#and i slapped it together and wrote in the gaps and now it's for u

[neowinestainedress]

between us — johnny suh

title: between us

pairing: professor!johnny x lawyer!oc x fem!reader | husband!johnny x wife!oc x fem!reader

summary: you find yourself tangled in the life of the Suhs after Mr. Suh starts working as an English professor at your father’s university. You don’t understand why they float around you so much, but soon enough, you can’t get enough of that secret, dirty game anymore.

genre: smut, fluff, plot, mxfxf, married couple, established relationship, age gap, bisexual characters, aged up johnny (to his early 30)

warnings: age gap, daddy/mommy issues, smut, sexual tension, 3some, mxfxf, dom/sub dynamics, mdom, fdom(oc), fsub(reader), mentions of s*x toys, unprotected s*x, pet names (honey, babe, doll...), or*l s*x (reader receiving and fem giving), fing*ring (reader receiving and fem giving), n!pple play, dirty talk, praise, minor degradation, size k!nk, 1 face slap, 1 *ss slap, 1 cl!t slap, hair pulling, talks of face f*cking, dp and face sitting, sub space, overstimulation, reader goes non-verbal at the end, aftercare | inclusivity notes: reader’s hair can be grabbed bc i’m degenerated and needed to write hair pulling during or*l, there are no descriptions of the texture and type tho, reader wears hair in different hairstyles (not specified), reader feels small because she’s shorter than them and in general feels ‘intimidated’ (body type is not specified), no use of y/n

visuals

wc: 16.590k

a/n: i’m sure this isn’t what people were expecting when i talked about writing mxfxf, but what can i say, this idea came to me and i had to write it. at first, it was supposed to be less complicated, just hot steamy sex with two hot almost-dilf-and-milf but you know me by now, if it’s not deep and complicated we don’t write it here. disclaimer: they are all bi and this is not just a straight couple using a bisexual person to spice up their s*xual life, i can’t say more because i don’t want to spoil anything but i just wanted to make this clear. i hope you’ll enjoy, if you do please leave feedback with asks or reblog (so the story reaches more people) also this is the first time i write smut between two women so please let me know if it’s good!! love u ♡

The Suhs are by now a known presence in your life. Since Mr. Suh started teaching at your father’s university, it became almost impossible to not see him for more than two days straight.

You don’t feel like blaming your father. Actually, you get it. Mr. Suh is a charming, brilliant man in his early thirties. After years of studying and being an assistant, he started teaching English literature at another prestigious university, the one your father is president of. And in his free time —and you wonder how he did that— he even wrote a few books, the first ones being analyses of writers’ works, and then a successful mystery novel.

You like him, even if he intimidates you a bit. He’s a person you can have interesting conversations with, maybe too interesting. You can’t understand what hides behind his elegant attire; either suits and ties or brown pants and polos or vests, his brown hair is always pulled back, only occasionally some loose strands fall on his forehead and make him appear less put together. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him dressed casually, or crack a joke, but then again, it’s not really your place to know.

But Mr. Suh, also known as Johnny, is never alone when he comes to your parents’ house, or tags along at dinners, parties, and more, anything that your father likes to organize with his academic clique.

His wife, Aaliyah Taylor Suh, is always with him. She’s not less interesting or intimidating than him. Mrs. Suh is a drop-dead gorgeous woman in her early thirties like her husband. She’s an amazing lawyer, working at one of the top firms in the city, and probably that’s also why she comes off as piercing to you, it’s like she always knows what to say and do, and you struggle to keep up. And just like her husband, it’s also in the way she presents herself; she’s always perfect with her long goddess braids that reach her waist which is always perfectly hugged by the beautiful, expensive suits or dresses she wears.

This should pretty much sum up why you don’t talk much with them, even if they’re nice —at least it seems from the few conversations you had— you don’t feel at their level. Not only do they look like gods in your eyes, but they also fit the perfect stereotype of the rich, powerful couple that makes heads turn around every time they walk into a room —yours included— and the small, yet significant, age gap only makes it worse.

It would be easier to talk with them if your father wouldn’t constantly remind you that. He always had a passion to turn you and your dreams down, but since they are part of your life, it only worsened. Your father never misses the occasion to point your flaws out; how clumsy you are, walking around and stumbling on your own feet, dropping things every now and then, and messing up your words during speeches. Instead, he’s amazed by their brains and how quickly they became successful, they spent years on books and still never lost each other and found time to get married, they accomplished everything you haven’t, and it seems impossible for him to not slam it in your face.

And you agree, partially. You envy them. They seem to always be at the right place, at the right time, never saying a word wrong, and always looking straight out of Vogue. You’re also jealous of their love, you don’t know what a stable relationship looks like —not that you care to know, nobody your age seems to be doing it for you— unlike their stable, lasting marriage that is the deal closing off a just as long period of dating. They were high-school sweethearts, and you envy the way they still look at each other. Nobody ever looked at you like that, as if you meant the world to them. And you don’t understand how they survived all these years, you almost went insane during college, the two relationships you tried to have failed like a ship sinking in a storm. And now that you’re free, you’re still suffering the aftermath of all the stress you’ve been through. 

So you struggle to understand why they circle around you like moths to a flame.

It all started months ago. At first, it was only longing gazes, you could always feel them on you, and you always thought that there was something wrong with you; your make-up smudged, your hair out of place, your clothes dirty or crumpled up, but, even if you weren’t like them, there was nothing wrong with you.

Then, one night, things started to make more sense.

It was late, around 10 pm. As much as you couldn’t stand your father, you tried to tag along as much as possible to find some connections career-wise. You could’ve asked him a favour —doubting he would do it— but you had no intention of making him take credit for your future. You preferred talking with his academic friends or critics on your own, it hadn’t been successful yet, but you won’t give up.

You were standing in the kitchen, a glass in hand as you tried to drown in the alcohol and forget every word you had heard from your father when Mr. Suh approached you first.

“Tiring, isn’t it?” Mr. Suh’s voice brought you back to reality. His build, tall form leaning against the fridge as he stared at you with a small smirk on his face, his hair was falling a bit more freely since the gel had given up after the whole night —day, you’d dare to say, you’re not so sure he had time to go back home and get ready for this dinner again.

You tried not to get lost in his beauty and swiftly hummed, nodding. “Yeah, but at least the wine is good.”

Mr. Suh snickered, starting to walk over to you, a hand in his hair as he shook it back. “Pinot?”

Your eyes moved up in his, he was standing so close you could feel his breath hit your face, and you struggled to find the words. Throat dry and hands so sweaty you were sure you would’ve dropped the glass on the ground. “Yeah, Pinot, or at least, I think so,” you mumbled, giggling awkwardly as you looked down and took a step back, trying to put some distance between you two.

“Can I have a taste?” He asked, tilting his head to the side, his piercing gaze staring right into your soul.

You should’ve told him that surely there were some glasses left outside, or maybe opted to take a look in the wine rack behind him, but you didn’t, and your hand moved to his almost right away.

You watched him smile in a ‘thank you,’ before his lips met the glass, alcohol pouring down his throat, a bit too messily for his usual put-together act, a drop dripping on his chin against his tan skin.

Mr. Suh smiled, humming happily as he handed the —almost empty— glass back to you. “As imagined, my favourite,” he winked.

“Oh, good — good. I — I like it too,” you slurred, panicking and feeling so small. And guilty because something about all of this felt so wrong and dirty and you immediately thought of Mrs. Taylor. Was Johnny flirting or were you too horny to think straight? They were a perfect couple, they couldn’t be cheating, right?

So, you scrolled your head, and said goodbye to him, quickly walking out of the room with the excuse ‘you were sure your father was looking for you’ but in reality, you just needed a breath of fresh air.

Unfortunately, it didn’t stop there. You would find yourself alone with Mr. Suh more than you wished to, and he was always so subtle with everything that you started to think you were going insane. He couldn’t have possibly brushed his hand against yours as he walked by your side to go to his wife, right? And he couldn’t have willingly rested a hand on your lower back when he walked behind you, trying to make way to get to your father? And why would he call you ‘honey’ with that sweet, intoxicating, slightly condescending tone, and only when you two were alone? His voice was always sensual, but you could swear it would drop even lower when he had you alone in the kitchen or in the library you spent some much time in, lecturing you about some poem or book, watching as you hung from his lips.

Anyway, you thought you could deal with it, you would only see him when your dad invited them, and even if it was a lot, you could stick with your mother —a slightly more likeable presence to you that wasn’t best friend with the Suhs.

Things worsened when Mrs. Suh started talking to you. The first, serious, conversation was about a pretty boring thing, some case she was working on. But there was something in the way she talked to you, laughing as she dismissed the conversation and simply stared into your eyes before asking to talk about yourself. Unlike her husband, she was curious, almost as if she wanted to get deep into you and discover things you probably didn’t even know about yourself.

And you froze. You had nothing to say. Everything that came to your mind was either too boring or too wild to be known to her.

“So? Too many secrets to hide?” She joked, showing you her pearly white teeth before winking.

“No, uhm,” you mumbled, trying to find the words, but losing them again when your eyes fell on her hands, golden jewellery shining on her fingers as they wrapped around the flute so delicately and yet sensually before she brought the glass to her full lips tinted with dark purple. Your head snapped up, trying to control your breath and not show the erratic movements of your chest, and squeezing your thighs together for some reason. “I’m working. Yes, busy working and trying to survive my dad.” Busy. You wrote for a small magazine online that paid you dust; reason why you were back living with your parents and kept writing your book, hoping to finish it and publish it one day and get the chance to be as far as possible from that house.

She smirked, and you could see it wasn’t because she was happy with your answer but almost as if she was having the time of her life at the way you were acting. “So, work and dad make you, you?”

“No,” you replied right away, slightly offended too. “I thought we were talking about… about things… happening now.”

A low chuckle rolled out of her lips, “I’d love to get to know you better, you know? Your family is so outgoing, they can’t keep anything in, but you…” she paused, eyes looking at you up and down, “you’re so secretive, reserved, like a candy to unwrap.”

You gulped, fearing she had the wrong idea about you and her husband and was planning a way to kill you. Aaliyah wasn’t stupid, of course she had seen the way Johnny talked to you and, worse, the way you reacted. She was also a lawyer, a brilliant one, you doubt some of her clients were even innocent and yet they got away with everything, she could stand up for herself in court, and Johnny would find a poetic way to get rid of your body and turn this into the plot of his next success.

“I… I…”

“You should spend some time with us,” she said, smiling, crossing her legs and moving her braids behind, showing her cleavage, “you know, at our place, alone. No family getting in the way, no father painting you bad. Just adults having fun.”

“Oh,” you gasped, gulping as you felt the air in your lungs disappear. “Sure, I’d love to.” But the truth is, you wouldn’t survive being alone with them.

“Beautiful dress, by the way,” she complimented, getting up and walking past you, “shows all the right curves.”

That was the start of everything. Unfortunately, she had no intention of killing you. Instead, she seemed genuinely interested in getting to know you better, saving you from your father by engaging in conversations with you when you were all at the same table, asking what you liked, and mostly, complimenting you. At first, it could’ve been mistaken for a ‘girls support girls’ kind of moment, but quickly you started to perceive something else. Her looks, her touches and her words weren’t any different than Mr. Suh’s ones, so lingering, so secretive, and teasing, feeling like a breeze that taunts your skin with a sense of relief that’s never meant to come.

Two months have passed since that moment, and your plans of keeping the distance crumble apart when you find yourself alone with them.

It’s not the first time, but you feel today might be more difficult to deal with. Your father is stuck with an idea of you from when you were five years old and in constant need of supervision, or else you can’t explain why he almost treats them as your babysitters.

‘We’ll be out today, look after her,’ these are the words your father exclaims before walking out of the Villa he owned on this lake abandoned by God, your mother already at the car parked in the driveway.

You’re not a child but you surely act like one, rolling your eyes and letting out a loud grunt before puffing out air.

Mr. Suh laughs, humming lowly before turning to you. “You’re still a child in his eyes, aren’t you? His sweet, innocent, little baby.”

That comment shouldn’t have had any effect on you, yet, it does. It feels like he is implying something else, it’s clear in his tone and especially his eyes. But you shake it off, laughing before replying ‘yes,’ and then running up the stairs with a faint goodbye. You hear Mrs. Taylor say something, probably asking you to stay, but you pretend you don’t hear and disappear into your room.

You can avoid them only for so long before you don’t know what to do anymore and decide to go downstairs —terrible decision.

You think they left, so you walk outside to read a book under the porch and enjoy a cold lemonade, but when you step into the garden you see them by the pool.

Aaliyah is laughing tenderly at Johnny who’s dancing on the trampoline, winking at her before jumping in the pool, splashing water around, making her turn around and cover her face more with the large floppy hat she’s wearing.

You feel like dying, this is not how you want to see them, and you have to force your eyes up, not making them fall on her ass. You’re still in time to go back, just one step behind and you can go upstairs as if nothing happened, but you’re not quick enough.

“Hey,” Mr. Suh greets you. “We were hoping you would join us,” he smiles at you, walking out of the pool by the stairs, scrolling the water out of his hair before pushing it behind.

You gulp, which is the only thing you can do to try to water your throat —and more embarrassingly, don’t moan at the sight of his sculpted body. And then you smile, a tight forced smile as you still stand like a statue. “Oh, I won’t join you, I just wanted to read.”

Mrs. Suh snickers and you watch her turn around to stand out of the pool, strong arms lifting her body up —and only now you realize that she’s pretty ripped too, the soft curves complimented by the signed abs, toned arms, and thighs.

“You go to the gym together?” Dumbly slips out of your mouth and by the time you cover it with your hands it’s already too late, but the comment makes them smile.

“You pay attention to details, don’t you?” She asks, clicking her tongue and smirking. She then takes the hat off, letting the braids fall on her back before she sits on the round table, pulling a chair out to gesture you to take a seat. “And I don’t train as much as he does, prefer pilates actually.”

“Oh,” you reply, momentarily bringing your attention to Johnny who’s now sitting on the other chair, leaving you the seat in the middle. “Heard is good for the body, nice choice.”

“Are you going to sit, or do we have to drag you here?” Mr. Suh jokes, head pointing at the empty space between them.

You shake your head, looking down as you take a deep breath and force your legs to work. You can do that, you just have to sit in the middle of the hottest couple you’ve ever laid eyes on and that for some reason loves to tease you, you’ll be fine.

“See, it wasn’t that hard,” she says when your ass touches the chair, book and lemonade resting in front of you on the round table.

“So, enjoying your break?” Johnny asks and then throws his hair back to scroll some more water out, but that makes you lose your focus and gulp nervously.

“Yeah, needed a vacation. Would be better if it wasn’t with my father,” you add, looking down.

She chuckles. “You two really don’t get along. Poor thing, he doesn’t get you, does he?”

You hesitate to reply, 1) you don’t get if she’s mocking you and 2) you wouldn’t care because the way she called you poor thing makes you feel things.

“He thinks I’m a child. I mean, he treats you like babysitters, I’m an adult,” you reply when your brain starts working again, and sadness fills your expression.

“Sure you are,” Johnny adds, chuckling, and you frown. “Sorry, it’s just funny that when you get mad at him, you act a bit childlike. Teenagers-like, if it makes you feel better.”

You sigh, frowning as you stare at him. “You think I’m stupid?”

“What?” He asks, brows raising.

“You think I’m as stupid as he thinks I am? Because the way he talks about me would make anybody think I’m this clueless, hopeless, dumb woman who has no idea what she’s doing with her life.”

Aaliyah chuckles tenderly, “Honey, you’re smart. Johnny can’t quite shut up about you after you two talk. He loves your takes on authors and the way you write, says he would love to have you work with him somehow.”

You almost stop breathing. He talks about you to his wife? He remembers what you say during your conversation or when you talk about what you write? Damn, you doubt people even listen to you.

“Oh, thanks,” yet, this is the only thing you mumble, and it’s fine like this. Anything else coming from your mouth could dangerously be a squeal.

“Anyway,” she says, leaning closer, making you move back and hold your breath, only to damn yourself when her fingers brush on your skin to wipe away something that dropped on you with the wind, “your dad’s not here now, why don’t you join us by the pool and stop stressing about him?”

You smile but shake your head. “No, it’s fine, I’ll stay here.”

“Are you sure? The water is perfect,” Johnny adds, standing up and towering over you. “Couldn’t convince my sweet wife to jump in but maybe you’re braver than her,” he winks, and you don’t have the courage to turn around and see if she saw.

“Oh…” you whisper and then look at the pool. If only he knew the problem wasn’t the water, you wouldn’t think twice about jumping in.

“Oh, come on,” Mrs. Suh pleads, and before you can realize it, her hands are wrapped around your wrist. This is the first time she touches you, not a caress, not a tease, but a firm hold on you, and it shouldn’t send shivers down your spine, but it does. Her fingers are slim and soft, and you find yourself wishing you could feel them more, preferably somewhere else on your body.

“Wait,” you try to retort, but you have no choice. She’s dragging you to the edge of the pool and Johnny is walking right behind you, you’d be trapped either way.

“Here,” she says, coming to a stop when you reach the border of the pool. “Much better than sipping lemonade while reading a book all alone, right?”

“I don’t have a bikini,” you say, only now realizing you didn’t go downstairs for that.

“Are you wearing lace?” Johnny asks, walking so close that you can feel the heat of his body.

“Wh-why do you care?”

“Dummy,” he chuckles, “if you’re not, you can jump in anyway, it won’t ruin the lingerie.”

“Oh, of course, yeah, of course,” you mumble, looking away to don’t show how embarrassed you are. But their laughs —even if lighthearted— don’t help you at all, and you still feel trapped between them. “No, by the way, I have no reason to wear lace,” you add, trying to fill the silence.

“Really?” Aaliyah asks, tilting her head to the side. You turn around, facing the pool so you can look at them both —and fool yourself you have a way out now that your back is free.

“Well, yes… I’m… I’m not really people’s type,” you mutter, torturing the inside of your cheeks and your fingers.

Johnny snickers, “Weird, you look exactly like —” he doesn’t finish though, and you barely see the glance his wife gives him to stop him. “I’m sure you are someone’s type.”

You nod, but your brain is slowly melting, from the weather, from their closeness, and now because you can’t understand why she stopped him and what he truly wanted to say.

“Undress,” she says resolutely, and you’re brought back to earth, staring at her with wide eyes. “To swim… remember?” she finishes, head tilted to the side and a mocking smirk on her face. You know she’s having the time of her life watching you panic, you’re giving it all way, from the way your breath falters to the way your chest heavies.

“Sure, to swim,” you repeat but it’s more to ground yourself. You hope the water is freezing cold, so maybe your body can cool down, and so can your thoughts. You quickly lift your dress over your shoulders and by the time you can see again, you see them in the water, standing right in front of you, leaning against the other side of the pool.

“Are you coming?” Johnny asks, voice raspy but clear.

You hum, kneeling down, feeling the water with your hand. It’s not cold enough to calm you down and to make you take time, you have to jump in. So, you do. It’s not too deep and you can walk to them.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Aaliyah voices out, deeply breathing in the air and moving her fingers in abstract figures on the surface.

“Yeah. I…” you look down, watching your bra and how little it covers, the damp fabric highlighting your hard nipples even more.

“Shy?” It rolls from her tongue like venom, so sweet yet poisonous as her eyes lock in yours.

“No, no,” you laugh awkwardly. “Why would I?”

“We wouldn’t blame you, we can come off as quite intimidating at times,” Johnny says, the corner of his lips twitching in a smirk before it relaxes.

“You don’t intimidate me,” you lie, chuckling and crossing your arms on your chest.

She laughs. “My nipples are hard too, babe. It’s the cold,” she reassures you with a smile, but you don’t feel better. You’re not so sure it’s only the cold, you think they became this hard a few minutes ago when you were practically sandwiched between them.

“Why did you come here?” You ask out of nowhere, and their expressions change. “I’m sorry, it’s not like I don’t want you here,” you explain, “but you could do vacations on your own and don’t have to suffer through my father, so I don’t understand.”

“Thought we said not to talk about him?” She says, raising a brow.

“Well, I want to talk about you. You two have it all, you’re rich, powerful, smart, in love, and yet, you…” you float around me, always, constantly, “...you spend so little time together.”

Mr. Suh laughs, his head rolling back for a second. “We’re always together. I come home to her, not your father,” he jokes and she laughs, nodding in agreement.

“Also, this might not be the only vacation we will do this year. We always go to Santorini in September before Uni starts,” she adds.

You hum, biting the inside of your cheek.

“But let’s talk about you,” she says. “Why are you here? Your brothers didn’t come.”

“My brothers can do whatever they want, I can’t.”

“Why?” This time Johnny is the one asking.

“I’d let him down,” you add, lowering your gaze because you don’t like the look of pity behind their eyes. “But I don’t want to think about him. You’re good at diving,” you change the subject, addressing Johnny, hoping it will be enough to move the focus from you. 

“Thanks,” he replies, a proud smirk on his face.

“Don’t stroke his ego, he’s going to jump again and splash around,” she jokes, rolling her eyes.

“You’re already wet, so why would it be a problem?” He smirks, and then turns to you and winks, making you choke on your own saliva, but you try to cover it up with a fit of cough, something that makes the couple giggle under their breath more.

Aaliyah swims to you, pushing you back so Johnny can have space and maybe don’t drown you with his jump. Your skin is on fire as her hands place on your back as she guides you and you’re thankful your feet can touch because you can barely walk, so imagine swimming.

“He was in the swimming team in high school,” Aaliyah explains, covering her eyes from the sun with a hand and squeezing them so she can watch Johnny. You mimic her, humming at her words. “He was so good, I think I fell in love on the bleachers watching him swim.”

You chuckle tenderly and try to imagine a younger version of them, and you can almost see them. You wonder if their personalities were the same more than ten years ago, you wonder how they looked, you wonder if they would’ve ever imagined to still be here after so many years. But in any version you come up with, you still don’t fit. Actually, it makes you look like a stain even more.

“Your love is… strong,” you whisper when Johnny finally dives in and she cheers before bringing her attention to you.

“It is,” she agrees, a sweet smile showing her straight, white teeth, “even though weird things happen sometimes.”

You giggle, frowning. “Weird things?” Your voice is shaking, and you don’t want to connect the two dots that are so vivid in your head.

“What are you talking about? Praising me?” Mr. Suh asks, grinning, running a hand in his wet hair before hugging his wife from the back and kissing her cheek.

“Not about you, nothing impressive about that jump,” she jokes. “About us.”

“Us?”

She hums. “I was telling her how I fell in love with you, and she said our love is strong.”

You want to ask about the weird things, you want to ask so much more, but you don’t. And you simply stand there, watching Mr. Suh’s hands wrap around her body, feeling jealousy in the pit of your stomach.

The whole thing gets more intense as time passes by. You’re curious about them, as individuals and as a couple, and you can’t deny the tension anymore. Not tonight.

The three of you haven’t really spoken, mostly because you slipped away as soon as you crossed ways, and after a few tries, they stopped trying to approach you. But the buzzing chemistry is strong across the room.

