#hes so fucking LONG in this form he has like three more pairs of legs and a tail the same length as his body

[taranza69]

Hey kirby I heard about what happened. Sorry your friends keep doing weird anime shit in front of you :(

[ayyy-pee]

ℍ𝕚𝕕𝕕𝕖𝕟 𝔸𝕗𝕗𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕤

Discord 18+ - Twitter

Pairing: Sanemi Shinazugawa x Female Reader

Summary: But you can see - in those deep violet eyes of his - three little words swimming behind them that he's been itching to say to you for quite some time now. You want to say them too, have for as long as you can remember. 

But you're both Hashira. It's already enough that you both keep towing this dangerous line, finding yourselves in this exact predicament more often than not.

or

Sanemi is just so down bad for reader.

Story Warning: Smut, Alley Sex, P in V sex, Profanity bc c'mon...it's me, Vaginal Sex, Jealousy, Jealous Behavior, Fingering, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Sanemi being bad at feelings, Secret Flings, Secretly in Love, Sneaking Around, Some canon Giyuu hate from Sanemi, Reader is a Hashira too!

Art by: krit961 (Twitter)

A/N: This is my first time writing for this fandom ever, but the Sanemi brainrot has been so INSANELY strong I just had to write SOMETHING up. It's nothing crazy and I'm rusty because it's been awhile for me but ugh. THIS ONE IS FOR YOU SANEMI!!!! Also shoutout to @lemonlover1110 for helping me with the title!

“We should head back…” You sigh, breaths coming rapidly. “Before…” A quiet gasp interrupts your words when you feel the sting of teeth sinking into your neck. “Before the others notice…”

”Fuck the others,” a gravelly voice growls into the juncture of your neck. Large hands grasp your thighs hard, holding them wide open as a hard form sits between them. “Don’t give a fuck if they notice, either. Maybe Tomioka will stop staring like a lovesick puppy if he figures it out.”

He buries his face further into your neck, grumbling against your skin. Something along the lines of “I hate that guy” and “I should gouge his eyes out”.

Your fingers slip into the snowy white tresses at the nape of his neck, gripping hard and pulling so that you can see his face. Pretty, long lashes cover hooded purple eyes that soften the moment they catch sight of you. The softness is such a contrast to the deep, pitted scars scattered along his face. But he’s beautiful all the same.

“Sanemi…”

At the sound of his name on your lips, he rolls his eyes. “If you’re gonna defend him–”

“Sanemi –”

“I don’t wanna hear it.” 

Your lips set into a deep frown, and Sanemi matches your expression, stubborn as ever. “What is your issue with Giyuu anyway?”

Sanemi scoffs, “Giyuuuuuu,” he mocks with a nasally tone. “Stop talking about him.”

“You brought him up!”

His mouth finds yours, rough and hungry, all consuming. It’s all teeth and tongue, nipping at your lips because he knows they’ll still be just swollen enough by the time you both get back. He’s marking his territory in his own way, as much as he can. Possessive and jealous, even when he knows he has no reason to be, no right to be. But he can’t help it.

You don’t belong to him, you don’t belong to anyone. Because you know it wouldn’t be smart to commit to any one person. Not in this line of work.

Sanemi has you pressed against the bamboo fencing in the darkest part of an alleyway, just outside of the Ubuyashiki Mansion with your legs wrapped tightly around his waist. It’s your usual meeting spot when you’ve been separated for some time, both of you too impatient to wait until the early morning hours when the Hashira meeting has finally ended to see each other.

“Fuck me,” Sanemi groans against your lips. He places an arm beneath your ass, holding you up as his other hand hikes your uniform skirt up to your waist. “Swear this gets shorter every time I see you.”

A giggle slips past your lips, because it absolutely gets shorter every time he sees you. You do it on purpose because you know it drives Sanemi up the wall to see little peeks of your ass and not be able to do anything about it. Makes him even crazier that he knows others can see it, too, and he can’t do anything but shoot death glares at anyone who dares to let their gazes roam. 

But you can’t let Sanemi know that. So you pout, laying your palms against his exposed chest and tracing his scars with your fingertips. You watch as his eyes flutter, sensitive to the touch. “You don’t like it? I can always request a change in uniform…”

Sanemi groans, leaning forward and kissing you hard. “Don’t you fuckin’ dare.” He presses his groin into your, evidence of his arousal against your soaking core. “You look so good in it.” His hand slinks between your bodies, thumb going straight to your clit, where he presses down, a shit eating grin spreading across his face when your back arches off the wall and you moan. “Look even better in it when you’re making that face.”

Your nails dig into his scars and Sanemi’s reaction is automatic, hips rocking forward roughly and now you’re both whining into each other’s mouths. You’re sure if anyone came across the two of you, you’d appear as this horny couple who couldn’t bother to wait until they got home to dry hump each other. And outside of the couple part, they’d be correct. Sanemi ruts against you, his erection running deliciously along your clothed cunt. Your lips slot together, tongues deep in each other’s mouths as Sanemi grunts into yours, and you keen into his.

There’s not much time to waste, you’re meant to be at the mansion soon. It would be suspicious if one Hashira, let alone two were missing when the Master arrived and if asked, the crows would spill your secrets in a heartbeat. You need to hurry. And Sanemi feels the pressure too. Even though he loves to annoy you pretending he doesn’t care about being late or cluing in the others on what’s going on, he would never disrespect the Master. 

Pausing his movements and leaning back to peer down at you, Sanemi sighs. He’s so painfully hard, his length throbbing within the confines of his uniform as he drinks in the sight of your kiss swollen lips, just the way he wanted them. And your face flushed, pupils blown wide as all hell with arousal. He’s sure he looks much the same, knowing you’re just as possessive as he is, though you hardly show it. It’s simply easier to hide your little territorial marks, the scratches you leave on him when they blend in so well among the rest of his scars.

Your fingers ghost along his chest, finding his nipples and you pinch the hardening buds, smirking when you see the way Sanemi’s eyes almost roll back. He can’t take another fucking second of this teasing. Not after he hasn’t seen you in who knows how long. He wants you badly that even your voice is enough to make him ruin his pants right now. It’s the semi-annual Hashira meeting tonight and he’s not willing to wait until Himejima is done yapping to have you.

Sanemi tugs at his uniform, getting his pants down just barely enough to pull his cock out. The tip is angry, red, just as desperate to be inside you as Sanemi. It glistens with his desire for you and you only.

“Gonna fuck you now, okay?” He tells you, hooking a finger into your undergarments and pulling them to the side. He runs his digits through your folds, hissing when he feels how drenched you are. It helps when he slips two fingers into you, mouth falling open when you throw your head back with a cry, your walls clamping around him. This Sanemi’s favorite part. Watching the way your brows knit together, how your pretty teeth dig into your plush bottom lip to bite back your moans, how your pussy makes the most lewd noises as he pumps his fingers into you.

You are glorious.

Always have been. It’s why he can never get enough of you. You’re insanely strong, clearly. You’re a Hashira, standing alongside him and some of the strongest in the corps. But you’re also blessed with a beauty that rivals every woman Sanemi has ever laid eyes on. He’s drawn to you in ways he cannot explain, ways he doesn’t need an explanation for. It’s why he hates catching the little glances from a certain other Hashira. Not that anyone knows what you two have going on, but all Sanemi knows is that he –

“Sanemi…” you whimper, eyes gazing softly at him. “Please. I need you.”

And he doesn’t need to hear more. His lips crash against yours as he swiftly pulls his fingers from you, gripping his length tightly and pumping himself. “How bad do you need me?” He asks. Because he needs you so fucking bad right now he can’t think straight. His mind is foggy, his body burns with his lust for you. 

“So, so bad, Sanemi,” you loop your arms around his neck, kissing him just as eagerly as he kisses you. “I need you more than anything.”

Sanemi groans, pressing the tip of his cock to your entrance. But his eyes never leave your face, even as the tip breaches your walls and makes him want to shut his eyes and focus on not cumming embarrassingly fast. He wants to see you, watch the way you lose yourself when he splits you open. The thought of it has him pulsing painfully in his hand. He rolls his hips forward, slowly, gritting his teeth when your wet warmth envelops him. “Still so goddamn tight for me,” he grunts. “Your greedy cunt is sucking me right in, fuck.”

Your nails dig into the fabric of Sanemi’s shirt, hanging on for dear life as Sanemi pushes deeper and deeper into you. As many times as you’ve been in this position with Sanemi, it always feels like the first time. He’s so long and thick, you have to adjust every time he slips into you.

“Oh my god,” you whine, and Sanemi pauses.

“You okay?”

“Yes…just…fuck me, please, Sanemi…”

He grips your thighs, pushing you back against the bamboo fencing to hold you in place. And then he thrusts forward, bottoming out in one swift motion and you both cry out in unison, the overwhelming pleasure making you both shudder.

“Fucking hell,” Sanemi sighs. He places his hands beneath your ass, keeping you still while he rears his hips back, only to slam back into you over and over. He pounds into your pussy at a relentless pace. Half because you’re on one hell of a time crunch, and half because he can’t help it. He feels animalistic when it comes to you, fucking into you mindlessly because it just feels so goddamn incredible. Every thrust feels better than the last, your warm walls clenching around him with each snap of his hips.

“I can’t go that long without you again…” Sanemi croaks, catching himself because he feels he’s getting too sentimental. “...without your pretty little pussy.”

“God, just say you missed me, you asshole.” You tell him, moving your own hips to meet his strokes. Though your words come out as more of this pathetic whimper than an actual demand and it makes Sanemi’s hips stutter. Just briefly. His hands on your ass lift you up before pulling you to sink back down on him.

Sanemi chuckles, leaning back just enough so that he can look between your bodies, watch the sticky strings of your slick connecting you, watch how his dick disappears. “Did you miss me?”

“Yes!” You cry when Sanemi hits a particularly tender spot. “Shit, I missed you so much, Sanemi.”

His brows rise, a little surprised by the confession, and a loud one at that. “Oh?” He kisses you hard, keeping his pace. Your confession turns him on more than he’s willing to admit. He missed you, too, though it’s harder for him to say so. Instead he fucks all of his feelings into you. 

How he misses you when you’re apart, because his thoughts are dangerously distracted wondering what you’re doing, who you’re with, if you’re alive.

How he wishes you’d be assigned missions together, so he could watch you tear a demon's head straight from their shoulders. Then find somewhere to stay the night so he can fuck you on every surface possible (He’s done this with you before. He wants to do it with you again).

How he wishes he could open his mouth and tell you how he truly feels.

But those feelings have always been foreign to him. Sanemi is lucky you understand his silence, that you accept his actions for what they are and let them speak for him. You accept everything he gives you happily. And as you tighten your legs around his waist, as you quietly let your pleasure be heard by him and him alone, as your walls clamp down around him with your release, convulsing and pulling him into you, Sanemi can only thank the Gods for every shitty circumstance that led him to you.

Does he deserve you? Probably not. Does he care? Absolutely not.

Because you chose him. This secret…whatever this is. Out of anyone in this world, you chose Sanemi.

And it’s enough to send him over the edge with you, gasping desperately for air as he tries to find your lips again. He closes his eyes, pushing himself as deep as he can as his release floods your walls. It’s so much, a build up over time and he knows his seed will be dripping out of your core before he’s even had a chance to pull out. It’s always this way. Because Sanemi doesn’t bother entertaining other women when he’s away. He only wants you. So the second he’s within the same vicinity as you, he has literally so much to give.

You never seem to mind.

Sanemi breaks the messy kiss, placing gentle, sweet pecks to your cheek before he leans back to stare down at you. That fucked out look on your face almost has him getting hard again. But you don’t have time for that, so he just watches you and you watch him. And he’s glad for the fact that you can’t see the way his mind is racing with only thoughts of you, thoughts of this feeling he’s buried so deep trying to claw its way up Sanemi’s throat.

But you can see - in those deep violet eyes of his - three little words swimming behind them that he's been itching to say to you for quite some time now. You want to say them too, have for as long as you can remember. 

But you're both Hashira. It's already enough that you both keep towing this dangerous line, finding yourselves in this exact predicament more often than not.

It's a little more than ridiculous actually, the way neither of you can resist sneaking glances, hiding touches, making excuses to leave on missions together. You and Sanemi…you're drawn to each other, your strings of fate knotted tightly together. It’s become impossible to leave each other alone. You don't think you'd be able to resist what you're doing even if you met as two civilians on the street. Hell, you couldn't resist each other all those years ago when you were low ranked corps members. 

Training was a confusing hell back then, every session filled to the brim with fury and a strange and thick tension neither of you could put your finger on until way down the line. It wasn't until one particular training session when Sanemi had you pinned to the ground, his strong hips pressing into yours, that you then understood what that tension was. The evidence was apparent in the way Sanemi's hard stare bore into yours, how the heat between your legs began to ignite when you felt Sanemi’s thick length pulse against you, how something akin to a whimper fell from his lips when his gaze snapped down quickly just in time to watch the hem of your uniform skirt slip further, enough for him to see the way your bodies seemed to just…fit.

Then his eyes were back on your face, your lips, now parted as harsh breaths escaped you. Your eyes, wide and wanting, peered up at him from beneath your lashes and Sanemi remembers this being the very moment he stopped denying what he had always known. You are breathtakingly beautiful. He also recalls this being the moment he knew he was done for. 

So when your hands found themselves placed against his not yet scarred chest, balling the sweaty fabric of his shirt in your fists…when he leaned closer and curiously rolled his hips against your clothed core and heard you let out the most captivating sound he'd ever heard, a sound he's been obsessed with since he's heard it…when he pressed his lips lightly to yours and you whispered into his mouth “I've never done this before”.

Yeah, Sanemi knew then that he was fucked. 

And though that night was not the night you'd given your virginity to Sanemi - that would happen years later - it was the night Sanemi tasted you for the first time. And he devoured you time and time again like a man starved. He would have you any way and any time that he could, if you allowed him. 

That was only the beginning.

Not much has changed in the years that you have been keeping up this arrangement with Sanemi. It's the only thing that you both keep coming back to, the only thing that feels solid. Though you both know it's stupid to feel as if anything in this line of work is not at risk. 

Every night that you lie awake, together or not, is a reminder. Every semi-annual meeting with the Hashira, mentally taking a headcount of everyone is a reminder. Every Hashira meeting without Rengoku, without Tengen is a reminder. 

Death is always standing just outside your door.

You can't afford to delude yourselves into thinking you can freely love and care for each other. Not until this thousand year war is over. Not until you are free to roam beneath the stars together without the scent of blood, the cries of pain and loss tainting the night. 

So, as you and Sanemi slip into the gates of the Ubuyashiki Mansion, your fingers brush together just briefly - a silent display of those words you dare not mutter aloud. You make your way to your respective places amongst the strongest of the Demon Slayer corps; you, next to Tomioka and Sanemi beside the Serpent Hashira. And while you quietly mingle with those around you before the Master appears, you miss the hushed conversation further down the line. 

“You reek of her,” Obanai remarks. Resting around his shoulders, his snake whips his tongue out at Sanemi in almost an agreement. 

“Shut up.”

“You're more tense than normal. Did you finally confess? Did she reject your advances?”

“I said shut up,” Sanemi growls. The chatter of everyone is already grinding on his nerves and your voice is not helping. He wants to look at you. See what - or who - has you giggling and speaking so sweetly that it's making him sick. It shouldn't matter. You can talk to whoever you want.

‘Except Tomioka,’ Sanemi thinks. But it's only because he's so clearly in love with you! He can't understand how you don't see it.

“Looks like Tomioka is making his move,” Obanai notes quietly, like he read Sanemi’s mind.

Sanemi can hear the teasing tone in his voice. The asshole is really getting a kick out of this. Even still, it's enough to have Sanemi’s gaze snapping over to you just in time to see Tomioka and you smiling sweetly at each other, nodding and whispering amongst yourselves. 

It shouldn't make Sanemi as upset as it does, just seeing you enjoy yourself with him, seeing him enjoy himself with you. Your smiles, your laughs, your kindness. It should only be for Sanemi. But you're a kind person…too kind. So kind you'd allow a monster like himself to fall in love with you.

Tomioka is much kinder, more understanding, better for you than Sanemi could ever be. 

And so, seeing you and him bond…Well, it fills Sanemi with a rage so hot he finds himself standing, eyes locked on the back of your head. You must feel it, his gaze beating down on you like rays of heat from the sun itself, because you fall silent and your head snaps around. Your eyes find Sanemi's immediately, gaze wide and questioning. 

Tomioka looks confused as well. ‘Good,’ Sanemi thinks. He can't wait to see the look on the Water Hashira's face when Sanemi does what he's been wanting to, but admittedly too scared to do for so long – claim you as his in front of everyone.

He lets the fumes of his anger fuel him, gritting his teeth so hard his jaw hurts. And then he's opening his mouth to speak, tongue on the roof of his mouth as all other chatter dies and the eyes of the other Hashira land on him. 

“I lo-”

“The Master has arrived!” Twin voices call in unison. 

And it's like muscle memory for every single Hashira, falling in line on one knee with their heads bowed as the Master approaches. His arrival extinguishes the fire that burned hazardously within Sanemi just seconds before, soothes the scorching left behind. His head is clear now, the reminder of why you both choose to keep your meetings between just you two evident.

You have a job to do. Defeating this evil comes before all things, even you. Though with the way Sanemi almost blew the lid off of your secret, he's not sure how much longer can go on without openly being with you. 

But it sparks something within him - a new fire. One that burns solely for one purpose. 

To defeat Kibutsuji Muzan…so that he can finally, and fully have you. 

[godihatethiswebsite]

18+ – The 141 take bets on No Nut November

CW: alcohol, breeding kink, cam girl, edging, slight Ghoap

Frothy pints drip condensation onto tacky laminate in the back corner of the local pub. Four men glance around at their companions with self assured smirks, so sure it’s them going home with the generous wad of cash piled high in the middle of the table.

Only one of them is right.

John 'breeding kink' Price is the first to lose No Nut November, rutting into the pillow wedged beneath his hips less than a week in with a feral primality driven towards a singular instinctual purpose. Desperate grunts and growls muffled by soft plaid sheets mimic tender flesh trapped between drooling canines. All those years of self-discipline don't mean shit once he eyes a pretty young thing wobbling down the aisles of the shop with a basket full of formula and a ripe round belly – swollen, heavy, fixed to pop. Fertile.

Simon is the next to drop outta the race, earbuds keeping the siren songbird all to himself in the paper thin confines of his rustling tent; the shy dove with her dark flushed cheeks and whimpering mewls who posts on Thursday nights to get herself through university making his rifle-calloused palm keep pace with the sparkly battery-powered rabbit lewdly shlicking between her folds, the 'top donator' headline flashing victorious on his screen keeping her chanting his name with each shuddering orgasm. 

Kyle nearly makes it the whole month – stupidly proud of himself for it too. Stumbling out of the barracks last year at 3am wearing the evidence of the vampire he'd brought back from the bar (watch still stuck on Bogota time) having cut his chances off real quick. This year is gonna be different. Pure determination; a marksman’s precision. No more slip-ups. Too bad his cousin's stag night rolls around three days before December, the charming temptress spinning her seductive web in neon stilettos leading his intoxicated form behind a beaded gossamer curtain, a couple hundred poorer and his heartbeat in his pants.

Fast forward to the back of the pub.

A pair of twinned groans concede defeat to the youngest sergeant, muttered insults barked without bite into the dark malty liquid of their drinks with half hearted regrets at being bested. Yet while the other two may relent in their failed endeavors, the chastised clicking of a tongue stops Kyle’s outstretched hand from collecting his winnings.

Stunned eyes shoot towards the uncharacteristically chatterless Scotsman across the table. After all, no one ever suspects Johnny. Why would they? Big dumb mutt always flapping his gob, chasing after anything on two legs that’ll give him the time of day. The least serious member of the unit with a nose for mischief and a taste for easy women. Poor pup just can’t help it if he has trouble keeping his leaky red rocket to himself. There’s no point in even entertaining the idea really.

But that’s how it’s always been, hasn’t it? Ever since basic – when he was just some punk kid from the outskirts of Glasgow spouting too many words with too much nonchalance. Mentally writing him off as anything but the squadron’s class clown. Counting him out before he’s even had a chance to tap in. 

They forget he’s one of them sometimes; honed, sharpened, regimented to perfection. A sniper’s focus mixed with advanced pyrotechnic chemistry. Analytical interest bottled in an understimulated mind. There’s a stubbornness in his veins that begs for a challenge – that thrives in the environment of other people’s miscalculations. 

Think he can’t do it? Watch him surpass expectations. Tell him not to cum for a month? Fucking bet. Thanks for the hefty sum sitting fat in his wallet. Tough luck boys. Next round’s on me.

Besides, it’s not like the other members know about the long nights spent with his head tipped back against the headboard fisting his angry red cock, edging himself for glorious hour after hour to relieve the stress of a hard fought mission. 

Well, except Simon that is…

Masterlist

[0cta9on]

Nayeon fucking her hot manager in front of some trainees to make them know that they'll be fucktoys for their future managers

Sorry for taking so long, here u go!

Three pairs of eyes stare at you, nervous yet eager and willing to learn. You weren’t exactly sure why Nayeon asked you to show up at the dance room, but judging by the sly look she gave you upon entering, you figured it would be worth your while.

“Ladies, this is Twice’s manager, he makes sure that all of us are focused on the schedules for today and takes very good care of us,” Nayeon says, introducing you to the three girls that sat in front of you. “Oppa, these are Lily, Haewon, and Sullyoon. They’re gonna be debuting soon and I thought I would show them how to properly treat their managers.” So that’s why she dragged you here. Your cock immediately gets hard at Nayeon’s mischievous bunny smile, but you try not to let it show. You wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise.

You exchange kind greetings with the girls, not wanting them to be intimidated by the show you’re about to put on.  “Being a manager is a lot of hard work, especially when he has to watch over all nine of us at the same time. That’s why we like to give him a little treat every once in a while, to show him how much we appreciate him,” she explains before rubbing your boner through your sweatpants, a lustful groan escaping your lips. The girls’ eyes go wide with shock, their bodies frozen from this sudden development.  So cute, so innocent. Your breath quickens at the thought of breaking everything they thought they knew about becoming an idol.

“Don’t be afraid girls, first times are always scary, but it’s a lot of fun if you just embrace it,” Nayeon giggles before kneeling in front of you, eyeing your dickprint with excitement. Slowly, she tugs at the hem of your sweatpants until your large cock pops out, nearly slapping her in the face. “Isn’t he so big and thick, girls?” 

Before you even have a chance to blink, your cock disappears into her gaping mouth, drawing gasps from the trainees. It’s no surprise that Nayeon is the main vocalist with how well she can use her throat. Her bunny teeth slightly graze against your length, a sensation none of the other Twice members could reproduce, while her tongue expertly works on your head with each buck of your hips.

Despite the incredible feeling of getting your dick sucked, your focus is mainly on the reactions of the girls. A wall of disgust and apprehension is still up, but you can see cracks start to form. The squirming of legs, the biting of their lips, their hands trailing down their bodies. It’s only a matter of moments before they succumb to the idea of becoming personal sluts for their manager.

The sound of Nayeon gagging on your member is always music to your ears, but you want more. You want to watch these girls break right in front of you. Grabbing Nayeon’s hair, you pull her off your cock and throw her to the floor so her plump ass is sticking towards you. Despite her cry of pain, Nayeon’s lips are curled into an excited smile as she looks back at you, your fingers hooked around the waistband of her pants.

“Now ladies, your manager might like it- Ah!” She squeals as you slap her bare ass, covered in nothing but a thong, thoroughly soaked in her arousal. “Your manager might like it rough, so it’s always important to be ready for- SHIT!” Her sentence gets cut short again as you impale her with your cock, pumping into her pussy at breakneck speeds. The sound of slapping skin and cries of pleasure echo throughout the room, filling the girls’ ears with a chorus of sinful acts.

You watch in delight as the girls start to get restless, their chests rising and falling as their breaths get heavier and heavier. None of them dare to break first, but it’s obvious that they want to touch themselves so badly. They just need a little encouragement.

“It’s okay, girls,” you say, panting with fervor. “You can touch yourselves.”

Haewon is the first to break. Almost immediately as the words leave your mouth, her hand shoots into her pants, digging her digits into her wet pussy. Sullyoon follows soon after, massaging her breasts with her free hand. Lily struggles to hold on, but eventually falls victim to her desires at the sight of her fellow trainees fingering themselves combined with her senior getting pounded into oblivion.

The sounds of their cute little moans mixed with Nayeon’s drives you to the brink of orgasm. Nayeon, sensing this, pushes her ass into you, meeting your hips with each thrust.

“Oh my god oppa, I’m about to cum! Fucking cum inside me while they watch!” She screams. You sink your hands into Nayeon’s ass, holding on for support as you feel the pressure build in your loins. As you gaze at the trainees, their bodies melting with passion, you and Nayeon’s orgasm melds together, your juices swirling deep inside her pussy. After nearly a decade of managing and fucking each member of Twice, this is the most intense orgasm you have ever experienced.

The both of you collapse breathlessly onto the linoleum floor of the dance room. The girls seem to have reached their own happy little ending as you glance at their weary bodies, barely clinging onto the chairs anymore. Nayeon giggles watching them, her fingers playing with the mixture of your cum leaking out her pussy.

“Oh, sweet girls, the fun isn’t over yet,” she comments, her smile widening with glee. “Now, who wants to lick the cum out of my pussy first?”

[writerpeach]

I've lost count how many times I've been down bad for Annyeongz's legs

Both of them sitting on your lap, crossing their legs to firmly tighten their thighs together, the perfect shape to caress in the palm of your hands.

They are getting comfy to the point of just nonchalantly kicking off their heels, hearing them go 'kick clack' on the hard floor. Their well manicured feet slightly dangling in the air, toes barely touching the ground, forming the perfect arc with their soles.

If they 'force' you to choose who has currently the best legs, would you follow your gut and tell them the truth?

If this was the previous Peach then Yujin would probably win hands down. Now though... I'm not so sure... 🤔🧐

dammit frisky

---

You've never been so happy to have such a dilemma and these options. You have the best of both worlds; the smoothness of Wonyoung's long creamy legs or the deliciousness of Yujin's more powerful, thicker thighs—equally irresistible and silky soft when wrapped around your head, around your waist, never letting you go.

"Daddy likes my legs better, right?" Wonyoung questions, pulling her short dress even higher up, leaving you unable to help yourself, the urge to reach out, running a hand all along her inner thigh.

Yujin meanwhile does the same and scoots in closer, opening the buttons of your shirt and tracing her delicate finger up your bare chest until it reaches under your chin, lifting it upward, forcing eye contact. "Don't get ahead of yourself, princess. Daddy knows mine are the best. He loves having them on his strong shoulders while he drives his big, fat cock into me all night long. Isn't that right?"

Wonyoung, despite the cute little huff, isn't fazed as Yujin responds, narrowing her eyes at the youngest. You can sense the competitiveness building inside both of them, these two sets of manicured fingers roaming all over your chest. You swallow hard, already too distracted as the pair press lips against your neck and tease, just wanting to steal attention their way.

"Daddy loves when my legs are in the air, when I'm all folded up for him, letting him plunge into every deepest fucking part of me, nothing to stop him," Wonyoung adds with a cheeky, innocent look that stirs heat deep in the pit of your stomach. "I know daddy loves breeding me and pumping me full of his hot cum more than he loves anything else."

Yujin breaks off from her deep kiss that's already left a mark on your neck, looking Wonyoung in the eye with an intensity, a heat you've seldom seen on the girl, shaking her head. "Maybe, princess—but daddy loves fucking his thick load deep into my tight little cunt when I wrap my legs so tight around him that he can't possibly pull out. There's nothing he loves more than completely emptying his balls inside me while I'm all hot and sweaty."

"Slut."

"And proud of it. Jealous that daddy loves to creampie me so much? Sorry, it's not my fault that you can't handle such a big cock. I'm sure someday you'll get there," Yujin returns, never breaking eye contact and maintaining a constant smirk of triumph.

Wonyoung scoffs. She definitely won't admit defeat. And Yujin simply grins at the unsuccessful attempts to conceal her clear anger, the frustration. "Daddy, choose now. Me or Yujinnie. Come on, prove her wrong."

Just the thought of choosing either of them is torturous and absolutely impossible.

So you refuse to.

Yujin can't hide the amusement when you pick neither of them, instead silencing Wonyoung with a kiss, quieting whatever protests are rising in her throat. This is the sign for the three of you to form some semblance of a triple kiss, before switching between Wonyoung and Yujin, until you eventually lean back and watch the two of them make out all sloppily, swapping saliva and realizing how easy it is to shut Wonyoung up.

Then with this fleeting glance shared between the three of you, it's Yujin who speaks first, sliding the straps of Wonyoung's dress off and groping her chest, sucking, slobbering on those pretty nipples.

"Now that this is settled, help me get these clothes off this fucking brat. We've got a nice, big comfortable couch to ruin the princess on. Don't we, daddy?"

[satorusugurugurl]

My Little Milk Cow

Summary: You and Satoru go to a Halloween party at a local bar with some friends. Only to get a little too into character~!

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x AFAB!Reader

Warning: language, role-play, breeding kink, nipple play, sex, unprotected sex, creampie, (a little animal play idk guys)

Word Count: 2.1K

A/N: Kinktober day four: Dress Up: Cowboy!Gojo! God to be on his farm! 😩🩵

“Oh my god.” Utahime laughed out loud as she took one look at your costume.

“What’s so funny?” You laughed along with her as Shoko wrapped her arm around Utahime, her eyes glancing you over with a roll of her eyes. “Not you too, Sho!”

“Sorry, you just look—udderly ridiculous.”

“I couldn't agree more. Oh, by the way, someone was looking for you earlier.” Utahime sipped on her beer. “His name was Old McDonald.”

“Oh yeah, he has a farm!”

You rolled your eyes, adjusting your tight cow print top. “Hardy-har bitches.” They could tease you all they wanted, but you felt so confident in yourself. You were wearing a spaghetti strap form-fitting cow print top and matching pants. The horn headband matched your makeup, and you wrapped a finger around the tail attached to your pants. You, indeed, were as cute as a button.

“Why? Just why?”

“I wanted to match with Toru. It's a couples costume!”

“Why is he? A bull?”

“Oh Utahime~ you really lack imagination, don't you?”

That cocky voice belonged to none other than your boyfriend. A boyfriend you were having a hard time looking at this evening. And no, it wasn’t because he looked like a dork in his costume. It was the complete opposite. He looked too good in his costume.

Tight denim jeans hugged his long, lanky legs, which were tight enough to see the bulge in his pants. He wore a turquoise cowboy belt adorned with silver. Your eyes trail further up along the dark navy blue and black plaid shirt he is wearing, three buttons undone, giving you the perfect view of his collarbone while the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, showing off his toned, veiny forearms.

His outfit was perfect when it came to his body. But holy fuck, looking past his neck had you biting your lip and clawing at the floor to stop yourself from jumping on top of him. He smiled, his pretty lips curling up and showing off his dimple. All the while motherfucker tipped his black cowboy hat forward, blindfold, securely in place, hiding his beautiful eyes from the world. Not to mention, his ass was perfect, plump biteable perfection! Satoru was so good-looking all the time. But tonight, he looked like a whole-ass feast. You couldn’t believe that this man, who looked like he was hand-picked to be in the newest Western film in Hollywood, was your boyfriend.

“I wasn’t talking to you, Gojo!”

“Yikes~ sorry!” he draped his arm over your shoulder, pulling you close flush against the side of his body. “But what do you think? I’m a cowboy, and she’s my little milk cow~”

“Milk cow?” Shoko snorted, returning her attention to the bar and signaling the bartender to refill her shot glass. Just as she turned back, Satoru quickly looked around before reaching around your body and grabbing both your breasts that were straining against your shirt, giving them a firm squeeze.

The most embarrassing sound left your lips before Satoru could open his mouth to joke around. You moaned out loud in the middle of a busy bar. Shoko choked on her shot, alcohol spurting out of her nose. Utahime gave you a look that was plump and full of judgment. Denial settled in your stomach like a large meal as Satoru hummed incredulously behind you.

You struggled to find the words to justify the sound that left your mouth. But there was no coming back from that. From those sounds that left your mouth. All you could do was look away as Satoru’s warm hands released their hold on your breasts, slowly grazing your skin as he moved them to grab your upper arms. Your bottom lip quivered as his fingers slowly slid up and down your arms, teasing your pretty skin as he inched closer to your ear.

