#he's ready to take his bass off

[lock-my-feelings-in-a-jar]

[defmaybe]

Noona from the Bar

IVE's Kim Gaeul x Male Reader

5.2k words

A/N: Ahh, my debut! Thanks to @msafterhours and @i-am-lifeform24 for editing and beta-reading! And thanks to all the kind writers and fellow readers who have been nothing but supportive of me. I know my skills aren’t really up to the task yet (I have a Minji-Haewon 15k draft with broken grammar sitting lol), but I’ll seek my way through it. Thanks for reading!

—

It’s Friday night. The sound of the electronic beats echo throughout the bar, accompanied with the shaking bass. Customers are cramped into small tables, shuffling together to accommodate the enormous crowd. And there you are, sitting in front of the vacant stage, which, to your knowledge, is usually reserved for the band to play, with the Nordic-esque climate sending shivers through your body.

Leehan and Sungho dragged you with a few other guys here after your sophomore finals. You wouldn’t say that it’s a chore, but there are definitely better things to do than get drunk. These two are the most outgoing guys of your diverse group. Meanwhile, you aren’t much of a social butterfly, preferring the more busy student council member life. Sitting in between them, you can only scroll through your phone to pass the time.

“To our grades!” Sungho raises his glass and looks around, inviting you and the other friends to join him.

“To our grades,” you say, barely able to hear your own voice before clinking your glass with others.

You chug half your beer, ready for a long night, your friends laughing as they do the same.

Sungho sighs, putting down his drink, and saying, “Thanks to Seokjin, or we wouldn’t have today, drinking beers and listening to music!”

All eyes on your table turns to Seokjin, the kind, quiet nerd of your group. “It’s nothing really, you’re my friends, and—”

“To Seokjin!” Leehan puts his glass up for another toast, while Seokjin scans around him, seeing all his friends doing the same, smiling. 

“Thanks, guys.” Seokjin says, as he raises his glass for a toast with yours.

—

As the night goes on, the music shows no sign of calming down. NewJeans booms through the speakers, interspersed with remixes of local songs. Alcohol has started to take hold of you, plaguing your inhibition with sharp tingles as you chug your glass away.

“Shit, I have to go to the bathroom,” Leehan suddenly says.

“I’m coming with you,” Namjoon follows. “Anyone else?”

Everyone around the table stands up except for you, and you watch as they shoot you apologetic glances. “Watch the table for us!” Sungho shouts at you, his voice struggling to carry through the loud music. “Use your student committee power to protect this table or whatever.”

“Fine, and I’m only a secretary, by the way. Don’t be gone for too long.” You smile, waving to your friends as they leave one by one. 

“I think Leehan is going to stay there for quite a while. I saw him heaving a bit earlier,” Seokjin sighs, worried.

Your eyes widen. “Well, I’ll wait for you guys here. Take your time,” you assure Seokjin, with him gesturing a thanks with a grateful smile. 

—

On the other side of the bar, another group revels as their finals come to an end.

“Jiwon, pass me the liquor, please,” Gaeul asks.

Jiwon holds the half-full rum bottle. “Gaeul, this is your fourth glass of the night. Are you sure you wanna drink more?”

Gaeul scoffs, voice already slurring. “Yeah, why not?” 

“Well, the last time this happened, I was holding your head above my toilet by the sixth shot,” Yujin adds.

“It will be different this time, come on~” Gaeul pleads, sulking in her chair, matched by her descending tone.

“Fine,” Jiwon huffs, finally passing the rum to Gaeul. “I’m not holding your hair again, though,” she pouts, with Yujin nodding in agreement.

“Thanks!” Gaeul pours the drink into her ice-filled glass before topping the golden liquor with cola. She glances around her table. “I promise, I’ll be the one who holds Wonyoung—,” her stream of thoughts is cut off, as she catches your presence not too far from her, alone, sliding one video after another, gleaming her with flame.

Yujin follows her sight to you. “Well, well, another freshman, huh?” She scoffs.

“Oh, come on, I never get to do this. God, Jiwon brought like three guys to her place in the same month before,” Gaeul deflects.

“Hey!” Jiwon reaches to slap her hand. “You say that like it’s an insult.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” Gaeul pouts, making Jiwon roll her eyes, smiling.

“If you want him, then go get him!” Wonyoung adds. “We may not have another chance in our senior year. They are going to kill us with those goddamn projects.” She takes a sip from her glass and contorts her face after that.

“You know men don’t like older women, right?” Gaeul turns her head back onto Wonyoung, who’s still trying to make peace with the content of her glass. “He’d say no.”

Yujin laughs, “That attitude is why you’ve brought no one back to your place!” She pushes Gaeul’s drink into its owner’s hand, pointing at her face. 

“Don’t live to regret this.”

Gaeul taps the table with her fingers rapidly, contemplating her approach. Her friends watch her hesitation with anticipation, until Gaeul retorts, “Alright, fine. If that’ll make you guys happy,” before getting up from her chair and walking towards you, glancing back to see her peers watch the scene unfold from afar.

—

It has been twenty minutes since your friends left. You are caught under the crushing weight of the foreign sounds and solitude among the crowd. Leehan is probably having his face in the toilet. And being the good friend you are, you bring up your phone to text Seokjin to ask about the situation.

Before you hit send, a sound comes from your right, catching your attention.

“Hi!”

You turn to see a woman with short, raven black hair standing before you. Her hand is holding a glass of what your best guess seems to be cola. Her nails are cut short and plain. She’s wearing a black cardigan that somehow shows off her lean curves. Her jeans don't make it even easier for you, leaving you with little to imagine.

“Is this seat taken?” she asks, bending down to hover her glass above Sungho’s seat.

“Hey!” You greet her. “Yeah, it’s taken. I’m sorry about that.” You plant your hand on the vacant chair, inadvertently touching her long fingers, eliciting a giggle from her.

“Shit, sorry! …Again.” You pull your hand back as you feel her warm skin. You can feel a small fire in your cheeks.

Gaeul lifts her glass to cover herself laughing. “Haha, it’s fine. Still, are your friends coming back soon? I’m kinda looking for… company tonight.”

It’s quite rare to find someone approaching you, let alone stating their romantic needs this clearly. Yet, it’s a bar after all; alcohol strips people’s inhibitions off here. And who are you to say no to this beautiful woman?

“Oh, sure! They are probably taking care of my friend in the toilet. Go ahead.” You gesture at her to sit down, as she moves the chair a little to comply.

“I’m Gaeul, by the way.” She offers you a handshake, smiling, to which you happily accept. Unlike yours, her hand is silky soft, 

“Hi, Gaeul. I’m from engineering, civil. What do you study?” You ask.

“Architecture! I’m just beside you, haha,” as she pulls her hand back and placing her glass on your table. The architecture faculty is bordering your engineering main building, and you’ve walked past it often during lunchtime.

“Have I met you before?” You inquire, squinting your eyes on you to examine her shadowed features.

“I don’t think so. I would have remembered you with that face.” Gaeul playfully points at your face, chuckling.

You chuckle along to hide the fact that she’s really influencing you with such an irresistible charm. “Thanks, I guess.”

“What year are you in?” Gaeul asks. “I’ve recently finished my junior finals. I made a lot of home models this year.” She rolls her eyes and sighs while recounting her experience.

“You are a year above me. I’m just a sophomore.” You answer.

“So, I’m your noona, right?” She giggles, tapping your shoulder softly with her finger.

“Yes, Gaeul noona,” you pout, placing your hands on your thighs.

Gaeul giggles, “No need, haha. Just Gaeul is fine, really.”

“Alright, Gaeul.” You smile along with her.

The night with Gaeul advances, while you quickly forget about your friends taking care of Leehan. You learn about her aspirations of being an architect, and how she also hates drawing to death. 

“And you want to become an architect?” you ask, baffled in such contradiction.

“Yeah, haha, I’ve always loved elegant buildings, and I really want to create them myself as I grow up.” Gaeul smiles, gladly sharing her wishes. 

She continues, “But when it comes to drawing, I’ve always had the feeling of having to perfect them. And that eats up a lot of my energy, really.”

“So, you’re a perfectionist?” you continue to shoot questions at her, giggling.

Gaeul laughs. “You can say that.”

She then tells you about the pets at her home, as she learns about your ambitions. And you feel like the conversation is sparking everywhere; it flows like the alcohol in your blood, suppressing your shyness just for her.

—

“Yeah! I just got my driver’s license a few months ago.” The clock strikes almost ten, over half an hour after your first words with her, and the topic is lingering on driving at the moment.

Gaeul takes a deep breath before gaining the courage to ask. “Hey, do you want to go back to my place?”

“Really?” you ask.

“Yeah, talking in here doesn’t give us much privacy.” Gaeul seems to be going all-in here.

Unable to bother yourself under these waves of songs you can’t sing along to anymore, you answer in a quickfire, “Sure! Where do you live, though?”

Gaeul points her thumb behind her, towards the outside. “Just across this bar. I usually have my friends crashing for the night if they can’t walk to their dorms.”

“Lead the way, then.”

—

“Well, show’s over, girls,” Jiwon huffs, seeing Gaeul guiding you out of the bar. “It’s the three of us now. Anyone you guys are eyeing on?”

Yujin and Wonyoung shrug. “Let’s just enjoy the rest of the night first,” Wonyoung says.

“Yeah.” Yujin adds and signals a toast, as Jiwon and Wonyoung join her.

—

Gaeul unlocks the door to her room before leading you inside. Her room is pretty tidy, aside from the lump of unfolded clothes on her bed on the left, covered by brown bedsheets. She has a few stuffed animals sitting at the top of it: some Care Bears, a cylinder piggy doll, with Shaun the Sheep gracefully sitting in the middle, and a few more aquatic animals.

“I’m saving up my money to buy my fifth Care Bear,” Gaeul says with a smile, determination sparks in her eyes.

On the opposite side, there’s a drawing table with a few sketches of buildings, showcasing her architecture works. You close the door and lock it for her.

Noticing the mess, she darts toward the bed. “It’s a little messy, sorry,” she says, picking up the pile before cramming it inside her closet. “I didn’t have time to take care of it when I was coming out.”

“I don’t mind, really.” You smile, understanding her struggle of doing laundry.

Gaeul smiles back as she shuts her closet door. “Where were we again?” she leans against it, giving you a questioning look.

“I—,” you pause, further taking in the atmosphere of her room. You find a few movie posters on her wall above the bed: Thirteen, Little Women, and After Hours are the ones standing out. She also has her Jubilee vinyl on display just by her table.

“So, you like Japanese Breakfast?” you ask, before she follows your gaze onto the album. You’ve never expected someone you find at a bar to listen to Michelle Zauner’s band, to be honest.

“Yeah, it was my sister’s before she moved out,” Gaeul answers. “But the album itself is pretty good. I pick it up now and then to let it loop while I’m drawing.”

“I’ve heard about its quality.” You tap your fingers on your thighs, eyes darting everywhere except onto her.

Gaeul taps her chin in a staccato rhythm; she seems as unsure of her next action as you do. The humming of the air conditioner lulls from behind her. She ponders for a while, before stepping towards you.

“You know the implications, right?”

And that’s it; the way she says ‘right’ tingles you in a peculiar way. Gaeul looks into your eyes as she does, eliciting an indescribable feeling inside you. Your hands shake as she closes her distance to the point where you can feel her breathing.

“May I?” she asks, lips just inches away from yours.

“S—sure,” you stutter out in front of this gorgeous woman.

Without further ado, Gaeul kisses you ardently. Her tongue doesn’t let your mouth simply rest on hers, as she invades your cavern to display the passion she has been holding. She cups your cheeks so that she can taste you more thoroughly. You moan at such a confident act right into her mouth, before you let your tongue wrestle with hers.

As the kiss deepens, Gaeul draws her hand down your neck, and you shudder in response. “Fuck, noona,” you utter through the connected lips. Your hands cup her face, letting her take control. And without initiation from you, her fingers sliding down your abdomen seem to invite you to engage with her under the same depravity. Yet, your hands linger on her facial features.

Soon, Gaeul’s hand works its way to your crotch, stroking your erect length through the pants. “Wow, all excited for me, huh?” she says, suppressed under the kiss, and you moan through the gaps, having your shaft fondled.

Gaeul breaks off from the torrid act, but her lips leave just a little distance from yours. However, it’s far enough to keep you wanting her more. She lifts her arms to wrap around your neck. “I want to ask you something.” She says in a whisper while looking into your eyes; her deep voice shakes you.

“Go ahead.”

Gaeul clicks her tongue a few times, glancing at the wall before asking. 

“Are you comfortable calling me noona again? I know I told you back in the bar to drop it, but seeing you being all obedient because of me is a bit of a…” She bites her lip as if to resist the inevitable. “…turn on.” She grins, unsure, not even believing the words coming out of her mouth.

You chuckle before answering without another hesitation. “Sure, Gaeul noona.”

Gaeul smiles. “Alright, baby boy.” She slides her hands down to work on your top button. “Let’s go to our main course.”

You quickly unbutton your shirt upward to meet her trembling hands. And quickly, your shirt is up for Gaeul to toss it away into the void. She runs her right hand down your chest. “You take care of yourself well, don’t you?” As her fingers tap on your flat stomach, hitching your breath.

“C—Cardio from time to time, noona.” You stutter out; fuck, this woman is burning your skin.

“Good for you.” She says in a deep tone, while her right hand is still feeling your midriff.

“Now, leaving you like this wouldn’t be… fair, right? Bare for me to—” The next word cut short for her to plant her lips on your nipple, tasting your body and eliciting a moan from you.

“Noona…” You are now lost in the pleasure; jolts after jolts from her lips rush through your body, making you shudder. Her saliva coats your nipple, and you lock your hand behind your noona’s head to keep yourself from falling over.

Gaeul keeps switching her suction on your peaks before she pushes you onto her bed. “I was talking about fairness, right?” She says with her fingers tilting your head down on your chin a little to meet her eyes. Her legs are straddling yours, keeping you in place.

“Y—Yes, noona,” you speak out.

“So, since you are half naked… under me.” She traces a line down your abdomen, igniting a fire in its wake. “You get to choose which half of me… that you want to see.”

You gulp, eyes wide. Fuck, this woman is really having her way with you now, and there’s nothing you can do to resist her seductive endeavor. Your mind goes into overdrive with the choices: top or bottom, top or bottom, top or—

“Every second counts, my baby boy.” Gaeul taps her bare wrist, grinning.

You swallow another gulp. “Your pick, n—noona.”

Gaeul giggles. “Well, since I’m a believer in justice…” She moves her hands to the top button of her black cardigan, ready to unlock it. “Say please, baby,” she says with her sultry voice.

“Please, noona.” You succumb to her domination. As Gaeul unlocks the first button, putting her soft cleavage into view.

“Please what, baby boy?” She continues her seduction; her hands are toying with the second button now. She pulls the neckline down to reveal the strings of her bra and the full view of the valley between her mounds.

“Please take your top off, noona,” you plead.

Giggling, “Alright, baby boy.” Gaeul quickly unbuttons the remaining locks, as her unending tease also seems to affect herself. Her toned midriff quickly reveals itself to you, decorated by the sky blue laced bra above, sending you further into a spiral.

Slowly, she strips herself off of her cardigan, your tongue becomes drawn to the thin string that holds two sides of the chest cover together. You can taste the hints of her salty sweat absorbed by the cloth.

“Fuck,” Gaeul whimpers. “S—So needy, aren’t you?” She tosses the outer garment away before pressing your head onto her. Being pushed even more, you map a straight line up the hollow of her chest with your tongue, causing her to moan out.

“Alright, I—I get it, you’re a—a tits person,” Gaeul cries out, quickly retreating her hands to unclasp the back of her remaining top attire. “This doesn’t mean y—you have p—power over me or anything, though.”

“Yes, noona,” you say through your licks, her bra falls off right between you two. As you pull yourself back to take a break from your appetizer, you are given the heavenly sight of her succulent tits. They are small, but you’ve never been the one to care, anyway. Her nipples are already erect, aroused as she expects the divine rapture from no one but you.

“You like the view, baby boy?” Gaeul chuckles at the sight of you salivating in front of her perky mounds. 

As an answer, you dive in to savor her excited brown nubs. There’s no particular taste to them, yet you’re being commanded by these peaks to satisfy her overflowing lust, making her a writhing mess right before you.

“God, fuck!” Gaeul moans out. You remain fixated on her tits, sucking on them as if your life is hanging on the strings of her cries. And to further stimulate her, you use your hand to caress the freed side of her frame. You roam from her shoulder to the waistline, squeezing her chest with each passing.

Gaeul, again, presses you onto her soft chest, yet she’s unable to let herself being satisfied just on the outside anymore.

“F—Fuck, shall we go to the m—main course, baby boy?” her words come out ragged; she can’t further shackle herself from the peak of intimacy.

You remove yourself from her nubs. “Yes, please, noona.” Gaeul pushes you down onto her bed, signaling you to unzip your pants while she does so. And within a blink, your erect cock and her soaked cunt are just a breath away from each other. She seems to be an all-natural girl too, choosing to let her hair grow above the canal, and that just makes her even more mouthwatering.

Still, the sex education lessons hold you back on the ground. “Do you need protection?” you ask, concerned about the prospect of unwanted consequences.

“I have my contingency plans, baby,” she huffs with a smile as she hovers her sex just above your shaft now, ready for the ride of her life.

With no words, you nod, and she slowly sinks herself onto your rod. You cry out as your tip gradually disappears into her. You pull your head back under the overwhelming sensations. “Fuck,” and you can do nothing but whimper.

“D—Do I feel good on top of you?” Gaeul asks, voice and her body shuddering in the descent. You are halfway inside her now. Her hands are roaming on your writhing frame, determined to push you off the edge even faster.

“Yes, fuck, noona. You feel so fucking good.” You’re enamored by the throes of pleasure surrounding your body. She slowly impales herself down to the hilt, fully coating your cock with her nectar.

“Fuck!” Gaeul’s tone becomes a scream now. She bends herself back, showing her fragile frame. Traces of ribs are visible under the room light, and her immaculate chest stretches for you to view.

Gaeul remains in the position for a while, before she drags her wet cunt off of you, just barely seeing your tip, grazing your dick with such an unbearable pleasure. Your length now glistens with her honey, but the shackling gratification lets you register only her up and down motion. And as she slams down, you can do nothing but moan under such divine elation.

Wet squelches and moans echo throughout the room, as Gaeul picks up her pace to quicken this perversion. She cries out in every movement, and you echo out every moan. Her short hair becomes really helpful in situations like this, since, with each bounce, they don’t seem to cover her face as much as it should. And you’re one lucky man to see her all invested in the depravity - every contorted face, every line drawn on your abdomen with her hands, and God, how her moan is a symphony you’ll remember for the rest of your life.

Inevitably, with each of her bounce, it drives you toward the precipice. Her angelic moans and the bouncing chest ramp you up closer to paradise. The sight of her riding you - mouth agape, perky tits bouncing, hands shuffling her strands to make sense of the pleasure, creating such an immaculate image - with the sensations around your cock is just unyielding.

“N—Noona, I’m gonna cum, slow down,” you plead, and Gaeul looks down at you, hands still locked in her olive hair. Her breaths become ragged, and her whimpers seem to scale up with each insertion.

“Me too, baby boy, me too,” Gaeul cries out. “Cum with me.” 

She keeps the moderate tempo she has been putting on you. Her bare, untrimmed, drenched cunt rams your cock with steady speed to keep your orgasms alight. Sounds of fleshes crashing into each other; an unyielding amount of Gaeul’s honey is mixing with the notes that come out of her gorgeous lips, creating a concoction that sends you into ecstasy.

And with one last thrust, along with you, Gaeul becomes a squirming wreck. With eyes fluttering, delectable chest heaving, wailing such a symphony that only a deity can sing. Her entire frame shakes with exaltation. You cry from the depths of your lungs, and the knot in your stomach becomes undone. Your cock shoots spurts of cum inside her, as Gaeul’s delicate cunt gushes out torrents of clear juice onto your crotch.

With each twitch of your length, they serve the purpose of unloading into her womb to the brim, and they shake you to sing out such a beautiful melody, joining Gaeul into composing an amorous masterpiece. Your nectar finds its way out to concoct with hers, pooling on your crotch. It’s a breathtaking sight, seeing her undone like this - juice spilled, wails unrestrained, walls contracting to drain you dry.

Gaeul’s climax subsides; her moans show signs of her normal voice again. “G–Good job, baby boy,” she chuckles through her whimpers. Her pace decreases, and you’re thankful that she doesn’t ride your consciousness out.

“You’re getting sensitive, right?” She brings her motion to a stop, but still enveloping your length within her needy core. It’s warm; she’s warm.

“Yeah, noona. You can–,” you stop halfway for a few breathers. “You can stay like this, to be honest.”

“Oh, my poor baby boy~,” Gaeul laughs. “We can stay like this if you really want it.” Her voice still carries hints of intoxication, yet you can’t deny that the potential of it being genuine affection entices you. “I’ll have to go to the bathroom first, though. I can’t sleep with our cum being everywhere like this.”

She bends down to give you a peck on your forehead, before slowly, agonizingly, pulling herself off of you. And doesn’t that make you whimper out, as your cock is still sensitive from shooting spurts of your seed inside her dainty cunt? The feeling of unloading still lingers in your filthy mind.

Maybe it’s a mix of all the sensations you’ve ever felt - mostly pleasure with pain. You moan out as she chuckles at the sight of you crumbling under her final touch. “Alright, baby boy, wanna take a shower?” Gaeul gets up from the bed before sauntering towards the bathroom. “Maybe we can have another round~,” she winks across her shoulder, before going into the shower.

“I’ll be there, noona,” you reply, as you collect your inhibition enough to take another shot of intimacy with her under the running water.

—

Sunlight peeks through the curtains, waking you up after the rough night, naked. Last night’s debauchery remains clear in your head, as the images of Gaeul commanding you around are still in high definition. You look around the room to catch your noona examining the contents of her fridge, bending over to show you her bare, plump ass, only slightly covered by her baby blue shirt.

“Up already, sleepyhead?” She notices you through the gap between her arm and the single garment on her. “I have some banana cake left, not expired yet,” she says before picking it up and surveys the package. “Yeah, a day left. You want one?”

“How much is it? Can you send me your QR code after this, noona?” The memory of you acting all-obedient shows up again, and you can only cover your mouth after that. 

“No need, ‘baby boy’,” Gaeul chuckles, pulling up an air quote, mocking the tone she used last night. “Consider this as part of the one-night plan.”

God, she looks flawless under this morning’s light. The way her short hair is messy; the tired eyes, and that pair of legs - the pair you wish to be caught between - makes you want to spend another day with her. 

“Can I extend my subscription?” you utter out involuntarily. The alcohol hasn’t returned your reticence yet, perhaps.

Gaeul considers your proposal for a while, nibbling her chin with her free hand, while tapping her feet with the cake still in the other hand. 

“Well, I’m not sure, really,” she says. “I have only known you for barely half a day, with the help of alcohol.”

“I know, Gaeul,” you groan. “But like, I want to know you more.”

“I don’t know.” She chuckles as she closes the distance between you two. 

Gaeul continues her interrogation, “do you, really?” Her bare, untrimmed pussy comes in at your face level. She changes her motion to crossing her legs forward, slowly, covering the lower part of her sex as she gets right in front of your eyes.

You drool at the sight, tranced, as your morning wood is twitching. Your tongue involuntarily sticks out, aimed at her nub, and you are magnetized to her cunt again. You are so ready to please your noona again, making her a drenched disarray before you, before Gaeul breaks your train of desire, grabbing your chin and tilting your head up to watch her smile.

“Alright, I believe you now.” She simpers with your tongue still out. “I’ll give you my Instagram before you leave.”

You sign an okay to her, as you retreat your tongue back into your mouth.

“Good boy,” Gaeul laughs. “Here, your breakfast.”

You take the banana cake from her. “Thanks, noona.”

“I’ll give you more than this the next time, if you can make me fancy you.” She lets go of you before climbing onto her bed to the other side, giving you a view of her luscious cheeks once more. She bends down to pick up your discarded, now-creased clothes, involuntarily (or not) putting her sex into display, and you can do nothing but let your length twitch at the sight.

You gulp at the sight, mustering the courage to ask out, “Really?”

She sits back up after her teasing act, legs crossed, but you can still see flashes of her. Gaeul ponders for a while, tapping her chin in the same veins she did before the explicit scene of you two.

“Definitely, maybe.” She laughs again, shooting the garments at you, and you can only join along with her.

—

As you walk back to your dorm, your phone suddenly rings. You pick up the phone, eyes widen. It’s Sungho, the ‘friend’ you left with no trace for him last night.

“Shit.” You utter before accepting the call.

“Where the fuck have you been last night, bro?” His breath is coming in shorts. “We were worried about you. We came back around ten—”

“I was with a woman; her room is just across the bar. I’m fine, Sungho,” you reply.

“Oh.” Sungho pauses. “Oh damn. Wow.” He’s left speechless for a few seconds.

“Yeah, and we—, uh—” You stop, contemplating on whether to tell him.

“No need, bro.” You can hear Sungho chuckling through your phone. “Who’s the lucky woman who takes your virginity, huh?”

“Architecture,” you play coy, withholding Gaeul’s identity. “And we trade each other’s contact just this morning.”

“Goddamn, you had been inside her, and you just asked for her contact after that? Fucking hell, man.” Sungho laughs again. “Well, we’re happy that you didn’t lose an arm or anything, bro.”

You smile before remembering about your sick friend. “Oh, what about Leehan? How’s he now?”

“Fine, he’s still sleeping on my bed,” Sungho affirms. 

You smile, and reply, “Alright, good, thanks for calling.”

“No problem, see ya!” Sungho says.

“See ya.” And you hang up the phone.

On the way back, the prospect of building your relationship with Gaeul reels in your mind. The probability of you two working remains shaky. Emotions might take hold of only one of you, dragging its victim into an unbearable sorrow. What if a crush turns into a craving? Either way, the shared moment of your bodies clashing into each other is going to be etched into you, and, hopefully, her.

And as you unlock the door, a notification pops up on your phone, and it reads as:

actualgaeul started following you.

—

[godslino]

PIECE BY PIECE | minho first date series. friends to lovers.

pairing: minho x fem!reader word count: 6.2k genre: college au, mutual pining, fluff, angst warnings: drinking, referenced injury (very minor) summary: minho, on a drunken whim, asks you out on a date.

chan | minho | changbin | hyunjin | jisung | felix | seungmin | jeongin · · · ♡ series masterlist · · · ♡ taglist · · · ♡

a/n: finally!! the minho part!! i’ve been sooo excited about this one since i first got the idea. i hope you guys enjoy! once again any and all feedback is appreciated, happy reading <3

“Dude, I think it’s clean.”

Minho looks up from where he’s scrubbing the counter, eyes narrowed. So what if it’s his third time going over every surface in the kitchen?

“Are you going to help me or are you just gonna sit there and make more crumbs?”

Jeongin’s eyebrows shoot into his hairline. He holds up his hands in surrender, the bag of chips in his lap crinkling. “I’m just saying. You’re acting like she’s never seen the place before.”

That’s the problem. You’ve seen his place. Minho has to stop the shudder that threatens to overtake his body at the thought.

“So you’re not helping? Great. Get out.”

“I live here!” Jeongin whines. “Why do I have to get out? You can’t banish me like this.”

“I can and I will. Now leave. I have two hours to make sure everything is ready and I am not going to vacuum for a fourth time.”

“Yes mom,” Jeongin rolls his eyes as he unfolds his legs from underneath him.

He stops just short of the kitchen counter, points an accusatory finger at Minho’s disheveled figure still hunched over an imaginary stain.

“For the record, Chan hyung would never do this to me. He loves my crumbs.”

Minho throws the scrub daddy at him.

🏠

The night it happens, all it takes is approximately three shots and a pep talk from Hyunjin for Minho to finally find the nerve to ask you out.

“You’ve got this,” the younger boy says, words slurred, his hands steady on both Minho’s shoulders. The bass thumps loud in the other room, drowned out by the walls of the kitchen until it’s nothing but garbled nonsense going in one of his ears and out the other, vibrations low in his chest.

“I’ve got this.” Minho repeats, the thrum of alcohol already spreading to his fingertips. He feels warm, light on his feet. His limbs are starting to loosen up and his insides are turning to jelly. He might even be floating.

“You look hot.”

“I look hot.”

“She’s gonna say yes.”

“She’s gonna say yes.”

“You’re gonna venmo me twenty dollars.”

“I’m gonna venmo you twenty dollars.” Minho parrots before he can even process what he’s saying. Changbin, who’d been watching the entire thing unfold from where he stands with his back pressed against the sink, snorts.

“Wait, what the f—”

“Go get her!” Hyunjin screams, pushing him through the door of the kitchen with one last pat on the back, “And send me my money!”

Minho stumbles over himself, just barely able to stop in time before he goes crashing into a group of people. The living room is crowded: there’s furniture pushed up against the walls, bodies pressed front to back in the middle of the floor, a makeshift DJ stand in the corner where Chan is controlling the music from his laptop, drink in hand. Minho catches his eye from across the room, the glow of the LEDs reflecting off the toothy grin he shoots his way, dimples on full display.

“Hey!” Minho feels someone grab his arm, and he turns to find you staring up at him. “Where’d you go? You said you were gonna get a drink.”

Minho follows your eyes down to where you’re staring at his empty hands. “I—uh, well. I ran into Hyunjin and we took a few shots.”

The pout you give him does nothing but spur on the fluttering of his chest, his brain still hyper aware of the way your hand was resting on his elbow. “Shots? I want shots!” you whine, and Minho has to avert his gaze from staring at your lips when your pout only worsens.

“How much have you had?” he tries to ask over the music. There’s a shitty pop song playing, high pitched and wonky. If he remembers in the morning, he’ll make sure he berates Chan about his DJ-ing abilities.

“What?” you scream back, tiptoeing to bring your mouth closer to his ear.

Minho is only a man. A man who's been in love with you since the moment you accidentally spilled your coffee all over Hyunjin in the quad during freshman year. He remembers that day well, remembers the way your eyes went wide and your lips parted. He also remembers the way he wished it was him with the large wet stain on his shirt, that way it was him that was offered to have his lunch bought as an apology.

He’d never admit it, but sometimes really late at night, when the moon is high in the sky and he’s feeling oddly sentimental, he counts his lucky stars that Hyunjin had been in a relationship at the time. Minho doesn’t know what he would’ve done had he been forced to watch the two of you hit it off—some form of arson, presumably. Anything to take the edge off. But because of the fact that Hyunjin was not trying to have his head cut off by said girlfriend at the time, he invited Minho along as some sort of collateral damage. That’s when the two of you became friends. Kind of perfect if you ask him.

With the jumbled mess of butterflies in his stomach that he gets whenever you’re near him, and the threat of the alcohol slowly seeping through his skin, his brain short circuits the minute your breath grazes the shell of his ear. When your hand follows not long after, fingers gripping the nape of his neck to hold him in place, he almost passes out.

“Min? What’d you say?”

Minho is rendered completely useless by you. Absolutely ruined. Your existence has thrown his entire plan to woo you off course and now his mouth is opening and closing like a badly programmed robot. Pathetic. Nuts and bolts for brains.