You try not to look at them, you even try to engage in conversation with your father —when he’s not attached to Mr. Suh’s ass— and some of his other friends, but it’s useless. Your head always turns in their direction, it’s almost like a voice is luring you in.

You guess you look dumb from the outside, and you’re sure that if you looked at yourself in the mirror you would tell yourself to work on the way you stare at —almost strangers— with eyes filled with lust. You don’t want to, you don’t want to look at them, even less with that wide-eyed gaze and agape mouth, but you can’t help it.

“Honey,” your mother’s voice scoffs, “what are you doing?”

You perceive her scolding —disgusted— gaze on you and you cough, looking at her to be met with her judging eyes. Typical of your mother, usually you only get her looks with no need for words to be added.

“Sorry, I was zoned out,” you justify, chuckling awkwardly, but it only makes her frown more and sigh. “I’m a bit tired,” you lie, trying to fool her.

“Just don’t look weird,” she dismisses you with a wave of hand. “Not more than the usual,” she adds, leaving you alone.

You roll your eyes, scoffing loudly once you’re sure she’s out of sight and then start walking to the table with the drinks. You’re not sure adding alcohol to the picture will make it better but who knows, maybe ending up passed out next to a toilet is better than lusting over a married couple that is probably just messing with you.

It doesn’t work.

You blame it on the hard drinks your friends make you drink when you go out, your alcohol tolerance must be out of the roof by now, but it doesn’t matter because your biggest problem still stands.

Your problem is standing on the other side of the room now that you’re sitting on some couches with the fourth drink in hand. You shouldn’t feel like this, stomach upside down and a frown hardening your beautiful features while you look at them. But you can’t help it. Mr. Suh’s hand sitting at the side of Aaliyah’s waist, his thumb rubbing soft circles over the maroon dress she’s wearing. You can’t hear her laugh as her head rolls back before falling on his shoulder at something the person they are talking to is saying, but your brain replays the sound anyway, and you smile.

The beam on your face drops quickly when her eyes lock into yours, Johnny is not looking, busy paying attention to the person in front of them, but her gaze is on you. It’s piercing even with the distance between you and it takes your breath away. You should make this look normal, raise a hand and wave with a small smile before turning away, but you don’t. You’re stuck, like you always are around them, and the only thing that moves is your heart, pounding fast and violently in your chest as you watch her every move, one hand bringing a glass to her lips and the other meeting Johnny’s on her waist. You’d love to roll your eyes and huff ‘he’s yours, we get it,’ but you only feel a stinging pain in your heart, and a less painful one, well… somewhere else.

The spell breaks when she turns around, eyes on her husband and laughing again as if nothing happened, almost as if you’re not even in the room anymore.

Your shoulders drop, your breath gets normal again, and your head lowers. It’s not normal to feel like this, especially when it all feels like a mockery at times. You know there’s no space for you. You can’t be her and run your fingers in his hair without getting scowled at for ruining it. You can’t be her and kiss him on the lips and chuckle when he rubs your nose against yours. You can’t be her and see him in the comfort of when he wakes up or goes to bed.

But you play and play, and fool yourself you can, getting lost in those fantasies. You need a breath of fresh air.

Just like the alcohol, the minutes spent outside to cool your body and mind don’t work. When you go back to sit at your spot, you realize they’re sitting opposite to you. You’d leave again but you have no excuse, and it would become even more awkward now that your father sits next to you. But it’s fine, they’re talking again with someone else and you can focus on what your father is saying. Or maybe not, his conversation with another one of his intellectual friends is boring, nothing interesting comes from his mouth, just old, recurrent, wrong takes. You’d get in the conversation, just to feel something else that night and end up in a discussion with your dad because you need to prove him wrong, but your brain is somewhere else.

Once again, in front of you. Mrs. Suh is sitting on Johnny’s lap, somehow her back manages to stay straight even if she’s not resting against anything, her long legs are elegantly crossed by the ankle and one of her arms is wrapped around his shoulder. You recognize the person in front of them, Mr. Kim Doyoung, a math professor, and you question how they know each other but it gets swiped from your mind quickly.

You hate how close they are. Their touches so subtle and yet so loud making it feel like they’re rubbing it in your face. You hate how people look at them, with so much awe and affection, you feel like only you can look at them like that. And you feel stupid, it is stupid.

But then it happens again, this time it’s Mr. Suh the one looking at you. All the anger and jealousy fly away. Thousands of eyes on them, and he’s still looking at you. His wife is in his arms, and he’s still looking at you. Your father is at your side, and he’s still looking at you.

You gulp, shifting on the spot to try to get comfortable and stop the painful throbbing between your legs, but it’s impossible.

Mr. Suh’s lips flicker in a small smirk, and then his brow rises, there’s also a small raise of the cup he’s holding, and you immediately turn around, just to make sure your father is not looking. You can’t believe he’s so bold, flirting —or whatever he is doing— not only in a full room but with your dad by your side.

You should hate it, you should leave, maybe even confront him, but you don’t. You’re actually quite ashamed the whole thing turns you on. It’s hot, and taboo, and taboo but hot. And come on, you’ve been subtly flirting with a married couple, this shouldn’t be the worst thing, but it feels like it. Because your father worships them, everybody in that room praises them, wants to be like them, and thinks they only have eyes for each other, but they don’t, even if it’s only a naughty game, their eyes are on you.

It’s you.

Their eyes skim around the room playing hide and seek with yours. Their hands tickle your skin in secret. Their bodies speak to you.

The whole room fades in the background, all the tension, all the problems, gone.

It’s only you and them.

Eventually, you start spending more and more time at their place. You tell yourself it’s because they’re easygoing and you can easily escape from your house —to be more precise, from your father. But the truth is, you’re starting to enjoy them more and more.

You still feel out of place sometimes, but it quickly fades away when they notice their conversation push you out by quickly pulling you back in, making light jokes you can understand, or asking about your day. You realize Mrs. Taylor tends to pick up on you quicker than Mr. Suh, while he prefers to ease you with tender touches, and you wonder if he knows the effect they have on you.

You still don’t open up to them much, fearing that if they discovered more, they’d quickly stop giving you attention.

Attention.

That’s another thing you enjoy about being with them. You feel seen. Even if their chemistry is over the roof, they never leave you out, you’re not a tapestry with them. They listen to you, even if you don’t say much, even if you stumble on your words and only give them a small peek. They look at you with sweet smiles on their faces and hum interested, holding conversation with ease.

And shamefully, the thing you love the most, they pamper you. It’s not like you’re poor —even if you have decided to don’t ask for money from your father, some privileges from your wealthy family come anyway— but they still spoil you. Expensive dinners in places you honestly never even wanted to set foot inside. Expensive clothes you doubt you even have the occasion to wear. They even gifted you a Cartier necklace that you keep stored away as your most treasured possession.

But their attentions aren’t only economical, they spoil you with homemade dinners at their place, movie night on their couch, and something more…

You lost count by now of how many times they get you alone and flirt with you, teasing you, watching you get flustered, chuckling at the way your breath falters when their fingers brush your skin or hair. It’s like a dirty game, you are their dirty game. But you don’t hate it. You know they both know what they’re doing, but you love this secrecy, the way you’re their trophy in plain sight and yet a dirty secret they have to hide from each other. It makes you feel wanted, desperately wanted.

And soon enough, you find yourself playing that game, too.

You wear your best outfits when you pass by the University, skin-tight skirts or pants, and just as skimpy blouses or tops with the excuse to borrow books from the library and say hi. Your lips are tinted red for Mr. Suh when he asks you if you want to pass in his office to help him with some lectures, and brown for Mrs. Suh when you casually pass by her firm for lunch or after work. Your hair is always in different hairstyles until you start to stick with the ones you see they like the most. And slowly, you gain some confidence to flirt back.

Your remarks are subtle, and your gaze shies away when they hold eye contact and only giggle or smirk teasingly. But it’s something.

Or so you think.

One second, you’re confident, and the other you feel like you’re making the biggest mistake of your life. You start wondering if you’re pathetic in their eyes and are nothing more but a plaything for them to toy with and discharge when they’ll get tired of you. But nobody ever complimented you this much, calling you beautiful, caressing your face, loving the outfits you put together, and, most importantly, didn’t make you feel dumb. So it feels impossible to pull away from them. Even when your father starts getting mad at you about it.

He’s not dumb, and he has seen the way you and Mr. Suh sit in a corner and talk, he has seen that he greets you before anybody else —even before him— and he doesn’t like it.

“Johnny and Aaliyah have a beautiful relationship,” he starts, scolding you, “don’t try to screw it up, you’re not half of her worth.”

And that’s the first time you cry at night about it. You don’t want to listen to him, but you can’t help but question why they would choose you. Even if it’s just a game, even if it means nothing, you can’t find a reason why. You don’t know who started this first, but it’s not like it would be any different, they’re both hot, smart, talented and successful, and your father is right, you’re not half of her, or his, worth.

Yet, you can’t let it go.

If you know their townhouse by heart, you can’t say the same for their holiday house. It’s your first time being there after they invited you to their getaway weekend. You didn’t hesitate to say yes, pack your best things and leave.

You didn’t want to wander around but they left you all alone and didn’t show much of the house, so you took this opportunity to see a bit more.

The place is big; in the spacious hall, you’re met with the stairs once you enter, the big living room and on the right there’s the kitchen with a grand island in the middle and the table in front of the wide window. Farther down the corridor there’s a small bathroom and a room you couldn’t open.  You’d like to go outside in the garden and chill next to the pool or under the porch, but it’s like upstairs is calling you.

On the first floor, there are the bedrooms and a studio. Your room —well, the guest room— is at the end of the corridor with a big bathroom next to it, while their room is at the end of the stairs, or so you guess.

You don’t want to pry, but curiosity’s got the best of you, especially after trying to open that room downstairs that won’t open. But you know you don’t want to find the keys to that room when you enter their bedroom —yes, you do, but that’s not the main thing.

Your lips part when you enter. It’s bigger than yours, with white walls and wide windows that let the light shine in making it seem even bigger. The big bed is against the wall that faces the door, and right next to the windows, there’s a small sitting room with a two-seat couch and two armchairs.

You should stop and don’t step further but you don’t listen to your brain.

On the wall in front of the bed, there’s a fireplace and on top of it there’s a television that takes half of the wall. At the sides, there are recessed shelves in the wall with books and elegant boxes, a lamp in front of it, and a lounge chair.

There are other lamps, all seem to be design pieces. Two long bedside tables that seem to be vanity desks of marble black. Some beautiful paintings are on the walls and you frown when you can’t recognize the artist, but they picture women and nature and you find them mesmerizing.

Then your eyes are caught by a rectangular red box placed against the wall at the side of the bed, it’s bigger than the bench at the end of the bed, and something about it screams at you to open it.

You shouldn’t, you feel like you’re invading their privacy —and well, you are— but you don’t stop.

You kneel in front of it, and a part of you hopes it’s locked somehow so that you can walk out of there and pretend nothing happened. But there’s no lock or key, you just have to lift the lid to see what’s inside.

Your lips part and a gasp comes out of your mouth when your eyes see what’s inside. You freeze. Close it and leave. Your brain screams, but you’re stuck, eyes blinking as you try to make sure you’re not making it all up.

“Oh my God,” you gasp, hand falling from the lid to shakily touch what’s inside. There are other boxes but, for now, you don’t care to open them and only grab what you can see. Handcuffs, blindfolds, what seem to be whips but they all have different shapes and you don’t get the differences, ropes and other items you can’t name. The closed boxes have labels on them, lingerie, anal, vibrators, and dildos.

Your hands grab one, opening it, inspecting what’s inside with surprise and curiosity, and then another, and another. To be honest, you don’t know why you are so shocked, you own some toys —a vibrator and a small dildo— but you’ve seen much more than that, and it shouldn’t be surprising that a couple like the Suhs have freaky, kinky sex. Yet, it’s overwhelming you.

You are so caught up looking into the box that you don’t hear the door open and Aaliyah stand behind you with just a rope wrapped around her body.

“Looking for something?”

One of the boxes falls from your hand when Mr. Suh’s voice resonates in the room and you jump around in fear.

You mumble no sense, starting to panic while your eyes dart around the room for an escape. There would be many, the room is all windows and you could easily jump off the balcony to put an end to how embarrassed you feel right now, but you can’t.

Their gazes are piercing you and pinning you down against the floor and a feeble “I’m sorry,” is all you can say before your throat goes completely dry.

They snicker, starting to walk over you and you take a step back, but almost fall into the box. You don’t, not because your brain started to work again, but because Mrs. Suh has her arms wrapped around you to keep you from being bent in half into that.

“Careful, you don’t want to hurt yourself,” she says, a veil of genuine concern and something else, a lot of something else, that you can’t decipher.

“I told you she was curious,” Johnny says, talking to her once she lets you go after she makes sure you can stand on your feet.

“I — I don’t know why I did that, I’m sorry,” you mumble, looking down and torturing your hands, but the toys abandoned on the floor only make you look outside. “I thought you were out.”

“I was,” Johnny says, “went buy something sweet for you. But it looks like you’ll get something sweeter tonight.”

Your brain panics, trying to assimilate everything they said to you. “You — you were home the entire time?”

She smirks. “Didn’t hear the water running?”

You sigh defeated, pressing your lips together and shaking your head.

Johnny chuckles before kneeling and talking to you again, “You’re lucky we didn’t want to use these on you tonight, I’m not really in the mood to clean them all up,” he says as he puts the dildos back in the box and set it aside, outside of the container so he remembers to clean them.

“On — on me?” You mumble still struggling to breathe.

Aaliyah hums. “All this teasing has to go somewhere, right?”

“I — I…” You — You… you wished this so much that now that is happening you don’t know how to feel anymore.

“You don’t want us?” Johnny asks with genuine care and your eyes widen, terrified they will get the wrong idea.

“No, I do, I do, but I don’t want to — I… I promise I’m not weird, I don’t even know why I came here, or why I opened that, it’s just so eye-catching, it’s red and nothing in this room is red, and…”

Your rant gets interrupted by two lips on yours. You don’t know who it is at first, eyes closed and brain and heart going off like sirens, running around with their non-existent hands in the air. But then an arm wraps around you and pulls you close, and you realize it’s her. It’s her soft yet firm touch, it’s her body against yours.

And then you’re trapped again, Johnny is behind you, and you feel small and powerless.

“We’re not mad at you, honey,” he says, fingers running against your neck as he moves your hair back, “we’re kinda glad you snooped around, we weren’t really sure how to initiate this.”

“Oh,” you gasp. “But I’m not weird, I’m not a stalker, I promise.”

“We know,” she stops you again, chuckling, “maybe you wanted to get caught. Johnny called your name when he was downstairs, you didn’t hear him?”

Your lips spread partially as you try to remember but you’re sure you didn’t hear his voice or the shower. “No, I… I think I was too caught in… into… well…”

They snicker.

“Naughty girl,” she mocks, gently cupping your chin. “Found something interesting?”

“Uhm, no…”

“No?” Johnny asks and you feel something against your bare thighs —wearing shorts was a bad idea. It has fringes and it tickles. “Not even this?”

You look down and see the black flogger in his hands and you gulp. “I never tried any of these before… I’m not even sure how some of these things can bring pleasure.”

Aaliyah chuckles, shaking her head. “Oh, babydoll, you’d be surprised.”

“You want to tie me?” You ask innocently and they laugh.

“Nah, seems a bit cruel for our first time, don’t you think?” Johnny says, hands wrapping around your stomach.

First time? There will be another one? You think but you don’t ask. You probably already look depraved enough to their eyes, you don’t want to make it worse.

“So, want to have fun with us?”

“Yeah…”

“Hesitating?” She questions, caressing your cheek to soothe you but her touch only makes your body buzz in excitation.

“No, I still don’t get why you would want me,” you whisper, diverting your gaze.

“Have you taken a look in the mirror?” He says, big hands caressing your waist and lips brushing against your neck.

You shake your head. “I still think I don’t fit between you…”

She grabs your chin, lifting your head. “Then why don’t you stop thinking tonight, mhh? We’ll give you a reason to believe why you do fit, instead?” Her hands grab yours and she places them on the tie of her robe, if your fingers move and you let it fall to the ground the whole night will bloom. The consequences could be tragic, tomorrow could be the worst day of your life, but tonight might be the best one.

You don’t hesitate anymore; you’re curious, you’re needy, and you badly want to be pressed between them and feel their skin against yours, so your fingers dance on the tie and pull the robe open.

Your lips part to let out a gasp when her naked body unreveals to your eyes, and you get lost in it. Your eyes move up and down, taking in her perky, round boobs, her darker nipples hardening at the cool air of the room, and then they go down, to her toned stomach you have already seen before until they reach her soft hips, you bite your lips when your eyes fall between her legs, perfectly trimmed black hair covering her most intimate part, and lastly on her soft thighs and long legs.

“You’re beautiful,” you breathe out, feeling you could collapse just from the view, and you start wondering if you can take Johnny too.

Her lips lift in a smile and her hands wander on your body where her husband’s hands are leaving your body untouched. You press your lips together to don’t moan already, it would be so humiliating to do so, but it’s almost as if they know.

“Don’t hold back,” Johnny whispers against your ear, shivers running down your spine. “We take pride in what we do, and want to hear you.”

You hum, nodding fast before you feel dizzy when he pushes your shorts down, his body lowering to accompany them on the floor, his hot breath hitting your exposed skin before his lips leave kisses on your thighs and ass.

Aaliyah is busy taking care of your top, lifting your arms to reveal your bare chest. Your first instinct is to cover yourself, but she stops you with a stern look and a “Don’t.” Her voice is sultry, sweet like honey and intoxicating, and you can only obey. “It’s not fair when I’m so bare at your eyes, don’t you think so?”

“Yes,” you manage to breathe out, and then turn your head to stare at Johnny, the only one who’s completely covered. You don’t say anything, but your eyes speak louder than any word. You’re basically imploring him to show himself to you, your eagerness is burning out of you, yet he mocks you with a smirk and then a scoff.

“Later, honey,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “Don’t be greedy. Too much on your plate, then you can’t chew.”

His wife snickers, pushing him back from you. “Follow me,” she says, giving you a reassuring smile before turning around and walking toward the bed.

You hesitate, looking back at Johnny, asking his permission, and when he nods, you still feel stuck there. You need a light push from him to start moving your feet and follow her on the Wyoming king bed.

“I didn’t think you would be so shy, doll,” she points out, watching you hesitantly climb on the bed and crawl to her.

“She’s not,” Johnny replies for you, “she’s just playing with us.”

You stop in your tracks, looking back at him, mumbling to come up with a reply. But you stop thinking when her chest presses against your back and she turns your head to kiss you. Her hand reaches out to call Johnny to join you, but you don’t think about him until you feel the bed bend with his weight and then his hands on your thighs.

“Or maybe she just needs to ease into us,” she suggests. You catch she’s telling him something, it’s a quick conversation with eyes and mouthed words; you don’t get it, but you don’t care to get it.

You trust them. And you like the thrill of being at their mercy with no idea of what they truly want to do with you.

So, you let them. You let them move you, shifting around you as their hands gently push you flat against the bed and their lips start tracing your shivering skin. You hate that Johnny is still dressed but that thought quickly leaves your mind —or better, doesn’t annoy you that much anymore— when his fingers hook on the band of your panties and pull them off.

You squirm, hiding your face against Aaliyah’s arms but they’re quick at reassuring you.

“Stop hiding away,” Johnny says, “you’re beautiful, honey.”

But your confidence it’s not the problem. You’ve never been the centre of attention, you never had two pairs of eyes, lips, and hands on you. You don’t know how to cope with all of this.

You gasp when her lips wrap around your hard nipple and she starts sucking. And you can’t control your hips when his hands brush against the apex of your thighs before lingering over your sensitive pussy.

“Can I taste you?” Johnny asks, softly caressing your skin.

“Yes, you can.” You’re already short on air as you watch him lower his head, his eyes intensely staring straight into yours, making you feel so small and yet so safe.

Your legs go weak as soon as his plump lips touch your sensitive clit, he’s only leaving delicate kisses on you and small kitten licks but that’s not the only stimulation you’re receiving, Aaliyah’s mouth and fingers lick and pinch on your sensitive nipples are not helping you calm down.

“Oh my god,” you curse, rolling your head back when he starts eating you out for real. Tongue working with precision from your leaking slit to your throbbing clit, not leaving a patch untouched. His hold on you is firm, big hands keeping you spread, massaging your skin to help you relax even more, but with no room for movement. 

“Look at you,” she teases, pulling away from your boob to pay attention to your face, “so wrecked and we barely even started. You love the way my husband is eating you out?”

Your eyes open to meet hers, and you regret it right away, the intensity of her gaze making you feel something you’ve never felt before. Sure, she carried around an intimidating vibe, but that kind of aura disappeared as the months passed and you grew closer, but this, this is different. She is dominant and firm, yet somehow you can always find that veil of care that characterized her.

You try to answer, afraid not receiving a verbal response will disappoint her, but your throat lets out an embarrassing whimper followed by a broken moan.

She snickers, shaking her head, and caressing your cheeks so gently it feels like she’s mocking you. “I know, doll, I know, he’s good with his mouth.”

You cry out in embarrassment but your head rolls back when Johnny sucks harshly on your clit and his hands move down to keep your pussy spread.

“Taste so good,” he mumbles pressed against your skin, the vibrations driving you insane. “So wet for us, you wanted this so bad, didn’t you? Our desperate toy, we made you wait for so long.”

You’d love to scream that yes, this took too long, but nothing comes out of your mouth. You somehow find the strength to look up, much with the help of Aaliyah who places an arm under your head for support, and you feel your stomach tighten up at the view.

Johnny looks like a starving man, messily lapping at your aching pussy, devouring you with his face buried between your legs, nose pressed against your mound. He’s so caught up he probably doesn’t even realize he tugs you closer when his arms wrap around your thighs.

Your eyes shut down and for a moment the image of the usual him crosses your mind. There’s nothing of the composed, elegant, and polite man you know, that man that your father loves so much, the same man that if he saw him right now, would have a heart attack. But you quickly push him out of your mind. You have no other choice when Aaliyah’s fingers add to the mess between your legs, and you bite your lips so hard you almost bleed.

“Too much,” you cry out, looking for mercy in her eyes when she draws them from her husband and your cunt to your face.

“Too much?” She coos with a condescending tone. “You’re bucking your hips against his face and want me to believe it’s too much?”

You groan loudly, giving up as your head falls against the mattress again. Her arm is not there anymore as she’s using it to support her body to tease you, and your neck has no more strength to watch him have the time of his life between your thighs.

But you’re not the only one groaning; Johnny’s moaning too, getting drunk in your juices and falling into madness as he tries to ease the painful boner in his tight jeans, grinding against the mattress for comfort.

“You’re so hot you’re making him hump the mattress, babydoll,” she points out. “That’s the effect you have on him. Still doubt you’re not enough?”

You don’t, not right now, you don’t want to think about it. Still, you shake your head, earning a soft, pleased smile and a “Good girl.”

It makes your stomach tighten, your toes curl, and your hands clench around the sheets. “Johnny,” you whisper, keeping your mouth parted as you try to let more air in, it’s a beg for release but you can’t find the words to let it all out.