“Ooh, my little cow seems like she's sensitive here.” His knuckles barely grazed over your chest. “Need me to milk you~?” from the twitching bulge pressing against your ass, you knew what he meant. And you weren't doing any better with the wet, slick coating the inside of your panties.

“Yes, please.”

The drive back to Gojo’s estate was full of heavy petting and kissing. You were practically waiting each other up, barely making it inside of the house as Gojo pinned you up against the wall growling against your swollen lips. You were dizzy, as he pressed his knee between your legs bringing it up to grind against your throbbing core. Your body was on fire, every touch ignited more need in you. Especially when his hands found your breasts again.

"Oh, baby. You're getting full, aren't you?" He purred, moving a hand up to his head to slick back his long, white fluffy hair. "I can take care of that for you. I think my way would make it feel better."

"It would?" You asked, whimpering softly.

Gojo nodded before he bent down, setting his broad shoulderto your waist, lifting you over his shoulder and carrying you to the bedroom. "I'll fix it, baby~" You whined, thinking about the sweet pleasure that was going to come to you soon.

"Shh, it's alright, sweetheart." He gently put you down on the bed, kneeling in front of you. "I'm going to make it all okay, baby." Toru pulled your top up and over your head, growling at the large black bra that squeezed your tits. "Oh fucking Christ.”

You looked at your breasts. "It’s a push-up bra." You said, tossing your head back. They jiggled. “I really feel like I'm a cow."

They were so sensitive, and with each jiggle, your hardened nipples brushed over the fabric of the bra, making you shiver. All of this was because of Satoru. Damn him and his devilishly good looks!

Gojo growled at the sight of your pretty tits as he pulled your bra down. "Oh? You are my little milk cow, huh? Don't worry, baby, I'll drink all that milk for you." He smirked as he grabbed both of your tits, pressing them to his face and licking at your hardened nipples.

God, you tasted so good, it was almost criminal. Your sweat, the smell of your body wash, and your natural taste had Gojo feeling drunk even without drinking a drop of alcohol. He groaned. He was swirling his tongue around the sensitive buds, thinking about how good your milk would taste if you were pregnant. Maybe he should knock you up for real, make you his little milk cow.

You gasped, feeling his tongue working extra hard against your nipples. It was as if he was genuinely working to draw out nonexistent milk, wishing it would coat his tongue. God, he looked so good, blindfold still covering his eyes as he feasted on your breasts. He really looked like a cowboy. He was acting like one, too, raw, honest, and massaging you as if he truly wanted to milk you against his tongue.

You were losing yourself, getting caught up in the fantasy, so you blurted out the only thing your mind could think of.

"M-Moo!" You shouted out loud before seizing up, hesitating for a brief moment as your cry registered to your ears. God, what were you thinking? Did that seriously just come out of your mouth?!

Satoru had paused completely, looking up at you in shock, lips still sealed around one of your nipples for a split second. After that initial shock passed, he reached up. You watched as his long finger hooked under his blindfold, tugging it down, revealing dark, lust-filled eyes. The crystalline cerulean blue orbs fluttered back as he let out a groan you’d never heard before—a groan of pure, unadulterated need.

"Fuck!" He didn't know if he had ever been that hard in his life. His cock strained hard against his pants as he pressed you down against the bed, sucking desperately at your tits like a starved man at his last

"M-Mhmm!" You moaned in pleasure and relief. The more he sucked, the less pressure you felt. "T-Toru, so good, baby.”

Satoru groaned as he sucked harder, tasting how sweet you were. "Fuck, I could cum just from this."

"Mhmm, don’t cum too soon." You said, biting your lip and tugging it between your teeth. "I want to cum with you.”

Toru smirked down at you when he squeezed your tots like he had back at the bar. Imagining them being swollen with milk, god he needed to breed you. "Want me to make you feel even better, little cow?” You groaned, running the pale of your hands down his shirt, your fingers grazing over the material seductively.

"Yes, please, Master.” You cooed, sliding your hands down further, cupping his hard cock. "Will you give me your milk now?"

Gojo hissed in pleasure, pushing you into the mattress as he ground his hips down against yours. "Inside your pussy, Sweetheart? I'll give you a baby if you want. Then I could drink your milk."

Hearing him say that had you shivering at the idea of him breeding you and knocking you up. Fuck why did that sound so good?

"Yes! Fuck I want Toru!" You said, watching him grind against you. "Fuck, I want to have your babies!”

“Ask me then.” He reached down, unbuckling his belt and unzipping the almost too-tight blue jeans. “Ask me to breed you.”

“P-Please! Please breed me!”

Satoru couldn't hold back; he roared in need, ripping both your clothes off before flipping you over and mounting you. "I'm going to fuck you so hard, Sweetheart.” He rubbed his tip against your already wet entrance.

"Good," You mewled out, grinding back against him. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

With another growl, Toru hissed as he forced his cock fully inside your tight wet pussy. "Nnngh!!" You threw your head back. “Fuck! Fuck you’re so wet and tight?!” He whispered in disbelief at the feeling of how wet you were.

"A-Ah of my god, fuck!" You gripped the sheets, nearly cumming already.

“Heh~ I’m so good I’ve rendered you speechless?” Satoru questioned, holding your hips tight before beginning to slam into you. "Fuck, you feel so good."

"Oh god, Toru," You said, looking back at your boyfriend. The smell of clean linen and musk had you craving more of him. You wanted everything he had to offer you. "Fucking breed me, baby."

Toru's eyes snapped open at your request. Hearing such dirty words combined with his already throbbing cock. Had him on edge already. He growled, sinking his teeth into your shoulder and making you gasp as he slammed into you with all of his might. The headboard slammed against the wall as he slammed in and out, in and out of your pussy. The wet, squelching sounds bounced off the walls of your bedroom as he lost complete and total control over himself.

He needed to breed you. To knock you up. Fuck he needed it and wanted it. Those thoughts, the raw, primal, animalistic need to procreate with you, pushed him further. In that moment, with his cock slamming in and out of you, as you screamed, eyes rolling back, hands gripping the sheets. Satoru reached around, finding your breasts. He squeezed them, pinching and pulling at your nipples.

“T-Toru!” He watched as one hand released your grip on the sheets, darting between your legs and rubbing your clit as you approached your orgasm. “C-Cu—” Your words were cut off by a scream as your walls clamped down on his cock mid-thrust as you came.

“Nnngh!” Gojo clenched his teeth in a loud but surprised whine as he came hard inside of you, pumping you full of his cum. "Fuck!! S-Sweetie! Fuck ooooh~!! Fuuck!!"

You whimpered, moaning as you slowly came down from your orgasm. You were giggling as he kissed up your neck with a growl as he rolled you over, pressing you flat against his chest. Panting roughly, you looked up at his flushed face. "Wow, someone was pent up, weren't they.” You questioned, only to receive a smack on your ass, drawing out a squeak from you.

"Fuck you got me cumming like a fucking teenager."

Gojo groaned, his head falling to rest against the pillows as he wetted his lips. “It’s all your fault moaning like that in the bar.”

“Oooh, right, so sorry, my boyfriend is super fucking hot.”

“Ooh, I’m ‘super fucking hot’?”

“Yeah, the hottest cowboy I’ve ever seen,” Gojo whined as you slowly pushed yourself up, rolling your hips against him, watching his abdominal muscles twitch as his hands rested on your hips. “So hot~ I think I’m going to take him for a ride.”

“Well, by all means.” He reached for the nightstand, grabbing the hand he had been wearing earlier off of it. He plopped it down on your head before placing his hands under his head with a drunken smirk. “Giddy-up cowgirl.”

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree @msniks @lana18918

Kinktober Tag List:

@candy-s72

[devilmademewriteit]

If You Lie Down With Me

pairing: (pre-ellie) dbf!joel miller x fem!afab!reader

summary: there’s only one guy in all of boston that can get you a morning after pill. unfortunately, on top of being a huge asshole, Joel Miller also happens to be your dad’s closest peer.

warnings: rough sex / smut (masturbation, fem penetration, oral [m receiving]) so 18+ only content; unprotected sex; light choking & restraint; light dom/sub dynamic; fem afab reader; reader has long-ish hair (that gets touched); plot-typical violence (guns, death); plot deviations (no Tess); medication ingestion; pet names (baby, sweetheart, angel); dubcon (slight intoxication, power imbalance, no explicit consent).

word count: 6.5k+

no use of y/n in this fic

alright y’all I’m baaaaAAAaack! so this is basically the other version of Dark But Just a Game that I started back when I was writing it & figured I’d finish it to get out of my hiatus. like any devilmademewriteit fic, it’s dark and nasty and deprived like meeeeeee <3 hope u enjoy !

don’t forget to reblog, check out my masterlist, sign up for the taglist, & leave any comments / feedback / & suggestions!

(ps: new part of Salvatore up next !)

—

“three times the guy I ever thought I would meet, so don't say you're over me when we both know that you lie”

— lana del rey, ‘If You Lie Down With Me’

—

Fuck.

Waking up to a racing heart, a pounding head, and a stomach swimming with nausea was never ideal, although it was always a better experience alone — when you could squint and hiss at the light slicing through the weaknesses in the drapes without hearing your groans echoed by a lower, louder, and annoyingly more pitiful voice.

Right. What was his name?

Jared? Jordan? Jermaine?

Ah, who cares.

If he’d wanted a safe place to nurse his hangover, he shouldn’t have fallen asleep in your bed. Sure, the odds of dad being conscious at this hour (especially the odds after a party like last night’s) were Kate Moss — no, Rolling Stones — slim, but the man would get up at some point, meaning that this poor J-whatever was likely sleeping through his only window of escape from certain homicide.

You whisper. You shake him gently. You gingerly tap the roundness of his bicep.

Huh — Not bad.

You congratulate last-night-you for reeling in this morning’s good-looking catch.

Still… nothing. Not a twitch. Nary a croaked ‘lemmesleep’ graces your ears.

After loosing an exasperated sigh and running through your options, you decide to take the most effective (and least girl-next-door) route. The corner of your elbow collides with his ribs, and the boy jumps up, his loose, blonde curls as wild as his eyes, searching the room for his attacker.

You want to smile at the scene, but the motion hurts your head.

“Y’gotta go,” you croak out, thumbs rubbing circles against your aching temples.

He collapses onto his back, copying your movement with his own fingers to his brow. “God. I feel like shit.”

Despite muttering your agreement, you let your eyelashes flutter closed and your weight turn you away from last night’s paramour: no use figuring out who he is after the (f)act — that just makes it personal.

After a few breaths, the boy moves back up to a shakey sitting position.

Probably sourcing for his clothes.

He reeks of booze and sex — but then again, so do you. His roughened, unfamiliar tenor climbs to barely above a whisper, “Z’something stuck on my leg… blood, or something…”

His interrupting your suffering comes as a deeply unwelcome annoyance, so you try to sort him out to clear him out: “Prolly just the condom,” you mumble, rolling back onto your shoulders, reluctantly supervising his movements.

He lifts up fully, sitting criss-cross and pulling his calf towards him.

“No,” he tries to laugh but succumbs to the nausea, settling for a low breath instead, “S’blood, dude, from beer darts — and I didn’t use a condom.”

Your eyes immediately dart over, settling on his naked, wretched, shivering form. He notices your ire and the hitching of your throat, immediately defensive.

“I asked if you wanted to.”

Unfortunately, he had. The memories of your drunken entanglement start to resurface inside your mind. “It just feels better without one.” This time, you curse last-night-you for being such a careless, inconsiderate, horny bastard.

You’re making problems for me, girl.

“J’s get out.”

J-whatever spares no time complying, collecting his few strewn belongings and staggering out the front door. Once it slides shut, so too do your poor, weary eyes.

Shit.

There goes the afternoon.

Getting your hands on condoms in the QZ was at least fifteen times easier than snatching a morning after pill. Those were a hot commodity, especially among the younger, less responsible crowds.

Luckily for you, as a member of aforementioned younger, less responsible crowds, you knew where your best chances lay in finding whatever it was you needed (if what you needed was deeply immoral or wholly illegal). Unluckily for you, that ‘best chance’ happened to be your dad’s closest and longest-running business partner: temperamental, judgemental, frustratingly competent, Joel ‘Local Asshole’ Miller.

But that could all be dealt with after another eight hours of sleep.

—

Opportunity strikes sooner than expected.

Miller’s in your living room by the time you wake up, the low rumble of his southern baritone recognizable even through the closed door. After scrambling to throw on some clothes, you press an ear to the chipping paint, hoping to determine the number of bodies gathered in your home.

Not many. Just Miller (and the old man, of course).

The latter’s presence bodes ill for you. This would all have to be done in secret, which was not an uncommon strategy where ever the former was involved. No one dealt with Joel Miller to conduct clean-cut, wholesome activities. No one was calling him up for a spare copy of the holy book.

No, getting him alone was essential.

A drink slams down on the counter. After a good, patient ten minutes, you hear your father (‘s rather crude way of) excusing himself to the washroom and heavy-set footsteps decrescendoing down the hall.

This is it.

You slip through the door.

At first, your company takes no notice of you, his eyes still glued to the maps and papers littering the counter before him.

Then, a low grumble: “fun night?”

His voice makes you weak in the knees — an involuntary, near ritual-like response you’d noticed around your mid teens and hadn’t managed to kick yet.

You swallow before responding. “Yes.”

It’s all you manage to muster. Miller finally looks up, wincing slightly as his back straightens. He looks tired, at least more than usual, with his wild, grey-streaked hair tousled and the lines by his mouth cutting deep into his skin.

You’re sure you don’t look much better, a suspicion proven by the man’s slowly spreading, barely-noticeable smirk. That gaze makes you self conscious, mute; your right hand snakes up, absent-mindedly dragging a fallen bra strap back to its proper position.

“So, what was his name?”

He’s teasing, sure, but Miller was there last night. He’d always had sharper perceptions than your father did, especially — and ironically — when it came to you. That skill tended to squander your confidence as the daughter of a modern-day mafia-boss and the owner of a hard, violent heart.

Rushed by the sound of your father’s footsteps, you default to honesty.

“I don’t remember.”

“Try.”

“Josh.”

Amusement flits across his stern expression. “Again.”

“Jamie.”

“Warmer.”

“J-J-something—”

“Gettin’ colder, sweetheart—”

“I need the pill.”

It just tumbles out, an exasperated, desperate plea. Miller, a bit taken aback by your candor, drains of his previous playfulness. You almost notice the split second those dark eyes glaze over. For a second, you’re almost convinced he’s distracted by his imagination’s recreations of the act that had you making such a request.

You almost notice the tingling between your thighs.

He stares. You stare back.

Fuck.

It was moments like this that made you wish Tess was still around. Oh, she wouldn’t be any kinder — no, not at all — but she’d certainly be more professional. Tess was all work, no play. Joel was…

You’re enjoying this, you bastard. You’re enjoying that I’m cornered like this, aren’t you?

The bathroom handle clicks when it turns, and your heart drops into your toes.

Maybe Miller really wasn’t going to help you. Maybe he didn’t have the pill and you’d just embarrassed yourself for nothing. Or, maybe he did, but preferred outing you to your dad at the very first opportunity — letting him deal with you the only way he knew how.

Your fears seem confirmed: his eyes leave the grace of your own, trailing back to his big, splayed hands on the countertop. Unwelcome tears burn the corners of your eyes as the panic begins to set in, as footsteps begin to fall…

“Mine. Tonight.”

It’s low and rushed, but it’s clear, cutting off to the sound of your father lumbering in. A man who saw, thought, and lived through transactions, he’s (thankfully) blissfully ignorant of the tension collapsing around him.

“Morning,” he throws your way.

A taunt, of course — it was well past noon.

You nod in acknowledgement, slowly backing into the doorway of your sacred, beckoning room. They resume their conversation from before, letting you sink into irrelevance.

Before shutting yourself in, you catch a few of Miller’s hushed words. They’re spoken casually to your father but, you later decide, surely meant for you:

“Not that one kid — Jeremy — don’t trust him.”

The door seals (well, not seals… it creaks on its rusty hinges and squeezes into its shrinking frame), and relief courses through you, reaching the very tips of your fingers.

That only lasts a minute.

Soon, you’re negotiating with the rising anxiety of being at Miller’s place alone, asking for his help with a problem that could’ve been avoided if you’d only kept your legs shut.

Alone with Miller, the both of you knowing that you hadn’t.

Crawling back under your covers, you begrudgingly make a vow of celibacy. If this was the cost of attention and a (potential) mid-range orgasm, you were about to become very frugal.

Dreams come easy, but they don’t come sweet.

Flashes of last night’s sins overlay Joel Miller’s unintelligible speech, his voice from the next room over lulling you into a rather confusing, disturbed sleep.

—

At nighttime, it’s a short walk to his building.

Down this alley, past this street, up this back stairwell. Part of being in with Boston’s seedy underbelly gained you access to the best and most up-to-date intel; by the age of twelve, you could run the safest — well, least policed — post-curfew routes from memory.

(Which had come in handy in situations a lot more dire than this.)

Sneaking in was easy, although you cursed him for being so preoccupied during the day. Coming in at this hour required some delicate maneuvers through a half-shattered window, and a less-than-graceful leap down left you with a nick on your cheekbone and a shallow cut along the side of your hand.

Thankfully, the blood mostly dries on your walk up the six or eight or ten flights of stairs. You don’t resent the exercise; it feels good to move, putting the jitters building in every still moment in abeyance.

Still moments like the kind that passes after a barely-audible, coded knock delivered by a girl sucking on the side of her hand, almost wishing for the door not to open.

It does.

He’s in jeans — dirty jeans, dusty — and a simple flannel. It’s Miller — it’s Miller at his most Joel-Miller-like-ness.

So why am I so fucking nervous?

He holds the door open, brows knitting at the sight of your hand in your mouth.

“Window,” You offer.

He mouthes a silent ‘ah,’ before leaning forward to duck his head out the door and, in the process, somewhat sandwiching you against his chest.

Maybe it’s because he smells like forest-fires, but your skin burns red-hot.

Miller looks both ways, checking the status of the hall (empty), then nudges you into the dim light of his place with the weight of his hand against your lower back.

The door shuts behind you.

You’d been here at least a million times before, but the thoughts rising now feel so… new. The jacket strewn on the side of the sagging sofa is his — Joel Miller has sat at this table and showered, slept, fucked inside these walls.

Cut it out. It’s just ‘cause you’re alone. And older.

But what about it, now that you were alone and older?

Old enough to know what goes on between a man and a woman and a little bit of desperation at just the right amounts… and there sure was a lot of him, and some desperation, too…

“Nervous?”

Your feet hit the floor, all thoughts evaporating at the sound of his word. Blushing, you try to de-code his taunt, spoken with playfulness and too much condescension.

“Wh — what’d you — nervous for what? No.”

He’s already across the room, sifting through a box of miscellaneous items. A yellowed lamp shade catches his side-profile, illuminates the smirk spreading across his face. Then, a low command:

“Relax,” and your spine settles, acceding to his wish. “Some girls get nervous, y’know, takin’ it the first time.”

Oh.

You clear your throat, daring to take a step into his place, incensed enough to trace the indents and stab-marks decorating his kitchen table.

“No.”

You’re taken aback by the accuracy and the strength underpinning your answer. It’s true, you aren’t afraid, and hadn’t been afraid of much in a very long while.

What’s a Joel Miller to your best friend’s public hanging? What’s he to a dozen rows of semi automatics raining down on your zigzagging toes? What’s he to a period cramp?

Like a bolt of lightning hitting you in the chest, that cocky, gauche and indelicate rebel you’d grown into reappears.

“I’ve been told I take things pretty well my first time.” The tension rises — this time, at your command — just as Joel does, carrying a leather pouch in his right hand. “And it’s not, anyways,” you add for good measure.

The leather drops onto the marked-up table. Joel crosses his arms.

“Not sellin’ me on givin’ you one of these, sweetheart.”

He gestures to the bag.

A mock-frown as you draw closer to him. His eyes, although severe, reflect the playfulness dancing in your own.

“Why not?” You ask, voice dripping with false innocence.

Joel’s gaze doesn’t stray as it hardens, focused on your own. “They’re for accidents, mistakes, attacks,” he explains, deep and dangerous, “Not girls who can’t keep their pretty lil’ legs together.”

Oof.

On one hand, it sounds like he’s genuinely chastising you for your careless behaviour. But, on the other, he sounds jealous, taunting, hungry.

I’ll play that hand.

Sleeping all day had left you wide awake, and that long-time, school-girl crush on the man before you was dying for content to fantasize about. Even if he pushed you off, you’d get to feel the weight of his hands on your body, right?

So, you return with a taunt of your own: “You think my legs are pretty?”

He shakes his head, his signature scowl spreading as he mostly ignores you. “I think you should at least use condoms,” a breath, “N’ know their first names.”

Ouch.

“I usually do.” you murmur, “and it broke last night.”

“Bullshit.”

“What do you mean, bullshit?”

Joel sighs and lowers himself into one of the four old, rickety chairs lining the table. His hand comes up to his temples and you notice how his legs, exhausted, part.

The man doesn’t deign to respond.

Irritation begins to well in your core, sneaking through your arms and up into your throat. The muscle in your jaw must be twitching like crazy.

How does he know? How the fuck does he always know?

Across the QZ, as a skilled liar and born and bred bandit, people tended to hold whatever image of you that you’d crafted for them.

Not Joel. Never Joel.

He saw through you in a way that had always felt… intimate. It was one of the reasons, you guessed, he didn’t dare spend too much time alone with you and why you’d always been curious about him (as a man, of course). Now, there was no avoiding your obvious vulnerability from either of you — you were stripped bare, your dressings in his hand.

It makes you want to flee as much as it makes you want to leap into his arms.

You snatch up the pouch, opening it up to find a mass of differently coloured and shaped pills. Rifling through, you ignore Joel’s stare boring into your hands’ erratic search.

“Yellow ones,” he says.

“I know what they look like,” you retort.

“‘Course you do.”

He moves faster than he should be able to.

One moment, your palm is slicing through the air, headed straight for the highest point of his cheek. The next, you’re facedown on the table. Your attacking hand is caged in by a much larger, much stronger one, pinned to the decaying wood; the other, he pins behind your back. Pills litter the floor — Joel’s boot crunches into a wayward one as he adjusts himself behind you, leaning over your struggling, smaller frame, immobilizing you with his weight.

“Let go of me—” you hiss, words smothered by the wooden surface pressed to your profile.

“—Shut up ‘n listen,” he commands, leaning over to tower over his trapped victim. “Try that again n’I’ll do worse’n kill you. Understand?”

Despite the authenticity of his threat, a strangled laugh wracks your lungs.

“Gonna turn me in for contraband, Miller? Watch them gun me down in the square?”

You smile through your heavy breaths. There, behind your hips, is a growing movement indicative of some other kind of punishment he’s got in mind.

“Or,” you continue on coyly, “Give me another reason to need that pill?”

Joel pauses, untangling your meaning.

Then, an exasperated scoff. His hold tightens on your wrist and you wince. “You always thinkin’ of the fastest way to get a man to fuck you?”

“Only when his cock’s pressed against my ass.”

He goes quiet — only for a moment. Somewhere outside, rounds echo through the night.

“Z’that what you want?” His voice is deep and threatening, promising of the kind of hard, mind-numbing fuck you’d been craving for weeks.

After a hard swallow, you nod, catching the raise of his eyebrows in your periphery.

A moment passes as he mulls over your answer. Only your shallow, anticipatory breaths populate the quiet space.

“Alright.”

And he lets go.

Heart racing, wrists aching, you flip around to his neutral, impenetrable expression.

“Get down on your knees.”

Without taking a moment to decide whether you’re living anything more than just a really fucked up dream, you sink to your knees, folding your hands in your lap (to stop them from shaking). Before you, Joel’s bulge twitches while he watches you yielding to submission, and you try to ignore the excitement building between your own two legs.

His eyes burn into yours: black, starved, weighty. He tells you to shut your own and you do, unable to resist the tone of his command. Within the self-imposed darkness, Joel’s following order — ‘open your mouth,’ — parts your lips as if they were under his spell. You wonder what you must look like to him, needy and ready to receive whatever you’re given.

He speaks again.

“Show me your tongue, angel.”

The gruffness punctuating his arousal doesn’t let you stand a chance. You let your mouth fall open wider.

Next, there’s rustling. You try to remember whether or not he’d had on a belt, listening and failing to hear the soft clinks of a buckle coming undone.

Too soon, something wraps around your chin — thick, calloused fingers — and the pressure of a thumb running down the middle of your tongue sends a rush of electricity down every stacked vertebrae. It’s slow, tantalizingly slow, as if the man were trying to memorize the feel of every groove, ridge, and bud on his leisurely way out.

When Joel drops his hand, a small weight remains at the back of your throat.

“Close.”

You do, opening your eyes to meet his own: severe and wanting — or wanting for severity?

It’s a pill. That much is obvious once the taste begins to spread, bitter and chemical and totally gag-worthy. He follows up with ‘swallow’ for his own sick enjoyment; by the time he says it, it’s clear that you already have.

What kind of game is this, Miller?

Your cheeks burn when your company kneels down. He places his big, broad hand partly on your neck, partly to the side of your jaw, and you’re still too taken aback to tear it off. The feel of his rough palm against your racing pulse silences every urge to enact revenge. Words don’t come — too quickly forgotten on one’s knees.

“You’re way too easy for your own good, sweetheart,” he near-whispers, shooting to kill in a blow packed tight with condescension. “Don’t let me see you here again.”

And that’s it: your cue to get lost.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Miller pulls away from your reddening skin, straightening to stand. You follow suit soon after, heart pumping lead, tongue bruised by the memory of his touch (more overwhelming than the metallic residue dripping down your throat).

He turns, running a few fingers through his hair. It’s the last look you get before resigning yourself to the journey back home.

Still, before turning the rusted handle, in a brief moment of respite, of clarity, you seize the final word:

“I’m only ‘easy’ when I’m drunk. Or interested.”

Silence courses through the room as Joel registers the meaning behind your confession.

“Goodnight, Miller.”

With that, you see yourself into the hallway, checking its status before tearing into the stairwell.

You barely breathe.

He wanted me — he had to have wanted me.

Miller was a pragmatic player; surely, he’d only bother to play with toys he liked like that… right?

Right?

Unable to clear your head or cool the heat radiating through your core, you take the long way home, the distant sounds of a war between rivals soothing the cacophony of noise swimming between your ears.

—

For the next two weeks, all you’re able to think about is him.

You think about him when he’s gone and when he’s in the room, grumbling in hushed tones to your father. You think about him when you’re unable to fall asleep, letting your hands slip beneath the waistband of your shorts, imagining your own fingers as thick, tan ones running through the warmth between your legs.

He takes no notice of you — a fact you deeply resent. Even in your skimpiest clothing, he’s like a damn horse with blinders on. You decide, in the past weeks, he’d either acquired the patience of Job or purged every sinful craving from his system when he’d stuck his fingers down your throat.

Naturally, you’re more than happy when, at breakfast (two in the afternoon), your father gives you the heads up about tonight’s gathering at the Bar (which was really just an asbestos-ridden basement equipped with enough prohibition-style gadgets and architecture to host a good ‘strategic meeting’ every other month).

“Everyone’s gonna be there,” he mumbles. “Need you to keep your ears open. Had to take a couple rats out last week…”

Everyone’s gonna be there.

Smiling to yourself, your thoughts start to spin out. Business, distractions, booze. Tonight would host a million opportunities for you to get him alone.

Hope blooms through your chest.

Do your worst, Miller.

—

“Man, I wish we could’ve experienced cocktails. Straight hooch is ass.”

A peer named Mel, just a year older than yourself, cringes as she sips on whatever murky liquor’s found its way into her cup.

You don’t mind the taste so much, having grown mostly immune to its taste and burn. In fact, you’d come to welcome the subsequent lapse in breath and judgement.

There was little else in this world that made you feel alive.

“Mhm,” you respond absent-mindedly, looking for a familiar scowl among the mass of scowls peppering the crowd.

A sigh to your right. “Always awesome, having your attention.”

The criticism snaps you back into your body. You smile sheepishly at your friend, apologizing through a wince.

She shrugs, her raggedy, pin-decorated jacket jingling with the movement. “S’okay. Known you long enough to know that look.”

For that, she receives a quizzical glance.

Mel comes back with a scoff. “No victims tonight?”

“Oh god,” you shoot her a look of disgust. “Do you mind not using such weird vocabulary? Make me sound like a predator.”

As the words tumble out, you zero in on the object of your search. There he is: eyebrows knit together in concentration, drink in hand, unsurprisingly (and annoyingly) in conversation with your father. A few other stragglers are in the mix, too, but they’re easily overlooked. Time slows to a full stop in his wake —only for the briefest of seconds —

“Well since the last guy actually wound up dead a week later, I think it’s fitting.”

Once again, Mel’s managed to wrangle your interest.

You stare blankly into her onyx eyes, ringlets falling through molasses around her face. “Jeremy?”

And she’s bewildered. “You didn’t hear?”

This time, both of your heads turn in the same direction.

“Ratted to FEDRA about the storehouse off tenth,” she explains, gesturing towards Miller and your father with a tilt of her head. Famous for her bravery, she stoops into your shoulder, averting his gaze and speaking under her breath, “Judging by the way they found him, my guess is it was mostly Miller’s stuff.”

It’s as if she’d screamed it.

The subject of your conversation turns to face you right as your company’s words drift off. Despite the level of noise, the amount of people, and the cloudiness of the air, you’re trapped in the corridor of your mutual stare, cornered.

The challenge, the knowing marking his expression.

“I need some air.”

You twist into the body standing behind you, shoving row after row of criminal scum out of the way. Mel doesn’t follow — she’d never hung around to comfort you, only to inform you. A mutual, typical relationship for the age, and just how things worked in the QZ.

You slam into the door, stomping into a deserted, silent alley, empty save for a few drunk strays. Your lips begin to tingle and a scream builds inside your lungs. Stalking blindly into the night, unsure of your direction, alone in half a top and a plain, ass-length skirt, shivering despite the warmth of the air…

You’re practically begging for trouble.

Just as your eyes catch the numbers on the old, rusted street sign above, just as you realize you’re on a monitored street tonight, only safe after curfew every other Monday and Wednesday, you’re grabbed by the waist, pulled into the space between two buildings, and shoved into a sheltered nook.

A dim, yellow light clicks on automatically. There’s a door (chained closed) leading into the building to your left and darkness to your right.

And there’s Joel Miller above you, his expression indeterminable.

“You asshole,” you barely hear yourself breathe over the sound of the blood rushing in your ears before lunging forward in a useless attempt to, once again, strike his profile.

He catches your wrist, no doubt having anticipated the attack. It’s written on your face, in your eyes, in your shallow, uneven inhalations. He takes your other hand before you’ve even thought to use it, lifting it above your head and slamming it against the old stucco behind you.

“You’re violent,” he says flatly.

He tightens his hold when you struggle against it. “Proud of yourself, yeah? You’re a killer.”

That inspires a slight smirk. You half expect him to return with an ‘as if you didn’t already know that.’

Instead, he says, “Sweetheart, you didn’t even know his name.”

“You should’ve told me.”

And that’s the real source of this anger: it’s rage at being the last to know.

And for what? To protect your feelings? Since when had anyone in your life bothered to do that?

“And don’t call me ‘sweetheart’,” you add for good measure.

You’d wanted him to touch you so badly for weeks now, but here, scorned at being left in the dark and confused at the death of a paramour, you only want to get free.

“And what’d he call you?” He spits, leaning down and in, inadvertently pressing his thigh between your legs — when his breath grazes the skin of your ear, it causes them to part (against your better judgement). “Got lots of names, right?” He continues to tease, “Heard your boyfriend’s pretty one for you before I shut him up — ‘that fuckin’ slut,’ f’I’m rememberin’ right.”

Despite your rage-shakes, you’re warming at the core, Joel’s pressure against it dizzying your already-addled head. It confuses you, makes the scorn easier to access.

“How did I come up, Miller?” You exhale, jutting your chin towards him. “Couldn’t help asking for all the dirty little details, could you?”

He smiles, and the act lacks any sort of kindness. “‘Lot easier gettin’ him alone once he thought he was meetin’ you.” Joel slams your wrist harder into the wall when you try to wriggle away. “Not sure you wanna keep making that kind of impression, angel.”

It’s hard to rationalize with him so close, as his pet-names echoe inside your head. He’d used your name to enact gang-law violence on a boy who’d been inside you, and yet, all you can think, all you can hear, is the way ‘sweetheart’ sounds tumbling off his lips.

“Fucking let me go, Miller,” you manage to exasperate, resenting the begging edge to every word. “I don’t need another abstinence lecture from you.”

