#and the older one I took apart before this one is an even more simple circuit

[ninisdollie]

close friends - lee heeseung, koga yudai ✧˚⋆ ˖ ࣪

𓈒ིུ ❤︎ ˖ ݁

“In which reader can’t hide the lustful feelings she has for her boyfriend’s best friend, and him, instead of getting jealous, decides to share”

Content: +18MDNI fem! reader x heeseung x k, threesome, dom! heeseung x dom! k x sub! reader (although heeseung is more in charge) no mxm action, drinking, cursing, lots of teasing, oral sex (f and m recieving), multiple orgasms, squirting, overstimulation, humiliation, dumbification, objectification, degradation, praising, unprotected sex, double creampie (don’t do this pls), dirty talk, explicit sex, aftercare (so important always!!)

Word count: 15.5k (it’s yudai and heeseung girls i can’t)

Notes: I went so insane with this one so please bare with me lmao, as always please remember everything that happens is consensual !! sorry for the mistakes english isn’t my first language. this one is for my lunéngenes !!

Hate comments will be deleted and blocked, like and reblogs are appreciated !!

Your relationship with Heeseung had always been easy.

From the very beginning, he made things feel simple, like love was something natural, something that didn’t have to hurt to be real. He was warm and steady, all soft hands and sweeter words, the kind of boyfriend that remembered the little things. He always kept your favorite snack in the apartment, knew the exact spot to kiss behind your ear that made you shiver, and held your hand even when no one was watching.

Heeseung didn’t play games, he didn’t raise his voice, he didn’t give you reasons to doubt him, not even once. He never made you feel small.

He spoiled you, completely.

He paid attention to things no one else would, how you always got sleepy after eating, how you liked your wine poured to the halfway point only, how you always looked at yourself in the mirror a little too long when you felt insecure. And he’d counter all of it, instinctively. Wrapping you up in a hoodie, refilling your glass just right, grabbing your chin gently and kissing your pout away like it was his only job.

In bed, he was a dream.

He took his time with you, didn’t just fuck you—he worshipped you. And when you begged for it rougher, meaner, filthier? He gave you that too.

Your pretty boy could turn dark in seconds. He’d pull your hair, make you cry, call you names so cruel your face burned—and he’d fuck you through every single one of your orgasms until you couldn’t remember how to say please anymore. But he always kissed you after, always whispered, “you did so good for me, baby.” He made you feel safe in the filth, loved, even when he was breaking you apart.

He got along with your whole family, watched football matchs with your father and helped your mother bake her signature apple pie, played videogames with your little brother and dollhouse with your little sister. You were sure he was the man of your life, and that you would marry him one day.

You never wanted anyone else.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

Until K started spending more time around.

K was Heeseung’s best friend, had been for years, even before you were his girlfriend, they grew up together, went to the same college, even shared clothes sometimes. He was around so often it felt normal—his shoes by the door, his half-empty water bottles on the counter, his body draped across your couch like he owned the place. You were so used to his presence, and it never bothered you, not really, he was very sweet with you, always respectful, and you knew how good of a friend he was to your boyfriend.

He was different from Heeseung in every way. Older for a couple of years, taller for a few inches, louder when he laughed, rougher around the edges, casually confident in a way that made your stomach twist. Always teasing, always joking, always so present. Like, everyday. Sometimes he would even go pick you up after work when Heeseung couldn’t because he was at some dinner for his job. He was mostly a gentleman, although obviously sometimes you would hear him talk with Heeseung about the girls he slept with.

He didn’t try to charm you, didn’t even seem to care what you thought of him.

And maybe that was the problem.

You’d watch him from the kitchen sometimes, sweating in a tight shirt after a workout, gulping water like he hadn’t touched it in hours, the sharp lines of his jaw flexing every time he swallowed, his soaked, black hair sticked to his forehead, his plump lips parted as he tried to catch his breath. His arms always flexed when he stretched, and he always stretched, veins popping under his skin, low groan leaving his throat.

And sometimes, when he caught your gaze, he’d smirk. Not flirty, not teasing. Just knowing, like he was aware of the way you looked at him—and he didn’t mind. Sometimes he would say “Do i look that bad today?” and you would chuckle, trying to play dumb.

You tried to ignore it, brush it off, blame it on the wine, the hormones, the stupid crushes people weren’t supposed to get once they were in love.

But sometimes, when Heeseung’s fingers were deep inside you, or when his cock was pressing into you just right—you’d close your eyes, and for just a moment, pretend.

You imagined K’s voice, rough and low in your ear. His hands on your hips, holding you still, the weight of him pressing you down into the mattress, deeper and rougher than anyone ever had.

It wasn’t that you didn’t love Heeseung, or that he wasn’t enough for you. He really was, you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him.

You told yourself it was nothing. Just a thought, just a fantasy. Like a lot of people used to have.

Something you’d never say out loud.

Not to anyone.

Heeseung had always been so good at reading people. Even when he was little, he knew when his father had a bad day at work, he knew when his mother was pissed about the noisy neighbours, he even knew when his first girlfriend cheated on him before even finding something weird.

Heeseung had always known.

He didn’t need you to say it, didn’t need to catch you staring, or find messages on your phone, or hear some guilty confession through your tears.

He just knew.

Because he was watching.

From the very beginning—before you even realized it yourself—he’d seen it. That flicker in your eyes when K walked into the room, the way your whole body subtly shifted, back a little straighter, chin tilted, lips just barely parted, thighs clenched together when K leaned over to show you something on his phone.

You never flirted, never crossed a line. You were a good girl, his good girl. But the way you looked at K? that wasn’t nothing.

And Heeseung saw it, every time.

He was an expert in you.

He knew every version of your body—how you moved when you were hungry, when you were tired, when you were horny. How you bit your lip when you were anxious, how your eyes glossed over when you were tipsy and trying not to let it show. He knew when you were lying, when you were daydreaming, when your thighs were clenched under the table because you were thinking about something you shouldn’t.

Heeseung knew you.

So of course, he noticed.

K was around a lot. His best friend, his brother. They’d known each other forever, trusted each other without question, he didn’t even remember a time of his life where K wasn’t teasing him and playfully bantering with him. He trusted him, like a lot, he was the only true friendship he’d ever had, and he knew that K would never do something that would hurt him.

And that’s what made it all the more entertaining.

He watched the way your eyes dropped when K stretched, the way your breath hitched when he muttered something low under his breath, the way your smile slipped into something dazed after a few drinks when K got too close.

And he saw the way he looked at you too. How he would chuckle at the silliest thing you’d say, how he would tease you just to see you blush and push his chest playfully, how his gaze would dropp even just for a small second through your body when you were in a bikini on a hot summer day. He didn’t blame him, you were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, and K was a man, after all.

So he never said a word.

Most guys would’ve lost their minds, picked a fight, accused you of cheating, thrown K out of the house or pulled you into a jealous, angry fuck just to stake their claim.

But not heeseung.

He found it cute, amusing, even. The way you thought you were hiding it—this quiet, little lust that lived just under your skin. He could see how hard you were trying to be good, how guilty you must’ve felt, how much it was killing you not to give in to it.

And more than anything, that’s what got to him.

The idea that you were holding back, not because you didn’t want it—but because you thought he wouldn’t let you.

Heeseung loved you, like really loved you. But his love wasn’t soft and selfless, not really.

His love was possessive.

He didn’t just want you for himself—he wanted every part of you, every thought, every fantasy. Even the most dirtiest, nastiest ones.

If you were going to want someone else, he wanted to know. He wanted to be there.

And with K? He didn’t mind sharing. That was his ride or die, and if he were ever to do something this nasty, of course he would choose him. It was something about his ego too, to make his best friend who was always so confident and cocky watching how the most beautiful girl ever crumbled beneath him.

He liked the idea of it.

Of watching you come undone between the two of them, overwhelmed, overstimulated, broken down to nothing. He wanted to see your mouth stuffed with K’s cock while you sobbed on his fingers. Wanted to hear you beg one of them to stop while the other kept going. Wanted to see your sweet little brain go blank, ruined completely, used until you didn’t even know which one of them was making you cum anymore.

And god, the aftermath.

He could already picture you—messy, leaking, limp and fucked-out on the sheets while they cleaned you up. You, teary-eyed and dazed, whispering, “thank you.” So grateful, so good.

He didn’t say anything yet, not out loud.

You weren’t ready, he wanted you to squirm a little more.

He wanted to watch you get desperate.

But he was planning.

It was late evening when you unlocked the front door and stepped inside, heels clicking against the hardwood. The apartment was dimly lit, the only real light coming from the glare of the TV screen and the soft blue LEDs lining the shelves. You were tired, hungry, and sleepy, it was a really long day at work, you hated that you had to work on weekends.

Then you heard it.

Laughter and the unmistakable sound of button-mashing filled the air. Manly voices so loud and so familiar. You dropped your bag by the door, sighing as you kicked off your shoes, already half-expecting what you’d see when you rounded the corner into the living room.

There they were.

Heeseung and K sat cross-legged on the floor, controllers in hand, faces lit by the rapid flashes of the screen. The two of them were in the middle of an intense round of something—they didn’t even glance up when you entered. Both of them in comfy clothes, messy hairs, the smell of their perfumes in the air.

You swallowed.

“Told you I’m better,” Heeseung grinned, tapping buttons at lightning speed.

“Only because you cheat,” K fired back, focused, leaning forward as his tongue peeked out in concentration.

“You’re just bad at this,” Heeseung smirked, elbowing him. The two burst into laughter, casual and at ease, just two best friends caught up in a game they’d probably played a hundred times before.

You stood there for a second, watching them—Heeseung’s soft, worn tee hanging off his frame, K in a sleeveless hoodie that showed off his toned arms. It was domestic. Comfortable. Too comfortable.

“I’m home,” you called out finally, stepping into view, a little smile on your lips, while you loosened your ponytail and walked towards them.

Heeseung’s head turned first, his smile wide, his eyes sparkly like they always were when he looked at you.

“Hey, baby,” he said easily, not even pausing the game. “How was work?”

You groaned dramatically, flopping onto the couch behind them.

“Hell,” you muttered, already peeling off your jacket. They didn’t respond, too focused on the game, and you rolled your eyes playfully. Boys. “I’m taking a shower. You boys have fun.”

Then K glanced over his shoulder with a grin. “Welcome back, by the way.”

You winked and disappeared down the hall, feeling K’s eyes on you the entire way.

A little while later, the bathroom light flicked off and the soft pat of your bare feet padded into the living room again. You wore a silky little pajama set—tiny shorts barely covering the curve of your ass, and a matching cami with thin straps that did nothing to hide the way the cool air had your nipples poking through.

Heeseung looked up first. His gaze swept over you with familiarity, appreciation, and something playful. His lips curled up in a lazy smile as he leaned back on one hand, watching you make your way around the couch and settle down between them.

But K?

He hesitated—only for a second—but it was enough.

You saw it.

The way K’s jaw clenched. The quick flick of his eyes over your legs, your chest, your exposed skin. The way he tried to focus back on the screen, but his grip on the controller tightened just a little. His mouth opened slightly, like he was going to say something, then thought better of it.

You could feel the heat rolling off him.

Heeseung chuckled quietly. He didn’t say a word—didn’t call him out. Instead, he shifted closer to you on the floor, letting his hand rest on your bare thigh, thumb stroking lazily, like it was second nature.

It was soft. Innocent. But it wasn’t.

You saw the way K’s eyes flicked down to where Heeseung’s fingers moved, lingering. You could feel the tension in the air change—just a little.

Heeseung’s gaze stayed fixed on the screen, like nothing was happening. Like he wasn’t fully aware of the little game he’d just started.

He leaned closer to you, pressing a kiss just below your ear, murmuring a teasing “Missed you, pretty girl,” while his fingers traced the edge of your thigh, just high enough to make a statement.

K didn’t speak, but his knuckles were white around the controller. His gaze was fixed forward, but his breathing had shifted, just a bit.

Heeseung smirked.

He wasn’t mad. Not jealous. Not even remotely.

He was amused.

And from the way his eyes glinted under the low light, you could tell—he was planning something.

Something big.

You had long since disappeared into the bedroom, the door clicking shut behind you with a soft finality, leaving the boys alone under the low light of the TV glow. The air was still warm with your presence—vanilla and something sweeter, something uniquely you lingering in the space.

Heeseung had gone quiet, his controller abandoned somewhere near the coffee table. K sat beside him, back against the couch, arms resting lazily over his knees as he stared at the flickering screen without really watching it.

They’d been talking for hours now, about everything, work, family, sports, and you, of course. Heeseung always yapped about how perfect you were and that he wanted to marry you. K was used to that, he always smiled and said “Don’t make me an uncle yet.” Not jealous, but supporting, like a good friend. But still, when Heeseung talked to him about you in bed, he saw how his breathing changed just a bit, not of awkwardness. Something else.

“You like her, huh?” Heeseung asked suddenly, voice casual—too casual.

K turned his head slowly, caught off guard. His eyes widened, brows frowned as if he couldn’t believe what he just asked.

“What?”

Heeseung smirked. He didn’t look at him right away, just reached over to grab his drink from the side table, took a slow sip, then met his best friend’s eyes.

“Y/N.”

K blinked, his face a mask of disbelief. He reached for his drink too, the air suddenly feeling so heavy.

“She’s your girlfriend.”

“I didn’t ask who she was,” Heeseung said, leaning back against the couch, stretching his legs out. “I asked if you like her.”

K scoffed and looked away, running a hand through his hair, then he scratched his neck.

“Bro.”

Heeseung just hummed, watching him now—really watching. The way K shifted in place, the way his jaw clenched ever so slightly. The way his eyes had flicked—too quickly—down the hall where your bedroom door was closed.

“You think I don’t see it?” Heeseung asked quietly, his tone lower now, edged with amusement. “You think I haven’t noticed the way you look at her when you think I’m not paying attention?”

K didn’t respond.

“She came out in that little pajama set,” Heeseung continued, like he was telling a story, slow and deliberate, “and your eyes were all over her. You didn’t even try to hide it.”

K shifted again, sitting a little straighter, jaw tight.

“You’re tripping.”

“Am I?” Heeseung grinned, all teeth now, a lazy kind of danger curling at the edges of his lips. He was having so much fun with this. “It’s okay. I’m not mad.”

That made K glance over, he tilted his head slightly.

“You’re not?”

Heeseung laughed softly. “Why would I be mad?” His voice dropped, gaze dark. “It’s kind of hot, actually.”

K blinked.

“You’re insane.”

“And you’re not denying it.” Heeseung leaned closer, elbows resting on his knees, voice hushed now, like it was something private. “I’ve seen the way she reacts to you. She gets all soft and shy around you. Different than with me.”

K’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. He didn’t deny that either. Heeseung kept going, his tone turning sly.

“She likes you. Even if she doesn’t say it. Even if she tries to hide it. I see it. And I think you see it too.”

K let out a long breath, raking a hand down his face.

“This is fucking dangerous.”

Heeseung chuckled darkly.

“Yeah. That’s the point.”

There was a long pause. K was quiet now, no longer trying to argue—just sitting there, staring at the blank screen, like his mind had slipped somewhere darker. Somewhere more curious.

“And you’re seriously okay with that?” he asked after a moment. “You want me to—what—fuck around with your girlfriend?”

Heeseung leaned back again, arms spread along the couch, completely relaxed, like he’d thought about this a lot.

“I want to see what happens when we both push her. I want to see how far she’ll let it go. How far we can take it.”

K looked at him, really looked at him, like he was trying to read the real intention behind the words. Lips parted, in shock.

“And if she breaks?” he asked, voice quiet.

“She won’t,” Heeseung said confidently. “Not in a bad way, anyway.” He tilted his head, eyes gleaming. “She’ll love it.”

Another pause.

K was breathing a little heavier now, not quite realizing it. His leg bounced once, the tension showing in small cracks, in the way he kept licking his lips.

Heeseung’s voice dipped lower, velvet-smooth.

“You want to see her like that, don’t you? All cock drunk and needy. Caught between us. Letting us touch her. Use her. Ruin her a little.”

K inhaled sharply, muttering under his breath, “Jesus, man…”

But there was no fight left in his voice.

Heeseung leaned forward again, eyes locked on him.

“Her birthday. We take her out. Tease her. You dance with her first, I’ll come in after. We push. We press. And we see what she does.”

K was quiet, processing. His fingers flexed where they rested on his knees. This was such a bad idea, it could ruin this friendship and your relationship forever.

But he thought about it, he imagined it. How you’d look between them, all broken and crying, how you’d look beneath him.

Then—slowly, like the idea had finally sunk into his skin—he gave a low laugh, shaking his head.

“You’re fucking twisted.”

“And you’re into it.”

K didn’t deny it this time.

The club was alive with the beat of the music, thumping through your chest, the lights flashing in dizzying patterns as you stepped out of the car. Your heels clicked against the pavement, each step carrying you into the night. The air was thick with the scent of perfume and cologne, and all eyes seemed to be on you as you made your entrance.

It was your birthday, your night, and you had every intention of owning it. You’d slipped into a sleek, form-fitting black dress that hugged your curves perfectly, just the right amount of daring without being too much. Your hair cascaded in waves, and your makeup was soft but sultry—just enough to make you look irresistible without trying too hard. You were the center of attention, and you loved it.

As you stepped into the club, the pulse of the music surrounded you. People were already gathered around the bar, laughing, chatting, their drinks sloshing in the air as the DJ spun tracks. Your friends crowded around you, congratulating you, complimenting your outfit, but your eyes were scanning the room.

Heeseung should be there anytime.

And you couldn’t help but feel a flutter of excitement in your chest when you thought about him. Your boyfriend—the perfect, warm, loving boyfriend who had made sure tonight would be exactly how you wanted it. But even as your mind lingered on him, there was that edge of anticipation. That thought—that craving—for someone else.

K.

It was impossible not to think about him. You had tried to push the thoughts away, tried to focus on your boyfriend—on what you had—but something about K always pulled you in. The way he moved, the way he grinned at you, like he knew exactly what you were thinking, what you wanted. Like he wasn’t just watching from the sidelines, but waiting for you to make the first move.

Your thoughts scattered when you caught sight of them—Heeseung and K, walking through the entrance together, side by side like two halves of the same whole. They were a striking pair. Heeseung in his tailored jacket, casually confident, dark hair falling just right as his gaze swept over the room. And K, a little more laid-back, in a tight shirt that did nothing to hide the muscles in his chest, his smirk cocky as hell as he looked around.

The moment their eyes met yours, you felt a rush of heat flood your body. Heeseung’s smile was soft, full of warmth as he made his way toward you. But K’s gaze? It was different. It was knowing. His eyes dropped down to your dress—just for a second—and then back to your face, where a small, almost teasing smirk danced on his lips.

Heeseung pulled you into a hug, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered something sweet.

“Happy birthday, baby,” he murmured, his hands resting on your hips. You melted into his embrace, your heart swelling at the love he poured into his touch. He was perfect. He always was.

But K? K was something else entirely.

He stepped forward, his body pressing just a little too close when he kissed your cheek. The moment his lips touched your skin, your breath hitched, a shiver running through your body at the heat of his proximity.

“Happy birthday, princess,” K said, his voice low and rich, sending a thrill straight to your core.

You fought the blush creeping up your neck, trying to focus on Heeseung, on him—the boyfriend who had given you everything. But K’s presence lingered like a slow burn, undeniable, exciting. You could feel his eyes on you, even as Heeseung pulled back and started talking to some of your friends.

K didn’t go far. He hovered around you, leaning against the bar, not too far from where you stood. Every so often, his eyes would flick to yours, like he was studying you. Like he was waiting for something.

The tension between the three of you was thick, and you could feel it in your bones.

But you were supposed to be enjoying your night. You’d been waiting for this—for months—and now, it was finally here. So you threw yourself into the party, laughing, dancing, drinking. But even as you swirled your cocktail, your attention kept drifting. It was almost magnetic, this pull between you and Heeseung, between you and K. And no matter how much you tried to ignore it, it was impossible.

The club pulsed with energy as you and your friends slipped further into the night. The drinks kept flowing, shots and cocktails passed around like water, and with every drink, your body felt lighter, more free. Laughter filled the air, mingling with the thumping beat of the music as the crowd swayed and danced under the neon lights.

Your friends were all in high spirits, each of them offering birthday wishes, compliments, and teasing comments about how you were the life of the party. The atmosphere was electric, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you let go of the constant buzzing in your head—the one that made you question the simmering tension between you, Heeseung, and K. Tonight was about you.

But, of course, they were still there.

You caught K’s eyes across the room. He was leaning casually against the bar, a drink in his hand, watching you with that signature smirk. The one that always seemed to make your heart race a little faster.

You shook your head, trying to focus, but your thoughts kept drifting back to him. And then, as if on cue, Heeseung wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, his lips brushing your ear.

“I’m tired from training, baby,” he murmured, his voice warm and familiar. “You go ahead, dance with your friends.”

You couldn’t help but pout, turning in his arms to face him.

“But I wanted to dance with you,” you whined, eyes sparkling with a playful challenge.

Heeseung smiled, but it was that teasing, knowing grin.

“I’m too tired, babe,” he repeated, his thumb brushing against your hip. “Go have fun. You know I don’t mind.”

You raised an eyebrow, the tip of your tongue brushing over your lips. “You sure you don’t mind?”

“I don’t mind,” Heeseung said with that same smile, but there was something in his eyes—something darker, almost predatory. “K can go dance with you.”

Your stomach flipped. You’d been thinking about K for most of the night, the heat in your veins already ignited by his presence, and now Heeseung was throwing him into the mix. But even more so, he was asking you to do it.

“Come on, I’m not gonna dance with him,” you said, your voice teasing, but your body responding to the thought anyway. “We’ll have to make it fun later.”

Heeseung chuckled softly, his hands still on your waist as he leaned in close, his lips brushing your neck for just a moment. His breath was hot against your skin.

“We will, baby. But for now—go have some fun. K’s waiting.”

So you sighed, already preparing yourself mentally. You turned to K, who was still leaning against the bar, his eyes never leaving you. There was that damn smirk again, and you knew exactly what was on his mind.

With a slight hesitation, you walked over to K. He grinned as you approached, taking your hand in his.

“Well, I guess you do need a dance partner,” he said, his voice low, the heat behind his words unmistakable. He pulled you onto the dance floor with him, and you fell into the rhythm of the music, the bass vibrating through your chest.

He was shy at first, a gentleman. Just dacing in front of you without really touching anything he shouldn’t. He chuckled as he saw you dancing, raising an eyebrow when one of your friends shoved a shot down your mouth.

K’s hands were on your hips, and you could feel his body heat radiating against yours. His movements were fluid, effortless, as he pulled you closer, guiding you as you danced together. The music was loud, the lights flashing in a rhythm that matched the pulse of your heart.

You tried to push down the thoughts swirling in your head, tried to enjoy the moment, but your body responded instinctively to K’s closeness. The way his touch lingered just a little too long, how his lips brushed against your ear when he leaned down to say something too soft to hear.

You were drunk. Or at least tipsy enough that your body wasn’t listening to your mind anymore.

The club was alive, the bass pumping in your veins, but all you could feel was the weight of the bodies around you.

You and K moved together, the chemistry undeniable. He guided you effortlessly, his grip on your waist firm as you swayed to the beat. Your movements were instinctive, body pushing against his as the music grew more intense. The alcohol buzzed in your bloodstream, making you feel light-headed, the world around you hazy—but it was K’s touch that kept you grounded, his fingers brushing along your sides with every sway.

And then, you felt it.

Heeseung’s presence behind you.

It was subtle at first—just the sensation of his warmth, his body just inches away from yours. But then, there was the undeniable press of his chest against your back, his hands slipping around your waist with his usual possessive confidence. His lips were by your ear, his breath hot against your skin.

“You look so fucking good tonight,” Heeseung whispered, voice a soft growl that made your body shudder in response. His words were like fuel to the fire building inside you.

You were dancing with K, but Heeseung was there too, his hands pulling you closer as you felt the steady press of his hardening body against your back. It was almost like a game now. The three of you, caught in this mix of heat and need. K’s hands moved lower, gripping your hips, guiding you closer to him, and then you felt it, beneath his jeans, his hard cock brushing against you with every movement. And then Heeseung’s hands—those strong, steady hands—gripped you tighter, forcing you back into him.

You couldn’t tell who was doing what anymore, their bodies pressing into yours from both sides. The movement was primal now, fluid, as you rolled your hips between them, your body grinding, twisting in time with the music, desperate for more. Your breath came faster, chest rising and falling, the tension building to a point where you weren’t sure how much longer you could take it. You were sweating, like really sweating, strands of your hair sticking to your face as you lifted your arms and let the music and the heat guide you.

K was grinning now, that cocky, almost wicked smirk on his lips as his hands roamed lower on your body. His touch was demanding, not gentle, the way his fingers dug into your thighs, spreading them just enough so he could press closer. He didn’t say anything, but the way his eyes flicked to Heeseung told you everything. He wasn’t going to hold back either.

“God, you’re so fucking hot,” K murmured in your ear, his words sending another shiver down your spine. You were lost in the feeling of their bodies surrounding you—hot, heavy, and insistent. There was no escape from the heat of them, no way to ignore the way they were practically grinding on you. Every part of you was on fire. Every part of you was aching.

Heeseung chuckled low behind you, his lips brushing against your neck as his hands gripped your hips with more force.

“She’s a little eager, isn’t she?”

K’s response was a quiet laugh, his hands now fully on your hips, his fingers digging into your skin as he slid his body closer to yours. You felt the pressure of both of their bodies—their hard chests, their toned muscles—pressed up against you. It was all you could do to hold yourself together as you moved between them, the rhythm of the music driving you, driving them.

You could feel K’s hardness pressing against your stomach, his breath hot on your ear as he kept you locked against him. But Heeseung? He was the one making you lose control. His hands were everywhere now—on your thighs, your waist, your chest. He was pulling you back into him, his body molding against yours as he whispered,

“You like this, don’t you?” Heeseung murmured, now dragging his lips down the side of your neck. “Having both of us pressed up on you. Feeling our hands. Our cocks.”

Your knees went weak.

It was a game now. A dangerous, intoxicating game of power, of control—and you were the pawn caught in between them, unable to escape. The way K moved against you was like fire, hot and reckless, every inch of him demanding more, but it was Heeseung who had you completely under his spell. His hands never stopped moving, sliding up your back, pushing you closer to K, making you press harder against him.

You didn’t know when it happened, but suddenly your body was on the edge, and you couldn’t think. Couldn’t focus on anything other than the sensation of their bodies on yours—K’s rough grip, Heeseung’s possessive hands—and the growing need inside you. The music pounded in your ears, but it was their bodies—their heat—that consumed you. You felt it, you were already soaked between your legs, your clothed core pulsing in need.

K’s lips brushed against your ear again, his voice a husky whisper. “You’re mine tonight,” he said, and there was something dark in his tone, something that made your heart race. “You know that, right?”

And just when you thought you couldn’t handle any more, Heeseung pulled you even closer, his lips now trailing down your neck as his hands roamed lower, squeezing your ass, pulling you harder into him. His breath was hot in your ear. “Don’t worry,” he murmured, low and steady. “You’re going to get everything you need. From both of us.”

Your body was on fire. Every inch of you was alive, and you couldn’t decide which touch you wanted more. The way K’s hands moved on your body, the way Heeseung’s lips whispered against your skin—it was too much. You couldn’t think. You couldn’t breathe.

But one thing was certain: you were going to lose yourself in them tonight. And you didn’t care. You didn’t care who was in control, who was leading, who was following. All you cared about was feeling them, letting them have every inch of you.

The ride home was a blur of city lights and lingering touches.

You were nestled in the backseat between them, legs draped over K’s lap, your head resting on Heeseung’s shoulder. The alcohol had warmed your skin and softened your edges, but your mind was still clear. You were aware, of everything. Every glance. Every shift in tone. Every innocent touch that wasn’t really innocent.

By the time they got you inside, your heels were dangling from your fingers and your laugh was lazy and low. You were still tipsy, still happy about your party, but your mind was somewhere still on the dance floor, with the two men that were now walking behind you.