The way you moan his name, so shyly, so weakly, a bit for the pleasure, a bit because you feel like it doesn’t belong to you —God if he finds it endearing the way you still call them Mr. and Mrs. Suh sometimes— makes his heart pound and his dick ache. You’re so fragile in their hands, right now, in his. He had wished to have you like this for so long; since his wife first brought you up and he started to look at you in a different light. Every time you spoke your mind during dinners, coming up with something that was too smart for your father to comprehend until he proposed the same point of view, only changing a few things. You deserved to be lifted on the table and eaten out like this. And the more you two talked, or your hands brushed timidly, the more he felt addicted. He couldn’t stop thinking of you.

And that was crazy, because the only woman he ever had was his wife, and never he would’ve imagined he could feel so attracted to someone that wasn’t her. And yet, the three of you are here, in the same bed, in the same mess.

When you call out his name again, he snaps out of his thoughts and looks up at you, the eye contact makes your head spin and you hold onto Aaliyah’s wrists. You feel like the orgasm will make you fly away, but before that, Johnny will kill you with just one look.

“Please,” you cry out, begging to be spared, or maybe not, maybe begging to be ended, begging for the release, begging to reach the best orgasm of your life.

“Let go, honey, come in my mouth,” his deep, sultry voice is the final strike that sends you over the edge. Body convulsing in his hold as he keeps you down and keeps sucking and licking you, eagerly swallowing your sweet cum, and moaning vulgarly against your burning hot skin.

You feel dizzy and high, and your body slumps against the soft mattress when your first orgasm ends.

“Want to see you,” you cry out, trying to lift your body and reach for him, but your limbs quickly give up.

Aaliyah chuckles, and you turn to face her. “We need to work on your stamina.”

You pout as you justify yourself, “It was too good, and I haven’t come like this in — well, never.”

Johnny chuckles, smirking proudly before he stands up at the edge of the bed. “Want to see me, honey?”

You nod with enthusiasm, biting your lips as your heart thuds in excitement. Your eyes lock with his fingers that are moving way too slow on their way to unbutton the shirt. But after what feels like an eternity, the blouse meets the floor, leaving uncovered his toned chest, arms and beautiful tattoos adorning the skin of his shoulder. But it’s not like you haven’t seen that before.

“What?” You scream annoyed when she covers your view, standing on her knees between you and her husband, giggling at your disappointment.

“He needs a hand, baby,” she chuckles and you huff again. Of course, they would fuck with you some more.

Every sound drives you more insane; you bite the inside of your cheek when you hear the belt open, and your heels tap against the mattress when the zip comes down, lastly, you groan in disbelief when you hear his pants and belt hit the floor.

“Please,” you whine, closed fists slapping against the bed.

“Fine, greedy little thing,” Johnny chuckles, and so does she as they finally give you what you want.

Your eyes and lips widen, and you gulp. “Oh… wow…”

They laugh, it’s a soft sound that creates a beautiful harmony, and even if they’re making fun of you, it warms your heart. The next thing they do is crawl to you to kiss you.

It starts with a soft peck on your lips, their mouths on yours meeting almost shyly, and then it gets heated, teeth and tongue clashing together as all of you try to have a taste of each other.

“Don’t worry, you can take it,” she reassures, kissing your lips, hands travelling down your stomach until it reaches your throbbing clit and starts moving in circles, making you gasp against their lips.

“I don’t think I can,” you mumble, glossy eyes looking into his first and then moving to hers. “Maybe you should.”

“Oh, I do, trust me,” she replies, smirking before kissing your neck.

“Tonight is about you,” Johnny reminds you, doing the same as she’s doing but on the other side. “It will fit.”

“Mhh,” you mumble, feeling weak and overwhelmed. 

“Let me make sure it will fit,” she sings happily, now taking the spot between your legs.

You moan against Johnny’s mouth when her finger pushes inside you, humming in delight as she feels how wet you are. You can’t see her, eyes closed as you get lost in the kiss, but just her presence is enough to make you tremble.

“Look at you, it’s so easy to turn you into a puddle,” she teases, watching as you can barely kiss Johnny back. Something about the kiss you and her husband are sharing makes her head spin. There’s something about you, something new, something they’ve never had before. You’re so delicate, like a flower, and your petals fall perfectly between them. Just like right now, she’s sure there’s nothing in your brain, and yet your lips follow Johnny’s, messily meeting him in that slow, yet passionate kiss.

Your body reacts so nicely to their hands running on your skin, cupping and groping at your soft boobs to stimulate you everywhere as she works the second finger inside of you. They are experts at what they’re doing, sending shivers all over your body and pushing you further down into that haze.

“You’re taking my fingers so well, you’re so eager to feel Johnny inside, aren’t you?”

You mumble a reply as you finally pull away from Johnny, a thread of spit still connecting your lips, but you don’t notice until he breaks it off. “Want to feel him.”

They snicker, and then their lips are on you; Johnny’s busy leaving pecks on your neck before he pays attention to your nipples, and Aaliyah is focused on kissing your inner thigh and tummy as her fingers still curl inside of you.

“I don’t think you’re ready, yet, pretty girl,” she hums, curling the tips up and hitting your sensitive spot. That action makes your hips buck from the mattress and causes a louder moan to slip through your tortured plump lips. “So wet, dripping all over my fingers. I bet you taste so good, maybe I’ll get a taste one day, uhm?”

You squeeze your eyes, uselessly trying to calm your breath, it’s pathetic how fast your chest is moving in erratic movements, and how your hips squirm to search for more, even if one of their hands is on your stomach to keep you in place. You don’t reply but you internally scream that yes, you want her. You want to feel her soft, full lips on you, you wonder if she’s eager like Johnny or more meticolous, if she moans loudly or keeps quiet. You don’t know, but the mere idea makes a growl roll from your lips.

“She’s good with her fingers, isn’t she?” Johnny’s deep voice hits your ear, and you feel your body melt. Your head moves quickly to agree as you turn to the side to face him. He’s staring at you with a sly smirk on his face and before you can stop him, you feel his long fingers on your clit. You bite back a moan and try to plead with your eyes but it’s useless. Neither of them wants to stop.

“What, princess? We have to make sure you’re ready to take my dick,” he whispers, shushing your senseless sounds with a kiss.

You bite his lips by mistake when she pushes a third finger inside, eyes wide both in surprise and in a silent apology to Johnny.

“Too much,” you cry out.

But she tsks, shaking her head. “You have to be all stretched out for him, doll. You don’t want to break, do you?”

You shake your head before it rolls back, and your face contorts more. You don’t want to break but you feel like you might explode from this alone. She’s incredibly skilled in what she’s doing, it’s like her fingers are pumping and curling following the rhythm of a melody only she can hear, they hit you deep and fast, not giving you time to recover from each profound push.

“Just a few pumps and then he’ll fuck you exactly like you want,” she encourages you, her dark brown eyes looking softly at you, curling up in a sweet smile.

It takes you less than a few pumps to come undone, you don’t even see the orgasm coming when it washes over you, knocking air out of your lungs. It’s her two fingers pumping into you, curling and scissoring, after she pulled the third out to move faster, it’s Johnny’s thumb on your clit, flicking it swiftly, and his lips on your nipple, sucking harshly. But mostly, it’s them, the warmth of their bodies wrapping around you, intoxicating you like a drug that takes its sweet time to kick in.

Your body shakes, trapped between the mattress and their big bodies, and you feel like the room is spinning around you.

“You come so easily,” she mocks, pulling her fingers out once she’s sure you’re done, and slapping your clit, making you hiss.

Easily. If that was nothing to her…

“Naughty girl,” Johnny scoffs, pulling away from you and you whine when their hot bodies are not on you anymore.

You sigh, thinking since when you’re so pathetic and needy? You truly can’t last more than ten seconds without having them all over you?

“If you were ours that wouldn’t have gone unpunished,” he says, settling between your legs and spreading them apart. You barely noticed them moving around, already too far gone to be aware of what is going on around you. His intense gaze makes you shiver and more cum oozes out of your already messy, wet cunt. Johnny takes a deep breath, getting lost in the sight of you, your face is wrecked, your lips parted, your eyes watery, your boobs are heaving, and your hips are moving around, pleading him to fuck you. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful, honey.”

The compliment makes your heart swell and you weakly smile back at him.

“Come on, fuck her already,” Aaliyah encourages him, pushing his hips closer as she stands at his side, “she deserves it.”

You gasp under your breath when his hands wrap around the back of your knees and, with a strong tug, he pulls your body against his, the tip of his dick slapping against your core. He moves one hand down to grab the base and pushes his cock against your slit, it feels like forever as he rubs his leaking tip against your clit and every now and then pushes against your opening that’s fluttering, begging him to fill you up already.

“Johnny,” Aaliyah scolds sternly, looking at him up and down, and her dominance at the moment makes you shiver and moan, shamelessly. You try to close your legs to hide the effect it had on you but they both push them open, and somehow, the way they’re not paying attention to you, eyes locked into each others, and still have you under control, makes you whine even louder. “Stop teasing her,” she orders, cupping his chin and pulling him closer. “Don’t you see how badly she wants you? Dripping on the sheets like a kitten in heat?”

You frown at her comment even if well, she’s right. You’re sure you’ve never been this wet your entire life.

“As you wish, milady,” he jokes and in a second, he’s inside of you.

“Fuck,” you scream at the stretch, even if he didn’t bottom in, you still feel like you can barely breathe. “Oh, shit.”

“Damn, honey, I’m not even halfway in,” he comments, stopping and looking at you with a worried face. 

“No, I’m fine, I was — too caught up,” too caught up in you two and I barely remember my name.

Aaliyah snickers, shaking her head. “You’re so cute, doll,” she hums, caressing your thigh, “just relax and take him all, uhm? He’s going to fuck you so well,” she says before addressing her husband, “right, Johnny?”

Johnny nods, smirking playfully before sinking further until his entire length is in.

Your head rolls back while pleasure dissipates inside your body, he fills you perfectly, stretching you so nicely. You feared it was going to be more painful, but it feels so good, and the pairs of hands soothing your skin are helping you calm down.

Johnny pulls you closer, beginning to slowly move his hips, hissing under his breath while your walls flutter around him so nicely, your wet, warm hole welcoming him with ease now that you’re not tense anymore.

And then it happens, for the first time that night, they kiss. You bite your lips with force as your eyes bore holes in them. Their lips move on their own, doing what they have been doing for a life now, and their hands pull each other close. You’ve seen them in similar circumstances before, but this, this, is different. Johnny is kissing his wife while he’s buried deep inside of you, one hand on the small of her back, the other keeping you spread, her hand tangled in his long, brown locks and the other intertwined with yours at your side.

Everything is oddly romantic and erotic at the same time. Everything makes perfect sense and no sense at all. But it’s fine. Tonight, you don’t want to think, you don’t want to worry, you want to roll around in this mess of limbs and skin and feel. Feel alive and loved. Even if it might be an illusion.

“Fuck, baby,” they moan when they pull apart, giggling at the way they’re in sinch even if for different things. Their eyes are on you again and while Johnny praises how good you feel, she praises how well you’re taking him.

And your heart jumps around while a dumb, drunk-in-love smile plasters on your face. But it swiftly drops when she moves up again to whisper something in Johnny’s ear. You try to study his expression, something flickers in his eyes, and they darken even more, you even feel his dick twitch inside of you, but you can’t make out anything of what she says.

Then Johnny’s hips come to an alt, and your throat dries.

“We were thinking you got to come two times already,” he starts, licking his lips, “and while I’m having fun with you, you will agree we kinda neglected Aaliyah, right?”

You nod quickly, eyes moving between the couple in swift motions.

“So, what do you think about turning around and eating her out while I keep fucking you?”

It’s like your brain sparks up and shuts down at the same time at his words. You nod eagerly, mumbling ‘yes’ while a small, fucked out smile creeps on your face.

“You want me, baby?” She asks, voice slurring out of her lips like velvet.

“Yes, please, want you so bad,” you reply, body buzzing in excitement as you take her body in.

You don’t have time to complain when Johnny pulls out of you, he swiftly turns you around, strong arms moving you as if you’re nothing for him, and given all the weights he lifts at the gym, it is nothing. Your body moves on its own, ass perking up while your face lowers down, close to the soft, perfumed sheets but not enough that you can’t use your lips.

And there she is, resting against the headboard with her legs spread right in front of your face. Her pussy’s dripping, clit throbbing in anticipation, and you envy how good she has been to hold it back for so long.

And even if your eyes are curious and sparkle with lust, she can sense your hesitation. “Come on, don’t be shy,” she encourages you, one hand gently cupping the back of your head, massaging your scalp, “don’t tell me it’s your first time.”

Well… not exactly, but you weren’t a pro at this either.

“Oh, you’re always on the receiving end?” She snickers, looking down at you. Eyes piercing you, pinning you down in your place. She has this thing, it’s like magic, one look and you’re right where she wants you, how she wants you.

“Mostly…” you admit shyly, looking down again.

“Well, time to change that,” she says before pushing you against her pussy.

Your lips move shily at first, it’s almost as if you’re testing the ground. Kitten licks are all you give her, licking up her sweet cum while your nose rubs against her clit. You breathe deep, getting lost in her aroma.

“Fuck, baby, just like that,” she praises, hand still caressing you but not pressing you down. If it was somebody else —even Johnny— she wouldn’t have hesitated to do so, but with you, she wants to take it slow and guide you through it.

You moan against her when Johnny pushes in again, this time he doesn’t wait before his hips start slamming against you, but he’s not going too fast. And the pleasure he’s fucking into you urges you to do better. You try to do what Johnny did to you before and every other person you’ve been with, and be better than the other times you’ve eaten pussy before.

“Yes, pretty girl, focus on the clit,” she instructs you, moving her hand down to caress your neck, and when you comply, a deep guttural moan rips from her throat. She hums in delight and your heart flips with pride. “Use your tongue.”

You hesitately stick your pink muscle out and poke it at her entrance but she stops you with a click of her tongue, “No, doll, up and down, come on, you can do it.” When your tongue starts doing that, licking her from the bottom of her entrance to the top, flicking your tip right under the hood of her clit, her legs shake and she pushes down a hiss. “So, so good, babydoll.”

“Shit, you’re so hot,” Johnny moans behind you, his hands holding tightly to your waist as he fucks you on his dick. He never imagined he’d be so turned on by this, but fuck, this is the dream. Seeing his wife’s face while you pleasure her, hearing her moan because of somebody else mouth, especially yours, makes him feel something he never felt before.

“You’re so good, doll. Such a fast learner, aren’t you? So eager to please us. So eager to be a good girl for us,” she moans, her fingers inevitably clenching around the roots of your hair when you suck hard on her clit. You seem to have found your scheme, keeping her pussy spread while your tongue runs on her labia and then your lips wrap around her clit, swift flicks of your tongue and shy hands testing what’s better.

You nod against her without pulling away, you could, but you don’t want to. You want to get drunk in her juices, you want to feel her thighs clench around your head —even if she’s trying hard not to do so— you want to hear her deep, intoxicating moans, you want her to pull your hair harder.

“Yes, you are,” she coos, meeting your half-lidded eyes, pushing down a guttural moan when a lonely tear rolls down your cheek, “you’re such a greedy little thing. One person it’s not enough for you, you need more. Is this enough or do you need even more, ugh? Bet you’d love it if we both fucked you at the same time.” Her condescending tone sends your brain into a spiral, you feel empty and yet overflowing, but you can’t reply. Johnny’s fucking you mercilessly now, big dick hitting you deep, striking all the right spots, and even if you’re giving something to her, you have zero control. You’re at their mercy, small and powerless, flushed between their bodies as you somehow do something like a robot.

“Loving eating her pussy while I fuck you hard?” This time is Johnny the one teasing you, his voice deeper but he gives no sign of slowing down, even if the pleasure is getting to him, you know it from his grunts and the way his hips falter every now and then. “Bet it feels so good to be muddy in our hands and have no worries in the world, right? You’re perfect here, nobody to impress,” he moans, leaning closer, his lips brushing your ear while his body presses you closer against the bed, “no father to make happy. Just us. Honestly,” he groans, pulling back, squeezing your hips before driving all the way in with a decisive thrust, sending you forward, “he’d have a heart attack if he saw you like this.”

You whine, your laments muffled by Aaliyah’s body, and you feel like you could explode. Is this why you like being with them so much? Because the fact that they like you so much proves your father wrong? The very people that he worships are busy worshipping his daughter while he trashes her around. But you don’t want to think of him, one, it could ruin your orgasm, two, you have them, and that’s all that matters. And to be honest, you love being with them so much because they value you and appreciate you for who you truly are.

You pull away, letting your fingers take the place of your mouth, rubbing on her clit while you talk, “want you, want more, please.”

“More? What’s more than this?” Johnny asks, snickering.

“Sit on my face?” You ask shily while you look up at her, cum and spit dripping down your chin, eyes glossy with tears.

She loses herself in the sight of you. You’re perfect even if you look like a mess, even if your eyes roll back and your lips part open when Johnny hits your sweet spot another time. “Oh… let’s not pull your luck too much tonight, hum?”

“But I —”

“But you, nothing,” she shushes you up, two fingers on your mouth. “You’re being so good, giving me pleasure while you take him so well. Just keep going.” She’d love to sit on your face, only being able to watch your eyes slowly blank as her hips roll against you, while your pretty hands wrap around her thighs as it slowly gets harder to breathe, but you’re not ready for that, yet.

You give up, starting where you stopped. But soon enough you’re whining again, “No, please, please, Sir,” you cry out, looking back to meet Johnny’s gaze for a split second.

He seems a bit startled by the way you address him, but he quickly shakes the surprise off to tease you with a condescending tone. “What’s wrong, honey? I thought you wanted more?” The pout that accompanies his words makes your stomach twist in a knot. You did want more, but the more was being smashed underneath them, not having his skilled fingers rub quick circles on your over-sensitive clit.

“I — I don’t want to come again,” you cry out.

“Oh, you won’t,” she speaks instead. “Don’t get too greedy and take it,” she orders, cupping your chin before pushing you between her legs again. Her patience could only last this long before she would snap.

“Right, because you can take it, right?” Johnny asks, tilting his head to get a peak of your flustered face. You’re burning up, sweat pearling your skin, the shorter hair sticking to your forehead, eyes blinking out tears of pleasure, and body squirming while you try so hard to keep focus on the only thing you have to do.

You doubt you can, but you still nod, moans getting choked up in your throat and against her cunt as you try to use your tongue and mouth the best you can even if control is slipping out of you more and more.

Fighting the orgasm is probably worse than keeping focus. Your stomach is upside down, and you feel all your nerves tense up, every single touch makes you jolt up and you know your throat will be sore by the end of the night for all the moans you’re letting out.

And you slip, eyes closing and mouth getting lazy as your body limply gets slammed between them.

“Hey,” you’re startled when her palm meets your face in quick, light slaps to wake you up, “don’t you fucking dare,” it’s the only warning that slips from her mouth, so sternly it should make you obey on the spot, but it only makes it harder for you to hold back. “Put that mouth to good use, come on.”

You don’t have a choice —not that you would want to do anything else— when she forces your face down again, this time grinding her hips against you to help you out, or honestly, to fuck herself against you because you’re not doing so much anymore.

She scoffs, “You’re being so good for Johnny, bet your pussy is sucking him in so well, dripping down to his balls and clenching tight, you can’t do one thing for me?”

You gasp for air when she yanks you back by the end of your hair, letting you breathe again, watching the tears fall freely from your pretty eyes. Your lashes are clumped together, and some mascara stained your cheeks; so, so pretty, she could stare at you forever.

“I can. I — I promise, I’ll be your good girl, I’ll give you what you want, fuck,” you mumble, words tangling on your tongue.

You’re so fucked out that spit is dripping down your chin, mixing with her cum, and she can’t fight the urge to smear it on your face.

Aaliyah could come by that sight only. To think when she first saw you were shily standing in a corner, trying to have less attention possible on you, stuttering your words at the speech your father made you hold, and almost fell down the stage. And now, you’re a mess in their bed, far away from home after you followed them blindly.

“Good, then use your fingers, come on,” she orders, biting her lips as you struggle to push your body up to finger her. This is exciting, with Johnny it had always been a fight for dominance, but with you, everything works perfectly, you fit between them with ease.

Johnny’s hands help you stand up, but he can’t deny how hot he finds the way you can’t control your body. He wishes he could see your face, you must be so pretty all messed up, but he’ll use his imagination.

“Come on, honey, fuck her, she took such good care of you,” Johnny encourages you, and that’s all you need to push two fingers inside of her. Her warm walls welcome you with ease, cum coating them until it drips down on your wrist.

Aaliyah’s face twists in an expression of pleasure as soon as you start curling your fingers. You’re definitely better with them than you are with your mouth, but it’s fine, there will be time to practice if you ever want to stick around.

“Good girl,” she praises, caressing your cheek gently before pulling you in a kiss. Doing so, Johnny slips out of you, and you whine at the loss, but soon enough he’s fucking into you again.

“Won’t — won’t last long,” you whimper, crying more as you feel heavier.

Johnny hums, pushing you down again and you lazily go back to lapping on her pussy while your fingers keep moving.

“Come here,” you hear him say, but he’s not talking to you. You can’t see, but you know they’re kissing because you feel smaller and more trapped as their bodies get closer, and then the wet sounds of their lips hit your ears. Their moans mix in their mouth, and you can feel the desperation they’re sharing as their teeth clash together.

You want to kiss them too, but you have other things to worry about, like the orgasm you can’t hold in anymore.

“Want to come, please,” you beg, tears adding to the mess between her legs as you try to gasp for more air.

They pull away from the kiss, bringing their attention to you another time.

“You want to come?” You nod swiftly. She’s sure you’re not doing it on purpose but the way your big eyes are looking up at her and your lips tremble, make her heart warm up. You’re so precious. “Then don’t stop fucking me,” she orders, voice low that causes your stomach to twist again. “Don’t stop being a perfect, little, mindless fuckdoll for us.”

Johnny growls, rolling his head back, “Fuck, stop talking to her like that, she’s squeezing me.”

Aaliyah chuckles darkly, sweetly mockingly caressing your wet cheeks. “You want me to stop talking to her because you can’t handle a sweet pussy sucking you in?”

He rolls his eyes and throws his head back, scoffing at her comment.

“It’s not my fault she likes it when I talk down to her,” she coos, looking at him but her words hit you deep. It’s so humiliating the way they’re talking about you as if you’re not here, and yet, it only makes you wetter. “I could do so much more, but I doubt she can take it.”

I can. You scream, but it stays inside your brain, no words can come out of your mouth anymore.

They both giggle at your broken moan that comes out as a reply.

“No thoughts left in that little mind of yours, uhm?” Johnny teases, his fingers playing with your nipples making you cry out more.

Your head is abandoned on her thigh, drool dripping out of the corner of your lips while your fingers pump in and out in tired, messy movements. You’re so far gone that she has to help you fuck her by guiding your wrist.

“Except how good it feels to be surrounded by us. You love it when we trap you between us and make you feel small, don’t you? Bet you’d love it even more if I fucked your mouth with a toy while he fucked your pussy, or maybe the other way around.”