Kicking one ankle off balance, Joel turns you around, pressing your stomach to the wall, your back into his chest. Ignoring your whines and pitiful struggle, he wraps a free hand around your neck, pushing your head against his collarbone. Your stomach erupts with butterflies as the rough pad of his thumb traces the front of your throat.

Yes — no — yes, he wants me — no, no, this is wrong, this is so wrong —

“‘Be wasted on you, anyways,” he says, rough and earnest, like his hand sliding down your chest, your breasts, your stomach, “Startin’ to realize if I can’t fix your dad’s mistakes…” and he’s finding the hem of your skirt and yanking it up, bunching the fabric around your hips —

“Might as well take advantage of them.”

He moves hungrily. He’s everywhere, sliding into your underwear and across your breasts, his big arms and suffocating biceps enveloping your entire frame.

“Joel—”

But he claps a hand over your mouth, silencing any hope of your pleas being effective.

“Think I haven’t seen you? Your lil’ looks…” a low laugh, “n’ those fuckin’ clothes?” God, the rumble, the sheer want in his voice hammers at your initial resistance, and you feel yourself welcoming the feel of his thick, long fingers, sliding between your wet folds. You’re clay, melting against the curved, firm wall of his chest.

You mewl pathetically into his palm.

Another low laugh wracks his lungs, dances at the top of your ear.

“Knew you’d be this wet for me.”

“Knew since you got down on your knees,” Joel continues, uncovering your mouth only to ease a few fingers between your lips — lips that part as though commanded, and a mouth that welcomes and caresses whatever it receives, “‘N opened this pretty lil’ mouth for me to fuck it. Can’t close my eyes without seein’ you like that — so fuckin’ needy.” He exhales from between his teeth, signalling his approval while you suck him down to the knuckles.

His fingers tease your clit and you give him your thanks by pleasuring those of his other hand.

When his hands move, it’s to hold you steady and balanced as he drags your underwear down your legs. That thick, heavy cloud of arousal hides any and all rational thoughts from view.

And he knows. He knows you’re past the point of no return, restraining you only out of his desire to rather than out of a real need to. He knows from the whine you breathe at the loss of his hand against your clit, moving to work at his belt buckle instead.

“Gonna use a condom?” You breathe, emboldened by your clearing senses at the temporary lack of stimulation.

At first, you think he’s missed your taunt.

He backs up, pulling your hips along with him until the tips of your fingers are no longer touching the decaying wall before you. Joel pulls you upright and against him with an arm around your waist and a hand around your throat, turning your head and tilting it back to meet your eyes.

You grasp onto his forearms, failing to stand, unable to breathe. His hardness digs into your back, and his cruel eyes show you just how much pleasure he takes in your struggle.

“Don’t like to waste ‘em,” he finally answers, rocking his cock against your spine, “But I will if you beg. You gonna beg?”

He manipulates your answer, fingers moving to your red-hot core — he barely grazes the nerves, only dancing over the needy flesh. You can’t tear your eyes from him either, tethered to your body through his gaze.

Joel Miller was a frustrating lover.

“N-no,” is your answer, slightly strangled and softly stuttered.

He smiles. “S’what I thought.” Then, “Show me what you can do, angel,” he coos, lips just inches away from yours, his hold on your body relaxing —

“Use your pretty lil’ hands n’ put my cock where you want it most.”

And you both know exactly where that is.

After a nod, Joel allows you to bend forward slowly — it’s like moving through honey. Your legs burn with effort as you reach between your legs to wrap a hand around his thick, hard length.

Christ, he’s huge.

He groans when you touch him and uses his own hand to help guide his tip between your folds. One hand holds your waist, fingers extended under your ribs to support your weight in a skilled show of experience.

With his tip at your aching entrance, you try to lean back, to slide yourself slowly down his many inches.

But Joel doesn’t allow it.

He pushes into you in one go, clicking his tongue at your strangled gasp —

The man hadn’t even bothered to open you up with his fingers.

“Ah, c’mon,” he condescends, “You can take it.”

Then he’s setting a hard pace, hands moving from your hips to your ribs to your biceps to your hair to your neck — anywhere he wanted to go, he went. One eventually comes to the front of your throat, tilting your eyes back and up towards the ceiling. Every one of his thrusts arches your back further until you’re contorting into a half-moon shape, standing only by the grace of his support.

And it feels so good. Joel fills you up to the brim, takes you to heaven and floods your ears with hymns, punishes you in the kind of way you’d only experienced in dreams.

Words tumble out, but they’re filled with nothingness. “Joel,” “fuck,” and “yesohgodyes,” quickly become staples of your vocabulary.

He laughs whenever you sob, grows harder every time you moan, restrains you when you try to run away.

The hand around your throat tightens, digging unforgivably into the flesh as you start to let go, as your walls begin to clench and flutter appreciatively around his cock.

“M’I making you happy, sweetheart? My cock making you smile?” He asks gruffly, pulling you back into his chest. Joel readjusts you into whatever shape you need to be in at the new angle, hips still slamming into your ass. Struggling to stand on your tiptoes, he steadies you with his arms and his hand on your jaw, forcing you to look up into his rugged face.

“Mmhm,” is all you can offer him, the pitch jumping up halfway through when the head of his cock grazes that perfect spot inside your cunt.

He doesn’t let up.

“Show me, baby—” he commands, out of breath, too, but not nearly as tortured as you, “—Show me your smile.”

You do your best, smiling up at him, degrading yourself even more at the hands of Joel-fucking-Miller. And he eats it up, loves the way your grin turns into a bitten lip and knit eyebrows over closed eyes, slowing his thrusts to rock even deeper inside you.

You moan something unintelligible, and a laugh rustles through your tangled hair.

“Am I makin’ you come?”

You nod, feeling that familiar rush of pressure blooming somewhere within that throbbing bundle of nerves under his spell.

He smirks in pride and victory, the last look you get before your head falls against his shoulder, your muscles going lax as the peak builds, as your half-sobs grow louder.

“S’it, baby, tell ‘em,” he coos, nipping and sucking the skin on the side of your throat. “Gonna tell the whole street how you take it like a good lil’ slut.”

His fingers fall to your clit, enticing you right over the edge. You vision blurs and your legs shake, but Joel talks you through your orgasm, sweet nothings starting with, “S’right — show me — yes, fuck — good girl…”

And then —

He stops.

You whine, stars dancing before your eyes as the mean, mean man inside you refuses to fuck you through your climax.

“Joel,” you plead, grinding back against him in a pathetic show of need, “Come with me.”

He does the opposite, sliding himself out of your sore opening. You turn to face him, restoring your balance with hands against his chest, gazing up at him in desire-stricken reproach.

“Use your mouth,” he says, voice gruff at your ruined sight and from his own hand on his cock, keeping his arousal level, “Not gettin’ any more help from me.”

It’s unclear whether ‘help’ means pills or his cock, but you assume both to be safe.

You try to argue (having spent the last few weeks dreaming of Joel dripping down your legs) but he just won’t budge.

Then, his voice softens.

“You know your dad’d kill me, angel.”

And it’s really the sweetness of his tone that does it.

Sinking to your knees, it’s déjà vu when you open wide for him, steadying your shaking knees with both hands on his half clothed, half naked hips. Gravel and debris dig painfully into your bare knees, but you ignore the sting, smiling instead at the taste of yourself on Joel’s cock, lips sliding adoringly down the thick length of it.

He groans his approval, tangling his fingers in your hair to help guide your movements.

As you take him in again and again and again, pleasing every inch of him, he chokes out a laugh.

“Never seen you so quiet,” he muses (mostly to himself), caressing your cheekbone with his free hand —

“Gagged by an old man’s cock.”

You pull off, pumping him with both hands, asking breathlessly, “Are you all so big?”

He smiles, eyes darkening at the dirty compliment. “Give you a few numbers n’ you can tell me.”

God, he’s beautiful from down here.

You hold his attention and lick a slow stripe down the underside of his cock, half-grinning up at his lust-filled expression.

“I only want yours, Joel Miller.”

An uneasy inhale as you take him back in, his brows furrowing and his cock growing impossibly harder. Your words please him, he returns by groaning orders and praises like: “S’all yours, baby — take it all — take aaall that dick — good fuckin’ girl.”

He’s so close and you know it, moaning in submission at his hand’s pressure against the back of your head. With your nose crunched into his abdomen, you hold your throat open for him to use it however he pleases — reduced to nothing more than the man’s plaything.

There’s a low “ah, fuck,” from above, and then you finally know what Joel Miller tastes like.

It’s better than the Plan B.

You hear nothing beyond his recovering breaths, feel nothing past pride, lust, and exhaustion.

Eventually, he loosens his grip. You pull off of him delicately, drawing a groan from between his gritted teeth when you make sure to suck every last drop of his seed into your mouth.

Sitting back on your ankles, you roll your head up to face him.

He swipes a thumb under your lips, clearing the saliva connecting you to his softening cock.

“Still mad at me?” He asks.

You’d be crazy to say yes.

“Only for pulling out.”

You note the twitch at the corner of his mustache.

Joel helps you back on your feet, using one hand to pull you up by your arm and another to arrange himself back to decency.

You adjust your shirt; Joel fixes your skirt. It’s a strange kind of silence settling inside this pocket at the side of a random, ruined building.

Then, your company clears his throat, that mask of seriousness falling over his expression once again.

“You gonna be smart?”

What ever could he mean?

Stay away from him? Stay away from men? Practice abstinence? Use protection?

Either way, you’re not one to make promises you know you can’t keep.

You cross your arms.

“No.”

He sighs.

Well, looks like things are already back to normal.

His face softens and he shakes his head, already regretting his next words. “Just — just come find me, then. I won’t do… this again, but — but I’ll help.”

You frown.

“What do you mean, ‘this’?”

He stares down into your accusatory eyes with a look you’d received many times from him, one screaming, “get real.”

“Fine,” you mutter, breaking eye-contact, “Thank you.”

With a stoic nod, he walks around you, heading back into the night. You try, in vain, to watch him go in silence — god knows you had some thinking to get to — and find that, instead of getting it out of your system, the entanglement had only left you wanting for more.

And more and more.

“Is this what you meant?” and you hear his footsteps halt, “When you told me you’d do worse than kill me? When I tried to hit you?”

It comes out before you can help it, and you twist around to face his still, broad shoulders.

You can hear the smile teasing his lips as he utters the words.

“Why are you askin’ me that?”

Still facing his back, you break into a smile of your own. “So I’ll know what I have to do to get you to do it again.”

You watch him shake his head, grey-streaked ripples in the low light.

“Try your best not to find out, angel.”

With that, he disappears into the darkness, leaving you in the flickering doorway. Thighs aching, heart racing, you take a deep breath, trying to memorize the feeling of what it felt to have them taken from you by Joel Miller.

A feeling you’d chase.

—

Put your red boots on

Baby, giddy up

Baby wants a dance

Baby gets her way

Dreamy nights

Talk to me with that whiskey breath

Twirl me twice

I'll treat you like a holiday

And don't say you're over me

When we both know that you ain't

Don't say you're over me

Baby, it's already too late

Just do what you do best with me

Dance me all around the room

Spin me like a ballerina, super high

Dance me all around the moon

Light me up like the 4th of July

Once, twice, three times

The guy I ever thought I would meet, so

Don't say you're over me

When we both know that you lie

If you lie down right next to me

Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie

If you lie down right next to me

Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie

When you lie down right next to me

Get your jacket on

Be a gentleman

Get into your truck

And pick me up at eight

'Cause we were built for

The long haul freight train

Burnt by fire

Without trial like a stowaway

And don't say you're over me

When they all know that you ain't

If you lay down right next to me

Dance me all around the room

Spin me like ballerina super high

Dance me all around the moon

Like six times 'til I'm sick and I cry

Once, twice, three times

The guy I ever thought I would meet, so

Don't say you're over me

When they all know that you're lying

If you lie down right next to me

Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie

Lie, you lie

If you lie down right next to me

Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie

Lie, you lie

When you lie down right next to me

—

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[ghostfanwriter]

✨🍑 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 🍑✨

🍑 Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

✨ Synopsis: You catch Joel looking at a dress while on run for supplies, so you decide to bring it home... And torture him with it at a Jackson party.

🍑 Features: 🔞 Pre established relationship, possessive Joel, teasing, edging, Joel spiting in reader's mouth (🫥), real quick feet action, rough unprotected piv, oral sex (f and m receiving), Joel being insecure and soft at the end.

✨ Word count: Around 7k

🍑 About this: The Jackson couple's back! This time I wanted to touch more on their dynamics and how they work outside the bedroom. But everything builds to some possessive sex with a very possessive Joel.

✨ Author's Note: I've had this drafted for months now, and it finally matured enough to be yours 🩷

Good reading ✨🍑

You were on a run for supplies and winter clothes with Joel and a few others from Jackson. The two of you found this fancy women's clothes store and were grabbing everything that felt nice and warm. Besides, you thought of looking for nice dresses for women to wear on your solstice party, that would celebrate the end of summer and all the resources you got from it.

Joel said it was okay with him as long as you carried the bag full of dresses back home.

You finished looking around and went after Joel, who you found holding a dress in front of himself, just looking at it. His brain forming the perfect image of how your body would look in it.

He knew every line and every curve you had, having touched, bitten, kissed and squeezed you enough times to have them memorized. He thought about how life would be if things didn't go to shit.

Taking you to a party, wearing nice clothes and just drinking and having fun. He was lost in his fantasy when someone called everyone out, it was getting late and it would be dark soon. He yelled back and put the dress back where he found it, turning his head to look for you, calling you by your name.

You hide and as soon as he leaves that corner of the store you run to it and grab the dress, putting it inside your backpack and running back to the other side of the store, emerging from the clothes racks for him to find you.

"Hey, I'm here." You say. He looks at you and smiles.

"C'mon, baby, gotta go." You walk towards him and hold his hands, snuggling to his side as you walk out the store to find the others and go back home.

When he saw you struggling with its weight, Joel insisted he'd carry the bag with the dresses for you.

"Holy fucking shit!" Ellie almost screams when you walk out the bathroom. You look at her and her eyes are wide, mouth open and a ever so light blush on her cheeks. Dina turns to look at you and her face looks exactly like Ellie's, but she's also laughing.

"Oh, someone's definitely gonna fucking die tonight. Either Joel will fall dead when he sees you or he's going to kill every man that looks at you."

You laugh. You only truly saw the dress when you picked it up from your backpack to wash it over at Ellie and Dina's. You didn't want Joel seeing it and ruining the surprise.

The dress is tight and long, but has a slit on one of the legs that goes all the way to your thigh, almost to your hips. It hugs your body perfectly and you can't wait to see his face.

Winter was soon to arrive and for a good while you'll not bare to wear any less than three layers of clothes, so you wanted to enjoy your last chance to look good on something.

Joel was out working all day, and by the end of the afternoon he went home to shower.

He smiled when he found the clothes you left him perfectly laid out on top of your bed, with a perfume you got him a while back.

He was hoping to find you home, but he loved that you took your time to prepare this for him. He got ready and went straight to where the party was gonna happen to help hang lights, fix a few things and be his hot contractor self.

You were gonna meet him with Ellie and Dina, who were also dressed up on some nicer button up shirts and jeans they've found.

On the way from their house to the party, you got compliments all around, men and women turning heads to look at you. You were happy to see all the women in dresses and nice clothes. It was a privilege you had in Jackson, to dress up and have fun, and you were glad everyone was having a good time.

For just one night it was good to forget the world had ended.

You start looking for Joel as soon as you arrive at the party. Scanning the place, you find him drinking and laughing amongst a few men. It's funny how anyone around him looks blurry to you. As soon as you see your man, there's nothing else that could get your attention.

Nothing else matters.

He looks so good, so big, so strong. His wide shoulders, big frame, strong chest and stomach, his legs, spread and inviting, making you want to sit on him. His arms, showing through the flannel he's wearing, his big hand making an already tiny shot glass look even smaller.

One of the men with him locks eyes on you and Joel curiously follows his gaze.

When his eyes land on you his expression thickens immediately. He looks at you up and down, stopping at your face. Your smile disarming him completely. He puts his glass down and gets up, heavily walking towards you with a smile on his face. You open your arms, squeezing him tight when he hugs you, engulfing you in his arms.

"Missed you" You said, because spending the day away felt like an eternity.

"Thought about you all day, peach. Couldn't wait to see you." He said on your neck.

You pull away, he holds you by the waist and you keep your fingers interlaced behind his back, giving him a quick but firm kiss on the lips. "Look as good as you thought?" You ask and his face reddens — he didn't think you saw him with the dress that day. "Can't hide from you, can I?"

"Nuh-uh." You say, shaking your head and giggling.

"You look even better than I thought, amor." He kisses your cheek, a low and effective move he knows to make you melt in his hands.

"You look really good too." You praise him and he looks down at himself, wearing the outfit you sorted for him, a nice button up flannel and a new pair of jeans. A stark contrast from the worn out clothes he wears everyday. "Have to look good when I have you like this by my side, baby. Or the others will see you're too good for me and try and take you away from me."

You shoot him a stern look through your lashes and dig your nails on his back. He gets it and laughs. "Alright, no saying stuff like that about myself. Got it."

"Well, let it be known, Joel Miller, that I wouldn't leave this party with anyone else but you." You say, getting on your tiptoes to give him another quick peck on the lips.

"C'mon, stop being so fucking gay you two." Ellie teases, bringing you a drink and calling you to come hang out with your friends. "Good to see you too, Ellie." Joel says, reluctantly letting you go and watching you walk away.

It had been a long time since you've had this much fun. Hanging out with your friends, sitting on Joel's lap and listening to the stories everyone had to tell.

You laughed, drank and spent time with people you cherished.

But it didn't take long for Joel to get overwhelmed by the attention you were getting.

As soon as you started greeting people and walking around, he noticed the way people looked and touched you for even just a second too long.

This one guy approached you by the drinks table and kept talking to you. Joel doing his best to focus on his food and not break his own teeth with the force he was chewing it down.

He looked at you, young and pretty. Your dress hugging your body so nicely, your hair falling effortlessly over your shoulders, a big smile on your face.

People just couldn't look only once.

And it made him feral.

They all turned to shoot you a second look, almost as if trying to make sure they were actually seeing you. Like you were a mirage.

He couldn't blame them, though. He knew that feeling all too well. To not believe his eyes when looking at you; he felt the same when you first slept together.

He was frozen, sitting on the edge of his bed watching you undress, bringing you close to him and kissing your body, to make sure everything he was seeing was actually there, in front of him.

And he mesmerized you the same way, even today, watching him work from a distance. Your mind wandering thinking about the man, as if you've never been with him. Picturing his strong arms holding you, making you feel safe.

Whenever something broke on your house you always offered to help him fix it. Not just to be useful — even though you knew very little about fixing things, he was slowly teaching you what he knew —, but also to watch him. His muscles flexing, his hair getting messy, the thin layer of sweat that slowly covered his skin, his each time more laborious breathing.

You couldn't help but eat the man with your eyes.

You feel good knowing that amongst all the women in Jackson, you were lucky enough to be by his side.

Your chest almost aching from imagining if he were someone else's. Making you do your best to show him how much you wanted and loved him.

How much you loved when he hugged you tight, when he soothed you when you were scared or sad, how he caressed your hair for you to sleep, how he played his guitar on your porch, singing you nice songs. How he snuggled his nose on your neck before leaving for work, how loved he made you feel.

But he didn't know that. He thought he was the lucky one. That you could just leave him at any minute, going after a stronger and younger man.

He was removed from his thoughts when Tommy touched his shoulder. His tense expression softening a little. "Hey, man! Have you figured out how to make it look like an accident yet?" He laughs, looking at Joel and following his gaze, finding you by the drinks table, the guy still talking to you.

"Don't know if I want it to look like an accident." Joel says back, and his serious tone makes Tommy wonder if he's actually considering killing the man for talking to you.

Knowing his brother...

"Hum. Make him an example; send a message, right? 'Look what happens when you mess with that belongs to me!'" he says, mocking Joel. Joel shoots him a stern look, but laughs when his brother slaps his chest.

"Hey, quit it man, alright? She looks good, boys will flirt with her, get over it. I would bet my ass she would never pay them any mind." Tommy tries to ease him.

Joel sees the man get more comfortable around you, laughing and touching your arm occasionally. You look relaxed, and he fucking hates it. You're terribly oblivious to notice when someone's flirting with you — although you always cut it as soon as you notice.

It's just that this time it's taking you a bit too fucking long to do something about it.

"It's not her I'm worried about. Some of these boys think they're grown men, think they can talk to her like that." He shoves more food inside his mouth, clearly eating to release some steam.

On the other side of the salon, you're getting tired of the conversation you're in, and your face probably shows it. The guy starts accelerating his pace.

"Anyway, I was thinking you would like to leave this party? I mean, it's kind of dumb, you know? Maybe we could go to my place, or yours." Your face freezes. Was this guy flirting with you this whole time?

Fuck.

You look over a Joel, and judging by his face... yes. This guy was flirting with you.

Fuck.

You know you should shake the guy off, tell him you're not interested.

But when you keep looking at Joel... Jealousy looked so good on him, his jaw moving slowly and forcefully, his eyes hooded and dark, eyebrows low, nostrils wide. You wanna see more of it.

"I don't think it's a dumb party. It's fun, were celebrating everything summer gave us, everything we have stocked up." You say.

"Well, yeah, I guess. But not as much fun as we could have somewhere else." He said, coming closer to you. You watch Joel from your peripheral, making sure he's not coming over to murder the poor guy.

"Can't. Don't want to, honestly." You say, feeling bad at how the guy's face sinks. "Besides, I have a man, you know? Joel, Tommy's brother." The guy's face now goes pale, his eyes widen and he follows your gaze, already on Joel and Tommy.

He pulls away from you. Almost like he can see his fate on Joel's expression.

He heard the stories, of what Joel did before Jackson. He didn't want to be in one of them.

"I'm so sorry. I... I didn't know. I've never seen you two together, like together. I thought you were just close because of Ellie. I'm so sorry." He managed to say between stutters before rushing away from you.

You look back at Joel and Tommy and laugh, biting the inside of your lower lip.

You grab your drink and walk towards Joel, a silly and innocent smile on your face.

"What did he say?" Tommy asked laughing, wanting to see Joel's reaction. You look at Joel, seeing his low eyebrows and forceful chewing.

He was livid, but not at you. Maybe your oblivion, but not you. He liked how you teased him, because he knew it'd never go beyond that, and you were only doing it for him. But fuck... He hated to see men flirt with you.

"We were talking about food and supplies, and then out of nowhere he asked if we could go over to his or my place. Said we could have move fun there." You said, making Tommy laugh, Joel shaking his head furiously, still chewing his food.

"Poor guy was inviting himself to his own death." Tommy said laughing, and Joel grunted, shaking his head, still chewing.

His brother was right. If a guy showed up at your doorstep looking for you, Joel would just snap his neck on the spot.

"You need to pay more attention, baby. These boys don't wanna be your friends, I told you that." Joel says on a tender but firm tone. Tommy finishes his drink and gets up.

"He's right, sweetheart. You give these boys too much attention and they think you're theirs. Cut it as soon as they start." He advices, slapping Joel on the back of his shoulder when leaving. "Besides I don't want to help Joel hide any fucking bodies. Behave you two. Also, try and have some fucking fun, Joel! It's a party." He says, dancing away from you two.

Joel moves on his stool, spreads his legs and taps his thigh, calling you to come closer. You get in between his legs, leaning on him with your butt against his thigh. He buries his nose on your hair, caressing your sides. "I know you're right. But he was just talking about the food at first, as soon as he said that I told him I wasn't single and left." Your tone apologetic.

Joel's eyes softened. He knew he could trust you, and he hated to see you believe he thought you would flirt with anyone else. "I believe you, amor. I just hate to see it. You're mine, they should feel lucky they can look at you. Not be so fucking disrespectful." He said, kissing your temple.

Realistically, Jackson was a bit too full of people to keep track of all the couples. So, naturally, not everyone knew you and Joel were together, but it still made him angry how men would throw themselves at you.

He knows you are more than a pretty facade, and he doesn't like seeing you diminished to that. He loves you.

All of you.

The fact that you're eye candy is just a bonus he still isn't sure he deserves.

"Do you wanna dance? Let everyone see me in your arms, know I'm yours." You whisper the last part on his good ear, softly pulling his hair behind it. Your faces are close while you watch him fondly.

"Dance?" He's not much of a dancer, but he sighs at how you're looking at him.

A sweet smile across your face, your lower lip between your teeth, your eyes sweet and hopeful.

He can't say no to you.

You pull him up and he reluctantly follows you, dancing to a few songs you had on old CDs around Jackson. Your bodies are close, your head resting on his chest, his mouth on your temple, kissing you there.

"I know you do it on purpose." He suddenly says, his voice low and intimidating. Almost scary, honestly.

"What do you mean?" You look up at him, your head tilted to the side, your bodies still glued by the torsos.

"Y'know what I mean. Giving these boys attention just to piss me off. To see what I'll do about it later." His dark tone tickling your stomach, contrasting with his soft touch as he tucks your hair behind your ear.

"And what will you do about it?" You mimick his whisper.

"Still planning, bunny. But I'll make sure you don't do this again. Only I get to see this dress after tonight." He says, squeezing your waist harder. You sigh, laughing as you hug him tighter before letting him go and taking his hand in yours.

You walk him away from the crowd, talking to some people on the way, sneaking together into a bathroom and locking the door.

You pull him into a needy kiss, and he presses his already hard cock on you, taking you with hunger, his big arms engulfing you and his mouth not giving you room to breath. His beard scratches your face, the thin pain from it just making you lean further into him.

You pull away when you feel like you're gonna faint, palming him and biting his lower lip, both your breaths deep and heavy. When he mentions to open his belt, though, you lace your fingers on his locks, forcing him down.

He smirks and lets you lower him, pulling your dress up by the hips, revealing your underwear — also a new pair, one you got just for him. He groans at the sight.

He kisses your mount and licks your folds through your panties, making you laugh before pulling at the fabric, lowering it down your legs. You lets your dress go, and he groans when you open your legs and the slit of the dress grants him free access to your pussy. He spreads your folds with his thumbs, licking your clit.

"Fucking made for this, baby." He says with an amused sigh before burying his face on your folds.

He kisses, sucks and bites you with such passion, you're sure you don't last even one minute before cumming, pulling on his hair to keep balance and quietly moaning his name, little screams escaping your lips. You're doing your best to support yourself against the wall and not fall.

It's the type of orgasm that turns your brain off. Your legs struggle to hold you up, your body is shaking, you can't speak. Not even your tongue you can manage to hold inside your mouth, a wide and silly smile spread across your face.

He pulls your underwear fully out of you, and you whimper — the closest you can do to speaking, protesting, right now.

"I'll keep this. You won't need it anymore." He says, shoving your underwear into his back pocket and holding your face with both hands, his grip strong and comforting, your nails digging in his biceps.

"We'll go home now. No more playing around. You'll walk outside, say your goodbyes and I'm taking you home. I'll show you what you get for fucking teasing me, bunny." He says slowly and sternly as you look into his eyes, doing your best to pay attention and listen to him.

You're holding onto him, and he's supporting you up. You'd just fall if he let go. Your eyes are watering and wide, bliss glistening all over them. Your lips are frozen on a silly smile, and he stares at you for a second, a smile stamping his own lips.

"You're already like this and I haven't even fucked you yet, baby. So adorable." He kisses your jaw, maneuvering your face with such ease it makes you want to take him right there and then. To just handle you and do whatever he wants.

You moan into his beard, tugging on his shirt, trying to squeeze his arms. "Please, Joel." You beg in a whine.

"Uh-huh. You were teasing me till a minute ago and now you want me to treat you with my cock? You know how it works, baby." He pulls away, smiling when he sees the pout on your lips. "My way now. I'm dealing with you at home." He says kissing your pout before letting go of you, almost letting you fall on the floor.

He turns his back and leaves the bathroom, knowing damn well you were just gonna follow him and go home.

He knows you may want this even more than he does.

And he loves it.

You try to drop to your knees

"No. Not today." He says, grunting as he pulls you up.

You whine, melting into his arms, staying steady into his embrace.

But he's already mad, and he's already gonna fucking destroy you.

So why not make him give you his worst?

He is sucking on your neck when you let out amidst a moan: "You know, the men back at the party would let me do it."

He pulls away and shoots you a stern look, a cold and serious one. A look that told you clearly to not keep pushing him.

A look he rarely shot you, a complete contrast from the soft, sweet and weak gaze he'd offer you every time you looked at him.

And you know he's losing it. You know he's fighting not to throw you on the bed and fuck you until you apologize.

The problem is: he knows you never do. You've learned that if you make him mad he will fuck you, punishing you for it, so you never apologize.

Because you don't want him to stop. You love it.

You don't feel bad after it, no matter what he does to you.

You want him to do whatever he wants.

To use you like you're there just to please him, just to give him some relief. You want him to call you names, and to fuck your brain out of your body.

And then you want him to hug you tight and call you his good girl, tell you how good you did for him, how lucky he is to have you. How much he loves you.

You love it. You love him.

You love it when he gets jealous, when he possessively wraps his arms around you when a boy talks to you, how he whispers before bed that you belong to him.

Because you don't want it any other way.

"They'd looove me to do it." You say with a smile.

Maybe you drank a bit more than you should have..

"Did you behave like a fucking whore to every man you fucked, baby? Or is it just for me?" He asks, and oh... You like this. The deep and short moan you let out proof of just how much you like this.

"Just for you, Joel. Only you deserve it." You say with a smile, and he frowns, lust consuming more and more of him with every word you say. "Any other man tries to talk or fuck me like you do and I'd slit their throat." You whisper in his good ear, earning a grunt from him.

"That's because you're not a slut, angel. No. You're a good girl, the best one I've ever had in my hands. Doing all I want." He goes back to your neck. "But you sure know how to act like a whore when you want to, baby. A real good one." He says pulling your head back, allowing himself more skin on your neck.

You moan. "I do it because I know you like it."

He groans, grinding his dick on you. "As long as it's just for me."

"You know it is." You whisper. "Let me do it, show you what only you can see." You say even lower, caressing him through his jeans.

"No. My way now, you'll take what I give you." He says, throwing you on the bed, kneeling in front of you and pulling your legs, bringing you close to the edge before dropping your legs back down. "And if you're good to me, I might give you what you want."

He opens the dress's slit, kissing your mount and licking his way through your still connected folds, his tongue finding your clit between your folds and rolling circles around it.

"Oh, God — Joel." You moan, already feeling something forming inside your core.

"You tell me when you're gonna cum. If you don't, I'm not touching you here for the rest of the night." He says, his voice serious and stern.

"And how are you gonna cum if you don't touch me?" You ask, a smile on your lips.

"Plenty of ways I can cum without making you cum, baby. I can fuck this pretty face, can fuck your thighs, your tits, so many things I could do to you. You only cum after I say so. Alright?" He punctuates every way with a kiss to your mount.

You nod.

"Words, bunny, need you to use your words. Do you understand me?" He says, a stern but comforting tone, lifting your legs and resting your thighs over his shoulders, spreading your folds open with his thumbs.

"Yes, sorry, yes. I understand." You mumble, running your fingers through his hair, your entrance burning in anticipation.

"There's my smart girl." He praises before licking a streak from your entrance to your clit, your eyes rolling back. He rolls his tongue around your clit, sucking on it, his eyes focused on your face.

He teases your entrance with the tip of his tongue before pushing it inside, rolling it around inside you and bringing his thumb to your clit, drawing tight and slow circles over it.

You moan and call his name, your back arching and your lower muscles contracting. He groans and squeezes your hips, pulling you lower onto his face.

You pull his hair as he switches, french kissing your clit as he inserts one, then two of his thick fingers inside you. His beard burns your sensitive skin, and the pain makes you roll your hips on him, burying his face even deeper on you.

You lift your hips from the mattress and he holds them high, grabbing your butt and squeezing it. His hungry eyes not leaving yours for even a second.

He thrusts in and out of you with his fingers, his tongue lapping on your clit as his lips stay locked around it, sucking on it progressively harder and harder.

"Joel." You moan, the ease with which he always coaxed orgasms out of you never failing to impress.

He feels your walls tightening around his fingers and picks up his pace, sucking harder on your clit and thrusting his fingers more roughly.

When he starts curling them, right on your sweetest spot, your throat shuts and you gasp, pulling his hair harder and locking your ankles around his back.

"Joel — fuck — I'm gonna cum, please. Please, let me cum." You beg. He doesn't make it easy for you, though, intensifying his movements even more, waiting for your ultimate tell that you'd cum.

