, he had peppered your neck with plenty of kisses, leaving a couple of red and purplish marks in his tracks. He suckled on your perky nipples, taking one in his mouth whilst his fingers flicked and twisted the other, stifling a soft moan out of you. It baffled him how pretty your breasts were, perfect curves topped with rose-coloured buds.

He continued to nip at your plush skin, from your jaw to your collarbone, painting you with his mouth as if you were his masterpiece in the making. You looked so pretty under him like this, even though you can’t see him.

After getting enough of your neck and chest, Jaeyun flipped you over onto your stomach, the sudden gesture startling you. With the blindfold on, it was hard to tell what things were going to happen next.

Jaeyun took his hard cock into his hand, pumping it a few times before bringing it to meet with your soaked pussy. He decided to ditch the condom, you never mentioned anything about it anyway. You could feel him prodding at your entrance, immense desire growing as you wiggled your hips closer to him, “Hmn-.. Please, hurry..” You whimpered out.

“Eager are we?” Jaeyun teased, a small chuckle escaping from his lips, “Good girls have patience. You’re a good girl, aren’t you?” He asked, voice almost completely oozing with lust.

You don’t respond.

Your brain was entirely clouded with just desperation that you could only let out another whimper.

A smirk forms on Jaeyun’s face. He never thought he would have his best friend, on his bed, spread open for him to use. He’s always had a tiny crush on you, he won’t deny that.

With Jaeyun’s cock already lined up with your pleading hole, he began to slowly let his length sink into you and oh man, was he big. The little moans he drew out from you only fueled him more, the desire to ruin you only becoming stronger.

Not long after, he bottomed out, his whole dick sitting deep and snug inside of you. “Fuck, Y/n, so tight for me,” He muttered, whilst beginning to thrust himself in and out of you slowly to get you adjusted to his size. Your cute tiny noises only grew louder.

“Mmf— More, please-” You begged, hands mindlessly grabbing the bed sheets beneath you, grip tightening until your knuckles were almost sure to lose their colours. “S..So good! Heeseung!—”

Heeseung?

Right. Maybe Jaeyun should’ve known better. You weren’t here for him, you were here for yourself.

And you wouldn’t be here right now if your precious boyfriend didn’t cheat on you.

You would be fucking with Heeseung instead.

With his jaw clenched, Jaeyun fucked into your went cunt faster and harder, the sound of both of your skins slapping against each other filled the lustful atmosphere. “Ignore it,” He thought to himself, trying not to think too much about it. All that mattered now was your pleasure and not his feelings.

Whilst fucking into you, he let his hands trail to the soft skin of your waist, his hands wrapping around your small middle, giving it a harsh squeeze in the process. “More.. More, more! Hee!” You chanted, the pleasure you were currently receiving clearly not enough for you. 

Hee.

It was getting harder for Jaeyun to keep his composure, the way you called out for Heeseung when he wasn’t even there, the constant ‘Heeseungs’ and ‘Hees’ clearly starting to irritate him. He used one of his hands to effortlessly spread legs wider for him to gain more access, then he proceeded to thrust into you whilst keeping himself in check. “Fucking.” Thrust! “Ignore.” Thrust! “It.” Thrust!

Your body began to grow limp, and you felt a familiar knot forming in your tummy, just waiting to burst. “Ah- ‘m so close!” You exclaimed, trying to chase your orgasm by rocking your hips at the same pace as Jaeyun’s.

“Yeah? Y..You’re close?” Jaeyun panted out, it was obviously a rhetorical question. “You like this cock this much, huh? Gonna come for me like a good girl, aren’t you?” He continued, stringing out more questions and praise.

It took all of your remaining consciousness to muster out a singular sentence. “Mhm! Hah— ‘mma come for you like a- g..good girl..,”

“Whose good girl?”

Was that a stupid to ask? Yes. Jaeyun knew he wasn’t the one you longed for, but he still had a slither of hope lingering in his head.

“Yours! Hee- Heeseung’s good girl!”

Wrong answer.

Then everything happens so quickly. Before you know it, you’re flipped onto your back again, blindfold ripped off your face as well as you pending orgasm. You no longer felt his dick inside of you, leaving you clenching on air. “What the fuck?!–”

When you take in everything that just happened, your eyes engulf your surroundings. The purple LEDs, how humid the room is and—

And…

Jaeyun.

Before you got the chance to say anything at him, or get upset at him for ruining the moment, he suddenly thrusted back into you, making you jolt. Then a series of words started to come out of his mouth. “God, Y/n.. Please, stop calling out to that fucker.” Jaeyun began, ‘that fucker’ referring to Heeseung. 

“Jae—”

“No. Listen.” He cut you off, obviously not done saying everything he intended to. He proceeded to speak whilst bucking his hips to meet yours, groaning softly. “Can’t you just accept it, Y/n?”

Accept what?

“Like- Can’t you just accept Heeseung doesn’t want you anymore? I mean, he cheated on you for fuck’s sake.”

Wow. You never expected somebody to ever say those words to you whilst they were fucking the shit out of your cunt.

“Please!” He beseeched, growing vulnerable as his thrusts picked up in pace. “Accept that—”

“I’m not him.”

The three words do something to you. Seeing your best friend at your mercy was not something that was very common, even though he held the most power in your current situation. But you couldn’t muster out a proper response, due to the sensation of being fucked into by him.

The way Jaeyun’s hips worked magic was dizzying you, or maybe it was the fact you just got edged?

Soon enough the pleasure was too much to bear, pleasure pricking at the corner of your eyes as your awaited orgasm approaches you. “Jaeyun!–” You called out, and you called out his name.

“Yeah, baby..? Fuck, say it again- Say my name again.” Jaeyun asked desperately, his own name rolling off your tongue pleasing him.

“J…Jaeyun! ‘m close- let me cum, please!”

Oh, he was gonna let you cum. If you answered correctly this time.

“Whose- good girl are you, huh?”

Panting, you make eye contact with him, the purple LED lights illuminating his face. Damn, you never realised how fucking attractive your own best friend actually is. Your eyes flutter in exhaustion, and he smirks at you.

“Yours..”

“Can’t hear you.” 

“Yours!”

Jaeyun’s hand comes up to your tummy as he continues to snap into you. He rests it on top of your abdomen before progressively applying pressure. “Who’s ‘yours’, hm?.”

The pressure on your lower stomach only adds up to your awaiting orgasm, each thrust bringing you closer to it. “Fuckfuckfuck! Jaeyun!- Gonna cum—”

“I know, baby. I know.” He grunted, drawing his cock in and out of you even faster, chasing both of your highs, getting sloppier by the minute. “C’mon baby, say it. Who’s ‘yours’? Whose good girl are you?”

You’re almost there. So, so close to cumming.

“J-Jaeyun’s good girl!” You exclaimed, loudly.

The smirk displayed on Jaeyun’s face only widens, “Good girl.” He muttered out, completely satisfied. “Shhii.. Cum with me, baby—” He moaned out, head throwing back as he chased both of your orgasms.

With one final thrust, the both of you come undone, your release coating his dick entirely whilst he fills you to the brim with his warm cum.

LIKES ONLY GO SO FAR ! IF YOU LIKE IT, REBLOG IT.

vee's note .ᐟ sorry you had to read that because it sucks.

©𝘶𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺𝘸𝘰𝘯, 2024 𝘈𝘓𝘓 𝘙𝘐𝘎𝘏𝘛𝘚 𝘙𝘌𝘚𝘌𝘙𝘝𝘌𝘋 | 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘱𝘺, 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘻𝘦, 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦, 𝘮𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘺 𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘮 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯. 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘥

[hellsslibrary]

I don't know if you write for this character but I'll ask anyway, sub! eita otoya 🙏🙏🙏 I luv him and I haven't seen much of him with a male reader 😭

MASTERLIST is here.

#a.n. : this was really hard to write because he's literally my least favorite character??? Sorry, not a fan of playboys and that type of character in general. But it was okay to make fun of him a little, so it's okay.

!!Warnings: dom!top!male!reader, sub!bottom!Eita, protected sex, the actual plot is that Eita is a closeted gay man and the reader brings him out of it, slow sex (not romantic, just to make his brain work harder), kind of a mixture of praise and humiliation, I'm not sure, hair pulling.