You yelp when someone smacks your ass, you don’t care to figure out if it’s him or her. It doesn’t matter, it only adds to the pleasure and dizziness.

“Or maybe we could each take a hole and stuff you til you break,” Johnny giggles lowly. “Your tight ass and pussy spread by us.”

“Please,” you cry out. Please make me come and please do it. Please fuck me at the same time, from both ends and until I’m nothing between you. But it stays inside, they get it anyway, like they get all of you.

“C’mere,” Johnny chuckles as he manoeuvres you, lifting your body and pushing you closer to his wife. You’re kneeling now, body slumped against hers while he presses you flat, your fingers still moving inside of her while you moan in the crook of her neck. It feels warm, almost romantic, and you feel so small. 

The hand that is not helping you fuck her, wraps around your waist and starts rubbing circles on your burning hot skin, meeting Johnny’s that doing the same.

“Look at you, doll, you’ve been so good. What do you say, John, should she come?” Aaliyah’s voice is particularly sweet, reaching your ear like a faint melody and you feel farther and farther from your body.

“I think she deserves it,” Johnny replies, kissing your neck to distract you from his hand slipping down to your clit.

Your teeth sink into her skin, making her hiss, not in pain but most in surprise, and your face wets even more while a loud sob rips from your throat.

“Come on, princess,” she whispers close to you, leaving pecks on top of your head, “be a good girl and come with us.”

You don’t let them tell you twice when their pace fastens and all the stimuli get to your head one last time. This orgasm is like an explosion that leaves you trembling between their bodies, whimpering and moaning as the violent waves shock you to the core.

“Fuck, so fucking tight,” Johnny murmurs under his breath, hips slamming messily against your ass as he chases his orgasm. He’s caught up in your face before his eyes fall on his wife’s pussy, you stopped fucking her and she’s trying to rub her fingers on her clit, if you weren’t so far gone, brain mush in your skull, she would’ve said something, but she knows is no use now.

You’re collapsed on her body when your eyes trail between her legs, watching in awe as Johnny’s fingers fuck her fast and his thumb rubs her clit as he keeps pouding into you. Their moans are louder as they approach their release and her head falls against the board of the bed while her hands clench around your waist to hold onto something.

And you come again. An unexpected fourth orgasm washes over you, ass arching up and nails sinking into her thigh as you feel as life is being sucked away from you, and that’s what pushes them over the edge, your soft, broken whimpers mixing with theirs and your low mumbles of their names, it’s not Mr. and Mrs. Suh, is Johnny and Aaliyah now, only for you.

More curses fill the air before everything comes to a stop, Johnny’s body falling on yours for a second before he forces himself to pull out and roll to the side.

“Hey, it’s alright, it’s alright. Come here,” she whispers, soothing you as she pulls your body closer, hugging you and caressing your back and hair. You’re still shaking and crying, and your hands wrap quickly around her. “You’re fine, we’re here. It’s over.”

Soon after you feel Johnny’s hands too, and then his soothing words. “You’ve been so good, princess. Was it fun?”

His question is left unanswered, and they understand it will take you a while to start talking again. So they keep whispering sweet words to your ears while their hands calm you down with gentle touches. You don’t remember how long it takes before you fall into a deep slumber, but you know you feel a sense of peace you never felt before.

When you wake up, the clock hits midnight, you’re alone in the bed but you’re cleaned up and you’re dressed in a white shirt that reaches your thighs.

Somehow your legs carry your body out of the room and down the stairs where you take a sigh of relief seeing them laughing as they sit at the table. They’re dressed again, Johnny’s hair is brushed in its place, and her braids are pulled up in a bun again, they look as composed as usual but more familiar.

“Hey, you’re up?” Johnny is the first one who sees you and welcomes you with a sweet smile.  

“We were starving. We wanted you to eat but you fell asleep, and for how intense it was we figured you were going to sleep until morning,” Aaliyah explains, moving a stool so you could sit between them, tapping on the seat to signal you to reach them.

You push your feet forward, legs wobbly and heart still racing, but this time is not the orgasm. You’re still lost in the haze, but now you’re fully aware of what happened, and you don’t know how to act in the aftermath.

“Are you alright? You stopped talking, it worried us a bit,” she says, lifting her hand to caress your nape after she tucked your hair behind your ear.

You nod, shoulders dropping as the tension disappears at her touch. “I’m fine. I guess it was a lot, it never happened before.”

Johnny comes back to you with a glass of water and some bowls with different food, leaving you a choice between fruits, something sweet, and something salty.

“Thanks,” you reply, grabbing the glass and gulping it in one go. “Honestly, I’m not really hungry,” you say, eyes diverting their gazes, there’s still a bit of worry behind them and you’re not used to people caring so much for you, especially after sex. You don’t think you ever saw a one-night-stand the morning after, but not even your exes cared much about how you felt after sex.

“No? Do you need something else?” Johnny asks, a caring tone filling his words, and the look in his eyes is different than all the other times before.

You look around, shaking your head, your throat is dry again and from the corner of your eyes, you see her filling the glass again. You smile shyly before drinking it. “I… I don’t want to sleep alone,” you confess, biting your lips and playing with the hem of the glass in your hands.

They smile, hands cupping yours before holding tight. “We had no intention of leaving you alone,” they say at the same time, making you smile.

“A bit paranoid, aren’t you?” Johnny jokes while Aaliyah leaves to put the food back in its place. You might be awake but it’s clear as daylight that you’re still tired and want to sleep.

“Mhh,” you mumble. Your eyes lift to look at Johnny and you smile. He looks beautiful, the faint silver light of the moonlight paiting his cheekbones and hair.

“And still not very talkative,” she adds when she comes back, a soft look in her eyes. “Come on, there’s no need to talk, let’s get you to bed.” She stretches a hand out and you quickly grab it, jumping off the chair but regretting it when your legs make it known they’re not back just yet.

You gasp when two arms wrap around you and lift you up, and soon you’re met with Johnny’s eyes. You smile at him before locking eyes with her who’s following behind and quickly is at your side.

“Thanks,” you whisper because he’s carrying you but mostly, for the night you spent. You decide you will worry tomorrow, for now, you feel full, they made you feel wanted, and dare to say, even loved. It’s all that matters.

“You have to be grateful, he stopped carrying me upstairs a long time ago,” she jokes and Johnny scoffs, “Liar.”

And soon the three of you are in the bed again, the dirty duvet is not on the mattress anymore and a thinner blanket covers you. You’re in the middle, pressed between their bodies while they leave kisses on your face, and whisper sweet words to you, their hands intertwined on your stomach while their thumbs rub small circles on your skin.

And as sleep takes over you again, you think that there’s no other place you’d rather be, if not between them.

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[itgetsdark-x]

I Wanna See You Beggin’ (Part 4)

Summary: Joel Miller is your dad’s best friend, you knew it was wrong, you knew it would only cause trouble but you couldn’t help the way you ached for the man. (Part One | Part Two | Part Three)

Disclaimers: (Title is from I Hate Myself for Loving You — Joan Jett & The Blackhearts), I do not own any of these characters / people but I did write these words, I don’t give permission for this to be copied anywhere else 😌

Characters: dbf!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word Count: 7.3k

Warnings: 18+ (minors dni, pls), unprotected p in v (pls be responsible and wrap before u tap), mild violence / swearing / general angst, age gap (reader mid twenties, Joel would be late 40s), no outbreak in this au.

A/N: woweeee, I am still blown away by the interest in my dumb writing! thank you for all the reblogs / likes / comments and thank you for your patience whilst I got my act together and wrote this fourth part! I feel like it sucks, if it does, I’m so sorry! I think I have one more part in me, with this series which would include a small time jump to finish it off. if people are interested, I will definitely write it. enjoy and I hope it makes y’all happy, finally hehehe. love u all <3

“Y/N?” Your dad called louder this time and you slapped Joel as you jolted awake, your fist hit his chest and he spluttered as he awoke from his deep sleep. 

“Fuck, shit. Fuck. Joel, get up, get the fuck up and get dressed.” You hissed and Joel sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. You immediately went into action and pulled your pyjamas on hastily, your shirt was inside out and you almost fell over as you stumbled down your stairs to answer the front door. 

“M-morning dad, you woke me up.” You mumbled, your voice panicked. “What’re you doing here, are you okay?” You lied as he entered your hallway. 

You could sense it, your dad was pissed, he rarely ever got angry but whenever he did, you knew it immediately. 

“Well uh, I went to Joel’s house to pick him up but it was weird, his truck wasn’t on his drive nor was he actually home. I shrugged it off and assumed it was just ‘cause he went to site by himself so imagine my surprise, sweet pea, when I drive past here and see his truck parked up out the front of your house.” Your dad spoke and you could feel the annoyance, his eyes were scanning the area, looking behind you to see if he could spot Joel. “You wanna tell me why it is exactly that his truck is out front?” 

“Look, I, um. We, uh, fuck.” You cursed and your cheeks flushed a deep red as you shifted awkwardly on the spot, your brain not moving nearly fast enough to come up with a convincing lie.

“Just… Where is he?” Your dad asked and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. 

“M-my bedroom…” You answered quietly. “B-but it’s not what you think!” You called after your dad as he didn’t hesitate to climb your stairs quickly. 

“Miller,” Your dad barked and your stomach flipped, you felt sweaty and sick. “What. The. Fuck have you been doin’ with my little girl?” He shouted and slammed your bedroom door open, you followed your dad and tried to grab his arm back and take him downstairs. “Get downstairs, right now.” Your dad hissed at you. 

Joel was stood in your bedroom, he had pulled his boxers and shirt on and was just trying to button up his jeans. It was clear as day; entirely evident what had been happening here; it was written over both of your faces and the fact Joel’s shirt and jeans were unbuttoned only supplied further, concrete proof to your dad. 

You dad lurched at Joel, his forearm pinned the older male against the wall as he pushed his arm across Joel’s chest and without thinking for another second, your dad planted a hard punch to Joel’s face. You heard a sickening crunch and you winced before you leapt into the room and tried to peel your dad’s frame off of Joel’s. 

“I told you to fucking go downstairs. Go.” Your dad barked and you flinched away from him, that seemed to soften your dad’s eyes ever so slightly but the rage soon built once again as Joel spoke. 

“I’m sorry, bud. It’s not what you think. I haven’t been preying on her, I care about her. A lot.” Joel spoke, trying to calm your father down. “Can we please sit down and talk about this?”

“So you haven’t been fucking her then?” Your dad spat and it made the guilt in your stomach bubble ferociously. 

“Dad.” You whispered. “I’m a woman, I can choose whom I have relationships with. You don’t get to decide that.” Your voice shook as you looked at Joel, you wanted to take him into your arms and stroke his hair, just do anything to soothe him. He dabbed at his nose with his sleeve as blood soaked it and your stomach turned again. 

“So you decide to fuck my best friend, a man older than your own father? Like a cheap whore.” He spat at you and you felt tears prick your eyes before they fell silently down your cheeks. 

Joel pushed your father off him, whilst he was turned to look at you and he grunted with the effort. 

“You don’t get to speak to her like that.” Joel shouted, squaring his large shoulder up to your dad. 

Your dad laughed, it was dark and fuelled by anger. “Yeah, well, you don’t get to tell me how to do shit. You’ve lost that privilege.” 

“I know you’re upset, dad and I’m really sorry, I didn’t want this to happen, not like this… b-but, but I really like Joel.” You spoke quietly as you steadied your panicked breathing. 

Joel looked at you with a soft smile as he mopped up the last of his blood that was staining his moustache. His eyes were soft as he looked at you and he felt such pride that you would even stick up for him to your dad. He knew your dad’s anger was justified which is why it was hard to argue his case. 

“Look, I’ll take the day off work, I’ll go home and then maybe you could both come over this evening and we could talk about this, calmly. I know you’re angry, and trust me, I would be too. I am sorry you found out this way but I’m not sorry for this happening.” Joel’s voice was edged with coldness but he remained calm as he spoke to your dad. 

“You can take everyday off, ‘bud’. You’re fired, so if I see your face around any of the sites, you’ll be a dead man. You had a kid, you should understand how fucked up this is. Maybe it’s for the best your daughter isn’t around.” You dad said heartlessly. 

“Dad!” You gasped disappointedly. 

Joel winced at your dad’s words and they cut deeper than any punch could. 

“We will speak later. I’m sorry for yelling at you, sweet pea. It’s not your fault, he took advantage, you’re just a kid.” You dad whispered and he went to give you a kiss on the cheek but you flinched away from his touch. 

“I’m a woman, I’m closer to thirty than I am to twenty, dad. I’m a fully grown woman. I’m sorry you found out this way but we’ll only be speaking if you’ll sit down with the two of us. Understand?” Your voice wobbled as you spoke and soon the tears were falling down your cheeks yet again. 

Your dad threw his hands up in defeat and walked out of your room silently, the thick atmosphere of your room was shattered when the front door closed and you jumped. 

The way your dad acted was entirely out of character, he usually never so much as raised his voice at anyone and especially not at you. He wasn’t an aggressive man, so the way he reacted truly shook you to your core.

“Joel,” you cried and went to hold his arm but he avoided your touch. “Joel please,” your voice was coming out as wrecked cries. “Please don’t shut me out, don’t let him get into your head like that. I’m sorry for what he said. He’s just angry and he didn’t think. I’m sorry.” You sobbed further and fell to your knees dramatically, you brought your arms around yourself and cried. 

“Peach,” Joel whispered, his voice shaking also. You looked up at him and his eyes were blurry with tears and it only broke you further. “Your dad is right, I’ve been taking advantage and maybe we didn’t realise because we were blinded with the pure pleasure of it all.” He spoke and he knelt down to look you in the eyes. 

You shook your head and wiped your eyes roughly to clear your vision. “N-no!” You shouted. “You don’t get to fuck me and then tell me you’re taking advantage.” You shouted and weakly punched at Joel’s arms in frustration. “You don’t get to do that.”

He winced as you took your frustrations out on him but he took it all. “I care about you, peach, a lot but… this is my life, I need that job.” He sighed as he took your flailing hands to hold them steady. 

You tried to pull away from his grip with a whine of frustration as he only held you tighter. “Go then.” You stated coldly, tears still falling down your cheeks as you wiped them away in vein. “If the job means that much to you, go. Go apologise to my dad for ‘taking advantage’ of me, go tell him it was the wrong thing to do even though we both know that it’s a lie.” You cried, openly and blatantly now, you let the tears fall as your voice shook with effort. 

Joel enveloped you in his arms, his hand stroked through your hair and he shushed you softly. “Baby girl, it’s okay.” He whispered into the top of your head and he closed his eyes. “It’s not as simple as that. I really care about you and fuck it, I guess part of me didn’t want to admit it, especially not this early on but clearly, I love you. I’ve cared about you for years, I just didn’t understand to what capacity. It’s just… I can’t let this ruin my life, or yours for that matter… If your dad says anything to anyone… I’ll be a wanted man, people will be furious with me.” He sighed. 

His words cut through you like a hot knife through butter and it only seemed to make things worse. “I’m a woman!” You cried quietly, wiping your eyes again to try and clear them. “Why doesn’t anyone understand that? I’m a fully legal and consenting woman! I pay taxes!!” You laughed through a cry which caused Joel to chuckle above you. 

“We knew we were crossing a very strong line when we slept together last Friday, we knew it would cause issues but we did it anyway. And I’m glad we did… it’s just, I think I need to go home and think about this all. You should think too, if we decide to pursue this further it might mean your old man won’t speak to you again…” Joel spoke quietly and released you from his arms. 

“I —“ Your voice cracked and you took a deep, calming breath in to try to resume some composure. “I don’t need to think about this, Joel. I’ve wanted you for months, if not years, it’s actually kind of embarrassing. Sure, a lot of that lies in lust for you but I want you completely, I want to be yours. I- I want a future with you.” You mumbled the last part of your sentence. 

Joel cringed internally at your words; it made his heart swell at your kindness, your sincerity in wanting a future with him but he couldn’t help but cringe at the fact you would give everything up for him. He didn’t feel worthy of it. He felt like a complete screw up. 

“Peach,” his voice shook as you looked into his big, sad brown eyes. “You need your dad, he needs you, you know this. I can’t, I mean, I won’t let you throw that away on me.” He said sadly and slumped his back against the wall, creating some space between you both. 

“Joel,” you said sternly. “If my father can’t get over this, then that is on him. He should care more for my happiness than the awkwardness of the situation. I understand that it’s a difficult thing for him but on our one date we have been on, you treated me so much better than any guy my age. You’re a gentleman, you’ve been nothing short of that.” You finalised. 

“That’s sweet of you, baby girl. It is but, you need to be sure of this. It’ll get a whole lot more ugly before it gets better.” Joel sighed. 

You pinched at the bridge of your nose, closed your eyes and sighed frustratedly. “God, I just don’t understand why it effects him so much?! You’ve known me for years, you wouldn’t hurt me! Surely that’s better than some stupid fuck boy my age just looking for a quick fuck and chuck.” You grumbled and Joel couldn’t help but laugh. 

You shot a warning glare in his direction and he bit back another laugh. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He laughed and threw his hands up in surrender. “It’s just… You’re adorable when you’re grumpy. It’s not the time but, you’re just so cute.” He smiled. 

“Shut up.” You grumbled and rolled your eyes. “We need to get you cleaned up, I’m gonna text my boss and tell him I’m taking the day off. I’m a mess and I couldn’t think of anything worse than client calls today.” You stood from the floor and wiped your face with your hands. “Go get in the shower, I’ll grab a towel for you and bring it in.” You held your hand out for Joel to take, he took it gently and pulled himself to his feet. 

You didn’t release his hand, instead you reached up to cup the side of his face so you could place a chaste kiss to his lip, the faint metallic tang of blood lingered on your lips and you sighed softly. 

“Joel, for what it’s worth, I’m glad he found out about us. It’s taken the pressure off of it and now, we can work on winning him over.” You said softly and looked into his soft eyes, you could see the tiredness and sadness hiding in his deep irises. 

“I am too, peach. I’m sorry for how he shouted at you though, you don’t deserve that. Not now, not ever.” He concluded and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Come join me in the shower?” He asked with a boyish smile. 

“Give me five minutes to call my boss and I’ll be right there. Go warm the water up for me.” You smiled and pushed him towards the bathroom. 

That’s exactly what you did, you phoned your boss and explained you weren’t feeling great and needed the day off, thankfully, he didn’t ask too many questions and was pretty forgiving. Once that was taken care of, you grabbed a couple fresh towels from the laundry closet and headed to your bathroom; you smiled to yourself as you heard Joel hum lowly and saw steam spilling from the room. 

There he was, in all his rough perfection, all strong lines and a light frown settled into his features. He had his head tipped back into the hot stream of water and the hot water cascaded down his body like a river. Your breath caught in your throat slightly as you watched him and it hit you all at once, like a brick, you had such strong feelings for this man and finally, you were allowing yourself to feel them all at once. Your shoulder was leant up against the doorframe when Joel finally tilted his head back up and opened his eyes to see you watching him. 

“Didn’t realise you were such a peeping Tom, darlin’.” He huffed out a chuckle as he cleared the water from his face with his hands. 

“Just admiring you, s’all.” You smiled. “You’re pretty damned handsome, Joel Miller.” 

“And you,” he held a hand out to you, ushering you forward. “Peach, are the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Your heart fluttered at his words and once again, a blush settled high in your cheeks. He had such a physical effect on you with his tender words. You took a step towards the bathtub and smiled at him. 

“Are you trying to have sex with me again, Miller?” You asked with a soft smirk. 

“Maybe. Maybe not.” He shrugged. “But get in here with me anyway.” Joel grinned before holding his nose when the pain rippled through his face. 

You undressed from your pyjamas and stepped into the bathtub with Joel, he made room for you and allowed you to have the direct stream of water to flow over you. You sighed happily as the hot water washed away all the tension in your body. 

You held onto Joel’s arm tightly as you went onto your tiptoes to inspect his face further, your delicate fingers held his chin as you rotated his head to get a full view of his features. 

“Do you think it’s broken? Do I need to take you to the ER?” You asked worriedly. 

Joel shook his head. “Nah, not broken or anything darlin’, just really fucking sore. I’ve broken my nose before and it was a lot worse. It’ll be fine.” He dismissed with a weak smile. 

“I’m sorry,” you sighed and stroked Joel’s arm. 

He shook his head at you, “Please stop apologisin’, wasn’t your fault.”

You reached behind you and grabbed the shampoo off of the shelf in your shower. “Let me wash your hair.” You smiled at him and began to lather the fruit-scented liquid into his salt and pepper hair. 

Joel hummed in appreciation and dipped his head down so you had better access; your finger nails gently scratched at his scalp and he let out a soft groan. You smiled as you washed Joel’s hair, it felt so domesticated and natural. 

“Got a few new grey hairs here.” You teased as you took the shower head and directed the stream of water to his head. 

“Do not!” He grumbled which caused you to laugh again. 

You finished washing his hair and Joel switched your positions so he could return the favour, his rough fingers massaged your scalp before he let his fingers drop lower to massage your tense neck and shoulders. Your back was turned to the older male as his fingers worked the tight knots in your muscles loose. You hummed as your body relaxed further and Joel dipped his head down to pepper soft kisses to your neck. 

“You’re so beautiful.” Joel whispered as he kissed your neck and shoulder; you could feel his body pressed to yours, his cock hardening with each kiss he pressed to your soft skin. 

“Shut up.” You giggled affectionately; Joel nipped at your skin in response which caused you to yelp quietly. 

“Manners.” He reminded you as his hands worked their way down your body. 

His hands landed on your breasts, he gave the flesh of them a testing squeeze and let his fingers tweak your nipples softly. 

“God, I want you just as bad as the first time.” He hummed into your neck, his fingers twisting the delicate buds of your hardening nipples. 

You made a soft noise of appreciation, your ass pressed against Joel harder and you wiggled your hips for him. Joel’s hands slid down your torso before sliding behind you to cup your ass, he spread your cheeks and gripped at the flesh tightly, you leant forward slightly to give the male more access. 

He made a guttural noise behind you and let his cock slide between your folds which cause you to let out a breathy moan. 

“How about I take your mind off this mornin’, fuck the stress right out of your little cunt.” Joel whispered, his gruff voice almost being drowned out by the water running. 

You nodded meekly, your stomach knotting with the anticipation of being filled by the older male once again; it felt like no matter how many times you had him, you were always left wanting more. He was intoxicating, worse than any drug out there and it left you hungrier than the last time. 

Joel let out a low, breathy chuckle and passed his cock through your slick folds again. “Please.” You whispered and pressed yourself back, catching the tip of his cock. 

“Okay, pretty girl. No teasin’, not today.” He laughed, taking his length and pressing it to your needy hole. He pushed his hips forward roughly and bottomed out, you gasped out loudly and your hands fell flat onto the tiled walls of your bathroom. Joel held your ass and gave the delicate skin a soft slap, the sound of your wet skin echoed in the room. 

Joel groaned out as he pulled his hips back and snapped them forward once again. “You feel like heaven, wanna stay inside of you forever.” He mumbled, building up a quick pace. 