By the grace of God (or some other higher being that Minho’s never bothered to believe in until this very moment) he finds his voice, but not before you’re pulling back with a confused look on your face.

“I asked how much you’ve had to drink,” he says, straining against the music.

A saccharine sweet grin that has him seeing stars spreads across your face, “Not enough!”

Minho is not an enabler. Never has been, never will be. There was one time, back in that fateful freshman year that also introduced the two of you, that he let Hyunjin get blackout drunk. A terrible decision on his end, if the earful he got from Chan the next morning was anything to go by. And as if that wasn’t enough, he was finding remnants of the resulting hacking session for the following week. So yeah, never again.

But while Minho isn’t an enabler, he is smitten, and the way your hand feels wrapped around his wrist as you drag him into the kitchen has his soul threatening to leave his body. He thinks that maybe he could do anything as long as you asked. He also hopes you can’t feel the way his pulse is rabbiting beneath his skin, right under the press of your thumb.

“There’s, like, nothing here.” you say as you rummage through the cupboard near the window, nose scrunched and a frown on your face.

Minho laughs, rounds the kitchen island to crouch down and open the cabinet under the sink. “That’s because you don’t know where to look,” he smirks, pulling out a fresh bottle of tequila. “Also, Chan hyung is greedy. He knows people like you will go scavenging his supply if he isn’t careful.”

“I resent that.” you frown, taking the bottle from him. “Besides, people like me deserve to have fun too.”

“Mhm, sure.” Minho says, grabbing a solo cup. He holds his hand out for the bottle, pours just the right amount before sliding it over and following it up with a can of coke.

“A man after my heart.” you joke, holding your cup up to him in a mock toast before downing it in one go. Minho watches with so much focus, fighting against the way his head spins. He doesn’t even know if it’s the alcohol anymore, it might just be the effect you have on him. Dizzying—you flip his entire world on its axis in the best way possible.

Minho’s gonna be seeing your exposed neck in his dreams later, he’s sure of it—it’s branded into his memory.

“That…is so fucking bad.” you giggle, holding your cup out. “Another one.”

Minho clicks his tongue. “I don’t know…”

“Pleaseeee Min,” the lilt in your voice sounds oddly familiar. Minho holds his breath just in case you—yup. There it is. There goes that pout again.

It’d be so easy for him to lean down and kiss it right off your lips. He could blame it on the alcohol, maybe, but then that takes away from how he actually means it.

He sighs instead. “It’s gonna cost you.”

“An arm and a leg?”

“What? No—I meant some water.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Three shots and a full bottle of water later, Minho knows you’ve hit your limit. Cheeks flushed pink, a dopey grin on your face, pupils blown wide. Even in this state, Minho is certain that you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“Anotherrrr,” you slur, waving your cup in his face.

Minho shakes his head. “No can do. You’re cut off.”

“Please,” you whine, placing both hands on his shoulders, “I’ll do anything.”

Minho, completely taken back by the sudden closeness of your body to his, freezes.

“Anything?” he asks before he can stop himself.

This is stupid. You’re drunk. There’s no way you’re going to remember anything in the morning, much less within the next thirty minutes. He’s pretty sure that you’ll lose control of all your senses soon, which is why he’s already texted your roommate Jiwoo to unlock the door so he can carry you inside. Nothing he hasn’t done before.

“Anything,” you repeat, eyes going cross-eyed where they’re fixing on the mole he has at the tip of his nose.

This is stupid. But then again, so is Minho. A big, stupid fool that blames everything on the fact that he’s so in love with you it hurts. This might be the only chance he gets to shoot his shot.

Minho takes a deep breath, says something similar to a little prayer that’s more like Hey, if anyone’s listening, help a guy out, and hopes that the twenty bucks he sent Hyunjin works.

“Go on a date with me.” he says slowly, wincing when your eyes snap up to meet his gaze.

Well, there’s really no going back from that. The only thing that could possibly grant him redemption now is banking on the fact that you don’t remember anything in the morning.

Minho waits with bated breaths, watches as your eyes search his for a long while. He waits for the anger, the disgust, the visible repulsion that he starts to think might happen the longer the silence continues.

He’s about to backtrack, quickly conjuring up an excuse about how Oh, haha, gotcha! when your hands suddenly drop from his shoulders. You grab the cup, your chin tipped upwards, and hold it out for him to fill.

“Okay.”

“O…kay?”

“Yeah. Okay. Pour me another one.”

The next morning, when Minho all but drags himself into the kitchen in search of water and something to soothe the throbbing in his head, he nearly spits a mouthful at Jeongin, the poor guy too busy eating his cereal to realize he’s gotten a front row seat in the splash zone.

Y/N [10:34am]

so

when do you want to do that date?

🏠

Are candles too much?

Minho has options: clean linen, lavender breeze, ocean mist, warm vanilla. He really just needs something to get rid of the smell of cleaning spray.

He thought that having a night in for a first date would be ideal—less pressure, no unwanted attention, a bathroom that he can run into when he starts to hyperventilate if you smile at him for too long. But now that it’s happening, he’s convinced that every surface of his and Jeongin’s shared apartment will scare you away if anything so much as looks off-putting.

Minho is, to put it simply, freaking out. All the other times you’ve been over to his place were on a completely platonic level. Movie nights with all the other guys in tow, dropping off food that you felt generous enough to buy every once in a while, one time because you’d accidentally worn Minho’s jacket home from a party and needed to return it to him.

But this is different. This is a date. Minho’s not dreaming—he already pinched himself a dozen times in the bathroom mirror, tiny red marks on the inside of his forearm to prove it. He’s going to open the door, invite you in, cook for you, and then proceed to resist the urge to tell you how beautiful you are for however long the night continues on after that. He can practically hear Jeongin’s laugh in the back of his head, sneering at how pathetic his inner monologue sounds right now.

He needs to find another stain to scrub.

By the time you’re knocking on his door, Minho has changed his outfit seven times. Sweats were too casual, a button up was too fancy. Should he not have done his hair? No, that’s just lazy, the way his fringe is swept up and out of his forehead adds a nice touch that doesn’t scream Hey! I’m trying to woo you! You’ve never been the type to be impressed by grand gestures and shows of confidence anyways, he knows that well.

One time, when a guy from one of the frat houses hired the campus quartet to sing a song for you in the quad as he stood there with big beady eyes and a bouquet of roses in his hand, you’d all but ran from the scene, Minho following close behind as you called out to him over your shoulder. It’s one of his fondest memories. As soon as the two of you made it around the back of the science building, you’d doubled over in laughter, the both of you in disbelief at what had happened. Minho has had that information tucked into the deepest parts of his brain ever since, saved just in case he needed it.

(Later that night, in the safety of his own bed, he’d laughed maniacally at the situation. Something about watching you reject another guy filled him with a sense of joy he couldn’t explain. He just hoped he was never going to be on the receiving end of it.)

He does a quick once over of the kitchen: double checks that all the ingredients are out, blows a speck of dust off the glass stovetop, spins the tiny floral arrangement he bought so that it’s sitting at just the right angle. When the doorbell rings, the chime bouncing off the walls of the apartment, he visibly pales.

He has to reel it in, to remember that it’s just you. You might not even be here with any intentions other than to fulfill your end of the deal; one date in exchange for the extra three shots he poured you the other night. Minho takes a deep breath, grips the doorknob with conviction, and decides that he’s determined to show you the way you deserve to be treated. The opportunity is there, and he’s gonna take it.

As soon as the door swings open, every nerve that had somehow crept its way into his brain disappears, the sight of you standing on the other side immediately sending the anxiety scrambling and replacing it with fondness instead.

“Hi,” you smile, and Minho sees images of you coming home to his apartment flash across his mind. After class, after work, in the winter when it’s cold and your nose is tinted pink, on rainy days where the ends of your hair are damp and you have a wet umbrella in tow. He could get used to it. He’s so in love that it hurts.

“Hey,” he breathes out, stepping aside to make way for you, “Come in. Are you hungry?”

“Starving, actually. Been saving myself all day since I don’t always get to have your cooking.” You hop on to one of the stools, your attention momentarily stolen by the flower arrangement. One point for Minho.

I’d cook for you every day, he wants to say. But that’s weird, right? So instead, “Well then I guess today is your lucky day.”

“Yeah, I guess it is.” You say softly.

Minho can’t see you with the way his back is turned, hands moving to grab out the knife and cutting board, but if he could he’d see the way your eyes are staring softly at his back, the ghost of a smile on your lips.

Conversation flows easily after that, despite Minho’s original worries about it being awkward. You’re not necessarily treating it as a date, and he isn’t really either. It feels more like a glorified hangout, just the two of you spending time together with the added glances and smiles that normally wouldn’t be there.

Minho finds it easy to get lost in you. He finds himself craving to know more about your day, about the things that’ve been on your mind lately and the hobbies you’ve picked up. Most of the conversation is a continuation of stuff that’s fallen through the cracks during the times you see each other, but he doesn’t miss the way you ask about him too, your eyes shining with genuine interest. It makes his heart slam against his ribcage.

“How are your cats doing?”

Minho looks up from the cutting board, follows your gaze to where it’s fixed on the scattered pictures that litter his fridge. “They’re good,” he says, smiling down at a head of garlic, “My mom sends pictures all the time. She says they claw at the door to my room when they miss me.” He smashes the garlic under the knife’s blade by hitting it with the heel of his palm. “It’s cute.”

“You’re cute.”

Minho, in a very flashy demonstration of what it means to be cool, calm, and collected, slices his thumb mid-chop.

“Shit.” he mutters, dropping the knife.

It’s not that bad, just a little nick, the surprise was mostly what scared him. He probably doesn’t even need a bandaid. But despite how small it is, nothing stops you from hurriedly walking up to him and taking his hand in yours, his thumb held closely to your face for inspection.

“Are you okay?” You turn his hand over between your fingers, the soft pads of them against his calloused ones. Minho is dumbfounded, struggling to find the words to say.

“Yeah—um, it’s fine. My fault. I was distracted.” He stammers out, pulling his hand back and holding it up. He wiggles his fingers, making a show of bending and twisting his thumb that, at most, has just a small cut on the side. “See? Perfect.”

Your face relaxes, and then you’re laughing. Why are you laughing? Either Minho looks like a complete idiot or he’s suddenly the funniest person in the world for being clumsy and reckless and almost ruining the night by losing a finger. Whichever one it is, he doesn’t care, as long as he gets to hear that sound again.

“Let me help cook, please? I know you said you would do it all but clearly you’re a threat to the integrity of this meal.” You say, bumping your hip against his to move him away from the cutting board.

Minho scoffs. “I wouldn’t have done that if you didn’t catch me off guard.”

“So what? You admit that I make you flustered?”

Oh.

Minho wasn’t prepared for this. He wasn’t prepared for the—the flirting that’s clearly happening. You’re flirting with him, right? Why else would you have called him cute or given him that suspicious side eye after you asked that question?

You and Minho have joked around like this before, but it was always empty with no real feelings attached—as far as he could tell. You’re a naturally friendly person, getting along with others comes easy to you. He’s seen the way you talk to the other guys and has always just assumed he was no different in your eyes than they were. Sure, there were moments where maybe your hand lingered on his arm for a little while after he made you laugh, or the two of you would steal glances across the room. Sometimes when Hyunjin said something stupid you’d both catch the other’s eye and make a face, just another funny way of proving that you were both on the same wavelength most of the time. It’s kind of why Minho is so taken with you—he’s never met anyone that gets him the same way.

Reluctantly, Minho puts his pride aside and allows you to help. And as it turns out, you’re actually really good at cooking. Minho doesn’t have to instruct you much, and before he knows it you’re both working like a well-oiled machine, scooting past one another as you switch places between the stove and the sink, reading each other’s minds without even having to ask.

“Taste this.” You say, holding the spoon up to his mouth. Minho leans forward, front teeth poking out, and brings the spoon into his mouth. You cup your hand under his chin to catch any droppings, watching in anticipation as he smacks his lips together.

His eyes light up, big and brown and twinkling under the light of the kitchen. “Perfect.” He smiles.

“Oh you have—uh,” you stop him with a hand on his forearm just as he’s about to turn back to the sink, your other hand hovering next to his face hesitantly, “It’s just, um, your—here.”

Minho’s eyes go wide when your thumb swipes against the corner of his mouth, your touch feather light. It’s so intimate, the only sound being the music playing low from the speaker on the counter. He’s half convinced that you’re able to hear his heartbeat, blood pumping loud in his ears.

“You had some sauce…on your face.” You say shyly, your palm still pressed to his cheek.

“…Oh.”

Minho’s never really looked into your eyes from this close up before. He’s always known they were beautiful, the shape of them soft, full of nothing but the world. He can see himself in them from here, and, selfishly, he hopes you can see yourself in his, too.

He might be imagining it when your gaze flicks down to his lips for just a fraction of a second, but there’s no time to unpack any of that when the sauce starts bubbling over the edge of the pot, spilling on to the burner as loud sizzling and smoke fills the kitchen.

It’s chaos. The bottom of the pot is burnt and there’s only so much of it that’s salvageable. He only bought the exact amount of ingredients too, because this is a self-proclaimed no-food-waste household (as explicitly stated in the napkin contract he has with Jeongin, much to his dismay). So, hooray for conscious consumption of goods!

At the end of it all, there’s no one to blame. You’re both guilty of…whatever that was.

Minho tries to reassure you that it’s okay as he dials the number for the pizza place just down the street, simultaneously shutting down all your attempts to pay as an apology. It doesn’t matter to him, he’d do anything as long as it means he gets to spend time with you. At the end of the day, it’s another memory that he’ll hold close to his heart.

“Listen,” you say, swallowing down a mouthful of pizza, the both of you seated on his couch with a half-eaten box of pizza open on the coffee table, “I know you wanted to cook and all—which, by the way, I’m still sorry—but this is so good. However I’m sure whatever you made would’ve been better.”

Minho chuckles. “Stop lying,” he wipes his hands on a napkin, “I can guarantee you that whatever I cooked wouldn’t be as good as this anyways.”

“Stop selling yourself short, Min. You’re good at everything you do.”

The words fall from your lips so easily, like it’s something you’ve convinced yourself of long ago. Minho’s never been the type to bounce around from one thing to another, always choosing to stick with it until he has it down to a science. Cooking is one of them. Jeongin can attest to all the times Minho has berated him with tasting his latest dishes, chasing him around the apartment with a spoon. The words tighten themselves around his heart.

“I’m not,” he rolls his eyes, “But nine times out of ten, grease and mozzarella cheese are gonna win. I know that for a fact.”

You laugh, and the conversation gradually diverts into a debate about the top ten best greasy foods in existence. You’re heated, half kneeling on the couch with a finger pointed at him as you plead your case for onion rings, when your eyes go past Minho’s head and settle on the shelf of games in the hallway.

“You have games?” you ask, suddenly giddy with excitement as you hurry over to inspect the selection.

Minho watches with fond eyes, collects the plates and napkins to throw away. “Yeah, most of them are Innie’s. We don’t really use them. Sometimes when we’re drunk, other times when we’re bored and decide to wager money for fun.”

You hum, not really paying attention. Monopoly, Chutes and Ladders, some decks of cards, Uno—you scan the shelf until your eyes light up at what you find hidden at the bottom.

“Min! Can we play Jenga?”

“Jenga?” Minho asks, re-entering the living room. The coffee table is clear now, and he sits between it and the couch, his back against the cushion. “Isn’t that kind of boring? We have other stuff there.”

“It’s only boring if you play it the way it’s supposed to be played.” You roll your eyes. Minho turns to you when you situate yourself on the floor beside him and only momentarily contemplates running to the bathroom when your knee knocks against his. He’s been holding it together pretty well so far, however The Sauce Incident had him ready to book it if anything had gone further.

“Well how else are we supposed to play it?” He frowns.

“We make up our own rules.”

The pieces scatter across the wood of the coffee table, clacking as you diligently begin putting them together. “This is a date, right?” You ask, stopping for a moment to turn and assess his response.

Minho stills. He genuinely forgot the grounds on which tonight had even happened in the first place. Spending time with you makes him forget everything else. And, despite his fears in the beginning, being on a date with you has felt so natural that it almost seems like you’ve done it a thousand times before.

Your eyes meet. For a moment, Minho lets himself wonder what it’d be like if he went for it right then and there. “Yeah,” he says slowly, unblinking, hoping you can see the sincerity on his face, “A date. One of the best ones I’ve ever been on, actually.”

He almost cries out in victory when your face flushes pink. “Now who’s a liar?” You ask quietly, going back to piecing together the game.

Minho has learned something new tonight: he really likes seeing you flustered.

“Why do you ask?” he decides to cut you the slack, “Or what does this being a date have to do with Jenga rules?”

He waits as you finish the stack, your tongue sticking out in concentration. You’re so cute. Minho mentally pockets that image for safe keeping.

“Sorry, okay, it’s done. But basically, if we pull out a block, we get to ask the other person a question.”

“And if the tower falls…?”

“Hmm,” you think for a moment, chewing on your bottom lip, “Oh! I know. If you lose you have to tell me why you asked me on a date.”

Minho’s stomach flips. “Okay. If you lose you have to tell me why you accepted the date.”

Something unreadable passes over your face, but it’s gone in an instant. You hold your hand out for a shake, and Minho wraps his fingers around it gently.

“Deal.”

“Why are you taking all of the middle pieces?” Minho pouts.

The two of you have gone through a couple turns by now, throwing out random questions for the better half of fifteen minutes. Favorite colors, childhood foods you wouldn’t eat, the best memory you have from high school. Minho’s learned a lot, has fallen for you a lot more. But that was always a given. It’s impossible not to when he can feel the warmth from your body where you’re seated next to him, your presence overtaking all of his senses.

“Because I’m trying to win,” you laugh, putting your freshly pulled piece at the top. Just a little crooked, too. To piss him off. “Favorite movie?”

“Ponyo. Easy. My turn.”

“Seriously? Why Ponyo?”

“One question at a time, princess.”

He means it as a joke, really. He doesn’t even realize what he’s said until after the fact, the nickname making your heart skip a beat. Minho notices, the corners of his lips tugging downwards as he suppresses a smile. He manages to flick one of the side pieces until it gives way.

“What’s one thing you regret?”

“Ooh, getting deep I see.” You laugh, taking a sip of your soda. There’s a long pause, and then, “I regret spilling my coffee on Hyunjin that day.”

Minho’s brow furrows. You…regret it? He runs through all the possible reasons in his head. Surely it can’t be because you regret becoming friends with them, friends with him, right?

“Why?” He chances.

“One question at a time, princess.” You echo, laughing at his shocked expression.

You remove the last middle piece. “On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate our first date?”

Minho’s brain is going a thousand miles a minute. “A ten. Wouldn’t trade it for the world.” He says it fast, wastes no time in moving forward to remove his own piece. He doesn’t even notice that your cheeks have gone pink again, too busy itching to ask his next question.

“Why do you regret spilling your coffee on Hyunjin?”

Minho watches you, lets his mind wander to the worst possible thing you could say in this situation, and mentally prepares to book it to the bathroom.

You take a deep breath, “I regret it because I wasn’t supposed to spill it on him. I was supposed to spill it on you.”

Wait, what?

Minho blinks. “What are you talking about?”

This is humiliating for you. A terrible thing to have to admit. Up until this moment, you’d thought that this information would follow you to your grave. You press the heel of your palms to your eyes, “This is so embarrassing,” you groan.

Minho pulls one hand away. He’s not really sure what to say, mostly because he’s confused, but, “You can tell me.”

“I had…” you start, looking up at him slowly, “A plan. With Jiwoo.” Minho nods for you to continue. “I’d seen you and Hyunjin walking through the quad a few times, and I thought that you were cute, but I didn't know how to approach you. So I did something stupid and decided that I would literally just crash into you. But I fucked it up.”

I thought that you were cute. The words echo in Minho’s ears like a bell. All this time, all those stolen glances and lingering touches, all the ways you would make hope spike in his chest that maybe you felt the same—they were real.

“So you, wait—” Minho shakes his head, “So you’re telling me that all this time…”

You roll your eyes. “Yes, Min, really. All this time.”

Minho’s never been skydiving, but he imagines that this is what it feels like. Free falling—his soul hurtling towards earth at a horrifying speed, slamming back into his body right here in his living room with a force so strong it would knock him off his feet if he wasn’t already sitting on the floor. You were interested in him first.

Wordlessly, you lean forward, pulling out a piece with practiced ease. Minho waits with bated breaths.

“Can I kiss you?”

Minho feels like he might pass out. “Am I dreaming right now?”

“You didn’t pull out a piece.”

He scrambles forward, clumsily nudging a piece on the side that ends up sending the entire tower toppling over. You smile at him, soft and sweet. “Looks like you have to pay up with an answer. You know, since you lost.”

Minho doesn’t care. “Because I like you,” he breathes out, “I asked you on a date because I like you. I like you so much, ever since I saw you that day. And, funnily enough, I’ve always wished you’d spilled that coffee on me instead, too.”

The confession feels like a weight lifted off his shoulders. He’s spent so long pining after you, laying awake at night thinking about how this would go down if he ever got the chance. He never expected for it to happen like this, much less for you to possibly feel the same.

Panic slowly starts to rise in his chest when you don’t respond. He watches as you reach an arm over, build a small tower out of a few pieces, and then knock it over. You turn to him with a small smile, “Oops, I lost too.”

Minho is so in love with you that it hurts.

“I accepted the date because I like you, Minho. I’ve just been waiting for you to ask.”

He doesn’t think twice before he’s surging forward, cupping your face with one hand and kissing you with a tenderness that has you melting into his touch.

There’s no fireworks behind his eyes, no big bang or grand display of whatever it is that happens in the movies. But there’s a warmth, it starts out small in the center of his chest and spreads throughout his entire body, lights his skin aflame and travels all the way to his fingertips. You’re like that. A gentle presence, someone who worms their way into the very essence of his being and burrows into the deepest parts of him, like it was never his to begin with. Kissing you is slow, and deep, and right. He wouldn’t want it any other way. Minho doesn’t ever want to stop.

He lets his other hand fall to your waist, pulls you closer until you’re practically straddling him with his back against the couch, your knees on either side of his hips. Minho lets out a long, drawn out groan when you tilt his head back farther, his lips parting and allowing you to lick inside of his mouth. It’s so good. So good. He can’t believe he ever lived without knowing what this felt like; lived without ever having you this close before.

After a while, Minho reluctantly pulls back, holding you by the shoulders. When he looks up, your eyes are half-lidded. You look utterly debauched, cheeks pink and lips swollen from how hard they’d been pressed against his own. “We should probably slow down.” He tries hard to convince himself, too. “Talk about it all, you know? I don’t—this isn’t a one time thing for me. I don’t want it to be. I like you. I want you to know that.” He says softly, reaching up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

You lean into his hand, smiling when he flattens his palm to let your head rest there. “You’re like, so perfect that I want to kiss you until you forget your own name.”

Minho’s ears go red, his head falling forward until it rests against your collarbone. The feeling of his breath against your skin makes you laugh and run a hand through his hair, rubbing at the back of his neck fondly.

“This is gonna be so bad now that you say stuff like that.”

“Bad? No, I think it’s cute. You’re cute.”

“Shut up,” he whines, but there’s no bite to it. Not when he can look up and press a kiss to your lips. A dream come true. The entire world in his hands, exactly where it was always meant to be.

🏠

In the morning, when Jeongin comes back home, one hand covering his eyes just in case, he calls out,

“Everyone better be dressed! Or else I’m ripping up that napkin and making a new one with No fornicating on the furniture added into the fine print.”

When he doesn’t get a response, he rounds the corner, and finds the two of you nestled into the couch. Minho’s back is pressed into the cushions, his arms wrapped tightly around you as you nuzzle your face into his neck.

Jeongin huffs out a laugh, sends a quick text to Hyunjin that reads: Negative. Clothes are still on. But they’re so cute it’s almost sickening.

He snaps a picture to send to the group chat, grabs a piece of cold pizza, and retreats to his room.

Yang Jeongin Fanclub

jeongin: [Attachment: 1 image]

chan: AWWWWWWW

jiwoo: i’m gonna cry

changbin: dude is that the good pizza from down the street?

hyunjin: FINALLY

hyunjin: wait

hyunjin: does this mean i have to send back his $20?

[tags: @palindrome969 @summergirlsmj @n1staytiny @strwbrrychannie ]

© all rights reserved. godslino 2024. please do not steal, translate, or re-upload.

[phant0mth1ef]

being a support course student wasn’t easy, it was consistent work mixed in with your normal academic studies, but boy did it have some perks.

never in your life did you think you would see aspiring heroes begging for you and hatsume to design their support items, stating that you two were the best of the best and it’d be an honor to have their gear made by you.

never in your life did you think bakugou katsuki himself, mister big and bad all throughout his early years, would be standing in front of you asking if you could tweak his gauntlets so that they could hold more and weigh less.

you took the piece of metal in your hands, examining it as vermillion eyes watched your every move, strategizing, calculating, and envisioning.

“well?! don’t just stand and stare! tell me if you can do something about it!” his gruff voice pierced your eardrums as you looked over at him, the bags under your eyes becoming evident as he met your gaze.

“no.” you responded, an annoyed look on your face as you shoved his hunk of junk back into his chest, causing him to slightly stumble as he watched you.

“whaddaya mean no?! aren’t you supposed to be the best support course extra?” his voice was so prominent. it was like bass booming through the speakers when he spoke to you.

“well i mean i can do it. i just would rather not do it, at least not for someone like you.” you spoke calmly as you went to go pick up some of kaminari’s gear, messing with it as you swore you saw the man start to rage.

“well why not?!” he demanded, holding his gear as he sucked his teeth.

“i just don’t want to. i don’t tolerate calling people extras, nor do i tolerate this type of behavior towards me, especially from someone who’s in need of something only i or hatsume can pull off, and i heard she’s already turned you away.”

the soft click of you snapping something in kaminari’s pointer gear back into place was echoing throughout the room, which was silent except for hatsume walking around and tinkering with her, as she calls them, “babies.”

“i don’t take no for an answer.” he spoke through gritted teeth.

“and i don’t take disrespect, so i guess you’ll just have to find someone else. you can talk to me again when you’re ready to be nice, and i’ll consider tweaking your gear for you. as for your current gauntlets, just leave them here. they’re scrap metal at this point.” you spoke with a sense of authority in your voice, like you didn’t even care who he was because it simply didn’t matter to you.

after all you were currently contracted with mirko’s agency, providing support gear for her and her sidekicks, that was also partially where you got your spunk from.

“tch.” and with a loud clank! his gauntlets hit the floor as the boy turned around on his heels, leaving with a tone that was evident in the way he walked.

that same night as you sat at your desk doing your schoolwork, your phone was sitting right by you.

bzz bzz! bzz bzz!

you picked it up, staring at the notifications with a smile on your face.

[instagram: dyna_might]

I guess I’m sorry about the way I talked to you earlier, I apologize.

your set your phone down as it dinged once again.

[instagram: dyna_might]

And I’d love for you to design my support gear.

safe to say that once bakugou opened his dorm room door the next day, a pair of basically weightless and and more compact gauntlets was sitting down, waiting to be used as he chuckled.

[kanekisfavoritegf]

PERFECT LOVER: The Life of Nanami Kento the 35 Year Old Virgin

MINORS & BLANK BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT YOU WILL GET BLOCKED

SYNOPSIS: Kento Nanami, a 35-year-old introvert with a tendency to avoid social interactions, has made a conscious decision to steer clear of romantic entanglements. However, everything changes when he meets a new colleague at his birthday party, (Satoru's Idea). From the moment they meet, he is mesmerized, finding himself increasingly unable to resist her magnetic presence. Like taking a bite of forbidden fruit, he becomes ensnared by the allure, delving into a realm of infatuation and finding himself unable to break free. As he delves deeper into this newfound connection, Nanami begins to realize that he craves more than just a fleeting experience and yearns for more than just a fleeting taste of what she embodies.

Table of Contents

WORD COUNT: 1.4K

CHAPTER ONE:

The lights somehow made you glow in Kento Nanmi's eyes. Or maybe it was just you, and your effortless ability to draw everyone's eyes on you. You stood atop a table dancing with Satoru wildly, arms flailing and your body rolling along to the rhythmic pounding of the bass. Pink and blue lights stuck to you and everyone in the nightclub's eyes.

"Stare any harder, Kento; lasers might shoot from your eyes," Suguru smirked as he spoke.

"I don't know what you mean, Suguru," Kento said curtly before taking a swig of his drink.

"Don't worry, I won't tell."

"There is nothing to tell."

"Do you want me to schedule a date with you and Yuki?" 

"Yuki?" Kento coughed a drop of his drink catching in his throat.

"Your eyes have been locked on her since she got on the table with her friend." The blonde man almost laughed in his face from pure shock.

"Who wouldn't stare with her atrocious dancing, almost like a headless chicken. Either way, stop trying to set me up; I've sworn off dating, remember?"

"How could we ever forget." Satoru chimed in, sliding next to Suguru, sweat making his blue work shirt cling to his body tightly, "One bad kiss in University and suddenly, any romantic opportunity was thrown out the window with you."

That was the washed-down version of what happened to Kento, but his work colleagues didn't need to know about how he basically got verbally beaten by a girl cause he wasn't ready to lose his V-Card in a one-night stand.

"Oh, all he needs to do is put himself out there more," Yuki said, forcing herself into this embarrassingly uncomfortable conversation. "You are gonna die a virgin if you keep this up."

"Better to die a virgin than known as a whore."

"Hey! I am not a whore." Satoru exclaimed. 

"Yet somehow you knew Kento was talking about you." Yuki quipped back.

"Where is…" Suguru’s voice trailed off when he realized he had forgotten your name.

“Y/N?” Kento helped Suguru find the name.

"Yes," the long-haired man snapped his fingers, "Where is Y/N? She is going to miss the cake."

"Cake?" Kento grumbled. "You didn't say there was going to be cake, Satoru. You promised there wouldn't be cake."

"Okay, I lied." Satoru tried to conceal a smile

Kento raised to his feet, ready to leave before the birthday parade showed up with cake, probably with something stupid on its icing, and a club screaming happy birthday drunkenly. "But think of it like a welcome cake, too. For Y/N, Yuki wanted her to get to know all of us before her first day in the department on Monday. And you two haven't spoken to her since she first introduced herself." Satoru pointed at Suguru and Kento.

"You are the one who stole her away to do the “Six Devil Shots” and then to the dance floor," Suguru said.

"Or you too could have come and danced with us." You cut in, a cake and candles in hand. "I stole this out of the kitchen."

"You said you were going to the bathroom." Yuki laughed.

"I did, and then I stole the cake."

"Unbelievable," Satoru said. "It was supposed to be a big thing for Nanami." Satoru pouted slightly at the prospects of not being able to embarrass his coworker. 

"Well, Mr. Nanami doesn't seem like the type to enjoy drunk people sing-screaming at him, much less their attention solely on him." You slid your way onto Nanami's side, placing the cake in front of him and the three and five candles in its center. "You have a lighter, right?" You whispered into Kento's ear. He only nodded, letting out a nervous breath before pulling it out and handing it to you.

The group sang Happy Birthday as loudly as they could over the blasting music that played behind them. Giving up after the first verse, Kento blew out his candles.