When your hips start raising even higher and your walls compress his fingers even more, he lets go of you completely. Leaving your clit throbbing, your entrance leaking and burning with need. Your mouth dry and open, your eyes watering, your legs sore and shaky.

"No, no, no. Please, Joel, don't." You plead. You hated when he edged you, because he let your orgasm start, then ruined it. Not fuelling it for you, letting it die bitterly between your legs.

You reach for your pussy, but he catches your wrists, holding them tight.

"You wanna behave like that? Talk about having other cocks in your mouth? Then you gotta be a big girl and accept the consequences of your actions, baby." He says, getting up and pulling your arms.

He pulls you into a kiss, but you're mad at him, so you don't correspond it. "So pretty all angry like this. Like you don't love it when I do this to you." He whispers close to your mouth, a playful smirk on his face.

You kiss him, deep and needy, moaning at your own taste and holding his arms, almost climbing on him to kiss him deeper. You grab his cock through his jeans, and his hips buck into your hand.

"Let me do it." You moan.

"Thinking about sucking other men made you forget your manners, baby?" He asks, biting on your throat.

"I want it." You whine.

"And how do we say?" He asks, going back to kissing your throat, his fingers intertwined tightly with the hair in the back of your head.

You let out a frustrated moan, one he knows to be an acceptance of defeat. "Please, Joel. Let me do it. I want you in my mouth, please. I promise I'll be so good."

He laughs on your neck.

You're always so good.

"Get down." He says sternly, his lips leaving your neck while he stares at you with furrowed brows.

He just can't say no to you.

To think that you ask — constantly beg — to suck his cock, was too good of a vision to waste. He had women be grossed out by it enough times to not be grateful when he has you begging so nicely for it.

You don't get down, just holding his stare as you admire his strong features. How his brows and nose frame his whole face, how his beard is starting to grey around the edges, how pretty his mouth and his eyes are.

How much you love him, how much you love when he treats you like this. Because you know he loves and respects you, and he'd never do anything to hurt you or make you feel bad.

The best word you can use to describe what you feel for him is pure adoration.

You're pulled out of your mind when be grabs your jaw.

"You wanted this, didn't you? Talked to that stupid boy to get me to do this, right? Then you got what you fucking wanted, no reason to keep being a fucking brat." He says, making you smile. His head tilts to the side, his nostrils widen and he twitches inside his jeans.

He pushes you down to your knees, opening his belt on a split, the sound of his ziper and belt making your stomach float inside your belly.

You have a silly smile on your face, and you retribute his teasing by pulling just his jeans down and licking his tip through his underwear, right where it's wet with his precum. He grunts and interlaces his fingers with your hair.

"Teased me enough, haven't you, amor?" He says with a grunt, as you suck on his clothed tip, stroking him over his underwear a few times while indulging in how big, hard and thick he feels on your hand. How you can feel him pulse sometimes, and how much you love to taste him.

The latter makes you pull his underwear down, staring at his cock for a beat and, without touching him with your hands, lick around his urethra, gathering his precum in your tongue. His cock twitches and jumps away from you, making you laugh.

"Jesus Christ, baby." He groans, furrowing his brows and pulling your hair. His hips instinctively buck forwards.

You reach for his tip again, still not touching him. You roll your tongue around it and suck him inside your mouth, applying pressure and licking your lips when you let him go, twitching again, away from you.

Joel grunts, your teasing not helping your case.

Not that you're trying to make him less mad at you anyway.

"Do it right or I'm taking it away from you." He says sternly, and you frown, instantly grabbing him, stroking him slowly as you suck and roll your tongue around his tip. "Shit. Good girl, like that." He groans, throwing his head back. His fingers caressing your head without forcing you to move.

He knows you don't need guidance with this. He loves how you blow him.

You take more of him inside your mouth, but his edging made your mouth dry, and his precum isn't enough to make him slide into your mouth easily.

"Joel?" You call, you voice small. He looks back down at you, humming in response.

"Can you help me? My mouth's a bit dry." You ask, keeping your voice sweet and low.

"Tell me what you need, peach. So pretty using your words for me like this." He says, stroking your hair gently.

"Can you... Spit on it for me?" You ask. You could just wet your mouth until he slides inside it. But he's right there above you...

"On your mouth or my cock?" He asks and you shrug. "Your choice, baby." He says softly, still stroking your hair.

"Can it be both?" You ask with a smile. He smiles and pulls you up by your armpits, grunting.

"Open wide for me." He pants, his voice raspy.

You do so, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out.

"Now don't swallow, you're gonna need it." He says before spiting inside your mouth once, making you moan.

You swallow instantly, your core leaking when you do.

"Why such a brat today, baby?" He asks, smiling and furrowing his eyebrows. His hands cup your cheeks tenderly.

"I tried not to, I swear." You smile, biting the thumb he rubs over your lips. He pulls your lips open.

The crease between his eyebrows gets deeper when he does it again, once again earning a moan from you. "Want more?" He asks, and you nod, your brows furrowed. He does it with a smile, holding both your cheeks, your ears between his index and middle fingers while he admires the pool he made on your tongue.

He kisses your cheek, right under your eye, besides your nose. "Knees." And you fall back down, your mouth closed, full of him, doing your best to not swallow it.

He gathers some more saliva in his mouth while you take him in your mouth. You go as deep as you can with the wetness inside your mouth, stoping and looking at him.

Aiming for his cock, he spits on it, close to his base.

You take him in deeper, swishing his saliva around his cock. "There you go, amor. This month feels so fucking good." He praises as you start picking up your pace, your mouth around his tip, hand working his length, twisting your wrist, feeling his skin move under your hand. Your other hand goes to his balls, caressing and squeezing them lightly, making him grunt.

"Fuck — Taking me so well you almost made me forget you were thinking about other cocks, baby. So bad." He says and you moan. You could never think about anyone else, you just said it to piss him off.

Gladly he knows that, but gladly it doesn't mean he won't play along with it.

He holds your head with both hands, pulling your hair back, carefully gathering it in his fists, and you hold onto his thighs.

"Ready?" He asks as he pulls out of your mouth.

The tenderness in his touch and voice a stark contrast of what he's about to do to you.

"For you always." You moan back, and he caresses your scalp.

"My pretty girl." He praises. "All mine." While he places his tip inside your mouth. "Suck it."

You wrap your lips around his tip and suck on it, rolling your tongue around him, never breaking eye contact.

He pushes himself in, going all the way to the back of your throat before pulling away. Then doing it again.

A particular thrust goes even deeper, and he bottoms out inside your throat. You gag, and he holds your head in place, grunting with the squeeze.

He picks up his pace, eventually fucking your mouth. His hands pressing on the sides of your head, his thrusts deep and mean.

"Oh yeah, so so tight for me, baby. So good, could fucking cum inside this mouth." He says, thrusting deeper before pulling away from you, a thick streak of saliva still connecting his tip to your mouth. You stare up at him, admiring his imposing figure. How he towers over you, how big and strong he is.

He pulls you up and away from your adoration, fixing your hair and wiping your lips and chin with the sleeve of his flannel.

"I swear to God if I ever see you step outside wearing this dress again, baby..." He says, looking down at your body, squeezing your waist.

"If you say you're gonna do all this again I'm going out tomorrow with it." You say with a smile, and he laughs, looking at you through his lashes, that dark gaze back on his face.

He throws you on the bed, removing his shirt. You reach for him with your feet, and he kicks his pants away. You stroke him once with your feet and he holds them, keeping them tight together, thrusting a few times with his eyes closed before snapping them open and looking down at you.

"See? Another way for me to cum without making you cum. But not today, baby." He laughs, spreading your legs and opening your dress right on the slit. "So fucking made for me." He says, both at the slit and at you.

He wraps his forearm underneath you and pushes you further onto the bed, kneeling between your legs.

"Wanna apologize before I start?" He asks, running his tip through your folds, gathering your arousal.

You laugh, supporting yourself on your elbows to kiss him, and he pushes in, all the way, slowly, letting you wet every inch of him before inserting the next.

You moan into his mouth, wrapping one, then both your arms around his neck, pulling him down with you. His weight crushes you, and you gasp when he pulls almost all the way out before roughly going back in.

His first thrust sets a relentless pace, his hips slamming against yours. He wraps his left arm underneath you again, pulling you even further onto the bed, never letting himself slip out of you.

"God — Joel." You moan, screaming his name on his shoulder, his thrusts forcing air out of your lungs, making you gasp while you do your best to breath.

"So fucking tight, baby." He breaths on your hair. "Fucking made for me, just me. All — grunts— fucking — grunts —mine." He says, punctuating every last word with a thrust.

"Yours Joel. Keep me so full I can't think of anyone else." You cry on his neck, your orgasm coming closer and closer to you.

"Fuck — Such a good girl for me, only one I fucking — grunts —need." He groans, his pace somehow getting rougher. He wraps his other arm around you, keeping you locked under himself, his hips moving fast and hard.

The brush of his skin and his pubic hair on your clit is enough to make you whimper and clench around him.

"Please, Joel. I have to cum." You beg, your orgasm only not hitting you because you know better than to go against his word.

"Sure know how to take it like a whore, baby. I'm fucking you like this and you're asking to cum on my cock, huh? So fucking good." He teases, squeezing you in his embrace.

"Yes, Joel. Please, I want to." You whine, your nails digging deep into his back.

"Cum for me, baby. C'mon, you're being such a good girl for me. You deserve it." He coos, kissing your neck, somehow fucking you even rougher, even deeper, even faster, pulling a strong and deep orgasm out of you.

"Joel!" You moan almost pornographically, screaming his name passionately, your throat hurting with how loud you're being all of a sudden.

You'll certainly get some looks tomorrow. And it's not gonna be because of the dress.

The way you scream his name makes him cover your mouth — the whole bottom of your face — with his large hand.

"Shh, trying to tell the whole town who you belong to, peach? I thought that was why you wanted to dance at the party." He laughs, watching as your face contorts and grunting at how much you squeeze him. "Keep a bit more quiet for me, baby, c'mon."

He lets go of your mouth and fucks you harder, now having to forge room for himself inside you. You bite right between his neck and his shoulder, trying to not scream again. Your hips rolling as your orgasm comes to an end.

As soon as you stop quivering under him he starts rolling circles around your clit, fast and tight. You gasp, your hips moving desperately, trying to get away from the overwhelming stimulation.

"Oh, Joel. Too much, fuck." You plead, but it only makes him fasten his movements, his hips pouding you relentlessly.

"You wanna behave like a whore you gotta take it like one, bunny. Liked teasing me, didn't you? Huh? Now you're gonna squeeze me real nice again, gonna make me cum for you."

"Joel." You moan, half screaming, digging your nails in his back, trying to focus on him, his weight, his warmth, his rough fingers on your clit.

"C'mon, baby. Gonna squeeze the cum out of my cock, aren't you? You feel so good, my peach." He pants on your hair, kissing and biting on your neck.

"You're gonna cum inside me?" You ask, your voice coming out more hopeful than you expected. Your ankles instinctively tangling behind his lower back.

He laughs softly on your neck, kissing you there and squeezing your hips. "You know I can't, baby. I fucking — grunts — can't." He pants, his voice frustrated and low. "Fucking wish I could." He whispers, barely leaving your pussy before thrusting hard back in.

His confession makes you moan, clenching around him, your orgasm so close you can almost feel it.

His hips lose rythme, and he takes your hand in his, putting it between you two. He lifts himself, hands besides each side of your head. He's loud. Panting, grunting and groaning while he pounds into you.

That's why you tease him. To see this animalistic and senseless, strong and big man pound you like his life depends on it. His cock rearranging your organs to please himself.

"Cum for me, baby. So fucking close, just need to feel you again." He pants, his forehead touching yours, his pace punishing and lovingly at the same time. Punishing you for teasing him and lovingly for you to remember he loves you more than anyone else ever could.

"Joel." You scream again, a shameless and vulnerable plead for him. For him to see how good he makes you feel, how much you love being his.

"There you go, baby. C'mon, feels so good squeezing me so nice, fucking — grunts — milking my cock, gonna cum so much for you, my baby. Can't be fucking inside you. No." He says, his face hovering above yours.

"I want it, Joel. Please. My mouth, I want you." You plead, still high from your orgasm.

"Take the dress off, baby, c'mon." He whispers and you eagerly do so, squeezing him inside you when you contort your upper body to remove it. He grunts from it, slowing his movements down for a second, one of his hands holding your waist.

"Please, Joel." You beg, scratching his shoulder blades and looking at him.

"So pretty begging for me like this." He says. "Too bad you don't deserve what you want, baby." He pulls out of you, pumping himself hard and fast above your belly, and you open your mouth, a beg for him to give you some of it.

"Don't be so fucking greedy, amor. You've had plenty of it". He says right before cumming all over your stomach and breasts with loud grunts and groans.

He loves seeing you covered in him, marking you as his.

He is, thankfully, kind enough to aim some of it at your face, and you end up drinking a few streaks.

He finishes and falls on the bed besides you, staring at the roof and trying to catch his breath as you do the same.

After a minute he gets up with a grunt and goes to the bathroom, coming back with a wet towel. He dresses his underwear and sits by the end of the bed, pulling you legs by your ankles. He spreads them and runs the cloth over your swollen folds, carefully cleaning them.

He presses a kiss on each of them, kissing your clit last, laughing when you jump from the overstimulation. He licks around it, looking into your eyes and smiling.

"You don't deserve it." He laughs, lightly slapping your pussy and climbing on top of you, pressing the mattress besides your head and hovering above you.

You lift yourself to kiss his lips, wrapping your arms around his back and digging your nails deep into his skin. You let go of your own weight and he holds you both up, deepening the kiss, panting into your mouth, his beard burning your skin deliciously.

"You know I love you, don't you?" He asks, his voice low.

"You just showed me." You say with a soft laugh.

"No, amor. I mean it. You know it, don't you?" He sounds like he's about to cry.

You pull him down on the mattress with you, looking into his eyes. He wraps his arms tight underneath your body. "Of course I do, Joel. What do you mean?"

"Just keep seeing you with those boys. They're all so young. You could just have any of them." He says, his soft eyes glistening.

"But I don't want any of them. I want you, love you, only think about you." You coo, kissing his lips.

He turns you both around, and you lie on top of him, your head on the crook of his neck, inhaling his manly and woody smell.

"I love you so much." You whisper. It almost hurts how much you do. "I'm so lucky to have you, Joel." You squeeze him in your embrace, your own eyes threatening to water.

"Love you more. Luckiest, happiest man in this town with you by my side, baby." He responds, and you snuggle your face deeper on him, kissing his neck, indulging on his presence.

On how you'd never imagine leaving your man.

Hope you enjoyed it, need a jealous, possessive and soft Joel in my life to call me names and tell me how much he loves me 😫

My Masterlist 🩷

[vashs-turtleneck]

Three Empty Words.

✧ More than friends, less than lovers.

Rating: EXPLICIT (18+ ONLY)

Summary: You love Vash. Does he love you back? It's complicated. Pairing: Vash the Stampede x reader Wc: 1.8k Cw: angst, smut, situationship, penetrative sex, pwp, crying, rough sex. An: trying to get myself back into writing after being gone for a little bit so sorry if this is a little bit messy! Also I don't usually do song recs buuuuut Song Recommendation: Sugar - Sleep Token

Vash is emotional.

He'd probably never outright admit that to you, and he seems awfully intent on keeping you at an arm's length no matter what you do, but you've been around him long enough to notice those rare and faint cracks in that perfect facade. As much as he tries to hide it, you can see it. His eyes are sad and his smile is hollow. He desperately seeks for love in a world where it feels impossible to find, and yet denies himself of it when it's right there, walking alongside him.

But there are some nights, after particularly strenuous travels and when too much venom has been spat his way where that handsome facade finally cracks. 

He's vulnerable, and he reaches for you, baring to you his fleeting moments of weakness. Deep down, you know what he's really searching for. Forgiveness, acceptance, love. But now, he seeks you for comfort in any way you're willing to give it to him and as much as you are willing to give him. He wants mercy. At least for the evening.

His will is strong enough that he'll never allow himself to have you, but just weak enough that he can't truly resist you. He yearns for you.

And you're not quite sure how it all started, or how you both got to this point - how you let things get so messy - but damn it you'd be lying if you said you didn't want this in any form. As long as you can have him. Even if it's just physically. Even if it's just for a night.

Sometimes it's loving, with worshipful hands – one smooth and cold, one warm and calloused – tracing your lines with a reverence you have to tell yourself isn't real. With wet lips pressing featherlight kisses along the curves of your neck and down the divot of your collarbone, his mouth wandering a slow, meandering path along your body and meticulously etching out every spot that makes your breath hitch like he's trying to commit it to memory.

It's tender, with languid strokes that have one orgasm flowing into the next, until you're left a pliable, boneless mess beneath him, whimpering his name over and over and your body begging for him to do whatever he wants to you. Luckily for you, you're in good hands. He's here to take care of you, even if it's for his own selfish reasons.

Your name falls off his lips like a plea for forgiveness, kisses oh so tender, drinking your moans like they're the sweetest ambrosia. He roves over your body with intimate familiarity and pulls you apart piece by piece with his fingers, his mouth, his cock, cataloging every inch of your skin before he puts you back together so he can do it all over again, all while whispering a litany of praises and sweet nothings.

“You're so beautiful when you're like this. Always so perfect, mayfly.”

“You're doing so well, feel so good around me.”

“Am I hurting you? Don’t wanna hurt you, sweetheart. Just wanna make you feel good.”

“Let me just move your legs like– Yeah, like that. That feels good, right? Just like that. Now I can fuck you deeper.”

“You like me filling you with my cock like this, mayfly? You take me so well. So perfectly.”

“You're so pretty like this. All flushed and delicate.”

“Not so fast, angel. Wanna make this last. Wanna savour you.”

“So beautiful when you come. I could watch you for hours.”

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

Sweet, beautiful, angelic, the words dripping from his lips like syrup. You hold on to them while you can, because you know they'll be gone come morning.

You wish he'd let you in. You wish he'd truly open up to you and not only seek you out when he's desperate. Fuck, you love him. You see him at his most vulnerable moments, you hold him close when he lets you, and you let him take pleasure in your body as he needs because you love him, all sides of him.

But, Vash is also angry, and that's a side of him he keeps hidden even in his most delicate moments. 

Sometimes, those feelings he keeps buried deep bubble up. When he's completely run out of those briefly lucky moments and he's forced to face the darkest, sickest sides of what humanity has to offer and he's made to question what it's all even for.

Sometimes it's almost selfish, possessive, with him wordlessly cornering you and his large frame caging you in against the nearest surface, strategically leaning his arm up on the wall next to your head so that you have nowhere else to run off to, nothing else to look at, only him - wholly commanding your attention with sapphire eyes begging for something he knows you can give him. He needs a reminder, and you're far too swooped up in the typhoon to deny him. 

It's impatient, with his flesh and bone hand holding your hip in a bruising grip while cool metal keeps your face forcefully pressed down into the dusty sheets. You wouldn't be able to cry out for him to stop even if you wanted to as he steals your breath away every time his scarred hips slam against the softness of your ass, your desperation making itself obvious to him in the form of the slickness pouring from between your thighs. He has your mind swirling under his ruthless onslaught of pleasure as he takes full advantage of each and every one of your lewdest weaknesses. He knows exactly where to touch, where to taste, where to tease, where to bite, red marks littering your pretty neck that'll bloom into faint purples and blues come morning. The dingy walls echo with the wet sounds of flesh connecting as he starts greedily chasing his own pleasure with every rolling buck of his stuttering hips, your name spilling from his lips like a curse, fucking you like it's another sin for him to bare.

“Take it. Take all of it, mayfly. I know you can.”

“Spread your legs wider. Wider.”

“Look at you. Such a mess.”

“Gonna fuck you dumb, make sure you don't know which way is up or down when I'm done with you. Until the only thing you know is me.”

“Say my name.”

“Say it louder.”

“Touch yourself. Wanna watch you cream on my cock.”

“That's it. Fuck– That's it.”

“So fucking pretty when you fall apart.”

“Come for me. Come for me now.”

“Such a good little thing for me. Nobody else gets to touch you like this, make you moan like this, fill you up like this.”

“Tell me it's all for me. Tell me it's all mine.”

“Look at me.”

“Let me see you break.”

And when his breaths calm and his pleasure filled haze fades, when that fleeting moment of rapture dissipates, the guilt comes flooding back, leaving him faced with where he is, what he's done, and worst of all, who he's done it all with.

No matter how it goes, it always ends the same way, with him whispering his broken apologies as streams of tears pour from those ethereal pools of azure.

“I'm sorry.” 

“I'm so sorry, mayfly.” 

“I'm so sorry.”

It doesn't matter how many times you try to comfort him, how many times you tell him that you want this, or that you want him. Your sweet and gentle words do nothing to ease the ache he feels in his chest. If anything, you're making it worse. 

“I don't deserve this. Any of this.”

“Especially not you.”

“Never you.”

He always stays close to you for the night. He sobs and lets his tears fall on the skin where your neck meets your shoulder, brokenly weeping his regrets, begging you for forgiveness. He cries until the exhaustion seeps into his bones and pulls him into a deep sleep, his tears still staining his cheeks and his limbs still tangled with yours.

You wrap your arms around him and keep him pressed to you, savouring the soothing heat of his body on your skin, the feeling of his breath on your neck, the peaceful tempo of his inhales and exhales. Your thumbs brush away any remaining tears, your fingers ghosting over his sun-kissed skin, dancing over the curve of his jaw, the highs of his cheekbones, over that cute little mole, down along the bridge of his nose until you're tracing over those slightly parted lips. You keep him close while you still have him, holding on to these fleeting moments of intimacy you get to indulge in. Like always, it'll be gone come morning.

It never goes into the morning. 

No, when the morning light spills through the curtains and when the suns rise, you both pretend none of it ever happened. He rolls off of you and walks off towards the shower without a word. His tear-stained eyes are still puffy and red, but they don't even look at you. He keeps quiet, and when you're both cleansed of any evidence of your passionate evening together, he gives you that lovely, empty smile that you've grown to recognize. 

It hurts every fucking time you see it.

You wander through empty desert together, making small talk, just like friends do. Never do you discuss what's happened, what you two are, what you feel.

Once again, you're kept at an arm's length.

Until the next night, or maybe it'll be the night after, when he's suddenly hugging you from behind with his breath on the column of your throat, whining and apologizing as he begs for you.

“I'm sorry. I know I don't deserve it, don't deserve you, but just… please. You're the only one I can trust with this.”

“Please, mayfly. I need you. I'm sorry.”

Sometimes, he waits until the marks he left on you have faded. Maybe it's so he can mark you up again, pretend like any and every part of you belongs to him and give in to that satisfaction he gets from knowing he's the one who does this to you, that he's the one who leaves you writhing and moaning and begging on soiled sheets for any ounce of his touch.

Or maybe it's so he can admire every inch of your divine, unclaimed flesh, and he can pretend he was never selfish enough to try to mark you to begin with. He can pretend that he was never so foolish as to believe he could touch the holy body that is you with his blightful and wicked hands.

And he can pretend that those three beautiful words never fell from his perfect lips.

divider source.

[shuadotcom]

Stay ‘Till Sunrise | HJS + KMG (M)

☀ Summary: After years of pining and lusting over your best friends, your desperation finally gets the better of you and you decide enough is enough. Tonight is the night you’ll risk ruining the friendship to be with them in every way you can.

☀ Pairing: Joshua Hong x Fem!Reader x Kim Mingyu

☀ Genres & AUs: Smut, fluff, friends to lovers au, non!idol au, polyam au, porn with the barest of plots

☀ Rating: 18+ (MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED)

☀ Warnings: Profanity (especially the f bomb), alcohol, oral (f. receiving), creampie, pussy slapping (like 3 times?), squirting, spanking, hair pulling, choking, double penetration, unprotected sex, anal (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), dirty talk, kinda dom!shua, switch!gyu, subby!reader, praise and pet names (babygirl, pretty girl, darling)

☀ Words: 9.1k

☀ Note: This was a dream I had that I needed to put together in fic form and write so it will leave my head!! It’s also inspired by Ruin The Friendship by Demi Lovato! Big thank you to @sun-kore​ for being my amazing, wonderful beta! ❤️ And thank you sosososo much @playmetheclassics​ \ @classicscreations​ for this beautiful banner that I’m still obsessed with!! 😍

Tagging the lovely @the-boy-meets-evil​ because she asked ��

Okay, you can finally admit it: you want to fuck your best friends.

Well, you want to do more than that. You want Joshua and Mingyu to take you out on dates and call you pet names no matter how corny and old-school they are. You want Mingyu to make you romantic dinners to celebrate milestones together and you want Joshua to make you a beaded bracelet every birthday filled with heart shapes and pastel colors.

You want the three of you to spend lazy mornings laying in bed, sharing body warmth and cuddling until you get hungry or someone has to pee. You want to spend holidays and anniversaries with them. You want to hold Joshua’s perfect hands and place kisses on Mingyu's perfect nose and be the most sickeningly cute, perfect polycule with them.

Every time you see a couple doing cutesy, cheesy couple things your mind always wanders to Joshua and Mingyu, imagining the three of you doing it too and your heart feels so warm at the thought.

Of course, when all of your soft thoughts of light kisses and hand-holding drift away they’re replaced with some not-so-soft thoughts.

Thoughts of Joshua using his big hands to choke you while he fucks you into your mattress and images of Mingyu’s strong arms gripping your legs hard as he makes you cum on his face over and over again. Your laundry list of dirty things you want to do with the two of them is long and extensive but then again how could it not be when they look the way they do?

You’ve known them for five years thanks to your roommate Seungcheol who’s known them for longer. Somewhere after the year three mark of knowing them, feelings for the two men morphed from friendly love for your sweet friends who do nice things for you all of the time to the realization that all of these sweet things have stacked up in your heart to accumulate to the massive, embarrassing,  crush you have on them now.

You love your whole group of friends of course, but they’ve always been the sweetest and easiest to get along with. You can always laugh at the same things as them, eat the same foods, and open up to them more than any of your other friends. Joshua and Mingyu make you feel safe and loved and cared for so of course your heart was bound to belong to them both.

They also happen to be some of the most beautiful men you’ve ever seen in your life.

Your eyes wander to Mingyu at this thought at his spot in the kitchen. He’s leaning back against the counter as he waits for the popcorn in the microwave. His arms are crossed as he scrolls on his phone and his long, dark hair hangs in his face. The slightly curly locks look soft and you know they are, seeing as you use every opportunity to playfully run your fingers through them.

He reaches up then, carding his fingers through the strands and you eye the wonderful way his biceps flex when he does, the sleeves of his t-shirt very noticeably hugging his arm. The arms that are so deliciously toned and hard that let you know just how strong Mingyu is and how easily he could probably toss you around and -

The ding of the microwave jolts you out of your long-running thirst thoughts about your friend. Joshua laughs from next to you, playfully poking your side.

“Did the microwave scare you?”

“I was zoning out!”

“Clearly. What were you even thinking about that hard?”

About one of my best friends absolutely wrecking my body in the most sinful of ways.

“Uh, my uh glass is empty. I was contemplating getting up for another drink.” You nod towards your empty glass on the coffee table, your skin burning up at getting caught fantasizing. It’s not a complete lie - before you were consumed with your constant Minshua fantasies, you had in fact been thinking about getting up for another drink.

But then Mingyu got up to make popcorn and you watched him walk away in his gray sweatpants at the same time that Joshua shifted on the couch and his thigh grazed yours and yeah. That’s how you ended up in such a daze.

“Oh, I’ll make you another.”

“No! You don’t have to!” You reach out to grab the glass before he can take it, but he simply bats your hand away and snatches it at the same time he gets up from the couch.

“Nope, I’m doing it.” He sends you a smile that has your heart doing cartwheels.

God, he’s so fucking sweet. You want to suck him off so badly.

“Me too?!” Mingyu points to his half-empty cup on the coffee table. He’s returned to his spot on the couch next to you, the bowl of popcorn balancing in one hand.

“What, are your legs broken? Guess you should’ve made it when you were up.”

“You’re mean!” Mingyu accuses, a pout forming on his face.

Joshua just chuckles at him, blowing him a kiss in response as he reaches the kitchen.

You’re so in love with them it’s disgusting.

He keeps a playful smile on his face as he makes your drink and it quickly morphs into determination as he eyes the different alcohols. You haven’t looked at him straight on since he and Mingyu arrived earlier in the evening for your bi-weekly movie night. You’re still both thanking and cursing the rest of your friend group for having plans and leaving you with your two biggest weaknesses tonight.

Joshua leans over the sink to rinse out your glass and the button-down he’s wearing - that’s already undone way too far in your opinion - exposes more of his smooth chest and it takes everything in you not to gape so openly. He’s nowhere as big as Mingyu, but you know for certain they’ve gone to the gym many times together and you know Joshua’s also built in a way that has you blushing and kicking your feet like a mad woman. He’s constantly wearing shirts that show off all of the honeyed skin of his neck, just begging to be covered in marks. And oh how badly do you want those marks to come from your lips and teeth.

“Can I put something else on?” Mingyu directs the question at both of you but is reaching over you already to grab the remote.

His body is so warm and he smells so good and you’re back to focusing on him again. The urge to reach out and cup his face just to gaze at him up close is strong, but you keep yourself composed.

“If you put on Spiderman one more time, I’m going to bite you,” you warn him, watching him open the search bar on the streaming menu.

“Come on! Every time we have movie night you and Shua try to put on too many scary movies!”

“The last one wasn’t even scary, it was just a thriller.” You roll your eyes at the man. “Don’t be a baby.” Your friends, especially you and Joshua, always tease the younger man about how whiny he gets when anyone puts anything remotely scary around him. Unfortunately for him, both you and Joshua love them and it’s two versus one tonight.

“It was a horror thriller! I saw the categories when it was over!” Mingyu continues leaning over you even after the remote is in his hand, so when he tilts his head back to look at you upside down, he’s so incredibly close enough to see every detail on his perfect face.

You’re the target of his pout this time, his plush lips looking oh-so inviting. Delusion kicks in at that moment and you swear you see Mingyu’s eye drift to your mouth too, neither of you moving away from one other.

Is he moving towards you right now? Kissing upside down seems hard and logistically, not that simple, but you’d never dream of rejecting Mingyu in this universe or any other.

“Move your big head!” Joshua interrupts whatever this was when he returns, waving your drink in front of your face. “Alright Y/n, I demand that you give me feedback on my bartending skills immediately.”

Mingyu jolts up, reaching quickly for a handful of popcorn and shoving it into his mouth. He gives Joshua a look that you can’t decipher. It’s quick and you nearly miss it, but it definitely looks like something. Ignoring it, you take your glass from Joshua, and he watches as you sip your drink, waiting for your verdict.

“It’s perfect,” you finally say and he breaks into a brilliant smile.

“I know.” He says rather smugly. “I always know what you like.” Joshua sends you a wink and you guess it’s that coupled with his words that conjure up a version of Joshua whispering that into your ear as he fucks you hard, knowing exactly how you like it and how to touch you.

To drown out the thirst and desperation in your head you start to chug the drink, aware of both men watching you gulp it down in record time.

“Be careful there, Y/n. I know it’s good but don’t get ahead of yourself.” Joshua’s hand finds your knee which doesn’t help you at all with the state that you’re in.

Clumsy hands reach out for the remote, announcing to them that you’ll be finding something to put on which steers the conversation into another debate of what to watch. You’re thankful for it because quite frankly, you need all the distractions you can get.

It’s nearly one in the morning when you suggest to them that they stay the night. None of you are drunk per se, but they are buzzed so driving home is off the table. Joshua suggests that they’ll take a rideshare since they don’t live far from each other, but you shoot that down.

“That’s stupid, just stay the night. We can keep hanging out.” You punctuate your words with your best pout to lay it on thick. To be honest, you’ve been debating all night if you want to make any moves to suggest you want to do more with them than watch movies but you haven’t decided yet and want a little more time. Plus you just don’t want to stop being around them.

“Fine, we'll stay.” Joshua decides for both of them. It hadn’t taken long at all for him to give in.

“Good!”

With that settled, you all take a movie intermission for bathroom breaks and showers before resuming. Since you’re in for the night you want to be more comfortable - and you need a second to try and get your mind sorted.

This wouldn’t be the first time that any of your guy friends stayed at your apartment for various reasons, so you’re able to fish out some extra sweats and shirts for them that have been left behind for various reasons.

Once you’re in your room with your door shut tight you pull off your clothes and get ready to shower. Now more than ever you’re thankful that when you and Seungcheol played rock, paper scissors to see who’d get the master bedroom, you won.