You moaned into your arm as Joel’s cock worked its way in and out of you, your fingers flexed weakly as they searched for something to grip onto for support. 

“How ‘bout you touch yourself whilst I fuck you?” Joel asked, his voice oozing with just enough condescension to drive you crazy. 

You nodded and let one of your shaky arms drop down your stomach and you let your fingers find your throbbing clit. As soon as your nimble fingers made contact with your sensitive clit, you moaned and clenched around Joel which only seemed to egg him on further. You circled your clit in time with Joel’s thrusts and it didn’t take long for your stomach to bubble with your impending orgasm. 

“G-gonna cum.” You stated, your chest heaving with your heavy breaths. “Please, please let me cum.” You whimpered, knowing Joel loved it when you asked him for permission. 

“Mmm, atta girl. Such a good girl for asking. Cum on my cock before I drain my balls into your tight little hole.” He groaned.

It’s all the permission you needed; Joel’s filthy words lingered in your mind as the obscene sounds of your wet pussy and your bodies slapping together filled the room. Your walls fluttered around the older male, your toes curled and you tried your hardest to keep your balance as the water poured around you. You screwed your eyes shut as you came around the male, his name falling from your wet parted lips. Stars fluttered behind your closed eyelids as you rode out your high, Joel still fucked into you with vigour. 

“Fill me up, please.” You whined to Joel as you clenched around him, the aftershocks of your orgasm still thrumming through your body. 

Joel was there, chasing his high like a crazed man. He held your hips tightly and kept his thrusts deep and quick as he worked himself to his finish. It only took a matter of seconds before he roughly grabbed one of your breasts and finished deep inside of you. You gasped as you felt the hot liquid spurt in you, spilling around Joel’s thick cock as he fucked himself through it. He groaned deeply in your ear and kept your body close to his; he had pulled you up so you were standing upright and his face was buried deeply into your neck. His lips brushed over your ear and his hot breath fanned across your skin, you shuddered as Joel finally pulled himself from within you. You already felt his semen leaking from your spent hole and you whined at the sensation. 

“I’m a ruined woman, you’ve ruined me, Joel Miller.” You laughed dryly, to which Joel kissed the top of your head with a breathy chuckle. 

—

Once you were cleaned up, you and Joel found yourselves cuddled on your sofa; he had claimed his hoodie back and had slipped his boxers back on, it was a look you quite appreciated as it meant you could stare at his muscular legs. 

You had a blanket wrapped around you, your legs draped over Joel’s lap as you faced the male. “I feel like we should properly speak about this morning… Now that everything has calmed down a little and I’m not crying anymore.” You mumbled, breaking the comfortable quietness in the room. Your tv was on in the background but the volume was low, you were entirely sure what Joel had put on but his attention shifted as soon as you spoke. 

“Yeah, we probably should. I think maybe you should reach out to your old man.” Joel said quietly. 

You opened your mouth to protest and he raised an eyebrow at you, causing the words to quickly die in your mouth. 

“I know. I know you were about to say that he’s the one in the wrong and he needs apologise and yeah, he does, darlin’. He was a nasty piece of work this morning, with the way he spoke to you but you did have sex with me, like we said this morning… we knew we were crossing a line and we let it happen again afterwards.” Joel continued, you listened and nodded slightly. 

“I just… I don’t know what to say to him, I know it was a shock this morning but like, he was a dick!” You protested, dropping your head back onto the arm of your sofa in frustration. 

“I think we need to be a little more understanding, sweet girl. Could you imagine if you walked in on your dad and one of your close friends?” Joel asked. 

“Gross!” You exclaimed with a fake gag. “I guess you’re right though… do you think I should try calling him? I think he would be on his lunch break now?”

“I think it’s a good idea, I could leave and give you some space, if you like?” Joel asked and looked you, your head was still dropped back and he squeezed your leg gently. 

“No!” You called out and lifted your head, your eyes filled with panic. “Please stay, I want you here incase he shouts or something again… I’ll probably cry.” You stated bluntly. 

“As long as you’re sure, peach.” He said softly and stroked the bare skin of your legs. 

You reached over to your coffee table and slid your phone off the edge, you contemplated it for a while before you unlocked your device and pressed your dad’s name to call him. You put it on speakerphone and placed your phone on your chest, your fingers toyed with the blanket as the dial-tones filled the room. 

“Dad,” you started as soon as he picked up. “Hi.” You said weakly. 

“Y/N.” You dad stated. “Is he there with you still?” 

“No,” you lied pathetically before shaking your head at Joel. “I mean, yes. He is, sorry I don’t know why I lied, I panicked.”

“I’ll call you later once he is gone then. I don’t want anything do with that man ever again and you shouldn’t either. Disgusting.” You dad hissed into the receiver, his voice was dropped low and you were thankful he wasn’t throwing Joel’s name around carelessly. You could hear the tiredness in his voice as well, like he was forcing the anger out.

“Daddy, please.” You begged, you rarely ever called your dad that anymore but you were desperate, you felt like a child seeking acceptance and validation again. “Please talk to us. Talk to me. I’m sorry for what happened this morning.” You spoke, your voice cracked part way through your sentence and you cleared your throat.

“Please don’t get upset, princess.” Your dad said softly, and for the first time today, you could hear the love in his voice. “I’m sorry for how I shouted at you this morning, my anger was directed in the wrong place and I’m sorry for what I called you. I’m ashamed of how I acted towards you this morning.”

“And towards Joel.” You said quietly. “Dad, you said it was for the best his daughter isn’t around anymore. Regardless of how upset you were, that was a disgusting cheap shot and I still can’t believe you said it.” You sighed sadly, replaying the scene in your head over and over. 

“I — uh, you’re right. I shouldn’t have said that to him, I’ve been thinking ‘bout it all morning. Is he okay? Are you okay? I’m really sorry you saw me punch him like that as well, I just… I feel like I should have protected you more, I feel like this happened because I let Joel into our lives.” Your dad mumbled. He kept his voice hushed as he whispered the older male’s name. 

“Dad…” you sighed again. “Joel’s not a bad man, he’s one of the best guy’s I know. I was the one who instigated this whole thing. So if you’re gonna blame anyone, please, please blame me. Joel’s not done anything wrong. I’m an adult.”

“I know you and maybe that’s why I reacted the way I did, it’s just. You’re all I have left and it’s not an excuse but I feel like you don’t need me anymore.” Your dad admitted and you heard the wobble in his voice. 

“Please come over to Joel’s tonight, we can all sit down and talk about this properly?” You pleaded. 

“Fine. I’ll be round about 7pm, okay?” Your dad concluded. 

“I love you so much, dad. Thank you.” You whispered. 

“Love you too, sweet pea.” He said softly before the line cut off. 

You let out a deep huff and your head dropped against the arm of sofa again, tears pricked your eyes and you rubbed them roughly to stop the tears from falling. 

“Proud of you.” Joel stated, his fingers rubbing your skin soothingly. “You did so well, you were mature and kind. Perfect manners.” He praised, teasing you about your manners. 

You let out a small laugh, sitting up so you could look at Joel again. His eyes were tired and soft, his fingers continued to soothe you and you sighed contentedly. 

“God, I’m dreading tonight already.” You winced and Joel nodded in agreement. “Gonna have to keep your dirty hands off me, Miller.” You teased, jabbing your toes into his side to tickle him; he grabbed your feet and tickled the bottom of them causing you to let out a squeal. 

“Gonna have to keep your hands off me, more like. Dirty girl.” He teased, still tickling you. 

— 

Joel and you spent the majority of your afternoon on your sofa, watching TV and cuddling up to have a couple of naps. You had got dressed into jeans and a comfy knitted jumper, Joel had pulled his clothes on from the previous night. 

“Stay with me tonight, once your dad is gone? Bring some clothes and stay with me?” Joel asked quietly, feeling nervous to ask you, for some reason. 

“Thought you’d never ask.” You teased with a grin before you grabbed your overnight bag and stuffed your essentials inside of it.

Joel drove you both over to his house, it was around 6pm and you felt your stomach flip with anxiety with every minute that passed. You drew the curtains in the living room, lit the fireplace and even lit a couple of candles that were scattered in the living room. They made you smile as the warm glow flicked in front of you; you had bought these for Joel for Christmas last year, you insisted he needed a feminine touch to his house, especially if he was ‘ever going to get a girlfriend’. You had always felt to bitterly anytime your father brought up that Joel should ‘get back out there and find someone’; looking back on it now, it made you laugh. If only you could have seen what was coming right round the corner for you both. 

“I think we should order Chinese.” Joel stated from the doorway of the living room, causing you to jump slightly. 

“Oh uh, yeah. Sounds good. Dad’s favourite, good tactic, Miller.” You smiled as you wandered over to where Joel was stood. 

“What were you doing in here?” Joel asked suspiciously. 

“Nothin’, just admiring those nice candles.” You teased and wrapped your arms around Joel’s waist so you were hugging his frame. 

“Oh yeah?” Joel asked, smirking. “Some girl got me them saying I needed a feminine touch in my house, or somethin’ like that.” He teased, wrapping his arms around your neck so he could hold you close. 

You hit his side affectionately and rolled your eyes at him, you leant back so you could see his features and he ducked his head down to catch your lips in a kiss. His hand immediately found your cheek, he cupped it tenderly as his lips moved against yours. You smiled into the kiss and swiped your tongue across Joel’s bottom lip silently asking for permission to deepen it. Joel obliged happily, allowing you access to explore his mouth further and he hummed in appreciation as your tongue met his own. You could taste mint on his hot breath as you kissed and you couldn’t stop the quiet moan that escaped your mouth as you kissed. It was a tender moment, his hand held you so softly as you kissed him deeply. 

Finally, you pulled away from the kiss to catch your breath momentarily and his kissed your lips softly once more. 

“You can’t be doing that to me, not when your dad could arrive any moment. We are trying to win him over, I don’t think he’ll be best pleased if he arrived and saw you with your tongue down my throat and my cock hard in my jeans, will he?” He asked with a raised eyebrow. 

You giggled and shrugged at Joel. “Not my problem if you get hard from me kissing you. Sounds like a you problem, Mr Miller.” You teased and kissed his cheek before leaving the room. 

Joel slapped your ass teasingly as you walked away and you yelped at him, pushing his hand away. You climbed onto one of the stools at his kitchen island and picked up your phone to look at the time. It was 6:40pm and you knew your dad would be arriving imminently. You absently chewed on the side of your thumb and scrolled through your phone to try and distract yourself momentarily. 

“It’ll be fine, peach.” Joel said soothingly, he kissed the top of your head. “I’m gonna have a quick smoke before he arrives.”

“It’ll be fine, Joel.” You mimicked, knowing the man only really smoked when he was drunk, stressed or nervous. 

“Shut up.” He laughed affectionately and grabbed his packet of smokes from near his kitchen door; he let himself out and lit one of his cigarettes. 

You looked at him and you couldn’t help but think back to the morning after it first happened, when you walked down and saw him in nearly the same position then. It was less than a week ago but it felt like a lifetime ago now, it felt as if so much had happened since then. 

You went back to your phone, you opened the camera roll and looked through the images you had taken with Joel last night; you giggled as you scrolled through the stupid faces you pulled. You thumb lingered over the screen as you stared at the image in front of you; it was the one where Joel was kissing your head, your eyes were closed peacefully and you saw the perfect side profile of the older man. It was an image of a seemingly normal couple, you almost didn’t recognise it. Your thumb hovered momentarily over the options before you pressed your screen a couple of times more to set the image as your wallpaper. You locked your phone and touched the screen to see the image illuminated there for you and you grinned at it. 

You were pulled from your phone as the back door, where Joel was, slid open and he stepped inside. He was about to ask if your dad had arrived yet but his words were cut short by the doorbell ringing through the house. You jumped down from the stool, smoothed your jumper and gave a shaky sigh to try and calm yourself. Joel held his hand out for you to take; which you did gratefully and he caught your lips for a quick kiss, just one last stolen moment of bliss before your dad broke it. 

Joel wrapped his arm around your waist protectively as you walked to the front door, he gave you a small squeeze as you opened it and saw your dad stood awkwardly, a pack of beer under one arm and a large bunch of flowers in his other hand. You knew he felt awful for this morning, part of you was glad he recognised his awful behaviour and the other part of you felt guilty for his guilt. 

“For you, sweet pea.” He said softly, pushing the bouquet into your direction you. You smelled the flowers and smiled at your dad, the bouquet contained different wildflowers and he had even made sure there were sweet peas throughout, as it was how he always addressed you. “And uh; Joel, these are for you. They’re the ones we always share.” Your dad said quietly, holding the beers out for him to take. 

Joel took them, ushered your dad inside and smiled at him. “Thank you, bud. Truly.”

“Come on through to the kitchen, dad. I’ll put these in a vase and I’ll get you both a drink.” You said sweetly, kissing your dad’s cheek before going through to the kitchen. 

You looked through Joel’s cupboards frustratedly, looking for anything resembling a vase. 

“You’re not gonna find one, peach. Do I look like the sorta guy that has flowers hanging around?” Joel laughed and you rolled your eyes. 

“Of course you don’t have a fuckin’ vase. A vase, something so simple.” You muttered, settling for a large glass and filling it with water so you could at least keep the flowers hydrated. “Gonna start buying you flowers so you have to get a vase.” You teased, sticking your tongue out at Joel. 

Your dad cleared his throat, feeling awkward as he stood by the kitchen island and you shot him an apologetic look. 

“Beers?” You asked enthusiastically as you tried to clear the air. 

“Beers.” The two men concluded at the same time which caused you to laugh. 

You fetched everyone a drink before you put the remaining beers back into the fridge for your dad and Joel to enjoy. 

“Cheers,” you announced. “To family and friendship.” You offered up, tilting your bottle towards your dad. 

“To love.” Your dad concluded and clinked his bottle to yours before gently tapping Joel’s too. 

“Joel, shall I order some food? Do you maybe wanna go through the living room with dad?” You encouraged to which Joel nodded. “Gonna order Chinese, old man, so I hope you brought your appetite.”

“Sounds perfect, thank you, sweet pea.” Your dad smiled weakly as he followed Joel out of the room. 

Joel sat himself down on his couch and motioned for your dad to take a seat, he did so in the arm chair across from the male. 

“I’m sorry.” They both spoke at the same time, your dad waved a hand in front of his face dismissively and shook his head. “No, Joel, I’m sorry. Y/N is an adult, I just didn’t want to admit that she may not need me anymore. What I said was out of order —“

Joel went to interrupt and your dad gave him a look that told him otherwise. “I was out of order, I shouldn’t have brought up Sarah. It wasn’t fair and it definitely wasn’t nice. I just — I hated the thought of you, of you touching my little girl. I just. It made me feel ill.” Your dad continued, pausing to take a swig of his drink with a grimace. “But it’s not just you… it’s the thought of anyone with my little girl that makes me feel ill, I just need to remember she’s an adult and well, at least she’s with someone I know and trust. Because I do, Joel, I still trust you; only now, I trust that you won’t hurt my girl.” He spoke, his voice was soft but stern. 

Joel nodded, his fingers toyed with the label of his beer bottle and he stared at it intently. “Bud, I wouldn’t hurt her. Not even for a second. And I’m sorry, I am for the way this has gone. I know I’m a lot older than her, and I know I’m your friend and I crossed a line there… I care so much about her, I’m truly lucky she wants to give an old guy like me a chance. I’m sorry.” He all but whispered, his voice shaking with nerves. 

“I know you are.” Your dad offered up, giving his knee a friendly pat. “I don’t love the idea of your relationship, and I would appreciate if you didn’t flaunt it in front of me, at least not whilst I adjust to it but I know you’re sorry, and I forgive you. I uh — I didn’t mean what I said about work this morning, you’re not fired. I couldn’t run this shit without you.” Your dad laughed dryly. “Take the rest of the week off, come back next Monday, once we have both had a bit of time to digest everything.”

“Thank you.” Joel breathed, relief flooding his body as he finally felt his muscles relax into the sofa. “Thank you so much, and for what it’s worth, peach is real’ sorry for how this all happened. I know she’s said it herself but she feels awful, much like I do.”

“I know. It’s messy but we will all get over it in time. Come here.” Your dad said, placing his beer bottle down and standing to bring Joel in for a hug; his hands patted Joel’s back as he held him there. “Sarah was the luckiest girl to have a dad like you, I know it. And my sweet pear will be lucky to have you as her partner, also.” Your dad forced the last part of his sentence out, the words didn’t flow with ease but he did mean them, somewhat. 

The rest of the evening was pleasant, you all sat around eating Chinese and listening to music; much like how your Friday evenings went. The tension had all but dissipated once you all sat down to eat and talk things through. 

It was late, you had placed your head into Joel’s lap and drifted off to sleep; your belly full of Chinese food and a low buzz of alcohol thrummed through your body. You were content and safe. 

Joel stroked through your hair with his fingers, his eyes so soft as he looked at you with adoration, your lashes splayed across your soft cheeks and he held your hand with his free one. 

“I’ll leave you guys to it.” Your dad announced, a little awkward. Joel was about to get up, to wake you up to say bye but your dad shook his head. “Let her sleep, I’ll send her a message tomorrow morning. Thank you for tonight, truly. I’m sorry for this morning. You’re a good guy, Joel Miller.” Your dad whispered, he patted Joel’s shoulder and Joel closed his eyes at your dad’s kind words of acceptance. He didn’t feel like a good guy, especially not after this morning but he was so thankful for your dad’s apology. 

Your dad left the house quietly and Joel looked down at the perfect sight of your snoozing in his lap. He gently pried you off to stand before he leant down to lift your sleeping body off of the sofa. He was gentle with you, being mindful to hold your body close as he walked you through the doorway to go upstairs.

“Hmm?” You hummed at the disturbance, your eyes barely fluttering open. 

“Taking you up to bed, sweet girl. Your dad just left, he’ll message you in the mornin’ he said.” Joel whispered, trying to keep you from waking up fully. 

“Oh.” You yawned before nuzzling your face into Joel’s neck, searching for warmth. “Hmm. I love you.” You mumbled incoherently, not really registering what had been said. 

Joel paused for a second, taking in your words, he bit back a smile and kissed your head. “My sweet girl, love you more.” He chuckled lowly, you made a small noise in your sleep and with that Joel laid you down on his bed. 

He took your jeans off of you and your jumper before redressing you in the pyjamas you had brought over. He stripped himself down to his boxers and climbed into the space next to you; he brought your sleeping frame closer and held you tightly as he let his own slumber pull him in. 

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Taglist Notes: If anyone wants tags removing for the last part, please let me know! Subsequently, if people want to be tagged in the last (?) part, also please let me know! Names strikedthrough are users that couldn’t be tagged properly, if I missed you, please know it isn’t intentional at all!!! <3

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[losingmymindtonight]

Whumptober: Unconscious

AN: Whumptober is just me seeing how quickly I can write something. It’s not quality, nor is it quantity, but it sure is fic. That’s about all I’ve got in me.

--

The alert went off just after 3:00 am.

Which was, as a general rule, not one of Tony’s favorite times to get alerts.

“Boss,” F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice startled him from his hyperfocus on the exposed circuitry in front of him, “I have detected strange anomalies in Peter Parker’s vitals.”

He looked up in surprise. “What time is it?”

“3:03 am.”

He blinked. “And why the fuck is the kid in the suit at 3:00 am? It’s a school night. His curfew is 11:00.”

“Mister Parker is not in the suit. My readings are coming from the biotech in his watch.”

Okay. That… that wasn’t exactly ideal.

“What are the anomalies?”

“Mister Parker’s heart rate is unusually elevated and his blood oxygen levels appear to be rapidly decreasing.”

Did the kid go on patrol without his suit? Tony was going to kill him. “Where is he?”

“In his bed.”

Wait, what?

“Are you… are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“What the fuck? F.R.I.D.A.Y., track his phone.”

There was a pause as the AI completed the request. Then,

“It appears to be on the table beside his bed, Boss.”

“Call him. Now.”

“Of course.”

The sound of the phone ringing filled the lab. Tony pushed away his project. He had more important things to worry about now.

The phone kept ringing.

And ringing.

And ringing.

Your call has been forwarded to an automated voice messaging system. Peter Parker is not available. At the tone, please record your message. When you finish recording you may hang up, or press 1 for more-

“Push the call through, FRI.”

“Yes, Boss.”

There was a brief rush of static, and then quiet.

If he listened really, really hard, he could just barely make out the sound of someone breathing.

“Peter?” The kid must be asleep (or unconscious), because there wasn’t any answer. He tried again, louder. “Peter!”

He heard the rustle of sheets, then a huff of confusion.

“Mis’er St’rk?”

“Thank god, you’re alive. You had me wondering there for a minute.”

“Huh? Where’re you?”

He blinked. “Try your phone, bud.”

“Wha’? Why’re you in my ph’ne?”

No, no, no, no, no. The spark of concern that had settled at the sound of the kid’s voice lit right back up, bright and sharp. This was a serious step above you-just-woke-me-up-and-I’m-still-half-asleep confusion. This was… that was something much, much worse.

“I-I’m not. I called you, Pete.”

“Called me?”

“Mhm. Are you alright? F.R.I.D.A.Y. says your vitals went wonky and you seem… a little out of it.”

There was a beat of silence.

“I don’ feel good.”

He sat up straighter on the bench, hands clenching with fear. He’d known something was wrong before, but hearing the kid admit it only gave purchase to the panic. “What do you mean?”

“Feel weird.”

“Define weird.”

“Dunno. Head hurts. Feel sick.”

Tony blinked. “FRI? Does he have a fever?”

“No, Boss. Although Mister Parker’s O2 levels are dropping low enough to be an imminent concern.”

He leapt to his feet. A little early morning trip to Queens wouldn’t kill him. Who needed sleep, anyway? “Pete? I’m coming over, okay? Can you get up and wake May?”

“Not here.”

“May isn’t there?”

“No. Graveyard shift.”

“Okay. Okay. That’s alright. I’m gonna come take care of you. Just keep talking to me.” The suit folded around him and F.R.I.D.A.Y. flipped the call to his heads up display without being prompted. “Do you feel like you’re gonna throw up?”

“Mhm.”

“If you need to, just do it. I’ll clean it up later.”

“M’kay.”

“Good boy.” He rushed out onto the roof and shot into the air. He was so hasty in his takeoff that he had to quickly correct his trajectory with his thrusters, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “Did you feel sick before you went to sleep?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Mhm.”

“Alright.” He muted himself and finally let the panic seep through his voice. “F.R.I.D.A.Y.? What the fuck is wrong with him? Is it the flu?”

“The flu does not usually involve such a rapid drop in oxygen levels.”

“Then what’s wrong with him?”

“My sources indicate-”

“Those sources better not be WebMD.”

“They are not.” If Tony didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought that F.R.I.D.A.Y. sounded offended. “As I was saying: my sources indicate that Mister Parker is likely suffering from a drug allergy. However, it is also possible that the symptoms are the precursor to an epileptic episode or a brain hemorrhage.”

“Why the fuck would he have a brain hemorrhage?”

“Considering Mister Parker’s age, state of health, and activity level, the most likely cause would be trauma. Until I can run a more in-depth scan, your best course of action would be to continue assessing his mental status.”

