#i have no flipping clue who i got it from though | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

atozfic · 1 year ago

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splish splash.

pairing. san x seonghwa x wooyoung x yunho x fem!reader synopsis. they’re out to prove who’s the best at the breast-stroke- gets dragged off stage as the people boo over such a terrible pun. warnings. no use of y/n, swim team au, lifeguard!reader, pro-swimmers!sanhwawooho, they’re all wearing speedos :), smut ( porn with unnecesary plot, degradation, m+f oral sex, piv sex, anal sex, double penetration, triple penetration bc u got 3 holes for a reason sweetcheeks, mxm interactions, dom/sub dynamics, spanking, hair pulling, way more warnings that there’s honestly no point listing, just know this is pure filth that covers most bases of stereotypical fanfiction smut, mother in christ what have i written? ) no verbal consent is given throughout this but all parties are willing participants !! word count. 20k+ ( of literal porn. i need to leave this physical terrain bc i am not worthy of existing after writing this i fear. ) hyde’s input. hey girlie pops, long time no see.

it’s crazy, what some people will do for money.

take, for example, your roommate. she’s a smart girl. a beautiful one, too. with a promising future in criminal law, once she gets herself that pesky little degree. and, yet, she’s funding her tuition with money she earns distributing high-end drugs on campus. rather counter-productive, most would agree. or, in a far less extreme version, there’s that overly-hyper frat boy, who can always be found doing the dumbest dares at a party, all for a few bucks and a keg of beer.

and then there is you.

you would have arrived home twenty minutes ago at this point, had things gone to plan, a backlog of neglected assignments and a baby bonsai tree in need of watering desperately awaiting your return. yet here you are, stuck in your ugly flip-flops and uncomfortably stale shorts, whistle around your neck and a look of exhaustion on your face.

the swimming pool had closed, technically, an hour and a half ago. the sports centre seems to believe, however, that certain members of the college swim team reserve the right to use the pool for however long they require and desire, even if it is at your expense. if you were being paid overtime, perhaps you’d have a more positive outlook on things and less of a frown creasing on your forehead.

if the swimmers weren’t so irritating, maybe you’d enjoy the view.

“all that height, and for what?” the sophomore boy’s voice- jung wooyoung? you aren’t overly familiar with him, seeing him only in sporadic flashes when you pass each other on campus or at some uncivilised frat party- echos through the large room, his hair a wet mess. if you were gaining anything from being here, you’d perhaps muster up the energy to remind the boy of how a swim cap is necessary at all times in the water. “can’t even out-swim me with those long legs!”

“wanna know what my long legs are for?” jeong yunho, a junior with the face of an angel and the body proportions of a sinner, pipes up from across the olympic length pool. unlike the other boy, a crimson cap keeps his own locks out of sight. “climbing up the stairs to go fuck your mom!”

it’s impossible to stifle your laughter, no matter how hard you try to just play it off as a tickle at the back of your throat, a cough forcing its way out. when your eyes meet those of the glaring senior, however, you’re wishing you hadn’t made a sound.

“even the lifeguard can’t take you seriously, yunho,” park seonghwa speaks, eyes not leaving yours as his muscled arms work to pull himself out of the water, before letting his well-rounded behind sit down on the edge. a breath hitches in your throat as his gloriously muscled thighs come into view, drops of water cascading down them in a pattern set to hypnotise you, keep you staring a little longer than is good for your health. “bet she’s heard all about you and the boner incident of 2019.”

truthfully, you have no clue what the dark haired male is on about. that doesn’t stop you from laughing again though, this time a little out of malice and a lot because it’s quite endearing to see a loudmouth like jeong yunho be silenced so easily, head bowed and ears a little rosier with embarrassment.

this small moment of peace is soon shattered by the reality that these boys can’t spend more than ten minutes in a room- particularly one that includes a pool- without arguing. while one boasts about his speed, the other begins to jab at his lack of endurance, and the remaining of the three reminds them all of the fact he holds the most medals amongst them.

“are they always like this?” you jump, surprised by the cold drop of water that lands on your exposed thigh, all courtesy of the boy who’s invited himself to sit down next to you on the bench.

“not always,” you bite at the inside of your cheek, willing yourself to not look at san in all his wet glory. you’re afraid that, once you start looking at him, you won’t be able to stop. it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve fallen victim to the crime that is his enchanting smile. “guess they’re feeling a little feistier than usual, with the district championship just around the corner. rumour has it one of you guys is risking his scholarship if he’s not in the top three.”

are you and san close?

that’s a good question. see, by social standards, you’re not strangers. you share several classes, you attend the same parties, you’ve even texted a few times- mostly on the days one of you miss class (read as: san misses class thanks to his swim-meets) and you need a copy of any notes taken that lesson.

but, you aren’t exactly friends either. you don’t go out of your ways to spend time together, you don’t know more than the surface level about one another, you don’t check-in with each other.

so, is acquaintances the best word to describe you two?

that depends on how common it is for an acquaintance to suck another acquaintance’s cock. granted, there had been a lot of alcohol in the mix, on both ends, with you drinking to forget a botched assignment and san drinking to forget how badly his voice had apparently cracked in front of his crush.

a few weeks have passed since the incident and things haven’t exactly been the same. you’ve missed class twice and ended up contacting heather- a sweet girl who sits down by the front and seems to live with her hand raised in the air- for any notes. likewise, san has found himself declining party invitations, the knowledge that you would be there all too prevalent in the front of his mind.

the irony is that neither of you quite know the reason why you’re avoiding each other, you just are.

or, were, until san had walked in with his swim team buddies- if they could even be considered that- and spotted you in your lifeguard attire. he hadn’t been as slick as he thought he was, sneaking glances at you between laps and even gaining an undeniable smile each time he watched you blow that stupid whistle at some misbehaving kids.

he was slicker with the fact he didn’t need to be here, at this hour. but, he figured staying gave him the chance to stare at you a little longer and, maybe, think up an excuse to talk to you.

“i should-”

“i missed-”

you both speak at the same time, minutes after watching the three musketeers disappear into the locker rooms, with the smallest of them continuing to dig at them for not being able to out-swim him despite their ample amount of height. san’s quick to signal you to go first, a dimple making itself known on his face and reminding you of the deadliest part of him: the false innocence that drips off him like warm candy.

sweet, sticky, making a mess all over the place.

“i should probably start cleaning up.” it turns out san also isn’t discreet when it comes to hiding the disappointment in his face, because no sooner than those words leave your mouth, the dimple is gone and he’s sat a little straighter, a little more ridged, like when the professor points him out in the middle of the class and the golden boy can’t stomach all the attention being on him. “but, what were you gonna say?”

“oh,” and it’s like he’s just remembered that yes, there is something he wants to say. “i missed you in class yesterday.”

it catches you off guard, leaving you to almost drop the whistle you’ve been fiddling between your fingers for the past few minutes. something about sitting so close to him while both of you are dressed so scantily has you feeling unnerved, like you need to run away as fast as possible, yet also wanting to plant yourself right in his lap.

“i didn’t think,” you’re cut off by your own throat, dry and desperate for a drink under his intense gaze. san is a walking contradiction, you think, with his sharp cheekbones and soft heart, his intense eyes and his easy-going smile. his presence gives you never-ending whiplash, never sure if he’s more angel than devil. “i didn’t think you noticed.”

“how could i not? there was no one to laugh with me at professor nam and his weird toe-shoes!” his laugh is infectious, willing your own to make an appearance.

the sound of distant muffled yelling fills the air of the swimming pool and it isn’t hard to recognise wooyoung’s high-pitched laughter amongst it. clearly, their childish arguing has carried on into the changing rooms. it surprises you in no way, already more than used to their antics.

their rivalry is one for the ages, all of them constantly bumping heads for the spot of the top swimmer on campus, their sports scholarships becoming their pride and joy.

you suppose it doesn’t help that all four boys run in different circles, only really crossing paths when faced with swim-meets and days of practice. the senior, park seonghwa, runs with the richer kids of the college, all sharing their trust-funds and god complexes as a common interest. you’re not overly familiar with them, though you’re certain he and a particular blue-haired boy are rarely seen apart. jeong yunho, the tallest, is in with the jocks, which is mostly just because his taller friend is the captain of the basketball team. and jung wooyoung tends to surround himself with the stoners from the school, something you’d learned from kang yeosang, a dealer you shared a couple classes with back in your first semester.

san, ever the golden boy, drifts between a couple different groups but he can usually be found alone and enjoying his own company, if not being followed by a flock of his own little fan-club, men and women alike begging for just an ounce of his time.

your name echos around the room. your head snaps to the side and you find that san is now closer, staring at you in a way that’s making your insides knot up. you’ve seen that look only once before, and it done nothing but leave your knees and your ego bruised. “were you listening to me?”

“what? uh, yeah, i was,” you’re quick to lie, knowing it’s about to backfire when he breaks out in a challenging grin.

“really? what did i say?” he only allows you to stumble over words for a minute before cutting off your incomprehensible speaking when he grabs at your chin and tilts your head up, staring straight into your eyes. “that’s what i thought. you were too busy getting lost in that pretty little head of yours to pay attention to me.”

you stutter over a noise and settle for that as your response, though entirely incomprehensible and nonsensical. the way he continues to stare at you feels cruel, demons dancing around in those pretty eyes of his. demons that are telling him to tease, torture, torment the fragile eyes staring back at him, the same ones he’d delighted in watching fill up with tears a few weeks back, the pressure of his crown slamming against the back of your tight throat entirely overwhelming you to the point of crying, tears dripping down your cheeks and mixing with your own drool pooling over the swell of his balls.

“need me to repeat myself?” you’re slow to catch up to the fact he’s speaking again, and even slower to notice the hand resting on your knee. at first, you think you’re imagining things, the feather light tracing of nails over your soft skin a mere figment of your imagination. but, no, your eyes flash down to glimpse and his hand is there, fingers dancing over your naked skin like it’s their own personal stage and he’s intending to put on the show of a lifetime. he speaks your name. “questions are meant to be answered.”

“i-” san picks the perfect time to apply pressure on you, hand gripping the flesh on the lower end of your thigh. goosebumps spring to life at the feeling of his cold ring on your damp skin. it takes a shaky breath to try compose yourself but you do eventually manage to get a reply out. “sorry... please say it again.”

“huh,” he pauses to contemplate, slowly leaning his face closer to your own, giving you all the time to pull back if you want to. you stay still and his minty breath infects your senses while the hand on your leg replaces your thigh with your face, the grip he has on it forcing blunt nails to nip at your skin. normally, you’d worry about the marks it’s going to leave behind. right now, you want him to grip tighter, dig deeper into your flesh till he’s drawing blood and licking it off your cheeks. “how the fuck do you still sound so cute begging?”

“is that,” his other hand curls around the back of you, finding a resting place on your hip. the window of opportunity you once had to pull back or run away is slammed shut the moment he tugs you a little closer, the side of your body crashing into his naked chest. “what you said earlier?”

“oh, no.” san almost sounds like he’s cooing, a mocking tone in his voice that has your thighs clenching in a way you’re sure he notices. his eye flickering down to glance at them confirms your suspicions, the smirk taking over his features the metaphorical cherry on top. “i was just talking about how i’ve still not returned the favour.”

mind blanking out on you, you stare back at him in what you can only imagine to be a dumb-founded look, mouth slightly agape and teasing your answer.

what follows, however, is a resounding silence on your end.

“c’mon, princess, don’t tell me you’ve forgotten what happened the last time i got you alone.”

forget? it’s all you’ve been able to think of every time you’ve seen him since, whether he was a figure in the corner of your eye during class or making his way down the campus car-park in search of his beaten up mustang.

each time, like an old record player, your mind plays on loop the way he looked staring down at you, long legs spread enough to fit you between them, closing in on you to trap you in place each time you swallowed him a little deeper; replaying the symphony of whiny moans and airy breaths you’d pulled from him, lips swollen and red from trying too hard to hold back his cries of pleasure; reviving the memory of his vice grip on your hair, tugging at the roots to tilt you back into the perfect angle for his hips to piston into your warm mouth, meeting his own crescendo in one final pathetic whimper of your name.

a whimper that’s pushed you over the edge several times since, fingers soaked in your own sins and mouth biting down on your pillow to keep your poor sleeping roommate oblivious to your actions.

“no,” an answer escapes you alongside a shaky breath, something about the way he’s slowly trailing his fingers down your neck and the intensity he’s staring at you with hypnotising you into forgetting all about the boisterous boys and their changing-rooms chanting. “haven’t forgot.”

it’s his turn to stay quiet and you begin to wonder if he’s recalling it too, if he’s reminding himself of how easily your bodies melted together, like candle-wax meeting a flame. the question of if he’s thought about the exact scene, hands stuffed down his pants while a dull ache builds in his wrist, burns the tip of your tongue.

but his eyes burn you more.

they’re usually wide, bright, full of that bubbly nature san is known all over for. but, if what people say is true and the eyes are the mirror to one’s soul, then san’s soul must be a dark pit made up of lustful glares and hooded eyelids, resting so low his eyes almost appear shut.

“then, don’t you agree that it’s my turn to have a taste?”

it’s the question to end all questions, no time to even think of forming an answer when his fingertips are dancing over your skin so rhythmically, like a practiced choreography when they curl and wrap themselves around your neck. they rest there for a heartbeat, and then another, before you feel it begin.

the pressure is dull, at first, and you think you’re imagining it. but it grows, like a seed under the sun, blossoms into thorns squeezing around your airways, a deformed rose made from the red marks his fingers will be sure to leave behind.

you try to breath in, only for it to get caught somewhere between your lips and his tightening hold.

“you’re too fucking pretty, you know?” the hand on your hip has found a new home on your cheek, palm warm and thumb rough as he swipes it over your bottom lip. “all i can ever think about around you, even when you were drooling all over my balls.”

you want to answer, you really do. but between the hand around your throat and the heat shooting straight for your core, burning up in a puddle of arousal, you can’t. all you can do is watch the man before you, raven hair a beautiful mess just begging for some fingers to be ran through it and stare promising to ruin you in the best way possible.

the silence pleases him.

“y’know, it’s so hard to get you alone. always got someone wanting to talk to you, stealing your attention. do you even know how many stupid parties i had to attend to finally get the chance to talk to you?” san pauses, like he’s waiting for you to relay an answer, guess a number. he loosens up the grip on your neck, teasing your skin with a few soothing strokes of his slender fingers, lulling you into a state bordering insanity. “no answer, angel? or are you lost in that pretty little head again?”

“i’m,” your voice is but a whisper, raspy with your new found thirst. “trying to figure out what you want from me.”

if it’s the wrong or right thing to say, you’re soon to find out, the sharp faced boy releasing a dangerously low chuckle as he takes a hold of your chin. like a pretty doll, you move any time and any way his fingers command you to, finding yourself staring right up into his eyes, a swirl of melting caramel that reminds you of how sweet yet sultry every inch of him is. lips near touching, he refuses to break eye contact as he speaks up once more, sealing both your fates when his breath hits your face.

“then let me show you what i want.”

his mouth comes down on yours like it’s the answers to all your prayers and, yet, all your nightmares.

it excites you how easily he works his lips over your own, captivating every inch of you when he tilts his head to the right and deepens the kiss. the rhythm to his kiss is a mismatch of beats, where one moment your lips are moving in a sensual waltz, grazing tongues and dipping heads to get rid of that inch of a space remaining between your bodies, and the next moment your tongues are tangled in a tango, the kind where his teeth send blood rushing to your lips with every bite he drags over them and his hand drags shivers down your spine as it makes its way down your body.

yet it terrifies you how willingly you succumb to san’s touch, intoxicated by whatever witchcraft he currently holds over you. there’s a deadliness to the way his lips part from your own only to begin a seamless descent down your jaw and the expanse of your neck, a poisonous element to the way his hand once again finds itself clutching the meat of your thigh.

the moment his fingertips meet the bottom of your shorts, you’re wishing you’d never slipped them on in the first place, every fibre of your being growing angsty under the weight of his suddenly halted hand. it stays still for an immeasurable amount of time, grazing over the bottom of your shorts occasionally while he continues to mouth at your neck.

like mosses and the great sea, san parts your legs with little to no effort, creating a pathway for his fingers to travel further up your thigh. blunt fingernails drag up your skin, a trail of goosebumps being left behind, a visible marking of where he’s touching you.

his movements halt too soon for your liking, too much distance between his lithe fingers and your body’s very core.

“have you figured out what i want yet, pretty?” his voice is a stark difference to the usual light-hearted, almost squeak-like tone you’ve grown used to hearing from the smiley boy. right now, there’s no trace of humour in the thick rasp and there’s no time for smiling while he’s glaring down at you through hooded eyes.

something compels you to nod your head, even though you’re a little too lost in the thoughts concerning what you want, rather than what the devil incarnate by your side wants.

“you have?” the words come out in a layer of amazement, and you have to wonder if it’s because of the lie you’ve just told or the way your legs have closed in around his hand, trapping it between them. “i want to know what you want, though.”

you want his thumb to stop stroking over the flesh of your inner thigh.

you want his eyes to stop gazing down at you like you’re the perfect prey.

you want him to stop teetering your impending pleasure on a string.

you want-

“you.” is all you manage to breath out.

it seems to do the trick, however, your point getting very much across to him. a softness flickers over his features, brows unfurling and smirk curling up into a full smile for what feels like an eternity, but is actually no more than a couple of seconds before his devilish aura is back.

lips meet lips again, the desperation and force behind each stroke of his tongue against yours the same as before. san, much to your delight, seems to grow just as impatient as you’ve been since the moment he welcomed himself into the empty space next to you on the bench.

one hand still resting between your thighs, his other seizes the opportunity to drag your body closer, so close that you have no choice but to swing one leg over him and slot yourself in his lap.

there was one time, in the middle of what you’ve deemed to be the most boring lecture ever, that you had thought about what it would feel like to sit in choi san’s lap. unintentionally, of course, for how could anyone look over at him in those grey sweatpants, legs manspreading like it was nobody’s business and pen tapping away at the table in front of him, and not daydream about being perched in his lap, head resting somewhere between his shoulder and his soft hair?

you’d imagined him to be the embodiment of soft and comfortable, warm and reassuring the way he’d lazily lay an arm over your hip to make sure there’s no risk of you slipping out of your new seat. you never, for the life of you, imagined you’d feel the outline of his dick resting against your ass the first time you finally claimed your throne.

choosing to not dwell on the heavy feeling of him pressed against you, you choose instead to focus on the way his lips trail away from yours and make their descent towards the top of your chest.

his hand abandons post between your thighs and rises to the surface, where long fingers begin to pull at the straps of your red swimsuit, successfully manoeuvring the nylon material till it’s bunched around your midriff and your breasts are exposed to the damp air of the swimming hall.

with no want left to play around, he dives right in to dragging his lips down the upper swell of your left breast. you imagine he can feel the beating of your racing heart beneath the goosebump littered skin. it doesn’t take long for his tongue to enter the scene, skilfully flicking over your hardened nipple a couple times before enveloping his mouth around the bud.

one, two, three sucks and he’s moving on to your right breast. there’s no lead up, this time, simply his mouth finding delight in toying with your body while he busies his hand with your left side, thumb and pointer finger rolling and tugging and spreading the remnants of his saliva over your heated skin.

the straw that breaks the camel’s back, and has you arching your own, is the faintest pressure of his teeth biting down on you. it dances on a thin line between pleasurable and painful, exhilarating enough to make you throw your head back as a moan slips past your lips. it echoes in the empty room, replaying your own sound for both of you to hear again and again before the chain is broken by a giggle.

his giggle.

“why are,” he picks the right time to trail his fingers down your body, dragging your swimsuit with them till it sits uncomfortably tight around the top of your hipbones, skintight fabric digging into the damp skin. “you laughing?”

“has anyone ever told you how pretty your tits are?” it’s crude and heartwarming all at once, quite like the man who says it and the little smile he shoots up in your direction as he rolls his tongue over your nipple once again.

“no, i can’t say they have.” the hands that have been resting on his shoulder, grasping them in a vice grip in fear of slipping off of him and and directly onto the concrete floor, gain enough confidence for you let one slide around to the back of his neck and thread your fingertips in the back of his locks, hair as soft as you’ve always imagined it to be. “you’re the first.”

“i’ll wear that title with honour,” he seems to delight in the way you’re carding through his hair, eyes closing while he tilts his head back further into your touch. a delighted sigh follows. “has anyone ever asked you to sit on their face?”

“again, no.”

“another honourable title for me, i guess.” san’s giving you whiplash, with all this switching between being his usual goofy self and the man that minutes before was speaking profanities on how you’d looked choking on his dick. he peaks his eyes open again, slowly, adjusting to the bright lights he stares up at each time he’s doing the backstroke. when he has the nerves to smile at you, all dreamy eyed and relaxed sitting beneath your body on the bench. “now, can you please stand up and get naked so you can fuck yourself on my tongue?”

this time, it’s your laugh that echoes in the air.

“stop, i’m being serious!” he seems to whine his way through his words, bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly in a way you’re certain is going to drive you insane. “i can’t go another second like this, you literally sitting on my dick, without blowing my load. and i really don’t feel like having to explain to coach kwon why my team speedos are stained in cum.”

“you’re so-” you give up on trying to find a single word to describe him, knowing there’s no word that can quite capture choi san’s essence. “okay, okay, fine, but you kind of need to let go of me for me to, y’know, stand up.”

“oh, sorry bout that.” san’s sheepish smile shouldn’t be this cute, not when it’s followed by him removing his hands from your half-naked body.

reluctant, your feet meet the ground and you stand up from his lap. he seems to move quicker than you, no hesitation to be seen as he twists his body around and lays along the bench on his back, eyes all the while watching you expectantly.

your fingers are far from as nimble as his, and there’s a shake to them, meaning you’re a lot less slick with how you pull the swimsuit off yourself. you opt for killing two birds with one stone, dragging your shorts down alongside the red suit, till both are pooled around your feet and you’re begging with every cell in your body that you look more graceful than you feel, stepping out of the leg holes.

in all honesty, you’re more embarrassed with the fact he’d watched you remove your clothes than with how you’re now stood naked, legs a little shaky and the wetness gathering between your folds you’re suddenly so much more aware of, the cool air fighting against your pulsating heat.

“well?” san speaks with expectation, legs bent at the knee while the balls of his feet rest on the edge of the bench. “are you gonna just stand there or you gonna sit on my face?”

“are you... sure you want me to?” even you feel the idiocy behind asking such a thing, when he’s laying right there with eyes full of glee and a raging boner pressed against his hip, nothing but the familiar colours of your college to stop you from seeing him all his naked glory. still, you can’t help elaborating. “i mean, the bench isn’t exactly sturdy and, i mean, what if i slip off of you?”

“y/n, are you joking? you have to be joking!” his offence is playful enough to ease a little of the hesitation inside of you. “do you see these puppies, baby? these are my mad gains from flailing my silly little arms around in a pool six days a week!”

you think this can’t be real as you watch the golden boy of the school put on a show, flexing his arms in an effort to display his muscles and voicing the most ridiculous words that not even he seems to be taking seriously, a bubble of laughter popping in every sentence.

“i’m not gonna let you slip, now hurry up!” again with the whining.

“god, you’re so desperate!”

“for you? always.”

the following minute is made up of wobbled steps and a poor attempt at amping yourself up, repeating mantra after mantra in your head that you are the sex goddess and no man is going to make you feel nervous. not even if that man has a jaw one could slice diamonds with.

he’s got a firm grasp of your thighs before you’ve even got the chance to get comfortable, legs a little shaky as you hover over his naked chest and will your knees to find grip on the bench beneath them.

“come closer, my tongue’s not that long!” san’s pulling you up, closer, all the way to where his wanton mouth awaits you. as if to give you a preview of what awaits you, the kisses from before reduced to nothing, his tongue pops out to run over the smooth of his bottom lip. you repeat the process of trying to find balance, a position in which you don’t need to worry about toppling overboard. though, with the way his finger squeeze into your thigh, you doubt you’ll have to worry about that truly happening. “comfortable?”

“as i’ll ever be.”

“all the people that would die to be in your position, and you say that?” he tsks, tongue hitting off the roof of his mouth before a blow of air hits against your folds and, though it’s faint from the distance still between his mouth and where he wants it to be, it sends a jolt of excitement up your spine. “i’ll just have to make sure i over-perform, make you more eager for next time.”

neither of you choose to dwell on the words next time.

him, too occupied with getting his first taste, tongue licking a strip up your core and coming to a stop as the tip of it bumps against your clit.

you, too busy having the air knocked out of your lungs, hand unconsciously finding safety in gripping his hair as you lurch forward momentarily, mouth falling open in a quiet gasp that echoes around and around.

“hmm, make sure you hold on tight.” you know he’s teasing you, with his words, and with his eyes, and with his mouth that seems to find enjoyment in trailing itself over your clitoral hood and up your pubic bone. “you smell mouthwatering, you know? enough to make a man go feral.”

the chance to reply never comes, not when san makes his way back down to your clit and greets it with the stroke of his flattened tongue. every tiny nerve sparks to life under his touch and you feel yourself grow wetter, a wave of warm arousal leaking out of your hole. his tongue dives down to welcome it, not allowing more than a single drop- landing on his chin- to go to waste.

you don’t even notice the lack of his grip around your left leg until you feel it: the first few seconds of his fingertips probing around your soaked cunt, coating themselves in your liquid pleasure until it’s dripping down the back of his hand.

the first finger to enter your hole is gentle, tentative to the way your body receives him, his pointer and ring finger keeping your folds spread and allowing him the full view of the middle one slowly disappearing from sight, burying itself in the warmth of your pussy. distracted, his mouth pulls back and his head meets the bench again while his eyes soak in the sight above him, flickering up to catch your reaction when another finger enters you, this time with a lot less care as it forces you open around it.

“so pretty,” he mutters the words, more to himself than to you, delighting as he witnesses you struggling to bite back a pathetic moan when his digits curl within you. he repeats the action a couple times, flicking his wrist back and forth, fingers brushing over your tight walls each time and culminating in a curl that has him pressing against the spongy-like flesh inside. “so, so pretty.”

your hips begin to rut against his hand, meeting every one of his thrusts with perfect timing that has him reaching deeper, further, better places inside of you. all the while he’s just watching and admiring the furrow in your brow and the way the swells of your breast bounce in sync with you.

your pussy clenches tighter and his fingers fight to reach deeper before spreading themselves wider in an attempt to scissor you open. he’s giving it his all, a third finger slipping in despite the dull ache setting in his wrist while he coaxes you closer and closer to the tipping point.

san takes just as easy as he gives, and it’s that fact alone that drives him to pull his hand back, fingers withdrawing from you and the pleasure you’re pursuing.

“why’d you-” you heave through heavy breaths, brain fuzzy from the unvoiced orgasm you were so close to having, every nerve ready to tingle, every muscle ready to tremble, every toe ready to curl. “stop?”

“because,” the wet smack of his fingers hitting against your clit is louder than the whimper that drops from your mouth. san hears both, however, and grins, quickly landing another smack against your engorged clit. “the goal is to make you cum on my face, not my fingers. consider them the appetiser, something to awaken your senses.”

his tongue licks in an upward motion, starting from the tip of your taint and ending at your clit, and you get deja-vu to just minutes before, when you’d first felt his tongue on your melting skin, the saliva it leaves in a trail behind it serving to cool you down. a shiver runs up your spine as he blows air onto your cunt, the pressure of it doing wonders to stimulate your clit.

“would you stop?”

“look who’s whining now.” san, despite what he says, does as you ask and puts an end what feels like unending teasing- really, it’s hardly been a minute but the pulsing of your heat and the loss of a climax leave you no room to think about something as abstract as time.

his lips make a victorious return, wrapping themselves around your clit and sucking against the pulsing nub. every so often, he delivers a couple kitten licks- ups and downs, sides to sides, figure eights- before swiftly returning to kissing your most intimate parts.

in an attempt to make your toes curl, he dips lower and teases the tips of his tongue over your entrance, wet muscle moving over wet skin and tastebuds covering themselves in your essence, till the moans echoing off the walls are indistinguishable between san’s and your own.

“you can move,” he grunts into you after a few minutes of repeated alternating between kissing your clit and tonguing at your hole. it’s muffled with the way he’s holding you down against his face and you feel his lips brush against your lower ones as he speaks. “need you to move. wanna see you use me, pretty.”

and, who are you to deny the man?

you’re hesitant at first, just like you were all those weeks ago as you sank to your knees for him. you test the waters and give a single roll of your hips. it feels good, great, especially when paired with his own efforts at dragging his tongue over you.

it takes a few more attempts, and san’s patience wearing thin to the point he resorts to grabbing a firm hold of your arse cheeks and planting you flat on his mouth, tongue flat and eyes staring up at you in a demand to move, goddamn it.

move you most certainly do, grinding down on his tongue like you’ve done many a time with different men’s cocks. it’s messy, sloppy in the way that his spit mingles with your wetness, a cocktail of fluids sliding down his throat, and painting his lips, and dribbling down his chin as he eats you like a man starved that’s alas getting a taste of the sweetest fruit.

the rhythm of your hips is thrown off when the man beneath you switches from having you grinding down onto his flattened tongue to slipping the muscle inside of your hole, thrusting it as far as up as the length of it allows him to. with every time your body comes crashing down on his mouth, the tip of his nose bumps against your clit, forcing you to angle yourself upwards to gain more of the friction.

hands find hair, lips part in unabashed moans, thighs shake with the oncoming of an orgasmic state of mind.

the moment builds too quickly, too unexpectedly, like the ghost of your stolen climax is back with a vengeance and set on ensuring there will be no denying it this time.

“s-shit,” your eyes squeeze shut, too scared to look down at his ecstasy filled eyes in fear of it being what finally tips you over the edge. “i’m gonna- ah- gonna cum.”

san pays no mind to your warning. if anything, he takes it as a challenge, an invisible timer beginning in his head and forcing him to see how quickly he can get you to unravel all over his face. he’s getting everything he asked for, your naked body a mess above him as you fuck yourself on his tongue and your hands, with minds of their own, sliding up to grab and squeeze at your tits.

he watches how the pastel blue nail polish clashes with the darkened colour of your abused nipples, fingers working to pinch, and twist, and pull at them as you lose yourself in the moment.

when you cum, it’s with rolled-back eyes and shaky thighs, his hands gripping at you tighter to steady you as you sway above him, his tongue working at coaxing you through your high.

he licks up every drop of cum he can manage, until you’re cringing in overstimulation and reaching down to push him away. he let’s you move him, mouth moving to trail a couple kisses over your inner thigh, something akin to lipstick stains- yet so much dirtier in nature- being left behind on your soft flesh.

“told you i wouldn’t let you fall,” he’s the first to speak, partly because he correctly thinks you’re incapable of forming anything coherent in the afterglow of your orgasm, but mostly because he wants- no, needs to hear you praise him.

needs to hear you praise him like he’d done for you that night, eyes still hooded and chest visibly heaving as he finished processing watching you swallow every spurt of hot cum he’d shot down your throat. the praise never comes.

well, at least not from you.

at first he thinks he’s imagining the sound of clapping. it’s slow, and booming, and tinted with the slightest hint of sarcasm. it grows louder though, far too loud for it to just be in his imagination. the stilling of your body, going rigid as you fall back onto his chest, the sticky remnants of your orgasm cold against his heated skin, confirms that you hear the clapping too.

“bravo, choi. always thought your reputation with the ladies was a little overhyped, but i stand corrected.”

never has he hated the sight of park seonghwa so much, not even in the times they’ve been head-to-head in the final lap and the older male’s offensively bright swim-cap is all san can see every time he twists his head to catch a breath of air.

the three swimmers stand on the opposite end of the swimming pool, all in various stages of undress.

there’s wooyoung, who looks like he’s not so much as dried himself with a towel, still dressed in his team swimwear. and yunho, who’s got a towel wrapped around his waist messily, hair damp against his forehead and likely smelling of the cheap shampoo provided in the locker-room showers. lastly, seonghwa, who’s seemingly fully dressed spar for one of those irritating long coats san always sees him trailing around campus in.

one look into your panicked eyes is enough for san to spring into action, fumbling to sit himself up and pull your body flush against his, facing your naked back in the direction of his rivals.

he bites back a groan as you shift in his lap, unknowingly- or maybe you do know- pressing your soaked centre against his erection, which already strains inside the confines of the nylon material, leaving very little to the imagination.

“do you mind?” he’s glad the words come out clearly, booming across the pool at them and their unwavering staring.

“not at all.”

san holds you tighter against him, eyeing at your discarded swimsuit on the floor as he listens to a shuffle of footsteps. assuming the three men have made their way back into the locker-room, he’s speechless when he looks up to find them approaching the bench, seonghwa leading the trio with a secure grip on the back of wooyoung’s neck, whose eyes can’t seem to leave the floor, while yunho trails a little behind them, one hand grasping onto the towel around him.