"Oh, just look at you, what a wonderful boy, huh?" you hoot, kissing Eita's temple as your hips slowly and steadily move in and out of his soaking hole.

"Shut up... Just shut up," escapes his lips as he struggles to keep any sounds from escaping his mouth as he claws at the bed linen beneath him.

A smirk grows on your lips as you watch the way his back arches to push his ass closer to you. The way his hair sticks to the sweaty back of his neck. The way his breath hitches with each thrust in just the right place.

He could say whatever he wants, but his body language wasn't lying. Oh no, he absolutely wanted this, wanted to be fucked by you, maybe more. Sure, a guy like him had dozens of girls he'd dated, dumped, cheated on, kissed flying before his eyes. All that, you know? But no, that wasn't the point, not his desire to be noticed. Not now. Right now, he just wanted to make sure you didn't notice the obvious signs of his arousal.

Like the way his precum was staining the sheets beneath him way too much. "But you like it, Eita," he winces when he hears the laugh that escapes your lips, so cruel, almost sadistic, but he knows you don't want to hurt him in any way. Well, maybe just his ego.

"Eita? I'm talking to you," you whisper, sliding your free hand into his hair, then gripping it and pulling his head back, making him let out a strangled wheeze.

His back was pressed against his chest, trying to lower himself back down, feeling the angle of your thrusts increase, but you just held him, stopping his thrusts and making sure your cock was just right.

"Are you going to answer me, doll?"

You ask in that sweet voice that would drip sugar if it were possible. Doll. What the fuck. How many girls has he called that? Probably a lot. Too much, if we're being honest.

He clenched his jaw, trying not to move, to breathe evenly, to just not look at you. Anything. Anything to avoid admitting what he didn't want.

"Something like that..." is a pathetic, almost silent word that escapes his bitten lips, and they press into a thin line when he feels your chest resonate with a giggle.

"Well, that's a small step, I guess?"

Otoya hiccups, feeling your cock start moving again, more sharply, but still just as slowly. He whimpers, throwing his head back onto your shoulder, wanting to lie down again, but you won't give him that privilege, not after he called sex with girls the best thing in the world. But the poor thing probably didn't even do it, and fed it all from sites you know what...

"I'm going to make you scream that you're gay, little one. Got it? You're going to play fucking football with your legs buckled, all the girls are going to look at you and think you're injured, but it's just your fucking guts that's been rebuilt," your lips slide over his ear, biting the lobe and pulling it down just a little, soothing the bite with your tongue.

Your eyes immediately light up when you see his hand reluctantly reaching for his cock, which is practically dripping from your actions. His walls are breaking down, the closet doors are opening wider and someday the whole fucking world is going to know about it. And you're going to be the reason for that.

[sparsilees]

here’s your not so gentle reminder harry’s not piteously pathetic at potions. here’s a refresher:

fifth year, he sat for his owls and scored an exceeds expectations. not an acceptable, or poor, or dreadful, or troll (an ee in owls most probably equals a >75 in gcse o’s during the 90s)

he didn’t duplicate hermione, shrink her, and sneak her into the exam hall to pluck answers off her brain. he didn’t scribble a cheat sheet a la fa mulan on his arm

fifth year he has yet to clap eyes on the half-blood prince’s notes

as always, he didn’t feel confident about his answers/abilities, but he bloody exceeded expectations

he got into newts potions, a class of only twelve students

so harry got an ee, ron got an ee, maybe everyone else got an oustanding. or maybe only half a dozen got outstanding, and the rest exceeds expectations.

it still means the entirety of hufflepuff sixth years aren’t promising potioneers except ernie macmillan. poor boy probably tutors the others in the common room. all of the slytherin sixth years, excluding four, are absolutely worse off than harry and ron at potions. ravenclaw sixth years are shamefully inadequate at potions too, aside from four students.

harry’s not a marvel at potions. he doesn’t enjoy potions. but he’s good at potions, he’s capable enough. he isn’t blowing up cauldrons every month, that’s seamus. he can differentiate the ingredients. he knows how to cut, dice, chop, and stir. the spirit of sixteen year old severus snape didn’t possess him via the pages to help him brew his elixirs and essences in slughorn’s class. harry deciphered snape’s spidery, crammed annotations and executed them perfectly.

i’m bloody tired of these rancid ‘harry sucks so bad at potions except when he’s got the prince or hermione’s help’ takes.

[fligniuz]

sex for homework

luigi mangione x reader

｡𖦹°‧ you ask your cute tutor to help you study for your math final.

word count: 5.5k • part of my study buddies series (read here!) • nsfw • read on ao3

warnings : f! reader; EXPLICIT; dumbification if U squint; praise; oral (m! receiving); pre calc lol

notes : crossposting my shit to tumblr and starting with arguably one of my greatest uses of free will in history. title frommm:

You have a bit of a dilemma.

Well, it would be more accurate to say that you had a dilemma, have had one for quite a while now—your current grievances are merely extensions of a constant, one raging, blood-thirsty, borderline psychopathic problem of a class. MTH121, Concepts & Applications, is the only remaining mathematics credit required for your degree, and, coincidentally, absolutely no one told you that that’s really just a fancy name for pre-calculus. Because the universe hates you.

Your final is tomorrow. Yes, tomorrow. If that wasn’t bad enough, your brain has utterly fucked you; months spent poring over formulas and right triangles amounts to nothing in the moment, every relevant fragment of knowledge completely foreign to your burnt out, sleep deprived, caffeine ridden psyche. So here you sit, “studying”, armed with just your textbook and Khan Academy tutorials.

Is it too late to switch majors? Yes, you decide, massaging your temples as you take another glance at your notes. A mass of numbers, variables, and scribbled matrices clogs the pages, complete with your near ineligible annotations, details added in the heat of a lecture. You never knew there could be so many different types of numbers. Solve for x. 5 + 2x to the 2nd power = 8x. Factor x3 - 3x to the 2nd power - 4x + 12. Find the vertex of the function f(x) = x to the 2nd power + 4x + 3. Determine the value of x if the sum of the following sequence converges to 5. How any of this is relevant to your future non-mathematics degree is beyond you.

What the hell is a vertex again? And what does it matter? You’d rather be sleeping, or drunk. Whatever.

You have one saving grace. Since your freshman year you’ve been employing a little cheat-sheet, your one-way ticket to having math explained to you in a language understood by plebeians like yourself: one Luigi Mangione, a friend of a friend of a friend, possibly the smartest guy you know (and you’re far from the only person to voice that opinion). Your self-appointed tutor—and unfortunately for you, probably the most appetizing of any of the frat guys you’ve met in college, to put it chastely. The actual knowledge is just a bonus, really, because unlike other tutors you’ve worked with Luigi seems to actually care; he wants you to walk away from him with a solid understanding of the material, rather than a temporary knowledge that gets your homework done but is absent from your memory by the time of your exams. And it’s hard to write off the fact that he’s easy on the eyes.

…Pretty damn hard, actually. Because—in all honesty—you’re really into Luigi. Another thing that’s hard to do is get your math homework done when you’re busy fucking yourself with your fingers, like you tend to do after your time with him, thinking about his cock, his hands, the way he would fill you, pin you down underneath him, smirk at you and tell you dirty things like that’s my girl, that’s my good fucking girl, that’s it, give it to me, show me how pretty you look when you come all over me like this…

Great. At this pace, you’ll never get anything done.

Your phone buzzes.

About an hour ago, you sent him a photo of your current predicament: your laptop and notebook open, and you sitting criss-crossed in front of it, an exaggerated pout on your lips. A few moments later, you sent another, this time of your middle finger pointed directly at your professor’s official portrait. Now, he responds:

Academic Weapon (Luigi) : Smh

Who studies the night before their final?? Dummy

You smile, replying:

i do :(

help pls :((

Academic Weapon (Luigi) : You poor thing

And then:

Academic Weapon (Luigi) : Come over. In like 15

We’ll work it out together

Score. He adds:

Academic Weapon (Luigi) : And I better not hear any complaining when I make you actually do the math

Your crush feels elementary, like you’ve got the hots for the nerdy jock on the playground that’s miles out of your league and that every girl on planet Earth is fighting tooth and nail for. You respond:

no promises :P

You pray to your lucky stars that you can study as nonchalantly as humanly possible.