“C’mon, birthday girl,” Heeseung murmured, brushing his hand down your spine as he guided you toward the bedroom. “Let’s get you out of this tight little dress.”

You didn’t protest. Not even a little. You just let him walk you back, K trailing quietly behind with a small smirk on his face like he was already in on the plan. But you were a little gone to even care, you thought maybe he was just gonna say goodbye and leave.

But then, inside of the bedroom, he closed the door behind him.

Your knees weakened, and you glanced at Heeseung, but he just smiled, like telling you, trust me.

So you flopped onto the bed, dress riding up dangerously high on your thighs. Heeseung stood at the edge of the mattress, tilting his head down at you with that look, the one that always made your stomach drop.

“You comfy, baby?” he asked, voice smooth.

You hummed. “Mmm, kinda.”

Heeseung smiled, eyes flicking to K for a second, like they were on the same page of something you were unaware of, and you swallowed, confused for a second not really knowing what the hell was going on.

Heeseung’s voice slid you out of your thought.

“You look a little hot,” he said, fingers playing with the hem of your dress. “Tight clothes. Warm skin. Too many drinks.” He crouched beside the bed, brushing your hair back with practiced ease. “Let’s help you relax.”

You nodded, not really knowing what he meant. But you trusted him, so you bit your lip as he straigthened in front of you. Then his gaze met with K’s again. He grabbed your hand and made you stand up, your legs trembled — already — but he just chuckled, low, deep.

“Help her,” he said simply, voice thick with something unspoken.

You blinked, slowly turning your head toward K, who stepped forward, slow, measured, like he was approaching something fragile. His eyes met yours, and you couldn’t look away, couldn’t move, barely remembered how to breathe.

“Is this ok?” He asked, like already knowing the answer.

You tried to talk, but you were unable to find your voice, so you just nodded, slowly. His hands reached for you, careful and steady, fingers grazing your shoulders as they slid under the straps of your dress.

You shivered at the first touch.

Your skin was on fire.

The pads of his thumbs were warm as they brushed your collarbones, dragging the straps down, inch by agonizing inch. You watched his hands move like you were outside your body, like this couldn’t possibly be happening. K, your boyfriend’s best friend, undressing you with your boyfriend’s permission, with his blessing.

The straps slipped down your arms and your dress followed, slowly peeled from your skin like a secret being unraveled. It pooled at your waist first, then slipped over your hips as K knelt in front of you, hands steady, eyes flicking up every few seconds to check if you were still okay.

You were.

You were buzzing.

The dress fell to the floor, soft fabric brushing your ankles, and you were left in your tiny black lace set, barely-there panties and a matching bra, delicate and sheer. The air felt different on your skin now, cold in contrast to the heat rolling off your body.

You were so exposed. And they were still fully dressed.

But you didn’t want to cover up.

K’s eyes dropped lower, trailing down your body. His breath caught slightly when his gaze hit your thighs, then your chest. Deep, lustful, sparkly eyes making you squirm, that gaze you knew so well now completely wrecked. His hands hovered, still close but not touching.

“So pretty.”

You flushed, teeth sinking into your lip.

Heeseung stood behind you now, hands massaging your shoulders gently.

“She likes hearing that,” he said, his voice dropping lower. “Tell her again.”

K leaned down slightly, one hand resting on the mattress beside your thigh.

“You’re so pretty, Y/N,” he repeated, eyes flicking up to yours. “I always thought so.”

Your breath hitched. You were so aware of your body now, of the way your skin buzzed under their eyes, of how seen you felt.

Heeseung’s fingers threaded through your hair from behind, tilting your head so he could murmur against your jaw.

“She’s been thinking about this for a long time. Haven’t you, baby?”

You whimpered, nodding. There was no way to hide it now, there was no reason to do so, you were shaking, hot, for them. For both of them. K’s hands had settled on your thighs now, thumbs stroking circles into the soft flesh as he leaned in just a little closer, breathing in your scent, feeling the heat coming off your body in waves.

“Tell him,” Heeseung whispered. “Tell him how long you’ve wanted him to touch you like this.”

Your face burned. You opened your mouth, but nothing came out at first. It took you a second—longer than it should’ve—but when you finally spoke, your voice was small and breathy and real.

“I… I think about it a lot,” you confessed. “More than I should.”

K exhaled, almost like he’d been holding his breath. His grip on your thighs tightened just slightly. He smirked as if he’d known this answer for so long, his fingers felt burning against your sensitive skin, anticipation clouding your mind.

“And you don’t have to think anymore,” Heeseung said, dragging his lips along your neck. “You’re getting everything you want tonight.”

Your hands reached out on instinct, one tangling in Heeseung’s shirt behind you, the other curling around K’s wrist in front. You didn’t know who to touch, who to hold onto. It didn’t matter. They were both here, and they weren’t going anywhere.

K leaned forward slowly, his hands gliding up your sides to rest just under your bra. He looked up at you again, one last time, asking permission without a word.

You nodded, biting your lip.

And he peeled it off of you, slow, steady, every inch of exposed skin kissed by the cool air, your nipples tightening the moment they hit the air.

Heeseung hummed behind you, one hand reaching around to cup your breast, thumb brushing over your sensitive skin while his other hand slid down your stomach. Your head was spinning—not from the alcohol, not anymore—but from the heat building between your legs, the tension coiling tight in your gut, the weight of two pairs of eyes worshiping you like you were something sacred.

You felt your body lean forward without thinking, reaching for K’s shoulder to steady yourself, just so you could feel something, anchor yourself. His hand immediately came to rest on your thigh, solid, grounding, dangerous.

Heeseung’s hands slipped lower, brushing your sides, curving in around your waist.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured against your skin. “You like this?”

You nodded slowly.

“I can’t believe this is real,” you breathed, eyes flicking between both of them.

Heeseung kissed your shoulder.

“It is.”

K’s thumb brushed the inside of your thigh, just a whisper of a touch, but it made you jolt.

“You’re real,” K said softly, voice lower now. “And you’re perfect.”

Your chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, your thighs twitching where his hand rested. You were already overwhelmed, heart pounding heart against your chest, hands shaky and clumsy because you didn’t know what to do.

Heeseung laughed, low and quiet.

“She doesn’t even know what to do with herself.”

“I think she’s just waiting for us to show her,” K murmured, not taking his eyes off you.

You whimpered.

“Lay back for us, baby,” Heeseung murmured.

Your legs felt like jelly, but you obeyed—your body already trained to respond to his voice. You sank slowly into the mattress, your skin prickling against the cool sheets. The room felt too warm and too cold at once, and you were still wearing your soaked panties while the rest of you lay bare, chest rising and falling as their eyes ate you alive.

K stayed at the foot of the bed, just watching, while Heeseung leaned over you, one knee pressing into the mattress beside your hip, his fingers brushing hair out of your face like he wasn’t seconds from ruining you.

“You’re so quiet, sweetheart,” he said with a teasing pout. “Nothing to say?”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Just a whimper.

“Yeah,” K muttered, arms crossed now, head tilting. “She’s gone already, huh? We haven’t even touched her properly yet.”

Heeseung chuckled, and his hand slid down your stomach, pausing just above the waistband of your panties.

“We don’t even have to. She’s already ruined.”

You squirmed under their gaze, hips shifting, thighs pressing together to ease the aching pulse there. But Heeseung tsked, pressing your legs gently apart with one knee.

“Don’t be shy now,” he said. “You were all over us at the club. Remember that?”

“Grinding like a little slut,” K added. “Like she wanted both of us to take her right there on the floor.”

You whimpered, covering your face with your hands. Your skin felt like it was on fire. A wave of shame covered you, too aware, too conscious.

Heeseung clicked his tongue.

“None of that. Hands down.”

You obeyed instantly, blinking up at him with wide, glossy eyes. Your whole face was red, your vision hazy, your lips parted as you tried to look for the air that had left your lungs minutes ago.

“Good girl,” he cooed. Then, he glanced at K. “Come here. Help me with these.”

K stepped forward without hesitation, hooking his fingers into your panties at your hips and pulling them down agonizingly slow. Heeseung leaned back to give him room, watching your expression the whole time. You tried not to squirm. Tried not to breathe too loudly. But when the damp lace peeled away from your core, you couldn’t help the shaky little gasp that escaped your lips.

Your bare pussy was in full display in front of them, and you felt it, soaked, glistening, needy. Their eyes settled between your legs and you almost moaned, they looked like they wanted to devour you.

“Look at that,” K said softly, his voice almost reverent now. “She’s fucking dripping.”

“Messy girl,” Heeseung murmured. “Is that for me, baby? Or him?”

You didn’t know. You couldn’t think. Couldn’t answer. They were looking at you like you were edible, like they were deciding who would bite first. And you had to look away for a second, biting your lip, it was just too much.

“She doesn’t even know,” K smirked, dragging a knuckle slowly up the inside of your thigh, so close. “That’s adorable.”

You cried out, tiny and frustrated, hips bucking just slightly, but they didn’t give in. K’s hand pulled away again. Heeseung leaned down, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your stomach, then higher, then higher, until he was just under your breast, still not giving you enough.

Your skin felt electric. Too tight. Every nerve was screaming. You could feel the throb between your legs with every beat of your heart, hot, swollen, soaked. Your hands gripped the sheets, trying to ground yourself, but there was no relief. Only them.

“You want something, sweetheart?” Heeseung asked, feigning innocence.

You nodded desperately, biting your lip. You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. All you could do was feel, the aching void where their touch should be.

“Use your words,” K said from between your knees. “Come on. You were so brave before. You gonna go all shy on us now?”

You swallowed hard, chest heaving. You weren’t shy. You were ruined.

“I—I want…”

“What?” Heeseung purred, kissing the side of your breast now, his hand sliding lazily across your ribs, not even pretending to be in a hurry. “You want me to touch you? Or him?”

“Both,” you whispered, the word shaky and soaked with desperation. It was the only thing you could say. The only thing your brain could form. You needed them. Both of them. Everywhere.

They both stilled for a moment. Then smiled.

“Oh, baby,” Heeseung said, voice like a promise, “we’ll give you both. Just not yet.”

You wanted to scream. Your thighs clenched uselessly, trying to ease the ache, but it only made it worse. The air felt thick, heavy with sex and tension, and your body felt weightless, like you were floating just above yourself, trapped in a haze of arousal so sharp it hurt.

K leaned in again, lips brushing the inside of your thigh this time—just once—before pulling away. You sobbed out a breath, half a plea. A single kiss. His breath was hot, his mouth barely there, and then he was gone again.

“She’s so sensitive,” K muttered. “Bet one little lick would break her.”

“I know,” Heeseung grinned. “That’s why we’re not giving it to her yet.”

You whimpered, arching up, thighs shaking. Your whole body twitched. You couldn’t take much more of this. Your heart was racing, skin damp with sweat, muscles shaking. You were so close to something, but they kept you teetering, toes curled over the edge with no way to fall. You moned again, hips lifting off the bed in a futile attempt to chase K’s mouth, Heeseung’s hands, anything.

And Heeseung kissed your mouth, slow and deep, just to shut you up. Slow. Deep. Dominant. His tongue slid against yours, catching the little, broken moans slipping from your lips. He swallowed your sounds like they were his favorite thing. He kissed you like he owned you. And in that moment, you were his. Theirs.

Your thoughts had melted into static. Your whole body was shaking with need.

Then K’s fingers inched just a little closer, brushing over your folds—barely—and your back arched involuntarily.

“She’s leaking,” K murmured, sounding way too calm about it. “It’s fucking hot.”

Heeseung smiled, looking down at you like you were the most delicious thing he’d ever seen.

“You like his hands on you, baby?”

You couldn’t answer. Not with words. Just a desperate nod, lips parted, hips twitching.

K’s hand dragged lower again, this time letting his knuckles brush directly over your slit. Just one slow pass. The contact was still light, barely-there—but it had your whole body jolting like he’d shocked you.

“Shit,” K breathed, licking his lips. “She’s so wet.”

“She’s always this wet,” Heeseung said proudly, dipping his head to finally take your nipple into his mouth—hot and wet, his tongue flicking slow. You gasped, arching into his mouth, and that movement ground your hips up into K’s palm again.

He pressed down just a little this time. Just enough pressure to have your legs shaking.

“Such a good little toy, huh?” Heeseung mumbled around your nipple, his teeth scraping softly. “She just lays here and takes it.”

“She loves it,” K agreed, dragging two fingers up your slit now, slow and intentional, but still not pushing in, still not giving you what you were aching for. “So fucking needy.”

You whimpered, your fingers clutching at the sheets, legs falling further open like your body had given up on pretending it had any shame left. There was none. Not anymore.

K leaned down, breath ghosting against your core now, and his fingers dragged back up—this time pausing to roll over your clit once.

You cried out.

But instead of doing it again, he just smirked.

“Sensitive.”

“Baby’s close and we haven’t even fucked her yet,” Heeseung said, switching to your other breast, leaving the first one wet and flushed. “Think we should make her come like this?”

K hummed.

“No. Not yet.”

“Cruel,” Heeseung chuckled.

“She likes it,” K said, eyes on you again. “Don’t you, sweetheart?”

You nodded desperately, tears pricking at your lashes now.

“I—I do.”

“Good girl.”

Heeseung lifted his head and kissed you again, hard, tongue exploring into your mouth, catching the tiny moans you couldn’t stop anymore. While he kissed you, K dipped two fingers down again, slowly sliding between your folds, parting you, but still not going inside. Just stroking the slickness, rubbing over your clit in lazy, cruel circles that made your thighs twitch and your hips jerk helplessly up into his hand.

He pulled away again just when you felt the edge rushing up, again.

“No,” you gasped. “Please—”

Your body wasn’t yours anymore. It was theirs. Your thighs pulled open, lips parted, mind fogged over so thickly you couldn’t remember your own name, just the way their hands moved, the heat of their mouths, their voices curling around you like silk and static.

“Look at her,” K said, somewhere between amused and amazed. “Fucking wrecked.”

Heeseung was sitting beside you now, a slow smirk tugging at his lips as he watched K kneel between your legs again, his fingers glistening with your arousal. They kept doing it. Kept breaking you.

“Touch her again,” Heeseung said softly. “Just like before.”

K obeyed, two fingers sliding up your folds with maddening slowness, stopping right before your entrance. He rubbed your clit in small, steady circles, too slow to satisfy, too perfect to ignore. It was excruciating. It was everything. You sobbed, the tension twisting tighter in your belly, so sharp it almost hurt. Every brush of his fingers felt like electricity, dancing through your nerves, tightening your muscles, building, building, and still—still—not enough.

“There it is,” Heeseung murmured, brushing the hair from your face, his thumb catching the tear that slipped down your cheek. “Poor baby. Thought we’d let you come already?”

You nodded desperately, lips trembling, throat too tight for words. A broken whine slipped out instead, pitiful and raw.

K leaned closer, breath fanning over your drenched heat.

“You’re so close, aren’t you?” His voice was low and sinful, thick with amusement. “I can feel it.”

Your hips jerked up, chasing his mouth with desperation you couldn’t control. You needed more. Needed anything.

He chuckled.

Then he stopped.

You screamed—not from pain, not even from surprise—but from the soul-crushing frustration. It felt like your orgasm had been ripped from your body with both hands. Your back arched, hands clutching the sheets like lifelines, trying to force something to stay, to hold on, to push through. But it was gone. Again.

Heeseung caught your jaw gently, turning your face to his. “Shh, baby. Don’t cry. We’ll give it to you.”

“But you have to earn it,” K added from between your legs, his voice calm, unhurried, dark. “Beg.”

“I am—” you hiccupped, your breath stuttering. Your eyes were glassy, lashes sticky with tears. “I am begging.”

Heeseung tilted his head, lips brushing your cheek.

“Not properly.”

You whimpered, completely undone.

“Please, please let me come—I’ll do anything—please, I need it so bad, I c-can’t—”

You didn’t care how pathetic you sounded. Your voice cracked, thick with tears and lust and surrender. You weren’t playing anymore. You needed them. You were soaked, ruined, trembling, your core throbbing with every heartbeat, clenching around nothing. Your thoughts were gone, lost to the ache.

K pressed his fingers back to your clit—just for a second. You gasped, your whole body jolting like you’d been shocked. The edge slammed back into you so fast it made your head spin. But then—again—he pulled away.

You sobbed, body shaking harder now, mouth open and panting, chest rising in shallow breaths.

“Please,” you cried, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m yours—yours—just make me come, please—”

Heeseung groaned softly, and you could see the heat in his eyes. He loved this. Every broken syllable, every whimper, every drop of need you spilled for them.

“That’s more like it,” he murmured, thumb brushing another tear from your cheek.

“She’s so fucking cute like this,” K said, dragging his nails lightly along your thigh. “Wrecked and begging.”

You couldn’t stop trembling. Your thighs were slick, trembling open and exposed. Your lips were swollen, aching. Your chest heaved with every breath, and there wasn’t a single thought left in your head. Only sensation. Only need.

“You think she’s ready?” K asked, dragging his fingers slowly down your stomach again, stopping just above where you were soaking the sheets.

Heeseung leaned in, kissed your jaw, your cheek, then finally your mouth—soft and filthy, tongue sliding against yours.

“She’s more than ready,” he whispered. “She’s dying for it.”

You nodded frantically, tears still clinging to your lashes. “Please—just let me—please—”

They watched you. Not touching. Letting you feel it, that raw, trembling need.

“You hear that, man?” K said, his tone full of that same wicked playfulness. “She’s begging.”

Heeseung smiled darkly. Then finally—finally—he lowered his hand and pressed his fingers to your clit, hard and fast and perfect.

You gasped, the pressure making you twitch, your hips jerking uncontrollably.

Then K’s tongue dragged a long, slow stroke up your entrance, licking up every drop you’d soaked the sheets with. You screamed, thighs closing around his head, hands clawing at the sheets as the pressure snapped back into place, coiling so tight in your belly you thought you’d explode. Heeseung’s fingers rubbed in tight, relentless circles, precise and brutal, every stroke sparking across your nerves like lightning. K’s tongue flattened against your entrance, licking into you deep and slow, before flicking up to swirl around your clit, fast, wet, hot.

And your body—your ruined, aching, hypersensitive body—couldn’t take it.

You broke.

The orgasm slammed into you without warning. Not a wave. Not a build. It was a detonation, a sudden, violent unraveling that ripped through every muscle, every nerve, every thought you had left. You screamed, loud, wrecked, raw, as your back arched clean off the bed, legs locking around K’s shoulders. Your vision blurred, went white at the edges, stars exploding behind your eyes as the climax consumed you completely. Every inch of your skin burned with it—your thighs shaking, your fingers digging into the sheets, your mouth open and gasping as sobs mixed with moans.

It didn’t stop.

Heeseung’s fingers kept working you through it, dragging it out until it hurt, until your body was twitching helplessly, until the pleasure spiraled so high it blurred into pain and back again. K moaned against you, tongue still tasting everything you gave him, still stroking the softest parts of you until your entire body felt like it was buzzing.

“Fuck,” Heeseung breathed, watching you come apart. “That’s it, baby. That’s what I wanted.”

“She’s so loud,” K muttered, voice muffled between your thighs. “She came so fucking hard…”

You whimpered, eyes fluttering, body still convulsing in tiny aftershocks as your orgasm slowly—so slowly—began to fade.

Heeseung leaned over you again, brushing his lips against your cheek, your ear.

“You did so good for us, sweetheart,” he whispered, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Took it so well.”

K finally pulled back, and your legs dropped open limply. You were soaked, trembling, boneless, your skin damp with sweat, your throat sore from crying out. You felt like you were floating, detached from your body, your chest rising and falling in rapid little gasps.

You were still trembling when they moved. Your body, spent from that first orgasm, had sunk halfway into the mattress, slick and flushed and utterly wrecked. And yet—somewhere in that dizzy, floating haze—you were still aching for more.

Your thighs twitched weakly. Your breath came in short, shallow bursts. Your eyes, half-lidded and glassy, blinked slowly as you watched Heeseung stand up at the edge of the bed.

He peeled off his shirt first, slowly, deliberately, dragging the fabric up his torso, exposing inch after inch of taut, golden skin. Defined lines of muscle rippled with the motion, his abs tightening as the shirt passed over them. His chest rose and fell evenly, a light sheen of sweat catching the soft glow of the bedside lamp.

You didn’t even realize your mouth had parted.

Then K stood too, pulling off his own shirt in a single motion, and you swore your lungs stopped working.

He was just as cut. Broad chest, sharp waist, shoulders so wide they made your throat dry. His skin was smooth and pale in the low light, collarbones carved, veins just starting to raise on his arms. And the way he looked at you—those sharp eyes dragging over your limp, naked body like he owned you—it made something inside you twist painfully.

“Oh, she’s drooling,” Heeseung said with a slow, cruel smirk. He reached down and cupped your chin with two fingers, tilting your face up to him. “You like what you see, baby?”

You tried to answer, but your lips were dry, trembling. A soft, pathetic sound left you instead, half a whimper, half a moan.

“She can’t even talk,” K laughed darkly. “Already so gone, and we haven’t even started.”

Heeseung let go of your chin and reached for the waistband of his jeans, dragging them down over his hips, revealing thick thighs and the obvious bulge straining in his briefs. He stepped out of them slowly, giving you time to look, to take in every inch of him. When he got rid of his boxers, you lost it even though you’d seen him so many times before. He was so thick, so hard, so perfect. His cock was veiny, red tip glistening in precum. Your mouth watered, it had been days since you last tasted him, and you wanted him now.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away.

And when K followed suit, tugging his own pants down, you made a sound, soft and broken. You felt it in your core, in your throat, in the very center of your chest. Like you couldn’t hold it in. He was even more perfect than you’d imagined. His cock was just a little thicker than Heeseung’s, but so close in size, and so hard too, he stroked himself a few times and you clenched your thighs together again.

Their bodies were unreal—built, hard, warm, male in every way that made your thighs clench and your mouth go dry. Every shift of their muscles made you twitch, every shadow dipping into the contours of their torsos made your breath catch.

“Fuck,” you whispered, eyes wide, voice hoarse.

“She’s shaking,” Heeseung said, clearly enjoying every second of your unraveling. “And we haven’t even touched her again.”

K moved closer to the bed, dragging two fingers up your shin, slow and light.

“You ever seen anything like this before, sweetheart?” he asked, voice syrup-smooth and low. Same cockiness as always, but you didn’t care, he was so hot being confident.

You couldn’t answer. Your mind had gone static, short-circuited by the way their skin looked, by the sheer presence of them standing there, cocks hard and heavy, muscles carved like statues and eyes glued to you like prey.

Heeseung sat beside you again, this time fully naked, and cupped one of your breasts in his hand, thumb brushing over the pebbled nipple.

“You’re drooling,” he murmured again, more gently this time. “So fucking cute. You wanna touch us?”

You nodded, barely able to keep your head upright.

K leaned in, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Then you’re gonna let us take you. Again. And again. Until that pretty little head of yours forgets everything but us.”

Heeseung leaned close too, his hand still teasing your chest, his lips brushing your jaw. You closed your eyes, leaning at his touch.

“You’re going to be good with K, baby?” He asked as K crawled in the bed and kneeled in front of you, until his thick length was just a few inches away from your flushed face.

You swallowed, and he winked an eye at you, that same smirk in his lips. So you nodded, glancing at Heeseung, who now was grabbing your thighs, spreading you open again, face lowering between your legs and you trembled as his breath crashed with you skin because you were still so sensitive.

Heeseung talked against your skin again, hands brushing your thighs, and you squirmed.

“Suck his dick, baby. Just as good as you do with mine.”

You nodded again, slowly this time—eyes flicking from K’s face down to where he knelt in front of you, his expression unreadable but hungry. You could feel his gaze settle over every inch of you, heavy and hot, like he already knew what was about to happen and was savoring it.

Heeseung’s hands gripped your thighs more firmly, holding you open, holding you still. His breath ghosted over your skin and you twitched, still hypersensitive, still trembling from the last time they’d brought you to pieces.

Then, with shaky hands, you wrapped them around K’s length. You stroked him slowly, mostly because you weren’t in your state of mind right now, and he hissed between his teeth, you looked up at him, eyes watering, before stretching your neck just a bit, until your lips met with the tip of his cock. And you liked, slow, wet, dragging your tongue along his member, tasting him, and you almost moaned because — finally—, you’d been thinking about this for such a long time. One of his hands landed in your head, but he didn’t push, yet. You opened your mouth, wrapping your swollen lips around his tip, and you sucked, just a couple of times, salty precum on your tongue. Finally, you relaxed your jaw, he was thick, very thick, so it was hard for you to adjust, but you did anyways, taking him deep until he touched your throat, but you gagged around him, and breathless chuckle let his lips.

Between your legs, Heeseung raised an eyebrow, his fingers brushing your inner thighs, skin soaked because of your recent orgasm, and you twitched, sighing through your nose.

“C’mon, baby, that’s the best you can do? I’m sure you don’t want to disappoint him, mh? Take him deeper, cmon, choke around him.”

You pulled back, chest heaving as you caught your breath, glanced up at K and he was smirking, he raised his chin like telling you — commanding you— to take him deeper. So you sighed again, opening your mouth wide and he grabbed your hair tight before thrusting his hips forward, sliding inside of your mouth with one hard hit, cock all the way down your throat, and you suppressed a gag, tears falling down your cheeks.

“Fuck.” he hissed, not waiting anymore before starting to rock his hips, his thick cock bumping inside of your mouth, the hot flesh on your tongue, saliva falling from the corner of your lips “Such a warm, perfect litte mouth.”

Your throat burned, eyes watering as you adjusted to the rhythm he gave you, rough and unrelenting, like he’d waited forever for this moment. K’s grip in your hair was firm, keeping you steady as he moved, muttering curses under his breath that made your skin prickle with heat.

Your hands dug into the sheets, trying to ground yourself, but there was no escape from the sensation, his pace, his voice, the way Heeseung was still between your legs, watching. Always watching. But he didn’t stay still, no, with a mischievious smirk, he spat, right onto your pulsing core, and you flinched, gagging around K’s cock. You didn’t have time to protest, it was just too much, you were still sensitive, but he didn’t care, he licked long, slow, along your soaked folds, moaning against your pussy, nose brushing your swollen clit, and hands gripping your thighs to keep you spread for him. You whined around K’s length, shutting your eyes feeling your legs tremble.

“Look at her,” K groaned, tilting your face just slightly so Heeseung could see the tears on your cheeks, the dazed shine in your eyes. “She’s taking it so well. Choking on my dick like the dirty bitch she is.”

Heeseung made a sound low in his throat, fingers stroking your pussy, as he moved his tongue in messy circles, his warm tongue making you arch your back,

“That’s my good girl,” he murmured, and your stomach flipped at the praise. He lifted his head, face all a mess of your fluids and his spit, and you rocked your hips looking for more pleasure, for more of his tongue against your pulsing pussy. Whining, mouth still full of his best friend’s cock “So sensitive.” Heeseung murmured, voice thick with something close to awe. “She can barely take it.”

“She’s doing fine,” K muttered, his tone rough. “She likes it. Don’t you, baby?”

You tried to nod, but even that felt too much, your body taut like a wire, nerves overstretched and begging for relief. You felt like you were floating, not entirely present, held there only by the heat of their voices and the ache curling low in your belly.

K then started to thrust his hips faster, rougher, deeper, and you moaned around him as your fingers reached for his thighs for balance, because it was just too much, you couldn’t think straigh, not when he was face fucking you this good, not when Heeseung was eating you out like an starved man. Every touch felt like lightning under your skin. You were trembling again, toes curling against the sheets, eyes glassy and unfocused. Your body was heavy with the weight of everything they’d given you—and everything they still held back.

“Fuck, that’s it. Cry around me like the little filthy slut you are.” K’s voice was rough, deep, bathed in lust, his jaw was clenched, his hand gripped tight in your hair, a vein popping from his neck, sweat falling along his forehead, his eyes dark, fixated on you, on your mouth, how you sucked him sloppy and messy.

“She loves her mouth full of a thick cock.” Heeseung chuckled — actually chuckled— against your pussy, wet sounds of his mouth eating you, and then he shoved two fingers between your folds, you cried out, pulling back from K’s cock as you sniffed.