Speaking of your roommate, you think about him and send a text message as the water for your shower warms up. He went home for his brother’s birthday which gave you the blessing and the curse of being alone with the two men who are showering only a few feet away from you.

[Y/n] Cheol, are you up?

[Choi Seungcheollie] Yeah I’m up. The party is still raging on and my brother is absolutely wasted. He’s this close to getting us kicked out of this club 🙄

[Choi Seungcheollie] Why are you still up? Did Mingyu and Joshua leave already?

[Y/n] No, they're sleeping over. We’re not drunk off our asses but they def can’t be driving

[Choi Seungcheollie] They’re sleeping over huh? 🤔

[Choi Seungcheollie] Is tonight the night you’ll finally become the meat in the Mingyu and Joshua sandwich of your dreams?????

[Y/n] Stopppppppp I’m scared 😩 If I confess and they don’t feel the same our friendship is fucked you know this

[Choi Seungcheollie] You’re so dramatic. They worship the ground you walk on already, remember? Ask anyone.

[Choi Seungcheollie] Text Jeonghan I’m sure he’ll tell you the same

You most certainly will not be texting Jeonghan. You may also be close to him, but he still won’t hesitate to blackmail you to confess if he knew your current situation.

[Y/n] I’d rather risk potentially ruining the friendship myself than get that fucking villain involved

[Choi Seungcheollie] Fair point. Then all I’ll say is to just DO IT. It’ll go fine. You’ve been pining over them for literal years and I know these guys. This won’t be the end of your friendship.

[Choi Seungcheollie] Maybe just start with something small and see how they react.

You roll Seungcheol’s words around in your head. The desire weighing heavy in your stomach for them is the most it’s been in a long time. The fear of rejection and driving a wedge in between the three of you has kept your mouth shut all this time, but you’re really going through it tonight with the way you’re quite literally craving them. If you can come up with something small then it could be easier for you to read them.

[Y/n] Fine, I'll figure something out. If I get my heart broken expect a hysterical voice memo later!!

[Choi Seungcheollie] Good luck, Y/n! I’ll be here if you need me ❤️

After taking a quick shower, you finally decide the best course of action is your choice of pajamas. Instead of the cute cow set that you bought recently you decide on a black cotton night shirt that stops somewhere under your asscheeks with the matching panties that can easily be seen when you bend over - even just a little bit. Seungcheol said something subtle and you feel as though seducing them in your underwear is the most blatant yet wordless way of doing so.

Giving yourself a quick once over, you decide that forgoing a bralette is the most logical choice for your desired endgame, and make your way back out into the living room. Both men are on the couch looking at something on Mingyu’s phone when you enter and you watch as Joshua does a double take when looking up at you. He tries to subtly get Mingyu to notice you, but the latter isn’t too good with that, so Mingyu’s eyes on you are much more obvious.

“You guys showered already?” Your question is innocent, as is the way you ease into your seat between them. But, you do go out of your way to lift your night shirt so you don’t sit on it, exposing your panties as you sit.

“Yeah. We were just trying to decide if we wanted to order food.” Joshua’s words sound a little distant and a glance out of the corner of your eye tells you why. His gaze keeps darting between the tv and the expanse of your thighs that are exposed. The nightshirt is already short, but it’s risen nearly to the tops of your thighs when sitting. On your other side, Mingyu’s phone is still in front of his face but he’s doing a terrible job at pretending he isn’t looking at you.

Putting on a short shirt was the best plan of action you could conjure up on the fly, but it seems to be working.

“Up to you guys. I’ve got more snacks if you don’t wanna wait.” Both men make noises of acknowledgment but don’t make another move other than Joshua resuming to flip through Netflix.

Not a single part of you is paying attention to what Joshua puts on tv. It’s an anime you’ve seen but the men on either side of you are all you focus on. You’re no femme fatale in the slightest and your flirting could use some serious work, but you’d like to think their change in demeanor is a good thing. You continue shifting on the couch so that different parts of you graze against the two of them and each man reacts, albeit differently.

Mingyu lets out a lot of stifled sounds of surprise while Joshua clears his throat each time an arm or leg touches him but neither of them moves away or tries to create distance which keeps your small bout of confidence from fizzling out.

Eventually, your urge to make a bolder move is strong so you decide to be a little more blatant.

“I’m gonna grab a snack, do you guys want anything?”

“Nope.”

“No.” They rush their answers out in unison and you can’t help but smile to yourself.

You pull yourself up from the couch slowly, leaning forward as you do so the back of your shirt rides up and you know for sure your panties are visible. To up the ante, you drop your phone on the floor in front of the couch.

“Oops.” Before you can talk yourself out of it, you hold your breath and bend at the waist to pick it up, ass on full display. Mingyu lets out what sounds like a whimper from behind you, but you’re too nervous to turn around so phone in hand, you beeline for the kitchen, your back still turned to them.

Nerves are starting to outweigh the rush of horniness the night has brought you. What if you throw yourself at them and they completely turn you away? What if you do too much and it makes one or both of them so uncomfortable that it ruins your dynamic? The end result of the idea of confessing to them loops back around as it always does and you’re close to backing out as you always do and retreating to the safety of your room where you can daydream of what-ifs and touch yourself in peace.

“Hey, Y/n,” You almost jump out of your skin at the sound of Mingyu’s voice so close behind you. You hadn’t even heard him approach but you very much feel him. His broad chest is pressed against your back, his body heat rolling off of him in waves.

“H-hey,” Hopefully he doesn’t hear the way your voice trembles.

“You’ve been standing here for a while. Do you need help getting something?”

Truth be told, you have no idea how long exactly you’ve been standing in front of the cabinet. At the moment your brain is having trouble keeping up with much of anything other than how close your best friend is to you.

“Uh, um,” your eyes dart to the open cabinet in front of you, landing on the bag of cookies that are on a top shelf, out of your reach. When you say this to Mingyu, he leans forward, his torso pushing against yours, effectively pinning you against the counter as he reaches over your head. He smells so good and feels so warm and firm, your head is dizzy at all of these sensations hitting you at once.

“Here.” Minygu brings the bag of cookies to your eyesight, the snack right in front of you, but neither of you moves. Both of you seem to be holding your breath, waiting for the other to do something.

“Mingyu, I -” Your sentence ends with a choke as Mingyu jolts his hips forward, the bulge in his sweatpants poking you.

He retracts his hips quickly, almost so quickly that for a second you nearly believe maybe it didn’t happen, but you know what you felt. That’s why you decide in an instant to move your hips back to meet his crotch. Mingyu makes a hissing noise behind you, but again, neither of you moves away.

“Hey, we had a deal!” Joshua’s voice is what finally has you and Mingyu separating, the forgotten bag of cookies falling to the floor.

“Shit, sorry! I couldn’t help it!” Mingyu stamps his foot on the ground. You’d have found the gesture cute if you weren’t so confused.

“A deal?” You pipe up, neither man hearing you.

“I knew when you came into the kitchen you couldn’t be trusted.”

“I really did want to come to get something to drink! I just got distracted because she’s wearing that!”

“Likely story.”

“What are you guys talking about?!” You yell, both of them finally paying attention to you. They exchange a look. “And don’t do that annoying man telekinesis shit. I saw you do it earlier tonight  - tell me the truth!”

“We agreed that neither of us would go after you since we both like you!” Mingyu blurts in a rush, unable to meet your eyes.

“You what?”

“We just didn’t wanna fuck up our friendship with each other and you of course. We care about you and didn’t want to make things messy.”

Blinking at Joshua’s words, the wheels in your head work overdrive to comprehend what they’re saying.

“I’m sorry, you both like me?”

“I know it sounds weird, I got drunk at Chan’s birthday party last year and told Joshua when you were dancing with Soonyoung.”

“And then I told him I liked you too because I was also drunk and we promised neither of us would act on it and just hope our crushes went away.”

Wordlessly, you take in their confessions. You can’t believe you’ve been breaking your own heart this whole time. Ignoring your feelings, stressing over them, willing them gone for nothing. And to think, you wanted to seduce them so badly tonight when all you probably had to do was tell them and they’d take care of you.

“You’re not mad at us, right? I’m sorry if you think we’re creepy or whatever, we can totally leave!” Mingyu looks like a kicked puppy as he anticipates your answer, likely expecting a negative response.

“You guys are not leaving.” You finally say, both men looking surprised. “I’ve been talking myself out of liking you two for the last like two years and you’ve been into me this whole time. There’s no way I’m going to let you just leave after we’ve gotten all this out in the open.”

“I - you like us too? Both of us?” Joshua looks as surprised as you probably do.

“Both of you. A lot.” They share another look.

“So… what do we do?” Joshua starts. “I mean I’m fucking stoked that you just said that, but what do we actually do?”

“I’m open to the three of us, you know, being a thing.”

“Like, you date me, but also Joshua and we all date each other?” You nod at Mingyu’s words, holding your breath at their reaction.

A beat of silence goes by, neither man speaking before Joshua decides.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” You and Mingyu ask in unison.

“Okay, we can all date. It’s a win-win-win. I get to call Y/n my girlfriend finally and Mingyu is lucky enough to say he’s dating a catch like me.”

“Yah, you’re the lucky one! Do you how many people wanna date me? I’m a model for a reason, thank you very much.”

“Posting selfies and outfit of the day TikToks doesn’t make you a model, Gyu.”

“If I get paid to show this face then it’s modeling! Don’t be a hater.” Mingyu clicks his tongue.

“Hey!” Again you interrupt their bickering. “I really, really like both of you so much and I want to do so many dumb boyfriend-girlfriend things with y’all, and we can work out the dynamics of this whole thing tomorrow, but right now I am so insanely horny and I’d really like it if you guys could fuck me.”

Your best friends - now boyfriends? - gape at you and take too long to respond, so to speed things along you close your eyes and start to lift your nightshirt, stopping to expose your bare breasts to them. Both sets of brown eyes in front of you take in your half-naked form.

“Please,” you whine, peeking an eye open. You don’t care who moves first - you just wish one of them would.

Something in Joshua’s expression changes and his usual sweet face turns dark as he crosses the small distance between you two, his hands cupping your face as he smashes your lips together.

Kissing Joshua is heavier than you anticipate. His lips easily and skillfully take over yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth without much resistance on your end. Your body presses forward against his like a magnet and you need to grip his shirt to steady yourself against him. He holds your face with a tenderness that is a stark contrast to the way he’s desperately ravishing your lips.

“Fuck, I’m finally kissing you,” Joshua sighs in between kisses and you hum in agreement.

You get lost in the whirlwind that is finally making out with Joshua, but the feeling of another set of hands on your body snaps you back to reality. Mingyu has silently met the two of you in the middle of the kitchen, efficiently trapping you between both men. His just as soft lips ghost over your neck as his arms, almost trembling, wrap around your waist.

Mingyu has always been one of the softest men you’ve ever known. He’s a big boy with big arms and an even bigger heart. You can feel the nervousness and hesitancy radiating off of him. Prying your fingers from the death grip they have on Joshua’s shirt, you move one hand down to lie on top of Mingyu’s. Immediately your fingers slip between his to grip his hand tightly and let him know how okay with this you are and how safe he is here with all of you together like this.

It must’ve been the reassurance he needs because the next thing you feel is Mingyu’s teeth as they begin nibbling harder at the skin on your neck, clearly intending to leave marks. He pulls your hips back so you meet his erection digging into your lower back.

A whimper escapes you as your brain teeters on the brink of shutting off the more Mingyu leaves you reminders of tonight and the more Joshua kisses every breath out of you.

At some point, Joshua finally comes up for air, both of you panting for dear life. Mingyu spins you around and replaces Joshua’s mouth with his, his hands opting to grip your hips as he melds his lips with yours. Where Joshua’s kiss was dominant and thoughtful, Mingyu’s is soft yet desperate. Between moments to breathe, he slips in little nibbles on your bottom lip and kisses you as if he’ll never get another chance, which couldn’t be further from the truth.

Your fingers dart up to tangle in his midnight hair, tugging on the soft strands by the root.

“Fuck, Y/n…” Your name falls from Mingyu’s mouth in a groan and it’s probably the best thing you’ve heard in your life.

Wanting to hear it once more, you pull again, and he whimpers your name again. You go in for a third time, but he doesn’t let you. Instead, Mingyu swoops down with lips still attached to yours as he grabs hold of your thighs and quickly scoops you up off of the ground, plopping you on the kitchen counter.

“Wanna taste you so bad.” Mingyu pleads between kisses. His words shoot straight to your pussy and you nod your head so fast you nearly give yourself whiplash.

The sound of Joshua’s chuckle draws your attention up and to him. As Mingyu kisses down your body, inching your panties down on the way, Joshua holds your gaze.

He’s a sight directly out of your usual fantasies. A red hue fans out across the expanse of his neck, up to his round cheekbones, and reaches his pouty lips as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. Your eyes desperately follow his hand as it reaches up to push back his already messy hair, then moves back down to grip his obvious erection. He rubs himself a few times through his sweatpants, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Shua…” You mewl, hand feebly reaching for him.

“What is it, pretty girl?”

You falter at the pet name that falls from his lips so easily - and in a tone that you’re not used to from him.

“I - I want you. I - ohhhhh.”

Mingyu’s lips wrap around your clit and suck hard - any semblance of a sentence you had in mind withers away. His fingers dig into your thighs to keep a grip on you as his thick tongue alternates between lapping at your clit and darting in and out of you. The sounds of Mingyu eating you out like a man starved fills the kitchen, making you dizzy.

“Fuck, Gyu!” Mingyu’s tongue is sinful as he laps at you, making a mess of you even more than you already are. “So good….you’re so good.” Your hands find Mingyu’s hair and tug on the strands again causing the younger man to moan into you as he starts eating you out even rougher, his teeth nipping at your sticky skin and his nose bumping into your clit.

Joshua is next to you suddenly, his soft hands running up your thighs and under your nightshirt. He eases the fabric off of you and tosses it elsewhere. He’s immediately cupping your face again, pulling you in to capture your lips once more. His other hand moves down to grab your breast, kneading and squeezing with the right force to have you panting in his mouth.

Having both men on you like this, touching you everywhere you need it, kissing you everywhere you need it, has you approaching your orgasm quicker than you think you ever have before.

“Gyu baby, Shua, fuck, I-I’m gonna -” For the second time tonight they have you faltering, this time it’s because Joshua pulls away at the same time that he grips Mingyu’s hair and yanks his head from between your legs. Mingyu lets out a groan that meshes with your noise of frustration.

“Why?!” The man still kneeling pouts, looking almost devastated.

“I think this’ll work best in Y/n’s bedroom.” The words barely leave Joshua’s mouth before Mingyu is clambering up from the floor, lifting you from the counter, and placing you onto the floor. He intertwines your fingers and practically drags you to your bedroom.

“Mingyu, there’s no rush!” You try and reassure him, but he has you on your bed almost immediately as you enter the room and is kissing you again.

“I know, baby girl, but I need you so bad. I’ve dreamed about eating you out for fucking ever and you taste so good and I just need to do it before I explode.”

You can’t argue with that so after one more bruising kiss, Mingyu shuffles down the bed and gets comfortable between your legs before diving back in, his tongue thrusting into you once more. Who are you to deny a beautiful man practically begging to eat your pussy? Plus if Mingyu keeps calling you baby girl the way he did, you’ll let him do damn near anything.

Joshua comes into the room then, eyes fixated on the sight before him. You have enough strength amidst Mingyu consuming your soul through your coochie to reach out and stop Joshua before he climbs onto the bed.

“C-clothes off. It’s not - ahh - uh, it’s not fair th-that I’m the only one naked.” Your sentence is capped off with a moan as Mingyu sucks particularly hard.

“Hmmm. I should make you ask me nicer than that,” Joshua teases, pretending to think but it’s only for a second. “But I think I’ll let it slide this time. Next time I won’t be so nice.” The smirk he sends your way is lethal and has you clenching around Mingyu’s eager tongue.

Joshua makes quick work of pulling off his shirt and pants. You can barely marvel at the expanse of the smooth skin of his abs and the sheer size of his cock because Mingyu makes you cum then.

“Oh fuck, yes!” It hits you like a train and your body tingles as you cry out his name. You grip your sheets so hard that your fingers hurt as he peppers kisses all over your pussy, moaning after each smooch.

“You sound so good when you cum, pretty girl. Doesn’t she, Gyu?”

“Fuck, yeah. She does.”

“I wanna hear you cum again, darling. Can you do that for us?” Joshua’s tone is full of honey and sweetness as he licks his fingers and brings them to your clit. You nearly leap off the bed as he begins rubbing circles against you, wetness pooling between your legs as soon as he finds a steady pace.

“Joshua!” You squirm under his touch, both wanting him to stop due to the sensitivity and silently begging him for more.

“I think she wants more, Shua.” Mingyu muses, his breath feeling dangerously close to your inner thigh again.

“Oh yeah? Is that what you want, darling?”

“Mmhmm! Please!”

“Please what?” You wrench your eyes open to look down at them. Mingyu apparently shed his clothes in the time it took for your post-orgasm haze to clear. His hair is a mess and his pupils are blown wide as he stares, eyes darting between your core and your face. Joshua on the other hand is only staring right at you, his brown eyes full of desire as he skillfully rubs your clit, waiting for your response.

“P-please make me cum again,” it’s more a mumble than anything, feeling flustered at having both of them with their attention on you.

In response to the feeble attempt at begging, Joshua smacks your mound, the sting rushing through you deliciously. “You can do better than that, pretty girl. Wanna try again?” Another sharp smack follows and you squeal.

“Please, please make me cum again!” It’s almost a sob this time which seems to please Joshua because the next thing you feel is one of his long fingers slipping into your entrance, immediately having you buck your hips to meet his hand.

“So needy,” he coos at you, heat spreading over you even more, this time in embarrassment.

It doesn’t take long for Joshua to be able to slip another finger in, stretching you out even more. As he fucks you with his fingers, leaving you panting like an animal underneath him, he adjusts his position on his knees and leans up to take one of your nipples into his mouth.

“Fuuuuuuck!” Your second orgasm is fast approaching with the added stimulation, but it’s not until Mingyu decides to lean down and once again suction his mouth over your clit do you arch almost painfully off the bed, a garble of curses all that’s able to leave your mouth. The heat pools in your belly hot and heavy and this time it feels so much more intense than the first.

This time when you cum, an honest to god shriek rips from you, everything feels too fucking good and your senses going into overdrive. You feel your orgasm spilling out of you as you squirt for maybe only the second time in your life.

“Holy shit, Y/n. You just squirted all over me,” Mingyu marvels.

“That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen” Joshua finishes and Mingyu hums in agreement. You’re aware that they’re praising you and you’re giddy about it as the fog in your brain settles and eases away.

“How are you feeling, baby girl?” Mingyu checks in with you after you’ve had time to come down. “Do you want to stop? Because we definitely can.”

“Yeah, this can be it for tonight if you want it to be.”

“No!” You tiredly object, shaking your head furiously. “I’ve wanted this forever. Please fuck me? Shua, Gyu - ‘want you both so bad.” You hope your words convey your need for both of them, adding in a low-effort pout for good measure.

They both look at each other, having another one of their telepathic conversations without you. Instead of saying anything, you open your knees, sopping cunt on display to show them just how much you mean what you say.

A few seconds tick by before Joshua speaks. “Who do you want first?”

“Both of you.”

“Are you sure?”

“A thousand, million times yes. Please don’t make me beg anymore, you said you were being nice to me this time.” You hope you’re batting your eyelashes enough to encourage them to scoop you up and finally do something.

Thankfully it works as both men move into action, maneuvering you and themselves into a position that works best. You all agreed on no condoms since you’re all clean and you’re well-protected yourself.

Joshua’s underneath you as you straddle him, his lips moving sloppily against yours as Mingyu kneels behind you. Joshua has done a good job of distracting you with groping and kissing as Mingyu preps you, already one finger deep in your ass.

When he adds more lube and eases in a second finger, you hiss against Joshua’s mouth at the added stretch.

“Ssh, you’re doing so good pretty girl.” More praise is sung by Joshua as he massages your tits.

“Our good, pretty girl,” Mingyu adds from behind, the other hand that isn’t working you open rubs, and gently kneads your ass cheeks, both men working to relax you.

Their words and touches help, and soon, Mingyu is pulling his fingers from you and tapping the swollen, lubed-up head of his dick against your puckered hole.

“I’ll go slow,” he reassures you as he does. Slowly, he starts to push into you, this stretch stinging so much more. When you let a whimper slip, Joshua’s hold around your middle tightens, keeping you close to him and peppering your face in kisses.

Fuck, Mingyu is big. You finally had a chance to see what you were in for as you were all getting into position and this would certainly be a feat for you - quickly seeing how literally everything about Mingyu is big. You already knew this would be a stretch you’ve never felt.

Mingyu is true to his word and pushes into you gradually, inch by tantalizing inch. It seems like hours go by before he’s fully sheathed inside of you, neither of you moving until everyone is in position.

“Doing okay, darling?” Taking a deep breath you nod at Joshua and he gives you another kiss before lifting his hips, lining himself up with your pussy, and pushing in, just as carefully as Mingyu had. Joshua’s cock isn’t as big as Mingyu, but it’s still impressive enough and plenty thick, the girth alone stretching your walls almost painfully.

Once he’s buried in all the way, no one moves, letting you adjust. Your eyes slip closed as you register how impossibly full you feel and take in how heavy all of you are breathing as you wait.

“Please move,” you finally stutter.

Both of them give your body a shallow thrust to test and that alone has a long, drawn-out moan spilling out of you. Gradually, their thrusts get faster and rougher, giving you more and more until they’re both full-on drilling into you, your body jolting back and forth so fast you can barely keep up.

The wet, squishing sounds of your arousal and the lube fill the room along with the smacks of skin on skin and the harsh spanks Mingyu has started leaving on your ass.

“You’re taking us so well, baby girl,” Mingyu pants out, his hands feeling like fire as they press indents into your skin.

“So, so well, pretty girl. I didn’t know you could take two cocks at the same time,” Joshua’s words are breathy as he bucks his hips up into yours, but they’re no less dirty and teasing.

“I-I’m so f-full…” To your ears, your words sound like gibberish as they both find the perfect rhythm that has your eyes rolling back.

“Yeah? You like being stuffed like this? Two cocks shoved inside of you?” Joshua’s hands are still wrapped around you to hold you steady, punctuating his words with sharp rolls of his hips.

“You like both of us abusing your tight little holes?” Those words come from Mingyu and are punctuated with his fingers in your hair this time, his nails scraping your scalp.

“Yes! Fuck yes, fill me up,” The all too familiar heat starts to churn in your stomach, your walls clenching around both of them as you feel your orgasm brewing. “I’m so fucking close, please!” It’s a needy cry but both of them hear you, their paces becoming quicker and rougher. Mingyu’s fingers stayed buried in your hair, pulling you up just enough to expose your neck. One of Joshua’s big hands moves to grip your neck, using it for leverage to snap his hips up more.

“Gonna cum for us again, pretty girl?” You can’t nod well with his hand where it is, but you hope he at least hears the ‘yes’ that you rasp out between the whines and moans you’ve been letting out.

Your hands, which have been holding you up, start to wobble at the force they’re fucking into you, but you still do your best to move one up to rest over Joshua’s still on your neck. You squeeze around it to try and indicate to him what you want.

“Oh? I think our girl likes to be choked, Gyu.” Involuntarily, you clench and Joshua falters in his pace a little. “Fuck, she just squeezed me so hard - that must be a yes.”

“I think she likes getting her hair pulled too.” Mingyu tugs hard at his words and you manage out a pathetic squeak in response.

Now that they both know what you like, they don’t hold back as they take you to the end. Mingyu tugs your hair so hard it burns, but you like the pain so it pushes you closer.

“Oh, oh oh! Gonna c-cum!” And then you do, with Joshua’s fingers around your neck tightening, succeeding in cutting off your air as you cum for a third time. Your mouth opens in a silent scream, fireworks exploding behind clenched eyelids, and your body goes rigid as the pleasure engulfs you.

“Shit… fuck!” Mingyu cums right after you, not bothering to pull out as he shoots his hot load into you. His groans turn into breathless sighs of your name until he begins slowing down, fucking his cum back into with shallow thrusts.

When Joshua cums next, he releases the grip on your neck so you can greedily gulp air back into your lungs. Both of Joshua’s hands hold your thighs, his nails biting into the skin, as he bucks up into you one, two, three more times before pulling out and cumming between your bodies. His whines are just as desperate as you and Mingyu’s as he empties himself, relishing in the feeling of his dick pressed between your sticky bodies.

Your shared, ragged breaths fill the room, their hips slowing to a leisurely pace until eventually, they stop moving altogether. Mingyu takes his time easing himself out of you and you feel his cum trickle down your ass, earning a groan from behind you. Now that you’re empty again, your eyelids fall shut, draping yourself completely over Joshua’s body.

You hear him chuckle from under you, your body wants so badly to drift off to sleep.

He can tell, because Joshua doesn’t let you do so, telling you everyone needs to clean up first. You try to object, wanting to power down right there, but they will hear nothing of it.

Mingyu is tasked with taking you to the shower and cleaning you up while Joshua changes your extremely soiled sheets. You spend most of the shower leaning against Mingyu’s chest, but he’s more than happy to do most of the work to clean you.

Joshua comes in at some point and fits himself into the small shower with both of you, sandwiching you between both men once again. His gentle hands rub circles on your back, applying light pressure to your sorest muscles.

When everyone is clean again, Mingyu helps you out of the shower and wraps you in a towel, starting to dry you off. He removes your shower cap - which you luckily weren’t too fucked out to forget to tell him you needed - and leans down to place a small kiss on your nose. Mingyu smiles from ear to ear at the giggle you let out and he can’t help but give you a few more pecks all over the rest of your face.

He and Joshua help you back to your bedroom and you immediately crawl into bed, your satin pillowcase practically calling your name.

“Wait, Y/n, what pajamas do you want?”

Shaking your head at Joshua, you finally reach the top of your sheets and burrow into the bed. “No pajamas. I usually sleep naked when Cheol is out of the apartment.”

“Say no more!” Mingyu flops himself down onto the bed without a second thought, efficiently trapping you under the covers.

“Gyu, let me out!”

“Not until you say something nice to me!”

You let out a laugh and feel around the covers to try and find his sides. “Now it makes sense why you always want to be babied - you have a praise kink!” When you find what feels like his toned torso, you grab at him, tickling him the best you can through the fabric.

Mingyu lets out a shrill yelp and flings himself off of the bed to avoid your hands. Joshua bursts into laughter along with you and moves to uncover you from the bed linen. Your first sight is his beautiful smile, his eyes crinkling into the most perfect half-moon shapes. Whenever Joshua looks at you like this - his most beautiful, carefree self - you want so badly to kiss him and experience the moment with him. This time, you remember that now you can do that and so you do. Without a second thought, Joshua is kissing you back, a smile still on his lips as you melt into him. Everything about tonight has felt so perfect - especially this moment right here.

“Hey, me next!” Mingyu whines as the bed dips next to you as he climbs under the covers. You and Joshua pull away, the stars in his eyes twinkling at you, and he lets you go to give your attention to Mingyu.

“I didn’t realize I was getting such a bratty boyfriend,” you tease as you turn to face him, his arms zipping out to wrap around you and pull you close.

“Don’t act so surprised. You’ve known me long enough that you should’ve known. And now it’s too late and you’re stuck with me!” Mingyu winks at you, swooping down to kiss you. It’s true - your beautiful boy has been a big baby from the first day you met him when he whined to Wonwoo about sharing one of his books with him.

“You’re lucky I think you’re too cute to say no to you.” You get the words out in between kisses and chuckles.

“You say that as if you don’t use your cuteness for evil just like him.” Joshua accuses as he flips off the bedroom light, your automatic nightlight across the room glowing a soft orange. He’s last to climb into bed, moving to spoon you with an arm around your waist.

“When do I do that?!”

Scoffing, he gives you a pointed look as he leans on his elbow to look down at you. “All the time! Yesterday when we were at that sushi place you batted your cute little eyelashes at me every time my sushi got to the table and you wanted a taste.” Okay, he’s got you there - you had intentionally pulled out the big guns to taste everything new he ordered.

“Yeah well, maybe you shouldn’t let yourself be swayed so easily.”

“Wow, I can’t believe you just victim-blamed me!”

“And I’ll do it again!”

Mingyu cracks up, his whole body shaking as he laughs.

“Hey, don’t encourage her!”

“But she’s funny and cute!”

“Tsk, tsk. Don’t be so defiant baby boy.” Mingyu chokes on his spit at Joshua’s teasing, staring wide-eyed at the older man from over your head.

“You’re so evil! I remember when you first moved to Korea - you were so sweet! I blame Jeonghan!”

“How about all of us are equally cute and Jeonghan is the root of all evil and now we can go to bed okay? Y’all bicker too loudly to sleep through.” You efficiently silence them, Mingyu sticking his tongue out at Joshua in the dim light but that’s the end of it. Goodnights are passed around and you get two goodnight kisses, one on your forehead and one on your cheek. That’s all you need to fall asleep, surrounded by so much warmth.

Sunlight peeks through your blinds in the morning and when you adjust in your sleep, it leaks through your eyelids. You squint your eyes open a crack, glaring at the offending rays. After blinking a few times to adjust to the light, you glance down, smiling warmly at the sight. Mingyu’s much larger body is attached to your side, his long limbs wrapped and tangled in yours. You can’t see his face from this angle, but his slow breathing lets you know he’s still asleep, shuffling just a bit as he snuggles closer into your chest.

You turn your head to the opposite side, both to get away from the streaks of the sun and to see Joshua’s sleeping face. His eyes are still closed, and the corner of his plush lips are curled up a little, even as he’s dreaming. For what feels like the hundredth time since last night, you’ve felt like this whole thing is a dream, finally having the men you care about the most here with you like this.

“Morning, pretty girl,” Joshua whispers suddenly and you can’t help but jump. You hadn’t realized you had zoned out staring at him.

“Morning, Shua.” He opens his eyes and meets yours, your skin heating up under his gaze. “I didn’t mean to stare!”

“Oh, that’s too bad because I was staring at you on purpose before you woke up.” He winks at you, succeeding in flustering you.

“You’re just going to spend this whole relationship being a worse flirt than you were before last night aren’t you!”

“Mmhmm. And just like Gyu said, it’s too late and you’re stuck with me!” Joshua’s expression turns wicked, mischief clear on his face.

“Shua no, Gyu’s still asleep!” Joshua doesn’t listen, because of course he doesn’t, and digs his fingers into your sides, tickling you. “N-No!” You can’t help but scream, trying to squirm away from him.

Your sudden yell has Mingyu’s head springing up, bleary-eyed but still panicking. “What’s going on?!”

A sudden commotion in the hallway catches your attention and Seungcheol comes barrelling into your open room, hands raised in fight mode. “Y/n are you alright?!” He freezes when he sees you, Mingyu, and Joshua, wrapped up in your sheets, also frozen and staring back at him. “Oh. I thought you were being hurt.” His tone is flat as he drops his fists.

“Cheol, you’re back early! I thought you wouldn’t be back until the evening.” His lack of reaction upon walking into this has some of your embarrassment starting to ebb away.

“Yeah, my brother and I had a fight so I ended up leaving early. I just got home a few minutes ago.”

“Aw, I’m sorry to hear that. Do you wanna talk about it?”

Your roommate snorts, his eyebrows raising at you. “You don’t exactly seem to be in the position to talk about my feelings, Y/n.”

“Oh. Well, give me a few minutes and we’ll get up and we can come sit down with you!”

“Nah, Jeonghan is expecting me at his place. I was texting him last night about our fight so he said I can come over when I got in. I just wanted to drop my suitcase off.”

“You texted him first about the fight?! Why not me?!” You huff at him. Seungcheol always confided in you first - since you lived together it just came naturally that you vent to each other first when something upsets you.

“Now be for real, Y/n - you were clearly quite busy after we texted last. Would you have answered me if I texted you at like three?” The struggle to try and remember when exactly Mingyu had started eating you out in the kitchen is real and you can’t come up even a guess of what time that was. “That’s what I thought. See you kids later and stay safe!”

The three of you say your goodbyes, listening to his retreating footsteps before you hear him stop.

“Oh, and if you get a bunch of messages in the group chat all of a sudden, you may wanna just mute it.” He calls down the hall.

Frowning, you share a look with Mingyu and Joshua before answering. “What? Why?”

