#don’t beat my ass this is my first time writing a fic in over a year!!! 😁👍

[rafesfawn]

🪽🧺 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐋

𝜗ৎ⋆｡˚ when rafe sees a precious little doll on the side of the road with a broke-down car, how can he resist out of the kindness of his heart offering her a ride? just a ride home, that's all...

or how trailerpark!angel!reader and rafe met!

warnings: use of the nickname pet & little one, reader! is eighteen-nineteen! bit of perv!rafe, barely proofread!

a/n: first time writing a rafe fic/blurb! im so excited, also this is based on this ask and thank you so much for sending something I really appreciated it and I hope u like it mwah! I would say you two meet in like early season 2 (right before the cross storyline) also for the format slight ib to others on here esp @rafesangelita (sorry for the tag!)

this was based off of this ask! which tysm i literally love requests and rafe and trailerpark!angel!reader is my new obsession <3

a small, meaningless kick was made to the tire while you huffed and groaned, putting two hands over your frustrated features as all you wanted to curl up into a ball and cry.

“piece of shit,” you mumbled under your breath, kicking the tire once more, but immediately a whimper fell from your lips. the pain shot from your toe up to your spine. making you sniffle and tip-toe in pain. in your denim ruffle skirt, white socks, and pink converse, you sat down on the asphalt, on the side of the road, leaning against the side of your broken-down car.

she wasn’t the best car, but she surely got you around most of the time. most of the time. it was a little volkswagen beetle, light pink in color, covered in so many stickers some wondered if it was passing inspection. it wasn't.

sitting with your head against the car for what felt like hours (it was maybe ten minutes), but spending even that on the side of a main road in kildare island was torture. especially with the beating sun late august provided.

rafe was speeding down the road on the way to play golf and get drunk with topper and kelce. “ah shit, i don’t know, man.” he said into his phone, holding it up with one hand; his voice gruff and confident, topper on the other line. “you really think i won’t kick your ass today huh?” a smirk grew on his already smug expression.

letting out a short chuckle at toppers response, nothing anybody ever said meant more than a laugh to him. or that's what it used to be like anyway, his act wasn't together if anything, it was worse than it'd ever been. his father condemning him to disingenuous "discipline" to forget about the possible death of his golden daughter.

"the fuck?" he mutters into the mic, his voice laced with confusion. as he sees up ahead on the road, a pink car broken down, with the most precious thing sitting against it. a pout on the angels soft lips and the most defeated look in her eye. aw, you just fell right into my lap, didn't you? little angel.

your eyes glued on the pavement, your entertainment of watching a little ladybug try to make it to safety in the distance, was shortly interrupted.

a nice black truck coming into view it came to such a short stop it almost took your breath away, the breaks slightly screeching at the haste. a tire replaced the spot the ladybug once was.

you stood brushing the dirt and gravel off the backsides of your pale thighs, left bare by the short fabric of your skirt.

the man stepped out of the truck. he was tall, and the sleeves of his polo looked like they were about to burst at the seams, not able to contain the biceps beneath. his features strong and statue-like, his deep sea eyes hidden behind the curtain bangs that hung over his forehead. a grin that seemed too genuine, too good to be true.

you removed your heart-shaped sunglasses, placing them on top of your head to see him more clearly. your possible savior, but he was anything but.

he stepped a bit closer, seeing the state of her already pretty beaten car, "having some car trouble?" rafe asked as if he wasn't stating the obvious.

you pretended he wasn't either as you nodded, the frown only slight now but still on your lips as your eyes remained looking up into his.

"aw.. poor thing we can't have that, what happened?" his voice, a mockery of sympathy. as he inspected the piece of shit car she loved so much. his care coming from a place of ownership, of burning ache or want.

still, in slight shock, you hadn't answered him, following behind him as he reopened the hood like he owned the car. not even realizing you'd been rude and not replied till he spoke again. "little one, i can't fix it if you don't tell me what's wrong." a heady mix of gentle and firm that made your mouth go dry and your head dizzy.

"oh- it's been on her last limb for like ever, i guess she finally called it quits... right on my way home." you said with a little sad laugh that rafe wanted to bottle the sound of and listen to on repeat. "and I really need to get home," you added fiddling with your fingers in front of you.

a sweet girl all out of options, rafe was so glad he was here to provide her with his help. "tell you what, I'll take you home and come back and fix this thing up for you, huh?" he offered, there goes his saturday plans he presumed. it'd be worth it. he told himself he'd make it worth it, with those shy eyes and the expression you carried like a lost puppy. you'd owe him he'd make sure to get something in return.

just like he figured, you shook your head. never wanting to accept such a grand favor. "I can't ask you to do that, I mean, I don't even know your name." nerves, curiosity, and a glint of something else tinged in your voice, so many wonders in that head as soon as his truck came to a stop for you. why? the only question running through your mind.

"It's rafe, can I help you out now?" his genuine grin turned almost smug at his own remark, brushing that bangs out his face, the effort pointless as they immediately fell back again.

you paused. picking at the already chipped white nail polish on your sore fingertips, a larger-rougher hand covered your own, stopping your movements with that firm gentleness he carried around her. you looked up at him, he was so much closer. the scent of some cologne that probably could pay your rent, and a tinge of smokey wood filled your senses.

"pet?" he questioned with an expecting tilt of his head, calling you that like it was the most natural thing in the world.

your body and mouth responding before giving another second for your brain or anxiety to think it over, you nodded. "can you please give me a ride home?" you hesitantly asked, it felt weird. getting help, and even asking for it felt foreign, he offered it so graciously like it was nothing.

looking down upon her, his grin turned genuine once again, his eyes seemed almost proud it was a soothing balm to her nervous heart. a rosy hue to her cheeks as his palm covered the side of her neck, making a few pats to the flesh before leading her to his truck.

you'd owe him. something he was sure you were ready for.

[criminalamnesia]

Stay

warnings: enemies to friends, hinted enemies to lovers, Tyler’s sister!reader, mean!scott, bickering, very real tornado danger, mentions of a car crash and physical injuries, not proofread, f!reader

summary: the three time you see storm par’s one and only scott, including the one in which he saves your life.

author’s note: look at me, finally writing something again! I’ve been extremely busy and, truthfully, in a writers slump. I started writing this after seeing twisters, and I just got the motivation to come back and finish it. I’ve been obsessed with this man since that movie, and good lord do we need more fics of him. anyways, enjoy! (also, for my traitor fans— I haven’t forgotten about you! I hope to work on the next part soon!)

the first time you’d seen scott, you’d wanted to break his jaw, and you hadn't even gotten his name.

“get lost on the way to the hillbilly convention?”

his tone is snarky, his eyes full of disdain as he watched you slide out of tyler’s truck.

your eyes had widened, your spine straightening as you registered his unprovoked hostility.

“the fuck is your problem?” you ask, eyes narrowing as you come back to your senses. you look him up and down, huffing a laugh at his clothes.

“you look like you’re going to a fuckin’ business meeting.” you say, coming to a stop in front of him. your cowboy boots dig into the dirt, and the sun beats down on your face.

perfect day for storm chasing, as your brother had said. darkening clouds rolled in the distance, and the wind was steadily picking up. according to lilly's drone data and tyler's instincts, your first chase would occur sometime within the next few hours.

you had been away at college when tyler’s tornado-chasing YouTube channel took off. you’d always loved the thrill of being close to the storms, but even when you came home to visit during summers, tyler refused to let you tag along.

until now, that is. now that you’ve graduated with a degree in meteorology, just like him. he had always accused you of wanting to follow in his footsteps.

“don’t mind storm par over there,” comes your brother’s drawl as he appears beside you, a hand coming down to rest on your shoulder. “the stick up his ass seems to have been lodged a little deeper recently. you’ll get used to it,” tyler grins, barking a laugh at the brunette's scowl.

"haven't seen you before," another man moves to stand beside the brunette. he's also wearing storm par gear, and you watch as him and the taller man share an unreadable glance.

"she's new," tyler responds for you, his wide grin still present as he acknowledges the shorter man with the tip of his hat.

"i'd run while you can, sweetheart," the taller one says, a look of pity in his eyes as he looks back to you. "fucking him isn't worth dying over."

you stare at the man for a moment before bursting into laughter. the storm par pair's eyes both widen, their stares moving from your hysterics, to tyler's rolled eyes, and then to each other.

"you two are supposed to be scientists, huh? the guys who are gonna 'tame tornadoes?'" you throw the last two words in air quotes as your laughter subsides.

the shorter of the two men nods, while the taller opens his mouth once more. "that's right. while you morons are out trying to get yourselves killed, we'll be busy doing shit that actually matters."

"right, right," you nod along, glee shining in your eyes as you stare at the taller one. "you must be so smart, then. where'd you get your degree?"

"MIT," he says smugly, popping the gum in his mouth.

"MIT, wow," you whistle, your eyes finding your brother's. tyler just shakes his head, trying and failing to suppress his laughter.

"you got a degree from MIT, and you're too stupid to tell that he-" you jab a finger towards tyler. "is my fucking brother?"

the man's smug grin instantly falls as his eyes scan you, then tyler, and then fall back onto you. tyler steps forward, smacking a hand on the man's shoulder with a laugh.

"meet my little sister, storm par. may not have gotten a degree from MIT," he says, tipping his cowboy hat to you. you mime tipping an invisible hat back at him. "but she seems to be a hell of a lot smarter than you."

the second time you see scott, you still don't learn his name.

"jesus christ, this thing is huge!" you yelp as tyler swerves the truck back onto the dirt road. he scowls as the storm par truck ahead of him jerks back and forth on the path, blocking his approach.

"how's the wind lookin'?" he asks, his words clipped as his hands grip the wheel tighter. wheat fields ripple on both sides of the road, an ocean of tan as the sky continues to darken.

"pickin' back up," you tell him, glancing down at the laptop in your lap. it was displaying real-time data of the atmospheric conditions. the software had cost a pretty penny, but had been worth it. plus, it had been more than covered by tyler's t-shirt sales. cheesy or not, tyler’s face on a shirt was worth his weight in gold to his followers.

tyler groans as the white truck in front of him cuts him off again.

"ty, just go around!" you yell at him, your eyes widening as you stare out of the passenger side window. the clouds overhead were beginning to swirl.

"i'm tryin' to drive nice," he tells you through gritted teeth. "don't wanna make you sick-" he begins, but you roll your eyes and reach over, jerking the wheel. the car swerves off the road and into the ditch beside it, and tyler scrambles to avoid hitting a wire fence as he swats at your hand.

"what the fuck?!" he yells at you, his eyes cutting to you for a second before focusing back on the road.

"stop tryin' to baby me!" you tell him. "show these storm par pricks what we're made of."

tyler falls silent, clearly debating his next move. you're about to grab the wheel again when his foot slams down on the gas and the truck lurches forward. you cheer, throwing a fist in the air as you laugh with glee.

"just don't tell mom!" he says to you, laughing along.

as the truck speeds forwards, tyler lets off the gas just enough to keep speed with the storm par truck. you lean past him to get a look into the cab, and there's the brunette you'd had the displeasure of meeting a few days ago.

you can see his scowl from here, and your grin is wide as you hold your middle finger up, waving it around to make sure he couldn't miss it. his scowl deepens, and before he can even think of responding to the gesture, tyler hits the gas again.

"what was that for?" your brother asks as you lean back into you seat.

you shrug. "just havin' fun."

the third time you see scott, he saves your life.

it's a week after the middle-finger incident. although storm par and your brother's wranglers have been following the same storms, you haven't had the pleasure of bothering the tall brunette, much less seeing him. you’d caught glimpses, but he seemed to be keeping his distance. you supposed he’d finally grown tired of your constant teasing.

you don't know why you find yourself caring. he's an asshole. an asshole who hates you, your brother, and everything the two of you stand for. who constantly underestimates and looks down on you.

and yet you miss his scowl and the unmistakable pop of his bubblegum.

"hey, you okay over there?" boone asks as he leans over the center console, his head peeking out between the two front seats. you know the question is directed at you, as boone is watching you like a hawk.

"yeah, fine," you shrug, your eyebrows furrowed as you lean down, getting closer to the screen of your laptop.

"ty, turn the music down for a sec," you tell him, and he listens without protest. a rare occurrence, but now wasn't the time for bickering.

what had first appeared to be a measly EF1 had begun to grow. it wasn't dying out, and things were starting to get scarily real as moisture kept feeding into the funnel miles ahead of you.

"this thing isn't stopping," you tell the two men. "you need to tell the rv to turn around. hell, we should turn around."

boone shakes his head, leaning further into your space. his eyes scan your computer screen, and although he's learned a lot from tyler, he still doesn't see what you see.

"nah, it's gonna be fine. ty said it's gonna die out anyways, right? we just need to get in it before it does."

"boone," you warn, turning in your seat to face him. "love you, but shut the fuck up right now." you reach out a hand and grip tyler's arm.

"ty, I mean it."

rain starts pelting the windshield. you can hear the wind howling outside of the truck, and you shudder as hail begins to pound against metal.

tyler mumbles something under his breath as he kicks the windshield wipers up to maximum speed. "you sure?" he finally says.

he turns to look at you as you nod, and those precious seconds are all it takes for the world to spin on its axis.

a fence post slams through the windshield as rain and hail continue to obscure the world around you. you scream and tyler jerks the wheel out of instinct. the truck turns sharply, running off the road. your stomach drops as the truck drops and rises again- your own personal rollercoaster from hell.

"tyler!" you yell, gripping the straps of the harness holding you in.

"workin' on it!" he responds, jerking the wheel the other way. the truck rights itself back on the road, and you close your eyes as adrenaline rushes through your veins.

fuck, the others-

"boone, tell the others to turn around now!" you yell at him, and he's nodding frantically from his seat in the back, his hands fumbling for the walkie talkie in the floor.

"so much for an EF1!" tyler says, and although his tone sounds easy, his face betrays him. you can see the glimpse of fear in his eyes. it mirrors your own.

"yeah, ri-" you begin, but the sentence never fully forms.

you black out as another car slams into the passenger side of the truck.

"c'mon, get up!"

everything feels fuzzy. your head is pounding, and your ears are ringing. pain shoots through your body, engulfing every inch of skin. you think something has to be broken, judging from the numbness you feel on the right side of your body.

"get up!"

your eyes begin to crack open, but your vision is blurry. someone is a few feet in front of you, but you can't make out who it is.

"for fuck's sake-" the voice growls, and you can just hear the faint crunching of glass before your hearing comes back in full force.

the wind is an unbearable howl, and the rain and hail pounding down around you make hearing your own thoughts almost impossible-

your thoughts. what had happened? one second, you're driving and then-

fuck. tyler. boone. where were they?

your eyes shoot open, your body jerking against the harness still keeping you strapped to the leather passenger seat.

you look to your left- to the driver's side- but tyler isn't there. you try to turn you head to see into the back, but a sharp pain in your neck quickly stops you.

"tyler?!" you yell, but your voice is carried off by the wind. you can't even hear your own words.

"boone?!"

"they're fine!" a voice calls to you, and your gaze shoots back to the driver's side. you can see a man crouching by the driver's now blown-out window— which is upside down.

you were upside down. the truck had rolled with the impact of whatever had hit you. everything comes back with devastating clarity, and even though adrenaline pumps through your veins, the pain is beginning to become unbearable.

“can you move?” the voice says. you can’t tell who it is through the spots in your vision and the sheets of rain still coming down.

“I-” you start, pushing your chest against the harness. “I think so.”

“good,” you recognize it as a man’s voice. “then hurry the fuck up and get out!”

under different circumstances, you would’ve scoffed at the order, but now wasn’t the time for defiance. your life was literally on the line, and if you didn’t get to shelter before the tornado engulfed you—

well, you didn’t want to think about that.

you force your brain to gather itself, directing your thoughts toward moving your aching limbs. your left arm is the only one that responds, coming to fumble with the metal buckles of the harness.

the first one unclasps and you swear you could cry from relief.

“any day now!” the man calls, and you can’t help but roll your eyes. you reach your left hand across your torso, working at the clasp on your right side.

“im trying!” you call back. once you get it undone, your arms fall downward as gravity claims them. you groan in pain as your right arm shifts. something is definitely broken, but you can’t afford to give into the pain at the moment.

you reach for the lap belt, tugging at it with a shaking hand. the wind continues to howl around you, and you feel tears pricking the corners of your eyes. hopelessness begins to eat away at you as you try and try again to undo the lap belt, to no avail.

“it’s stuck!” you call out, hoping the man can hear you. “I can’t get out!”

your breathing is picking up. your chest feels tight, and the feeling you still have in your left hand ebbs as you begin to panic.

you don’t want to die. you know that. it scares you shitless.

but you don’t want anyone else to die, either.

you’re stuck. whoever is outside of the truck isn’t. he should run while he can—

“hold on!” you’re jarred from your thoughts as a figure begins to crawl through the hole left by the blown-out window, and that’s when you register your savior.

it’s him, the brunette from storm par. the man who belittled you, who rolled his eyes at every sentence you spoke, and who you somehow found yourself missing.

he’s crawling into the cab, his arms no doubt suffering cuts from the shattered glass littering his path. “I’ve got you,” he calls to you, and when your eyes meet his, there’s no look of disdain. there’s thinly veiled terror.

“you need to leave me,” you tell him, and you can’t tell if the wetness on your face is from your tears or the rain that’s now blowing sideways into the destroyed truck.

“shut the fuck up,” he tells you, groaning as he slices his forearm on a jagged piece of metal.

“im serious,” you reply, your left hand still fumbling with the belt restraining you. “I can’t feel my right side—”

“will you shut up? please?” he heaves out, his face inches from yours now as he reaches for the lap belt.

you fall silent, but not because you’re heeding his demands. no, you’re too busy examining his face. he’s never been this close to you, and you’re taking in every little detail before death comes to sweep you up.

can’t blame a girl for wanting to gawk at a handsome man in her final minutes, can you?

“stop staring at me,” he grits out, his forearm flexing as he tugs at the lap belt. something has the fabric trapped, and although he’s freeing it inch by inch, you’re not sure if—

the belt gives, and his arms leave your lap to cushion your fall, protecting your head from slamming into the metal below you.

he doesn’t say anything, but you watch as his gaze flits over your right side. stone cold as ever, his expression gives nothing away regarding your physical state. you can’t bring yourself to look down.

“im gonna pull you out, okay?” he says, and you absently nod your head. the pain is heavier now— harder to push away. your vision swims as he hooks his arms under yours and shuffles back on his knees.

agony spreads through your thoughts as the numbness gives way to excruciating pain. your eyelids flutter, but the man doesn’t stop. he grunts as he pulls you forward again, slowly but surely removing you from the truck.

“you need to leave me,” you tell him again, your teeth biting into your bottom lip to stifle a scream of pain. “im not going to be able to walk. I’ll just slow you down—”

“jesus christ, you don’t listen, do you? im not leaving you here to die.”

he finally makes his way out of the wreckage, pulling you with him. once you’re free of the ruined truck, he stands on shaky legs— fighting to maintain balance as the wind whips across his figure. he reaches down, scooping you up in his bloody arms, and starts to run as best he can. the rain is so thick you can’t even see a foot in front of you, let alone where he’s taking you.

lightning cracks overhead, followed by thunder so loud it shakes your shattered bones. your head tilts up to the sky, and you watch in horror at what was once an EF1 tornado races toward you. it’s got to be an EF4 by now— maybe even a 5 based off its sheer size.

“drop me!” you screech, your working hand clutching the soaked fabric of his storm par shirt.

if he hears you, he pays you no mind as he continues to struggle against the wind.

with your eyes focused on the impending doom behind you, you don’t even realize when he reaches his destination. he jumps down into a deep ditch, and you hear him groan as his feet hit the ground. he must be hurt, too.

“is she alright?” a voice calls, and your eyes widen as boone comes into view, a large cut across his forehead that looks like it definitely needs stitches.

“not the time!” the storm par man shouts, ducking behind your friend. your eyes catch boone’s over his shoulder, and you give your fellow storm chaser a weak wink. boone’s lips crack into a wide smile, even amidst this horrible storm.

the brunette carrying you falls to his knees, laying your back against muddied dirt. he refuses to let you go, his arms cradling you against his chest as he shelters you with his own body. there’s nothing to hold onto except for him, and you know if the tornado gets any closer, you’ll both be goners.

you close your eyes tightly, welcoming your end despite your overwhelming fear— but it never comes.

you pry your eyes open as the sounds of wind and rain finally begin to subside. the body above yours still clutches you tightly.

“are we alive?” your voice comes out a whisper. your left hand flexes against the man’s chest, and sure enough, it meets a solid body. he’s not an imagination— he’s real. you’re still here.

“yes,” his chest rumbles with the words, and his arms slowly snake out from under you as he sits back on his haunches. his eyes are locked on yours, his icy blues unreadable as he watches your face.

you don’t say anything for a moment. and then,

“you’re the stupidest son of a bitch I’ve ever met.”

his eyes widen in surprise, and his stern facade cracks for the first time— at least, that you’ve seen— and he chuckles.

the bubble surrounding you two quickly pops as tyler’s voice meets your ears. you turn your head and there he is— your brother, running towards you with relief written all over his face.

“oh, thank god,” he says, throwing himself to his knees and scooping you up in a hug. you hiss in pain and he pulls back, his hands on your shoulders as he looks you up and down with a grimace.

“you took the worst of it. those storm par pricks—” his eyes cut to your savior, who is still sitting nearby, watching the two of you. “hit us. you and boone were knocked out, and you were stuck, so I got him first and was coming back, but—”

“ty,” you interrupt, your left hand landing atop one of his. “it’s okay. im okay. we’re okay.”

tyler takes a deep breath and nods, his eyes flitting back down your body, focusing on your right leg. you follow his gaze, grimacing at the unnatural twist of the limb. no wonder it had gone numb.

“I’ve had worse,” you tell him, taking notice of your limp, lacerated right arm.

“now’s not the time to play hero,” your brother chastises, standing up before reaching down and picking you up. your eyes meet your savior’s once more. he’s standing now, too, his arms crossed over his chest as he matches your gaze.

“guess we owe you a thanks, clipboard. and you owe us a new truck.” tyler says, to which the brunette rolls his eyes.

“ty,” you roll your eyes, too, as you keep your gaze locked with the brunette’s. “ignore my brother. thank you for saving my life….” you trail off, realizing, truly realizing for the first time that you don’t know his name.

“scott.” he tells you. you nod.

“thank you, scott.”

he nods back, turning his back to you as he starts to limp back to the road your vehicles had been abandoned at. you doubted they would still be there.

just as you’re about to look away from his retreating form, he glances over his shoulder and gives you a true, sweetly small, smile.

maybe storm par isn’t so bad after all.

[twilght-talks]

Touchy boy

Warnings: Nothing! Just fluff!

You had entered the games in an attempt to get out of the debt you were drowning in.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You had promised yourself since red light, green light, you wouldn’t get attached—that you’d keep your head down, play smart, and survive.

And then there was Nam-Gyu.

From the moment you met, he’d been unbelievably touchy. At first, you chalked it up to nerves—maybe he was just the type who needed physical reassurance to stay calm. But then it became routine.

The way his arm would sling over your shoulder when you went to collect your food from the guards.

The way he’d always find some excuse to sit close, knees touching when you guys sat on the steps to the bunks.

The way, after a particularly brutal game (Mingle), he had found you sitting against the wall, shaking, and wordlessly pulled you into his chest—his chin resting against the top of your head, his arms wrapped tight around you like he could shield you from everything.

“Just breathe,” he had murmured. “We’re still alive.”

And you let him. Because, somehow, his touch made everything feel a little less terrifying.

Now, as the next game looms closer, you sit together in the dimly lit dormitory, the hum of tension thick in the air. The beds around you are mostly empty, scattered players keeping to themselves, whispering anxiously about what horrors tomorrow might bring.

Nam-Gyu is lying beside you, one arm draped lazily over your stomach, his fingers tracing random patterns against your shirt. It should feel too close, too intimate for a place like this, but it doesn’t. It feels… grounding.

“You okay?” he asks, voice quieter than usual.

You exhale. “Not really.”

He shifts, propping himself up on his elbow to look at you. His brows knit together, concern flickering across his face.

“You have that look again.”

You blink. “What look?”

“The one that says you’re planning to do something stupidly self-sacrificial tomorrow,” he mutters.

You scoff. “I don’t—”

“You do,” he cuts in, eyes narrowing. “And I get it. You want to play smart, keep your team safe, but you can’t just throw yourself into danger every time. Not when—”

He stops himself.

Not when what?

The unspoken words hang between you, thick as the tension in the room.

And then—softly, like he’s testing the waters—he reaches for your hand, intertwining your fingers.

“You don’t have to do this alone, you know,” he murmurs.

Your throat tightens.

Because somewhere along the way, this stopped being just about survival. Somewhere along the way, he became the only reason you still had something to fight for.

A sudden noise—a shout from across the dorm—breaks the moment. Players on both sides, arguing and yelling obscenities at each other.

Nam-Gyu sighs, rolling onto his back but keeping his fingers laced with yours. “I hate this place,” he mutters.

You squeeze his hand. “Me too.”

Silence settles again, heavier now. You should sleep—both of you should—but neither of you move.

“Hey,” Nam-Gyu mumbles after a beat. “If we get out of here…”

You turn your head to look at him.

“…What?”

His grip on your hand tightens. “Let’s go somewhere far. Somewhere warm. Somewhere we don’t have to look over our shoulders every second.”

Your chest aches. “You really think we’re gonna get out of this?”

He shifts again, eyes locking onto yours—serious, determined. “Yea, that’s why we’re voting X tomorrrow.”

And for the first time since you got here, you let yourself believe him.

A/n: Hi my lil monsters! How we likey? Felt like writing a fluffy ass Nam-Gyu fic since everyone thinks my baby is a asshole 😔

Love ya, Twilight

Taglist:

@amoristt @lousypotatoes @infinetlyforgotten @mirahyun

Squid game taglist:

@amoristt @lousypotatoes @infinetlyforgotten @mirahyun @takuma-talkz

[kingsoowolves]

what comes after: no one | j.sc

part one | part two (w/ Anton)

pairing: college fwb!sungchan x fem!reader word count: 21.6k

author’s note: soooo, I’m back to writing after a long break. this is my first riize fic and Sungchan practically hauled this monster out of my insides until it became 21k. I wrote most of this while listening to sabrina carpenter’s new album and i think sharpest tool, juno and lie to girls fit really well with the theme of this work. english is not my first language, so please be kind if you're going to point out any mistakes. I hope you guys like this.

contents: smut. some fluff. angst, angst & angst (specially towards the end). switch!reader and switch!sungchan. sex with a condom, fingering, oral (f. and m. receiving). pet names. ass man!sungchan. reader has thoughts on family trauma and self-hatred. random idols mentioned for worldbuilding. sungchan is pretty much an asshole in the end. no HEA.

you can also read this work on my ao3, if you'd like

You feel pathetic. With a raincoat covered in water splatters and standing on your favorite white sneakers — now mud covered and wet — in front of your situationship’s apartment after ringing the doorbell, you truly feel like an idiot.

It’s been over two weeks since he last texted you and here you are, waiting for him to open his door after calling him on a whim, asking for permission to come and see him. But it was a rough day in a rough week in a rough month in a rough trimester and when you finished your last exam of the day and the rain started pouring down while you were on the bus on your way home, your heart made a last-minute decision to ring him up.

So now here you are, feeling pathetic.

Surprisingly, despite the radio silence for the last fortnight, the door opens quickly to reveal a worried Sungchan with a fresh and fluffy towel in his hands as he urges you inside, hand clasping over yours to pull you away from the cold and into the warmth of his home.

He closes the door with his free hand and his eyes instantly fall onto your body to inspect the damage caused by the storm, the dirt and the finals. You can’t help but feel heat under his gaze, your limbs already growing hot after being in his presence for two seconds. It’s your body's natural response to him since the day you met.

“Why didn’t you call me after you finished your exam?” are his first words to you as his hands take your bag and your raincoat off of your arms, both items falling on the floor around your ankles. “I would’ve picked you up.”

The way he says it almost makes you want to apologize for not doing it, but, in all honesty, you don’t quite believe he would’ve picked you up. Two weeks of not talking is a considerable amount of time, after all. So you bite your tongue and reply with the second thing that comes on your head instead.

“Didn’t even think about it. The rain started after I took the bus,” you say, feeling him wrap you in the towel he brought, hands pressing on your arms to make it absorb the rainwater covering you.

He stays silent as he dries you up, expertly and swiftly moving the towel over the areas of your body that were most affected by the downpour, his furrowed eyebrows showing his concentration. You have to actively stop yourself from reaching up to smooth them over, your hands itching to touch him. But in just fifteen seconds your upper half is dried and he squats down to inspect your legs.

He stops with his right hand on your left calf, looking up at you once he sees the mud covering your jeans.

“Shit, you’re a mess,” he sighs, a small chuckle coming out of his throat, too. “You’re gonna have to take a shower.”

“Oh,” you say, mind still understanding his request while your eyes focus on his. After a beat, you realize that you feel kind of insecure of showering in his place when you don’t know where you both stand on your relationship, so you shake your head. “I can go home to shower and come back later, if it’s okay with you.”

He shakes his head back at you. “No, it’s not. That’d be dumb,” he says, standing up in his full height and making you change your gaze from looking down to looking up at him. You feel a pang in your chest at the rejection, thinking he’s saying it would be stupid to come back to him after, but he smooths one hand over your shoulder and clarifies. “Why would you do that when there’s a perfectly good bathroom here you can use?”

You blink at him, your head again very slow in keeping up with his words. Maybe it’s because it’s been a rough day in a rough week in a rough month in a rough trimester. Maybe it’s because your last brain cell was burned while taking your international law exam. Maybe it’s being close with him again after some time, seeing his deep brown eyes, smelling his cologne and standing in his apartment that makes you so dull. Maybe it’s every one of those reasons. At this moment, you think you’re more pathetic than ever.

And you’re pretty sure Sungchan thinks you are, too, because his features crease again as he looks at you, taking a step back and tugging on your hand to come with him. “Come on. I’ll put your clothes in the washer while you shower.”

You quickly step on the heels of your shoes to take them off and follow him down the hallway to the small bathroom by the end of it. Sungchan fetches you a sealed bar of soap from the cabinet under the sink and a new fluffy towel from his dresser. Then, he waits outside of the bathroom for you to strip off your clothes and hand him every piece — hoodie, shirt, pants, undergarments and socks — through the half open door. He smiles at you for only a second before turning on his heels to take the clothes to the washer, saying you can take your time.

