#i made a post about this before. but fuck it. this one is slightly different

[rogue-durin-16]

HEAD-TO-HEAD (part XXI/?)

Summary: Joe thought she was pretty. Had he just said that, things might have been different for them. Maybe they wouldn't have gone head-to-head at each other for three years like it was a contest.

Pairing: Joseph Liebgott x Reader

Genre: angst splattered with fluff/rivals to lovers

Tags:

Head-to-head: @derersketnoget @ladystardustfromarss @lanadelray1989 @chanshugsaretherapy @hoddystark @sxalbatf @jetjuliette @luvrottt @fromjupitertocentauri @ecompstolemysoul @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @bitter-post-millennial @gotxpenny @knight-of-thesun @scottstr3et

Band Of Brothers: @fernando-jpg @chubbypotatoepie @tvserie-s-world @clumsy-wonderland @lordndsaviorwinters @lanadelray1989 @chanshugsaretherapy @hoddystark @gotxpenny

Permanent taglist: @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @comfort-reads

Warnings: language, smoking, gore, death, trauma, the Holocaust❗, unprotected sex (don't do that I AM watching you)

A/N: if you're fluent in German look away. LOOK AWAY. I took out like half the concentration camp bit because I was upsetting myself and I can't upset myself TWICE WITH ONE CHAPTER. I actually hate this one. Hope y'all enjoy it tho <3

Head-to-head masterlist

Band of Brothers masterlist

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

The place Second Battalion had occupied at Landsberg to house the American soldiers advancing through Germany was one of the nicest most of us had seen in a long while. A four story building with small but cozy apartments, covered in nice wallpaper and soft lights, with all the commodities a modest home should have. They were mostly untouched by war, and they belonged to people who didn't deserve them.

Maybe that was a cruel thing to say, at the end of the day these people—these civilians we had so easily removed from their homes—were nothing but casualties in a war that should have been over for a long time, but after what we had encountered in the morning, I didn't have it in me to care about what was cruel and what wasn't.

Wood creaked softly beneath my boots as I climbed the stairs, the iron grip I had on two tin bowls of hot stew preventing my hands from shaking. Dominguez didn't ask questions when I asked him to pour me one for Liebgott.

I passed a couple of soldiers on my way up, but no one said a word, just spared curt nods of acknowledgement.

The walls felt stifling, the air stale. Breathing had become the hardest task. The stench had yet to leave my nose; it clung to my skin, soaked into the seams of my jacket, lodged behind my eyes. Rot and piss and smoke, and worse things that didn't have a name.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The metal pail in my hands was half-full. I didn't remember filling it. I didn't remember much at all after Joe climbed up onto that jeep, except that someone had said we had to take the food back. They'll eat themselves to death, the medics had stated, as if that made any of it less cruel.

A bony hand had grabbed my sleeve when I turned. I couldn't meet his eyes. I couldn’t meet anyone's eyes. I just shook my head and kept walking, every step heavier than the last.

"Y/l/n!" Speirs' voice cut through the static in my head. He was standing a few yards away, eyes dark and haunted, worry tinting his usually aseptic face. He was flanked by a few other officers.

Joe stood with them, looking worse than I'd seen him before. His face was hollowed out, red-rimmed, lips slightly parted like he was still catching his breath. This place seemed to be taking years off his life each passing minute.

Speirs beckoned me closer with a tilt of his head. I walked over slowly; my boots might as well have been filled with cement.

"There's a second camp. Women's. Down the line, at the next railroad stop." Speirs explained, vaguely pointing outside the camp. "Right, Liebgott?"

Joe's jaw flexed swelled eyes averted from the officer, his hand holding a white-knuckle grip on his rifle strap. "Sir, with all due respect, it's a fucking terrible idea."

"Joe," Winters called the translator out, softening authority with much needed empathy. "that's not what Captain Speirs asked."