“P-Please— Too much” you thighs were shaking, every beat of your racing heart matching the pulsings of your soaked pussy in Heeseung’s mouth, and he just ignored your pleas, curling his fingers inside of you as his tongue worked messy over your clit.

“You can take it, c’mon. You wanted it so bad before.”

You whimpered, and K grabbed your hair again and shoved himself inside of your mouth once again, you choked, more tears falling from your eyes as you took him so deep the head of his cock was crashing against the back of your throat. He groaned, letting his head fall backwards as his hips rolled onto your face, faster, rougher.

“You like being used, don’t you? You like when we make you feel small.” He thrusted into your mouth erratically, and you moaned again when Heeseung shook his head and eat you out so good, the knot in your lower belly already building again, and you squirmed, overwhelmed, your whole body aching.

“You’re gonna let him ruin your pretty face, baby? Let him cover you, c’mon, do it K, don’t let her waste a single drop.” Heeseung spat right on your clit and you actually tried to scream around K’s cock.

He didn’t wait anymore. His orgasm came with so much force, hips hitting your face tight as he groaned guttural, his cock twitching and throbbing inside of your mouth. He took it out, warm drops of creamy strands falling on your cheeks, your forehead, your mouth. And you took it, like the good girl you were, because you wanted him to know how much you loved his taste.

“You took me so well, you were born for this baby.” K whispered.

But Heeseung kept working on your pussy, mouth full of your fluids and licking fast and messily around your clit as his fingers thrusted in and out of you. So good, so skilled, so deep. And when he gently reached your g-spot, your body couldn’t take it anymore.

The tension snapped, and the world fell out from under you.

Your back arched off the bed, a cry torn from your lips, sharp and helpless. Everything burned—white-hot and blinding—like your body had forgotten how to exist outside of the pleasure. The wave crashed over you, pulling you under, and all you could do was hold on. Wet strands of fluids soaking the sheets, soaking Heeseung’s face, his hair, his arms, it was a mess and you were shaking and gasping for air.

Your heart pounded, your limbs shook, tears clung to your lashes—and through the haze, you felt Heeseung’s hands holding you down, anchoring you. Kissing your hips like you were something holy. Whispering things you couldn’t understand.

“Fuuuuck. That’s so fucking hot.” K’s chest moved up and down as his orgasm still pulsed in his body, and Heeseung circled your clit slow, like wanting to prolong yours, but it was too much, you were aching, overstimulated.

“You came so much for us baby, you soaked me.” He kissed your inner thighs, and you whined.

“T-Too much, it’s too much—”.

“Poor thing can’t tell if she’s begging us to stop or keep going.” K’s hand caressed your hair, and you closed your eyes. You felt Heeseung moving again, but your body was already failing you, unable to move.

You wanted them to keep going, you wanted them to use you until you couldn’t take it anymore. But your body felt already so weak, you couldn’t ever raise your head, your face still covered in K’s cum.

But then you felt him, Heeseung grabbed your waist, manhandling you without any problem because your body felt so light, and you didn’t protest, you let him flip you over, ass lifted as your knees threatened to break, but you just buried your face in the pillows, arching your back creating that curve you knew he loved so much.

“You said you could take it, didn’t you? You begged for it. What happened, sweetheart?” His tone was sweet, but you could almost hear the smirk in his face.

K just laid by your side, back against the head of the bed, you felt his warm fingers on your body, on your back, on your breasts, on your ass, and you glanced up to meet with his hard cock again, he was stroking himself as Heeseung knelt on the bed behind you, hands gripped tight to your hips, helping you keep balance because you were still trembling.

“Why don’t we show K how much fun do we have, mh? Can you take it, baby? You’re already so fucked, but i know you can. Let’s show him who this pussy belongs to.”

You couldn’t talk, you had already forgot every word in your brain, so you just hummed, weak, low, broken. Because even overstimulated, trembling, body already wrecked, you felt how you pussy clenched needy when Heeseung’s cock brushed your folds, and unconsciously rocked your hips towards him.

“There it is, my greedy little whore.”

And then he slammed into you, with one hard, deep thrust, and you screamed, feeling his thick length stretch your sensitive walls, your pussy aching but clenching around him so good.

Every inch of your body was drawn tight with heat—nerves frayed, mind hollowed out by everything they’d done to you. What they kept doing to you, Heeseung’s familiar and perfect cock inside of you, K’s fingers were slow, deliberate, dragging along your sides like he was memorizing the shape of you, while his other hand still moved lazily over his throbbing cock. He was watching you so closely. Watching the way you buckled, the way your breath hitched each time Heeseung moved behind you and crashed his hips with your ass.

And Heeseung—he was nothing but steady hands and low growls, fingers digging into your hips, holding you like he knew you’d fall apart without him. Like he wanted you to. You whimpered when you felt him press against you again, the heat of him thick and unforgiving. Your knees wobbled, the overstimulation building sharp in your spine. Everything was too much—and not enough.

“She’s gone,” K muttered, amused, dragging his thumb across your cheek. “Completely fucked out.”

“Still moving though,” Heeseung answered, voice low against your back. “Still chasing it. Greedy little thing. She’s clenching me so tight.”

Your breath hitched as Heeseung’s hands slid up your waist, grounding you just enough to keep you from floating away. You didn’t know how you were still upright—your arms had long since given out, and your thighs trembled beneath you, overstimulated and slick with heat. Every part of you was humming, nerves exposed like open wires.

And then Heeseung moved—rougher, fully fucking you now. Just enough to make you jolt forward with a gasp, the motion sparking through your spine like electricity, wet sounds of your skins crashing, loud moans leaving your lips and more tears falling down your face.

“F-Fuck!”

You clung to the sheets, chest heaving. K was still in front of you, stroking himself slow and lazy, gaze fixed on your face, your trembling lips, the dazed, glassy look in your eyes.

“She’s barely hanging on,” he muttered, almost to himself, voice thick with something close to awe.

Heeseung laughed under his breath behind you, fingers curling tighter into your hips.

“She loves it like this. Don’t you, baby?” His voice dipped, almost tender. “All dumb and dripping and so, so full.”

You couldn’t respond—not with words. Just a soft, broken whimper as your body arched back into his grip, your skin flushed and oversensitive. You felt like you were vibrating, like the whole world narrowed down to the slow drag of fingertips across your thighs, the press of heat behind you, the thick cock slamming into your g-spot over and over, the low rasp of their voices echoing through the haze. And then Heeseung’s fingers found your clit again, and you sobbed.

“You feel it?” Heeseung murmured, leaning over you, his chest against your back, lips brushing your shoulder. “How close you are again?”

You nodded, tears clinging to your lashes, and he hummed in approval.

“That’s it, princess,” K said from in front of you, thumb brushing your bottom lip. “Don’t think. Just feel.”

And you did.

You let go. Let the pleasure crash over you like a wave—your body shuddering, breath catching, as you tipped over the edge again. Overwhelmed. Overworked. Completely undone in their hands. Your pussy clenched so tight around him and he started rocking his hips erratically, the sound so obscene, the image of K stroking himself in front of your face.

Heeseung didn’t hold back, he fucked into you one last time and came with a long, loud groan, the veins of his neck popping, his head thrown back, his fingers gripped so tight in your hips that it burned. He spilled inside of you, warm, familiar, so good. His cum filled your insides, and you whimpered when he pulled out just to see how it leaked between your folds.

Your body felt weightless, boneless. You collapsed against the sheets, chest pressed to the mattress, cheek turned to the side as your breath came in shallow, ragged bursts. You could still feel every pulse of your release echoing through you, your skin sensitive to even the faintest touch.

Heeseung leaned down, his lips ghosting over your ear as he smoothed a hand along your spine.

“You did so good for me, baby.” He kissed your temple, slow and sweet, like he hadn’t just completely ruined you.

You felt the mattress shift as he moved, making space. You tried to lift your head, to figure out what was happening, but you didn’t have to wait long.

K was there, his presence a wall of heat behind you, hands already settling on your hips. You trembled, overwhelmed and desperate all over again.

“She’s shaking,” he said softly, thumbs brushing circles into your skin. “She’s so warm.”

“She’ll take it,” Heeseung replied from beside you, fingers tangling in your hair again. “She always does. Won’t you, sweetheart?”

You didn’t trust your voice, so you just nodded. Slowly. Willingly.

K leaned over you, one hand bracing beside your head, the other still stroking along your thigh. His mouth hovered near your ear, his breath making your skin pebble.

“Tell me if it’s too much”.

His voice was different now—low and rough, but gentler. And somehow, that made the anticipation even more unbearable. You felt everything—his touch, the shift of his weight behind you, the slow drag of his fingers down your spine, the tension in your stomach coiling tighter and tighter with every passing second. You were already buzzing, already teetering on the edge again—and he hadn’t even done anything yet.

He flipped you over with so much ease too, as your body was literally floating at this point, and you saw his face, his beautiful face covered in sweat, his hair sticked to his forehead. You just smiled, but so softly, because even that movement was just too much for you. Then K grabbed your thighs, gently, but still tight, pushing them against your chest, spreading you open. You felt your sensitive and overstimulated pussy pulsing again, still leaking Heeseung’s seed. He watched it too, and just smirked.

“So fucking ruined.”

K looked down at you like you were something fragile and filthy all at once—something he wanted to break and treasure at the same time. His chest rose and fell, sheen of sweat catching the low light, and when he leaned forward, your breath caught.

He kissed you, his kiss was different from Heeseung’s. It was dirtier, more primal, needier, messier. Tongue and theeth and spit, and you took it all, moving your lips against his messily because you didn’t even know what your were doing. But his taste was so sweet, his lips so plush, and your pussy clenched again, needy, still.

Your legs were folded high, thighs trembling against your own chest, held there by his strong grip. You felt exposed—utterly undone—and yet so warm beneath his gaze. You could barely meet his eyes when he pulled back.

K’s hands were so big on your legs. Firm. Confident. But he wasn’t rushing. No, he was watching—taking in every inch of you, every tremor, every ragged breath.

“She’s a mess,” Heeseung said from the side, his voice filled with that same smug affection, his fingers tracing circles over your knee. “And she loves it.”

You couldn’t argue. You didn’t want to.

K leaned down, close enough that his breath fanned across your cheek.

“You ready?” he asked softly. “You want more?”

It was ridiculous to nod—your body was already undone, used, spent. But you did. Slowly. Desperately.

He shifted forward, and you braced yourself—your breath catching, hands curling into the sheets, your body thrumming with too much sensation, too much emotion. Every nerve was alive. Every thought was him. Every muscle in your body anticipated the next wave of heat, of pressure, of overwhelming pleasure.

And then he slid inside of you, and you grabbed his arms and digged your nails in his skin, because he was a little thicker than Heeseung, but it felt so good, he stretched your already used walls, and you moaned again, broken, weak. He let out a long groan, shutting his eyes and clenching his jaw, you could feel every vein inside of you.

“So fucking tight and perfect.” His voice was broken too, and he grabbed your hips before thrusting with a strong pace, his cock disappearing inside of your dripping walls, your fluids and Heeseung’s making it so sloppy, but so good.

“She’s that tight even after i used her. She’s fucking perfect.” Heeseung was laying besides you, hands caressing your head like telling you, i’m here.

K’s pace was relentless, but not cruel—just deep, steady, intentional. You couldn’t stop the noise that left you, somewhere between a sob and a moan, as your body rocked with every thrust. You felt so full—every inch of him dragging against your walls, already raw and overstimulated, and yet somehow still aching for more.

Your nails stayed dug into his arms, not even consciously, just gripping—clinging. Your body was fire and static, too much and not enough all at once.

K’s head dropped for a second, forehead pressing into yours as he groaned through gritted teeth.

“God, you feel unreal,” he muttered, his breath mixing with yours. “So warm. So fucking good.”

Your eyes fluttered, your vision blurring—not from tears, not really, just from being so far gone. It was all too much, but you didn’t want it to stop.

You felt Heeseung’s hand still in your hair, soft, grounding, thumb stroking your cheek. His voice was lower now, close to your ear.

“That’s it, baby. Let him feel what I get every night.”

You whimpered, a broken sound, your hips twitching helplessly beneath K’s hands. It was like your body didn’t know how to stop responding—your walls clenching around him like a desperate plea.

K growled low in his throat, hips stuttering for a second.

“She’s pulling me in, Heeseung,” he muttered, almost in disbelief. “She’s so—fuck—she’s milking me.”

You could barely process what they were saying. Everything blurred into heat and pressure and the stretch of him, the way he filled you like he belonged there.

Heeseung tilted your face toward him, kissing your cheek, then your mouth—gentle and filthy at the same time.

“You’re taking him so well. So fucking good for us.”

You tried to say thank you, or more, or maybe just please—but all that came out was a whimper as your body began to shake again, that unbearable, electric pull winding low in your stomach.

K’s pace shifted, growing rougher—not cruel, but urgent, like he was chasing something just as desperately as you were. Your thighs trembled against your chest, the angle making everything feel sharper, deeper. Every time he sank into you, it felt like the air was being stolen from your lungs.

You could feel your body giving out under the pleasure—legs shaking, hands slipping from his arms to the sheets beneath you as your strength began to fail, overwhelmed. Your voice cracked on a moan, high-pitched and broken, because it was too much. Heeseung’s hands came to hold yours, threading your fingers together like he knew. Like he needed to anchor you there, in the middle of it all.

K was watching your face now, eyes low and dark.

“She’s so gone,” he muttered, chest rising and falling fast. “Look at her. Just letting me use her.”

You couldn’t speak, couldn’t think—your mind was white noise, your skin buzzing. It was dizzying, this kind of pleasure, and it kept climbing and climbing.

Heeseung turned your face to his again, pressing another kiss to your mouth, slow and deep.

“You gonna come again, baby?” he whispered, voice like syrup. “Gonna let him make you fall apart for us?”

You whimpered, nodded, whimpered again. Your body was tightening, curling into itself with every thrust, every brush of K’s skin on yours. The pressure building was unbearable—like something divine pressing down on your spine, on your lungs, curling through your stomach like heat and static and hunger.

Then—without warning—it snapped.

Your body seized, a scream tearing from your throat as the climax ripped through you, stealing your breath and blinding your vision. Your walls clenched down around K hard enough to make him gasp, his grip on your thighs tightening like a vice.

You heard them both—soft groans, curses, something between awe and desperation—and then K followed, hips jerking once, twice, and then he groaned long and low as he lost control inside you. His seed filling you up, mixing with Heeseung’s, and you sobbed again, so full, so warm.

Your body stayed arched for a moment before collapsing completely, trembling and limp. Heeseung caught you, K cradled your legs, and you just breathed—fast and shallow, lips parted, every nerve still buzzing like it didn’t know how to stop.

They were quiet now, warm hands running across your skin like they were putting you back together.

Your body was still trembling faintly, every muscle loose with exhaustion, your skin sticky with sweat and everything else. The room had gone quiet now, no more panting breaths or choked cries, just the soft hum of the air conditioning and the faint rustling of sheets.

You felt like you were floating.

Not in that hot, frantic way from before, but in something softer. Slower. Your mind wasn’t spinning anymore, just drifting in the warmth of their touch.

Heeseung moved first. You didn’t even realize he’d slipped out of bed until you felt the edge of the mattress rise slightly. A moment later, the soft weight of a warm towel pressed gently between your legs. You winced a little, flinching from the sensitivity, but then you heard his voice, low, apologetic.

“Sorry, baby. I know you’re sensitive… I’ll be gentle.”

And he was. Every motion was careful, slow. Not clinical, not rushed. Just loving. He didn’t speak much as he cleaned you up, but his eyes never left your face, and his free hand kept stroking your thigh in slow, grounding circles. You realized he was watching you for signs, if you were okay, if you needed anything, if he needed to stop.

K shifted beside you, still catching his breath, but then he was pulling the comforter up around your shoulders, tucking it in gently, like you were something breakable. His hand brushed sweaty strands of hair off your face.

“You ok?” he murmured, voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

You blinked slowly, and nodded.

They moved around you like gravity didn’t quite apply, touching you gently, reverently. Hands stroking your arms, your hips, your face. Heeseung kissed your shoulder. K pressed a soft kiss to the back of your hand.

“You did so good,” Heeseung whispered, climbing into bed beside you again. “So perfect.”

Your throat tightened at that, not from lust, but from something gentler. Something heavier. The praise hit differently now. After everything. You weren’t crying, but your chest ached in that familiar, post-release way. Too many emotions tangled up with the afterglow: love, trust, vulnerability, relief.

You didn’t know what to say, so you didn’t say anything at all. Just reached out, weak fingers curling into Heeseung’s chest, anchoring yourself to him. He was warm. Solid. Safe.

K settled on your other side, his chest pressing to your back. His arm looped around your waist without hesitation, holding you gently but firmly, like he was making sure you knew you weren’t alone.

“You’re shaking,” he said quietly.

You were. Only a little. Not from fear or discomfort, but from the come-down. From the sheer overwhelmingness of it all.

“I got you,” Heeseung murmured. “We got you.”

The words sank into you like warmth through your bones. You closed your eyes, breathing them in. You’d never felt so wrecked and so cherished at once—your body wrung out, your heart full.

You didn’t remember falling asleep.

One minute, you were listening to their breathing, lulled by the rise and fall of their chests against yours, K warm and steady behind you, Heeseung’s heartbeat beneath your cheek, and the next, the weight of exhaustion pulled you under completely.

Your breathing evened out. Your lashes fluttered closed. You let go.

K noticed first.

He glanced down, the softest smile tugging at the corners of his mouth when he saw your lips slightly parted in sleep, your fingers still curled in Heeseung’s shirt. He smoothed a hand down your back one more time, then looked at Heeseung across you.

“I should go,” he said quietly, barely above a whisper. “She’ll wake up and… I don’t want things to be weird.”

Heeseung met his eyes. His fingers were still drawing lazy shapes on your bare shoulder.

“Don’t be stupid,” he said, just as soft. “She didn’t want you to leave before. She won’t want you to leave now.”

K’s brow furrowed.

“Still. It’s her space. You guys’ space don’t want her to feel—”

Heeseung almost laughed, he just fucked you and now he was overwhelmed by being the third wheel.

“You’re my best friend,” Heeseung interrupted gently. “And she… she cares about you too. Don’t overthink it.”

K hesitated. Then looked down at you again, all soft edges and slow breathing, your body tucked safely between theirs.

“You really think it’s okay?”

“I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t,” Heeseung said, a faint smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Besides, you look like you’re gonna fall asleep any second.”

K rolled his eyes, but his body relaxed, and he let himself settle again, his arm still resting around your waist. He watched you for a bit longer, watched your lips twitch in sleep, your brows smooth, your chest rise and fall, then exhaled deeply.

“Alright,” he murmured. “Just for tonight.”

Heeseung didn’t answer. He just shifted closer, wrapping both arms around you from the front, brushing a kiss to your forehead. And without thinking much more of it, K pressed one to your temple from behind.

Then the room fell into silence again. Not awkward. Not tense.

Just quiet. Safe.

And somewhere in the middle of the night, your body found its way back into both of theirs—Heeseung’s chest at your front, K’s legs tangled with yours from behind—your heart beating steady between theirs.

The three of you, tucked together in the quietest kind of peace.

Wooof, my first time writing a threesome i hope it’s not too bad :( HOPE y’all love it, i’m so weak for these two men

[tender-rosiey]

What would happen if gojo has 2 babies? And they both start crying at the same time and poor gojo has to find a solution in this situation 🥲 his younger baby that is only months old starts crying which makes the older sibling that's 2 years older wake up and starts crying 😭

little voice — gojo satoru x f!reader

you’re on a girls’ vacation. it’s okay. it’s cool.

but it isn’t.

throughout his entire life of fighting curses, emotional trauma, technique training, and unending migraines, he has never felt so much stress like he does right now.

his two kids are truly angels: full of kindness, compassion and—as expected of a child of gojo satoru—full of mischief.

they also share the same amount of love he has for you and, of course, even more. so separate two kids who adore their mother and you get chaos.

satoru just found out that the one who keeps the balance in the house is you, and thinking back about it, it should’ve been obvious because everyone in this house listens to you.

for example, one time when you were out on a simple visit to nanami to take some of the sweet bread he has, you had strictly told satoru to put the two kids to sleep at 8:30 exactly.

he thought it’s too early, but then you explained to him that s/n sleeping gave him time and freedom to look after your baby daughter who was, admittedly, a handful that would not sleep unless she was carried.

so satoru obediently listened, or at least he tried to.

a shameful failed trial at that.

in his defense, what was he supposed to do when s/n gave him puppy eyes asked for a mere 10 minutes more, say no? of course not!

so, like the great father he is, he gave him a couple more minutes, and nothing will make satoru regret his decision since to him his son’s smile is worth the world.

…except maybe the chandelier that is now on the floor and his precious baby daughter who just took one the biggest poops he has known of and his son who is panicking about how to clean this mess before you come home.

and come home you did and to all this mess.

swiftly, you picked up your daughter and changed her diaper, even making her giggle and squeal in between.

then you hugged your son and cleaned up the shattered glass together and disposed of the chandelier. lastly, you stood in front of your husband with a big frown after you’ve put the kids to sleep.

satoru could swear that he couldn’t fall more in love with you. hell, he could even twirl you around and kiss you breathless, but he feels like that would just lead him to the couch.

so he works to butter you up first before trying anything, “hey my sweet cute honeypie—“

you simply quirk an eyebrow.

and he falls to his knees, “I am sorry! I just couldn’t resist his puppy eyes! you should’ve seen them; he looked so cute!”

“I saw them a million times before he was even born, ‘toru.”

your husband gasps, “how!?”

“our son is an exact copy of you, sweetie.”

so yeah that was one of too many times, and if it isn’t apparent that you are the mediator then satoru wants to let the world know that even his students listen to you.

like that one time at school when the first years were caught up fighting with each other, the second years were trying to pull them apart, and satoru was too busy cackling at them while holding d/n that no one noticed panda’s little tail being—god knows why—on fire, not even panda himself.

that was until your precious son tugged at your husband’s shirt and pointed at panda, saying a simple sentence (phrase), “papa, panda fire.”

satoru’s eyes zero on panda then they widen, before he gapes, “oh shit, you’re right!”

“bad word!”

“sorry!”

however, despite satoru almost bolting to put out the fire, panda was finally able to smell it and hummed, “something’s being cooked.” then he looked at his tail, “oh it’s me.”

hit the panic button.

“I am being cooked!” he screams and starts running around, “panda meat doesn’t taste good; I promise!”

the rest start running after him with the intention to help, but panda could only translate it into one thing as he screamed, “don’t eat me!!”

“no one is gonna eat you, dumbass!!” maki yelled but to no avail as no one could get to the panicked panda.

your husband is running as well, half taking photos and videos and half ensuring that d/n does not fall from his hands—considering how she keeps giggling, squealing, and wriggling her entire body.

ijichi took matters into his own hands and called the only person he knows will be able to solve this.

“hello?”

“panda is on fire, the kids are running after him, and gojo is just recording!” he wails, eyes frantically following said people then straying to a particularly small person, “also s/n is trying to eat the grass.”

“what?!”

and like lightning, you’re on the field. you lightly scold s/n and tell him to cover his ears.

you turn to the walking fire hazard and scream, “everyone stop! and panda get over here!”

“yes ma’am!”

he stands still in front of you, almost ignoring his ‘fiery’ tail. you effectively put it out and ruffle his fur until he calms down. the others take turns in greeting you and getting their daily dose of motherly hugs.

your son sprints to you and holds onto your leg, refusing to let go.

and they all make way for the star of the show: the all-mighty gojo satoru.

he beams, “wifey, yet again you save the day!”

he easily picks up s/n and pulls the four of you into one big hug. he rubs his cheek against yours, “have I told you how much I love you?”

“I was gone for 3 minutes.”

“I haven’t?!” he gasps, completely ignoring you, “I am a terrible husband!”

he sobs and starts slowly melting to the ground where he believes a ‘disrespectful, good-for-nothing husband who doesn’t tell his wife just how much he loves her’.

anyway, back to the present. the kids have been miraculously put to sleep—a process that satoru does not have the time nor the energy to describe.

when he stops ‘reminiscing ‘, he starts paling at the fact that all of these were mere examples of things going wrong without you, and you were in the freaking area.

now, you’re not 10 steps away, and satoru is feeling very threatened.

he is sprawled out on the couch, eye bags ever so prominent. he sighs and lets his head fall back, grateful for the silence that fills the house, but he hates it at the same time.

satoru was never fond of silence—the type that feels so heavy on the heart—even when he was a teenager. it gives space and time to think about all the things he is desperate to avoid.

he did eventually come to love silence but only the silence that accompanies the times he spends with you, but that’s a story for another time though.

opening his eyes, he looks around and his gaze lands on your recent family photo. his smile is almost instantaneous.

if there’s anything he will rub in suguru’s face when they meet is that he managed to score himself such a lovely wife and an adoring family, a real family. he mentally writes a plus one on the score chart between him and suguru then relaxes.

he would like to scurry to the bed where your scent still lingers, but his fatigue has simply chained him to the couch—he is overreacting you’re only gone for three days.

so, he decides, it’s time to rest and hope for a dream where he gets to hold you and live with his longing until he can feel your lips against his skin again.

the great gojo satoru closes his eyes and welcomes his slumber.

that is until, his little sweetheart decides to breakout into a wail, effectively causing her dad’s eyes to snap open.

he jumps to his feet and sprints to her room, “d/n, what’s wrong, honey?”

he softly cradles her in his—gigantic—arms and starts rocking her slowly. “it’s okay; papa’s here,” he murmurs in hopes of calming down, but his daughter doesn’t register his voice yet.

she can, however, feel his all too familiar chest against her cheek, so she grips at it tightly and continues crying.

satoru’s expression is full of distress, and his heart contracts painfully at how his daughter’s cries. then it’s almost like the entire world is against him right now because he also starts to hear small little sniffles from the door of the room.

your husband looks back to find his son dragging his teddy bear with him in one hand and in another, trying to wipe his tears as much as possible.

your husband quickly shifts d/n into one arm and leads s/n into him with the other. your son nuzzles into his dad’s chest and murmurs, “I want mama.”

almost like she understands the mention of you, she calms down a tiny bit and her hands start reaching for the air—reaching for you.

satoru slides down to the ground and pulls them both into his chest, and he starts rubbing s/n’s shoulder and kisses the top of his head and sighs, “me too, s/n, but, hey, we are strong and capable, so we have to hold on until she comes home, right?”

a little sniffle escapes s/n as he nods before saying a soft, “yeah.”

satoru smiles and ruffles his hair, “that’s my champ.”

s/n lets out a little smile and snuggles into his dad’s embrace.

so satoru shifts his attention to the sniffling baby in his arm, he frowns, “now what are we going to do with you, little missy?”

your son purses his lips for a moment, before placing the teddy bear in his hands into his little sister’s tiny arms. curiosity takes over for a moment, and she starts exploring the new item.

then s/n presses on the teddy bear’s chest and it plays a little voice message from you:

“hey sweetie! mama loves you, so don’t worry about those nightmares! I am always here.”

your daughter’s eyes shine and she hugs the teddy as much as possible and utters a small, “ma!”

satoru blinks owlishly then looks at s/n with smile, “so you had that all along?”

s/n nods slowly and holds into his father tighter, obviously getting tired and getting ready to sleep. satoru would love to say the same about his other angel but—oh she fell asleep.

looks like all it took was a little listen to your voice.

he will probably make you record a thousand voice messages when you come back and make you get him his own special build-a-bear as well cause what the hell? what about your husband?

he shakes the thought away, realizing that he can finally fall asleep, albeit on the floor.

with no blanket.

no pillow.

not even his favorite cushion.

but he wasn’t raised to be ungrateful, so he will take what he can get. he will simply make up for lost sleep when you’re back. it will feel better that way in any case.

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do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

[wileys-russo]

ingrid from "hidden in plain sight", "did you just say you got a ring?", in a cafe - thanks either way hehe

set way into the future of this and this a simple cronut II i.engen x rolfö!reader

"baby stop pouting." your girlfriend laughed, finding you curled up on the sofa with a scowl embedded into your features, arms crossed and eyes trained on the tv, though whatever was playing on the screen was the last thing on your mind.