You leave the door leaning on its threshold, not quite closed, because, first of all, Sungchan has seen you naked multiple times and there’s no reason to be shy now, and second of all, you half expect him to come join you. So, you step in the shower, the white tiles cold against your toes as you turn the tap to burning hot just how you like it.

It’s relaxing having the heated water hitting your naked skin after being out in the cold with wet clothes for minutes that felt like years. You indulge yourself in it, sighing and letting your limbs loose, facing down and resting the top of your head against the tiles under the head of the shower, moving your body to fully stand under the water to feel it hit your shoulders as your mind travels back to Sungchan. It’s hard to over analyze his every move, touch and word when he’s just a few steps from you. But you’re an expert on doing that in every possible scenario by now. So, you recall every second of your five-minute interaction with him since you stepped inside his place, trying to look for signs of anything. You try to discover if he’s bothered by your presence or if he looked happy to see you, if he helped you out because of his affection or just general kindness, if he was worried because he cares about you in a special way or just because he cares. Still, you can’t come up with answers to your doubts because he was always pretty hard to read anyway.

You try to discover if he’s bothered by your presence or if he looked happy to see you, if he helped you out because of his affection or just general kindness, if he was worried because he cares about you in a special way or just because he cares. Still, you can’t come up with answers to your doubts because he was always pretty hard to read anyway.

Sungchan is a man of few actions and even lesser words. Although you’ve seen him being comfortable and goofy around friends, he often keeps to himself and can even be described as a shy person most of the days. Even though his playful side comes up occasionally when he’s with you, most of the time you are met with silence that makes you conjecture a million theories that are never proven.

Plus, you’re achingly jumbled today and the truth is you always feel foolish around him. Like your strong attraction to him makes you dim-witted, tongue-tied and incoherent. Just like the first time you ever saw him.

The first time you ever saw him was in your freshman year in the second semester at college, in your Ethics class. He’s a STEM major, which obviously meant he was taking it for an extra credit, but you didn’t know that yet when you walked into the east building expecting to see a class filled with law students and came across the tall and hot math nerd.

One moment, you are hurriedly walking up the steps to your seat as the lecture hall fills with scholars and your professor takes his place in front of the board. In the next one, you’re bumping into a desk and sending a collection of papers and one very pricey scientific calculator to fall on the ground with loud bangs and blasts. You’re desperate as you squat down and rest your books on the following step to search for the batteries and the hood of the calculator that flew around during your mishap. And as your hand finds the last battery missing, another hand clasps over it to retrieve the item and you glance up to meet Sungchan’s eyes. You both stand up at the same time, in which you notice how tall he is, your senses taking in his soft hair, strong grip and big eyes surrounded by his glasses’ frame. And then you flinch, taking your hand back from his and muttering a small hushed apology before walking the last steps to your desk and avoiding eye contact with him for the rest of the lesson.

When class is dismissed, despite feeling extremely embarrassed, you gather up your courage and walk down to his desk to apologize profusely, saying how deeply bad you’re feeling and asking if his calculator is still working or if you have to work out a plan to pay for a new one for him.

“Don’t worry. It’s working fine,” he says, the sound of his voice sending a crazy shiver up your spine you never felt before. The first one of many to come. “But if you’re feeling deeply bad about it, you can take me out for dinner.”

You blink at him. The first one of many dim-witted moments to come in his presence. And he chuckles, fingers brushing over your elbow as he steps back from his desk and maneuvers you fully in front of him. You feel your organs internally jolting, like you’ve been struck by an electric shock or like you were numb and dead until now and have suddenly been relieved by a crazy scientist. And it’s all because of his small touch.

“I’m kidding,” he announces after you fail to reply, removing his hand from you, his eyes looking down and the tips of his ears tinting red as he says it. “We’re fine. There’s no need to apologize anymore.”

“Thank you for being so understanding,” you reply, finally getting out of your head and finding your voice again after being revived by his fingertips. “Really. Most people wouldn’t be this chill.”

He walks around you with one hand on the strap of his backpack and steps down two levels of the stairs, becoming almost eye-level with you when he raises an eyebrow up and says, “Guess I’m not like most people.”

And then he turns his back on you, finishing the final steps of the lecture hall and getting out as you stupidly blink at his back.

It’s ridiculous how much you become obsessed with him after that.

Even though you consider yourself smart enough to not develop a crush on your first year of college, you walk head first into that booby trap. Very quickly and happily, too. 

It takes you a few days after your first meeting to learn that he’s actually a sophomore majoring in biological engineering, which didn’t help at all, because your social sciences brain couldn’t understand a thing about STEM. You also learn that he’s originally from another state and that, yes, he is in your Ethics class for an extra credit. From observing him in your shared class, you figure out he actually keeps to himself and likes to doodle on his textbook while the professor is talking. From a couple of shared acquaintances, you’re told that he’s shy, has never been seen with a partner before and doesn’t really attend parties. He’s a quiet one, they say. So much so that when you tell the person that he jokingly asked you out when you bumped into him, they don’t quite believe you.

As the weeks go by with no new interaction between you two except for the few stolen glances you throw his way during lessons, you start to think you imagined the whole thing. The electric buzz in your inner system when he touched you, the blush on his cheeks and ears, the way his eyes scanned you up and down and how his hand lingered a little too long on your arm… It could all just be a fleeting moment. Or only a natural response of your body from seeing and being close to such an attractive person. It certainly couldn’t mean anything special. You convince yourself that it meant nothing.

And then, the next day, you see him at a café close to campus. He’s there with a few close friends, chatting up and joking with each other, and you’re intrigued by how his smiles are easier to appear and how loud he can laugh in a candid and carefree moment. Also, you feel that same attraction again. That gut-punching-needing-to-be-closer magnetic pull between you two. It makes your nerves stand on end, goosebumps raise all over your body and your focus zero on him. It makes your skin prickle, like every atom of your body is buzzing in excitement and craving to be touched by him. And by the way Sungchan’s breath catches when his eyes meet yours and his posture changes, secretly eyeing you up and down every chance he gets, you can tell he feels it, too.

But it takes so long for you to be close to him. Being from strikingly different majors, you are almost never in the same parts of campus. Apart from the class you two met in and the programming class you took in your sophomore year — which you swore to your friends it was just because you were curious about it and not because of the student body attending to it — you mostly live different lives and stand out of each other's ways.

However, slowly and surely, your life becomes intertwined with his, like someone is playing puzzles with the pieces of you both. First, you become a TA to your environmental law Professor and end up tutoring one-on-one with his cousin Sungho. One day, while you are reviewing the paper he wrote for his class, Sungho tells you how Sungchan said “she’s super hot” when he told him you were his TA. You have to hide your smile behind the paper sheets in your hands to not give away that you’re attracted to him and scold Sungho for distracting you. That’s the first time you have actual evidence of Sungchan’s interest in you and it makes you smile for days.

Then, one of your friends starts hooking up with one of his friends and soon enough you are hanging out together in the same group. It helps you discover new things about him to obsess about. Like how he has the cutest mole on the corner of his upper lip you just need to drop a kiss on. And how his closest friends often call him Jinsu and how he always smiles when he hears it. You learn he’s a gym rat. And that he’s always down to help his peers whenever they have a problem and need a hand. It’s so freaking adorable.

And then, you both join in an extracurricular philosophy workshop you could’ve sworn you heard him ask Haneul, your friend, when was the final date of submission to in one of your hangouts. All these new opportunities to meet him frequently allow you to actually talk to him a few times, and soon enough you're sharing stories about your lives, joking and flirting with each other.

And that’s how, finally, in your junior year of college, your and Sungchan’s paths are unmistakably crossed and you become actual friends. So, when you surprisingly see him at a frat party, it’s natural for you to greet him while he plays Super Mario Bros with his friend Sohee. You strike a conversation about how you thought he didn’t like parties and Sungchan confirms it’s true and tells you how Sohee is a member of the fraternity and actually dragged him there. You laugh at his antics and then he jokes about something else so you smile again.

You want to sit next to him to keep your conversation going, but there’s a bunch of people littered across the room in various stages of drunkenness and practically no space left on the couch he’s on. Sungchan notices your eyes searching for a spot and makes as much room as he can, pulling you to sit on the arm of the sofa next to him. Then, he slings one arm around your body, keeping you steady and close to him, and rests his hand on your lap, his other hand joining from your opposite side with the video game controller. While he fixes his grip on the controller to keep playing, his knuckles graze your jeans clad thighs and you realize that you’re trapped around his arms for the time being.

It makes you instantly go rigid, his sudden closeness already making you dizzy and short of breath. And then, like it’s an afterthought of his, Sungchan leans on your side and looks up at you, his eyes carefully watching your reaction as he asks, “Is this okay?”

You purse your lips together and nod even though the thumping of your heart is so loud in your ears you’re not sure you heard him correctly. “Yeah.”

He nods back at you, a close-lipped smile appearing on his lips as he focuses back on the game playing on the TV. You have to concentrate on keeping your breaths steady as the side of his face brushes your arms, his hair soft and his stubble rough on your skin. You have to bite on your lower lip to keep yourself from sighing when his hands press on your thighs or on your lower stomach, controller lying in your lap as he waits for the game to load. Only after a while you feel comfortable enough to sit back against the cushions and let your hand wander to his shoulders, trembling fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt because your hormones are in a frenzy inside of you.

“You having fun?” He asks after they finish off a match on the game, hot breath falling over your arm and sending an electrical current on your body.

“Yeah. Until now, at least,” you reply, dangling your feet under you to give you something to focus on that it’s not him.

“Wanna have more fun?” He asks, and there’s an unmistakable glint in his eye that sends butterflies flying around in your stomach.

“Like what?” You reply, purposely leaning into the obvious sinful intentions laced in his words.

“We can get out of here,” he says then, fingers twitching the hem of your shirt and brushing on your skin, eyes scanning over your features and looking for any signs that you’re uncomfortable by his actions or words. He licks his lips when he notices how your eyes drop to his mouth and moves his hand to play with a strand of your hair before finishing off his proposition. “Have a drink somewhere more private… If you want.”

You know that the drink is an excuse for something else and that somewhere more private is actually his house. But you’ve been wanting this for so long that you have no desire to play it cool or pretend you don’t want this.

“Sure,” is all you reply, accepting whatever fate has in store for you now.

When Sungchan gets up from the couch and says goodbyes to his friends, he grabs your hand for you two to leave together, checking your eyes one last time to be sure you’re willing to do this just as much as him. You smile at him and that seems to be enough to placate his worries, because he smiles back and pushes you to follow through. You know you’ll kiss him as you make your way down the stairs of the frat house, one hand still gripping Sungchan’s and the other texting your friends to let them know you’re leaving with him. You know you’ll at least make out when he shields your side, protecting you from any unsteady drunk that may trip over you as you try to reach the door out of the house. And you’re pretty sure you’ll fuck as you both wait on the sidewalk for the Uber he asked for, his hand intertwined with yours as he hums along with the music from the party.

Still, you pretend like you’re naïve and clueless just for the mystery still hanging in the air.

Once the car pulls up on the curb, Sungchan leads you inside and enters after. He still holds your hand, resting it against his thigh as you take the left seat of the car and he sits back on the right one. The middle seat between you both is vacant and none of you make a move to sit closer to one another. You can cut the tension with a knife as soon as the car moves and the music from the party fades away. Slowly, he starts to play with your hand, rubbing and grabbing at your knuckles and you hold your breath. A moment later, your palm is up on his lap as he spreads your fingers open, his nails softly grazing the length of each and every one of them. He chuckles when the action makes you shiver and you hide your face with your free hand from embarrassment, turning away to look out the window. But then he changes places, splaying his fingers so you can rub your nails on the length of them now, and the same shudder that ran through you takes over Sungchan’s body, a cute blush appearing on his cheeks. Sungchan is a man of few actions and even lesser words. But in that moment, using just the palm of your hands, he chose to become vulnerable to you. His attitude says this is real and I feel it too. And you can’t be more grateful for him finally dropping the mysterious act and becoming transparent for once. At that, you smile and he intertwines his fingers with yours, clutching your hand fully.

You both stop watching your hands to finally look at one another. He sighs contentedly under your gaze and his free hand, the one that isn’t already attached to yours, finds its way on your face, his thumb caressing your cheekbone. His eyes slip to your lips and back to your eyes, searching for something. And only after you nod at him, he dives in, capturing your mouth on his and successfully filling the space in between your seats, leaning his body on yours.

You’ve never been kissed like this before, with so much energy you feel renewed. But you try not to think too much about it and instead feel it as you reciprocate the kiss, your lips and hands restless to show him just how much you felt for him for the past two years.

Sungchan keeps kissing you as the car stops its journey and the driver has to announce you arrived. He keeps kissing you while you walk up the steps of his building to find his apartment. He keeps kissing you whilst he punches the code on his door to get it open. He is still kissing you as you take off your shoes and coats by the hall and he’s leading you inside, whispering a breathless “this is my place” that drives you both into a fit of giggles. He kisses you inside his room, on his bed, as he takes off your clothes. He kisses you even when he puts on the condom and you jerk him off before he slides inside you. He keeps kissing you whilst you adjust to his size and ask him to move faster. When he’s fucking you, he kisses every part of you his lips can reach — your forehead, your cheek, the tip of your nose, your eyebrows, your neck, your ears, your shoulders, your clavicle and your boobs. You think his mouth never leaves your body, never fully at least, when he kisses your lips again whilst you tell him you’re so close. And as you cum, walls spasming and squeezing his cock to milk him dry from his own orgasm, he kisses you one more time.

After, when you’re lying in bed spent and he spoons you, he tells you how much he wanted to do this the first time you met. How you short-circuited his system and made him ask you out on that first moment and how serious he actually was about that. How he didn’t know what to do with himself when you didn’t reply. You chuckle at his confession and let the night wash away his words as you’re lulled to sleep by his warm skin on yours and his groggy soft voice. Before the slumber overtakes you, you swallow the words of your own confession that are burning on your tongue, thinking you’ll have the time to tell him later.

And that’s how you end up here, in a seven-month situationship with him, never quite speaking those words.

By now, it’s nuts the kind of power Sungchan holds over you. And you’re not sure he even knows it. Your relationship — if it even can be called that — is, for the most part, purely skin-on-skin raw sexual desire. Every time you are near Sungchan, you are energetic, your hormones kicking into high gear. For some time, you thought that after a few times sleeping together, you’d be able to get over it and get him out of your system. You hoped that your attraction to him would pass or that it would at least dim. That hooking up would get so common it’d turn boring, that you wouldn’t get the jitters around him anymore or that you’d run out of things to experience and new kinks to try out.

But every time you do it — every time, without fail — you finish it wanting more. You keep coming back to his arms and he keeps letting you in. The chemistry is still off the charts.

You love the way his calloused hands touch you and his soft lips kiss you. You’re crazy about how he has memorized all of your body parts and all of your ticks to make you scream with pleasure in bed. You’re obsessed with how he’s had your skin marked up with his fingers, teeth and scent. You’re captivated by his filthy words on your ear and his gentle hard thrusts against your hips. You’re fixated by how his dick fits perfectly inside you and how he knows how to make you cum in minutes. And you’re haunted by the fact that all of that combined might mean that you are in love with him.

Because sometimes, when you’re not fucking or going about all the stops that would lead you to fuck, you feel genuine deep attachment with him.

In a rare moment he laughs when you tell him how you argued with your crazy conservative forensics’ Professor in front of the Dean in a criminology symposium because he dared to assume asexual women are frigid. Or he lets you lay your head on his chest as he tells you how he and his roommate Shotaro became friends. Or he places a piece of your hair over your ear while you eat dinner together at the pizza place near your place. Or you belt out early 2000’s music together on his beat-up Kia Sephia 1993 while you drive around town. Or you tell him about wanting to change your major to Literature, that you never planned to take Law in the first place, and he encourages you to do what you really want. Or you both stay up late sharing your fears and uncertainties about life after college. Or he pulls you into his arms, holding you closer and tightly against him because your body drifted away from him while sleeping. Or he tells you how he loves your caresses as you pet his hair to lull him back to sleep while the rising sun infiltrates through his room curtains. Or he says he remembered you during the day because he saw your favorite flower blossoming near the building to his calculus class. Or he not so casually asks who was the guy you were talking too close with the last time he saw you on campus, jealousy shining in his eyes. Or he reads the latest philosophy book you recommended and gives you an in-depth review of all the points he found important. Or he buys you a cupcake when you meet up a day after your birthday and acts nonchalant, tips of his ear becoming red, as you ask him what it is for. Or he sends you a Spotify playlist of an artist he thinks you’d really like the sound. Or he asks how your grandmother is doing a few days after you came back from a quick trip home because she was sick.

In those rare moments, you hold yourself together to not bawl your eyes out because of his kind gestures. It’s hard not feeling sentimental being treated with the minimal tenderness when you grew up in a house with strict rules and no space for feelings. Of course, there were the frequent occasions where your parents would scream their lungs out at each other saying the nastiest stuff you ever heard, but, other than that, feelings were bottled up and could only come out in screeches if you were an adult. Your parents turned their maximum effort to make sure food was on the table and you and your siblings were upstanding citizens, and as much as you’re grateful for that, sometimes you resent them for never truly making you feel seen and appreciated.

Maybe that’s the reason why when Sungchan shows you care and desire, you mistake it for love. Because, in those sacred moments in the dead of the night when he shares a part of him with you, something he never told or showed before, you want to crawl out of your skin and into his to become a part of him. That’s when you think — you feel — like you love him. And you feel like maybe he loves you, too.

The fact that he speaks in a gentle and low tone as opposed to the wails you used to listen to as a child is just an added bonus.

After fifteen minutes, you finally close the water tap and the stream of your daydream about Sungchan to step out of the shower. As you dab your body up with a towel, you find out Sungchan has left a change of his clothes for you on the sink while your mind was far away. You quickly dry yourself off and put on the clothes, a pair of his boxers and a set of gray sweatpants and sweatshirt that retains the heat from the hot water on your body and makes you feel like a human again and not a dirty wet popsicle. Then you wipe a hand on the mirror over the sink to get rid of the steam on it and start brushing your hair back with your fingers to redo your ponytail. Once you’re satisfied, you put the towel up to dry and leave the bathroom, walking the small path to Sungchan’s room. You can’t help but notice that Shotaro’s room, that is right beside Sungchan’s, has its door open and lights out, with no signs of Shotaro inside, which means you and Sungchan have the house alone to yourselves. A wicked smile makes its way to your face as you think of all the noise you can make without a care in the world. But you soon tamper your wild thoughts and breath in before knocking on Sungchan’s closed door, only opening it after you hear his permission to come inside.

His bedroom is small and you’ve been in here so many times you already know it by heart. A twin bed by the window, some basic white curtains, a nightstand, a small desk with a chair by the foot of the bed, a dresser just in front of it and that’s it. It’s a tiny room in a tiny apartment, not much different than yours, and you suppose there’s not much else a college student can afford in a building off-campus.

When you come inside, Sungchan is sitting on his chair, laptop open as he types away. And as you close the door again, he turns on his seat to welcome you with a smile on his face.

“Hey,” he says, eyeing you up and down. “Did the clothes fit okay?”

You look down at the attire that so clearly belongs to him but fits you well enough because even though he’s taller than you, you’re more full-figured than him. “Yeah. Thanks for lending me them. And for letting me shower.”

“No problem. I already turned on the dryer for your clothes, they should be done in a minute. I also wiped down your raincoat, sneakers and your bag. Shoes are still in the hall. Raincoat and backpack are right there,” he tells you, pointing at a spot behind you where your belongings are gathered, right near his dresser.

Your eyes follow his direction to recognize where your things are and then you look back to him, feeling like a deer caught in headlights as you lean back on the wall with hands bound behind your back. Even though you wanted to meet him, you feel misplaced now that you’re here. Like the time apart has made you become strangers to one another. You don’t know what to expect anymore. Sungchan has been nothing but welcoming until now, but you keep fearfully anticipating his every move and word, waiting to be rejected, sure that your presence is annoying him and he’ll ask you to leave at any minute.

Contrarily to all of your fears, Sungchan puts you out of your misery as he extends a hand and beckons you to come closer. When you step in his general direction, he takes your hand in his and draws you in so you’re standing in between his legs. With him still seated in his chair, you’re taller than him, and you like the leverage of looking down on him that it gives you. But instead of meeting his eyes with confidence, you focus your gaze on a spot behind his head as you feel his hands wrapping around your waist and you place your own on his shoulders.

It's only when Sungchan moves one hand to your face and tips your chin back that you really look at him. He’s wearing a pair of gray sweatpants that match yours and a white t-shirt that hugs his form and shows his biceps, his fringe styled in a way that leaves a heart-shaped spot on his forehead that you want to drop a kiss on. His reading glasses frame his eyes, the lenses lightly scratched. It’s completely unfair how absolutely ravishing he looks in simple clothing and so little styling.

“Hi there,” he whispers when your eyes stop wandering over his features and finally focus on his face, the smile on his lips making you feel warm all over.

“Hey,” you reply, fingers picking at the fabric of his shirt over his chest for lack of something better to do. “Thank you for everything. You’re the best.”

“Of course, princess,” he says, hand moving to the nape of your neck to pull your face closer. He pecks your lips two times before pulling back. You instantly melt against him, containing the urge to follow his mouth with yours. “I wouldn’t be okay with you standing in those wet cold clothes. Plus, you look cute wearing mine, too.”

You smile shyly at him, your cheeks burning because of the compliment and he nuzzles his nose against yours, muttering a “So damn cute,” before pressing his lips on yours again.

You sigh against him, mouth parting to immediately receive his tongue. It’s slow and sweet, you both getting acquainted with each other again, one of his hands around your waist to press you against his front, and the other one rubbing circles on your nape. Your own hands wrap around his neck and pull at the strands of his hair, earning a soft groan from him. He tastes like mint toothpaste and heaven, and you’re embarrassed by how much you missed this. His closeness, his smell, his touch, his kiss. All of it. All of him. You want him all the time.

“Finals week has been treating you badly, doll?” He asks when you both pull back for air and you groan at his question, hanging your head low and resting your forehead on his right shoulder. He chuckles at you.

“Please, I don’t want to talk about it,” you whimper, the press of his lips on your neck making your voice airy.

He nods and softly pushes your head back so he can look at you again. “Fine, let’s not talk about it. But I still have an essay due tomorrow that I’m trying to finish today, so I don’t think I’ll be able to spend much time with you right now.”

“Oh, okay,” you reply. “You want me to go?”

He shakes his head and looks at you pointedly, muzzling another one of your attempts to flee. “Please stay. I’ll order some food if you’re hungry and you can eat while I work.”

You scrunch your nose at the offer with a hand over your stomach. “I actually feel nauseous after that exam.”

He laughs at you and starts humming, making the most adorable thinking face while he tries to come up with a plan that doesn’t involve you leaving.

“I can charge my phone and watch TikTok videos on your bed while you work? If the sound doesn’t bother you. I’ll make sure the volume is really low.” You suggest. “And after, I don’t know…” You trail off, feeling warm all over again because you actually know exactly what comes after. What comes after is you getting impaled by his dick and writhing in pleasure. And you hope that what comes after is you both finally confessing your feelings for each other, too. But that’s just a hope.

And also, it’s not even the time to think about that, so you shake your head to scare those thoughts away and give him another option, “I can go back home after a while. I actually need to sleep early because I have another exam in the third period tomorrow.”

“Okay, sounds like a plan,” he replies, nodding his head and pulling you in for another long and sweet kiss.

That is interrupted by the familiar pinging sound of a message coming through his laptop iMessage app and your eyes instinctively follow it to check what it is. But Sungchan is quicker than you, scrambling up and turning his torso to reach for the mouse and close the notification before you have the chance to see it. It’s a small moment that doesn’t quite alarm you because you know Sungchan is a private person and there’s no way he’d let you look through his texts. Still, as he turns back to drop a last kiss on your lips and you walk away to search for your phone in your bag, something about it nags at the back of your head.

With your phone and charger in hand and the TikTok app open, you make yourself comfortable on his bed. As your brain forgets all about international laws and politics and gets a serotonin boost from puppies and kittens’ videos, Sungchan pulls your feet from the bed to lay them on his lap as he remains seated on his chair. When he’s clicking away on the mouse or scrolling through his screen to read something, he rests his free hand on your ankles and starts massaging the soles of your feet. The domesticity of it all tugs on your heart and you can’t help but smile as you watch his back. Soon enough, the warmth of his room, his kneading on your feet and the comfy feeling get to you and you start to feel sleepy.

So, you connect your charger plug on the outlet behind Sungchan’s bedside table and hook it up on your phone, letting the device rest on the table as you promise Sungchan you’re just going to close your eyes for a few minutes. Then, you end up falling asleep in just a few seconds.

You feel the warmth first. A source of heat enveloping you in a strong and sturdy body. Then, you feel the gentleness, the soft touch on your hair, the slide of a thumb under your ear that pulls you from your slumber and into the arms of reality.

As you blink your eyes open, you’re met with Sungchan’s deep light brown eyes, illuminated by the lamp on his bedside table. The atmosphere is comfortable. You’re warm and cozy laying on Sungchan’s twin bed with his arms surrounding you. The rain is still falling outside, although now it has turned into a light drizzle. There’s flimsy wind coming in through the small opening of the window that cools the air and prevents everything from becoming too hot. But you like the heat and think you could be easily lured back to sleep because of it.

“Hi there,” Sungchan mutters before you have the chance to close your eyes again, his head resting on the same pillow as yours.

“Hi, Jinsu” you say groggily, rubbing a hand over your sleepy face. You notice how he smiles and his eyes glint at your use of his favorite nickname, and an emotion stirs deep inside you for seeing him so happy with something so simple. 

You get awkward for a moment thinking you must have mucus on your eyes and a bloated face right now, but Sungchan just keeps smiling at you and it’s enough to take your mind away from the embarrassment. His thumb rubs soothing circles on the nape of your neck as you adjust yourself over the sheets. “Sorry for waking you up. I was just getting comfortable to sleep,” he says. 

“S’okay.” You smile back at him, reaching over to caress his hair, your fingers threading through its strands. “For how long did I nap?”

“Two hours or so,” he says, sliding his hand down to your waist. “You snored, too.”

You give him a scoff, followed by a yawn that starts small and turns big. It makes you stretch your whole body, extending all of your limbs from your arms to your toes, cracking your knuckles and everything, and Sungchan gives you space to do so. When you’re finished, you turn on your back, getting comfortable again and closing your eyes briefly with a quiet hum.

“I should probably go, then,” you say with eyes still closed. It was about 7:30 p.m. when you settled in his bed, which means now it’s close to ten. If you want a quality sleep and to wake up on time tomorrow, you actually should get going. But Sungchan’s bed feels too comfy right now. Being in his arms is not bad either. 

You don’t see, but you can feel him scooting over to you, sheets rustling as he gets closer, his nose nuzzling yours and his hand fiddling with the bottom hem of your sweatshirt, your senses heightened by your drowsy mind and the lack of vision.

“You can stay a little while longer,” he replies with a playful tilt in his words, his fingers skimming over your belly button making you jump slightly, and you open your eyes to see the left side of his mouth popping up as he shamelessly presses his body on the side of yours. “I don’t mind.”

“Oh, you don’t?” you mumble, suddenly feeling the need to lower your voice with his lips so close to yours, eyes narrowing at his obvious naughty intentions. “That’s so nice of you.”

“Uh-huh, that’s me,” he finally leans in to give you a peck on the lips. “I’m sooo nice,” it’s the last thing he says before kissing you fully.

This kiss is heavy and intimate. His hand around your neck keeps you in place as he savors you, tongue entering your mouth. He strokes the back of your teeth, the roof of your mouth, the inside of your cheeks and your own tongue, groaning at whatever he finds there. His other hand grazes the skin of your waist tenderly in a way that may have made you think he’d treat you delicately if he wasn’t kissing you with so much fervor and energy. He takes whatever he wants from you until you pull away, already out of breath.

“I thought you were going to sleep,” you tease, lips ghosting over his, and he smirks at you.

He moves his lips to your ear and whispers, “Yeah, but I’m all woken up now,” as his hand moves up and down your stomach, faintly caressing your skin in a way that makes your insides burn. He presses his pelvis on the side of your thigh and you feel his dick hardening while still being constrained inside his pants. “Can’t you feel it?”

You reply a faint "yeah" before he’s all over you again, mouth desperate on yours as he pulls your bottom lip between his teeth and bites, hands gripping your waist and body crowding you against the sheets. He’s consuming you whole and he wants more. And you give it to him. All of you. Honestly, at this point you’d give him whatever he asked.

“You don’t have exams tomorrow?” You ask in between kisses, breathless and shaky, the still sane part of your mind trying to estimate how much time you have together and what you’d be able to do with it.

Sungchan shakes his head slightly and kisses the corner of your mouth, putting a strand of your hair that’s fallen free from your ponytail behind your ear. “I’m finished with exams,” he whispers and kisses your cheek, then moves his lips to your earlobe, kissing there, too. “I have all the time in the world for you right now, princess.”

You want to kiss him again, but his head moves up, his nose sinking into your hair and deeply inhaling before pressing his lips on your hairline. “I missed the smell of your shampoo so much,” he says, eyes focusing back on your face as he slides his lips to your temple.

You sigh against him, his words making your heart flutter. Still, you can’t help but tease him when his eyes meet yours again. “Well, if you contacted me earlier, you wouldn’t have missed it,” you say, pouting at him, your hand bawling at his shirt as you finally show how upset the two weeks of radio silence made you feel.

Sungchan laughs at you and cradles his hand on the side of your face, his thumb caressing over your cheekbone as he holds you close. “Oh, did you get mad I didn’t text you, princess?” He mutters, his eyes glinting while yours are sad. “You should’ve texted me, then.”

You keep pouting, making a dissatisfied noise with his reply. Then, you cast your eyes down to the collar of his shirt as you say, “I wanted you to talk to me first.”

Sungchan chuckles and closes his palm on your chin, tilting your head up so you have nowhere to look but into his eyes. “But you ended up calling me up either way, didn’t you?” He teases in a low gruff voice with dark eyes. His fingers press against the sides of your cheeks to pucker your lips for him and he drops four consecutives pecks on your mouth that have you sighing. “Sounded so cute on the phone, too, saying you needed to see me,” he finishes.