Thirty-five years old as of today, and he was no better than a teenage boy, semi-hard because you whispered in his ear and stole a cake so he could avoid attention. Sometimes, Nanami felt he was missing out on what Yuki, Satoru, and Suguru had. Some imaginary certificate to adulthood, the type that could only be won through cashing in his V-Card, but then again, would losing it to a stranger make him catch up with others his age? He knew he wasn’t the only virgin at his age, but in situations where a pretty girl flirts with him, and he wants to flirt back, something always manages to catch his tongue. The voice in the back of his head probably reminds him that she wants something from him that Kento knows he won’t be able to give her. So he doesn’t flirt anymore. And as fast as the hard-on came, it was gone, along with any idea of ever entertaining the idea that you would ever want him.

Just because a woman is nice to you doesn't mean you get hard. Kento reprimanded himself in his head.

"Okay, enjoy the cake; I'm heading home now," Kento shouted over the music. "I have to catch the last train."

Yuki and Gojo booed them loudly while Geto threw him a look that screamed, "You are going to leave me with these idiots?"

"So do I." You said, "Mind walking with me?" you said, realizing what time it was.

Kento wanted so badly to say, "Yes, I mind. The whole reason I am taking the train and not a taxi later is to avoid you." but he didn't. He only shook his head and grabbed his coat.

"I'll send you the money for my bill when I get home, Satoru," you said, grabbing your coat. 

"Don't worry about it," Kento said as he placed down a wad of cash before putting a hand over your shoulder, hovering slightly, "You ready?"

You only nodded, ignoring the head in your voice that swooned a little at the simple act of covering your bill. You were tipsy; that's why your delusions ran a little wild.

You made a mental note to never do shots with Satoru again as you slowly made your way through the dancing crowd and out of the nightclub, Kento's hand still on your shoulder.

***

The night air was surprisingly calm for the summer, making you shiver a little as you turned into Kento, keeping his body close to yours under the stars and in a quiet street.

“How was your birthday?” You asked, wanting to break the silence that seemed to fall upon the two of you.

“It was good.” He said curtly, “I don’t really have experience with celebrations to do with me.”

“You don’t celebrate your birthday?” You asked, even though it wasn’t all that surprising.

“What counts as celebrating?” 

“Hmmm, something fun, I guess.” You shrugged.

“Well, it’s my first time going to a nightclub to celebrate.” A small smile decorated his face, “I usually cook a nice dinner for myself or go to a fancy restaurant that I have been saving up on.”

“What about everyone else?”

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, you are telling me this is the first time Satoru has dragged you out for your birthday?”

“The first time since University, yes.” Kento didn’t elaborate, and you didn’t pry, letting a comfortable silence fall upon you two. As you turned the corner, you guys made your way to the train tracks, empty and void of any life other than the three people on the other side of the tracks. 

Just like before, the train ride was quiet. A few people were on the train, but you managed to snag seats together. You don’t know when it happened, but you let yourself drift to sleep, leaving Kento alone to his thoughts.

Each lurch of the cart when the train stopped and started made you curl into the man even more until your body leaned against him completely. 

It was only when his stop approached that Kento realized he didn’t know where you lived or whether you missed your stop. A slight panic filled him, and he shook a fully asleep you back to consciousness. 

“Y/N. Y/N.” He half whispered into your ear. Only to be met with soft groans. He shook you a little harder this time, and that’s when your eyes fluttered open. Still half asleep, though, you barely comprehend what he was saying, mindlessly grabbing his hand and following him as he stepped off the train.

Alcohol was still dancing in your brain; you nodded your head in agreement and followed him to his apartment…

Preview...

Nanami knew he wouldn’t last long, but as he sunk into you, the idea of even holding in the waves of pleasure that drowned him was impossible.

TAG LIST: @marikuchanxo @sukunasstomachtongue @getosgirlfailure @allysunny @tojicvmslut @typefeisu @aiyaaayei @villsophie @sillysillygoofygoose @jinleft @rivversin @haikioo @destinyblue-jjk @ramonathinks @actuallysaiyan @actuallysaiyan @melisuh123

CHAPTER TWO UPLOADED

[feeder86]

Breaking Boundaries

“Oh wow! Look at him! He’s gorgeous!” Sam shouted over the deafteningly loud music of the club.

Craig looked over, seeing yet another short, skinny, well-groomed twenty year old dancing away with a couple of other guys. He had no butt on him whatsoever, with narrow shoulders and thin arms; not Craig’s type in the slightest. Not that he would ever say that to his housemates. As close as they all were, he wasn’t so sure that Sam and Wes were ready to hear that not everyone found these boring little twinks so compelling. And they certainly weren’t ready to know that, at twenty years old, Craig was actually still a virgin.

“He’s pretty,” Craig nodded, pretending to be in agreement. “You should go dance with him.”

“I actually think you should go and ask him yourself,” Sam shot back, prodding Craig in the side to get up. “He keeps looking over this way, right in your direction.”

Craig squirmed slightly. He had noticed the guy checking him out, but had deliberately kept it to himself so that he wasn’t forced to get up and dance with yet another person that Sam and Wes thought was hot. “I’m really not…” he protested, despite being pulled to his feet. 

“Don’t be so boring!” Wes cried, keen to get them all paired off that evening now that one of his regular fuck buddies had just entered the club and was smiling suggestively across the room at him.

“Alright, alright!” Craig relented, seeing that the boys were not going to let this go. “I’ll just get us some more drinks first,” he explained, using the tactic that usually got him out of situations such as these. Everything moved so fast in clubs like these, apart from the line of people waiting to be served.

Craig’s hypothesis was not wrong. He returned from the bar with three shots, seeing that Wes was nowhere to be seen. As was his usual habit, once Wes had found someone to hook up with, he didn’t bother with the simple courtesy of saying goodbye. Likewise, Sam was up on his feet, dancing with someone in the corner. With their table abandoned, it had been acquired by a new group of people who had just come in.

Downing one shot to save carrying them all, Craig made his way over to the dancefloor to check in with Sam. There, he was stopped by security, not allowing him to take the shots onto the dancefloor. And so, Craig stood, like a stereotypical third wheel, watching as Sam’s flirtatious dancing led to dirty grinding and the inevitable, passionate kissing. Then, out of the club the pair of them went; most likely back to the house for a night of fun. Yet again, Craig had been abandoned.

Sighing in frustration, Craig downed the two shots, one after the other. As nice as it was to find two other college students who were freshly out of the closet; moving in with them for his third year had hardly been the dream that he had pictured in his head all summer. He just wasn’t like them in so many ways. His brain was simply wired differently. The guys they chased just didn’t interest him in the slightest, and the endless quests to get laid were exhausting. Sam, who had a thing for sex in the shower, would probably be running all their hot water as soon as he got his new lover home; running up the energy bills for all of them, yet again.

Sometimes Craig felt he was ten years older than he actually was. Why did it need to be so damn noisy in here? He could feel the bass thumping through his body as the three shots and many previous drinks made his head feel light and ever so slightly dizzy. There was that skinny guy, making eyes at him again as he danced only a few feet away; there for the taking if Craig would only step forward and introduce himself as he had promised the boys he would.

But Craig was alone here now. He didn’t need to please Sam or Wes, given that the pair of them were back at home, getting down and dirty. He turned to leave the dancing area, stumbling carelessly straight into what could only be described as a wall of man; his face falling into a large chest and his body bending slightly over a large protrusive stomach; warm and comforting. 

“I’m so sorry!” he shouted, backing up to get a better look at the man he had just bumped into. 

What stood before Craig was the most handsome guy he had ever seen. Tall, stocky and marvellously overweight. He had a broad, handsome face, with a delicious double chin and large cheeks. He wore a tight, fitted and super casual short-sleeved t-shirt that hid nothing of his giant ball gut underneath it. His arms were strong, his lightly tattooed forearms bigger than any Craig had ever seen, and his hands big and plump. Unusual for this venue, the man wore relaxed sweatpants that clung to his thick thighs and groin. And, as every sense flared with arousal, Craig picked up the unmistable musky scent of what he considered to be pure masculinity.

“Careful!” the guy replied with his deep, slightly gruff voice, taking his eyes on a tour of Craig’s body in return, and nodding with approval.

The two of them finally walked by each other, with the big man crossing the dancefloor to stand at the opposite wall and watch all the guys dancing away. He looked so out of place, his shape, his clothing, his sheer size; like a straight guy who had just got off the couch after an afternoon of beers and watching football. In Craig’s head, he could just imagine the comments that would spew from his housemate’s mouths if they saw him: taking aim at his large gut, poor dress sense and overall slob-like appearance. As it was, Craig felt nothing but excitement and curiosity as the loud music battered its way into his head and the sticky heat of the club became almost uncomfortable. Deciding he needed another drink, he snuck off to the bar, returning to see the big guy standing in exactly the same spot.

Like slabs of meat on a tray, the large man was surveying all of the young twenty-somethings on the dancefloor. His eyes flicked up towards Craig, making Craig’s eyes drop to the floor in embarrassment. Then the cycle started all over again. If Sam and Wes had still been there, Criag would never have allowed himself to indulge in the fascination he felt towards this man as he continued to watch from afar. The next time their eyes met, Craig forced himself to hold it for at least a short while, feeling a buzz of pure adrenaline for each microsecond that he managed to keep holding on. Then the ritual started all over again; eyes looking across the dancefloor until they met once more. This time, Craig was emboldened, holding the guy’s gaze and feeling his arousal growing for each second that he did so. One… two… three seconds. It was all Craig could manage as his hardness awoke and stretched itself in his groin. However, now Craig could tell that the guy was still staring at him, even as his own eyes tried to avoid looking in his direction. The man’s gaze was fixed, locking onto him like prey. Then, like a giant striding across the dancefloor, Craig saw the big man heading straight for him.

“Like what you see?” the big man grinned, suddenly standing in front of Craig and seeming larger than ever.

Craig’s heart was beating too fast. Without the biggest of voices, he always struggled to make himself heard in the deafening club. What would he even say if he could? Instead, he looked around, seeing that no one else was watching them, and then allowed his head to nod very gently.

The big man stepped closer, taking Craig’s drink and putting it gently on the side. Then he came in towards him with large hands that cupped Craig’s face. Their lips touched and tongues slid into action. Craig felt himself being pushed up against the wall, with the monstrous guy seemingly inflating his giant stomach out as large as it would go to keep Craig pinned to the wall. It was, without a single doubt, the most erotic moment of Craig’s life.

Craig knew that he would never have felt comfortable getting to know a guy so big and large in the club had Wes and Sam still been there. Rick was everything he had ever secretly wanted, as the pair of them shouted down each other’s ears, trying to make conversation in the deafeningly loud club. There wasn’t long left of the evening and both of them knew they didn’t want their time together to end, heading straight back to Craig’s place. Just as Craig had anticipated, the bathroom was soaking from Sam’s long, horny shower session and moans of pleasure were still sounding from both his housemates’ rooms. 

Rick lay back on Craig’s bed, laughing at how small it was. Not being quite a full double bed, the big man absolutely dwarfed it in whatever direction he tried to lay. The sight gave Craig pure joy and he began undressing himself for the large man, letting him see exactly how aroused he was by him. Rick took the lead as it came time to get dirty, which Craig was more than grateful for. For the first time ever, he was having his butt lubricated up, ready to be taken, lying on his side as Rick began; simultaneously taking Craig’s erection into his large hand and gently bringing them both to a climax at exactly the same time. For his first experience of sex, Craig could not have wished for anything better.

A few hours later, the pair of them woke up together; Rick’s large hands cupping Craig’s small glutes and pulling him into him. They made out and spoke at length about how much they had enjoyed themselves the previous evening, settling back into another round of making each other climax.

“Do you want to come with me to get some breakfast?” Rick asked; his giant stomach rumbling as he pulled his hastily discarded underwear back on.

“I don’t think we have much in,” Craig replied.

“No. Not here,” Rick chuckled. “Let me take you out for some breakfast.”

Craig felt a little guilty at the idea of Rick paying to take him out. He’d always liked to pay his own way, never accepting drinks from guys who tried to flirt with him in bars. He attempted to explain this to Rick, but was quickly put at ease. Earlier that morning, Rick had spoken about how he worked in highway maintenance; committing to long shifts at sometimes very unsociable hours, in return for a pleasing salary. “I want to treat you,” he smiled. “I had a great time last night. Won’t you let me say thank you?”

Twenty minutes later, Craig found himself in a very greasy looking cafe that Rick seemed to know very well. They sat at a table and a server came straight over, pouring coffee for the pair of them.

“Two Mega Breakfasts please, Rachel,” Rick stated, as Craig hesitantly went to pick up the sticky-looking laminated menu.

“A Mega Breakfast?” Craig asked after she left. “That sounds pretty daunting.”

Rick chuckled. “You’ll manage it. You’re a college boy. You need feeding up. Plus, anything you can’t eat, I’ll finish for you,” he smiled greedily.

The breakfast meal, once it arrived, was every bit as massive as Craig had pictured in his head. Rick’s eyes had lit up, his mouth salivating, and he began consuming it, stacking sausages and egg onto one of the several rounds of toast; devouring it with the expertise of a man who had taken it on many times before. 

“That’s not a bad effort, for a first attempt,” Rick nodded twenty minutes later, seeing that Craig had politely cleared at least half of the giant meal away. “You’ll know what to expect next time.”

Craig rubbed his achingly full stomach. He couldn’t imagine ever wanting another piece of bacon or fried toast again, let alone coming here for a giant breakfast in the future. He watched with relief as Rick switched their plates around and the big man began dutifully clearing the rest of Craig’s meal away. What was it about a big man gorging himself that was so damn sexy to watch?

“I would quite like to do this again sometime,” Rick smiled, kissing Craig goodbye as they parked up outside his house once more. “Maybe you could let me take you out for something to eat more often?”

Craig nodded, excited by the idea of dating Rick. He accepted another kiss and felt Rick’s hand slip from cupping his face, down towards his small, tightly packed stomach. Then, tearing himself away, up Craig got; crossing the street and waving one last time before heading inside.

“Who the fuck was that?” Wes asked as soon as Craig was infront of him. He shouted towards Sam in the kitchen. “I just caught Craig making out with some fat guy in a car across the street,” he explained.

“A fat guy?” Sam asked, immediately disgusted by the idea. “Was that who I heard pouding around in the bathroom this morning? Did you hook up with a fatty?”

“I only saw him inside his truck, but the guy looked pretty massive to me,” Wes continued. “He looked like he had tits and a massive double chin!”

“That’s gross!” Sam winced. “What the hell were you doing with that?”

“His name’s Rick,” Craig shot back, emboldened by the amazing time he had had with a guy who epitomised his type. “We’re going to be dating.”

“Why?” Wes asked. “Why would you settle for a fat guy? You’re hot. You could have someone much better. If we weren’t housemates, I’d probably have fucked you myself by now.”

Sam nodded in agreement. “Same,” he mumbled, looking Craig up and down.

Craig huffed in irritation and walked away. Was that the boys’ idea of a compliment? He couldn’t think of anything worse than dating someone who was anything like either of them. There was only one person who put butterflies in his stomach, and Craig wasn’t about to be talked out of dating him.

“You’ve got to admit, those were the best doughnuts you’ve ever had, right?” Rick grinned as the pair of them headed back to his truck one evening.

“They tasted exactly like the ones we had in the place we went to last time,” Craig chuckled as he slipped inside the vehicle.

“No!” Rick laughed in disbelief that his boyfriend could say such a thing. “Those doughnuts are nothing like that place! You need educating about what real tasty food is like.”

Craig nodded, feeling his tight stomach. All their dates seemed to revolve around Rick demonstrating his vast knowledge of food places around the city; a world that Craig, with his limited income and lack of transport, had no means of exploring until now.

“Will Dumb and Dumber be there when we get back to your place?” Rick asked, firing the engine into life and turning out of the parking lot.

“I think so,” Craig nodded, knowing exactly how Rick felt about Wes and Sam. “I’m sure they will be a bit more pleasant with you today. They were both just a little stressed about their assignments and stuff last time,” he lied.

Rick chuckled in a way that suggested he did not believe the excuse in the slightest. “It’s alright. I know they don’t think I’m good enough for you because I’m fat. I’m fine with that.”

Craig looked across at his boyfriend; confusion etched upon his face. “How can you be okay with that?” he asked.

“Because, guys like Wes and Sam, they don’t stay slim forever. You only have to look at how much they drink and the foods they eat to know they won’t be twinks for much longer.”

“Really?” Craig asked, feeling surprisingly fascinated by Rick’s observations. “How can you be so sure?”

“Trust me,” he smirked. “I’m sure! Give it another few months and you’ll see exactly what I’m talking about.”

“Do you have some sort of sixth sense?” Craig joked.

Rick laughed. “I wish!” he nodded. “I mean, it’s not just those two. Your stomach is going to start pushing out into a little tummy soon. But that’s going to be all my fault… because I’m going to spoil you and pamper you so much!” he teased, rubbing Craig’s thigh as he drove.

Craig laughed, not knowing how serious his boyfriend was actually being. But, even so, Rick did seem oddly determined that they spend a lot of their time enjoying good food together. Perhaps Rick really wouldn’t mind if he gained a few pounds…

Over the next few weeks, Craig started to realise that what he found so unrelentingly attractive about Rick, was his impressive confidence in his own body. Even though he knew that Sam and Wes disapproved of Craig dating such a fat guy, Rick never failed to pull off his shirt whenever he arrived at the house; seeming to revel in their scorn. When he stayed over, he never got dressed to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, becoming Wes and Sam’s biggest complaint to date. That was, until Rick had left one weekend, deliberately planting a pair of his enormous underwear in the corner of the bathroom, like he had simply forgotten them. Wes had come in, holding them out in front of him with a large pair of barbecuing tongues that had seemed to have appeared from nowhere, and holding his nose as he dropped them in Craig’s room whilst giving him a thorough lecture about how his gross boyfriend was staying over far too much. 

Wes wasn’t wrong; Rick was there at least four nights every week. He was comfortable in their house. However, although he had tried several times, Rick couldn’t really fit into their shower, meaning that there were a few nights when he and Craig would sleep over at Rick’s place instead, where the big man lived with his older cousin, Bob, in the suburbs.

Bob was much the same as Rick himself: large and round, with the same laid-back attitude to his body. It was obvious from the layout of the house that the pair of them cared little about the space being anything more than functional. Several take-out menus adorned the refrigerator door and not a single piece of fruit or vegetables lay inside. It was clear how much Rick looked up to his older cousin; rarely talking about his actual, overly-educated parents, except to say that they fell out some years ago when he refused to go to college. Bob had been the first black sheep in their family, and in moving in with him, Rick had become the second.

“Bob just gets me in a way that no one else in my family ever has. He got me my job when I left school and we’ve never had an argument, even after seven years of me staying here,” Rick explained as he introduced Craig to him for the first time. 

It was clear to Craig that he was meeting someone very special to his boyfriend. The fact that Rick’s relationships with the rest of his family were so strained only mirrored Craig’s feelings about his own family. The pair of them could bond over their tales of uptight mothers and absent, but expectant fathers. It all felt so much easier when someone else understood these situations from a similar perspective.

However, with both Rick and his cousin, Bob, on the same shift pattern, it was rare that Craig stayed over with them. Rick always made the excuse that Bob was entertaining a variety of lady friends back at their place; a fact that would probably surprise many people, looking at his monstrous size.

“Smells good!” Rick sang as he arrived one Friday evening and smelt the aroma of Wes and Sam’s take out pizzas. “Are these from the place I told you about?” he asked them, pretending that they were all friends. “It’s so much cheaper than anywhere else. It just doesn’t keep so well the next day,” he explained, seeing that the boys were quitting with half a pizza remaining. “I’d try and finish that if you can. It won’t be any good once you need to reheat it,” he advised, winking at Craig and letting him know that he was only playing with them. It was something he had been doing for weeks now; introducing them both to beers and letting them try large amounts of the take-outs he had bought for himself when he stayed over. Despite not liking him, the boys had never failed to accept his generosity, just as Rick had secretly wanted. 

This charade came as a relief to Craig. He’d felt his own pants starting to pinch a little more than usual in the last couple of weeks. Perhaps his little weight gain didn’t necessarily have to cause a relationship drama, like it would with most couples. Maybe people could just get used to seeing him in his sweatpants a little more whilst he sorted this out. Rick wasn’t exactly precious about his own weight and, indeed, he seemed to find the idea of Wes and Sam putting on a few pounds to be highly amusing.

The weeks rolled by. Craig sat himself down and pulled out his laptop. There were plenty of places for students to study on the college campus, but Craig had come to prefer this coffee house for its relative peace and quiet. He had been engrossed in his reading, not realising that he was being observed from a distance, until a tall, slightly pot-bellied man, a little older than him, suddenly came and stood in front of him.

“I’m really sorry to bother you,” the man explained, taking the spare seat on Craig's table. “I just recognised you from your boyfriend’s socials and I thought…” He seemed to sigh at this point, not appearing to know why he needed to speak to him, or how to explain exactly what it was he was trying to say. “It’s about Rick. I’m not sure you really know who he really is.”

Craig looked across at the guy with suspicion. What had he been doing, lurking on Rick’s social media and taking the time to commit Craig’s face to his memory? His stalker senses were spiking.

“I’m Geoff,” the guy explained, reaching his hand out to shake. “I’m certain that Rick has definitely not spoken to you about me.”

Craig shook his head, not committing to opening his mouth and engaging in a conversation he wasn’t sure he wanted to have.

“I was in high school with him. In fact, I was his boyfriend for quite some time as well,” Geoff continued. “We broke up about four years ago.”

“Then what are you doing still looking up his socials?” Craig asked, allowing a little of his suspicion and irritation to filter through his voice.

“I just didn’t want anyone else to go through what I went through with him,” Geoff replied. “Let me ask you, has Rick ever spoken to you about his high school days?”

“Not really,” Craig huffed, wondering what sort of relevance Rick’s time in high school would have on anything these days.

Geoff was busily finding a picture on his cell phone. “I bet he never told you that he used to look like this…” he mumbled, turning the screen around so that Craig could see. The face of the handsome eighteen year old in the picture was so familiar to him, but the body below it was so far beyond what Craig had anticipated. A shirtless, chiselled and muscular Rick smiled away from the cell phone. Six-packed and lean, Rick looked the epitome of athleticism and strength.

“That’s not real,” Craig shot back.

“I assure you, it is,” Geoff nodded, swiping through more and more pictures: Rick playing football, partying and posing with a much younger and slimmer Geoff, back when they were dating. “I’m guessing he just told you he’d always been a fat guy?” 

Craig considered the question. He didn’t think Rick had said much about anything from his past; certainly not high school. And, besides, what would it even matter?

“This might shock you, but… Rick atually gained all the weight on purpose,” Geoff stated frankly. “I’m guessing you’ve met his cousin, Bob, as well? He did the same thing: a high school jock, but fattened himself huge. I was dating Rick at the time. He was fascinated by it, watching Bob stacking on the weight. He said that the pair of them understood each other in a way that no one else did.”

Craig nodded. Rick had said pretty much the same thing to him several times before.

“So when Rick left high school and moved in with Bob, he started to do exactly the same thing. I was away at college at the time and came back to find my boyfriend had gained fifty pounds in three months. Fifty pounds!” he boomed in exasperation. “I thought he was depressed. I thought something was really wrong. Rick didn’t tell me about all of the deliberate overeating he was doing; the special weight-gain shakes he and Bob were making for each other at night; spurring themselves on,” he grumbled, shaking his head in disapproval. “Bob was dating a girl called Helen back then as well. She lived not far away, so she was with them more. Now, she could tell you some stories!” Geoff added gravely.

“What do you mean?” Craig asked, feeling thoroughly invested in the story now.

“She was devoted to Bob, even after he started getting so fat. She said that she could tell that Bob was pushing his bad eating habits onto her. She was putting on weight; a lot of it; very quickly.”

Craig sat back, unimpressed. “People always make excuses when they gain weight. They want to find someone to blame.”

Geoff nodded in complete agreement. “I said the same thing. I even told her as much when she broke up with Bob. But after I dropped out of college and moved back here, I noticed that Rick was doing the same thing to me. He’d obviously been watching how Bob had done it to Helen and decided to have a go himself. He took me out for food constantly, telling me that he loved spoiling and pampering me. He said that college had made me skinny, and that I needed feeding up.”

Craig listened, feeling an odd sense of familiarity about the whole thing. “What happened to you?” he asked.

Geoff leaned back and showed his stomach to answer that question. “I put on a lot of weight. Gradual at first, but then it seemed to spiral. Rick was so sweet, and I thought, by not making a big deal about it, my weight struggle might help to make Rick feel less insecure, as he was starting to get quite obese at that point. I still loved him. I didn’t realise that his weight gain was on purpose, nor that mine was being orchestrated.”

Despite everything, Craig felt a pang of jealousy as Geoff talked about his ex as if he knew him so well; a secret, shared history that he himself could never be a part of.

“I got to almost 270lbs before I finally left him. It’s been four years since we broke up and I’m still over two hundred pounds now. It’s so hard to get it off once you gain weight,” he complained, shaking his head.

Craig didn’t know what to say. The conversation had suddenly paused at a very awkward spot.

“The reason I’m telling you all this is because I can tell that Rick is planning on doing the same thing to you. The pictures I see of you two together. It’s like history repeating itself all over again. This is all probably some kinky little fantasy in Rick’s head, fattening up some little chubby-chasing college boy.”

Craig’s teeth ground together as Geoff referred to him as a ‘chubby-chaser’, setting his mind against the guy altogether. Wes and Sam had mocked him for it endlessly since he had started dating Rick. So what if he was a chubby-chaser? Geoff probably looked way better with all the extra fat on him anyway. Who could blame Rick if he had fattened him up a bit? 

“Well, thanks for the info,” he snapped impatiently. “But I think I can look after myself, thank you very much.”

“Don’t you want to know more?” Geoff asked, surprised that he was being turned away. “I can give you a contact number for Helen? She can tell you about her experience as well.”

Craig refused and turned his attention back to his assignment until a bewildered Geoff finally got the message and walked away. His cell phone buzzed in his pocket and he picked it up to read the message that had popped up on the screen. ‘I’m finishing early this evening,’ Rick explained. ‘Let me take you out to that Italian place tonight. We can get ice cream and doughnuts afterwards…. I can’t wait to spoil you rotten!’

“Have you noticed Wes getting a little softer recently?” Rick asked a couple of weeks later. “His clothes are always so fitted, there’s no hiding the little lovehandles he seems to have acquired.”

Craig nodded. Of course he had noticed. The same thing had started to happen to Sam as well, with his tight little butt beginning to put on more mass and a flush of extra coating filling out his normally slender face. “It’s your fault, getting them both onto those cheap beers and take-outs.”

Rick chuckled to himself. “Guilty,” he nodded playfully. It was no secret that Rick was not a fan of either of the boys, so he certainly wasn’t about to show any remorse at the fact that the pair of them were now struggling with maintaining their weight.

Craig laughed, despite the guilt that he felt at Wes and Sam’s newest predicament. He had had no idea that inviting Rick into their house would have such an impact on all their lives. The truth was that no matter how surprising the extra pounds looked on Wes and Sam, it was nothing in comparison to what he was feeling himself. His previously slow gain of 15lbs had begun to spike quite sharply, doubling in the last three weeks. He had felt it in his stomach and butt, but also in his face, as fat began to disribute itself under his chin in much the same way as it was with Sam

“Watch this,” Rick whispered to Craig, sitting back with a clearly mischievous glint in his eyes. “Sam… Wes!” he called out loudly, not getting up from his chair.

The two boys appeared from around the corner, each carrying a can of Rick’s beer that he had brought over; having helped themselves, just as Rick always insisted they do.

“I got paid today, so I’m taking Craig out for some doughnuts to celebrate. You boys want to tag along?” he asked. “My treat.”

Of course Wes and Sam took him up on the offer, smirking at each other at yet another opportunity to take advantage of Rick’s generous nature. Then Craig looked across at his boyfriend who appeared to be even more pleased with himself. A great, wicked plan was unfolding right before his very eyes; yet Craig had never felt more drawn to him.

By the following weekend, Craig had packed on a further 5lbs, gazing into the bathroom mirror as Rick slept on in his bedroom. He couldn’t get over how much his body was altering in such a short space of time. His chest had become softer in a matter of weeks and his flat stomach had rounded out, appearing fleshy underneath the skin. Even in his arms, which had always been naturally quite toned, Craig began to feel softer and less conditioned. But as he spun himself around, Craig awkwardly tried to get a look at his butt, which had been causing him the most clothing problems with anything other than the great array of sweatpants Rick had been buying in for him; arriving with these as if they were a token of his love, and professing to have chosen them for him based upon their interesting colours or style. Those previously tight and petitie glutes of his were taking on a whole new swollen shape. Craig found that he could actually grab almost the entire cheek in his hand and bounce it in a way that he never imagined before; the great soft mass of it going up and down feeling utterly bizarre.

Craig turned back again, looking down and seeing something else that had been worrying him lately. All the blood in his body had seemed to rush into his groin as he surveyed his physique in the mirror. He wondered why he wasn’t like Geoff, feeling completely outraged by the subtle ways Rick was manipulating him to overeat like he had been doing. But then he looked again at his body: the doughy stomach and fleshed out nipples; all those features that spoke of chubiness and excess weight; all the things that he admired so much in others and found so irresistably attractive. Even Wes and Sam were looking more appealing of late. Something was happening to him in this relationship, and Craig started to realise that, rather than being furious, he was actually aroused in a way that he never would have predicted.

“Whose idea was it to go on a double date?” Craig asked a few weeks later, as he slipped on the brand new shirt that Rick had bought for him that afternoon.

“Bob’s,” Rick explained. “He’s super into this new girl. It’s been a while since I’ve seen him this smitten.”

“And what do you think about her?” Craig asked, having realised that Rick was actually a surprisingly good judge of character.

“She’s nice,” Rick nodded. “Quite quiet, like you. But she shares some of my cousin’s interests, which I know he is really enjoying at the moment.”

“What sort of interests?” Craig shot back.

Rick’s cool composure briefly slipped and he looked suddenly caught out by the question. It was clear that he had not expected Craig to seek clarification. “Oh, um… you know. They both like cooking and stuff…” he mumbled, changing the subject almost immediately.

Craig and Rick arrived at the buffet place first, sitting themselves down at the table and politely sipping their drinks, despite the fact that the food smelt so good. About ten minutes later, an obviously very much loved-up couple strolled into the restaurant, giggling from jokes in their own private love laguage. Dark haired, overweight and wearing a dress that was far too small, Bob’s date still looked far too slim to be with him and his giant ball-like gut. They sat down after Bob had courteously pulled out a chair for her, giving her chubby butt one final pat before it disappeared underneath her oversized body.

The conversation didn’t exactly flow, but it was hardly awkward either. The giggly mood that Bob and his date had arrived in, continued as they began their first couple of rounds from the buffet. It was obvious that the pair of them only had eyes for each other and, although they did ask the occasional question of Rick or Craig, it was clear that they weren’t really listening. Bob’s hand kept sliding under the table and Craig wondered, more than once, whether the man was rubbing or patting his date’s belly in a way that would suggest she knew that he liked to feed up his women.