"Next railroad stop, yes, Sir." He relented through gritted teeth, swallowing whatever retort he was about to spit out at the officer's face. "That's what the prisoner said."

Someone spoke again; I didn't catch it, my attention snapping to a skeletal hand trying to reach into the pail. It took every ounce of will in me to move it away.

"We don't know what the hell we'll find there," Sink voice was purposefully louder, bringing me back to the circle of officers. "We could use some presence." He stated in tone of his as he spared me an intentional up-and-down. One of those orders he liked to disguise as a request.

"Presence?" I asked, unable to understand anything he might have implied.

Another set of five digits reached for me, stuttering pleas I didn't understand when I carefully pry them away, making me sick to my stomach.

"Sie kann dir nicht helfen." Joe jumped in, softer than I believed possible, zeroing in on the prisoner. "Bitte… hör auf diese Leute. Sie werden dir irgendwann etwas zu essen geben."

"Aber—sie nimmt es doch!" The man choked out, clinging on my jacket. "Sie nimmt alles mit, wie die anderen—!"

"What's he saying?" Sink questioned, confusion laced with the wariness of a man who trusted no one.

Pretending not to hear the commandant's inquiry, Joe went on speaking to the man latched onto me, his voice turning clipped. "Sie kann nicht helfen."

"Liebgott?" The older man insisted, too impatient.

"He wants the fucking food." Joe snapped, crossing the small huddle to separate me from the desperate captive. One of his palms gently pushed me further into the group while the other enclosed the prisoner's wrist, halfheartedly redirecting him to the opposite direction.

"Watch that damn tone, son." Sink sternly reminded the translator, who limited himself to exhale through his nose.

Another officer—one I didn't recognize—veered the conversation to the topic at hand, moving past the argument that threatened to break out.

“We'd like you to come too." He clarified, forcing out a kind smile no one in their right mind would have managed in here. "It might… soften the arrival. For the women.”

I blinked at him. "Why?"

"We think it'll help," A Major with a medic band around his bicep added, gently. "Seeing... you."

"Me." My mouth was dry. My hands were still clamped around the pail. "I'm not— Sir, I don't think—"

"You're coming, Y/l/n." Speirs said.

"Sir, this is a bullshit reason." Joe spat, too wound up to think twice about who he was answering to. Or maybe he didn't care.

"Liebgott."

My throat closed. Joe looked at me like he wanted to pull me out of there by force, drag me back through the mud, bury me in the snow until it was over.

I nodded. Not because I was brave, but because it wasn't a choice.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I blinked harder. The bowls in my hands were still warm. I couldn't feel them.

My feet stopped at a door on the upper floor, my toe cap kicking the lower part of the wood as a form of knocking.

A minute passed before it creaked open, barely.  

Joe stood in the threshold, a forearm against the doorframe, his expression permanently caught somewhere between grief and something more dangerous.  

"What's that?" He gestured vaguely at my hands.

"Dinner."

"Shouldn't've bothered." His voice was flat, but I caught the edge underneath. "I'm not gonna eat it."

"Well, you gotta eat at some point."

He let out a heavy exhale, gaze drifting somewhere over my shoulder. "Are you really asking me to eat right now?" He was angry —not at me, but that didn't matter. "After what we saw?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The truck came to a stop in a low screech of brakes, and boots hit the dirt like echoes. We all hopped down one by one, the women's camp displayed in front of us, plain horror in broad daylight, right where the prisoners said it would be.

The gate was half-hanging, barbed wire twisted and rusted like a wound left to rot. The smell hit me before anything else. Not the same as the men’s camp. Worse. Sweeter, sicklier—decay baked in heat and sealed with blood.

The officers fanned out, a couple of privates rushing to cut off the chains keeping the prisoners captive. I looked for our commanding officer, standing side by side with Lipton, trying his best to keep a stoic expression. Speirs met my unsure gaze and motioned Joe and I to step toward the eery enclosure.