The mockery of his words falls hard on you, making you feel ashamed as he reminisces your exact words, directly pointing out the truth: that you were the one who pursued him and not the other way around. You whimper in discontent, your face contorting as you try to get away from his grip, but his hold on your chin tightens when you move. So you press your nails on his shoulders over his shirt, hoping the fabric gives away and your force is enough to draw blood, and look at him with hard eyes and anger on your face. “Sungchan, I don’t like—”

“Why don’t you just tell me you missed me, huh?” He asks, interrupting you and making you roll your eyes at him, a snappy reply on your tongue. “Because I missed you, princess. I really did.”

And just like that the anger fizzles out and the irritable words are gone from your brain. His confession makes you melt back against him, breath hitching and eyes going wide. You notice he’s still smirking, probably because he knows he got you right where he wanted. Teasing you nonstop for half a minute and then confessing he missed you just so he can get a reaction out of you. And you give it to him, falling on the trap just like he wanted. You always do.

“Did you really?” You ask, big eyes focusing on his lips and neck pushing forward, needing to hear his confirmation. If you were a pet, your ears would be up and alert, patiently waiting for your owner to assert his authority over you.

“I did,” he says, nodding his head and smoothing his hands over your features now, his tongue poking out to wet his lips. “And did you miss me, princess?”

You nod before he’s even finished speaking. Knowing he missed you just how much you missed him fills you with urgency and you’re sure you have eager and wanton eyes as you grip on the back of his head and pull his face closer, focusing your gaze back on his as you sheepishly confess back, “I missed you, Jinsu.”

Sungchan’s smile slowly spreads across his lips as he hears and sees your words coming out of your lips. He pats on the top of your head briefly, like you really are his pet, and coos at you. “There you go, pretty girl.”

And then he’s pulling you in for a kiss again, his mouth devouring you whole as he creeps one hand under your head to support it and slides his other one to grasp at your hip.

He shifts on the bed, leaning over you with a leg in between yours, his grip tightening as your tongues meet. In no time you’re both breathing heavily, lips red, swollen and covered in spit as your hands weave through his hair, trying to pull him impossibly closer. He moves his lips down to your neck, sucking and biting everywhere, and drives his hands up your stomach under your shirt, feeling the skin just under your boobs before his fingers enclose over one of them.

You sigh and crane your neck to the side as he keeps peppering kisses on your collar, his thumb now pressing against your nipple as it hardens over his ministrations, another moan flying free from your mouth. You try to match his pace, descending one hand to his stomach to pull up his t-shirt, your fingers grazing his abs.

He pulls away then, kneeling on the bed to remove his shirt and throw it on some corner of his room. You spend approximately two seconds kissing his lower stomach before he’s pulling your sweatshirt — his sweatshirt — over your head, too, and pouncing on you a minute later, his other knee also coming in between your legs as he latches his mouth around one boob, laying you back down.

“Fuck, Sungchan,” you groan, your hands clamping on his hair again because he’s sucking on your nipple at just the perfect angle whilst his thigh presses on your crotch with just the ideal amount of friction to make you dizzy. You’re sure you're wet already and it’s not even been over ten minutes since you woke up.

“Missed these tits so much too, princess,” he says over your damp nipple, eyes focusing on yours and raising goosebumps all over you. It’s an incredibly lewd image. His glossy and pretty lips, coated on your saliva, telling you over your areola how much he missed your boobs. Yeah, you’ll probably be thinking about it for a long time, keeping this memory to your mind to use it specifically when you masturbate in the near future. Or you’ll be putting a video representation of it as the cause of your death on your grave when you’re buried. One of these two options, for sure.

He presses kisses all over the valley of your chest before sucking around the skin of your other boob. His tongue peeks out of his mouth to kitten lick at your nipple at the same time his blunt nails graze against the skin just under your belly button on your right side, and you fidget under him. It’s a weak spot he had memorized as soon as you started sleeping together and he tortures you with it every damn time you two fuck just to see you squirm.

“Desperate already?” He says as he rubs the same place over and over, his eyes watching your stomach contract with each caress.

“You’re such a douchebag,” you tell him.

“Why?” he kisses your nipple and focuses his eyes back on yours, stupid smirk still plastered on his face. “Am I not making you feel good?”

“You fucking know why,” you respond, moving your hand to his wrist to stop his abuse of your weak spot and sliding his hand down to cup the place in between your thighs over your clothes. “And this is where your hand has to be to make me feel good.”

Sungchan laughs at that, pressing his hand harder on you and sucking on your boob one more time. His eyes and lips are glistening as he says, “So bossy. You’re lucky I like it.”

And then his mouth is claiming yours again while he sits up and his hands make quick work of yanking down your sweatpants and underwear — once again, his clothes — and throwing them away from you, making you lay back and bend your legs. Once he’s done, you move down the bed, sitting to grasp your fingers over the drawstring of his sweatpants, trying to loosen it so he can get just as naked as you are, but he moves his hips out of your reach just before you can finish it.

“I want to feel you, too,” you whine as he hovers over you, one hand pushing on your shoulder to reposition you the way he wants it, your back stretching against the covers again.

He smiles and drops a small peck on the corner of your mouth before moving his body down the bed, hands spreading open your thighs and lips pressing kisses on your belly and going down, down, down.

“In a minute, doll,” he says over your right knee, his hands now moving to the inside of your thighs, so close to where you most want him. “Have to make you feel good first, just like you asked.”

His mouth moves up now, lips sucking and bruising your thighs, tongue lavishing over your soft skin, one hand crossed on your waist to hold your body down and another pinching the supple flesh of your butt and thigh, pushing and pulling as he pleases and extending your torture so much more. You love it just as much as you hate it. It’s amazing how much he knows your body, how much he remembers all of your ticks just to use them against you. Or maybe it’s just the fact that it’s him. He makes you feel this way. Always has. Probably always will.

You are about to beg for something more, the first letter of a please making its way out of your now dry lips. And then he’s parting your folds and kissing up your crotch, becoming face to face with your glistening cunt. He buries his nose just on the outer part of it and breathes in deeply for a moment, quite literally inhaling your scent, and you think he just has to be mad. There’s no way in hell he’s a sane person.

“Fuck yeah,” he groans, his eyes meeting your wide ones when you press your elbows on the bedspread to support your upper body and watch what he’s doing. “Missed this sweet little pussy, too.” He slides his forefinger up your slit and rubs at your clit, making you shiver. “And she missed me, right, doll? Fucking dripping already. And all for me.”

“Holy shit, you’re crazy,” you moan, brushing his hair back as he keeps rubbing your clit, your hips wiggling with every complete circle he finishes, eyes never leaving his.

“And you love it,” he states and you can’t argue with that. And then he’s licking a wide strip up your pussy, his middle finger reaching down to find your entrance at the same time.

It would be ridiculous to get close to cumming just from that alone, but it’s been so long and you’ve been so pent up you already feel the characteristic churning deep in your stomach. Still, like always, Sungchan takes his time with you, massaging your entrance with his fingers, tongue finding that spot just under your clit that makes you see stars.

The seven months you’ve been doing this have been so full of sexual experiments that now he knows you prefer indirect stimulation rather than the direct on-the-nose approach. He knows you like to be eased into it, to slowly lose yourself to pleasure over getting quickly to your orgasm.

So, he keeps rubbing over your hole before putting his finger in, stroking your walls lazily as you moan softly, his tongue licking over the same spot over and over, oftentimes catching just the underside of your clit and making you swivel your hips trying to follow his lips.

“That’s it, doll. Doing so good for me,” he says as he speeds up his movements, joining another finger inside of your pussy and focusing on the image of your eyes closed, chest heaving and lips bitten. “Feels good?”

“Feels so good, Jinsu,” you reply, opening your glassy eyes to meet his, grabbing at his forearm that’s crossed over the front of your body. Sungchan is so focused on bringing you pleasure that the veins on his arms are popped up, so pretty you wish to run your tongue over each one. All of it just adds to the raw sexual tension lingering in the air.

“I love it when you call me that. You know just the way to drive me crazy, princess,” he groans, eyes never leaving yours as he moves his mouth to your clit again, now sucking harshly on it as his two fingers scissor you open.

Another thing you love about Sungchan is his dirty talk. You still don’t understand how he stays so silent and bashful most of the time and turns into another person in bed, becoming bold and forward. It’s not uncommon for him to be completely calm and collected when you’re in a friendly gather and then say the most obscene things while fucking you half an hour later, the shy persona thrown out the window. Sometimes he starts teasing you with texts, dirty looks or small touches even while you are out with friends. And the knowledge that he gets to be a completely different person just for you got you off one too many times.

You move your free hand to the back of his neck and push him more into your cunt. He gets the message and pulls your legs further apart, one hand going under your bum to support your lower half as you start bucking your hips into his face, sliding your elbows under you to arch your back while you’re searching for pleasure. He’s fucking you with his tongue so good right now you feel your sanity slipping away. The breeze coming from the window gives you goosebumps because of the contrast with the heat of your body, and your nipples stand hard as you whimper, hand pulling on the strands on Sungchan’s nape.

He groans against you, the vibration going straight to your heat and enveloping your whole body. When he pulls aways slightly, he keeps rubbing at your clit with his fingers.

“Gonna cum for me, princess?” He asks while resting his chin on your thigh and you moan, nodding desperately as you lift your head to look up into his glazed eyes. Words would fail you right now, so you do your best to convey your feelings through your actions, the hand on his forearm gripping him so hard he gives you his hand, interlacing his fingers with yours. “Do it, baby. You look so pretty when you cum.”

Over Sungchan’s eyes, you catch the way he’s rutting his hips on the bed, obviously looking for some kind of friction. The image shows that he’s just as turned on as you while eating you out and it makes you crazier. His shoulder blades and his back are tensed and you rest one foot over his shoulder just to feel the muscles moving under it, so fucking attractive. And when you focus back to his face, he’s panting, gaze never leaving yours as he dips his head again to suck hard on your clit, and that’s when you cum.

Your orgasm takes over your whole body and you shudder as Sungchan doesn’t stop, three of his fingers finding your hole again and pistoning inside you whilst you fall apart, his left cheek resting against your thigh and his eyes never leaving your pussy. You convulse around his hand and under his body, body going haywire while the intense pleasure overwhelms your senses.

You don’t know what to do with yourself. If you should keep your hands pressing against his nape and your hips lifting off in the air or if you should stop and take a breather. It all feels too fucking good it almost smothers you, but you don’t feel like stopping. Sungchan makes the decision for you then, choosing to keep his tongue out to taste you and his fingers curling on the spongy spot inside you that makes you writhe.

But suddenly it’s too much and you sit up to try to push him away with a hand on his forehead and clasp your other one over his wrist that is bended as he still guides his digits furiously inside you. Your legs try to close over his head, but he presses a hand firmly on the inside of your left thigh to keep them apart, his eyes determined as he meets yours again and pulls away slightly from your clit.

“Wait, I’m–“ You try to speak, but the word sensitive doesn’t come out as you feel your thighs trembling.

“I know, doll, I know,” he coos at you with pouty lips, still overstimulating you and enjoying every second of it, his eyes relaying fake empathy. “But you can give me one more, right?” You shake your head no with pleading eyes. Sungchan doesn’t budge. “Yes, you can. I believe in you. Gonna feel so good, too.”

You realize there’s no escaping this. You could use your safe word, but you don’t want to. Not when Sungchan is assertive and so good to you that it makes you feel obedient, keen to do everything in your power to make him feel good as well. So you bite your lip and nod your head at the same time you feel something change deep inside you. Your thighs that were trembling now spread open again and your pelvis starts chasing the feeling of his hand instead of avoiding it. Sungchan makes note of every new reaction, a sly smile appearing on his lips, and his eyes zero in on your cunt again. You relax your back enough to have your elbows hitting the sheets again, head falling back. Your hands weaken their grip on Sungchan’s wrist and head as he doubles down his efforts, fingers unwavering working to bring you to the edge. Soon enough, you feel the tightness in your belly, how it’s so steadfast you can’t help but let yourself fall into it. 

When you sob his name and curl your toes on his back, he looks at you with fierce eyes and one command on his moist lips.

“Cum,” he whispers, soft and yet harsh.

Just like that, the band snaps again and your walls spasm, gushing over Sungchan’s fingers. You arch your back off the bed, hips shooting up to feel everything he has left to give you, your mouth hanging open in a silent moan.

Like before, Sungchan keeps going, working you through it again and the lewd slippery sounds your cunt makes on his hand have you whimpering, nails scratching his wrist and eyes screwing shut to feel it all until it becomes too much again.

This time, when you weakly push at his forehead, Sungchan pulls back. His forearms support his body up as he hovers over you, lips trailing up your whole body as he kisses and sucks every part of you he can reach. “Such a good damn pussy,” he whispers just over the apex between your thighs. “And such a fucking pretty princess,” he says above your belly button. “Made you cum so good, right?” He questions after he sucks one of your nipples on his mouth again, and you paw at his head. “I could do this all night, doll,” he states before licking your other nipple. “And you’d let me, right?” He says before biting a mark on your clavicle.

When his lips come in contact with your own, you pant inside his mouth, trying to match his kisses even though you’re still gasping for air and with your heartbeat thrumming in your ears. You just loop your arms around his neck and let him kiss you, tasting yourself on his tongue and feeling the heat creeping on your cheeks because of the vulgarity of it all.

He bites your bottom lip when you don’t give him an immediate answer and withdraws with it still between his teeth, digging harshly on your plush and hypersensitive skin until you hiss in pain. Only then he releases it. “Right?” He demands.

Your mind is still hazy and you’re still out of breath post two mind blowing orgasms, but you know better than to deny Sungchan when he’s feeling dominating. “Right,” you mutter in your most docile tone.

He smiles and swipes your cheek with his knuckles, thumb stroking on your abused lip before he presses another kiss on it. “Good girl.”

The praise goes straight to your system and you buzz in excitement, like you’re reawakening because of his words. Suddenly, you feel the urge to show him just how good of a girl you can be, how you can make him feel so good he might even forget his name.

You kiss him again and slip your hands down his body to feel his pecs, then his abs, until finally your fingers wrap around the imprint of his dick on his sweatpants. Sungchan hisses, head resting on the crook of your neck and shoulder, hips thrusting down on your hand.

“I need to suck you off,” you say, pushing him with a hand on his chest to make him sit up as you keep working his erection through his pants with your other hand.

Sungchan follows your directions, pulling your upper half up with him but keeping his arms tight around you, constricting you from moving any further. “If you do that right now, I’m gonna cum,” his whispers with eyes boring into yours, a silent plea in them.

You drop a peck on his lips and look at him with the same intensity as you reply. “Great. Then cum in my mouth.”

Just like that he weakens his hold of you and you’re able to slip from his arms to kneel on the floor, pulling on his waist for him to be in the position you want. Sungchan becomes compliant to your whims, just following your moves. Even though you never assigned each other fixed roles in bed, you are usually the one being pliable and manhandled, so it is a nice change to get him to obey your orders. He drops his legs over the side of the bed where you’re located and gives you enough space to shimmy your body in between them. This time he lets you pull at the string of his sweatpants to slacken it and lifts his hips when you pull down on the waistband of it, your hands removing his briefs, too. Both pieces of fabric pool around his ankles as you hold your head up and pull his face down for another kiss. He lets you kiss him while he gets rid of the clothes surrounding his calves, becoming hyper aware of your hands roaming over his body as his dick remains untouched.

Only when you pull back you get a good look at his cock, red, angry and leaking with precum. You lick your lips and keep rubbing your hands at Sungchan’s skin, and his eyes follow the way your right hand tweaks his nipples and your lips close around the space over his left knee.

“Please don’t tease right now, doll,” he says, voice whiny and eyes urgent as your hands start going down his stomach, your nails slightly scratching his skin. 

“Oh yeah? But I thought you liked teasing,” you say with a smirk before kissing his thigh. He opens his legs some more, opening up more space, and shuffles his pelvis closer to the side of the bed, leaning back on one arm. “Or are you that desperate already?”

He sneers at you repeating his earlier words back to him, but when you finally wrap your hand around the base of his dick, the smile is gone and he opens his mouth in a silent groan, brows furrowing together. Sungchan is so thick and heavy in your hand the tips of your fingers don’t touch your thumb as you grip him. Although his size never fails to impress you, you’re used to it by now, and you’re particularly fond of how much pleasure it brings you.

You just find it unfair how even his dick is pretty. Long and thick, mushroom tip with the same pink tinge of his lips and nipples, standing up with a slight curve that always digs so good on that spongy place inside of you. You move your hand up and down his shaft to smear his slick all over him. Your mouth waters at the sight and soon enough you’re pressing a kiss to his tip and watching him purr, thrusting his hips up to follow the feel of your lips when you move back.

“Stay still,” you command and he purses his lips together and nods. His forehead is already beaded with sweat and you love the image of it. You smile softly at him before you kitten-lick his tip, watching his mouth open to deliver quiets aahs and oohs while you tongue at his slit and the underside of his head.

After a while, you finally take him inside your mouth. His tip prods on your cheek as you suck his dick forcefully and that’s enough to make Sungchan groan, head lolling back. You back away again and he whines, lifting his face to look in your eyes again.

“I know, baby boy. So sensitive, right?” You blow air over his head and he fidgets, wiggling his hips slightly. God, he looks gorgeous surrendering himself for you like this. You’ll have to do this more in the near future.

You smile and run your tongue all around his head, teasing him one last time before enveloping your lips around him again, tongue stroking the underside of his cock. Sungchan grips a hand on your hair, threading the strands of your now lopsided and messy ponytail in between his fingers. You hollow out your cheeks and bob your head up and down for him, hand stroking the rest of his dick where you’re not able to cover with your mouth. He moans at you and you put another hand on his thigh for balance, breathing in deep through your nose and preparing to take him deeper. A second later you’re relaxing your throat as his dick invades that space, too, concentrating on keeping your breath regulated while he thrusts his hips up.

“Just like that, princess,” he whimpers under you.

You hold out for the longest you can before you feel your gag reflex kicking in and then you retreat with a gasp, a string of saliva connecting your bottom lip to his dick, your eyes blurry from unshed tears as you make up for the loss of your mouth with your hand. Sungchan moves both of his hands to your cheeks, holding you tenderly as his thumbs press on your waterline to catch the tears clouding your vision.

When you blink, his face becomes clear to you again. His eyes are glassy and lust filled, his open mouth is panting and his chest, cheeks and neck are splotched. It fills you with pride that he’s gotten into such a fucked-up state just because of you.

“Feels good?” You ask in between deep breaths, trying to fill your lungs with air before preparing to take him in your mouth again whilst you keep pumping his cock.

“Yes. You’ve gotten so good at this, doll. Doing your best job yet,” he says and the pride swells in your chest, an instant ego boost cursing through your system.

Before you met Sungchan, you didn’t care enough about receiving or giving oral. You had a couple of boyfriends before, but you were still inexperienced and slightly disgusted of doing and experimenting certain things. And even though they had given you head before, and you’d tried your best to reciprocate, it was always a means to an end, never the primary goal of your sexual encounters.

But Sungchan was different. The first time he ate you out, he didn’t stop until you finished three times in sequence. It was so good it made you want to do the same for him. He made you feel seductive and bold enough to try new things. And he had the patience to teach you just the way he liked it. He didn’t become frustrated when your rhythm was shitty and you had to take long breaks to breathe before going back at it again. He didn’t push your head to take him all the way when you weren’t prepared. He waited for your affirmative response, leading and encouraging you, praising you whenever you achieved a new skill or did something different. He was good to you. And in turn, you became good for him.

“I like to pleasure you,” you say sincerely and trace your tongue on the vein that runs under his cock.

Sungchan jitters on the bed. “Yeah, and you trained so hard for that, right? Always sucking on my cock like you want to milk me dry, too.”

You nod, suckling and peppering small kisses all over his tip. “I do want to suck you dry.”

He smirks at that and moves his hand to the back of your neck again, tightening his grip. “Then why don’t you put it in your mouth again, baby?”

You smirk back at him and take your last big whiff of air before opening your lips to take him inside again. You hollow out your cheeks and bob your head up and down immediately, gripping at the base of his dick a hand and letting his moans, sighs and hums of approval guide your ministrations. You suction on the parts of his cock your mouth can reach and flatten your tongue on the underside of it, playing with his most sensitive parts while Sungchan keeps praising you.

“Shit. So good to me, doll. Keep doing that,” he grunts and you nod.

When his nails dig on your nape and his tip hits the back of your throat, you breathe through your nose and let him jerk his hips up until your forehead meets his stomach and your nose rubs on his pubic hair. You press both of your hands on his thighs and allow him to use your mouth until you can’t breathe and think straight anymore.

When you back out heaving, Sungchan moves his fingers to your face to catch the droll falling from your lips and clean the tears striking your cheeks. He waits for you to gather your surroundings again, still complimenting you and your work.

“Damn, you’re such a good girl,” he says tenderly, thumbs running over the apple of your cheeks. “Look so pretty with my cock in your mouth.”

The praise, of course, gets to you again. So, you tighten your grip on the root of his cock, starting to pump him faster, and take your other hand away from his thigh, pressing your fingers together and shaping your palm in a conch-like way to rub it on the tip of his dick, your thumb going under the head to rub at the sensitive spot located there. Sungchan moans loudly at that and you lean over to lick on his balls at the best of your ability giving the position you’re both in, not giving up even if the carpeted floor is digging on your skin.

Sungchan scrunches his eyes closed and slides one of his hands to the back of your neck and moves the other to grasp over yours on the head of his cock, pulling it away to rest them together at his thigh. “I’m close, princess.”

You catch his warning and wrap your lips on his cock again, instantly taking him in your throat as he desperately yanks his hips up in your mouth, fingers pressing on your nape and moans growing heavy and breathless. Your free hand fiddles with his balls, your nose presses on his lower stomach again and you swear you can feel him in your windpipe. And that’s when he releases, painting the inside of your mouth white with thick ropes of cum that only seize after a minute. When his body becomes loose and his hand on your neck turns weak, you pull away with a pop, watching his dick twitch and slap against his stomach.

You breathe deep and press your hands on the mattress on both of his sides to get up slowly, back and knees complaining about being in the same position for long minutes. Despite looking limp and still dazed, Sungchan pulls you to him so quickly you almost lose your balance. He peppers kisses on your belly and boobs while your hands press on his shoulders. And when you groan and move a hand to rub your left knee, he pulls your leg up to place your foot on the bed and hunches to close his lips on your skin, his tongue lavishing against the redness there. It tickles and you chuckle at him, but that doesn’t stop him from giving your right leg the same attention. He places your left foot on the ground and bends your right leg to press your toes on the mattress, repeating the same process. You smile fondly at him and caress his hair while he drops kisses on your right knee. And when he’s done, he slides your leg down so you’re now pressing your knee on the bed on the side of his thigh.

“You’re so good to me,” he whispers as he pulls you in for another kiss.

You press your body closer to his and feel the way his dick is hardening again, rubbing on your thigh, precum wetting it. But as you shuffle to straddle him completely, Sungchan stops you with a hand on your waist.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, voice hoarse from the blowjob. Sungchan doesn’t reply, scooting closer to his nightstand to open his drawer instead.

He pulls a foil packet from the already opened box of condoms and you look at him with confusion written all over your face. You guys have been doing it raw for three months now, ever since you told each other you were clean and not seeing anybody else and you started taking the pill. Sungchan loves finishing inside of you. So of course, you’re a little bit puzzled about why he’s choosing to wear a condom now, all of the sudden.

Well, maybe he’s afraid you met someone else during your time apart, but this possibility doesn’t even make sense. So you try to quash away his worries.

“I haven’t seen anyone else, Sungchan,” you tell him as he opens the foil packet and discards the trash on his night stand, right beside your cell phone.

“I know, doll,” he says back, eyes fleeting on yours for a moment before they focus on wrapping the condom around his dick. His voice sounds confident when he says it and it irks you how he’s so certain you won’t sleep with anyone else. “It’s just quicker to clean up this way.”

You tilt your head to the side and cross your arms. It doesn’t make sense. You can always shower after. That happened all the time. And it frequently led to you having round two in the bathroom, which you are not opposed to at all.

When Sungchan finishes securing the condom on his dick, he grabs your hand to drop a kiss on the back of it and pulls you closer. You budge just slightly and his eyes catch the way your stance is guarded and you’re not opening yourself up for him yet. He smiles, eyes crinkling with the motion. “Come on, princess. We have to be quick, right? Don’t you have to sleep early for that final on your third period tomorrow?”

His words are lovingly convincing and he’s technically right. But you still eye him suspiciously. Your finals are the last thing on your mind right now and you don’t believe Sungchan is worried about your sleep cycle after you just spent almost an hour pleasuring each other. It just doesn’t make sense, your mind screams at you.

You’re sure something is wrong, but when Sungchan starts kissing your clavicle and grabbing at the back of your thighs to pull you against his front, you fold, letting his lips and hands distract you from it. Then you straddle him, eager to have him inside you to pull away from the siren alarm ringing loud inside your head. He’s rock hard again and you take his cock in your hand, slapping it against your pussy lips to share your juices and the condom’s lubricant with each other. Sungchan rests his forehead against yours as you look down together at the scene.

When you move up enough for the head of his cock to catch on your hole, you both sigh, but it slips and hits your clit, so you scoot forward to get better leverage to put him inside you. Sungchan supports you with gripping hands on your back while you move your hips back up and finally his cock prods on your entrance. You’re both sighing together again when he enters you, and when Sungchan meets resistance half his way inside, he pulls you up slightly and rubs your hips, muttering about how good you’re taking him until you release more wetness, your walls fluttering and stretching to accommodate all of him.

Soon enough his thick cock is deep inside you and Sungchan bottoms out with a huff, watching as your pussy envelopes him whole. His mouth is slightly open and his two front teeth show behind his upper lip just like a bunny’s, sweat glistening on his forehead, that heart-shaped spot his hairline makes taunting you again. Your heart swells at the sight of it all, and you hate how cute he is whilst his cock is splitting you open. You place a kiss on the spot on his forehead just like you wanted before and then drop another one on the mole on the corner of his upper lip. Sungchan pulls your lips to his as you experimentally move up and down on him.

“You feel so good, princess,” he moans, breaking the kiss.

“Big,” you whimper out, scratching at his shoulders. “Feels so full, Jinsu.”

He chuckles and kisses on your temple. “I know, princess. But you like it, right?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, grabbing at his chest and gazing at his eyes again. “I like it so much.”

And you do. You like it so much that you start riding him with full energy, needing to show him how much you like him inside you, how much you like him. You try to convey with your body the words you haven’t been able to reveal, trying to show him and yourself how much this is right because of how good it feels. Because maybe if you bounce on his dick just right, suck on his pulse point the way he likes it and give him high pitched moans that compliment his performance he’ll start to like you back.

“You’re so perfect,” he says over your ear, his fringe tickling your cheek. “So fucking perfect.”

You want to scream at him that he’s right, that you are perfect, perfect for him. But instead, you purse your lips together and focus on rolling your hips against his until your thighs burn. Sungchan’s hands are splayed on your butt cheeks and he aids you, helping you by moving you up and down in a steady rhythm. He looks at your face as you scrunch up your nose and close your eyes to focus on keep riding him. You try to pick up your movements, needing a faster place to bounce back on him in a way that doesn’t tire you out as much. But Sungchan keeps slowing you down, distracting you by kissing on your pulse point, fondling your boobs, sucking on your nipples or pulling your face to kiss you. While he showers you with affection with his lips, his hand presses deeply and firmly on your back so you ride him languidly, almost stopping at times when the movements pull hoarse moans out of you both.

After a while, you start slacking because you’re actually becoming tired, trembling and losing your flow completely. Sungchan increases his efforts, trying to move you on him with only his hands, but you already surpassed the time you are usually able to ride him and your body is spent. You press your lips on his clavicle and slump against him, giving up completely.

You feel Sungchan lips on the nape of your neck and then his light chuckle. “Want me to take over?” He asks in a gentle tone.

“Yes please,” you breathe against his sternum.

He rubs the expanse of your legs and kisses your shoulder before pressing his hands on the back of your thighs and getting up with you on his lap. You think he’s going to lay you back on his sheets, but are surprised when he carries you over to his dresser, his hand knocking over and away some bottles of perfume and deodorant as he drops you on top of it. You jolt from how cold the wood feels on your heated skin and his cock slips out of you, making you both laugh a beat later.

“Why not the bed?” You ask breathless and still chuckling, wrapping your arms around his neck and legs around his middle as you shuffle to the edge of the dresser, watching Sungchan’s eyes turn into half-moons as he laughs with you.

“Just wanted to have you here, too,” he whispers, draping his arms tight around you and kissing you again.

He’s so playful and happy today, kissing you so much and complimenting you, slowing down and taking his time with you, his touches so careful and gentle you can’t help but start hoping. You hope that this, whatever this new side of him he’s showing you today, means something more. The feeling chews brutally on your heart, making you aware that you probably won’t come out of it alive.

Sungchan hooks one arm under your leg and pulls you to his body until half of your butt is hanging on the edge of the dresser, then grabs at his dick to guide it back to your hole, groaning when he’s fully inside of you again. You think he’s going to thrust his hips hard and fast, but he surprises you one more time by pulling back slowly, almost all the way out, before driving himself inside of you again just as gently. You sigh at the fullness and he does it again, his eyes fixated on where you two meet. This way you can feel every ridge and vein of his cock hitting all the right stops inside you, your toes curling and a moan boiling on your throat from how good it all feels. When he glides back one more time, you lift his head to look into his eyes, and he keeps your gaze as he leisurely fills you up one more time.

 “I love feeling every part of you like this,” he says when he’s bottomed out again, and you think you might die from heartache if he keeps treating you this way.

However, you don’t have the time – and you seriously don’t want to – dwell on it because in the next moment he’s thrusting inside you more forcefully and faster, making you pant and moan profusely again. You let your eyes roam over his form whilst he fucks you deep and hard. He’s so attractive it makes you a little crazy. Sturdy and toned body, a defined chest, six-pack glistening with sweat, biceps flexing as he keeps you in place, veins on his forearms bulging up, a muscular back and firm hips and long strong legs supporting all of it. So tall and strong. His face is ridiculously good-looking, too. Thick brows, wide eyes, a structured nose and pink full lips, his cupid’s bow so well designed you think it was handcrafted by God himself. You don’t know whether to thank him or Sungchan’s parents for putting him in the world. He’s perfect. And great at fucking. You kind of hate him.