“get your hands off her!” he leans back, pulling you with him, in an attempt to stray out of seonghwa’s reach as he extends his hand out. he fails, however, and the tips of seonghwa’s elongated fingers brush over your shoulder.

a shiver runs down you, one that san feels, the unexpected touch tickling your nerves.

“she’s a grown up,” the eldest of the men muses as he builds a rhythm out of how his fingers soother over your sweat slicked skin. “who i’m sure can speak for herself if she wants my hands off her.”

out of all the men, seonghwa has always been the one san despised most. between the constant boasting of wealth- money he acquired through labor, though not the working kind- and the disrespect he’s never had a problem showing towards others, he never fails to strike a nerve, awakening a dark part of san’s brain that activates his fight or flight response. by far, however, his arrogance is the worst, that sense of entitlement that drives him to think everything and everyone is a piece of clay for him to mold and manipulate till they fit his ideal shape.

the rich boy’s hand smoothes over your naked shoulder and san can’t resist glaring up at him.

“c’mon san, now’s hardly the time to be modest,” behind the oldest swimmer, yunho and wooyoung seem to be battling an inner conflict, yunho fighting to keep his towel in place and wooyoung fighting to keep the shame off his face while his dick visibly strains against the confines of his chlorine-covered swimwear. “not after the show you two just put on.”

“we didn’t,” it’s the first time you manage to speak since covering san’s tongue in your cum, breathing at last steady and face hidden from everyone’s view, much to san’s despair. “know you were watching.”

“and, if you had known, would you have stopped?” yunho is the one asking the question and, suddenly, san’s so much more aware of what exactly he’s hiding underneath his towel.

you give no answer.

“of course she wouldn’t,” seonghwa answers for you, hand moving to grasp the back of your neck. with no warning, he grips a little too tight for comfort and and yanks you backwards, till you’re staring right into san’s eyes and the only thing keeping you perched in his lap is seonghwa’s body pressed flat against yours. “there’s nothing a whore loves more than an audience, right?”

if put on trial in a court of law and sworn to tell the truth, and nothing but the truth, over whether or not you’d just clenched around nothing at park seonghwa’s degrading name, you’d plead that you never did such a thing.

you’d be found guilty.

“poor woo nearly came untouched just watching you two. isn’t that right?” the eldest turns to stare back at where you imagine wooyoung to be. “pretty boy nearly whined just at the thought of being in san’s position, a mouth full of cunt and someone using him like the fuck-toy he is.”

the air grows thick, between you, and san, and every other living being in the room. it feels like the walls are closing in on themselves with every second that passes, the sweat dripping down your back and coming to a rest between your arse cheeks evidence that the space is heating up. or maybe it’s just your body, hardly processing the high it’s just come down from and there’s already another source for a new-found arousal, a source in the shape of three muscular men stood behind you and one beneath you, eyes wary as he gazes into your own, like he wants to ask if you’re okay but all the blood is too busy circulating in his crotch for his brain to be productive.

“now, i hardly think it’s very nice of you to get our wooyoung all riled up and not even offer to help him out.” you decide you’re being lulled into a false sense of safety the second you feel the pressure of seonghwa’s hand leave your skin. behind you, there’s a shuffling of footsteps that call you to crane your neck and catch a glimpse of what exactly is going on but san’s eyes beg you to keep staring into his, to count the galaxies that dance within them while he grips at your waist. “so the chance to offer is off the table and you’re simply going to do as told. doesn’t that sound easier, hmm? no having to make pesky decisions, just spread those legs and follow orders.”

at last, you get your first glimpse at jung wooyoung.

he sits down on the bench, no more than a breath of space between where you and san are perched. he’s a vision in himself, shoulders hunched and embarrassed face the same shade of red as the tip of his cock, an angry looking bulbous head poking out the top of far-too-tight speedos.

san’s grip tightens the longer you stare at the other boy, gaze dancing over the shape of his body and mouth-watering as, for the first time, you see the appeal of jung wooyoung. never before have you understood why eyes follow him in the hallways, like he’s more than just another pretty boy on campus- something that’s in abundance. but you see it now, understand the appeal of his stand-out nose; and the veins that run down his arms; and floppy style to his hair, that seems to be calling out to have your fingers running through it.

with no prior warning, the grip on your hips tightens even more, till san is digging crescents into the soft skin and he’s lifting you, off of his lap and right into wooyoung’s.

the usually boisterous boy’s eyes meet yours, no longer filled with that spark of defiance and, instead, glazed over in tears, a quiet pleading being exchanged between you.

only, you’re unsure what he’s begging of you.

“are you going to just sit there,” seonghwa speaks up, boredom in his tone that has you picturing him rolling his eyes and picking at his manicured nails. “or are you going to help the poor pup cum?”

“what?!” that certainly helps you find your voice, and the guts to turn around and look at the man.

you find him stood closer than you imagined, with tailored trousers hugging his thighs and a perfectly ironed shirt tucked into them, the last few messy buttons the only indication he’d rushed to dress himself. eyes looking past him, you find more of a friendly aura in yunho, who, despite fighting a battle against the towel wrapped around his figure, manages to shoot a smile at you.

and then there’s san, who stands with muscled arms crossed over his chest and a painfully obvious boner resting in the confines of his swimwear, though he’s done a better job at keeping himself concealed than the boy beneath you. his face appears indifferent, yet the twitch in his eye speaks of a tamed anger, a frustration he’s yet to unleash on the men who’d interrupted him amidst his feast.

“are you now deaf along with being dumb or something?” the eldest pulls your attention back to him with little effort, a smirk meeting the glare you shoot his way. “you made that brat hard, now do your job and fix the mess you’ve made.”

words of protest get lost in a surprised gasp as the boy in question takes your hand in his, veiny hand guiding you down to a veiny shaft. wooyoung wraps both of your fingers over his leaking cock, his holding yours in place around him while he ruts his hips up once, twice into your hold, the action sending his swimwear even further down the his length and exposing nearly the full sight of it to the swimming hall.

you don’t mean to compare, yet you’re incapable of ignoring the fact that while wooyoung may be on the slightly shorter side compared to san, he’s certainly leading in the thickness department, with a mushroomed head and the prettiest trail of trimmed hairs leading down his pelvis.

he guides you over his shaft a number of times, a little less shy now as he outwardly whines when your thumb runs over his tip, wiping away the fat bead of precum resting upon it. at some point, he moves his hand away, needing both of his free to lean back on the bench, yet yours keeps moving at it’s own volition, stroking him in a pattern of threes, interrupting every trio with a swipe over his tip or a fondle of his still-concealed balls.

“please,” the whine in his voice is so unlike the jung wooyoung you’ve watched week after week, hurling abuse and echoing boasts of his own talents while keeping himself afloat in the swimming pool.

“he asked nicely.” you’d just about forgotten about everyone else in the room, until seonghwa’s irritatingly unbothered voice serves to remind you of his presence. “rule number one: good behaviour is rewarded.”

“what do i,” you interrupt your own question to glance over wooyoung once more. “do?” you pinch your thigh, skin stinging as nails bite it, and confirm with yourself that this is not a dream but, in fact, very much real.

jung wooyoung is hard and begging you to do something.

“i don’t care how you do it, just put one of your holes to good use for once and make him cum.”

there’s still an echo of seonghwa’s voice by the time you successfully manage to rid wooyoung of his swimwear, the damp fabric clinging to the warm skin and the taut muscles of his thighs. the boy isn’t much help either, seemingly reduced to nothing but a writhing, panting mess instead of someone competent enough to raise himself off the bench just enough for you to undress him.

the sight is mesmerising, one you’re certain will remain ingrained in your memory till the day you die: wooyoung, disheveled and untouched, with his achingly hard cock pressed flat against his lower stomach, his swimmer-thighs spread with a set of balls between them that you find yourself near salivating over as a trickle of his own precum runs down them.

“your cock’s...” you begin to speak, yet trail off as your digits wrap themselves around his shaft, just to delight in the way his breath jumps when you drag your hand upwards and give a soft squeeze as you reach the head. “so pretty, woo.”

“youngie.” seonghwa cuts in from behind you. “he prefers to be called youngie when he’s getting his cock teased.”

“yeah, youngie?” you try it out.

instantly, he nods and something akin to a whimper flies out of him.

fascinated by his shaky breaths and his pretty chest, where warm, tanned skin appears to be near glowing under the swimming halls bright lights as his cheeks flush a palette full of reds and pinks, your eyes are completely fixed on him. there’s something vulnerable and breakable about the way he’s looking at your with the widest of eyes, his eyebrows furrowed and bottom lip receiving countless abuse from his teeth.

never have you been so desperate to push someone past their own limits.

officially running on nothing but pure instincts, you close your mind off to thoughts, like how the boy you’d spent weeks avoiding and missing is stood only metres away, witnessing the way the tip of your finger teases over the slit of his sport rival’s cock. or like how park seonghwa, perhaps the campus’ most infamous trust-fund baby, seems to have complete control of the situation at hand, yourself and jung wooyoung nothing but idolised dolls he’s moving into whatever obscene position he wants you in.

instead, you focus on how wooyoung’s eyes roll back and he lets out a gasp when you gather up fluids from within your salivating mouth and part your own lips, watching how your own spit drips onto his lower stomach, and your hand, and his painfully hard cock.

the saliva serves not only as a visual pleasure, something that’s awakening inside of you at the sight of it leaving you with whole new kind of excitement bubbling along your body, but as a physical pleasure for wooyoung, who seems to have no protest to how much easier it is to slide your hand up his length with the added lubrication of your own spit.

“fuck...” he curses under his breath and his hands find purchase on your body, one gripping your hip while the other grabs at your forehand, like he’s scared you’ll release the grip you have on him and strip away the sweet release of friction. “don’t just focus on the tip- shit, ah- play with my balls too.”

“wooyoung!” ready to oblige, ready to give the pretty faced boy anything he demanded of you, you’ve no time to think of a reply before the ringmaster of this circus reminds you of his overlooking presence behind your back. “stop speaking like an ungrateful brat and take what you’re given. or else... well, i’m sure you don’t need reminding of what happens to pups that misbehave.”

the way jung wooyoung’s whole body grows rigid beneath you, paired with the countless times park seonghwa has butted in to speak on the boy’s sexual preferences, leaves you with the sense that the two are not only acquainted with how each other’s bodies move underwater..

“s-sorry,” this is not the voice of boastful jung wooyoung, who near bounces down the college halls and airdrops nudes in class because he’s bored. this is a voice that’s soft and meek. like a beady-eyed puppy, so quick to submit to it’s owner. “just feels too good. i’m sorry”

“yeah, you will be sorry.” seonghwa’s hand is cold against your back and it lulls a shiver out of you as fingers trickle down your spine like water off a duck’s wings. part of you hates him for stealing wooyoung’s attention off of you just as you were beginning to revel in it, a larger part of you wants to know why the sternness in his voice is enough to have your clit aching to be touched. “spitfire, be a good cocksleave and sit on his dick.”

“ok, stop!” a sense of shame comes over you when it takes hearing san’s outburst to remember the fact he’s watching the scene unfold. “don’t you think you’re taking this too far now, park seonghwa? i know you and wooyoung have your... agreement on how you treat each other, but don’t drag someone else into it. not when she never even asked for this.”

“you had your tongue tasting the eighth wonder of the world on that bench twenty minutes ago, both of you knowing there was a chance you’d be caught, and you want to tell me no one was asking for this?”

“that was private! you guys are the ones who-”

“there’s no such thing as privacy in a public area. besides, it’s hardly like she’s not enjoying this. if anything, i think spitfire doesn’t like the way you’re getting in the way of her teaching youngie a lesson in obedience.” you’re naive to think no one would notice the way you’ve began to grind down on wooyoung’s cock, stealing whimpers out of him as the soaked lips of your pussy rubbed up against him and holding back your own moans each time his tip meets the bundle of nerves that make up your clit. “choi, if you’re that much of a pissy pants that can’t enjoy himself even just this once in life, then feel free to leave. i’m sure the four of us will be too occupied to notice your absence.”

you’re not paying close enough attention to figure out if san’s newfound silence is due to his departure, or if he’s simply too stunned to speak, your eyes focused on nothing and no one but the boy at your mercy.

the initial burn of wooyoung breaching your entry reminds you of how long it’s been since you’d been stretched open by something other than someone’s cold fingers or wagging tongue. it’s been more or less three long months of juggling test after test, assignments piling up on your desktop and a relationship with your now ex-boyfriend being tossed completely into the gutter.

not once had you thought your return to the world of sexual bliss would be in front of an audience, much less at the very place you work.

doubting that it’s been as long for him as it has for you, wooyoung still spares nothing when it comes to reacting to your touch. with eyes squeezing shut, head rolling back, abdomen muscles flexing along side every shaken intake of breath, the boy puts on a show so pornographic it puts the professionals to shame. a whine exits his lips, lips that carry marks of his own teeth and look like they’re in need of a healthy dose of chapstick, and look so disgustingly kissable that your own tingle at the thought.

all those rumours of jung wooyoung being a camboy rush to the forefront of your mind, feeling truer than ever when your eyes take in the bob of his adam’s apple, and the perfectly timed run of his tongue over his lower lip, and the pretty way in which the prominent veins in his hands looks as he clamps his grip down on your hips.

he’s a sight worth paying for.

“are you okay?” not the first thing you’d imagined saying after sinking all the way down on his cock, the need to check up on him taking over before you’d even noticed it’s existence.

“yeah...” he sighs his way through the word, eyes still closed and grip still very much tight on your skin, blunt fingertips likely leaving crescent moons you’ll find yourself staring at for days to come, memories of this moment replaying in a rose-tinted haze. “just need a second, you- you feel good, fuck me.”

“i’m kinda already doing that, youngie.” you giggle, like a lovesick adolescent speaking to their crush of the week, but the boy’s instant smile upon hearing it puts out the fire of shame building in the pit of your stomach.

“hmm,” he hums back, acknowledging your words without giving you the satisfaction of hearing him tell you how you’re correct. “are you okay?”

wooyoung flips the question on you and it parallels with the way he pulls the rains in physically, lithe hips thrusting upwards in search of feeling more, reaching deeper inside of you. in the back of your mind you already picture a look of displeasure on park seonghwa’s face, scowling lips loading up to berate you and demand you take repossession of jung wooyoung’s sanity.

“yeah, i’m-” with the eldest man in mind, you stop and compose yourself, as well as you can while wooyoung’s mouthing at your neck, your collarbones, the tops of your breasts. “i’m wondering who told you you were allowed to touch me?”

control is easily regained, all it takes is your hand squeezing around jung wooyoung’s throat and your soaked walls clenching around his aching cock and he’s melting like ice cream on a warm summer’s day, leaving behind a sticky mess.

satisfaction and pleasure come crashing in tandem, wave after wave moving in motion with each lethargic roll of your body against the swimmer’s, who seems to be a quicker learner than you’d believed him to be, hands flying off your body like it was made up of hot stones and, instead, now holding a firm and grounding grip of the bench beneath you both.

“harder.” you feel a hint of emotion within park seonghwa’s voice this time he speaks. it’s fleeting, and hard to make out quite what feeling it is he’s experiencing, but it’s there and it’s certainly a step up from the usual shameless, egotistical, megalomaniac tone he takes on. “squeeze his throat tighter.”

under the possession of his commanding tone, you find yourself caving into his command, fingers pressing a little harder into wooyoung’s warm skin. the boy gulps down whatever pride he has and delivers a pleasured whine. you grind down harder and an evil, twisted part of you you’ve never met before longs to laugh at the way he so desperately is struggling to keep his composure, fighting back the urge to meet your hips with his own upward thrusts.

so, you do.

“hear that, youngie?” seonghwa’s voice becomes less grating each time you hear it, once an unwelcome and intrusive thought but now a second voice and a valued player in a game of wreck the wooyoung. “you’re being laughed at. isn’t that just pathetic?”

“y-yes, fuck-” he falls victim to your walls clenching around him, gripping his cock in a vice grip. the image of confidence withers away so easily to reveal a teary-eyed, pretty-faced, cum-desperate man. “i’m pathetic.”

“yeah, you are.” seonghwa circles his way around the rocking bench, no longer out of view hidden behind your back but, instead, staring you down with piercing eyes that cut through you like a knife to hot butter. “he’s getting close. never lasts long, really, even seen him cum untouched just from giving me head. but that’s okay, isn’t it youngie? you’re a slut for having your sack drained, huh?”

the swimmer beneath you has never looked redder than he does right now, secrets of his sexual nature getting exposed to the people he likely considers his biggest athletic competition. though you probably should, you don’t push him away when his face finds safety in the crook of your neck, parted lips covering your burning skin in sticky drool.

“don’t let him fool you guys, he’s into the degrading nature of it all. trust me.” you wonder if it should concern you the way seonghwa speaks about jung wooyoung as though he’s nothing but a pet, a possession of which he just so happens to have complete control over. you’re more concerned with the fact it excites you. “call him a good boy, i dare you.”

the words haven’t even formed in your throat and the boy between your thighs is gripping onto your waist a little tighter, lips near pouting and eyes screwed shut in uncontrollable pleasure, burning down his spine and threatening to push him over the edge of sexual bliss.

you consider having mercy, the inexperienced side of you thinking the boy looks like he’s full of shame and embarrassment. the throbbing of his rock hard cock repeatedly stuffing your aching cunt reminds you he’s getting off on the humiliation.

“is he a good boy, though?” you stare up at park seonghwa, not even sparing a whimpering wooyoung any attention as he begins a rambled protest to defend his good behaviour. “i mean, i don’t remember telling him he could touch me. do you, hwa?”

the hands that grip you tightly let go quick, like your skin were an unexpectedly warm stove, scorching his skin right off him.

“i don’t remember either,” the eldest’s agreement has you reeling in a way you never expected, filling you with a new found sense of control.

a control that is ripped away far too quickly, like park seonghwa sensed you growing falsely confident over the situation at hand.

like a shark circling it’s prey, the tall man makes his way back around the bench, each fall of his shoe-covered feet echoing in the quiet swim hall. click, click, click, and he’s right at your back, not a word uttered as the soft of his palm lands on the nape of your neck. achingly slow does it travel down the expanse of your back, not a single noise filling the space other than the rise and fall of your body on top of wooyoung’s and the same boy’s poorly contained moans and mewls of pleasure.

the silence is interrupted by your own shocked gasp, mouth falling agape in shock as your movements come to a complete halt. his hands, no longer soft and delicate, grip you in an iron-tight hold, fingers greedy as they dig into your meaty flesh with no mercy or regard for the pain it may inflict on you.

“no, get up,” like a switch was flipped in as little as a minute, park seonghwa’s voice has lost all sense of the excitement it had whilst he spoke on jung wooyoung’s dirty endeavours and has returned back to the cold, callous, commanding tone it had originally.

he sounds angry, feels angry in the way the fingers of his free hand tangle themselves in the hair at the back of your head and give a harsh tug, forcing your head back till you’re met with his scowling face and perfectly groomed hair, even in it’s dampened state it seems to frame his face perfectly.

“what?” you babble out, dumbstruck, much like the desperate boy beneath you who’s began to mutter apology after apology between pleadings of please no don’t do this and i promise i’ll behave, i’ll keep my hands to myself.

none of it works.

“you heard me. get. up.” the fingers on your waist tug, pull, drag you away from the quivering mess that has become of jung wooyoung, who near sobs as the cool air hits his now painfully hard cock, tip redder than the bottom of your favourite heels and a vein more prominent under his sensitive skin than the ones on his muscular arms. you’re not given much of a chance to process what’s happening before seonghwa speaks again. “wooyoung, up, now. you’re not getting to cum, so get off the bench and make room for someone else.”

the boy makes no further attempt to protest, cheeks painted pink in shame and chest shining with sweat as he shakily rises to his feet, head hung low when you watch him walk out of your line of sight.

then, your knees meet the floor.

park seonghwa chuckles as you go down, hands finding grip in your hair and forcing you to sit up right. heart beating faster, your mind begins to race with questions of what comes next, who comes next.

what dirty desires are about to be unveiled within you, forced into the unforgiving fluorescent lights of the swimming hall?

“jeong, you’re up,” seonghwa’s knee digs into your back and his fingers tug until your scalp begins to sting a little. you don’t want to like it but, in life, you don’t always get what you want.

there’s a series of shuffles behind you, followed by heavy footsteps. there’s no rush, yet no hesitation, just calm and collected footsteps of someone making their way over to do god knows what with you.

when jeong yunho, with his towel that’s looking a lot tighter around his crotch still around his waist, steps into frame, an inexplicable sense of comfort washes over you.

maybe it’s the way he smiles down at you, or the fact his hands brush seonghwa’s off of you, or the way his fingers take a hold of your chin once he’s seated in front of you.

maybe it’s just the fact he’s jeong yunho, campus himbo with a reputation for walking girls home at night just to make sure they’re safe and for singing britney spears with no shame each time the karaoke mic gets passed around.

whatever it is, it’s turning you on.

your knees are burning with fresh pain as park seonghwa shoves you closer to the mammoth of a man and you can’t help but swallow down the ball of anxiety growing in your throat.

everything about jeong yunho’s demeanour has always seemed large, with powerful arms that drag his body through the weight of water and large hands that effortlessly carry countless textbooks through the university halls; a tall frame that helps him stand out in any crowd and a personality loud enough to set off alarms; his thighs a muscular stairway leading up to a well rounded, remarkably defined posterior. it’s safe to say he’s carried a reputation for some time, one that consists of whispers between girls on campus who recount just how well endowed he really is. 7 inches, 9 inches, 12 inches, you’ve heard it all, each girl claiming it to be bigger than the last.

unfortunately, there’s no ruler at your disposal to uncover the truth of the rumours, but you confirm he’s certainly large as you watch him undo the towel. larger than you’ve ever seen before, with a thickness to match, and two heavy looking balls decorating the base.

he wraps a hand around it and you watch how he gives a light squeeze at the head, slowly sliding down the length of it till he reaches the tuft of groomed hairs on his pelvic bone. one of his hands alone holds half of his cock, leaving you almost certain you’d need to use both hands on him.

“d’you want it, sweetheart?” his words are teasing but his voice is soft, a complete one-eighty to the verbal berating you’ve been receiving- and enjoying- from park seonghwa.

you’re sure he notices the way you clench your thighs as he slaps his cock once, then twice against his stomach, the precum leaking out on to his tanned skinned.

there’s an itch inside your throat, one you imagine only he can scratch.

“you wanna taste it?” he’s still speaking to you through the arousal that fogs over your brain, commanding your tongue to swipe over your bottom lip as you burn your gaze at the glistening liquid on his warm skin, tastebuds aching to have him paint them in white.

you nod your head.

his own throws itself back, a chuckle rupturing out of his chest as he continues to tease himself with his hand.

“fuck, yeah, bet you can’t wait to taste my cock, feel it stab the back of your tight throat.” a smile should never look so sweet while it’s part of the same mouth spewing out such filth. somehow, jeong yunho makes it work. “gonna get it nice and wet for me, yeah? make it sloppy, i love it when a pretty thing like you gets all messy over my cock.”

the knee that’s suddenly digging it’s way into your back has no mercy. you wince, pull in a sharp breath and inch just that little bit closer to the bench. like a glove fits a hand, you slip right in between the muscled tree trunks that make up jeong yunho’s thighs.

you wonder, if only momentarily, what sweet a death it would be to be crushed between them, taut muscles constricting the flow of air to your lungs like a boa with its prey.

but there’s a far more preferable way to be choked by the man before you, body carved out in such definition you fear michael angelo himself stands in admiration of it.

his hand snakes its way around your body, warm and heavy and imposing with the grip it settles for at the base of your neck. in spite of the sharp stab coming from behind- where you have no doubt one park seonghwa stands with disgruntled impatience written all over his irritatingly perfect face- there is no doubt in your mind that the man in front of you holds the reigns. with eyes of honey and lips of velvet, he peers down at you with a tendered expression, saying nothing yet everything with the gentle, repeated sooth of his thumb over your skin.

you need no verbal instructions this time around.

a hand grips the base of him as the other squeezes the flesh of your own thigh, piercing your skin with just enough pressure to assure you this is the reality you find yourself in, rather than some twisted, substance influenced dream.

the first taste is the sweetest, tongue a missionary sent into the foreign land of his body to discover the way he reacts as you drag it over the tip. he gives nothing but a squeeze to the back of your neck; and that crumbles you under his control.

with a few more kitten licks- for good luck, if anything,- the show begins with the parting of your lips, the widening of your mouth, the burning of your skin as you struggle with your ability to swallow him whole. you make it no further than a third of his length before he’s tugging gently on your roots and bringing you back to the surface of existence.

“breathe, okay,” his voice is gentle, calming your nerves yet sending your heart into a fit of patternless beats. “inhale, exhale, got it? through the nose, that’s gonna help you relax.”

doing as he says, you swallow three whole breaths. shaky, ragged, each feeling hollow in your chest in comparison to the weight of his cock on your tongue.

“pretty girl,” he practically coos, hand cupping your chin as his thumb smoothes over the swell of your bottom lip. it’s tender, sweet, and almost enough to make you forget the sight of his engorged cock that sits angrily between his tree-trunk shaped thighs, crying out for the return of your mouth’s affection. “someone’s gotta teach you to not be greedy, hmm? small little mouth of yours is no fit for me, don’t go choking on it.”

heat flashes between your thighs, your heartbeat dropping right down to your clit and leaving you with a burning ache, the kind only a gentleman like this could soothe. your fingers may have to do, however, if the stubborn arsehole behind you would be so kind as to let you enjoy yourself.

the way park seonghwa curls his hand round the front of your neck and flexes his nimble fingers- that goddamn family heirloom ring a punishing cold to your warm skin, near brandishing you as touched by some nepotism child- when you do so little as clench your thighs together to relieve the pressure, or lack-there-of, between your thighs tells you he’ll grant you no such fun.

“you’d need to have something big enough for her to choke on,” san, precious san. still here, still somewhere beneath this god-forsaken tin-can roof swimming pool, watching you bruise your knees and your ego for another man, another one of his team-mates. what must he think of you? has he lost whatever respect he may have had? does he think he’d been just another body to exchange fluids with, that night at the party? if you could just see his face, you’d not need to wonder all these things. his eyes, they always give him away, too earnest and pure for his own good.

“shut it, choi,” yunho’s bark isn’t half as loud as seonghwa’s booming commands have been, and are nowhere near as malignant. if anything, the gentle giant is humoured by his team-mate’s words, as if he knows they’re a preposterous thing to say about him. then again, you can’t imagine any man remaining humble about themselves if they were so well-endowed. “or do you wanna crack out the measuring tape again and remind yourself of just how much of me there is to choke on?”

silence.

it takes a few moments for the spotlight to return to you, a gradual shift from playful to lust driven energy encapsulating the broad frame of the man before. he cups your cheek, feather-light touch smoothing over your skin while his eyes burrow daggers into your soul.

why must his shoulders be so wide? it almost angers you as much as it sends a wave of heat between your legs.

almost, but not quite.

“‘s cute,” he half mumbles, distracted by the sight you paint below him on your knees, bruises already forming and thighs clenching for some relief of pressure. “your little pussy’s all wet just from having my cock in your mouth.”

“i think you’re forgetting she was bouncing on woo’s dick a few minutes ago, yunho,” the devil on your shoulder won’t let you rest, hand snaking through the threads of your hair and tugging on your roots. not enough to hurt, just enough to sting. “have some modesty.”

“sure, let’s act like i’m not the one who had her cumming all over my face a while ago.” san mumbles a string of words you wish you could unhear, face heating up as the shame burns through your bloodstream.

how had you gotten here?

you’re allowed no such freedom to ponder over previous actions as jeong yunho’s all encompassing frame works to remind you of where you find yourself: on your knees dressed in nothing but your own shame- shame which seems to slip off of you, piece by piece, baring you shamelessly to this pack of wolf-eyed boys’ for their eyes to feast upon.

strong, veiny hands reach out and drag you forwards, just an inch yet it’s all you need to feel the weight of park seonghwa’s domineering figure float off of you, rendering you under the control of this much larger, far smilier looking man. “eyes on me, okay? don’t wanna miss the way i’m about to make them roll back.”

there begins a game of push and pull, where jeong yunho pushes you closer and closer to his evident arousal, all the while teasing you as he pulls his hips back, keeping your waiting mouth open and empty, and oh-so frustrated at the feeling of being so close yet so far away from his dripping tip.

the first real taste you get of him does, in fact, nearly have your eyes rolling back. a kitten lick, barely there yet fully felt, running over the underside of his cock, a taste of salted skin, and musky sweat, and stale chlorine mixing in with the warmth of him flooding your senses. his reaction is no more composed than yours, blatantly parting his lips in a gasp and bucking his hips up, forwards, any direction they need follow to chase after your mouth.

happy to comply, you take pride in tasting him a second time, this time right over the growing drop of pre-cum pebbling on his tip. white flashes behind your closing eyes as his grip in your hair tightens, a pulse of heat firing straight down your spine as your mind floods with images of what it must be like to watch this man, this gentleman, this figure that so wholly encompasses what it means to be a himbo in this day and age lose his cool and revolt into his most carnal, basal instincts to take whatever pleasure he needs from you with a reckless abandon, burrow his throbbing cock down your throat till the beat of his heart takes over your own.

instead, you settle for wrapping your lips around him, at last, and letting him guide you just that little bit down his length. the weight of him feels nice, a strange sense of comfort birthing in your bones as you grow used to feel of him taking up your palate. his breaths seem to run in tandem with the inches he sinks deep between your parted lips.

a deep breath, he lowers you further, till your left cheek begins to bulge out.

tongue pinned to the floor of your mouth, you make use of it as best you can, rolling it over the bottom of his shaft and earning yourself a plethora of gratifying sounds, each deep and desperate and crooning straight out of jeong yunho’s broad chest.

another deep breath, another inch.

for all the false dominance you wield over the situation, with the heat of your mouth and spill of your own saliva slickening his cock, his real and visceral dominance doubles it by tenfold, with a hand on the back of your neck, guiding your every move, and a knowing, gentle look cast downwards at you from where he sits propped on the bench, thighs a heavy mass to case your body between. a silly little voice in your head whispers a seductive tale of how easily this man could get you in a headlock and suffocate your fragile windpipes. a wave of heat, this one going right down to your core and forcing you to pay attention to it, shifting awkwardly and clenching the muscles in your own legs in hopes of getting some pitiful amount of pressure.

all breathing stops as he hits the back of your throat.

hands pulling tight, a biting pain ripping through your hair and a tired gag creeping out of your constricting throat, yunho holds you still and strong, as unmoving as the mountains that fill the horizon from your bedroom window.

he’s not even fully in, an arguably obscene amount of him still awaiting some form of attention beyond the spill of the spit filling up your mouth. but there’s nowhere for it to go, not within your mouth at least, and so you manoeuvre your hand up and grip the neglected inches, the tip of your pinkie teasingly brushing over the swell of his balls.

he lurches forward, gasping in a breath of air at last. “fucking christ- shit,” he grits his teeth. “her mouth’s warm.”

“well, obviously. this your first time getting a blowjob or something, jeong?” god, the reminder of seonghwa being here, somewhere behind you, fox eyes judging your every move and keeping his cool, no matter how hard you’d seen his cock straining in those ridiculous pant-suit trousers he sports. it’s sickening.

“yeah, yunho, watch out before you have a repeat of 2019.”

if the taller jeong wants to snap at the other, you never find out, instead dedicating yourself to the glory of worshipping him between your parted lips and tight throat, jaw ready to lock itself in place so long as it keeps him inside.

you treat him differently than you’d treated san that night. you’d been tipsy then, buzzing off the colourful shots of who-knows-what you’d been conned into downing a half hours before, mind hazy as you kneeled between him and teased your tongue over every crevice of him it could reach, dripping him in drool and working an ache into your overused tongue by the time you got watched him spill over the edge of ecstasy. that wasn’t even about san’s pleasure, no real care put into getting him off, your own selfish need to indulge in the pleasure of feeling, tasting, worshipping him taking precedence.

but, right now, you’re overwhelmingly sober, mind hazed only by a cloud of inexplicable lust that rolled in the moment san shot you his stupid smile, and you care about making jeong yunho cum. in fact, it’s the only thing on your mind as you bob your head up and down, letting his own hand guide your pace.