You told him you wouldn’t complain, and you’ve tried, you really have. But dividing radicals is fucking stupid and useless and the more you look at your paper the more these numbers and symbols really start to look all the same to you, just scribbles, meaningless scribbles of made-up concepts that have nothing to do with your career prospects whatsoever. Who gives a flying fuck about solving equations with these weird ass numbers that normal people don’t even use?

You must be thinking out loud, because Luigi laughs next to you on the couch. He is laughing at your frustration. What an emotionally supportive tutor. You groan and thread your fingers through your hair, massaging your temples.

Still smiling just slightly, he starts to gather up your things. “Alright, look, how about we take a break?” He glances over at you, still holding your head in your hands. “Yeah, let’s take a break for a minute.”

He gets up from the couch, disappears into the kitchen for just a moment. Comes back with a glass of orange juice. For you. You try not to think about how pathetic it is that the most romantic gesture a man has done for you in the past three years is bring you juice. Instead you watch him, sipping slowly—no pulp, he knows you so well—and peeking through your eyelashes as he scuttles around his dorm, just the two of you alone together, while he throws some laundry into a basket and absentmindedly closes doors of unoccupied rooms. You have never noticed how defined his calves are before, nor how his curls bounce just slightly when he walks fast or how his shorts sag on his hips just right, just enough for you to get a peek of his V-line and the waistband of his boxers when he raises his arms to stretch—

Nonchalant. Demure. Mindful. You are failing so hard at the one thing you’ve forbidden yourself from doing: staring at him until your eyes are practically burning holes in his clothes and he’s melting into the floor. Not entirely your fault. He should’ve known to dress modestly around you. Around anybody, for that matter.

Luigi comes to sit by you now. As you tuck your hair behind your ears you can feel his arm move to rest along the back of the couch, almost around you, but not quite.

“Hi,” you say, propping your head up on your arm.

He smiles at you. You can’t even look him in the eye. “Did you think more about your radicals?”

“Don’t remind me,” you groan, rolling your eyes. “No. I didn’t.”

“Well, what were you thinking about?”

You swallow the conspiratorial intuition that he has to be fucking with you. Maybe he sees it on your face. Can smell it on you. Something.

“I was trying to think of some things I’d rather be doing,” you offer. “Instead of math.”

Your heart feels three beats faster all of a sudden, and when did he get so close to you? Your thighs are touching, his knee brushing against yours. “And what did you come up with?” he asks.

Oh, fuck. He’s definitely fucking with you. Right? He has that goddamn smirk on his face, that one that makes your insides twist with a feeling reserved only for boys who look at you just like this, like you’re busted, like he knows exactly what you’ve been thinking about every second you’ve spent sitting next to him doing algebra. You want to kiss it right off of him.

“Nothing,” you lie, sitting up straight and trying to pretend like you really are interested in your studies. “Here, will you show me how to do it again?”

He calls your name. He doesn’t even have to ask for you to look at him; the tone of his voice and the tilt of his head makes his intentions entirely clear. When your eyes meet his he inches closer, and all you can manage to do is stare at his lips.

“Tell me what you want,” he demands, stern and warm enough to boil.

If he truly knew what he was asking for he wouldn’t be asking at all, you think. Not unless he was prepared for whatever your fervent need has in store for him. Embarrassment feels bright red and prickly on your skin. “I shouldn’t say.”

”But I think you should,” he whispers.

Oh. Oh. All bets are off, now. This has officially progressed from studying to “studying”.

Luigi lets you lead, his hand settling on the small of your back as you come a little closer to kiss him, properly. You hear him giggle before your lips meet; the curve of his smile against you is unmistakable, casting sparks through your body and down your thighs. He tastes like spearmint. You learn quickly that he is a fantastic kisser, and his tongue finds yours with curious excitement when your breathing starts to pick up. Without question, he claims the expanse of you, drinking in your essence, licking, biting. Those irresistible curls demand attention, and so you thread your fingers through his hair, your hand sweeping from behind his ear to the nape of his neck. Luigi shivers under your touch, exhaling softly against you.

When the fingers of his left hand raise to grasp your leg, you stop kissing him only to swing your body over his lap so that you’re straddling him. Luigi breathes in deep then, like his nervous system collectively seizes at the feeling of you so close. To give him room to breathe you stop short of settling all your weight onto him. Lips meeting once more, his hands greet your hips; his touch is warm, and timid, like you’re made of sand, like you might collapse and dissolve into immeasurable particles between his fingers.

He groans into your mouth. Murmurs your name. “This isn’t very productive,” he quips.

“Intellectually, no,” you agree, nails brushing the back of his neck. He has goosebumps. A ghost of a smile dancing on your lips, you slowly lower yourself down onto his lap; there are two layers of clothes between your bare skin but he is impossibly warm against you. “But what about physically?”

Luigi smiles, and fuck, he is too fucking beautiful. “I guess I can’t argue with that.”

And so you kiss him again and again and again, your heart doing backflips inside your chest when his big hands glide lower, and lower, thumb toying with the waistband of your skirt, and lower still, until he’s gripping your ass. You can’t help but nuzzle against the growing stiffness underneath you, poking between your thighs—and you definitely can’t help but love the way he grinds back, hips meeting yours with just as much enthusiasm. Fuck. About an hour ago you were working through polynomials and linear equations, and now the dreamiest guy you’ve ever met is hard for you, holding you in his lap. You might as well thank your professor.

When Luigi sucks at your bottom lip for a few euphoric moments, you make the most pathetic sound into his mouth, and he growls, his hands suddenly coming up to grasp your hips and hold them steady. “Was this your plan all along?” he rasps, his lips moving swiftly to the side of your face, your jaw, the junction between your neck and shoulder.

Sharp teeth graze skin and you whimper. “What do you mean?”

“What, now you’re playing coy?” Luigi finds the pulse point in your throat and bites, softly at first, then harder when your fingers curl into the hair at the back of his head. “You didn’t want to study. You called me because you wanted to get fucked, because you knew I’d want to touch you just like this, didn’t you?”

This boy is out of his mind. First he practically eye-fucks you while schooling you about imaginary numbers, and then he “scolds” you like he’s disappointed in your lack of interest in algebra, like he’s mad that you can’t resist him for being so damn gorgeous. That half-hearted meanness in his tone leaves butterflies in your stomach, in no way helped by the feeling of his tongue sliding over your collarbone.

“No,” you mutter. It’s not completely a lie. You really did need his help with the math, which he is really good at…but you can’t deny that you were really hoping you two would end up like this, with him kissing your neck all over until you’re speckled with purple and pink. You don’t even care about the obvious evidence of him on your skin—you want his entire dorm hall to know just how well-acquainted the two of you are by the time he’s done with you. The thought of everyone knowing you’re his makes you weak.

Luigi is kissing you again, slowly and deeply, one hand coming up to cup your breast through your shirt. His touch is too much and not enough simultaneously, your need overwhelming, and your hips are searching desperately for friction, rolling against him eagerly. So much for nonchalance.

He grasps your chin, firm but not at all painful, and flashes you that pretty smile, tutting, “I don’t believe you.”

Your mind is far too preoccupied with thoughts of his touch in other places to try to formulate a witty rebut. You opt instead to kiss him harder and sneak a hand between your bodies, tracing over his chest, down his carefully crafted abdomen, and then over the front of his shorts, groping his hard cock through polyester. Luigi groans into your mouth. He is big, almost intimidating, and imagining him inside of you has your body feeling hot all over.

As you palm the outline of his length through his trousers, his hands make their way underneath your sweater, the sudden warmth of him jolting through your torso. You look up at him through your lashes and he smirks.

“Do you want to sit on it?” he asks you, entirely stoic despite the weight of his words.

You kiss him, still squeezing his cock. “Can I put it in my mouth first?”

Fuck. You have him wrapped around your finger. How could he possibly say no when you ask so sweetly? Luigi is instantly pulling down his shorts for you, the rustle of fabric making your head spin. He’s left in just his boxers and a sweater that you quickly help him shrug off, too. Once you have him undressed, he takes a moment to survey you, your cheeks flushed, eyes lidded, hair tousled from his hands. You feel a surge of confidence now that you have his full attention and so you pull your top up and over your head, smiling when he reaches behind you to help you with your bra. He has it and your skirt off in just a few seconds, leaving your combined clothes to pile up next to the couch.