Sungchan catches your wandering eyes over him and grins at you. “Like what you see?” He whispers, chest pressing on yours as he slows down his pace.

You roll your eyes. You also hate him for being so smug. “You’re handsome. What should I do? Look away?”

He chuckles and kisses your cheek. “No. You can look all you want, doll. Memorize it even.”

You pinch his shoulders and graze your teeth on his cheek for that and he shakes with laughter. “Such a cocky boy,” you whisper.

He holds your face in both of his hands as his hips keep meeting yours, going back to the slow measured thrusts inside you. “You’re so beautiful, too,” he mutters and kisses you again, halting all of his movements as his tongue darts inside your lips, tasting every crevice of your mouth. But you’re burning inside and you don’t care for slow and sweet anymore. You want him to ruin you, so you buck your hips forward for him to fill you up all over again.

He exhales and bites on your lower lip as you try working him inside of you the same way he was doing, but you fail. Your rhythm is shit and you’re still exhausted from riding him earlier, so you whine and grip his shoulders. “Sungchan, take me back to the bed so you can fuck me right,” you mumble, wiggling your body and trying to hop down the dresser as he keeps pressed against you, peppering kisses over your neck. “Please, Jinsu.”

He draws back from your neck, then, and quickly hooks his arms over your legs, hands splaying on your butt, to carry you back to the bed, remaining connected with you. You like how he makes you feel so small, as if you weigh nothing even though you have fat on your belly and plump thighs and arms. He never comments on it, too, and you’re so grateful for him never making you feel anything but desirable as your back meets his sheets and he hovers over you again. He's big in more ways than one.

You arch your back so his cock keeps filling you up, searching for that place inside you he always hits so good. But Sungchan has other plans, and his hands come to your wrists to stop your movements, holding your hands over your head as he presses all of his body on yours, your boobs squishing against him. His eyes bore into yours as he leisurely presses his cock inside you again and you bear your nails down on his knuckles. You desperately want to feel him with your hands. And you badly want him to stop looking at you with that intense gaze that makes you think ��� makes you feel – he cares about you the same way you care about him.

When he kisses you again, you can’t take it anymore, huffing at being constrained by your hands and urging him to look at you. “Can you flip me over?” You ask and Sungchan’s eyes shine bright at your sentence. He can never resist having you in doggy and you smile mischievously when you’re already laying on your stomach a second later, Sungchan manhandling you the way he wants.

“Hands and knees, baby,” he instructs and you fumble to obey his command, pushing yourself up and back on your knees and positioning your hands on the bed at the length of your shoulders to support your body.

Sungchan instantly corrects your form, one hand sneaking in between your thighs to spread them further apart and another pressing on your back for you to lean your upper body down, making you arch. You sigh from feeling his warm touch over your skin, wiggling your ass in the air for him. He chuckles at you and gives a soft slap at your right butt cheek and you laugh with him.

“You look so pretty in this position,” he says, now placing himself behind you and shimmying his knees in between your legs. “You know I love to fuck you like this, right?”

“Yes,” you whisper, anticipation building high as you feel him prepare to enter you again. “And I love when you fuck me like this.”

Sungchan hums at you, and you finally feel the warmth of his skin on yours as he slaps his dick over the curve of your ass, making you purr. “And I love this ass, too,” he mutters, resting his cock on your body as his hands grab at your ass. Then he gives it another hit, this time harder than the first one, his palm softly massaging the spot after. You stumble on the bed slightly from the shock, smothering a moan. “Love how it looks when I fuck you.”

You know by now that he’s enjoying his time teasing and playing with you, but you’re so desperate to feel him inside of you again that you don’t mind begging for it. “Jinsu, please. Can you please put it back in?”

He snickers at you and finally finishes rearranging himself, his knuckles brushing against the back of your thighs as he begins tugging on his dick again and guiding it inside you, the head of it pressing on your entrance. “Okay, doll, but just because I want it just as bad as you.”

He slides hard and fully inside you in one go, driving you forward on the mattress. You sigh contently, feeling full and complete. In this new angle, he feels even deeper. Sungchan groans as he feels your cunt spasming around him, one hand gripping your right hip and the other kneading your ass. He pulls back halfway and pushes in again, harder than before, and your eyes roll to the back of your head from how good it already feels.

“You good, princess?” He asks, stilling inside of you.

“Yeah. Feels so deep,” you whisper, leaning the side of your face on the sheets above you to try to look back to him. You only get a glimpse of his left ear and cheek and how his biceps look holding you down, the rest of your view being obstructed by your own body.

“Hmm, I know,” he muses, languidly moving in and out of you, now both of his hands landing on your ass cheeks to spread them apart. You’re pretty sure he’s indulging himself in feeling the plush of your skin spilling between his fingers and watching how your pussy swallows him whole from that angle. He’s addicted to the image and feel of you like this. “I always hit it so deep like this.”

“Uh-huh. And you can hit it harder and faster, too, right?” You tease, pushing yourself back on his cock to make him fuck you swiftly.

He laughs and moves one hand to your hip again, leaning further into you and pressing his hips against yours. “Sorry. Got distracted by your ass again”, he confesses and it’s your time to snicker at him. But soon he begins to drive his cock harder and faster inside you, just like you asked, and your laugh is replaced by moans. “Better now?”

“Fuck yes,” you groan, feeling his dick hit all the right places inside of you. “Please don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” he assures you, his hips kissing yours again and again, the sound of your skins smacking together echoing through the room.

He’s been driving you crazy the whole night with his slow and measured thrusts, his gentle and nice words and his overflowing affection, so it’s no wonder you’re already moaning loudly and fisting the sheets of his bed in very little time. Sungchan is no better than you, though. You can hear him grunting every time his hips kiss yours and feel his legs tensing beneath you. He probably planned to excessively and deliberately tease you until you were begging to cum, but he didn’t realize he’d also be overstimulating himself before getting to the finish line. It’s as annoying as it is adorable.

“Holy shit. You really look so good like this, princess,” he grunts, his eyes admiring how your ass jiggles against him with every forceful drive of his cock inside of you. “Wanna burn this image on my mind. I won’t ever forget it.”

Your chest expands at his admission, getting dizzy from the knowledge that he’s so transfixed by you that he says something like that in the heat of the moment. The feeling curls inside your chest and you smile. Maybe he does reciprocate your feelings for him. Who knows?

You open your mouth to say something teasing about his statement, but the words are long forgotten when he reaches his hand up your shoulder to wrap around it and tugs you back against him hard, moving you back to him as he continues driving himself forwards. Your loud moans of his name turn into broken whimpers of random words you don’t even remember thinking.

“So wet and warm for me, gripping me so tight,” he says above you and you wonder how he’s still capable of forming sentences when that ability is now so hard for you. “Fucking perfect.”

“Your dick is perfect,” you try to make out even though your brain is a mess. “You are perfect.”

He moans and grips you tighter, showing he understood you. “Thank you, doll. Now c'mere,” he says, moving his palm on your shoulder the other way around, hooking it under you. “Wanna feel your skin on mine when you cum.”

Again, he maneuvers you the way he wishes to. With his cock still inside you, he removes his legs from between yours to position them outside of you now, putting pressure so you have no choice but to drive your legs together. The movement makes your pussy snugger around his cock and he moans, halting for a beat to bask in the feeling of it. Then he pushes your upper half up, hauling you up with his grip on your shoulder, making you raise yourself again until your back meets his chest. You feel prickles on your arm at the close contact and sweat makes you both sticky, your skin gluing you to him as Sungchan now moves a hand to grab at one of your tits and the other one to cross over your whole waist, clinging your body to his.

You’re molded together. You won’t complain about it.

He rests his chin on your shoulder and grazes his thumbnail on your nipple, making you hiss. Then he starts moving again, his hips driving backwards and forwards with enough force to drive you away from him. Except his arms are still steady and firm around you, keeping you connected even through his hard thrusts inside of you, and you reach down to grip his thighs, your nails scratching him.

“That’s it, princess, taking me so well,” he rasps on your ear and you bite on your bottom lip to keep yourself from being too loud.

“Shit, Jinsu, I think I’m-" You try to stutter out, your voice becoming high and airy as the head of his cock rubs deliciously on your g-spot.

“Fuck yeah, I can feel you clenching around me,” he says and after his words you feel your cunt contracting even more, trying to keep him inside of you forever. “You’re going to cum for me one last time?”

“Yesyesyes.” You turn your head slightly back so you can rest your forehead on his temple. He turns his face to yours, too, and you watch as droplets of sweat fall from his hair to his face. You move your hand to his face to keep him there and Sungchan does the same with the hand that was gripping your waist, moving it to the side of your face to stroke over your cheekbone with his fingers. “I’m so close, Jinsu,” you murmur, lips ghosting over his.

“Me too, princess,” he replies and drops a kiss on the corner of your lips. “Let’s do it together, okay?”

You nod just as he slides his hand from your boob to your clit, rubbing it in quick little circles. The added stimulation on your clitoris makes you light-headed and you try to grip at the last shreds of your sanity to stay in the moment with him. Sungchan’s eyes shine against yours and you overwhelm your senses trying to concentrate on feeling everything at once. His hands and hold all over you, his fingers coaxing your orgasm out of you, his legs hitting on the back of your thighs, his hair brushing against your forehead, the smell of him and of sex — the smell of both of you together — invading your nostrils, his strength driving his hips against yours, his perfect dick hitting inside of you so good, his voice whispering dirty sweet nothings to you. And his lips that attach to yours the moment you’re on the edge of breaking apart, finally making you cum.

Sungchan kisses you while your pussy convulses on his cock and he thrusts inside you one, two, three more times until he’s spilling inside the condom. You keep clenching around him, trying to milk him until the last drop, and he keeps stroking your clit and kissing your lips. Only when your body starts twitching from the overstimulation and you grab at his forearm, he removes his hand from your cunt and detaches his lips from yours to kiss your cheek next. You sigh lazily, trembling on his arms as he pecks the same spot over and over, still muttering compliments and thank you’s. You can’t make out what he’s saying exactly because your blood is still ringing in your ears, your heart is beating rapidly, your thighs are sore and your body is starting to feel the first signs of exhaustion. So, you caress his forearm and hope it’s enough to return the sentiment.

His grip on you loosens just a little and you try to shift ahead. Sungchan, of course, notices your movement, and in no time he’s delicately laying both of you back on the bed, your heated chest rubbing against the cool sheets becoming a luxury as he keeps his rib cage connected to your back, being careful not to drop his full weight on you. He closes his lips over your shoulder blades and you indulge yourself in the attention and tenderness he’s still giving you while you catch your breath.

After some time of exchanging lazy caresses and quick kisses, he finally disconnects his body from yours, pulling out of you and getting up to tie off the end of the condom. You instantly miss his warmth and wrap a hand around his wrist, turning on your side to look at him. He smiles at you and bends over to kiss your forehead quickly.

“I have to drop this in the trash and clean myself a little. I’ll be back in a minute,” he states and gives you another kiss, this time on the lips. Then he tugs his briefs back on, turns and walks out of the bedroom in the direction of the bathroom.

You exhale deeply as you turn your head to the ceiling, watching the shadows casted on it by the small droplets of rain still falling randomly outside. Your mind starts to work right away, trying to recap everything you just lived with Sungchan to hunt for signs of his feelings for you. But you’re so tired you banish the thoughts to the back of your head, covering yourself with the bedding from your toes to your head in a feeble attempt to hide from your own mind.

Sungchan is back a minute later, laying on the bed and draping himself all over and around you. You pinch his ribs when he drops his full weight on your stomach and he laughs, pulling at the sheets to see your face and body again. Once your head is out, he threatens to tickle you in retaliation for the tweak in his chest and you lift your arms in surrender, laughing with him.

When you’re both done laughing, Sungchan takes your hands in his and pins them to the bed beside your head, then kisses you. You smile between the soft press of his lips, giddy in oxytocin and pleasure.

“You should probably use the bathroom, too,” he states when he pulls back and you know he’s right. You need to pee and freshen up. And find the courage to leave his house and go to yours. You still have an exam in the morning. “I’ll grab your clothes from the dryer while you’re at it.”

You sigh dramatically and pull yourself from the bed and Sungchan’s arms. He chuckles and hands you a sheet to cover your body before you make your way to the bathroom, murmuring about how “Shotaro could get home anytime”.

You nod and when you turn to walk away, he gives a pat at your bottom, making you yelp. You look over your shoulder to shoot daggers at him with your eyes, but the smile on your face lets him know it’s all in good fun.

Inside the restroom, you take your time peeing and stretching your limbs back to their places. You hope the soreness from being tense or in the same positions for too long will go away after a good night's sleep. Then you step into the shower to quickly rinse yourself of any bodily fluids and sweat, cleaning your hands methodically and letting some water fall into your messy hair. You wrap your body with the same towel you used earlier and move to stand in front of the mirror again to finger-comb your hair back in a ponytail. But the lilac polka dotted bow scrunchie you had on isn’t with you anymore, probably getting lost around Sungchan’s room in the midst of everything.

You come back from the bathroom and find Sungchan seated on his bed, waiting for you already dressed and with your dried clothes placed by his side, a pensive look in his face while he stares at the wall opposed to him.

“I think I lost my scrunchie,” you say to him, pouting both because your favorite hair accessory and because Sungchan is already clothed. You were hoping you’d ogle his body some more before going.

Sungchan’s head snaps up when you arrive, like you’ve caught him off guard while his mind was elsewhere, but he promptly shakes his reaction off with a smile. “We’ll search for it later.” He puts your clothes on his lap and invites you closer. “Here, I’ll help you dress.”

You saunter over to him and stand in between his legs, thinking he’s just going to hand you each piece of your clothing as you dress up. He surprises you when he picks up your panties, holding it with his two hands inside its waistband, and bends down, lowering the item so you can pass your legs through the openings.

You quirk an eyebrow up at him. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he replies with a smirk, staying very still as you analyze him, gaze unwavering on yours. You shrug and do as he pleases, standing on one foot and then on the other as you pass your legs through the loops successfully one at a time. He tugs the underwear up until it’s placed correctly around your hips, then pinches gingerly on the place where your right thigh becomes your right butt cheek, as he proudly says, “Atta girl.”

You roll your eyes at him. “I think you’re kinda obsessed with my ass.”

He smiles and preens his neck up to kiss on your clavicle. You fight the urge to search the contact of his lips again when he retreats. “You’re right, I kinda am.” Then he picks up your bra next and signals his forefinger up and in a circular motion for you to turn around.

You turn on your heels and Sungchan’s fingertips start caressing both of your arms, moving softly along your biceps until your forearms and then to your wrists, bra still on his right hand between his pinky and ring fingers. Once he gets to your hands, he hooks the straps of the undergarment over your arms and pulls it up until each one is located on your shoulders. His hands go to your back to close the clasp, and you feel the teeth in the clip nipping slightly at your skin as he fastens it. He drops a kiss on your scapula and goosebumps raise all over your body. You wonder if he’s doing this on purpose, if his plan is to tease you and ruin you again and, at least, if this is as hot to him as it is to you. If he keeps this up, you might only get out of his place in the morning.

He grabs at your hips and turns back to him again, then holds your jeans, scrunching up the fabric of the legs so you can see the openings from the waistband until the bottom hems. That’s when you break your silence. “Is this some type of kink of yours?”

He chortles at you and holds the pants down for you to put on. You comply, passing your legs through the openings just like you did with the panties, and letting him yank it up. You pay attention to his eyes as he does it. His gaze sparkles as he watches your skin disappearing between his fingers and behind the fabric. You think it’s kind of cute and it reminds you of when you were little and did the same with your toys, changing their outfits nearly every minute. He’s playing with you as if you really are his doll, dressing you up for him. But behind the glow on his eyes, you also catch a hint of longing. Something indescribable, that you can’t quite put your finger on.

Sungchan drums his fingers around the waistband of your jeans until they go around all the way to find the button on its front. “Not a kink,” he says sincerely, pressing the button through its loop and then moving his digits down the fly to feel around for the zipper. “Just doing something nice for you.”

“Why?” You question, suspicious eyes falling over his face as he focuses on tugging the zipper up and securing your fastened pants.

He shrugs. “Because I want to.” Then, he hooks his fingers on the belt loops in front of your pants and pulls on them, therefore also pulling you to him. “Because you deserve it,” he says simply with a smile.

You blush at his words, smiling back at him and leaning down to press a kiss on his lips. You want to get lost in his mouth again. You want to get rid of your clothes once more and lay down with him in this bed for a week, finals and chores and college responsibilities be damned. But Sungchan, ever the responsible one, withdraws and puts some distance between your bodies before you get too eager.

“There’s still some clothes left to put on,” he says, snickering when you sigh in response.

You cave in to his will, collaborating with him to put your shirt over your head and then your hoodie. When you’re completely dressed and you straighten the clothes on your body, Sungchan finishes his little game of dress up by tying the strings of your sweater together with a bow. “Pretty girl,” he says.

“Pretty boy,” you say back, moving to sit on his lap, your legs perpendicular to his, one arm going around his shoulders and the other one resting over his, your fingers poking on the collar of his shirt, nails scratching the skin underneath. “I just think it’s a little unfair that I didn’t get to help you dress.”

He chuckles and moves his hand to close around yours, turning it to press his lips on your knuckles. “Maybe another time.”

You scrunch your nose up, obviously not satisfied with his reply. “Another time, then. I should probably get going anyway.”

Sungchan nods, but instead of letting you go, he pulls you close once more, wrapping his arms around your middle, his hands rubbing your back and his face hiding between your neck and shoulder. You hug him back just as tight, running your fingers through his hair while he breathes in your scent and presses kisses into every part his lips can reach. You stay like this for what feels like hours. Every time you think he’s done, he fixes his hold to hug you even tighter, almost binding you two together. When he finally slackens his grip a little, it’s only to move his hand to the back of your head and coax your lips in his. His tongue enters your mouth hungry and yearning, and you kiss him back with all the energy you can muster up. Just like all the kisses before, this one leaves you breathless and dazzled. Your mind is already fogged up and numb by the time he finally pulls back and, with moist lips and a piercing gaze, presses his mouth to yours one final time.

“You should probably get going,” he repeats back to you. You have to blink your eyes open two times to understand what he’s saying and command your wobbly legs to remember how to stand up again. “I’ll give you a ride.”

You nod at him and when you get up from his lap, Sungchan slides his hands down your shoulders to your upper arms, then to your forearms and wrists. He squeezes your hands two times before letting you go. You move to his nightstand to retrieve your cell phone, now charged and full of notifications you still leave unopened, and put it in your pocket. Then you bend down to plug the charger out of the switch.

“Uh, I actually wanted to talk to you about something before you go,” Sungchan says the moment you take the charger out and you hear the uncertainty in his words, the fear.

Your heart skips a beat, your mind already whirring with a thousand possibilities of whatever he has to say. But you try to keep your expression emotionless and your eagerness at bay while you stand upright again. “Sure. What is it?” You roll up the charger’s wire and nod to him, encouraging him to keep going before turning on your heels to put your things away in your bag.

You’re already with your back turned to him, crouching down to your backpack and opening the zipper of its front pocket when he speaks again. “You remember the girl I partnered up with for my organic chemistry project?”

You pause when you hear him. The zipper’s slide is still as ever beneath your fingertips, the sound of the teeth getting dragged away completely stopping as you remain unmoving. You can sense something is wrong. You feel it in your bones. Whatever his next words are going to be, you’ll not like it one bit.

If Sungchan notices your momentary stillness, he doesn’t make any comment about it. You feel suspended in the air, on the edge of an information that’ll make you jump over the cliff. You wish you could go back to two minutes ago, when you didn’t know he had something to tell you. But your curiosity and the red flags you so carefully stepped around before now come to the forefront of your mind. And you take the bait, dragging the teeth of the zipper back until its stop to mask up for any agitation in your voice when you reply. “The sophomore majoring in biology? Yeah, what about her?”

“We’ve been hanging out for a while now,” he replies quickly this time while you’re putting your charger inside the bag and closing the pocket back. “It’s been working out pretty well.”

You stand up, then, and Sungchan pauses. He’s probably inspecting your reaction before letting the full truth out. You know exactly what he’s going to say. He’s about to reject you, to choose her over you. You wish you couldn’t be able to hear right now. But you need to listen to him so you can move on from whatever this fucked-up thing between you two is. And you decide you need to see it, too, turning around to watch him and crossing your arms over your chest, waiting for the impact.

“I actually really like her,” he says, eyes fixed on the spot behind you on the wall, not quite looking at you. His tone is heavy on the really. He probably just likes you. But her? He really likes her.

And there it is. The whole truth. All those things you ignored before had been there for a reason. The two weeks with no contact. The text on his laptop that he scurried to hide from you. His insistence on wearing a condom. The many kisses, the slow fucking, the compliments. His intense gaze. Even his fucking words.

“I love it when you call me that.”

“I love feeling every part of you like this.”

“Wanna burn this image on my mind. I won’t ever forget it.”

“You’re fucking perfect.”

“Wanna feel your skin on mine when you cum.”

“You’re going to cum for me one last time?”

All of those words weren’t because he’s in love with you. He didn’t really miss you, either. Maybe your body, sure. But not you, not really. Not at all.

He was not being gentle and kind and pampering you for you. He wasn’t gazing deeply into your eyes and showering you with kisses and beautiful words because he likes you. He was doing it to savor his last time fucking you before he turned another woman into his girlfriend. It was all because he’s discarding you.

He was saying goodbye. And you fell for it like a fool.

You have every right to be mad at Sungchan for taking advantage of your vulnerable self just to fuck you one last time. He likely planned to just keep ghosting you until you’d saw him around campus with his new bae and get the message, but then you called him and offered the perfect opportunity of a farewell shag on a silver platter. And he wasn’t going to reject it. He played his cards right, of course.

But you’re not mad at him. At least he gave you three earth-shattering orgasms before breaking your heart.

You’re really mad with yourself. Because you fucking knew it. The signs were everywhere. His silence about the status of your relationship wasn’t because he liked you too much to confess to you or because he was afraid you’d not like him back. It was a strategy. It was about keeping you on his side for as long as he wanted to have you. Good and easy pussy. He didn’t even have to make an effort to lie to you. You did it yourself, bending the truths so you could keep being with him, in whichever way he’d let you.

Plus, there’s no way a man like Sungchan would settle for someone like you. You just choose to push away all the hints he gave you just to feed on crumbs of his affection. A trauma response or some shit like that, no doubt. You’d have to ask your psychology student friend.

God, you really are pathetic.

“You’re not going to say anything?” Sungchan asks, and you notice you’ve been lost throwing a pity party on your own thoughts for a while.

To your merit, you shake it off like a champ, smiling at him and falling into your chill girl persona. “That’s great, Jinsu,” you say, smiling even though you’re dying inside. “I guess that means we should stop meeting up, right?”

Sungchan’s eyes widen. He obviously wasn’t expecting that reaction. You’ve probably shown your feelings for him a little too much and that made him real sure you’d have an outburst. But you’re a chill girl right now.

Chill girls don’t care about their flings liking someone else. Chill girls don’t want to know everything about it, too. They aren’t curious in the slightest about how long he’s been seeing her, how many times he’s fucked her, if he calls her princess and doll too and if she’s been on the same sheets they’ve just cummed all over in.

And chill girls particularly don’t mind when their friend with benefits for half a year is choosing someone he’s only known for two months over them.

He recovers quickly, looking sheepish while he nods, his cheeks blushing. “Yeah, would that be a problem? I’m actually planning to ask her to be my girlfriend this weekend.”

Shit, you didn’t need to know that. It hurts a little too much. Your smile falters for a beat, his words giving you whiplash. You feel dizzy and cold like you were dropped on icy water. If you kept walking outside in the rain, it wouldn’t feel as bitter as this.

Then you turn away from him, busying yourself with picking your backpack up to put it over your body. “No problem at all.”

But Sungchan plays with your feelings until the end, putting his hands on your shoulders to spin you back to face him. “Are you really okay with this?” He questions with his best puppy eyes.

He’s still cute while he does it. What a fucker. Now you hate him for real.

If he thinks you’re going to spill your heart out to him and ask him to choose you, pick you, love you in a rendition of Meredith Grey’s speech, he’s very wrong. You still have some pride left.

“Yes. I’m happy for you, Jinsu,” you reply through gritted teeth, the same frozen smile from earlier on your face. You can only be so chill about this and he’s pushing it.

“Oh!” He exclaims after your words, like a lightbulb went out in his head. He at least has the decency to stutter and seem embarrassed as he asks, “Uh… Would you mind going back to call me by my name, too?”

Of course. You just lost your privilege to his nickname. Jinsu is reserved for his close friends and his soon-to-be girlfriend. And, obviously, he can’t risk his new girl hearing another woman calling him such an intimate pet name. She’d have questions.

And you’re nothing for him anymore. You have to stick with his name now.

“Of course, Sungchan.”

“Thanks, princess,” he says, and you quirk an eyebrow up at him. If you can’t call him Jinsu, his nicknames for you are forbidden, too. He covers his mouth with a hand when he notices what he said. “Sorry. Y/N.”

After that, you both walk to the foyer to put on your sneakers so Sungchan can take you home. You don’t want to be in his presence anymore and you try to argue that you would be okay getting an Uber, but he blabbers on about how he insists about it and that’s the least he could do.

You agree just to get it over with. Sungchan picks his car key from the holder in the hall and opens the door for you. You get a last look at his place before stepping out. You feel weird once you’re out and the door closes behind you, realizing that you’ll never be inside his house again. The feeling churns in your heart and your eyes prickle, but you breathe deep and will it to go away.

You both are silent the whole two flights of stairs down his garage. And you stay like that while you get in his car and he turns the engine on, still not speaking a thing as he drives out of the small building complex and takes the path to your home. The only noise is the music coming out the radio and his old car sputtering up.

Luckily enough, your apartment is just a ten-minute drive from his. When he stops the car at your building’s curb, you gather your things from the carpet and say your goodbye. But Sungchan puts his hand over your, though, stopping you from opening the door.

“Can I have one last hug?” He has the audacity to ask.

That’s when you break your chill act.

You look over at him with raw and rough hatred. And he sees it, because he instantly retreats his fingers from you and flinches on his seat. “No, Sungchan,” you almost growl at him, venom dripping from your mouth. “I think your girlfriend wouldn’t like that.”

She probably will not like finding your favorite scrunchie inside the first drawer of his nightstand where you left it before getting out of his room, too. But that’s not your problem to deal with.

After your final words, you open the door and get out of his car, practically running inside your complex. You stay somber while you walk inside and wait for the elevator. You stay solemn while you ride the elevator, waiting for it to get to your floor. You even remain serious while you type your code in and finally get inside your house.

But when you take your shoes off and drop your bag on the floor, your entryway light flickers over your head for a few seconds until the bulb goes out, leaving you in complete darkness. You stare into the dark and are also met with the silent empty space of your apartment.

You move your hand to the bow on your hoodie, the last snippet of your encounter with Sungchan you still have on. You pull on the strings and it disappears. Then you break down, curling over yourself until you’re on your knees, releasing loud sobs with chunks of tears coming out of your eyes.

What comes after is… being utterly alone. 

author’s note: phew! thank you for reading this little monster. please consider letting me know what you think about it in the comments or my ask box. feel free to scream at me all you want, i welcome it! <3

[acynicalsweetheart]

Could you please write high school reader with daddy issues and meeting Jimmy. She lies to her mother to drop her off at a friend's house just to see Jimmy. He grooms her and thinks he has power over her when one day she drugs him ties him up and rapes him when he wakes up. +using a dildo on him for funsies :3

LYING WHEN I SAY (trust me) !

pairing: jimmy x fem!reader

word count: 3.9k

dead dove do not eat: 18+, non-con/rape, dub-con, grooming sort of, age gap, daddy issues, daddy kink, drugs, smoking, virginity loss

author's note: hai no dildo on jimmy unfortunately LMFAO did try to follow everything else tho.. umm this took forever and ending is very rushed and very ass.. it’s this long cause i felt i had to make it a fic for the grooming aspect so . yah. interaction/feedback appreciated!!

You’re on your way home when this strange, shady type you’ve seen lurking outside of your school walks up to you. Is this it? The last moment of your life, the end, kaput? Okay, paranoia’s getting the better of you, might just be a new janitor or something—

“You got a lighter?” He asks ever-so-casually. 

He’s… old. Real old. Like, fourty-something kind of old. 

“What?” 

“A lighter?” He makes a gesture with his hand, pretending to draw a lighter flame with his thumb. 

“Umm… no,” why the hell would you have a lighter? “No I—I don’t, sorry.”

You didn’t think you looked that old. Or like you smoke, for that matter. It’s kind of hard to take offense to his words though, when he’s that cute. Cute in a hobo sort of way. 

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath, hand gliding down his rough face like you not having a lighter is the worst thing since Elvis. 

Is this what they call withdrawal? 

“But I think they have some at the store.” You point your finger down the street, giving him a once-over and - for safety - deciding to add, “they’re cheap.”

“Forget it.” He tells you sternly, dismissing you with a wave of his hand like you’re cigarette smoke before walking away—opposite direction to the store. 

You’re left there standing awkwardly, shifting your weight across your feet. Body moving before you have time to think, you trail after him. 

“I can buy them for you, if you want,” ‘cause you’re a pushover and a people pleaser and an idiot all at once. 

He scoffs, glances at you over his shoulder. “You think they’re gonna let a little girl like you buy lighters?” 

“Well, I…” You can’t tell if he’s angry with you or if his face just naturally looks like that, pulled into a perpetual scowl. 

“Just take ‘em,” he shrugs. 

“Can’t you take them?” He might look broke, but surely—

“I would, if I was still allowed in the stores.”

“Oh.” You bite your lip, looking down at your shoes. That’s unbelievably hot. Is he a felon or something? 

“Yeah. Oh.”

And so maybe you do end up taking a lighter, casually shoving it into your pocket and walking out of the store, egged on by a man you were convinced was the school janitor. You actually still aren’t sure if he is or not. 

He leads you to some lightly secluded street. The sun’s setting and you should really get back home. 

“Umm, here…” your hands shake when you hand it over, fingers brushing against his callused ones. “Mister—”

“Jimmy.” He grabs the lighter like it was his all along, like you didn’t just feel your heart falling out of your ass when you committed an actual crime for him. 

“Jimmy,” you try out his name carefully, syllables rolling off your tongue in a way that tells you you’re meant to be. 

“You know, since you were such a good girl for me,” Jimmy pulls out a cigarette from a package you didn’t know he had and holds it out for you to see. “Why don’t we share one of these?”