“shh, shh,” he’s hushing your own struggles for breath and carding his fingers through the tresses of your hair, his legs clamping down on either side of you, pinning you in your rightful place. “taking it so good, baby. so fucking good.”

good’s not good enough.

you want to leave him mind-blown, exhausted, unhinged. you want him clenching his jaw, and baring his teeth, and stuttering over any praise he tries to give you. in fact, you need it, need that thrill-driven lust of collapsing the sanity of a man as broad and strong and capable as him.

so you pick up the pace, fight against the steady up-and-down of his grip and try to take just that little bit more of him in your mouth and down your throat, till you’ve no doubt there’s a visible bulge of where he sits down your windpipe. you think back on what he said- i love it when a pretty thing like you gets all messy over my cock- and work towards doing just that, mouth a fountain of over-flowing spit that paints lines down your chin and over his heavy balls. the hand at his base lightly drags the tips of its nails over his burning skin and you physically feel the way his cock jumps in your mouth, head twitching as his hips involuntarily jolt forwards.

eyes as wide as a deer in headlights, you glance up to stare into his own, only to find they’re rolling back in his head, too caught up in the headiness of having your mouth on him to visually focus. it’s erotic, tracing your eyes over the protruding vein in his neck and the unrhythmic heaving of his chest- like every breath he pulls is a rare gift and a miracle- and the straining of his muscled thighs that hold back his urge to buck freely into your mouth, use you as nothing but a hole to get himself off with.

your free hand stakes claim over your own sexual frustration, nimble fingers rubbing tight, slow circles over your clit in an attempt to just ease that heat burning you from the inside out.

“she’s touching herself, jeong,” not even the irritating, grating voice of park seonghwa’s unwanted commentary can take away the kick you’re getting out of working this man into a frenzy. “are you just going to let her, without your permiss-”

“shut up, park,” yunho is wrecked, voice divulging so far from that loud, boyish charm into a dark, broken sort of gruffed out thing, echoing straight out of his chest. but, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t listen to the other man, doesn’t force his eyes open to glance down in a hazed daze to witness your pathetic attempts to work your fingers over yourself.

only, he doesn’t tell you to stop.

he just... watches. and then smiles, squeezes out what can only be described as a broken whine, and tilts his head back once more, relinquishing all control of his body over to you. the scene divulging into a chorus of mumbled words, fuck and please and yes becoming the only word yunho knows, the only three you hear.

only as he cums does jeong yunho regain that bit of self-control he’s lost, ripping your mouth off him- a stuttered mumble of i wanna paint that pretty face- and erupting in a mess of grunted moans, cock twitching in his palm as rope after rope of white, hot fluid shoots out of it. it’s messy, and disgusting, and sticky, marking the skin on your cheeks, nestling in your hair, dripping over your shut eyelashes.

the last drops land in your parted mouth as his grasp shakes and you regain the right to wrap your lips around his mushroomed tip.

lips stained in pearly white, cheeks and neck matching too. the throb of your neglected cunt, clenching itself around nothing but the mere thought of having jeong yunho stuff you full, break you in two and leave you spent.

the man in question is in a no better state, head thrown back and chest a heaving mess glistening with the shine of his own sweat. his mouth hangs open, near heaving in breaths of air and his hands, adopting a mind of their own, grip harder in your hair and hold you firmly in place, tongue laving over his sensitive tip, pushing him closer and closer to the ledge of overstimulation.

“fuck- uh, fucking look at you,” sweet voice, foul words. two fingers drag over your cheek, coating themselves in the sticky substance he’s painted you in. “drooling all over me.”

he’s right, you are drooling. down your chin, an uncomfortable damp coat covers your overheating skin as you continue to stretch your lips around his length, ready to rip another thigh-shuddering orgasm out of the man.

yunho grants you no such pleasure.

instead, a grip tugs back on your hair and, before you can feebly attempt to catch your fleeing breath, he’s pulling you up into his lap, straddling you across the well-defined muscles of his thigh. those big, capable hands he pushes himself through pools, and rivers, and all other bodies of water manipulate your limbs however he likes, a rag-doll free for him to toy with for as long as he sees fit.

“yun-” you don’t even manage to say his name properly, not when he grinds you down into his lap, smothering his tanned skin in your juices. the friction runs straight for your pulsing clit and you’re rendered to sinking into his welcoming arms, head collapsing into the crook of his neck, parted lips panting up a storm against his sweated skin.

“that nice for you, angel?” the soft words, the rough hands, the perfect roll of your hips. you feel like you could sob, break apart completely. yunho tracing a hand up the curve of your spine and soothing his long fingers over a knot in you back doesn’t help your case. “bet it is. little bit of release to all that tension you’ve been feeling, yeah?”

you think you nod.

it’s hard to tell.

sparks fly within your loins, heating you from the inside out. yunho, at some point, has wound his fist into the tresses of your hair, nails scrapping along your scalp. it’s pleasurable, all over, soothing you into a state of utter relaxation, a being with no purpose other than to take whatever this mass of warmth and muscles and width offers you.

his hand makes a fist and gently tugs, forcing a whine out of you as you’re faced with the bright lights once more. traces of his own cum stain the very place your face had lay. it’s erotic to see, drying up your tongue with a need to lick it clean.

“no, no, focus, right here,” a single finger taps at your cheek, followed by the tilting of your chin that forces you to stare back at the hungry eyes of jeong yunho. “eyes on me. want a front row seat to watching your eyes roll back.”

god, he’s filthy, and delicate, and that just makes him all that more filthy.

swiping his digits through the remnants of his sticky cum, he makes sure you’re staring right back at him as those same fingers snake their way down between your grinding bodies and burrow themselves deep in your soaked heat. shallow pumps of his hand fuck his cum-coated fingers deeper, long and lithe enough he barely needs to move to have you feeling him all over, everywhere.

by the time he curls them, pressing against that spongy wall, you’re just about ready to cry.

“think she’s gonna cum,” oh god, no, why must he remind you of your audience? why does it no longer frighten you to have eyes watching you be defiled but, rather, have you clenching around him tighter, chasing that fever-like ecstasy the man means to deliver? “she’s gripping my fingers so tight- shit, almost makes me wanna bust my load just thinking how warm her pussy would feel round my cock.”

“don’t let her cum,” you vow, some day, to wring the neck of park seonghwa. “just cause she’s gone all cockdrunk doesn’t mean she’s earnt-”

“shut up, hwa,” the boy’s thumb pokes up and you can’t help the way you grind down into it, smothering your clit in whatever pressure you can get. “pretty baby’s more than earned it. stop being bitter that i’m the one who’s gonna give her it.”

give you it, he does.

three fingers deep, the cocktail of your wetness mixing with his cum-cated digits aiding the ebb and flow of his rhythm, jeong yunho has your toes curling, eyes rolling, thighs shaking. you blackout, for only a moment, lost in the wilderness of pleasure.

the aftershocks are barely kicking in when you’re suddenly ripped away from yunho’s hold. the sounds of your beating heart and heaving chest muffle the disgruntled exchange of words between the swim-team, inhibiting your ability to stay clued-in on the events that surround you. all you know is that when your body meets the bench once more, on all wobbly fours, jeong yunho no longer sits tall and proud.

a sharp sting hits your rear- a smack, that echoes in the empty space of the swimming hall. the only appropriate response is the shriek you let out, twisted in your own conflicting emotions of pain, and pleasure, and painful pleasure. a second smack meets the other cheek. this time, there’s no doubt a wanton whine escapes you.

“since the rest of them can’t take orders,” you’d already known it was seonghwa whose hands were suddenly all over you, pinning you in a position of submission. the sound of his grandiose voice sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine, top to tail. “i’ll have to do it myself.”

with no word of warning, he smooths his hands down the globes of your ass, teases the crease of skin where your inner thigh meets your dripping heat, and fucks two whole fingers into your sensitive core. knuckles deep, they sit still upon initial intrusion, basking in the warmth of you and coating themselves in the essence from an orgasm you’ve yet to even fully recover from and the cum yunho’d scooped off your own face.

then, at last, when your nails dig marks into the wood below, he curls them a come-hither motion.

with shame painted on your skin, you toss your head back and release an inhumane cry, eyes hazily gazing up at the horrendous white lights above. “oh god!”

“not quite. i do appreciate the flattery though,” there’s no need to glance over your shoulder to know that pompous, trust-fund baby is wearing the most earth-shattering smirk, some stupid strand of his perfectly groomed hair dangling over one of his eyes, like some 90s heartthrob boy-band member. you do it anyway.

park seonghwa is an unfairly attractive man, sporting a beauty so ethereal it almost makes you angry.

that anger seems to dampen the wetter he gets you.

his touch is slow, but by no means is it gentle. calculated and malevolent, he plays with your insides like they’re nothing but the strings to your puppet. a curl of his fingers and one of your hands shoots forward. the torturously slow pace that he pumps his digits in and out, and your jaw falls slack. his thumb bumps and grinds against your throbbing clit, and your elbows give out, sending you crashing face-first down onto the bench.

his free hand presses down on your lower back, bending you deeper, hiking your ass up higher in the air. and, at first, you think you’re imagining it, that trickle of warmth against your other entrance, believing it nothing but a trick of your melting brain.

you’re who-knows how many hours deep in a whirlwind of pleasure and penetrative stares, people have been driven to the brink of insanity over far less in the past.

but then seonghwa’s fingers leave your cunt, warm and wet trails following their journey over your skin. there’s no imaginative mind great enough in this universe to conjure up that initial shock to feeling how he prods and pokes at your puckered hole, lubricating it with the dirty mixture of both you and yunho’s cum and his very own spit.

the tip of his pointer finger ventures onward first, breaking through the surface of your tight muscles in a shallow intrusion.

the feeling has you frozen, frightened, intrigued. eyes widening, moans dying, pussy pulsating in an empty need.

“don’t go getting shy on us now, spitfire,” the collective language he uses brings back the weight of all the boys’ eyes on you. hesitantly, you angle your face off the bench, and regret it the instant you meet the brown comfort of his eyes. “fun’s just starting. ain’t that right, san?”

a tense energy takes over the large room, with san’s shoulders tensing, and yunho’s feet fidgeting, and wooyoung’s cheeks blushing. seonghwa seems impervious to the shift, whether voluntarily or not, and instead invites himself to further exploring the limits of your body.

he’s kind enough to spare a bit of care into the way his finger sinks deeper into your unexplored hole. another dribble of his hot saliva lands messily onto you, aiding the slip and slide of his hand. two, or three, or four strokes of his finger and you’re submitting to the intrusion, hips rutting higher and presenting yourself more to the man.

“come here,” the command calls over your body and, at first, you think its aimed at you. so you try scooting further back, only to be halted by seonghwa speaking once again. “yeah you, choi. come get under her.”

for the first time since this all began, you’re on the precipice of saying no.

they’d listen, all of them. wouldn’t push you, pressure you or force you to keep going, not if you truly voiced your negation. even park seonghwa, as big an arsehole as he may be, would have no qualms ending his fun and agreeing to never speak of this again.

and it’s not that you don’t want choi san under you. far from it, as you’ve already made pretty clear earlier, thighs his personal ear-warmers while his tongue delved deep for your honey-suckle glory. you’re hardly uncomfortable at the thought of him under you, chest rising repeatedly in frantic breaths and legs bent at the knee to give him just the right leverage to fuck up into your messy cunt-

it’s not till he’s three feet away from you, hands fidgeting by his side, eyes looking anywhere but you and your compromising position, and the world’s most obnoxiously boner-strained tent in his swimming gear that realisation washes over you. you’re hesitating because of him, because of his possible discomfort.

what if he wants to say no? what if he doesn’t want to get under you? what if his eyes will never look into your own again, too shocked and disgusted by all the things you’ve let be done to you? by his own team-mates/rivals, too?

hell, you’ve shocked yourself even, never in a million years had you pictured a day you’d be at the mercy of some rich prick, overdressed for every occasion and looking like a vogue-cover-model reject. but when he’s edging another finger into the already-tight squeeze of your ass, and pushing your buttons just enough to nudge you towards an edge that never seems to arrive, how could you ever dream of being anywhere else?

a hand touches your cheek.

soft. tender. it takes the extra time to soothe the pads of its fingers against your burning cheek.

“you feeling okay?” san’s quiet tone, meant only for you, is enough to move you to near-tears. you crave his hug. the position you find yourself in only allows you to reach out and grasp at where his knee bends as he crouches down to your level. it’s all the same, san knows. san understands. his own hand lands on top of yours, messily threading digits.

“she’s literally stuffed with another man’s cum and you’re worried about her? well aren’t you just the sweetest.” a cheap remark from seonghwa.

san purposefully ignores it, and everything about the man, instead choosing to keep his focus on what matters.

you.

“think you could make some room for me down there?” your nose wrinkles at his choice of words.

his giggle echoes.

“no, no, not... like that,” he guides you as he talks, grip moving to your shoulders and coaxing you up into a seating position. somewhere along the way, seonghwa’s hands leave you. he doesn’t stray too far, however, and your back soon collides against his chest. “here, pretty. want you to make space for me down here.”

within seconds, choi san’s back in his rightful place: splayed out beneath you, body fit snug between your parted legs and hair an unruly, sweated mess against his forehead.

no clothing sits between you both, blessing you with the mouthwatering drag of his cock through your folds. hard, and red, and leaking at the tip, a slight curve to the right, dribbling precum against his well-toned stomach. you’re biting your lip before you fully register your own thoughts, body a mind of its own as you grind down onto him.

control is limited and fleeting, that of which seonghwa reminds you without uttering so much as a word. instead, he clamps a harsh grip down on either side of your hips, rucks you up to where he needs you and guides you down onto san’s cock.

it’s thick, imposing and something that seonghwa blesses you no time to ease into things. instead, you’re slammed down, san buried to the hilt inside of you.

“hey there,” delicate fingers skim up the tense muscles in your thigh and find pleasure in delivering a teasing tickle to your sides. “come here often?”

the cheeky grin, the double entendre, the way san looks so goddamn proud of himself for saying it. you can’t help it, you wind up giggling uncontrollably.

wrong choice. bad idea. danger zone.

san contorts in pain, and lust, and something else you’ve never seen behind his eyes before, hissing through his teeth like some feral cat. his eyes match that of a feline too. “you trying to squeeze my dick off or something?”

you compose yourself upon the reminder of that san can feel you tensing around him, pull in a deep breath and find your voice again, at last. “or... something.”

maybe you’re a little out of breath. maybe you’re a little hoarse. it doesn’t seem to matter to the boy below, his only response being to cant his hips up and lick at the fire burning in your insides.

“you two are disgusting,” once again, park seonghwa wins gold in the nobody-asked-for-you-bum-ass-opinion olympics. let’s see if he’ll continue his winning streak and go for gold in the hypocrite-athon too!

the hands on your sides begin you guide you, with seonghwa squeezing his perfectly manicured nails into your plush skin and bouncing you down onto san. up, down, up and down, repeated strokes like the ones their hands deliver each time they breach the surface.

it’s easy, this pleasure. it’s a gift, hand-delivered by two god-like men that sandwich you between them- one a mass that fills you, the other a weight that controls you. liberating in every sense, you can’t help the way your head rolls back to find purchase on one of seonghwa’s shoulders, completely melting into the ways he winds you over san.

“shit, yes, you feel,” san’s no better than you, mouth agape and hands unsteady as they trace every inch of skin they can reach: the dimples of your back, the swell of your breasts, the hood of your clit. his hips are the only steady thing about him, not a falter in the way they grind up to kiss your dripping pussy with his cock. “so good. so warm, tight. love it.”

a hand curls round your front, travels up between your breast and over your sternum. it settled for a grip a round your throat, no pressure applied, it simply exists against your windpipe, a silent threat.

“look what you do to him, hmm,” a squeeze around your neck. seonghwa’s warm breath fans against your ear, taunting you. “look what you’re doing to them.”

through your glossed-over gaze, you trail your way past the sight of san and all his captivating beauty, settling instead on the equally erotic, not-at-all surprising image that stands just past where his head rests at the edge of the wooden bench.

a sweaty wooyoung, bent at the waist and whining up a storm, while a far more composed yunho pounds his hips into the boy’s arse.

your walls clench and san whimpers, a string of curses and pleads leaving him.

“think you’re finally ready for me?” the devil on your shoulder- at your back, more truly,- smirks into your skin, careless enough to not even feign it being anything but a rhetoric question. ready or not, park seonghwa is going to finally get his own fill of the thrill, his own satisfaction, beyond mere observation and controlling.

the spill of your own wetness slips down your thighs as san continues to fuck himself deep. it doesn’t travel far as seonghwa coats himself in you, wetting his fingers before they slip back inside your ass. a few generous, tempting pumps into your ring of muscles, fingers spreading a little further apart each time, till he decides that’s enough, he’s ready, you’re ready.

the unbuckling of a belt.

an unzipping of trousers.

trousers bunched down muscled thighs.

the first cut may be the deepest, but you highly doubt it’s as deep as seonghwa feels feeding his cock into your arse, stretching you apart to make way for him. a part of you feels like it can’t breathe, impaled on both these men who sit so deep inside you, you fear you’ll feel the ghost of their touch for weeks to come.

but what does it matter, really, when seonghwa pulls you back against him and whispers filth against your ear?

this is all you’re good for. cock-drunk whore. gonna let us cum inside?

and san’s coaxing you down to trail his mouth over your chest, the tongue flicking over your nipple a terrible juxtapose to his crooning words?

taking it so well, baby. so tight, and perfect, and god. ‘s that what baby needs, huh, for me to touch her little clit?

the two men find a rhythm, a synchronised routine to how they pull and push you around. their thrusts ebb and flow, no moment existing where you sit empty. they treat your body like they treat the pool, swimming through your waves of pleasure and effortlessly advancing to the finishing line, the winning stroke. then, san’s hand meets your cheek and your thoughts are dragged underwater, muffling the sounds of everyone else- the shlickt sound that echoes with each inch of cock fucked into you, the high-pitched whimpers of a fucked out wooyoung, the slapping of skin against skin- as he pulls you in for a kiss.

it’s a hungry one, all teeth and tongue and swollen lips. you pull away more breathless than before and fighting back a big dopey grin, toes curling as the swell of one of their cocks hits a nice spot inside you, body too on fire to know just exactly where the new wave of heat is coming from.

“h-how d’you do it, hm?” it’s almost a whisper, something meant only for your ears, yet you hear him loud and clear, voice stuttering off in a mess of whines and moans. “still got that pretty-girl smile, even while getting fucked silly.”

it almost makes you shy, till you remember what you’re doing and who you’re doing it with. you settle for a quick, short answer. mostly because you fear you’re losing the ability to think in full-sentences, much less speak one out loud. “can multitask.”

like your own words are the key to pandora’s box, your eyes widen, and your mouth dries, and your heart reels as a new desire burrows itself somewhere between the parts of you owned by san and the parts owned by seonghwa. the desire makes room for more, for someone more, and, without much chance for second-thoughts or hesitation, you find what little stability you can manage with one hand pressing down onto san’s toned chest and reach forward with your free hand.

fingers, light as a feather, curl around wooyoung’s solid shaft. the man’s hips stutter at the unexpected contact, eyes flying open to glance down in time to watch you reach out your tongue, licking up the droplets of precum that threaten to spill from his mushroomed tip.

“please, god, please!” he’s beyond the point of sense, poor baby, struggling to keep up with yunho’s hips’ repeated slamming into his tight ass. so, you can’t really blame him or shame him for the way he hastily rips his hand through your hair, tugging your mouth as far down his cock as the angle allows.

a few hairs rip from your skull in his grip. you reward him with a pleasant hum, moans muffled with the mouth-full he’s providing you.

“shit- look at that,” seonghwa pipes up from behind you, the motion of his hips never faulting or failing as he continues to take part in the filthiest three-way tango known to man, hands bouncing you down to meet each raise of san’s hips, plundering the other man’s cock deep, deep, deep, till he’s kissing your cervix and you’re seeing stars before your eyes. “should cup youngie’s- fucking christ- his balls, san, cup ‘em.”

you’re vaguely aware of his compliance, hand lifting off whatever part of you it was touching- your nipple, your hip, your jaw, it’s hard to tell when you feel like san’s everywhere, all over you, part of you- to graze the set of well-groomed spheres that threaten to slap your chin each time wooyoung thrusts forward.

barely two seconds, hardly any pressure against them, and the youngest of the four is nearly in tears, wailing and begging over broken whines that it’s too much, can’t take it, don’t stop.

there’s a ringing in your ear. because everything is becoming too much: wooyoung in your mouth, san rutting up into you and seonghwa’s hands clawing and pulling your body back into each of his overpowered thrusts. the boy in front of you is the first to fall apart, twitching in your mouth and, without a warning, choking you on the cum he shoots down your throat. a hand pulls you back, just enough to paint your face in the final drops released from wooyoung.

one of the other men is next, a string of curses and grunts filling the air. there’s a new stickiness between your legs, gooey white staining your skin. it’s all building up, and up, and up, until you topple over and are sent reeling into wave after wave of blinding pressure, toes cramping up and muscles spasming as you shoot off into another astral field, creaming around san and chocking seonghwa’s cock.

you don’t register the release of your hips nor the crash-down of your body. one moment, you’re pressed back against seonghwa, mouth dropped open in a silent scream for merciless pleasure, and the next you’re cradled in san’s warm embrace, a crooning tone to the way he hushes and calms you, unheard i got yous, and did so good for us, babys, and just let me hold yous falling on deaf ears.

for a moment in your own history, time ceases to exist.

there’s no ticking of the large clock on the wall, reminding you of how long ago your shift had ended. there’s no thoughts of your plant friend drying out in the staleness of your room, desperately awaiting you to revive it with some h2o. there’s no consequences awaiting your actions, no shame to be feared and leaving you unable to look any of the four swimmers in the eye ever again.

instead of being crashed against choi san’s body, a mixture of his, yours, and several other people’s bodily fluids serving as the adhesive that keeps you stuck together in your mess, you’re floating in space, not quite alive but not quite dead, just there.

nerves tingling, body aching, mind switched off.

four, or five, or ten, maybe even fifteen minutes pass by the time you regain focus on your surroundings.

your name, whispered. it’s his voice that pulls you back, sweet and soft and oh so like the san you’re used to, the one that sends teasing winks your way when your eyes happen to meet his in class, and the one who has the prettiest notes you’ve ever seen, a colour-scheme for his every highlight and the cutest of doodles to go along with the topic on the paper.

the one who’s hand is currently brushing through your hair, fingers careful as they catch on the tangles near the split ends.

“hmm,” you swear you want to say his name, say more than that, but there’s an ache in your jaw that hinders you from even attempting, your voice-box likely having taken a beaten in the throws of your pleasured moans.

“you okay there?” he giggles over the end of the sentence, and you feel your slowing heartbeat stutter at the sound.

he feels you nod into the crook of his neck and lets his free hand find perch against your hip, moments before giving it a light squeeze.

he’s warm, and pleasant, and soft.

and moving you both into an up-right position, hands splaying flat against your back and keeping you secure against him, your legs wrapping around his slender waist. you drift off again, between time and space, and come to at the first drop of water that lands on your back.

one drop, two drops, and then a downpour of heat crashing onto both of you.

you can tell from the colour of the pinkish tiles along the communal shower floor that you’re in the women’s changing room, and mentally note to thank him, even if he’s not aware, for bringing you somewhere you won’t have to shamefully stumble out of in the nude, your change of clothes safely tucked away within one of the lockers.

“i’m gonna put you down now, okay?” he speaks so gently that it overwhelms you, answering him only with an affirmative nod of your head.

neither of you speak while he lathers shampoo into your hair, nor when he’s dragging his soap covered hands over the cum that stains your skin, wiping it away and leaving nothing but suds where the liquid once was. he doesn’t speak while covering your eyes with his hands, blocking the sting of the shampoo. you don’t speak when you inch closer, head falling forward to rest against his chest.

when he does eventually speak again, both of your fingertips are wrinkled and bodies are clean, the water of the shower serving as nothing but a way to keep warm.

“you’re, uh, not” the echo of his voice in the empty lockers feels so much more intimate than how his cries sounded by the pool. “doing anything on wednesday, right?”

too lazy to move, you angle your face to stare up at him from his chest and take a moment to just stare, look at the way his hair is sticking to his forehead, at the way his eyes are back to being wide, at the way the marks you’d littered along his neck are becoming more prominent.

“how’d you know?” your question confirms his own, and a tenseness you’d not noticed melts off of his shoulders.

“wednesday is race day. you never work race days.”

it’s such an odd detail to have noticed, and it’s making you question everything you thought you knew about your relationship with san. do acquaintances remember each other’s schedules? do acquaintances bring each other soothing teas when they notice the other developing flu symptoms? do acquaintances waste time pulling faces at each other in lectures they should probably be paying attention to.

“i’m not taking part in the race this time, by choice. my grades are good enough, don’t need to worry about winning some championship to keep my education.” san is speaking unpromptly at this point, rambling in a way you’ve only seen him do when he’s nervous, or excited, or both. “it’s okay if you don’t want to, or you have better things to do or places to be! but, i was just thinking, maybe you’d wanna spend some time with me? there’s this medieval market down on main-street, it’s meant to be really cool, and i just think it would be even cooler to go with you? but, again, you don’t have to. forget it, actually, i’m being stupid and assuming you’re not doing something with your friends or your-”

the kiss you interrupt him with is far more innocent than the one you shared earlier, no hands rushing to touch and tongues desperate to taste, just two sets of lips moving as one.

you pull back and he chases after you, lips landing another peck before you’re grasping his cheek in your hold and forcing him back.

“i think you could have asked me to come help clean your apartment for you and i’d still say yes, just to spend my day with you,” you say, and he smiles as if on instinct, unable to stop it even if he tried.

“really?”

“really.”

“good, cause i already bought us two tickets and i really didn’t wanna have to go alone.” there’s drops of water dancing on his eyelashes, and laziness in his every movement, and you’re both still very much naked, but none of that seems to matter when he gives you another peck, like he’s awakened an addiction and your lips are now his favourite vice. “but, now that you mention it, my apartment could do with some cleaning. and i bet you’d look amazing in a maid outfit.”

a slap echoes in the showers.

“hey! don’t worry, i’ll be wearing a matching one!”

#ateez smut #park seonghwa smut #jeong yunho smut #choi san smut #jung wooyoung smut #ateez oneshot

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bluebeary-jay · 2 years ago

Text

That funny feeling

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: pet names are something that's equally very easy and very hard for Joel (based on this request!)

Tags: established relationship, F-L-U-F-F, a grain of angst, idiots in love, a lot of overthinking uGH, mutual dumbassery, love deprived (& soft) Joel, i'm playing with the timeline here a bit, alsoo suggestive undertones hehe

Warnings: swearing and miscommunication, and nothing more ig

Word count: 3.6K

A/N: i'm finally feeling okay!! it took a while and i'm sorry for the wait. as always i hope you all will like what i came up with, and thank you again dear for requesting 💕

One of the things you noticed during those first few months of being in a relationship with Joel – and one which probably surprised you the most – was his fondness for using endearments when he was addressing you.

He called you by many names – darlin’, sweetheart and baby were just a tip of the iceberg.

And you adored it. Every single one of them.

How could you not when those pet names sounded so precious in that low and gruff voice of his? When the fact that he chose to let you get a glimpse at his softer side made you feel so special?

He clearly liked doing this, too – and, as you suspected, watching your reaction when you received them. The tug of his lips and that dimple you so loved were an indicator enough that he wasn’t doing it out of obligation or because it was somehow expected of him.

Another thing that surprised you was how casual he was about it. Having not been in a proper relationship before made you feel out of your depth here, but from what you gathered, neither was he. At least for some time.

And yet, he seemed to have no problem or reservations about addressing you this way. He started even before he kissed you for the first time. You suspected that back then it was his strategy to show you – without voicing his intentions out loud – how he felt about you. It worked, somehow (because how were you supposed to resist that southern charm of his?), and once you both settled who you want to be for one another, it was like a switch flipped inside him.

But instead of turning it off, it only amplified his new habit and added more love and tenderness to the tone of his voice when he was calling you pet names.

You certainly were not complaining – especially when Joel was muttering those sweet words in a raspy voice into your skin when you were just waking up, or whispering them in your ear when you were passing each other during the day, brushing his hand against your waist.

So it was probably no surprise that you wanted to return the favor. The longer you were with each other, the more you wondered about what it would be like to call Joel by one of those endearments he used for you. If he would smile, if his eyes would crinkle in that adorable way…

Something was stopping you, though. Every time you were in public and Joel wasn’t currently looking at you, you were reminded of what kind of man you thought he was before you actually got to know him. His expression, the look in his eyes and his very presence were so intimidating that it gave you a pause each time. You knew he was a sweet, loving soul inside and it wasn’t like he’d be offended by being called by an affectionate nickname, or like your relationship would spiral down because of that.

…right?

What you did know, however, was that Joel Miller was a caretaker. A giver. And you wanted to take care of him, too, to make him feel as loved and cherished as he was making you feel – something you hadn’t a clue if you were doing right due to your own inexperience.

So one day, while you were tending to horses in the stables – one of your responsibilities in Jackson – you finally decided to stop overthinking and just… do what feels right to you. You were two grown-ass people. If anything happens – but probably nothing will – you’ll talk it out like adults.

You got lost in your own thoughts as you absent-mindedly brushed the coat of one of the horses. Suddenly, your attention was drawn by the animal neighing loudly but before you could look up, two strong arms embraced you from behind and a pair of lips pressed themselves to your neck.

You squealed in surprise, and then burst into giggles, when you felt Joel’s beard tickling your skin as he planted tender kisses on your neck, going down to your shoulder.

“Mornin’, sweetheart.”

It was not morning, but you haven’t seen him at all today since he left very early to help Tommy and some other men build a new storage house near the main street. As usual, you planned on meeting him when you’re done in the stables, but you were more than happy that he chose to surprise you.

“Hi,” you giggled. You tried to turn around to face him, but Joel grumbled and held you tighter to his chest, so you settled for putting your hand on the back of his head in an awkward half-hug. “You have some nerve coming here after you left me so rudely in the morning.”

He let out a sound between a groan and a chuckle.

“I tried to say goodbye, but you were out cold.”

“You didn’t try hard enough, then.”

“Fine. Next time I’ll shake you awake.” He pressed his lips to your pulse, planting a soft kiss there, and then another one a little bit lower, murmuring into your skin. “But you wouldn’t do that either if you were me and had an angel in your bed.”

You blew a raspberry and shook your head, making him hum against your neck with a smile. “Too much?”

“Just a little.” You turned around in his arms, and he dropped his head on your shoulder. “How’s work going?”

The man sighed heavily.

“It’s goin’. But I swear to God, Tommy gets more insufferable the sooner due date is. He almost lost it when some of the materials went missin’.”

“Well, it’s understandable with a little Miller on the way,” you replied, ruffling the hair on the back of his head and making Joel give you the stink eye. You scrunched your nose at him teasingly. “Get that pout off your face, mister, and better start thinking about what we’re watching tonight. My place, right?”

“Mhm.” He opened his mouth to say something else, but then angled his head to the side. There was a distant shouting from the direction of the road and you could faintly hear Tommy’s voice among the noise. Joel took a deep breath and his warm eyes met yours. “Alright, I better go before he does somethin’ stupid again. I’ll meet you tonight after guitar practice with Ellie.”

“Don’t be late again or I won’t let you in this time,” you said sweetly and a smirk danced on his lips.

“You’re annoyin’, you know that?” Joel leaned in and gave you a quick kiss on the lips, and then a lingering one on your forehead. “I’ll be on time, promise.”

You smiled and pushed his chest gently, letting him know that he should get back to his brother. He laughed – this actual rare and heartfelt laugh of his, which reminded you yet again how much you loved him – and took a couple of steps back.

“I’m holding you to it, handsome. Now go.”

Joel started to turn around, but then came to a sudden stop as soon as he heard you. It came out a bit awkward because he was mid-step and his feet kind of tangled up together, making him stumble before he managed to catch his balance.

You snorted and tilted your head to the side to peer at him, but his face was unreadable, almost blank. Like that rare and genuine laugh from earlier wiped all the emotions out of him.

“Hey. You okay?” you asked with a playful smile, taking in his expression. Joel looked over at you but didn’t answer, and you raised your eyebrows. “Joel?”

He parted his lips, like he wanted to say something, but no sound came out.

Something wasn’t right. His sudden silence wasn’t anything new – one of Joel’s main traits was being untalkative, though it got better since you two started dating, so you were used to it. But this was different. In his eyes there was a look of… you honestly couldn’t tell if it was awe or hurt. But you’ve never seen an expression like this on his face before.

He still didn’t say anything. You started feeling uneasy, but tried to play it off.

“Or… I could swing by Ellie’s before you two finish and–”

“I gotta go,” Joel muttered suddenly. “I’ll… see you later.”

He turned to the exit, but you quickly went around him and blocked his way with a frown. “Hey, hey, hey, wait. I’m serious now, are you okay?”