He switched his audio back on, nodding as if F.R.I.D.A.Y. needed his confirmation. “Hey, buddy. You still with me?”

“Mhm.”

“Good job. Hey, I have some questions to ask you, and it’s really important that you answer them honestly. I swear I won’t get mad.”

“M’kay.”

“Did you go on patrol earlier? Without the suit?”

“No.”

“Do you promise?”

“Mhm.”

“So no injuries I should know about?”

“No.”

“Did you take medicine before you went to sleep? Ibuprofen? Anything?”

“No.”

“Are you absolutely sure?”

“Mhm.”

“Alright. Have you ever had a seizure, Pete?”

“Wha’?” That question seemed to wake the kid up a bit. “No. Why?”

“I’m just checking. How do you feel?”

Peter seemed to contemplate that for a second.

“‘M... ‘M really tired, Mis’er Stark.”

“No. Nope. Stay awake, okay? I don’t know what's wrong with you yet.”

“Somethin’s wrong wi’ me?”

This is wrong. This is so, so wrong. “Yeah, buddy. You told me you didn’t feel good. Remember?”

“Mm. Oh, yeah. I really don’ feel good.”

“I know. I’m,” he glanced at the ETA F.R.I.D.A.Y. helpfully threw up on the screen, “I’m three minutes away from you. Hang on.”

“M’kay.”

There was something impossibly frightening about having something wrong with Peter and not knowing what. He’d had to get used to the idea of the kid getting hurt on patrol, rolling into the Tower clutching a bleeding wound or a broken bone. It was an uncomfortable truth, but one he’d learned to assimilate into his life.

But this… this was exponentially more frightening. This was something happening to Peter, not Spider-Man. He could sew up bullet wounds and cast broken bones. He couldn’t fix something he couldn’t even diagnose.

God, he hated being stuck in the dark.

“Can you tell me more about what’s wrong, kiddo?” Honestly, he didn’t really expect to learn anything useful. He was just trying to keep Peter as lucid as possible until he could get there. “What feels bad?”

“Head.”

“Your head hurts?”

“Mhm.”

He could see Peter’s apartment complex now. Every inch closer made his heart rate climb. “Anything else?”

“Dunno. ‘M just… tired.”

“Alright. Remember what I said, though, right? No sleeping.”

“No sleepin’.”

“That’s it. Good boy.” He landed on the fire escape outside Peter’s room with the discordant clatter of metal on metal. It was loud enough to be unwanted at 3:00 in the goddamn morning, but Tony couldn’t bring himself to care. “I’m here, bud.”

“Took a long time.”

Don’t I know it, kid.

He ended up climbing through the window into Peter’s room. There was a part of him that nearly went into the main entrance and took the elevator to the apartment (May had given him a spare key, so he could’ve just let himself in), but the half-panicked ball of worry in his chest convinced him otherwise.

“Pete?”

The lump on the bed shifted. “Mis’er Stark?”

He rushed to the kid’s side, metal-clad knees knocking into wooden floors as he knelt beside the low-slung mattress. “Hey, squirt. Told you I was coming.”

Suddenly, an alert, red and flashing and impossible to ignore, exploded onto his heads up display.

WARNING: DANGEROUS LEVELS OF CARBON MONOXIDE DETECTED DO NOT REMOVE HELMET INITIALIZING OXYGEN RESERVES OXYGEN RESERVES INITIALIZED

He froze in realization. 

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.?”

“Mister Parker’s symptoms match those of carbon monoxide poisoning, although it is notoriously difficult to diagnose without context. There is likely a leak somewhere in the building.”

“What do I-”

“It is advised to remove Mister Parker from the contaminated area and into fresh air as quickly as possible. I have notified emergency services. They should arrive within five minutes to assist the other residents.”

At some point during his hurried conversation with F.R.I.D.A.Y., Peter’s eyes had fallen shut. He didn’t move when Tony pressed his gauntlet against his shoulder. He shook him, first gently and then with more vigor, and the kid just stayed limp.

“Pete?” Nothing. Shit. “Alright. Don’t worry about it, kiddo, I’ve got it handled.” He tore Peter’s comforter away in a manner that definitely did not denote I’ve got it handled, but he supposed it didn’t really matter when Peter was unconscious. “I’m gonna pick you up now, okay? We’re going on a little trip.”

Peter offered no resistance when Tony scooped him up. And, fuck, the kid was heavy. Sometimes it was easy to forget that the kid was 5’8” of pure muscle.

Pure muscle that was now a complete deadweight.

Great.

He clambered onto the fire escape with a lot more grace than he’d really expected. Then again, he had the added motivation of not wanting to jostle the precious cargo cradled to his chestplate. As he went, he found himself babbling nonsensically to the kid.

“It’s all gonna be fine. I’m gonna take you back to the Tower and pump you full of oxygen. That’ll be nice, yeah? And I’ll call May, tell her that you can both bunk at the Tower until the leak gets solved. It’ll be great. You love sleepovers.”

Peter didn’t twitch during the flight back to the Tower, but F.R.I.D.A.Y. didn’t alert him to any worsening vitals, so he did his best to focus through it. He didn’t waste time taking the suit off when he landed on the roof, just headed straight for the MedBay.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” He called, skidding his way into one of the MedBay rooms. “What do I do? Why hasn’t he woken up yet?”

“He needs oxygen, Boss.”

He felt like screaming. “He’s getting oxygen.”

“Not enough.”

He deposited Peter onto the bed in a tangle of uncoordinated limbs. His lips were tinged with blue, just slightly, and the sight made Tony feel like he wasn’t getting enough oxygen himself.

“Sorry, sorry.” He winced in sympathy as the kid’s head lolled unnaturally against the plastic mattress. “I’ll make you comfy when you can breathe, kiddo, sorry…”

F.R.I.D.A.Y. chimed in before he could even process that he needed her help. “The oxygen tanks are located in the hallway supply closet, along with tubing and a mask.”

He jogged out the door and tore open the closet door. It only took him a few seconds to bundle everything he needed into his arms, but they felt like wasted moments all the same.

He’d helped set up a few oxygen tanks in the past, and it wasn’t necessarily difficult. Attaching the tubing was made slightly more complicated by the tremors running through his hands, but he pushed through it. 

“There ya go, buddy.” Relief rushed through him once the mask was snug over the kid’s face. “All better now. Or, at least, we’re on our way, yeah?”

The next few minutes dragged by. Tony resisted the urge to glue himself to the vital monitors. Instead, he forced himself to trust F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s judgement, and stuck right by Peter’s side, brushing his hair back and talking gently. He knew firsthand the adrenaline rush of waking up in a place different than the one you lost consciousness in, knew how terrifying and disorienting it was. He wanted Peter to have an anchor: something that he understood, even if he didn’t understand anything else.

“His oxygen stats are improving rapidly, Boss,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. offered after what felt like an eternity. “I estimate that he is likely to regain consciousness soon.”

Sure enough, Peter groaned a minute or two later, forehead wrinkling and he shifted weakly against the mattress. 

“Hey buddy,” he murmured, cupping Peter’s face and tilting his head so he’d be lined up perfectly in the kid’s vision when he opened his eyes. “C’mon. Look at me, yeah? Let me know you’re alive in there.”

Peter’s eyes snapped open. For a brief second, his entire body keyed up, muscles coiling, but then his gaze cleared and his pupils found the face hovering above him and Tony could see recognition shoot through his expression. He melted, then, a tiny smile quirking up the corner of his mouth.

“Morning,” Tony whispered. Peter just blinked up at him slowly, brow furrowed in confusion. “It’s alright. Just keep breathing, nice and slow.”

A sluggish hand fumbled up to the oxygen mask, but Tony caught it before he could pull it off. “Yeah, I know. Leave that be. It’s helping.”

“Patrol?” Peter slurred, and Tony had to strain to make out the word through the mask.

He shook his head. “Shh. Don’t worry about it right now, alright?”

To his surprise, Peter relented, eyes drifting closed again, any hint of lingering tension releasing from his expression. “M’kay.”

Tony let his head bow forward, shaky with relief. He felt like he’d spend the rest of his life chasing after Peter Parker, scooping him up and stitching him back together again.

“I’m really glad you’re alright, buddy,” he said, voice low and strained.

Peter didn’t answer, just turned his face sleepily into his palm, but Tony didn’t need to hear anything from the kid, anyway.

He knew.

[lovetorn]

all for the game [dream]

Exy player!Dream x Reader

summary: dream runs into trouble when the florida falcons play the edgar allan ravens.

w/c: 3.4k+ :D

warnings: violence, blood, swearing, ha typical exy shit

a/n: an au based on my favourite book trilogy, all for the game. idea by 🍀 anon <3 i wrote this for my own enjoyment AHHAHAAH. if u don’t understand the rules etc of exy, it’s basically hockey, soccer and lacrosse meshed together, but if u have any questions, send me an ask!

—

Exy is a bastard sport, an evolved sort of lacrosse with the violence of ice hockey. Dream loves every aspect of it. It is vastly different from the usual college football, and it certainly gives you more bruises. Maybe a little too many more bruises. Played in a stadium, on a soccer-sized basketball court with plexiglass to protect the crowd, it brings Dream immense joy.

Scooping the ball into the net of his racket, Dream looks at the wall before he uses his body to launch the ball towards it. The ball is quick to bounce back and plop into Dream’s net. He adjusts his grip on the stick and tilts his head, deciding where his next shot should be.

“Dream?” The dirty blonde turns around and sees you push through the plexiglass door that leads onto the court. “Hey!”

Dream smiles from under his helmet. “Hi, Y/n!” You don't play Exy, choosing to watch your best friend from the sidelines instead. He grips the grate of his helmet and slides his head out of it, his hair sticking up in every direction. “What are you doing here?”

You throw your arms up. “Coming to see you practice the great sport that is Exy,” You laugh before spinning around and looking up at the highest seats of the stadium. “Haven’t broken a bone yet, I assume?” This made Dream laugh.

“No, not yet. Saving that for the game against the Ravens.”

Dream’s determination for Exy scared you a little bit—it was almost like he wanted to get hurt. “Easy, tiger. We all know what happened last time we played them. Never again, please,” You shake your head, walking closer to him. The last time the Florida Falcons played the West Virginia Edgar Allan Ravens, Dream got a concussion so bad he couldn’t walk for a few days. You had sworn they would pay for their damage, but Dream went against you.

Dream rolls his eyes, lightheartedly. “That’s the way the game goes, Y/n. No way you can stop it,” he said that back then, too. You throw him a glare before taking the racket out of his hand to gain his full attention.

“Just, please be careful.” You practically beg. Dream’s eyebrows raise slightly, surprised. He didn’t see that coming.

“Yeah, always,” He follows your eyes as they trace the scar that runs from his temple to the middle of his forehead. You sigh and pass his racket back to him.

—

The dark purple Edgar Allan Ravens bus pulls into the Falcon’s home stadium car park that Friday night. Fans from all over the state and West Virginia crowd the entrances and surprisingly, there are a lot more supporters in purple and black than green and white.

Dream looks down at his forest green Exy uniform and smooths out his jersey. He rolls his neck in a circle to release the building tension. A hand clamps down on his shoulder as Dream slips his hands into his green and white gloves.

“You’re gonna be fine, dude. We all are,” Sapnap says, although Dream can hear the waver in his voice. Dream shakes his head and Sapnap inhales sharply.

“Nah, we won’t be.”

Sapnap slides his hand off of Dream’s shoulder and turns around, probably going to the bathroom to calm his crippling trepidation. The locker room is silent as the team moves around, changing and preparing themselves for the game ahead. Dream tries not to think about the team on the other side of the stadium, who are most likely already warming up despite the game starting in an hour.

Dream opens his locker and fumbles around for his phone. He needs to know that you’re here. Opening his messages, he’s frozen from the notifications coming through.

I hope your little friend prayed for you last night.

You got lucky with that concussion. Take this as a warning.

Dream’s fingertips trail up to hover above the scar on his forehead. He clenches his fist and throws his phone back into the locker, not flinching when the dark green metal dents. Dream leans his head against his forearm that rests on the locker.

“Dream! Dude, calm down,” A voice calls from across the room. Footsteps come up behind him and Dream has to stop the tears collecting on his waterline. “It’ll be fine, Coach said he might put you on for one half.”

George’s comments do nothing to soothe Dream’s anxiety. Dream has told nobody about the threats he’s been getting for a few days leading up to this game. If he told you, he wouldn’t even be here. You.

Dream ducks down to find his phone. George furrows his eyebrows as he watches. “Wha—?”

Grasping his phone, Dream then stalks out of the locker room. He walks down the hallway towards the inner court, presses your phone number on his now-smashed phone, and brings it to his ear. Pick up, pick up. “Dream?”

The sound of your voice makes Dream exhale deeply. “Where are you?” He asks desperately.

Dream can hear the crowd chattering through the phone as he scans over the stadium trying to find you.

“Uh, section 4, row 38, where I am every home game. Why? Is everything okay?” The worry in your voice is evident and it fails to calm Dream down like he thought it would. And when he sees waves of purple instead of green, his anxiety grows.

“I—Y/n. I need to see you, I don’t—I can’t,” Dream screws his eyes shut and tries to breathe through his nose slowly.

“Dream, I’m coming. I can see you in the inner court. Stay there.”

Y/n hangs up after that and Dream looks at his phone.

Scared? A text says from an unknown number.

Dream presses his tongue into the inside of his cheek and blinks a few times. A knock on the plexiglass behind him startles Dream. He turns and sees you smiling. He lifts his hand in a small wave and you do the same, laughing at him. At least he has a way to take his mind off of the shit with the Ravens.

A bell signals the start of the line-up announcements and Dream throws his thumb over his shoulder. You nod, understandingly, and blow him a kiss. Dream smiles shyly, his cheeks growing pink before he turns to leave.

You make your way back up to your seat, your legs bouncing in anticipation as the Ravens walk on the court one by one while the announcer calls the line-up. Once the Ravens are in a line on the halfway line, the Falcons are announced.

Since teams are co-ed, the variances in heights differ greatly. The Ravens are much taller than a majority of the Falcons, which gives them an advantage, to an extent. Dream had told you that being shorter allows you to move around the court with more agility, but being 6’2’’, Dream chose to be a striker instead of a dealer or a backliner.

“Number 2, Dream Tucker.”

At the sound of your best friend’s name, you stand and cheer, earning a few dirty looks from Ravens fans. As the remainder of the team is announced, you grow more nervous than you thought possible. A warning buzzer sounds and both teams go back to their benches.

“Alright, guys, this is our biggest game of the season, again. The last game against these idiots wasn’t ideal, but don’t let that deter you from doing your best tonight. That goes for you too, Dream," Coach looks towards Dream and he nods. Dream draws his bottom lip between his teeth from under his helmet and looks down at the ground. Sapnap’s hand slaps Dream's back in support and then the rest of the team is in agreement.

At his teammates’ words, Dream huffs. He can do this. The starting team goes onto the court, the doors closing behind them with a thump and then the scrape of a lock.

Dream sits on the bench next to Punz and Liliana. They hear the buzzer go off again and then watch as Sapnap flicks the ball into the air and slams it with his racket. There’s a distinctive crack as both teams race off their lines to find their preferred place on the court along with the players they need to mark. Three bodies crash into each other and the ball pops out on the other side, rolling silently.

At the sight of violence, the stadium roars. A Ravens backliner throws the ball and it hits the plexiglass in front of Dream who jumps in surprise. The ball is picked up off the floor by another Ravens player. He throws it to a girl who is running across the court and it lands perfectly into her net. Dream sees Tegan bodyslam the girl into the wall, the glass shuddering under their weight and Sapnap throws his hand up in a thumbs-up at Tegan, who smiles under her helmet.

The ball sails high in the air and players push and shove each other under it. As it comes down, George gets pushed to the floor, skidding to a stop a few feet away. The Ravens striker looks George dead in the eye and smirks as he catches the ball. He then tosses it powerfully towards the home court goal and the Falcons' goalie, Gabby, hits it up the court and away from herself. Dream, Punz and Liliana cheer from their spots on the subs bench.

“Nice one, Gabs! Falcons down the court!” Coach yells through the plexiglass.

Dream wears a smile when he turns back to look at you. You grin back, give him a thumbs-up, and nod. That’s when Dream knows he’s ready.

But, ten minutes into the game, the Ravens break the Falcons defensive line. The ball slips through the gap between Gabby’s torso and racket and lands in the back of the net, the siren above the goal going red and blaring a high-pitched sound. The Ravens don’t hug or cheer and return to their places on the court. Their fans, however, throw insults and middle fingers up at the Falcons while screaming and hollering.

“Fuck’s sake,” Dream mumbles. Punz slaps his pair of gloves against the bench and Liliana shakes her head.

The game went on like this for the rest of the half—the Ravens scoring 6 more goals, the Falcons scoring none. At half-time, Sapnap throws his helmet on the floor of the locker room.

“I fucking hate these guys,” He curses, pacing around the room. Coach sits on a chair, his elbows on his knees.

“We all do, but complaining about it isn’t going to help us win,’ Dream says. “Coach put me on.”

Coach looks at Dream for a moment. The tension in the room is thick and Dream knows he’s pushing his luck by asking. Nonetheless, Coach sighs before nodding stiffly.

“Dream goes on for Peter, Punz on for Drew, Liliana on for Tegan.”

And so it’s decided. Dream’s thumbs fly across his screen as he texts you. You pull your phone out of your pocket at the sound of your text tone and see the message. I’m on.

You smirk softly at it and message him back before you tuck your phone back into your pocket. The warning buzzer sounds and then both teams are back on the court: the Ravens with a whole new line-up and the Falcons with their three new subs.

Dream’s heart pounds in his chest, sending shuddery heat through every inch of his body. He holds his breath in anticipation for the serve, and then it starts. The Ravens are clearly a lot more experienced than the Falcons, but that doesn’t stop the team in green from giving everything they’ve got.

The ball hits the far wall and comes soaring back, thanks to the Ravens goalie. Dream jumps to catch it before it can fly over his head and it lands safely in the soft net of his striker racket. He looks around for opponents and takes 7 steps of his allowed 10, and passes it to George who is open further down the court. George catches the ball, then twists and passes the ball across to Punz. His mark collides with him a moment later and George goes sliding, his arm out with his racket to help him balance. Punz runs down the court, stops, then throws the ball to Liliana. His mark slams his racket down violently on Punz’s in retaliation. The backliner shakes his head in annoyance and continues running.

Dream is already near the goal by the time it gets to him again. He gets the ball and only has two steps to aim and shoot before a Ravens player crashes into him. Dream hits the ground so hard, he rolls. But, the crowd holds their breath as they watch the ball sail past the goalie and into the back of the net. The siren glows red and all Dream can hear is his ears ringing. Sapnap runs up to Dream and helps him up, congratulating him in the process. Dream looks around confused before realising he scored a goal. The entire team rushes towards him, cheering and laughing.

“Good job, Dream! Let’s do that again!” Coach yells. Dream’s surprised he can hear him over the crowd.

The game starts again with Falcons serve. The Falcons’ are fired up and back in the game, even if it is 6-1. And as soon as George throws Dream the ball, he dodges his mark and flies up the court, unguarded and ready to score again. The Ravens’ goalie isn’t prepared for Dream’s throw and misses the ball as it’s thrown at him, making the score 6-2. The crowd gets impossibly louder and Dream looks up into the sea of people to spot you. The smile on your face gives Dream newfound confidence and then everybody is back at their starting positions.

The Ravens are angry, there’s no doubt about that. Sapnap gives the striker a boyish smirk and a snide comment, which Dream can’t hear. He guesses it pisses them off because the second the ball is thrown from the Ravens dealer, the striker goes straight for Sapnap. The younger boy is thrown against the wall of the court and continues to spit insults at the Ravens player, despite his situation.

“Sapnap! Get out of there, bro!” Punz yells, collecting the ball from the ground and throwing it back to Gabby to hit up the court. Sapnap laughs and shakes his head, his lips still moving. Dream sees, out of the corner of his eye, the Ravens player drawing his fist back before punching Sapnap in the nose. The Falcons fans in the crowd start booing at the unnecessary violence and the referees unlock the doors to intervene. Dream meets Sapnap’s eye and raises his eyebrows when he sees Sapnap laughing, blood dripping into his mouth and coating his teeth. The referees pull the Ravens striker off of Sapnap and give him a red card for throwing the first punch. The Ravens fans boo and start swearing at the referees, but their cries are drowned out by the sound of the home crowd.

Due to the incident, the teams are to go back to their positions to start the serve again. Now that the Ravens are down a player, Dream knows the ways to get around them, especially when Sapnap is unguarded.

“Dream!” Sapnap calls when Dream catches the ball. He spins around a little too quickly, loses his balance slightly but throws the ball anyway. As he watches it fly across the court, Dream feels his entire body get crushed against the wall of the court. His head rebounds off the wall from the impact. There’s a heavy weight that pushes him into it more and he can’t breathe. Dream flails his arms, drops his racket, and attempts to push the Ravens player off of him. There’s no doubt that Dream hit his head again. He knows he did. A helmet can only do so much.

Dream can only hear ringing in his ears as he feels the Raven get pulled off—and it isn't the same ringing he heard when he scored the Falcons first goal. He tries to scramble to his feet before he crumples to the ground. Dream blinks a few times, disorientated, but still fails to gain a conscious mind. His eyes start to close when he feels his helmet being tugged off and then someone’s slapping his cheeks. “Stay awake, Dream.”

Dream can barely hear the sound of someone slamming their fists against the plexiglass behind him and then the person in front of him nods. He thinks it’s Sapnap. “Come on, bro, it’s only a few steps and then you can lie down.”

Dream’s head lols to the side, eyes half-open and a lazy grin on his mouth. “Sappy,” he slurs. Sapnap lets out a laugh for the first time since his best friend got knocked out and smiles at him.

“Yeah, dude, it’s me. We’re gonna get you fixed up, okay?” Dream nods before he closes his eyes. “No, no, Coach!” The world fades out around him and Dream falls unconscious.

—

The light is so bright above him. Dream closes his eyes again after he opens them and groans softly. The sound is almost too quiet for you to hear, but you do. And when you do, you lift your head from where you were resting on the edge of his bed. The chair you are sitting in is uncomfortable, so when you stand up, your muscles ache. “Hey, baby, how do you feel?”

If Dream was fully conscious, he would have blushed immensely at the sound of the pet name, but for the moment, he feels like he’s in a dream. His mouth is dry and he struggles to keep his eyes open for longer than 3 seconds. “You don’t have to talk, it’s okay.”

Dream feels pressure on his hand and moves his head slightly to see that your fingers are wrapped around his. You hear him murmur something, and lean down.

“Hi,” He whispers. You furrow your eyebrows at his greeting and look him in the eyes.

“That’s all I get? Hi?” You let out a breathy laugh and use your other hand to brush his hair away from his forehead. But, Dream can’t feel you on his skin. He hesitantly lifts his other hand to touch his forehead and feels a bandage.