It takes a minute for you to get back on earth. 

“Oh, I don’t… do that,” you scratch the back of your head, knowing all too well that you’d get a third degree ass beating if your mom knew. “Smoke, I mean.”

“Had my first cig at nine, you’ll be fine,” Jimmy says nonchalantly with the cancer-stick hanging from his lips, his gaze pressing you subtly as he glares up at you. “First time for everything.”

He’s too irresistible and you don’t want to seem like a pussy in front of the only cool, older guy to ever pay you attention. 

So you give in. Lord help you.

“O—okay, umm,” you awkwardly take a seat on the pavement next to him, too scared to look him in the eye. “I don’t really know how to.”

“You know how to use a lighter, don’t you?” You wonder how many cigarettes he’s smoked to get his voice this rough. If it gets rougher for every cigarette. 

“Yes…” Your experience goes as far as having only ever used matches to light candles. 

Hands still shaking like crazy, you struggle to light his cigarette. Jimmy scoffs and you shrink.

“There.” 

Once you finally muster up the courage to look at him, it’s clear how unimpressed he is. 

“Saw what I did there? You gotta inhale like this,” Jimmy takes another drag and you feel a cough building up in your chest just by watching. “Try it,” he blows out, hands over the smoke.

“Okay…” Jimmy helps you hold the cigarette like he’s your father and you’re his baby and the dart is a spoon. Well, you weren’t wrong about the coughing. 

“No, no,” for the first time since you met, his upside-down mouth goes upwards and your heart skips a beat. “Gotta do it twice, so you feel it here,” Jimmy presses his palm to your chest, accidentally brushing his fingertips against your breasts in the process. 

“Oh.” You almost moan, thankfully covered up by your coughs.

Jimmy helps you till you get it right, till there’s no cigarette left to be smoked. He doesn’t even put it out, just drops it onto the ground. 

“Better keep this a secret from mommy, huh?” 

Heat of embarrassment spreads across your face like a wildfire of some sort, and you freeze up. It’s like Jimmy can see right through you. 

“Yeah…” you reply quietly, playing with your fingers. 

But maybe you end up having your first kiss that evening, exchanging cigarette-flavoured spit with a stranger whom you met only a couple of hours ago. Maybe you let his hand trail further up your thigh than what was appropriate. 

And maybe you keep coming back for more. 

Hanging out with Jimmy becomes a regular part of your schedule. The secrecy of it is even more of a thrill—feels just like those colourful pills he shows you that make you feel as if you’re on another planet.  

Mommy dearest doesn’t know a thing, and daddy dearest… Well, Jimmy’s pretty much the closest thing you have to a daddy dearest. 

He’s so different and so cool and you feel so ashamed that you let him touch you and kiss you. 

Jimmy’s your new world—he shows you these grassy things that you can roll and smoke like cigarettes and make you all dopey. He shows you this trashy, thrashy music that makes your ears hurt, not just ‘cause it’s that loud but ‘cause it’s that bad. He shows you that fingers can go in holes and places you never knew, that mouths can go where nobody is allowed. 

He shows you fun. You think you’re in love. 

You think you should die.

Jimmy finishes up rolling his joint, exhaling the smoke right in your face once he’s lit it. “You know, you should call me Daddy while we try it.” 

It. The new thing. For you, obviously. The fuck, the sex, the cherry-popping. Jimmy can practically smell your virginity on you. 

“You can—you can… do that?” You question meekly, gaze zeroing in on his blunt, too scared to look him in the eye. Too scared to say a sentence properly around him, really. “I mean, it’s not wrong? It… feels kind of wrong, it’s what you call your dad.”

“Knew a guy who called his girlfriend mom in bed.” And that guy is Jimmy, a couple of months ago actually. Not his proudest moment. But what’s done is done. 

“Eww,” you snort like he’s told a joke. 

After a moment of awkward silence and two guitar solos from the background music, Jimmy puts the dart down, letting the fugly thing sit and burn on a makeshift ashtray in the form of a plate. After 30 years of smoking you’d think he’d be better at getting them to look fucking decent at the very least. 

“So? You’re gonna let me fuck you?” Jimmy asks into your neck, kissing it lazily so there’s less of a chance of you turning him down. 

“I… don’t know, Jimmy.” You say so quietly he has to physically exert himself to hear you. Shouldn’t have. “I mean, we don’t really know each other that well and I—“ 

Way to ruin the mood.

He pulls away from your neck, groaning out of pure annoyance. “Come on, don’t be such a fucking milksop.”

“…What’s a milksop?” You ask, wide-eyed and newborn. 

God, you’re making Jimmy feel old. He has to deliberately simplify words when talking to you, speak in fucking baby phrases ‘cause you’re a baby and the only language you understand is goo-goo goddamn ga-ga. 

“Forget it,” he pinches his nose bridge and tries to not combust, “just let me do it. You didn’t come all the way here just so we could sit and listen to Pantera, did you?”

You look at Jimmy like he is speaking an ancient foreign language. 

Right. He forgot you’re not only incompetent but uncultured as well.

“You don’t even know how old I am, Jimmy, I could be—“ Off you go again with your incessant babbling. Just when are you going to realize that he doesn’t give a fuck? 

“You’re legal, aren’t you?” 

“Well yeah,” your head hangs lowly, the skin on your arms suddenly looking a lot more interesting so you start picking on it. “I am but, Jimmy, it’s like you don’t even care.”

Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy, in every fucking sentence. You want him so bad—you’re just too pussy to say it out loud, which is literally what he was trying to tell you. He’ll just simply have to show you.

Jimmy is overdue for some good ‘ol cherry-popping after all. 

Resuming his biting on your neck, he says things the way they are to hear you gasp. “That’s ‘cause I don’t.”

“That sounds naughty…” 

He almost bursts out laughing, keep talking like that and you’ll end up in a porno in no time. 

“You’ll let me do it,” Jimmy bares your tits, pulling your dress down, “won’t you, baby?” ‘Cause a pet name or two is all it takes to get you to melt. 

You’re pushed down onto the bed before you can even reply. Left in only your underwear before you can even blink. 

“Okay, Jimmy…” you say timidly. 

“Remember what I told you?” His fingers trail down your tummy till he finds your panties, the print and ribbon something you’re much too old to be wearing. 

“Daddy,” your voice gets stuck in your throat when he palms your clothed mound. “Yes, daddy,” you correct shakily.

And Jimmy’s fingers slide underneath the fabric, struggling to fit two in your pussy. You’re squeezing him so tight he thinks they might fall off and get stuck inside you. 

He doesn’t let you cum.

That’s an activity that takes place on Jimmy’s dick and nowhere else. 

Once your panties are off and you’re naked like the day you were born in front of him—dripping onto the sheets, Jimmy lazily pulls his cock out and you stare like it’s your first time ever seeing one.

“Like what you see?” It’s a rhetorical question, there’s a 95% chance that you’re judging him. Shit looks more like a wild animal than a dick if Jimmy’s being entirely honest. 

“Is it going to fit?” You’re blinking up at him with those awfully glossy eyes of yours. “Daddy,” you add a minute too late. 

“Don’t know,” Jimmy tells you honestly. 

He prods at your entrance, trying to find the right angle that will slide him right in after a nice little struggle. Your expression contorts every way, resembling a crumpled napkin more than your actual face. 

“Ouch, Jim—I mean, daddy,” your eyes and mouth are wide open, looking like Jimmy’s impaling you with a knife and not his dick. “It hurts.”

Dramatic much?

“It’s supposed to hurt,” he keeps pushing in, managing to get a quarter of his tip inside. “Nobody ever tell you that?”

“No…” you heave out, gripping onto his arms for dear life as he very choppily forces himself into your hole. 

Jimmy coos at you unenthusiastically, “poor little girl.”

(You are, probably never heard of sex till Jimmy mentioned it.)

He doesn’t let you get adjusted—immediately starting to fuck you harder, faster, rougher than one should a virgin. Jimmy’s popping your cherry, alright. Can even spot a thin red layer coating his dick already. 

“Ow, ow, ow,” you whimper under your breath with every thrust into your cunt. Kind of hilarious. 

“You like it.” It’s a statement, not a question. 

“I… like it,” you repeat with the most pained look on your face, tears pricking at your lash lines. 

Jimmy makes sure you feel all of his cock, drilling deep enough to feel your fleshy cervix ‘cause he’d like to hear you scream. 

“Daddy,” you kick your legs, pussy struggling to keep Jimmy’s dick inside you. “Oh, daddy.” Not quite a scream. 

“Yeah,” his eyes are glued to your stretched entrance, growing impossibly harder at the sight of your ruined pussy—ruined innocence. “Gonna make daddy cum already.”

“Not inside…”

Oh and now you’ve suddenly taken sex-ed classes? 

Jimmy keeps slamming his hips into yours, the sound of skin slapping echoing throughout the room, he can hear you loud and clear over it. Purposely letting his groans loose so you really get the hint. 

“Not inside, Jimmy, pleasepleaseplease not inside!” You claw anywhere and everywhere you can reach, trying to get him off. Didn’t he explicitly tell you to call him daddy?

“Huh?” His hips stutter against yours, movements turning sloppy as his balls tighten—readier than ever. “Can’t hear you, sweetheart.” 

Just a moment later, Jimmy cums inside, shoots like a fucking pistol—bullets in the form of sperm straight into your womb.

You start sobbing.

Jimmy’s never been good at comforting so he rubs your clit in consolation. 

“Better cum on daddy’s cock soon,” it’s like he’s speaking to a fucking brick wall. A crying, teenage-girl-shaped brick wall. “Getting pretty sensitive over here.” 

Can’t exactly tell with your hands over your face but Jimmy thinks you cum, ‘cause you squeal and push his dick out. 

Well, could’ve gone worse. 

“I don’t wanna get pregnant,” you whisper between sniffles after receiving the thickest creampie Jimmy has ever given anybody. Uh huh. 

He pulls out with a sloppy pop! and watches his cum mixed with your blood drip out of your gaping cunt, soaking through he’s sheets that he’s most definitely not going to clean. 

Jimmy’s been smoking and drinking since before he fucking grew balls, do you seriously believe that his sperm’s going to knock you up? If Jimmy became a sperm donor, the only thing he’d be giving out is strains of herpes—not babies. To put things into perspective. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout it.” He tucks his softening dick back into his pants, “a plan-B should do the trick.”

“Okay…” you’re crawled up like a frightened mouse—a naked frightened mouse, all sorts of questionable fluids leaking out of all your holes. “Okay, Jimmy.”

At least you seem to know what a plan-B is. Jimmy half-expected you to go but Jimmy I didn’t have a plan-B! I didn’t even want to sleep with you in the first place! in that whiny voice you do that makes him want to light himself on fire. 

And for safety’s sake—partly out of spite, “I heard they sell some at the store. Could get it for cheap.”

“You’re not gonna buy it for me?” You’re shaking like you have fucking hypothermia. 

He shrugs. Only time not being allowed in stores has ever been of a convenience to Jimmy. 

Once you’re dressed he ushers you out of his apartment that he hasn’t paid rent for in a couple of months. 

“Bye.” Jimmy says slackly, pushing you out of the threshold to his place. 

“But—“ you start frantically, confusion written all over your features.

He shuts the door in your face. Locks it, twice. 

Through the peephole of his door, Jimmy can see how you’re limping like a lamb born yesterday on the way out. He bets your mommy ain’t gonna be too happy about that. 

You’re so sick and tired of Jimmy treating you like shit. How is he allowed to do that and get away with it? Every single time. 

He’s a sad sack of pure sleaze and you can’t believe you let him take your virginity all those months ago. 

You sneak into his place unnoticed because he’s such a sad sack of pure sleaze that he hasn’t even locked his door. He’s asking for it. 

From the hallway you can see that his glass is empty. Jimmy’s rolling one of those grassy things again, watching the TV and listening to his shitty music. You haven’t even seen Jimmy’s face yet but you know that he looks thirty years older every time you do. 

Disgusting.

You’ll sleep with him one last time. 

You trail into the kitchen with the stealth of an elephant, knocking over a lone empty beer can on the floor in the process, yet Jimmy doesn’t seem to notice. 

Rummaging through his cabinets, you’re reminded of this conversation between Jimmy and his really cute friend with a very unusual name that you can’t remember. Jimmy was telling him about the roofies he keeps in the fourth cabinet while his friend just laughed awkwardly. 

They should do the trick. 

Rohypnol reads the package, half of the pills are missing. Foul. But then again—this is Jimmy you’re talking about. 

You put a singular green oval pill in his drink, watching it dissolve and colour the alcohol a shade weirder. 

Jimmy groans from the living room and you scramble to hide underneath his table like a scared little kid. Your freak of a not-boyfriend - ‘cause he never did ask you out - actually drinks the shit in one gulp. 

After a moment he stumbles into his bedroom and you think he passes out ‘cause you hear obnoxiously loud snores echoing throughout the entire apartment. 

Guess this is your time to shine. And… fuck. 

Fuck, that word is so unnatural—so vulgar. And Jimmy uses it so casually. 

To embarrass him the way he’s embarrassed you countless times, you undress the entirety of Jimmy’s body apart from his feet—never his feet. 

You decide that restraining Jimmy might be for the better ‘cause he’s like a wild fucking rabid animal when he’s drunk. Actually, you don’t know if he is drunk but all for safety’s sake, right? 

You’re trying to make this as un-personal as it can be but Jesus he is hot. You just have to feel him up one last time. How there’s not one area that’s not covered in at least some hair, cute brown and puffy nipples, and his dick. 

The one that sits there sadly and all alone, giving you puppy eyes. 

Maybe it’s a miracle that Jimmy is soft so you can play with it for just a little. Maybe it’s a shame that Jimmy’s not awake to grab your hair and force you down all the way till you’re gagging and choking around him. 

Once he’s hard you slide off your panties and bare one of your tits ‘cause you’re feeling kind of bad for Jimmy against your will. How he’s the only one naked. 

Sliding down on his cock, it feels just like the first time—stings like hell. But this is your revenge after all so you suck it up. Bounce up and down until your slickness can’t keep quiet and is coating his length. 

It actually feels good when you’re the one in control for once. When you have time to adjust, to feel it inside you in a way that feels more like sex than getting stabbed repeatedly. 

Jimmy’s eyes do that weird back and forth thing that looks a little demonic—his body twitches like you’re an exorcist and not a technical rapist. He’s fighting against literal sedatives, it’s kind of funny. 

You keep riding him. 

All Jimmy remembers is thinking that he’s gonna get another drink and get back to his nice fucking joint before he very oddly lost consciousness. Shit was a real scare, thought he died and went straight to hell for a second. 

No—the real scare is that he’s awoken by a weight in his lap, a death grip around his dick like somebody’s trying to rip it off, and most importantly, you. 

You’re the weight in his lap, the death grip around his dick because of course you fucking are. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Jimmy asks very rightfully angry. Let a man smoke for fuck’s sake. 

Moving your hips back and forth like it’s your first time horseback riding, you counter with a half-aborted,  “shut—shut up, Jimmy…” 

Yeah, that’s real convincing. You can’t even get the words out without stuttering. Probably the first time you’ve ever told somebody to shut up in your life.

“No.” Jimmy is a man and men do not take orders from women let alone little girls. 

You slow your pace and Jimmy is about to push you off when he notices that he fucking can’t because he’s tied up like he’s in a torture chamber. 

Creativity must not be your strong suit seeing as you’ve used three of his belts and a pink sparkly jumping rope for his left foot. 

“Fuck,” he thrashes in your makeshift bondage fantasy come to life, “get off me, bitch.”

“No.” You tell him and force your polka-dot fucking panties in his mouth. 

They taste good so who’s really losing here? 

“I’ll kill you,” Jimmy tries to say with your underwear down his throat. It comes out inaudible and muffled and you fucking laugh. 

“Mmm, yes, kill me, Jimmy.” You run a cold finger down his chest, put on this sexy voice. “That’s so hot.”

He can’t tell if you’re joking or if you’re just being fucked up like always. 

“I’m serious,” it’s like he’s fucking chewing the fabric. 

“You’re sexist? That sounds right.”

Jimmy fucking gives up, flopping down all boneless onto the mattress and glaring at the ceiling ‘cause he can’t stand your face. “Oh my God.”

Contrary to what Jimmy’s saying and doing, he actually quite enjoys it. Well, he would have, were you a fraction of a better rider. This is exactly why you don’t let virgins stick around. Either way, he wants you to stop because you’re fucking embarrassing him—he’s stuck underneath you like a damn sissy. And you can’t even get him let alone yourself off. Should just fucking give up and let Jimmy take care of the raping. 

He’s been there, done that. 

He endures your clear first attempt at roofying for about five minutes until you force yourself to cum. You’re obviously faking it for whatever reason, squeezing out ooh’s and ah-ah-ah’s like a pornstar. 

“Fucking ugly slutbag,” Jimmy decides to add as his dick kicks inside you, a couple of more bounces away from filling you up the way he knows you like it. 

“Whatever you say, Jimmy.”

And your bitch-ass just gets up and leaves. Jimmy is stuck in your makeshift restraints, panties in his mouth and butt fucking naked. Ruined orgasm at that. Fucking cunt. 

He’s going to burn your goddamn house down. 

[rose24207]

Heyyy, i’ve got an idea for a Lando x reader fic!

Basically Lando and the reader have been friends their whole life since their parents are good friends and they go on vacations together all that shit. And the reader has had a crush on Lando for some time now and what she doesn’t know is that Lando likes her too and one night they’re celebrating midsummers (or whatever) and he tells her he likes her and they kiss and talk all night and cuddle and stuff like that, but the next day Lando is ignoring the reader and pretends like nothing happened and goes on to ignore her for like a good year or two until one night they talk and he says he’s sorry for all that and they have their happy ending. Super angsty and sad but fluff at the end!

Don’t feel obligated to write this if you don’t want to, it’s just something i came up with and could never write myself (i can’t write to save my life) but i really like your fics and thought you could!

I‘ve missed this

Summary: Lando confesses his love on midsummer night but pushes you away for years before finally apologizing and winning you back.

Genre: angst, fluff

Lando x f!reader

TW: None!

A/N: DW girl I got your back!! again sorry that you had to wait! School is kicking my ass and I’m about to crash out because of my driver license (that shit is expensive af) English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist pt. 2

The golden glow of the midsummer sun bathed the lawn in a warm, ethereal light. Strings of fairy lights crisscrossed overhead, and laughter filled the air as family and friends celebrated another year of togetherness.

You sat at the edge of the garden, the sound of the waves from the nearby lake mingling with the music. Your eyes scanned the crowd until they landed on him—Lando Norris.

He stood by the fire pit, laughing with a group of friends, the amber glow highlighting his cheekbones and the soft curls that framed his face. You’d known him your entire life, thanks to your parents’ friendship. Vacations, holidays, birthdays—he’d always been there, your constant companion.

And somewhere along the way, you’d fallen for him.

It wasn’t just his boyish charm or his crooked smile that made your heart race. It was the way he made you laugh when you wanted to cry, the way he always seemed to know what you needed without you having to say it.

But he didn’t know how you felt. And you weren’t sure he ever would.

“Why are you sitting here alone?”

His voice startled you, and you turned to see him standing there, hands shoved in his pockets. He tilted his head, a playful grin tugging at his lips.

“Just… thinking,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Thinking, huh?” He dropped down onto the grass beside you, his knee brushing yours. “Care to share?”

You hesitated, glancing down at your hands. “It’s nothing important.”

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Come on, you can tell me anything.”

You looked up at him, your heart skipping a beat at the way his eyes sparkled in the fading light.

“Alright,” you said, forcing a smile. “I was just thinking about how much has changed since we were kids.”

His expression softened, and he nodded. “Yeah. Feels like yesterday we were building sandcastles and arguing over who got the last popsicle.”

You laughed, the memory warming your chest. “You always took it, by the way.”

“Only because you let me,” he teased, nudging you gently.

Silence settled between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. The sounds of the celebration faded into the background as you both stared at the lake, its surface shimmering like molten gold.

“I’ve missed this,” he said suddenly, his voice quiet.

“Missed what?”

“Us.” He turned to you, his eyes searching yours. “It feels like we’ve both been so busy with life lately. I hate that we don’t get to spend as much time together anymore.”

Your chest tightened, his words hitting a tender spot in your heart. “Me too.”

He reached out, his hand brushing yours. The simple touch sent a jolt of electricity through you, and you had to fight to keep your composure.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your breath hitched, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. “What is it?”

He hesitated, his gaze dropping to your intertwined hands. “I’ve been trying to find the right moment to say this, but… I like you, Y/N. More than a friend should.”

The world seemed to stand still, his words hanging in the air.

“You… what?” you managed to say, your voice shaking.

He smiled nervously, his fingers tightening around yours. “I like you. I have for a while now. I just—”

You didn’t let him finish. Before you could overthink it, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his.

For a moment, he froze, and you thought you’d made a terrible mistake. But then his hands cupped your face, pulling you closer as he kissed you back with a fervor that made your head spin.

When you finally pulled away, both of you breathless, he rested his forehead against yours.

“Wow,” he murmured, a soft laugh escaping him.

You smiled, your cheeks burning. “Wow.”

That night, the two of you talked for hours, sharing secrets and dreams you’d never spoken aloud. When the celebration wound down, you ended up curled in his arms under the stars, your heart feeling fuller than it had in years.

The next morning, you woke up with a smile, memories of the night replaying in your mind. You couldn’t wait to see Lando, to talk about what this meant for you both.

But when you went to find him, he was distant.

At breakfast, he barely met your gaze. Throughout the day, he kept conversations short, avoiding any moment that might leave you alone together.

By the end of the week, he was gone, leaving you with a hollow ache in your chest.

The weeks turned into months, and the months stretched into years. Lando’s career in Formula 1 took off, and you watched from afar as he became a household name.

He texted occasionally, but it was never personal. Just polite pleasantries, as if you were mere acquaintances. The memory of that midsummer night haunted you, the unanswered questions gnawing at your heart.

Why had he pulled away?

It wasn’t until two years later, during another midsummer celebration, that you saw him again.

He was standing by the same fire pit, his posture tense as he stared into the flames. Your heart ached at the sight of him, the familiar longing resurfacing like a wave crashing over you.

Before you could stop yourself, you approached him.

“Lando.”

He turned, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of you. “Y/N.”

The sound of your name on his lips sent a shiver down your spine.

“Can we talk?” you asked, your voice steadier than you felt.

He hesitated but then nodded, leading you away from the crowd to a quieter spot by the lake.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The tension between you was palpable, years of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your throat tightened, and you looked away. “Why, Lando? Why did you pull away? After everything that happened… I thought—”

“I was scared,” he admitted, cutting you off. “That night… it meant everything to me. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized how much I had to lose if I screwed things up between us. You’re my best friend, Y/N. I couldn’t risk losing you.”

Tears welled in your eyes, his words both a balm and a dagger to your heart. “So you thought ignoring me for two years was the better option?”

“I thought it would be easier for both of us if I put distance between us,” he said, his voice thick with regret. “But I was wrong. God, I was so wrong.”

You wiped at your eyes, the weight of his apology sinking in. “Lando… do you have any idea how much that hurt me? How much I missed you?”

He stepped closer, his hands trembling as he reached for yours. “I missed you too. Every single day. And I hated myself for what I did. But I was stupid and scared, and I didn’t know how to fix it.”

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice. Despite everything, you still loved him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his forehead resting against yours. “I’m so, so sorry.”

You closed your eyes, your tears mingling with his. “You really hurt me, Lando.”

“I know,” he said, his voice breaking. “But I swear, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you’ll let me.”

For a moment, you hesitated. But then you thought of the boy who’d been your rock for so many years, the boy who’d held your hand when you were scared and made you laugh when you wanted to cry.

“I missed you,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as if afraid you might disappear. “I missed you too.”

That night, as you sat by the lake with his arms around you, the pain of the past began to fade.

For the first time in years, you felt whole again.

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @ipushhimback, @ladyoflynx, @lewishamiltonismybf, @cmleitora, @hmma3 , @same1995, @amatswimming, @llando4norris

[thef1diary]

I hear you want some domestic dirtbag!danny and boy do i have the idea for you! Im thinking morning after a hookup that’s FILLED with loads of degrading of course but you expected him to be gone in the morning so when you see him in the kitchen making breakfast, it’s confusing to say the least. But like you said, it’s still dirtbag!danny so he’ll definitely have an “excuse” as to why he’s still there

The Morning After | Dirtbag!Danny

— helloo nonnie! I absolutely loved this idea! This is the first time he’s actually stayed til the morning (he can’t believe he missed out on morning sex all this time!) it might’ve started off domestic but it’s dirtbag!daniel, ofc that’s not how it stays especially when he finally sees what you look like the morning after hot n filthy sex. Here’s a blurb turned into fic for you cuz I couldn’t stop writing this 🤭

warnings: 18+ content, oral (fem receiving), reader’s a tease in this, usual dirtbag!danny shenanigans

want more dirtbag!danny? send me an ask with your latest thoughts and click here for the rest of my blurbs/fics

For a moment you think you’re still dreaming. The sheets are tangled around your legs, sticking to your skin, damp with the remnants of a night that left you wrecked in the best way possible. You shift slightly, your body aching, and the soreness between your thighs is a vivid, throbbing reminder of everything Daniel did to you.

Your cunt is tender, every movement a whisper of last night’s bruising pace—how he fucked you hard enough to make you forget your own name, each thrust deliberate, rough, like he was determined to ruin you. And he had. Completely.

Your ass stings faintly, the heat from his palm still imprinted on your skin where he slapped you over and over again, each sharp crack followed by the low, gravelly praise that had you arching into him despite the sting.

“Good girl,” he’d murmured, his breath hot against your ear. “Look how perfect you take it. Fuck, you love it, don’t you?”

You had. You still do.

The bruises on your thighs ache in a way that makes you press them together, a futile attempt to dull the sensation. His mouth had been relentless, lips and teeth marking you, sucking hard enough to leave you trembling beneath him.

You shudder at the memory, heat pooling low in your stomach as you trace a hand over the faint outline of his bites, each one a claim he didn’t bother to hide.

A noise pulls you from the haze of your thoughts—a small clatter from beyond the bedroom door. For a moment, you freeze, heart skipping a beat. You expected to wake up alone. Hell, you were certain he’d be gone by now, leaving nothing behind but the ache in your body and the marks on your skin.

But he’s still here.

You sit up slowly, the sheets slipping from your bare body, pooling around your waist. Your eyes scan the floor, searching for something to cover yourself with. Your clothes are nowhere to be found, scattered somewhere in the frenzy of last night. Instead, your gaze lands on his shirt, crumpled in a heap near the bed.

With a quiet sigh, you reach for it, pulling the fabric over your head. It smells like him—faintly musky with a hint of sweat and the lingering scent of his cologne. The hem barely skims the curve of your ass but you don’t bother with anything else.

Padding softly across the room, you open the door and step into the hallway. The noise grows louder—a faint clinking of dishes, the low hum of the fridge. You follow the sounds, heart thudding in your chest, unsure of what to expect.

When you reach the kitchen, you stop in the doorway, your breath catching in your throat.

There he is.

Daniel stands with his back to you, only wearing his sweatpants from last night, the broad expanse of his shoulders bathed in the soft morning light streaming through the window. His skin is marked, faint red lines from where your nails had dug into him last night. His curls are tousled, a wild mess that only makes him look better, more effortlessly attractive.

You watch as he moves around the kitchen with an ease that feels almost too familiar—like he’s done this before, like he belongs here. He’s focused on whatever he’s doing, completely unaware of your presence, and for a moment, you just stand there, taking him in.

The muscles in his back shift as he reaches for something on the counter, and you bite your lip, a fresh wave of heat curling low in your stomach. He’s gorgeous, every inch of him, and the sight of him standing there, so domestic and yet so effortlessly him, makes your pulse quicken.

Finally, you step forward, the floor creaking softly beneath your feet. He hears it, glances over his shoulder, and the corner of his mouth lifts into a lazy, knowing smirk.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he drawls, his voice rough from sleep. His eyes flick down to the shirt you’re wearing—his shirt—and the smirk deepens. “Looks good on you.”

You cross your arms over your chest, the fabric of the shirt shifting with the movement. “I thought you’d be gone by now.”

He shrugs, turning back to the stove where something sizzles in a pan. “Thought about it,” he admits. “But then I got hungry. And, well”—he glances over his shoulder again, that infuriating smirk still in place—“had to do something about it.”

You arch a brow, leaning against the doorframe. “So you’re making breakfast?”

“Relax, darling,” he says with a chuckle, shaking his head. “I’m not moving in. Just figured you might want something decent to eat after last night.” His eyes darken slightly, the smirk fading into something softer, something almost intimate. “You earned it.”

The heat in your cheeks intensifies, and you’re not sure if it’s from the way he’s looking at you or the memory of exactly how you earned it. You shift on your feet, the soreness between your thighs a constant reminder.

“Thanks,” you murmur, your voice softer now, unsure how to navigate this unexpected domestic moment with someone like him—someone who usually leaves before the sun comes up, someone who doesn’t stay.

“Need any help?” You ask after a moment, trying to keep your voice light and casual.

He glances over his shoulder again, that smirk tugging at his lips. “Help?” He scoffs, turning back to the pan. “Nah. Sit your pretty ass down. After last night, I’m sure it’s sore enough without you trying to play chef.”

Your breath catches at his words, the heat rising to your cheeks again. He’s not wrong—you are sore. The ache between your thighs and the lingering sting on your skin are proof enough of that. You nod, biting the inside of your cheek to stop the smile threatening to spread across your face as you thought of something.

“Alright,” you murmur, walking toward the fridge. “But don’t say I didn’t offer.”

You pull open the fridge door, the cool air brushing against your bare legs as you pretend to search for something on the bottom shelf. Slowly, deliberately, you bend down, your movements unhurried, knowing full well that the shirt barely covers you. You feel the hem ride up, exposing the curve of your ass—still marked with the faint red handprints he left there hours ago.

You stay there for a moment, reaching for nothing in particular, giving him a full view. The kitchen falls silent, the soft sizzle from the stove the only sound until you hear him mutter your name under his breath—a low, gravelly sound that sends a shiver down your spine.

You glance back over your shoulder, feigning innocence, your lips curving into a playful smirk. “Oops,” you say softly, the word dripping with mischief. You straighten up slowly, letting the shirt fall back into place, but not before adding, “I’m so sore, Danny.”