"no! you are going for breakfast to my favorite cafe, with my sister, on my day off, and my girlfriend didn't invite me?" you huffed, flicking the amused norwegian a dirty look, grumbling something else beneath your breath in swedish she didn't quite catch.

"i made you breakfast. your sister is also my friend. it is our day off and i thought we had an agreement that it was better for everyone if you and frido have a little space sometimes." ingrid reminded with a raised eyebrow but all you did was huff again as your only response.

"i see we are being very mature today." your girlfriend teased, again copping an evil look making her smile only widen, finding your annoyance utterly adorable which was the opposite of the desired effect.

"but she third wheels us all the time! without an invitation!" you reminded throwing your arms up and following after ingrid who returned to the bedroom, your sister inviting herself over to your shared apartment with the midfielder at least twice a week, going as far as to have had her own key cut.

then another key cut when you'd confiscated that first one.

"yes which is why we all agreed on some space. look i know i am the glowing centre of both of your worlds but-" you made an indignant noise at that, throwing yourself down onto the bed with narrowed eyes.

"-but i am my own person. who sometimes wants to hang out with my girlfriend by myself-" ingrid paused to lean down and steal a kiss. "-or hang out with my best friend by myself." she finished sending you a firm look as you exhaled.

"do you promise to bring me back a cronut?" you muttered, grumpily but in acceptance that throwing a tantrum was not going to achieve what you wanted, and thinking about it further that really wasn't to see your sister today.

"of course i will my love." ingrid chuckled as you sat up against the headboard, watching as she changed which jacket she was wearing several times.

"the cream cardigan, goes with the new puma shoes you're supposed to take a picture in this week." you hinted heavily, this time finally with a small smile as ingrid clicked her tongue and smacked her palm against her head.

"i love you." the norweigan groaned, grabbing either side of your face and pressing a kiss to your lips with a loud mwah as you hummed in amusement as her phone chimed.

"enjoy your breakfast, don't forget my cronut please." you stood off the bed and warned, a few soft kisses exchanged before ingrids phone starting ringing, your sister clearly impatiently waiting downstairs.

"even when she's not here, she interrupts." you quipped with a roll of your eyes, ingrid chuckling and stealing one last kiss. "your ass looks good in those shorts." she shamelessly commented, watching as you wandered back to the living room.

"i know. thats why i wear them!" you winked, blowing her a kiss and collapsing into the sofa, wiggling around to get comfortable. "if they're still on when i get back kjærlighet, you'll be getting more than just a cronut." the norweigan smirked, sending you a wink of her own before the door closed after her.

~

"-so, i may have lied to you about wanting to see you." ingrid started as she and frido took a seat outside, sunglasses covering their eyes and coffees in hand, awaiting their breakfast to arrive.

"so it has happened. you have finally come to your senses and realised i am the better rolfö, and the more entertaining, and fun to be around, and-" the blonde started with a sigh as her best friends eyes rolled.

"shut up! let me speak." ingrid huffed as the older blonde chuckled but tipped her coffee toward her in a silent apology, nodding for her to continue, interrupted once more by their food arriving as both girls uttered thank yous.

"so i love your sister, very very much." ingrid began, food untouched as fridolina instead dug right in. "clearly, you must to have put up with her for so long. does she still do the wheezy thing when she sleeps when she-" the midfielder begun as ingrids eyes again rolled.

"frido!" "sorry sorry, go on gushing over how much you love my baby sister." she pulled a face of disgust and waved for ingrid to continue.

"i love your sister so much that i want to marry her." ingrid decided being direct may be her best choice right not to get this out, interrupted once more but this time by frido choking on a mouthful of eggs.

a waitress rushing over the swede hastily waved her off with an embarrassed grimace, chugging a glass of water as ingrid sipped on her coffee, rather unfazed by the reaction.

"marriage!?" the blonde managed to get out once she'd somewhat recovered, ingrid nodding. "but-but-you're...and she's just...marriage!?" your sister was in a state of shock, wide eyed and heart racing.

"yes. we've been together for three years now, i know she's the one i want to spend the rest of my life with. i have spoke with your parents, i have the ring, all i want now...is your blessing." ingrids voice softened, a hint of insecurity dancing around the edge of her request, coffee put down and fingers drumming on the table nervously.

"my bless-wait. did you just say you got a ring?" your sisters eyes somehow opened wider as ingrid nodded, grabbing her bag off the table, placing a small black box between them which frido carefully picked up.

"i-wow. ingrid." your sister exhaled, shaking her head as she popped open the box, oggling the engagement ring hidden within. "is it too much? not enough? will she like it?" your girlfriend bit her bottom lip anxiously, fingers resuming their drumming against the tabletop.

"hey. it is perfect because it came from you ing, of course she will love it." frido picked up on her best friends energy then, closing the box and placing it back down on the table.

"but if you have spoken with my family. why do you want my blessing?" the older girl asked with a curious though not unkind frown. "

why do you think? your opinion means more to her than she would ever let on, much more than even your parents or anyone." ingrid professed, and not untruthfully, though you may clash heads a lot your sister was one of the most important people in your life, a life you'd never dare to imagine without her in it.

"you know i love to tease her about being the baby of the family, but even with that you do not need my blessing ingrid, but of course you have it." frido spoke softly, reaching across the table to squeeze your girlfriends hand in assurance as the tension bled from her body and she slumped back into her seat with a relieved exhale.

"is that why you would not let her come? you know i have many texts from her threatening me if i did not tell you to invite her." the blonde laughed, shaking her phone making ingrid crack a smile.

"but you didn't." "of course not! when do i ever do what she wants me to?"

"you are both as bad as each other." ingrid chuckled, frido urging for her to eat before her food went cold. "so when are you going to propose?" your sister asked curiously, shovelling another mouthful of eggs in after she did.

"today." ingrid answered casually, once more causing the swede across from her to choke, scrambling for her coffee as ingrid gestured to the young waitress that again they were fine.

"today!?" "yes, today." "what if i had said no!?" "well...i was hoping you would say yes." "ingrid!" "fridolina?"

"you are proposing to my sister. today." frido managed out, once more in state of shock as the norweigan nodded. "i am going to put the ring in the cronut she keeps messaging me not to forget to bring home." ingrid smiled, drinking the last of her coffee.

"hopefully she does not choke on it." "frido! i was not worried about that before!" "well just make sure she finds it before she shoves a pastry down her throat, you know how she is, resource guarding." "your sister is not a dog." "eats like one."

~

ingrid took a deep breath as she stepped into the elevator, checking the paper bag in her hand for the one hundreth time and nodding when she saw the glint of silver just poking out.

she could do this. she could do this. she could do this. she could do this.

"älskade! you are home!"

she could not do this. she could not do this. she could not do this. she could not do this.

"oh my cronut! i adore you."

she had to do this. she had to do this. she had to do this. she had to do this.

ingrid exhaled shakily as you took the bag from her hand, chattering away now in a much happier mood about your morning as ingrid hardly heard a word, her ears ringing and legs heavy as you grabbed the cronut, ring just peeking out.

wait the ring-

before ingrid could say a single word you took an eager bite, swearing in swedish as your tooth bit something hard, eyebrows furrowing as you dropped the cronut back in the bag and cradled your jaw.

"what the-" you fell silent as you poked around and found it, ingrid exhaling shakily as she dropped to one knee, your hand slowly retracting from the bag with wide eyes, ring pursed between your thumb and pointer finger.

"ingrid-" "do you remember the first night we went out when you first came to norway?" ingrid began, shocked at how she was even able to get the words out as her stomach knotted over itself.

"well yes but-" "that couple. the proposal, in front of the entire restaurant. do you remember what you said to me?" all you could do was shake your head, your brain apparently away on holidays as it refused to function.

"you said to me you could not think of anything worse than a public proposal." "i did?" "you did, and i never forgot it."

"so. this might not be the most romantic location, and theres no sunset or beautiful backdrop, no band or photographer or rose petals-" ingrid shifted slightly, eyes trained to yours.

"-but you're here, and you're all i need. barcelona is where things with us really got their first steps, so i thought it was the right place to take the next one, together. my love, will you marry me?" ingrid barely got the words out, terrified of what might come next as a silence fell between you both.

"i-ingrid." you exhaled in a state of shock, gaze flickering rapidly between the pastry covered engagement ring and your girlfriend knelt on the floor before you.

"yes. of course! yes!" you laughed in disbelief, ingrid up and off the ground in record time, surging toward you for a very tight hug as you couldn't quite believe this was really happening.

"you put the ring in my cronut." you managed out, arms wrapped around one another in an airtight embrace. "i was worried you might choke on it." ingrid admitted, pulling back a little as you shared a glance, grins growing in both your features.

ingrid squealed as suddenly you slammed back into her, almost taking her down off her feet as your mouth captured hers in a deep and passionate kiss, tangling your hands in her hair, a moment frozen in time. your first as not just girlfriends, but now, fiancés.

"wait. is this why i could not come to breakfast!?"

[kitkatscabinet]

Don't feed him he'll come back

simon riley x neighbour! reader

summary: The ghost that lives in your apartment is a solitary man, people tend to stay out of his way, giving him a wide berth. You can't help but think he seems a little bit lonely, cue pestering him with bad jokes and food.

word count: 1.6k

part 2 here

There’s a ghost that lives in your apartment block. Though it feels more accurate to say he’s an occasional visitor. He comes and goes, like a lost spirit, unsure and aimlessly wandering. He slinks silently through the hallways like a wraith in the few instances when he is there. 

The first time you see him is just a glimpse from the corner of your eye, a large hulking shadow standing at the door next to your apartment as you step out from yours. 

Your feet stutter to a stop, the landlord had mentioned a neighbour but in the 3 months you’d lived there you’d never seen him. As if sensing your eyes lingering curiously on his form, deep brown eyes turn to meet yours. You can make out no other details of his face, the black material of his balaclava obscuring most of his features. 

A century could have passed in those few seconds and you doubt you’d have noticed. Despite the weariness in his gaze, you found yourself pulled into the deep pools of those stunning eyes. Like a predator, his gaze never moves from your body, even as you offer him a friendly smile and wave before walking down the hall to continue your day. 

You’d heard the uneasily whispered tales of the Ghost that haunted the apartment next to yours from some of the older tenants, though you’d never put much stock into the idle gossip. His burning gaze bores into your back and follows until the doors of the elevator close and you suppose you should feel intimidated. 

It’s hard to conjure up any such feelings, even with the knowledge of the wariness he elicits in others. It’s hard to fear the hulking figure of the Ghost when he had such sad eyes. 

He hid it well but you recognised the loneliness that lined his shoulders, the bone-deep exhaustion for life that managed to slip through tiny cracks in his self-imposed shield. 

You suppose at that moment that even Ghosts can be haunted. 

Maybe that’s why you found yourself knocking on his door later that evening with the tray of pasta bake. Initially, you’d made a large batch to have a few days left over for yourself. Yet just as you opened your fridge you’d hesitated, mind flashing to the man next door. Did he have any food for himself? There was likely nothing fresh, and he’d seemed too exhausted to pull himself to the grocery store during the brief encounter earlier. 

Donning your Crocs, you’d marched over and knocked on his door before it properly registered that you were in pyjamas. The door swings open and your eyes trail up, the balaclava is gone, replaced with a simple black face mask letting you glimpse blond hair. 

“Sorry if this is a bit intrusive, but I figured you probably didn’t have any food so…” you trailed off, pushing the tray towards him, expectantly waiting for him to grab it. It took a few seconds before he robotically took the tray, probably out of sheer confusion more than anything else. Stepping back before he could return the food you offered one last smile before fleeing to the sanctuary of your apartment. 

Two days later you exit your apartment to an empty and cleaned tray, a small note with a simple ‘thank you’ placed within. 

His name’s Simon, and apart from an introduction and the occasional dish left at his door, you don’t actually interact with him again until nearly a month later. And that had simply been a case of forced proximity a la broken elevator style. 

Simon remained unflappable as ever, and it’s at that moment you decide to try and get a reaction that isn’t stoic silence. 

“A bear walks into a bar and says give me a whiskey and …cola” Brown eyes turned to look at you curiously, brow raised to let you know he was listening. “Why the big pause? Asks the bartender. The bear shrugged. I’m not sure, I was born with them.” 

The joke doesn’t land, silence is the only reward for your comedy genius. “Ok, playing hardball. Alright then… Why did Susan fall off the swings?” Again, there is no answer, but a glance at his relaxed posture indicates he’s listening. “Because she had no arms.” 

No laugh but you blaze ahead. 

“Knock knock.” It takes a few seconds but with a playful glare, he responds quietly and with a tinge of amusement. 

“Who’s there?” It’s not the first time you’ve heard his voice, but it still births a serious case of butterflies in your gut that takes more than a few seconds to fight down and regain your composure. 

“Not Susan.” You can’t stop the peal of your giggles at that one, and while you swear you see the corner of his cheek curve upwards a little it’s not enough for you to be satisfied. 

“I can’t believe it’s come to this, but I guess it’s time for the big guns. You better prepare yourself Riley 'cause I’m done holding back.” You pause for a few seconds to let the anticipation settle. 

“What is… Whitney Houston’s favourite type of coordination?” You take a deep breath before positively belting out, “HAAAAAAAND-EEEEEYE.” Whether it’s the shock from the sudden musical number or the joke itself you’re finally rewarded with a faint chuckle. 

“Aha!” you shout in triumph, a smug grin splitting your face, “I heard that laugh, you can do more scowl!”

The doors suddenly open with a ding and Simon pushes off the wall, but not before rolling his eyes playfully your way. Silence once again descends during the walk to your respective apartments, yet it’s not uncomfortable. Swiping your key card it’s just as you step through the threshold that you hear it, 

“Why did the chicken go the seance? To get to the other side.” Whipping your head around, you are met with the sight of his door closing behind his large frame, but a win is a win and you celebrate mentally over the exchange. 

The next time you leave a dish at his door it comes with a written joke. Sure enough, a few days later you received one back. The months start to blur, and your Ghost comes and goes, but the jokes remain. 

Month three sees you snagging his number, a daily joke sent his way even when he can’t respond. Because as much as Simon Riley tried to hide his hurts from the world, he couldn’t hide them from you. 

You’ve loved a soldier before in your brother, can see the signs and smell the gunsmoke and blood from miles away. Apart from his team, it becomes obvious the man has nobody left, and believes he doesn’t deserve to be cared for.

You’re not foolish enough to think you can be that for him, but you are understanding enough to give him the choice. So you continue to send him jokes, puns, pictures of your cat Bingbong and anything that you think will get him to at least smile.  

Three months turns to six turns to eight. He’s not physically there most of the time but you take every opportunity he is to coax him from the loneliness of his apartment like a stray kitten.

Once-a-week dinners at least. Freely sharing your life’s story without expecting anything in return. One evening you’d plopped your chunky tuxedo cat down on his lap and watched him freeze, hands hovering with wide eyes as he considered the ball of fur making biscuits on his thigh. 

It was cute. He was cute. Even when he whipped around to glare when you took a photo, the corners of his lips downturned and tugged at the scars on his face. His bare face wasn’t necessarily a new sight but it causes your breath to hitch nonetheless. 

Something you think he notices given the way his lips quirked up suddenly in a smirk. Rolling your eyes you huffed before plonking yourself down next to him on the couch. Bingbong doesn’t scramble onto your lap like you expect, instead deciding to remain on his new favourite human, traitor. 

You pay very little attention to the movie even though you’d chosen it, too acutely focused on the large bulk of Simon next to you. Your shoulder rests against his arm, his body heat emanating from beneath his hoodie and absorbing into your skin. 

You’ve never been one to fall asleep during movies, but there’s something about Simon’s presence that soothes you, lulling you into a restful slumber as you slump against his chest. Bingbong meows his discontent as you accidentally squish him, jumping away with a huff, none of which you notice. 

It’s the sun shining straight onto your face through the open blinds that wakes you the next morning, a groan of confusion leaving your lips as you stretch and look around to orient yourself. 

Sitting up, the blanket that you just now realised covered your form fell down to your waist. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes your phone falls to the floor when you stand, the screen flicking on to display the time. 

It’s not until you sleepily stumble into your bedroom, plugging your nearly dead phone in and face-planting onto your pillow that you realise Simon must have tucked you in. The smile that covers your face is so wide it is painful and you fall asleep once more, dreaming of the phantom sensation of his arms wrapped around you.

[suunani]

bet you won’t ( lee heeseung )

you show heeseung exactly what happens when he dares you to kiss him.

❛ content 1.5k words, top! male reader, bsf! heeseung, sexual tension, college au, suggestive themes, profanity, detailed rough kissing scenes, heeseung being manhandled.

you and heeseung had a long history of testing each other’s limits.

it started when you were kids — who could jump from the highest ledge, who could hold their breath the longest, who had the guts to steal snacks from the convenience store without getting caught. and as you grew older, the dares evolved into riskier, more reckless things. sneaking into concerts without tickets, downing questionable mixes of alcohol, going to a tattoo shop at 2 a.m just to see who would actually follow through.

the rule was pretty simple : never back down.

tonight, that rule had led you here, sprawled across your couch with empty soda cans and snack wrappers littering the floor, both of you running out of dumb dares but still itching for one last push.

then heeseung, with that lazy smirk that always meant trouble, turned to you.

“i bet you won’t kiss me.”

it was so casual, so offhanded that for a second, it almost didn’t register.

but then you saw the way his fingers twitched against his thigh, the almost imperceptible way he wet his lips after he said it. he was still grinning, but there was something in his expression that gave him away.

he expected you to laugh. to call him an idiot. maybe shove his shoulder and move on.

instead, you leaned in. “oh yeah?”

that flicker of hesitation returned, but he doubled down, arching a brow as if daring you to take it further.

“yeah.”

fine. he wanted to play? you’d play.

in one smooth, deliberate motion, you grabbed the front of heeseung’s hoodie, fisting the fabric tight in your hands as you yanked him forward. hard.

he gasped, stumbling a half-step, caught completely off guard — but not fighting you. not resisting. his hands flew up instinctively, more out of shock than anything else, but he didn’t push away. didn’t even try.

and then your mouth was on his.

you didn’t kiss him. you took him — lips crashing into his like a fucking storm, teeth catching on his lower lip before you pushed past, tongue hot and demanding as it swept into his mouth. this wasn’t some teasing little dare, some flirty back-and-forth.

if you were gonna do this, you were doing it.

heeseung barely had time to make a sound before you were crowding into him, walking him backward until his knees hit the edge of the couch and he dropped down with a surprised grunt. you followed immediately, crawling into his space, straddling his lap with zero hesitation. your hands gripped the sides of his hoodie again and you yanked him forward by it, using the leverage to tilt his face up and kiss him deeper.

you could feel the shock bleeding out of him, replaced by something hotter, needier. his lips parted with no resistance, and the second your tongue slid against his, he let out this sound — soft and wrecked and breathless — that punched straight through you.

that sound made your grip tighten.

one hand fisted in the back of his hoodie, dragging it up so your palm could settle between his shoulder blades. the other slid to the nape of his neck, fingers curling into his hair as you held him there — forced him to take every second of your mouth, every bit of heat you were pouring into him. he gasped again, thighs spreading slightly beneath you, like his body had given up on playing hard to get and was begging to be claimed.

his hands clutched at your arms, fingertips digging into your sleeves like he was grounding himself — like he needed something to hold onto or he’d fall apart completely. you felt the tension rolling through him, the way he was fighting to keep up, lips moving with yours as his chest heaved under you.

you pulled back enough to breathe. not far. just an inch.

his face — flushed, dazed, pupils blown wide — wrecked. his chest was rising and falling like you’d stolen the air right out of his lungs.

you smirked.

“still think i wouldn’t do it?” you asked, voice low, just a little rough, still catching your breath.

heeseung swallowed thickly. his lips were red, wet, slightly parted. “holy fucking shit.”

“that all you got to say?” you murmured, dragging your thumb slowly across his cheekbone, then down to his jaw, tracing the sharp line before gripping his chin and forcing his eyes back on yours.

he blinked slowly, like he was still trying to process it, then let out a breathless laugh.

“i mean… i wasn’t expecting that.”

you hummed, leaning in closer.

“bet you weren’t expecting to like it either.”

that hit. you felt it in the way his fingers twitched against your arms, the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed again. he didn’t answer. didn’t pull away.

instead, his gaze flickered back to your mouth; fleeting, but obvious. and you caught that. and you weren’t about to let it slide.

heeseung had started this game, but now you were running it.

in one swift motion, you grabbed both his wrists and shoved them up, pinning them to the cushion behind his head as you pushed him back into the couch. his breath caught, eyes wide, but holy fuck — he looked so good like this. flushed. breathless. helpless.

trapped under you.

“heeseung,” you growled, voice dropping. “you wanted me to do it, didn’t you?”

“i—” his voice cracked, barely more than a whisper.

“you don’t get to play dumb now.”

your grip on his wrists tightened, knuckles flexing, and you leaned in — mouth just hovering over his, close enough to feel the heat of your breath. his lips parted, waiting, but you didn’t give in. not yet.

“you dared me because you wanted it. wanted to see if id actually do it,” your nose brushed against his. “and now you don’t know what the fuck to do with yourself.”

he was breathing hard, chest rising fast, back arched slightly under your weight. but he still didn’t tell you to stop. if anything, he arched closer. his fingers curled helplessly in your grip, like they were aching to touch you but couldn’t. you weren’t giving him the chance.

you kissed down his jaw, hot and slow, dragging your teeth lightly against his skin before biting just enough to make him jolt. he tilted his head to the side — gave you access, gave you everything.

“say it,” you murmured, lips brushing over the spot just beneath his ear. “fucking say it.”

“fuck,” he gasped, barely audible. “you win.”

that was all you needed.

you devoured him.

crushed your mouth to his, harder than before — rough, messy, all teeth and tongue. he moaned into it, the sound shooting straight through your spine. you bit at his lip, then sucked it between your teeth, tugging until he gasped, his hips jerking under yours.

you finally released his wrists, and he didn’t waste a second. his hands flew to your shoulders, gripping like he didn’t know what else to do — like he needed to hold onto you or he’d lose it.

and then you grabbed him.

fingers digging into his thighs, you yanked him closer, grinding down against him with slow, brutal intent. he choked out a noise — loud, desperate — as his hands clutched at your hoodie, knuckles white.

you kissed him again, rough and wet and fucking hungry, and his body just gave.

his thighs trembled under your grip, chest pressed flush to yours, lips working against yours like kissing you was the only thing keeping him alive.

your hands slid under his hoodie, pushing it up, palms splaying over hot skin. his stomach flinched at your touch but he didn’t stop you. you traced every inch, every dip and line, fingers dragging over his ribs, up his back, possessive and firm like you were learning him.

claiming him.

“heeseung,” you said again, voice rough and low, lips ghosting over his flushed skin.

you sucked at the base of his neck, then moved up, leaving a trail of heat behind. “say it again.”

he whimpered, legit fucking whimpered, hips twitching under you.

“do it again,” he whispered, wrecked. “i dare you.”

you laughed and then grabbed his jaw, forcing him to look at you, and kissed him so hard his head tipped back.

because you never turned down a dare.

[msgexymunson]

Highest Bidder

Description: When you get Eddie to agree to be on auction for the Valentine’s Ball, you don't count on jealousy affecting you this much. To be fair, you didn’t think Chrissy Cunningham would be there. But maybe, just maybe, he likes you just as much as you like him? 

Warnings: Angst, fluff and smut, my favourite horsemen. NSFW, Minors DNI or I'll shoot you with arrows and not the cupid kind. Slight older, 25 ish Eddie Munson x 23 ish fem reader, confessions, BFFs to lovers, oral fem receiving, p in v unprotected sex (dress before you impress irl) 

A/N: So this was meant for Valentines but I decided to catch Covid instead. Inspired by the auction scene in Groundhog Day. I loved writing this, hopefully you get the desperate pining feeling that I was trying to give off. I love all of you, not only on Valentines but every day. 

Comments and reblogs keep this little paper heart from bursting Into flames. Please, comment and reblog, it makes me so happy you don't even know. 

7k words

Masterlist

“So sweetheart,” Eddie begins, a sly smile creeping over his face as he steeples his hands in front of him, elbows on his knees, “are you gonna tell me why you did it?” He's sitting across from you in his armchair, like this is some sort of bizarre job interview. 

The surroundings are familiar. Eddie's second hand couch, the worn fabric soft under your thighs. The coffee table you helped drag up four flights of stairs, adorned with a coaster placed entirely for your benefit, of course. It's not like Eddie cares about water rings. The comforting smell of the fabric softener Eddie uses intermingled with cigarettes, and incense to cover the smoky aroma. That, and Eddie's aftershave; faint after a night in proximity of it, but there all the same. 

The situation is not familiar. The wayward glances, the lingering touches, the tension filling the air so thick it's like trying to move through cake batter. Wading through some dense, sweet, all consuming feeling that sticks to your ribs and pulls you into its gravity.

Torn between looking at him and shyly stirring your drink with its straw, you think about it. Why did you? The answer wasn't simple. It never was, with Eddie.

It all started with the Valentines Charity Ball your mom roped you into helping to organise. She was a force to be reckoned with, your mom. The human equivalent of a wrecking ball. When she got involved with any good cause, no one and nothing could stop her. Including you. 

So, when she ran to you in desperation last night, you didn't hesitate. One of the guys for the date auction had taken ill and she was stuck for a fourth. So, the first name you could think of spilled out of your mouth. It took some convincing. No, he's not just some freak. Yes, he's doing well for himself. Yes, he's got a steady job, an apartment. No, he doesn't deal anymore. Yes, he's good looking, obviously. No, we aren't a thing, we were never a thing. 

You were never a thing. It was much more complex than that. Affairs of the heart always were. When you'd met Eddie at school you were quiet. A loser, living on the fringes of obscurity; not popular, but not strange enough to be bullied. Eddie was safe. A shield. You'd entered Hellfire without a second thought. And sure, he was handsome, ridiculously so. But at the time, he was seeing some twig called Stacey or Samantha or something, and you bit down on your attraction. Hid it deep within the tissue of your heart. Swallowed it whole. Then, you'd dated Thomas, and after that, he had seen Wendy, and then it was circumstantial. At no point had the pair of you been single together until recently, so it clearly wasn't meant to be. Whatever attraction you'd been harbouring was mellowed, dissolved and disintegrated in yourself. After that, he was just Eddie. 

Convincing Eddie to do the auction had been an entirely different story. It wasn't nerves. He had stood on tables in the cafeteria to speak his mind, after all. He had conveyed his innermost thoughts to almost any who would listen, like some wayward preacher at a bizarre sermon. It could never be nerves, not with him. It was always the fear of not being enough. The fear of himself. After many words of encouragement, he'd agreed. If only to shut you up, but it worked. 

What you hadn't accounted for was the sight of Eddie climbing out of his beat up van in a goddamn button up shirt and fucking dress shoes. In jeans that weren't ripped, with wild hair scooped back into a low bun. You hadn't counted on the easy smile you'd seen a thousand times now winding into your stomach and sending raven wing beats into your heart. In the soft wink that loosed a thousand moths within your core. Moths, they say, live at most, a day, but these seem ancient compared. Alive in an enclosure you had created years ago, set loose suddenly and all at once, their once fixated caretaker ignoring his responsibilities. 

“Hey sweetheart, am I late?” 

When had his voice gained that huskiness, that depth? When had looking into his chocolate brown eyes melted your insides? A twinge in your back brought on by the stress of the night took you back to the here and now. Gazing back at him whilst you attempted to rub it away, you replied.

“N-no, not at all. You, you look really good, Eddie.” 

He scoffed aloud, shaking his head in disbelief, a cascade of loose curls flowing around his face. 

“That's a load of crap. You, hey, you look amazing. Seriously, smoking hot.” 

Your head span with the compliment, as you looked down at your own outfit. It was a ball after all, and for once your mom had insisted on a dress. It was a deep red, cheap satin, low cut, a tasteful hem at the knee, with a slit up the side providing at least a little mobility, and kitten heels. Currently, you felt like an outsider looking into a different world through plexiglass, but the way Eddie looked at you made you feel like you belonged. 