“Surprise! Another scar,” You joke. Although, Dream can hear the edge to your words. Your smile disappears from your lips and then you sigh. Your eyes scan over Dream’s face, noting the dull green of his eyes and the pale of his skin. “Oh, Dream. I was so worried about you.”

Dream opens his eyes from when they had fallen closed again and sees the silent tears dripping down your cheeks. “It’s okay, I’m here, I’m fine,” His voice is scratchy and the sound of the word ‘fine’ does not sound fine. You smile sadly at him, then huff, wiping at your face.

“I almost forgot…” You trail off, rounding the bed to the other side to pick up a bowl and a cotton ball. You sit on the edge of the bed and dip the cotton into the antiseptic. You turn Dream’s head slowly to get a better look at the cut on his cheek. You drag the medicine over the gash and watch as Dream doesn’t flinch.

Once you are done, you place both of the things on the side table of the medical bay in the Falcons home stadium and look at Dream. He gives you a lazy smile and his fingers twitch against yours. “Thank you.”

You nod, eyes wide. “Of course, you know I’ll always be here to clean you up.”

Dream can feel his skin heating up. You get a concerned look on your face when you see the rise in pink on his cheeks. “Oh my god, are you heating up? Do you have a fever?”

He wants to laugh so badly. “Y/n, I’m okay. It’s not a fever. I’m blushing,” Dream says bashfully.

You realise why and then grow embarrassed. “Oh.”

The air isn’t tense, but there’s something there and you want to stick around to find out what it is.

Feedback is always appreciated xx

[ibuproffie]

snr szn ~ advice for high school seniors

it’s not gonna be perfect, and that’s ok. high school movies tell us that senior year is this amazing time in your life where you have all these formative experiences that shape the course of your destiny or something, but in my experience this is not really the case. my senior year was somehow both excruciatingly slow and very fast, and it had ups and downs just like any other school year. so if your senior year isn’t a wonderful collection of instagrammable moments, don’t worry. everyone else is finding “senior season” a little underwhelming too, even the people who seem to be having the most fun. quite frankly, you shouldn’t want your senior year of high school to be the best year of your life. 

college apps are important, but you don’t have to kill yourself over them. i know, i can say this because i just finished them, but it’s so true. applying to college is a horrible, tedious process that i’m going to attempt to break down in another masterpost. i went to a high school where people were fucking obsessed with getting into college, and it was sort of horrifying to watch people self-destruct over the process. even i (and i consider myself a fairly private, non-competitive, even-keeled person) went a little nuts towards the end. i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again, there is no reason on god’s green earth to apply to twenty or more schools. it’s expensive (most application fees are 60+ USD), time-consuming, and stressful. the only reason i can even see why you might be doing this is if you qualify for a bunch of application fee waivers, but even then, it’s just stupid. most colleges make you write secondary essays in addition to the common or coalition app essay, and that doesn’t even factor in scholarship applications, interview prep, and keeping up with school on top of everything. the best thing you can do for yourself is pick around ten-ish schools that you’re actually serious about attending and skip the hassle. you will get into at least one college if you apply smart. trust me. the people i know who went ham with applications were miserable all the time (even the smartest ones) and most of them didn’t even get into their top choice schools. when you’re churning out 3+ essays every month, it follows that they’re not all gonna be winners. additionally, know that life will go on even if you don’t get into harvard. relax. you have an entire life ahead of you. even if it doesn’t work out exactly how you planned, good things take time, ya feel? 

you’re still valid even if you don’t participate in every “senior activity” possible. “but it’s your last pep rally!!” “you HAVE to go to prom!!” “let’s go to every football game this season!!”  no. just no. you’re really not gonna remember a lot of this stuff. if large crowds of ppl aren’t your thing, if you’re stressed or tired, if you don’t have the money (a lot of these “senior only” activities are EXPENSIVE expensive or at least they were at my school), or if you just have no interest in homecoming or whatever, IT’S FINE. you don’t have to justify this stuff to other people. i let ppl guilt trip me into doing a bunch of shit for our “last high school memories” or whatever and uhhh i didn’t always have a good time. for one thing, i’ve never had a shit ton of school spirit or whatever and two, being around crowds of ppl is pretty draining for me. the only “senior activity” i actually enjoyed was prom, but i knew ppl who skipped out on that and ya know what? i think they were ok. i never bought a yearbook. it’s fine. you should shape your senior year around what’s mentally/financially safe for you + and what you’re actually interested in, not what people expect you to do.

you don’t really have to do extracurricular activities this year, so don’t do anything you’re not truly passionate about. i stopped doing a lot of stuff like model un and science olympiad this year because i just wasn’t interested in them anymore. and i don’t regret it. to be blunt, you already have the lines on your resume filled by those activities if you’ve done them for a long time. so if you’re not feelin’ it, don’t waste your time. just do the things you wanna do. i did a lot of theater stuff last year and had a great time. it was super rewarding and i had a pretty good time with my castmates, and i was glad i had done that instead of more “academic” activities like scioly. 

it’s ok to be unsure about your plans for the future. for some reason, this is the year, every adult in your life is gonna be like, “wHaT’s Ur MaJoR???” and “wHaT jOb Do YoU wAnNa HaVe wHeN u GrOw uP??” as a result, you can start to feel a lot of pressure around having an answer prepared, and if you are on the fence about what you wanna do with your life, you can feel like other ppl have their shit together a lot more and that you’re aimless and stupid. trust me, you’re not, though. i personally think it’s unfair that we expect 18 y/os, who in many ways are still kids, to have their whole life planned out. a lot is still liable to change even after high school, and I think you’ll be remiss if you don’t allow your dreams and ambitions to change with it. if you’re truly unsure about your plans but you know you’re going to college, i’d recommend making sure none of the places you’re applying to are going to lock you down in a major when you set foot on campus. i have friends who are going to large universities who have already basically declared a major, which to me seems like an odd system. if 4-yr college isn’t in the cards for you for whatever reason, try taking a year off, getting a job, or community college. a lot of ppl i know look down on ccs, but to my knowledge, community college can be a great start to figuring out what you wanna do with your life. you have time. don’t rush it.

getting sick of your school friends is normal. it sounds mean, but in my experience, it’s true. i mean you’ve gone to school with these people for 4 or more years now, and you’ve changed a lot. and that doesn’t mean you don’t like them and wish them well, but there can be days where you’re like “omg pls stop talking to me rn!!” especially in that lull after application season. don’t be mean to anyone ofc, but realize that feeling exasperated with your peers is just part of the process, and you’re not a bad person for wanting a little bit of space. in my experience, unless the issue is w regards to toxicity or people being generally shitty, ppl will be able to connect w each other much more normally after school is over. 

you will get senioritis to some degree, but you have to push through it. it must be great to be one of those people who literally never stops working. but for the vast majority of us, some kind of senioritis will slap us in the ass after applications are done. you will have no motivation to do coursework but! remember that coursework needs to be completed! to be completely honest, once you’ve been accepted to college, you really only need to maintain a C average to not get rescinded, and i knew plenty of people who screwed around more than i did and they didn’t get their admission rescinded. but like, you don’t want to be one of those people who somehow fails a class because you don’t “feel like” doing the homework. you need to graduate, you need to hold onto your scholarship, and you need to maintain your accepted status. quite honestly, you need to kick ur own ass and make yourself work, whether that’s by turning down invites to hang out, or putting your phone in a different room. also, don’t be that person who’s playing iphone games in every class. your teachers will think you’re an asshole, and that’s really not the move. 

you don’t have to take everyone’s advice. this is the year everyone wants to be an expert on adulting, whether that’s your peers or parents’ colleagues or school counselors. in the end, your are the only one who can decide what’s right for you based on your financial situation and what you are comfortable with. i’m not saying “don’t take anyone’s advice”, because i truly believe there are some people out there who have the means to help you succeed. but i think you should pick and choose because you’re about to be fed a deluge of information that may or may not be useful or relevant to what you want to do. for example, people told me that i was limiting myself by not applying to any ivy league schools or very many competitive universities, or that i should lie about my race on my application (!!) because of the bias against ppl of asian descent in college admissions (note: i actually wrote about my heritage in my common app essay so it wasn’t like it was some secret lmao), which were uhhh not helpful. do what feels right and don’t feel the need to humor ppl who don’t have your best interests at heart. 

don’t compare yourself with other ppl. it’s natural to be a little jealous of peers who snag acceptances to prestigious colleges on full-tuition scholarships or land dream jobs/gap-year programs right out of high school. it’s a bit of an ugly feeling, but i’m not gonna sit here and say i didn’t wish i was one of those people at a point. that’s disingenuous in the extreme. it’s ok to be disappointed if everything doesn’t all work out, but at a certain point you need to accept what’s happening to you and make the very damn best of it. wallowing in self-pity just because your classmates are succeeding is just stupid. also, recognize that everyone’s ability to achieve their post-hs goals is wildly different based on their own circumstances. if you are less financially able to pay for college, for example, your opportunities are more limited than someone with a six-figure college fund. it’s quite frankly naive to assume that everyone shares your experience. be happy for people who do well. be happy for people who are proud of themselves. don’t try to take other people down because you’re feeling bitter. i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again-other people’s success is not your failure. 

take time to do some much needed self care. senior year can be hectic, and it’s important to disengage from stressful situations. take a walk. watch a movie with your friends. take a long shower. don’t think you have to be “productive” all the time. you won’t be, and that’s ok. 

[teresaneele]

Summary: You and Roger have been together for a while now. During a press tour for Bohemian Rhapsody, the comments about your relationship get a bit too much for Roger. Word Count: 1974 Warnings: Smut, age gap A/N: I wrote this fic for @queens-n-roses​ writing challenge. It was inspired by the song “Church” by Fall Out Boy and an interview where Roger stated how he used to look great but doesn’t anymore. Thanks for reading! Feedback and reblogs would be lovely!

After you have dried yourself you decide to only put on a gown and don’t bother about stuff like underwear. “Los Angeles,“ you murmur as if to remind yourself where the hotel you stayed in is located. The last few weeks have let you slowly lose track about basic things like places and time. The Oscar ceremony coming closer and closer, the press tour has gotten wild again. Roger and you had met on the set of Bohemian Rhapsody. The young, aspiring make up artist that you were as well as the Queen fan you had been ever since your parents introduced you to them in your youth, it had felt like a dream coming true when you got the chance to contribute a little bit to the film. You hadn’t even hoped to get the chance to talk to Roger and Brian or any of the actors, let alone Roger bringing you dinner out of the blue. But that had been exactly what had happened. The two of you had been together for almost half a year now, after denying dating at all. When in last August you had stayed with him for two weeks and Brian couldn’t hold back a comment about your definition of the word “platonic“ any longer, you had to admit that yes – you were indeed dating.

You open the bathroom door to find Roger sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing a blue button down shirt and white trousers. Normally the sight would have made you happy, but him scrolling on his phone with a serious look on his face does the opposite of it. “What are you reading about?“ You ask as you walk closer to him. - “How disgusting our relationship appearently still is,“ he replies, not looking away from the screen. “Roger, not this again, come on. We’ve had this before.“ It’s true, you did. Forty-five years age difference were more than enough to make people talk. It’s a miracle to you why they still wouldn’t shut up, but then again, it’s the internet. And being mean is what people do online. “Why are you even reading this?“ You ask. “Who cares what other people think of us? It’s not like it’s their business anyway.“ As if he couldn’t hear you, he asks, “Do you sometimes think they are right?“ - “I don’t,“ you say sharply. “How can you even ask this? Aren’t you happy to be with me? What’s the matter?“ Roger snorts as a reply. “It’s the best damn thing that could have ever happened to me. Finding the love of my life at almost seventy? That’s incredible.“ - “Good.“ Your voice sounds cool. “Then ‘disgusting’ is indeed not the right word to describe our relationship.“ Eyes still fixed on the phone screen, Roger bites his lips, before he opens his mouth again. “It’s still egoistical of me to be with you,“ he begins. “You are so much younger and have your whole life ahead of you. I will never be able to see you growing old. On the other hand all you will ever see from me is exactly that. Being already old and then-“ - “That is enough,“ you interrupt him. “Look at me, Roger, please,“ you tell him, and he does. “I’m sorry, but I am really sick of this conversation. I chose you and I love you and I want to be together with you and that’s all that matters.“ He smiles at you, but his eyes show sadness and happiness at the same time. You decide to try to loosen up the mood. “Besides…who else can say that they are dating their first ever celebrity crush, huh?“ You ask. To your disappointment, Roger looks back on his phone and says, “I can understand why I was your celebrity crush back then. But now, I’m nothing more than an old man, so I really don’t get it.“ “Roger, can I ask you a question?“ - “Anything, babe.“ “Do you take a look in the mirror from time to time?“ That makes him look up again. “What kind of question is that?“ “A serious one, because if you would have, you would have noticed your unfairly blue eyes, your charming smile, your-“ “I do look in the mirror from time to time and what I see is still an old man-“ he starts to talk louder to drown your sighing, “who is not deserving of you.“ “You are exhausting, but all I see when I look at you, is the most beautiful man on the whole planet,“ you begin and you have to hold yourself back from getting slightly angry at him. “You have been back then when you were my celebrity crush, you continued to be it when you became my real life crush and you still are now that you are not only the most important person to me but also the man I am with.“

 You look down when he starts to fumble with the seam of your gown and while the view somehow calms you, it’s not left unnoticed to you that his phone is still stuck between his fingers. “Maybe we can agree on the part where I also see the luckiest man who has ever lived, whenever I look in the mirror,“ Roger suggests. “Because deserving or not – I’ve got you.“ “You really do,“ you say, bend down, put your hands on his cheek and give him a soft kiss on the lips. Standing up straight again, you stroke his face and repeat, “You’ve got me. And I belong to you. All this-“ you move your hands to your gown to open it and let it fall down on the floor, “belongs to you.“ It makes Roger finally toss his phone aside. “Screw them,“ he mumbles. “I would never let them take this away from me.“ - “That’s more like it,“ you say and grin when you see the bulge that has already began to form in his trousers. You kneel down between his legs and don’t object when he starts kissing you as soon as your face is reachable for him. Your lips barely part, but when they do to catch some breath, you use the time to tell him how beautiful he is, all while unbuttoning his shirt. When you have finally opened it, you break the kiss completely.  “All of this is so, so beautiful,“ you whisper and let your hands wander over his chest. You continue your movement, while Roger uses his own hands to fumble around with your hair.  “And so is this,“ you say as soon as your hands reach the end of their travelling and you put them right on the obvious arousal that has grown even more.  “It’s getting a bit tight, isn’t it?“ You observe, your voice sounding as innocent as it’s possible for you. Not waiting for an actual response, you continue, “If only something could be done about that.“  As always when the joke is actually on him, Roger’s patience doesn’t last long. He gets his right hand out of your hair to push away yours and unzips his trousers.  “Now do something about it,“ he commands, his voice even raspier than usual.  - “Wow, somebody is in a hurry,“ you note, but you obey his order. You pull down his pants and underwear at the same time and Roger slips out of them, leaving your little remark uncommented. Without losing any more time, you take him into your mouth and start to suck as hard as you can. Going fully in immediately has exactly the effect you hoped it would have – you can’t help but smile when Roger moans in surprise and slaps the mattress with his free hand. You lift your own, left one up to put it on top of his, while your right one finds the way between your legs.  “You really think I’m beautiful, don’t you?“ Roger asks softly.  An “u-huh“ is the only answer you give to him, before you fall quiet again.

It stays a while like this – you simultaneously rubbing over his hand with your thumb as well as over yourself with your fingers, all while listening to his breath changing together with the pace of your mouth. Until you suddenly take it away and stand up, still holding his hand in yours. His breath had stopped for a moment when you did let go and now he eyes you with a confused but also curious look on his face. You slowly move your hand with his in it closer to your body and finally guide his fingers inside of you. “This is how beautiful I think you are,“ you say. “Is this proof enough for you?“ Roger’s eyes move from your body up to your face. “I am not sure,“ he replies, pulling back away from your inside. Putting both of his hands now onto your hips, he turns you around and places you on top of him. “Let’s find out,“ he says. The grip around your hip tightens when he presses his fingers into your skin. A silent order; but you understand and follow it as you let yourself sink down onto him. It’s surely not the first time for the two of you, but the sensation of him entering you always makes you whimper. You hear a soft chuckle coming out of his mouth as he brushes aside your hair over your shoulder and presses kisses on your neck. However – the chuckle is quickly replaced by little moans when you start moving your hips. You join him in this when his hands find the way up to your breasts. Despite the conversation you have had before, Roger is still a confident man, and feeling how you’re growing weaker and weaker under his touches, seem to make the last of his insecurities disapper. “So, who was your first crush?“ He asks. - “You were.“ “And who is your crush now?“ - “You are,“ you sigh. “That’s it,“ he says. “And you belong to me?“ The only response you give him is a short nod, but right in the moment you move your head you already know that it’s not going to satisfy him. “I can’t hear you,“ he tells you with his right hand leaving your breast and pulling at your hair lightly. - “I do,“ you manage to press out. “Good.“ He releases your hair and places the hand on your thigh instead. “I’m gonna make you come now and then I’ll follow you. Is that alright with you?“ - “Yes,“ you reply. It’s all you bring out and it sounds like begging. It’s obviously enough for Roger, whose hand moves between your legs and finally touches you there. “Say my name,“ he demands. And you do, or at least you try to; because when he finally brings you over the edge and you feel and hear him following you, all what’s leaving your lips are incomprehensible whines. 

Roger lets himself fall on his back and drags you with him. As soon as you have recovered from your high, you turn around so that your eyes can meet his. He lays his hands on the sides of your face and gives you a short kiss on the nose, making you smile. “I love you,“ he says. - “I love you,“ you reply. “And I want you. You do believe me now, don’t you?“

The question provokes exactly the reaction you had hoped it would. Roger rolls both of you around on the bed, so that he’s lying on top of you. “I still don’t really know.“ He tilts his head. “Maybe I need to be convinced a bit more,“ he says and starts kissing you.

[hitchfender]

@wishforwishes and i were discussing this ages ago, and i’ve finally worked up the courage to do my official ranking of 1989 (deluxe). without further ado:

1. out of the woods 2. style 3. you are in love 4. welcome to new york 5. shake it off 6. blank space 7. wonderland 8. wildest dreams 9. this love 10. how you get the girl 11. i wish you would 12. i know places 13. all you had to do was stay 14. new romantics 15. clean 16. bad blood

to complete this list, i listened to the album in order and wrote a paragraph with my impressions of each track; then i went back and ranked them. i worked very hard on it, and it turned out very long, so it’s all under a read more! please send opinions and reactions ❤️ love u

welcome to new york - honestly, this song is just so fun. the beat drops smooth and satisfying, and when she yells “new york!” just before the bridge it feels like a shout of freedom. the track is lyrically thin, but that doesn’t mean the lyrics are bad, and i think taylor communicated everything she wanted to with them; this first song invites us into the album, and sets us up for a pop-flavoured story of “real love that drives you crazy.”

blank space - this is taylor at her most sardonic and self-aware, tongue firmly planted in her cheek as she sings about bad boys and loving the game. some of her imagery falls flat, and that repetitive drumbeat grates after a few verses, but man, that tongue click was a stroke of genius: bringing the listeners into her world with insolence and irony.

style - this guitar knocks me off my feet every time. here’s where she makes her 80s influences most keenly felt, and where she brings that imagery she’s so famous for to the foreground. she paints her experience with a combination of broad strokes and achingly specific detail, and when it’s over you feel drained and renewed, like at the end of a long drive through beautiful, dangerous terrain.

out of the woods - i don’t know what to say about this one that i haven’t already said, so here it is again. reading the lyrics this song feels almost manic, the chorus losing its meaning and becoming a frenetic howl, the stories she’s telling disassociated and too-sharp, like shards of memories. once you get to the bridge, it starts to sound that way, too - she switches from the more complicitous “we” to an accusatory “you,” and she starts making demands - yet even in this moment of fear and anger there’s tenderness: a sunrise and shared tears. when she seizes her agency with that “oh, i remember” i feel some primal emotion lodge itself like a bullet in my chest.

all you had to do was stay - although i like the way she transitions from vindictive to tender and back again (“you were all i wanted / but not like this / not like this”), the lyrics feel a bit repetitive and the upbeat mood detracts from the meaning she’s trying to express.

shake it off - RIGHTS for these trumpets. and the giggle. some of the vocabulary feels a little forced (hella good hair?), and the production is oddly gapped - there are breaks in the ambient sound that force you to focus on her singing, but this isn’t her best vocal work... but, like, i think i’m concentrating on the wrong thing here. this is a song about letting go of the hate, literally intended for you to lose your mind to in your room at 3 am. i can’t fault the concept.

i wish you would - this start sounds a lot like the opening of style, actually, and these spaced-out electronic drums are straight off ootw. fascinating. moving on: this sounds like a diary entry, which is extremely taylor, but it makes the song come off a bit disconnected. love that line about “a crooked love in a straight line down,” but by the end i’m left with no distinct emotional impression. also literally forgot about it when i was trying to rank the songs.

bad blood - (i know it’s not on the album but i can’t not critique the kendrick verses. “pov of you and me, similar iraq”: L. i like the nod to backstreet freestyle tho.) anyway i feel like i would be more fuck-feminism about this whole thing if it slapped harder, but as it is i’m falling asleep a bit. album version especially. sorry ms swift!

wildest dreams - that’s more fucking like it. this is probably in my top 10 of her songs, from any album. every line of this! the imagery! the dreamy vibes! the way the bridge hits and she lets loose all of that fierceness she’s been holding back (”burn it down”)! i love how the sunset line parallels her own red and rosy makeup, and the dreamy feeling that conveys. also one time i had sex to this song and it was exactly as transcendent as you’d imagine, so.

how you get the girl - i’ll admit i’m not a massive fan of taylor’s favoured “ah” exclamations, but i’ll let em slide because this song goes off. hygtg accomplishes what ayhtdws set out to do: contrasting message and tone with just the right amount of attitude. i love the narrative in this one, too - she tells a clear story with subtle changes to the verses and the chorus. also the sudden vulnerability in her voice when she sings “i don’t want you to go” is like a shock of cold water. masterful.

this love - i can never decide how i feel about this track. the chorus looks almost ridiculous on paper - “this love is good / this love is bad”, seriously? - but god, she sells it, and just like in ootw the ohhs help to create that dreamlike atmosphere. the water metaphors mirror the seagulls on the album cover, by the way, which: mind.

i know places - right off the bat this piano and the way the drums come in late remind me of kanye’s “runaway” - a mirrored version of it, maybe. "runaway” is a warning - he’s laying himself bare, telling his lover he doesn’t plan on changing, exhorting her to run while she can. taylor’s version is a statement of fierce intent: it’s about isolating yourself from the world, making the almost violent choice to remain with your lover despite everything else. they’re songs about escape, but not escapism. anyway i like this song because it’s about harry styles.

clean - this one is boring somehow. like i get it, water metaphors, but the ah-ahs are getting on my nerves again and “hung my head as i lost the war” seems a bit self-consciously understated. maybe i just haven’t felt the specific feeling she’s writing about yet, but until i do this one will remain low on my list.

wonderland - she’s trying to get across this fierce “us against the world” thing, but there’s not enough of taylor’s specialty: those razor-sharp details that make her music feel both universal and infinitely personal. wonderland is all vague allusions to green eyes and getting lost together, full of sound and fury but not signifying much. i am into the i-am-a-woman-and-i-am-fucking-crazy thing, but i need a bit more from her.

you are in love - am i strong enough for this? we’ll see. this track’s got it all -lyrics clean as anything from her earlier discography, backed by those synths that are 80s without feeling like pastiche. i’m obsessed with the dynamics; her choice to use or remove the backing vocals emphasises her own voice, brings out its flaws and makes the song (though it’s quite production-heavy) feel raw. she makes use of her favourite trick, little snatches of memories creating a pointillist picture, but the most affecting line comes (as with so many of her best songs) in the bridge: “you understand now ... why i’ve spent my whole life trying to put it into words.” it’s the only time she mentions herself on this self-effacing track, and the effect is immediate and startling - suddenly we’re in taylor’s shoes, watching a beautiful relationship unfold from the outside, and after a full album of songs about a fragile, doomed love affair, that line lends “you are in love” new depth.

new romantics - i have whiplash but WE’RE ALL BORED! taylor once again proves she’s never read the scarlet letter. come to think of it, a whole lot of these lyrics don’t make sense, so... yup, just googled and max martin and shellback cowrote this one. side effect: it sounds great, and the words are secondary. the old taylor pops out on the bridge to remind us of her broken-heart fantasies (“please leave me stranded”), but it sounds more like parody than ever - maybe that’s growth? a bit like blank space, this track is glaringly self-aware, like she’s daring her critics to condemn her for the foibles she already knows about, and delights in. i don’t hold it against her. god knows she’s earned a little indulgence.

tagging @roseringharrie @complicatedbabyhoneyfreak @faithmp3 @carefisher @dyketaylorswift @harrysdimples @rainbowfragrance13 (hi and welcome!) @harrystylesep @winoharry @archer-wilde @haaaaaaarrry because at some point we’ve liked each other’s taylor swift posts and/or you’ve been very nice while i yelled incoherently about her. love you all more than words and stream lover xoxoxo

[wannawrite]

혼자야 - forever rain 🌫

blog navigator !!

day6 masterlist~

group: day6

members: park jaehyung, kang younghyun

genre: platonic, brotherly "fluff" :">>

a/n: jaehyungparkian but written with no intention of making it gay HAHAHAHA i really love their relationship +++ I WAS IN SUCH A BIG WRITING RUT so this was birthed ¡¡¡ originally a reject of my youngk series (when you love someone) LOL

imagine that brian doesnt know jae well yet and vice versa yEA HAHAHA this takes place before congratulations era~

_________________________

Just as the clouds shrouding the city in mist had so subtly predicted, it had began to rain, and it had began to rain mercilessly.