His eyes are darker now, locked on you, the easy smirk on his face gone, replaced by something else—something hungry. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and you can see the way his fingers grip the handle of the pan just a little tighter.

He lifts his free hand, curling two fingers in a slow, deliberate motion—a silent summons that makes your breath hitch. You don’t hesitate. You move toward him until you’re close enough to feel the heat radiating from him and the stove.

“You’re a fucking tease,” he mutters, his voice low and rough. He turns back to the pan, but his movements are less composed now, less sure. “Sit your ass down before I make it even sorer.”

A soft chuckle escapes you, pleased with the effect you have on him, and instead of taking a seat at the table, you hop onto the countertop beside him, the cool surface a sharp contrast to your warm skin. Your thigh brushes against his arm as you settle in, your eyes fixed on him with a teasing glint.

“I’m just following orders,” you say sweetly, resting your chin in your hand as if you have no idea what you’re doing to him. “Besides, you said you were making breakfast. I’m curious to see if you can actually cook.”

Daniel glances at you again, amusement flickering behind the hunger in his eyes. His lips curl into a smirk that’s equal parts cocky and dangerous. “Oh, I can cook,” he says smoothly. “But if you keep pulling tricks like that…” His eyes drag over you, slow and deliberate, “…we might never make it to breakfast.”

You shift slightly on the counter, spreading your thighs naturally which causes the shirt to ride up higher, exposing more of your bare skin. His shirt on you barely covers anything now, and when the fabric slides up further, the faint bruises and marks from his mouth are on full display.

His gaze locks onto them, those red and purple imprints, a reminder of the way he claimed you last night. His breath catches, and when his eyes trail higher his gaze lands on your cunt, the muscle in his jaw tightens. His hand, the one holding the spatula, flexes, knuckles going white for a moment before he sets the utensil down with more force than necessary.

A low groan escapes him, deep and guttural, his eyes burning with something primal. “Fuck…” he mutters, voice thick with desire. He swallows hard, dragging a hand through his tousled hair, his focus slipping entirely from the stove to you. “You’re really testing my patience, sweetheart.”

You tilt your head, feigning innocence, the corner of your mouth lifting into a smirk. “Am I?” you ask softly, letting your knees fall open a little more. “I didn’t mean to. I was just getting comfortable.”

Daniel’s eyes darken as he takes one last look at the pan, then makes a decision. He turns off the stove with a flick of his wrist, the sizzle dying down immediately. His gaze shifts around the kitchen, scanning briefly before landing on a bowl of fruit on the counter. His hand reaches for a banana, and the smirk on his face deepens as he steps between your legs, the heat of him pressing into you.

“Here,” he says, handing it to you, his voice low, rough with hunger—but not for food. His body slots perfectly between your thighs, his hands resting on either side of you, trapping you in place. “Eat it.”

You blink, confused for a second, until his smirk twists into something darker, more dangerous. His eyes flick down to the space between your legs and then back up to meet yours, his meaning crystal clear.

“Because my breakfast,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear, his breath hot against your skin, “is right here, spreading her legs like a slut, and I’m fucking starving.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you look at him, heat pooling low in your belly. The way he’s watching you, like he’s already devouring you with his eyes, sends a thrill through you. Still, you peel the banana slowly, the tension thick in the air as you bring it to your lips.

Daniel’s gaze never leaves you. His eyes follow every movement, watching intently as you take a bite, your lips wrapping around the fruit. You don’t mean to make it seductive—it just happens, the way your mouth lingers on it, the way your tongue flicks against the edge. His jaw tightens, and he swallows hard, a low groan rumbling from deep in his chest.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, his hand twitching against the counter like he’s holding himself back by sheer force of will. “You really don’t know what you’re doing, do you?”

You glance at him through your lashes, feigning innocence as you finish the banana. “Just eating,” you say softly, your voice teasing. “Isn’t that what you wanted, sir?”

“Careful,” he warns, taking a step closer, his hands braced on either side of you, trapping you against the counter. The heat of him is palpable, his presence overwhelming. “Keep playing, and I’ll forget about being nice.” His eyes flash with something darker, more dangerous. “Is that what you want?”

You lean back slightly, feigning nonchalance, but your pulse quickens under his intense gaze. “I’m just being good,” you reply, your voice a breathy whisper. “Doing what you asked.”

Daniel chuckles, a dark, throaty sound that sends a shiver down your spine. His hand slides up your thigh, fingers tracing over the faint bruises he left last night, each touch igniting a spark of heat. “Good, huh?” His lips brush against your ear, his breath warm and intoxicating. “I’ll decide if you’re good or not.”

He leans in, his mouth capturing yours in a kiss that’s anything but gentle. It’s possessive, hungry, his teeth grazing your bottom lip before his tongue slips past, claiming you all over again. The kiss leaves you breathless, your hands clutching at his shoulders as he pulls away just enough to look at you.

“Let’s see how much of a good girl you can be f’me,” he murmurs, voice thick with lust, before dropping to his knees in front of you.

Your heart skips a beat as you watch him settle between your legs, his hands sliding up your thighs, spreading them wide. His touch is firm, possessive, fingers brushing over the bruises he left last night. He pauses for a moment, admiring his handiwork, before lowering his head and pressing kisses to some of the marks—soft, almost reverent touch that contrasts sharply with the roughness in his voice.

“Look at these,” he murmurs against your skin, his lips trailing along the inside of your thigh. “Fucking gorgeous. You wear my marks so well, sweetheart. Like you were made for it.”

You shiver under his touch, every nerve ending sparking to life as his mouth inches closer to your pussy. His breath is hot against your skin, and then—finally—his tongue flicks out, a teasing, feather-light touch against your clit.

“Fuck,” you gasp, your hands gripping the edge of the counter as he licks a slow, deliberate line up your cunt. He takes his time, savoring every inch of you, his tongue circling, teasing, until you’re trembling beneath him.

He groans against you, the sound vibrating through your core. “So fucking sweet,” he mutters, his voice muffled by your thighs. “Could live between these legs and never get tired of it.”

His hands tighten on your thighs, holding you open as his mouth works you over, kissing, licking, sucking with a relentless precision that has you writhing, your body arching off the counter. He alternates between soft, teasing flicks of his tongue and deep, hungry sucks that have your legs trembling.

“God, you’re a mess already,” he says, pulling back for a moment to look at you, his lips glistening with your slick. His eyes are dark, filled with something feral, something utterly unrestrained. “You’re dripping all over the counter. Fucking filthy, baby.”

His words make you whimper, the heat in your belly coiling tighter. He chuckles darkly, the sound sending another jolt of arousal through you.

“You like that, don’t you?” he taunts, his fingers brushing against your entrance before sliding inside, curling just right. “Being my dirty little girl. Letting me fuck you with my mouth until you can’t even think straight.”

You can’t answer—your brain is a haze of pleasure, every coherent thought drowned out by the way he’s touching you, the way his tongue flicks over your clit again and again, driving you closer to the edge.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Daniel coaxes, his voice a low, seductive growl. “Let go. I want to feel you come on my tongue. Want to taste every fucking drop.”

Daniel’s fingers curl inside you with ruthless precision, each stroke hitting that perfect spot, his mouth relentless on your clit. The tension in your body coils tighter, each flick of his tongue, each deliberate curl of his fingers driving you closer and closer to the edge until you’re trembling, breathless, teetering on the brink.

“You’re so close, aren’t you?” he murmurs against you, the vibrations of his voice sending a shudder through your body. “Go on, baby. Let me feel it.”

A desperate whimper escapes your lips, and you can’t hold back any longer. Your body arches off the counter, thighs shaking as the orgasm crashes over you, a wave of blinding heat and ecstasy. He groans against you, savoring every moment as your walls clench around his fingers, as your body melts into his touch.

“That’s it,” he groans, voice rough and reverent. He doesn’t stop until you’re trembling, overstimulated and gasping for breath. Only then does he pull back, pressing one last lingering kiss to your clit, making you jolt from the sensitivity.

Daniel stands, his hands firm and possessive as they slide under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly off the counter. Your legs wrap around his waist instinctively, your body still trembling in the aftermath. His eyes are dark, hooded with desire as he looks at you, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“How many more times do you think you can cum for me?” he wonders aloud, his voice low and wicked, as if it’s a genuine challenge.

You let out a soft, breathless whine, your head resting against his shoulder. “I’m gonna be so sore,” you murmur, half-pleading, half-expecting him to take mercy on you.

His smirk widens, and he leans in, capturing your lips in a deep, searing kiss that steals the protest from your mouth. His tongue slides against yours, tasting, claiming, leaving you breathless all over again. When he pulls back, his thumb brushes over your cheek, his gaze softening just a fraction.

“I’ll run you a bath after,” he promises, voice still thick with desire. “Maybe I’ll join you too. Take care of you… or make you even sorer.” The wicked glint in his eyes tells you exactly what he means, and it sends another pulse of heat through your already spent body.

Before you can respond, Daniel’s lips find yours again, his kiss full of promise—one that says this is far from over.

taglist: @llando4norris @monsieurbacteria6 @namgification @lilymurphy03 @sargeantdumbass @racingheartsposts @d3kstar @thedecalcomania-blog @casperlikej @khaylin27 @mlioravanfleet @mehrmonga @wobblymug @bokutos-babyowl @evasmlp @mycenterfold @uhhvictoria @kaorisakamotofan @alice-went-away @nikfigueiredo @wonnou @jointhehunt67 @gxuh @67-angelofthelordme-67 @kigieri @lilorose25 @freyathehuntress

[writeaboutit]

Damn the Chief

Firefighter Abby leaves for the weekend

Hii y'all so this is another part of my firefighter Abby x Reader fic. This was what I was originally going to write as the last fic but then it turned into their meet-cute story so here is this one I hope y'all like it <3

Warnings: none, just fluff

Word Count: 1.7k

Part 1: Donation Boot

Part 3: Silly Abby Candy's for Kids

The wicker basket at your feet was full of colorful vegetables: Bell peppers, carrots, onion, lettuce leaves. You would make a salad tonight you decided.

This was the first time your garden had produced enough to make a full meal. You started it last year so it’s not surprising but you were so excited that it was actually producing now. 

You dusted the dirt off of your knees and picked up the basket hurrying around the side of the house to the open roll-top garage door. 

Inside the cavernous space, Abby was there. She was sitting on her weight-lifting bench covered in sweat and breathing heavily. 

You opened your mouth to tell her the good news about the garden, but she began speaking first. Not to you, however, no she was speaking on the phone through her AirPods you realized.

Not wanting to interrupt you took a seat on the swivel stool sitting underneath the wooden workbench Abby had built along the far side of the garage wall a year ago. A ball of fluff wagging from under the bench Abby was seated on caught your eye; Alice. 

She watched your movements and came to greet you when you patted your hand on your thigh, quietly calling the dog over to distract you while your wife finished her phone call. 

“Mhm, yeah… alright” Abby muttered into the air, her phone still in her pocket. You scratched behind Alice’s ears, the dog nuzzled into your grasp further. 

Movement to your right caught your attention and you dragged your eyes away from Alice and towards your wife who had clearly finished her phone call and now was hunched over with her elbows resting on her knees. 

Something was wrong. 

“What’s wrong?” your heart picked up speed, beating faster. 

“You two look cute.” Abby nudged her head in yours and the dog's direction. 

“Thanks. What’s wrong?” Your tone was one of no bullshit. 

Abby let out a heavy sigh, hesitating to tell you whatever news she had just gotten on the phone. 

“Abby please,” You made your way over to her and crouched down to bring you two to eye level, “You’re scaring me.” 

She looked up at you then and brushed a loose piece of hair out of your face, “I’m sorry baby, I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just…” her face contorted in the way it usually did when she was nervous to tell you something. 

“Chief just called and said I’m on the schedule to stay at the firehouse for the weekend.” 

Your heart sank right on down to your ass. You hated it when he called with that news. He was a good guy, you knew this, very much warm grandpa energy but god damn it seemed like every time he called he was telling your wife that she had to spend the weekend away from the house; from you. 

Yes, she was doing a good thing, being a hero and all that but you wanted your wife home. It seems like just last month she had to stay there for three nights in a row. You hated being in the house all alone. It was too quiet, and the bed was too cold. 

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, “Okay, do you leave tonight or tomorrow?” Your voice wobbled despite your best efforts. 

Abby’s brows scrunched in what looked like pain, “Tonight, I’m so sorry baby.” She rubbed her hands along the sides of your thighs. It was supposed to be comforting but it just made the realization that you would be spending your weekend alone all that much worse. 

You stood abruptly, “It’s okay, do you have time for dinner still?” You couldn’t look at her or you would start crying so you set to grabbing your basket and heading towards the door that led to the inside of the house. 

“Yeah I don’t have to be there until 9,” She said in a soft voice, like she didn’t know what to do. Usually, she had more time to butter you up and then drop the news; this was very abrupt. 

“Okay perfect, I’m making a salad.” With that, the door shut rather loudly behind you. You weren’t mad at Abby, you were upset at the circumstance. It wasn’t her fault she had to go in, you knew that, and that is precisely why you didn’t want her to see the tears that were now falling down your cheeks as you washed the vegetables in the sink. 

You were busy trying to calm your thoughts and tears, so busy that you didn’t hear Abby enter the house and slide up behind you. 

Her arms suddenly slithered around your waist and she rested her chin on your shoulder. 

“Please don’t be upset with me?” she whispered, her voice sounding vulnerable. 

You shut off the water and sighed before turning in her arms, “I’m not mad at you honey. I’m just sad that we don’t get the weekend together.” 

“I know, I’m sorry.” She kissed your forehead. 

“You don’t need to apologize, I’m sorry that I reacted like that.” You assured her, wanting to make it clear that it wasn't her you were mad at. She could get in her head about things involving work. 

She knew that the line of work she was in could be stressful for partners too and she was always trying to put your needs first, which was unnecessary. You knew what you were getting into when you fell in love with her, it was just hard to constantly stay positive about her being away so that she could put her life on the line. 

You both looked at each other for a moment, almost as if you were sinking up after falling out of rhythm with each other for a moment. 

“How about you stay with your parents for the weekend, hm?” For a moment when she offered up the idea it sounded pleasant, you wouldn’t have to be alone. But no you couldn’t put them out like that. It was too short notice. 

“Let me put it this way,” Abby leaned in closer resting her forehead on yours, “I know that you’re thinking you don’t want to inconvenience your parents so I already called your mom and she said she’d love to have you for the weekend.” 

That made your heart jump, Abby always thinking ahead. She knew you too well. 

“Really?” you asked. You should be shocked that she took the initiative but you weren’t she always knew how you were feeling; what you were thinking. 

“Yes, really. So how about we eat dinner and then I’ll drive you and Alice over to their house so you and your mom can have a movie night?” 

You smiled, “Yeah, that sounds good.” It would be like you were in high school again, cuddled on the couch watching a romcom in your childhood home. 

“Okay good,” She smiled down at you, glad she could turn your spirits around. 

You gave a quick kiss to her lips and then swatted her with the towel in your hands, “Well get out of my kitchen so I can chop up the veggies,” 

She caught the towel and dragged you to her, “Yes chef,” she whispered against your lips. 

_____

Abby threw your duffle bag and Alice’s dog bag into the bed of her truck and rounded to the driver's seat. The engine roared to life while Alice lay on the bench seat in the back wagging her tail. 

As Abby drove you softly mumbled the lyrics to the song playing over the radio. It wasn’t a long drive to your parent's house, and sooner than you liked she pulled up in that all too familiar driveway. You were excited to see your mom but this meant you had to say goodbye to the woman you loved. 

Just as she shut off the engine, the front door opened, your mom was standing in the warm glow of the light from the inside of the house. You couldn’t help but giggle at how excited she looked. You needed to come over more often. 

You got out at the same time as Abby. She grabbed the bags while you accepted your mom's bear hug. 

“Hi sweetie,” She squeezed you tight. 

“Hi, mom.” 

“No, I wasn’t talking to you,” Your mom joked as she shoved you aside from the hung and gave a similar one to Abby who still had the bags in her hands. 

Abby laughed. You swear your mom loved her more than she did you. You couldn’t really blame her though, what was not to love about Abby? 

You watched as Abby made her way into the house and chatted with your mom about work and life. 

You remember being so afraid to come out to your parents in high school. You thought they would view you differently, and treat you differently. Well now here you are stood with your wife in their kitchen. Them comfortably talking about the mundane things in life. 

“You want me to put these in your room?” Your wife's question brought you out of your thoughts. 

“Sure. Mom you want to watch a movie?” You asked already heading down the hallway. 

“Sure, I’ll find one while you guys do your thing.” She answered. Doing your thing meaning saying your goodbyes. Suddenly that wave of sadness came crashing back down as Abby opened the door to your childhood room. 

She set the bags down on your bed as Alice lept up and curled into a ball right on top of the pillows. 

“Don’t look at me like that baby,” Abby said pulling you into her chest. 

“I’m sorry,” it was muffled. 

“I’ll call you every night and I’ll be back on Sunday to pick you up.” She rubbed her hands up and down your bicep as she spoke. 

“I know,” You whispered looking up at her finally. 

She placed a kiss on the tip of your nose, “I love you, you know that?”

“I love you too,” You kissed her lips softly, savoring these last few minutes. 

Abby dragged in a deep breath and took a step back, “Come on you’ve got a movie night to attend to.” She turned you in the direction of the door and placed a light tap against your bum. 

You couldn’t help but laugh, leave it to your wife to cut the tension with something sexual. 

Alright, y'all it is past my bedtime when writing this so hopefully, the mistakes aren't too crazy. Anyway, thank you for reading <3 Tags: @grey-jedi12

[rotthepoet]

In love with your writing, specially bsf!theo. I’m in such an angst mood. Everyone knows we’re in love with Theo and he’s in love with us besides the two of us. Longing with fwb to lovers? Maybe some more smut if you’re feeling spicy?

IN LOVE WITH YOU, POOKIE!!! If theres one thing I know how to do its YEARN and LONG so lets hope that translates into writing 🙏 it’s been a hot minute since I wrote an actual fic, and i took a few liberties with your rq, so please let me know how you feel about it!

Notes: i typically write for a gn!reader, but I really hope everyone can forgive me for writing in a FEM perspective today. It just makes writing smut a tad bit easier on me(an afab person)

Content warnings: As always, Hogwarts University AU, Characters are all 18+, Draco Malfoy calls Nott a fat ass(degrading eating habits, commenting on working out), Theo’s mom is dead, mutual pining but being too stupid to figure it out, crying during sex but not in a hot way(no safe word used/tech needed), angstyish to comfort, use of drugs(weed), SMUT, oral(fem receiving), kinda proofread? Please let me know if I miss anything major.

Things only got more intense as the… situation went on. Hooking up had become significantly more common, almost a daily occurrence. You found your mind drifting to Theodore more often than not, thinking about how disheveled his hair looked in the morning, or how the first words he mumbled when he saw you today were “Hello, beautiful”.

Your thoughts never strayed too far from Theodore, and to be honest, it felt like he never strayed too far from you.

In the most recent months, it felt like you two had become inseparable. That’s not to say it was a bad thing at all, oh no in fact, it made you quite happy to know he was around. He was your friend after all. The sex-thing, as you opted to call it, was just a benefit you both indulged in time to time.

Of course, neither of you dared to openly admit your scandalous behavior together. It wasn’t anyone’s business, even as Theodore had started seeing less women and spending less nights out partying. It wasn’t anyone’s business when Theo wrapped an arm around your shoulder while walking around Hogsmeade, or when he smiled at you when you weren’t looking. It wasn’t anyone’s business whenever Theo stopped sleeping around completely, and it certainly wasn’t their business when he beat the shit out of one of the Weasley twins for accidentally catching you in the crossfire of a loose prank.

It wasn’t anyone’s business besides the two of yours, and for the most part people had began to ignore it, except for a select group of close friends.

A day didn’t go by where you weren’t pestered by one of Theodore’s friends. They collectively figured that you were more likely to break under pressure than Theo was. It was ruthless.

Draco Malfoy stands at the front of your desk, glaring down at you. “You know you’re just another one of his phases. He does this. Falls helplessly in love with a girl, dedicates his entire time to her, only to remember he isn’t built for that life. It’s about time you save yourself the trouble. I’m only trying to help.”

Not everyone was as terrible as Draco, thankfully.

Mattheo Riddle would approach you from behind, wrapping his arms around your waist, putting on his most convincing Theodore impression. “Ciao, Bella,” even his most convincing impression wasn’t very good, “My room or yours?”

Sometimes you play along, running your hands over Mattheo’s in a way that makes his skin prick with goosebumps. “I was thinking we could do it on Matt’s bed again.”

That usually get’s you a hard shove away if Theodore hadn’t already spotted the situation.

Lorenzo Berkshire isn’t as insistent, just staring at the two of you, raising a brow whenever he finds you hand in hand. He draws a huge smirk on his face every time he sees you alone.

“Where’s your boyfriend?”

“You mean your boyfriend? I see the way you look at him, don’t play dumb Enzo.”

He doesn’t like that game as much. Usually scoffs and ignores you.

Then there was Blaise Zabini.

Blaise Zabini.

He knows more than he should. Far more than he should. He watches. He listens. He knows. He perceives.

The first time Blaise found you asleep in Theo’s arms, it was early in the morning. Their little clique never missed breakfast together unless something drastic had happened. So, whenever Theodore didn’t show up for breakfast, Blaise volunteered to check on him. Only Draco questioned it when Blaise grabbed a plate and two muffins(“Those are practically cakes, Nott’s fat ass doesn’t need one to begin with, let alone two! Doesn’t even show up to quidditch practice anymore.”). Draco was ignored.

“You’re going to lose her if you keep acting like this, you know that right?”

Theodore tries to ignore Blaise as best he can, he really does. He traces his fingers over your hair softly, watching you dream.

“Just tell her, Theo. What are you so scared of?”

“Drop it, Blaise.”

“No. You obviously love her, you’re obviously in love with her!”

“Lower your voice-“

“Why are you so scared? Is it your father, Theo? Is it your-”

“I mean it Zabini, drop it.”

The room goes eerily quiet as you shift slightly in Theodores arms. It lasts for only a moment before your breathing returns to the deep, rhythmic patterns.

“Get out.”

Blaise didn’t brother bringing it up after that. He knew what was going to happen, and he was going to let it play out. It wasn’t his business, after all.

Your friends weren’t much different. You stopped hanging out with them as much, not on purpose at all, but it didn’t go unnoticed. Maybe one or two of your friends resented Nott for it, “He’s a playboy, everyone knows that. I don’t like how close he’s getting to you.” Or “You aren’t… sleeping with him right? Please tell me you aren’t.”

Both you and Theodore laughed endlessly about every comment. It was silly. I mean yeah, you two fuck, but you’re just friends. You’re just friends, and friends can totally cuddle each other to sleep, and friends can totally kiss without sex. Its not a big deal! Its not a big deal as Theo almost pukes every time he says, “You’re my friend, I’d tell you if anything changed.” And it’s not a big deal when your chest aches as you say “Same here. It’s not that weird when you think about it.”

It wasn’t a big deal the first time you cried during sex. It wasn’t a big deal when he pulled out immediately and held your face, asking what he can do for you to make it better. It wasn’t a big deal when you sobbed in his arms for hours, chest hurting because you loved him so much and you knew you could never say anything. It wasn’t a big deal when Theodore kissed your mouth shut when you tried to apologize. It was a big deal though. It was a really big deal.

It was a big deal when you wrote your name next to Nott like a child. It was a big deal when you kicked your feet in bed thinking about how he called you pretty. It was a big deal when he kissed your cheek so absentmindedly that it felt natural. It felt right.

It was a big deal, and it hurt so bad.

But you could manage. Look at how strong you are. Look at how composed you are. You knew that one day all of this would come to an end, and you were okay with that! It was something you knew you could one day stomach, so for now, you didn't let yourself worry about it.

What you worried about instead, was how fine the object of your affection looked tonight.

Theodore was dressed to the nines. Black slacks, a loose button-up shirt, and those eyes that undressed you no matter where you were. He was gorgeous, and he knew it. You looked wonderful too, showing just enough skin to keep Theo on his toes.

Slytherin winning the house cup was a moment to be celebrated, the common room decorated and loud music playing from every corner of the room. You and Theodore spent every moment together, laughing whenever someone dared approach either of you for a dance.

Smoke curled out of Theodore's lips as he snuffed out the filter of a joint you had shared. He grinned at you, and you smiled at him, and everything else faded away.

Time slowed down, and Theodore's smile fell.

"I want to be with you, this summer."

And you laughed and smiled, nudging his arm slightly. "Well, all you need to do is invite me to your summer home in Italy, and I promise I'll spend every day with you."

"No. I want to be with you."

And for a moment, it felt like everything was still. Theodore looked so scared, and you looked so scared, and your mind was fighting the high to fully understand and process his words.

"With me?"

"With you."

You bit the inside of your cheek, almost not realizing whenever Theodore groaned and stood up.

"Theo."

"Fuck. I knew this was a bad idea."

"Theodore."

"I'm sorry. I knew we shouldn't have."

"Theodore Nott, look at me right now."

And he did. He looked at you so sadly. It made your heart ache.

"I want to be with you, too."

It felt like a brick that sat on your heart had finally been lifted. You laughed at the smile that spread across his face. You laughed as he pressed sloppy kisses against your lips. You laughed as he picked you up, kissing you stupid as he carried you to your room.

The weed still made your mind and body buzz with a high, and fuck, every touch felt better than ever before.

Your back hit the mattress, and Theo climbed over you. He looked so handsome, and you felt so pretty the way he looked at you. His hands worked at your dress, pulling you into a deep kiss as he found the zipper in the back.

Your hands gracelessly unbuttoned his shirt, whining into the kiss as you struggled. Finally, with a small chuckle, Theo offered to help you. His hands worked smoothly, pulling his shirt off his shoulders.

"You're stunning."

"Take a look at yourself, cara mia."

Theodore pushed you back down, gripping your hips as he dragged you to the edge of the bed. You laugh, resting your hands over his, feeling just how wet you are between your thighs. You lean your head back, sighing softly as Theo drops to his knees.

Nothing else mattered when Theodore's tongue found your clothed pussy. His strong and veiny hands pushed your thighs further apart, and pathetic mewls spilled from your lips as he licked you.

Theodore continued to tease you, a grin plastered to his face at every moan and whine you let slip out. He licks over the lace of your panties, daring to suck on your clit through the soaked fabric. Pleas spill from your lips, and Theo can't bite back his groan as you tug on his curls.

Dead eyes look up at you from between your legs, and Theo pulled away just enough to remove the lace hiding your heat from him. He blows on your wet folds, pulling your thighs to his shoulders.

"I think I could stay like this forever, right here."

You roll your eyes and sit up, pulling Theo up just enough to admire his wet face. "I think I'd miss your face too much," you laugh, leaning in and kissing his lips, shivering as you taste yourself on him.

"I have a few other positions that I wouldn't mind staying in."

You push away his smirking face with a laugh, gasping for air suddenly as his mouth finds your clit. Gasps turn into soft whines as his tongue moves across your pearl, your hips jerking and shifting at each motion. You can feel his smirk as he licks a long stripe from your hole to your clit, collecting your arousal on his tongue.

"Theo," You whine out, but he silences you with a long finger prodding at your entrance. He shushes you, planting wet kisses along your thigh. "I know, bella, just take a deep breath. 'Gotta stretch you out all the way."

A needy moan slipped from your lips as a finger slipped inside of you. You could hear how wet you were, and Theo pulled back just enough to watch the digit disappear inside of you. He pressed a second finger in, carefully spreading them inside of you.

"So soft. So pliant."

His whispers made your legs shake as he stretched you out thoroughly. The knot in your stomach grew tighter, and it became almost unbearable as his lips found your clit again. He was slow, savoring the feeling of your legs shaking beside his head, and the feeling of your walls clenching around him.

Ecstasy flooded your mind before you had a moment to think about it. Theo groaned into your cunt, committing the taste to memory. He continued working his fingers in and out of your cunt until you were shaking in overstimulation, only then finally freeing himself from between your legs.

"You have one more in you, right? Can't get enough of you, cara mia. Will never have enough of you."

[bsdawgz]

EASY DOES IT ... port mafia: ryūnosuke akutagawa

a/n: i keep writing drabbles of aku jorking it... i like speed wrote this so forgive errors plz

genre: MDNI this is smut. gn!reader, pillow humping, aku has a bit of a corruption kink (he doesn't know it yet). i wrote this in mind with aku being relatively new to sex. my hc is aku is the kind of guy who feels sexual shame or at least gets a bit embarrassed about it... he's new to it aight

summary: he jorks it part 2 >>> if u wanna read him jork it part1..

He'd never admit it– never, not in a million years. But Akutagawa is clingy, ever so attached to you, and since you started dating, he can't seem to get enough of you. Tonight, without you warming his bed, he's just so restless.

Your pillow is between his pale thighs, the blanket that smells faintly of your lavender shampoo gently pressed to his nose. It's a little perverted, he'll admit, but he can't help it– he just misses you so much. Why'd you have to work so late tonight? Don't you know how cold his body gets when you're not around?

Really, his hips move on their own. It's shallow thrusts at first as he molds himself against your pillow, as he lets it take your shape. With his eyes shut, it might as well be you there with how soft it feels against his body; and now, he's warming up all over, heat stirring in the pit of his belly and traveling up the tips of his ears. His fingers clutch the blanket closer, and he inhales a little deeper, chasing after your scent, reminiscing about the last time you were tangled in these sheets with him– the quiet cries you made with every grind of your hips, the flushing indents in your skin as he sunk his nails into your soft thighs. You always kiss him like he's everything, throw your arms around his back and trace 'I love you's' into his spine when you cum. He can always count on your cheeks to be stained with tears when you're finished–

You make him feel so treasured, so cared for, the gentle way you make love to him.

–but god, does he want to ruin you sometimes.

How embarrassing.

Now, he lets out a strangled noise, one that comes from the back of his throat, coughs as he pulls his boxers down to the top of his thighs. His face is hot, heart beating fast in his chest as he stares down at the fleshy pink tip that's already leaking with precum. He can't help it; tonight, he feels needier than ever.

He shuts his eyes and scoffs.

Then, reaching for himself, he smears the precum over the sensitive tip, shuddering at the way it sends it a pulse throughout his whole body and makes his hips lurch forward. It feels too good to stop– when it comes to you, it's always just too good to stop. Gathering the blankets at the edge of the bed, he lets his mind roam; he lets them wander a little farther than he feels he maybe should.