Joel glanced at you again, but then averted his eyes almost immediately. You gave him a weird look when he turned his head, as if looking for someone to get him out of here, but then a grin spread across your face when you noticed…

“Is this… Are you blushing?” you asked quietly. Joel winced and your smile got even wider. “You are! Does that–”

“I really gotta go, dar–” he stopped himself and patted your arm in a slapdash manner, not meeting your eyes. “I’ll see you later, alrigh’?”

Before you had a chance to ask or stop him, he walked away quickly, leaving you behind.

Your shoulders slumped and the smile disappeared from your face.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this.

*****

He did not see you later.

In fact, you didn’t have a chance to talk to him at all that day.

Once you finished your shift, you went looking for him but Joel wasn’t at the construction site, nor could you find him anywhere in town. You tried asking Tommy and Ellie about his whereabouts, but while his brother was as clueless as you, the teen seemed suspiciously quiet, and the second you took your eyes off her, she disappeared as well.

He didn’t come to your house that evening, and as it turned out, didn’t have guitar practice with Ellie, either. You felt a little hurt by the sudden disappearance, but ultimately decided against going to his house and invading his space when he clearly needed it.

It wasn’t until the next day that you saw the man again, but you never got a chance to ask him about what happened.

Joel came unannounced to your house and – literally and figuratively – swept you off your feet, acting a little softer and more… well, handsy than usual, but still in his normal Joel-like fashion, as if nothing ever happened. He did apologize for disappearing but it also seemed like he was trying really hard to avoid talking about yesterday altogether. So eventually you let it go.

The only explanation you could come up with was that you scared him off. Maybe it was too soon, maybe he just wasn’t okay with it – whatever the reason, it was evident he didn’t want you to bring it up.

So you decided to respect his boundaries and let the topic go. At least for now.

*****

Almost a week has passed, and you didn’t call him that again.

And fuck, if Joel wasn’t dying to hear that word from you just once more.

What he felt in that millisecond in the stables was so sudden and new – this weird, fluttery feeling in his stomach when you called him ‘handsome’ – that he honestly was at a loss how to react. Yes, he panicked (he wasn’t proud of that) and then when you pointed out the traitorous blush on his cheeks… it overwhelmed him.

Avoiding you for the rest of the day was a cowardly thing to do, but he needed some time to think about his next move before he could face you again.

He screwed up, that much was obvious. Joel didn’t know how to fix it, but he did have an idea how to make you feel comfortable enough to maybe do it again. A chance for him to react accordingly this time.

So since then, he made sure to show and tell you more often how important you were to him and how much he loved you, even though he was dying of cringe at times. His efforts were rewarding, of course – your every smile, every look in his direction was considered a win and a blessing in itself – and it seemed you forgot about his freak-out from the other day.

But you didn’t try it again.

And Joel didn’t know what to do. He’d never ask anyone for advice (God forbid Tommy ever finds out how big of a deal it was to his brother), and talking it out with you seemed like the most unattainable and impossible idea in the world.

You continued calling him by his name – and he couldn’t exactly complain when his name sounded so fucking perfect in your voice – but hell if Joel didn’t wish you try something else.

It didn’t even need to be this ‘handsome’ one you used. Any stupid nickname you come up with, he’d revel in it and this time wouldn’t chicken out.

Jesus, he had it bad. It was almost pathetic.

It wasn’t a life-changing, world-moving issue, though, and Joel wasn’t spending every waking moment thinking about shit like that. There was still work needed to be done in Jackson, he and you still had your own lifes, and… days passed.

It was just over a week later, when Joel came back home from a late-night job to find you asleep in his living room, that he thought about it again.

His heart swelled with adoration when he saw your form curled up on the couch. You must’ve been waiting for his return, but neither of you expected his work to take this long.

Joel bent over and put one arm under your knees and the other wrapped around your body, grunting at the pain in his back. You inhaled sharply when he picked you up, grumbling something incoherent.

“Shh, babygirl, it’s me,” he whispered soothingly, cradling you against his chest. “I’ll put you in bed. Or do you want to go back home?”

You made a noise of disagreement and breathed him in deeply, not opening your eyes.

“You’re late,” you slurred instead of answering him, nuzzling into his chest. Joel sighed tiredly.

“I know, baby, I’m sorry,” he whispered back. “The guys needed more help at the construction site.”

“Alright,” you mumbled again. “M’just glad you’re home now, honey.”

Joel’s feet stopped moving – gradually this time, not putting you at risk of being dropped – and he took a deep breath to tether himself before continuing his way to the bedroom.

You were asleep, he told himself while he was laying you down. It would be wrong to wake you and talk about it now. It could wait. He could wait.

Joel paused, then crouched at the head of the bed where he put you down, and delicately brushed some hair out of your forehead. His face was stoic, though those thoughts raged on like a hurricane inside his mind.

He had no idea how to do this. How to talk about this.

But he knew two things – he knew that his heart belonged to you, and that he didn’t want to settle for those pet names you accidentally muttered when half-awake, all because he was too much of a coward to admit what he wanted.

“Darlin’?”

“Hm?” you hummed, snuggling into his pillow.

Joel’s heart was beating so damn loud, he thought it was about to jump out of his chest. He took a grounding breath, brushing his knuckles against your cheek softly.

“Say that again,” he asked quietly in a raspy voice.

You made a face, keeping your eyes closed.

“I didn’t say anything.”

Joel swallowed hard and he was so nervous, he had to remind himself to unclench his jaw not to break all of his teeth.

Fucking Christ, he could take on the swarm of infected any day without losing his cool, so why was admitting stuff like this so damn difficult?

“Not now. Before. The…” he cleared his throat with embarrassment. His tongue felt like it was made of lead, and his face like it was shoved into a campfire, “pet name.”

That word finally got your attention. In a blink of an eye you were wide awake and lifted yourself on your elbows, rubbing your eyes. Joel almost regretted having said anything.

“Pet name?” you repeated, and then a shy, uncertain smile crept over your face. “Oh… I thought you said you didn’t like it.”

Don’t run, don’t you dare run now…

“I never said that,” he grumbled and furrowed his eyebrows, angry at himself that he made such a big deal out of it, that he had to talk about it now, a whole week later. You winced sheepishly.

“Well… Yeah, you didn’t, but the last time…” You sat up straight on the bed, rubbing your eyes again like you wanted to make sure you were entirely awake and focused for this conversation – which made Joel wishing even more that he had kept his mouth shut. “You ran off and I thought… I dunno, that…”

You shrugged, but you didn’t need to finish, for he understood how it must’ve looked.

Joel sighed heavily and put his forehead on your knee with fatigue. He felt your hands smoothing the shirt on his shoulders and back, and once again wondered what he did to ever deserve you.

“What do you say we don’t talk ‘bout this?” he proposed softly, feeling like a goddamn fool now. “Just… It felt nice. Good. And I want you to do it again… sometimes.”

“I want to talk about it, though.” You cupped his cheeks and lifted his head to look him in the eyes. A thought ran briefly through Joel’s mind about how fitting it was – he on his knees, looking up at you like the miracle you were. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, Joel. I just don’t understand why you didn’t tell me.”

“What do you think?” he whispered, looking away, though your hands kept his head in place. He raised one of his own to cover your fingers with his, keeping it there. “It’s… goddammit,” he swore and closed his eyes, squeezing your hand faintly. “It’s all just kinda new for me, too,” he said at last. “As dumb as it sounds.”

You swiped your thumbs over his cheekbones. “It’s not dumb.” He didn’t say anything, and after a couple of seconds you sighed. “Okay, we don’t have to discuss it if you don’t want to. Just… maybe try to give me a sign next time,” you offered gently. “I don’t always know what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”

You were trying to lighten the atmosphere, bless your kind heart, and the corner of his lips tugged upwards despite the turmoil in his heart.

“Darlin’, that’s what I’ve been tryin’ to do for the past week. I’m not good at talkin’ but I… shit, I don’t know, I thought that if I start callin’ you like that more, it’ll… prompt you to do the same, I guess.”

At that, your hands slid off his cheeks and your face turned blank.

“Oh,” you breathed. Joel lifted his eyebrows in question and you added hurriedly: “I thought you were doing this to… I don’t know, let me know that you feel more comfortable calling me that than getting called…”

It was Joel’s turn to look at you blankly.

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” he whispered with disbelief clear in his voice. “I tried to somehow show you that it’s fine. Do you…” he paused when you slowly started to giggle, which soon turned into a fit of laughter at the tone of his voice. “Do you have any idea how embarrassin’ it was for me at times? And not once–”

He tried to sound accusatory, but your bright smile was too contagious and soon Joel was grinning, too. He covered the bottom part of his face with his hand, trying to regain his composure, and shook his head while muttering under his breath.

Then he felt your hands on both sides of his head again when you leaned forward and, still with that big, gorgeous smile of yours, started peppering his face in kisses. He tried to swat you away but it didn’t take long before he gave in to his fate.

After a couple of seconds of this sweet torture, you pulled back a little, leaving the tingly feeling of your lips all over his face.

“So, just to make sure. I can call you that?” you asked semi-shyly, though there was a mischievous glimmer in your eye, which made Joel smirk lopsidedly.

“Already told you, beautiful,” he murmured in a low voice, swiping his thumb across your cheekbone lovingly. “But nothin’ over-the-top, alright?”

“Alright,” you agreed, just as quietly, and then leaned in to kiss him lightly.

The suffocating coils of embarrassment in his stomach disappeared the moment you touched him. Joel decided that if suffering through those moments of vulnerability would end up with you in his arms and his lips on yours, he was able to survive them.

“Now come to bed, handsome,” you whispered against his mouth with a smile. Your voice had that downright sinful tone to it, which you knew was driving him insane. “I got cold waiting for you all alone.”

Little minx.

He gave you a smirk before crawling on top of you and scooping you in his arms. The sound of your laugh filled the room as he rolled both of you over, pulling you closer and onto his chest.

“Whatever you wish, sweetheart.”

#joel miller x reader #the last of us #joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #the last of us fanfiction #joel tlou #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #tlou hbo

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midnightmoonkiss · 2 years ago

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Language Of Love

AlHaitham X GN! Reader

“‘Italics’” = he’s speaking another language

“So.. you can speak 20 languages?”

A random conversation.

It was easy to guess how you got to this point, boredom.

Spending time with your.. acquaintance, who you may or may not have a crush on, wasn’t on your agenda today, but here you are - sitting on a chair in his office as he effortlessly scribbles down sophisticated words onto parchment.

The sound was certainly pleasing to the ears, skrch sccrch sckrch.

You had no clue what he was doing. Oh, the duty of a scribe..

Or why you even came here..

No.

You knew why you came here, to spend time with him, as a friend only. Or maybe you were less than friends. It was hard putting a label on things when it came to the emotionally stunted AlHaitham. He was almost as bad as the General Mahamatra.

You just forgot how boring spending time with him can be if he’s busy working, thus leading you to flip through one of the many books on his bookshelf.

Yeah, you quickly got bored of that too.

These weren’t story books, they were informative books. You suppose to a man like him who enjoyed learning, this was like being surrounded by candy. To you? Its like being surrounded by encyclopedias.

He probably reads encyclopedias for fun.

So here you were, starting a conversation on a little fact you heard an academia student mutter like it was a piece of gossip even though it was probably outlined somewhere.

“Yes,” The scratching of quill to paper continues even as he glances up at you for a split second, “It’s important for scholars to broaden their knowledge and fluency of languages as to not hinder important research that may be written in a different dialect.”

All of Teyvat spoke the same language, it was easy to wonder why everyone from ancient times suddenly decided to switch. Of course you wouldn’t ask him such a thing, not right now anyway.

You had a plan.

A plan to woo this man.

The many failed attempts before can not hinder you.

Smugly, you said to him, “I bet I know one language you can’t speak.”

Oh, you were already giddy.

Curiosity peaked, his scribbling halted, eyes on you, “Is that so?” He was eager to hear you answer.

Whether you were toying with him, or genuinely knew a language he could add to his list, he was willing to listen.

“Do tell.”

Clearing your throat, you sat up straight and gave him a cocky smile, “The language of love.”

You were met with silence, as expected.

He was starstruck, surely. In awe. Was he wooed?

You could easily speak up with the punchline after his response, oh!! You would say, ‘but I can teach you!!’

Oh, he’s about to respond! He’s-!

“You must be referring to the ancient Fontaine language used by higher class citizens, commonly known to scholars as the language of love due to how words would ‘roll off the tongue like silk’ when speaking it.“

–an idiot? You were gobsmacked.

And he was smirking on the inside.

“I’m surprised you know of this language, you must have learned something from one of the books you’ve flipped through in the library.”

“That’s not,”

“I can even demonstrate it for you.”

“Wait!”

You began to fluster as he indeed began speaking a language completely foreign to your ears.

He was right, the words did flow silkily. This did not make you feel any better. Your pickup line failed miserably.

“‘You are so adorable, trying to trick me like this.’”

You can’t help but pout, wondering just what he was saying.

“‘Look at you, cheeks flushed and puffed like a fish. Honestly, how am I supposed to work efficiently if you’re here distracting me.’”

“Aw come on,” You began to complain, frowning at the gloating male, “I can’t understand you, y’know.”

“‘I do wonder if you’re aware that I know you like me, you wear your heart on your sleeves, my dear,’” he smiles ever so slightly, which completely unnerves you, “‘I like you too.’”

His cheek rests on his knuckles as he leans back and observes your frustration. Oh, how happy he was you brought this up. Any chance to show off his ability and confess without you knowing is always a good opportunity.

He’d shower you in compliments and confessions in all 20 languages if he had the time, perhaps even spill secrets to your unknowing ears.

Oh, how he would like that. He could say his deepest, darkest desires and you’d only look at him with confusion.. maybe even annoyance.

The thought pleased the busy scholar.

“That’s so mean you know, am I supposed to look up your words in a dictionary or something?”

“Oh, they wouldn’t be in a dictionary.” He reaches forward and tugs at your cheek, elation swirling in his broad chest as you whine and swat at his large arm.

“Should you remind me at a later date,” when he’s finally made you his, of course, “I’ll happily tell you what I said.”

“How about right now.”

“It is not a later date, only the time has changed.” Breathing out a sigh, faking annoyance, he turns his attention back to his paperwork, picking back up his quill.

“Ok, so I can ask you tomorrow.”

“You can, however, I’m under no obligation to tell you until I want to.”

“I dislike you very much, Scribe.” You grumbled, settling back in your seat.

He chuckles to himself, “I’m sure you do, ‘sweetheart.’”

#alhaitham x reader #al haitham x reader #al-haitham x reader #alhaitham #alhaitham x you #x reader #gn! reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader

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zo3mess · 3 months ago

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Pest Control

Summary: So, Adrian has a girlfriend… And it’s not you. But that’s fine, it’s not like you have a secret crush on him, right? And it’s not like she treats him like an absolute shit while you have to hear every night how great she is. Maybe someone should help Adrian get rid of that gold-digging leech.

Warnings: 18+, toxic relationships, Adrian is a meanie, reader is a simp and makes questionable decisions, unrequited love (unless…), blowjobs, voyeurism, foul language, fem!reader, no Y/N

Word count: 4.3K

Requests

Extra songs for this fic

Masterlist

Note: Wow, this was pain to write. I literally wanted to scrap it every time I worked on this. Anyways, I’ve been thinking about requests I guess? Idk if anyone would be interested, but if you are, just write a message and I might come up with something. Anyways, enjoy this mess <3

You thought Adrian was a smart guy. You’ve listened to him bragging about precisely picking up clues about criminals’ weak spots just from simple observations. You’ve seen him put together who is the killer in the detective series you watch together.

Well, you just have to forget about that time when he thought he could talk himself from that mess he got into when he accidentally revealed his secret identity. Vigilante mask messily thrown under the passenger seat didn’t make it when he gave you a lift

Still it was a shame to see him lose all that perception and common sense when a pretty girl paid attention to him.

Sadly, that pretty girl wasn’t you. Not that you mind of course. You just hated how he talked your ear off with odes on her beauty. Great ass this, big tits that, but you caught up all those small details that he seemingly missed.

How she conventionally forgets her wallet every time he takes her out. How she checks his phone for “cyber threats” when the only true threat is her. How she is always late with her mortgage payment, at least that’s what she tells him, and when he lends her money, suddenly a new pair of heels occupy her shoe rack.

Every shift with Adrian ended before you even realized, you just discussed stupid things when you do the dishes or shoot funny faces at each other across the restaurant. But ever since he got into a relationship, he had his head full of her instead of all your shared interests from before. Over and over again he talked about Meghan.

Just like now, he yapped and yapped, getting all mushy and soft to the point where he almost forgot that he’s supposed to be bussing tables with you.

“She said she loved me, would you believe that?” Even when he was turned away from you he couldn’t hide a cheery grin that formed with his words. He was just so happy, while you practically felt your heart shatter.

“And do you… love her back?”

“I- pfff, of course I do. What kinda question is that?” He answered right after you asked, like he was 100 % sure about his feelings. You knew him long enough to know, that Adrian was far from a person who had his thoughts and feelings together.

You decided not to sow any doubts into his belief, he would shut any of your argument down like the stubborn guy he is.

“You would like her, you know.” Such a simple statement, such an anger trigger.

“You would like her,” you mocked his statement under your breath while kneeling in front of the electricity box from the other side of Meg’s house. “Yeah, I would like her six feet under.”

Hey, maybe it was not the smartest idea to flip her electricity off for seemingly no reason, but God, were you furious. Meghan had Adrian wrapped around her dainty little finger and he acted like her little pet, doing tricks for the smallest signs of affection.

So what if you wanted her life to not be so perfect? At least for a little while until she figures out how to switch the electricity back.

Vigilante would send a bullet right through your head for doing this.

Though you were sure he would never ever-

Well… Maybe he would. Crime is crime, no matter how great friends you are. You were safe for now, he didn’t have time tonight to watch cheesy romcoms with you and laugh at the stupidity of it. Apparently, he had business to take care of, which could only mean he started his stake out earlier than normal.

Just when you were about to stand up and leave in silence, unseen by neighbors if you got lucky, you heard voices. Not exactly near you, but close enough to make you nervous.

Voices. Conversation. Slam of car doors followed by slam of front door… Shit.

The logical part of your brain screamed ‘Run!’ but the other part of your brain, which usually stands behind those kinds of petty actions, tells you to wait for Meghan’s annoyance and confusion once she finds she can’t even switch a light on.

Silent steps, moves like a ninja, if Adrian saw you he would totally compliment your cat-like walk from the electricity box to the side of Meg’s house. Though he would not compliment the fact that you were too eager to snoop around and look inside her house through the half-open blinds.

You expected Adrian’s girlfriend to barge in with her friends of some sort, but genuine surprise spread across your face when she came in with Adrian, who had his hands full with various shopping bags.

So this is what he meant by business? Being a slave in shopping fever?

And he didn’t even have the guts to tell you honestly why he couldn’t hang out after the morning shift like usual.

And what shocked you even more was the situation that unfolded in front of you. Meghan practically launched at Adrian, making him drop all the bags on the floor. She locked him in a messy and steamy kiss that made your stomach twist.

Oh my god. You shouldn’t be watching that, right?

But it was so endearing. It didn’t take long before she slid to her knees and undid Adrian’s jeans with skilled hands and took his dick out. If only she didn’t block your view with her head…

Adrian gasped and writhed under her hands, you have never seen him turn to putty so fast. He gets all wobbly, whiny, and cuddly when he has too many drinks in a bar, which is probably the closest you could have gotten to see this side.

But this? A Whole next level.

Pathetically beautiful.

“Shut up, Adrian.” Meg’s annoyed order sent a shiver down your spine. This just gave you another piece of evidence of how horrible she was.

What fool would shut down an angel’s choir right before them? You only got a taste of what his vocal cords could do amid pleasure and just that was making your insides jump in unexplainable need.

Adrian unfortunately complied. He clamped his palm over his mouth, muffling any noise that threatened to escape as she took him in her mouth. Despite his tries though, a few loud groans still traveled to your ears.

You’ve heard him groan in pain when he sliced his hand by broken glass at work or when he stubbed his toe on your coffee table. But hearing him groan in pleasure? If you could it would be the only sound he would make next to another moans and whimpers.

This was just so wrong. You mentally kicked yourself that you haven’t dipped already. To be fair it wasn’t worse than cutting off electricity in her house, at least in a legal way. In moral ways, this was worse.

But it truly was a sight to behold.

Just from this distance, you could see the way his lower stomach seized with each bob of her head. Or how he stopped his hips from thrusting further. Chest heaving with each shallow breath. One hand dug in the wall he was leaning on, the other hid half of his face desperately trying to shush himself. Usually twinkling eyes shut tightly under his aviator glasses alongside furrowed brows accompanying the whole look.

This boy belonged to an art gallery. And if not there, he could be an art piece in your home, your eyes alone would replace a thousand others.

Maybe all it takes for someone to realize their feelings is to watch a friend get a blowjob. Because right here and there, kneeling next to the window and peeking through blinds, you feel…

Jealousy. That is what it was all along.

You wished you could take Meghan’s place and kneel in front of him rather than hiding and watching the nasty scene in front of you. You just couldn’t tear your eyes away, at least not until it was all over.

Eventually, Adrian cried out loudly and slammed his hand against the wall. That’s where you realized he was not only forbidden from moaning out loud but also forbidden from touching her. Considering this was her way of paying off Adrian...

Meg quickly stood up and ran towards the sink the second Adrian stopped flaring inside her mouth. Why was it breaking your heart to see her spit out his cum down the drain and immediately rinse her mouth with water. And poor Adrian followed her decision to not swallow with a disappointed look.

There must have been something really appealing to guys to have their girls swallow everything they so generously give them. The idea of part of them staying inside their loved ones for the rest of the day.

Ownership.

Except in this situation Meg owned Adrian, not the other way around. At least that much was clear, it made sense she would never allow something so intimate.

It was hard to act nonchalant around Adrian those following days. The second he came through the door you lost ability to talk normally, hell, you forgot how to walk like a normal human every time he was nearby.

To be fair, there was such a mix of emotions coursing through you it would be a miracle if you acted cool. Jealousy, anger, guilt and… Attraction? No, that can’t be. Every person would feel this weirdly if they saw one of their closest friends getting oral.

It’s like when you experience that strange phenomenon where you dream of someone close to you and suddenly, upon waking up, you realize you have a huge crush on them. It's like your subconscious mind has played a trick on you, ‘Do it for the plot’ as the youngsters say.

Thinking about it afterwards, it was foolish to switch her electricity off. At least it calmed your raging nerves for a while. Give or take few minutes until your mind set off when you saw Adrian getting a blowjob and all of a sudden you developed crush on him.

And now? Well… How else are you supposed to calm nerves from one-sided love?

Alcohol. Drink it over.

Is it a solution? Yes. Is it a good one? That’s debatable.

You don’t even usually drink, at least not in some dingy bars, but it is the only thing that makes you forget about that ache in your chest. You sit by the bar, occasionally spilling sorrows to the barman that clearly let your complaints one ear in, one ear out.

At the point where you felt tipsy and dizzy, you settled on leaving the bar as long as you had some dignity. Phone numbers started mixing, names on your phone were way too blurred.

But the one thing that sobered you out was a woman that walked past you with a man by her side. You knew her, right? She looked familiar?

The pair settled in the booth at the very end of the bar, seeking darkness and privacy, illuminated only by few fairyl ights that hovered over the booth instead of those sharp reflectors by the bar.

The unstable bar stool barely held you up as you leaned towards that woman you have totally seen before. By some squinting and ears dropping you finally figured who it was…

Meghan.

With someone that wasn’t Adrian.

But that fine, it could be some old friend, coworker, maybe brother or cousin-

“Holy shit, they’re making out.”

“Congratulations, your eyes are still working.” The barman chimed in and slid you a bill, impatiently tapping his finger on the counter.

You had to sleep on it, That sight haunted your mind even the day after, when hangover brought you down but your mind was clear enough to think about the thing you saw yesterday.

Meghan. Was in a bar with some macho man that definitely wasn’t Adrian. And they were basically sticking tongues down each other’s throats…

This was wrong. So wrong. Poor Ade had no idea he was being cheated on. Well, it’s not like you haven’t anticipated it, but he couldn’t see it coming.

You would be a bad friend if you didn’t do anything about it. But coming onto him and saying something like this? Adrian would only laugh in your face and tell you to stop fucking with him, his perfect little girlfriend would never do that.

So… What if you gave Meghan a chance? You still had her number from that one time where Adrian tried to do a common movie night. It never happened.

Either she comes clean herself or you will tell Adrian. She does not need to know he probably won’t believe you either way.

Give her creeps, scare her… That’s the plan. You just had to text her from hidden number and wait for karma to do its thing.

She never answered back to that menacing text, days passed and it seemed Adrian and Meghan were still going strong. You almost thought nothing will come out of it.

It almost became the time where you prepared yourself to tell him the truth but…

Until one day, Adrian was acting weird on a shift. Not that it is something unusual, he is weird in certain aspects, but this time it was different.

He did offer you ride home like always though and there was no way you would refuse, at that time you didn’t thought it would be any different.

Not until you actually got into his car… Familiar environment, same car fragrance, same little silly figure holding motivation quote on his dashboard. Yet your gut screaming that something was not right. Especially when Adrian just sat there, hands on the steering wheel without even starting the car.

“My girlfriend called me,” He started off with a calm voice, but you knew damn well where this was going. “Well, ex-girlfriend now…” He corrected himself with such a nonchalant demeanor like it was nothing.

You just sat in his car, silent, not daring to even flinch. Calm before storm, as they say, now you finally know how it feels.

“And well you know, apparently one of my psycho coworkers was threatening her and stuff.” He chatted away with such grace. Completely undisturbed like he was talking about his favorite pizza toppings. It was pineapple by the way, if anyone was wondering how psychotic he can be.

Why was he so calm? Somehow it was scarier than if he screamed at you right away.

“She said I wasn’t worth dealing with this bullshit, would you believe that?” A way too loud chuckle rang in your ears. You couldn’t decipher if he was actually amused or faked it for the sake of it.

Oh you wanted to turn invisible or at least hide from his piercing eyes. He could see almost every twitch in your face that erupted due to him. Every jerk of muscles in your tense expression and every nervous blink that only revealed your blame.

“And on top of that, she took like 120 dollars from my bank account? Funny huh?”

That didn’t even surprise you, Adrian gave her his credit card for undisclosed reasons. What did surprise you was the lack of emotion behind his ‘jokes’.

You were fucked and not in the good way.

“And I just find it interesting that the person she described sounds a lot like you. So, what the fuck did you do?” Oh, he shoots you that look. That disappointed and angry look that was even more telling than any word could possibly be.

“I did what I had to do. She was with you just for your money, can’t you see that?”

“She loved me!”

“She used you!” You spat back instantly, someone might argue it was maybe even too harsh, but it seemed that all grace left the moment he confronted you.

No other comment followed, no argument, no justification for Meghan’s actions. He just stared at you, a mix of emotions mixing behind his irises and it made you wonder whenever he realized that your words had some truth to them.

The silence that followed made the air near right suffocating, sparkling with tension that could set off with one wrong word. But you take the chance anyway.

“You should be with someone who actually likes you for who you are.”

“Yeah, right,” Adrian scoffed and shook his head to himself, “You mean with someone like you? Don’t be ridiculous.”

Oh, how did that sting. Words laced with mockery and annoyance.

Someone like you…

Of course he never saw you that way. You were just an insignificant part of his life. Just another coworker, someone he can pass time when he’s bored but nothing more.

“You say that you care and you show it by making my girlfriend dump me. How is that caring?” He didn’t stop flaring hurtful words at you with a choked-up voice. And it made you wonder for a split second if he knew how much he was breaking you. He could be cruel, but would he unleash that side on you?

“You don’t know shit, Adrian!” You couldn’t take it anymore, with an annoyed screech you left his car and slammed the car doors as hard as you could.

Sultry night air pooled warmth over your body the second you left his car and stomped back towards the restaurant. You were ready to beg any of your coworkers for a lift home now that Adrian wasn’t an option.

And in the span of a few days, Adrian lost two people he cared about. Their titles were clear, girlfriend and friend, but those mixed-up feelings hiding behind simple names made his head dizzy. When Meg left, he didn’t feel sadness or loss. It was more disappointment that soon turned into anger directed at you.

Who were you to make decisions like this for him? It was your fault she left him without a word and a few dollars lighter. Well in the grand scheme of things it was just a few.

But all things considered, your departure somehow hurt more. When you slammed the car doors in his face he felt sad. Genuinely. Your actions hurt him, of course, but the feeling only dug itself deeper into his soul when you parted ways on bad terms.

But again, he was never particularly an expert at deciphering his emotions. So whatever he felt, it might as well be a simple betrayal with no extra complexity.

And when it came to you, well…

You knew you fucked up. The road to hell is paved with good intentions. No matter what Adrian believes, you had good intentions. They might have been laced with your own selfish needs, but that doesn’t change the fact that you just wanted to help him.

What else you could have done except for this? Talking about it wouldn’t make him see clearer, you tried. Leaving him be would be the easiest option, that didn’t seem like a good solution. At this rate, he would lose all his money because of her and probably get all washed up. Just a perfect boyfriend ATM for her.

After many shifts where Adrian completely avoided you and didn’t even shoot you a glance, you finally come to terms that you lost him. There won’t be any more movie nights where you stuff your mouth with cheap popcorn or inside jokes you occupied yourselves at work to make the shift run faster.

Maybe there was a side to his girlfriend that you didn’t see. Light touches in the morning when Adrian spent the night, fleeting kisses, jokes they shared, but what would be the chance she had a heart and used it to love him.

She still cheated on him in that bar. It was her. Totally. No doubt. Right?

A warm storm was brewing in the night sky when you got to your bus stop, the pleasant smell of rain carried itself through the streets and small raindrops wetted your hair and stuck it to your skin. Those kinds of summer storms were nice when you didn’t have to wait for a dingy bus to take you home.

Especially tonight it seemed like the bus would never come. You waited, waited, waited… It either broke down or the driver just decided that he won’t take a turn to get to this specific bus stop.

Either way you were getting drenched, cold and impatient, already settling on calling overpriced taxi or walking home in a storm.

You began walking in direction of your home until a familiar car slowed beside you on the road But even then you didn’t stop walking, you knew damn well who it was but you weren’t gonna give him the satisfaction of acknowledging it. Sebring’s window got rolled down “Need a ride?” and that was when you finally stopped and took a peek on the driver that had almost too soft of a expression plastered on his face.

That ride home was quiet, yet surprisingly peaceful. Neither of you dared to say a word, either because you didn’t want to interrupt the calm between you or because you simply had nothing to say.

One of those times when you meet up with an old friend after such a long time. When you have to warm up a bit to their presence.

And gods, did you miss him. More than you’d care to admit.

Blinding lamp lights flashed through the car window and slow jazz played from the radio on the lowest volume. And just then, when you finally felt a sense of familiarity you talked “I meant well.”

“I know.” Was all he said back before you settled on silence again, much lighter silence.

From time to time you both stole a glance at each other, but Adrian had to focus on the road and you averted gaze from the fear of being caught staring.

How did you never noticed how pretty he looked in the night light?

He stopped in front of your house, a strong deja vú washed over you, but before you could have exited the car yourself, Adrian jumped out of the car and walked over to open the door for you. It’s not like he haven’t done that before, but after you have been through it was an action you didn’t expect.

Without a complain you exited the car and just stood there on the pavement. In warm summer night that would be almost too quiet if it wasn’t for the light drip drip drop of the rain.

You were both searching for words, for apologies. Both sides were wrong and for the first time in your lives, you both knew you made a mistake. Mistake hidden by a good intention. Mistake hidden by a natural reaction. Mistake made by bad decisions, confused feelings and horrible communication.

“You planted a bug in my head, y’know,” Adrian eventually started, rubbing his hands together, “I- I’m—Sorry for acting like a jerk”

You should say you’re sorry too for sabotaging his relationship that seemed horrible to you, but maybe, just maybe, it was more tender than you anticipated.

Actions speak louder than words, right?

You take a hesitant step forward, but when Adrian doesn’t budge, you lock him in a mundane hug. That type of hugs you gave each other on drunken nights as you stumble your way home, filled with raw emotion and honest care.

Adrian’s back… And you couldn’t be happier.

Who knows if it was that sheer happiness or if you grew too confident from the fact he forgives you, you don’t have anything to lose at this point, right?

Your hand sneaks behind his neck, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. You noticed that he is in need of a trim, but that could wait for better time.

You slowly moved your head from the crook of his neck, up and closer, until your cheeks were smushed together. In same way, those droplets of rain was giving this encounter sort of somber vibe, Peace, comfort, calmness…

And when he still didn’t budge, you dragged your face closer and closer, lips almost dragging across his cheek and then...

And then...