You almost ask him again, thinking he left without answering, but then he quickly rushes the answer. “Because Jeonghan started a betting pool when he figured out - on his own may I add - that you liked Joshua and Mingyu and he wanted to see how long it would take you to confess to them and I have to tell him he lost!” He speaks fast, but you still hear every word.

“He what?! Seungcheol get back here!” Instead of an answer, he sounds as if he runs down the hall and a second goes by before the front door opens and then closes.

It’s just like you said - Jeonghan is the root of all evil. You fully intend on sending him a scathing text message, but then Mingyu starts kissing your shoulder and neck at the same time that Joshua begins drawing slow yet deliberate patterns over your thighs and hips. They probably sense your aggravation and are easily intending to redirect you. Mingyu also mentions something about making you breakfast in between smooches which also diverts your attention - your empty stomach very noticeable.

Their distraction tactics work of course because soon your mind is redirected to Joshua and Mingyu only and no one else. You’ll deal with the rest of the world later - your ain’t shit friend included - deciding to instead focus on the two beautiful men you get to not only stay friends with but also that you get to be so much more with, which feels like a dream within itself.

[piratesfromspace]

Three (Ghost x Reader x Soap)

Pairing: Reader x Ghost x Soap Rated: Explicit - Minors do not interact

Just a little smutty drabble because I haven't been able to write much but I still think about those men railing me you into next week. Pure filth. Fem Reader.

MASTERLIST

You’re laying on top of Soap, your chest against his, face tucked in his neck, muffling your cries of pleasure against his skin.

Ghost is kneeling behind you between your legs, one hand pressing on the small of your back, forcing you to arch for him and trapping Soap’s cock against your belly. His other hand is gripping your hip, holding you still while he fucks your pussy with slow hard thrusts. He kept his clothes, his mask and gloves, and when you turn your head all you see is his massive body covered in black, two eyes glinting behind the impassive skull mask, focused on your form. 

Soap is holding you against him in a comforting hug, his body relaxed, one hand on your nape, thumb drawing lazy circles at the top of your spine, like you weren’t simultaneously getting railed by his lieutenant. His only acknowledgment of the situation is in the praises he keeps drowning you in. How good you’re taking your lieutenant's cock. How pretty and soft you are. How you’re being such a good girl for them. How he wants to fuck you again after Simon’s finished - Soap already took you just before, foreplay to stretch you enough for Ghost. 

You clench when he tells you that, and Simon exhales a bit more harshly before chuckling. You liked that - he notices, amusement in his gravelly voice. Maybe me and Johnny we can keep fucking you in turn all night long, keep you full and warm, would you like that, pet? Simon goes on, and even though you know you’ll be way too sore for such an endeavor, the simple idea has you shudder in delight, clenching even harder on Ghost’s fat cock. 

His response is immediate. Fuck, keep doing that and you’ll make me cum, darling. He takes a deep breath before he orders Soap to touch you. Soap whispers a yes sir and obeys immediately, snaking his hand between your two bodies, reaching for your clit. It only takes a few rubs of his calloused pads against your swollen flesh for you to come, so hard you’re drenching them both with your slick.

[incendiobrock]

Stitches {Chris & Matt Sturniolo}

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Summary: A secret affair with Chris leads to some tension between the three of you and a slow unraveling of the truth.

Pairing(s): fwb!Matt x reader, fwb!Chris x reader

Warning(s): smut (soft!domChris, soft!domMatt, fingering, praise), language, cheating-ish?

A/N: This has been in my drafts for so long and I didn’t do everything I had wanted to with it but i’m still really proud of it so I hope you like it 😝

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1. The Unspoken Deed

Chris was quick to pull your panties off your body, your hips raising off his bed as you desperately helped his movements. He stuffed the lacy garment into his back pocket as if he was saving it for later. His hands roamed all over your exposed body, trying to familiarize himself with your soft, silky skin. A whine left your lips as he squeezed your hips, pulling you further down the bed so that he was stood between your now open legs. You couldn't help but shift under his gaze, your body aching for his touch. "So needy for me, huh baby?" His low voice rasped out, his eyes dark with lust.

You nodded your head with a shaky breath as his eyes raked over your body, the body that he had been eager to see for months, the body that he thought was forbidden. "Use your words, what do you want?" He asked, a smirk forming over his face. He knew exactly what you wanted, but he wanted to hear you say it. Without giving you a chance to respond, his middle finger dragged a line between your folds, collecting your arousal on the tip of his digit. "F-fuck-" You stuttered, his touch shocking your senses, making your body almost convulse with need. "So wet... All for me, yeah?" He whispered, the smirk never leaving his face as he pushed his finger into you.

Another whine fell from your lips as your back arched off his sheets as his finger explored your insides. He moved in and out of you with a steady pace, his finger curling slightly, pressing against your sensitive walls. Involuntarily, you squeezed around his finger as it moved inside of your pussy hungrily. "Chris-" His name fell off your lips with ease, your eyes fluttering shut as you chased the feeling of the building orgasm. He hummed in response to the sound of his name coming from your slightly parted mouth. Chris was quick to add a second finger, sliding into you with a skillful ease. He knew you were getting close, your walls clamping around his fingers as he pumped them into you.

"That's it ma, doing so good for me..." Chris praised, picking up his pace slightly as he curled his fingers further into you. One of your hands shot down, gripping onto his wrist for support as he fucked you. The lewd noise of his fingers gliding through your pussy filled his room, making him even more desperate to continue pleasing you. "I-I'm close Chris... Please, don't stop.." You whimpered, your hips rolling as his fingers buried deep inside you. With a string of curses and his name leaving your mouth, you reached your climax.

2. Ignorance is Bliss

You laid on Matt’s bed, scrolling through your phone as he sat at his desk. He had bought a new camera for Twitch streams and was playing around with it, trying to get it set up. A small groan left your lips as you discarded your phone off to the side. Matt turned around in his chair, “What’s the matter?” He asked before going back to toying with the camera. A pout formed on your lips as you mustered up a reply, “I’m boredddd,” You whined. Matt couldn’t help but chuckle at you, playfully rolling his eyes as he remained focused on setting up the camera.

“Yeah? What do you want me to do about that?” He teased, flipping through the camera manual aimlessly. With a soft sigh you threw yourself back onto his bed, your head landing on his pillow as you thought of something, anything, you could suggest. As the time passed, Matt still wrapped up in getting the new camera set up, a message pinged to his phone.

Chris: wannna watch a movie or something?

Matt glanced at the notification, his phone sitting straight up on his desk. He swiveled around in his computer chair, seeing you staring up at the ceiling. “Okay kid, stop pouting. Let’s go watch a movie, yeah?” He asked, poking fun at your miserable looking state. A big smile immediately formed on your face as you shot up in bed, nodding your head eagerly. Little did you know that you would be watching said movie with Matt and Chris…

You couldn’t help but shift on the couch as you sat between the two boys. Chris was a comfortable distance from you, but the intense guilt and anxiety you felt thinking about the other night was almost eating you alive as Matt’s hand traced patterns onto your thigh. The movie played for what seemed like forever, Matt starting to take notice of your strange behavior. “You okay?” He whispered softly into your ear, trying to figure out what was causing you to squirm around the whole time. Silently, you nodded your head in reply, shooting his a fake smile to try and reassure him, and yourself, that everything was good. As the movie continued, Chris seemed to have inched closer and closer to you before you decided you couldn’t handle the guilt anymore.

“I think I’m going to head out..” You said suddenly, standing up from the sofa abruptly. Chris fumbled with the remote, pausing the TV while Matt shot you a questioning look. If it was any other night, you would be sleeping over, not going back to your place. “I’m just not… Feeling well.” You stumble over your words, trying to think of some sort of believable excuse for leaving. Matt chuckled softly, reaching out to grab your hand, “Why don’t you stay so I can take care of you?” He suggested, not wanting you to be alone if you were sick.

You pulled your hand away from his, your eyes instinctively darting between him and Chris. “I don’t want to get you sick… I‘ll text you, okay?” You made another excuse, quickly slipping on your shoes before running out the door. Matt stood at the top of the stairs, mouth slightly agape with confusion as he stared at the front door that was now shut from your exit. He turned slowly over his shoulder, looking at Chris who just shrugged his shoulders.

“Weird kid..” Chris muttered nonchalantly as he pressed play, resuming the movie.

3. The Start of the End

It had been a couple days since the last time you had seen any of the triplets. It wasn't unusual for you to come over daily, but it was strange that you had been distant for more than a day. You didn't know why you were feeling so guilty about what had happened between you and Chris. There was no way Matt would find out, and even if he did… You were nothing more than fuck buddies so it wouldn’t matter. Right? After a lot of overthinking, you decided to keep a little extra distance just in case.

Matt however, having no clue about your affairs, was worried when you hadn’t shown up to the house in a couple days. As he made his way into the kitchen to grab something to eat, he ran into Chris. They made some small talk about the video they were planning on filming, as well as discussing some other stuff for a meeting they had coming up. Matt couldn’t help but have his mind wander elsewhere though, not hearing from you was slowly driving him crazy. As the conversation died down between him and Chris, he decided to ask, “Hey, you haven’t heard from y/n have you?”

Chris shrugged his shoulders, taking a sip of his Pepsi before shaking his head and continuing to scroll through his phone. Matt furrowed his brows slightly, contemplating if he should reach out or not. “Oh, I’ve got a girl coming over later by the way,” Chris called out as Matt started to heading back to his room. Matt shot him a thumbs up, this was the third time this week that Chris was having someone over. Matt tugged his phone out of his back pocket, sending you a text message.

Matt: You still alive kid?

y/n: barely

He scoffed as he read your reply, “Dry ass response…” He mumbled, beginning to type out another text.

Matt: Wanna come over?

y/n: idk… gotta work :(

Matt: Come on y/n

Please?

y:n: hmm maybe tmrw

Matt rolled his eyes, letting out a groan before shutting off his phone and tossing it across his bed. He wasn’t going to beg you to come over, but normally he wouldn’t have to anyways… Normally you would be on the way as soon as he asked. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms, trying to soothe his racing mind.

He decided on a quick shower before getting into bed, praying he would sleep better tonight than he had the past couple without you by his side. As he lay in bed, trying to sleep, he couldn’t help but glance at his phone every couple minutes, hoping you had changed your mind about coming over. He tossed over onto his side as his phone continued to show no new notifications.

After what felt like hours, Matt’s eyelids started to feel heavier and heavier. Sleep was seconds away from taking over his body before he started to hear a steady thumping noise through the walls. He quickly sat up in bed, his eyebrows furrowing as he heard the muffled taps. Just as he was about to get out of bed to investigate he heard a faint moan coming from below the floorboards. Matt quickly groaned, lying back in his bed and pulling the covers over his head as he realized what he was hearing through the walls. Now he really couldn’t fall asleep…

4. Laundry Day

It was the next morning which meant that it was laundry day in the Sturniolo household. Which also meant that Matt would spend hours sorting, washing, and folding his and his brother’s laundry. Chris had silently brought his hamper up the stairs, leaving it right outside of Matt's bedroom door, so that when he woke up and went to use the bathroom he was met with the silent request to wash his younger brother’s clothes.

After a quick shower, Matt decided to fulfill Chris' wishes and start on the laundry. His mood was already shitty, having not slept well the past couple nights. The last thing on his mind was laundry. With a huff, Matt dumped the hamper of clothes into the washing machine, not even bothering to sort the darks from the lights like he usually did. After forty minutes had passed, Matt went to switch the damp clothes into the dryer so that he could begin a wash cycle for his own clothes.

Matt half-heartedly began tossing the clothes into the dryer, his mind consumed with other thoughts as he stood in silence. As he shut the dryer door he realized that he had accidentally dropped something on the ground. As he leaned down to pick up the piece of fabric his eyebrows furrowed, his movements freezing as he looked at the white, lacy garment that sat on the hardwood flooring. Matt carefully picked up the thong with only his index finger and thumb, as if he was going to catch a disease from touching it (despite the fact that it had already been washed). With a grimace still on his face, his free hand reached out to reopen the dryer door so he could toss in the almost forgotten garment.

Just before the thong left his hand, something caught his eye, a small, blue stitch that made his heart stop. He quickly brought his other hand up, now holding onto both sides of the thong as he held it up to his face, trying to get a clear look at what he thought he saw. Matt’s eyes wandered over the lacy, white panties before stopping on the letter that was carefully stitched into the lace. His thumb absentmindedly rubbed over the stitching, a blue “M” staring back up at him. A soft scoff fell from his lips as he put the pieces together. His grip on the thong tightened, his knuckles turning white as the damp clothes were now long forgotten.

Matt quickly went down the stairs, rushing through the short hall that led to Chris’ bedroom door. He didn’t even knock as he threw the door open, revealing Chris sat at his computer, headphones snug over his ears. “What the hell is this?” Matt snapped, holding the thong out in front of him as it dangled in the air. Chris jumped slightly at the sudden noise, pulling the headphones from his ears as he swiveled in the chair to face his brother. “The fuck you talkin’ bout, kid?” Chris asked, having not heard Matt’s previous question.

Matt swallowed the lump in his throat as he tossed the thong to his brother, it hitting his chest before falling into his hands. “What the hell is that?” Matt asked for the second time, Chris now examining the thong for himself. Chris wore a confused expression as he quickly glanced over the garment, flipping it around to see both sides before tossing it back to Matt. “Panties, Matt.” Chris spat, his eyes wide in annoyance as he shrugged his shoulders, turning back to face his computer screen. Matt rolled his eyes at Chris’ lackluster answer, the thong now balled up in his first as he squeezed it tightly. “Yeah, no shit..” Matt retorted, not letting up as he stood in his place eyeing Chris. “Whose are they?” Matt continued, still questioning his brother.

Chris rolled his eyes, once again swiveling in the chair to face Matt, “How am I supposed to know? It could be literally anyone’s… You haven’t done my laundry in weeks.” Chris admitted truthfully, having no idea the true significance or reasoning behind Matt’s questioning. “Now fuck outta here, I’m trying to get set up for a meeting.” Chris said, typing away on his keyboard as he waved his hand for Matt to get out of his room, not even bothering to look at him as his eyes stayed glued to the computer screen.

5. The Remembrance

“Come on, Please? It’ll be fun..” Matt pleaded, staring at you as you sat up against the headboard of his bed. He had gotten dressed into some jeans and a shirt, looping a black belt through the belt loops as he prepared to leave you to go to some party. You let out a sigh, watching as he waited patiently for your answer, “I don’t know… You’re the only person I’m going to know there.. I’m going to feel out of place.” You said softly, admitting your hesitation. He quickly licked his lips, going to sit down on the bed next to you. His ringed fingers lightly squeezed at your thigh, causing your skin to burn under his touch. “Hey, look at me.” He demanded, his voice low. “I’m not going to leave your side, I swear.” His promise was sincere, egging you on to agree going with him. With another shaky sigh, you nodded your head gently, “Okay, fine. I’ll go.” A cheesy grin spread over his face as his hand traveled further up your exposed thigh, giving it another squeeze, “That’s my girl.”

He kept his promise, never leaving your side as you both attended the random influencers party. Matt was adamant about keeping his hands on you, whether it was holding your own or having his arm slung over your shoulders, he wasn’t letting you leave his side. After some drinks, you both were feeling good, deciding to begin playing a drinking game with some of the other party goers. The rounds went on and people were dared to do some crazy things, each dare getting worse and worse. It was your turn again and you were thankful that Matt was the one giving you the dare for this round. “Take off your panties.” He demanded boldly, his filter long gone because of the alcohol rushing through his system. You almost chocked at his words, giving him a slight raise of your eyebrows in question. He smirked, nodding his head over his shoulder, silently urging you to the bathroom so you could complete your task.

With some clumsy steps, you made your way into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind you. You glanced in the mirror and noticed your flushed cheeks, unsure if it was from the drinks or the sudden arousal that plagued you from Matt’s request. One of your hands gripped the bathroom counter as you steadied your swaying body, beginning to slide your pants down over your hips, silently thanking yourself for not wearing a skirt tonight. After you stepped out of your pants you quickly tugged your underwear off as well, placing it on the counter before pulling your pants back on. The plain, white, lacy thong stared back at you as you begrudgingly picked it up, beginning to exit the bathroom as you shoved it into your pocket before returning back to the group.

“Well?” Matt asked, watching as you came directly back over to his side. Without a word, you dug the thong out of your pocket, holding in the air for the group to see, proving that you had completed your task. Matt quickly snatched the garment from your hand, “I’ll be keeping that.” He said, shoving into his front jean pocket, a cocky smile taking over as he felt the wet patch that had soaked through the lace moments before you took them off. It was as if that was his way of claiming you, proving to all the people at the party that you were his. Nobody else could have you, not if Matt had anything to say about it.

As soon as you had made it back to the triplets house and into Matt’s bedroom you were pushed against his door. His hands held a vice grip on your waist, his lips kissing and sucking at the skin of your neck. Your own fingers tangled in his messy waves, pulling them slightly as you brought his head impossibly closer to your neck. Whimpers and whines flooded the walls as you craved a touch much more intense. “Patience, baby..” Matt chuckled, slowly slipping the straps of your top over your shoulders and exposing your breasts. He knew you were aching for him to take you, which is exactly why he was going to go at whatever pace he wanted. Teasing you was half the fun. “Please, Matt. I need you.” The soft words came out in a whisper, shaky breaths making your chest rise and fall.

He chuckled into your skin, nipping at your newly exposed collarbone as he relished in your noises. “Say you’re mine.” He demanded lowly, now slowly kissing down the valley of your breasts. Your breath hitched as he trailed his lips down your skin, “I-I’m yours… All yours Matt.” You said softly, your voice barely coming out as more than a whisper. He smirked to himself, standing back up and quickly throwing you over his shoulder before tossing you on his bed. A gasp fell past your lips as your back made contact with the mattress. Matt quickly situated himself at the end of the bed, his hands immediately finding your hips and holding them tightly. “Can I take these off?” He asked, his fingers dipping under the waistline of your pants. You eagerly nodded your head, lifting your hips off the bed to help him take them off.