You shift so that you’re kneeling on the floor in front of him, wearing only your panties, watching him watching you. He is grinning, his cock standing proud, and you know you must be blushing by the way his teeth flash from under the curve of his lips. You feel gooey and hot in the pit of your stomach. Swallowing your shyness, you reach forward to take him in your hand. He’s already sticky at the tip, precum glistening on his slit, and so you begin to stroke him, starting at the head of his dick and spreading slick down his shaft. His cock is probably the most gorgeous thing you’ve ever seen, at the very least a runner-up for his face: tan and thick, his girth evenly distributed, and big enough to have you feeling your heartbeat between your legs. There is a prominent vein along the underside of him, ending at his frenulum. He pulses with each movement of your hand.

Once he’s as wet as you like, you come closer to tease him with your tongue, licking up the base, tracing his vein, passing over his slit. Luigi groans—“fuuuuuck, baby,”—and threads his fingers into your hair, tugging hard.

“Don’t be a fucking tease,” he rasps. “You asked for this. Show me what that mouth can do.”

Your lips are halfway wrapped around the head of him and when you moan at his words it vibrates through him, his abs flexing deliciously. You move further down, then, mouth closed around his length, applying light pressure on your way back up. He’s too big to take all of him at once and so your left hand grasps the length you can’t reach, pumping gently. You start a subtle, easy rhythm, evenly paced and obviously satisfying enough to have Luigi panting and swearing above you: your mouth starts at his tip, sucking gently, then gliding lower, until you can feel him in the back of your throat and you’re nearly gagging on him—and then you move upward again, cheeks hollowing around him, finally reaching the head of him once more. Rinse and repeat. It is organized. Formulaic. Your process leaves you practically drooling on his cock, spit collecting at the base where you are stroking him. Fuck. You haven’t pleased a guy like this in quite a while, and under any other circumstances you’d probably feel a bit insecure about your work; but it’s difficult to justify any doubts you might have, what with the noises coming from above you:

“Oh, fuck, yes, baby, yes, just like that, fuck yes,” Luigi moans, fingers knotted tightly in your hair. “Oh my god, your mouth…”

You slip your free hand into your panties, middle and ring finger rubbing your clit.

As your ministrations intensify, his reactions do, too. You can feel his thighs and hips tensing in an effort not to fuck into your throat. But you made a promise to yourself; you want to take the entirety of his length in your mouth before all of this is over, and so you move your left hand down to his balls, kneading him and carefully lowering your face until your nose is pressed into the curly hairs of his groin, his cock as deep as it can reach. And Luigi keens, head thrown back against the couch, one hand in your hair and the other gripping the armrest tight. You can feel him twitching in your throat.

There are a few blissful moments of you sucking him just like this, sinking him deep into your throat and pinching your lips around his tip, and you almost wish the two of you were recording because the sounds he makes are top tier jerk material for at least the next few months. He’d be a natural on camera. You want to commit every second of this to your memory.

When he goes quiet for a moment you open your eyes to look at him. You find him staring down at you, mouth agape. “Are you touching yourself?” he asks.

It’s difficult to answer with his dick in your mouth, so you settle for moaning around him again, eyes fluttering shut.

“Holy fuck,” he grunts, his voice sweeter than sugar.

You could sit here sucking him off for the rest of your life—you could die with his dick in your mouth—but you regrettably begin to feel your jaw aching, knowing full well that keeping this up will have you hurting. Not that you really mind. When you begin to sputter and tear up around him, he grabs both sides of your face and pulls your mouth off of his cock. You are crying, just a little, crocodile tears streaming down your cheeks, your throat raw.

Luigi looks down at you sweetly. “Oh, baby,” he coos, wiping your wet face dry with his thumbs. “That’s my perfect girl. So good to me. Come here.”

He welcomes you back onto his lap with open arms and a smile. He is warm, so warm and soft against you, you could fall asleep just like this. But he is kissing you now, so slowly that you feel dizzy, and so you ground yourself, fingers embracing his curls. His hands move to your hips, grasping the waistband of your panties, teasing you, rubbing the fabric against your heat. When he finally has them off his fingers are instantly examining you, collecting your slick, slipping through your folds.

“Let’s see about a little reward for you, hm?” he whispers, capturing your lips with his.

You kiss him eagerly and arch your back so that your thighs spread wide enough for his fingers to enter you with ease—not that it would be difficult without, considering that you’re so wet you can hear him touching you, even over the sound of your blood rushing in your ears. Two long digits move inside of you, stretching you, massaging that spot that makes your knees buckle and your eyes cross, plus a few more that you never knew existed. His touch feels so good, just how you imagined, and you have to lean forward into the crook of his neck to keep yourself upright, your teeth sinking into a firm shoulder. Luigi makes a gruff sound, almost a chuckle, and his cock jumps at your whiny, choked noises when he adds a third finger into your pussy.

“So needy, aren’t you?” he teases. “Have you been thinking about this, gorgeous? About sucking my cock and taking my fingers like this?”

You nod, because of course you have. In that exact order. Who wouldn’t?

Luigi smiles at you, soft and adoring. You make a curious sound and his fingers depart from you, lingering at your entrance until you grind down into his lap. Your cunt brushes against him, raw, hungry, slathering his cock with your slick.

“I want you,” you whine, grabbing his face and kissing him again. “I want all of you.”

“Yeah, baby?” His hands are guiding your hips, moving you slowly against him. “Tell me about it.”

Well, you would, if your brain weren’t short-circuiting at the moment. His fault. You mumble into his ear, something about infinity, something about the way you hug your pillow at night and all the times you’ve fucked yourself stupid thinking about this very image of you and him together like this. But there are countless words for your endless feelings, words you would preach to him from high places if your body had the agency to; your attraction to him is primal, but neatly arranged, layered, wrapped up with variables galore and multiplying with each moment you spend in his presence. A mess, no doubt about it, but one you can control, a tangle to unravel, an equation to solve. Nothing less. You aren’t sure of how this ends but you know that you need him, bad, more than you knew was possible before.

You crash into him, mouths colliding, everything that you left unsaid spilling into your embrace. Words are hard. Kissing Luigi and grinding your warm, throbbing cunt against him takes much less brainpower.

He is speaking to you when you pull away: “Baby, just a second, wait right here, let me get something.” Gently you are pushed from his lap and he disappears into his room momentarily, leaving you waiting, alone, aching for him, until he rounds the corner again with a familiar foil packet, finding his way back to the couch and sweeping you on top of him once more.

“Hi. Sorry.” And now he is fully yours.

You whine and wiggle against him the second the condom is on.

“Shh,” Luigi whispers, “I got you, ‘s okay, gorgeous. Gonna take good care of you, yeah? Don’t you worry. Gonna give you just what you need, baby.”

The tip of his cock is pressing into you, then, slowly easing himself inside, and fuck, he fits just right, fills you up perfectly, has you seeing stars already. The sound you make when he bottoms out is a hop, skip, and a jump away from pornographic. Luigi purrs underneath you.

“Oh, I know, baby, I know.” His hand slides down to grip your ass, spreading you, and from this angle you can feel just how much he stretches you out. And then, as he begins to roll his hips: “My sweet girl, working so hard, can’t even think for yourself, can you, beautiful? That’s okay, baby. I can do all the thinking for you, you just sit back and let me work it out for you, yeah? Don’t think. Just let me please this pussy.”

It’s like he’s trying to kill you. Every single word he says into your ear shoots straight to your cunt, the mere sound of his voice so near you electrifying. He’s deep, and with your thighs spread wide like this you just have to take advantage of the perfect angle to rub your clit against him. You can’t help but squeal into the crook of his neck each time his hips ram up into you, thighs clapping against your ass; by the way his muscles tense you assume it must take much of his energy, and yet he pounds you like you weigh nothing in his lap, exerting himself like it’s a cakewalk so long as he can watch your face shrivel up with overwhelming delectation. You can tell that he loves it when you tug his hair or bite him, and so you do it every chance you get, just in case your hushed utterances in his ear fail to make your message clear enough:

“Luigi, fuckfuckfuck, oh my god, oh, fuck…”

As he paces himself Luigi wraps his strong arms around you, one caging your waist and the other pulling tight at your hair. Your neck is arched and exposed, leaving him free to smother his love all over you in sharp, uneven hickeys. You needed this, so, so bad, and you tell him exactly that, chanting thank you, thank you, thank you and holding him tight.