Butterflies in your belly were set free. They spread all across your body, making your fingers tingle as you held his face close to you, making your heart stop beating against your own ribs and against his chest. Sparkling electricity in your lips as you connected them with his own buzzing ones.

Adrian himself didn’t know what drove him to kiss you back. Did it matter anyway? Who the hell knows if his motivation was just a need for a quick rebound or if he finally discovered hidden feelings for you…

After all, you were in his arms and it was all that mattered.

That’s where you belonged all along, no matter neither of you knew it until this moment.

It’s a slow mangling of lips, strong and a little bit messy. Too much saliva, too much tongue in wrong places and yet, it was all you ever wanted, all you ever dreamed of.

Coming home. You think to yourself when you pull away for air.

“Do you want to rewatch Fargo with me?” You murmured against his lips, shit-eating grin on your lips. This was an offer you know he can’t refuse.

“Fargo and chill?” Much to your discontent he pulled away from your embrace, but all wrongs turned right when he took you by the hand and pulled you behind him towards your front door with unseen confidence.

And the second those doors shut behind you, theirs was no doubt you were both in the right place.

Sometimes life works out in the messiest way imaginable. But as long as it does, who are you to judge.

#adrian chase #adrian chase x reader #vigilante #vigilante x reader #adrian chase imagine #vigilante imagine #adrian chase smut #vigilante smut

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with-my-calamitous-love · 1 month ago

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YOU SWORE THAT YOU LOVED ME, BUT WHERE WERE THE CLUES?

katsuki bakugou x reader

after your break up, katsuki talks shit to make his tortured heart feel better. inspired by my shitty ex boyfriend who still won’t let me rest.

inspired by so long, london

“i’ve never opened up to anyone like this.” you whisper, like fairy lights through the mist. his strong, chiseled arms hold you close, laying on his bed, wrapped up in his love.

“thats okay.” he whispers, uncharacteristically soft. “i’m here, babe.”

he pulls you in tighter as if you’re drifting away. he doesn’t stop trying to make you laugh, chasing the look of your smile lines and the the sound of your melodic laughter. he’s given you his youth, all his love and everything that he is. he loves these moments, late nights past the clock. he could stare into your eyes forever.

you loved this place.

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚

“they were too emotional.” he says, two beers deep in the bar you heard great things about. his friends, kirishima, denki, and sero, all have mixed reactions, but he doesn’t really care for them. “they’d talk about it too damn much. always go on about how important communication was.”

kirishima had the sensible nerve to point out that communication is, in fact, important, and emotional availability is a virtue. katsuki responds by taking another swig of the alcohol and coming to terms with the hangover he was bound to have the next morning.

how much sad did he have in him? oh, the tragedy. how he stooped down to this level, fucking up your name to make himself feel better about losing you.

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚

“i wanna try. for you.” he says, holding up flowers and standing next to a candlelit dinner. its completely spontaneous, something you stumbled upon while coming home from a long day. you remind him he doesn’t need to do this, and he tells you he wants to.

he looks gorgeous in this light, illuminated by nothing than that flickering warm glow. its moments like these you truly get to know katsuki, seeing his kindness he insists he’s too gruff for. truthfully, he’s soft.

“don’t act so surprised, dumbass.” he smirks, that shit eating grin giving you more than just butterflies. you take the flowers from him and return with a sweet kiss to his cheek, one that gets his heartbeat going. “i love you.”

“i love you too, kats.” you smile, already making plans to surprise him back.

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚

“they made me try so hard.” he complains over a family reunion dinner, annoyed by his moms pestering. his mom loved you, and wondered why katsuki and you would ever separate. he gives her the same story- that you were too emotional and too needy. “got damn exhausting.”

your spine was splitting from carrying this dead relationship up the hill. he only slightly flipped the script, however. both of you were exhausted. he insisted there weren’t any signs, while you knew for a fact that you gave many.

even as he held you at night, your bones were weary. sure, he held you and gave you warmth, but you still felt that chill of loneliness. its a feeling you can’t quite shake. at some point, his heart stopped beating for you. cpr was no use.

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚

“do you think about our future?” you ask, sitting in his embrace on the couch. though he pauses for a moment, his answer is definite.

“lets pick out your ring tomorrow.” he smiles, and your heart pounds. such small words that hit so huge. right now, he swears he loves you. he has you waiting at that altar for him, because he thinks he’ll meet you there.

and for a minute there, he means it. he does want to marry you. he does want to love you for all eternity, and to get you whatever pretty ring you want. there wasn’t a single doubt in his mind that he would. he’d tell you everyday how he cant waits to finally be your husband.

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚

and there you were, left waiting at the altar.

“they didn’t wanna marry me.” he professes to his adoring fans and newscasters alike, giving into their incessant begging and nagging. he gives them an answer he knows will shut them up quick, and it does.

he frames as if you abandoned the ship. but the truth? you were going down with it. if your love died young, you’d challenge those waves, sink into the cold waters and make that vessel your resting place.

you held tight to his resentment, even though everyone around you said it wasn’t right. you shouldn’t be this scared to lose someone. towards the end, you weren’t sure if he wanted to be there. katsuki wasn’t sure either.

he drained the colour from your face as you watch the news clippings. you’re mad as hell. because you loved him.

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writtenbyjeanofarc · 1 year ago

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★༉‧₊˚✧ — 𝑯𝑬 𝑾𝑯𝑶 𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑫𝑺 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑾𝑬𝑨𝑲.

𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: Dark fantasy, yandere, a bit of fluff.

𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: Alucard X You (the reader)

𝖘𝖞𝖓𝖔𝖕𝖘𝖎𝖘: Just a little one-shot scenario between you and affectionate, but yandere Alucard snuggled up in bed. The time takes place after sex. After refusing to cuddle with him, he spirals into a feeling of bloodlust as he gets himself ready to mark you as his.

𝖈𝖜: Blood drinking, if that counts. A bit of dubcon even though there isn’t really smut for this fic, and slight degradation (he calls you his pet).

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗’𝖘 𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖊: Hello again, readers. So I’m back with a new fic and despite not uploading for a couple of weeks due to mental health reasons and school, I’m going to post this new fic I made which is a part of a series!

YANDERE PROMPT LIST BY: @writeformesinpie

PROMPT: “I can never get enough of you. I’ll drink you down to the last sip.”

“A-Alucard….Just five more minutes…please….”

It was about nine o’ clock in the morning when all curtains were closed to prevent sunlight from penetrating through the glass windows.

….And there you were in bed, bare naked with the touch-starved vampire himself, your body shivering at the cold touch of your respective “lover.” Alucard was trying to cuddle you, to which you tried avoiding.

“You’ll take whatever’s been given to you, dear. You must lie with the beast before you who has been craving your touch for as long as a thousand years.”

“There you go again with your silly monologues, Alucard. Just let me be as I sleep, alright? I’m tired. You might as well kill some peasants outside or do your necessary duties for the day….just leave me be-”

A loud sound was heard as Alucard flipped you over.

You couldn’t believe your eyes as Alucard landed on top of you, pinning you down to the king-sized bed as his eyes glowed a bright shade of red. The look on his face intimidated you like a hungry wolf cornering its prey, his lips forming a smug smirk. You wanted to….no, you needed to run to a safe place where you could feel a bit of comfort. The look he’s been giving you was unlike his previous deed of cuddling your smaller figure.

Alucard let out a small chuckle.

“Cat got your tongue, darling? Judging by your current state, there won’t be another time where you’ll refuse my orders.”

“But, Alucard, we’re-” you attempted to protest.

“We’re not what?” Alucard asked, tilting his head. “Not together?” He laughed in retaliation to your bewildered facial expression. Leaning closer to your ear, you felt chills run down your spine as he whispered intimately. “Very well, let me clue you in. Your blood is mine, in fact, your entire being is mine by the time I’ll have myself inside you. Sir Integra has chosen you to become my one and only pet whom I shall swear to protect with my very own life. You are far too fragile to let go. Let this moment consume your soul. Give yourself to me, and don’t look back.”

“Alucard…..please…” you whimpered. “I only agreed to sleep with you because….because…..!!!”

“Such a precious, sensitive little thing.”

His mouth opened wide and bit down aggressively on your neck, drawing blood. You moaned loudly in return, trying to push away Alucard’s huge figure off of you. Your efforts to let yourself free were pointless, as he took advantage of your arms by grabbing your wrists and keeping them in place.

Alucard started to suck the blood out of your neck, leaving bruises and hickeys around it. He surely was doing all this for his own pleasure, so as to leave you aching for more. And boy, were you feeling real good.

“A-Alucard!!! I….I thought…you just wanted…a hug…..”

“Hm? I've changed my mind. From now on, what I want from you is something more sinister, something animalistic and disgusting to the untrained eye. I can never get enough of you, I’ll drink you down to the last sip. I have fallen for you, pet. Show a little gratitude for someone as powerful as I have swallowed their pride just to love and protect you dearly with all my strength.”

“I appreciate it, but….”

“Has your pride gotten the best of you, dear? After we got our freak on the previous night? I bet it didn’t. Just admit how you developed feelings for me.”

“Oh, no! That’s not the case! I-” you stammered.

“Ah, so you still refuse to admit your feelings, hm? Very well, I’ll show you how desperate of a mess you’ll be once I bend you over.”

It was too late. You and Alucard were about to spend the whole morning going at it until night, leaving you with no choice but to spend time with the creature who has lusted for you since Integra has chosen you as his pet.

There was no turning back.

It was about to be a long day.

#alucard x reader #alucard x you #alucard imagine #hellsing alucard #hellsing ultimate #alucard hellsing #hellsing #alucard hellsing x reader #x reader #yandere prompts #yandere x reader

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flightlessangelwings · 1 year ago

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My Knight in White

Marc Spector x fem!reader

Word count- 4.3k

Dialogue prompt- “ that was for saving my life. “ Action prompt- [ KISS ]: after having been saved from immediate danger by the receiver, the sender, in a state of intense emotion and relief, kisses them to express these feelings.

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), protective!Marc, mutual pining, minor violence, minor character death, harassment of reader (not Marc), damsel in distress, unprotected piv, no use of y/n

About this reader- she is smart but not physically badass, works with Egyptian artifacts but I left it vague so you can fill in for yourself exactly what she does, no specific city where they are is stated either so it's open for you to imagine wherever, no physical descriptions other than body parts

Notes- Posting my October Year of Protectiveness @yearofcreation2023 a little late because of kinktober but I'm so excited to share this! This is expanding on an idea that @melodygatesauthor had months ago who wanted to see a damsel in distress reader and Marc saving her!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so please follow that too and turn on post notifications to stay up to date on when I post!

“You’re here late,” Marc’s voice broke you out of your thoughts.

You blinked, refocusing your eyes to the world around you. Looking around, you didn’t even realize how long you had been hunched over your desk, studying and cleaning the artifact that had recently been brought in. “Marc…” you breathed as you stretched, your back aching as you became aware of reality again.

He smiled softly as he uncrossed his arms, “You work too much, you know that,” he leaned against the doorway as he watched you.

Marc loved to watch you work. He loved to watch you do anything really, but when you worked, you became so focused, lost in concentration. You handled the old artifacts with such care and respect, he couldn’t help but linger his gaze on your hands. He had never met anyone smarter than you, and he loved to listen to you go on and on about any topic you found interesting. Marc took it upon himself to watch over you, making sure you were always safe even if you never truly knew just how much he looked over you.

“I lost track of time,” you replied as you gathered yourself and packed everything away, “I didn’t realize it’s after dark.”

“And the fact that everyone else left hours ago didn’t clue you in,” Marc smirked.

“Hey,” you playfully chastised him, “I can’t help it, I just got in the zone, you know. Besides, these new artifacts are so fascinating I just can’t tear myself away from them!”

It suddenly occurred to you that you and Marc were completely alone. He was right- everyone else left hours ago. As you stood up and made your way over to him, you took in his handsome features once more. And the way he leaned against the door made your thoughts run wild. The two of you had known each other for some time now, but you kept your true feelings to yourself, afraid of damaging your friendship or losing him.

Marc looked you up and down, “Want me to walk you home?” he offered as he followed behind you, watching you flip the lights off and lock everything up.

“I’m alright,” you suddenly felt nervous. Marc has been to your place many times, but the shiver that ran up your spine made your heart race, “I don’t live that far.”

He furrowed his brow, “You sure?”

“Yeah,” you replied with a soft smile, “Thanks, though,” you stepped in front of him before you turned back, “Good night.”

Marc watched you walk away before he whispered a hushed, “Good night.”

He watched you as you made your way down the street in the darkness until he couldn’t see you anymore. Marc had already decided he was going to follow you anyway, watching over you from afar, but when he saw a group of sketchy-looking men with wicked grins sneer and tail behind you, he knew he had to do more to keep you safe.

You wrapped your arms around yourself as you made your way down the street. You didn’t make it far from Marc when you noticed that a group of men started to follow behind you, and though you couldn’t make out their exact words, you knew they were talking about you. In that moment, you wished you took Marc up on his offer to walk you home, but you couldn’t turn around now. All you could do was hope you got inside fast before they caught up to you.

“Hey sweet cheeks,” one of them called out to you.

Too late.

You glanced over your shoulder and found that they were even closer to you than you thought, and you quickly bolted down the street without a word. That only egged them on more, however, and you heard them laughing behind you as they sped up as well.

“Oh come on, sweetheart,” they sneered, “We just want to talk to you.”

A gasp escaped your lips as you turned down a street, hoping to lose them. But, your plan immediately backfired as you found yourself trapped in an alleyway at a dead end. And you failed to shake them off your tail.

“Please,” you breathed as fear pulsed through your veins, “I’m just trying to get home.”

The men surrounded you, darkness shading their features, “We’ll get you home, sweet girl.”

The others chuckled as they started to reach for you.

“Please leave me alone,” you tried to sound more assertive, but you knew you didn’t intimate them at all. They were all very muscular and taller than you, and you knew you didn’t stand a chance even if you tried to fight back. But that didn’t mean you were going to go down without a fight.

You screamed when one of them grabbed your arm, and you swung your fist into him as hard as you could while digging your feet into the ground. Gritting your teeth, you tried your best to yank yourself from his grip, but tears of frustration filled your eyes when you realized it was useless.

“No!” you cried out as you tried again, your pleas drowned out by their cackling laughter.

Suddenly, your luck changed.

Out of nowhere, something yanked the man who helped you back and he yelped as he found himself flung against the wall of the alleyway. The other men all looked up as a hooded figure in all white descended down and immediately went on the attack against them.

You gasped as you scurried back out of the scuffle, pressing yourself against the opposite wall as much as you could as if you tried to phase through the wall and disappear. Your eyes went wide as you watched the mysterious hero fight off the men who attacked you, beating and punching them down until none of them moved.

The figure then turned to you, and time froze for several moments.

He raised his hands in surrender, “I’m not going to hurt you,” the voice from under the mask said.

You couldn’t help but feel like the voice was familiar. But, you stayed silent.

“Are you ok? Are you hurt?” your rescuer asked as he stepped closer to you, looking you over.

Your hands trembled, but not from fear this time. Taking a deep breath in for the first time in what felt like forever, you finally replied in a hushed voice, “No,” you whispered, “I’m alright.”

As he stepped close enough so you could reach for him if you wanted, you studied his outfit more. He wore all white, but as he got closer, you noticed it looked like linen wrappings, almost like a mummy. A crescent moon symbol adorned his chest and a white cloak covered his head. You could see the muscle definition even through the thick wrappings, and it made you swallow hard.

You had no idea what came over you at that moment- perhaps it was the adrenaline- but without a word, you reached out for him, grabbed him and pulled your bodies closer as you laid a kiss on his mask where his mouth would be.

It caught him off guard, but he didn’t push you away. Instead, he cradled you close, holding onto your waist with one hand and your arm with the other. It felt warm, comfortable, right.

“What was that for?” he asked with a smirk in his voice.

You smiled at him, “That was for saving my life,” your voice was still hushed, your breath taken away, “Thank you.”

He cupped your chin affectionately. Through the mask, he studied you up close. Everything in Marc screamed to take it off and tell you who he was, but he also knew that knowing his secret would put you in danger. And Marc would not allow that. For now, he would be satisfied knowing you were safe, and that he was just in time. He only nodded, not saying anything else before he broke away from you and leapt up into the air, disappearing into the night just as mysteriously as he appeared.

You watched in bewilderment as it took your brain several moments to process what just happened. You touched your lips as you realized that you kissed a total stranger, and one who you didn’t even see his face too. But, as you looked around and saw the men laying on the ground, the adrenaline ran through your veins once more and you ran out of the alleyway and quickly made your way home.

The whole time, Marc watched from the rooftops until you were safely inside.

In the following weeks, you threw yourself completely into your work to cope with what happened that night. A mix of emotions constantly filled your head, and you found that pushing them away with the distraction of work was the easiest way to deal with them. There were days where you hardly looked up from your desk, so deep in concentration that the rest of the world was a blur around you.

Marc kept a watchful eye over you the entire time. He knew why you were like this, but when others asked he feigned ignorance. No one had to know what happened to you, and it wasn’t up to him to tell anyway. Instead, he chose to keep an eye on you from afar, like he always did.

Vaguely, you were aware of Marc’s presence in the shadows… and it felt familiar to you somehow. He always kept an eye on you, but after that night it somehow felt different. But, having him close was one of the few comforts you had after your attack. Yet, your mind also wandered toward the mysterious hooded figure who rescued you…

“Hey,” Marc’s voice broke you out of your thoughts.

You looked up with a startled gasp, not realizing how late it got. Again. “Marc,” you breathed.

He looked worried, “Everything alright?” Marc asked, “You’ve seemed… off lately.”

Your eyes darted from his face to your desk a few times as you felt nervous suddenly, “I’m fine,” you knew you didn’t convince him, you didn’t even convince yourself.

Marc sighed your name as he settled down next to you, “You know you can tell me anything, right? I’m here for you.”

Heat rose in your face, “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” you exhaled deeply, “Besides, you’d just make fun of me.”

“Never!” he exclaimed, acting playfully offended before he turned serious, “What’s on your mind?”

The comforting tone in his voice and the warmth of his presence allowed you to let your guard down, “Ok…” you took a breath, “The night I was here late a few weeks ago,” you started, “A group of guys tried to jump me,” your voice quivered and you felt Marc’s hand over yours, “But I was saved by…” you paused as you looked at him sheepishly, “A guy in a hood and something that looked like mummy wrappings.”

Marc’s face lit up as he grinned knowingly at you.

You nudged him playfully as you erupted into a fit of giggles out of pure embarrassment, “See I knew you were going to laugh at me!”

“No, sweetheart I’m not laughing at you,” Marc raised his hands defensively, “I swear!”

Something changed in the air between you as you stared at each other. The light atmosphere shifted and it felt like something heavy lingered between the two of you. Your heart pounded in your chest as you realized just how close Marc sat to you, and your breath caught in your throat as you studied his features. Not to mention that was the first time he called you anything affectionate like that…

“Marc…”

“Listen, I…,” he started, interrupting you.

Leaning in, you were entranced by him and you hung on his every word. Just being near him and laughing like this made all your troubles melt away. You felt safe here, with him.

But, before Marc could continue, a loud crash cut him off.

Both of you jumped up, and you let out a soft shriek. Marc immediately went into defense mode and every muscle in his body tensed. It was late, and the two of you were the only ones in the building. He made sure the doors were locked too, so he knew whoever broke in meant trouble.

“Marc?” your voice shook.

“Listen to me,” he turned to you and placed his hands on your shoulders, “I need you to sneak out of here. Take the back exit and hide somewhere. I’m going to distract them and get a path for you to get out.”

“But the artifacts,” you whispered as you glanced over at the old objects on your desk that you spent weeks cleaning and studying. The first thought in your mind was that these are robbers looking to steal and sell them, and you didn’t want that to happen.

“Things can be replaced,” Marc sounded urgent, “We can get them back. I’m more worried about getting you safe right now.”

Your eyes went wide as you looked at him, stunned. Just as you were about to reply, though, another crash made you jump and Marc pulled you in close to keep you calm.

“It's gonna be alright,” he murmured to you, “Just trust me. Ok?”

You pulled back to look into his eyes again, “I trust you.”

He nodded as he pressed his lips together, “Ok,” how Marc sounded nervous, “Stay low. Stay in the shadows. And just get out. You hear me?”

Swallowing hard, you nodded. Then your brain caught up with you, “What about you?”

Marc smirked, “I’ll be alright. Just trust me.”

There was no time for explanations as another crash echoed in the room- they were getting closer. Marc ushered you out of the door and down the hall before he ran in the opposite direction towards the intruders. You glanced over your shoulder at his retreating figure before you made your way down the hall, crouching low and out of sight as you did so.

As you made your way to the back door, however, you noticed that it was blocked- one of them already made his way there.

“Shit,” you cursed under your breath as you changed direction. Instead, you went up to the roof in hopes of finding a place to hide until Marc did… whatever he was planning to do.

But that plan also quickly backfired.

You ran up to the roof and into the open area there, but you were met with yet another thug who blocked the opposite entrance from where you were.

“Well look what we have here,” he said with a dark grin on his face.

Letting out a gasp, you tried to run back where you came from, but another sinister shadowy man blocked that path. “Where do you think you’re going?” he growled.

“Please,” was all you could whimper as you felt them close in on you.

The men just laughed as they stepped closer, reaching for their guns as they did so. But, before they reached you, one of them was yanked back, slamming into the wall. You looked up and saw the same hooded figure that saved you before swooping down from seemingly nowhere.

More of the thugs appeared from the doorway and they yelled as they pulled out their guns and started to fire on both of you. The hooded figure rushed over to you and wrapped his cloak over both your bodies, shielding you.

You covered your head out of instinct, but as you felt a warm presence, you looked up and found yourself face to face with your linen wrapped savior once more.

“It’s you,” you gasped in relief. The ringing of the guns suddenly sounded distant.

The mask started to peel away on its own, revealing none other than Marc. He breathed your name, “Are you alright?”

“It’s you!” you sounded stronger that time, in total shock that it was Marc the whole time.

“I told you I wasn’t making fun of you,” he flashed a quick smile before he turned serious again, “I don’t have time to explain now,” he said, “I’m going to fight these guys off. You need to hide somewhere until they’re dealt with. I’ll come find you when it’s safe, I promise.”

The intruders and the guns were more pressing at the moment, so you swallowed and nodded.

When Marc found an opening, he pushed you towards the door, “Go!” he shouted as he turned back to the intruders and fought them off.

You ran.

Running on pure instinct, you bolted down the hall and turned a corner into a closet. Luckily, no one was around and you hid yourself well. You crouched in the corner as you listened to the grunts and gunshots in the distance. At one point, you covered your mouth to stifle a scream, suddenly scared for Marc. You fought back tears, swearing to yourself that you wouldn’t cry.

Just as you squeezed your eyes shut and held your breath, the fighting stopped. Silence filled your ears but you didn’t dare move. Your hands trembled slightly against your face as you strained to hear the one voice that would bring you comfort.

And then you heard it.

Marc called out your name as he stood in the hall, frantically looking for you, “Baby it’s alright. You can come out.”

You let out the breath you held, all your fear escaping with it as you leapt up and out of your hiding spot. Down the hall, you saw Marc standing there, his knighty suit still adorning his body but his face exposed. “Marc,” you breathed in relief as you ran towards him.

“Sweetheart,” he sounded just as relieved as he ran towards you with open arms.

The two of you crashed together in a messy embrace, emotions getting the better of both of you. He rested a hand on the back of your head while the other pulled you in as close as he possibly could. Tears flowed from your eyes as relief washed over you, yet the pulse of fear still ran through you after everything that happened. Vaguely, you heard Marc whispering soft words of encouragement and reassurance in your ear.

“Come on,” Marc said, “I’m getting you out of here,” he slid his hand in yours.

“But…” you tried to protest, not wanting to leave any of the artifacts alone.

“It’s ok,” he gave you a soft smile, “They’re dealt with. Right now I want to make sure you’re safe.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to process everything. So much happened in such a short time, and you weren’t sure how to react to it. Time passed in a daze as you found yourself at Marc’s place, settled comfortably on his couch with a mug of tea in your hands. You felt safe with him, of course, but you felt like you were outside your body.

The two of you talked for what felt like hours. Marc told you everything- all of his secrets that he kept hidden for so long. He promised you that he would always protect you, and he explained why he didn’t tell you before. As he talked, the sound of his voice calmed you, like an embrace of your heart. Your eyes moved from where they stared at the mug to meet his gaze.

“I promise you, baby,” Marc cupped your face, “Nothing’s ever going to happen to you. I’ll keep you safe no matter what.”

Heat rose in your face, and you were sure Marc felt how warm you were. But, as you stared into his eyes, you felt your heart flutter and his charming gleam sent a rush of fresh emotions through you. Without a word, you closed the gap between your bodies, crashing your lips together. Muffled groans echoed between you as you climbed into his lap and Marc instantly helped you closer. Deepening the kiss, you felt a tingle on your skin as you tasted him, and you felt the reverberation of his moan against your body.

“What was that for?” he asked in a whisper, “Not that I’m complaining.”

You smirked against Marc, “I wanted to thank you properly,” you breathed, “With a real kiss this time.”

Marc cupped your face as he gazed into your soul through your eyes, “Baby…” he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in for another kiss.

This time, it felt different. It was desperate and heated, but there was also the warmth and passion behind it. You moaned into Marc’s lips as you rocked your hips against his. He tightened his grip on you as a rush of need pulsed through his veins, and he couldn’t help the way his cock twitched underneath you.

Breaking away for air, Marc saw the look of wanton need in your eyes, and he knew exactly what you were thinking, “Are you sure about this, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice a low rumble.

You cupped his face, brushed your fingers along his dark curls, “I’m sure,” you whispered as you kissed him again, “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” you paused before you sheepishly added, “I’ve wanted this so so long…”

Marc grinned, his face lighting up, “Then let’s do this right.”

Shifting your bodies, Marc stood up and extended his hand. You eagerly took it and allowed him to lead you over to his bed. Excitement bloomed between you and before you even made it to the bed, your hands were all over each other. Kisses decorated your steps as you each tugged at the other’s clothing until you were bare.

You and Marc crashed into his bed, and he quickly laid overtop of you. He paused for a moment, breathless as he took in the sight of you bare underneath him, “Fuck you are beautiful,” he breathed.

“So are you,” you sighed in pure admiration as you grabbed his face and yanked him in for another kiss, “We can take our time later,” you murmured between kisses, “I need you too bad right now.”

“Fuck,” he groaned as he rocked his length along your folds. It didn’t go unnoticed that you mentioned a next time either… But your moan broke Marc out of that thought, and a shiver ran up his spine as he felt his cock against your pussy, “Wet already,” he smirked.

“Please Marc,” you pleaded.

“I’ve got you, baby,” he moaned as he lined himself up with your entrance.

Slowly, carefully, Marc pushed himself into you, causing you both to gasp at the same time. You clawed at his arms, holding on for dear life as the slight burn of his cock stretching you out went jolts of pleasure through your body. Fresh tears filled your eyes at the sensation, and you never felt more alive, more pleasure than ever before.

“Marc…”

He groaned your name as he bottomed out inside you, “Fuck,” he breathed. Marc cradled your face as he rocked in and out of you, slowly at first, but the more you moaned the faster he moved, “You’re perfect,” he moaned, “Shit…”

“Fuck… Marc… You feel so good,” you moaned as you saw stars every time his cock slammed into you.

It didn’t take long for you to feel the tingles of your approaching climax. Your legs trembled on either side of Marc’s body as he thrust into you over and over again and you dug your nails into his soft skin as you clung to him. Incoherent praises flowed from his lips as both your moans grew louder and louder as you lost yourselves in each other.

“Marc… I’m…”

“I’ve got you, baby,” Marc repeated his words from earlier.

Skin slapped against skin as Marc felt his own climax apparach. But, he was determined to send you over the edge first, and with just a few more thrusts of his hips, he got what he wanted. With a loud scream, you came hard, crying out his name as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through you. And fuck you had never looked more beautiful to Marc.

He kept up his pace as long as he could, watching the show you put on just for him and savoring every second of it. But, Marc’s eyes started to roll back as he felt his orgasm quickly build, egged on by the way you clenched your inner muscles around his cock. And with a groan of your name, he came right after you, spilling himself into you as he did so.

Marc collapsed on top of you, completely spent. But, after just a few breaths, he shifted himself, pulling out of you with a hiss before he laid next to you. You let out a whine at the loss, but quickly curled yourself up in his embrace as Marc held you close. You closed your eyes as you rested your head on his chest, listening to the pounding of his heartbeat against your ear.

“Marc, I…”

“Shhh,” he gently hushed you, “Just rest now baby,” Marc cradled your head as he placed a soft kiss, “I’ve got you.”

You hummed contently as sleep quickly took you over. Between the excitement, the danger and the rush of emotions, you suddenly found yourself exhausted and in no time you feel sound asleep in Marc’s arms.

Marc stayed awake for some time, listening to the sound of your heavy breaths. He knew exactly what you wanted to say, and as much as he wanted to hear you say those words, he knew it was better to wait. He gave your body one extra squeeze before he whispered to your sleeping form, “You’re safe with me, sweetheart… I love you.”

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bekolxeram · 1 month ago

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Idea/prompt by @jackmichaela, from this post. This is maybe not exactly what you're asking for, but I'm not good at rewriting scenes. I'm only good at filling in blanks so... I hope you like it.

Tommy usually hates hospital visits. They’re either heart-wrenching or tedious, no in between.

This time, it’s different. Since Hen delivered good news about Denny on the group chat, everyone seems so much more at ease: Evan is not scratching his face anymore, Eddie paces down his mission to destroy the whole bowl of Halloween candies, and sergeant Grant is talking to some teenagers at the reception desk. Tommy picks up a magazine next to him, USA Today, and starts flipping through it. Though he fails to focus on the celebrity interviews or the healthy diet tips in front of him, he is simply basking in the warm familial atmosphere around him.

Then everyone’s phone dings all at once again.

He looks up to find Eddie, struggling to contain his giggle.

“What’s happening this time?” Tommy asks. He scans around and see the rest of the 118 holding in a laugh, just like Eddie. They seem to be watching something on their phone with earbuds in, a smart and considerable choice in a hospital lobby, but Tommy has no clue about the origin of their amusement.

“Oh… oh, it’s nothing. Just a funny cat video.” Evan interjects, face turning red.

“Evan?” Tommy suspects.

“You can take mine. I was there anyway, I’ve seen it all.” Eddie hands Tommy his phone, with a devilish smirk on his face. Evan shoots him a death glare in return.

On Eddie’s phone screen, Tommy sees two clips sent to the 118 group chat, both of them prominently feature Evan’s face in the thumbnail.

“Please don’t do this. I was high on medications.” Evan pleads.

“It’s okay. I swear I won’t hold your intoxicated speeches against you. I just want to be part of the gang this time.” Tommy smiles softly at his boyfriend, then kisses him on a relatively unaffected patch of skin on his cheek.

Tommy presses play.

The first clip is a shaky video of Evan in an ambulance.

“Hey, how’re you feeling?” Eddie asks in the background.

“Muu-- better.” Evan slurs. “Uh, let me tell you a secret… I have a crush on someone….”

“Oh, tell me about it.” Eddie says jovially.

“He uh… tall, and hot, and big…” Evan sighs dreamily. “He’s strong, he used to be in the Army.” He points a finger at the camera.

“Well, I’m flattered, but I don’t really swing that w…”

“No! Ewww! You’re like a brother to me.”

“Ew? That’s a little harsh. I mean, I’m not that bad looking, right?”

“Naaaaaaaa? You’re attractive too? You’re just not the man of my dream.”

“And… who’s that guy exactly?” Eddie asks with a guiding question?

“It’s Tah – Tah – ”

“Tah – ?”

“Tarzan!” Evan exclaims. “He’s got big hands, big biceps the size of my head, a big heart, and… those V-shaped lines leading from his super cut abs to his giant d…” Evan is almost drooling.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough for me.” Eddie stops him before he can get too explicit with his ode.

“You’re homophobic!”

“Wait, what? You said it, I’m your brother. I just don’t want to know too much about my brother’s sex life.”

“I just spent too much time not living my life to its fullest, because of ignorant people.” Evan laments.

“I’m sorry, man. I didn’t know how hard it was for y…”

“Meeeeeeeeee! I was the ignorant people… I didn’t realize how hot men were… I didn’t know how much I wanted to suck Tah...” Evan drags out his vowels, while trying to point at something in the air with his hands.

The video suddenly turns into a blur. “Alright, stop moving before you hurt yourself more.” Then it ends abruptly.

“Tarzan, huh?” Tommy turns to look at Evan. “Is that what you think of me?” Evan’s boils are as red as tomatoes by now.

“Fine! You’ve all had your fun. Now can you spare me from further embarrassment?” Evan requests, trying to hide his blushing cheeks under the collar of his jacket.