‘It's nothing, just a dress.” 

“Hey,” he replied, crowding your space with the confidence he embodies, “you look incredible. Trust me.”

His knuckles dragged across your flushed cheek, and for a moment all sense of who you were and why this was happening was lost to the feel of his skin on yours. But only for a moment. Dipping your eyes down, you took a tiny step back. 

“We should head inside Eddie. You ready?” 

After a couple of hours of cheesy music and weak as fuck punch, you tapped your fingers on your plastic cup and turned down the latest pensioner who thought you were here for his amusement. Until finally, the host tapped the microphone and asked everyone to gather at the front for the main event. You made your way to the side of the stage in case you were needed, and waited for the bidding to start. 

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, we have the highlight of the night. For one night only, Hawkins’s most eligible bachelors will be yours, to an extent. Be prepared to be wined, dined, and entertained, by our finest gentlemen, all in the name of charity, of course. And first up, is our very own George Heights! Give it up for George everyone!” 

The crowd clapped as George walked onto the stage, an early balding man with just the hint of a pot belly poking through his chequered blue shirt.  

“George is an artist, and an aspiring architect, with a penchant for poetry and an insatiable appetite. Give it up for George, everybody!”

After a lukewarm auction, which ended with George being bought for 65 bucks, the next one was sold. And the next one. Pretty soon, it was Eddie's turn. He stepped forward, and whispers began to float around you. You expected that, to some extent, but there were woops, and even a wolf whistle too. Ever the showman, he bent into a low bow, straightened back up, and winked at the audience. 

“And last, but not least, we have a handsome young man up for your bidding pleasure. Put your hands together for Eddie!” 

As he did a turn on the spot, hands outstretched, the rouse of applause went on for longer than you thought it would. Enthusiastic hands clapped for your man.

No. Your friend. Just a friend. 

“That's it, that's what we're looking for! Eddie is a mechanic, and a talented guitarist, who is looking for your company tonight! So, starting bid, can I hear twenty dollars?” 

“Here! Twenty dollars!” An old lady waved her programme enthusiastically in the air. Eddie's eyes rolled and caught yours momentarily, and you flashed a smile at him. 

“There we go, twenty! Can we go to twenty five?” 

“Thirty!” an equally old lady shouted, earning you yet another look from him that made you laugh. 

“Fifty dollars!” 

The crowd went silent as a man in the back shot his hand in the air. 

“Woah, a high bidder! Anyone want to beat fifty?” 

Before the crowd had a chance to recuperate a young and extremely pretty woman's hand shot upward. 

“One hundred dollars!” 

Everyone fell silent. The only thing not getting the message was your heartbeat. The beautifully manicured and delicate hand belonged to none other than Chrissy fucking Cunningham. 

She looked more beautiful than ever. Hawkins’s sweetheart, all grown up. The popular girl, the pretty girl. Prettier than you, at least to your mind. Prom queen, beauty pageant winner, and the icing on the cake? Actually a nice person. No one could hate her, it would be like kicking a kitten. 

But as your heart dropped like a lead weight into your chest, you thought you wouldn't mind seeing a bit of fur flying across the room, guided by your heels. 

You saw it, you couldn't fail to. The sudden way Eddie stood a little straighter, chest puffed up a little more, as a slow smirk crawled over his face. 

“One hundred? Wowee! Thank you young lady! Anyone for one twenty?” 

The man at the back called out, “right here!” 

Chrissy giggled, small hand held up covering the cute noise, and made another bid. 

“One thirty!” 

It seemed like the entirety of your body's blood had rushed to your head. You felt dizzy and sick, watching this happen, like some slow motion car crash. Again, your damned back hurt. you rubbed it in vain, and gazed back at the ruin in front of you.  

“One fifty!” The man at the back bellowed. Eddie's eyes widened, and he put his hands together, as if in prayer. His gaze was begging, pleading, and directed at Chrissy. 

The frozen spell you seemed to have been under lifted suddenly. This was not going to happen, you wouldn't let it. Chrissy had everything she could possibly need, she didn't need more. She couldn't have him. 

He's yours. 

Through watery eyes, you fiercely trawled through your purse, and came across the little envelope you tucked in there earlier. The money you had scraped together to go towards buying a car. You'd almost forgotten it, intending to drop it home before you came here. 

It looked like you'd have to be a pedestrian for a while longer. 

At the same time Chrissy placed delicate fingers in the air, your whole arm shot up, purse clutched in hand. 

“Two hundred and fifty two dollars and thirty nine cents!” 

Gasps and grunts from the crowd echoed throughout the hall as everyone turned to face you. Even Eddie's jaw hit the floor. It took a moment for it to register, but when it did people were cheering. 

“Well, I think that wraps it up folks! The highest bid of the night, sold to the very eager young lady in red right over here! What a great donation!”

He continued talking, wrapping up the show, and signalled for the music to start once again. Blood was hammering in your ears, making you almost oblivious to everyone around you. All you could focus on in your tunnel vision was Eddie as he walked to the edge of the stage, climbed off in a smooth hop, and started sauntering toward you. 

“You know, if you wanted me that badly you could have just asked, sweetheart.” He said, as he flashed you a smug grin. 

“Hey, I was just saving you from that guy over there, pretty sure he wanted more than a date.” Your words came out calmer than you thought you were capable of as you clenched a fist at your side to hide your shakes. 

“Oh, really?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest, “That's what you were saving me from, huh?” 

He knew it was a lie. You knew it was a lie. You're pretty sure the entire hall knew it was a lie. 

“Of course, don't want some old geezer putting his hands all over you. Not a fun Valentines. Plus, I own you now. You've gotta do what I say.” 

Your hands dropped to your hips, holding them as you smiled at him. 

“Kinky,” he replied, stepping closer, making you falter in your confident stance as you’re forced to look up at him, “so, what are your orders, princess?” 

“Can you, get me a drink. A proper drink, from the bar? Please?” 

Taking your hand in both of his, he brought it up to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to it that turned your insides upside down. 

“Easy. Your wish is my command. Jack and Coke, right?” 

Gormlessly nodding, all you managed to say was a stunted “uh huh.”

He flashed that grin again, and bounced off with more of a spring in his step than usual. 

You turned on your heel, begging yourself to get your head together, and busied yourself with gathering the donations for the auction, including your hefty one, and passed the cash to your mom to be locked away. When you approached, she opened her mouth but you wildly waved a finger at her. 

“I know, I don't want to hear it. Not right now.” 

She smiled, and just said, “pretty sure you could have got that date for free.” 

Rolling your eyes and simultaneously rubbing your back, you passed over the cash and turned quickly, nearly slamming into someone. 

“Easy princess, I know you bought me but I won't stand for full on tackling.” 

He was holding your drink high, arms up to protect it.

“Sorry Eds, just escaping from-” 

You looked over your shoulder, but your mom had disappeared. 

“-nevermind. Thank you.” 

As you grabbed your drink you took a generous gulp in a vain attempt to steady your nerves. 

“So, now you have me, what are you gonna do to me?” 

As he guided a wolfish grin to you, you simply rolled your eyes, trying to hide the fact that several unsavoury thoughts were swimming through your mind. 

“What if I told you to hop on one leg and bark like a dog, huh?” You replied, sending a grin right back. 

“Oh you don't think I would? Don't test me princess.” 

You simply folded your arms and cocked your head, daring him with a look. Eddie nodded, and started fucking bouncing on one leg. 

“Woof! Woo-” 

“OK OK stop you weirdo!” Gasping a laugh, you grabbed him by the crook of his elbow and dragged him away from the curious stares of those around you. 

As the song changed to a slow ballad, Eddie whipped the drink from your hand despite your protests and placed it on a nearby table. 

“What are you doing?” 

Grasping your hand he escorted you to the middle of the dance floor and suddenly pulled you so close that the air expelled from your lungs. There was no air, just music, and feeling, and Eddie. 

“I'm dancing with you. Isn't this what you do on dates?” 

As he held your hips, thumbs rubbing into your sides, your mind cleared. Like a bubble of smoke had popped. This felt good. This felt right. You circled his neck within your arms and relaxed for the first time that evening.  

“This isn't a date, Eds.” 

Your words held some spite, but it was belied by the smirk tugging at your cheeks. 

“You are right. This isn't a date. If it was, well, we wouldn't be surrounded by geriatrics.” he nodded at the crowd around you, eliciting a high pitched giggle from your chest. 

As you swayed in step with him, gazing into his chocolate eyes, the smirk only grew, fuelled by the mischief in his eyes. 

“So, if this was a date, what would we be doing instead?” 

A part of you wants to feel bashful and turn away, but the spell his eyes have you under is in control. No force on earth could tear your gaze asunder. The couples around you could burst into flames and be chalked up to little more than background noise. 

“Well, first, I would have picked you up at your house, bought you some flowers too,” he said as he brought his hand to yours, holding it and pushing you into his frame even more, so you strained your neck up to him. His breath fanned delicately against your ear as he continued his explanation. 

“Probably took you to a fancy restaurant, with fabric napkins,” he said, making you giggle at his understanding of ‘fancy’, “would have paid too. Maybe had some wine. Shared a dessert.” 

“Yeah?” You nearly whisper it, words falling into the exposed skin of his neck. 

“Yeah. Then, I would have taken you back to my place, offered you a cup of coffee,” suddenly he spun you, pressing his lithe front to your waiting back, his fingers scooping the hair from your neck sending comet trails of sensation down your spine. He continued, words making your head dizzy, “Then, I would kiss you, properly. Like you deserve to be kissed.” 

As he spun you back to face him, you held his gaze for a moment, seeing every ounce of honesty etched into those big brown eyes. 

“Eddie?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Let's get out of here.” 

You shake your head, bringing yourself back to the here and now. Here you sit, opposite Eddie, invaded by his scent, debating whether or not to just tell the truth and hang the consequences. 

Taking a gulp of your drink, you set it back down and look Eddie in the eye. 

“Listen, I'm gonna be honest. I saw the way you looked at Chrissy and I… I was jealous. I didn't think, I just kinda acted. I'm sorry if it was weird.” 

Bravery fleeing your bones leaving behind an airy wobble, you look at your own lap, fingers twisting over and over. You're only slightly aware of the shuffle and rustle of Eddie rising to his feet, of footsteps, of the dip in the couch next to you. Then, Eddie's large hand comes to rest over both of yours. 

“Do you know why, sweetheart? Why were you jealous?” 

His hand is steady, fingers stilling your movements confidently, but there's a quaver to his voice that seems entirely unlike him. Grasping his fingers, you absentmindedly play with his heavy rings. 

“I feel stupid. I've had… kind of a crush on you, since high school.”

Of all the reactions, you hadn't expected a deep laugh to reverberate from his chest. Recoiling in horror, you shift your hands away from his and move to stand, your only thought to run, flee. 

“No no no, please, sit,” he asks, hands grasping at your waist to keep you there, as you rub at the twinge in your back again. 

“Turn around,” he says, and you don't find it in you to disobey. Firm hands stroke softly down your back, “you've been rubbing your back all night. Right here?” 

Fingertips circle the spot that's been aching and you nod, confused.

“Eddie, if this is a rejection, it's a really odd one- oh fuck, right there.” 

He chuckles lowly, knuckles working at the knot near your spine. 

“It's not, it's really not. You're in pain, and I know you'd never ask. Plus, I, ha, don't have the balls to say this to your face.” 

You don't say anything in response, you can't. Of course he's noticed you're in pain, he always notices stuff like that. The fact that this isn't a rejection though? It has your head reeling with so many thoughts that you can't express the words. Eddie clears his throat, hands rubbing into your skin through your dress, easing some of the building anxiety. 

“I've got a secret. I've- had a crush, on you, since middle school.” 

“Shut up!” You gasp, mouth hanging open at his confession. 

“Absolutely not.” 

“You didn't even know me in middle school Eds.”

“Yeah I did. Well, sorta. You remember that day I ran into the library? I asked for help?” 

You pick at the scab of a memory, itching it to the forefront of your brain. 

“Oh yeah, you were running from that idiot... Johnny?”

“Jimmy Salinsky. He was gonna beat on me. You, you didn't hesitate. You didn't even know me, but you told me to hide under your chair, you even threw your coat over your lap to hide me.” 

“What else would I do?” 

He snorted derisively, continuing his impromptu massage, “ignore me, tell me to fuck off, just like anybody else. But you, no, you didn't. Jimmy ran in looking for me and you didn't even lie! He asked if a freak had run in and you-” 

“-I said ‘the only freak in here is you’, I remember.” 

“That's right!” He laughs, squeezing your hips appreciatively, “Then he asked if you'd seen the poor kid, Eddie. You said, ‘I've never even met an Eddie’, which was true too. Not like I introduced myself before I dived under your chair. I remember crouching there, trying not to laugh, watching your little legs swinging. You had odd socks on, and you smelled really good. Anyway, I crushed on you hard.” 

Head buzzing over his words, you try to organise your thoughts. 

“Did the guys- did Hellfire know?” 

“Sweetheart, I'm surprised you didn't know, it was common knowledge. I just thought you never liked me like that.” 

Turning to face him again, you stroke hesitant fingers over his knee. 

“Didn't say anything, you were seeing Stacey.” Eddie's face screws in confusion until clarity rings like a bell in his mind. 

“Her? I wasn’t- that wasn't a relationship. I would have stopped in a fucking heartbeat if I'd known.” 

“Oh. I dated Tom to get over you.” 

“I dated Wendy to get over you!” 

Sharing a laugh, you both hold eye contact, giggles dying at the realisation of what this means. 

“So, Eddie, about that kiss…” you inch forward, ever so slightly nearer to him. A pink tongue darts out of his mouth, wetting his bottom lip. 

“Yeah, that. That was me, running my mouth,” he says, anxiety wracking his voice as he strokes his neck compulsively, “Not that I don't want to kiss you, I do, just, erm, don't expect fireworks?” 

It's almost like he's back at middle school, the nerves radiating off of him. Smiling sweetly, you take his hand and place it on your jaw, leaning into its touch. The breath he exudes is shaky as he moves closer, eyes darting to your lips as yours flutter shut. 

It's tentative; a brush of his mouth as if he's scared of you running, of some practical joke. When you make no move to pull away his thumb strokes your cheek, lips now moving more confidently against yours. Your heartbeat is echoing inside your head as your hand slips to slither down his chest and around him, circling his side. 

Only then does his tongue slowly snake out to wet your bottom lip; a silent plea which you happily grant. Still, it's delicate, tongues moving leisurely against one another as if you have all the time in the world. It's by no means dispassionate; far from it, it may be the most emotionally  charged kiss of your life, but it feels like he's holding back. 

So, you pull him closer by the front of his shirt, flicking your leg over his knee as your fingers tug hard. It's then that his tongue licks into you in earnest, thick and smooth, filling your insides with need. Just when you feel utterly consumed, whining inside his mouth, he breaks away. After a few pecks to your lips, he presses his forehead to yours, breath uneven, cooling your swollen lips. 

“I'm in love with you.” 

It comes out of his mouth in a rush. All you can do is stare gormlessly. 

“Huh?” 

“I love you. I just needed you to know that. This isn't just a- a thing. I'm in love with you, I have been since forever. I know it's a lot to take in, and I don't expect you to say it back I just need you to-”

You shut him up, pressing a hard kiss to his parted lips.

“Eddie, you lied.” 

“What? I'm telling the truth I-”

“You said don't expect fireworks. You were wrong.” 

Wasting no more time, you force your body onto him, tongue clashing against his teeth as the force of your kiss presses him backwards. His head makes contact with the arm of the couch, hands hot and heavy on your hips, pushing you into his bulge. 

The fabric of your dress is constricting your movements, making you huff into his mouth. 

“Eddie,” you manage in between spit slicked kisses, “unzip me.” 

There's a cross between a grunt and a moan that vibrates from him into you as his hand wanders across your back, groping its way to the zipper. In a few short bursts he manages to unzip it, not once breaking the kiss. 

Cool air hits your skin and you stand up, shimmying the dress to the floor and you straddle him moving in for- 

“Woah, slow down a second, just, just wait.” 

You try to kiss him again but he pushes you back, your ass flush against his crotch as you sit up. His gaze is scrutinising, examining every inch of your form, making you feel more exposed than you've ever felt in your life. 

The desperate urge to shy away works into your arms as you cross them over your chest, but Eddie's having none of it. He tugs at them gently, pulling them to your sides as his thumbs rub encouragement into your skin. 

“Sweetheart, there's a thirteen year old boy doing backflips in my head. Let him have a moment.” 

A little laugh you let out comes out as a snort whilst he gazes up at you in wonder. So, you give him a show, flicking your bra undone in one practised movement and sliding the straps down your arms, eventually letting it fall to the floor. 

“Jesus H Christ and all the angels.” He breathes, grip tightening on your forearms. 

A quivering hand reaches up, and to your surprise, cups your face. 

“You are so beautiful.” 

Eyes suddenly watering, you blink twice to will the onslaught of emotion away. 

“Not like Chrissy though,” you shrug, eyes downturned. 

“No, you're not like her. You're beautiful, like you.” 

Tugging you forward, he pulls you in for a breathtaking kiss, the full force of his feelings overflowing and filling your heart with heat. With a nibble to your bottom lip, he lets up for a second. 

“Can we go to my bedroom?” 

Nodding, you clamber off him and stand up. Eddie just makes a noise like you knocked the wind out of him, holding his hand to his heart. 

“What?” You ask, hands on your hips, like it was normal to be standing in front of him in just a pair of panties. 

“Don't look all stern like that, or I'm gonna bust in my pants,” he jokes, standing and crowding your back. 

The journey to the bedroom takes a while. Mostly because you can't keep your hands off of each other. He's grinning, giddy as a school boy, firm hands pressing into your sides, hips, ass. You respond in kind, nearly ripping his shirt in your efforts to remove it, only managing to unbutton the offensive material to expose his lean tattooed torso. 

Eventually, your spine hits Eddie's mattress, the soft furnishing welcoming you, begging you to sink in further. His touches are soft too, almost reverent in their delivery. He stands to remove his shirt and jeans, bulge prominent in his black trunks with little patterns on them. As he coaxes you further up the bed you squint and realise what they are. 

“Eds… are you wearing Star Wars underwear?” 

He chuckles, following your eyeline. “They are Darth Vader pants, to be specific, very manly.” 

The smile you flash him almost hurts your cheeks, the situation feeling so close to normal. Normal adjacent at least. 

“Yeah, very manly. Almost caveman like.” 

“Look, I didn't think I'd have a hot girl watching me undress tonight, let alone the woman of my dreams. Just forget the nerd pants.” 

You're laughing now, even when he's grabbing a pillow and getting you to lay on top of it, positioning you just where he wants you. Your giggles stop however, when he asks a question that steals your breath away. 

“Do I need to put a towel down?” 

“That's very presumptuous of you.” You smile, batting your eyelashes at him. 

“Look, I'm just asking. I don't mind sleeping in a wet patch I just want you to be comfortable.” 

He hovers over you, lips pressed into a line of concern. pressing your mouth to his to will the tightness away, you whisper into his face. 

“You want me to stay?” 

“Sweetheart, I'd ask you to move in tomorrow.” 

The next kiss is a searing heat, all heaving tongue and grinding hips. His hand winds into your hair, tilting your head to get you just where he wants you. No longer the blushing boy, he's the confident man, taking just what he needs and giving you what you crave. It's fire, it's want, it's everything. 

“Eds?” You murmur into his mouth as your hips chase his form. 

“Hmm?”

“Get the towel.” 

Hopping off of you, he practically skips out of the room, leaving you to debate whether or not to take your panties off. As you finally decide to strip them, fingers wedged into the fabric, he returns. 

“Nope, just wait, please?” He asks, propping you up with ease to lay the towel down under you. So, you let go, allowing your arms to fall to your sides.

“Lemme look after you,” he says, climbing on top of you to plant open mouthed kisses to your neck. You nod, gasping when his teeth graze a sensitive spot on your neck. Short nails dig into his back as you whimper at the contact. 

“Right there princess, hmm?” He chuckles, mouthing at your neck. 

“Uh huh- oh fuck,” as he bites softly, tongue flicking out to lather at the spot. 

Moving down, his lips press to your collarbone, then down your chest, until he places a peck to your nipple. 

“I've been dreaming about these tits, but nothing can compare to the real thing,” his tongue darts out, swirling around the pebbled nub, sending goosebumps over your skin, “fuckin’ flawless sweetheart.” 

You want to say a smart remark, shaking your head, but all thoughts fly out the window when he sucks, rough fingers reaching out to rub the other. Back arching, your legs clamp on his little waist, saying their own prayer to keep him there. 

As he releases his mouth with a wet noise, the thoughts flood back, all barriers forgotten. 

“I've been thinking about you too, what you'd do, what it looks like,” you admit, truths flying free in the heat of the moment. 

“Yeah?” He smiles up at you, “been thinking about my dick?” 

“Yeah, how'd it feel in my mouth, how'd it feel inside me,” you breathe out as he continues his worship of you, tonguing and kissing at your tummy. 

“Fuck,” he says, hot air fanning over his wet string of loving kisses, “you're gonna kill me, saying shit like that.” 

“Don't die, I'll never find out,” you joke, breathing unsteady as he falls between your thighs, playfully nipping at the sensitive flesh. 

“Oh we wouldn't want that. How else could you know what this feels like?” 

Lifting your head, he locks eyes with you as he licks thickly over your clothed clit, pressing hard. 

“Oh Eddie, yes,” you wail, wriggling under his touch. 

He merely smiles in response, hooking rough fingertips into the waistband of your panties and pulling them down almost torturously slowly. They stick between your legs so much that your cheeks flush. Eddie doesn't seem to mind in the slightest, working them off your feet and tossing them on his bedside table. You briefly wonder if you're going to get them back, but then his lips are sucking at the soft skin on your ankle and you stop caring. 

Up, up, up he moves, showing each patch of skin just the same amount of love, until he reaches the crease where your thigh meets, tongue rippling over it. You huff in frustration, hips wiggling. 

“I'm getting to it sweetheart,” he says, pressing a kiss to your mound, “I wanna savour this.”

Words of protest dissipate when he laps at you, rooting out your clit without a moment's hesitation. Any clandestine thoughts you had about this very moment are nothing compared to this. To the feel of Eddie sucking at your clit, his pillowy lips wrapped around it. To the sudden roughness of his fingers as they graze your entrance. To the breach of one, slipping deep inside of you, immediately seeking out your sweet spot. 

“Eddie, ri-right there, oh God!” 

He moans into you, vibrations tickling you in the most delicious way. It's an amazing feeling, but you can't help but think about the noises you're making. Maybe they're pathetic, and not what he's used to?  You bet he's heard some beautiful moans in his time. Some pretty blonde things with long legs and big tits. Girls who know what they're doing. Oh God, what if you start feeling him up and he laughs at you? What if- 

“Hey, sweetheart, you here?” 

He gazes up at you between your legs, eyes boring into you with the question. 

“Sorry, so sorry, I'm here I-” 

“Hey. Don't apologise. You in your head?” He asks, head resting on your thigh, “you know we don't have to do this right now.”

“No, no I want to, honest, it's just- I dunno, second guessing myself? I'm just thinking about-” 

“See? That's the problem. Stop thinking. Lie back and enjoy it. Just, get out of your head. No place I'd rather be.” 

His brown eyes are wide, wet with honesty. He was never able to hide his real emotions, at least not with you. 

“OK, I'm so- I'll enjoy it.”

“That's it. Close your eyes princess, and just feel.” 

Eyes fluttering shut, you concentrate on the feel. Of his lips, suckling softly at your clit, tongue running around the hood. Then, fingers slipping inside once again, curling within you. Moans slither out of your hoarse throat as your hips roll up to meet his lips. 

“That's it, so good for me,” he mumbles into you, “doing such a good job. You sound so sweet.” 

Sweet. You sound sweet. 

In that instant, all your hang ups begin to melt away. The pleasure he's giving you is hitting just right, making you forget all your worries. Pressure builds in your tummy; a whirling, winding force hitting you from the inside out. You're squirming, but it's as if someone outside of you is letting you know. It must be Eddie's firm palm, the one that presses into your abdomen, keeping you steady. Keeping you here, in this moment. 

There's no rush. Time loses all meaning. He could be between your thighs for minutes, hours, days. All you know is the ball of desire tightening within you is fit to burst, bubbling over in a melting pot of raw emotion. 

“Eddie, I'm so close, s-so close!” 

He doesn't falter, doesn't deviate in his ministrations. He continues, tongue circling, fingers curling so deep inside you think you can see God. A swirling, cloying heat encapsulates you, winding around that feeling you buried in your heartstrings and tugging it loose. That deep emotion you pushed aside years ago, a healed splinter, set free by the love and care he's pouring out of his flowing tongue.

It reaches its crescendo, vision darkening as every nerve is coddled with an inner fire. You're not even sure what you feel; release, blinding pleasure, pure love? It could be all three as you cry out, fingers tugging at Eddie's hair. 

He rides it out with you, fingers coaxing your orgasm to the very brink and beyond until you flop back into the bed. 

The first clue you have that something different just happened is the wet feeling underneath your ass. It feels damp, and cold? Opening your eyes, you haul yourself onto your elbows to look down. 

“Now are you glad I said about the towel?” 

Never have you seen so much of your own release coated on a man. It's covering his mouth, chin, cheeks, hand. You briefly wonder at how it could have happened, how that much could have come out of you. 

Eddie wipes his mouth and hand on the towel underneath and makes his way to hover over your heaving form, eyes practically shooting hearts at you from deep within.

“You alright princess? We can stop right now if it's too much.” 

Blindly you reach out, clumsy fingers rubbing at the hard swelling of his member inside his underwear. 

“Don't you want me to return the favour?” You ask, confused. 

“Sweetheart, one kiss of those pretty lips on my dick and I'll be done for.” 

“Then- I'm on birth control. Fuck me, please.” 

The groan that he lets out is deep and guttural, moving his limbs for him. He gets up to whip his pants down and you see it for the first time. You see him. 

It's big. Fuck, its the biggest you’ve seen; not just long but thick, even thicker than your fumblings thought. A glint of silver throws you for a loop, almost making you think you imagine it, but there it is again. 

“Holy shit, Eddie- are you, pierced??” 

“Oh yeah,” he chuckles, glancing down to follow your eye line, “you didn't know about that huh.” 

He climbs on top of you, kissing as he goes, plush lips on your skin. Soft, delicate, and warm. Guiding his hardness to your opening, you can't help but rub your thumb over the tip, pre cum slipping on the balls of the piercing. Eddie's breath stutters, nearly panting in your mouth as you smirk. 

“Now that's not fair sweetheart.” 

You continue to smile, gathering your slick to slide him in, but it quickly turns into a wince. 

“Fuck, Eddie, you're too big,” you whimper out as your eyes screw shut. 

“You're fuckin’ flattering me princess.” 

“I'm not, seriously, you're- oh goddamn-” 

He's pushing into you, slowly, but it still burns, the sheer stretch at his girth almost too much. Gnawing at your lips, tears well in your eyes. 

Eddie looks shocked, taken aback by your reaction. 

“Really? Fuck, OK sweetheart, you're OK. Look at me, you can take it, yeah?” 

Trust Eddie to say the hottest thing by accident. He's just trying to check in, but by God it sets your insides on fire. 

“I-I'll try.”

“That's it, atta girl, little more.” 

Reaching down to where you're joined, you wrap your hand loosely around the base, realising he's only halfway in. 

“Eddie, jeez you could- oooh- you could have f-fucking warned me, ah!” 

“Just relax, I've got you princess, you're taking it so well, you can take the rest- oh Jesus H Christ you're tight.”  

A long drawn out cry echoes out of you as he bottoms out, tears loose and running down your temples. He's leaning on his elbows, fingers stroking at your hair, leaving snowflake kisses on your cheeks. 

“Uh- mmmph- Eddie, you've got a pornstar dick.” 

Gritting his teeth, he looks at you almost sternly.

“You can't say that or I'll cum right now, please.” 

Eyes softening, you kiss his lips instead. He envelops you, tongue dancing in your mouth making you forget the dull ache. Nothing can make you forget how full you feel however, your pussy quivering uncontrollably around him even though he's not moving. 