He slowly pulled them off, throwing your pants to the ground. His hands found your hips again, squeezing the now bare skin as he took in the sight of you laying beneath him.

~~~

As you laid back in his bed, completely breathless and exhausted, he shoots up and walked over to his desk. You sat up slightly, watching him carefully as he shuffled through his desk drawer before pulling out a small box. He brought the box back over, sitting down next to you on the mattress and placing it on top of the comforter. “What’s that?” You asked quietly, intrigued by what he was planning.

“You know how to sew right?” He asked, ignoring your question. A short silence filled the room before you nodded your head in confirmation. “Good.” He replied, digging around in his pocket before pulling out the panties of yours that he had taken way earlier in the night at the party. He then pulled out a sewing needle and some blue thread before you cut him off, placing your hand on top of his. “I’m not that good-“ You began to protest.

“That’s okay.” He quickly reassured, passing you the spool of thread and the needle. As you held the objects in your hand, your eyebrows furrowed slightly. He pointed his finger to the top waistline of the lacy panties, “Need you to sew an ‘M’ right there. So you don’t forget who you belong to.” His voice said lowly, staring deep into your eyes as you nodded your head.

6. Confirmations and Confrontations

You were sat in the living room on the plush, white sofa next to Nick. He had let you in the house after inviting you over, saying that you hadn't hung out with him enough lately. After getting to the house, you both decided on watching a movie. A small bowl of popcorn sat between you and Nick, providing a snack for the both of you as you sat engrossed by the television screen. The only light illuminating the room was from the screen, casting a soft glow over both your features.

You carefully brought a handful of popcorn up to your mouth, the anticipation of the horror movie picking up as the main character walked quietly through the house. Just as she was about to open the door to the basement a voice breaks through the living room air, “Can I borrow you?” You jumped in your seat, throwing the handful of popcorn all over the floor as you nearly chocked on the piece that was in your mouth. Matt was stood off to the side of the TV in the darkness, his arms crossed tightly across his chest as he watched you grab a sip of water to stop your choking. “Ugh! Seriously? Can’t you just let us watch this fucking movie in peace?” Nick complains, rolling his eyes as his brother tries to steal you away. Matt doesn’t reply, his stoic face remaining the same as he nods his head towards the hallway leading to his bedroom.

You carefully gulp down the lump of nerves forming in your throat, wiping the palm of your clammy hands on your sweatpants before standing up from the sofa. “I’m sorry Nick.. Just pause it, I’ll be right back-“ You tried to assure him, sending him a sorry look. “No she won’t.” Matt quickly stated, watching as you carefully treaded towards him. As soon as you passed by him, heading past the kitchen to his room, he was quick on your heels. You slowly entered his bedroom, turning to face him as he filed in behind you shutting the door and locking it. His arms recrossed over his chest as he stood directly in front of the closed door, staring daggers into you.

Your eyes quickly trailed over his body, taking in his stance, his eyes, his whole demeanor. You were too nervous to speak, unsure of what to expect. “Sit down.” He suddenly demanded, breaking the silence once again tonight. You nodded, taking a step back and sitting on the edge of his bed. A smug smirk fell over his face as he let out a scoff, beginning to pace at the foot of the bed. “Matt… What’s going on?” You softly asked, finally speaking.

“It’s kind of a funny story, actually-“ He began, the coldness of his voice betraying his own words. “You know I do Chris’ laundry right?” He asked, raising his eyebrows at you as he searched your face. You felt your heart pounding against your chest as he grazed over your face. “Y-yeah… You do Nicks too, I don’t understand what that has to do with me-“ You began, genuinely not understanding where Matt was going with that question.

Before you could even fully finish your thought Matt was reaching into his pants pocket, tossing something at you and cutting you off. A small ball of fabric hit your shoulder before falling into your lap, your fingers gently holding it up and seeing the back of a white, lace thong. Your eyebrows furrowed slightly as you looked at the thong, still not understanding what Matt was accusing you of, you barely ever wore thongs..

“Turn it around.” He demanded again, spinning his index finger in the air, motioning you to turn it the other way. With another confused look, you slowly turned the thong around, taking a look at the front. The small, blue initial etched into the fabric immediately stared back at you, your expression falling as you realized your horrible mistake. “Wanna explain to me how those could’ve ended up in Chris’ laundry?” Matt spoke up again, towering over you as he stood just in front of his desk.

You felt your cheeks heat up as your mind was flooded with the memory of you laid out on Chris’ bed, his fingers deep inside you. Before you had a chance to reply Matt had approached you, leaning over slightly as he firmly took hold of your chin, making you face him. “Come on baby… You can tell me.” He whispered in a low, deep voice. He kept his hold on your chin as you raced to think of some sort of excuse, some sort of explanation for your panties being mixed in to Chris’ laundry. Matt cocked his eyebrows, your silence more telling than any words you might’ve said. “Now, I have a guess, but I thought that I would give you a chance to explain yourself before I made any assumptions..” He said slyly, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip.

You shook your head slightly, unable to find any words that would help your current situation. Matt smirked, letting go of your chin and standing back up straight. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, “Maybe I should call Chris up here?” He suggested, his fingers moving across the screen to pull up his brother’s contact. “Wait, Matt… Please-“ You finally said, not wanting Chris to be brought in. “Please what?” Matt spat, getting fed up with you not confessing. You looked down at your lap, twiddling your fingers as his eyes burned holes into your skin.

“He fucked you.” Matt said as a statement rather than a question, already knowing the answer. The proof was literally in your hands. Your eyes closed as you heard his words, your lips forming a tight line as you bit your tongue. “It was… Just once…” You whispered, as if that would make it any better. Matt couldn’t believe his ears, his arms crossing over his chest yet again as he scoffed at your coy reply. “Just once, huh?” He almost mocked you. You felt yourself shrinking into the mattress, your guilt eating you alive. Matt snatches the thong back from you, holding it out for you to see.

“Whose initial is that?” He asked roughly, pointing at the stitching. Your eyes quickly glanced up before looking back down, your silence filling the room. “Whose initial is it, hm?” He restated, becoming impatient.

“Yours..” You murmured so quietly that you weren’t even sure if he had heard it. He tossed the fabric to the side, quickly kneeling onto the edge of the bed and pushing you back. “Damn right.” He muttered, his hand cupping your cheek as he brought his lips down to forcefully meet yours in a kiss. His lips moved aggressively against yours, pouring all his frustration and pent up anger into it, claiming you as his. He broke the kiss breathlessly, his lips ghosting over yours as he spoke again, “You’re mine. Don’t fucking forget it.”

[genshinluvr]

Burning Desire 4

Pairings: Various Genshin Men x Isekai'd!Reader (Al Haitham x Isekai'd!Reader)

Summary: Awaken from your slumber due to the burning pit in your stomach, you decide to take a shower early morning, hoping it will cool you off. After your shower, you leave your bedroom to see a shirtless Al Haitham reading a book at your desk. You weren't sure why Al Haitham is in your bedroom, but he has his reasons for visiting you.

Note: I've been busy dealing with some things outside of my fanfics, and I haven't been able to type as much as I would like. Therefore, Al Haitham's smut is a bit shorter than the previous routes in the Burning Desire smut series. Again, the smut routes aren't supposed to be as long as the first "chapter" of the series and Crave. It's pure smut and has no plot, so some smut will be shorter depending on how it flows. As previously stated in my previous smut-fics, I tried to keep the story as gender-neutral as possible. All of my smuts do lean towards female!reader/AFAB!reader with gender-neutral pronouns. As usual, minors DO NOT INTERACT! I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: Horribly written smut, as per usual ✨ slight masturbation/groping (?), orgasm denial, mating press, fingering, handjob, cervix fucking, slight choking, doggy style, slight overstimulation, slight voyeurism

Word Count: 4.1k

Burning Desire "chapters"/routes: [1], [2], [3], [4]

You tried to sleep, but the burning pit in your stomach was unbearable. You’re worn out from getting dicked down by Scaramouche and Tighnari, and you can use some sleep. Unfortunately for you, it doesn’t look like that’s going to be happening any time soon. You would fall asleep for a few hours but wake up to the unbearable throbbing between your legs. You need someone to drill their cock into you, or else you will go crazy. 

The first thing you did when you wake up for the umpteenth time in the middle of the night is to masturbate. It provided a small amount of relief, but the same feeling will come back. The same burning desire will hit you like a sumpter beast, causing you to writhe around on your bed despite having your fingers buried deep in your entrance and cumming multiple times. Okay, well, ‘multiple times’ is a bit of an exaggeration— three times is the correct number.

Archons, you even went as far as taking a cold shower at four in the morning while everyone was still sleeping in their beds. You’re hoping the men who have a keen sense of hearing and smell don’t wake up to your activities. That would be even more embarrassing. The shower lasts almost two hours— your body’s really hot, and the cold water raining down on you feels so nice that it nearly makes you forget that you inhaled a large amount of aphrodisiac. 

You step out of your bathroom, hair still drenched from your shower. You stop in your tracks when you see the Scribe sitting at your desk, reading a book. You blink at Al Haitham and peek at the clock in your bedroom. It’s almost six in the morning, and yet the gray-haired man is in your bedroom, wearing nothing but gray silk pajama pants.

You rub your eyes and gingerly sit on your bed. “Al Haitham? What are you doing up around this time?” You ask, getting under your blanket.

You squeeze your eyes shut briefly when the ache between your legs spikes up when you press your thighs together. You’re hoping that Al Haitham either leaves your room soon or he buries his cock inside you until you wake up everyone in the abode. Your mind is constantly racing ever since you breathe in the aphrodisiac, and you can never get peace of mind. Al Haitham closes his book, turning to face you and spreading his legs wide open. You gulp and look away, running your hands through your damp hair to distract yourself from looking at the faint tent forming in his pajama pants. 

Al Haitham rests his arm on the armrest, staring at you intently in the darkness of your room. Light peeking through the blackout curtains of your room, illuminating your bedroom. You gulp and hug your knees to your chest, waiting for Al Haitham to say something. Al Haitham sighs and leans back in his seat; you can see his muscles ripple and flex whenever he moves. Archons, he is so handsome. 

“I wanted to check up on you. I didn’t think you’d be awake so early,” says Al Haitham, crossing his arms over his chest.

Archons. The way his biceps flexes when he crosses his arms over his chest. You gulp and lie down, not taking your eyes off the gray-haired Scribe. Why is Al Haitham acting so casual with you when he knows you’re having inner turmoil. You want to skin yourself alive for feeling this way. The intense need for someone to be buried balls deep inside your entrance until you’re crying and begging for them to give you a break.

You nod, trying to act casual. “My bedroom was hot, and I was sweating in my sleep. I didn’t want to lay in a puddle of sweat, so I went to take a shower,” you lie.

Al Haitham hums, nodding slowly. You curl up into a ball, waiting for Al Haitham to leave your room. Judging by the way he’s sitting on the chair near your desk, you don’t think he will be leaving your bedroom any time soon. Al Haitham suddenly stands up, stretching his arms in the air and yawning. You blink and quickly look at the tent in his pants before looking away before Al Haitham can catch you in the act. You pretend to look at the clock, gesturing to it.

“I think you should go to bed. It’s still early in the morning,” you say, pulling your blanket up to your chin and closing your eyes. 

Al Haitham raises his eyebrows at you. “Oh? You want me to leave already? I thought you would want me to help you with your problem,” Al Haitham says nonchalantly, walking toward your bed.

You crack an eye open and nearly jump out of your skin when you see how close he is to you. Al Haitham kneels on your bed and towers over you, caging you against your bed with his arms on both sides of your head while you look up at him like a deer caught in headlights. Al Haitham tilts his head, cocking an eyebrow at you, waiting for you to respond. 

You clear your throat, snuggling deep into your blanket to distract yourself from Al Haitham’s stare and the dampness pooling in your underwear. Al Haitham is so freaking breathless— the veins on his arms are driving you crazy. He’s so handsome, and he knows it. Al Haitham clears his throat, grabbing you by the chin to have you look into his eyes. 

“Are you going to answer my question or not?” Al Haitham asks.

You nod sheepishly, making Al Haitham look at you skeptically. 

“Is that a yes to the question I just asked or the previous question?”

You stare at Al Haitham and rub the back of your neck. “I do want you to help me, but it’s embarrassing, and it’s too early in the morning to be having sex,” you mutter.

Al Haitham clicks his tongue and releases your chin, now sitting at the edge of your bed. You sit up and rest your chin on your knees, staring at the gray-haired man before you. Al Haitham leans back and runs his fingers through his bedhead. Archons, his bedhead is too cute. For someone who’s aching to get railed, you act like a prude— despite having two men fucking a couple of orgasms from you.

Al Haitham strokes his chin. “You don’t have to worry about waking the others if you can keep your volume to a minimum,” Al Haitham comments, grabbing at his aching cock through his silk pajamas.

You gulp and watch Al Haitham stroke and squeeze his cock. Heat rushes to your cheeks when you realize Al Haitham is staring at you, waiting for you to respond. How are you going to keep your volume at a minimal volume when you have something thick or long pistoning into your entrance?

“But there are people in the abode that have a keen sense of hearing, Al Haitham,” you whine.

Al Haitham squeezes the base of his cock through his pajama pants, grunting quietly when you whine his name. You cover your face, trying to get the image of Al Haitham hovering over you out of your head. Al Haitham releases his dick and crawls over you, pinning you down on your bed.

“So? What are they going to do about it, hmm? I am helping you, aren’t I?” Al Haitham mutters, brushing the tip of his nose against your cheek before peppering kisses on your cheek.

Al Haitham is not wrong about that. The aphrodisiac is still in your system, and it doesn’t seem like it’s not going away any time soon. Plus, the aphrodisiac is just the same as it was when the symptoms kicked in. You don’t think you can handle the thought of Al Haitham plowing into you while the others are asleep and when Gorou and Tighnari can wake up to the littlest sounds coming from you.

You close your eyes, wrapping your arms around Al Haitham’s shoulders as he kisses down your neck, lightly nibbling and biting your neck. You shiver and dig your nails into his back as Al Haitham latches his lips into your collarbone, lightly sucking on it. 

Al Haitham murmurs against your neck, “If you want me to stop, let me know, and I’ll stop.”

You run your fingers through Al Haitham’s hair, tilting your head to the side to give him some room to suck on your neck.

You let out a shaky sigh when he sucks on your neck. “I don’t want you to stop,” you whisper, tugging on his hair.

Al Haitham smirks against your neck and stops sucking on your neck. Al Haitham grabs your blanket and rips it off your body, leaving you only in your oversized t-shirt. You hear a sharp intake of breath from Al Haitham when he sees that you’re not wearing anything underneath the large t-shirt.

“You naughty little thing,” Al Haitham whispers, shaking his head with a smirk.

You whine and hide your face with one hand while attempting to pull your shirt down to cover your exposed groin with the other. Al Haitham clicks his tongue, shaking his head with disapproval. Al Haitham grabs you by your wrist and pins them over your head with one hand while lifting your shirt until your chest is exposed. 

Al Haitham spreads your legs with his knees before kneeling between your legs. Al Haitham releases your shirt and lifts your leg. Al Haitham swipes his index and middle finger up your wet entrance, making you jolt with surprise. You tremble beneath Al Haitham as he continues to coat his fingers in your slick, muttering about how wet you are for him. 

“Al Haitham, please…” You trail off, gazing at him through your lashes.

Al Haitham plunges his middle and ring finger into your entrance. You tense up and let out a choked gasp. You tried to cover your mouth to muffle your moans, but you couldn’t free yourself from Al Haitham’s iron grip. You wrap your legs around his waist as he pulls his fingers out from your entrance before slamming them back into your gummy walls, making you writhe and arch your back beneath him. 

Archons, you’re so wet that every time Al Haitham thrusts his fingers into your sopping-wet cavern, you and Al Haitham would hear squelching, and your juices would coat the inside of your thighs. Al Haitham groans, feeling how tight you are around his fingers. Your back arches every time Al Haitham’s long fingers jab a particular spot inside you, causing you to choke out a moan and clench around his fingers.

“Al Haitham…” You whimper, attempting to free yourself from his iron grip.

Al Haitham suddenly pulls his fingers out. You nearly whine at the feeling of emptiness. Al Haitham releases your wrists before grabbing your shirt collar with both hands, tearing your shirt in half. You watch Al Haitham toss your shirt to the side carelessly before taking his pajama pants, leaving him only in his black boxers. 

You can see his bulge clear as day— the tent in his boxers is bigger than it was before. Al Haitham cages you against your bed with his arms before pressing his lips against yours. You wrap your legs around his waist, pressing your bare entrance against Al Haitham’s pulsating cock. The only thing that is getting in the way of you feeling Al Haitham’s cock is his boxers.

Al Haitham breaks the kiss and presses his forehead against your shoulders, breathing heavily. Al Haitham begins grinding his clothed cock against your entrance. You panted, eyes rolling to the back of your head when his cock rubbed up against your swollen bundle of nerves. You clench around nothing, biting on your lips to muffle your gasps. Al Haitham blindly reaches down to his boxers and begins taking his underwear off and tossing them to the ground beside your bed. You sigh in relief when you feel his hot cock press against your entrance. You peek down to see Al Haitham’s cock— the bulbous tip is red with need, pre-cum beading at the tip. 

Al Haitham slowly ruts his cock against your entrance, coating the base of his cock in your essence. You reach down to grab his cock by the base, gently squeezing them. Al Haitham hisses and squeezes his eyes shut. You gently stroke his cock before rubbing the mushroom tip of his cock with your thumb, spreading his pre-cum around. 

“You’re incredibly sensitive, Al Haitham,” you murmur, giving his cock a light squeeze.

Al Haitham hisses again before burying his face into the crook of your neck, panting heavily against your neck as you continue to stroke his cock. You stoke his throbbing dick slowly, making sure to lightly squeeze the tip and rub the tip of your thumb over the mushroom tip. Al Haitham releases a guttural moan and bucks into your hands, his eyes rolling to the back of his head when you tighten your grip around his red cock. 

You continue pumping Al Haitham’s throbbing member until Al Haitham lets out a choked moan. Al Haitham grabs your wrist and forcibly removes your hand from his dick. Al Haitham gulps, pinning your hand to your side as he tries to catch his breath. 

You press your lips into a thin line. “I almost made Al Haitham cum.” You can’t help but feel proud of yourself for being able to (almost) have Al Haitham cum with just your hands.

Al Haitham looks at you and slowly stands, brushing his messy hair from his face. Al Haitham grabs you by the waist and pulls you down. You squeal and gasp when Al Haitham slaps your already aching entrance. Al Haitham grabs your engorged bundle of nerves and pinches them hard. You grit your teeth and curl your toes, legs shaking as Al Haitham rubs the nub at a fierce pace. 

You grab Al Haitham’s wrists, attempting to get him to stop before he makes you cum. “Stop, stop, stop, stop! I’m going to cum if you don’t stop!” You whine as you flail your legs around.

The tight knot forms at the bottom of your abdomen, getting incredibly tighter while Al Haitham continues to pinch, twist, and rub your swollen, aching nub. You shudder and tense up, preparing yourself for your impending orgasm. When the tight knot in your lower abdomen is about to snap and unleash the floodgates, Al Haitham releases your throbbing nub.

You look at Al Haitham, eyes wide and chest heaving with heavy breaths. “Al Haitham! Why’d you stop!?” you whine softly, grabbing his wrist and shaking his arm.

Al Haitham spreads your legs and slaps your sopping-wet entrance, making you involuntarily clench around nothing. You rest your head on your pillow and close your eyes, trying to catch your breath while Al Haitham coats the underside of his cock with your slick. You gasp softly when you feel Al Haitham’s hot cock rubs against your puffy entrance.

You’re not sure if you’re feeling extra needy because of the aphrodisiac or if it’s because Al Haitham denied you of your orgasm. Maybe it’s both. Al Haitham lifts your legs by the thighs, having your calves rest on his shoulders as he lines the tip of his cock at your entrance. Archons, this isn’t going to be the first time getting railed by your boyfriends, but for some reason, you can’t help but feel nervous about it. Sensing your anxiousness, Al Haitham kisses the back of your calves and gives your thigh a reassuring squeeze. You smile at Al Haitham and swallow your saliva. You grip Al Haitham’s thighs, gently digging your nails into his flesh. You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and brace yourself. Al Haitham rubs the bulbous tip of his dick against your fluttery entrance before slowly entering your drenched hole. Your jaws drop, letting out a string of moans when Al Haitham’s mushroom tip breaches your entrance. You unintentionally clench your thighs around his waist, tensing below Al Haitham the more he sinks his cock into your gummy walls with a semi-loud moan.

You whimper when Al Haitham’s thick cock stretches you out. You squeeze your thighs around Al Haitham’s waist, causing him to stop halfway in your hot cavern. Al Haitham pants, balling his hands into fists beside your head. Al Haitham closes his eyes, relishing the feeling of your gummy walls clamping around his throbbing dick.

Al Haitham leans over you, his chest pressing against your face while he buries his face into your pillow. “Try to relax for me, baby. Please,” Al Haitham rasps, reaching down to grab your hand.

You whimper, holding Al Haitham’s hands and interlocking your fingers with his. “I-I’m trying,” you whisper, eyebrows furrowing while trying to relax and adjust to Al Haitham’s size.

Al Haitham nudges his nose against yours, his lips ghosting over yours. Al Haitham presses his lips against yours, swallowing your moans and whimpers when he sinks further into your heat. You wrap your legs around Al Haitham’s slim waist, heels digging into his ass cheeks. Al Haitham grunts into your mouth, balls deep inside your entrance. 

Al Haitham stretching your hole is painful— you could’ve sworn that if Al Haitham was any thicker than he already is, he’d stretch you out so much that your entrance would rip to shreds. You can literally feel the skin stretch to accommodate his girth. You wrap your arm around Al Haitham’s shoulders while squeezing Al Haitham’s hand with the other. 

Al Haitham gently thrusts forward to test the waters. You clench around Al Haitham’s cock, panting into his mouth. Al Haitham pulls away from the kiss and kisses your jawline while pressing his chest against yours, refusing to release your hand. Your thighs are shaking as you try your best to relax and not tense up each time Al Haitham thrusts lightly into you.

Al Haitham can feel you tremble while peppering kisses on your jaws and neck. He gently massages your inner thighs, closing his eyes while trying to adjust to the tightness of your entrance.

You unclench your legs around Al Haitham’s waist and signal him to start. Al Haitham pushes himself off you and kneels between your legs, lifting your legs up, and begins thrusting into your drenched entrance at a steady pace. You pant, eyes rolling to the back of your head every time Al Haitham thrusts in and out of your hole. The veiny base of Al Haitham’s cock rubs against the gummy walls of your warm, tight cavern, sending you to Celestia and back. 

“Fuck, Al Haitham,” you whimper, squeezing your eyes shut each time Al Haitham buries his cock into you. 

Al Haitham chokes out a moan, hugging your legs to his chest while thrusting. Al Haitham lifts your legs up until your ass is hanging above the bed. Al Haitham leans forward, folding you in half until your feet are above your head. You grunt when you feel the muscles of your thighs strain under the pressure. Al Haitham kisses the back of your calves, pulling his cock out until only the tip remains.

Al Haitham plunges only the tip of his cock in and out of your entrance, making you wince and shudder at the strange feeling. If you could describe how it feels, it feels like Al Haitham is almost scooping your insides out. It’s hard for you to put your finger on it— it’s the best way you can describe it, and it feels strange. You don’t think anyone has ever fucked you with just the tip of their cock.

Al Haitham continues to plunge the tip of his dick into your entrance repeatedly. You tense up, whimper, and clamp your thighs together. Without warning, Al Haitham thrusts his cock all the way into your drooling hole. Al Haitham chokes a moan and collapses on top of you when your gummy walls clench around his member. 

Al Haitham props himself up on his forearms and begins pumping his cock in and out of your entrance. Your thigh muscles strain under Al Haitham’s weight, making you whimper and grunt at the feeling. Al Haitham hooks one leg over his shoulder while wrapping the other around his waist without stopping or slowing down. Al Haitham grabs your throat with one hand before aggressively pressing his lips against yours, quickening his pace.

You bite Al Haitham’s lips, making him growl and slam his dick into you so hard that you see stars dancing behind your vision. Al Haitham swallows your wails as you try to keep your voice down. Much to your dismay, a familiar feeling starts building up in your lower abdomen as Al Haitham continues to abuse your hole with his thick cock sooner than you thought.

You break the kiss, panting and squealing as Al Haitham drills his cock deep into you. “Al Haitham! I’m going to cum,” you whine, weakly punching his shoulders.

Al Haitham slides his hands down from your throat to your groin and slaps your puffy entrance, making sure to hit your bundle of nerves. You grit your teeth and squeeze your eyes shut, tightening your leg around Al Haitham’s waist. Al Haitham starts rubbing your engorged nub aggressively, making sure to piston his cock into your g-spot. 

Al Haitham leans down and bites your neck hard, his eyes rolling to the back of his head when your gummy walls squeeze his cock so tightly that thick ropes of hot cum spurt into you. You whimper cum around his cock, back arching, chest pressing against Al Haitham’s heaving chest, eyes rolling to the back of your head as stars spin and dance behind your eyelids. You go limp and lay beneath Al Haitham in a daze, trying to catch your breath as your groin continues to pulse.

Al Haitham pulls his cock out from your now-sullied entrance before getting off your bed. You peek at Al Haitham to see him standing at the foot of your bed. Al Haitham slicks his hair back before grabbing your ankles and pulling you toward the edge of your bed. You’re too tired to fight back. Instead, you let Al Haitham do as he pleases. Al Haitham spreads your legs, watching his and your mixed cum spill from your pulsing hole. Al Haitham flips you over on your stomach and bends you over with your ass in the air.

“Another round?” You mumble, rubbing your eyes.

Al Haitham grunts in response before slamming his cock back inside. You squeal and grip your bedsheets hard, burying your face into your mattress as Al Haitham pistons his cock into your entrance. Al Haitham spreads your cheeks, watching his and your cum coat his dick and spill onto your bedsheets. The only thing Al Haitham hears are the sounds of your moans and whimpers. Something in the corner of Al Haitham’s eyes distracts him for a moment. Al Haitham looks up to see your bedroom door cracked open and a shadow standing at the doorway. The shadowy figure watches Al Haitham pistons his cock in and out of your sulled, pulsating entrance. Al Haitham smirks at the person, grabs a handful of your hair, and pulls you back toward his chest. You groan and close your eyes, wrapping your arm around his neck while digging your nails into your thighs. Your gummy walls pulse around Al Haitham’s cock as you whimper and writhe in Al Haitham’s grasp. Al Haitham doesn’t take his eyes off the shadowy figure, making sure to give the unknown person a show.

Al Haitham hisses when you clench around his cock, taking his attention away from the unknown person at the door and down at you. You choke out a wail, cumming around Al Haitham’s cock for the second time before going limp while Al Haitham proceeds to pump and grind his cock into your entrance. 

‘I can do this all day,’ Al Haitham pants, filling your hole with cum.

Al Haitham pulls his cock out of your battered entrance, wiping a bead of sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. Al Haitham glances at the door, only to see that the door is now shut. You curl up in a ball and groan when the mixture of your and Al Haitham’s cum spills out of you. 

You rub your eyes, muttering, “Now I know how creampuffs feel.”

Al Haitham snorts and lays beside you, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you to his chest, and pulling a blanket over your body. Al Haitham kisses the side of your head and squeezes you lightly. You moan quietly when you feel cum leaking from your hole as the burning pit in your stomach remains ravenous. 

Note: I won't be posting next week because I decided that it would be a perfect time to take a break from writing and posting for this upcoming week. Not only have I been busy, but I haven't had the motivation to write/continue fanfics because of how exhausted I have been lately. But fear not, I will post the week after my break! I'm thinking about continuing Tragic Outcomes, but we'll have to wait and see about that 🤔 Anyway! Ready to vote for the next route in Burning Desire? Remember to vote for who you want to be in the next fic and read the instructions carefully— which should be simple enough, I hope. Vote for the next route [HERE]! Anyway, to all my new and returning readers, keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

Taglist for my Isekai'd!Reader one-shot series and my overall taglist: @ins4nebish, @skyyyyackerman, @w1s-t3r1a, @urlocalheizousimp, @crinklypink, @downbadforurmom, @jadedist, @kaoyamamegami, @vynniis, @4-34-am, @iamcherryblossomsbitch, @starrry-angel, @raidenshogunsboobasword, @worldhardtibbysoft, @sagekun, @imnothungry-45, @lucifarts-boxers, @ieathairs, @akemiixx01, @probablynoposts, @mortallyshamelessfella, @odevote118, @sunlightstarr, @hispasian-otaku, @toobytub, @toshikochan, @firesunflames, @nightlysunn, @vox34, @skyyyyackerman, @undecidingfate, @nightlysunn, @aethersclothes (Taglist for Burning Desire has been fixed and updated— sorry for the inconvenience ;v; )

Read more of my works on my Masterlist / Masterlist 2 | Maybe support me by tipping me on Ko-Fi or by reblogging my fanfics! ^^ I will also be posting exclusive fanfics on Ko-Fi as well very soon! I might post all of my stories on there too, but who knows. You can also tip me on Tumblr if you'd like as a way to show support! ^^

[grimesgirll]

there’s something about the way your bodysuit rides up that makes rick lose his better judgment - and do things like pull down your pants and drag you to the bedroom.

“rick,” you breathe.

“this is how it opens, right?” he undoes the snaps between your legs.

“yes, but what abou-,”

“no one cares about the laundry right now.”

yeah, you wouldn’t, you think as he unceremoniously hikes your gray bodysuit up. the bodysuit you thought would pair well with the cargo pants you’d been wearing until the man flipping you over had stripped you of them.

stomach to the duvet, you hear footsteps on the stairs.

fuck! it better not be carl. you’re praying whoever it is walks away or rick separates himself from you for just long enough to shut the door.

“help me take off her top.” rick instructs and swift on his feet, daryl is in front of you.

“arms.”

you oblige and extend your limbs to allow him to peel the now inside out garment off of you.

“ouch!” you yelp when you feel a sudden sting on your bottom. “what-,” you turn around to see rick with a hand poised on top of your reddening flesh and a finger working towards your cunt.

rick forces another yelp out of you when the next slap lands on your pussy. this is not how you saw your tuesday afternoon going.

you crane your head enough to lock eyes with daryl. your doe eyes are all he needs to unbuckle his pants. frowning, you bring yourself upright enough to help him.

“not even a how was your day?” you jest through parted lips.

“sorry, can’t think straight when you’re just laying like this with the door open.”

“thanks for shuttin’ it,” the older man says and daryl nods.

“well, you owe me a nap after this.” you insist, breath becoming uneven again as rick curls two fingers into you.

“you want a nap, you say?” rick questions, adding his tongue into the equation.

you arch into him. “yes-, i-,” you gasp. “fuck.”

“can’t believe you got ‘er like that already.” daryl remarks, removing himself from his underwear.

you’re sure you can feel the shape of rick’s smirk beneath you as he speeds up both his fingers and tongue. it’s perfect timing because right as your mouth is opening to exhale nice and wide, daryl takes his opportunity to slot into your mouth.

rick has been building you up just to knock you down. every time his tongue drags across your core you can’t help but clamp your thighs down around him, unable to withstand the way he puckers his lips and downright teases your sopping entrance.

three fingers and a twisting tongue is what it takes to turn teasing to total annihilation as you start to fall forward on daryl. your shuddering legs keep on until rick is bracing them open.

“fuck,” you whimper with a mouth full of cock.

above you, daryl gets a front row seat to observe as rick licks your first orgasm of the day out of you. watching your eyes roll back with his dick in your mouth has to be one of the best parts of the redneck’s day so far.

“damn, baby, you needed rick to lick you stupid, huh?”

you can only nod and bob down on daryl. he’s more than happy to guide you and enjoy all the little noises rick is maneuvering out of you with his fingers on daryl’s cock in the form of mewling vibrations.

thoroughly opened up, your legs are still shaking when you feel rick behind you. so preoccupied with daryl, rick’s girth knocking into you comes as a surprise. not for either of the men above though. daryl in particular relishes in every thrust that sends you further down his length.

four blue eyes are fixed on you throughout it all. fixated on how eagerly you swallow daryl, how wet you’ve been this entire time, and the filthy wet squelch echoing.

“you can’t be comin’ already?” daryl questions incredulously when he notices your telltale signs.

hollowing your cheeks, you just try to focus on not choking on the thick cock in your mouth. it’s hard to focus at all with the older man behind you ramming into you at top speeds. not when he’s so deep that he’s brushing your cervix. the feeling of how full you are with him inside of you is enough to have slick running down your thighs again and tears welling in your eyes.

you don’t expect the jolt - the joint sensation on your bottom and inside your molten hot core as you clench around rick, seeing spots as he spears you on top of him through it.

rick maintains a hand on your ass; occasionally, lifting the other just to rain it down on your soft rear. “love seein’ you in that bodysuit, honey,” he’s panting, rocking into you while you tighten around him. “you’re so perfect. so fuckin’ tight for me. fuck.”

you feel daryl twitch inside of you first. then it’s one rough gag that has his hands in your hair while he coats your throat.

daryl is bringing a tissue to your mouth and rick is already on fetching a towel for the mess he made between your legs.

“so, you’ll take a nap with me?” you look from rick between your legs to daryl beside you, both whom seem to be crafting a rebuttal. “nope!” you shake your head, not letting them deny you this. “never mind, no room for arguing. just room for you guys, in this bed.” you plop back and pull them with you, hand in hand.

rick usually has some huffing about patrol or duties to do but instead he’s settling onto the soft mattress next to you. daryl’s on your other side, a hand in your hand and on your thigh.

“mhm, c’mere, darlin’,” rick clutches you closer to land a kiss on your temple. as he ruffles your hair, daryl is pressed against your heartbeat with a hand skirting dangerously close to your inner thighs again.

what a perfect way to spend your tuesday afternoon.

[simp4wom3n]

The Quiet One Pt.II

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x fem!reader

Requested: Yes/No

Summary: After losing Dewey right in front of their eyes, y/n decides to try and run away with the only other person she can trust. That plan however, turns sideways as Tara and y/n experience yet another real-life nightmare. ~ Word Count: 6.319k ~ Warnings: swearing, a lot of description of blood and gore, scream 5 spoilers obvi

A/N: HELLLO pt2 is finally hereeeeee!! I'm sorry it took me so long uni work has been killing me + I think this might be my longest fic yet so. Hopefully, you guys enjoy it and I did end up listening to the poll so hopefully everyone is happy with the ending <3

Pt1 ~ Pt2 ~ Pt3 ~ Pt4 ~ Pt5

"I would fucking love to."

"Let's get you out of here then", Sam smiles at you, a stray tear escaping your weak grasp at her soft words. She gives your hand one last gentle squeeze before she stands up to get the nurse, your soft gaze shifting to Tara, whose warm smile still adorned her face. Your eyes scanned her tired features, the mental and physical weight of the situation clearly catching up to her - and yet her smile still managed to set your body alight.

When Sam returns with the nurse, you gingerly sit up as they help you swing your legs off the side of the hospital bed. With Sam holding one arm and the nurse on the other, they balance you as your feet touch the ground, your knees shaking slightly as you stand up. You chuckle lightly when the young nurse hands you a black walking stick. You catch Tara choking down her laugh in your peripherals, causing you to playfully glare at her as you try to get used to walking again.

After some initial help from the nurse, you were allowed to leave. When you walked towards Tara on your own, hobbling like a stiff post due to your aching torso, she offered you another small smile before teasing your rigid form. "Hey there, old man". She chuckled at her comment as you made your way towards the elevator, your mouth dropping in feign offence as you placed your hand over your heart. "Jeez, It's good to see you too."

You were so focused on not falling on your face when you all entered the lobby that you didn't notice the two familiar figures watching you as you approached the door. It wasn't until the Sidney Prescott approached the four of you that you lifted your head away from your walking stick, your eyes widening considerably when you noticed Gale sat just behind her.

The familiar burn of tears returned as your eyes lingered on Gale, and as her broken eyes met yours, you ripped your gaze away from her as your tears escaped down your cheeks. You had no idea whether Gale knew who you were, hell, you didn't really care if she did or not, but you certainly knew who she was. You and Dewey were each other's safe haven; for every piece of information you ranted to him about, he returned in the same volume, meaning that you had heard many of Dewey's rants about his ex-wife.

Knowing how strongly Dewey felt for Gale only made your heart ache more as waves of grief started crashing down on you. The more you tried to grasp that you had lost the one person who had always been there for you, the further you sank into the endless depths of grief, the ice-cold water infiltrating your lungs as you started to drown.

You were the first out the door when Richie suggested that the three of you bring the car around, the rush of fresh air causing your tensed muscles to relax slightly as you slowly inhaled. Richie was leading the way to the car with Tara in front of him, leaving you trailing behind with nothing but the sound of your stick connecting with the cold concrete beneath you and an emotionless and blank stare on your face.

As Richie helps Tara out of her wheelchair and into the backseat of Sam's car, you cautiously lower yourself next to her, a huff escaping your mouth when you're finally seated. You close the door before letting your head fall back in exhaustion, your eyes glued shut as you attempt to take the world's shortest power nap, the tidal wave of emotions finally starting to drain away.

Even as the car started moving, your eyes remained shut as your breathing began to steady, continuing to be blissfully unaware of Tara's worried gaze. It wasn't until Richie honked the horn obnoxiously that you finally opened your eyes. Catching a glimpse of Gale and Sidney, who continue to talk to Sam, makes you immediately regret looking out the window.

Turning away from the window, your eyes land on Tara, who had been sending you a worried gaze. "You okay?" she asks, her voice so soft that you almost miss her. The corner of your lips flutter with the essence of a smile as you send her a slight nod, your heart singing at her gentle words.

"Let's get the fuck out of town, huh?". Internally chuckling at Richie's words, you watch the two women try to stop Sam from leaving, failing horribly as she moves to get in the car. "No. We're leaving. That's the only way I can protect Tara.". You cast a hesitant glance in Tara's direction, her face dropping ever so slightly as her sister's words sink in.

Those exact words had you on the verge of tears once more. You had no idea where Sam had been all this time, having never met her before. Still, Tara obviously meant a lot to her, which made you both feel relieved that Tara was receiving the love she deserved and jealous that you lacked that same unconditional love.

You wanted to be cared for and loved - and not because they felt bad for you.

Obviously noticing the absent look on your face, Tara inhales slowly, trying to compose herself, before she gently reaches for your hand. You flinch slightly at the contact, not used to the affectionate and comforting gesture, but you take her hand nonetheless. Your heart is pounding as her fingers interlock with yours, and she gently squeezes your hand.

As Sam got into the car, she explained what Gale and Sidney wanted, and whilst you understood where they were coming from, there was no way you were letting whatever psycho was behind that mask take the only two people in this fucked up world that you cared about - one was already too many.

"Fuck that. Let's go."

The silence of the car trip was both eerie and serene. Both you and Tara had been tenderly looking at each other in silence for minutes on end, your eyes glancing back and forth between her flawless features and your conjoined hands.

Whilst losing Dewey was easily one of, if not the worst thing that has happened to you, as you admire Tara in the backseat of her sister's car, the passing street lights dimly lighting her face, you finally face the thought that you could have lost her too.

"I'm really happy that you're ok." you whisper, trying to hold onto your emotions as you swallow the lump in your throat. "I don't know what I would do if I lost you too". Squeezing your hand gently in response to your words, Tara looks similarly overwhelmed with emotions, her breathing becoming erratic.

"I don't know what I would've done if I lost you either", she responds breathlessly, her hand finally slipping out of yours as her attention shifts to her packed bag. Her sentimental words fail to sink in as you worriedly watch her search through her bag in a panic.

"Fuck, where is it?" "Where's what?" you asked worriedly, her frantic search causing your heart to race with anxiety. "My inhaler. I usually keep an extra one." "Should we go back" Sam chimes in, which causes both you, and apparently Richie, to internally panic. "Whoa, okay. I vote for not going back to the murder hospital" he speaks as if stealing the words from your mouth. "Should we stop at a pharmacy?" Sam suggests. "I'd need a prescription, but I left one at Amber's."

The pounding of your chest grew as you diverted your eyes outside the window. Just when you thought you had finally escaped Amber's murderous gaze, here you were finding out that not only were you probably about to go pay her a visit, but for Tara to have left a spare inhaler at her house, they must have been close - closer than you would like to imagine.

The thought made your body burn in unwarranted jealousy. You scolded yourself for feeling such a childish emotion. After all, you were the one who started ignoring her, not the other way around. "Is there seriously no other way we can get you one?" you spoke sharply, earning a confused glare from Tara at your tone. You refused to look at her as you felt her eyes scanning your side profile, your clenched jaw apparently obvious as her gaze softened slightly, "No..."