“You know very well that as a firefighter,” Chimney cuts in, “drugged up ramblings are required to be public knowledge by law. For transparency’s sake and as entertainment for other first responders,” He laughs, gesturing for Tommy to play the next clip.

The second clip starts with Evan in the hospital room.

“Tell me more about your crush, Tarzan.” Eddie demands, again, in the background.

“What? Who’s Tarzan? I said Tommy.” Evan replies, with much less slurring in his speech this time.

Eddie seems to have clocked the sedation weaning off, “Um… You’re back with us, Buck? How’s the pain? Do you need me to call the nurse…”

“What? Are you out of your mind? It’s Tommy! Did Chili Oils wipe your memories too?” Evan furrows his brows, with a deeply confused expression. “Tommy! My husband!”

“Umm… when did you get married?” Eddie asks, just as confused.

“At Maddie’s wedding. No! Wait! We weren’t married yet. I only thought about it back then! When he came to me still in his turnouts and soot all over his face I just…” Evan says with an enamored smile. “Wait, where am I? Am I in the hospital? Why am I here?”

“I’m just gonna call the nurse…”

“I’m getting married here! Like Chimney! Eddie, you got me into some bachelor party shenanigans and I end up having to marry the love of my life here!”

“I didn’t…”

“Do I look good? No, wait, I’m naked! I need a suit!” Evan pats all over his own body with both hands.

“Stop! Don’t move your bad arm!” Eddie tries stopping him. Then the clip starts getting blurry again.

“I’m marrying Tommy with my birthday suit! Like the ancient Greek! Do I look good, Eddie? Are my pecs popping under this cover?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure, now stop flailing around.” Eddie says before the video ends.

Evan puts his face into his hands, flustered and embarrassed. “You’re happy now?”

“Of course I am. That’s payback for making me listen to your graphic description of your love life under sedation.” Eddie frowns.

“Well, I think that’s very cute.” Tommy interrupts. “We’re in no hurry to get married but… I appreciate you blurting out your attraction to me, unlike our first date…”

“Shut up!” Evan hides his head on Tommy’s shoulder to avoid the inevitable teasing.

“Make me.” Tommy responds.

Evan simply looks his boyfriend deep in the eyes and kisses him, softly but deeply.

“Hi, thanks for being here. Denny’s awake, you can go see him now if you want to.” Hen comes out to update the 118 family. “Especially you, Tommy. The first thing Denny asked was for the cool pilot who’s good at painting to draw the most badass helicopter on his cast.” Hen asks Tommy, with the exhaustion and relief of a previously worrying mother in her eyes.

“Of course.” Tommy replies.

#Not a prolific writer myself #Only have one fic under my belt #Speedwriting is super new to me #Hope you don't mind the flaws #bucktommy #tommy kinard #evan buckley #tevan #kinley #911 spoilers #911 abc #bucktommy fic

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whatsk-poppinhomies · 1 year ago

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Pairing : Bang Chan x F!Reader x Lee Minho TW : pregnancy ; cheating ; lots of arguing ; physical fighting ; lots of angst ; mention of blood ; a famous whatsk-poppinhomies cliffhanger ; Word Count : 5.8k Request : Anonny : Y/n is pregnant by one of them but he either cheats or fucks up or they break up before they know she is pregnant. She starts dating the other who is willing to accept the kid as his own but when her ex finds out she is pregnant, there will be drama (your choice which drama. maybe he wants her back, doesnt want the baby, is mad at the other one since they are in the same band etc) AN : This is such a fun request, just the right amount of angst and I can also make it fluffy at times, but mostly angsty. It took me a little bit to figure out who I wanted to be the "good guy" in the fic, but I finally came to the conclusion of who it would be, and I think, I HOPE, you'll enjoy this. Thank you for requesting!!

There were always rumors, scandals, posts all over the internet about how cute Minho and some other female idol would look together. There were pictures posted, even edits made of the two where his eyes would linger on her just a little longer than usual, his lips pulling up at the corners when she’d flip her hair or do something almost sickeningly cute. It was a smile that you thought only you received, but whenever you brought it up he’d get irritated, telling you that you were being ridiculous and reading into things too much.

He had never given you a reason to not trust him though, so you’d always apologize. His reasoning always seemed so valid too. He was supposed to act that way when he was MCing, it’s not like he could show the world that he was annoyed and not having a good time. You’d always let it slide, hugging him and giving him a kiss as you continued to apologize for over thinking. It would be so much easier if you could just come out about the relationship, but, again, his reasons were solid as to why you shouldn’t. It was dangerous for you, it would only be a hassle, you wouldn’t be able to live normally ever again… And for that suggestion, you apologized once more.

Trust was important, especially when he was almost always away from home, either on tour or doing promotional meets with fans or mini concerts. It wasn’t hard to trust him either, especially when he had made it seem like he was miserable if he was anywhere but at home with you. That’s why you wanted to surprise him with a little visit while he was doing one of his little promotional tours around the country. The other guys had even helped you set it up, making sure that Minho had not a single clue that you were coming until you showed up.

“Surpri…se…” The word that had started out as a cheerful announcement slipped into a whisper before you went completely silent. Minho stood in the center of the dressing room, his hands on the hips of the female idol that wasn’t even a threat, at least, that’s what he had told you before. Their lips had been locked, her chest pressed against his, and there was no reason… There was no bullshit excuse that he could come up with that could explain away what you had just seen.

“Honey… I-” You didn’t give him time to talk, turning away from the room and walking as fast as you could down the hall that would lead you to the exit door. “Y/N, come back!” You heard him call after you, his footsteps getting louder and louder as he got closer until his fingers were wrapped around your wrist, tugging you back towards him and making you stop. “Listen…” He pleaded breathlessly, but you shook your head, your mouth hanging open as you let out a short gasp of disbelief. “I didn’t think you were coming… No one told me…”

“Oh? You want to blame the guys for me finally catching you? That’s asinine.” You pulled your hand away from him, crossing your arms over your chest just to be sure he wouldn’t try to grab you again. “I’m glad I saw it… At least I won’t be made a fool of anymore. You were really good at hiding it though, I give you that. And you were damn good at pretending that you actually gave a shit about me.”

“I do give a shit about you, that’s why…” You sighed loudly, running his hands through his hair. “That’s why I hid it from you… I didn’t want to hurt you…” He whispered, taking a step closer, but you kept the distance, backing away from him. “You weren’t supposed to find out… Not like this at least. I was gonna tell you… I’m… I’m not proud of it… I was gonna stop things with her. I love you… I just needed to say goodbye to her. That’s what that was…”

His arms reached out to you but you swatted them away, unable to hold back the look of disgust that washed over your face. “Don’t even bother. She can have you… I don’t… I can’t even look at you right now. You make me sick.” The words shot through your lips like bullets, and while you felt so strong right now saying them, you knew that once your back was turned to him and you gave yourself the time to actually let it sink in what had happened, you’d be a wreck.

“Don’t say that… We can talk about this. Honey, come on… Just talk to me… Don’t leave.” Minho pleaded, stepping closer to you once more, and you hated that he had the nerve to get upset, to have the gull to start crying as if you were the one that's hurting him. You scoffed, pushing him away from you and taking two steps back just to make sure the space between the two of you was wide enough that hopefully he’d finally get the hint to stay away. “Honey…”

“What’s goin’ on out here?” Chan asked as he stepped out of his own dressing room, his eyes that had been bright and sparkling the first two seconds immediately losing their shine when he felt the tension in the hallway. “Seriously… What’s going on?” His voice lost that cheerfulness it had once carried, and now he was more serious, his eyes darting between you and Minho.

“I don’t know, you tell me, Christopher.” You snapped, and his eyes widened in shock at the tone of your voice. “Or better yet, if you’re truly so fucking clueless, how about you ask Minho… or you could ask the girl he was swapping spit with in his dressing room. I couldn’t care less though, I’m going home.” You turned on your heel, heading to the exit door once more, and you could hear Minhos strained voice calling your name, but you didn’t look back… You didn’t want to take that last look at what you had lost.

The promotional tour had ended, but throughout it you had received multiple texts from Minho asking to talk or meet up. There were calls from the other guys too, but you were busy, far too busy with packing up all of his things, throwing away every single reminder of the relationship that you had put so much faith into just for it to fall apart in one fell swoop.

It was crazy how fast you had fallen in love with him, and how long it took for you to lose that feeling. Even though he had hurt you, even though you had literally seen it with your own two eyes, you loved him. You had to constantly remind yourself that if you were foolish enough to go back that you’d just end up hurt again, probably even worse than before. You weren’t a fool, you wouldn’t let him hurt you, and you knew that if he got you back, he’d just think he could do it again, and he would do it again, he’d just be sneakier this time.

The sound of the lock on your door being undone had you turning your head, and you knew that the only person who had the keys was Minho, and it was a good thing that he had come. His things had been piled up next to the front door for a week now and it was about damn time that he finally came to collect them.

“He was too nervous to come over…” Chan said as he sheepishly walked through the front door, closing it softly behind him and eyeing the multitude of black trash bags on the floor before looking back at you. “I’m sorry he did that to you. If I had known, I would have told you…” He whispered, and you slowly nodded your head, although you failed to believe that he would actually go against one of the guys just to protect your feelings. “Do you need anything? Have you eaten?”

“I don’t need you to pretend to care on his behalf. The only thing I need is for his shit to be gone so that I can forget about all of you and you all can forget about me and we can all just move on with our lives and I can pretend I wasn’t the idiot that got played by him.” You sniped, pushing yourself up off the couch and grabbing one of the many bags. “I’ll help you take his stuff to your car if that’ll get rid of you all faster.”

He blinked a few times before grabbing the bag from your hands and softly placing it down on the floor once again. “I’m not pretending to care. I’ll get his shit out of your house…” His hands ran over his face as he let out a long sigh. “I understand why you’re saying these things, but I don’t think you really believe that we’d just forget about you. We’ve been texting you nonstop… You had to have seen it.”

“I have seen it, and I’d really like for you all to stop. It was easy for him to forget about me and we were dating… I think it’ll be way easier for you and the rest of the guys.” You retorted, picking up the bag again and pushing it into his arms. “You’re all making it harder for me to just move on, and I need to move on…” You promised yourself that you wouldn’t cry, you didn’t want to cry, he didn’t deserve a single tear to be shed over him, yet here you were, sniffling with tears welling up… You really were a fool.

“It’s hard to move on because you’re not giving yourself something to take your mind off of him.” Chan murmured, dropping the bag once more, carelessly now though, and moving closer to you. His arms loosely wrapped around you, and as much as you didn’t want to be close to anyone that was close to Minho, the hug was comforting, you hadn’t had anyone there to really comfort you through the entire thing, and it was nice to just be able to cry and let it all out.

“I don’t know how to stop thinking about him… He’s everywhere…” You mumbled against Chans chest, a blubbering mess now as you gripped onto his shirt that was becoming soaked with the tears that you shed. “I hate him… I hate all of you… You just remind me of him too…” You weakly pushed against his chest, but he held you closer, soothingly brushing his fingers through your hair as he shushed you.

“It’s gonna be okay… I promise it will.” He cooed, his cheek resting against your forehead. “Whenever you start to think of him, just call me… I’ll talk to you, I’ll get your mind off of him. We can talk for hours if that’s what you need. If you want to go out, I’ll take you out, wherever you want to go. Even if you just need to get out of the house… I’ll take you to the studio, you can sit and watch me work on songs. I just want to help you…”

“Why are you trying so hard…?” You whimpered, looking up at him with glassy eyes that had his heart slowly breaking, and he wanted nothing more than to wipe your tears for you as he told you the truth, but he knew that you weren’t ready for that, and he wasn’t ready for it either. He needed you to be better first.

“Because he made the mess and he’s got too much pride to clean it up himself. I care about you though… And I’m gonna make sure you’re okay.” He said softly, hesitantly reaching up to brush the tears from your cheeks. “I’m gonna take his shit to the car, and if you want, I can stay here and we can talk or just… I’m gonna order food for you, whether you want me to stay and eat with you or not… But… I want to make sure you’ve eaten. Okay?”

You nodded weakly, taking a step back as you swallowed thickly before clearing your throat. “You can eat… stay… eat with me…” You stammered, rubbing your hands against your thighs, the embarrassment of what just happened finally setting in. “I’m sorry for that… Don’t… Don’t tell him I cried… Please…”

Chan chuckled, ruffling your hair before placing his hand on the small of your back, leading you to the couch and waiting for you to sit before dropping down onto the cushions himself. “I’m sure he already knows you’ve cried, but I wouldn’t tell him anyway. I haven’t really talked to him about anything other than work since that happened.” He explained, pulling his phone out to order food. “So what are you feeling? What do you wanna eat?”

///

Becoming close to Chan wasn’t in your itinerary, it wasn’t planned at all, but you found yourself craving his presence, wanting to hear his voice all the time, comforted by the warmth that emanated off of him when he sat beside you. He had become such an important part of your healing process, that after a couple weeks, it didn’t even feel like you needed to be healed anymore, you just wanted him around.

Your mind had been so busy for so long, and it was a good thing, you needed to keep your mind off of everything for a bit, but you didn’t realize how busy you had been until you got the notification on your phone from your period tracking app. Make sure to log your periods for better accuracy. You stared at the notification with furrowing eyebrows, your mind becoming a calculator as you tried to remember when the last time was that you had gotten your period.

How long had it been? You quickly opened the app, going back to the last logged date and then to your calendar to see just how long it had been. 8 weeks… how could you not notice for almost two months that you hadn’t gotten your period at all? You couldn’t have possibly been that frazzled… right?

“Hey Channie… Can you get something from the store for me when you have the time?” You texted him, not knowing who else to go to, and the last thing you wanted to do was get the tests yourself. You needed to take what little time you had to process what you would do if those tests gave you the most life altering reading.

“Yeah sure! Is everything okay? You need some girly things, huh? I can get you your favorite snacks too and we can hang out.” He texted back, and you wished, you really wished that girly things were what you needed, and you were nervous to even tell him what you actually needed. What would he do? Would he be upset? Would he be angry? It’s not like you planned for something like this if it were the case… It wasn’t 100% your fault. But you knew 100% who’s it would be. It’s like you couldn’t forget him… you’d never be able to forget him.

“Uhm… No. Well… I’d really like it if we could still hang out… But I need uhm… pregnancy tests…” You sent the text as fast as you could, waiting long enough for it to say delivered before turning off the screen and throwing your phone to the end of the bed. This was just what your luck would bring you, right? You would never be able to escape Minho, not fully. You would never move on, and the worst part was that you were really starting to feel like you could, like you would… The feelings that were beginning to bloom for Chan… They would never be returned…

Your phone vibrated next to your feet, and you were scared, so scared of his response, but then it started vibrating more, longer, and you knew it was a phone call. What if he had told Minho? Your hands shook as you grabbed your phone, your eyes closed until the screen was right in front of your face, slowly opening your eyes to see Chans name on your screen.

Hesitantly you answered, bringing the phone to your ear with a soft sniffle. “Why didn’t you answer? Are you okay?” He asked, worry lacing his voice and you could hear wind whipping around him through the speaker. “You’re crying… Did something happen? Tell me…” He urged, and you could barely get the words out of your mouth to answer him.

“I thought… That you’d be mad… Or that you’d tell Minho… I don’t want him to come back, I don’t want to give him a reason to come back in my life…” You just barely whispered into the speaker, your knees pulled up against your chest, holding onto them tightly. “I’m so scared, Chris… I don’t want to do this alone, I can’t…”

“I’ll be over soon… Don’t worry. Even if it’s positive, you won’t have to do it alone. I’m still gonna be here, I’d never leave you… I hope you know that, and remember that. You’re stuck with me.” He chuckled softly, and your laughter that followed was a little too sad, but at least you were laughing, and at least you knew that you had him.

///

“SKZ Leader Christopher Bang, also known as Bang Chan, seen heading into OBGYN office with mystery pregnant girlfriend.”

The report had caught Minhos eye as soon as he saw it, and for many reasons. Chan had never mentioned having a girlfriend, and he had definitely never mentioned becoming a dad any time soon. Judging by the pictures that had been posted, the supposed girlfriend looked to be pretty far along, at least 6 or 7 months into the pregnancy. Chan would have slipped up by now, and Minho couldn’t think of a reason why he’d want to hide such big news from the guys. He’d talk to him about it, maybe Chan was scared that the guys would be upset… Maybe that was it… Minho would congratulate him first, let him know that he wasn’t mad, he was actually quite proud. He knew that Chan would make a good father, especially considering he was basically a dad to the other 6 guys.

“Hyung!” Minho called out when Chan came into the practice room, running over to the leader and patting him on the back. “You didn’t tell me you had a girlfriend… You’re hiding a lot of things. You’re gonna be a dad too!” Minho expected the initial fear to wear off after a couple seconds, but Chans eyes stayed wide as he stared at Minho a little longer than he liked. “You… Didn’t see the headlines?” Minho asked, and Chan quickly shook his head, pulling out his phone and groaning loudly when he saw that it wasn’t just headline news, it was on the front page of NAVER.

“Fuck… I gotta call Y/N…” Chan mumbled, and Minho felt like he had been punched hearing your name come out of Chans mouth. It had to be a coincidence, there was no way that Chan could do something like that to him… right? Now he was nosy, listening in on the call that Chan was making, trying to make it seem like he was paying attention to his own phone so he wouldn’t leave the room. “I want you to stay in the house no matter what until I get there, okay? Keep the doors locked just in case they followed us after the appointment, and don’t answer the door for anyone. No… No, I don’t think he knows. He’s the one who saw it… He came to me… No, he doesn’t recognize it’s you. I know… I know, it’s gonna be okay, darling. I love you… I’ll be home soon. Promise… Yes. I love you more… Okay… Just relax, I got you that ice cream you’ve been craving. Mmhm… Yup… Alright, I love you so much. Hugs and kisses… Mwah.”

Listening to the conversation had Minho looking back at the report, really looking at the pictures now. The nose, the hair, the eyes… It was all you… It was you. The pain that he had felt after the initial gut punch now turned to anger as he pushed himself away from the wall and went straight over the Chan. “Who were you on the phone with? Huh? Tell me right now. Tell the truth!” Minho shouted, already pushing Chan back, shoving him until he was cornered against the mirrored walls that reflected the scene.

“Stop… It was my girlfriend, you’re being ridiculous.” Chan tried to keep calm, attempting to slide away from Minho, but he was pushed against the mirror once more, the image momentarily warped as the glass vibrated. “Stop it!” Chan said more firmly now, trying to keep Minho back, but his anger was fueling him, driving him to continue pushing against Chan until the mirror started to crack, and even then, he wouldn’t stop.

“Your girlfriend is my ex! You lousy, no-good, piece of shit!” Minho screamed, catching a glimpse of the crack that was making its way up the mirror, bound to shatter at any moment now. “When did you start dating? You thought you could just move in on my girlfriend because she was upset?! You’re a fucking asshole, you know that!”

“Well why the hell do you care anyway?!” Chan shouted back, finally getting angry enough to push Minho away from him, but he didn’t want to hurt him, he just wanted him to stop. He needed him to stop. It would be no good if either of them got hurt, and the reports would be no better if it came out that they were fighting like this. “You cheated on her! She’s happy now! It’s not like I started dating her as soon as you broke up anyway… It just happened… I’m taking care of her, you should be happy that someone actually loves her.”

Minhos fists balled up at his sides, but then the math started adding up in his head, but it didn’t actually add up… You had caught him cheating only 5 months ago, and if his visual assumption of how far along you were was correct, that would mean… “Who’s the father? Is it you? How far along is she?” The questions came out in rapid succession, and Chans eyes fell to the floor, it was answer enough, but he wanted to hear it. “Answer me!” Minho shouted once more, his fists clenched so tight that his knuckles were turning a ghostly shade of white.

“I’m the father! Whether the DNA says so or not, and that’s what matters!” Chan sniped back, and Minho swore he saw red, his fist flying before he even had the chance to think about what he was doing. His knuckles connected with Chans face full force, causing the leader to stumble back, his bottom lip busted and blood trickling down to his chin. “You can fight me… You can beat the shit out of me… But I’m not leaving her. The kid isn’t yours… She’ll have my last name. She’ll call me dad. She wouldn’t want a cheater as a father anyway.”

“Fuck you…” Minho muttered before his arm pulled back to punch him once more, but the practice door swung open, and in a second all of the guys were around him, pulling him away from Chan. There was so much going on, but Minhos eyes never left Chan. He wasn’t his leader, he wasn’t his band member… He sure as hell wasn’t his brother… He had stolen his family away. “Must be nice to just have the family already made for you, isn’t it?!” Minho shouted as he was being dragged out of the practice room by Changbin and Jisung as the other guys stayed behind to make sure Chan was okay.

///

“What do you mean he found out?!” You shrieked from the couch, your heart racing as your eyes darted to the door. Would Minho come to the house? Was he on his way now? “Are you okay? Are you coming home?” You asked, completely on edge, and your nerves being so high was setting off your daughter who refused to sit still now.

“Just relax, darling. I’m fine, and he’s not going to come over. The guys have him out in the hall right now trying to calm him down, they know what’s going on… They’re not going to let him leave.” Chan tried to reassure you, but it was all for nothing when you heard Changbins voice in the background. “He ran off… I think he’s going over to Y/Ns… You should probably go…” You heard Chan sigh loudly before his voice was heard again. “Keep the door locked… It’s locked right? Don’t answer it, for the love of god, don’t answer. Just stay quiet… I’ll be home as soon as I can, I swear. Stay on the line with me though.”

“God dammit!” You shouted, carefully pushing yourself up off the couch and heading into the bedroom. “I knew we should have gone to an office out of the city… I told you this would happen.” It’s not that you were trying to argue with Chan, it was the last thing you wanted to do, but you had told him from the get-go that it wasn’t a good idea to go to any of the doctors close to his work.

“Sue me for wanting you to have the best doctors in Korea.” Chan snapped back, and you heard his car door slam shut and then the rumbling of the engine as he turned the key. “Don’t blame me for this shit. It’s not my fault that you ended up pregnant by him, I didn’t have to do anything for you, but I love you enough to be here and you’re gonna get bitchy with me because he finally found out. It was bound to happen at some point.”

You scoffed loudly, running a shaky hand through your hair. “It wasn’t just for me, asshole! It was to protect you from your crazy ass fans. But I guess they were bound to find out at some point too?” You retorted, your eyes prickling with tears of anger as you sat on the edge of your bed. “I didn’t ask you to be here, if I remember correctly, I wanted you all out of my fucking life. You insisted on staying! So don’t you dare try to blame me either!” You took a shaky breath, pulling the phone away from your face so he wouldn’t hear you crying. “If that’s the way you feel though… Don’t come home. I’ll just talk things out with Minho, maybe we can work out an agreement for child support or something and you all can be gone like I wanted.”

“Stop. I never said that, don’t twist my words.” He mumbled, and the engine revved as his car sped up. “I don’t want you talking to Minho at all, I’ll handle him when I get back home. I’m coming home. I’m not… I’m not mad at you… I love you, and I love the baby… I got punched in the fucking face and now I have to worry about Minho weasling back into your life and I’m just stressed… That’s all.” He sighed softly, his fingers drumming lightly against the wheel as his turn signal ticked. “Please don’t cry, darling… Not over my words, I didn’t mean them. I really didn’t…”

“I’m stressed too…” You whispered back, your head leaning against the headboard as you watched through the little slits in the blinds of your bedroom, waiting to see Chans car pull up. “I just wanted things to be easy… For us to be happy. I guess I’m stupid for wanting that though… Especially knowing that-” There was a loud banging at the front door causing your heart to skip a beat before you jumped up out of the bed and peeked through the blinds. “He’s here… What do I do? Channie, what do I do?”

“I’m almost home, just stay in the bedroom. He doesn’t have the key, he can’t get in.” Chan rushed the words out, and while they were supposed to calm you, you could hear the panic in his own voice. “Fucking traffic! Come on!”

“Y/N I know you’re home!” Minhos voice shouted from outside the house as his fists came down against the door once more. “We need to talk! I know she’s mine! Let's just talk about this!” It seemed like the more he spoke, the louder he got, and you were shrinking into the bed deeper and deeper with every single word. He wouldn’t hurt you, you knew that, at least not the way he had hurt Chan, but you didn’t want to be on the receiving end of his anger either.

“Get away from my house.” You heard Chan both through the phone and outside the window, and you quickly hung up to run to the front door, but your movements became slow once your hand was on the lock. If you unlatched it too quick, Minho would come in, you needed to wait for Chan. “She doesn’t want to talk to you. You don’t need to see her, you don’t need to be here, so just go back to the dorms or go practice.”

“Easy for you to say. It’s not actually your kid. You get to play the hero for Y/N and my daughter… Must be real fucking nice.” The argument continued outside of the door, and Chans voice was so close, he could come in… But Minhos voice was just as close… You didn’t want to take any chances. “You wouldn’t even know her if it weren’t for me! You were just waiting for your chance to steal her away from me!”

“What are you talking about?!” Chan screeched, and you felt your heart rate spike, your hand shaking as you started to unlock the door. You didn’t want anything to happen to Chan, he had already been hit once, you didn’t know how far Minho would go. “You cheated on her! She left you! Just go away!”

You quickly pulled the door open and both their heads whipped in your direction. Chan was the first to come in, pushing past Minho and wrapping his arms around you to pull you away from the door. “You really need to go, Minho…” You whispered shakily, your hands moving to Chans and holding onto them tightly.

“No. I’m not going anywhere.” Minho said flatly, walking into your house and slamming the door behind him. “You start dating my friend while you’re pregnant with my daughter and you both were going to try to hide it from me!? Now you expect me to just walk away like this isn’t happening?!” His eyes lowered to your stomach, his breath hitching in his throat as he took one small step closer to you. “You don’t think I’ll just walk away from this… do you? I’m not that kind of person.”

You looked up at Chan who rolled his eyes at Minhos words, and then your head dropped. “I wish you would… I wish you had never found out. It took so long for me to get over you, and things were going just fine.” You mumbled, sniffling softly. “It’s not fair… You cheated on me, and then you want to try to come back… Why? I don’t want to confuse her…”

“We can get back together.” Minho stated as if it were the obvious choice, his hands reaching out to grab yours, but Chan was adamant on that not happening, his own fingers lacing with yours and moving your hands to your side. “I don’t want her to be confused either, but she deserves to have her real father in her life.” He eyed Chan smugly as he said it, and you felt him tense up behind you, his breaths heavy against your neck. “You know that I love you, more than anything else in the world. We could be a family, the perfect family…”

“Will you shut up?” Chan said quite sternly, pressing a kiss to your cheek, something that made Minhos hand twitch as it clenched to a fist at his side. “You don’t know how hard it was for her to get over you, and I will not just sit by and let you fuck it all up!” He carefully moved you behind him as he stood face to face with Minho, his chest puffed out, flexing his muscles and chesting Minho back towards the door. “She doesn’t want you, she doesn’t want you back, and she doesn’t want to play family with you!”

“Oh I’m the one that would be playing family? You’re trying to play father to another man’s kid! You took advantage of my one mistake… Did you tell her though? Did you tell her that after that I’d sit up at night crying because I fucked up so bad? Did you tell her that I haven’t been with anyone else since that day?! Or did you only tell her the shit that benefited you?” Minho sniped back, his own chest puffing out, and truthfully, you were scared for both of them. You didn’t want anyone to get hurt.

“I told her what would benefit her. I’m sure you wouldn’t understand that though considering you didn’t even think enough about her to not cheat when she was yours. So don’t you dare try to come into our house acting like you give a shit now because you found out she’s pregnant. The kid is sadly only yours biologically, but that doesn’t mean shit where it counts.” Chan retorted, taking a step back, being the bigger person to try to keep a physical fight from happening. “Now if you were smart, you’d leave… I suggest that you be smart and that you get out… now.”

Minho huffed loudly, his eyes like daggers as he looked between you and Chan, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants as he leaned against the door. “You know I’ll be back… She’s my daughter… And if you won’t let me be a solid part of her life, I’ll just go to court. I’m going to see me kid, whether you want me to or not.” His tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth as a coy smile spread across his lips, his eyes solely on you now. “Can’t wait to meet her.”

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zyxoxox · 2 months ago

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a new face on sixth street.

wise x reader || 1k wc

in which wise is very focused on solely his proxy and manager duties, and is definitely not intrigued by your move to sixth street.

note: new blog, new beginnings! it’s been so long since i’ve written anything, i feel like i’ve forgotten how. wise has been rattling around in my head nonstop for the last two weeks, so here’s some indulgence~

a deep breath.

you needed one; lifting boxes to your flat was the most work you’d ever done in your life. mr.chop was helping, for you’d moved into the room just behind his shop, but it was still a bit much.

sitting down on the ground for a break, you scanned your surroundings. so this was sixth street. quite kind, quite warm- it was new, but you had a feeling you’d like it.

opposite to your door seemed to be the side of a shop. what was it? random play?

“har, ya interested in the video shop?”

mr.chop appeared in front of you, snapping you out of your thoughts. you nodded, and his eyes suddenly lit up, seemingly with an idea.

“you know what? you should take a break to meet the managers! they are your age, you know, and- don’t tell them i said this- but they don’t really talk to anyone but each other i think. yes, yes, this will be good! they ordered some noodles too, you can go give it to them. you will be neighbours after all!”

>>-<<

a deep breath.

wise found himself having to take one when he saw the new face in front of him.

he really had no clue why. was it because you were a new customer? the video store’s business was quite fragile, more people meant it was getting better, so naturally he was excited. that was it, right? right?

the girl walked past all the shelves, scanning their contents, but also seemingly looking for something. she had a bag of noodles from mr.chop’s, which smelt eerily like his own favourite flavour.

“can i help you?”

she jumped, with a bewildered look on her face. wise looked at her widened eyes, and the way she held her hands close to her chest in alarm, and found himself needing to take another breath.

“ah, y-yes! i’m looking for the managers of this store. these noodles are for them, mr.chop asked me to bring it to them.”

another breath.

really, what had gotten into him today? was it because she had come looking specifically for him? wait, no, no, what kind of reason was that?! he was the manager of the store, of course people would look for him!

“well, you’re in luck. you are looking at him right now.”

her eyes lit up. “really! i’m [name], it’s nice to meet you. i’ve moved into the flat just next to this store, so in a way, it’s like we’re neighbours! here, take the noodles. they’re fresh, better eat them when their hot.”

wise reached out to grab it from you. for a fraction of a second, the tip of your fingers touched- it could barely be computed as skin contact, and yet wise felt it through his whole system. the pits of his stomach did a flip, his chest nearly jumped! for the goddamn life of him, he couldn’t think of why?

you were having thoughts of your own. who was this guy? he looks so cool, so handsome? his voice is so clear, why’d he stop talking? would getting a membership to this place mean seeing him m-

“thank you for the delivery , miss [name]. my sister and i are really grateful.”

shit, you were still holding your hand out, even though it no longer had the bag! hastily, you put both you hands behind your back, nodding awkwardly.

your mind was blank for things to say, so you looked around. the shelves were stocked with all sorts of movies and records. you could spot your favourites, as well as titles you’d never heard of before.

“it’s a lovely store you’ve got,” you amused. “quite fitting for you, i should think.”

he raised an eyebrow. “oh? what do you mean by that?”

you felt your cheeks heat up. yeah, what did you mean by that?

“it’s just, this store seems cozy and safe, and you have the composure of someone you’d feel like talking to about anything, you know? i mean it in a good way, really! the store gives off the same energy as you do, and anyone could feel your presence here even if you were away.”

he was silent for a couple of seconds. had you said too much? before your thoughts could go overboard, he broke into a soft laugh. it was so crisp, you found yourself wondering if any of the tapes had a recording of it you could loop for hours.

“well, i’m glad i’ve left a good reputation on you, miss [name]. i hope to see you- ahem, your patronage often.”

“right! and i hope to see you around too, mister manager!”

you waved and turned to leave. barely a day in sixth street and your heart already hummed with a new crush. opening the door, the fresh breeze made a poor attempt to cool down the warmth you felt all over. then suddenly, you remembered-

“your name! mister manager, i don’t know your name!”

he had a soft smile, steadfast and enduring. “it’s wise, miss [name]. i was wondering if you wanted to know,” he shook his head, grinning. you mentally cursed at yourself. how could you forget something so basic!

he walked closer, with a movie tape in his hand. you caught a glimpse of it- Life Before the Hollow; presumably a history documentary. his eyes locked with yours, and he stuffed it in your hand. “consider this a welcome gift.”

he seemed to want to say more, but he didn’t.

you inspected the record in your hands, and the boy who gave it to you. you shouldn’t get your hopes up, and yet-

“i guess i have no choice but to come back again now, mister manager wise! you’d best be here when i do!”