“Whatever you want,” he whispers. “You can have whatever you want with me. Anything.” His lips meet yours, fleeting, and then, with the slightest hint of a grin: “You earned this, baby.”

You groan directly into his ear. It’s straight from your dreams, you think, like you’ve been swept from your bed in the midst of the night and dropped right here, in the lap of the sweetest, smartest, most handsome boy you’ve ever so much as looked at, bouncing on his cock while he kisses you like you’ll float away if he lets go. The two of you work together to heighten each other’s inevitable undoing, like a function of sorts; Luigi pushes and you push back, meeting his hips every time, your clit brushing against him just right, and him breaching unknown depths of you, hands roaming, learning you inside and out.

“My sweet girl,” he grabs your face and rests his forehead against yours, driving into you with precision. “This is all yours, baby.”

Sweat starts to gather at his hairline and you can feel him shuddering in your arms. Kissing him, you press down on his toned chest, pinning him against the couch, and Luigi is practically singing for you, little grunts and babys and murmurs of your name traveling through your ears and echoing in your mind. You want this to last forever. His hips slow to a stop when you begin to move on your own; you raise yourself up, resting all your weight on your knees, with him sliding out of your cunt until just the tip is still inside—and then you drop down, letting him sink back into you quickly, slick and smooth, his cock so deep you can nearly feel it in your stomach.

Fuck. You love this. You love the way his hands grip your ass, your thighs, rubbing your back, moaning your name and kissing behind your ear. You love the way he looks at you. The pupils of those dark eyes are blown wide, watching you move, worshipping how your tits bounce, the gyration of your hips, the blush of arousal all over you, your bottom lip wedged between your teeth. The sounds of sex and the shameless way he takes in every feature of your body have you feeling hot and ready to burst. You moan his name, drawn out and raspy.

“Yes,” Luigi groans. “You’re so pretty on top of me.”

Even through the haze of your pleasure you smile at his praise. He is telling you everything, every single thought that passes by in his mind, as if there will be no proof of how good he fucked you once you leave his dorm, as if every word will dissipate into thin air and leave you waiting, unsatisfied, hanging on the edge: “You take it so well, baby, my sweet girl, so perfect, so perfect just for me.”

His big hands are all over you. One cups your breast, sucking your nipple into his mouth, with the other splayed over your hip. You start to feel dizzy, anxious for his attention, a little bit crazy. Close. Luigi must notice the way your eyes screw shut and your pussy squeezes him tight, because his hand moves down your chest, over your stomach, and then to your clit, circling his fingers with purpose. He wishes—almost—that you were beneath him, so that he could replace his hand with his mouth, trace down your body with his lips and bring you to your very edge with his tongue, over and over again, until you’re begging him to stop.

He settles instead for kissing you, hard, slowly, lingering. “You have no fucking idea how bad I’ve been wanting this, baby.”

You nod, moaning, “yes, yes, me too,” your noises pained and rough in your throat.

The way his cock slams into you with each movement of your hips is ruthless, bruising; he’s kissing you so sweetly and you can feel your climax churning in your abdomen, rippling through you. It knocks the air from your lungs. Sex with him hurts so good. It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before.

“Gonna come,” you huff. There are fingernail-sized dents in his skin. “Gonna come for you.”

Luigi nods, whispers, “good girl, such a good girl,” and circles his fingers over your clit as fast as he can manage.

You tense around him at that. You can’t even count how many times you’ve come imagining those very words whispered in your ear by the very man that you’re riding right now.

“Fuck,” he hisses. “Yeah? You like that? You like being a good girl for me?”

You nod wildly, and everything feels so real all of a sudden, like you’ve been floating mindlessly in space and you are crashing down into reality. His teeth dig into the sensitive skin of your neck and his hips start to pump again and by the time he’s meeting your thrusts you’ve had enough, thighs shaking, and he starts moaning into your ear so that you know he’s right there with you, and fuck, he’s really trying to kill you—

Your orgasm hits you like a truck. A 5’11, dark haired and brown eyed muscle truck that looks at you like you are the only good thing left in the world.

For a moment there is only your deep panting and his equally spent breaths as the both of you rest, his hand tracing gentle patterns on your back, yours combing through his sweat-soaked curls. The dorm is quiet, calm, almost with an air of innocence, completely unswayed by the heady aftermath of what the two of you just did right there on the couch. You lean back and look into his eyes, brooding and trained entirely on you. And he has that stupid grin on his face, the one that gives both of you away for good, the one that screams we’re not the only ones who know what we’ve been up to.

You want to kiss it right off of his beautiful, beautiful face. But right now you just sigh, lean into his shoulder, and let him hold you tight. Tonight you will walk back to your dorm, all the way on the other side of campus, where your roommates will be waiting for you, likely getting ready for bed. You will walk inside and they will watch you without a clue as to whose hands have been on you, whose name has been on your lips, whose cock has been buried to the hilt inside of you for the past hour. Your legs will be aching—you are sure of it.

Your roommates will ask you, “how’d it go?”, completely unaware of what your wobbly smile really means, how you really spent your time with your cute tutor.

And you will respond, “oh, great,” with a barely masked giggle. “I’m gonna ace my test tomorrow.”

^ dividers by cafekitsune

[cherrywriterrr]

bad table manners 3

bfd!rafe x reader

warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, dom!bfd!rafe, masturbation, reader watching rafe jerk off, voyeurism, degradation/praise, cheating, age gap (rafe is 47), filthy dialogue, rafe’s obsessed, reader touches herself, extremely NSFW, it’s a mutual thing now — things are spiraling (in the hottest way possible) absolutely unholy smut, mirror sex, sir kink, daddy kink, degradation, corruption, possessiveness, rough unprotected sex, spit, hair pulling, light dumbification, he keeps her hand on her lower back the whole time, mean filthy dirty talk

☁️ minors — seriously. go. this is not for you. ☁️

bfd!rafe

you wake up to sunlight and silence.

jake’s still snoring beside you, twisted in the sheets like a child, drooling on the pillow. his arm flops across your stomach, and your first instinct is to shove it off.

you stare at the ceiling.

your thighs still ache. your lips are sore. you’re sore

last night was real.

your pussy throbs remembering the weight of rafe’s body against yours, the way he groaned when he came inside you like he meant it, like it wasn’t just fucking—it was a claim.

your throat’s dry.

you slip out of bed quietly. still in that tiny tank top and the same shorts he pushed to the side. you pad down the hall toward the bathroom, legs shaky, heart heavier than it should be.

you don’t expect to hear it.

the low groan. the steady sound of skin on skin.

wet. slow. desperate.

you pause.

the bathroom door is cracked open. just a little.

you shouldn’t look. you do.

and there he is.

rafe cameron. your boyfriend’s father. the man who fucked you on his kitchen counter less than ten hours ago.

he’s standing in front of the sink, hand wrapped tight around his cock, head tilted back, jaw clenched. his towel is slung over the edge of the tub. water’s still running from the shower, steam curling around him like smoke.

and he’s saying your fucking name.

your mouth parts. your knees lock.

“fuck, baby…” his voice is hoarse. ruined. “tightest pussy i ever had… fuckin’ ruined me…”

he strokes harder. precum smearing across the head, hips twitching with every pull.

“that little voice—sir, it’s not right…”

he laughs. low. “wasn’t saying that when you came all over me.”

your hand falls between your thighs before you can stop it.

your fingers slide under your waistband.

you’re soaked.

you bite your lip. stay hidden in the shadow of the doorway.

he’s close now. muttering. “should’ve finished in your mouth.”

stroke. stroke. tighter. “should’ve made you swallow every drop like a good little girl—”

his eyes open. he sees you.

and he doesn’t stop. his lips curl, slow and wicked.

“you like watching, sweetheart?”

his voice drops to a growl. “look at you touching yourself. dirty girl.”

you don’t move. don’t speak.

you just rub harder. faster. shameless now.

he steps closer. cock in hand. still fucking himself to the sight of you.