A corpse was draped over the gate, not freshly dead—weeks, maybe more. Stripped half-naked, jaw unhinged, arms thin as branches, skin tight over bone. Her mouth was parted like she had died mid-breath.

It hit the floor with a deafening thud when the soldiers pushed the doors open.

"Ohmygod—" The words caught in my throat, thin and fractured. I halted midstep, turned my head away on instinct. My hand found Joe's jacket, gripping it as if that would hold me upright.

Joe was already turning away when I caught the sleve, restless, uneasy, on the verge of collapsing, something unintelligible falling from his lips like a prayer. Not English.

A shaky breath in, a shaky breath out. A cough due to the stench an the ashes.

We moved.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Yes, Joe, I'm asking you to eat."

He didn't move aside when I stayed planted in the doorway. He just looked at me, eyes hollowed out from the inside, and then turned his body just enough to leave space. I took that as a cue to step inside, pushing the door back with my shoulder.

The air felt heavier in the room, like one could choke on it if they took a deep breath. I set the bowls down on the rickety table in the corner, the stew sloshing slightly with the action. The three bags lined up against the wall caught my attention.

"Who you sharing with?" I turned around, arms crossed, faking normalcy. "Tab?"

"And Alley."

"Where are they?"

"Not here."

His tone didn't invite any follow-ups, and I didn't give him any. I knew where Talbert was. I'd seen him downstairs, muttering about how Joe needed space. How he was coiled too tight, like if you said the wrong thing he’d snap your neck before realizing you weren't the enemy.

"This room smells like mold." A stupid thing to say, but it was better than nothing—the silence was unbearable.

Joe shrugged. "Better than the alternative."

"Right." I muttered, flicking one of the bowls with my index's nail.

He rubbed a hand over his face. It was a tired motion. A familiar one. "You're not gonna eat it either, are you?" I didn't give him a response; he didn't need one. Joe jerked his chin slightly. "Wanna get a breather?"

I shook my head no. "Not in the mood for a walk."

"Not what I meant."

He nodded toward the balconet, and didn't wait for an affirmative response on my part before pulling at the half-rotted knob, yanking the door open to let April's cool flood the room. I followed him out, chasing the fresh air.

The space was small and cramped; the kind that didn't want a person in it, let alone two.

I leaned back against the railing and let the cold metal bite into my spine. Joe stood beside me, forearms braced against the edge, the curve of his shoulders drawn tight beneath his jacket.

The town below was quiet. Asleep. Or dead.

The faint glow of the streetlamps didn't quite reach Joe's face, but it caught the hollow under his cheekbones, carved from exhaustion.

I didn't know how long we stood there before I commented, "Popeye said you've been locked in here all day."

"Didn't feel like coming out." There was a worrying detachment to him. But then again, had he let himself feel it, really feel it, it would have splintered him wide open. "Where've you been?" he tossed the question back at me, catching on the fact that I hadn't stuck around enough to notice his absence.

"Stayed back for a bit. Y'know, helping the medics."

Silence bloomed between us, not soft or comforting. No, this one felt like cotton in the throat.

"You shouldn't've come." Joe said. "It was a bullshit reason. What difference did you make to those women? Same uniform, same gear, same gun. What good? You think they'd care if—" His voice cracked at the last word, breaking off whatever sentence he was crafting. "Shit."

I looked down. My boots were caked in dried mud and soot, and I felt the urge to throw them away. "I'm sorry, Joe." I murmured, unable to meet his form with my welled up eyes as I said it.

"What for? It's not your damn fault." His hand raked through his hair, leaving it messier than before, fists clenching on the rail like he wanted to crush it. "Could've been my Ma. If they'd stayed. Could've been my sisters. Or me. Hell—bet I had family in there. In those fuckin'—" His face twisted, contorting with something too big for words—rage, grief, disbelief. A gaping wound where language used to be.

His head dropped, shoulders hunched forward, and then I heard it; sob, raw and stifled, the kind that cracks ribs on the way out.