“This is so nice,” he says, entwining his fingers with yours over your head. 

“Eddie, you're literally balls deep in me and it's ‘nice’?” 

Laughing so hard you feel it in your chest, he kisses you again. 

“Sorry, I mean, just being this close with you. It's everything I've ever wanted.” 

Lips quivering, you stare at him, eyes wide and wet. 

“Eddie, I lo-” 

“No, don't. Not like this. Just- can I move?” 

You nod, biting back the words, and he slowly rolls his hips. Eyes nearly hitting the back of your skull, you moan, meeting his movements. He's so deep, it's like he's everywhere. Every pore, every capillary, pulsing with him. 

“Oh my God, baby, oh God!” 

You're rambling words but it doesn't seem to matter, mind filled with fog, with feeling. With him. He links one arm under the fat of your thigh, coaxing you to curl it around him, and everything seems to fall into place all at once. Each rolling movement is pressing into that sweet spot inside of you, that spot he seems to find so easily like a gravitational pull. He smiles, panting in tandem. 

“Right there princess?” 

Nodding like a puppet on a string, he lets out a long groan. 

“Good, I-I’m not gonna last, you feel too fuckin’ good.” 

Pleased at his reaction, you link one arm around him, stroking at the taut skin of his back as he drives into you harder. Grunting with each thrust, he's tensing, holding back. 

“You can come, Eddie,” you say shakily. 

“Not before you sweetheart,” he replies, doubling down on his efforts. 

It all feels so intense, each whirl of feeling sinking deep into your bones and fanning the flames of your heart and desire. 

“Eddie, s-so close, come with me, please.” 

Almost as soon as you say the words your climax springs out, overflowing with every emotion he won't let you say. It fizzes through your nerves, throbbing with each beat of your pulse. 

Eddie groans, releasing at the same time, two bodies with one heart. As you both relax, melding together, you giggle at the same time. A laugh of relief, of pure happiness. 

“Sorry, thought I'd last a little longer.” 

He seems embarrassed, lifting his head enough to look you in the eye. 

“Eddie, that was perfect.” 

He snuggles his head deep in your neck, inhaling your scent as if it were the last time. 

“I'm gonna get you cleaned up, hang on.”

Lifting his head once more, he kisses, and kisses, lips moving against you with pure feeling. 

“OK, now I'm really gonna go.” 

You giggle as he just keeps kissing you, staring up at him with each unspoken word swimming in your mind. 

“Right, now, just hang on.” 

With a final peck, he slips out of you, returning with a warm cloth. Not used to this affection you merely lay there, allowing him, and wriggle out of the way when he takes away the towel. When you move, you see there's still a wet patch, but it's been mitigated at least somewhat. 

“I can change the sheets if you want-” 

“Eddie, I don't care, just hold me.” 

Grinning like a boy he climbs back into bed, pulling blankets over the both of you. Fitting together like you were always supposed to, you sigh with relief. 

“Eddie? Can I say it now?” 

You whisper it into his chest as he holds you close, almost afraid of breaking the spell of the evening. 

“That depends sweetheart,” he says, fingers tracing unknown patterns on the skin of your arm, “you have to mean it. I couldn't take it if you didn't mean it.” 

“I mean it. I love you Eddie, I think I always have.” 

The smile in his voice makes you smile too.

“I love you too. Happy Valentine's Day."

Taglist

@liminalpebble @eddies-puppet @rip-quizilla @micheledawn1975 @vanilla-demon @millercontracting @roanniom @josephquinnsfreckles @leelei1980 @mrsjellymunson @usedtobecooler @eddiesprincess86 @ali-r3n @choke-me-eddie @littlebebebunny @big-ope-vibes

[heliosunny]

LUCKY EGG

Yandere!Sunday x Reader

You had always been curious about the Lucky Egg Dispenser, a mysterious device rumored to grant adventurers a lifelong companion. Most people who used it received magical creatures, loyal beasts, or helpful familiars.

“It doesn’t hurt to try” you muttered, inserting the required currency and pulling the lever.

With a soft clunk, a smooth white egg rolled out, settling at your feet. You picked it up, weighing it in your hands. The display indicated it would take three days to hatch, not an issue for you. You had raised creatures before, and you always loved trying new things.

But when the time came, and the egg finally cracked open… Instead of a creature, instead of an animal or familiar, a man stepped out.

Tall, elegant, dressed in pristine white with a knowing smile curling at his lips. His bright golden eyes gleamed as he stretched, as if waking from a long dream.

Then, his gaze landed on you.

“Ah” he murmured, his voice smooth as silk. “So you’re the one who called me.”

Before you could react, he took a step forward, grasping your hand gently but firmly, bringing it to his lips in a slow, deliberate kiss.

“You may call me Sunday” he said, smiling sweetly. “And from now on—” his grip tightened, his golden eyes never wavering from yours “I belong to you.”

Baby duck syndrome is not what you expected.

For a while, neither of you spoke.

Sunday remained close, his golden eyes studying you with a quiet fascination. There was something unsettling about the way he observed you, like you were a puzzle he had already solved but still wanted to take apart piece by piece.

Then, his expression shifted. A small, tired sigh escaped his lips as he leaned ever so slightly against you. “I feel… strange” he murmured, his voice soft, almost vulnerable.

Your instincts kicked in before you could think.

“Are you feeling weak?” you asked, scanning him for signs of illness or exhaustion. He had just been born, after all.

Sunday only gave a slow nod.

You hesitated before gently guiding him to the bed. “You should rest” you said, pulling the blanket over him. “I’ll go out and buy some food. Stay here and sleep.”

Sunday blinked up at you, his golden eyes half-lidded, his lips curling just slightly at the corners.

“Okay.” he whispered.

You left, unaware of the way his gaze lingered on your retreating figure. Unaware of the way his fingers lightly traced the sheets you had just touched. Unaware of the way he let out a quiet chuckle, his exhaustion nothing more than an act, a simple game to see how easily you’d care for him.

How quickly you’d let your guard down.

When you returned with bags of food, he was exactly where you had left him, still curled beneath the blanket.

The next morning, as you prepared for work, Sunday sat up with a slow, lazy stretch.

“Take me with you” he said.

You blinked. “You want to go dungeon crawling?”

He tilted his head. “You’re my partner, aren’t you? I should be by your side.”

You hesitated. Taking an inexperienced person into a dungeon was dangerous, even if he had come from the Lucky Egg. But from the way he looked at you, so expectant, so patient, you found yourself agreeing before you could think too hard about it.

“Alright. But first, we need to get you supplies and a weapon.”

Sunday smiled. It was a slow, knowing smile, like he had expected you to say yes all along.

The weapon shop was one of the best in town, known for testing adventurers to determine what kind of weapon suited them best.

Sunday walked in beside you, his golden eyes sweeping over the neatly arranged weapons, his expression unreadable. The shopkeeper, an older man who had seen countless warriors come and go, greeted you with a nod.

“New recruit?” he asked, looking Sunday up and down.

You hesitated before nodding. “Something like that.”

Sunday said nothing, only offering the man a polite smile.

The shopkeeper gestured toward the testing area. “Alright, kid. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Unlike most adventurers, Sunday didn’t reach for a sword or staff.

Instead, he walked toward a shelf lined with old spellbooks.

He stopped in front of one, tilting his head before picking it up. The moment his fingers brushed the cover, the book shuddered, glowing symbols unraveling from the pages, floating in the air like restless spirits.

A deep hum filled the room. Sunday's golden eyes gleamed as the magic coiled around his fingertips. He flipped the book open, running his hand over the text.

Then, with a flick of his wrist, he spoke a single word.

A shockwave burst through the shop, every candle flickering, every item rattling on its shelves. A surge of energy shot forward, splitting the testing dummy apart with precise, clean cuts, the edges of the wood scorched from pure magical heat.

The shopkeeper let out a slow breath. “…You sure he’s a beginner?”

Sunday turned to you, his smile small but unmistakable.

As if he was expecting your reaction.

The dungeon entrance loomed ahead, an eerie cavern pulsing with an unnatural glow. You had been here before, countless times, even. But this time, you weren’t alone.

Sunday walked beside you, his book tucked under one arm, golden eyes bright with curiosity. Unlike most newcomers, he showed no hesitation. If anything, he looked amused.

“Stay close” you warned as you stepped in. “Dungeons aren’t predictable.”

Sunday merely smiled. “Of course.”

The first wave of monsters lunged at you.

You raised your weapon, already preparing to fight, but before you could react, Sunday murmured something under his breath. The spellbook in his hands flipped open on its own. Ethereal pages glowed, symbols lifting into the air like drifting embers. A pulse of invisible energy rippled outward. The monsters stopped instantly. Their movements slowed, their eyes unfocused, as if they had forgotten what they were doing. Then, one by one, they turned, lumbering away, their aggression erased from their minds.

You stood frozen. “Did you… just make them forget they were attacking?”

Sunday hummed, flipping another page. “Mmm. Something like that.”

Before you could question him further, a second group of monsters appeared. This time, Sunday didn’t wait. He spoke another spell, his voice lilting, almost gentle. The creatures turned on each other.

They screeched and tore at their own kind, their minds completely overwritten, their perception of friend and foe altered in an instant. By the time you stepped forward to deal the final blow, there was nothing left to fight.

“Was that helpful?” he asked lightly.

You didn’t answer immediately. Because no matter how useful his magic was, no matter how effortless he made it seem, there was one undeniable fact. Sunday’s power wasn’t just about attack or defense. It was about control.

After emerging victorious from Sunday’s first dungeon dive, you decided to celebrate.

The bar was lively, filled with adventurers boasting of their conquests over drinks. You found a table for two, ordering food and drinks, letting the adrenaline from the dungeon finally settle.

Sunday sat across from you, golden eyes watching your every move. He hadn’t touched his drink much, merely swirling the liquid in his glass, seemingly more interested in you.

"You did well today" you admitted, taking another sip of your drink.

His lips curled slightly. "Mmm. Did I?"

You gave him a look. "You know you did."

Sunday hummed, tilting his head. "Then… will you keep me by your side?"

Something about the way he said it sent a strange shiver down your spine, but before you could respond, a loud scoff interrupted.

You turned, eyes narrowing as a group of men approached your table. You recognized them, regular adventurers, ones who never liked newcomers.

"Never seen you around before" one sneered, looking at Sunday. "A fresh recruit, huh? Got yourself an easy ride with a partner like that?"

Sunday blinked at them, expression unreadable.

You sighed, already annoyed. "We're just here to eat."

"Yeah?" Another man chuckled, resting a hand on your shoulder. "Then maybe you can spare some of those dungeon points for us, sweetheart."

Before he could finish his sentence, he froze. His eyes went blank. His fingers twitched before he abruptly pulled his hand away, stepping back as if he had touched something burning.

The other men stilled, confusion flashing across their faces as the atmosphere shifted.

Sunday was still seated, his book closed, his expression pleasant.

"You're being quite rude" he murmured.

The men stiffened. Their faces twisted as if they were struggling to understand something, as if their own thoughts weren’t their own anymore. Then, without another word, they turned. And walked straight out of the bar.

You stared.

Sunday smiled at you. "Shall we continue our meal?"

You didn't reply immediately. Because once again, he had done something—something unnatural.

By the time you returned home, the alcohol had settled in, leaving you slightly sluggish.

Sunday followed you closely, perfectly composed despite drinking with you earlier.

"You should rest" you mumbled, pushing him toward his own bed.

Sunday let himself be tucked in, golden eyes watching you with quiet amusement.

You turned to leave for the other room, but suddenly, an arm wrapped around your waist. You barely had time to react before you were pulled down into Sunday’s embrace. Your breath hitched as he buried his face into your shoulder, his grip firm.

"Stay" he whispered.

You tensed. "Sunday—"

"Just for tonight" he said. "You're warm."

Your body was too heavy from exhaustion, too sluggish from the alcohol to argue properly. Eventually, sleep pulled you under.

The next morning, you woke up sore.

Your body ached from the awkward position you had slept in, Sunday’s arms still loosely wrapped around you. You groaned, shifting slightly. That was when you felt his fingers brush against your back.

“…You're in pain?” His voice was quiet.

You sighed. “Kind of. You held on too tight.”

“I see. My apologies.”

His tone was light, casual, even. But when you turned to look at him—He was smiling. And somehow, you got the distinct feeling that he wasn’t sorry at all.

It wasn’t surprising that Sunday’s abilities had drawn attention. After the dungeon raid and his effortless control over enemies, it was only a matter of time before a guild or authority figure took notice.

They approached the two of you after a routine dungeon run, their uniforms crisp, their expressions unreadable.

“You there! Sunday, was it?”

Sunday barely spared them a glance.

“We’d like to speak with you. Your abilities are… unconventional.”

Sunday smiled. Not his usual playful one. Not his amused, knowing one. This one was cold.

“I’m not interested.”

The guild members exchanged glances, clearly not expecting such a blunt dismissal.

“You should reconsider. If you join, you’ll have access to—”

“I said,” Sunday cut in smoothly, “I’m not interested.”

The conversation ended there.

You didn’t press him about it. Not yet.

A few days later, you finally had some free time. Deciding Sunday needed to learn more about this world, you took him through the city, explaining how things worked, the market, the trading system, the different factions of adventurers. He listened with interest, though he often focused more on you than on the surroundings.

Then, while passing by a street vendor, you noticed something. Sunday had stopped walking. He was staring at a display of rings, delicate, polished bands, some plain, some adorned with small gemstones.

You raised an eyebrow. “Interested in jewelry?”

Sunday blinked, as if caught off guard. “No” he said, too quickly.

You smirked.

Ignoring his weak denial, you picked up a simple silver ring and handed it to the vendor.

“I’ll take this one.”

Sunday’s eyes widened slightly as you took his hand, slipping the ring onto his finger.

“There” you said. “Consider it a gift.”

For a moment, he just stared at it. Then, he flexed his fingers, golden eyes unreadable.

“…You shouldn’t give things like this so easily.”

You shrugged. “Why not?”

His lips parted as if he wanted to say something.

But before he could, a familiar, sinking feeling settled in your gut.

You weren’t alone.

You barely had time to react before figures appeared around you, their movements precise, their presence unmistakable.

Guild members.

And they weren’t just here to talk this time.

Sunday stepped in front of you immediately.

One of the guild members raised a hand. “We don’t want trouble. We just need him to come with us.”

Sunday’s fingers curled. You felt it before you saw it. The shift in the air. The way reality itself seemed to bend around him. One moment, the guild members were standing firm. The next, their movements turned sluggish, hesitant.

Some faltered entirely, eyes unfocused, their minds clearly muddled.

“Leave” he said

And they did.

Not because they wanted to

But because Sunday had made them want to.

By the time you got home, the tension had finally faded.

You let out a relieved breath, turning to Sunday. “That was… intense.”

He simply smiled. “I handled it.”

You nodded. “Yeah, I noticed.”

Then, softly, you asked, “Sunday… why were they after you?”

He hesitated. His usual ease, his usual playfulness—gone.

“…Does it matter?” he murmured.

“Yes.”

Then, with a small chuckle, he looked away.

“Let’s not ruin the mood.”

And just like that, the conversation was over.

But the weight of your unanswered question lingered. And you couldn’t shake the feeling that Sunday was keeping something from you.

You couldn’t ignore it anymore. Sunday was too strong, too intelligent, too unnatural.

His level skyrocketed after only a few dungeon runs. His magic wasn’t just powerful, it was absolute. He could alter minds, erase memories, bend reality in ways no normal adventurer could.

And now, the guild wanted him.

But for what reason?

And why wouldn’t he tell you?

You decided to start with the Adventurer’s Registry.

Every adventurer, no matter their origin, had an entry in the system. Even those spawned from the Lucky Egg Machine would at least have basic data—name, level, class, stats.

But when you searched for Sunday, something strange happened. There was no record.

Not incomplete data. Not a hidden file.

Just… nothing.

As if he didn’t exist.

A cold feeling settled in your gut.

Something was wrong.

Determined, you dug deeper.

If the registry didn’t have his records, then maybe the guild—

Error

Your access was blocked.

That was odd. You weren’t a high-ranking adventurer, but you should have been able to see basic guild logs.

Why would Sunday’s information be classified?

Unless…

It was dangerous to know.

That night, you confronted him.

“Sunday,” you said firmly, stepping in front of him. “Who are you?”

He blinked, golden eyes gleaming in the dim light.

Then, he smiled. “Your partner.”

“Don’t do that.” Your voice was sharper than intended. “I looked you up. You don’t exist. Not in the registry. Not anywhere.”

He sighed.

“…You just couldn’t leave it alone, could you?”

“Sunday” you whispered. “Tell me the truth.”

He tilted his head, studying you, fingers tracing the ring you had given him.

Then, softly, almost regretfully—he murmured:

“I was never meant to be found.”

And just like that, you realized

Sunday wasn’t just powerful.

He was something else entirely.

Your investigation led you to an unlikely source, an old researcher who had once worked with the guild. The meeting was secretive, hidden within the ruins of an abandoned archive.

"You’re looking into that boy, aren’t you?" the researcher murmured, flipping through aged documents. "Sunday… That’s what you call him?"

You nodded. "You know something, don’t you?"

A sigh. The researcher slid a file toward you. The papers inside were yellowed with age, some pages missing, others barely legible. But what you could read chilled you.

[Project: Daybreak]

An artificial entity, created through forbidden magic. Designed to manipulate perception, rewrite reality itself. A prototype abandoned before completion—

—escaped from containment—

—no known weaknesses—

—do not engage without extreme caution—

Your hands trembled as you turned to the researcher. "This… This means he’s not-"

"Not human" the researcher finished. "Not even from the Lucky Egg Machine. He’s something far more dangerous."

And you had been traveling with him, trusting him, without knowing any of this.

Your breath came fast, panic setting in. "I have to—"

A shadow loomed behind you.

Too late.

A gentle hand rested on your shoulder.

A familiar, comforting voice whispered:

"You shouldn’t have seen that."

Your body tensed, magic seeped into your mind, curling like soft whispers in your thoughts.

Forget

The world blurred.

When you woke up, you were in your bed. Sunday sat beside you, reading a book, his golden eyes calm as he noticed you stir.

"Morning" he said, voice light. "You were out for a while."

Your head felt… strange.

Something was missing.

Hadn’t you been—?

You blinked. What were you even trying to remember?

Shaking the strange thought away, you sat up. Sunday smiled, reaching out to brush your hair from your face.

"You should rest more," he murmured. "I’ll take care of everything."

You nodded slowly, the unease already slipping away.

Because Sunday was your partner.

And there was nothing to worry about.

Right?

[multicohn]

summary: lewis feels insecure about the age gap between him and his girlfriend when he watches her interact with the younger drivers

warnings: age gap ( not specified )

pairing: younger! fem! reader x lewis hamilton

genre: angst ( if you squint ), fluff

face claim: no one

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

flashback

y/n was busy typing away on her laptop when he walked into the library, lewis didn’t know why he felt like going to one, but did so out of impulse. at the time, she didn’t stand out to him and y/n was just another person that was there when he was. but, then he noticed how the desk she sat at started piling up with more and more books until he could barely see her.

then one day, she wasn’t there.

lewis found himself intrigued by what she was doing — is she a student? if so, what does she study? is it apart of her job? what does she do? he pondered on about the ( hair colour ) girl and wanted to ask, but felt himself slowly lose confidence the longer she didn’t show up.

after a few weeks of being away, lewis once again found himself entering the library and immediately moved towards the desk that the ( hair colour ) girl sat at and was relived to see her, but furrowed his eyebrows at seeing her sleeping.

“hey” lewis shook her gently, but she jumped and immediately brought her fists up. his eyes widened and he took a step back before raising his hands

“just making sure you were alright” she put her fists down in embarrassment before rubbing her eyes

“oh, yeah, sorry. just tired, do you happen to know the time?” lewis looked down at his watch and read the time which made her groan

“i’m going to be late”

lewis wasn’t sure what took over him, but saying the words; “i could take you” should’ve never left his mouth

“i don’t trust strangers” she glared at him and lewis knew he messed up

“do you not know who i am?”

“…am i supposed?” he sat down in the chair in front of her and she raised at eyebrow at his actions

“have you ever heard of formula one?”

“no. are you like a scientist or chemist or something?”

y/n would later search him up once she left and upon realising how famous he was, y/n wanted to dig a hole and bury herself in it. a scientist? chemist? why couldn’t she have just kept her mouth shut and ran away when he tried to start conversation?

y/n had honestly thought that lewis wouldn’t talk to her anymore and at the time was just oddly concerned about her being asleep, but the next day he sat with her and was curious about what she was doing. y/n has never had anyone so interested in her and found it strange, but also oddly comforting. unless, they were adults, y/n never cared much about age gaps and lewis wasn’t particularly worried about such since y/n acted much older. he didn’t even know that she was younger than him until he asked — it did feel a bit strange, but she is an adult, so lewis took a chance and asked her out on a date.

he couldn’t stop smiling when she agreed.

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when lewis appeared at the british grand prix with an unknown girl beside him, the internet broke down. they were quick to find out about y/n l/n who is just a simple girl that is currently studying ( subject ) while working ( job ). she was someone who no one could’ve ever imagined dating a seven-time world champion.

she didn’t model, wasn’t an actress or any kind of musician. in the words of fans, y/n is deemed as basic — even her style was non-existent before dating lewis.

“toto” y/n’s grip on lewis’ hand tightened as they walked towards his boss

“lewis” he greeted warmly before looking at her, “this must be y/n, correct? i’ve heard much about you” she shook his hand with a small smile before lewis kissed the top of her head / temple / cheek ( depends on height )

“mick should be here soon with carmen — she’s geroge’s girlfriend — then i’ll introduce to you some of the others” lewis has talked about his friends, both current and former, and was more than happy to finally introduce her to the current roster of racers, but also wanted to take things slow in case she got too nervous

mick soon appeared with carmen and they both welcomed y/n warmly before taking her away from lewis so could get ready for the meeting and race.

~

y/n met a few of the other drivers who were her age or close to and she oddly got along well with them. lewis didn’t understand certain slang or terms y/n used, but she didn’t mind and explained them, but talking with someone who understood her strange humour made her feel less nervous / anxious.

unbeknownst to y/n, lewis was watching her interact with the younger drivers and couldn’t help the feeling that bubbled up within him. she didn’t care about their age gap since they’re both adults, but seeing her get along so well with them made him feel like she might be better off with someone closer to her age; they could understand each other better, the internet might accept them more —

“lewis, mate. do you see your girlfriend? carmen said she left her with ( driver closest to your age )” geroge looked up from his phone to see him nod silently. furrowing his eyebrows, geroge followed lewis’ line of sight to see y/n laughing with ( driver closest to your age )

“oh, there they are” he started walking towards them before lewis could stop him and only sighed before following

y/n lit up at seeing her boyfriend and smiled lightly at geroge who introduced himself. ( driver closest to your age ) quickly said his goodbyes before going towards his garage, lewis hesitatingly grabbed her hand.

geroge noticed and coughed before looking around, “i think i hear carmen calling me” he rushed away making y/n tilt her head in confusion before looking at lewis for an answer, but he just stared at their intertwined hands

“lewis? are you alright?”

it went for a few seconds.

“are you really okay with dating me?”

“wh-what?” y/n asked shocked, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“shouldn’t you date someone closer in age?”

“where’s this coming from?”

“i just thought-“ she cut him off quickly

“i wouldn’t be dating you if i had a problem with our ages. honestly, i don’t care” y/n clarified and tightened her grip

“do you want to tell me what happened to make you think this, again? or should we wait till after the race” lewis shook his head

“just seeing you interact with ( driver closest to your age ) so easily made me think…”

y/n placed her free hand on his cheek and leaned into to kiss him gently. lewis felt the tense release from his shoulders as she pulled back, looking rather embarrassed about kissing him so passionately in public.

“let’s go to the garage, wanna sit in my car?”

“can i really?!” y/n asked excitedly and he chuckled with a nod

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extra scene:

mick had seemed rather excited to introduce y/n to a certain former driver while carmen had use the bathroom. he greeted him warmly while y/n smiled once she made eye contact with the former mercedes driver.

“nice to meet you, i’m nico rosberg” he seemed rather awkward, but so did y/n as they shook hands

“i know, i’m y/n. lewis talks about you” nico paused and she felt his grip tighten ever so slightly

“he does?” he asked in a quiet tone that even y/n wasn’t sure if she heard him right given the amount of noise around them

“yeah? a lot, actually” he nodded quietly and looked behind her making y/n turn. she smiled upon seeing her boyfriend walking towards them

nico froze as he approached and kissed y/n gently before looking at his former friend.

“i see you’ve met my girl” nico nodded silently as lewis turned his attention to her

“well, it was nice to see you mate” he hit his arm lightly before taking y/n’s hand and leading her away towards the mercedes garage

[aestherin]

KEEP MY HEART

goal 32: you but in meow

NOTE: i finally finished despite procrastinating hehe this was sitting in my drafts for more than a week help me 😭

You probably should have told Scaramouche that you have already arrived at the home address he sent.

If you did so, maybe you wouldn’t be outright welcomed by his mother instantly opening the door after a few knocks.

You’ve already seen her before during some of their games, albeit from a far distance. She looked pretty from afar, yes. But she was heavenly up close. With her long deep violet locks weaved into a simple braid, her perfect skin that gives no evidence of her being a mother of a boy already in college, and her electrifying eyes… you’re starting to realize where Scaramouche got the godly genes from.

“Good afternoon, uh— madam?” You greeted awkwardly. “I’m here to visit Scara, no, Kunikuzushi. He’s a… friend!”

At your introduction, the older woman let you inside their home and motioned you to sit on the sofa. She swiftly made her way back and forth the kitchen and provided you with a tray containing some drinks and some snacks.

You told her that she didn’t have to, but she only smiled in response. As she sat down in front of you, you started to drink from the glass, only so that you can find something to distract yourself from the awkwardness.

“So that’s why your built looked familiar. You’re probably the same woman I saw in the pictures with my son. You’re his girlfriend, right?”

You coughed.

Before you can even reply, Scaramouche’s mother motioned upstairs. “Nevermind that, I don’t want to keep you for long. My son’s room is upstairs, first door from the left.”

“Also,” she lightly muttered as you were getting ready to go upstairs. “Please do treat my son well. I’ve put him through a lot, you see.”

An apologetic smile was plastered on his mother’s face. Was this what Scaramouche meant when he was messaging you? Was his mother somehow enlightened and came to a realization about their issues? You wanted to know, but you didn’t want to pry.

Besides, the main reason why you came here was so that you could uplift Scaramouche’s mood.

“I will.”

Meanwhile, Scaramouche was cooped up in his room, restless. He’d admit it to no one, but anxiety was slowly creeping in his heart at your lack of replies to his message. Why did you suddenly stop replying? Were you getting to him safely? Did you somehow get lost and went to some place with no reception?

‘Damn it, I should’ve just picked her up,’ he thought.

‘Should I call her?’

‘But what if —‘

Three knocks brought his thoughts to a halt. “Kuni? It’s me, [Name].”

Of course it’s you. You're the only one allowed to call him that anyway.

Heavy and hurried footsteps stemmed from the other side of the door once you made your presence known.

“[Name],” he breathed immediately upon swinging his door.

You were welcomed by his disheveled yet still attractive appearance as well as the sight of his room — simple yet stylish with tints of mainly white, black, and blue. The room looked so cold, yet the comforts of his white bed helped it seem warmer. Apart from that however, a warm and furry feeling on your legs also welcomed you.

“Meow.”

You broke eye contact with Scaramouche and instead took a peek at what the little ball of black fur was doing below. His cat (as you assumed) was now cuddling you, purring restlessly against your feet.

“That’s weird.”

“Huh?”

“He usually doesn’t like strangers,” Scaramouche said.

He then eyed you as you crouched down to pick up his cat. “Well you see Kuni, they said cats tend to mirror the personalities of their owner.”

“Who the fuck even said that?” He raised his brow. “And even if that’s true, so what?”

“Well you like me, so of course Scarameow likes me.”

Scaramouche huffed. “Scarameow?”