His thoughts are filled with images of you and all the ways he'd like to have you– the soft plush of your ass and how pretty you'd look on your knees, splayed out underneath him with his fingers buried bruisingly in your flesh; how good it felt last time to hear your tiny moans turn to whines and choked-out sobs of 'yes, yes, yes,' and that sickeningly sweet feeling that stirred inside him when he realized he'd been just a little too rough with you. And it's not long until he's rutting into the pillow like he's possessed, selfish and unyielding, fucking it like he's fucking you instead–

–but of course, he can't let his precious angel know this is who he really is. That this is what he might mean when he says he wants to give you his all.

Then, your tiny comes as an echo from the kitchen, small and sweet, so unaware and innocent; you're earlier than expected.

"Ryū? I'm home."

–And before he knows it, he's made a complete mess of himself.

© BSDAWGZ Please don’t steal or reblog! That’s plagiarism! If you enjoyed the fic, likes and reblogs are always appreciated! ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊ Beautiful dividers by @ v6que!

[thehighladywrites]

- “if it is so wrong, why does it feel so good?”

pairing: stalker/perv!azriel x reader, nesta, elain and feyre mentioned

summary: stalking and perving is azriel’s favorite activities. What happens when you finally drop the oblivious mask and confront him

warnings: dark content, stalking, perving (on literally everyone), breaking and entering, stealing panties, az having a darker side, getting turned on by your fear, az eating you out, reader being bold and hot as fuck omg,

amara’s note: okay this is very short bc it’s my first time writing a dark fic. Also i hope you like it and pls read the warnings.

Azriel knows he is some sort of sick freak. He knows he should resist his sinful glances at Feyre when she's cozied up on Rhysand's lap. He flexes a little extra just to spark Nesta's desires, fully aware of her fantasies. And as for Elain, well, let's just say he's playing a forbidden game of spying while she bends over to plant her greens.

Azriel's is extremely aware he shouldn't be harboring forbidden desires or indulging in the secret pleasure of stalking someone as seemingly innocent as yourself.

Azriel, the ultimate mastermind, keeps everyone guessing. Who would suspect the quiet, brooding and publicly respected spymaster to be a closeted perv and sick stalker? It's his most guarded secret hidden beneath the intimidating exterior.

Little does Azriel know, you're fully aware of his perverse behavior—his wandering eyes and spying shadows. It surprises you that no one has figured him out yet; after all, it seems quite apparent, doesn't it?

You don’t miss his lurking shadows following you around for hours. A regular fae would’ve missed it but not you. You’ve grown accustomed to him and his ways. You know him better than anyone else and you definitely know of his stalker tendencies.

Azriel believes he's smooth, avoiding outright ogling. Instead, he strategically glances at you during training with Cassian and while sharpening his weapons, subtly appreciating the way your body moves.

Pervert azriel walks up to you, complimenting your form, claiming while it’s good there’s something you need to fix. You don’t mind if he needs to grab your waist while fixing your pose right? And of course you’ll excuse him if he accidentally brushes against your boobs and ass. I mean he just wants to help you perfect your form!

He watches you walking through Velaris from the shadows, always hiding one of his shadows with you. He tells himself that he does it for your safety. Who knows, you might be attacked and he needs to be ready.

He absolutely doesn’t want to hear how much of a hypocrite he is for also stalking you in the safety of your home aswell.

Azriel steals your panties, silently breaking into your room as he looks through your drawers, skimming through the collection of panties. He promises himself it’s the last time, though he’s made the same pledge seven times before.

Azriel's stalking tendencies lead him to roam through your belongings, touching everything to become familiar with your world. He goes to your vanity, picking up your perfumes, and indulges in the forbidden pleasure of smelling the one thing he desires most—you.

Lying in your bed, his head on your pillow, he starts shifting in the sheets, inhaling more of your scent. He revels in the trespass and wrongness of being in your bed, knowing that you might catch a hint of his own scent lingering there, a twisted thought crossing his mind that it could confuse, frighten, or even arouse you.

His cock swells at the thought of you scared, heart beating fast, trying to place who the scent belongs to.

He looks around and finds one of your shirts on the bed and picks it up to his nose.

Then he does the one thing he swore he would never stoop to. He pulls out his already hard cock and strokes it while inhaling your scent from the shirt.

—

He has timed you and learned your schedule hence why he now knows that you’ll be in the shower for the next twenty minutes, giving him the perfect opportunity for his perverse activities. He’ll pick up the laciest most intricate pair, keeping it in his room as some sort of trophy with the other stuff he has taken from you. No one can enter into his room anyways, it’s safe…

Pervert Azriel looks through the little crack in your door as you stand there posing infront of a mirror while wearing pretty much nothing. A lacy little lingerie set as you touch your body, hands traveling all over your tits, waist, ass then up through your hair as you spin around, admiring yourself.

You know Azriel is standing at your door, he isn’t really all that subtle with his hand down his pants as he jerks off at the sight of you.

It’s almost enough to make your eyes roll back into the back of your head, fucking gods, he’s pathetic.

You wanted to fuck him for the longest time. He could just ask you to fuck and you’d say yes yet here he is thinking he’s slick as he pervs on you. Even with all that in mind, there’s a sick, twisted adrenaline rush spreading through your body at the thought of the esteemed and highly respected spymaster doing something so dark and wrong like this.

“I know you're there, Az. Come out,” you say, a wicked smile forming on your face as you plot to utterly humiliate him.

His entire body freezes and Azriel cautiously emerges from the shadows, realizing he's been caught. You maintain that mischievous grin, ready to unleash your plan. The air thickens with anticipation as the confrontation unfolds.

“Az?”

He looks like he’s about to jump out of the nearest window as he looks at you through the mirror.

“Yes?”

“Why are you such a disgusting little pervert? Here I am trying on some clothes and you’re just perving on me. How do you think that makes me feel? I mean I could be super afraid and you wouldn’t have any remorse? Who does something like that?”

Azriel's face heats up at the mocking question, flushing as he tries to respond.

“Az, I asked you a question,” you assert, walking over to him. His embarrassment is palpable as he apologizes, rambling about not knowing what came over him, begging you not to tell anyone.

You already know the answer, and a knowing smile plays on your lips as he seeks forgiveness.

“You’ve done a very bad thing, Azriel. Bad people deserve to be punished. You of all people understand that, right?”

Pushing him back onto one of the sofas in your room, you creep closer, leaning over to whisper. Looking down at him, you place your hand on his cheek, letting your nails dig in a little.

“I think you deserved to be punished.”

Azriel's heart raced, fearing exposure for his hidden activities. Was this it? Would you punish him by revealing his actions to everyone?

Before he could plead for forgiveness, you stood up, walking back to your bed and beckoning him over with two fingers.

As he approached, ready to sit, you extended your leg, placing your foot on his stomach, halting him in his tracks..

“Not so fast,” you assert, a wicked smile playing on your lips. “The bed is reserved for me. You can kneel on the floor.”

Azriel complies, gracefully sinking to his knees. His gaze meets yours, his beautiful eyes revealing a mixture of submission and desire.

“You’re going to eat my pussy. If you manage to make me cum, I won’t tell anyone about your disgusting behavior, understand?”

He couldn't believe what was unfolding. Was he really about to taste you? About to experience the fantasy he'd daydreamed about every single day? He nods, but a disapproving tsk follows.

“I need more than a nod, Azriel. Do you understand?”

A quick, “Yes, I understand,” escapes his lips.

You can't help but smile at the swiftness of his compliance.

“That’s good. Now, I’ll be taking off my bra and panties and they’re very expensive and new so they better not go missing.”

Azriel affirms his understanding and then proceeds to drool over the way you slowly strip infront of him before you spread your legs and tell him to start.

He grabs your thighs and pulls you closer to the edge as he dips his head down to run his tounge up and down your slit, tasting you before playing with your clit.

You gasp in pleasure, letting out moans as your hands find their way to his hair, urging him to keep going.

Azriel’s hands dig into your thighs that are currently smushing his head. He decides to let you continue, telling himself that if he dies like this, he'd go down as the happiest person in history.

“T-that’s it, right there.”

A breathy moan escapes your lips as you feel two of his fingers enter you. Your hands grab his dark soft hair as he started pumping his fingers, relishing at the way your soaking cunt is squelching and squeezing him.

You whimper at the way his thick fingers strecth you out then curl against that secret spot, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. You start to slowly fuck yourself on them, eager for more of him.

“You taste even better than I imagined, fuck.”

His desperate voice only spurred you on.

It doesn’t take much longer for that feeling to build up in your stomach, the tight cord eventually snapping. You squeeze and throb around his fingers as you cum hard, letting out whines and mumbles.

Azriel helps you ride out your high, memorizing every facial expression in case this is the last time you ever let him this close again.

He pulls out his fingers and lick them clean then goes back and licks your pussy clean.

You let out a giggle at the sight before you, casting him a look of fake sympathy as you pull yourself together.

“Well, look at that. Seems like I’ll be keeping your secret after all. I mean, what a shame to loose such a good little pussy eater, right? I might just keep you around.”

You beckon him to rise, tossing your underwear onto the sofa before heading to the bathroom to clean up.

Glancing back at his flushed face and heavy breathing, you offer a secret smile.

“Who knows, next time I might even let you fuck me.”

Turning around, you leave him to his thoughts as the shower starts.

Azriel stands there for a moment, his desire evident. Unable to resist, he takes your panties and bra, always craving something of yours.

He promises to himself that he won't do it for an eighth time before hurrying back to his room, to finally help himself

🏷️ taglist: @stasiereads @clairebear08 @daycourtofficial @historiaxvanserra @rowaelinsdaughter @acourtofladydeath @acourtofwhatthefuck @redbleedingrose @danikamariewrites @readychilledwine @nocasdatsgay

[nnephthyss]

“what??? you don’t like me?” - megumi x reader - part 2

∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎

∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎ plot: megumi and you get placed in a room together on a mission. the only problem was that there was only one bed.

warnings: fem! reader, virgin megumi, virgin reader, angst, grinding, public intimacy, megumi almost nuts his pants (hehe), palming, getting off in public, making out, cock sucking, inexperienced reader and megumi

wc: 1.7k

authors note: almost 90 followers and 300 notes on one of my fics is insane!! love you guys ♡ also please let me know if you want a part 3! i’ll gladly write it ッ

∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎

after that night things were strange between the two of you. you both didn’t speak to each other until you were made to. megumi wouldn’t speak a word to you, not a fucking syllable. it ate you alive because that was your first time getting intimate with a guy and yeah it was your idea but still. it felt like being ghosted. you weren’t for sure if you did good or whether he felt good because straight after you went to sleep on the couch and he turned over and ignored you for the rest of the night.

he was avoiding you like the fucking plague. the next morning, the events of last night spiraled through your head. fresh memories of how his cock felt against you made the place between your thighs tingle. you just wished there wasn’t a piece of fabric that kept you away from it and that little thought made you want to kick yourself. it wasn’t like there were any feelings going on between the two of you, it was just a one night thing.

waking up felt like a hangover even though you never experienced one before. your thighs ached, stomach muscles even did. groaning, you get up and see megumi immediately. he makes eye contact with you and instantly looks away. scoffing, you get up and make your way to the bathroom. he was already, in his navy uniform. for some reason he looks good. you would have never thought that if you didn’t almost fucked him last night.

“gojo says we need to be down stairs and in the car at 8.” you hear his deadpan tone and just sigh, brushing your hair. being signed on a mission together was gonna be hell now. only gojo to keep you separated was gonna be even worse. the car ride was awkward, gojo in the front seat with you both being in the back. the air was thick with tension as well as his nice smelling cologne that for some reason you only noticed till now.

his knee touched yours, eyes falling to his hands that are clasped together in his lap. megumi felt like he was gonna explode because of how hot it felt in this backseat. his stomach was bubbling with embarrassment and arousal form last night. the way you felt against him was incredible but it was so wrong. it felt wrong to get so intimate with your friend, classmate .

the car comes to a stop and gojo explains what the both of you are supposed to do. talk to a few of the sorcerers that are there, that was it. which was confusing because why the hell did it have to be you? you were the most awkward people that were there. why not nobara or yuji? sighing, you get out of the car, megumi following right behind you. you both walk into the big building that was displayed in front of you. it had to have at least 50 stories.

once you’re both in, a secretary comes by and leads you to a room a few stories up. megumi walks behind you, eyes drifting to your ass every few moments and he beats himself up for that. the way your ass looked so tight in that school uniform. knowing exactly what’s underneath makes his blood boil with arousal.

standing in a room full of chairs and desks, you both wait for a couple of the elders to arrive. megumi doesn't look at you once, his eyes staying either glued to the floor or his hands. he leans against one of the desks, as you lean against the wall in front of him. the tension could be cut with a knife and you were itching to say something even though you told him not to even bring it up again. “so.” a small words slips from your lips and he looks up at you,

his deep blue eyes meeting yours.

“don’t.” he instantly says and your words die off immediately, a glare coming to your face. “don’t what?” you scoff and step forward, stiffening as you get closer to him. he glares at you, hand grasping the edge of the desk behind him. .

stepping closer, until face to face, he takes a small breath. “look. we said we wouldn't talk about what happened.” he mutters, voice cold and almost nervous. “i know that.” you start, eyes traveling over his expression. “but i can’t stop thinking about it.” you finish your sentence. his eyes searching yours, the sound of your breathing filling the room around you as well as the growing silence.

megumi’s body was hot all over from your words and proximity, his hands tensing against the counter. “well try.” his cold words hit your ears and you step

back, giving him some space. a flash of hurt crosses your face and he sees this, feeling a little guilty for being so harsh about the situation. “right.” you repeat the words he said the night before.

the tension in the room increases, only making megumi more turned on by your presence. he couldn’t stop thinking about the way your slick felt against his fingers. the way you grindedyour tight pussy against his hand. it was all for him too and he couldn’t stand it. thoughts swirling in his head, he decides to make a decision.

“fuck.” he curses and takes a step forward, towards you. your eyebrows furrow when his hands suddenly come up, cupping your face and kissing you. having a late reaction with a gasp, your eyes fall shut, hands moving to his hips. the elders were just outside and you were now making out, pressing him against the desk behind him. he groans into your mouth, feeling your tongue connect with his. his hand slips into the back of your hair, tilting your head back as he dominates the kiss.

“megumi.” you moan and his cock twitches at his name slipping from your mouth. his backside hits the desk, pinning him there, you move a hand down between his thighs. to be both virgins, your sex drives were pretty fucking high.

core aching for any sort of friction, you cup his erection through his jeans and he practically whines against your mouth. grinning, you start sliding your hand up and down the length of him.

his hips buck against your grasp, reaching for an orgasm almost immediately. “f-fuck, m’ gonna cum.” he groans, stomach churning from pleasure. “already?” you ask, panting against his mouth, pulling away for a moment to see his face. “y-yeah.” he hisses, eyes squeezing shut.

all the pressure had been building up from the night before and it wasn’t gonna take long for megumi to come apart in your hands. “okay, okay.” nodding, you squeeze him, putting more pressure against his aching cock. “f-fuck, fuck fuck.” he whines, hands moving to the desk behind him. he holds on tight to it, he couldn’t cum in his pants, they had too much to do that day.

“c-can’t cum.” he says with a shaky breath and you knew what he meant so you drop to down in front of him, bare knees hitting the cold floor. his eyes widen. “n-no.” he says shaking his head, not having anyone suck his dick before he was nervous but so were you because you were also inexperienced. “just let me.” you try and convince him, not really sure what to do either. being in public was also a risky excuse.

nodding his head, you pull down his slacks and boxers in one go. the cool air hits his hardened cock and he gasps. titling your head to the side, your mind races with thoughts on what to do. he raises an eyebrow at you. “what’re you doing.?” he asks and you glance up at him “i really don’t know.” both being nervous, you just wrap your fist around his shaft, giving him a small squeeze. he moans at the small action, so you know you’re doing something right.

“don’t know what i’m doing, megumi.” you mutter, looking up at him before leaning forward and swiping your tongue along his leaky tip. whining, his hand shoots out, wrapping around your hair. his cockhead was tomato red, swollen and leaking precum. “i-it’s okay.” he reassures you, grip tightening in your hair as you give him little kitten licks to his aching tip.

holding onto his thighs, you try your best to remember what you’ve watched and read. eyes closing gently, you close your mouth around his tip, hot mouth engulfing his cock. “nghh- yes.” he moans, his own eyes falling shut at the pleasure running up his spine.

he had already been close to cumming, his back arches away from the desk and hips buck towards your mouth. “o-oh, oh f-fuckk. his body convulses as he feels that band snap in his stomach, thick white ropes of cum spilling onto your tongue and down your throat. you moan at the taste, bitter and sweet which made the place between your legs ache.

he slumps against the desk behind him, hand in your hair loosening and falling to his side. “did i do good?” you ask, eyes opening and titling your head to look up at him. his own eyes open and he looks down at you. “so good,” he praises in a breathy tone. smiling to him, you rise to your feet. his eyes follow you, half lidded and glazed over from his high.

you felt all giddy from doing good for your first time sucking him off even if you didn’t do too much to make him cum. remembering that you’re both in a public setting, megumi starts to pull his slacks up, eyes drifting away from you. “so.” you sigh and watch as he gets himself together. “maybe we should talk about this later.” he cuts you off with his usual deadpan tone.

but of course you nod your head and lick your lips, still having his taste on your tongue. “okay.” you agree and glance at the door, hearing the nob turn. “talk about this later.” repeating his words, his gaze shifts to you then to the elders walking in the tension filled room.

∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎

part 3? don’t want anyone hitting theirselves with pans hehe

[leafnyx]

I definitely need a part 2 of the Nam-Gyu x male reader you posted! It was subtly cute asf

Death Games and Attachments # 2 (Nam-gyu x male reader)

Word count: 5.5k

Warnings: American reader ‼️, gunshots, betrayal, canon divergence, no forks 🍴, no use of y/n, dead characters in canon don’t die, probably ooc, Nam-gyu & reader aren’t together but have feelings for eachother, not proof read

Setting: Season 2 Episode 6

A/n: omg my first fic ask!!! I was thinking about writing a part 2 anyways but this gave me the push to do it :]

Faint music plays over the speakers in the room as you slowly begin to wake up. You open your eyes, your sight still a bit fuzzy, and see the blank ceiling of the game’s sleeping room.

The music is now louder as you realize you aren’t at home but at this game. You do somewhat wish you were back home but you push that thought to the back of your mind, you have more important things to worry about, with the man who is sleeping next you you and who you are hugging.

You quickly untangle yourself from Nam-gyu, your bodies craving the warmth of the other while you were sleeping.

Nam-gyu still seems to be sound asleep, snoring quietly, but you decide to wake him up. The next game will probably be staring soon.

You shake Nam-gyu softly, then a bit more rough when the first doesn’t wake him up.

His snoring stops and he lets out an irritated groan as he pushes your hands away.

“Fuck off bitch, let me sleep” He says towards you, probably trying to sound intimidating but he doesn’t at all because of how much he slurs his words, still half asleep.

“The next games starting soon, come on” You say, tapping him on the shoulder for emphasis.

He opens his eyes, blinking away the tiredness, more willing to get up after hearing your voice. He seemed to not realize the fact that he was in the games previously as now a look of dread somewhat crosses his face. You question that, since you haven’t seen him with that expression yet. It’s probably the lack of drugs.

“Why do they make us do these games so early” Nam-gyu groans and pushes himself up into a sitting position beside you.

You shrug. Nam-gyu quickly scans around the room, his eyes landing on Thanos and probably his drugs.

“Let’s get with the rest of the group” Nam-gyu says, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and onto the stairs. He puts the white shoes on and quickly rushes towards where Thanos has gathered with Se-mi and Min-su.

You quickly follow suit, putting your shoes on and tailing behind him.

“Nam-su, [name], good morning!” Thanos says excitedly, in English. Nam-gyu doesn’t bother correcting the name as he sits down beside Thanos and whispers something to him.

You sit down beside Nam-gyu and Se-mi gives you a deadpan, knowing, look. Most likely referring to Nam-gyu.

Thanos pulls out his cross and opens it, handing one of the brightly colored pills to Nam-gyu who quickly pops it into his mouth.

Thanos tucks the cross back under his collar.

The drugs seem to kick in quickly, a minute or so later Nam-gyu is already looking more up beat.

Right on time too, the masked guards walk into the room and announce that the next game is starting.

“No matter what game is next we’ll kick ass” Nam-gyu says, practically bouncing from where he’s standing. He goes up beside you, now directly talking to you. “I’ll help you through the next game if you don’t know what to do, ok?” He’s close enough to you that your arms are practically rubbing against each other.

“Alright” You reply, glad for the assured help.

You and your team get into a line, following one of the guards through the maze of stairs. You have to admit, as weird and terrible as the games are, the sets are pretty cool looking.

You reach the end of the stairs and walk into a large room with a bunch of doors on the walls, too many to count at first glance. There’s also a circular platform in the middle of the room with three statues of horses in the middle, it looks like a merry-go-round.

“Your next game will be mingle” The almost robotic sounding woman’s voice rings out through the room.

“Mingle?” Nam-gyu says.

“Mingle!” Thanos yells suddenly, making the people around him, including you, flinch. “I remember this game! They call out a random number and you have to get into groups with that number.” Thanos says.

“Oh yeah!” Nam-gyu says. “I remember this game! We’ll be fine as long as they don’t call out a number less than 5.”

“They definitely will” Se-mi says.

Nam-gyu doesn’t pay her any attention as he hops along beside Thanos who is now sprinting towards the circle.

You follow behind the two of them with Se-mi and Min-su.

The 5 of you huddle up on the circle as the lights turn off and the circle suddenly starts rotating.

You get pushes off balance slightly, holding onto Nam-guy’s shoulder so you don’t fall over. He doesn’t seem to mind.

Lights turn on in the middle of the circle and music starts up. Thanos begins beating his fist upwards to the beat of the music, Nam-gyu grinning and nodding his head beside him.

You feel nervous, worried that they’re gonna make you split up the first round. Suddenly the platform stops and the woman’s voice calls out a number. “10”

You look around frantically. You need five more people.

“We need five more!” Se-mi calls out, taking initiative.

“Five!” Nam-gyu yells.

A person bumps into you in all the chaos but you don’t fall over.

“How many” She quickly says.

“Five” You reply.

“We’re five too! Come with us!”

“I found a group!” You yell towards your team as the girl rounds up her group.

“Let’s go!” Thanos yells out in English, running towards a door labeled 47. Everyone follows him, dashing into the room. 10 seconds left.

You run into the room, being the second to enter after Thanos. You’re not able to slow down in time and slam into the back wall. Quickly, you turn around to see the rest of the group.

Nam-gyu runs in with Se-mi and Min-su, the other group of five following suit, all running in. The last person in shuts the door as the timer hits zero.

You let out a sigh of relief as Thanos cheers. Nam-gyu begins cheering as well, seeming to do everything Thanos does now. The other group with you looks uncomfortable, you see that all of them have red X patches.

“Let’s go team!” Thanos yells out in English again. No one seems to fully understand what he’s saying but they get the message.

“Woo!” Nam-gyu yells.

After yelling towards their hearts content the two go quiet, the room now silent. You can hear the gunshots outside. People from the other team flinch slightly at the sound. You begin to wonder how many people just died but you push that thought to the back of your mind.

Nam-gyu goes to stand beside you, nudging his shoulder against you, grinning. You do your best to replicate and smile back.

Thanos raps under his breath, hoping his head almost violently. You can hear the sound of machinery outside. They’re most likely bringing coffins in for the bodies.

You hate how the coffins look like gift boxes, it feels disrespectful but you suppose it doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. The game is horrible itself, what does it matter what coffins the brutalized bodies are put in.

The lock on the door clicks open and Thanos immediately rushes out. You follow after him, walking, with Nam-gyu beside you. You step into something sticky, blood. Your face twists into a look of disgust as you look at the sole of your shoe.

Nam-gyu stood infront of you and looks back. You quickly walk forward towards him and the two of you step onto the circle where the rest of the group already is.

The room goes dark again, the circle moving. You now expect the jolt do you don’t move as much, your feet planted on the ground. The middle of the circle lights up and music starts.

Out of the corner of your eye you see Thanos nudge Nam-gyu and say something to him, though you can’t hear it over the music. Nam-gyu looks confused but Thanos links arms with him and begins dancing in a circle. Nam-gyu quickly catches on, grinning and shaking his hand as he skips around.

You’re somewhat jealous of how carefree the two of them are. You know it’s the drugs working but still. You now somewhat wish you’d asked Thanos for drugs. Before you can finish your thought process the circle jolts to a stop and the number is called out. “Four.”

You panic, there are five of you. All of you look around at each other, one has to leave. You want to sacrifice yourself, say you can go and find a group, but you’re frozen in place out of fear.

“Min-su” Se-me says. “Come with me, we can find a group.”

Min-su glances around quickly before grabbing Se-mi by the hand. The two of them run off leaving you as a group of three.

“That fucking bitch! I knew we couldn’t trust her!” Nam-gyu yells out at the same time as Thanos yells, “Min-su! My boy!”

You quickly glance around and your eyes catch on to a man yelling that he needs a group of three, his patch reads 001. You quickly rush over to him. You look back for a second and you see a look of betrayal on Nam-guy’s face. You quickly look back forward as you come to a stop before 001.

“We’re a group of three!” You yell above the chaos. His head quickly turns to you and he nods, following you as you run back to Nam-gyu and Thanos. Nam-gyu looks relieved as you run back.

“Come on!” You yell, running towards the first room you see with an open door. You don’t look back, knowing the three will follow you.

You run into the room and Thanos, Nam-gyu, and 001 follow in quickly. 001 shuts the door as you look towards the timer, 2 seconds left.

As the door clicks shut Nam-gyu begins to speak.

“I knew those pussies would betray us! You can’t trust women, man, and Min-su basically a woman.”

001 looks irritated. You now remember on the first day where 001 broke up a fight between Thanos, Nam-gyu, and that crypto bro. He was probably the worst person you could have brought but at least you’re all alive.

Thanos pushes up against the door, looking through the crack.

“Min-su!” He yells, acting like he actually cared for him.

Nam-gyu lets out a huff and leans against the wall beside you. His arm touching yours again. You only now realize how touchy he’s been. With anyone else you’d assume they might like you but you think this is just how Nam-gyu is. After all you saw how clingy he is with Thanos.

“Fucking bitch..” He mumbles, still not over the betrayal. You sigh.

“It doesn’t matter,” You tell him. “We’re alive and her and Min-su are off somewhere else. We can survive with just the three of us, we don’t need them.”

He looks over at you and lights up slightly. “You’re right, we don’t need those fuckers.”

“Hell yeah! Thanos team!” Thanos barges into the conversation, not caring about Min-su anymore.

He puts his hand face down in the air, after a second you realize what he’s doing and place your hand onto of his. Nam-gyu puts his hand over yours.

Thanos counts from three and the three of you lift your hands up and Thanos yells “let’s go!” In English.

Somehow, that made you feel a bit better. Just barely, as you can hear the fading gun shots in the background.

001 stands off to the side, not talking, just observing.

“We don’t need any girls!” Thanos says, bringing your attention back to him.

“Yeah, girls are weak anyways” Nam-gyu continues.

You don’t add onto what they’re saying, Se-mi seemed fairly strong but that doesn’t matter anymore. It’s just the three of you.

The door unblocks and once again thanos is the first to rush out. Nam-gyu bouncing along behind him. You follow Nam-gyu with 001 behind you.

Before you can say anything to him, 001 rushes off, probably back to his own group.

“What do you think the next number is gonna be?” Nam-gyu asks you, putting his arm around your shoulders.

“Hopefully three, then we wouldn’t need any more or less.” You reply.

Nam-gyu hums as a response as you glance around, unconsciously looking for Se-mi and Min-su. Your eyes lock onto them, walking out from a room with a random player. Min-su locks eyes with you but immediately looks away, probably for the best.

It starts up again, this time though Nam-gyu and Thanos don’t dance along to the music, the just stand there.

“3”

“Let’s go team Thanos!” Thanos calls out, making a sprint toward the door. Nam-gyu grins at you, your prediction correct. The two of you follow behind Thanos. You enter the room with 20 seconds left to spare.

“You were right!” Nam-gyu says, paying your shoulder.

“We got lucky.” You smile, somewhat genuinely for the first time since you joined these games, relieved that you don’t need to give anyone up.

20 second pass, the door locks, and gunshots ring out. To your shock, and slight disgust, you’ve gotten used to the gunshots and screams.

Your smile fades from the sound.

“We’re good at this.” Nam-gyu says.

“It’s cause we’re fast, and young, we can get to the rooms in time.” Thanos replies, shifting from foot to foot, unable to stand still.

“Hell yeah, it’s good that the weaklings got left behind, we don’t have to get dragged down by them. They’re probably dead by now anyways.”

“Do you think mg coin is dead?” Thanos asks.

“God I hope so”

“Why do you guys hate him so much?” You ask.

“He scammed us man!” Nam-gyu exclaims.

“That piece of shit scammed me out of all the money I got by busting my ass rapping!” Thanos says.

“You both bought the crypto?”

“He said we’d get more money.” Nam-gyu says.

“Huh, alright” You refrain yourself from making a comment about how stupid it is to trust some random guy on the internet with your money, especially when it comes to crypto.

The door clicks open and all of you walk out, Thanos first. As he steps out of the door he says “welcome back, my friends” in English, followed by Nam-gyu saying “skrrt!” You hold back a laugh.

You’re shocked with how quickly you’ve gotten attached to Nam-gyu, a warm dealing spreading through your body. You suspect it’s because you’re stuck here in this horrible place with him. Your mind latched on to the first person you got somewhat close with.

But you don’t feel nearly as close to Thanos as you do with him. You push this thought off, deciding to deal with it after the game.

The the of you reach the circle again and the process repeats.

“6”

Three more.

“We need three!” Nam-gyu yells out.

“Three people!” You yell alongside him.

Your eyes look frantically around and you spot three people. Se-mi, Min-su, and one other. You have no other choice.

“Come on!” You grab Nam-gyu and Thanos and run towards them. Se-mi spots you and begins running with Min-su and the other guy towards an open door. You run in behind her with Thanos and Nam-gyu, shutting the door once the six of you are in.

The awkwardness is immediately palpable, everyone seems uncomfortable. Except for Thanos, of course.