“Get those down you,” Bob smirked, handing over a plate of chicken wings to his younger cousin some time later. Craig had sensed a quiet competition between them both as they had gorged themselves; with Bob remaining a smug plate in the lead the whole time.

Rick nodded, never one to turn down a challenge.

“I’m stuffed!” Bob’s date declared, dropping her fork. “I couldn’t eat another bite!”

Bob smiled at her. “That’s okay, babe. You did very well. You managed five and a half plates of food,” he grinned, looking over at his cousin as he said it; as if taking another victory.

“How many plates have I had?” Craig asked Rick, suddenly suspecting that a secondary, simultaneous competition was taking place.

“Four,” Rick replied quietly, beginning to suck on his chicken wings.

So this was a competition, Craig realised. Not only had Bob eaten more than Rick, but his girlfriend had been greedier too. The reason for the whole double date now became very clear.

Craig got himself up without a word. He could sense the eyes of the others on the table as he collected a fresh plate and began filling it up, mounding it as high as he could.

“You’re still hungry, babe?” Rick asked with delight as Craig got back to the table,

Craig simply nodded and chewed. “Do you think we could go to that cheesecake place afterwards as well?” he asked, knowing that Bob was listening in.

“Yeah, babe. Of course we can,” Rick beamed, rubbing Craig’s thigh in approval. “You can have whatever you want.”

Hearing only a faint sigh from Bob’s direction, Craig knew that he had at least evened the score between the two cousins. Now he just needed to focus on getting all the food down.

It had been some time since the three housemates, Craig, Sam and Wes, had been out to the gay clubs. But with Rick set to make a small fortune working nights over the weekend, Craig finally had an evening with nothing to do. He put on his new shirt and pants, heading out to the clubs carrying an extra forty pounds than the last time he was out. But despite his remarkable weight increase, it wasn’t his size people were looking at. Clearly still in denial about their gains, Wes and Sam were still trying to squeeze themselves into the same twink-like outfits that had worked for them in the past. But despite how well these clothes continued to fit the boys in the shoulders and arms, the cheap material clung unflatteringly to their bloated middles and lovehandles, emphasising them even more than Craig’s own. It was almost embarrassing; especially when Wes got up to dance and gave the unsuspecting crowds an eyefull of his ass crack.

“He’s quite cute, I suppose,” Sam muttered as the end of the evening approached and he had still had no succes in catching anyone’s attention.

“His friend is pretty hot as well,” Wes nodded in agreement.

“Go talk to them,” Craig smiled encouragingly, trying not to show his amusement at their choices. The two guys they were checking out were like him: chubby and soft; not at all the sort of guys the two horny boys would have resorted to only a few months earlier. Yet, there they were only half an hour later, leading them back home. Beggars, it seemed, couldn’t be choosers.

“Who’s the little chub with Wes?” Rick asked the following weekend, whispering as the housemate arrived home with company.

“His new boyfriend…” Craig grinned.

Rick laughed in surprise. “Wes has a boyfriend? I thought he was all about keeping things casual?”

Craig shrugged. “He says they’re perfect for each other. Sam’s out on an actual, proper date as well. I guess they’re both growing up.”

“More like ‘growing out,’” Rick laughed mockingly. “There’s no way the old Wes would have given a fat guy like that a chance.”

“I guess…” Craig nodded slowly. They both knew that Wes and Sam’s gains were mostly down to his meddling. Now Rick looked positively delighted with himself.

“Bob and I were talking,” Rick began next, dropping his massive body down onto the sofa and slipping his arm over his chubby lover’s shoulders. “Maybe you could save a little money next year by moving in with us.”

Craig snorted on his beer. An invitation to move in with Rick had been the last thing he had expected.

“It would be so much fun,” Rick continued, rubbing his chubby hands up and down Craig’s doughy torso. “Bob is totally up for the idea. Just imagine it, I’d be able to spoil and pamper you every single day…”

“But we’ve only been dating eight months,” Craig mumbled.

Rick’s hands were lost in the massaging of Craig’s body: his soft stomach and sensitive nipples. “I know. But I think you’re ready,” he whispered seductively.

Craig pondered his boyfriend’s odd choice of phrasing. He sensed that everything Rick had done up until now had been some sort of preamble for this next stage. Quietly fattening him up to 200lbs was nothing in comparison to what he had done to Geoff. Now it seemed, Rick’s attention was thoroughly locked on taking him a lot further.

“You’d love living with me, wouldn’t you?” Rick asked teasingly; beginning to stroke the hardness that he had discovered swelling in Craig’s pants,  even though they were both still in the shared living space.

A moan escaped Craig’s lips as his eyes rolled back into his head. “We can’t do this here,” he whispered, looking over to the door and worrying that Wes could walk in any second.

“Well then, I guess you should hurry up and tell me you’ll move in with me,” Rick teased, speeding up his stimulation of Craig, rather than stopping.

Craig’s whole body shuddered and he knew he could probably climax with rapid speed if Rick just kept doing what he was doing. Sometimes Rick could get him to orgasm faster than seemed natural for most guys.

“I really want to. But…” Craigh sighed, trying to make his brain think of how to phrase his concerns.

“You don’t want to be spoiled and pampered by me every day?” Rick asked, whispering now as Wes and his new boyfriend’s voices seemed close to the door.

“That’s exactly what I’m scared of!” Craig shot back, pulling his sweatpants back just in time as Wes entered.

“We’re just heading out for some food,” Wes explained, after introducing his overweight boyfriend to Rick.

“Take these,” Rick insisted, pulling out some coupons for the pizza place a couple of blocks away. “That’ll save you some cash and you can get a few beers while you’re out,” he smiled cunningly. “In fact,” he grinned, looking down at a still flustered Craig, and pulling out a twenty from his wallet, “why don’t you boys make sure you stay out for a couple of hours and give us some space?”

Wes never had a problem with accepting anything from Rick; nodding in agreement and shuffling out of the house after his chubby new lover.

“Cute couple,” Rick chuckled as the door finally closed behind them both. “Now,” he grinned, pulling off his shirt and releasing his giant belly. “We have the whole house to ourselves. Where I…” he rambled, getting down onto his knees and lifting Craig’s shirt off him as he sat on the couch still. “...can spend some time trying to convince you that moving in with me will be a great idea.”

Craig had to wriggle on the couch as Rick pulled down his sweatpants and underwear, until he was entirely butt naked; his hardness getting sucked on with perfection by his giant lover.

“You are so hard tonight. I can feel your dick pulsing in my mouth,” Rick chuckled, taking a quick break.

“Well, you’ve got great skills,” Craig smiled back.

“You’re not wrong. If you want a decent blow job, you should always ask a greedy guy. Someone who knows how to push a lot into his mouth,” he teased seductively, knowing that it was always that sort of confidence in his size that never failed to get Craig going.

“What about me?” Craig asked. “Do I give good blow jobs?”

“Would you like to be good at it?” Rick smirked wickedly, rubbing Craig’s doughy pot belly.

“Yes,” Craig nodded with submission.

“I’ll train you up then,” Rick nodded slowly. “When you move in with me, I’ll teach you exactly what it means to have a big, greedy mouth,” he smirked, actually pinching at Craig’s belly fat and jiggling it gently. “Would you like that?”

“Yes!” Craig shot back, his eyes wide as he actually felt an orgasm building simply from having his fat handled.

“Are you going to move in with me then? And let me train you?” Rick teased, shaking Craig’s belly fat even more.

“Yes!” Craig whimpered through gritted teeth as his erection actually erupted there and then, streaming down the shaft in great waves and pooling between his thighs. What had he just signed up for?

Sam and Wes were annoyed when Craig told them he wouldn’t be taking the room for his final year in college. They had little comprehension of how merciful he was actually being, freeing them from the meddlesome grasp of Rick who would no longer be able to torment them, nor their waistlines.

The summer arrived and Craig headed home to spend a couple of months with his family. He braced himself for the looks and comments he would get about his weight gain, but on the whole, it was fairly muted. He hadn’t had a huge circle of friends in high school, and those he did have were on the larger side anyway. His mother was the only one who caused a fuss, talking about how out of shape he looked and how out of breath he seemed once he had to resume his old chore of taking the trash out for her. As he showed her pictures of his boyfriend, Rick, she visibly bristled at his size, not holding back her thoughts on who was to blame for Craig’s additional pounds; especially when she hit the bottle. 

Away from Rick, the weight didn’t feel quite as erotic as it had before. He felt every bit as trapped as he had been back in high school, trying to manage his mother’s silent issues with alcohol; leaning on Rick for support and to take his mind off things whenever he called each evening. 

Slipping back into his old diet and lifestyle at home, Craig found the weight to be dropping off him fairly swiftly. Although he knew this would probably disappoint Rick when he next saw him, for Craig, it was a welcome relief. In allowing himself to climax at having his fat jiggled, he felt like he had reliquished a little more of his true desires than he had bargained for. By losing weight and getting back to his old habits, Craig would be able to stand his ground and maintain a physique that more resembled his appearance at the start of his relationship with Rick. That, more than anything else, would help to prove that he wasn’t really getting off on becoming so out of shape.

“Well, look who it is!” Rick smiled, grabbing both of the heavy bags Craig was carrying out of the airport and putting them down on the floor. Although he had ended his time at home on a very sour note with his mother, an immediate surge of passion swelled through Craig at seeing the large man again. Was Rick’s stomach even rounder than it had been before? It certainly looked bigger, with his belly peeking out of the bottom of his undersized t-shirt. “Someone’s pleased to see me,” the big man teased, seeing a bulge forming in Craig’s pants after their embrace.

Craig looked down, embarrassed, but Rick simply chuckled and started to lead the way out. Craig was cursing his body. He’d spent all summer psyching himself up for taking back some control in this relationship and already his hardness was letting him down. In fact, it was getting worse; flooding with blood more and more as he followed behind the massive glutes of his boyfriend; now that he carried the two massive bags in each hand, Rick actually looked wider than the back end of a car..

After throwing the bags into the back of his truck, Craig felt the entire vehicle rock as Rick climbed inside; yet another little detail about dating such a big man that Craig loved, and had almost entirely fogotten during his time at home. Rick looked around the parking lot, seeing that it was fairly clear. Then he turned his attention to the tent that was pushing up the material in Craig’s pants and slid his hand over the top of it. “Summer’s over,” he whispered seductively into Craig’s ear. “You’re all mine now!”

Even as the pair of them raced upstairs upon immediately getting home, Rick didn’t mention Craig’s thirty pound weight loss. The moment seemed to be entirely consumed by Rick’s new size as he balanced his large stomach on Craig’s back and set to work. 

“What’s that doing in here?” Craig asked afterwards as they lay together in bed.

“It’s our new refrigerator,” Rick smiled. “It’ll save us having to go downstairs for snacks all the while.”

Craig mumbled in disapproval. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to sleep all that well with the humming nose.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Rick laughed, rolling over to cuddle his lover better and making the entire bed rock and squeal. “You’re going to be getting used to a lot of new things this year…”

Living with Rick was a complete culture shift after the summer. His fourth and final year in college was more intense than any of the years that had come before it. Rick’s place was further away from campus, and so Craig now took the bus pretty much everywhere he had to go. Bob and Rick lived on take-outs and turned their noses up whenever Craig tried to make something wholesome and homemade; like a couple of five year olds refusing to even try a vegetable of any kind. 

To Craig’s surprise, he soon learned that Bob and Rick hired an older lady, called Pam, to come in and take care of the place for them.

“Such dirty boys, these two,” she gumbled to Craig as he tried to work at the kitchen counter on an assignment. It was clear that she had deep affection for both Rick and Bob; however, that didn’t mean they were above her criticisms. She busily cleaned out take-out containers and put them away for recylcing. “Some days I come in here and want to cry. I’m amazed they don’t have rats.”

Craig nodded awkwardly in agreement. Maybe if the pair of them ever left even the slightest crumb from all the food they consumed, rats and mice could indeed have become a problem for them.

“And Rick was such a handsome boy when he moved in,” Pam went on, pulling a pair of enormous underwear from the washing machine; the elastic in them obviously coming to the end of its life. “It’s such a shame!”

At this, Craig’s interest was caught. “You’ve known the boys that long?” he asked. In all the time he had been dating Rick, Pam was only the second person he had ever come across who had spoken about the Rick’s former physique.

“Oh, yes! I met him when he first moved in here with his cousin,” she began. “There had been problems at home. He hadn’t wanted to go to college, despite being so clever. Then he didn’t want to play sports, despite being so gifted. They all thought Bob was a bad influence, which I can’t say I disagree with,” she nodded fairly. “As soon as Rick moved in he started piling on the weight, just like his cousin had a couple of years earlier. I remember looking at him one day and noticing this little paunch had popped out on him. His face got chubby. Then his whole body just bloated and got bigger and bigger.”

Craig wrigged awkwardly in his seat, feeling an odd arousal as he imagined Rick undergoing such a transformation. “He had another boyfriend back then, didn’t he?” Craig asked, wondering just how clued up Pam really was on the goings on in this house.

She thought for a moment. “Yes. Now, what was his name?” she pondered, before Geoff’s name came to her again. “He was another lovely boy.”

“Was he a big guy as well?” Craig questioned. 

Pam thought back. “Yes,” she nodded, looking away slightly as she tried to recall. “I remember him having quite the big stomach on him. But only after he moved in here with the boys.”

“Geoff moved in with them?” Rick asked next, surprised that this had been the case.

“For quite a few months,” she nodded. “Rick used to spoil him rotten!” she smiled.

“He does the same with me,” Craig blushed. He’d only been living there for a couple of weeks and already he could feel his stomach reinflating. He knew that Ben and Rick had a pair of scales somewhere, but they weren’t placed anywhere obvious so that he could have free access to them and check his suspicions.

“Well, you just be careful,” Pam smiled at him. “I love Bob and RIck dearly, but I know they’re no angels either. I’ve watched quite a few of Bob’s girlfriends get pretty big over the years.”

“And you think that will happen to me?” Craig shot back, feeling a great spike of arousal at the thought. After all, he was still quite far from his starting weight, back when he met Rick for the first time.

Pam glanced down towards Craig’s slight double chin. “You just be careful,” she repeated again in a motherly fashion; perhaps holding back her true thoughts of what was really about to happen next.

Portion sizes became Craig’s greatest enemy over the following weeks. After a day of manual work, the boys filled their plates to astronomical levels, and they did the same for Craig; whether he’d asked for it or not. At first, he left plenty of it on his plate for Rick to finish off. But, these days, Rick was starting to nag him for wasting food. “Just get the fries down, at least,” he’d sigh, seeing the large mountain that remained on the plate. Then: “You can’t leave all that meat,” he’d grumble.

Craig had hoped that Rick and Bob would start to put less on his plate, but they never did. He’d sometimes catch their knowing looks; smirking as they piled the food up more and more. With Bob back to being single, Craig suddenly felt that he had become the boys’ sole focus of their entertainment.

By the time Thanksgiving came around, Craig was right back where he had started, with his stomach bouncing back to the size it had been at the end of the summer semester. However, the regained weight had deposited differently on his body now that he had lost the weight and put it back on. His butt and thighs were softer and larger this time, his nipples more sensitive. His facial cheeks had blown up more, and Craig had decided to keep his spreading double chin concealed underneath a camouflage of short and very necessary facial hair.

“Oh, I love this time of year!” Bob sighed, plopping himself into his big armchair by the TV after a ginormous Thanksgiving meal and beginning to snack on the leftover buffet food from the evening before. “Nothing but endless food now, until the beginning of January!” he beamed, tapping his large stomach. “A fat guy’s dream!”

Craig considered tidying up, but he knew that Pam was coming in the morning. Instead, he took his swollen and sore body over to the couch and threw himself lazily down next to his boyfriend, snuggling into his large body. Rick hadn’t worn a shirt since finishing work on the Tuesday, and his overstuffed tummy had never looked larger. Despite the unusually cold November that they were experiencing, it was obvious that the large guy was experiencing what Rick referred to as ‘the meat sweats’.

“You wait until you see how crazy we go over the holidays,” Bob teased Craig just as RIck burped uncomfortably from all the food. “Our Rick here is king of the eggnog!”

“I’ve already made Craig a batch of my special eggnog actually,” Rick explained to his cousin.

“Oh, have you?” Bob smirked, getting a quick look at Craig’s swollen belly. “I see.”

“I was actually going to go see my mom this Christmas, but…” Craig pondered aloud. As the weight had piled back on him in the last couple of months, all he could imagine was his mother’s sarcastic voice in his head, telling him things that he didn’t want to hear; blaming him for everything that was wrong in her life.

“But he knows he’ll have a better time with us!” Rick told Bob, finishing off Craig’s sentence for him; saving Craig from having to explain his awkward relationship with his mother.

“Excellent!” boomed Bob. “We’ll look after you,” he winked. “Won’t we, Rick?”

With his arm draped over Craig’s shoulders, Rick rubbed the top of Craig’s arm, like the boy was his dutiful student. “Definitely,” he nodded. Then came the daunting phrase that Craig had heard all too often. “We’ll be spoiling you rotten!”

It was strange to see people that Craig had met many times in the past and not have them recognise him. That was exactly what was starting to happen as the Spring finally arrived. It was all the fat Craig had gained in his face. It had changed his appearance quite considerably; especially with his facial hair. Over the winter months, his weight had been building and building. It was his own fault. He hadn’t been fighting Rick and Bob, as well as their manipulations to ensure that he over-ate in the same way that they did. However, it was also the case that gaining weight was just so easy. Rather than having the traumatic experience of feeling his clothes tighten and a lover who disapproved, Rick was constantly slowly updating Craig’s wardrobe, subtly ensuring that his transition into obesity was as smooth as possible.

Now when Craig looked in the mirror, he saw the shape of man he would have been very much attracted to himself. He had all the fat features that he adored so much, on his very own body. Back in the days before he met Rick, he had longed to play with a guy with such jiggly nipples as he had now. The back fat, the arm blubber and jiggly thighs: they were all things he had adored. He couldn’t believe that he had such a protrusive stomach, nor comprehend the width of his swelling butt, meaning that he frequently knocked things over as he tried to glide into tight spaces that would not have been a problem for him eighteen months ago. What turned him on even more was the fact that he never envisioned himself inhabiing a body like this. He held up his underwear in disbelief. Did he really need such oversized clothes now? Had he really allowed his kink to take him this far? All because he’d fallen for a big man with a secret desire to feed him up?

The sex with Rick was even more astonishing as Craig had grown. He senseed there was a closeness and connection between them both that could not be matched. He felt admired and appreciated like never before. The way Rick’s hands travelled across his expanding body, reaching for all the softest parts, assessing the great width of his shape and marvelling at the pure fat that had taken over his body. Finally, Craig had found the one man who understood his attraction to all of this, like no one else he had ever met in his life.

The acceptance came easy after that. By the summer, Craig was well over 300lbs and lounging about on the couch, just the same as the other two when Pam came around to clean for them all. He couldn’t believe his luck as he was hired by a company straight after his graduation, working from home three days each week and only needing to commute into the city on the two other days.

“Maybe we could start thinking about getting our own place soon?” Craig smiled as he scanned his first paycheck with pride.

“I’d really like that,” Rick nodded, unbuttoning the shirt of his pot bellied boyfriend after his hard day in the office. Living with Bob had been great, but after two years of being together, the time felt right for the pair of them to branch out on their own.

Collectively, the pair of them saved and set money aside over the following months; planning their move for sometime in the Spring. The whole idea gave them both a glow of bubbling excitement; with their loved-up contentment ensuring that the pair of them continued to swell up even more.

“That has to be the best Chinese place in town,” Craig smiled, as he leaned back and rubbed his large, tight stomach a few weeks later. All three of them had gorged on their own banquet meal for two and there wasn’t a single thing left to show for it. “I hope there’s somewhere just as good in our new place,” he commented offhandedly to Rick, thinking about their imagined new apartment.

“What new place?” Bob jumped in, sounding immediately irritated.

Craig winced, remembering that Rick had asked him not to mention it to Bob until they had time to all sit down and discuss their move properly, mouthing a silent ‘sorry’ to his boyfriend as he could tell that he had just dropped his foot in it.

“You plan to move out together?” he asked Craig in a surprisingly aggressive tone.

“Not yet,” Craig smiled, trying to calm the suddenly tense atmosphere. “But in a few months, maybe.”

“That’s bullshit,” Bob laughed. “Rick’s not moving out. We’ve lived together for years. He loves it here.”

Rick breathed in awkwardly, knowing that he needed to set his cousin straight. “It’s just something Craig and I think might be a good next step for the pair of us,” he offered, as if dipping his toe into very hot water and then taking it straight out again.

“Bullshit!” Bob snarled. “Are you just saying that to keep him happy?” he pointed rudely at Craig.

“No. It’s…” Rick mumbled. “It’s something we’ve been talking about for a few months now.”

Bob shook his head angrily. The idea of Craig breaking up his living arrangements with his cousin had sent him into a fiery temper that Craig had never witnessed before. “Do you know what he calls you behind your back?” he snarled at Craig. “Your precious boyfriend over there?”

Craig sat there motionless, wondering where this sudden anger had come from.

“Dude!” Rick cried, attempting to make his cousin see reason and not hit out like it was obvious he was about to do.

“He calls you his ‘pet pig,’” Bob shot back. “You wanna know why you’re so fucking fat now?” he growled angily across to Craig. “It’s because he made you that way. He pours appetite stimulants into your pasta sauce, calorie boosters into your milkshake and whipping cream into your coffee. And that’s only the half of it!”

Craig looked across at Rick’s anxious face.

“He doesn’t actually love you. He’s just a kinky little fucker, like me. He gets off on making you fatter. That’s all.”

“Cool it, Bob!” Rick shouted now, clearly getting angry.

“Do you know how many times he’s asked me to help him get a measuring tape around that fat stomach of yours when you’ve drifted off to sleep, slumped on the couch? He even keeps a notebook.”

Rick’s head slipped into his hands, hardly believing that all of this was unfolding. Meanwhile, Craig’s wild eyes simply switched back and forth between the pair of them.

“And…” Bob added, laughing aggressively at the next piece of information he decided to share. “You want to know why you always get the munchies right before bedtime?” he blasted on. “It’s because Rick trained it into you. He looked up online how to do it; dosing you up with sugar for weeks until you started to do it all yourself. You really think he loves you?” he scoffed. “Two years you’ve been together and the only conversations he’s ever had with me about you is getting my advice on how to make sure you get even fatter.”

Craig got up, feeling Bob’s onslaught was getting too much for him. He heard the two cousins shouting at each other as he climbed the stairs and took himself into the bedroom. Was this it? Was his relationship over? Had every affectionate word that Rick ever said to him been a complete lie?

“You probably have some questions for me?” Rick gingerly asked as he stepped into the room a few minutes later. “I know you must be upset. Bob doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“Really?” Craig shot back angrily. “You’re going to try and pin this all on Bob?”

Rick paused for a second and then nodded in defeat. “You’re right,” he agreed. “I’ve been out of line. Those things Bob said about the appetite stimulants and calorie boosters… that was all pretty much true,” he mumbled sheepishly.

“Of course it was,” Craig sighed impatiently. “You think I didn’t know all that? I like fat guys. And you… you clearly like fat guys too. The whole feeding thing was just our quiet, kinky little game. But I didn’t think that was where our relationship started and ended. I thought you were in love with me.”

Rick looked hurt by the pain in Craig’s eyes. “I do love you!” he cried, stepping further into the room and kneeling by the side of the bed. “I just… I just let this whole kinky shit get the better of me. I watched Bob fatten up so many of his girlfriends, even when he was in high school, and I guess I let it all get into my head. Bob doesn’t understand real relationships. He’s just missing that little part in his brain. That’s the only reason why I don’t talk to him about all the mushy stuff between us.”

“Would you choose me over Bob?” Craig asked, having always felt secretly anxious that Rick’s cousin meant more to him than he did.

Rick sighed and dropped his gaze. “Of course I would. But you’ve got to understand. Bob was there for me at a very difficult time.” He sighed, as if about to relinquish the greatest secret of his entire life. “I didn’t always used to look this way. Back in high school… I was kinda… athletic,” he admitted begrudgingly.

At this, Craig couldn’t help but laugh a little. Of all the secrets that had come out that evening, this one hardly merited the gravity that Rick seemed to instill upon it.  “I know,” he smirked. “Pam did mention it once or twice.”

Rick’s eyebrows rose up. Perhaps he had forgotten how much Pam liked to talk. “I hated it,” he grumbled. “I had this desire in me to grow and get fat. Yet no one around me could understand why I was having these feelings. No one… apart from Bob. We could talk for hours about it; this compulsion inside of us to get fat. I’d seen Bob doing it to himself after high school. It literally blew my mind! So when I finally got my job and was earning enough to pay Bob some rent money, I moved straight in here and followed in his footsteps. I lost my abs and packed on a belly in a matter of weeks. It was…” he sighed with pleasure, “the best feeling in the entire world!”

“But what about Geoff?” Craig asked next.

Rick scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “Pam told you about him too, huh?” he whispered.

Craig shook his head, finally recounting the story of bumping into Rick’s ex, just as he should have done over eighteen months ago. 

“So you knew all that, and yet you still stuck by me?” Rick asked in utter disbelief once Craig had finished, leaving nothing unsaid. “What the hell did I do to deserve you for two years? Ever since I was eighteen, I had Bob telling me that he was the only person in the whole world who would accept me for who I really was. Yet, there you were, standing by my side this whole time.”

“It’s a mess, isn’t it?” Craig sighed. They’d both been so immature about this whole situation; each of them holding pieces of the same jigsaw and not sharing. Only now could they piece them all together and see that they’d both only ever been completely happy.

“Do you still want to get a place with me?” Rick asked, allowing a little bit of hope to shine through his voice.

“I think so,” Craig nodded. “But… do you still want to make me fatter?” he asked in response. 

Rick squirmed, being asked so directly about something he had concealed for so long. However, this was a fresh start: a time for them both to be honest with each other. “Yes,” he stated, knowing full well that it could be the end of his relationship. “I don’t think I’d ever want to stop fattening you up.”

Craig nodded. Finally, the truth had been revealed: the feeder, thoroughly exposed.

“Okay,” Craig sighed, bracing himself for what needed to happen next. “But we do this together from now on. We communicate. We say what we’re really feeling, when we feel it.”

Rick was nodding in complete agreement; the smile spreading across his broad face. This wasn’t the end after all. It was only the beginning.

[1800jjbarnes]

◇ 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟐: 𝐃𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐏𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 - 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 ◇

New Member

【Synopsis】 : You're the newest member to join one of the most famous rock bands. And luckily for you they are all hot...and fuckable.

『W.C』 : 1.01k

-> Genre: Rockstar au. Smut. Poly au

Paring: LeadSinger!Bucky x Bassist!Reader x Guitarist!Steve

[Warnings] : Fingering. Spanking. Anal. Unprotected sex. Coming inside. Squirting. Biting. Neck kisses. Dirty talk. Pet names and nicknames.

Masterlist | Navigation | Kinktober List

The crowd rawred, cheering for an encore. For more. But the lead singer was not worrying about his fans no, no. All he wanted was to see his new bass player get fucked by his lead guitarist. When you first joined the band, He instantly had his eye on you. You were not just a pretty face but extremely talented. Your fingers strumbed the bass like no other and he knew you’d fit in right away. The first time one of the members of the group tried anything on you was when Sam wouldn’t stop flirting and saying he could give you a life you wouldn’t forget but you brushed him off saying he wasn’t your type and he wouldn’t know a thing about you and your needs. He complained saying you were hard to get but in truth, you only had eyes for a certain someone. Or in this case someones.

James, the lead singer, and Steve, the rock group's lead guitarist and lyricist. They both screamed sex appeal to you, and your thighs seemingly were always squeezed shut whenever they were around. Tonight was a particularly long and drawn-out stage event. Making everyone hot, sweaty, and most definitely bothered. Your heart was racing when you left the stage, feeling the crowd's energy boost your endorphins. Your mind was racing, and your breath was shallow, and all you could think about was sinking your teeth into James or Steve's lips. And in this case, both.

“Fuck Buck!!” You cried out while Bucky bit down hard on your bare collarbone. Having your shirt ripped off long ago when he and Steve had pulled you into the nearest change room. Steve had made it so that no one disturbed you, but knowing people and by people, he means his manager would be wanting him and the others to do another set. But this stage was the first time releasing a new song, and you had to flaunt yourself on stage successfully turning on both men. Steve stood behind you, slapping your ass while he fingered your asshole roughly. Bucky had three fingers knuckles deep inside your soaked cunt, while his tongue lapped your shoulder where he had bit you. Steve kept his abuse on your ass adding another finger in for good measure. Your body felt like it was on fire needing them both to hurry up before someone interrupts. ”Just fuck me already I’m ready enough.”

Steve had to laugh at your whining words. You sounded so vulnerable compared to the strong boss you portray to others. But in the end, you were their baby, needing to be fucked hard, fast and rough. “Come on Jamie, let's give our girl what she wants.”

Steve picked up one of your legs, pulling his fingers out of your ass before chuckling darkly against your ear. “I couldn’t agree more, Stevie.” The way they called you their girl and how they gave one another sweet nicknames sent your body reeling. You never wanted this moment to end, wanting nothing more than to explore both their bodies, let them have their way with you while you sucked them off, and you rode them for hours. But you knew if they didn’t hurry you wouldn’t be able to get to cum... So you bit your lip waiting your them to push inside you. “Take a deep breath for us Doll.”

You did as asked, trying to calm your nerves as Bucky held your other thigh, successfully lifting you in the air. Your hands found perch on His biceps, digging your face into his broad shoulders. You could feel their cocks against both your holes and it made you whine in need. Steve cooed, saying everything was going to be okay and it ‘be a good girl, Sugar’. and then you felt them both slowly enter you in one quick motion. You screamed. Screamed so loud that the whole staff team would have heard you and the rest of the group. Steve's and Bucky's ego boosted a little thinking about that. Knowing the others would be mad they got to fuck the new girl. But none of them would be able to touch you now. You belonged to Bucky and Steve now and they were going to enjoy fucking you every day, in every city they travel to.

“FUck! J-Jamess, Stevie! God fuck.” you lost your mind, never feeling so full until now. Your body was shaking, reeling against both large men. Your mind was hazed and the weed you all took earlier was probably not helping. But none of you cared, only caring about the fact of how good they both felt inside you. Both men could feel each other as they thrust, only a thin wall separating them. Your ass was so tight squeezing Steve deliciously while your soaked pussy walls were so warm it made Bucky want to bust a nut there and then. But he waited. Both of them needing to feel you come first before either of them.

“Come on, Doll. I wanna feel you come. Just let us feel you squeeze around us. Your cunt is so fucking tight. I could fuck it forever.” Bucky's dirty mouth pours out lewd words into your ear making you tip over the edge coming undone, squirting all over his cock, dripping onto the floor. Someone of your juices spilling onto Bucky's and Steve's legs, making them both groan out. They continued to fuck you until Steve emptied his hot load into your ass while Buck pumped himself dry deep in your puffy cunt. You were filled to the brim with their seeds and you couldn’t ask for anything better.