“You didn’t give him a name, right? I feel bad not calling him anything, so I just thought of that on the spot.” You grinned. “Besides, it seems like he likes it.”

You cut yourself off by lightly poking the black cat’s nose. “Don’t you, Scarameow?”

The man just sighed at the approving purr of his own pet. He was left speechless by how easily his cat warmed up to you. It really weirded him out, considering that it was the very same cat that always just hisses at other people aside from his owner.

“But why that… horrendous name?”

You looked back at him only to flash a disapproving frown. “Horrendous? Isn’t it cute?”

“No.”

“What?” You gasped. “Can’t you see he’s literally a cat version of you?”

“It’s like he’s you… but in meow…”

He speedily brought his palm up to his lips in an attempt to conceal something. It was a poor attempt, however, as the muffled noises he tried so hard to stop forced their way out.

And for the first time in so long, he finally laughed.

KEEP MY HEART — scara x reader smau

previous . masterlist . next

NOTE: my reference for thinking of scara's bedroom haha >> [click here]

TAGLIST I (closed)

@kararisa @krnzysh @syriiina @your-kuya-pogi @xiaosonlybeloved @xiaomainlmao @cindywasneverhere @coquettemaiden @sunsethw4 @lunavixia @calickoh @arealistonao3 @youthingazi @zyilas @mondaymelon @yukiipc @heartswonder @st0pthatsgay @ozzierenato @astreaa-express @shewolfmiko @lovelyycherries @myaaones @countessqin @aloveablechaos @letthewindlead @lunaavity @local-blueberry-boy @luminestars @layla240 @useless-potatho @atlaszi @alatusorrow @lahsram2201 @sakiimeo @user11918163805279 @vqazx @neigesprincess @kunicrush @yoursockstinks @hotgirlshit5 @mikctp @crucnhice @apotatouwu @yuaenri @sammybeefangirls @miko1ly @deffenferofjustice @etherisy @sagegreenthinks

[shawtylex09]

Just took notice of how you mostly write izuku so here's an idea/request

How about teacher izuku meeting his co-worker (reader) in a bar and they're both just as surprised cause the reader would never think he'd drink. But like he doesn't excessively drinks or something like that,just doing it from time to time. And from there on they kinda just get along really well. You can do whatever with this,make a smau or fanfic or anything really. Nsfw can be included if you're up to it<3

-🐇

I hope you’re the same anon that requested the other asks.

Also. IM TRYING TO GET TO ALL OF THE REQUESTS I PROMISE IVE HAD SUCH BAD WRITERS BLOCK ITS NOT EVEN FUNNY.

Anyways. Here’s Teacher!Izuku x Teacher!Fem!Reader

Smut warning! Minors DNI.

Spoilers for MHA

Masterlist

Here’s a banger for you guys to listen to,

and let’s get into this;

⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡°

Izuku sighed softly, staring down at the sweet, golden brown of the whiskey in his glass. He wasn’t usually a drinker, but tonight he just needed to let loose a bit.

His mind had started to wander a bit, and he found himself thinking back to his own high school days, questioning if he was happy with his life or if he was just accepting that this was his life now, whether he liked it or not.

Izuku enjoyed being a teacher, yes, but he always found himself alone- more often than he would’ve liked to admit. He knew it was just the effect of all of his friends getting older and naturally growing apart, but it just..sucked.

He still had Katsuki, the two of them regularly talking and sometimes grabbing lunch. There was also Aizawa and his other coworkers.

There was also-

You sat down next to Izuku, a heavy sigh leaving your lips. Today shr been chaotic with the groups of students you handled. You glanced over, feeling eyes on you.

Your eyes met green ones, and you paused.

“Midoriya?” You asked with wide eyes, surprised to see someone as warm and intelligent as Izuku in the bar of all places- and was that whiskey?

Izuku’s own, slightly drunk expression was shocked, gawking at you “Y/n?? What are you doing here?” It wasn’t like the two of you weren’t supposed to drink or anything, you just didn’t expect to see each other in the bar of all places outside of UA.

You smiled a bit and rested your elbow on the bar, the shock wearing off as you remembered- you were both adults, no reason to get bent outta shape over it. “Came to get a drink, unwind a little” you shrugged.

Izuku nodded and smiled a little, resting his own chin in his palm while swirling the whiskey in his glass. “Same here” he said with a soft laugh, his reflective thoughts from earlier pushed to the back burner of his tipsy mind. “Just wanted to relax after dealing with those troublesome teenagers”

You grinned and chuckled a little, nodding in agreement “ain’t that the truth”. You said before turning to the bar tender, ordering a simple brandy.

Izuku raised a brow at your drink choice, smiling a little. He was a little more loose-lipped, thanks to already being a few drinks in “brandy? You like fruity alcohol?” He asked, smiling a bit.

You smirked a bit and angled your head to the side “so what if I do? Am I not allowed to have different tastes than you, Midoriya?” You asked, your tone light and playful, definitely not exactly professional, since you didn’t have to maintain that boundary now that you were off the clock. You were just two people now, out at the bar.

Izuku laughed a bit and gave you that sweet, boyish smile that made a bit of heat crawl up your collar “that’s not what I’m saying Y/n” he smiled warmly at you, his eyes a bit glassy from the alcohol “also. Izuku’s fine, we’re not at work, so you can just call me Izuku.”

You hummed softly, smiling a little. He wanted to be closer with you. It was obvious by the expression on his face and the way his cheeks turned red as he offered his given name to you.

“Oh, sure thing, Izuku.” You teased, assign that extra emphasis on his name. You got your drink and sipped it, smiling at the dopey grin on his face “someone’s pleased with himself”

Izuku simply laughed at your words, taking a sip of his, almost empty, whiskey. He couldn’t deny your words, he was pleased with the new level of intimacy between the two of you. He'd been wanting to get to know you better, for a while, actually.

You were a bit older than Izuku, and you'd been working at UA for a few years before Izuku had earned a job there, and he admired the way you worked, the way you oriented your classes and how you carried yourself; confident, self-assured, and sexy-

"What can I say?" Izuku asked with a shrug of his shoulders, smiling a little, feeling less stiff and pressured now that you were in a public setting. "I'm allowed to be pleased with myself when I get a bit closer with someone as gorgeous as yourself" He hadn't meant to come off as forward as he did, but he had a few drinks in him.

You blushed a little, preening under the compliment directed at you "Oh? You think I'm gorgeous?" you asked, your tone soft, playful, with flirty undertones and a bit of teasing; it was lighthearted, and the two of you were just messing around.

Izuku blushed and shyly smiled, rubbing the back of his neck. "ah..I..did not mean to say that out loud" he muttered before laughing a little.

You blinked, before cracking a grin, with the way he was acting playful, yet still a bit shy and bashful made your heart race, and you knew you were in for a good night.

And boy were you right.

Several drinks in, and the two of you were ready to leave the bar. You two had been playfully flirting and conversing with huge, stupid smirks on your faces, feeling like giddy teenagers as you grabbed his hand.

You had called a taxi, since you were the more sober one of the two, which wasnt saying much.

Somehow, you and Izuku made it to your apartment, the tension between the two of you growing to a climax. The two of you stumbled into your apartment, Izuku drunkenly babbling to you "Y/n..a-are you...let-letting me s- hic stay? Please let me stay..I w-wan' to be c- hic close..t-to you"

You smiled a bit and chuckled "Y-yeah? you wanna stay?" you taunted, grinning mischievously at your coworker and friend. Izuku took this as you being unconvinced. What he did next would be what set off the two of you for the night;

Izuku grabbed onto your shirt, heavily leaning on you for support with his heavily lidded eyes and tousled hair, his cheeks red and breaths shaky "please..Y/n..i-ill..be such hic a good boy..please..please.."

Your eyes widened and your mouth went dry.

Now. How could you say no to a face that cute, especially when he was asking so politely?

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪𖤐

Your room was filled with the lewd squelching sounds of Izuku's throbbing, aching cock sliding in and out of your gushing cunt, your nude body bouncing on his lap while his gasps and feminine whimpers filled the air "Y/n! Fuck- Please! Mommy- mommy! please!!" he didnt know what he was pleading for, but his eyes were filled with tears, his head thrown back in ecstasy and his eyes rolling back as his cock bullied your cunt around the shape of its fat shaft.

You panted heavily, your hands on his muscular and scarred chest, your brows furrowed and lewd groans slipping passed your lips. "youre doing so good, being such a good boy for me sweetheart" you praised, your voice breathless as you rolled your hips and rode his hardened length.

You had no idea how youd gotten here, one minute you were kissing izuku, stumbling into your bedroom as he whimpered, promising to be a good boy if you took care of him, then the next his dick was the only thing on your mind.

Izuku brought a hand up to cover his eyes, his heavy breaths and whimpers meeting your ears, adding to that fog of alcohol and pleasure. "Please! I wanna cum- please! Please let me cum mommas- Ive been such a good boy-" he gasped out, his voice high and whiny as your tight walls constricted around his dick, making his body jolt and writhe under you.

You felt your own release building, your groans and gasps mixing with his whimpers and moans "Y/n!" Izuku grabbed the sheets, turning his face to the side, burying it in your pillow as tears of pleasure streamed down his bright red cheeks

"Baby- baby imabout to-" you reached down, your fingers finding his sensitive nipples and beginning to pinch and tease them, looking for that final push to tip him off into release.

Izuku's back arched, a cry of pleasure leaving him as he finally felt the tight ball of pleasure explode in his stomach, his cock twitching and shooting out hot ropes of sticky cum, right inside of you.

You panted heavily, removing yourself from on top of him and laying down next to him.

The two of you laid in your bed, before you gently coaxed izuku's tired body into cuddling with yours, your hand finding his hair as he cuddled up to you.

You knew that it probably meant nothing, a simple drunken mistake, and that izuku probably didnt harbor the same passionate feelings youd held for him.

little did you know, Izuku was smiling into your chest, his lashes wet with the tears of ecstasy youd earned from him, and one thought on his mind.

I hope we do this in the morning.

im sosososososososo sorry its taken me so long getting to these asks. i still have 4 left to write for. im SO SORRY- ive been struggling with mental health and other silly stuff, but im trying! so dont worry! i plan on using this week to catch up on asks and stuff, cause next weekend im celebrating my birthday, and the wednesday after next is my bday, so ill probably not be very active next week. or i might, who knows!

[powderpinkprincess]

License [Lando Norris & twin sister!reader]

description: You hate driving. Your twin brother, Lando, tries to help you out with that.  warnings: a few bad words

When you and Lando were kids, you shared pretty much everything. You went to the same daycare group, then to the same school, and you even shared a room until the two of you turned 8. You were twins, so it just kind of worked that way.

You also fought a lot. Over stupid things mostly – whose turn it was to pick the TV show or who got more snacks, although your parents always made sure whatever you got was the exact same amount. Classic sibling stuff. Lando was already a very competitive child when he was daycare age, and he always pulled you into his mind games.

The only thing you didn’t share was his love for driving.

You tried karting when he stared, mostly because it felt weird not to. You always went to the same afternoon activities because, for your parents, it was easier to coordinate one program than two at the same time, considering that you had two sisters and a brother as well. However, your parents quickly decided to pull you out after seeing that you were sitting on the ground and crying before most of the practices, while Lando was already speeding through other kids like nothing mattered.

That whole thing about you not liking to drive never really changed, even in your twenties. Lando was a full-on Formula 1 driver by then, and you also had your driver’s license, but you barely used it. Most of the time, you just took public transport. Driving made you nervous, simple as that. You secretly blamed your childhood experiences with karting for that.

When Lando came home for summer break, you visited your parents’ house as well to spend some time with him. You hadn’t seen him for nearly three months now, as you had your own job, your own apartment, and you didn’t have the time to travel after him. Your passion was running, and you worked as a trainer. Your family has always been a very fit and sporty one.

Of course, you and Lando quickly got comfortable around each other again, and you were back to your usual routine within five minutes, arguing and teasing nonstop. At one point, he made some snarky comment about your driving, and your mom, Cisca finally had enough.

 “Lando, why don’t you take your sister for a drive?” she asked, her hands on her hips as always when she got annoyed. “You could actually help her feel more confident instead of making fun of her, don’t you think so?”

 “What? But she doesn’t even like to drive!” Lando protested immediately.

 “That’s exactly why,” Cisca sighed. “Give her a few tips. You drive for a living.”

Your eyes widened as well. “Mom, you can’t be serious. Lando barely passed his theory test. I wouldn’t trust his advice on normal roads if my life depended on it. I wouldn’t even let him outside the track!” You were exaggerating a little, but he wasn’t the brightest in the theory, that was true. He drove out of intuition, which, in his case, worked well, but you couldn’t do that. Your intuitions would drive you into the first ditch in sight.

Lando let out a scoff. “I passed the theory. Besides, I’m still a better driver than you are.”

 “Yeah, I’m sure you’re a real menace to society in a school zone,” you snorted.

He rolled his eyes at you. “Bold words from someone who breaks down in tears at roundabouts.”

 “Lando!” Cisca raised her voice a little. You always found it amusing how it was always he who got scolded. When the two of you were young, it was mostly Lando picking fights, therefore, his name became some kind of a reflex for your parents when they heard bickering.

Lando raised his hands in defeat. “Okay, fine. We can try.”

Cisca handed him the key to the older family car – not you, you noticed -, and then you followed your brother into the garage, your arms crossed.

 "You know, you don't have to be so upset," he said as he unlocked the car.

 "You do get on my nerves sometimes," you muttered.

He shrugged and went to open the driver's side door, waiting for you to get in. You grumbled in protest, but you did sit down, fastening the seatbelt and adjusting the mirrors. Lando rounded the car and sat on the passenger seat. It was a rare sight to see, considering that he disliked giving out control of his hands when it came to driving. He put on a pair of sunglasses and rolled down the window, propping his elbow out.

 “Feeling comfortable?” you scoffed.

 “As comfortable as I can get,” he grinned at you. You just shook your head at that.

The drive started off quiet. Suspiciously quiet. Lando didn’t even say anything for the first few minutes. You were hyper-aware of every movement, already regretting every life decision that led to this moment.

 “I’m not gonna bite,” he finally said, watching you intently. His snarky attitude seemed to falter a little as he noticed how nervous you were. He wasn’t a monster, after all. He didn’t wish anything bad for you.

 “You're already annoying, and we haven’t even left the street yet,” you muttered. You pulled out with all the grace of someone trying to look calm while internally screaming. Lando was surprisingly quiet again. Too quiet.

You glanced at him. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Just- Didn’t think we’d make it out of there in one piece,” he said. He couldn’t resist being a little smug.

You nearly slammed the brakes right there. “Say one more thing and I swear I’m turning this into a hostage situation.”

Lando raised both hands like you were holding a weapon. “Alright, alright. No need for threats. Just drive.”

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. You were constantly second-guessing your speed at every moment. Lando was a quiet observer for the first few minutes, but soon enough, the silence was broken. "You're going kinda slow," he pointed out.

 “If I go faster, I’ll crash and we’ll both die,” you mumbled under your breath.

 “Come on, at this speed here, you’re just going to break the car at worst, no one is going to die. And if you drive too slowly, that’s also dangerous,” he replied. “Just saying this because people are gonna honk soon if you don’t speed up, and you’ll freak out.”

Your grip on the steering wheel tightened, but you added some more gas.

 “There you go.” Lando shifted in his seat a little and leaned back, way too comfortable for this situation.

 “How are you not terrified sitting next to me?” you sighed.

He shrugged, a small, amused smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I have been in far riskier situations, trust me. Besides, you're a better driver than you give yourself credit for.” Lando glanced sideways at you, observing your nervous expression and your grip on the wheel.  “Relax. What are you so scared of anyway? That you’ll hit something? That you’ll break the car?”

 “Kind of both,” you bit your lip.

 "You’re being so careful, I doubt you’ll wreck the car. If you’re too nervous, though, you’ll make mistakes. You’re doing great, just don’t think about it too much." Surprisingly, his words seemed to help. You focused back on the road. The silence returned, but this time, it wasn’t uncomfortable.

You were even starting to relax as you turned onto a quieter street. Your hands were a little steadier on the wheel, Lando had backed off from his usual teasing, and for a second, it felt like maybe this whole "practice drive" thing wouldn’t be a complete disaster.

Then Lando’s voice cut through the calm.

 “Shit- Watch out!”

You barely had time to register his words. Out of nowhere, a black SUV shot out from a side street – no signal, no warning – cutting right across your lane.

You slammed the brakes instinctively, heart jumping to your throat, the tires giving a sharp screech as the car jerked to a stop just in time. Lando reached over and grabbed the wheel instinctively, helping you swerve slightly. The SUV sped off like nothing had happened, only missing you by a few centimetres.

 “Jesus Christ,” Lando breathed, whipping around to glare after it. “What the fuck is wrong with people?”

You didn’t answer. Your hands were glued to the wheel, trembling uncontrollably. Your heart pounded so hard it hurt, and before you knew it, your eyes filled with tears.

Lando looked back at you. “Hey... Y/N?”

You couldn’t speak. Your throat was too tight, and the tears came faster. You tried to blink them away, but it was useless. You were overwhelmed by the fear, the adrenaline, and the what-ifs. It all crashed down at once.

 “Okay, okay,” Lando said quickly. “Just pull over.”

With shaking hands, you guided the car to the side of the road and parked. You didn’t even turn to him. You just covered your face, shoulders starting to shake as the sobs took over.

Lando didn’t say anything for a few seconds. Then he let out a slow breath and leaned closer, lowering his voice. “You’re okay. I promise. You didn’t do anything wrong. That guy was a fucking idiot.”

You finally looked at him, eyes red, still catching your breath. “I thought we were gonna crash.”

 “But we didn’t,” Lando said. “You did everything right.”

You nodded, hiccup-crying a little, wiping your eyes with your sleeve. Lando unbuckled himself and leaned across the console to pull you into an awkward hug, patting your back. “You did great, Y/N. You’re not hurt, I’m not hurt, and even the car is fine. You were perfect, okay? I promise, it’s okay.”

 "If you didn't notice him, we would've crashed," you sniffled.

 "But you did see him in time, and you hit the brakes," Lando pointed out. "You were so quick to respond. Not many people would've reacted as fast as you did, if they would even have at all."

You sat in silence for a few minutes, Lando letting you calm down a little. After a while, you blew out some air through your mouth. "I don't want to drive home, you drive home."

Lando didn't think this was such a good idea. You were doing so well, stopping the drive with such a negative experience would definitely set you back again. Lando watched you for a moment, the tension still hanging in the air between you. He knew you were shaken, but he wasn’t about to let you give up.

 “You’re not quitting now, Y/N,” he said gently, though his voice carried a quiet firmness. “You’ve come this far, and I’m not gonna let you bail out now, okay?”

You stared at him, the exhaustion and frustration evident on your face. "But I can't do this, Lando," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

 "But you can," he insisted. "You just need to trust yourself a little more. I’m right here with you, okay? You don’t have to do it alone."

You sighed deeply, feeling the weight of his words. You hadn’t realized how much you needed that reassurance until now. For a moment, you let your eyes wander out the window, trying to steady your breath and calm the knot in your stomach.

 “Just try,” Lando said quietly, offering you a small but encouraging smile. “You’ve already done more than you think. If you need to stop, we’ll stop, but just... try.”

You swallowed hard, your mind racing with doubt, but slowly, you nodded. With shaky hands, you gripped the wheel again, the familiar feel of it grounding you.

 “I’ll try,” you whispered.

Lando nodded, giving you a reassuring look as you pulled back into traffic. When you arrived home, Lando got out of the car first, taking a deep breath and trying to shake off any remaining stress. When he saw your Mom waiting, he managed a small smile. "No casualties this time," he joked, trying to ease the potential tension.

Cisca's eyebrow twitched up in disbelief, her eyes darting from Lando to the car and finally to you. "Really? No shouting, no speeding, no cursing from your brother?"

 “He was pretty decent,” you shrugged with a smile.

Cisca looked genuinely surprised. Lando’s temper, which got him to Formula 1, wasn’t always the easiest to handle when it was between the two of you.

 “See? You raised a gentleman out of me,” Lando said with a smug smile.

Cisca just shook his head with a laugh and walked back into the living room, leaving the two of you there.

[achocosun]

all I need is the air that I breathe, and to love you ft. lee mark !

𖹭⠀࣭⠀⋆ genre ; non-idol!mark × fem reader. fluff, pure unadulterated fluff. established relationship au. use of pet names (for her: baby, pretty girl / for him: lovie). just a short drabble to get used to posting on tumblr. ugh this turned tooth-rottingly sweet.

𖹭⠀࣭⠀⋆ word count ; 1.4k (this was supposed to be shorter but well, i got carried away haha)

𖹭⠀࣭⠀⋆ warning(s) ; none that i see ^^

𖹭⠀࣭⠀⋆ notes ; divider by @mewryn (it's so pretty oml)

laughter. the sound of laughter had to be your favorite music that drifted leisurely throughout the apartment.

be it hushed chuckles over a movie or a funny tiktok your boyfriend sent over to you, the rambunctious cackling that tailed your group of friends when they'd indulged a little too much in drinks after dinners that often than not happened in the home you shared with mark–you cherished them all the very same.

before you moved into the flat on the tenth floor, the highest any residential building went in the street equidistant to both of your workplaces, you had some doubts. mostly concerning how eerily quiet it tended to get even with the faint honks of traffic in the heart of seoul.

you could owe it to your upbringing in the city, never once truly alone despite how easily it was slipping into a faraway headspace. you still did that sometimes but after meeting mark, the use of your headphones that'd found purchase against your ears got lesser and lesser. until you could go days just listening to his little tangents.

of course, it was more because of the fact that you adored how his whole face brightened as he shared with you something, anything he held dear. the way his soft brown eyes twinkled as he animatedly explained his point made you lose all sense of reality.

once in sophmore year of college, he had stopped for half a minute and then chuckled at you staring at him in awe. it had taken him waving his hand before you and a "hello, earth to _______? do i have something on my face?" for you to realize your embarrassing predicament.

only mark didn't seem to find it odd. no, on the contrary he found the gesture endearing. he had that tendency to ramble, everyone told him as much. but for you to listen to every word and hang onto it infused a swell in his heart, a giddy feeling he honestly did not want to suppress.

with mark, everything came in it's most simple form. relationships were not supposed to be easy, each one had it's own complications as did yours. but with him you knew you would always try to work through every rough patch because your boyfriend was willing just as much.

you had put an official label on your relationship in junior year, and not being strangers to the amount of teasing that would ensue from your rather large circle of friends, you had decided to keep it lowkey, letting them find out on their own and ease into it.

but with your streak of not keeping your hands–or lips for that matter—off each other, it took them two weeks flat to figure it out. but that's on johnny and his inability to knock on doors as he strutted into mark's dorm as if it was his own, oblivious to you both tangled in each other's arms on the small sofa pushed against the wall beside the balcony.

to your surprise, no noticeably grand change came with the reveal. in johnny's words, you and mark had always been sort of touchy with each other even as friends. he told you to keep the make-outs to a minimum and nobody else would know for sure.

after graduation, mark had mustered up the courage to ask you to move in with him. he had put a lot of thought into it—scoured for decently sized apartments, looked for help from his older friends and even went as far as to ask your parents for their opinion.

of course, the one answer that mattered was yours but even the fact that he asked your parents made you feel elated. and it definitely earned him their seal of approval.

the hesitant question had followed a meal of chinese takeout for dinner as you leaned your head on his shoulder, watching the movie playing in the living room of his childhood home, an arm wrapped around his waist. you had noticed his skittishness all night and it all came to a head as he played with the ends of your hair.

"i was thinking", mark started, taking your hum as approval to continue while you lowered the volume of the tv. "and seriously you can take as much time to think or even say no, i won't force you."

this time you turned to face him fully, a frown creeping up to your face. "what is it, markie? is something wrong?"

"i– well..." he took a sharp breath, eyes never once meeting your own. "i was thinking maybe you can move in with me?"

the silence that followed only plummeted his heart further down his stomach. mark moved an inch away from you, grabbing the remote from your grasp while shaking his head. "never mind. it's way too soon to think of that stuff, right? that's was a sudden, stupid ques—"

"don't say that. nothing you said is stupid." regaining your voice, you shifted closer to him, your grip sliding up his arm and towards nape as you rubbed the area. his shoulders slouched visibly, irrate heartbeat slowing just a little.

you smiled up at him, deft fingers smoothing across his across his brow and finally resting against his cheeks. it took a little tug for him to finally face you, mouth opening and closing as he wracked his brain for the appropriate words to find him when you spoke again.

"i would love to move in with you, mark."

as much as you loved mark when he's talking, sometimes you took great pleasure in rendering him speechless.

as quick as lightning he held your wrists with widened eyes, stopping the advances of your hands down his perfectly sculpted face. you brushed his knee softly as his adam's apple bobbed with a dry gulp.

mark found it hard to even formulate a thought, let alone speak. just when he'd started believing all of this was a bad idea, horrendous really, your admission nearly made his brain short-circuit.

"woah, wait— no. what?" he stumbled over the words eliciting a giggle out of you. "run that by me again, baby. i don't think i heard you correctly."

swatting his shoulder playfully, you took liberty to throw a leg over his, straddling his lap. "you heard me just right the first time, lovie. i think we should do it, move in together. i mean, we have somewhat stable jobs and it would stop us from inconveniencing your parents or mine. honestly, i love your mother but i got goosebumps when she winked at me on the way out."

mark managed a chuckle, rubbing up and down the sides on your legs on either side of him. this had been your arrangement after college. date nights in either of your houses meant the parents always had to leave unless they wanted to walk in on their not-so-little-anymore kids doing anything reserved for behind closed doors.

suddenly, you found yourself being pulled forwards into his chest as his ecstasy evolved into child-like laughter–carefree and unbound. his arms tightened around your form as you succumbed to your own joy.

mark whispered against your hair between pressing kisses to the crown of your head, "i love you, you know that?"

you peeked up at him, cheeks starting to hurt from the wide smile that nothing in the world could dampen. "do you?"

"mhmm. and now that we will live together, i'll remind you everyday, pretty girl. over and over."

sometimes, it scared you how dependent you had gotten on this one single person. finding your chest surging with pride in his every minute success, just as it ached when he hurted.

mark looked at you like you had hung the stars in the sky. then again, you were sure you'd visit every length to do just that if he so much as asked.

and that night had brought you to this one, sitting against the armrest of the loveseat surrounded by your friends, legs thrown over your boyfriend's as he held you close. you knew he would never let you fall but every fiber in your being appreciated the closeness regardless.

you smiled at haechan's dramatic recounting of some incident in the pub last night, finding comfort in the fingers thrumming to an unknown beat against your hips.

as your eyes wandered to every occupant of the cozy living room of your apartment—yours and mark's—you couldn't help but thank your lucky stars for this chance.

because until you have this little life, this warm, lived-in home, your friends, family and most importantly him by your side, nothing could make you a stranger to the sense of contentment.

© ACHOCOSUN '2024 on tumblr

[httpsdana]

Reader babysitts Jamal Musiala little brother. They’re just goofing around when Jamal returns back home and admires his girlfriend, secretly wishing a child of their own.

Family Dreams~Jamal Musiala

*Pictures are from Pinterest*

enjoy this one <3

request from here

master list

players/drivers I write for

DISCLAIMER: according to google Jamal's brother is 17 so here he's gonna be like 4 🫠

The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm orange glow through the windows of Jamal’s apartment.

y/n was sitting on the floor with Jamal's little brother, Jerrell, who was currently engrossed in a game of hide-and-seek with his toys.

y/n smiled, watching him giggle as he made one of the toys dive under the couch, clearly hiding.

“Where’s Captain Amazing gone? I can’t find him anywhere!” y/n exaggerated, her hands on her hips, pretending to look around the room.

Jerrell burst into laughter, his small face lighting up with joy.

“He’s right here!” he declared, pulling the toy out from its hiding spot.

She gasped dramatically, making him laugh even harder.

“You caught him! You’re so good at this,” she praised, reaching out to ruffle his curly hair. Jerrell beamed up at her, proud of himself.

Just then, the front door clicked open. They didn’t notice at first, too caught up in Jerrell’s excitement, but Jamal stood in the doorway, pausing as he took in the scene.