“come here,” he says, low and firm.

you step into the bathroom.

he spins you around, presses you against the sink.

your eyes meet in the mirror—his face flushed, lips parted. your reflection looks fucked out already.

his cock slides between your thighs.

not inside. just there. heavy. hot. ready.

“you want it again?” he breathes against your neck.

you nod, whimpering.

he grinds against your ass, moaning deep. “then take it. right here. against the mirror. and this time, don’t you fucking dare pretend you don’t love it.”

the glass is fogged, steam clinging to your skin, your breath already shaky as rafe presses your body against the mirror.

his hand is flat on your lower back, big and firm, holding you there.

“stay just like that, sweetheart,” he murmurs, breath hot against your ear.

“you move, i stop. you understand?”

you nod quickly.

“say it.”

“yes, sir.”

his grip tightens. “fuck, you’re so good when you listen.”

his cock slides between your folds, heavy and teasing—he doesn’t push in, not yet. he lets you feel it. lets it drag across your soaking slit while you whimper in the mirror.

his other hand comes up to your throat from behind, thumb brushing your jaw, making you look at yourself.

“look at this little fucking whore.”

his voice is calm. cruel. “can’t even go a day now without begging her boyfriend’s dad to fuck her stupid.”

you moan. high, soft, shameful. your thighs already trembling.

“bet you touch yourself in his bed thinking about me, huh?”

“bet you close your eyes and pretend it’s my cock splitting you open.”

you nod, flushed and wrecked and feral.

“please, sir—”

he cuts you off with a slap to your ass—sharp, loud.

“no begging. you get what i give you.”

then lower, meaner—“and you’re lucky i’m still giving it to you after last night.”

his tip catches your entrance, and then he’s inside—deep—all at once.

you choke on your breath, eyes wide, mouth parted in a silent moan.

he doesn’t let you fall forward

his hand is still on your lower back, keeping your spine arched, your ass tilted perfectly for him.

his hips pull back. slam in.

again.

again.

again.

the slap of skin is obscene in the echo of the bathroom, your moans muffled by your own palm now. you’re drooling, trembling, your eyes rolling back as he drives into you over and over like he owns you.

and fuck, he does.

he does.

“you like being bent over for me like this?” he pants. “like being used like a little cumdump?”

“yes, sir—oh my god—”

“you like getting fucked by your boyfriend’s daddy like a good little slut?”

you nod, crying now.

“say it.”

your voice cracks. “i like getting fucked by you, sir—only you—”

his hand in your hair, yanking your head up.

“that’s right, baby. say it louder. say you’re mine.”

“i’m yours,” you gasp.“i’m fucking yours.”

“yeah, you are. this pussy’s mine now. you feel that?”

he thrusts harder. meaner. “he’ll never make you cum like this. he’ll never touch you like this. he couldn’t even make you whimper—”

he leans in, breath hitting your ear. his voice drops. “but i made you cry for it.”

and you do cry.

as your orgasm hits so hard you go weightless, silent at first—then gasping, shaking, body locked as he fucks you through it like a man obsessed.

his hand never leaves your lower back.

he cums with a guttural moan, cock buried to the hilt, hot ropes painting your walls. his chest against your back. his teeth at your neck.

both of you staring into the mirror, ruined.

he grins. “you’re mine now, sweetheart.”

a kiss to your temple. “tell your boyfriend to keep sleeping in.”

bfd!rafe taglist masterlist

interacting with this post (likes, replies, reblogs) lets me know you still want to be on the taglist! i’m trying to keep it active, so if you’re silent for too long, i might stop tagging you <3 no hard feelings, just trying to keep it tidy!

tag: 🏷️ @rafesbabygirlx @qversazex @iconiccolo @devoutedlover @sc05 @viqtoria @k4yr14 @t0x1cfaerie @purplerose291 @mrspuffdriving @silkylovey @rafescloudie @babygoddam @meetmeintheemeraldpool @rafessbaby @mayanqueenxx @bigjuli444 @jamesbeaufortismylife @glitterylightkingdom @alphabetically-deranged @deeninadream

[milatiny-xx]

starry eyes | p.sh

pairing: park seonghwa x gn!reader summary: it's not like hwa to be distant or distracted. he keeps canceling on you last minute. things are bad, and you're starting to get suspicious. when he calls you by the wrong name during an argument, it feels like the end. how will your star make it up to you? (requested) warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, miscommunication, happy ending! wc: 3.1k a/n: i bought 2 versions of golden hour part 3 and GUESS WHOSE photocards i gotttt. i did get a sannie pc and a yeosang credit card sticker but EVERYTHING ELSE was seonghwa like relaxxxx mother. he's coming for yunho's spot ig. also this photo of him??? criminal.

⊹₊⟡⋆ masterlist | taglist ⊹₊⟡⋆

You blink away tears as you stare down at the message. You read it over and over again, as if your desperation would magically change the words.

Your dinner reservation is in less than an hour.

It's the third time this week he's cancelled a date on you last minute. The fifth time this month...you think? You're starting to lose track.

It's very unlike Hwa to act like this. He's always so organized, put-together, almost annoyingly so. His room is spotless, his legos and other decorations dusted and displayed neatly. He's never late. He's never dirty. He never forgets anything when traveling. Cancelling a date in general is not something he normally does. Backing out last minute? He hates schedule changes like that.

It's that stupid model. You know it. You were practically told that by KQ.

Of course, you were overjoyed for Seonghwa when he told you he had the opportunity to model and walk in a show for Dior. Nothing in this world could have made you prouder. You want him to do it—you really do. It's just...

The campaign he's modeling for requires a variety of couples shoots. There's one model in particular that he seems to be spending a lot of time with. And, of course, that model is one of the most gorgeous people you've ever seen. You know he would never cheat on you or hurt you intentionally in any way.

But it's not easy when he shows you the proofs of him grasping a woman's nonexistent waist or trailing a finger down a man's sharpened jaw. As always, he looks absolutely radiant and totally chic in every shot. You just wish he had more solo photos.

To make matters worse, he's been insanely busy. With his new modeling responsibilities on top of his already jam-packed ATEEZ schedules, he's barely had time for you recently.

Part of it is his busy schedule. The other part is KQ's doing.

A blurry photo of you and Hwa holding hands while leaving a restaurant had raised some attention on social media. Not viral level but enough that Hwa was catching some heat online. KQ suggested that he spend some more time working and interacting with other celebrities publicly. Just until the rumors died down.

Like a professional, Seonghwa had done exactly as they asked. He went to work and came home, sneaking time with you at odd hours here and there. You didn't like it, but to protect him, you'd do anything.

That had started three months ago.

You weakly raise your thumb to like his message. You don't know how else to respond. You could say "okay," but it doesn't feel okay anymore. It hurts.

Okay...so no dinner tonight. You'll have to figure something out and will probably be eating by yourself. Again.

By the time you've gathered the energy to get off the couch and shower, it's late. You're not even hungry anymore. You aim for the bedroom and curl up into the sheets, preparing for more doomscrolling. Your eyes are starting to blink closed until a headline catches your attention.

ATEEZ'S SEONGHWA SPOTTED OUTSIDE A-LIST RESTAURANT WITH MYSTERY PARTNER

You scramble up in bed, heart pounding as you click through the article. Your eyes move rapidly across the screen, frantically trying to digest the words.

Then, the photo—two figures in masks walking side by side, shoulders brushing. It's partly obstructed by a building, so it's hard to tell who it actually is. But it does look like Seonghwa. You zoom in as far as you can, groaning when the photo gets too pixelated to see clearly.

Something in your gut lurches when you notice a dainty silver bracelet on the wrist. It's him. Hwa has a bracelet exactly like that. A gift. From you.

You feel sick. Exhausted. Betrayed. Most of all? Enraged.

You don't even feel like crying, you're so angry. With shaking hands, you gather your blanket and plant yourself firmly on the couch, turning off all the lights. Then, you wait.

Three hours later, at two in the morning, the front door softly clicks open. You slowly turn your head toward the sound, gritting your teeth and flattening your lips. Seonghwa's thin frame slips through the crack in the door, and he quietly puts down his things. He flips on the light and turns. A yelp escapes his throat, arms frozen halfway through shrugging off his jacket.

"Oh my god, Y/N," he says, holding a slender hand to his chest. "You scared me half to death. What are you doing up? It's so late, my star. You should be in bed."