You slowly nodded your head in defeat as your heart plummeted. Your body clenched in agony as you turned back to the car window to watch the passing scenery in an effort to block out Richie's request for the location.

You would have preferred the murder hospital.

"Oh, perfect. She's having a party"

The loud music echoed through the car's closed windows as it came to a stop. The modest home on a dark and ominous street was now full of drunk teens who, for some unknown reason, decided to gather during the middle of a killing spree.

"I'll go in quickly and get it. I'll be back in five" "I'm coming too." Tara moves to unbuckle her seatbelt as Sam gets out of the car. "I'm coming with you" You follow Tara's movements as you unbuckle your seatbelt, albeit a bit more stiffly than Tara, a dull ache still in your torso.

Your words had caught Tara off-guard, her eyes studying you for a moment before she exited the car with Sam's help. She knew how you felt about Amber, how uncomfortable she made you. Even from miles away, she could tell how your body shifted uncomfortably whenever she was around you or how your usually lively expression would drop instantly when you caught a glimpse of her - or at least that was before you stopped talking to her.

Situated with her crutches under her arms, she looks over at you as you pull yourself out of the car, your posture still incredibly rigid as you close the door behind you and walk hesitantly around the vehicle until you are standing next to her.

"You ok?" she asks faintly, a hint of concern evident in her tone despite her inability to walk. "Yeah... You?" The ghost of a smile passes over your lips as your eyes meet hers, the softness in her gaze causing your heart to melt. "Yeah", she nods, her lips creeping upwards before Sam pulls her attention away from you.

The blaring music overwhelms your already delicate senses, the coloured lights straining your eyes as everyone starts the cheer at Tara's arrival. Although you felt like you were going into sensory overload, you couldn't help but admire how Tara looked under the euphoric lighting. Her typically gorgeous features now completely captivate you as you stare in awe - how could someone be so fucking perfect.

Your blissful admiring ended abruptly as Amber pushed her way through the crowd. "What are you doing out of the hospital? Should you even be up and around?" she said as she hugged Tara, your eyes averting themselves away from their affectionate embrace.

"I need my spare inhaler." "Why? where are you going?" You notice Tara's eyes shift towards Sam, who shakes her head at the question - a relief, considering you really didn't want Amber to know where you were going. "It's fine. Don't tell me. I get it. Just be safe, ok?.... I think it's in my room."

You couldn't help but scoff at her words. Of course it was in her room. Where else would it be. Your internal rant about how insufferable Amber was was sadly cut off by her words, "All right, everyone! Thanks for coming, but the party's over!" As you leant on your walking stick, your brows furrowed as the music stopped playing and the confused and angry calls of the partygoers came from all directions.

'Why is she ending the party?'. As far as you knew, she didn't need to do that. All she needed to do was disappear into her room for a minute to get the inhaler, and you would all be on your merry way. You now watched as everyone started to walk out the door, but your eyes were drawn to Tara as she shifted uncomfortably at Richie's mention of her attack. 'Prick'

Amber captured her attention as she rubbed her back sympathetically, earning herself a small smile from the girl. Your scowl grew due to the interaction, and your feet now carried you instinctively towards the one person left who meant anything to you.

"Can we just get the inhaler and get the fuck out of here" you interrupted, both of the girl's eyes landing on you with confused expressions - and a hint of anger on Ambers's part. "Sure thing, ghost face... but you're staying right here, away from Tara." her harsh words stung, your pained gaze landing on Tara, who simply looked at you blankly.

You tried to find words before Tara eventually spoke up, "Just stay here, y/n I'll be fine." she spoke plainly, already moving away from you with Amber on her tail. "You sure?" you call out. Tara turned her head back towards you with a small smile.

"I'll be right back I promise."

Sam was pacing around the house as you stood awkwardly in the entryway, shifting your weight between your stick and your feet as you tested whether you could walk without the irritating clicking that now followed your every step. If you were honest with yourself, you just wanted to leave. You wanted to run after Tara and pull her out of this goddamn house.

You obviously didn't know the layout of this house, but you were sure there was no way she could have taken this long to just grab her inhaler and go. You tapped your finger anxiously against the handle of your walking stick as Sam walked towards you, yelling, "Tara! We're leaving!". 'About time', you thought before you heard a phone start to ring.

You watched as Sam pulled out her phone, staring at it hesitantly before she inevitably pulled it up to her ear. "Hello?" you always hated only being able to hear one end of the phone call, but this one particularly angered you as you stared expectantly at Sam. "How do you know where I am?"

Silence.

You watch Sam's eyes flash with fear, her face going blank as she slowly scans her surroundings. As she finally stops still, terror overtaking her features, you begin to panic. "Sam? Sam, what's going on?" She blinks out of her trance, her mouth ajar as she sputters. "We have to get the fuck out of here."

As the last words left her mouth, a high-pitched scream pierced the air, followed by the sounds of furniture breaking, shattering the overbearing silence of the house. Sam bolts in the direction of the screams whilst you, being far less mobile, stumble in no particular direction, your head whipping around for any evidence of where Amber's room might be as your desperation to find Tara reaches your bursting point.

Eventually, stumbling into what looks like the living room, broken lamps and blood splatters covering a corner of the room. In that same corner, you notice Sam standing over Mindy's weakening figure. "No, Mindy, stay with me." You hobble further into the room, using the remaining furniture to support yourself as you make your way over to Mindy as quickly as possible.

Just as you make it over to the two girls, now covered in blood, you hear another piercing scream from behind you, causing your head to whip in its direction. "What did you do to her!?" Amber screams angrily as she storms into the room. 'Wait, is that Ta-' your thoughts are cut off as Amber throws you into the wall, her eyes staring daggers into your own.

You grunt in pain as Amber presses you into the wall, her hands gripping your shirt as your torso erupts in pain, causing your words to catch in your throat. "N-nothing. No, I didn't do anything." She scoffed before she let you fall to the floor, a whimper escaping your lips as you landed with a thud.

Curled up with your back against the wall, you squeezed your eyes shut in pain as your body throbbed. Feeble whimpers escaped your throat as your mind fogged over, the rapidly approaching clicks of crutches flying over your dazed head.

"God, Y/n!" your eyes crept open at the sound of a familiar voice calling your name. You watched as Tara made her way over to you in a panic. You couldn't tell whether it was the traces of painkillers left in your system making you loopy or whether you were just that desperate to feel like someone cared about you, but you couldn't help but admire her as she 'ran' over to you, her face painted with fear and yet you found it kinda cute.

She was stopped in her tracks when the sound of glass breaking echoed through the room. You silently scoffed as Amber stood protectively next to Tara, everyone's eyes darting towards Richie, who stood at the kitchen door with a broken beer bottle at his feet.

"What the fuck?" "Richie, where the fuck were you?!" Whilst everyone shouted at each other and Liv had at some point stumbled into the room, fuelled by pure desperation and jealousy, whilst Amber threw names around, you tried your best to stand up and close the remaining distance between you and Tara. Pushing with all the strength you had left in your legs, you managed to grasp onto a wooden set of draws and pull yourself up, now resting against them.

"Fuck you, Amber. I'm not the fucking killer!" Liv screamed in agony as you finally returned your attention to the chaos unfolding before you. Tara was already glancing at you with fear written all over her face as you glanced back and forth between her and the other group members.

"I know"

Liv's body fell to the floor with a loud thud as the sound of a gunshot filled the room. Breathing heavily, your eyes widened as they darted towards Amber, a smug smirk on her face as she proudly swung the gun around and pointed it directly at you.

"Welcome to act three"

You think you hear Richie scream 'Run', but as your eyes stare down the barrel of her gun, you remain frozen. A wave of nostalgia washes over you as your stitched wounds start to burn at the memory of the very night in the hospital. It slowly sank in that Amber was behind the mask that night.

The one that stabbed you mercilessly whilst undoubtedly plastering a smile all over her sick face.

The one that killed Dewey and, in doing so, took everything away from you.

The one that was about to kill you.

Your face was emotionless as she smirked at you. You had accepted your fate. The world hated you, so why not let it take you. Anticipating a bullet straight to the head like Liv had suffered moments ago, you were surprised when the gunshot went off, and your lights weren't immediately turned off.

Instead, you watched Tara intervene at the last second, putting Amber off as the bullet missed your head. You would have sighed in relief if your leg hadn't collapsed. Dropping onto the wooden floor, you gasp in pain as your eyes divert to your thigh, which is now spewing blood

"Y/n!" you hear Tara desperately cry, your eyes diverting away from the gaping hole in your leg to land on her tormented figure as Amber drags her out of the room. "Tara! Tara, no!" You attempt to push yourself off the floor, getting up onto your hands and knees as you work up the strength to follow her.

"Y/n! please!" she screams again, her voice becoming more distant every second. Sucking in a deep breath, you struggle to pull your good leg up from beneath you before your hand slips in your own pool of blood, causing you to fall flat on your stomach.

"No... N-No" you cry softly as you bleed out helplessly on the floor.

The sound of a distant gunshot causes your eyes to shoot open. The house has been eerily quiet for the past few minutes. When two more gunshots ring out, you turn your head from your position on the floor, attempting to see if you can see anything through the doorway.

The sound of approaching footsteps catches your attention as Amber appears from around the corner, gun still in hand. When she spots your fragile figure lying in a small pool of blood, she tilts her head playfully as the corner of her lips crack into a smirk.

Taking slow, calculated steps towards you, she crouches in front of you so her eyes meet yours. "Oh y/n... y/n, y/n, y/n." She taunted as you chewed on your bottom lip, knowing that if you made a snarky remark, she wouldn't hesitate to put a bullet right between your eyes.

"This feels awfully familiar, but I can't seem to think where from... Oh yeah, that's right... the hospital" she chuckles as you begin to cry, a solemn tear falling down the side of your face. "Look at you, so pathetic... Dewey can't save you now, can he." Any grip you had on your emotions was broken as soon as his name left her mouth.

"Fuck you", you spat, your body now seething with a mixture of anger and heartbreak. "Aw, aren't you feisty? You know, normally, I would just shoot you right now, kill you while I have the chance, but... I don't know, I think I'd rather see you die slowly... painfully."

She gave you a sarcastic pat on the shoulder as she stood back up and walked away, probably going to put her costume on. The eerie silence returns as Amber disappears, the front door opening, which you presumed was her leaving to continue her bloodbath. However, when you heard what sounded like Sidney calling out, your head lifted in hope.

"Anyone hiding, killer or not, you have five seconds to show yourself!", "In here! I'm over here! Help me, please." you begged as you continued to keep pressure on your bullet wound. When Sidney enters the room, you let out a wet chuckle in relief before she points the gun at you.

You raise your spare hand up in surrender, your eyes pleading with her for her help. You see her eyes flash in recognition. Although extremely hesitant at first, she eventually takes one last glance over her shoulder before she comes closer to you, kneeling down next to you as her eyes follow your hands to your thigh. She sucks a breath in as she reaches for a blanket on the couch behind her, tearing off a strip of its fabric before she ties it tightly around your leg, causing you to hiss in pain.

As soon as she tied the knot, she quickly got back to her feet and had her gun ready. "Stay here, okay?" You nod softly as she retreats from the room, a soft thank you escaping your lips as she disappears further into the house.

Staring at the ceiling, your hands sticky and painted a crimson red, you take slow, steady breaths to calm your racing heart. With numerous gunshots ringing through the house as Sidney undoubtedly searches every inch of it, you take in what will most likely be your last peaceful moments, knowing that this nightmare will only get worse.

Your suspicions were confirmed when the ground shook violently underneath you, the sound of gasps and groans accompanying it as your ears perked up in concern. Despite being riddled with pain, your leg feeling like a dead weight on your already weakened body, you push yourself up off the ground, grunting as you finally reach your feet.

Using the remnants of furniture as your crutch, you limp towards the commotion as a steady stream of blood escapes from your tourniquet, painting a thin red path down your leg. Your head spins as your heavy blood loss starts to take its toll, your eyesight becoming blurry as you eventually slump against the doorway leading towards the home's entrance.

"Yes! Yes!" "Shoot him!" Your jaw went slack as your eyes focused on what was happening before you. You watched as Sam stood over ghost face, who you presumed was Amber, with a gun pointed towards their head. You couldn't help but sigh slightly in relief at the thought of Amber getting what was coming to her, but that was cut short as Richie forced a knife into Sam's side.

A gasp fell from your lips. Both you and Sam are in complete disbelief. "I really, really wanted to be the one to kill you." You cringe in pain as Richie twists the knife in Sam's torso, the girl screaming in agony as her knees buckle underneath her. The smile on Richie's face made you sick, diverting your eyes away from the pair to try and escape the torturous sight.

However, you didn't find any relief as your eyes landed on Amber as she took off her mask before grabbing the gun from Richie's hand. She smirks at you as she harshly grabs Sidney's hair, pulling her head back so she grunts in pain and points the gun at you again.

Your strength starts to drain from your legs as you slowly slide down the wall, your face becoming a ghostly white as you slump against the floor. Your breathing is laboured as you look back towards Sam, your drooping eyes opening in disgust as Richie pulls Tara's inhaler out of his pocket.

"I can't believe this worked", he said, chuckling maniacally. "You son of a bitch!" you berated him from your place on the floor, staring at Richie with pure hatred burning behind your eyes, begging to be set free.

This was the last time you would let them take advantage of Tara.

"Where is Tara!? Where the fuck is she!? What did you do to her!?" you continued to yell, moving from your place on the wall to try and reach Amber, only for her to hit you across the face with her gun, your back violently falling onto the floor.

"Why do you care so much about her, huh? It's not like she cares about you. Why would she? Hell, I don't even know how she tolerated you... but if you seriously think Tara likes you, oh y/n, you've got another thing coming" Your eyes swam with tears, her words reawakening your most significant doubt about every 'friendship' you had ever had.

Why the fuck would they like you?

"Let's get'em into the kitchen"

"Dewey had to die to make it real. To show that this wasn't just some bullshit, cash-in, run-of-the-mil sequel". Pushed up against the kitchen counter, Amber points a bloodied knife dangerously close to your face as she yells her so-called 'reasoning' for taking your best friend's life, your adopted father, the one person you could wholly rely on.

Her and Richies speech had gone straight over your head, your mind instead focusing on Tara's absence from what would appear a vital part of their plan where they wanted everyone alive to be. They even brought an injured Gale into the conversation, perhaps just to taunt her about Dewey, but it still left you panicking. You had had enough of their useless justification.

You had to find Tara dead or alive - preferably the latter.

"Because our movie has fucking stakes! Cause anyone can die in a requel" As Amber turns her head away from you, you take your opportunity as you reach for a knife left carelessly on the counter. Your fingertips graze the knife's handle as Amber's is shoved into your torso, a hoarse groan escaping your throat as your legs buckle underneath you at the burning pain.

At this point, your entire body is riddled with pain. Your stitches stretch with each way you turn, your legs throb with every step you take, and now with every heavy breath you inhale, your torso burns in agony, the familiar crimson liquid cascading down your body one too many times.

"Whoa, whoa, who do we have here?" Richie mocks as he kneels down in front of you. "Y/n was it?... well y/n, I'm so sorry, but we can't let you live either, can we? I mean..." he humorously chuckles, "you weren't even supposed to be here in the first place... but now that you're here, the more bodies, the better." he smiles at you as if he thinks he is doing you a favour, the bitter taste of defeat begins to resurface as you squeeze your eyes and drop your head.

"Get Tara out of the closet. We got to start staging the bodies!" Your eyes dart towards Richie as Tara's name leaves his mouth, the desperation of your movement causing your head to spin. "What the fuck did you do to her!" You screamed brokenly at him as Amber left the room, your voice cracking in pure exhaustion and fear. His previously playful look turned dark as he stared at you menacingly.

He playfully juggled the gun between his hands before shoving the barrel point-blank between your eyes. "You wanna say that again?" he smirks arrogantly, both of you knowing he has all the power in this situation. With the pistol pushing against your forehead, the barrel still warm from its recent kills, you aggressively bite your lip as you swallow down all the words on the verge of spilling out of your mouth.

"Um, she's not here." You hear Amber shout from a different area of the house. You watch as the smug look on Richie's face quickly drops as he gets back to his feet, his pistol still aimed at your head. "What the fuck do you mean 'she's not here'?" "She's not here!" Your head turned to Sam in conclusion, the hint of a smirk evident on her face causing your own to begin to grow on your lips.

"I untied her." You couldn't help but chuckle at her words. You push yourself back, so your back is leaning against the kitchen cabinets, your body naturally relaxing in relief as the thought of Tara being alive becomes much more realistic.

"Guess you're not as persuasive as you thought" "Fucking idiot", you laughed, the agony your body was in turning into some kind of high as a giddy smile crept onto your tired features. You giggled weakly, blissfully unaware of Richies approaching figure until his face was a few inches in front of yours.

He didn't say anything, instead swinging his armed hand across your face violently, the blunt end of the pistol connecting harshly with your cheekbone as your head turned sideways at the force. You weakly reached your hand towards your now stinging cheek, your fingers gently travelling across a new cut that painted your fingers red.

Your eyes were pulled away from your newly painted fingers when you heard Amber's shouts interrupted by a loud thud. The sound of a struggle echoed through the house and into the kitchen as Richie tried to hide the worry evident on his face as his plan unravelled before him.

"Amber?" he called cautiously as he looked in the direction the girl had gone, leaving the four of you now unnoticed. With him distracted, Sam takes her opportunity to try and grab the gun from Richie's hand. A stray gunshot goes off as Sam tackles him to the ground. You watch as the two of them struggle before, as quickly as you physically can, you frantically crawl out of the kitchen, determined to find Tara.

In your admittedly weak and dazed state, the halls and rooms of Amber's house turned into a maze. Each corner you turned and each room you checked came up empty - and you had no fucking clue where you were. You had been silently stumbling around the dark house, avoiding and hiding from the screaming and shouting coming in the direction you thought was the kitchen.

"Tara?" "Tara, where are you?" "Tara come on, where are you?" "Please, where are you?" you desperately whispered as you navigated the house. With each step you took, you could feel your body growing weaker, your adrenaline beginning to wear off as your energy finally began to deplete.

The echoing of screams and gunshots, as much as you wanted to ignore them, eventually pulled your attention away from your distraught search for Tara. After all, for all you knew, she was the source of said screams, a thought which made your stomach twist in fear.

With a thick trail of blood following your every move, you essentially drag yourself towards the sound of Richie's maniacal laughter. Now apparently incapable of feeling shocked, you eventually find yourself watching blankly as Richie leans over Sam's figure with a gun to her throat.

"Never fuck with the daughter of a serial killer."

You stare, amazed, as Sam begins to 'stab the shit' out of Richie, blood splattering all over the girl's figure as the pool of blood underneath Richie's now mutilated body grows. When she slits his throat, his body begins to seize underneath her as she glares at his dying figure with a vengeful look on her blood-covered face.

Stumbling as she stands up from his body, you limp towards her, the sound of your heavy footsteps catching her attention as she looks over at you. You watch her eyes flash with relief at the sight of you still alive, her lips twitching ever so slightly upwards as you finally reach her side.

The sound of footsteps coming from the kitchen caused both of your heads to turn in fear, a feeling which instantly dissolved as you watched Gale and Sidney walk in behind you, eyes fixated on Richie's body.

"Careful, they always come back." You turn your head away and squeeze your eyes shut as you hear Sam fire three shots into Richie's mangled body, the sound of his blood squelching sending shivers down your spine. After a beat of silence, you look back at Tara's older sister, a new sense of fear reawakening.

"W-Where's Tara?" you ask shakily, Sam's face similarly painted in worry as tears flow down your cheeks. "W-Where the f-fuck is she? Please s-someone t-tell me where s-she is" you begged, looking between the three women surrounding you.

None of them answered you.

"I-I need to find Tara." you said flatly, moving to limp away from the group before your plans were cut short by a harrowing scream. Your widened eyes watch as a disgustingly disfigured Amber comes running at you from the kitchen, a blade in hand as she causes you to stumble back in shock.

Her rampage was quickly ended by yet another gunshot, this time not from one of the girls around you. With a confused look on your distraught face, your eyes dart towards where the bullet came from.

Tara.

You let out a heavy sigh as you spot her shaky figure holding up a smoking gun. "I still prefer the Babadook", she inhales shakily after her words, finally lowering the gun as the realisation that both of the psychos behind the masks were finally dead.

You let out a wet chuckle in relief as you breathlessly limp towards her. She meets you in the middle, where despite your numerous injuries, you wrap her in a crushing embrace, sobbing into her shoulder in pure happiness. "A-are you okay?" you whisper shakily into her ear. She nods as she pulls back slightly, your teary eyes meeting hers as you give her your best attempt at a comforting smile.

"Are you good?" she asks you, her fear still evident in her tone. Your hands are clutched to her clothes as you nod in response, desperate to shut up the terrified part of your brain that thinks all this is too good to be true.

Your eyes soften in her gaze, all the pain throughout your body melting away as Tara hesitantly reaches her hands towards your face, resting gently on either side as her thumb caresses your cheek. She stares at you momentarily with a euphoric look on her face, her eyes scanning yours for any sense of discomfort.

You were moments from pulling away when you noticed her gaze flicker down towards your lips. Catching your bottom lip between your teeth, butterflies erupt in your wounded stomach, and your breath catches in your throat as your eyes now risk a glance at her delicate lips.

Deciding she had waited long enough, Tara eagerly pulls your face towards her own as her lips capture yours in a desperate kiss. Despite having wanted this to happen for longer than you could remember, the feeling of her warm lips against yours surprises you, nothing but her overwhelming your senses.

Your hands snake around her waist, forming a tight grip, your lips beginning to move against hers with a renewed passion whilst remaining gentle in both of your fragile states. As your pace began to slow and your harboured breathing mirrored hers, you entered a state of pure bliss.

You couldn't fucking believe this was happening.

Unfortunately, due to your shared need for oxygen, Tara's soft lips hesitantly left yours as your foreheads remained connected. As your e/c eyes met hers once again, a giddy smile overtook your tired features as the realisation that Tara does like you back sinks in.

She was alive, and she was with you.

And that was all you could possibly ask for.

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[19calicos]

i know where to look – kuroo tetsurō ˎˊ˗

✶⋆.˚ chapter nine: happy community day! ( 𖦹 )

currently playing: chop by vundabar

word count: 3.5k

cw: language, smoking joints, drinking alcohol, cigarette mention, social anxiety (not severe), overthinking, angst at the end, if it's bad i'm sorry i need to be done w this chapter so i can finally move onto the rest of this damn story 😭

besides atsumu, who's adamant about catching up on his sleep debt for volleyball's sake, the apartment is awake on the fire escape, passing around a fresh joint. it's a rare moment of quiet and tenderness, with the only sounds being the hum of a passing car every so often and a playlist suna hit shuffle on. legs were piled upon legs, and heads leaned on shoulders.

"here, yn." noya passes the joint to them, then sits up and lays stomach down on the three pairs of legs like a blanket. it's uncomfortable, but he makes it work while suna snorts in amusement.

anticipation for the coming day hangs in the air. five more hours and it'll be seven, and the household will be out setting up for the long-awaited community day. even in the middle of their high, they run hyper-focused simulations in their head of conversations with people they might see, or what they'd do if certain things went wrong. it's taxing, filing away these possibilities in their head. it makes them more nervous of what they can't predict, of what they don't know.

"your brain is thinking," suna comments slowly. they close their eyes while rolling the joint back and forth between their fingers. another hit, and they hand him the joint-turned roach.

nothing gets past his eyes after all, especially with how long he's known them for. suna takes a hit from the roach, unbothered by how the smoke stings harsher in his throat. suna's not a fan of how intense a roach smells, so instead of saving it for another joint or time, he smokes it to the filter, tosses it by his foot and steps on it to kill it.

osamu, who is normally so quiet during a sesh, chimes in from where his head rests on their shoulder. "what'cha thinking 'bout?"

"i thought you were asleep," they reply with a glance.

"almost was. but, i’m feelin' nosy."

noya laughed. “if you fell asleep, we’d leave you out here.”

they poke osamu's cheek like they're atsumu trying to annoy him, and osamu lightly shoves their face back. "i'm just trying to get myself ready for the day. thinking of things to say, what to do so that i can go in with a game plan."

"don't think too hard," suna says. "trust yourself. you're cool as fuck. you'll be okay."

he's right about them being okay. it's always easier for them to figure it out in the moment, it’s just the time leading up to going out that’s stupidly hard to deal with. it always leads them into thinking, and thinking makes them fall down a rabbit hole, and it has more times than not convinced them to cancel plans altogether.

suna has always known the right thing to say, especially to them. they think of how they used to follow him everywhere when they were younger and more withdrawn, and how they piggybacked off him so that no one could tell that they weren't actually as socially adept as they seemed. it's still the same, but they’re all supposed to be in different places for most of the day, so they know they’re on their own.

it forms a pit in their stomach, a lump in their throat.

they can't help their unease from not knowing what you’re supposed to talk about with strangers. they note to themselves to roll a couple more joints, or maybe bring an extra pack of cigarettes so that they know they have something to occupy themselves with. if anything, they could just leave under the guise of a smoke break.

even moreso, they try desperately to keep kuroo out of their head. they're excited to see him and his friends, whose mannerisms and personalities they've steadily grown accustomed to, but it's been harder to keep certain feelings about kuroo at bay when they've found themselves with him more often. in side glances during hangouts, or in observations under the guise of helping him troubleshoot tricks, they've found themselves becoming fond of his cheeky smile, how he remembers their favorite things as easily as his birthday, and the way they can see his heart beating out of his chest when he's around them.

in the haze of the smoke, they realize that the way kuroo looks at them makes them think love could be real for them, too.

they blink that away.

noya sits up from where he was laying on the group's legs. he stretches his back, touches his toes, then throws up two fingers in a peace sign. "you should sleep on it, yn. i'm gonna go to bed."

it's not long before they find themselves back in the apartment in pajamas. atsumu's snores are as loud as ever, and when the lights turn off and the doors all close for the night, they find themselves staring out the window, thinking of kuroo’s favorite things too.

the time to get ready for the day arrives with screeching duck noises from noya's alarm on the other side of the wall, followed by a yell from suna across the hall to "fucking turn that shit off!"

texts from ukai to the work chat roll in, reminding them to meet at ace in an hour. the rest of the morning is spent inhaling toaster waffles and too sweet coffee for breakfast, trading sweaters and shirts, and packing materials and supplies into the car. noya claimed aux at some point (he somehow overrode suna's connection to the speaker) and played silly mario kart music from youtube in the background of it all.

they forgo their usual passenger seat in the car in favor of a solo ten minutes skating through neighborhoods and backroads. wired earbuds tucked into their favorite hoodie stick out from the collar, blasting their ears with some songs kuroo showed them not long ago – not that they're thinking about him at all! they just liked good music, and the songs kuroo texted to them in a midnight playlist were good.

their feet feel steadier on the board than usual, and as they ollie over a bump in the road, they feel themselves breathing with the bliss of morning solitude.

the lightness in their chest stays when they arrive at the block, weaving through other vendors and volunteers that arrived for set up. popping their board into their hand and shoving it in the space between their backpack and back, they fall into place helping set up the ace and the surrounding area, arms full of boxes with bags hanging off their wrists, moving in tandem with everyone else.

kuroo is nervous. these days, he's sort of felt like how he was when he was a kid, all jittery and awkward, but for completely different reasons. laying eyes on yn is enough to make him stutter, and he's thankful that he's been able to mask it each time. he doesn't want to look lame, not in front of someone like them.

he's pacing back and forth in his room, throwing another shirt onto his bed, dissatisfied with the way none of his shirts were falling right today. everything else was fine–his flat soled vans sitting at the door, the collared jacket hanging from his chair, the baggy pants he's got on. kuroo's realized lately that after skating so much these days he kind of does want to follow the aesthetic, but he's not sure he can emotionally handle the teasing he'd get from his household at this time.

there's a knock on his door. taking his chances, kuroo shouts for whoever is on the other side to come in. kenma enters and closes the door behind him, eyebrows raised at the mess on kuroo's bed.

"wow, you're nervous," he observes. kuroo rolls his eyes. he trusts he won't be soon enough; being with them melts his nerves away somehow. it just feels natural to be by their side, and that was nothing to be nervous over, not when his smiles comes so easily and his heart goes so soft in their presence.

"can you like, just pick a shirt for me please? i can't choose one right now."

kenma eyes the collection of tees kuroo pulled from his dresser, reaches in and grabs one with a large doodle of a fish skeleton on the side of it. with the amount and variety of PR packages kenma receives from being a streamer, it's no surprise that he's developed some sense of fashion. he's more reliable than bokuto who's got flashy taste, or akaashi and oikawa who are on different ends of the style spectrum.

"thanks," kuroo says. he catches the shirt when kenma tosses it and pulls it over his head, throws his jacket on, and grabs his shoes. kenma is on his heels when they leave the room, and they're greeted by everyone else waiting in the foyer for them. iwaizumi is there too, but only for the week: uci would be on break next week and his classes ended early, so he arrived in japan the night before and was staying at their apartment.

"kuroo! lookin' like a skater!" bokuto quips. he smacks kuroo on the back and almost knocks him off balance while he's slipping his shoes on, and oikawa and akaashi chuckle at the sight. "keiji, do you think i'd look cool as a skater boy?"

"i think you'd look cute, but you'd probably twist your ankle." akaashi opens the door, hand-in-hand with bokuto, then looks over his shoulder for a moment. bokuto follows suit. "kuroo, don't forget your board."

it's in his hands right as akaashi finishes, and they set out for their short commute to community day.

"so," oikawa starts with a shit-eating grin, and throws his arm around kuroo's shoulders. "what's the plan?"

kuroo snorts out a laugh. "you're funny." then, a lovesick smile, and unsurprisingly, he starts gushing. "yn said they're running a station in front of ace. it's a paint-your-own-deck thing, so there's a bunch of plain skateboards and paint markers. it was their idea and they were super stoked about it, so i'm gonna head there first."

"woah! super stoked, that's not something you'd usually say," bokuto points out. again, kuroo rolls his eyes.

iwaizumi can't help but join in. "leave him alone, he's just hopelessly in love." oikawa laughs with delight at the tag teaming, especially since iwaizumi had yet to receive a full debrief about kuroo's crush on yn, and removes his arm from kuroo's shoulders to place around iwaizumi's.

the rest of the way is filled with kuroo dodging teases and calculations of what he'd say to them when he gets to their stall.

there's a tap on their shoulder that makes them jump in their skin and almost drop a pitch black paint marker. scattered at their feet are a few boards: the jade green one (which matched ube's eyes) was drawn with a miniature cat sleeping on top of a head of broccoli, the golden yellow one had a centered doodle of jake the dog from adventure time, and the hazy lilac one featured a halfway colored outline of a graffiti tag. each one bore their signature and the date.

in front of them suna, mattsun, makki, and konoha snicker, but suna has the most amused look out of all of them.

"yn! found you!" kuroo exclaims with a wide smile. they try to look casual, happy but not ecstatic to see him, but their even wider smile betrays them.

"hey!" they stand to give him a friendly hug. kuroo's stomach does flips, and they can't hide the pink tint of their ears. "ah, guys, meet my friend. this is kuroo. and kuroo, these are some guys that suna and i skate with sometimes."

the guys before him nod at him and give short greetings, then return to their doodles on their new decks. yn grabs the closest plain deck (coincidentally kuroo's favorite color, red) and a box of markers, and they hand it to him. both miss the way suna and the others discreetly watch them with knowing eyes and grins, ready to speculate and tease when they leave.

"you came to draw on your own board, yeah?" they ask with a shy smile.

kuroo's heart skips when they make quick eye contact before looking away again. it's a shy habit of theirs. he's seen it in class during group work when they talk to people they don't know, but he's endeared by it, and his confidence is boosted just a little bit as he thinks to himself that maybe this time it's because they find him cute too.

he takes the board markers and sits by their board-in-progress, admiring the graffiti lettering of their name on it. "hey, that's super cool. can you help me do something like that for mine?"

they oblige him without hesitation, like it's the only thing they could ever do.

there are matching beers from onigiri miya in their hands as they walk to the skate park down the block. they admire the lettering with the idea of mimicking it for a future board, completely ignoring the way kuroo looked at them with the same admiration, if not more. their own board is still on their back, and in their hand is kuroo's board that he bought from ace a few months back. kuroo holds the new one they tagged for him, proudly showing it off with his name facing out.

before the skate park, they dropped off their other finished boards at ace. ukai had looked at them with a quirked eyebrow and a glint of recognition in his eyes when they entered, and took the decks to put in the back room with an amused smile. ube, who was purring under ukai's warm hand, meowed and demanded attention from them too, delaying them from leaving by a few minutes.

their attention is caught by a call of their name–it's noya, they realize. when they look up, they see him sitting with yachi, kiyoko, and tanaka, all four of them with drinks in their hand. he waves at kuroo too, and noya raises his drink at them in a long-distance cheers. everyone follows, pausing to drink together, and then they're back to walking again.

"they look good together," kiyoko light-heartedly comments. yachi giggles in agreement, and tanaka watches the two make their way down the block.

"community day is going super well, don't you think?" kuroo asks. he thinks he's melting just seeing how happy they looked next to him. he knew before that skating is what makes them feel at home, but it's one thing to know it and another to see it. and before him, he's seeing them radiate with pure joy, rambling about some skate fact, free of their usual quietness.

they laugh with glee, and kuroo could swear it's the sweetest thing he's ever heard. "it's going better than we expected, genuinely! everyone's being respectful, and i'm seeing so many people letting kids stand on their boards. it's all we could ever want from a community day."

kuroo adds another entry to the list of things he likes about them: how they look when they’re this happy.

upon arrival at the skate park, they drop their belongings in an empty spot, boards in their hands. kuroo cheers with them again and they finish the last legs of their beers, and before he has a chance, they swipe the bottle from his hand to discard for him.

(earlier, kuroo had swiped the caps and stuffed them in his pocket. he wished he could have saved the bottles too as some cheesy keepsake, but the caps and custom deck were more than enough already.)

"let's see how your ollie's coming along, hm?" they tease. kuroo's more than happy to give it an attempt. he tries again, lands a baby one but not the next few attempts. the park and the ramps catch his eye though, and an idea brews.

he tries again, just one more time. "i gotta pop harder," kuroo corrects himself. there's an odd sense of pride that swells in their chest when they see how dedicated he is, and they feel fond watching him figure it out.

he doesn't figure it out, and he's a bit disappointed that he can't get a consistent ollie, so he redirects his energy and points over at the ramps and half pipes. "i think i can drop in there though. like i'm ready, don't you think?"

they don't say no. they have had him practicing dropping into ramps lately, so they guide him to a shallower pipe in the park that's conveniently empty, not realizing they took him by the hand until they're there. kuroo's got a giddy little smile as he stands before them, and it freaks out their heart – so they ignore it.

not right now, they think to themselves.

atsumu chuckles from his spot on the grass a distance away. he, osamu, sakusa, and hinata watch the scene unfold before them, and leans over to osamu.

"ya think we'll win the bet?" he asks, grinning like a devil.

osamu smacks his head, but he agrees. "yeah, yn's definitely gonna be the one to confess first."

sakusa stares at the twins, brows furrowed. "you're both betting on your friend's love life?"

"and they agree too. isn't that freaky? i can't think of anything else they've ever agreed on, especially with a bet." hinata adds, elbowing sakusa's side.

they set their board up with the rear wheels over the metal railing, foot on the tail to keep the board in place. kuroo observes and mimics their positioning.

"so you're going to set up the board like this, and when you drop in, you're gonna put your other foot on the front two bolts." they drop in to demonstrate, skating to the other side and coming back. there's more to say as they take a seat on their board. "it helps me when i crouch a bit so that my knees are already super bent, and when you're ready, lean over the edge with your upper body. 'kay? oh, and don't lean back too much or you'll wipe out."

kuroo's eager. he's sure of himself, and he's confident he'll get this on the first try. he's got his good luck charm next to him, since he knows he skates better when they're around after all.

"it would be funny if i can do drop in's at the park but not an ollie, huh?" he jokes. they breath out a chuckle.

in the moment of truth, kuroo doesn't hesitate, because the first lesson he was taught about skateboarding was that if you hesitate, you'll eat shit. and even though he has taken nasty falls in front of them plenty of times before, he wanted to get it right the first time, just for them.

there's a clatter from kuroo's wheels hitting the concrete as he drops in, and a whirl when he rolls across the empty pipe. it drowns out the sounds of the other skaters in the park, and all they can see is him letting the momentum guide his board to the other side, and back. they hear his laughter when he asks if they saw him nail it, that maybe he should focus on park skating instead of freestyle, but he still wants to master an ollie for them–then he goes to keep trying the drop in again, solidifying his comfort with it. they find themselves agreeing that maybe they should go to the skate park more.

when they light the joint from their pocket for him as a little reward, tasting the floral notes of the strain, they realize they've been buying prerolls that kuroo usually smokes. they hold the joint out for him to take, and in the heat of the moment, he boldly takes the joint with his lips with the same cheeky smile.

they soak in the way he glows, radiant with skater's adrenaline. their heart tugs when he sits next to them, just a little closer than just a friend, while he talks about how he's glad that he now knows how fun skating could be.

in the haze of the smoke, they have another realization. the pit of nerves in their stomach was gone this entire time, and all the other times it's been them two in the same place. they like the way he makes them feel, all relaxed and fuzzy and warm. and they feel oddly sober when they ponder it all, drinking in the way his eyes close when he smiles boyishly instead of cheekily. they realize they like how he looks when he's this happy.

but the joint doesn't seem like it's going to get them high anytime soon. their heart drops as they come down from the bliss, and the feeling is worse than any bundle of nerves they could ever have in their stomach. they look away from kuroo when they realize they can't ignore it anymore.

they love him too, and fuck, it felt like a death sentence.

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more:

⟢ hoping u all enjoyed the cameos :-) i specifically included mattsun, makki, and konoha with suna bc they were supposed to be in the skater cat fan club until i realized i didn't really know how to write them without making the jokes kind of generic. i figured they'd have a very chismis/gossipy dynamic (based off of that one official art with all the characters) but then i was like ....... what else .........

⟢ yn is familiar with everyone who had a cameo too (besides iwa.) they're friends of their roommates and have dropped by the shop before, so they're acquainted

⟢ kuroo wanted to spend the rest of community day with yn but they lied and said they were feeling overwhelmed from being around so many people all day and wanted to go recharge in the ace back room. he didn't question it bc he understands how drained they must have felt since they don't like crowds, plus he understands it from kenma too

⟢ when kuroo dropped them off at the shop and left, ukai immediately could tell that they were shutting down. yn hiding in the back room isn't a rare thing so he handed them ube and some water and just let them be, but he knew something else was up and just stayed with them

⟢ yn went home early and told the groupchat they greened out (no one believed them) (they can tell somethings up because yn used such a dumb excuse)

⟢ kuroo could not shut up during his debrief when he and his group got home

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