“Come on, Sugar, let’s get you dressed. We got a crowd of fans waiting for us.” Steve's words made you shiver at the sheer fact of going on stage while dripping with their cum. Possessive fucks.

[blackthunder137]

Enamored by Envy (Rafe Cameron x reader)

Pairing- Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary- when all you wanted was your boyfriend’s attention and while he had other plans, you decided to take matters into your own hands. 

Warnings- smut, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), nickname-princess (but in a derogatory sense), fingering, jealous!rafe, brat!reader.

Author’s note- i am back and i promise i will provide you with fics as much as possible. enjoy reading <3. also, this fic ends in a cliffhanger.

navigation rafe cameron masterlist

He wasn’t looking at you, and that pissed you off. You wore your favourite red satin silk midi dress which hugged every inch of your body just so Rafe could ogle at you and later fuck your brains out but now, that seemed impossible because here you were sitting on those bar stools with a Martini in your hand and Rafe was sitting across from you making a business deal. You understood that he had work to do and you let him but it was already past an hour and he did not so much as even look in your direction, this only made you grow impatient and annoyed. 

You looked at him, in hopes that at least now he would look back at you but you found no such luck. God, you were growing annoyed and agitated, so you did what you always do best. Make him learn his lesson. You scanned the dance floor which was filled with people who were either too drunk or they were on top of each other, quite literally and dancing like there was no tomorrow. 

So you walked your way to the dance floor and started dancing. For the first few minutes that you were dancing, you kept looking at Rafe to see if he was looking at you. Nada. He didn’t even bat an eye in your direction and as the music grew louder and touched every atom in your body, you forgot about him. Your hip swayed sensually and your hands touched your entire body as you felt every bass and the melody of the music. 

You didn’t even notice the guy behind you who had his hands on your waist and swaying with you. He moved his hands with you, his breath hitting your neck as he lowered his head down to inhale your scent.

Your music-induced haze snapped and you looked over at the counter to see him, jaw clenched and his eyes shooting daggers at the guy you were dancing with.His gaze not leaving yours even for a second as he strode towards you like a panther ready to hunt its prey.

Rafe lowered his head down and whispered in your ear, “Go back to the car, princess.” his breath hit your neck which elicited goosebumps. It happened every damn time. His voice, his touch and his words always made you feel something, like your whole skin was on fire. You hated him for doing these things to you, you hated that he ignored you and he dared to come here and tell you what to do. It was all so messed up. You looked up at him and spat, “Fuck.You.” and left.

You knew he would probably punch the guy that was dancing with you but you couldn’t stay there any longer than necessary and honestly, you couldn’t care less about the guy. You made your way towards the parking lot. If Rafe wanted to come home he can use a fucking cab for himself. 

When you were about to get into the car, a hand caught your wrist and turned you around. Your back slammed into the car as a looming Rafe stood in front of you with his entire body leaning on you. You tried to break free from his hold but that asshole had a steady grip on you. He lowered his face, only inches away from yours and spoke, “And where do you think you’re going?” 

His face was so close that if you moved even a little bit you’d probably kiss him. Your eyes trailed from his face to his lips and back to his eyes. His eyes were already undressing you and it took all your willpower not to give in to his games. “Away from you,” you said through gritted teeth. You somehow broke free from his grasp and managed to open the car door, got inside and drove away. 

All you could see was red, maybe you were overreacting but he needed to be reminded that you are not just anyone and that you are your own person and if anybody wanted you, they had to work for it. 

As you pulled over in your parking lot you saw a silhouette of a person, no, Rafe. How the hell did he reach faster than you? Ignoring that you made your way towards the door, he stood tall and strong and opened the door for you and said, “After you, princess.” 

What was up with him? Why was he saying stuff like this? You had no fucking idea. You entered your hall after which Rafe closed the door behind him. You made your way towards the dining table when his hand gripped your waist and slammed you against the dining table, the wood dug into your hips as you let out a harsh breath. 

“Now what was all the attitude about, princess?” he whispered as his hand held your waist in an almost bruising hold. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” you spat out as you tried pushing him away but he didn’t budge. “You didn’t even look at me! I tried calling your name but you wouldn’t respond. It was as if you were fucking ignoring my whole existence!” 

He brought his head down to your ears, hot breath hitting your ears and spoke through gritted teeth, “If I so much as looked at you, I would’ve lost all my senses and control and fucked you right then and there. You see I had a deal which needed to be looked into but you had other plans of going out there and dancing with that worthless fucker-” he moved your hair from your neck slowly and torturously that you had to close your eyes and bit your lips to tamp down the unwanted thoughts that were building up. He bit your neck hard causing you to cry out as you held his arms on either side. “You know what happens to a bad girl don’t you princess?” he whispered, making you clench your thighs together.

You had gotten to him alright and now you had to face consequences for it which you happily will. He got back up from your neck and looked straight into your eyes when his hand covered your neck pressing it firmly yet surely. “Now, you know what happens to girls like you don’t you, princess.” and with that, he kissed you hard causing you to sink deeper into the dining table wood. His tongue entered your mouth without permission, assaulting you in ways that sent a wave of pleasure right to your core. His hold on your neck tightened as he sunk deeper into your mouth, pressing his hard length right against your already wet cunt. 

A moan escaped from your mouth as he continued to kiss you, messily and eagerly. He broke apart the kiss as your chest heaved from the impact. In one swift movement, he lifts your dress, throwing your panties away and laying you down on the dining table. “Spread your legs, princess,” he croaked, licking his lips as his eyes practically devoured your entire being. 

“No,” you replied, challenging him and pressing your thighs together to avoid him from doing anything to you . He turned his head to the side, the corner of his lips lifting into a half-smile and with one shift of his strong hands your legs were pulled apart. He lowered his head and licked your bare pussy. That single action made you close your eyes and throw your head back. 

He made a grunting sound before he put his thumb on your clit massaging and palming it. Your breaths became quicker and your eyelids started to get heavy. “Eyes on me,” Rafe’s firm voice floated through your haze and made you quickly snap your eyes open and look at him. You would usually put up more of a fight but you were too into the sensation that even if you tried  saying anything it would come out as gibberish. 

His mouth mapped every bit of your inner thigh, marking and branding you his. His mouth then moved onto your clit, sucking and biting it. While he was busy assaulting your clit, two of his fingers thrust, hard, inside your cunt. His fingers worked professionally as if you were a canvas and he were the artist, painting a masterpiece for the world to see. 

He was continually hitting the right spot, again and again. Your hips jerked from the force building in your core just one more stroke, lick and bite and you would come undone. As soon as you were close to the edge, so close, he withdrew his fingers and mouth. You made the most guttural noise known to mankind and glared at him for denying you an orgasm. 

He simply smirked and removed his pants and boxers, freeing his big cock. His pre-cum dripped from his tip and he was hard. You looked at him to find him already looking at you, his dick positioned right in front of your pussy. One hard thrust got you screaming his name. He held you by the throat and brought you closer to him so now your face was closer to his chest. He leaned down, his voice breathless, “Look at us princess, our bodies were made for each other. You are mine to fuck, mine to see and mine to taste. No one gets to touch what’s mine.” As he said the last words, his grip on your throat tightened. His words made your skin heat with lust. You grabbed his hair in your hands and crashed your lips to his. This encouraged him to pick his pace up and he fucked you raw. The only sound that echoed the room was your skin slapping against his. His thumb massaged your clit and his cock hit the right spot that made your eyes roll to the back of your head. 

“Ra-rafe…ah!” you screamed out as you came apart. Your eyes shut taking in the feeling of total bliss. He came right after you with a grunt and you could practically feel his warm cum leaking out and dripping down your thigh. You let out a sigh and laid back down the dining table. You were exhausted from the night's activities and as soon as you were coming down your high Rafe lifted you up and hauled you over his shoulder. You yelped in surprise. 

“Rafe put me the fuck down!” you exclaimed. He took up the stairs and set you down on the bed. His eyes roaming all around your body, from your hair to your legs. You were sure you were a mess with your hair strands falling all over the place and your cheeks flushed. 

His eyes came back to yours and he replied, “I’m not done yet.” His hoarse and commanding voice set a jolt of electricity straight to your core

[pucksandpower]

Party Girl

Happy Nation: A Series of Standalone Fics

Logan Sargeant x Hunt!Reader

Summary: Logan tries to save a notorious party girl from herself (or in which going wild runs in the Hunt family)

Warnings: illicit substances and peer-pressure

The nightclub’s bass thumps through Logan’s chest as the trio approaches the entrance. Lando and Oscar turn to him with matching grins.

“You ready for this, mate?” Lando asks.

Logan eyes the mass of people spilling out onto the sidewalk. “Is this really a good idea?”

“Of course!” Oscar claps him on the shoulder. “It’s gonna be brilliant. Especially with you keeping an eye on the hostess.”

“Me?” Logan’s brow furrows.

Lando nods. “You’re our designated driver tonight, so you’ll be the soberest one here. We need you to keep Y/N from going too far off the rails.”

“Why me though? I barely know her.”

“Exactly!” Oscar exclaims. “She doesn’t really know you either, so she’ll actually listen instead of brushing you off like she does with the rest of us.”

Logan frowns. “I don’t know, guys ...”

“Oh, come on!” Lando wheedles. “You’ve heard the stories about James Hunt. Partying is in her DNA. We just need to make sure she doesn’t take after her grandad too much tonight.”

With a sigh, Logan relents. “Alright, fine. I’ll do my best to keep her out of trouble.”

The two grin and clap him on the back before leading the way inside. The throbbing music and flashing lights assault Logan’s senses as they enter. He scans the crowd, quickly spotting a vaguely familiar mane of untamed waves.

You’re laughing uproariously at something one of your friends said, drink sloshing precariously in your hand. Your cheeks are already flushed, eyes bright with intoxication and mirth. A pang of concern flutters in Logan’s chest — Lando and Oscar weren’t kidding about keeping an eye on you.

Making his way through the press of bodies, Logan sidles up next to you. You glance over with a brilliant smile.

“Heyyy, you made it!”

“Yeah, uh, hi,” Logan replies, suddenly feeling awkward. “Your friends invited me to, you know, keep things under control.”

You giggle. “Under control? What fun is that?”

Taking a swig of your drink, you spin away to dance with your friends, moving your hips enticingly. Logan swallows hard, trying not to stare. This is going to be harder than he thought.

The evening blurs by in a kaleidoscope of colors and sounds. Wherever you go, Logan follows at a respectful distance. He rebuffs anyone trying to offer you illicit substances and intervenes whenever your friends get too rowdy.

A few times you shoot him annoyed glares, but he just shrugs apologetically. He’s only doing what Lando and Oscar asked. Besides, he reasons, better to have you mad at him than in real danger.

As the hour grows later, your movements become more uncoordinated, laughter louder and words more slurred. Logan hovers closer, concern mounting.

“Ohhh, Logannnnn,” you croon, draping yourself over him. “You’re sooo stuffy. Live a little!”

He gently extracts himself from your embrace. “I think you’ve lived enough for tonight, Y/N.”

Pouting, you turn away petulantly. Logan watches as a few of your more unscrupulous friends surround you with sly grins. Alarm spikes through him when he sees one of them press something into your palm.

“Hey!” Pushing forward, he places himself between you and them. “Back off. She’s not interested.”

You blink at him owlishly while your friends sneer.

“Who’re you to decide for her, pretty boy?”

“Someone who actually cares if she’s okay.” Logan holds his ground.

With a drunken giggle, you lean against his back. “S’ok, Logieee. Lemme have some fun!”

“No, Y/N.” He spins to face you, gripping your shoulders firmly. “That stuff is bad news. You don’t want it, trust me.”

Your eyes are glazed, but you search his face like you’re trying to understand. One of your friends makes another attempt to press the little baggie into your hand. Without thinking, Logan bats it away. It goes flying across the club, spilling white powder everywhere.

“Dude!” Your friend shouts, outraged.

Logan doesn’t give them a chance to react further. Scooping you up in his arms, he starts carrying you away from the crowd. You’re tiny and warm against his chest, still giggling faintly.

“Mmm, Logan ... gonna getcha in trouble ...”

“I’ll take my chances,” he mutters.

Pushing his way through the throngs of people, Logan finally breaks free into the cool night air. He sets you on your feet, but keeps a steadying hand on your waist when you sway unsteadily.

Up close like this, he can make out the flushed skin across your nose, the flecks of light reflecting in your warm eyes. For a moment you just gaze at each other, the sounds of the party muffled behind the club’s doors.

Then your brow furrows. “Why’d ya stop me? I was jus’ havin’ fun.”

Logan shakes his head slowly. “That kind of fun isn’t good for you, Y/N. Your friends, they ... they weren’t looking out for your best interests back there.”

“You don’ even know me!” You protest, pushing away from him on unsteady feet.

Without thinking, Logan catches your hands in his. They’re so tiny, delicate, yet topped with nails sharp enough to take an eye out. Just like the rest of you — an enigmatic mix of fragile beauty and uncompromising tenacity.

“You’re right, I don’t really know you,” he admits. “But I know that you’re strong. Braver and tougher than anyone gives you credit for. And you don’t need that junk to be the life of the party.”

For a long moment, you simply stare at him, eyes wide. Then, slowly, you nod. A few stray tendrils of hair fall across your face and Logan’s fingers itch to brush them back. He tamps down the urge.

“M’sorry I made a scene back there,” you mumble, averting your gaze.

“Hey.” Logan ducks his head to catch your eye again. “Don’t be sorry. Those people, they ...” He shakes his head in disgust. “You deserve better friends than that.”

Pink dusts your cheeks as the corners of your mouth tick upwards. “You’re sweet, Logan. A real gentleman.”

“I just call it like I see it,” he replies with a shrug.

You laugh softly then, a warm, rich sound that sends tingles down Logan’s spine. When you speak again, your voice is clearer, more sober.

“I guess tonight got a little out of hand. Sometimes I go too far trying to live up to the reputation of my last name. It’s stupid, I know.”

“Hey, we all have things we’re trying to prove.” Logan squeezes your hands reassuringly. “But you don’t have to prove anything to me, Y/N. I can already see how amazing you are.”

For a beat, you simply stare at him, eyes shining. Then, surging up on your tiptoes, you throw your arms around his neck and kiss him hard.

Logan freezes for half a second before melting into the embrace, pulling you flush against him. His fingers tangle in your hair as he kisses you back with everything he has.

When you finally break apart, breathless and flushed, Logan rests his forehead against yours.

“Wow,” is all he can think to say.

You grin impishly up at him. “Now there’s a party I wouldn’t mind getting carried away at.”

Logan can’t help but laugh. Tucking you into his side, he presses a kiss to your temple. “Let’s get out of here. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”

***

Logan jolts awake to the sound of insistent pounding on his hotel room door. Squinting against the bright sunlight filtering through the curtains, he rubs the sleep from his eyes and shuffles to answer it.

“About damn time!” Lando’s voice greets him as soon as the door opens. “Do you know how long we’ve been stuck outside?”

Oscar shoulders past Logan into the room. “Yeah, mate. Abandoning your friends at the club? Not cool.”

Logan’s brow furrows in confusion until the previous night’s events come trickling back. The party, the near miss with the drugs, getting you safely away ...

His gaze drifts to the rumpled bed across the room where you’re just starting to stir, sheets tangled around your legs. A soft smile tugs at Logan’s lips as he watches you blink owlishly.

“Earth to Logan?” Lando waves a hand in front of his face. “You still with us?”

“What? Yeah, sorry.” Logan drags his attention back to the two drivers. “Look, I can explain about last night ...”

“No need to explain why you ditched us,” Oscar interjects with a suggestive wink toward the bed. “We can figure that part out for ourselves.”

You sit upright then, the sheets pooling around your waist as you rub your eyes. “Whas’ goin’ on?”

“Well, well!” Lando exclaims with a salacious grin. “If it isn’t the life of the party herself! Get up to any ... extracurriculars last night?”

Heat creeps up the back of Logan’s neck as you glance between the three of them in sleepy bewilderment. A strangled laugh escapes Oscar’s lips as the realization hits both of them. You and Logan lock eyes from across the room, equally mortified.

“No, wait! It’s not what it looks like!” Logan splutters.

Lando claps a hand on his shoulder with a pitying look. “It’s alright, mate. You don’t have to be ashamed about finally getting some action.”

“But I didn’t!” Logan insists, running a flustered hand through his hair. “Y/N, tell them!”

Untangling yourself from the sheets, you slide off the bed — giving everyone an eyeful of the fact that you’re only wearing one of Logan’s hoodies. His breath catches in his throat because damn if you don’t look incredible drowning in his clothes.

Your bare feet pad across the carpet until you’re standing before him, fingers playing with the worn cotton hem. “He’s right, you two. We didn’t ... you know.”

Hurt flashes across Logan’s face before he can squelch it back down. Right, of course you wouldn’t want that after all the lines he crossed last night. You’d been drunk and vulnerable and now you were regretting everything, including the–

“We kissed! But it doesn’t have to mean anything,” he blurts out, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “I got Y/N out of a bad situation and we may have, uh, gotten a little carried away in the heat of the moment. But she was drunk and it won’t happen again, I swear.”

An awkward silence falls over the room, broken only by Lando’s snort of laughter. “No rizz, this one.”

Logan’s jaw clenches. He knew they’d tease him about it, but he’s a grown man and he doesn’t need to take it from the likes of–

“Logan.”

Your voice is soft but it cuts through the embarrassment swirling in his mind. You take his face gently in your hands and he’s helpless but to meet your warm gaze.

“What if I want it to mean something?”

The air whooshes out of him in a surprised breath. His hands find your waist of their own accord like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Y-You do?”

Behind you, Oscar groans. “God, he’s so hopeless.”

“I think it’s sweet!” Lando retorts. “Innocent, you know? Like a puppy getting all flustered.”

Logan blocks them out, his whole world narrowing to the amused, almost fond smile playing across your lips. You nod, leaning further into his embrace.

“I meant what I said last night, Logan. You’re the sweetest, most caring guy I’ve ever met. And I like you.” Your nose wrinkles adorably. “A lot, actually.”

He blinks rapidly, certain his heart is about to burst out of his chest. “Y/N, I ... I like you too. So much.”

Laughing that rich, warm laugh of yours, you loop your arms around his neck and rise up on your tiptoes. Logan meets you halfway, melting into the heated press of your lips against his.

Catcalls and wolf-whistles finally penetrate the happy bubble enveloping you both. You break the kiss with a breathless giggle, burrowing your face into the crook of Logan’s neck.

“Oi, lovebirds!” Oscar hollers. “Get a room!”

“Yeah, we’ve already got one!” Logan shoots back, surprising himself with the retort. He winks cheekily at you and you positively beam in response, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Alright, that’s our cue!” Lando steers Oscar toward the door. “Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do, you crazy kids!”

The door slams behind them, leaving you and Logan alone in blissful quiet. His arms tighten around your waist, keeping you pressed flush against him. For a few heartbeats, you simply drink each other in, basking in the unfamiliar but not unwelcome feelings bubbling up.

Eventually you break the spell with a featherlight brush of your lips against the corner of Logan’s mouth. “So, was that too forward? I shouldn’t have just sprung that on you ...”

“No!” He rushes to reassure you. “God, no. I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.”

You poke his chest lightly, eyes dancing with mirth. “Not even racing?”

Logan chuckles, tucking a stray curl behind your ear. “Okay, maybe one other thing. But you’re definitely in the top two.”

Winding your arms back around his neck, you arch one brow mischievously. “Only top two? I’ll have to work on that ...”

His breath catches in his throat at the playful promise in your tone. “I, uh ... I wouldn’t be opposed to that.”

As you lean in to kiss him again, Logan can’t help but silently thank Lando and Oscar for dragging him to that party. True, the night didn’t go exactly as expected. But he wound up with the greatest prize of all — you, here in his arms, carefree and happy and perfect in every way.

Like the gentleman his mama raised him to be, Logan vows silently to cherish every moment with you. After all, only a fool would look a gift horse like you in the mouth.

***

Adrenaline still thrums through Logan’s veins as he exits parc fermé, helmet tucked under his arm. His cheeks ache from the wide grin stretched across his face — a double points finish was exactly what Williams needed.

Alex falls into step beside him, equally elated after their impressive showing on the track today. They did good, really good. Logan can’t wait to celebrate with the whole team.

As they approach the Williams garage, a familiar head of hair catches Logan’s eye. You’re standing front and center, bouncing on the balls of your feet with poorly contained excitement. A large bakery box is clutched in your hands, the elaborate logo on the lid leaving little doubt as to its expensive contents.

Logan’s grin widens impossibly further. Of course you’d be here with treats in tow, always ready to turn any occasion into a party. His heart swells with affection just watching you eagerly await his and Alex’s return.

The rest of the team notice their arrival and erupt into cheers, crowding around to clap the drivers on the back with jubilant congratulations. You hang back, though your whole face is lit up with unabashed pride.

“Nice one out there, lads!” An engineer calls over the ruckus.

“About time we had a good points haul,” Another mechanic agrees.

Logan waves off the compliments with a bashful duck of his head. The team has been through so much in recent seasons — they deserve this moment more than he does.

“Alright, alright! Give the boys some space to breathe!” A familiar voice rings out.

You shove your way through the throngs of people, bounding right up to Logan with a brilliant grin. He has a split second to brace himself before you launch into his arms, nearly sending him toppling backward with the force of your enthusiasm.

“You were brilliant!” You exclaim, planting an exuberant kiss on his cheek that has him blushing furiously. “Both of you! I’m so proud!”

Alex chuckles fondly as you untangle yourself from Logan just enough to loop an arm around the other man’s shoulders. “We couldn’t have done it without the team’s hard work. You should be proud of them.”

“Oh, I am!” You turn your beaming smile on the rest of the crew. “Which is why I brought a little celebratory treat!”

Holding up the bakery box with a waggle of your brows, you peel back the lid to reveal a massively decadent-looking chocolate cake. It’s one of the most elaborate confections Logan has ever laid eyes on.

A reverent hush falls over the assembled group as they all lean in to get a better look. The air is suddenly thick with the rich scent of cocoa and buttercream frosting.

“Blimey, Y/N! That must’ve set you back a pretty penny!” Alex exclaims.

You wave him off with a casual flap of your hand. “Oh, please! You don’t even want to know how many races I’ve brought an expensive cake to just in case. I’m just glad I finally got to use this one!”

A ripple of laughter rolls through the crew at that. Logan shakes his head in fond exasperation, equal parts endeared and unsurprised by your extravagant gesture.

When your gaze lands on him again, warmth blooms in his chest at the open adoration shining in your eyes. You look at him like he’s the most impressive thing you’ve ever seen, not some lucky racer who simply played a tiny part in today’s success.

Liquid courage from the race still thrumming through his veins, Logan acts on impulse. Plucking the cake box deftly from your grip, he passes it off to a bewildered Alex before cupping your face in his hands and kissing you soundly.

A startled squeak quickly melts into a pleased hum as you melt against him, looping your arms around his neck to pull him closer. Logan pours every ounce of his pride and affection for you into the heated press of his lips, uncaring of the captive audience for once.

Hoots and hollers finally break through the rosy haze fogging Logan’s mind. He breaks the kiss with a breathless chuckle, thumbs brushing over the delightfully flushed apples of your cheeks.

“Get a room, you two!” Alex hollers with a roll of his eyes.

The rest of the crew quickly devolves into jokes and ribbing at your expense, but Logan couldn’t care less. With you smiling up at him like he hung the moon, the rest of the world simply falls away.

“You taste like chocolate,” he murmurs, brushing his nose against yours.

The impish grin you shoot him in return makes his heart stutter. “Well, it wouldn’t be a proper party without dessert.”

An arm slings around Logan’s shoulders, disrupting the little bubble you’ve found yourselves cocooned in. He startles, having completely forgotten about the dozens of other people still milling about.

“Well isn’t this just precious!” Gaetan, Logan’s race engineer, gives him an affectionate shake. “Young love blossoming right here in the garage!”

Red blooms high on Logan’s cheeks even as your melodic giggles wash over him. He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly.

“We’re not that young.”

“Could’ve fooled me!” Gaetan retorts with a bark of laughter. “You two have more spark than the rest of the kids around here combined.”

Your hand finds Logan’s, tangling your fingers together as you lean bodily into his side. For a fleeting moment, he allows himself to bask in the happiness surrounding him. It’s like floating, secure in the knowledge that you’ll always be right here to keep him grounded.

“You know,” you begin softly, batting your lashes up at Logan. “This might just be my new favorite party.”

A surprised huff of laughter escapes him. But really, he shouldn’t be so shocked. From the moment he met you, it was clear you had an unparalleled zest for life. You see the joy and potential for a good time in every single occasion. It’s one of the many, many things Logan loves about you.

“Your favorite, huh?” He bends to press his forehead to yours, drinking in your radiant smile. “I’ll remember this one, then.”

Because no matter how many parties, races, or adventures you two share moving forward, Logan vows to cherish each and every one with you by his side. After all, every single moment is worth celebrating when you get to spend it with the person you love most.

[shinsocest]

No. 005

notes: I don't remember this being so slimy but I love it. Anyways wish me luck at work tonight. It's my first time being in charge without the general manager breathing down my neck 💀

warnings: Size kink, degradation, praise, breeding, oral (both), voice kink, overstim, body worship

“I said no.”

You spit the words from your mouth angrily as you glare at the man you just shoved. The bass of the club thrums heavily in your chest, mimicking the heavy thud of your heart as he looks at his alcohol strewn shirt and returns your glare.

He’s been haranguing you all night. Awful one liners that he had to have thought up with his dick, and trying to buy you drinks. You’ve been polite, declining his advances one after another just trying to enjoy the night out with your friends, but now he’s crossed the line.

Your friends had excused themselves from the dancefloor to get more drinks, but before you could follow them he’d slid up behind you and put his arms around your waist. The unwanted touch had been enough to make your skin crawl.

You try to maintain your glare as he towers over you, but there’s a flutter of unease in your chest when he grabs your arm. His expression is taut, annoyed. “Don’t be a bitch. Just tryin’ to have a good time.”

“Let go.” You glance around warily, a familiar bitterness and panic sparking at the lack of attention this is receiving from nearby clubbers. Of course.

He wraps an arm around your shoulder.

“Just take it easy.” His purred tone makes your face twist up in disgust.

You’re preparing to throw the elbow of a lifetime when he suddenly splutters beside you, and is yanked from your side.

"Think you're looking for a good time in the wrong place."

Your head snaps up to see a tall, dark-haired man with your assailant's arm in a vice grip. He's covered in purplish scars that react strangely to the flashing red, blue, and greens of the club lights.

His eyes seem to pierce right through you as he spares you a glance, before he winks and turns his attention away. You stare; his eyes are so shockingly blue.

"What the hell, fuck off man." The other man struggles, but you watch him stiffen as the newcomer grips him tighter and whispers something in his ear.

His face pales, looking stricken, and he stumbles back as the newcomer throws him forward. He pushes through the crowd of people without looking back, ignoring their exclamations of irritation.

The newcomer watches him go, and you take a moment to just look him over. He doesn't exactly look like all the other clubbers. He's in a high collared, long black overcoat that's seen better days, black jeans and loose white t-shirt. But he doesn't seem out of place either; it's like he belongs here.

You don't realize you're staring until he turns to peer at you, and you look down, a sudden wave of self consciousness washing over you.

"Uh, thanks. Thank you," you manage after a moment, peeking up to see him giving you an amused look.

He gets closer, a grin widening across his cheeks. It looks uncomfortable to you, pulling at the staples holding his skin together. He speaks loudly, combating the music. "What was that? Can't hear you, babydoll."

You raise your voice as he steps closer, ready to repeat yourself, but your mind switches tracks. Despite his scars, you can’t deny that he’s incredibly handsome in his own way. You’re entranced by his roguish smile. "Dance with me."

Sapphire eyes gleam approvingly as his fingers close around your waist. He tugs you closer, guiding you to grind back on him in time with the pounding music.

You can hear him much clearer low, a low throaty rasp in your ear.

"Been watching you all night, little mouse. You sure do know how to tell a guy no. Can we have a little fun? Or are you gonna tell me no too?"

His words bring a shudder up your spine. There’s just something about him that draws you in. He feels wild, and dangerous, and you want to be swept up in it. Even if it’s just for a night.

Before you can answer, you can hear your friends calling your name. He peers over your head at the trio of girls standing a few feet away, all of them looking at you expectantly.

You look at them, giving them a reassuring look. “I’ll catch up with you guys, okay?”

Your best friend glances at him then at you, a knowing smile on her face as she tugs the other two back towards the bar.

Once they’re gone you lean your head back into his shoulder, pressing your hips back against him more firmly, letting him feel your agreement.

He makes an approving sound in his throat. “That’s what I wanted to hear. Name's Dabi by the way, babydoll.”

The way his voice is warm and hot in your ear makes it that much easier to melt into him, silencing any nerves as his long fingers toy with the hem of the dress you wore out tonight.

It’s painstaking how he inches the already enticingly short hem up your legs as you sway to the music. You can feel the telltale bulge against your ass as he hooks his chin over your shoulder, his fingers kneading the flesh of your exposed thighs. At this rate, if anyone nearby were to look too close, the lacy front of your panties would be clear to see.

Normally you would be an anxious wreck at the thought, but with his tall form pressed right up behind you practically molded to your backside, and his arms wrapped around your waist—you can’t even think beyond the sparks of anticipation. Your body feels moments away from igniting.

You feel more than hear Dabi’s approving moan as he slips a couple fingers between the apex of your thighs, pressing the rapidly dampening fabric deeper into your slit. “Shit, you’re soaked.”

His teeth meet your ear. “Let’s take this somewhere else.”

Dabi pulls you off the dancefloor, towards one of the dark hallways that leads off towards the bathrooms.

Your squeal gets cut off as he presses you against the wall, his lips on yours. He kisses fiercely, his tongue insistently bullying past your lips, but the way he drags his hands down your body is almost reverant, palming at your tits, smoothing them down your hips like he wants to rip your dress from your body to get what’s beneath it.

Then he breaks off, leaving you both panting as he retreats to the other wall, beckoning you towards him.

“On your knees, little mouse. I wanna see what else you can do.”

He’s undoing his jeans, and that little tingle runs up your spine, a strange rush to earn his approval.

You delicately settle on your knees as he pulls his cock out, and don’t hesitate to reach for it, closing your hand around the girthy shaft, your lips already pressed to the dripping, pink tip.

“Open up, there you go,” Dabi groans as you close your lips around him, swirling your tongue around the sensitive glands on the underside of his cock.

After that you stop thinking, letting yourself feel the way he pulses on your tongue as you hollow your cheeks, the salty taste of his precum almost getting lost in the way you are shameless salivating over his cock.

The ring of a cellphone, heavily muted by the club music, hits your ears.

"Keep going, babydoll—don't you stop," Dabi hisses out, fishing his phone out of his pocket with a growl, glancing at the dimly glowing screen. "Shit."

He bites out a low curse as you swallow around him, fingers fumbling to answer the call. "Shigaraki, kinda busy."

You look up through teary eyes as you bob on his pulsing length. That name sounds almost familiar, but you're far too focused on the task at hand to spare it another thought. A moan sounds in your throat as he tangles his fingers in your hair, forcing you deeper.

"Look I know what I'm—fuck—fucking here to do, okay? I'll get your man. Hngh—he's ashes, I promise."