#zyx’s brews >>#wise x reader #zzz x reader #zzzero #zzz wise #zenless zone zero #zzz

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ayedafuq · 7 months ago

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Hamzah imagine I’m sorry god

POV: You got invited up to Toronto by your friend (Y/F) who hangs in the same circle as the Slushy Noobz crew, u n Hamzah meet at a party, get a little too tipsy, and you flirt just a taaaad .

——

(Y/F) : bitch come out the room and DRINK

Currently hiding away in her room (where I’ve been a freeloader for the past 2 days), I see Y/F’s text to come and join the pregame she’s having in her living room. She moved from our hometown to Toronto, a place I haven’t been before this, and I’m visiting her for the week. I came up on Wednesday and after our playful time catching up together for the past two days, she decided it’d be a good idea to go out with some of the friends she made. She currently has about 8 people in her living room playing drinking games, and I’m sitting on the floor staring into her full body mirror, ready to go to the bar, nervous as FUCK about meeting her friends.

After ignoring her text for approximately 30 seconds, she comes into the room. “OOOO GURRRRL YOU LOOKIN GOOOOOD” she says. I know she knows I’m nervous.

“Wait close the door” I say to her, and she does. “Dude, what if they don’t like me.” My anxiety is clearly getting the best of me.

“Fuck do you mean what if they don’t like you? You’re quite literally my twin. If they don’t like you then I’ll KNOW they secretly don’t like me. And they love me, so chill the fuck out. Get up” she picks me up out off the ground and pulls me out into her living room.

“Guess who’s heeeerrrree” she says to the group, and they all start to cheer. “There she is!” One of the girls says. A guy chimes in, “The visitor has arrived!”

Y/f drags me around the party to share names, my nerves subsiding. Everyone here is really nice. Why was I even worried?

“Hey, I’m Mandy. I work at the animal shelter with y/f. I’ve heard so much about you!” The girl says. I reply telling her I’ve heard about her too. “Y/f says the only reason she goes there is to pet animals and hang out with you” I tell her. “Yea sounds about right, I do the same thing.”

Me, Mandy and Y/f chat for a couple minutes sharing some laughs and stories, until the guy who chanted earlier and his friend come up. “Y/n, this is my boyfriend Martin. And this is Hamzah, avoid him.”

I give my hellos and introduce myself to Martin. We banter for a quick second before I turn to Hamzah. “Hellooo, I’m Y/n.” I give him a quick smile he returns. “Hey Y/n, how do you like Toronto so far?”

Before I can even answer, Y/f interrupts. “I’m gonna need you guys to shut up and grab a drink. We’re leaving for the bar in 30, and me and Y/n still need to demolish half the party in flip cup. Grab two seltzers from the fridge” she tells me. “You better lock in, I told everyone you never miss a flip.”

—

Two hours later and we’re at the bar, and it’s safe to say I’m feeling preeeetty nice. Her friends are so sweet, and I can’t help but feel so happy that she found these people.

Mandy, y/f, Hamzah and I are standing by a high top table, and I take the liberty in sharing some stories of me and y/f from parties in high school.

“When I tell you I turned my head for 3 seconds and y/f was gone, I mean it. I’m running through the party like a chicken without a fucking head, looking like a maniac asking everyone where she is. Mind you, I’m like 17 and hammered, so I was probably acting like the hulk.”

“Jesus Christ y/n don’t..” she says.

“After 10 minutes where do I find this bitch? Asleep in this random bitch’s closet with her head, quite literally, in a bucket.”

Hamzah and Mandy are cracking up. “You didn’t even know who threw the party?” Hamzah asks between laughs.

“Not a fucking clue. Y/f felt right at home though” I say, giggling myself.

“Girl I hate you, but yea I did. That bucket was my crib. Need to go to the bathroom?” Y/f asks me.

I tell her I’m alright for now, and Mandy tells her she needs to go so they scurry off together.

“Wow, so you guys have been friends for a while huh?” Hamzah says, still smiling from the story.

“Yea, we’ve been through a lot together. She’ll never get rid of me I fear” I say back.

“Damn, that’s awesome. Y/f is super cool, I’m happy she moved up here. When’s it your turn?” He says, his smile becoming more of a smirk. It hasn’t gone over my head that this kid is fucking adorable, but hes been acting pretty shy all night. The sly comment took me by surprise.

“Man I wish I could. It’s been on my mind a lot since she moved here” I reply.

“What’s stopping you?” He asks.

“I guess I’m just scared. It’s a big move, and she’s got the balls to do it. I’m not sure I do.”

“I felt the same way too, I pretty much hauled ass across the country of Canada at 18. I lived out of my car for a bit actually, it was a nightmare. I’d do it all again though, it was the best decision I’ve made. If I could do it, a pretty girl like you could too.”

Pretty girl?

“Pretty girl?” I say back, a little smug. The drinks are getting to me I fear.

“I’m sorry, was that weird?” He gets a little shy again. I giggle to let him know it wasn’t.

“Not at all. Thank you, pretty boy” I playfully shove his arm. I cringe in my head. I gotta be fucking kidding.

“Pretty boyyy I see I see” he says with a smile. “You think I’m a pretty boy?”

“Only a little bit. Like, this much” I pinch my fingers together the closest I can without having them touch.

“Well, thiiiis pretty boy” he mimics my fingers, “thinks you should move to Toronto thiiiis much” he separates them a little more. “Because he’d like to see you more thiiiiis badly” he separates them as far as he can. Damn, he has nice hands.

“Wow that’s pretty badly” I respond. Thank god I have makeup on because this cheesy shit might be making me blush.

“Yea, it’s alarming. Think about it, pretty girl” he tilts his head towards me playfully as he says pretty girl, getting a little close and then backing his head away swiftly. His smirk is fully activated and the eye contact we’re making is pretty hot. I smile back at him with my tongue touching my canine (do yk what I’m talking about like that lil sexy smile), tilting my head slightly to the side as if to say oh, ur flirting with me, noted. and just as I’m about to respond, y/f and Mandy return from the bathroom.

“Stop harassing her Hamzah she’s never gonna want to come back” Mandy says. “Come on, we’re gonna go back to y/f’s and play drinking games. This bar is boring.”

Hamzah follows after Mandy, glancing back at me quickly with a cheeky smile before turning his head. Y/f gets in my ear.

“Hamzah likes you. Mandy can tell. She told me in the bathroom.”

—-

Okay guys hi this is like so bullshit but I was feeling playful idk I hope you enjoyed if you made it this far

-ayev

#hamzahthefantastic #slushy noobz #hamzah x reader #hamzah x y/n #hamzah imagines

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mytheoristavenue · 8 months ago

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TMNT 2012 Raphael Hamato x Reader 🍋 - Rough and Tumble

🥀 Commissioned by: @psypeachi

🥀 For questions about commissions, or to view full or partial commissions like this one, visit my Commission Diary for more info!

🥀 Part one here!

🥀 Divider belongs to @benkeibear

🥀 Summary: After dating Rap for almost a year, he begins to ache for you...

🥀 Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, smut, porn w/ plot, unprotected sex, creampie, face sitting, oral (m receiving), p in v sex, dirty talk, teasing, dom!Raph, sub!reader, fem!reader, first time, virgin!Raph, virgin!Reader

🥀 Word Count: 4,175

Your relationship with Raph had been an utter whirlwind up until this point, starting on that faithful night, lying in your bed eating pizza and dripping grease on your cocktail dress. Nearly a year had passed since then, and not a day went by that the two of you weren’t absolutely enamored with one another. Raph hardly ever spoke of anything but you, gushing to his brothers behind your back, even more excruciatingly often than Donnie had over April. He held you in the highest regard- you hung the moon in his eyes, but he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been disappointed with the pace of things.

Though he’d never gathered the courage to profess it, Raph had an ache for you that no amount of kisses or cuddles could cure. He hungered- no, starved for you in a way that destroyed his sense of morality when he looked at you, blinking at his advances without a clue in the world. He felt endless guilt for the way he pictured your body and the unspeakable things he wanted to do to it, coupled with that innocent face you had. But the corruption was part of the fun.

-----

“Honey!” you beamed cheerfully, strolling into the lair. “I’m home, and I brought you something!”

“Well, hello to you too,” Leo grumbled, playfully rolling his eyes as he sat in a beanbag, flipping through TV channels.

“Sorry, Leo!” you rubbed the back of your neck sheepishly. “I didn’t even see you, I was just excited to see-”

“Raph, I know.” He chuckled. “So, what’d you get him?” He asked, eyes never leaving the television.

Excitedly, you hurried over to him, crouching down at his side and pulling the contents of the bag you had out. “Our anniversary is coming up, and Raph mentioned wanting to learn how to kickbox, so I got us matching gloves and kneepads! See?” You explained, showing off one of each pair of gloves. Both were ruby red, with gold stitching and embroidery. “I even got them monogrammed! Do you think he’ll like them?”

The eldest turtle gave a kind smile as he handed you back the gift. “I know it,” he confirmed with a nod, beginning to turn his attention back to the TV. “He’s actually in the dojo now, you should go give them to him.” Without another word or thanks for the encouragement, you were gone, throwing the door to the dojo open. Leo rolled his eyes at your antics, continuing to channel surf. “You’re welcome.”

“Hi, honey!” you chirped again, your eyes falling on your boyfriend, who, upon seeing you, gleefully dropped what he was doing to run over and scoop you up.

“What’s up, baby?” He asked, pecking your lips as he set you down. “What’cha got there?”

“A present for you,” you teased, rocking from heel to toe. “Early anniversary gift.”

“Doll, you didn’t have to get me anything,” he sighed, taking the bag as you enthusiastically shoved it into his arms.

“I wanted to, besides, it’s for both of us.” you snickered while he began to dig through the bag.

“Oh my God,” he paused, shoulders slumping. “Baby, you didn’t-”

“I did.” You giggled, preparing for a hug of gratitude, which you immediately received.

“Babe, you’re the best. I love you so much, thank you.” Raph praised into your hair, his head resting atop yours. Moments later, he broke apart from you, slipping the gloves over his hands, admiring the fit and look of them.

“I got me a pair too, I thought we could learn to kickbox together!” you sang, dipping into the bag to fetch your own pair.

“Baby, I don’t know what to say, this is awesome.” He gushed, watching you with a dopey, lovesick smile.

“You don’t need to say anything, babe. But you can put up your dukes because I’m gonna kick your butt!”

-----

You did, in fact, not kick his butt. In fact, you hadn’t been able to land a single hit on him since you began sparring. Every punch you threw was redirected in a way that almost always landed you flat on your back, your lover looming over you with a cocky grin. Laid out on the mat for what you decided would be the last time, you huffed, growling as you shot up at him.

“What’s the matter, dollface?” Raph taunted, peridot eyes playful but full of an emotion you couldn’t place. “Gettin’ mad?”

“No!” you shouted bitterly. “I was just going easy on you!”

“Sure…” he laughed, turning his back on you, cracking his knuckles as he gloated. This was your opening. Gritting your teeth, you swept your leg out, kicking his feet out from under him before wrestling him to the floor. Before he could catch his bearings, Raph found himself in a headlock, your thighs squeezing the life from his throat as you twisted his arm and pulled it away from him.

“How’s that, huh?!” you hollered, pulling your meanest face. “You like that?!” Oh, did he. He never in his wildest dreams would’ve imagined you’d get him like this, and still be so oblivious to the effect you had on him at that. You took his silence as surrender, cheering for yourself as you rolled him into a new position, laying him out flat and sitting on his chest, arms pinned under your knees so he couldn’t escape. “Ha! I told you I was gonna kick your butt!”

Unbeknownst to you, Raph was coming undone beneath your weight, mind running free with all the most lewd ways he could take advantage of this. Ultimately, though struggling, he contained himself- that is, until you opened your mouth again, ruining his hardly-kept zen. “Not all big and bad now, are you?”

“Oh, baby, I’ll show your ass ‘big and bad’! C’mere!” With that and minimal effort on his part, you both were switched. You now laid beneath him as he straddled your waist, both of your wrists in a single hand as his other was planted firmly on your face, squishing your cheeks together.

There was a pause as dead silence hung in the air, neither of you moving a muscle, only gazing into each other’s eyes. Within seconds, your lips crashed against his, giving him all the consent he needed for now. A few soft moans tumbled over your lips in the few instances that they were unoccupied, stirring his stomach further into oblivion. His hand left your face, trailing down, lingering at your throat a moment before continuing, caressing your curves. To you, he was feeling you up, but in reality, Raph was mapping you out, meticulously learning and memorizing every dip, ridge, and curve.

A stir in the adjoined room made you both freeze, knowing that Master Splinter would punish you both to the fullest extent possible if he caught you making out in the dojo. Once all seemed clear, your beaux pulled you up from the floor before lugging you over his shoulder, much to your humiliation. “R-Raphael Hamato! You put me down this instant!” you scolded deaf ears as he continued to the door. “You are not carrying me like this in front of your brothers!” That was precisely what he was going to do.

-----

After what could only be described as a walk of shame, you were escorted to his bedroom, where you were immediately tossed on his bed. “W-Wait-” you halfheartedly protested.

“I’m sorry, babe,” he huffed, backing up a bit. “Guess I got kinda carried away.” he laughed sheepishly, crawling closer again. “I just…I get so riled up when I’m with you, especially when you’re on top of me like that- Fuck, you just look so pretty.”

Though it wasn’t uncommon for him to compliment your looks, the way he said it made you feel like it was the first time hearing it. It felt just like how he showered you with praise that first night.

“Y-You think I’m pretty when I sit on top of you..?” you repeated, more to hear it from your own lips than to have the statement clarified. He simply nodded in response, eyes glued to your lips, leaning in as if he wasn’t actually in tune with the world around him.

“The prettiest, baby,” he muttered, capturing your kiss again, crawling between your bent knees to loom over you like before. “So so fuckin’ pretty…”

“Raph, you’re making me nervous…” you confessed between kisses. “You’re not usually this forward…”

For a moment, he backed away again, the image of you rejecting his advances flashing through his mind. Mossy eyes peered up into yours, searching for anything to indicate emotion, but fell short- you were so conflicted. On one hand, you’d never had much sexual experience, and the thought of potentially being a bad lay terrified you. You’d heard stories of boys dumping girls due to lack of experience, and no matter how close you two were, that fear was nearly impossible to shake. Though, on the other hand, it was hard to ignore the way his praise made you melt like you were digesting magma- so was the way your legs shook at the prospect.

“Sorry…” he finally sighed, out of breath while his fingers absent-mindedly gripped at any bit of you they could reach. “I’m not tryna’ make you uncomfortable but,” he paused, breath hitching in his throat as he pictured you. “Baby I want you, so so so bad.”

The revelation left you reeling, fuzzy-headed with tummy churning. Suddenly, everything was so clear. It all made sense, the positions you find yourselves in, the way he’d shower you with compliments so close to your ear you could hardly hear them. “Y-You…” you trailed, breathing labored, and stuck in your windpipe. “Want me...?”

Raph sighed, finally you understood how he burned for you. “Yes, baby. I want you real bad. You have no idea the shit I wanna do to you.” Seeing you ease into the idea, he took the liberty of lifting your hand, planting kisses up your arm. He thought it’d be a romantic way to gently push forward, but all that went out the window when he heard you softly whimper:

“Show me how bad…?”

In an instant, he was on you, kissing your lips roughly, guiding your arms around his neck while he slowly began to trail down your jaw. This wasn’t the first time you’d made out to the point of fondling and drooling all over each other’s throats but this time was special- you could feel it. You whined under his touch as his cold fingers inched up under the hem of your shirt. Writhing at the sensation, you instinctively arched your back in a vain effort to be closer to him. Chuckling at you, he slipped an arm under your back, holding you against him as he gnawed at your flesh, leaving mild bruises peppered along your neck and should as he went. “Oh, Raph…” you cried, overwhelmed by the lust bubbling inside you.

“Love it when you say my name like that,” he purred into your collarbone. “Fuck, I wanna do everything to you…”

“Tell me…” you whispered, barely audibly. “Tell me all the dirty things you think about…”

Raph shuddered, hearing those words in your voice as he buried his face into your shoulder. “Wanna taste that sweet pussy of yours, fuck this throat,” he groaned, fingers ghosting over your flesh, threatening to choke you. “Want you to ride me ‘til the sun comes up.”

“Is that all?” you muttered, struggling to keep a confident face as his words hit straight to your womb.

“Not even close, baby.” He smirked against your skin. “Want you every way.”

Sitting up against him, you began to shift positions. You were tired of laying there, letting him do all the work- you needed to show that you wanted him equally so. “In that case,” you said airily, popping up on top. “I'm all yours, baby.”

-----

Raph was beginning to feel a sting in his bottom lip, having now definitely broken skin. Biting it was the only thing he could do to keep himself together. His fingers had tangled themselves in your hair as one arm rested behind his head for support. You’d never thought he’d be so vocal when experiencing pleasure, but there he was, lounging in bed, moaning, whining, cussing, and praising all at the same time. It made you sticky knowing you were doing this to him, reducing him to putty in your hands- or rather in your mouth.

It had taken you a minute to get the hang of this, and a few directions from him, such as “A-Ah, no teeth baby- fuck yeah, that's it!” but you felt like you were a pro at this point. Diligently, your head bobbed you and down nearly his full length, only stopping when your nose smooshed against his shell or his tip tickled the back of your throat.

“Oh my God, you’re so fuckin’ good at this, baby.” he groaned guiding your head gently. “Taking this dick like a fuckin’ champ.” You hummed in response, loving his praise and how you made him feel. “Can’t wait to eat up that little pussy, gonna make you feel so good, baby.”

Jaw tired, you decided to take his talkativeness as an opportunity for rest, pulling off him with a pop. Instead, you nuzzled your face against his crotch, languidly pumping him in your fist. “Tell me how you want me baby.” you cooed, peppering kisses along his shaft.

“Fuck, you're gonna make me cum if you keep talkin’ like that…” he groaned, bucking his hips up, missing the warmth of your mouth.

“I better stop then…” you teased lustily, halting your motion altogether and releasing your grip just enough so all he could feel was your fingertips and palm ghosting against him.

“Baby, don’t do this to me,” Raph whined, eyes screwed shut and breathing heavily. “Damnit, I was so close.” You peered down at him, a mischievous smile playing on your lips as you stifled a giggle. It felt amazing to be in control of him after all this time. The power was intoxicating, that was until he grew tired of your taunts and ripped it away from you.

-----

All you could do was scream, hoping nobody else could hear your hysterics as your hips bucked, begging for amazing friction. You were now reduced to ankle socks and a bra, pushed up to reveal your bouncing breasts. Completely naked from the waist down, you now sat, knees on either side of his head, riding his face. The way his tongue worked you was overwhelming, bringing tears to your eyes, as you sobbed for him. “O-Oh my God, Raph-! I-It feels so-!” You were hardly able to form coherent thoughts, let alone sentences. “Good!”

Beneath you, Raph burring himself between your thighs, tongue parting your labia and suckling on your swollen clit like it could have been his last meal, moaning the entire time. You were delicious, sweeter tasting than he could’ve possibly imagined. He was addicted to the lack of air, suffocated with your needy heat. It was enough to make him absent-mindedly rock his hips with the rhythm of yours. He might have touched himself had it not been for the grip his hands had on your hips that he was unwilling to part with.

The feeling came upon you so suddenly that you almost didn't recognize it. It wasn’t like when you’d done things by yourself, there was no build-up, no knot snapping taught. It was as if he’d pushed a button that instantly sent you over the edge. “B-Baby!” you shrieked, almost frightened of the spontaneous intense wave of pleasure washing over you. “I-I think I’m-!” Before you could finish your decree, a long, cracking, needy croon was fished from your throat as you rode out the sudden orgasm.

“Yeah, that’s it, baby girl, let it all out,” your lover encouraged, voice muffled as he continued to work you through your high. “Cum all over my face, pretty-pretty.” You did as he commanded, doing nothing to stop your sweet cream from glazing his mouth and cheeks. Exhausted and emotional, you slid down him and your shoulders slumped as you put your weight in your palms, resting them on his chest. “God, you’re so fuckin’ pretty when you cum.” He smirked, rubbing your thigh comfortingly.

“You need a minute, baby?” He asked, smiling gently up at your flushed face. To his surprise, you urgently shook your head in protest.

“N-No! I’m not done.” you decided, sliding down his plastron. “I wanna go all the way with you…” Your answer stunned him a bit and his smile faded.

“Are you sure, doll? You look pretty tired.” he rationalized. “If we stop here, I won’t be mad, I’ll just finish myself off later.”

Your heart melted at his concern for your comfort, but you still refused. “No,” you huffed, mounting his lap. “I wanna feel you inside me,” You could feel his cock stiffen against your overly sensitive clit, making your hips twitch on contact. Suddenly, a tear slipped from your pleading eye and you looked into him needily. “Please, Raphael…” He tensed, you only used his full name when it was urgent. “I need you to make love to me…”

-----

Initially, the anguish was nearly unbearable, forcing him to pull out several times, but eventually, you got used to the full feeling, only needing now to overcome the sting. Raph was a perfect gentleman throughout, staying perfectly still unless instructed otherwise, and letting you take the lead. “T-Touch me, please…” you begged, needing some sort of distraction from the pain. His palm quickly found your breast, groping and admiring it with one hand while the other stayed on you, keeping you firmly planted against him.

“You have the nicest body, (Y/N)...” he soothed, brushing a thumb over your perked nipple. “Perfect tits, smooth skin, pretty face,” he rambled on, showering you with compliments, waiting for your face to unwrinkle. When it didn’t he thought of something else. “Here, doll,” he cooed, taking both hands off you to guide yours up to your chest. “Play with these for me, ‘kay?” You nodded, obediently fondling yourself with little shame. One hand found its back home on the hump of your hip, while the other came up to your lips, prompting you to wet the fingers. You did so, parting your lips and sucking both thick digits before watching them sink between your thighs.

Soothed by the aid, you hardly even notice when you’d begun to rock your hips, seeking more stimulation against your clit. At first, the movement was minuscule, but soon, you bounced enough to feel his tip bottom out, making you shriek. Beneath you, Raph groaned gutturally at deep penetration and the way you clenched around him when surprised. As if everything fell into place at once, you nodded, ready to officially begin. Wasting no time, he began pumping into you at a painfully slow pace with deep, meaningful strokes.

You hated this, though you couldn’t place why. It was like he was teasing you going so slowly. “R-Raph…faster…” you whimpered, hands roaming your own body. That was all the consent he needed to kick it up a gear, clamping both hands on your hips and picking up pace to a steady rhythm. Before you knew it, you were on cloud nine, bouncing yourself in time with his thrusts, gaining momentum and speed as time drug on.

“Ahhh,” he sighed, brows knitting together. “Yeah, baby just bounce on my cock, you know just what to do, don’t you?”

“Uh-huh,” you mumbled, lost in never before felt pleasure.

“You love riding my dick, don’t you princess?” He asked, breathing heavily, trying to distract himself from cumming too early from the excellent squeeze you offered.

“Yes, sir.” you replied with a breathy moan, head thrown back in pleasure.

“How much?” he pressed, the pace picking up to breakneck speed as he brutalized your cervix.

“So fucking much!” you gasped, nearly screaming at the tension building inside as he pounded into you.

“Tell me how much you love riding this dick, baby,” he demanded. “C’mon and be a good girl and tell me,”

Humiliation bubbled inside of your stomach in a way that fueled your fire. Face beet red you shyly muttered: “I-I love…r-riding your dick…” Suddenly, all stimulation ceased and Raph fell as still as the eye of a storm. Looking down, you panicked, slightly annoyed. “W-What? Why’d you stop?” He ignored you, a cocky grin playing on his lips. “G-Go, please!” you begged, even trying to lift yourself off of him to bounce on him again, but his grip on your waist held you cemented to him, but still starving. “W-What gives, babe? Please go!”

“Louder.”

“W-Wha-?” you blushed impossibly deeper, confused and frustrated to bits.

“Say it louder,” he repeated unrelenting.

“Raph-!” you squealed, clicking the pieces together. “Enough games, please!” You continued to struggle against his grip to fuck yourself on his cock, to no avail.

“I’m not gonna finish fucking you until you scream for me.” he flirted darkly. “I want everyone to know who makes you feel this good.” You resisted further, before finally giving in.

“I-I love riding your dick…” you said, nearly in a normal speaking voice. Still, he refused to move.

“What’s that? I couldn’t hear you?” He teased, leaning closer as if to hear you better.

“I said I love riding your dick!” barely shouted, relieved to feel the very slightest friction.

“One more time, with feeling and I’ll give it to you so good,” he promised, shallowly rocking his hips. “One more time, baby, loud and proud for me.”

“Please fuck me baby, I love riding your fucking dick!” you finally cried out, gritting your teeth and screaming lewdly into the air when he started again, pounding into you harshly.

“Atta girl!” he purred, locking in on finishing you for good. “You’re so good for me, aren’t you, princess?”

“Y-Yes!,” you gasped, both to the question and just as a general statement. “Yes, yes, yes yes, oh, right there!”

“Fuck baby,” Raph crooned, his toes curling as tension built in his stomach. “You feel so damn good.” As if on cue, he shuddered, coming undone even more quickly upon feeling your messy hole clench around him.

“G-God, Raph, I’m so close!” you wept, slopping rutting your hips against his. “I-I’m gonna-!” Words tumbled over your lips, but the capacity for thought had long since dissolved, only being replaced with a lust that would permanently alter your brain chemistry.

Laid out under you, Raph was in a similar state, mind fogged by your visage and feel and the fact that he had you all to himself. “C-Can’t believe you’re all mine,” He mumbled through gritting teeth and furrowed brows. “Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine-” He began to chant in tune with his brutal thrusts until finally, he tipped over the edge with a string of obscenities.

Likewise, you’d also been reduced to less than coherent speech, simply moaning and whimpering, having entirely given up talking dirty. You could feel it when he came- the bruising grip his fingers had on your thighs, the ache in your tummy from how he’d rearranged your guts, even the warm spurt that filled any gaps his cock hadn’t been able to occupy. Not that you could put two and two together, too focused on your own orgasm as it just began to breach.

The sensation rocked you, filling you with a buzzy warmth you’d never been able to achieve before. It felt so special to feel this for the first time with someone you loved, you thought as you came down from your high, still seeing white. Absent-mindedly, your hands blindly searched for his, unsure for a moment if it had been a dream. You were relieved to feel his large hand envelope yours, softly caressing your fingers with his thumb.

“I’m right here, baby,” he soothed, almost as if he’d read your mind. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere.” You smiled at this, tiredly pushing against him to give just enough space for his softening member to flop out of you. You shuddered at the empty feeling and the way his seed leaked out of you in what felt like gallons. Not caring enough to clean up right away, you simply laid ontop of him, head resting just under his chin.

“I love you…” you said, as less of a reminder than a need for validation in your fragile state.

“I love you too, dollface.” he sighed, petting your hair. “Thanks for trusting me.”

“Mhmm…” you hummed in response, threatening to nod off.

“Think this’ll happen again?” he wondered aloud, propping his head up with a bent arm.

“Maybe…” you replied softly, secretly wishing he’d shut up and let you sleep already.

“Well, if it does, we should probably use a condom next time.”

🥀 Thank you so much for reading, please like, reblog, comment, and follow for more content! If you enjoy my TMNT content, consider checking out my other works here!

Taglist:

@sunshinesdaydream @helpyaw @thelaundrybitch @momii @camillahorne26 @turtle-babe83 @fyreball66 @sharpwindow @roseygardenfarm-blog @witchofthenorthstar @pheradream-15 @post-apocalyptic-daydream

#tmnt #tmnt 2012 #x reader #tmnt x reader #raph smut #raphael lemons #raphael smut #raphael x reader #tmnt raph #tmnt raphael #raphael tmnt #raphael hamato #raphael hamato x reader #2012 raph x reader #raph x reader smut #raph x reader lemon

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sleepynovalunosis · 4 months ago

Text

a/n: OOOOH i've wanted to write my baby boy soo bad!! i hope u enjoy, xo.

contains: gender neutral!reader, penetration, praises, bottom!reader

dwayne is definitely a service top. he excels in this, especially since he refuses to turn you. not now.

not yet.

raven locks hang down, framing his face as he thrusts into you. his face is glistened with a thin layer of sweat, brows furrowed as he studies each reaction from you.

every gasp, every pant, every moan. so far, he's noted that whenever you say his name, you're close. once he's gathered that notion, the ball is completely in his court. what he chooses to do with you depends on the day.

if you've been away for too long, wandering the boardwalk during the night, he'll pound into you until you remember why you can't do such things. "never know what's out there--you hear me?" he'd ask, and you'd barely register the fact that he was even speaking. there's a familiar warmth nestling in the pit of your stomach, flipping with each word you hear. you nod.

"answer me," he demands, quickening his pace. his eyes are piercing, and you can barely make them out in this lighting; though you can feel the intensity of his gaze without even having to see it. you can hear the waves crashing outside the cave, a small fire servicing as the only luminosity. "i know," you exhale, your breaths growing more irregular as you feel your orgasm approaching. he takes this time as an opportunity to continue, while he has you still focused.

"weren't expecting me, were you?" he continues, and you shake your head. "no," you say, confessing the obvious. who would expect someone-something like him to be lurking in the shadows?

"i couldn't help myself," he says through pants, "so goddamn pretty. had to have you all to myself," he praises. it makes your stomach flip, his words earning a sharp inhale from you. "and you had not the slightest clue--how could you?" he asks, "it'd be impossible for you to know what i was." he continues, "don't think i'm the only one. i'm just the one who got to you first."

you feel like your head is spinning, dizzy with lust as he speaks to you, working your body for your orgasm, making sure he ticks all the right boxes.

he knows he will.

"i don't--want anyone else," you manage to reply, lifting your hips in desperation. it feels so good, but you can't help but want him more. he's told you he refuses to go beyond your tolerance, which you argue to him frequently.

"i know you don't, honey. i know."

he reaches for your hand, lifting it and pinning it to the side of your head, interlocking his fingers with yours. "come on, sweetheart." he coos, keeping a steady rhythm as he stretches you out with his cock. his free hand caresses the side of your face, thumb running along your flushed cheek. you can feel your body temperature rising, and you're undoubtedly aware of the shade of your cheeks.

always pink when i've got you right there, he'd told you.

you feel yourself twitch beneath him, and he knows. "there you go," he coos, and that's all you need, unraveling beneath him as you finish. you feel yourself clenching around his cock, your head lulling back as you feel him twitch inside of you. he groans, lifting the hand that had been caressing your face to press against the cave's wall. you hear the cracking of it, dust from debris falling next to you, but it doesn't startle you. you want him to be like this.

"god damn, shit--" he groans, feeling how tight you are when you clench around him. his palm slides down the wall, landing with a loud thump next to your head, trying to gain control of himself.

you both try to catch your breath, his lips coming down to press against your forehead. he then rests his own against yours, looking down into your eyes. you can finally see him, his pupils dilated, lips swollen and cherried red from kissing you.

you glance over to the debris, and he sighs. "not happening again-" he says sternly, beating you to the punch.

you roll your eyes, and he presses his lips to yours before you can protest.

"whatever you say."

#teddybeardwayne #the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #tlb 1987 #slasher #the lost boys smut #the lost boys fanfiction #the lost boys fanfic #the lost boys fic #dwayne the lost boys #the lost boys dwayne smut #the lost boys dwayne x reader #the lost boys oneshot #the lost boys one shot #teddydrablesdwayne #dwayne the lost boys smut

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steddieas-shegoes · 1 year ago

Note

steddie fic request: due to some miscommunication Steve believes a night in with Eddie is a date. it's not and its devastating when Steve realizes he has read too much into things Eddie had said to him. maybe the feelings are requited at the end? tysm!

Honestly guys, this is probably the most likely scenario in how Steddie gets together. They're both fucking clueless. Sure, Steve was a lady's man, but only when he was popular enough that he didn't have to really try. Eddie probably has kissed one and a half people at most because he's fuckin' weird, okay? You think these two actually have a single clue how to do things normally? Ha. - Mickala ❤️

--------------------------------------------------------

His hair was not doing what it was supposed to be doing and it was really starting to irritate him.

Steve had been trying to get ready for almost an hour now, and nothing was going his way, not even the shirt he wanted to wear.

That was another issue entirely, but one he was trying very hard to get over.

Tonight was his first date with Eddie.

He had to look perfect.

They weren’t even doing anything special really, just going to the diner for some burgers and shakes and then driving to the quarry to get high.

It helped to know it would be casual though, that it would probably feel like any other time they’ve hung out.

He still wanted to look good though. Eddie deserved his best.

“Steve?” Eddie called from the bottom of the stairs.

Shit. When did he get here?