“Min-su! My boy! I was so scared you died!” He goes over and hugs Min-so, who tries to wiggle away from him.

Nam-gyu scowls.

“This means nothing.” Se-mi says. “We split up again after this round.”

“Yeah, I’m not being with these pussies again. They’re just being us down.”

“Calm down” Thanos says, putting his arms out.

“We weren’t-“ Nam-gyu gets cut off by Thanos again.

“Se-mi is right, we don’t talk about this, the Thanos team doesn’t include Se-mi, Min-su and the random.” Thanos says, suddenly sounding serious, but you know that he isn’t actually.

Nam-gyu seems disappointed that Thanos remembers Se-mi and Min-su’s names but not his. Se-mi seems disappointed that she’s agreeing with an idiot like Thanos.

The room goes quiet again, Thanos nodding his head a beat only he can hear and everyone else feeling too weird to talk.

The door clicks open and the six of you walk out.

“Final round” The voice calls out. You let out a sigh of relief, glad that you have to only deal with one more of these rounds.

You step onto the platform, Thanos and Nam-gyu beside you. Se-mi and Min-su walk to the other side of the circle.

The lights shut off and the platform begins to move. The light in the middle turns on along with the music.

You begin to zone out, the bright colors all blurring I your vision and the music getting quiet.

The music stops.

“2”

You quickly snap back, two. There’s three of you. One has to go.

You look wide eyed at the two men beside you.

Thanos quickly shakes his head from side to side, between you and Nam-gyu. He’s still not taking any of this seriously and it’s beginning to piss you off.

Thanos quickly stops and grabs Nam-gyu by the arm, running off. You freeze in place as Nam-gyu looks back at you. He looks regretful, being dragged along more than actually following.

But his survival instinct is stronger than any bond you thought both of you had.

A wave of betrayal goes through you, more than you’ve ever felt before, more than when Se-mi and Min-su left you.

You thought maybe Nam-gyu was as attached you you as you were to him but you were wrong. All he cares about is survival, not you. You suppose you can’t blame him though.

Suddenly, snapping you out of your thoughts, someone grabs you and drags you towards the one empty room, pushing you in and closing the door before the timer stops and the door locks.

The man lets out a sigh, you recognize him as the person with Se-mi and Min-su.

You don’t care all that much, though. Emotions crashing down onto you, all the adrenaline leaving your body leaving you feeling deflated.

You lean up against the wall, exhausted even though it probably hasn’t been more than an hour. You just want to go back to sleep, you want to go home.

You don’t think about the fact that you won’t even have a home if you don’t get enough money. But that doesn’t matter now.

The minute or so you spend in the room feels both like an eternity and lite it was over in a second. The lock clicks open and you walk out, not bothering to speak to the guy who saved you.

You don’t look around the room, not wanting to see Nam-gyu or Thanos now. You keep your head down and follow the pink guard out and back into the stairwell.

After a minute of walking you enter back into the ‘bedroom’, you’re one of the last people in. The mood is somber, theres not many people left.

“[Name]!” You hear someone rushing towards you, you recognize the voice as Thanos, the last person you want to see right now.

He hugs you, a feeling that makes you want to crawl out of your own skin, and of course Nam-gyu is behind him. Though Nam-gyu doesn’t look very happy.

“I’m so happy to see you again bro!” Thanos says in English, smothering you in a hug. You give up trying to escape as he unwraps from you, still holding on to your shoulders.

“”I thought I was running with you the I looked back and saw I was with this idiot” He points to Nam-gyu who tries his best to smile and laugh.

“Come on, let’s play just one more game, alright?” Thanos says, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and walking you towards you guys’ spot on the stairs. Nam-gyu follows.

Right when you guys reach the spot, guards enter through the front and announce that it’s time to vote. It’s from last number to first.

The voting starts with 456 who votes X, from then the votes seem fairly split.

Thanks goes up to vote and kisses the blue button. The thought of how many dirty hands had touched that before him makes you grossed out.

Nam-gyu goes up, but not before telling you once more to vote blue, sounding less convincing than he was before.

“Just one more game”

It’s your turn to vote now, you walk up to the podium and stare at the two brightly colored buttons before you.

Even though Thanos and Nam-gyu had just betrayed you, leaving you for dead, their words keep repeating in your head. ‘Just one more game’. The button lights up blue under your hand and you walk over to your side.

Even if you did go home now, you have no money. The amount that they’re offering now is good, but it’s not enough. You’ll soon be back to where you were before this game.

Either way you’ll probably end up dead, if not literally then figuratively. But still, you can’t help that part of your mind that yearns for home, even if that home is a shitty studio apartment that you can barely pay for.

You don’t pay attention to Thanos patting you on the back, saying that ‘he knew you would make the right choice’ and ‘he’s proud of you’.

Nam-gyu continues to stay unusually silent, almost like he feels bad for leaving you. You remember the look on his face as he ran off with Thanos.

The drugs are probably just wearing off.

The last person goes up to vote, 001. He stands there for a second, like he’s contemplating which button to push, but in the end he pushes red.

You look up at the board and it’s 50/50. A tie.

The guards say that you will all be able to vote again tomorrow for a tie breaker. You don’t mind this all that much, it gives you some time to get your shit together and hopefully even if you do say there will be a break from the games for the day.

The voting buttons are taken out and food is brought in. You, Thanos, and Nam-gyu are some for the first few people getting food so it’s not soon before you walk off with it to your spot on the stairs.

You do want to split off from these two, but it’s probably better to stay in a team, just in case. And now atleast you know that you can’t fully trust them, so if you get too suspicious you can break off and find someone else, maybe Se-mi and Min-su if they’re willing to let you back in.

You don’t acknowledge another part of the reason you want to stay with them. You’re still attached to Nam-gyu, you don’t want to leave him. Even though you’re pissed at him, you still want to stay for whatever reason.

You unwrap the food you were given and see sushi inside, atleast it looks good.

Only now do you realize how hungry you are. You haven’t eaten since yesterday and even then it was just some bread. You quickly eat one of the pieces of sushi. It isn’t amazing but it’s food. You scarf down the rest of it.

Once you finish your food you wish there was more, you’re still hungry, but there’s nothing you can do.

You drink the soda that you had forgotten about the second you saw the sushi.

“This soda tasted like shit” Nam-gyu says, breaking the silence.

“It’s like knock-off coke” You reply.

“Yeah! They tried to make coke but it just tastes like dirt.”

“I think dirt would taste better than this.”

Nam-gyu snickers and you smile faintly. You hate how easily you’re talking to him, like none of the last hour happened. You wish you could hate Nam-gyu, but you know that you don’t. Well maybe you do a little bit but not enough. Thanos, though, you do hate. But there’s nothing you can do about that, the two of them are basically a package. Buy one get one free.

As if on cue Thanos speaks up. “Those fuckers voted red”

You look to where Thanos is pointing and see Se-mi and Min-su.

“I knew that bitch was bad news from the beginning, we should kill her.” Nam-gyu says.

“Let’s just talk to her and Min-su first” Thanos replies.

You know that ‘talk’ will probably lead to a fight so you bud into the conversation.

“Let’s not, we should just leave them be, they aren’t worth our time” Both Nam-gyu and Thanos look over at you. “They’ll probably die in the next game with how weak they are, let’s just let nature take her course.”

You say the last part to save face, trying to not seem like the odd-one-out of the three of you.

Nam-gyu gives in easily, agreeing with you. It takes Thanos a bit more time though, but be eventually agrees.

The peace doesn’t last for long though. A group of O’s and X’s begin arguing in the middle of the room.

Thanos seems too eager to join the argument. Before you can stop him he jumps up and runs forward.

You lean back, giving up trying to stop him from being stupid, it seems like it’s just part of him.

To your shock Nam-gyu doesn’t follow Thanos and stays put in his seat.

“You’re not going with him? That’s a first” You say, jokingly bashing Nam-gyu.

“I don’t feel like arguing right now, I’m too tired.”

“That’s fair. You just usually follow along behind Thanos like a lost puppy.”

“No I don’t, I’m more like a guard dog. People see Thanos and they’re like ‘okay this guy looks stupid and weak’ but then they see me and they’re like ‘oh shit I can’t mess with him!’ Ya know?”

You barely hold your laugh in until Nam-gyu finishes his spiel, then you can’t help how you laugh in his face.

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard” You say, gasping between breaths before laughing again.

“Oh come on! It’s not that funny.” Nam-gyu looks embarrassed, that makes you laugh even more, until your stomach hurts.

“Oh my god, I haven’t laughed that hard in so long.”

“Asshole”

A feeling of disgust passes through your brain, you’re having this much fun with some asshole who just left you for dead, but you don’t dwell on it, preferring to focus on the good mood.

“You’re not an attack dog, look at you!”

“What do you mean look at me?!”

“You’re more like a tamed hyena, you follow behind Thanos and snicker and taunt along to his comments.”

“I’m the leader of the group, not him.”

“As if”

Nam-gyu rolls his eyes.

“Then you’re like a ratty street cat, we picked you up and you just stuck with us”

Before you can think of a comeback Thanos sits back down.

“Those asshole X’s” He says, practically pouting. “Who do they think they are.”

The fight looks fully broke up, everyone back in their previous spots with their groups.

“Thanos,” Nam-gyu says suddenly, having just remembered something. “Can I have another, you know”

“Yeah yeah, a reward for getting through the game.”

Nam-gyu grins.

Your stomach twists at the mention of the game but you ignore it.

Nam-gyu looks over at you and motions towards the cross Thanos is taking out of his jacket, as if to offer you one again.

But your mind hasn’t changed since yesterday so you shake your head.

“Hey man you can’t just go offering up my pills, we’re running low on stock.”

“I know I know, just gimme”

Thanos hands Nam-gyu a pink pill and Nam-gyu immediately puts it in his mouth and swallows it. Thanos grabbing another for himself and doing the same thing.

It feels a bit odd being the only sober one here but you’re not gonna give in to your fomo.

“After this game I should have enough to pay off my debts.” Nam-gyu says. But you know in reality it’ll never be enough, it’ll always be ‘just one more game’.

You’re gonna click X after the next game. Probably.

“Yeah bro, and then mg coin can pay us back” Nam-gyu eagerly nods along to Thanos’ words. You don’t bother to comment on the fact that they said, earlier today, that they hoped he was dead.

The woman voice on the speaker says you have 30 minutes until bed and the screen lights up with the timer.

It hasn’t felt like a whole day has passed, maybe the game took more than the hour you thought it did. Or maybe you just don’t have a good internal clock.

Thanos lets out a loud, dramatic, yawn.

“I’m tired man, that game took too much out of me.”

“Yeah, I’m ready pass out.” Nam-gyu says, agreeing with Thanos as per usual.

“Mhm” You hum, but you’re not all that tired, similarly to last night.

“Do you think any of the X’s are gonna switch sides?” Nam-gyu asks Thanos.

“Nah man, they’re all stubborn as hell, they won’t listen to reason.”

“Shit, well we can’t have another tie, it’ll drag this on longer. I just wanna be out of here with my money.”

“Yeah bro, I miss my vape” Thanos says, speaking like this vape is his child.

“I’m craving a cigarette so bad” Nam-gyu says.

You still don’t fully know how you got caught up in this group of junkies but it doesn’t matter now.

“I need to piss” Thanos says suddenly, not holding back with how he speaks.

You realize that you haven’t peed all day so you decide to go along. Nam-gyu follows the both of you.

The three of you enter the bathroom and piss, you finishing first.

You go up to the sink and wash your hands before getting some water and splashing it on your face, getting a bit into your hair too but not drenching it. You grab a paper towel and wipe your face as well as your hands.

You look back to the other two to see if they’re done and you catch Nam-gyu staring at you. Once he realizes you saw him he looks away, pretending like he wasn’t ogling at you.

The three of you walk out of the door, through the hallway, and back into the main room.

You look up at the screen which says 20 minutes.

“I’m gonna head to bed early” You say even though you aren’t too tired, you just don’t want to sit around for another 20 minutes.

“Goodnight bro” Thanos says in English. Why does he speak in English so much?

“Night” Nam-gyu says.

You nod towards them and walk up to your bead, taking your shoes off and climbing in.

You get yourself under the covers and just lay there, staring at the ceiling. You can hear the noise of 99 people talking around you but you’re not close enough to any conversation to hear what exactly they’re saying.

Soon enough the timer says 10 minutes, the chatter dying down, then it hits 0 and the lights go out. Everything is now quiet, almost eerily so.

You hear footsteps walking up the stairs and you think you already know who it is if yesterday was any indication. You look over and see Nam-gyu who says nothing this time but you scoot over in the bed and he quickly gets in.

He isn’t even trying to make an excuse this time, and you don’t fully know why you’re letting him sleep beside you. You think part of you craves the closeness, especially in this situation.

Nam-gyu gets under the sheets and turns away, lying on his side and looking towards the other beds.

You move your arm over and lay it over Nam-gyu’s body. You immediately regret it, feeling somewhat embarrassed at the thought that he might not reciprocate, and try to pull your arm back but Nam-gyu grabs it. He hold your arm to his chest. You don’t try to move it away anymore.

You don’t know why you decided to hug him in the first place. Could you have developed feelings for him in the span of a day? Maybe, and It seems like he might have caught feelings for you as well.

Like yesterday you begin to get tired with Nam-gyu there with you.

After a few minutes you give in and fall asleep.

——

A/n 2 - I don’t plan on writing a third part because if I did it would probably be them out of the games (majority voted X) but if anyone would want to read that lmk

[thedenerts]

love isn't red ; it's blue

Hi! This is my first fic on Logan Howlett. Not very good with english but i hope you guys would enjoy reading and if you want to see more please, do ask me ! ^^

dofp LOGAN X FEM!READER

tags: MDNI 18+, bad parenting, fingering, logan and reader are married, reader is in their 30s

word count: 1445

notes; if there's any bad english grammar, i mind you that english is NOT my first language

The night came by too quickly; Logan washed what was left off the little dishes by the sink. He watched as you and Hera (your first born daughter) talking on the patio. He stared at the mother of 2 who hasn’t aged a day since they had met. Your hair wild as a gyspsy’s, and body clothed in a simple shirt dress. You looked over your shoulder and smiled; Logan’s heart skipped a beat. You, yourself don’t even know what you had done to him after all these years. Logan felt his pants tighten at the sight of your black and silver lace bra through the white material. His thought process was broken by a loud grunt behind him, his hazel eyes met Hank’s. Hank had a smirk across his blue furry coat ass face (i intended to write down like this).

“Been awhile huh?” Hank asked, catching Logan’s sexual tension. Logan rubbed his face with his wet hands, turning away from his hairy blue friend. He grabbed the beer Hank offered, leaning against the counter. "Yeah, Mateo, he's definitely my son, alright...but damn," he grunted, taking a sip. "Every time Y/N and I try to get a moment alone, that kid senses it and wakes his little ass up." He slammed his palm on the counter, frustration evident. “Tonight, I’ma put some beer in his milk and keep him asleep all night long" Logan grinned at himself while Hank laughed at his friend’s irritation.

Logan's ears perked up as he heard Hera's yawn and Mateo getting fussy, signalling bedtime. Hank, noticing the situation, slapped Logan's back and exited the kitchen, leaving Logan alone with his thoughts. You were pulled by Hera, who forcefully tugged on your arm while cradling Mateo in the other. Before you could reach the stairs with Hera, Logan stops you by standing in front. “What’s the matter, Lo?” You asked with a soft chuckled “Oh, nothing, I was wondering if I could take over and handle that little monster of ours while you’re off to shower huh?” Logan replied as he picked up Mateo up away from your arm and cradles him in his. You raised a brow at him, feeling a bit sceptical but took the chances as you continue to make your way up with Hera.

Logan waved you a goodnight then looks down at his son’s drooling face. “Hey there bub, I’m not gonna let you ruin me and your momma’s time tonight. Not on my watch.” He cooed at the now smiling baby who was playing with Logan’s mutton chaffs. His tiny hands playing with Logan’s facial hair is almost too adorable to handle as Logan makes his way back into the kitchen. Unscrewing off the cap of the baby bottle, Logan put a few drops of diluted beer into Mateo’s milk and fed him up. He looks up at the time and noticed that it was almost nine p.m. Cradling Mateo in his arms while feeding him the diluted milk, Logan makes his way to Mateo’s room and gently sets him down in his crib. Letting the bottle beside him in case if Mateo gets cranky again.

Hurriedly, Logan makes his way to the master bedroom where you both shared. Hera, who was already sleeping in her other room, unbothered with what noise that will be occurring next. Logan enters the bedroom and waits anxiously as he sat down at the edge of the bed. His eyes clouded over with lust and deep desires when he saw you in a black almost see through that night shirt of yours. He whistles lowly when you smiled at him through your reflection, he approached his temptress nice and slow, hands on your hips before roaming that sweet sweet curve body of yours. Logan brought up his hand behind your head before placing kisses on your lips then to your shoulders while his other hand on your hips, pulling closer to his body. Your breath hitches, your (insert your hair colour) sprawled across his back as you threw you head back, allowing him more access. You felt a burning sensation in your lower belly.

Logan growled lowly, moving the both of you towards a large California king black oak bed. He laid you onto the red sheets, adoring your body with more kisses and soft touches. He spread your legs wide apart and settled in between them. “I missed this…I missed you, darlin’” He groaned with his eyes looking down at you with pure desire, pulling away your panties down and throwing aside as his hands now reaching your now wet sex; you moaned softly. Logan smirked at the sight of you arching your head back telling him that you wanted more. You rolled your eyes at the back of your head as Logan inserted two of his fingers into your wet sex. Your fingers intertwined within the silk sheets of the bed. Logan tries his best to restrain himself as best he could, but as he caught sight of your body begging for more…he withdrew his fingers out, removing off his clothes and pants and threw it aside.

You panted heavily, trying your best to lift your head up, eyes looking down to where Logan's shaft comes out leaking with pre-cum. Logan positions himself between your now spread legs, he looks down at you on the bed, biting his lower lip slightly, his heart racing as he smirks. Seeing you all flustered and panting to his magic touch…makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside. “It’s your fault, you know…looking all mighty fine under that night dress of yours, darlin’”. His hand gripping on your hip, tightening while the other bracing against the bed. His voice, rough and ragged as he plunged into you. With that; you let out a strangled moan, your hips slightly raised by Logan’s thrusts. His hand that was bracing against the bed slides under your night dress, then bra and removing it so that his only restrictions is your beautiful body.

As soon as they were on the floor beside his clothes, Logan then returned one hand back to your moist area and the other on your breasts. You moan even louder than before almost begging for more. “You like that, honey? Huh? You like how I’m gonna fill you up real nice and good?” He continues to pound you harder than before, his voice coming out with heavy grunts and moans; You clutched onto his arms as Logan groaned, filling you up. Logan moves with such pace in and out, building up your moans until they were his name. “Please…Lo…I’m gonna come…” you moaned loudly, arching your back causing you to cry out with pleasure. Logan’s primal instinct kicked as he could feel you tightening around him; “Fuck…darlin’! You’re so tight” he said. Your body turning into deep red blush from cheeks to hips. You couldn’t think or said anything except moans and cries from his thrust; hitting your spot every time. You met his already deep thrusts with your hips moving down as he went up.

Logan growled, grabbing your hips and kissing you roughly as your climax hits hard. You came undone on his thick throbbing cock, sweat dripping from both of you but Logan… he wasn’t done. Instead. He withdrew and lifted you on your hands and knees. You didn’t have time to react, so without second to waste, he re-entered. You threw your head back as your body taking every inch of him. Pushing your bottom closer, Logan took your submission and grab ahold of your hips once more; thrusting at full speed. You feel another climax coming quickly. Logan’s hands moved up to your spine, stroking as he finally released his hot seed into you as you let yourself go for a second time. Logan moaned deeply and flops down on top of you before rolling to the other side of the bed. Logan, his arms wraps around you, holding you close against his chest, feeling your body nuzzling into his, his own strength beginning to return. He rests his chin on the top of your head, his breath still uneven, his heart pounding in his chest. "You okay, darlin’? I didn't hurt you, did I?" You shake your head then smiled, laying your head on his chest with your finger playing on his chest.

Both you and Logan laughed before Mateo stirs awake, crying for attention. Logan groans, rolling his eyes. “Well, I guess someone’s awake. Better go check him out” You chuckled softly at him and nodded.

[pinkolve]

Paging Doctor Y/N ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Summary: You find Eddie getting beat up by a group of jocks, of course you have to come to the rescue and save him.

Genre: Fluff, angst for like two seconds

CW: Fem!reader, reader carries a purse, reader has an unusual amount of things in said purse, second person point of view, mentions of fighting, blood, bruises, swearing, use of a taser, inaccurate descriptions of weed, (I don't smoke enough to know what the fuck I'm talking about), violence, reader drives a pickup truck, reader is a total bad ass because why not?, and I really hope that's it! Let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 1,095

A/N: My first time writing in a second person pov, I think it's much better this way, let me know what you think! I might start writing all future fics this way. (I also write the words 'purse' and 'bag' far too many times in this, my deepest apologies.)

You walk out of Hawkins High, the cool night air nipping your skin. You wrap your jacket further around yourself as the door clicks shut behind you.

“Fucking freak!” A voice yells from next to you. You turn your head but see nothing, but there are grunts and groans emanating from somewhere. You peek around the corner, finding a group of jocks beating up another, skinnier boy.

“Let go.” He tries to fight back but a harsh punch lands in his gut. You quickly reach in your purse, grabbing hold of the light pink taser. You keep your hand in your purse, grip firm.

“Hey.” You round the corner, putting yourself in their line of sight. “Let him go.” You don’t look at the boy, just the jocks, standing your ground. You needed to show them you weren’t afraid, leave them powerless.

“Just mind your business.” He turns to punch the boy again.

“Now!” You yell louder this time. He turns back to you, eyes wide, and a vein popping in his forehead.

“Yeah,” He lets go of the guys shirt, making him lose his balance. He walks towards you creepily, until he’s close enough to touch. “And what are you gonna do about it?” He smirks, not realizing what a mistake he’s made. You quickly pull the taser from your purse and stick it to his stomach, turning it on and shocking him. He blubbers and shakes before you turn it off, making him fall to his knees.

“Hey!” One of the other jocks marches up to you, ready to defend his friend’s honor. When he’s close enough his fist pulls back. You grab it before it can hit you, moving to the side and tasing him in the neck. You pull his arm forward, making him fall to the ground.

“Anyone else want some?” You ask venomously, waving your taser in the air. The rest of the group runs over to grab their friends, dragging them away. You shake your head as you watch them scamper off. “Pussies.” You spit, before finally turning to the poor guy they were torturing. He looks up at you as he leans his back against the brick wall, needing the stability.

“Eddie?!” You yell, shoving the taser back in your purse as you run to his side. “I didn’t realize it was you! I’m so sorry, are you okay?!” You run your hands all over him, eyeing him down for any wounds that need urgent tending to.

“I’m fine, sweetheart.” You look back up at his face, unconvinced. That’s when you notice a small, deep gash on his cheek.

“You have a cut right there, you aren’t fine.” You state, grabbing his forearm and pulling him along. You lead him to your beat up truck.

“It’s not a big deal!” He tries to laugh it off. You push him to sit on the cargo bed, throwing your bag next to him before you rummage through it.

“It is to me, now shut up so I can patch it up.” You say simply, pulling a first aid kit from your purse.

“You just have that in your purse?” Eddie speaks up, eyebrows furrowed. He moves to look inside, curious to find out what else you could possibly have in there.

“I have almost everything you could ever need. That’s why it’s so big, I pack it full of shit. I like to be prepared, and this whole situation proves it comes in handy.” You smile, pulling a small, travel size bottle of hydrogen peroxide from the kit.

“Got any weed in there?” Eddie laughs, expecting the answer to be ‘no’. You reach in and pull out a small metal tin with pre-rolled blunts. “Holy shit!” He grabs one and looks up at you, making sure it’s okay if he takes one. You set the tin down and grab a lighter, handing it to him, giving him wordless permission.

“My hero.” He sighs as he puffs out a cloud of smoke.

“Yeah yeah.” You roll your eyes playfully. “I’m gonna clean the cut now, it’s gonna sting.” You push the cotton pad to his cheek, making him hiss. You pull it down and away, wiping any blood off. “Sorry.” Your voice is soft and sincere. You grab some neosporin and place a glob on his cut, before sticking a small bandage over it. “Good as new.” You grin wide, admiring your handiwork. You reach in your bag once again, and pull out a cherry lollipop. Eddie’s eyes widen like little kid’s.

“Holy shit, candy too!?” He snatches it from you greedily.

“For being a good patient.” You giggle, packing up your things and throwing them back in your purse.

“Thanks, sweetheart. I owe you one.” He hops down from the truck and stands in front of you.

“Why’d they gang up on you anyways?” You ask, turning back to face him after throwing your bag over your shoulder.

“I’m not even really sure.” He laughs. “It doesn’t matter.” He waves you off.

“It does matter, Eddie.” You scowl at him, making his smile fade. “Stop acting like this is no big deal, because it is!” Your voice is raising slightly.

“Woah, woah, okay!” He raises his hands in surrender. He drops the blunt and puts it out with his boot. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t upset me! It’s all these fucking assholes who think it’s okay to beat you up, just because they want to!” Your hands flail around a little, anger rising inside you.

“Hey, don’t worry about me, I’m fine.”

“I do worry about you!” You almost scream. “I always worry about you, how could I not?! The guy I love is getting beaten and bruised just for existing! It makes my blood fucking boil!” You go quiet, anger still present. You look back up at Eddie when he doesn’t say anything, his face ghostly pale. “What?” You ask softly. He swallows.

“You uh…You said you ‘love me.’” He swallows again, the lump in his throat still remaining. You still, body freezing in place.

“I, well…I mean I don’t, well I do, but I didn’t-”

“Did you mean it?” He cuts you off quickly. You look at him with confusion.

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it, Eds.” You whisper. Before you can say anything else, or even move, his lips are on yours. You let out a soft squeak of surprise before kissing him back. He pulls away just enough to murmur against your lips.

“I love you too.”

[iiseult]

Hello, I was wondering what the life of the female reader would be like when King Baldwin was not a leper. I mean, what would their life be like together as a married couple?

𝐵𝒶𝓁𝒹𝓌𝒾𝓃 𝐼𝒱 𝐻𝑒𝒶𝒹𝒸𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓃𝓈: 𝒩𝑜𝓃-𝓁𝑒𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝐸𝒹𝒾𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃

CWs → fluff, smut, probable historical inaccuracies, she/her pronouns, afab reader, mentions of religion, childbirth

Note: I know this took like over a month to get to, but in my defense I was working on completing the first arc of my multichapter Baldwin x reader fic. Also, if anyone’s interested, I started posting an alternate version of that on ao3 that’s in third person and from the perspective of a girl named Semele. As far as actual writing goes I think it’s much better quality simply because I don’t have to do all that corny second person bullshit or use the words “Y/N.” That’s a real pain in my ass. Anyway! 

Wordcount: 852

King Baldwin’s standards are high. He is a gorgeous young man with the world at his fingertips and he wants a woman, not a girl, to explore it with him. 

She must be good. She does not need to be rich or noble, but she needs to be selfless and kind and bold. And he needs someone who can match him in intellect so he doesn’t get bored. 

His hair frames his face in charming golden waves that fall to about his chin. His eyes are a deep cerulean, lined by long lashes, and his lips are pink and shapely, if a bit on the thin side. The nose is strong and straight, the jaw is square and sharp, the cheekbones are high and structured, and the skin covering it all is smooth and healthy. A light smattering of tiny freckles paint his nose and cheeks. His body is strong, with substantial broad shoulders, and what muscle he has is subtle but genuine. 

Sometimes his movements are awkward, a little different from other well-bred boys his age, and perhaps that’s what makes him so appealing. So mysterious. And, by the way, he certainly is appealing. 

Every woman that lays eyes on him, and even some that have never had that honor and know of him only from word of mouth, want him. Every woman thinks she can somehow be good enough for him. Of course, maybe one in one thousand of them actually is. 

When a lady finally catches his eye, it would be for her wit or her bravery. Perhaps she would beat him in a game of chess, or speak out against what she thinks is wrong. The more cruelty in her smile, the more attractive she becomes. 

When he proposes, it’s very romantic, very personal, and above all, very private. Though he surely makes the experience memorable for his future wife, he doesn’t do anything over-the-top. It does not involve other people, and perhaps it doesn’t even take place at a particular spot. The most important part of the proposal, after all, is the words he is speaking, the vow he is making. He puts his silver tongue to good use, so that saying no isn’t even an option anymore. How could she possibly turn him down? 

 He can’t wait to get his hands on her. The wedding night is something he has long been looking forward to, knowing that it would be worth it to wait for the right woman, and of course, it exceeds his expectations. How could he have guessed how soft, how supple her flesh would feel beneath him? How sweet and yielding? There was nothing that could have prepared him for the feeling of warmth that wholly enveloped him the first time they made love. It was something that could never be recreated by his own hand. It could only ever occur by the soft hand, or the cruel, relentless lips of his young wife. 

His body is young and robust, as is hers, and they are both brimming with passion and want. The first month of the marriage is spent mostly alone together, trapped in an endless cycle of tiring each other out, sleeping, waking, and doing the whole damned thing all over again. It would take no time at all for the seed to be planted in her fertile womb and a baby to begin to grow. 

Seeing his wife pregnant would only make him fall in love with her more, if such a thing were even possible. Now she is carrying a little miracle inside her, and to him, the world around her positively glows. He is, in a word, infatuated. So proud. He takes her into town and practically parades her around, the curve of her swollen belly growing more and more obvious under the fabric of her gown. Isn’t she beautiful, he would say to Raymond, and to Sybilla, and to anyone else who was unlucky enough to engage him in conversation. 

During the birth, he stayed by her side. He was the one to wipe the sweat from her forehead with damp towels, to hold her hand and cry softly from seeing her in such pain. He loves her so much, and he was going to love that baby, too. He was going to positively spoil it. That is, if it didn’t kill her! He cries more than she does during the birth, and though he does everything he can to ease her pain and help the midwife speed along the process, mostly he can do nothing but stand around and wring his hands and look helplessly at his love, his eyes swimming with wild fear and affection and awe. She’s so strong, how is she doing it? 

Once the baby is born, though the sheets of her bed are soiled with various fluids, he lays down next to his wife and holds her in his arms and she holds their baby in her arms, and they all sleep, a perfect family. The baby is going to look just like her, he thinks, and he will love it.