"Couldn't sleep," you deadpan.

"Oh no, really?" his eyes soften, and he moves toward you. "Why not? Bad dreams?"

"You could say that."

He kneels in front of you, placing his hands on your knees. He smiles up at you, softly, gently, and so handsomely. It only makes your heart burn more.

"Well, how about I change my clothes, and then I'll snuggle you until you can fall asleep."

You clench your jaw, tears already threatening to spill. You feel so sick. Your blood is boiling. How could he act like this, like everything's fine and dandy, when he's been treating you like this? Canceling your plans just so he can spend time with someone else... Your anger must be evident on your face, because Seonghwa's smile drops. Concern floods his expression.

"What's wrong, darling?" he asks quietly, eyes searching your face. "Are you okay? Did something happen?"

He reaches up to touch you. Instinctively, you jerk away.

"Oh, I don't know," you snap. "Why don't you tell me?"

You shove your phone into his outstretched hand.

He fumbles to grasp it, glancing up at you with knitted eyebrows. You watch his gaze flick back and forth as he scans the article. His eyes widen, mouth dropping open in disbelief. You cross your arms over your chest and try not to cry. Seonghwa shakes his head.

"Oh no. No, no, no," he mutters. "No, this isn't right. I...this isn't true." His eyes catch yours, round and panicked and glassy. "Jagi, please, you have to know this story isn't true. It was just a company dinner."

"I don't know. You look pretty cozy in the photos. Oh, let me guess, next, you're going to tell me that's not even you."

He hesitates, long enough that you know it is. He was outside that restaurant. With them. Rage beats through you. You pop to your feet, moving to step around him. His hand lunges out, circling around your thigh.

"Y/N, my star, please listen. It wasn't anything. It was nothing, I swear. We didn't do anything. It was just a company dinner, that's all. It was last minute, and I...please, what can I do? How can I fix this? I-I'll never go out to a company dinner again if-"

"It's not just that, Seonghwa!" you explode, pulling back your leg. "It's everything! I barely see you anymore. You never make our dates. You always cancel, and you don't even have the bravery to do it in advance. These days my plans are always changing last minute. And then I see you out there with these other people? What am I supposed to think? How am I supposed to trust you?"

"You can. You can trust me, I promise. I-I haven't done anything with anyone. I don't know how to...to prove it. But please just listen to me."

You shake your head.

"No, I don't want to anymore. I'm tired."

He sighs frustratedly. As you stomp toward the bedroom, you can hear him raising his voice to try and keep up with you. Your heart is beating so loud in your ears that you have no idea what he's saying. You're in the middle of slamming the door closed, when his hand launches out to stop it. You gasp, glaring up at him. His expression has turned angry, aggravated like how it gets when you mess with his legos while he's trying to build something.

"You're being so unreasonable," he says through gritted teeth. "You won't even let me try to explain-"

"No! I shouldn't have to listen to you! You're obviously a liar anyway, and I-"

"Just give me five seconds, Alex!" (if your name actually is alex, so sorry i was trying to pick a GN name and this was the first one i could think of LOL)

Your breath catches in your throat. You can feel your heart cracking into a hundred tiny pieces. You blink at him, mouth quivering. It takes a moment before the realization hits him. He called you by someone else's name...

His anger melts immediately, replaced with desperate panic. He shakes his head, falling onto his knees in front of you.

"Y/N," he says your name—correctly this time—so quietly, so softly that it hurts. "I'm sorry...I didn't mean to..."

You just shake your head, tears overflowing and streaming down your cheeks.

"Go away. I can't..." your voice chokes. "...be around you right now."

His eyes grow glassy, lips trembling. He reaches out for you, but you back away. Hot tears slip down your face as you stare at him, helpless and desperate on the floor. He's crying now, too. His mouth opens as if he's going to say something but closes. He stands slowly, avoiding your gaze, and backs out of the room. Before he closes the door, you catch him through the mirror, looking pathetically back at you as you crawl into bed.

"I'm sorry..." he whispers.

You pretend not to hear.

Seonghwa closes the door softly. You bury yourself under every blanket and pillow you can find. You don't even bother to take your socks off. You just lie there, enraptured in darkness and pain. You cry and cry and cry until your nose is so stuffed that you can barely breathe. Then you blow your nose and pull the cover over your head. You don't even know when you finally pass out from exhaustion.

The first time you wake up, it's still dark outside. You feel groggy and confused. You have no idea what time it is. You stay awake for a few moments before fading back into sleep.

The second time, the sun is up. You lazily glance at the clock. It's after noon. Nothing in the room has been disturbed. It doesn't look like Seonghwa has tried to come in. You wonder if he's been at the door, if he's tried to say anything. You reach for your phone just to check. Nothing. Your heart aches. It's so quiet in the apartment, you wonder if he's given up. Your stomach grumbles, but you ignore it and bury yourself deeper into the covers. Sleep takes you again.

The third time you wake up, it must be only a few hours later. A soft knock on the door brings you out of sleep. You can hear Seonghwa's soft voice asking if you're hungry, pleading with you to eat. You ignore it and bite away more tears.

The fourth time, it's dark again. When you go to turn over, something under the door catches your eye. It's a bowl with something inside. Looks like ramen. Probably cold. There's a note beside it that you don't bother to read. The room has been tidied slightly, the fallen pillows replaced on the bed, the blanket straightened over your body. You wonder how long ago he snuck in to do all of this. Your heart aches. You wish this fixed the hurt in your heart. But it doesn't.

The fifth time you wake up, it's because Seonghwa is gently shaking you. Despite sleeping all day, you're exhausted. When his face comes into view, your heart cracks. You sigh frustratedly and move to turn away. He catches your shoulder. You glare back at him, heart totally shattered at the sight of his adorable little boba eyes.

"Please, don't ignore me," he says quietly. His voice is raspy, strained like he's been shouting. No...crying. He's been crying. Even in the dim light spilling from the hall, you can see the red rings around his eyes.

"I know nothing I say can make up for what I did," he continues, "how I've been acting and treating you. But...I have something I'd like to show you. If you let me."

You shake your head and open your mouth to say no, but he interrupts, "Please. I'm begging."

Even though you're still angry, your heart swells. You love him. God, you love when he looks at you like that. Like you're everything. You nod.

"Fine, but make it quick," you reply. "I'm exhausted."

His face breaks into a smile, the relief evident across his delicate features. He carefully helps you to your feet and leads you into the bathroom. You fight him the whole way. You wash your face, and he turns away while you change into a clean set of pajamas. Once cleaned up, he wraps a blanket around your shoulders and guides you into the kitchen where he hands you a warm mug. You sniff it and smile slightly.

"It's my favorite," you muse quietly.

"I made it just how you like it. I thought you might be thirsty."

You feel angry suddenly. Why is he acting like this makes up for everything? Like he can just make you some tea and bring you pajamas and cold ramen and suddenly everything's fine. You flatten your lips.

"So...is this it? Because if so-"

"No, no this isn't it," he blurts, eyes widening. "No, please, come this way. It's out here."

He gestures to the balcony. You raise an eyebrow but let him lead you out of curiosity.

The string lights he'd hung across the balcony when you moved in are lit up. They cast a gentle golden light over the small space. Positioned in the middle of the balcony is a telescope that you don't remember seeing there before. You glance back at him, and he nods.

He leads you to it and straightens it for you. You stand in front of it stupidly, wondering what he wants from you. He slides in behind you, his breath warm on the shell of your ear as he whispers, "Look."

You point at the telescope, and he nods again. You peer down into it, adjusting your eye so that you can see whatever he's trying to show you.

"What am I looking at? It's...a bunch of stars," you say dryly.

"Do you see the one in the middle? The really bright one?"

"Yeah, sure. What about it?"

"That's Y/N."

You pull away from the telescope, looking back at him confusedly.

"What?"

"That star, it's name is Y/N."

"What are you talking about, Seonghwa?"

"You're my star, my guiding light. I wanted to give you something to show you that, to show you how important you are to me. So, I bought that star and named it after you."

Your heart swells. He's always called you his star. That's his special nickname reserved only for you. You don't know how to react. So many emotions are swirling around your head at the same time. You just stare at him blankly.

"A-and I got you this, too," he stutters, rummaging behind one of the chairs.