The raindrops fell from the clouds, plummeting towards Younghyun's bangs at a lightning pace as if the seemingly harmless, rolls of white and grey had finally reached its breaking point and decided to offload their anger on the public.

Gradually, with each droplet gathering into one big puddle, and escalating into a waterfall, he could see the drops draping precariously on the rough tips of his brush shaped bangs, as if he was wearing beads on the tips of his hair.

Younghyun sighed as a song he held dearly to his heart, the song that spoke for their hustling generation, Forever Rain started to play, perfectly in sync with the now, unlike him. He had sighed a lot of times today, but that was most probably, his expression to life most of the time.

His songs, too, were sighs of his own. Younghyun's self written songs were never a voice of his own-they were simply a insignificant puff of hot steam, emanating tiredly into the air like a ball of wispy feathers only to disappear into thin air two seconds.

This song on his phone too, was a sigh.

A beautiful sigh.

Just like you

If I could

Just knock on somewhere

If I could kiss

The whole world so hard

Would someone welcome me

Maybe embrace my weary body

His pretty, gradually angled eyes looked up to the sky with the gaze of a baby lamb-innocent and demure. The world seemed to stop for him as he saw the beautiful teardrops of the sky pour down, knocking furiously onto his shoulder and asking for an invitation to come in.

The clouds were of white, grey, and dark grey hues, all layered vaguely together in a gently fierce gradient as their feelings oozed out onto the lamp posts, from the tips of Younghyun's raven locks to the edges of his tailor made black shoes, skimming to the depths of the drain.

The sky when it cried was so beautiful, and so unjudgemental to whoever it poured out its feelings to.

However, beneath the curtain of his clustered, jet black hair hid Younghyun's gentle sigh-in the knowledge that he'd never be able to do the same with his group members.

Still, for the first time since he had come to the thriving, fast paced city of Seoul, Younghyun felt raw, enveloping love drip through every vein in his blood as he stood upright amidst the care of the rain, and listened silently.

____________________________

"Younghyun! What the heck, why are you standing like that there? You're a soaking mess, get over here!"

Revelling in the quiet of the rain caressing his ears gently and quickly, Younghyun hadn't noticed anything amidst his little zone of peace until his ears opened before his eyes did. Standing across the road was a tall figure with a striking, red umbrella domed over his even more striking blonde bangs.

"Wait, I'm sorry, I just-" Younghyun struggled to gather his words, scrambled across the road like the rain puddles as he broke from his standing position, with rising fear of disappointing his friend in his chest.

"You don't have to apologise. I know you've always liked the rain, you told me that." Jae laughed in his low, boyish voice before placing a hand on Younghyun, who had finally came back to reality and started to approach his friend. Knowing very well that it wasn't the reason for him standing there, the younger boy couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt surface to his forehead as he nodded slowly.

As both of them walked to the venue with a sudden, yet somehow not so awkward silence hanging around them, Younghyun knew, with an uneasy feeling in his heart-that someone that took to socialising like a duck to water, would never understand the pleasure of having something as insignificant as the rain to accompany them.

"H-Hyung?"

"Yes?"

"Have you ever felt lonely before?"

The squeaky sound of Jae's rubber soles ceased with his question, and they stopped walking, in sync with the previous calmness that had soothed Younghyun.

Filling the awkward silence was the pattering of raindrops, crashing louder on the field of ridges in the pavement but a little softer on their umbrella.

Suddenly, the rain didn't seem so comforting after all.

"Lots of times." Jae suddenly spoke to break the silence, with an unreadable, blank expression on his face. Not being able to see a smile spread across his dashing, clear cut features felt very foreign to the younger boy, and seeing Jae feeling lonely, felt just as foreign to him.

Surprise was evident on Younghyun's face as he susceptibly raised an eyebrow.

"You're joking." he said disbelievingly.

Jae shook his head quietly. "No, I'm not."

He looked to the floor with an unusual maturity emanating from his gaze, and paused for a bit before speaking again.

"Just because I have a lot of friends doesn't mean I don't feel alone."

Instinctively and unconsciously, Younghyun's lips parted ever so slightly, gaze transfixed sharply onto the sad sliver of light skating across the curves in Jae's small, miniscule pupils.

He never really saw Jae this sad over something as small as being alone. Over being away from home, sure-over occasional fights with members, sure-but never, the hollowness of not having someone by your side.

Then, an uncheerful-maybe even condescending, maybe even bitter laugh slipped through the gaps of Jae's loosely clenched teeth.

"Ah, Younghyun, I really, really can relate to All Alone more than you think I can." he said, tone a lot more gentle than before before continuing, "It's funny, isn't it? When you have so many people surrounding you but it makes you more lonely than you were before."

Slowly recalling the sting of past incidents, Younghyun found himself nodding as he replied, "Yeah. It really just feels like...just feels like..."

"No one really cares."

The same words had come out from the mouth of two seemingly different people.

Then, with a brief exchange of glances, Younghyun started to giggle with an understanding, almost happy feeling in the crease of his eyes, and in turn, causing Jae to giggle back.

They both stood stupidly in the crowd, in the prominent presence of the storm clashing behind them-laughing, laughing and laughing, before reality hit their smiles like a brick and put a halt on their silly fit.

"H-Hey, Younghyun-or should I say, Brian-" Jae teased, with the corner of his smirk digging a small dimple at the side of his lips and earning a slap from Younghyun- "whenever you feel lonely, talk to me, yeah? We can be lonely together."

Casually, he hung a lazy arm around Younghyun's shoulder, eliciting an endearing, hearty laugh from the younger boy.

In turn, Jae's smirk softened to a smile.

"I'm totally cringing at myself for saying this, but-I'm always there for you."

Feeling the warmth amidst the cold weather beneath the laces and crosses of Jae's soft, red jumper, Younghyun's heart blossomed a small spark of warmth himself-a warmth he had never felt upon arriving in Seoul.

"I'm always there for you too, chicken-hyung." he smirked, masking his gratitude well and subsequently, arousing a strong reaction from Jae. "Hey, excuse you, since when were you-hahahahaha-allowed to-HAHAHAHAHA-tickle me?!"

In the rain, as two children played, beneath his squeals of laughter Younghyun thought inwardly-that if this was really the after effects of the rain, he wanted it to rain forever.

THE END

_____________________

forgive me for how absurdly cliché this story is, this is just a warm up LOL i was having writers block after church camp but ughhh i learnt sm and grew sm spiritually <333 my life has honestly changed forever and isjdjsjsjdjs im so SOOOOO thankful rnnn hhh

anywaY like this was originally supposed to follow up w my current youngk series but i didnt really write it w my emotions so i was largely unsatisfied ://// so it was an unfinished reject sitting in my notes for a while and i really never intended to publish it HAHAHAHA until i realised i hadnt wrote in ages and then liKe i felt so so empty nd i felt like i had forgot how to immerse myself properly whenever i tried to start a chapter so all of them came out really fake and it was like a 8 year old composition quality work LOL but anyway even tho im not that happy w this either i needed smth to write (without having to think up an opening LOL IM WORST AT STARTING A STORY) to help me grasp my emotions better again <33 so i started today at "H-Hyung" HAHAHAHHAAHA obvi it has to be about my 2 day6 biases uwuwuwuwuwu

IF YALL CLDNT TELL BTW THe sCOPE OF THIS STORY WAS LARGELY INSPIRED BY MY MANS KIM NAMJOON UWUWUWU stream mono guys he deserves it :3333 alt this mixtape has been getting a lot of hypE BUT hehehe idk ilh and forever rain especially :)

also i apologise if yall are getting sick of seeing so much day6 on this blog lol as u can see i have been SO SO hooked onto their music and knowing more about them so ;------; i will write whilst i have the most inspiration to do so !!

thanks for sticking by my shitty posting times rip :"""" this is also to revive the blog because l and i r on vacay watch it slowly die for the next few days iM SORRY :(

from your favourite chicken and briyani enthusiast ^3^

(WILL BE EDITED SOON)

[dunkalfredo]

770 words of forces fic feat. scarf

hello there lads i wrote some stuff based off of these here posts

hope u enjoy

(click Keep reading to read the Thing)

It’s his scarf.

Time stops, slows to a crawl, and Gadget feels the oxygen in his lungs spill out, burst his lungs open, Jell-O flooding in where there used to be sweet, sweet air so that his chest jiggles and shudders every time he tries to breathe in. It’s no use, to breathe, there’s no conceivable way, not when that little strip of fabric caught his eye out of the thousands of gallons of fire raining from the sky, and now he can’t look anywhere else. The scarf, his scarf, is right there, it’s so close, and it’s on him, but the wrong him, a different him.

It’s his scarf.

Infinite is wearing his scarf.

It’s for you!

Gadget sees the scarf, he sees Infinite wearing the scarf, and he freezes, blood ice cold and bones brittle, feet stuck to the ground, soles five feet under, hooked beneath the concrete and dragging him down. He can’t hear anything; it’s all white noise, the static of a television.

The scarf fits so neatly around his neck, under his chin, beneath the mask. White, pristine, a shining beacon amongst the dirt and scratches and strange blips and tears pulling apart his body. He stands there, menacing, and Gadget can’t stop looking at his scarf, can’t stop thinking about how he can’t find a single imperfection on it.

Does he know? Does he remember?

There’s a chill down his spine, a shaking, like a leaf, and when he looks up from his neck to his face he sees Infinite staring right back at him.

...What am I looking at?

Dude! It’s a scarf!

You sure about that?

Hey!

Gadget doesn’t know what to do. Everything’s upside down and the weapon in his hand stings, burns, sizzles against his palm, his own body rejecting the notion of holding it up and taking aim. Attacking felt wrong; staring felt wrong; the distance between them felt wrong. Gadget should be by his side. They should be together. One unit, not two. Not separate.

Just pulling your leg. I love it.

He wishes, as he stares into the one eye not obscured by the mask, the one pool of gold, the one organic and real, living, breathing remnant of his friend, that he could just close that gap and slap him, smack the nonsense out of him, rip the jewel off his chest and chuck it away, far away, where it can’t hurt him anymore, bury his face into his chest and sob, scream. He wants that, wants to show him his hurt and show him how stupid this all is, but he knows that’s a death wish. There’s no point. He sees no solace in that eye; the smacking and screaming and crying would only earn him a kick to the side, not the gentle combing through his fur that he clung to in his memories, in his dreams.

At the very least, he wants the scarf back.

—

“It’s for you!” The cotton spills over his fingers as Gadget slaps it on his hand, eyes brighter than moonshine and smile filled with crinkles and mirth.

He looks down, looks at the even weave, the little squares one over the other making up the fabric’s texture, the way it, the cotton, brushes against the fur on his wrist where it pools out of his hand, fluffy and expansive and probably far too warm for late September weather, and for a moment he’s not sure what he’s looking at.

“Gadget. Buddy. Quick question.”

“Yeah?”

“...What exactly am I looking at?”

“Dude!” Gadget says, hand clutched to his chest in a faux display of hurt. “It’s a scarf!”

“Are you sure?”

“Hey!”

He cuts in before Gadget can say anything else—the way his eyes scrunch up, the way his nose twitches just a little, the furious wagging of tail, these are all signs that he’s about to launch off on a tangent—by placing a hand on his shoulder, soft, stopping Gadget with a feather’s touch. “Just pulling your leg. I love it.”

The tension between Gadget’s brows washes away, the sun filling his smile until its brilliance near blinds him. “Really?”

“Of course.”

He wants to say something else, to thank him, but his heart leaps out of his mouth when Gadget pulls him into a hug, senses flooded with everything Gadget, the smell of raspberries on Gadget’s breath, the mint tickling the tips of his fur from the soap he uses.

He huffs, small, indiscreet, and rests his cheek on Gadget’s shoulder. He can always thank him later. For now, this is more than enough.

[boredomoverloadmy]

College (in a nutshell)

So I’m officially done with college *insert party streamers emoji*. Actually I’ve been out for some time now but I have yet to get off my lazy arse to do anything genuinely productive (other than trying to master a few piano pieces with little progress). Mum put me in charge of most of the domestic work at home and chauffeuring the kid here and there and the groceries and all that jazz. I would go back to that part-time teaching gig but I reckoned I’d only be around for awhile and mum agreed to give me some allowance (mostly for the groceries though). But that’s beside the point of this post now isn’t it?

So now I’m going to talk about my college experience. Nothing special really and I don’t think I’ll be able to go into detail about it so if you have any questions feel free to ask. I have an ask section up there *points to the top of tumblog* and I (finally) turned my tumblr notifications on so I may be able to answer a.s.a.p this time.

I started my foundation studies June last year (2016) at Kolej MARA Kulim, Kedah affectionately known as KMKu under the Pre-U USM program. Basically its just like any other foundation like if you’d go to Universiti Malaya’s or UNIMAS foundation. But the difference for my program was that I had a sponsor (MARA) who would be supporting my degree studies later on, given that I reached the minimum requirements. Subsequently, those in my program were more or less “tagged” as to which field of study they would be pursuing post-foundation. I and 36 other people who were my classmates in college were tagged to do Medicine in USM-KLE in India later this year (2017). I’m not going to go into detail as to what USM-KLE is because I’m saving that for another post.

I’ve actually had a lot of people ask me why I didn’t choose to return to the UK. I have my reasons, mostly because I decided to pursue Medicine in the way that I wanted to. I’m the kind of person who chooses caution and strategy above everything else, so taking IB or A-levels to me was out of the question from the very get-go. Again, I’m saving the story behind that for another post.

Going off to literally the other side of Malaysia was both exciting and scary for me. When I was in secondary school it never really occurred to me that I’d be leaving Kuching because at the time my mindset was “ace SPM get good grades other stuff comes later”. So when the day finally came, I had no idea what to do with myself. My teachers would give you the illusion that I had it all figured out, just as I had the illusion that all my other seniors had it all figured out. The truth is, you never really do have it figured out. No matter how shiny your high school reputation looks, in the end we’re all just winging it one way or the other. But that’s okay. That’s life. Just go where the wind takes you and you’ll arrive to the place you’re meant to be eventually.

There was another person from Sarawak going to the exact same college for the exact same course. Her name is Martina and she was introduced to me by my old primary schoolmate over WhatsApp. She’s not from Kuching but we both decided that it would be better to be in contact with someone from the same state for travelling arrangements. We left from different airports though, I took a direct flight from Kuching to Penang while she had to transit via KLIA from Sibu. On some occasions we’d wait for each other at Penang airport to catch a taxi to Kolej, which was in Kedah (it was easier to go there via Penang rather than Alor Setar because it was closer).

Registration day for me was chaotic. It wasn’t because of the management though, I’d say that our seniors, Oddytix did a good job handling that and orientation. It was because I was missing some documents and I FREAKED (not an exaggeration). The fact that the only way to go home to re-do things was by flight did not help either. Before I left I double triple checked my documents so when I made such a big blunder by not printing out some of the required documents I felt so incompetent and I didn’t want to trouble my parents more because not causing trouble for my parents was why I accepted the offer in the first place. But in the end I guess it just added fuel to the fire. Throughout the first semester I found myself drowning more in the paperwork for the offer than the actual studying; constantly having to check in with my parents and the post office about my corrected documents. Note to self : when I decide to set up a scholarship someday brief the scholars as to how it’s done to save everyone’s time and energy.

My batch (which would be named Erovra) consisted of about 100+ students which was a few people more than the Transformers (my high school batchmates). We were divided into 3 classes, USM A, B, and C (see the use of the Oxford comma there? I just learned that haha). My class was USM C which consisted of 36 other people bound for India, a few people more than in 5 Delta (my graduating high school class). Each class was further divided into four tutorials, e.g. C1, C2, C3, and C4. My tutorial was C1 which had 11 people, 4 boys and 7 girls (Alya joined a bit later) including myself. Regrettably my tutorial was late to come together unlike other tutorials which bonded quite closely in the first semester. Towards the end of foundation I realised the reason why other tutorials called us C paling pelik and believe me it is a fact I will not deny (especially Lah I had no idea you were like that tbh hahahaha). 

Generally speaking, the first impression I got from my classmates was that God had copy-pasted 30+ versions of Stephen Goh Kok Yew, except some were female and none were Chinese or aspiring body-builders (inside joke. Transformers 1115 will understand). They were so studious that if Ben were to enroll in this program Ben would have been shocked and disgusted; shogusted (but deep down inside Ben is super rajin too don’t deny it). But I guess that’s how things are going to be from now on. After all, you wouldn’t want your future doctor to be a lazy bum now would you?

Before I forget, in this college there are several programs doing foundation studies (UniKL, MKPM or the regular matriculation, UMK and USM) and each program is referred to as a “unit”.  For accommodation the girls in my unit stayed at the Fatimah Az-Zahra block or FAZ. Each room had a minimum of 4 occupants. One of my roommates, Awin, was my classmate while the other two, Nida and Bella, were from USM A. Everything in basic in kolej was provided despite the fact that it still felt like we were in boarding school. For me, it was a level above what I’m used to, mainly because it had a laundromat and washing machine. I washed my all my clothes by hand in boarding school, even during my senior years and even when my hands started to have the skin peeling and flaking off because my skin doesn’t take too well with detergent. That was mainly because the one and only washing machine in my block would already be used and most often it was the juniors who used it but I was too lazy to play the seniority card. I don’t do that shit even if you’re what people would say “kurang ajar” with me. Berkat and kifarah are my magic words. But in kolej thankfully I didn’t have to worry about that which is a huge improvement, as opposed to what other people would say (people who’s schools can afford a lot of washing machines I suppose). Plus, food was provided albeit being the standard asrama food. My friends under other scholarships complained that most of their money went to buying food which was expensive in their area, so even though I found out I couldn’t stomach ikan keli (new discovery) for the most part I took what I got.

Studying and exams felt way different for me. Perhaps it was because I was surrounded by people who came from different kinds of schools. I felt a bit out of place honestly. My strong points were always reading and humanities subjects (Sejarah, Language, that sort) but now I had to put more emphasis on pure sciences. I constantly fell behind in Maths especially (no surprise there frankly) but I sought help from Muja and Zatil mostly which lead to small but consistent improvements. The lecturers were also really nice and helpful and we could approach them whenever. However I felt that my downfalls were caused by time, not that I didn’t have enough but maybe because I had too much free time (you can gasp now). For 2 years I had become accustomed to starting class at as early as 6.30 a.m. and finishing at 6.00 p.m. only to continue after Maghrib until 11.00 p.m. that having gaps in between felt strange and I felt I could have managed my time a lot better than I did (*highlights this point as a reminder for degree studies*). 

Two major components of my program to India (other than the exams) were the interview and IELTS. The interview was as straightforward as a medical school interview could get. IELTS was the rumoured killer. IELTS is basically some big shot English exam in which you have to score a certain “band” to be allowed to study or work overseas. Our requirement was 6.5/9.0 overall minimum. Now if you knew me personally you’d say “Faqihah mesti band 9 punya” which is close but not really. I scored an 8.5/9.0, which actually serves me right because out of the 30 hours access to the IELTS online learning module I used a total of 0.00 hours and the night before IELTS I was watching Moana with Bella. I kid you not and yes you can slap me later. My main downfall was the writing component. I wrote under 250 words for the second essay which was unusual for me and could have resulted in getting a 5 , I got a 7.5 for the writing component which was okay and my reading, speaking and listening components helped quite a lot. During the writing test I was very much distracted by the terrible kindergarten pencil and the crazy old guy who was making a fuss before the writing test. But as I’ve said again again this year, “as long as I pass what is required its more than enough”. 

I’m not going to lie. There were some moments where I doubted myself; whether I had what it takes to do medicine. I think each of us felt that way somewhere along the line, just no one dared to say it out loud or else there’d be people being condescending and saying “eh kata nak sangat jadi doktor kan”. But again, the truth is no one ever really has anything figured out. There were many times I thought to throw in the towel and go home. That would have been easier. But I realised the cliche of it all, that if it was easy everyone would do it. And that is the naked truth. You think you’re in control of things but it actually isn’t you. It’s Allah’s doing. Every. Step. Of. The. Way. You’re only expected to do your best with the challenges at hand. You don’t need any other reason to do it, only that Allah showed you that this is the way; and then you start walking. Crawl, if you must. As long as you follow it. 

I know that this is just the tip of the iceberg and that there will be many more moments like these to come, but I’m writing this down so that when those moments come I’ll know where to look for the courage to keep going. And I hope after reading this, you will too.