Dabi listens for a moment, breathing hard as he stares down at the way his cock disappears and reappears from your mouth. Then he scoffs, voice shaking under the strain of swallowing another moan. "Fuck off, I'll do what I want in my free time. Gotta go, slut’s really good."

You whine as he hangs up and pulls you off of him.

"Quiet, babydoll, gotta return the favor before I forget and fuck you stupid," Dabi drawls, shoving his phone in his pocket and yanking you to your feet.

Dabi’s head swivels before he pulls you into a nearby bathroom. His touches are fervent as he paws at your body, his lips sloppy against yours as he pushes you up on the counter. He urges you up onto the marble, peeling the bottom half of your dress up; the countertop is cool against your flushed skin.

His palms are hot as they spread your thighs, opening a space for him to kneel between them. Dabi peers up at you through his lashes with a devilish look in his eyes before dragging his tongue over your pantyclad pussy. “These are cute.”

The casual comment makes your face burn, turning your face as he chuckles.

“Kind of in the way though.”

You squeak, eyes snapping down at the sudden feel of heat, to see him holding the singed fabric between his fingers. You really liked that pair. Before you could complain however, Dabi’s tongue slips between your folds. You gasp at the warmth of him, your eyelashes fluttering when he hums, and flicks his tongue over your clit.

“Just don’t be too loud, you know.”

You fucking know that, but you have never had to remind yourself to not moan so freely than now—the way his tongue disappears into your cunt, so slick and warm and agile. Either his tongue is way too fucking long, or he has found some magical angle that makes your thighs quiver, but between that and the way his nose nudges at your clit repeatedly, you feel yourself racing towards an orgasm.

He’s relentless, messy; your juices spilling down his chin. For once, you are getting as good as you gave. You bite back a moan as the knot in your stomach twists, threatening to snap.

Then Dabi pulls back.

“Should I let you cum now?” He sounds so condescending, contemplative as he toys with your clit, eyes glowing at the way you shake desperately under his touch. “I mean you haven’t made me cum, I’m not sure you deserve it.”

“Dabi, please—please, hah, please I need it.”

Your voice is shaky at best, words broken by panting as he drags the flat of his tongue over your dripping hole just once with a lazy precision, before resting his head against your thigh. His nonchalant grin doesn’t change as he keeps drawing featherlight shapes on your throbbing bud, so you desperately try again, trying to convince him.

“Someone m-might see, please.”

“Oh?” Dabi’s grin sharpens. “Well in that case.”

You cry out in loss as he stands, abandoning your clit. Your body aches at the denial, and Dabi chuckles at the broken-hearted pout on your face.

“Poor slut, look at you. But you said someone might see, so we need to hurry this up, right?” Your eyes instinctively flash down as he adjusts his jeans further down his thighs, stroking his cock. It looks especially pink and pretty in his hold, contrasting with the purplish skin on the back of his hand. “I didn’t even lock the door. So you want it or not?”

“Yes,” you breathe, captivated as he thumbs over the slit of his cock, spreading his precum down the shaft.

“Get over here then, babydoll.”

You don’t need to be told twice, easing off the counter and into his arms, where he smirks and allows a quick, sloppy swap of tongue before he spins you around and places your palms against the mirror on the wall.

It’s a little embarrassing, seeing for the first time how taken apart you look. Your makeup is smudged and running, your dress hiked up your hips, and your eyes are misty and desperate looking. As you meet his eyes in the mirror, it’s obvious that he sees all the same things you do, and revels in it.

Dabi smirks as he puts his hands on your hips, forcing them to jut out as he slots himself behind you. “It’s pathetic, isn’t it? How ruined you look when I haven’t even fucked you yet.”

You jolt as he taps his length against your inner thigh, sliding leisurely through your folds. “I asked you a question, doll.”

“Y-yes…”

“Yes, what?” Dabi coos, the thick mushroom tip catching on your clit now, making you mewl.

“I look like a pathetic slut,” you whine, arching your hips into his touch, desperate to feel him inside you.

“Very good,” Dabi rasps, the head of his cock catching on your eager hole. With a low moan he pushes in. “That deserves a reward.”

Your fingers bend against the glass as he thrusts home, the force of it threatening your balance. The intrusion is sudden, but your slick walls are accommodating, throbbing and ready to take as much as he’ll give you.

Every time Dabi drives into you, his cock slides against that stiff patch of nerves that makes moan after moan tumble from your lips. It doesn’t take long for that rolling wave of pleasure to begin cresting in you again, especially when he pulls the top of your dress down, groping at your tits as they spill out.

Your arms shake with the effort to keep yourself upright for the both of you as he rolls both of your tits between his fingers, pulling on them. As the tension pulls tight and snaps, your arms fail.

Dabi’s pace stutters as you fall against the mirror, your pussy spasming and creaming on his length, but after a quick adjustment, he returns to that hard and agonizingly steady tempo.

“Aw, babydoll, did you just cum? Poor thing, just from that?” Sympathy drips from his tongue as you whimper and nod—smudging the glass in the process—but when his thrusts get harder, you know it doesn’t run that deep. “Well I’m not quite done with this pussy yet, so just hang on for me.”

“Ah, ah, fuck!”

Your eyes go glassy as he continues to drill into you, your walls hot and sensitive, quivering in a way that would be embarrassing if you could think beyond how painfully good his cock feels.

“Fuck, squeeze me like that again. Gonna make me cum right in this pussy.”

Your whole body ripples at his words, causing Dabi to chuckle breathlessly. “Wait, did you like that? Hmm? Little slut, you really want to be knocked up by a guy you don’t even know?”

You look over your shoulder, your eyes teary, expression so fucked out as you nod at him that Dabi stiffens, his release suddenly much closer than it had been. “Damn.”

You fall into bliss so suddenly your moan is loud and unfiltered, rocketing off the bathroom walls and snapping the coil in his gut so fast that he snarls as his release takes hold of him.

“Oh fuck, babydoll, fine. You want me to stuff a brat in you? Then take it, take it—oh f-fuck, there you go, all for you, doll.”

His groan rumbles against your back as he presses you hard against the glass, his cock throbbing as he empties himself into your cunt.

Dabi leans into you heavily, relaxing against your body as the fading spasms of your pussy milk whatever he has left, before sighing and pulling out. With nothing to stop it, his cum spills out down your thighs.

You moan as you feel his fingers pushing his spilt cum back up into you.

“When you see those two lines, just come back here and ask around for me. I’ll find ya, doll.”

[transformhim]

Pose

“We good here?”

The model’s question caught him off guard as Raul looked up from from his camera, adjusting the frame and focus for his next shot while his assistant, Damien, moved onto the set to adjust the light and prop placements. The deep bass background music played throughout the apartment in the awkward silence.

The fuck does he mean, are we done?? We’ve hardly started! Raul thought with an annoyed scratch at the back of his head. The model had been a terrible subject to begin with, giving poses and taking heavy sighs at each direction Raul tried to give him, and essentially treated the shoot as though it was something he was bored doing. His payment was way more than modest and the shoot wasn’t supposed to take more than an hour, but he looked like he was ready to leave just 20 minutes in.

Raul cleared his throat, “Uhh, actually we still need a couple more shots. The client is looking for a pretty varied spread to choose from. So if we could j—..”

“Come on, man, you’re really gonna make me do this for another 40 minutes? I’m sure what you got is fine.”

Raul breathed in heavily, “Look, it’ll just take a bit more, the contract said that it wouldn’t be—..”

“Well, you can take it up with my agent, man, I got places I gotta be,” the model started stepping off the set, turning his back to Raul to start packing his things.

Raul turned his eyes towards Damien, lifting his palms up in a disbelieving gesture and shaking his head. Damien just rolled his eyes and shrugged with a dejected smirk. They’ve dealt with these kinds of divas numerous times before. Almost too many to count, actually.

But money had been tight at the studio since the pandemic hit, and even all these years later it still hadn’t recovered. they couldn’t afford to keep getting these types of dismissive twats leave shoots before they were supposed to. Clients were always very specific about what they wanted and could cut pay if they weren’t satisfied.

But Raul and Damien had their own means of dealing with these kinds of rude bastards. As they exchanged wordless looks expressing their annoyance and frustration, Damien’s eyes began to slowly drift towards the model off set, gathering his belongings. His dejected look changed to one of curiosity as he bit his lip. He looked towards Raul and narrowed his eyes with a cheeky grin.

‘Should I?’ Damien mouthed silently towards Raul.

A sly grin spread across Raul’s face as he considered Damien’s proposal. He looked back at the model—turned away from them as he texted to his agent or slam piece or gym family or whatever—and back at Damien, biting his lip mischievously and nodding.

Damien smiled wider and stretched. He took off his tank top and tossed it aside, his toned hairy torso now bare. His fingers hooked under his waistband, and his basketball shorts and boxers drop silently to the floor as he kicked them over on top of his tank top. Now naked and hardening quickly, he arched his back in a stretch, rolled his neck, and rubbed his palms together as he stepped towards Raul. He leaned in for a quick kiss with his partner as he took the bottle body oil next to Raul that the model had used and squirted a massive helping into his hand, slathering it over his chest, arms, and face. Quickly, he moved towards the model gathering his things, ducking down lower as he approached.

“When you get to it, make sure my payment goes t—UUUHHHNNGGG!!” The model was interrupted in the middle of his sentence as Damien, in one fluid motion, pulled the model’s speedo down and plunged his face between his globular asscheeks. The model groaning and grunting in mindless pain and confusion, gripping the sides of the table where his things were sitting, as Damien popped his oily face and head into model’s tight hole, sending a loud squelching *SCHLORP* echoing through the apartment.

Damien’s slick body then began to suck up into the model’s hole, his muscular tan form thinning and contorting as he slithered deeper and deeper into the model’s guts, the entire process emitting a familiar meaty, slimy, slurping sound Raul knew and loved so well. Raul licked his lips, pawing his swelling package, as he watched the model’s sculpted ass distend slightly as his tight hole widen more and more as it hungrily slurped Damien inside him, his tattooed, lubricated form and limbs compressing in on themselves as he plunged deeper. Raul couldn’t help but feel a little jealous of the model—he knew full well how ecstatic and orgasmic it felt to have Damien slither up inside him… and what came next.

Just as Damien’s ass and throbbing rod sank into the model’s guts, his thighs and legs shot up into the hole at a much faster speed, whipping into the model’s hole noisily. Raul had shoved his hands into his shorts and was stroking eagerly as the Damien's feet slurped inside while the model groaned and contorted, arching his neck and back and standing on the tips of his toes, cringing at the pain and pleasure racking through his body.

Damien was gleefully readjusting his out-of-proportion frame within the squeezing, slimy, meaty confines of the model’s body, feeling different parts of the model’s sides, abs, and back twitch, flex, and contort, as his body tried to adjust to its invader. He could hear the muffled sounds of Raul’s horny, drunken laughter from the outside, thinking he for sure must have been making the model appear to have a substantially pregnant beer gut as Damien’s body centralized in his torso. After using a stretched out hand to brush his lubricated, wet hair out of his face, Damien went to work shoving his limbs into the model’s extremities.

Damien loudly moaned from within the body as he felt his arms and legs come to new life with increased strength and size while his limbs shoved through slick meat like a tight sleeve into the model’s beefy appendages. He smirked, feeling cocky and horny as he felt his arms burst into massive cannons and his heart fluttered as he felt the rest of him come to life. Damien arched in exhilarated bliss as he felt his chest, torso, and back first compress under the weight of the model’s squeezing body and then surge outward in new sensations of power and mass as Damien’s senses merged with the model’s, enticing him to give his big chest a flex to feel it bounce with new weight.

Raul nearly blew his load from an observer’s perspective. The model’s head was lolled backwards and his eyes rolled back while his body underwent what looked to be an instant pump, his muscles standing out more prominently under his skin, bit by bit, as his boyfriend filled him up like a balloon. Raul gasped as he stroked himself, watching Damien fill up the model’s lower half, making his already impressive thighs and glutes swell larger still. The thong he was wearing for the shoot looked somehow more risqué than earlier, hugging the model’s sweaty skin more tightly and accentuating his now-larger parts. The model was no longer the shredded twunk he was when he came into the apartment, but a swaggering thicc muscle stud with his and Damien’s combined mass.

Finally, Raul could see a sizable lump appear from near the model’s collarbone, stretching the model’s gold chain to its limit, as Damien began to shove his own head upwards into the model’s. He began to elicit deeper, gurgling groans as Damien wiggled and stretched his head up into the neck. Raul felt himself nearing completion as the model’s head suddenly jolted upwards with a dull crack, the lump in the model’s throat now gone. It wasn’t until Raul heard Damien utter his first satisfied groan in the model’s low voice that he blew his pent up load all over the floor in front of him.

Damien rolled his head around in his new body, stretched his shoulders and panted a few more breaths. He touched the foreign curves and angles in his face for a moment, turned on by his own handsome, sharp, smooth face. He felt sweat dripping off him from his exertion and huffed a big whiff of the new musk he emitted. Not bad!

“Alright!” He rubbed his hands off his face and down his pillowy chest.

“Let’s take some pictures.”

Damien turned to see that Raul had blown a sizable load all over the floor, some even on the set, and giggled as Raul chuckled, panting, coaxing the last of his load out of his shaft, letting it dribble down his fingers and onto the puddle below.

“Already?! Come on, man,” Damien chastised playfully.

“Sorry, babe, I just love the way you filled him out, dude. Fuck!”

“Oh? Y’like?” Damien teased walking towards him, saucily lolling his tongue out while he flexing his arms hard and tensing his pec muscles several times. He was being corny like always, but Raul was kicked into 5th gear again, instantly ready to blow another load.

“Yeah, dude, I fuckin’ do,” Raul took the liberty of feeling up Damien’s slick muscle gut, running his hands over his protruding abs. Damien could see how into this his boyfriend was and decided to move things forward a bit.

He grabbed Raul’s hand and shoved it into his thong, feeling his new hardening 7 incher steel against his boyfriend’s palm. He humped and gyrated his mammoth cock against Raul’s hand and asked, “What about the shoot?”

“Shoot can wait,” Raul moaned as he gripped onto Damien’s slick dick and stroked, lifting up Damien’s huge arm with his other hand and burying his face into Damien’s sweaty pits, licking and lapping at the moist surface while inhaling deeply.

Damien lifted up his other arm for Raul to let his boyfriend worship his other pit, bouncing his pecs a bit as Raul slathered his greedy face across his sweaty jugs on his way to the next pit. Damien grinned as he felt Raul continue to lovingly work his shaft. He was looking forward to a hedonistic, indulgent weekend with his boyfriend—he just hoped they eventually remember to finish the shoot.

[luveline]

𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐢𝐟 𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝? | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

Eddie asks you out on your very first date, indulging you in huge philly cheesesteaks, a vanilla milkshake (with two straws), a largely neglected bucket of popcorn, and a sugary first kiss. requested here. shy fem!reader, 3.2k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

I'm actually going to die here, you think morosely. 

This was a very bad idea on your part, and perhaps a worse one on his. What possessed Eddie —ripped jeaned, silver-chained, aspiring heavy metal rockstar Eddie— to ask you on a date? Perhaps you'd appeared more formidable outside of Hawkins library than you usually did.

You were in a particularly bad mood after a chilly fall afternoon spent checking the quality of the returns, and the prospect of walking home in the cold was a dismal one. You'd been glaring at nothing when a big, hulking bucket of a van slowed to a crawl beside you, thumping bass leaking from the closed window. It rolled down, the music quieting with it, and out came a head of inky dark curls. 

"Hey, sweetheart," Eddie said, pet name rolling around in his mouth, "you heading home? Do you want a ride? It's a long walk." 

Somewhere between the library and your driveway, Eddie asked you on a date. You genuinely can't remember what you talked about or how it happened, your adrenaline high enough you could've used it to climb Everest. You do remember the quiet way he'd asked, as though he was waiting for an impending rejection, and his smile bordering goofy when you breathed out, "Yeah, okay." 

You rub at the seam of your cream sweater over and over, the pad of your thumb numb. The wind runs through you, ruffling the skirt of your black dress against your thighs. I'm an idiot, you think. Hypothermia might kill you if your racing heart doesn't. 

Eddie holds a similar sentiment, "What the fuck are you doing out here?" 

You flinch embarrassingly hard. He wasn't there a moment ago. Eddie cusses and holds his hands out to you before you can slip backward off of the low brick wall you'd been waiting on, his fingers shooting tingles down into the epidermis of your skin like wild golden sparks where they grab you, hoisting you up into a more secure standing position. 

"Fuck, I'm so sorry. Like, really really sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, just– it's like, minus ten out here? What are you doing?" 

"I–" You give him a more petrified look than you mean to. "You said to meet you here?" 

Does he not want you here? Was it a joke?

Eddie laughs out of the side of his mouth like he's holding a cigarette between his lips. "Well, yeah, but I meant inside. I've been waiting for you at the table." His amusement dissipates as he feels the chill emanating from your clothes. "Jesus, I'm sorry. Are you ready to come in?" 

Minus ten was dramatic. It's a solid 30 Fahrenheit, but the cold wind makes it feel colder. As soon as you enter the diner you're warm, heat nibbling at your fingers as the blood starts to pump. Eddie takes you to the side of the restaurant away from the noise of the games machines and the bathrooms, slipping into a booth where a worn paperback book is waiting. 

"I left that in case someone decided to steal our table." 

"What if they stole your book?" you ask, sliding into the booth seat opposite. 

"They'd love it," Eddie says. He leans forward with a mischievous air about him. "It's about a bullied teenage girl who loses her shit and gets psychic powers. I think she's gonna kill someone." He blinks. "Not that that's cool." 

"It's just a book, right? You're not a murderer."

You wonder why the fuck you'd say something like that, but he nods his agreement breezily. "Exactly." 

"Plus," you add, eager to say something he'll like, "it's hard not to root for the underdog." 

His smile twitches with an emotion you can't name. "Exactly," he says again. 

A waitress with thick rings of eyeliner comes to take your order. She has a sunny attitude, like Eddie in that way, an exterior some might say was intimidating and a bright smile. You're nervous from the get go and you have a cliche worry, watching Eddie interact with her from the corner of your eye. 

"For you?" she asks you. 

You stammer. What you'd thought about on the walk here this evening can be pinpointed into two simple lines of inquiry —what should you say to Eddie, and what should you say to the waitress. Shy to the point of aching, you'd rehearsed your order ten times, but all that comes out is hot air. 

"Um," you say, wishing you'd paid more attention to what Eddie said rather than how he looked at the waitress, "could I have, uh. Just the same? As he had, please." 

"Are you sure?" Eddie asks, nothing but patience in his tone. "Do you like pink lemonade?" 

You don't want anything carbonated tonight, nauseous enough. "Um, the same but with water instead, please." 

The waitress writes a short sentence with a big flourish. "Water," she reads, giving you and Eddie each a glowing smile. "No worries, I'll bring your drinks right out, food in twenty at most."

"Thank you," you and Eddie say together, in starkly different tones. 

Eddie waits for her to leave before he shucks off his jacket. He puts his elbows on the table and runs his knuckles up and down the length of the opposite forearm, smudging the whorls of his inky tattoos, the skinny silver chain around his wrist catching the light. "You know, I don't mind doing the talking, if you don't want to." 

You can't describe the embarrassment that bites at you, then. "It's– I'm sorry, I just couldn't think of what I wanted–" 

"I'm sorry," Eddie interrupts. "I should've told her to come back in a minute, I didn't give you chance to read the menu. I swear that's the only time I'll make a dick move tonight." 

You cough. He grimaces, teeth sinking into the pink of his bottom lip as he laughs it off. "Not like that. Or, not not like that. No dick moves," he says, "I just wanted to talk to you over a table rather than that pillar of a desk in the library." 

"It's a really tall desk." 

"It's so tall! I get that they want us to have somewhere to put the books but they have to go down to you guys anyways when you stamp 'em." 

"I don't know what the idea was behind them," you say. 

"Maybe they hired a bunch or very small librarians initially," Eddie says. He spies the waitress approaching with your drinks and leans back to accommodate her. He thanks her, but as soon as she leaves he's staring at your tap water with critical eyes. "It looks a little cloudy. You want my lemonade, instead?" 

"No, it's okay," you say, though drinking it feels like a bad idea. There's a whirlpool of scum at the top like clouds circling a mountain peak, ice cubes drifting in slow laps beneath. 

"I can take it back–" 

"Please don't," you say, "I'd be so embarrassed, it's only water." 

"I get you. Maybe I can get you something else, then. I'd say we should get hot cocoa but it's weird having hot cocoa with cheesesteaks." Eddie knocks the table. "I'm really sorry I asked you here." 

Your heart could be likened to a balloon popped by a sharp pin. You knew he'd regret asking you, knew it was too good to be true–

"We should've gone somewhere nice. Like Enzo's or Bullock's. Hey, we even could've gone into Indianapolis. And I have to say sorry double 'cos I should've asked you if I could give you a ride, I really messed it up." 

"It's not messed up," you say. "It's not." 

Eddie smiles at you, his most stripped back to date. 

Things are awkward and you theorise that it's your fault, but Eddie doesn't let you flounder in it. He asks questions, he says kind things. You have no choice but to relax and laugh at his ill-conceived jokes. You almost choke on your sub and he goes as far as to say, "Hey, you even make choking look good," having leapt up to pat your back. It's too much but it's weirdly nice at the same time. It's almost worth dying if it means Eddie's gonna rub your back with a big, unflinching hand. 

He wanders off when he's sure you're alive and you catastrophize: choking is far from attractive. He saw the way your nose wrinkled and your jaw went soft in your coughing and jumped ship. You dab the tears (from choking, though they could change at any moment) away with a napkin, sniffling. Your throat hurts and your sandwich doesn't look as appetising now. 

"Here," Eddie says, placing a tall glass in front of you grandly. 

"What is it?" you ask, though it could only be one thing. 

"Vanilla milkshake. Benny uses full fat cream, it's basically ice cream and nothing else. Is that okay?" 

You take a sip through a red and white striped straw without answering, the cold soothing your raw throat. A second straw stabs you in the cheek. 

"That ones for me," Eddie jokes. 

You swear you're gonna catch fire, putting the milkshake down with a thunk. "Oh," you say. 

"I'm kidding," he says. 

"No, I mean, if you want to share–" 

You're offering in the interest of being polite, but the look on Eddie's face reminds you of the more romantic connotations. "You sure?" he asks. 

You could say no. "Yeah. Of course." 

Between sips, you talk. Your conversation begins to feel like the unwinding a tight knot, unravelling defences you were unaware of, like a tapestry you never agreed to shaken out. Sure, you're shy, but you're interesting, and you have things to say. Eddie's eager to hear them; he won't stop pulling on the thread. 

Your throat tickles intermittently with scratchy pain. Eddie tucks a rather lustrous curl behind his ear, exposing a small stud earring and a hoop behind it. 

"I never noticed you have your ears pierced," you say, leaning forward to take another sip. 

Eddie pulls his straw from the glass to hit at yours teasingly, the slope of his eyebrows arching steeper. "Then you should look at me more often," he says. He stabs his straw into the glass and meets your eyes. To the outside observer, you're sure you look like partners getting gooey. "Notice anything else new?" 

Your pulse tangles in on itself, a snag in the thread. "Um, well…" You glance over his pale cheeks, their gentle caress of freckles. "You have freckles… and," —there, nestled between his lashes like a tiny dotted star— "a beauty mark under your eye." 

He doesn't smile, but some sweet softness plays in his eyes, his lashes kissing as they close ever so slightly. "You're prettier up close," he says quietly. "I didn't think you could get much prettier, but I've never been this close before, I guess." 

You take another sip to avoid further mortifying yourself with a stammering answer, but Eddie has a similar idea, leaning in. More awkward to pull apart, you share your drink and try not to bump his nose. The drink slurps and crackles as you finish it off together. Sitting back with twin smiles, awkward and flushed and not knowing what else to say, you fluster. There's a lot of stuff you want to ask him, but now he's finished his food and the milkshake is empty, you might not have time.

"Did you, like, wanna catch a movie or something?" Eddie asks, sounding for a second not quite as confident as he appears. 

You like metalhead Eddie, but you're starting to love this earnest version of him too. 

"Yeah, I'll see a movie with you," you say quickly. 

"Yeah? I know that's weird to plan more date in the middle of the date, I'm not trying to pressure you." 

"I've never been on a date before, so. This is setting the precedent." 

"The precedent," he says. "For future dates?" 

Is he hopeful? You open your mouth without thinking. "With you." 

His lips purse to one side, tamping down a big smile. Your cheeks hurt from how much you've smiled tonight. Is it always like this? Being with someone, dating, is it always unnervingly pleasant? You're eager to find out, and Eddie's eager to show you. 

"Let me go track down our waitress and we can probably get to the Hawk before the seven thirty," he says, clambering sideways out of the booth. 

You and Eddie are fifteen minutes late for a slasher movie, but you get there. Dark, two lone seats at the back are your only options, and you cram into them together with a frankly ridiculously huge bucket of popcorn to share. Eddie keeps whispering even when it's quiet and ticking off your rowmates, but he's being so sweet on you that you forget where you are. You forget to worry about what people are thinking. 

It's bliss. 

"Look at that," Eddie says, a handful of popcorn to his lips. "Ew, that's bloody. Shit, sweetheart, don't look at that." 

Sweetheart. "What do you think that is?" you whisper. 

"The fake blood? Isn't it pig's blood?"

"Is that legal?" 

Eddie almost drops the popcorn as something super gross happens, a silver flash and a spray of sticky orange movie blood coating the protagonist. "Holy fuck," he says, much too loudly as he puts the popcorn in your lap and covers your eyes. 

You laugh in surprise, "Woah, wait a second!" 

Someone shushes you loudly (and deservedly) from the row in front. 

"Sh, we're at the movies!" Eddie whisper-shouts. "Don't be inconsiderate." 

You peel his hand from your eyes. It doesn't drop entirely, long fingers slipping slowly down your cheek, turning your face to his. He's close, the nature of the small seats and your low conversation, his skin glowing with a red-pink and dappled white as the movie plays to your left. 

"Can I kiss you?" he whispers. 

On the walk to Benny's, your mind had drifted to the fantasy of a kiss. Eddie and his hands, the small silver bands of his rings and their heavier signets, how he'd offer to drive you home, walk you to your door, and peck you chastely in goodbye. He'd smell like his cologne that you tend to notice when he returns his borrowed books on Saturday mornings, chamomile and something deeper you've never been able to identify, no matter how long he stood there chatting. His lips would feel solid and cold from the weather, and here's where you stopped yourself from thinking any further, blood rushing to your wind-bitten cheeks. 

It's not so simply condensed, here. 

"I've never kissed anyone before," you whisper. 

"I'll have to set a good precedent, then," he says, rubbing the hollow of your under eye tenderly. "Or you can say no. That's okay, too."

You shake your head, "I want you to." 

The eagerness that's been simmering behind his eyes all night rears as he ducks in for a kiss. It's not what you're expecting, but it isn't bad; it's lots of things, his hand on your face and your elbow, your hands vying for him in startled delight, the popcorn between your knees tipping dangerously to the side as your lips give under his. 

He doesn't smell like chamomile at first, but hairspray. He presses against the seam of your lips and only as they part, forcing you to suck in a breath through your nose, do you smell it on him, close now. The cologne must linger on his shirt. 

He pulls away to shush you gently but urgently, Don't get us kicked out, it seems to say. 

And he's kissing you again. Nothing heavy, charged all the same, the barest taste of sweet popcorn shared between you. His hand does half the work, the tracing of his fingertips and the soft line they draw as he slots them behind your ear puttyifying you, like jelly in his warm palm. You make an unsure sound and he pulls away a second time, sugary brown eyes widened in concern.

"Bad?" he whispers. 

"Am I doing it right?" you ask. 

The concern becomes adoring. You feel like you've been injected with manic butterflies, having a guy like Eddie looking at you like that. "You're doing it super right," he says, so quietly you can barely hear him. "I'd tell you practise makes perfect 'cos I'm dying to do it again, but it was already perfect. You lying to me?" 

"No, of course I'm–" 

"I was kidding," he says, his side pressed heavily to the back of his chair as he drops his hand to your elbow casually.

"Oh. I knew that." 

He pats your arm, sympathetic, a tad condescending but he's hot enough to get away with it like this, lips kissed rosy and a glossy black curl falling into his eyes. 

You look down at his lips. Eddie doesn't make you beg, but he does gesture you forward, your hand landing atop his thigh as you angle up for another kiss. It's unlike you, but it's such a rush of feeling, you don't give your hokey-pokey brain time to consider the things you'd usually worry about. 

That being said, you pause just before your lips connect. You close your eyes too hard, head listing to the side self-consciously. 

Eddie must see it, whispering reassurances with a rough scratch, "Hey, it's okay. You can kiss me. You worry a lot for such a pretty girl, you know that?" He takes your hand. "Don't overthink it." 

"I can't," you say. 

"Take the night off. Let me worry…" His breath fans over your lips. "I'll take the lead," he suggests, closing the short gap between you. 

Your hand goes limp in his. 

—

The flowers are delivered to your desk sometime in the mid-afternoon. Pearly white lilies with green spots creeping toward the soft edges. Your chest yawns open and your lips curl into a smile like you've been hooked, rubbing a thick petal between your thumb and your forefinger. 

There's a long note folded and tied to one of the stems. 

Y/N, 

I am so, so sorry. So sorry. I am the sorriest boy who has ever lived, and I would love to make it up to you. Please call me when you get the flowers and tell me if they're a sufficient apology, or don't call me and I'll send you more. I know you said it was fine, but still.

Yours, Eddie Munson. 

P.S. did the flashlight guy have to be that mean? He pretty much blinded us with that thing. And did he have to make fun of my jacket? 

P.P.S I promise I will get you unbanned from the Hawk. Best date ever, yeah? 

You'll call him. Getting kicked out was a joint effort, after all, and you really want him to kiss you dizzy again, even if you found it hard to look at him on the drive home.

Maybe if he kisses you enough, you'll forget how it felt to be shepherded out of the movie theatre like a common criminal. 

You drop the note between the pages of your current read with a sigh. "Best date ever," you say. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you so much for reading! i really hope you enjoyed ♡ if you did, please considering reblogging, it means the world and makes a difference :D 

[lenoraslament]

Tom Riddle x Y/N

Hot Mess Part 2

Humor/smut/angst 2.2k words

Tom leaves you at the party, but he isn’t going to leave you wanting more for long. Still mad about you beating him at a duel, the prince of darkness just can’t leave you alone.

Warnings: smut, spanking, teasing, degradation.

Read Part 1 here.

You watched Tom disappear around the corner, and for a moment a rogue thought appeared in your head

Stop Him

Time slipped away as quickly as he had. You were dancing alone for so long.

The bass pounding only disoriented you more. Too many drinks, too much to smoke.

But you didn’t. You leaned your head back as you swayed to the ever present beat of the music. You felt a hand snake around your waist from behind and pull you in. Enzo? Theo? No, if was unfamiliar with a pair of lips that started kissing your neck.

You took a sharp breath in and realized familiar cologne was pouring over you. Teeth softly met your shoulder blade and began to nip at the spot that made your eyes roll back. Your lips part into a gasp as the hand traces along the line of your hips, dipping down to stroke your thighs.