His heart swelled at the sight before him: y/n, his girlfriend, playing so effortlessly with his little brother, both of them lost in their own world of imagination. The way she connected with Jerrell was something he admired more than anything.

He leaned against the doorframe, a soft smile playing on his lips as he watched. There was something about this moment, so simple yet so meaningful, that tugged at his heart. He could see it now—his future.

The way she cared for Jerrell, the way she was so patient and gentle with him, made Jamal imagine a time when y/n might be caring for a child of their own. A child she and Jamal would share.

Jerrell suddenly noticed his older brother standing there and jumped up with a loud, “Jamal!” He ran over to him, throwing his arms around Jamal’s legs in a big hug.

“Hey, buddy,” Jamal greeted him, kneeling down to return the hug. Then his eyes flicked over to y/n, his smile widening. “Having fun?”

She nodded, standing up and brushing her hands on her jeans.

“We’ve been on a grand adventure today. Captain Amazing almost got away, but we caught him just in time.”

Jamal chuckled, his gaze lingering on his girlfriend. “Sounds like you two have been busy.”

She grinned, moving closer to him. “It’s been a blast. Jerrell’s got quite the imagination.”

Jamal reached out, pulling her into a gentle embrace, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“I can see that,” he murmured, his voice soft. When he pulled back, his eyes searched hers, something unspoken passing between them.

There was a tenderness in the way he looked at y/n, a depth that made her heart flutter.

Jamal wasn’t just admiring the way she interacted with Jerrell; he was seeing something more. The possibility of a future, of a family, of shared love that would only grow deeper with time.

“Thank you,” Jamal said quietly, his hand still resting on her waist.

“For what?” y/n asked, tilting her head slightly.

“For being amazing,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. “For being… you.”

y/n felt warmth spread through her chest, her heart swelling at his words. She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“I love you,” she whispered against his mouth.

“I love you too,” Jamal replied, his arms wrapping tighter around her, as if he never wanted to let go.

"I love you guys too" Jerrell said, wrapping his arms around both of their necks making them laugh.

As the evening settled in, and the three of them spent the rest of the night together, Jamal couldn’t help but let his mind drift to that future he was beginning to imagine so clearly—a future where y/n was not just his girlfriend, but the mother of his children, sharing a life filled with moments just like this. And he knew, deep in his heart, that it was a future he wanted more than anything.

[lokisprettygirl]

Light into the Darkness (Bill Skarsgard! Eric Draven x Female Reader) (Horror Romance) (18+) (70s AU)

Chapter 1

Series Masterlist

Summary : Life didn't turn out how you had imagined it to be. After a drunken breakdown you call into the void for help, begging someone to hear you, to come for you. And he comes from the beyond.

Warning: 18+, Reader is depressed, reader has plethora of insecurities, she's passively suicidal, she's in her thirties (for some of you that's a warning I guess), when I say alternate universe i mean it

Note: I know Step out of line isn't finished yet but I had inspiration and wanted to post it.

Dull and Meaningless.

If you had to describe your life in two simple words that would be it.

It was meaningless, breathing in and out everyday with no real sense of purpose. At thirty two women your age had everything they dreamt of, a husband, children, family, if they didn't have all that then they had a career, something fulfilling, something that made them stand out. The world was changing, especially in the wake of the 70s—liberation, progress, disco, dreams burning bright under the New York city lights.

You on the other hand? You had nothing. Absolutely nothing in your name. If you disappear tomorrow you don't think anyone will come looking for you.

Last time a man looked your way was four years ago. Adam. He was someone you once thought you could have a future with, but then he found someone worthy of him, someone more educated, more sophisticated, more elegant than you could ever dream of being.

You had spent two years with him, on the first date itself you knew he didn't belong in your world. He was an artist, he was cultured, he only listened to Sinatra, he had travelled all around the world, been around the beauty this world had to offer, you never really understood what he saw in you but you let yourself dream. Dream of a life you were never meant to have.

When he left he didn't leave with a goodbye, all you found was a letter on your doorstep. Written in plain, clear words that you'd understand that he had fallen in love with another.

You are so simple. That's what he always said to you, never felt like a compliment, that's exactly why he left at the end, he found someone interesting.

“Go home dear it's late” Mr. Rogers said to you, pulling you out of your thoughts. He was the owner of the record store you worked at, he was a kind old gentleman in his sixties, he was the only person who ever saw you as someone who wasn't a complete failure in life or maybe he just felt pity for you.

A ten minute walk from the store brought you to the apartment building where you lived.

The apartment was a reflection of you, cold, sad, dead from the inside.

A cheap place that you could barely afford, the space smelled of rotten wood and worn carpets. You flicked the switch to get rid of the darkness the moment you opened the door but light didn't engulf you.

You forgot to pay the electricity bill, it was the last day today. You had been drowning so deep in the bottomless pit of your loneliness that you had forgotten.

“Goddamn” you cursed under your breath as you walked into the dark space, trying to look for a candle in the drawer of the dresser. As you found some you lit enough of them to evade the eeriness.

You took one to the bathroom as you sat down in the bathtub, soaking in the cold water, pouring yourself a glass of wine that turned into two and then more. Before you'd be too delirious to even get up you forced yourself to step out of the tub, putting on a night dress you entered your room. And then it suddenly hit, the quiet, the loneliness of it all. How truly, deeply, pathetic you felt.

All of it came crashing down on you, you collapsed on the carpet in the bedroom, shedding those tears you had been bottling up for days.

You cried and cried like you had always done, you cried for the girl that never got to be the woman she wanted to be, you had dreams but the older you got, the farther you swept away from fulfilling those dreams.

You had nothing now, not even the luxury of youth, no reason for men to even look your way twice now.

“No one will ever look at me again” you whispered as the tears streamed down your cheeks.

“Please.. someone..hear me..anyone..anything” you murmured between the broken cries, you had no clue who you were calling to, not a single part of you reached for god anymore. If he exited you wouldn't be in such pain all the time.

“I'm so lonely..come to me..please come”

You murmured as you laid down on the carpet, feeling pathetic and disgusted by what you had become. The silence around the house prickled your skin, the sound of your sobs were the only thing that echoed.

“I need you”

You whispered before your eyes drifted off, feeling the weight of the exhaustion you had felt all day, every day, for years.

And then you had a dream.

You dreamt of a man, he wasn't Adam—he was someone you had never seen before. He was haunting, ethereal, and he was making love to you. No that wasn't right, he wasn't just making love, he was devouring you.

Your eyes fluttered open as you awakened from the dream, completely soaked in sweat.

A dream ofcourse, a man like that wouldn't be making love to you in real life. You looked around the room as your eyes adjusted to the dim light, some of the candles had extinguished, some still fighting with their last breath.

But that wasn’t what caught your attention. You sat up immediately, your heart racing in confusion. You didn’t remember getting off the carpet or getting on the bed. Sure you were drunk, yes, but not so much that you wouldn’t remember moving.

That's when you saw it.

A loud shrill scream escaped your throat as you saw the shadow lingering in the corner of the room. It stood there in the dark corner. Tall. Imposing.

Even as you screamed he didn’t flinch, he didn't move.

He stood still as a rock, just outside the reach of the candlelight, his presence thick and wrong in a way your mind couldn’t quite process.

You scooted backwards in terror across the bed until your back hit the wooden headboard, heart hammering in your chest, every cell in your body screaming danger.

You had closed the door, you had locked the windows like you always did. Then how did he get in? What was he going to do? Is this how you were going to die? it would be befitting you thought, ending as just another victim in the crime corner of the New York post tomorrow, a meaningless end of a meaningless life

Your mouth opened again as you tried to scream, hoping that perhaps your neighbour would hear them but the sound caught in your throat when he finally stepped forward.

Slowly. Deliberately.

The candlelight trembled with his movements as if it feared him as well, casting flickering shadows across his face. Pale skin, sharp cheekbones, black hair tousled around his forehead . His eyes were dark and endless. They weren’t the eyes of a man. They were the eyes of someone who had experienced what it felt like to die.

“Please get out..I won't call police..i won't tell them anything..just please take whatever you want and go” You cried between your tears, fear almost made you wet the bed in desperation.

You had never been in a situation like this, you didn't know what to say or do, you always thought that when it would be your turn to go you would die with ease, you won't complain, you won't resist but every inch of you was fighting to survive now.

As he stepped closer, his tall frame looked down upon your cowering form.

And that's when you saw the resemblance. The man from the dream..he looked exactly like him.

“Who are you?” You built the courage to speak again so he took a deep breath, the kind that seemed to come from deep within his chest, the kind that made you feel as if he didn't have the luxury of breathing until now.

“Fear not beautiful, you called for me”

You looked at him in a mixture of surprise and fear. His deep guttural voice sent shivers down your spine.

“What are you talking about?” you asked in confusion.

“You opened the door for me” he answered.

“No i didn't”

“You did. Your cries, your sorrow, your pain, you spoke into the void. Are you truly baffled that it answered?’

Your tears clung to your lashes as he continued to speak, the more he said, the crazier you felt. Were you finally losing it? You still didn't know if it was real or not. Maybe this was a dream still, maybe you drank much more than you remembered.

“It's not real..it's not real..it's not real”

You murmured under your breath, squeezing your eyes shut, hoping everything would be back to normal once you open them but a soft gasp escaped your throat as he only got closer to the bed, standing at the edge of it now.

That's when you saw him clearly. And you wished you hadn't. Because until then he was just a monster in the shadows.

He was draped in black from head to toe. Not the kind of black you saw every day, not the kind you loved but something older, light didn't reflect off the blackness, that's how dark it was. His long coat hung from his shoulders, tailored perfectly to his broad, tall frame. Underneath the coat he wore a dark, silk shirt, unbuttoned just enough to reveal a glimpse of his pale chest. The material clung to him like it had been stitched by hand, it seemed old and vintage, nothing you'd see hanging in a random shop.

His trousers were fitted to his long legs, worn leather boots that looked centuries old.

You dared to look into his eyes and he stared right into your soul. His green irises hypnotised you, they were pulling you in deeper into a world other than your own. His face, god his face was carved in a way that made you want to lose your mind, he wasn't just handsome like a model or a movie star, he was breathtaking in every possible way.

And as he stood at the edge of your bed, his presence filled the room like a shadow, consuming everything in its wake.

His scent now lingered in every inch of your room, the old wooden smell replaced with the aroma of his intoxicating sweet musk, you couldn't really make out what he smelled like, all you could think was how divine it felt to your senses.

Clutching onto the blanket to your chest you just stared at him, as if that would make him disappear.

“You can't be real .. please” you murmured, that's when he began to walk around the bed to reach the side where you had shrunken yourself to.

“No no ..no please..” you pleaded in fear but he didn't stop moving.

“Shhhh.. I'm not going to hurt you, not in the way you fear” he spoke, his voice soft but also unnerving as if he was pulling you into a sense of false security.

“I felt you, I heard you, I came for you and now you're scared of me?” he asked.

“I didn't mean anything..i was drunk..I swear I was drunk” he let out a chuckle as you said that.

“Drunken words are more honest than the sober ones. That's what they used to say, pardon me if the meaning has changed now” he said as he brought his hand up to touch your cheek, you wanted to step away from it but his touch felt like a balm on all the wounds you carried.

“I don't understand..what are you?” you asked, your voice still trembling.

“Used to be your kind, not anymore, haven't been for a long time”

“You're a ghost?”

“Ghosts are a fragment trapped in time..I'm your salvation and perhaps you're mine”

He said as he stepped away from you. A strange sadness flashing across his face.

“I didn't mean it..I was just crying.. people cry and say things all the time” you said to him, your voice getting a little louder now that your heart had stopped hammering in your chest.

“They do and it's true but I only heard you. Your pain, your sorrow, they touched me, they awakened me from the depths of the earth”

“And What do you want?” you asked so he smiled but it didn't reach his eyes, he straightened himself as he walked away from you, the candlelight followed him around, flickering in whatever direction he moved to as if they were enchanted by his presence too.

He turned to look at you, his eyes boring deep into your soul.

“You. Entirety of you. You brought me back into this world, now you will take care of me as I do you. You will keep me sated here as I do you. You will keep me alive. Keep me from fading back into the darkness”

His voice was like music to your ears, words melting like honey, he spoke to you like a lover, like a man who desired you. And you felt absolutely manic. Your own desperation made you want to slap yourself.

“And if I refuse?” You dared to ask even though a part of you feared he'd lunge at you for questioning him. Another part wanted him to do it.

“Then I disappear. You’ll wake tomorrow with an aching head and a foggy memory. You’ll blame the wine. You’ll wonder if you dreamed of me. But you’ll never see me again. Back to your good old life” he answered.

Your old life. The one that made you so desperate that you summoned an entity you didn't even understand yet.

“Are you a demon?”

“A demon wouldn't be asking for permission love.. he'd just take” he said softly, his voice like a lullaby “I need you warm and willing, I want to feed off your pain, fill my soul with the ache you carry”

Your eyes welled up again but not with fear this time.

“Why me? I didn't mean to summon you-”

You asked, the question carried several different meanings, you felt so worthless that you didn't understand why an ethereal being or whatever he was would want to do anything with you.

“But you did,” he cut you off gently, his tone never cruel “You wanted someone to see you. Someone to hold you. I came for the woman who never got to bloom the way she deserved to be, it resonates with me, your loneliness”

You choked on a breath. No one had ever spoken to you like this. Not even Adam.

He stepped closer, and your body tensed, but not from fear. From the pull. The unholy, magnetic force drawing you to him, to the unknown. He placed his knee at the edge of the bed before he leaned to cup your cheeks between his palms, his touch somehow freezing cold but it filled you with warmth.

You shivered as his thumb brushed over your lips.

“You can say no if you wish to. I will not haunt you” he whispered.

He was giving you a choice while speaking to you in that voice, while touching you in ways you hadn't been touched in years..or ever.

“And if I say yes?” You asked, your lips trembling beneath his touch. His eyes darkened at the question.

“Then you pay the price.. pay the price for my existence in your world” you gulped as he said that.

“You want my soul?”

A chuckle escaped him as you said that.

“Again. I am not a demon but if you want to keep me tethered to this realm I do need a sacrifice from you sweet girl. A willing one”

He whispered, his thumb caressing your skin, wiping those tears away from your cheeks.

The room was thick with an eerie tension. Every part of you screamed to run, to deny this madness and return to your bleak reality, but as his cold fingers lingered on your skin, a strange sense of calm washed over you. The confusion, the fear, the loneliness, all of it seemed to melt away in his presence.

For the first time in years, someone, something, was seeing you, not as a failure, but as something more. You felt wanted , needed, desired. Someone needed you in ways nobody else did. And this felt like a sin, you didn't even know who he was or what he was. Maybe he was just a demon lulling you in with a false sense of safety but at that moment you didn't care.

You wanted to sin, you wanted to sin with him. You wanted to pay the price, you didn't want to be alone anymore.

“What do you want? What price do I have to pay for you?” you whispered, his mouth lingered over your lips as he spoke. His scent, his eyes, his words, his aura, everything intoxicated you.

“Oh you're going to be so good for me, won't you?” he murmured against your mouth.

You nodded, not sure what that even meant, feeling the weight of his words settle deep inside you.

A promise. A bargain.

“Tell me what you want”

You asked again. His answer awakened you from the haze but only for a moment.

“Blood” he spoke tenderly.

He wasn't an ancient being.

“You'll feed me your blood, in turn I'll give you everything you could possibly want from this life”

He was a vampire, the one you had awakened from a long, deep, cursed sleep.

👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

Taglist @mariaenchanted @malenoradgn

[springgirlshowers]

How about the reader and Joost are childhood friends that get split up, but reunite because Joost wants them to be apart of his eurovison team. They realize they miss eachother a lot and confess and happily ever after (⊃｡•́‿•̀｡)⊃

It’s So Sweet

Paring: Joost x GN!Reader (no pronouns used!)

CW: none!

A/N: ahhhhhh this one is so cuuuuuute! i love the childhood friends to lovers trope so much! thank you for the request and i hope you enjoy it <333

masterlist!

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Joost and you were never seen apart as kids. Always walking in the school hallways together, sitting and partnering up in the classes you had together. Constantly hanging out after school and on the weekends. You two were basically connected at the hip.

Until your family gave you the news you would be moving to Sweden. Something to do with a better job opportunity. You begged for them not to, to move somewhere where you currently were at least. Though you knew your pleas wouldn’t do much.

Before you left, Joost and you exchanged emails. To keep in touch while you two would be apart.

You did for awhile. But as you both got older, your emails to each other took longer. It would be weeks, months, before you replied to each other.

Until they just stopped completely. You two had gotten too caught up into your adulthood. You hadn’t returned to your hometown since you moved away.

Joost fell into a successful career as a musician. You getting yours as a dancer.

It’s been years since you and him talked.

Your heart nearly stopped once you saw the notification when you were on the bus after a rehearsal.

joostklein has requested to follow you.

His profile picture was a picture of him as a toddler. The one you’ve seen so many times before, hanging on the wall in his living room when you went over to hangout after school.

You looked through his account, he almost looked the exact same as he did when he was a preteen. Only his body was scattered in tattoos, he had grown a mustache, much taller, and his hair was dyed into a nearly white color and cut into a mullet.

His most recent posts were a reel revealing how he’d be representing the Netherlands in the next Eurovision competition, and another video revealing the date his song for the event would be released.

Minutes after you accepted the request and followed him back, he messaged you.

It was a simple question, asking if you were the same one he knew as a kid. You responded, telling him you were.

The texts following after that were a little bit awkward. Soon the tension between you both was gone, you told each about what you’ve been doing for the past years, how they’d gone, what you’ve been doing now.

After exchanging phone numbers, the texts turned into calls, then video chats.

You listened to his songs, almost going through every single one of his albums in one night.

You were surprised by a lot of the lyrics, by how the innocent boy with a side swept haircut you once knew, was now singing about having sex with women to a mario kart remixed beat and saying “suck my dick bitch” multiple times in another song.

You honestly found them catchy, however you realized they were better to listen to with earbuds in or alone, rather than in any public place.

However, the lyrics in other songs were more heart breaking. God, soul shattering even.

“Maybe it was wrong. But I miss us, I miss home.”

“My dad who was laying there, seen but no authority. We'll see by the days, we don't say goodbye. My mom who was laying there, I often think about that day.”

“Hey, I have a disease, it's a very specific one. I always panic and they have no therapies.”

“But still it hurts. Am running from myself. Cry the entire day for "help"

Joost would show you his tattoos, the ones he already had and the ones he wanted to get in the future, drawings he made, but he refused to show you the idea concepts for his Eurovision costume.

He told you he wanted it to be a surprise.

The day before he revealed his outfit to the rest of the world. He called you during a work break, telling you he had to show you something.

You opened the video call to see him standing there in a big bright blue suit with extremely pointy shoulders.

You felt bad when you let out a laugh, slapping your hand over your mouth to muffle it.

“You like it?” He asked, posing goofily.

“Yeah. It’s very…silly. Very big.” His grin only grew larger at your words.

“Perfect. That’s exactly what I was aiming for.” He smiled and sat down.

“So, your other friends, one of them is gonna dress up as a bird? And the other is gonna wear a clip on ponytail?”

“Yep!” He pipped. You just laughed and shook your head. He cleared his throat, his face on the screen looking nervous all of the sudden.

“So, you told me you still dance.”

“Yeah! I do group shows and stuff.” You nodded, placing your head on your fist.

“That’s great, very great. Um, do you still hakken?” You were a bit taken aback, confused by why he was asking about that specific dance.

“Uh yeah. But usually jokingly, like when I’m with friends.” You bit at your thumbnail. “Did you ever learn?”

“Yeah! I’ve gotten pretty good at it.” He chuckled, going silent for a minute after. “I’m wondering if you would perform with me, like on the stage. I need another back up dancer. And you’ve always been so talented at it.” His words made you blush, but you were still a bit unsure on what he was asking you.

“So, um, you want me to do the hakken dance with you? At your performance?” You felt nervous, when you did the dance you usually did it after a night of drinking to make your friends laugh.

“Only if you want to! I mean, we could meet up, I’m in Sweden now.”

“What?” You shouted, cringing at how loud it was.

“Yeah, i’ve been here to do interviews and all that stuff.” He scratched at his arms, a bit embarrassed he didn’t tell you earlier about this.

“You really don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” He spoke, “Its free of charge for you, you’ll get paid for it. If that persuades you.” He added on, joking.

“I’ll do it for free.” Maybe your answer was a bit too quick, maybe it was impulsive. But you really wanted to see Joost again, you’d jump at any chance you could see him.

The both of you agreed to meet up a few days later at a park not far from where you lived.

The park was quite empty, most likely due to the fact the sun was already going down, an orange gradient filling the sky.

You nervously walked up to him, he was sitting on a bench. He looked so familiar yet so different. It gave you a strange sense of nostalgia.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” He immediately grinned as he saw you. You sat down next to him.

The sunset cast a golden glow on his face, making his blue eyes so much more prominent, his face was so gorgeous.

“So you’ll really dance with me?”

“Yeah, why not.” You shrugged, completely unbothered by his question.

“You’ll be on a giant stage in front of thousands of people. You’ll be on TV with the entirety of Europe watching.” Joost felt nervous, he didn’t want to pressure you into doing this, he really wanted you to be there with himz But he wasn’t gonna force you into something you had no interest for.

“I’ve never been one for stage fright.” You smiled, the sweetness in your expression made his worries begin to drift away.

“Perfect.” He looked down at his feet, smiling so hard his cheeks begin to hurt, “I’ll text you the schedules and everything you need to know.”

“Cool.” You looked down at your shoes as well. Enjoying the comfortable silence and soft breeze of the air.

“I really missed you.” He spoke out, added your name to the sentence, making it more impacting. You looked at him, jaw ajar in admiration.

“I missed you too.” You said softly, placing your hand over his. Soon wrapping it around his. You both sat there for a few minutes like that.

“I’ve been thinking of moving back.” You broke the silence. “To the Netherlands, that is.”

“Really?” Joost looked at you, a mixture of amazement and shock in his face.

“Yeah. A company reached out to me, giving me a job opportunity. Really good pay, positive reviews, a safe workplace.” It felt funny, you were thinking about coming back to your hometown for the same reason your family made you leave.

“That’s great! You should take it!”

“I probably will. It seems promising.” You squeezed his hand. “And it’d be nice to be close to you again.” You added on, pursing your lips to try and hold back a smile, it failed.

“Yeah, yeah, that would be nice.” He murmured,“Um, I should get going, early TV interviews tomorrow.”

You nodded, getting up before he did.

“Just text me what channel you’ll be on, i’ll make sure to watch for you.” You said, a little bit too excitedly.

“Yeah, yeah, I will! I’ll see you later.” He chuckled.

“I’ll be in the Netherlands in a month most likely, just so you know. See you, Joost.” You turned, only getting a few steps in before his voice stopped you, causing you look back at him.

“There’s this really great ice cream parlor that opened up there, maybe we could, uh, go there when you’re back, if you’d like?” He cleared his throat.

“I’ll be going back in a month too, just for a little bit before I have to come here again.” He fiddled with his fingers.

“Awesome then, it’s a date.”

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[ghuoab]

chef!simon and mafia daughter!reader

summary: the mafia’s daughter had been locked away all her life for protection. but was it to keep her safe from rival families, or from men?

note: its so early in the morning and I want to die but ill write out my thoughts

her father was head of one of the biggest mafia families in the U.S. his schedule would always be all over the place. some times he would be home for a week, and outside for a few weeks. she never knew when he would exactly come home. not that it mattered to him.

his daughter understood his job. she knew she had a lot on his plate, and she always glorified him even as a little girl for being so courageous and strong. when she got older, however, she began to call him out on his wrongdoings. turning into a perfect, obedient daughter, to a stubborn and rebellious daughter. the time taken from their relationship as father and daughter slowly tore them apart all of these years.

his daughter rarely went out. it was almost as a form of neglect, almost abuse on his part— you know, not letting his daughter out. she had college for a few hours, but she was always escorted right home. studies took up her time; dreams and hopes of her future slowly began to flicker every time she saw her father enter and leave the house without any word. not talking to people also got to her.

she was always watched, being the mafia’s daughter. college made her normal, and she yearned for it. but every time class ended, and the professor wrapped up, the dread of her simple yet exhausting life weighed on her shoulders.

today was just another day of the same old stuff. she had woken up extra early today to study for midterms, nervous about the day ahead. unfortunately, she got lost in her head, and she couldn’t focus, and—

she was sure she flunked. again. she was sure the professor was sick of her.

arriving home, she came in a fit of frustration and disappointment in herself. all of that studying, and discipline, years of hard work, and days worth of notes was all wasted.

she came home with a bad attitude, and the family’s mansion was empty. again. her mother— god knows where she went. again. her father as well. they were so selfishly cooped up in their lives, they forget they have a daughter waiting ag home for them. hoping they are safe. and okay.

after the exam, she decided to take the day for herself. she needed the day to relax, and to get her head back into that headspace for when she had to write another essay to her professor to, hopefully, take the exam again.

the first step she failed to take was breakfast.

she reluctantly came out of her room, her sour expression slowly faded, and she accepted her own fate for her grades. she looked at her private chef, asking him, simon, to make her some eggs and oatmeal. he gave her a nod, and clared his throat, turning around to prepare her food

they hadn’t ever talked before. she hadn’t thought about it. she had just known his name, and he was there ever since she turned eighteen. he’s made her plenty birthday cakes since then, although they were always the same. she never was picky with his food in particular.

he was tall. she watched as he made his way around the kitchen, preparing her food, watching as his hat nearly hit the light for the third time since he’s walked in. he was silent, too. maybe it was because he was shy, or because he was focused. she didn’t know. but he was also presice, and swift with the way he cooked. it was almost like watching a pianist play the piano, or watching a artist paint. he was skilled at his job, due to experience.

that was the first day she really noticed him in that light. there were many people helping around in her home, but simon was always the one who stuck out to her the most.

then she slowly began to watch him more. at first, it was mere curiosity. she was always locked away in her home, like a princess; ironic, but it was true. she hadn’t seen a boy she’d like at all, and none of them were exactly her type. she never understood it, either. every other girl had no problem getting anyone they wanted, when they wanted it. maybe practice made perfect with those types of people.

she slowly began to open up more to him, too. light talks in the early mornings, catching him leaving after dinner was served and prepared, talking to him out on the porch in hopes to get him to stay. then it was light intimacy. light feathered touches, lingering eye contact in front of people. in private, it was something different.

the more they opened up, the more they connected. she learned more about him every day, and who he was as a person. why he is the way he is. why he has that damn mask every day inside.

she found comfort in him. christ’s sake— she had just started getting to know him. maybe some attraction. that was fair, though. he was big, and muscular, and fit… and a well toned body. that was just getting started.

she slowly began to sneak out with him more. it turned into talks on the porch late at night, to talks at his car. then talks in his car. the hours rolled by as the two talked their hearts out, and he always listened when she laid her worries out for him to hear.

the talks in his car slowly turned to small kisses on the backs of each others hands. then intimate kisses.

in just a few months, the other workers around the house had speculated they had something going on. their rumors and whispers were correct, but who could blame them? it was amusing to hear, and watch, and they got paid for it.

of course they started to have sex. it was almost obvious, and the maids always noticed how simon left with a wrinkled shirt, or he seemed rushed out of the home late at night.

maybe all she needed was a man. a older man: not any young, illiterate college boys, but a real man. one who listens to you, and learns. a man that cares enough to think about you when hes alone.

christmas rolled around fast. her father never came. her mother did, but only on christmas to complain and to scold her.

then new years rolled around. for the first time in years, she decided to sneak out with simon. to his own home. to their own privacy.

the two fucked. till the sun went down, and when it came back up. they barely got any hours of sleep in before simon had to go to work, and she had to go to class.

stepping into class with crusty cookie monster pajamas and a hoodie was not ideal at all. she looked like a mess, and no one even looked. or batted an eye. when the exam papers slowly got passed around; she sat in her usual spot. she wasn’t happy to see herself fail, but she had already accepted it. imagine her surprise when she, not only passed, but got 94% on her packet of exam papers, scribbled chicken scratch from nervous hands.