Eddie, Robin, and Dustin all had keys to his house for emergencies or to make things easier if they were coming over. He hadn’t thought to ask Eddie to knock tonight, and Eddie apparently didn’t think it was any different than any other time.

“Be right there!” he yelled back, voice pitched much higher than usual.

Great start, Harrington.

He rolled his eyes at himself in the mirror as he tried one more time to get the flip in the front of his hair to do what it needed to do.

When it didn’t, he sighed, shutting off the bathroom light and walking into his bedroom, where Eddie was sitting on his bed.

Steve froze as he took in how relaxed Eddie looked against his headboard, his legs crossed at the ankles and arms crossed over his chest.

“You look…nice,” Eddie said, sounding almost confused.

“Thanks,” Steve blushed. “Uh. So do you.”

Which was true, but Eddie looked the same as he always did.

It was something Steve loved about him, that he didn’t really put effort into impressing anyone. He was who he was and you either liked it or you didn’t.

Steve loved it.

Eddie looked even more confused, but shook his head and stood up.

“Ready? I’m starving.”

“Yep, let’s go.”

Steve didn’t do his usual moves, didn’t try to reach over to hold Eddie’s hand while he sat in the passenger seat, didn’t try to put in his “First Date Mixtape,” didn’t even pull any lines out of his hat when Eddie so easily offered him the chance.

He didn’t want to be obvious that he was already head over heels for him, definitely didn’t want to make him uncomfortable before the date even really began.

He kept it up over dinner, kept it casual enough that it felt like any other time they hung out. Usually Robin or Jonathan or Nancy or the kids were with them, but he just pretended they had to cancel. It kept him from letting himself go too far in public.

They were still in Hawkins, after all. Two dudes holding hands at a diner might as well scream “beat me up!”

It was easy, which just further sent Steve spiraling about how perfect they could be.

When the waitress brought the bill, he stopped Eddie from reaching for his wallet.

“I asked you, I pay. That’s how this works, right?” Steve asked as he pulled his wallet out of his back pocket.

“Um. I mean, sure. We can just split it, though,” Eddie said, that look of confusion back on his face.

“Nah, I got it. Maybe you can get it next time,” Steve winked before pulling out enough cash to cover the bill.

“Oh. Okay. Sure.”

He wasn’t paying attention to the way Eddie was suddenly messing with his rings nervously or biting his lip like he was trying to think of something else to say.

When they got to the car, Steve turned the radio on, smiling to himself when Head Over Heels came through the speakers.

“This is my favorite song right now,” Steve said as he turned it up a little, smiling over at Eddie as he drove towards the quarry.

“Not surprising,” Eddie snorted. “Do you like anything that can’t be heard on mainstream radio?”

Steve knew he was just teasing, but it still kind of hurt when he thought about how quick Eddie was to judge his music taste.

He liked a lot of genres, he just liked what was easy and fun most.

In fact, most of their group had similar taste, but for some reason, Steve got the brunt of his teasing.

It was fine, though. He didn’t want to ruin the night with something so trivial.

“I like plenty, but sometimes it’s nice to just have something fun to listen to.”

And then Steve reached a hand out and set it on Eddie’s knee, squeezing once before letting it rest there while he continued to drive.

Only a few seconds passed before Eddie spoke and Steve’s heart almost instantly shattered.

“Uh. What are you doing?”

It was the tone of someone who didn’t like what was happening, and Steve immediately pulled his hand away and bit back the tears he felt pooling in his eyes.

He had the sudden realization that they’d never actually called this a date.

He’d run with his own assumption that when Eddie asked him to hang out with just him he shared the same feelings, and that clearly wasn’t the case.

“Sorry. I-”

“Steve, did you think this was a date?” Eddie asked, not harshly, but serious enough that Steve felt the first tear fall down his cheek.

He tried to subtly wipe it from his face, but Eddie saw.

“Okay, pull over please.”

“It’s fine. I can take you home. Forget it ever happened,” Steve rushed out.

He didn’t want the night to end like this, but he knew he couldn’t look at Eddie right now, or maybe ever again.

Robin was going to make fun of him for years over this.

“Steve. Pull over.”

So Steve did.

He had blurry vision from the tears anyway, so it probably wasn’t safe for him to try to drive at dusk.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you thought this was a date. I guess it kinda explains the looking extra nice and paying for dinner, but I just thought you were excited to hang out,” Eddie said quietly.

At least he was letting Steve down easy.

“Yeah. I should have asked I guess,” Steve said, still looking down at his lap instead of at Eddie.

“Did you want this to be a date?” Eddie asked.

Steve considered lying. But what could he lose at this point? He’d already embarrassed himself beyond redemption, he might as well go all in.

“Yeah. I’ve been trying to figure out how to ask you out for months. I was pretty excited when I thought you’d finally done it for me.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

They sat in silence, the radio playing a song Steve didn’t recognize.

And then rain drops slowly started pelting the windshield.

Of course they did.

Steve sniffled and then looked up, watching as the rain started falling heavier with every second, a bolt of lightning lighting up the sky for just a moment.

“I guess we should get to my house before it gets worse,” Steve said, voice barely above a broken whisper. “If it gets too bad to drive, you can take the guest room.”

“Steve-”

“It’s fine, Eddie. I get it.”

“Do you?” Eddie asked. “Do you get why this is so shocking to me? I didn’t even know you were into guys! I didn’t think I could ever be an option for you, man. I didn’t let myself feel that way about you because I couldn’t deal with you not feeling the same.”

Steve finally looked over at Eddie, who was watching him with wide eyes.

“I thought you were there when I told all the adults about being bisexual?” Steve asked, wracking his brain to remember that night not too long ago. Robin had held his hand the whole time, Nancy and Jonathan and Argyle all giving him hugs after. He couldn’t remember where Eddie was.

“Was that the night I was helping Will DM?”

Fuck. He really thought Eddie had been there.

“Shit. I think so.”

Eddie reached his hand out, placing it against Steve’s jaw as he turned completely towards him.

“Stevie, if I had known, I would have been taking you out every night. You have no idea how much I care about you.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” Eddie teased, finally giving Steve a smile.

“So you do like me?” Steve couldn’t help confirming, his stomach in knots, his heart racing in his chest.

“So much, sweetheart. You have no idea,” Eddie said as he leaned in closer.

Steve knew what was going to happen, he wanted it to happen.

But something made him stop Eddie when his face was only an inch from his.

“Wait.” Eddie pulled away a few inches and looked at him, concerned. “This is gonna sound so stupid, but,” he looked outside at the rain pouring down. “I’ve always wanted to have a big romantic kiss in the rain.”

“And you want that to happen with me?” Eddie smirked.

“If you’re up for it.”

Eddie didn’t answer. Instead, he opened the passenger door and got out, almost immediately getting soaked.

Steve didn’t make him wait. He pushed open the driver’s side door and rushed out, meeting Eddie halfway in front of his car.

Eddie wrapped his arms around his waist, making Steve melt against him.

He barely noticed the rain as Eddie closed the distance between them, his lips meeting Steve’s in a surprisingly soft touch.

It wasn’t exactly a passionate kiss, but it was still perfect.

It lasted a few seconds, their lips moving together slowly, not pushing for more yet, just appreciating the easy glide.

“I’m sorry our first date kinda sucked,” Eddie said as they rested their foreheads together.

“We’ll just have to have another one,” Steve said before placing another quick kiss to his lips. “Wanna watch a movie at mine?”

Eddie searched his face for a moment, before looking around at the completely empty road they were on.

With the rain like this, it was doubtful anyone would drive down it for a while.

“How about we dance first?” Eddie asked, gleam in his eye.

“Dance? To what?” Steve giggled.

Eddie started to sing Head Over Heels quietly, rocking them back and forth in something barely resembling a dance.

“I thought you hated this music,” Steve looked at him in awe.

“No, I just like to tease you for being so stereotypical. I don’t mind any music. And I like anything that makes you light up the way you do when this song comes on,” Eddie admitted.

They were absolutely dripping wet, and Steve knew this was probably a stupid decision without having something to protect the seats of his car from getting wet.

But as he rested his head against Eddie’s shoulder, listening to him sing his favorite song while they kind of danced in the rain, he couldn’t give less of a shit about anything else.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #ficlet #request #love a good miscommunication fic #getting together

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earlysunshines · 1 year ago

Text

moonlight serenade

kindergarden teacher!sana x fem!reader. (pt. 3)

summary: sana finds you even cuter after seeing you in shark pj's, you two are hopeless lesbians, you drive sana home and it's more romantic than it should be – oh my god you're not a mother?

wc: 5.3k

warnings: mentions of food, i think that's it ; reader has tattoos ; u two are hopeless romantics ; lesbians being lesbians

pt 1. pt2. pt4.

a/n: I love jazz. I've been listening to jazz in a bakery/cafe while writing each part actually. pls listen to moonlight serenade by ella fitzgerald, it's a work of art and one of my all time favorites :-D

(are lyrics in fics corny? I have no idea. I just love jazz and thought this song was perfect for this part.)

trying to write as much before I move! enjoy ;-]

“Are you actually serious?” Jihyo says, placing her cup of coffee down. Sana pinches the bridge of her nose and lets out a small breath,

“Jihyo, I don’t know what to do,” Sana says defeatedly.

Two months have passed by and that means two months of seeing you every now and then. Johnny, your brother, has returned from his business trip, so he ended up being the one to take Hana to school in the morning and the one to pick her up in the afternoon. You, however, were not going to miss the chance to see this lovely woman named Sana. 5'4 inches of pure beauty and charm. So, you convinced him to let you take Hana to school once or twice a week just to see who you think is the woman blessed by Aphrodite.

I mean, the temperature is dropping, and the warmth that spreads through your body when you see Sana is definitely something you need for this weather.

Every week Sana would see you in the morning once or twice. You two would exchange your friendly greetings before Hana goes off to chat with her new best friend Jiyeong, you’d stare at each other all lovingly (you two are oblivious, it’s sick), and then part ways. Rinse and repeat, reuse, reduce, recycle, etc, this went on for two damn months.

Sana would never say anything more, she wouldn’t flirt, she wouldn’t ask you out, and she wouldn’t do anything but be friendly. She still believed that you were literally her student’s mother, and there was a guilt that got heavier every time her heart did a flip from seeing you.

Each interaction sparked a small flame in your hearts, and just before it grew bigger, you’d wave goodbye; the flame would die again, never growing large enough to really warm you two the way you both needed.

“Sana… I honestly have no clue what to say,” Jihyo starts, and she looks at the young teacher in front of her, practically losing her mind, “I mean, you’re sure she’s her mom?”

“Yes, I mean, the girl’s dad and her take turns dropping her off and whatnot. I'm not going to be more delusional than I already am trying to find anything that makes her seem less like a mother, I mean, it's clear that she is the mother of that girl.” Sana explains, and her heart sinks a little, “I guess her dad is nice, though, and tall, I don’t know.” Sana groans.

Jihyo watches Sana stick out her signature little pout and swirl the coffee in her cup,

“Well… There are always others, no?”

“I don’t know, it’s just something about her Jihyo,” and Jihyo listens with interest, “I just, ever since we met, I feel like, there was some kind of… god this is so embarrassing…” Sana trails off, putting a hand on her forehead and pinching her eyes shut from slight embarrassment. Sana reminisces the way you’d joke about Hana making your wrinkles appear if she kept it up with her little antics, how you’d make her laugh at your little comments, and the way your eyes scan the room for her in the mornings and -

“You’ve been a hopeless romantic since we were roommates, I’ve probably heard worse.” Jihyo sighs, and she reminisces about the days when Sana and she had to share a small single-bedroom dorm, and how she would gush about anything and romanticize everything.

“Look, she’s just so pretty… Maybe we could just be friends? She’s sweet.” Sana suggests, and Jihyo laughs in disbelief.

“You want to be friends with someone’s mother that you also, or, might have a crush on?”

“Maybe.”

You let yourself in through the front door with your spare keys, hanging your jacket on the coat hanger and sliding your shoes off, setting them on the shoe rack.

There’s a faint melody of a slow, soft song playing, and there’s a low voice that hums along to the old tune. It fits the atmosphere of the quiet house on a Thursday night.

You creep through the hall quietly to see your brother in the dimmed kitchen washing a few plates. He’s in a navy long-sleeved shirt with its sleeves rolled up so water doesn't temporarily shade his apparel, and loose shorts that go down to just above his knees. His hair is a bit messy, and he looks nerdy with his circular black glasses on. You laugh at the sight of him in his pajamas and slides, he jumps a little and turns his head in surprise after hearing you.

“My god, at least text me.” He sighs, and you chuckle at him. You make your way over to the area where he is and sit across from him at the kitchen island, he directs his attention back to the dirty plate in his hand, “Did you need something?”

“Kinda.”

“You know where everything is, just grab it if you need it. Also, be quiet, Hana just fell asleep.” Johnny responds, turning off the sink and placing the white dish in the dishwasher.

“It’s not a physical thing, I just… maybe some advice, or at least your thoughts.”

“...On?”

“There’s this girl,”

"Oh," He mumbles quietly, “You’re ready to date again?”

“I think so,” You begin, “She’s different you know. Not like that girl in high school. She’s actually the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and she’s sweet and nice and caring and-”

“How long have you known her?”

“Two months...”

“So it is Ms. Minatozaki.” Johnny scoffs, though, not in an insulting way, more of an ‘I fucking knew it’ way. He picks up a rag and starts to wipe it on the countertop.

You look at your taller brother in surprise, “How did you know?”

“Hana tells me all about you two y’know? Why else would you willingly wake up earlier than you should to drop off my daughter at school? And, she tells me that you ask about her teacher?” He laughs, “You’re not good at hiding things, never have been.”

“Hey!” You say defensively, and a little too loud as it makes him put a finger to his lips,

“Lower your voice.”

“Sorry.” You mumble, laying your head on your palm. Johnny turns his body to face you instead of the counter connected to the sink that he had previously been wiping,

“Soooo, what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know Johnny.”

“You think she likes you?” He asks, genuinely curious about your new interest. Johnny grabs two glasses of water and places them on the counter, then sits down to the right of you, making sure to give his full attention to you.

Johnny has always been a good brother, and you two had your necessary brother-sister moments where you were at each other's throats; in fact, you’d bicker all the damn time and it even went on into high school. However, you two always had each other’s backs. Even when you hated each other there would be moments where you two were the only ones who understood each other, and sometimes time seemed to stop when you’d talk about the deeper topics and anything bothering you two.

And so, time slows down as Johnny listens to your rant.

“We’re friendly, I mean, what am I thinking? I feel slightly delusional I won’t even lie,” You sigh, “She’s so pretty and sweet and I just, I really want to get to know her. Like ever since I met her I felt like… It’s so corny but I swear the world literally paused for a moment.” You add, shifting your look away from your older brother.

How are you supposed to tell your brother that this woman that you’ve known for two months is making you lose some sleep, and, by the way, you haven’t even had a full conversation with her either. You think of the woman that you go out of your way to run into and see for ten minutes a day total, twice a week. You think of her radiant smile that rivals the sun's rays, the voice that’s more soothing than any song on your playlist, and the way her eyes light up when she sees you, and -

“You’re head over heels, huh,” Johnny says, amused.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I barely know her.” you lie,

“Well, you could.”

“And how am I supposed to do that? ‘Oh hey I think of you day and night just because I think you’re cute and nice and I think I almost overfilled a cup of cold brew while daydreaming about you, uh maybe we could go out sometime?’”

“Maybe don’t say that much, dumbass.” Your older brother says playfully, “Just start with a compliment or something, you seriously suck at this romance stuff.”

“Thanks,” You mutter, rolling your eyes, “But what if she thinks that’s weird? I’m literally her student’s aunt.”

“Maybe,” Johnny sighs and finishes the water in his cup, “Maybe you should get some rest, y/n. If you lose sleep over this woman who you’ve never had a full conversation with, imagine how much sleep you’ll lose when you finally do.” He stands up and makes his way over back to the sink to rinse the glass cup you had gotten him for his last birthday, “So, maybe you should catch up on rest now and rant to me when you finally have the balls to actually make a conversation with her, then I could actually give you some decent advice."

“You suck.”

“I want to give you my feedback and advice, but this is literally all I can say right now: ask her out and come back to me.”

“This is too much.”

“You’re a loser, y/n.” Johnny jokes, and he takes the cup that you hadn’t touched away and then rinses it.

You don’t even get to plan anything or prepare yourself for your next interaction with Sana, and you look stupid when you run into her too.

You’re at the nearest convenience store in an oversized t-shirt that was your brothers’, the gray shirt with a shark graphic on it that was too comfy to not steal. Paired with that tee were plaid shorts and white socks with more sharks on them that you had gotten from Hana last Christmas, along with grayish-green clogs on your feet.

You were dressed like a college student that was on a budget, and of course, you had to run into the woman of your dreams at a convenience store at 12:24 am on a Friday night while looking stupid.

Sana had run into you while you scanned the drinks section. You didn’t notice her calling out your name while there was pop music playing in your earbuds, and when you turned to see who had tapped on your shoulder your eyes widened.

Sana held a small basket in her hand, and she wore a purple sweatshirt along with gray sweatpants, much more presentable than what you were wearing. Your face goes red as you realize that she’s caught you looking ridiculous, all while she looks perfect.

Her hair is clipped up and some strands fall over her face, and she looks so unbelievably adorable just standing there smiling at you.

“Hi.” She says, looking you up and down.

She scans your whole look and gets a little flustered by how precious you look. Your hair is messed up and disheveled at the roots, as if you’d just gotten out of bed and ran a hand through it. The oversized t-shirt drowned your figure in comfort, and your inked, toned forearms were revealed. The t-shirt you wore had a cute shark graphic on it, Sana had guessed that your daughter had something to do with why you had that shirt. She smiles at the sight of you in such comfy clothing, looking lovely as ever while you stare back at her.

“Hey.” You respond, taking out an earbud,

“It’s surprising to see you here y/n,” Sana giggles, “Thirsty?” She questions, and she’s peeking at the vitamin water in one of your hands.

“I guess so.” You mumble, biting the inside of your cheek and putting a hand in your pocket, “It’s pretty surprising to see you here too.” You add. Surprising, but wow, definitely lucky. When would you ever see her looking so comfy and out of her workplace looking so cute?

Sana giggles and you feel like a huge gust of wind has hit you so suddenly, about to hit you off your feet. You smile brightly.

“I couldn’t sleep, I wanted something to snack on,” Sana shrugs. You glance at her basket and see some spicy turtle chips in the basket,

“Eating something spicy at this time is new to me, most people would have something warm, no?”

“Maybe.” Sana mutters, “I like your outfit, by the way.”

Your ears turn red again and you look down at your clothing, “Yeah… It’s a shirt from Hana’s dad, haha, that’s why it’s so big.”

Sana’s heart sinks a bit at the mention of Hana’s dad.

Sana and Johnny had met other times, and Sana thought he was nice, sweet, and she can't lie he does has a nice smile, but not as nice as yours. He treated Hana with care; Sana could tell he loved her dearly, as much as you did.

“I see, I like it. The two of them must love sharks, she always draws them during class.”

“She and her dad are very similar, lots of shark things in the house. I prefer koalas.” You reply. You wonder why the hell you’re mentioning koalas at this time, at this moment in this place, but it doesn’t matter because it seems to spark some kind of conversation with the woman in front of you, and Sana thinks it’s cute, actually.

“Koalas?” She questions amusingly, "They’re cute. I think hamsters are cuter, though.”

“hamsters?”

“Mhm.”

You chuckle at her response and wonder, how does she get cuter every time? Sana turns her head to eye at the drinks, then makes her way to the refrigerator door to grab one for herself, she grabs a canned iced americano and turns her body to face you again,

“Do you live near? I feel like I would’ve run into you sooner if you did.” Sana says, looking at the can in her right hand.

“Uh - no. The nearest convenience store closes at 12, so I just drove around until I found one open.” You answer, “Do you live near?” You ask. You wonder if the question is too weird or creepy to ask, I mean, this is a woman you don’t know too well, and would it be weird to ask a person you find so attractive where they live?

“Kind of. It’s a fifteen-minute walk, maybe less, give or take. The one right next to my place is closed too.”

“You walked? At this time?” You question her. Worry takes over your whole body because she walked alone? In the dark? At this hour?

Sana just hums in response, “Yeah, the neighborhood is really quiet and not too bad.”

“Still, you should’ve driven or something.”

“I don’t drive.” She simply states. You furrow your brows. She just stares back at you with those big brown eyes, it almost makes you forget about worrying.

She walks past you and heads to the self-checkout, you follow. There's a sudden idea that pops up in your mind, and you usually wouldn't be so bold to suggest or ask anything so direct, but it's twelve in the morning and your mind is too scrambled to make or think of any decent decisions.

“Sana,” You murmur, voice just barely above a whisper as you find the confidence for what you’re about to say, “Uh- this might be a little weird to ask, but, um…” You stutter, why the hell are you stuttering? She’s staring at you with those large espresso-colored eyes that remind you of your job at the moment, and the longer she stares back at you the more your mind races. This woman has your heart doing flips and pounding through your chest, you can barely manage your thoughts and words,

“Yes?”

“Uh, could I take you home?” You finally say, barely managing to make eye contact with her and it’s a humbling experience as your usually leveled (at least you think) demeanor crumbles under the presence of this woman.

“You don’t have to. It’s late and I don’t want to cause you too much trouble, y/n.”

“I’d be much more troubled if I knew you were walking home alone at this time, I insist.”

“Alright then. Let me pay first.”

You pause for a moment and Sana just turns back around, scanning the chips and canned coffee she had in her basket. It’s almost 12:30 now, and a pretty girl is letting you take her home. This wonder of the world is letting your disheveled self take her home.

“You have a nice car,” Sana says. She's never had a thing for cars or really knew too much about them. She's only paid attention to Jihyo’s five-seat white Lexus and the black, modified BMW that belonged to her childhood friend Momo. Other cars don't really matter or stand out to her, but Sana’s interest in you grows when she first sees the green Mercedes. Five-seated car looks nice and neat from the outside, for some reason, it really catches her attention. When she sits in the passenger seat she’s hit with the smell of coconut and vanilla. There are two things hung from the internal rearview mirror: One, a small keychain of a koala, and two, a picture of you and Johnny.

Sana can’t help but smile at the picture of you two, you two look happy.

You start the engine and put on your seatbelt before putting the drink you bought in the cup holder. You press on the screen in your car and a slow jazz melody plays. Of course, it had to be a love song.

“I’ve never seen your tattoos up close, they’re really pretty.” Sana suddenly says as you start to move out of where you were parked. Her eyes scan from your upper forearm, where the tattoo started, and down to where it ended just below your wrist, “I only saw a bit of them when you had dropped Hana off the first day.” Sana added.

She wanted to add on about how she also noticed the tattoo just under your knuckles too, and how she found the ink on your skin so endearing. She wanted to tell you all about the things she found attractive about you. From the noticeable things like your bold features to the little things she’s noted in her mind from every meeting. The way you’d always run a hand through your beautiful hair once or twice, the eye contact you couldn’t hold with her, the way you bit the inside of your cheek when you were quiet, the way your fingers often tugged at the beaded bracelet on your hand, how cute it was to watch you say bye to your daughter, and various other little details. Sana wanted to tell you all about those things, but that would be incredibly weird, right?

“Oh, yeah, thank you. I got the tattoo on my forearm a couple of years ago. Hana picked out the butterfly on my hand last year, actually.” You say, looking at the screen of your car as you back up a bit, making sure you don’t hit anything.

“Oh, also, you can type the address on my phone. Here.” You add, handing her the device. Sana types in her address quickly and it pops up on the screen. It’s a quick 4-minute drive, and you both wished it were a bit longer.

The music continues to play softly while you two sit in silence, and it somehow makes the mood a bit more intimate whilst the faint sound of Ella Fitzgerald's voice echoes,

I stand and I wait

For the touch of your hand in the June night

The roses are sighing

A moonlight serenade

Your breath hitches, “Um, you can change the song if you want…” You say embarrassed. Sana shakes her head and mumbles,

“It’s alright. I like it, It’s cute.” She admits, making you blush a bit. You grip the wheel a little tighter as you stop at the red light. The heartfelt lyrics fill the air with a romantic hum, and only the tender melody is heard as you sit together in silence.

The stars are aglow

And tonight how their light sets me dreaming

My love, do you know

That your eyes are like stars brightly beaming?

Sana’s heartbeat skips a little knowing that you listen to such romantic melodies, and she wonders if you love as romantically as such songs. Her mind wanders to the thought of you serenading her in the moonlight, or serenading her in a more domestic setting. The sudden thought of you humming along to these tunes while you cooked or cleaned allowed made her cheeks flush a bit. Jihyo was right: Sana is a hopeless romantic. She’s too far in to get out of the hole of these feelings, and her heart aches a little, the guilt piles up.

You on the other hand are freaking out.

Sana likes your lovey-dovey taste in music, and she seems content (Sana's having a crisis). Maybe you do have a chance with this woman, I mean, she’s already in your car and letting you take her home. Maybe you can do this again, maybe you can listen to songs like this together in a more intimate setting rather than your car, and maybe you can do more than just listen to Ella Fitzgerald together. All the maybe’s in your head are cut short as you reach her place and park in front of her apartment complex.

“We’re here.” You mutter, and you wish you weren’t.

Sana nods and reaches for the eco-friendly bag she had set down, unbuckles her seatbelt, then turns so that her eyes stare into yours with a new intensity. She puts her left hand on your right hand that had been gripping the gear shift ever so gently, your jaw tenses a bit and your left hand that had been on the wheel tightens its hold once more. She looks from your eyes to your lips, then back to your eyes again. Your heart is suddenly an acrobat the way it's doing so many flips.

“Thank you again, I appreciate it.” She says, and her other hand is on the handle of the door, ready to get out, but she doesn’t.

“Anytime, I didn’t want you to be out alone at this time.” you wonder how that sentence leaves your mouth so calmly because your heart is beating at least two hundred times per minute.

Sana’s lips curve into a smile again and you relax a bit,

“Well,” Sana starts, and she opens the door, “I’ll see you soon?”

“I’m picking up Hana on Monday.”

“Great. See you then, y/n.” She finally says, turning away and getting out of the car. You two look at each other again and your eye contact lingers a bit before she finally closes the door, waves, and turns to head inside the apartment complex.

The music continues to play, and your heart longs for her once again.

I stand at your gate

And I sing you a song in the moonlight

A love song, my darling

A moonlight serenade

A week passes after this encounter, and Sana is currently giving the kids an announcement that might have them jumping off the walls.

“Alright everyone in your seats please.” She says kindly. The students listen to her and shuffle to their seats, some chatter being shared as they do so. Sana claps her hands in a pattern to bring the students’ attention to her, and they clap their hands the same way that she had, quieting down in the process.

“Alright everyone, before I make this announcement, I need everyone to behave and not get too rowdy, okay?”

“Yes Ms. Minatozaki!” The class answers enthusiastically. Sana nods and smiles at them,

“Alright. So, there’s a special trip that is planned for you all next week.” She begins. The kids' faces start to light up after hearing the words “special trip” and almost all of them are itching to get more details on it. Sana’s face seems to light up with theirs from just looking at the excitement on their faces, so she continues,

“Next Wednesday we will be spending the day at the art museum downtown. There are going to be multiple people guiding you throughout the museum, and you’ll be able to learn about the art.” Sana explains, “And, at the end of the trip we’ll all meet back at a special room where you can paint along with an instructor.”

The kids’ smiles grow even wider, some are whispering to each other while others continue to keep their attention on the young teacher.

“Now, I also wanted to add that we will be needing some chaperones to help look after the class. I have some papers that I’ll give to you, make sure you show them to your mom, dad, or guardian. If they’d like to tag along to help out that would be great, and highly encouraged.” Sana says, pulling out a pile of papers from her desk, she begins to pass around said forms.

An hour passes and it’s free choice time. Hana walks up to the young teacher with the form that Sana had previously handed out. Sana smiles at the young girl and tilts her head,

“What is it, Hana? Is everything okay?” The young teacher questions,

“Um, Ms… What does guardian mean? You said mom, dad, and guardian earlier. Does that mean grown up?” Hana asks, and she looks at the paper as if her five-year-old self can read the whole thing with ease,

“I guess so. It’s an adult who takes care of you.” Sana explains to the girl. The girl hums to herself and furrows her brows,

“Does that mean y/n can come?”

“Of course, she’s your mom isn’t she?” Sana asks, and she’s confused as to why the girl looks up at her in surprise,

“My mom?”

“Yes… She’s your mom, no?”

“Ms. Minatozaki, Y/n is my aunt.”

Sana’s whole world stops for a moment. Y/n is her aunt?

“So your dad and her are…?”

“Y/n is my papa’s younger sister, she always jokes about him being so old,” Hana says, laughing to herself.

Sana genuinely stops functioning as she processes this new information: You’re not taken. Fireworks set off in her heart and confetti seems to pop: you’re not her mom. All the guilt that had been on her shoulders from thinking she was infatuated with a taken mother is gone, and it all makes sense now. Sana wonders how stupid she could’ve been, I mean, you and Hana’s dad had similar features, face shape, hair texture, and color. The young teacher had also realized that Hana only called you by your name, and not “mommy” or “mom” or anything like that; how could she have been so stupid?

“Ms. Minatozaki?”

“Oh, yeah, yes Hana. Y/n can come, of course, she can.” Sana says, and she really hopes you do come. Hana smiles and looks back at her paper before talking to her teacher again,

“You know, my aunt, she asks about you a lot.”

“She does?” Sana says, her heart skips a beat. Hana nods and looks back up at the teacher,

“She always asks about how school was, but she always ends up asking more about you and how you were during the day.” Sana’s eyes widen and she looks at the young girl in front of her, exposing you for being so interested in her.

The flame in her heart grows bigger, and it seems that the flame has no intention of dying down now that she knows you’re not Hana’s mother. Hana turns around and makes her way back to her desk to color after seeing that Sana wasn’t capable of responding again, and Sana doesn't even notice. Hana sits down unbothered, not knowing that she just turned Sana’s whole mood around, not knowing that this new piece of information will have her daydreaming the rest of the day – no, the rest of the week – maybe the rest of the month.

The school day comes to an end and the usual routine occurs: bell rings, kids scream, talk, and practically leap out of their seats to get in line to go to the entrance of the building. Sana waits with her usual group of eight, which includes Hana, and she hopes that today would be the day that you decided to pick her up. You had already picked Hana up on Monday, but now it’s Wednesday and those are the days that Hana’s dad would usually pick the little girl up, great.

Forty minutes pass and Sana sits down at the main office with Hana, no one had come to pick her up yet. Hana seems to be unbothered by this as she colors and draws on the sheet of paper that Sana had given her to cure her boredom, but she worries slightly since Jihyo still waits for her in the front.

Sana texts Jihyo a string of apologies and explanations and before she reads the instant reply, the sound of heavy breaths are heard as a familiar face enters the room, looking around all worried until her body relaxes when she sees her niece.

Y/n lets out a sigh of relief seeing Hana sitting down, coloring as if there wasn’t a single problem in the world. Her look shifts over to Sana, who is already looking at her. Their eyes meet and it makes the two women smile at one another.

“Hana,” your voice makes the little girl turn her head. She smiles and runs up to hug you, leaving her art on the desk,

“Aunt y/n!” And this is the first time Sana hears the little girl actually call you her aunt, she wishes that she would’ve called you aunt earlier (it would've saved her sleepless nights of wondering what the hell to do with her feelings, but at least she knows now).

You hug the little girl back and swipe away the strands of hair on her face, “Hi little one. Your dad had something come up at work, I rushed over as soon as my shift ended.” You explain. You turn back to share eye contact with the young teacher, eyes narrowing and lips curving upwards as you smile at her, “Thank you for watching her, I’m sorry for being so late.”

“It’s all right, really.” It’s more than all right, Sana thinks.

You grin again and turn your attention back to your niece, “Ready to go?”

“Yup!”

“Okay little one, come on.” and you crouch down to let her wrap around your shoulders, letting her piggyback ride you. You grab the art that your niece had made on the table and finally stand in front of Sana, thanking her.

“I’m sorry again, thank you so much.”

“It’s no problem, it’s nice to see you again,” Sana admits, a bit shyly too. The grin that’s already present on your lips grows and you wave to the shorter woman,

“I’ll see you.” You finally say, waving with your free hand and turning your head to the little one, “Let’s get going, your dad will be back by dinner.” You mutter, and Hana hums tiredly in response before you head out the main office doors, taking a quick glance at Sana, smiling again.

…

Jihyo’s going to lose her mind when I tell her all of this, Sana thinks to herself.

#sana imagines #kpop x reader #sana x reader #twice sana #twice x reader #gay gay gay #twice imagines #minatozaki sana #sana fluff

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