“The whole wizarding race depends on us ,”you hear his voice teasing you.

“Hello Satan,” you slur out in response,”what happened to the girl you were with? Did she take one look at your little basilisk and die of disappointment?”

You’re about to laugh at your own joke but his hand comes down smacking you firmly on your left asscheek. You let out a strangled moan.

“You are so tawdry Y/N, you know that?” He growled in your ear.

“Maybe you should be reading up on Legilimens instead of studying the thesaurus” you tease but his hand comes down on you hard again making a gaspy scream escape your smart mouth.

“Do you ever shut up, you whore?” He asked, one hand has a vice grip on your hip bone the other one drawn back ready to meet your quip. His hips are pushing into your back

You lean your head back so it rests on his chest, looking up at him daringly.

“Not unless you make me”’you say giggling. This time he doesn’t spank you, he only tightens the hold on your hips.

“Come with me. Now.”he said whirling you away before you argue.

He whisked you down the hall, his hand intertwined in yours. You stumble after him taking in his dark hair, his broad shoulders, the musculature of his arms. Every substance you stockpiled in your system seems to fuel the burning heat of arousal coursing through you,

He unlocks the door to his private headboy dorm, before you can register the change in atmosphere he’s pushing you against the closed door.

One hand in his waist and the has a tight grip on your jaw. His eyes burn fire into yours, heavy with need. Tom’s lips part and inch closer to yours.

Your eyes flutter closed and you breath in the anticipation.

“How did you do it?” His low grumbly voice surprises you.

Your eyes snap open,” what?” You look at him honestly confused,”do… do what?”

“Beat me at the duel?” He growls.

Your mouth drops open into a scoff and you shove his chest away as roughly as you can,

“Seriously!?” You yell,”you’re asking me about the fucking duel!?”

Tom narrows his eyes as he uses his hands to push your hips back into the door. He crushed his lips into your neck, nuzzling and biting as he groped you

“How!?” He lets out a frustrated groan into your neck

“Oh and you’re going to fuck the answer out of me!?” You cry out and shove him again,”just get off of me Riddle for the love of Merlin!”.

He pulls away and picks his hands up, not because he wants to stop but because you’re screaming too loudly. He doesn’t want anyone to hear.

“Get out” he snaps and you gladly open the door behind you and stomp down the hall.

Someone has laid an anchor on your head and a snake in your belly. Those are the thoughts that come to you as you sit up the next day at nearly 1pm.

“Accio water” you mumble and the glass of water on your desk flies towards you. You barely catch it, it lands mostly on your face and lap as you groan. The couple of sips you manage to get feel like rain hitting hot asphalt.

You stumble into the bathroom, garnering a couple of stares from girls who looked fresh and pretty. Pretty girls, who and been up drinking coffee and gallivanting this beautiful Sunday morning. These girls giggle in the library, and share chocolate frogs. These girls never throw up in the shower.

Thank Merlin for magic. You think as you make it disappear with a spell. You’re determined to stand under that shower until the hot water boils off all your sins. Or at least all your thoughts about that dark haired psychopath, who keeps slipping in between the pounding in your head.

You scrub your skin until it shines. You brush your teeth with a vengeance. You put on lotion and perfume, even blow dry your hair. You wear lipgloss and mascara. You’re only 65% sure you’re not dying.

For hours you wander, into the Great Hall, into the Slytherin common room. Mumbling to your friends to shut up. Hiding behind your sunglasses again. But you can’t hide from Tom who lurked in the shadows like a lion hunting his prey.

Tom had been watching you since he saw you stumble into the Great Hall. Your little sundress and sandals, your perfect hair and those giant fucking sunglasses. His eyes wander over your body, your legs, your hips your breasts. He almost had you last night. After you left he was furious, not only because he didn’t get the answers he wanted. He didn’t get you either.

You fluttered around the castle as if the constant movement could hide the pain you were in. He fingered the potion in his pocket, he had brewed early this morning. A hangover potion, trying to decide when to make his move.

Finally you landed in the Slytherin common room, stretching into the couch like a cat. The hem of dress flirting with the top of your thighs. The sight pained him so badly he bit his own lip.

Your head was tipped to the side as you laid on the luxe green couch. He couldn’t tell if you were asleep .Those giant sunglasses he wished he could confringo were covering your eyes too well. He put his tongue in his cheek trying to decide if he should take the chance and Legilimens you or if he should give you the hangover potion.

Of course, he didn’t know that you had been watching him contemplate the two options as he stood over you. You tip your sunglasses down and glare at him.

“Did you ever consider that I beat you at the duel because I’m simply that good.” You say not hiding your annoyance.

Tom nearly jumped when you spoke, his look of surprise quickly turned into a grimace.

“Impossible. You’re a vapid whore” he spat angrily.

You pushed yourself up on your forearms, finally fed up with him.

“And you are a pretentious little know it all, who is not nearly as smart as he thinks he is!”’you rant chest practically heaving in anger,”you’re arrogant, only leaning on your fathers name and status, the dark lord should be ashamed to see you resting on your laurels. I could occlude you in my fucking sleep!” You snap, cheeks flushed in pure rage.

Tom looks peaked by your words. His mouth drops open and closes. He is…impressed. By your anger and confidence. You insulted him the same way you duel, with fire and passion. He says nothing, he only shoved your legs over so he can sit down next to you. You sit up. He takes the small vial of hangover potion out of his pocket and hands it to you.

You give him a side eye, and open to smelling it. You recognize its scent immediately and take it. You play with the empty vial in your hands.

“I still hate you,”you grumble at him.

He looks at you sidelong and pushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear,”I hate you too. Slut.”

“Sociopathic fuck”

“Superficial bitch”

“Brown nosing-“

You get cut off as he grabs your face, he tips your head back softly. Your lips brush against eachother making you gasp as you part them further. Your tongues touch with voltage, they dance against eachother and your eyes nearly roll back. Your arms are around his shoulders as his hands tangle into your hair.

Silence follows you both down the hall. Into his room. Before the door is closed his lips are on your neck, sucking and biting as you make quick work of the buttons on his shirt.

His hands nearly claw up your thighs to take two handfuls of your ass as his lips roughly crash onto yours again. Your teeth scrape together, tongues fighting for dominance. He pulls back panting, taking the straps of your dress and pulling them down your shoulder as you tug his hair needily.

Zip. The sound of his slacks falling in time with your dress. Nearly tripping over his pants, he shoves on the bed. Nothing about your movements are sensual. They are furious with hunger. He bites your neck as you claw his back, your flurry of breaths and whines are silenced as he pulls back.

You lay beneath him as the starkness of both of your expose bodies hits you. He lays kneeled between your legs, one hand gripping your waist. Both of your eyes survey eachother, mouths open in lust.

Finally they draw together, a gaze that only deepens the fire that is threatening to set the bed ablaze. He pushes into you making you gasp and arch your back. His thumb traces over your lip as he moves slowly, teasingly. His eyes never leaving yours.

Drawing breaths and gasps from your mouth as you feel yourself being stretched and released. His hand drops down slowly to wrap around your throat. His deep controlled pace never faltering, you expected fast and hard. Somehow the smooth, painfully slow and measured pace is maddening to you.

Your eyes roll back as you moan loudly, the heat coiling inside you threatening to snap as he draws out your orgasm. His hand squeezes as you scrunch your face, teetering onto the edge of your climax.

Right as the heady feeling rips through your body, he picks up his pace. It earns a breathy scream from your lips, he fucks you right through your peak. Hard. Making you writhe your hips and grasp at the hand still around your throat. White hot pleasure blinding out all of your other senses.

He smirks at you only making your hatred and desire intensify.

“You even fuck like a deranged-“ you start but he cuts you off by flipping you around. His hand clamping against your mouth as he takes you from behind.

“Shut up for the love of-“ he mumbles between thrusts and moans. He bites your shoulder softly as his free hand reaches between your legs to stroke your swollen clit.

You begin to come undone, making his excitement grow. Your legs give out from the intensity, as your stomach hits the bed he continues to fuck you into the mattress, the hand that held your mouth now softly tugging at your hair. He leans closer and you feel his breath tickling your shoulder blade, his moan near your ear nearly has you close again. Is this why all those girls are so obsessed with him? You wonder

“Get off” you mumble suddenly surprising him. He slowly pulls his hips away and you turn to look at him.

“Lay back” you tell him, he only raises his eyebrow in amusement.

“No” he says plainly as he moves to kiss you again.

You draw your lips away and smile, “Lay back or I leave”. He glares at you before letting himself lay back on the bed. You crawl over and straddle him, sinking your hips down onto him slowly as payback. He immediately grips your hips to move you but you surprise him by slapping him across the face softly.

“Patience” you whisper. He can’t help but smirk and loosen his grip. Your hips roll like waves in the ocean, his eyes shut and his head falls back as you ride him with the same intensity as he tortured you with.

“Fuck…” he mutters as you squeeze your kegel muscles and begin to snap your hips forward faster. His fingers dig into your waist as you both pant and moan.

“You really are a good little slut” he mutters and you draw your hand back again to strike but he catches your wrist and pulls you towards him.

You fall forward on his chest and he holds you there; bringing up his hips to take control and fuck you at a faster pace. Another sweet burn makes you whine into his chest as his arms interlock around the small of your back. His movements are getting sloppy and slower and he mumbles your name breathlessly.

“Oh fuck Y/N…oh “

Hearing your name escape his lips, is enough to throw you over the edge as you both buck and gasp into your shared climax.

A chorus of breaths overtake both of you, as you collapse onto him covered in sweat. You feel his arms ease up on you, his hand strokes your back softly. His lips nestling against your forehead.

“I want a rematch” he says as he pants,”to the duel. I need a rematch”.

You roll your eyes as you breathe into his chest.

“You’re impossible.”

Taglist: @abbiesxox

[kill4luvina]

"Who's that?"

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Plug!Armin x Plug!Reader x Plug!Eren

Summary : Eren and Armin go out to a party to find out who this mysterious "Stunna"(Y/n) is after she's stepped in the game they've been losing mad business and at first they were going to jump you, until they saw you. Instead they decide they were tag/double team you.

Warning : SMUT, Car sex, just sumin nasty for the girlies because i said so, not proof read, ngl eren and armin get a lil intimate(they on some gay shi ngl), use your imaginationn if sumin don't make sense.

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The room was awash in a spectrum of colors, pulsating neon lights flickering and casting a glow hue of different colors. The walls throbbing in the same rhythm as the heavy bass as the room was filled with bodies pressed up against each other – some grinding, others chatting it up. The vibe was wild, a crazy energy swirling in the air, getting everyone hyped. Smoke twisted up towards those neon lights, adding this trippy scent to the mix.

The air was thick with the mixed scents of sweat, perfume, and the distinct earthiness. Eren and Armin had only popped out to this party because of some info someone dropped, thinking they could catch the mysterious "Stunna" who had been stealing their costumers. "Bro, what if this shit was a set up." Armin whispered, eyes scanning the crowd, getting jumpy at any sudden moves. "Relax, man. You're incognito with that ski mask, nobody knows it's you,dumbass" Eren shot back, pushing through the crowd, Armin following close behind with his hand under his shirt holding onto his glock.

"Oh damn, Luvii!" You greeted your bestie as she practically dove through your car window for a hug. "I was starting to think you weren't coming!" Luvina would say as she pulled away. "And you popped out with the all black hell cat? Okay I see you!" You chuckled, stepping out with your tote bag as she acted all surprised, though she had the same whip in pink. "Come on, girl, quit playin'."

"Luvi, you look so fine stop fuckin playin wit me..." A guy would come up to the two of you at the party, he'd start talking to luvina as he started touching up on her. "Ew, girl get a fucking room.." You'd say walking away, wandering throughout the party giving them some privacy. "Yo, Stunna!" You'd hear one of your favorite costumers yell out, making your quickly turn your head. "You got anything on you I can buy?" He'd ask, you'd nod your head opening your tote bag pulling out a few carts & vapes. "Lemme get that one, how much?" "75." "Aight, take 100 and I'ma put the 25 into the next thing I buy."

Then, out of nowhere, some dude grabbed you and pulled you outside. Caught off guard, you clocked they were both rockin' ski masks, so you didn't waste time, pullin' out a gun from the waistband of your jeans. "Who the fuck are yall?!" You demanded, sizing them up, outnumbered but ready. Armin lowered his mask, checkin' you out before speaking up. "Ease up, mamas, we ain't here to cause trouble, we on your turf remember?" Armin would remind you making your ease up a tiny bit. Eren would pull his off too, you had seen them before on Instagram but damn they looked finer in person.

"Fuck yall doing on my turf anyway?" you questioned, gun still raised, keepin' your distance, looking for answers. "Damn, chill mamas, we came to see if ya shit as good as we heard." Eren would lie, both of them knew they wanted to jump your ass but as soon as they saw how fine you were they couldn't. Now they both just wanted to see if they could could hit it before they left. You'd put your gun down staring at the two silently for a moment before walking past them to your hellcat. The two would silently watch you before dabbing eachother up and follow you in excitement.

Honestly, you don't even know how it happened but it started off with you 3 in the back seat smoking up a storm. Not even 20 minutes into your smoking sesh, your body started heating up at the sly comments the two would throw at you. You'd pussy throbbing at the sound of Eren telling you how fine you were and Armin touching you in all the right places at all the right times, what a duo. In about 10-15 more minutes you found yourself making out with Armin's lap, Eren giving you kisses from the side making your overwhelmed not knowing who to kiss.

"Mmph!" You'd cry into Erens mouth as kissed you, not even being able to think straight. You were completely drowned in bliss as you felt Armin lap up your juices with his tongue. You've never been eaten out the good before, and it was a complete game changer when you felt him sink his fingers into your brown and pink fat pussy.(im such a troll for that one) Your eyes would roll to the back of you head as you pulled away from eren moaning into the crook of his neck as your nails scratched him looking for something to grip on. "Doing so well for us." You'd hear eren say softly as he held you, continuing to praise you.

On the other hand, Armin was fucking your pussy up real good. He was nose deep, not able to even contain himself and just you moaning made it even worst. You'd feel your eyes fill up with tear as you cried out even louder cumming all of his face as you held onto Eren even tigher, trembling as you came down from your high. Armin would pull away licking his fingers as he wiped his face. "My turn." you'd hear Eren say, you were to tired to even complain feeling yourself getting moved around. "Mamas, be a good girl and arch for daddy." You'd hear Armin's voice now from infront of you, you'd look up from your fluffy lashes to see his pretty blue eyes looking right back down at you.

He'd smile, his sliver braces showing as he'd whip out his dick as it hit you head in the center of your face making your slightly flinch. Not knowing who to pay attention to you'd feel something poke at your entrance. "wait-Fuc--" you'd be shut up by two dicks filling you up from both sides, your moans muffled by Armins dick. You'd start tearing up again but this time you'd actually start crying, the amount of pleasure you were getting at once was insane. Your make-up getting completely messed up as Armin kept face fucking you. Eren on the opposite side ramming your shit.

"look at you go mamas." Armin would say pulling his phone out as he started to record you, with his hands now away you'd quickly pull away coughing as you looked back up to the video. You'd could help but start moaning loudly again from eren as you started to pump his dick from the base spitting on it. You'd start sucking him off harder making a sloppy mess with bubbles every wear not taking your eyes off the video. "Fuckkk, so good for us.." Armin would whimper, voice slightly cracking as he moaned. Eren letting out groans as he picked up his place leaving you a moaning mess not even able to focus on the task at hand.

Armin would stop recording as he went back to face fucking you, but he was looking behind you this time. You'd feel both ends slow down as you looked up once more to see the two kissing. Your pussy couldn't help but twitch and suck Eren in even more from how hot that was. Slightly shocked, you assumed it was just the weed kicking all 3 of ya'll differently. But this didn't last long because after a few seconds they were both back to abusing your holes. The game ender for you was when Eren brought his fingers down and start rubbing on you clit, you came so fucking hard you started squirting tear rolling down your eyes.

Armin was next pulled away as you brought your tonuge out and he came on your face leaving you a mess. Eren would do the same after a few more thrusts cumming your ass and back. You'd fall, your body fully limp as you caught your breath. "Damn, if your drugs ass addicting as you are i might have to switch over." Armin would joke as pulled you up giving you a kiss as eren laughed at his stupid joke. "ngl, being opps stupid asl, why don't we conjoin and just become sumin bigger?" Eren would ask, but you were sound asleep leaving the two.

"Eren, did we kiss?" Armin would ask "Shut the actual fuck up idk what your on."

(LOL IDK WHAT THIS IS I STARTED WRITING AND COULDN'T STOP, BUT IMA START WORKING ON REQUESTS NOW.)

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[disneyprincemuke]

midnights, 3 * mv1

max just won his third championship, but the sinking feeling starts to settle in

pairings: max verstappen x fem!reader

warnings: alcohol

notes: yall i have like 3 different drafts of this, i got no idea what's up with my writer's block... i've also rewritten my fem!driver series like 3 times based on a request like what is going on

(prev) // (next)

max verstappen wouldn't give anything up for the third title he's just won. but he would turn the world upside down if it meant having you around.

the interviewer had caught him off guard earlier, congratulating him for winning on a saturday evening. and then suddenly bringing you up and noting how strange it is that you have not been around for a while.

he had to tame his shock, arguing with himself in his mind about the privacy of your relationship. on one hand, he hasn't had to talk about you openly while he's still in mourning. but on the other, everybody just assumes you're too busy to attend races and they bring you up nonchalantly.

he has to go around pretending he doesn't want to break down in tears at the mention of your name.

christian had brought the team into a nearby bar to celebrate, not forgetting to remind everybody that the main race is still tomorrow.

max knows that he misses you. he recognises it in the way his hand reaches out for nothing when he walks into the paddocks by himself and looks out for your face in the crowd when he's on stage. he just tries to push it away as much as he can.

but it hurt the most when he jumped out of his car at parc ferme after the sprint, marking his third title in 3 years. he searched desperately for your face within his team, wanting to share the championship with you.

he wants to share this with you, truthfully having you to thank for his all that he's achieved in the past 3 years. at the end of all this, he just wanted to stumble back into you and celebrate quietly.

max had been the centre of attention, taking his mind away from you for about an hour. he was singing and dancing, drinking and having fun until the sinking feeling started to eat him away.

now he's tucked away at a corner booth of the bar, his fourth glass of gin and tonic on the table. he's staring blankly at the table, the bass from the speakers thumping away in his chest.

"mate, congratulations again." he looks up to meet daniel's eyes, who is now sliding into the empty seats opposite him. daniel puts his drink down and leans back to get comfortable. "shouldn't you be celebrating?"

"already did. this is my fourth," max grins forcefully, tapping on the rim of his cup. he leans forward to rest his elbow on the table, drawing shapes on the table with the droplets of condensation from his drink. "just a little tired, that's all."

daniel doesn't answer right away. he just nods understandingly then looks around briefly. "so where's (y/n)? she's never missed a championship weekend." max's eyes trail up to meet him again.

the mention of your name forms a lump in his throat. max wishes he knew where you were, then maybe he'd have the courage to find you and take you into his arms once more.

"did you split up or something?" daniel follows up immediately, raising an eyebrow at max.

the dutchman blinks, tears quickly swelling in his eyes. realistically, only victoria knows of the split. he's more shocked that alexandra and kika have kept it so lowkey that the news hasn't flooded the media and gossip sites.

for that, he's truly thankful.

"yeah, in singapore," max shrugs. he picks up his drink, taking a big gulp to wash your name off his tongue.

daniel nods and sinks into his seat, not asking max to further elaborate. he appreciates that as well. he's not in the spot where he's ready to talk about it either.

he tried to with victoria, but it only ended with him in a sputtering mess of tears before he fell into a deep slumber. he woke up that morning on the floor by his couch with victoria not very far off.

"have you talked to her since?"

max shakes his head dejectedly, lips pouting into a genuine frown. his eyebrows furrow as his frustration starts to grow.

why hasn't he reached out? more importantly, why haven't you?

"i think she hates me, mate."

"why would you even say that?" daniel tilts his head, raising his eyebrows to encourage max to elaborate. he's quite curious on this one, truly.

daniel had never seen a love like the one you shared with max. the privacy of your relationship made whatever he witnessed all the more special and he loved watching you both grow with the relationship.

he heard of the fights from his girlfriend who was suspiciously more aware than him, but he could have sworn that you two would have made it out of the great war. he hadn't seen you since saturday night in singapore and he simply thought you'd taken a break.

his guess that you'd split up was random, but he never expected max to confirm it.

max shrugs. "we were fighting all the time. we somehow lost each other. we were too far gone to save, i think."

"you asked for the split?"

"she did," max confirms with another sigh. he presses the cold glass onto his lips, "i didn't say anything, she just walked out."

"mate, you didn't say anything?" daniel exclaims in disbelief. he drops his drink on the table, watching max calmly sipping on his gin and tonic. "why didn't you?"

"i don't know," max answers with another shrug, running a hand through his hair roughly. he tugs at the roots and drops his drink on the table with a thud. "i don't know, maybe we're better off not together."

maybe. maybe, maybe. and maybe if he'd just fought for you that night, you would be here celebrating with him.

that, or you'd still be fighting every 3 days over every little thing. he recognises the toxic cycle, but he'd honestly rather have that with you around than be in this position.

max shakes his head, finishing whatever is left of his drink. abruptly, he crawls out of the booth seat. he hears daniel scrambling after him.

max holds up a hand and turns to face daniel with a frown. "i'm heading back to the hotel. i just want to be alone. please."

taglist: @merchelsea (comment to be added)

[kpop---scenarios]

Lose My Breath

Pairing: Han Jisung x Reader

Warning: Smut, Mentions of Blood, Death, Gutwrenching Heartbreak, Angst [18+ ONLY. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]

Word Count: 9k

Commissioned By: @imperfectlyperfectprincess1

Everything Taglist: @wife2straykids @piscesrising01 @baby-stay92 @kisses-too-the-moon @dwaekkiiracha @rylea08 @satosugu4l @iovecb97 @lordmaahes-nsc @sailorkoss @minh0scat @pixie0627 @50-husbands @jinnies-muse @yaorzu-blog @joyofbebbanburg @number1jeonginstan @skzooluvr @jisunglyricist @ambersnowxxx @stay-tiny-things @thegingerthatwaited

@silly250 @tsunderelino @1810cl @anskiiz @ayyonoona

@31maze13

“You're coming! And that's final!” Lisa yells at you, yanking your arm to pull you off the couch.

“I just got broken up with, Lisa.” You pout. “I wanna stay in my sweatpants, eating ice cream while I cry at sad movies.”

“Y/N… babe, you've been doing that for like a month now. I need my best friend back. I need you to get back out there and back on dicks, or whatever the saying is.” She smiles.

You can't help but laugh at her, she's such an idiot sometimes. You roll your eyes, pulling your arm away from her and head to your room. “Where are you going?” She yells worriedly.

“To get ready. Where else?” You yell back, slinking into your closet. So many options but none that you truly wanted to wear. You and Jaehyun had been together for over a year and you truly thought you were going to be with him forever, but he and his big dick apparently had other plans. Lisa was right, it had been over a month and you really did need to get out and stop sulking around the house. It wasn't doing you any good.

“Wear something sexy!” Lisa yells from the living room. You groan as you move over to your section of sexy dresses, deciding to go with a black one that hugged you just right, while also showing off the perfect amount of skin. You weren't planning to hook up with anyone tonight, but free drinks were always welcome. You quickly applied some light makeup before grabbing your shoes, leaving your hair alone to do its thing.

“Wow!” Lisa exclaims. “You look even hotter than usual.” She grins.

“Yeah, yeah. Let's go.” You chuckle, pulling her out of the house. Once the two of you arrived at the club, you were already ready to go home. You looked around the dance floor and it was filled with people. The place was absolutely packed. You and Lisa weave through the crowd, heading straight for the bar. Lisa orders a bunch of shots for the two of you, sliding four in front of you. She picks up one shot, grinning at you. “Bottoms up!” She yells. You clink your glasses together, downing the shot quickly. The liquor burns the back of your throat on the way down, but it's so good. You can already feel your buzz starting to kick in after your third shot, and then your fourth, you were ready to dance. You pull Lisa to the dance floor, the two of you dancing together, swaying your hips to the beat. You can feel the bass thumping through the floor as you let the alcohol take over your body. It was such a freeing feeling for you.

Lisa smiles at you as you feel a pair of hands slide onto your hips. “Mind if I dance with you?” Someone whispers in your ear. You turn your head, seeing one of the most handsomest men you have ever seen in your life. His dark brown hair, his brown eyes, his dazzling smile. You were hooked on him immediately and you didn't even know his name.

“I'd love that.” You say back, he moves his body closer to yours, pressing his crotch against your ass. He wraps his arms around you, the both of you moving perfectly to the music, it was like your bodies connected like a puzzle. You turn around, wrapping your arms around his neck, he smiles at you, leaning in close to you, his lips brushing against your ear.

“Do you know who I am?” He whispers, pulling back so you can see his face again.

“Should I?” You ask, with a slight laugh.

“Nope.” He grins. “Wanna get a drink?”

You nod your head and he grabs your hand, pulling you through the crowd of people. You look back seeing Lisa dancing with another guy, cheering you on. You felt so giddy as he sat beside you at the bar, his hand resting on your exposed thigh. He was so handsome, you were sure he had to be a movie star or something.

‘What would you like to drink?” He asks.

“Two shots of tequila, please!” You smile. He looks at the bartender, holding up four fingers. “Four shots of tequila.” He yells. The bartender nods his head, beginning to pour your shots.

“What's your name?” He asks you, his hand still resting on your thigh.

“Y/N.” You smile. “What's your name?” You ask.

“You really don't know?” He laughs. You shake your head. “I really don't.”

“Han Jisung.” He says, looking at you with one eyebrow raised, like he's waiting for something to click.

“It's nice to meet you, Han Jisung.” You giggle, leaning in a little closer.

“You can call me Han. Or Jisung. Whatever.” He says, also leaning in a little closer. Your eyes are locked to each other.

“Okay, Han.” You partially whisper, your eyes locked with his.

“Okay, Y/N.” He replies. The bartender sets the shots directly in front of you, but you just can't seem to tear your eyes away from his. You wanted him so fucking badly.

“You guys gonna take these shots?” The bartender asks.

You both come out of your almost spell, smiling at each other, you both grab a glass, clinking them together before taking your shot, and same with the last one. You set down your glass, Han stares at you.

“You wanna get out of here?” He asks. Excitement fires up in your stomach as you eagerly nod your head. Han holds his hand out for yours. You grab onto it, searching for Lisa. You find her dancing but watching you. You mouth to her your leaving, she sends you two thumbs up before Han whisks you away and out of the club. He pulls you onto the sidewalk, it's dark, barely anyone else is out there. He pulls you in closely, his hand caressing your cheek as he leans in. He gently presses his lips to yours, making the kiss slow, passionate and meaningful. But you want more. You slip your tongue into his mouth, he welcomes the harshness of your lips against his. His hand moves to the back of your head, yanking a clump of hair, making you moan into his mouth.

You're so fucking horny, you needed him now. Han pulls away from you, catching his breath. “My hotel is 3 blocks away.” He points in the direction.

“Let's go.” You smile. Hand in hand the two of you quickly make your way to his hotel. You just knew this was going to be a night you were going to remember. The two of you scurry into the lobby of the hotel, sneaking past the front desk heading towards the elevator. Han presses the button and you both stand there in silence waiting for it to come down. Your body is jittery and needy as you wait, you just wanted him to rip your dress right off of you and do whatever he wanted. You let out a sigh of relief as the elevator doors open up, Han pulls you inside quickly pressing the 15th floor, urging the doors to close. When they do, he turns and smiles at you. It feels like the elevator is spinning but before you know it, you're being pulled towards his room. He puts his key against the lock, automatically unlocking the door. He pulls you inside, locking the deadbolt and top lock.

“You think someone is gonna break in?” You giggle as he turns back around to you.

“I just don't want to be interrupted.” He smiles, walking up to you. You back up, falling back onto the bed. You move yourself up further onto the bed.

“Are you on birth control?” He asks. You nod your head. “IUD.” You whisper.

“Good.” He smiles.

Han crawls on the bed, lifting up your dress. You help him, taking it off, tossing it to the floor. He slowly pulls your panties from your body, dropping them wherever. You help him out by discarding your bra, exposing your breasts. Han spreads your legs, memorizing every curve and crevice of your body. He licks his lips and smiles as he moves towards your open legs, your pussy already dripping wet. He lowers his head slowly, spreading your lips open with his fingers before licking a slow strip up your clit. He moves his tongue slightly, letting the tip give your clit a few small kitten licks. Your fingers slide into his hair, gripping it as you let out a loud moan.

“Fuck" you cry. It’s been too long since you’ve had a tongue down there.

He begins to move faster, your hips circling with his tongue, your body urging you to get off. You can't help but to grind yourself into his face.

“Shit that feels so fucking good" you cry. Han picks up his pace, moving his tongue in every direction, your orgasm building fast.

“Please don’t stop. Just like that” you scream. "Don't stop. Oh god."

Your breath hitches as his hands grip your thighs, fingers digging in as he steadies himself in-between your legs.

“I’m.. I’m gonna cum" you cry, your hands moving from his hair to the bed sheets, gripping them so tightly your knuckles turning white. You move your hips faster, needing your orgasm to take you over now. A few more licks from Han's delightful tongue and your orgasm rushed through your entire body. Han moves from between your legs, but you don’t move. You can't. You lay there attempting to catch your breath as your chest heaves up and down, no words or thoughts forming.

You barely manage to open your eyes enough to make eye contact with Han. He smiles at the sight of you. You watch him lick his lips, lapping up any of your excess fluids. “Do you need a few minutes or can I fuck you now?” He asks, a slight eagerness in his voice.

“Fuck me” you breathe.

You maintain eye contact as he strips his shirt off, your mouth practically watering at the sight of him. You feel yourself almost ready to drool, after Han takes off his pants and boxers, allowing his large, thick and veiny cock to spring free.

Han smirks as he looks down at his very erect cock before looking back at you. “It's not going to suck itself.” He says.

A wide grin appears on your face as you sit up and crawl towards him. You slide off the bed and directly onto your knees and open your mouth up widely, taking in as much of him as you could. He begins starting slowly, gently thrusting himself in and out of your mouth. With every pump, his thrusts become harder and faster as he snaps his hips harshly. Tears begin forming in your eyes as he rams his cock down your throat.

Almost as quickly as he began, he pulls himself out of your mouth, stumbling back while catching his breath.

"I can't cum yet." He says, pulling you up off the floor before pushing you back on the bed. He quickly grabs a condom, rolling it on his cock.

He spreads your legs before lining himself up with your entrance. Slowly he pushes his large cock inside you, stretching your walls. He gives you almost no time to adjust, as he begins slowly pumping in and out of you.

His thrusts are slow but powerful, making you shiver every time he thrusts himself in, hitting your G spot without a problem. Without a word, his pumps quicken as he consistently rams himself into your dripping pussy, fucking you harder.

Han places his hand in-between your legs, spreading your lips to place his thumb on the exact spot you needed it. He begins rubbing you as he continues to fuck you. After a few more thrusts and quick circles from his thumb, a quick and sudden orgasm washes over you, pulsating through your body, leaving you breathless.