When he comes back up, he hands you a little navy box with a silver thread wrapped around it. You glance up at him before taking and carefully unwrapping it. You can feel his eagerness as he watches you like a hawk, his eyes flicking between your face and the box. Your breath catches when you lift the lid.

It's a small silver necklace with a star pendant. You look back at him again. His eyebrows are lifted in hope. You gently pick up the necklace to examine it. The pad of your finger scrapes against something on the back. You flip the pendant. The words My star are engraved in Hwa's handwriting with your anniversary date inscribed below. Your lip quivers.

When your gaze lifts, Hwa is on his knees—when did that happen?—staring up at you with his hands clasped. Wound around his fingers is a matching necklace.

"I'm so sorry, darling," he says. "I never, ever meant to hurt you. I would never want that. I know I've been busy, distracted, disrespectful to you. I know I can never make up for it. I know those photos looked bad. But I promise you, it was just a company dinner, nothing else. I should have made time for you, and I will moving forward. Please, don't leave me. Because if you do, every time I look at that star, my heart will break all over again. I'll wear this," he gestures to the necklace, "every day of my life. Everyone will know I'm yours and that you're mine. I'll carry you in my heart every second of every day, because you're my star. Always and forever."

As soon as the last three words escape his lips, you crash onto your knees and throw your arms around his neck. He teeters backward but rebounds in a second, arms wrapping around your waist. He drops his head into your neck. His panting breath heats your skin. Tears stream down your face, soaking his shirt under your chin. His hands roam everywhere, over your back, shoulders, neck, hair. He clutches you like if he were to let go, you would vanish into thin air.

"Oh, Hwa...I'm sorry," you mumble. "I'm sorry I was so harsh. I shouldn't have been so angry. I know you're busy, and I want you to succeed. I want you to have all of this. I'm so proud of you, and I should have said it. I should have trusted you. I know that. I was just...I was so scared of losing you."

Somehow, his grip tightens even more around you.

"You could never lose me. I'm here, forever and always."

You pull back, sniffing and wiping your tears messily. But you smile when you see his sweet eyes staring back at you. You reach up to wipe his tears from his cheeks.

"I'll be better," you say to him quietly. "I promise. More supportive, more understanding, more trusting."

He smiles, sliding his palm onto your face. He gently moves your lips to his, savoring the taste of your kiss. When he pulls back, he rests his forehead on yours, his fingers gingerly brushing your hair back.

"I'll be more attentive, more present, and I'll never, ever cancel on you last minute. I promise."

You smile, nudging your nose against his.

"I love you, Hwa."

"I love you too, my star."

taglist: @rileylovescats @wooyoungsbrat @estrnrea @strawberrymars98 @elunicornus

[gleafer]

Hi!

Your art is SO GOOD!!!

I wish I could draw as good as you.

When it comes to drawing a singular character in a simple pose, I can manage that.

But when I try to draw something a bit complex or draw comics of my own, I struggle a lot. Especially when there are multiple characters interacting.

I have so much going on in my head but I'm unable to put it on paper.

Can you please share some tips or resources to get better at art?

Again, your art is ABSOLUTELY GORGEOUS and I LOVE how you draw the movements of the characters!!!

YES I CAN!

Here’s a Gleafer Quicky cheat sheet!

[sweetiecutie]

hello!!! I was wondering if you could write a part 2 for dilf!konig? I didn't think I would be into it, but I read it and... it's awakened something in me. i need more dilf!konig

thank you!!!!!!!

A/n: so you, my lovely little sluts, seem to really like my smutty silly headcanons. But don’t worry babies, I have some more to satiate your hunger😌

Part 1 here

Dilf! König headcanons pt 2

Warnings: NSFW, mdni, smut, fem! reader, age-gap implied, unprotected sex, cheating (I know, I’m sorry🙄), nasty nastiness

Dilf! König, whom you reach out the next day with a cute “hi, it’s me Y/n<3” text, and a few hours later end up in his hotel room, pressed onto plush mattress of his king sized bed as König bullied his throbbing cock into your poor drooly pussy, meaty thighs hitting your ass with loud smacking sounds that, along with your shameless moans and whimpers, bounced off the tall walls, causing hotel staff to knock onto room’s door, asking as politely as possible to be more quiet in order not to disturb other hotel guests (*cough* the whole fucking floor *cough*).

Dilf! König, who, while still at your place, takes his godchild and you to the aquapark under the guise of “spending some quality time with younglings while he can”. You can’t stop sneaking glances at his massive chiseled body, decorated with numerous battle scars, laughing nervously as your best friend asks if everything is okay, since you’ve been zoning out too much lately.

Dilf! König, who riles you you absolutely stupid in the privacy of a small cafeteria bathroom as his godchild aka your best friend is way too occupied trying out all of these crazy slides to actually pay any attention to the two of you. He cums so much inside of your puffy cunny, sliding your thong back in place and murmuring “want you to carry a piece of me wherever you go” sweetly into your ear, smacking your ass playfully as you leave on trembling legs, exiting himself a few moments later as to rise no suspicions.

Dilf! König, who smirks ever so slightly when he sees some young dudes approximately your age unsuccessfully trying to hit on you, failing miserably to gain even a second of your blissful attention. He notices how you rub your thighs together ever so slightly, and if he watches closely enough, König may even see a little dark spot on your bottoms - his pearly cum oozing out of your fucked-out pussy, staining bright fabric of your sexy swimsuit.

Dilf! König, who buys you tickets to Vienna in first class and pays for your luxurious hotel room, just so you can meet again. He greets you with a huge bouquet of tulips (bc roses are plain as fuck, duh🙄) at the airport, giving you a warm hug and asking how your journey was, driving to his favorite restaurant to feed you some traditional Austrian food. He shows you around all the significant places of Vienna, giving you a little excursion, telling your all the stories and myths behind certain places.

Dilf! König, who that night has you splayed out onto huge queen-sized bed of your hotel room, eating your pretty pussy out like a man starved, sucking on your needy puffy clit and fucking your tight hole with three thick fingers while desperately rutting his hips into soft mattress, trying to get at least some type of friction against his achingly hard dick.

Dilf! König who soon has you begging for his heavy cock inside of your pussy, fucking your brains out until you’re a babbling silly mess writhing on white sheets, nothing more than a boneless puddle in his skilled hands. And he is more than happy to comply with all your little whims.

Dilf! König, who actually has a wife with whom he has been married for over ten years. The spark between them long gone, it’s more like two acquaintances living together rather than a married couple - continuing sharing one house and one bed more out of a habit - simply because both are used to that, not bothered enough to move out. Both König and his wife are perfectly aware of each other’s flings on the side, but still not caring enough to actually do something about it. All hopes of saving their marriage are long gone and forgotten, none of two having any wish to actually deal with their spouse.

Dilf! König who takes special interest in you. You, pretty little thing, so youthful and full or energy, so hopelessly romantic with heart so full of love that König almost drowns in it. You are the sparkle he so lacks in his grey taunted life, you’re the positive adrenaline he craves so much. You give him butterflies flaring in his guts and electric shocks running down his spine whenever König’s lips meet yours in a searing kiss - and he quickly became addicted to that feeling, not planning on letting go of you anytime soon.

Dilf! König who basically becomes your sugar daddy. He loves spoiling his precious baby, lavishing you with designer clothes and fancy jewelry, taking you to vacations all around the world whenever he has time free from work. He makes a lot of money as a colonel - so much that he doesn’t know what to do with it. So why not spurge on his favorite girl? And what König likes even more is to rip these unbelievably expensive togs off, revealing your sexy body; to see all these sparkly jewels jiggle and kling softly as he pounds you with his thick cock, watching your face contort in pleasure so strong it almost hurts, but you’re way too greedy to stop him, only begging for more.

Dilf! König, who has absolutely no idea how this all is going to end up like. Numerous scenarios and possibilities playing in his head nonstop - finally divorcing his wife and marrying you instead. You getting over him and moving on with your own life, leaving König and everything related to him behind. Him getting killed on one of the missions, and you not having a single clue as to why he so suddenly disappeared. These and many others - but one thing König is absolutely fucking sure of is that he will never get bored of you. And no matter what happens, he’ll never turn you, his little angel, down. You’re his favorite precious girl, after all<3

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