Han slams himself into you, and a few hard, and fast thrusts later he cums into the condom. After milking himself dry, he half collapses on top of you, as you both try to catch your breath. He rolls off of you, offering the shower for you to go and clean yourself up. You happily take the offer, enjoying the large shower and different soaps.

“Come lay down.” Han says, patting the spot beside him. He tosses you a shirt to put on before you crawl into bed with him, and you both quickly doze off with his arm draped over you.

When you woke up, you glanced at the clock, 4:53 in the morning. You roll out of the bed, quietly grabbing your belongings as Han lays in bed, peacefully sleeping, sprawled out on the bed. You walk over to the desk, writing a small note, thanking him for an amazing night, and apologizing for having to leave before he wakes up. You quickly slip on your underwear, take off the shirt he gave you, and put your dress on instead. You're holding your shoes as you sneak out of the room, rushing down the hallway towards the elevator. You felt like a woman of the night, sneaking out of a hotel room in the early hours of the morning. But you didn't get any form of payment so technically, you weren't. The judgment you could feel from the front desk workers said otherwise though.

You walk out of the hotel, waving down a cab. You get in, telling him your address to head home. You had an amazing night, but the only thing you regret about the entire thing is that you didn't leave him your number, but if it's meant to be then you both would find your way back to each other. You arrived home, paying your fare and heading into your building. You go straight into the shower, scrubbing your body, washing your hair until you finally feel clean. You dry yourself off, slipping into your pj's before crawling into your bed, drifting off to sleep very easily.

Later on in the day, you wake up, unfortunately. You really wanted to sleep longer but you glanced at your phone, seeing it was already 1pm, and you had about a million messages from Lisa. You opened up your chat, seeing her asking about your night and begging you to tell her if you hooked up with the man from the club or not. She was so desperate for you to get over Jaehyun and get under someone else. You knew she was going to be proud of you for actually doing it. You pressed the call button, and you swore the phone didn't even ring before she answered it.

“What happened!?” She yells. “Did you hook up? Please tell me you hooked up with him.” She gasps.

“Jesus, hello to you too.” You chuckle. “Yes we hooked up.” You say, thankful she can't see the large smile on your face.

“Yes! You slut! I love it!” She screams. “Let's go for lunch.” She suggests.

“I'm so nauseous.” You laugh. “Too much tequila.”

“We need tacos.” She says.

“Oh fuck, yes. Let's meet at Las Palapas.” You say.

“See you there in 30 minutes.” She screeches, hanging up the phone. You groaned loudly. Why did you suggest that? You just wanted to lay in bed and die, but instead you got up and headed to your closet, putting on leggings and a shirt, throwing your hair up and slipping on some tennis shoes. You grab your bag, breathing through your nausea as you head out to meet Lisa.

The tacos and margaritas definitely helped your hangover, you felt better as you and Lisa headed back to your apartment. She was trying to convince you to go out again that night and you weren't sure if you were gonna be up for it.

“You said you wanted to run into him again! What if you do tonight?” She squeals.

“I don't think I can.” You laugh. “I need to go to bed. I feel like a bag of shit.” You groan.

“Okay okay. I get it. Let's go watch some movies and eat some treats? Mhm?” She grins.

“That's perfect.” You say, linking your arms with hers as you head back to your apartment with your best friend.

**

A few months later, you're sitting in your bathroom, your entire body shaking as you wait. You look at the timer on your phone, 30 seconds left. You had been so nauseous for months, cramping, tender breasts. You didn't get your period anymore with your IUD, but you and Han had used a condom as well, there's no way you could be… right? Your phone beeps, telling you the 3 minutes is up. You pick up the small stick, turning it over. Tears instantly fall down your cheeks as you see the two lines, clear as day on the test.

“How am I pregnant?” You cry, setting the test back on the counter. You drop your head into your hands, sobbing. How the fuck were you supposed to get into contact with Han to let him know? You grab your phone, still sobbing as you scroll through your contacts, looking for Lisa's number. Your brain was scrambled, you could barely think. You scroll down, seeing a name you recognized but didn't know you had in your phone.

“Han Jisung.” You whisper. You click on the contact, placing the phone up to your ear.

“Hey there stranger.” He laughs, answering the phone. “It's been months. Didn't you know I put my number in your phone?” He asks.

You sniffle. “Han.” You cry.

“What happened? What's wrong?” He asks.

“I'm-I'm pregnant.” You whisper.

The call is silent. Han doesn't say anything. “Are you there?” You ask.

“We used a condom. You said you had an IUD.” He partially yells. ��Or did you lie to me?” He asks.

“I didn't lie to you.” You say. “I do have an IUD. I don't know how this happened.” You cry.

“Do you even know who I am? This will ruin my fucking life and my goddamn reputation!” He yells. “Fuck!”

“It's not my fault! Maybe your condom was faulty!” You snap back.

“Yeah well we'll get this shit taken care of.” He snaps, hanging up the phone. You sit there still crying and now shaking even harder. What did he mean about his reputation? You click on Google on your phone, searching his name.

“Han Jisung… member of popular k-pop group Stray Kids…” You murmur. “Oh fuck. He's really fucking famous.” You gasp.

What the hell were you gonna do?

You waited for days. You waited for something, anything really from Han. But nothing came. Until the fourth day, when you had a knock at your door. You open it, and the man standing there, shoves an envelope at you before walking away. He said absolutely nothing to you.

You closed the door, walking to your kitchen table to open it. Pulling out a letter practically demanding you to come to Korea to have your IUD safely removed, while also having a DNA test done on your unborn child. You emptied the rest of the contents, dropping a one way plane ticket onto the table.

One that left tomorrow. You truly did not have much time to make your decision but you absolutely wanted to prove to Han and his agency that he was the father of your child. You hadn't been with anyone else since Jaehyun and that timeline just doesn't fit.

You left the papers down on the table, heading to your bedroom. You went into your closet, pulling out your suitcase, packing anything and everything you could think of that you'd need. You didn't know how long you would be there but you were going to make damn sure that Han was present for everything for his child.

“I'm gonna miss you.” Lisa sighs, hugging you tightly. “If you need anything and I mean anything, call me. And I'll be on the first flight there.” She finishes, pulling away from you.

“Thank you. I'll keep you updated on the shit show that is my life.” You sigh, grabbing your luggage and passport, heading into the airport. You sit in your assigned seat, anxiously waiting for the plane to take off. You feel like your heart is going to beat out of your chest as it begins to move. It's only a 9 hour flight. You could do this. You got this.

And you did. You slept almost the entire flight except when it was time to eat. You ate your meals and snacks before dozing back off again. The flight definitely didn't feel like 9 hours, it really only felt like a quick few hour flight and before you knew it the plane touched down in Korea, and you were ready to prove you weren't lying about anything.

Once you were off the plane, You grabbed your checked bag and headed out towards the doors of the airport. You almost missed him, the man standing, smiling holding up a sign with your name on it.

“Hi.” You smile. He nods to you, reaching for your luggage, taking it from you while motioning you to follow him. You do, looking around at the beautiful building, and all the gorgeous people who surrounded you. The man leads you to a car, opening the door for you before he puts your luggage in the trunk and then gets into the driver's seat, taking you away from the airport and hopefully to a hotel, where you could shower and rest before getting into it with everyone. But apparently that was wishful thinking.

The driver pulls up outside of a hospital. You knew it. They wanted to try and prove you were lying immediately. Jokes on them though. You take a deep breath, walking inside the building and immediately you're swarmed by 3 or 4 nurses, dragging you towards the elevator, everyone talking at once so you can't understand anything that's being said. Once you're in the elevator, you're taken up to the 4th floor. The nurses get out of the elevator, making space for a man to walk to you. You step off the elevator, he extends his hand for you to shake.

“Hi Y/N.” A man says. “Welcome.”

“Are you… JYP?” You ask.

“I'm not. I'm his assistant, Joshua.” He says. “And I want to apologize on behalf of JYP for this. It may seem unnecessary to you but this cannot get out. It's important we have all the correct information to be able to spin it properly.” He says. He brings you to a hospital room, guiding you inside. “Please, change into this gown and the doctors will get started soon.”

You do as you're told, wandering into the bathroom to get changed. You come out, placing your clothes on a chair before climbing into the bed.

“Where's Han?” You ask, just as Joshua was leaving the room.

“Han will be involved if the paternity comes back as his child.” He says, getting on the elevator.

“Hi, Y/N. I'm doctor Kim. I'll be removing the IUD for you and Dr. Lee will be doing the paternity testing.”

A nurse comes over, beginning an IV in your arm. “What is this?” You ask.

“Just something to help keep you calm.” Dr. Kim smiles through his mask. “Don't worry, the baby will be perfectly safe.”

The nurse hooks you up to the machines, you can feel the drugs beginning to help. You're relaxed and feeling so good. You barely feel Dr. Kim doing what he needs to do, you actually doze off for a minute while he works on you. When he's finished, your body feels weird but before you can ask him anything about it, another doctor walks in, sith a large thin needle.

“Hello, Y/N. I'm Dr. Lee.” He smiles.

“What is that?” You ask, feeling a little anxious about the big needle.

“This is for paternity testing. What I'm going to do is insert this needle into your abdomen, and take out some amniotic fluid, for the testing. We've already collected Han’s sample to compare it. So we'll have your results in a few hours.” He explains.

You nod your head, closing your eyes tightly. “You're going to feel a little poke.” He murmurs, inserting the needle into your stomach. You gasp loudly, wanting, no, needing it to be over quickly. Seconds later he pulls the needle out of your stomach, leaving the room with your sample. You lay there, breathing. In a few hours, they would all find out the truth and you couldn't wait. Your eyes begin to get heavy. It had been a long and stressful day,especially with the time difference. It didn't take you long to doze off, peacefully. Unfortunately you only got to sleep for a few hours before the doctors came back into your room.

“We have some news.” Dr. Kim begins. “While taking out the IUD was successful, there seems to have been a few complications. Which means you'll need to be on bed rest.” He explains.

“For how long?” You whisper.

“At least 2 months. Maybe three.” He announces.

“I'm here alone! I don't know, like, anyone! How am I supposed to be on bed rest here?” You cry. “Just let me fly home and I'll be on bed rest, I promise.” You say.

“You can't fly, Y/N.” Dr. Kim states. “Complete bed rest. Only getting up to use the bathroom. That's it.”

“Will it be here?” You ask, nervously.

“No.” Joshua says, stepping into the room. “You'll be moved to Han's dorm, with his band mates.” He says.

“Does this mean…” You trail off.

“Han is the father, yes.” Joshua sighs. You could see it in his eyes that he hated the fact that it came back that Han is the father.

“A nurse will be coming by with a wheelchair shortly.” He murmurs, looking down at his phone. “I have to take this. But I'll be waiting downstairs for you.” He finishes walking away.

You breathe a sigh of relief. There. Now he would know that you weren't lying. This really was his child. You knew he was likely scared. Hell, you were fucking terrified. But you were going to figure it out because that's what you do. A few minutes later, a smiling nurse walks into your room, pushing a wheelchair. “Let's get you dressed and then you can be on your way.” She says, helping you off the bed and into the bathroom. You were very slow moving, your body was sore, you felt weak. You really just wanted to sleep. You were nervous to go to Han's dorm. He reacted poorly to the news of your pregnancy, but you hoped that now that he's had time to process the information, he would be more excited.

Joshua stands beside a car as the nurse wheels you up to him. You slowly get up, sliding into the back seat of the car as Joshua gets into the front to drive.

“What about my suitcase?” You ask, remembering the man who picked you up from the airport only hours ago.

“It's already at the dorm.” Joshua replies, his eyes staying on the road. You nod your head as you watch out the window, admiring the beautiful structures of the city, watching the people as he goes down each road. With every turn of the car, you got more nervous. Soon you'd be facing Han and you honestly had no idea what you were going to say to him.

Joshua stops the car in front of a building, coming around the side to open your door and help you out of the car. “Come on, you heard what the doctor said. You have to stay in bed.” He says, helping you up the stairs to the door. He opens the door, revealing seven men sitting in the living room talking. As soon as you walk in, the entire room goes silent. They all sit and stare at you, until one of them gets up, a large smile on his face.

“You must be Y/N.” He grins, pulling you in for a hug. “I'm Chan. If you need anything, please don't hesitate to ask.” He says.

“Yeah, yeah, we can do this later. She needs to be in bed.” Joshua grumbles, guiding you to a room. He opens the door, revealing a very plain room with a queen size bed in the middle. Your suitcase was emptied and put away, all your clothes either hung up in the closet or were put away in the drawers. Luckily you were still wearing comfy clothes, and had absolutely no ambition to change, so you crawled into bed, getting cozy under the blankets.

“I've left my number on your bedside table should you need anything. Or any of the boys know how to reach me. Don't hesitate to call.” He says, giving you a half smile before leaving the room.

You roll over facing the wall. You close your eyes, but before you can fall asleep the door creaks open. You turn your head to look and see Han standing there.

“Han.” You whisper, sitting up the best you can.

“Don't.” He harshly snaps. “I know you fucking planned this. You knew who I was didn't you? You're just some low class whore looking for a payday, huh?” He spits.

“I didn't know who you were!” You yell. You can feel the tears threatening to fall from your eyes. You didn't want to cry. Not in front of him. “I swear to god, I didn't plan this.”

“Yeah, we'll see about that. I don't want this kid, so tomorrow I'll have someone take you to the clinic and get it taken care of. Then you can go back home and we can fucking forget about it all.” He says.

“What?” You gasp. “No, absolutely not. I'm not getting rid of our baby.” You whisper.

“Don't. Don't say our baby. It's not ours if I don't want it. 9am, tomorrow.” He says, walking out of the room, slamming the door behind him. You weren't sure how, but you were going to protect your child, no matter what.

You cried yourself to sleep that night. You didn't want the next day to come. You didn't want Han to barge into the room demanding that you go to a clinic. So the next morning when there was a faint knock at your door, your stomach dropped and anxiety flowed through your entire body. The door opens, and Chan's head peeks around the corner.

“Hi.” He smiles. “Han has a schedule today, so he's not here. He said you wanted to go to the clinic today and asked me to take you.” He whispers.

You sit up in bed, shaking your head. “He wants me to go to the clinic today.” You say. “I don't want to.”

“He wants you to… get…” he trails off. You nod your head, crying again.

“I know you don't know me, but I know Han.” He says, walking into the room. “He's scared. He's terrified about what this means for the group and him as an artist. If it gets out it has the potential to ruin him. And I know he's not handling it very well. But if you need anything. One of us will always be home. Please just yell out if you need anything. Okay?” He says.

“Thank you.” You whisper. Chan leaves the room, and you curl back up in bed, feeling a little more relieved, and like someone finally has your back. A little bit later, you decide to get up and go to the bathroom. The only problem is, you weren't sure where the bathroom was. You were sure it wouldn't be an issue for you to get up and wander around to find the bathroom. You really need to stretch your legs, have a shower, and also eat something. You crawled out of bed, shuffling your feet to the dresser to grab some new clothes before heading to the door. You opened it a crack, peering out to see if anyone was there. But there was no one. You go into the hallway, walking slowly and carefully, looking in each door. All bedrooms.

“What are you doing?” You hear from behind you. You jump at the sound of the voice, turning around.

“I was just looking for the bathroom.” You whisper to the unknown man.

“Oh.” He smiles. “It's this way.” He says, pointing in the opposite direction.

“Thank you.” You say, walking towards him.

“I'm Changbin. It's nice to meet you, Y/N.” He smiles.

“It's nice to meet you too. Thank you for your help.” You say.

“It's not a problem. Let me know if you need anything else.” He says, walking away. You walk into the bathroom, placing your clothes on the counter before you start the shower.

Once you were done, you felt so much better. You dried yourself off, got dressed and placed your clothes back into your room before heading towards where you thought the kitchen was.

You see Changbin again with another man, who looks at you with wide eyes. “What are you doing up? Bed rest means bed rest!” The man says, scolding you.

“I'm hungry.” You say. You felt embarrassed, even though you shouldn't. You couldn't help it.

“Here, on the couch. We'll order or make you something.” He says. “I'm Jeongin by the way.”

“Thank you.” You smile, settling down on the couch. Jeongin hands you the remote before heading back to the kitchen with Changbin. As you scrolled through shows you could hear them whispering about neither of them knowing how to cook.

“Let's just order her something.” Jeongin says. Changbin agrees.

You pick a show, settling in on the couch. 20 minutes later there's a knock at the door. Changbin rushes towards the door, answering it, grabbing a large bag of food from the delivery driver before paying him. He sets it down on the coffee table in front of you, grinning widely.

“Let's eat!” He exclaims as Jeongin comes to sit on the couch as well. The three of you eat your food, laughing at the TV show while enjoying your delicious food. You had almost forgotten about what Han had wanted you to do this morning. A few hours later the front door opens, and Han walks in.

He looks at you, Jeongin and Changbin hanging out and immediately looks displeased. “The fuck is going on?” He asks.

“We were just hanging out with her. She needed to eat.” Changbin says, shrugging her shoulders.b

“Did you do what I told you to do today?” Han asks you.

“No.” You whisper.

“What the fuck, Y/N!” He snaps. “I asked you to do one thing! And this one thing would take care of the whole fucking situation you got us into!” Han spits.

“Han…” Jeongin says. He ignores him.

“Last time I checked, it takes two to make a fucking baby.” You snap back. “I'm sorry you don't want it. I'm sorry that you think I'm purposefully trying to ruin your life, and I'm sorry that I had to come all the way here for this shit. Believe me I tried to get the doctors to let me go back home so I wouldn't be a burden to you but I can't. I'm stuck here, where I'm clearly unwanted, with a baby that's unwanted by its father. You don't think that's hard on me?” You scream.

Hans' face drops. He stares at the floor for a second before his hateful look is back. “Whatever. Just stay out of my way. You guys can look after her then.” He says, storming out of the living room.

The hormones are too strong. You begin to sob on the couch, and it was awkward. Changbin and Jeongin didn't know what to do. They look at each other, worried. Until the front door opens again, in walking more people you didn't recognize and Chan.

“Why's she crying?” Chan asks. “What happened?”

“Han happened.” Changbin sighs. “He's really fucking mean.”

“Y/N.” Chan sighs. “Don't listen to him.”

“Yeah, don't listen to him. He's an idiot.” Another one says. “I'm Felix. This is Hyunjin, Seungmin and Minho.” He says, introducing the rest of them.

You wipe away your tears, trying to force a smile, waving to them all.

“I know what we need.” Felix pipes up again. He looks at Changbin and smiles.

“Movie night.” They both speak at the same time. Seconds later everyone is rushing around, a few leaving to go get snacks, others debating on which movie to watch. They made you feel so included, asking you what movie you wanted, what snacks you wanted. They included you in conversations, even if you had no idea what they were talking about. They were all so fun and kind, and you were starting to feel better about the entire situation.

Everyday you were feeling better and better about where you were and who you were with. At least when Han wasn't around. One day Chan showed up at the dorm with a pen and a journal, to help you let out your anger and frustrations, especially since you couldn't do anything else. Over the next two months, your stomach grew, the baby started kicking and all the boys were so excited. Always touching your stomach to feel the kicks, they waited on you all the time, getting you whatever craving you were feeling that day. They were like the big brothers you never had but always wanted. You were happy, until Han came back home. And sometimes you were alone in the dorm when he was back and he was cold towards you, and if he spoke to you he was hurtful and rude.

Until one day he stopped saying mean things to you and he began being nicer. Everyday he came back home and smiled at you. He started helping you, even if you had asked one of the others to do it. He was present and different. It was like something suddenly changed. Han walked into the dorm, 3 months after you'd been there on bed rest, and he smiled at you. Like he had for the last few weeks and it was as gorgeous as ever.

“How um, how are you feeling?” He asks.

“I'm feeling okay.” You murmur.

“That's good. Oh, uh Joshua wanted me to let you know that you have an ultrasound next week. He said you can find out the sex of the baby.” He tells you.

You perk up. “Really? Oh I've been waiting for that.” You smile.

“Would I…be able to come?” He asks. “I'd like to find out too.”

“I thought you didn't want the baby.” You say. It still hurts to think about that. The fact that he so desperately wanted nothing to do with you or your child.

“I didn't… to be completely honest with you, I'm so fucking scared. I'm scared of what this means for me…for the group. I'm scared of everything. But I've been listening to the guys over the last few weeks, talking about you and the baby, gushing about what it's going to be like to have a baby at the dorm and how excited they are. So I started doing some research… and I'm sorry. I'm sorry for the way I treated you. I'm sorry for the way I handled everything. Being scared isn't an excuse, I'm sure you're scared but I didn't think about you or how my actions and words affected you.” He says.

You want to believe him. You wanted things to be okay between the two of you but how could you? He'd been so nasty towards you and suddenly he comes back home apologizing and wanting to be involved? That scared you. What happens if he gets scared again and turns back into the nasty man he had been before?

“Is that why you've been so nice lately?” You ask. He nods his head. “I appreciate you saying that. I'm terrified and this hasn't been easy. But if you want to be involved, I need to know you're in it for the long haul. And you're not gonna switch up on me.” You say.

“I am. Totally and 100% I am in it. I won't go back.” He urges.

“And it's gonna take time.” You tell him.

“Whatever it takes.” He smiles.

The next week, Han is helping you down the stairs of the dorm, heading to the car for your appointment. He opens the car door for you, before rushing around to the other side to sit next to you in the back. You both buckle in as the driver takes off to the clinic.

“What do you think it'll be?” You ask Han as you lay on the bed waiting for the tech.

“Honestly I think it's gonna be a girl.” He laughs.

“So do I!” You say. “A healthy baby is the goal.”

“Absolutely.” Han smiles. “I promise you, Y/N. I'm gonna love that baby with everything I have.”

The technician walks into the room, greeting you both before getting to work. After taking all the necessary pictures, she looks at the two of you. “Would you like to know the gender?” She asks.

“Yes!” You both say.

“Okay.” She giggles. “Well… it looks like you're having a healthy little…. Girl! Congratulations.” She says.

“A girl.” You whisper. You look up at Han with tears in your eyes.

“A healthy baby girl.” He responds, placing a kiss on your forehead.

A little while later the two of you head back inside the dorm. Han helps you up the stairs, helping to guide you into the dorm, where six men stand around, eagerly anticipating the news.

“What is it!?” Jeongin yells.

“What are we having!?” Changbin asks, making you and Han laugh.

“We are proud to announce…” You pause, glancing over at Han.

“We're having a healthy baby… girl!” Han yells. The living room erupts into cheers as they all rush towards the two of you, congratulating you both. Everyone was so happy, until Chan rushed into the dorm. You turn to tell him the good news but he looks worried.

“What's wrong?” You ask.

“We've got a problem.” He sighs. “Somehow the news broke about Han becoming a dad. It's everywhere online. There's even pictures of the two of you.” He says, showing you both his phone. You see pictures of Han helping you to the car, your hand resting on your belly. Pictures of you both walking into the clinic, and walking out happy and excited.

“Who would do this?” You gasp.

“You'd be surprised how crazy fans get over their favs.” Felix mentions.

“What do we do?” You say, looking between Chan and Han.

Han looks at you and smiles. “It'll all be okay. I promise.” He says, squeezing your hand. You wanted to believe him, but you weren't sure if he even believed it.

Over the next few weeks, everything had gone downhill. Han was gone so much trying to figure out who leaked the story and how to handle everything. While you spent your days reading the comments online.

“What an ugly fucking bitch. How dare she trap hannie!”

“She must have drugged him! There's no way he'd willingly sleep with her.”

“She's totally just using him for his money. I bet the baby isn't even his!”

“If I see her out, I'll kill her myself!”

You spent your days crying over all the mean comments you kept receiving. You didn't know these people, how could they make such vile comments about you? They didn't know what really happened, not that they'd believe you anyways. Han constantly told you everyday to stay off the internet and not to read the comments. But you couldn't help it. You had never done anything to anyone, you couldn't wrap your head around what they were saying about you.

“Oh baby.” Han murmurs, walking into his room. He sees you sitting on his bed, tears in your eyes as you read the multiple death threats from the same person that managed to find your Instagram.

“This person wants me to die so badly.” You whimper.

“No baby, no. You can't be reading this stuff. Those people aren't fans. They're just people who can't be happy if we're happy.” He sighs.

“Are you happy?” You ask.

“Unbelievably happy. I promise you.” He smiles. “The reason I came in here was because I have good news.” He says, helping you and your belly out of the bed.

“What is it?” You sniffle.

“You are officially off bed rest!” He yells.

“Oh my god. Really!?” You exclaim. “Finally!” You were so happy, you were going fucking crazy being stuck in bed or on the couch for the last few months.

“So to celebrate, I thought we could go do some baby shopping?” He smiles. “We need a lot. And I didn't want to go get anything without you.”

“You're so sweet.” You pout. “Yes please! Let's go!” You say, ready to waddle out of the room. Han helps you slip on your comfiest shoes, before taking your hand in his, leading you out to the car.

The two of you head into the first store, where you pick out a crib, and a car seat. You walk down the street hand in hand, looking in the windows of other stores, cooing at the adorable baby girl clothes that were on display.

“Oh shoot.” Han says, feeling around his pants pocket. “I left something in the car. Stay here.” He smiles, placing a kiss on your lips. “I'll be right back.” You watch him run back down the street, not terribly far from where you were.

“It's you.” You hear from behind you. “The one who stole my man.” You turn around seeing a disgruntled woman standing in front of you.

“What?” You ask. Trying to wrap your brain around what was happening. But she gave you no time.

“He's mine!” She screams, lunging towards you. You feel a sharp, piercing pain in your stomach. Your mouth hangs open as you look down. She plunges the knife deeper into your stomach. You gasp for air as she twists it. You can hear Han screaming for you. He runs towards you, and the lady rips the knife out of your stomach, dropping it before taking off. You immediately collapse to the ground, blood spilling from your stomach, and seeping from your mouth.

“Y/N. Baby… breathe. Stay with me.” He begs. “Someone call an ambulance! Please!” He cries. “Someone help me! Please help me!” He screams, putting pressure on your wound.

It didn't take long for the ambulance to show up. They worked quickly as a bloody Han stood back, in shock. “We're losing her!” The paramedic yells. They swiftly put you in the back of the ambulance, Han climbing in after you. He holds your hand as they work on you.

“Please.” He cries. “Please save them… please don't let them die.”

“Sir. You need to wait in the waiting room.” The nurse urges him, as he tries to follow you into the emergency room. He stumbles back as he watches them roll you back and out of sight. He pulls out his phone, his hands covered in your almost dried blood. He dials the one number he knew would be able to get them all here.

“Chan.” He cries.

“Did you do the proposal? Did she say yes?” Chan asks.

Han had completely forgotten about the ring box that bulged out of his pocket now. Had he not forgotten it in the car, maybe this wouldn't have happened. Or had he brought you to the car with him, maybe you'd be wearing it right now. But he had a plan. He wanted it to be perfect and he hadn't wanted you to see what he was grabbing from the car.

“She… she was stabbed.” Han sobs. “T-They took her back… I don't know if she's alive. I don't know if my baby is alive.” He whispers.

“We're on our way.” Chan yells, hanging up the phone.

Only minutes later, seven men rush into the hospital, surrounding Han, who is sitting with his head in his hand, sobbing.

“What the fuck happened?” Changbin asks, sitting next to Han, putting his hand on his back.

“I forgot… the ring in the car. I ran back to go get it.” He sniffles. “She was waiting for me… I grabbed the box and looked back at her and someone stabbed her in the stomach.” He weeps.

They're all silent. No one knows what to say. They all know nothing they can say will make anything about this situation better. So they all sat in silence, just being there for him. Whatever he needed.

It took hours. Hours for someone to come and talk to Han to let him know what was going on.

“L/N Y/N.” The doctor yells. Han stands up, rushing to the doctor.

“Yes, how is she? How's my baby? Can I see them?” He asks.

The doctor takes his scrub cap off, looking down. “We took her into surgery. It was touch and go for a while. We delivered the baby… but there was nothing we could do. I'm so sorry.” He whispers.

Han drops to his knees, sobbing. “Please..what about Y/N.”

“There's a lot of internal damage. She's in a medically induced coma. We're not sure how it's going to play out. There's a 50/50 chance she'll survive.” The doctor says. “You can see her, if you want.” He says.

Han stands up, silently following the doctor to your room. He stands in the doorway, taking it all in. You're hooked up to every machine possible, one that's helping you breathe, one that's keeping track of your heart. He was dreading the day he had to tell you that your precious baby passed away. He walks into the room, sitting in the chair beside your bed. He grabs your hand crying as he squeezes it.

“Please be okay. Baby I need you to be okay. I can't lose you both… I love you Y/N. I love you, I need you to wake up. Please.” He sobs.

Everyday for weeks, Han sits in your room, waiting, praying and hoping that you'll wake up. And everyday, nothing changes, the doctors don't have answers. No one has any answers and it was driving him crazy.

“Okay baby, I'm just gonna go home and shower. It's been a while. Please wake up. Wake up for me, okay?” He says, placing a kiss on your forehead.

A little later, Han gets out of the shower, heading into his room where your stuff stayed. Your clothes still hung in his closet, your things still scattered around the room. He sat on his bed, grabbing the pillow you always used. It still smelt like you. He holds it tightly, glancing over at where it is usually placed. He sees a notebook laying there. He knew he shouldn't, but he needed to. He grabbed the book, the first half he skipped. He couldn't bear to read about how you felt when he was so mad at you and everyone. He knew he hurt you so deeply, but he could relive that right now.

He smiles as he reads what you wrote about how he suddenly changed. How he was being nice and attentive. How you were suspicious of his actions. It made him laugh, for the first time in weeks. You had every right to be suspicious of him, but he was glad you let him prove to you how serious he had been. He flips through a few more pages.

“Dear diary.” He reads. “I can't stop thinking about the future. Han is going to be the best dad. He is so excited for our little girl to come into the world and I can't wait to watch him with a mini version of him and I. I'm so in love with him, I don't know what to do. I want to tell him, but I can't be the first one. Our little girl will be here in a few weeks and I'm so scared. But I know everything will be okay as long as he's by my side. I can't wait to see what the future brings for me and my little family. I've never been so happy in my entire life. Everything feels complete.” He reads. He can't stop the tears from rolling down his cheeks.

Before he can read more, his phone rings. He sets down your diary, and picks up his phone from on the bed.

“Hello?” He sniffles.

“Han Jisung?” The person on the other line asks.

“This is he.” He answers.

“This is nurse Song from the hospital. I'm so sorry to do this over the phone…” She begins.

“No.” He whispers. “Please… please don't.”

“Y/N passed away this afternoon. Her body just wasn't strong enough to heal. We truly did everything we could to save her. I'm so very sorry for your loss.” She finishes.

Han drops his phone on the floor. His chest tightens, he feels like he can't breathe. But he's not scared. His head is dizzy, he feels unstable.

“Please let this be it.” He whispers, clutching his chest. It was getting harder to catch his breath as his chest tightened even more. “Please, take me to my girls.” He groans, falling to the floor. His eyes close as he welcomes the darkness, desperate to see the two he loved the most once again.