For a second, I considered leaving him to fall apart in private, to mourn on his own. Then it occurred to me that he hadn't told me to, so I stayed. I stayed and watched, and felt my heart shatter for him in a way nothing could ever mend.

I reached out with my left hand and gripped his arm, fingers curling tight into the fabric around his bicep. I didn't know if it was for him or for me. Maybe both. Maybe neither.

My touch didn't bring him back together —if anything, it made him unravel faster. He hiccuped. My own eyes burned. We stood there, wrecked and reeling, frozen in the dark, clinging to the pieces of what we were yesterday until they all slipped.

Joe willed his breathing to become somewhat even, puffing like he was at war with himself.

His hand dove into the inside of his jacket. he pulled out a small, crumpled piece of delicate fabric and swiped it across his face, quick and rough, like he was trying to erase the tears more than wipe them away.

I didn't notice it at first—too busy dragging my sleeve across my own cheeks. The edges, the stitching, the familiar worn softness of the fabric, the embroidery.

My handkerchief.

He still had it.

My throat locked up.

I reached into my pocket, and pulled out a nearly full pack of smokes. I lit one with numb fingers, took a drag, then held it out for the man whose shoulder was pressed to mine.

Joe took it without a glance. Trapped it between his teeth. Took a long drag. Handed it back. We passed it between us in silence, the ember flaring red with each inhale, lighting the space between us. Our hands brushed every time, too obvious to pass as an accident.

By the time the cigarette burned low, my lungs ached with something deeper than smoke. The grief sat so thick it felt like breathing through cloth soaked in blood. The back of Joe's hand grazed my arm, a gesture so slight it might've been nothing.

It was not nothing.

I glanced back into the room and, for a second, I could've sworn the shadows resembled the huts. Low ceilings, rotting wood, filthy corners, empty eyes. Haunted souls.

No, they don't.

They don't look like that.

Don't look.

I turned away, eyes dragging to Joe instead.

He was still hunched, twisted in on himself. Another darted glance at the empty room.

Don't fucking look.

I moved before I could stop myself, lowering my head until my forehead rested against his shoulder, seeking shielding and solace all at once. I pointlessly braced for him to tense. He didn't.

In fact, he leaned closer—enough to notice, not enough to call it comfort—and rested his cheek against the side of my head.

A beat passed. He stayed there for as long as I needed him to, and, when I lifted my head again, he mirrored the movement. His bloodshot eyes met mine, glassy and rimmed red, and a knot tightened deep in my chest.

He drew a breath, attempting to speak. Choosing not to. His silence buzzed unnervingly in my bones.

Joe straightened up, a hand finding the railing beside me, serving him as a leverage to sway closer until his nose bumped mine. Before I could register it fully, he leaned in.

His lips brushed mine—light, uncertain. A ghost of a kiss. More ache than touch. By the time my dulled mind caught up to it, he was already pulling back. Not far; he couldn't go far enough, not in here. I didn't think he wanted to go far enough, anyway.

His body had shifted between me and the dark, fingers curled around the metal to keep him from falling. His presence pressed in on me, blocking out everything but him—his breath, his warmth, the way my lips remembered his.

I swallowed hard.

This couldn't happen now. Not like this.

I was leaning into it either way.

"Joe," I tried, but it sounded more like a plea.

He exhaled, shaky, leaning in again. I chased him when he put the slightest distance between us, brushing his lips for a split second. He gave a faint shake of his head, as if trying to clear it, to stop everything from spiraling.

"Alright," he said, rough as gravel. A pause. His brows knitted. "...Alright."

He leaned in again, maintaining the ghost of hesitance, but too exhausted to bother with preambles. There were no pecks, no cautious press of lips—just an open-mouthed, aching kiss, slow and clumsy and hungry. I met him halfway, matching him without thinking.

My hands found his arms, fingers fisting into the fabric, holding him there. Holding myself there. Something to grip. Something solid in a world that was dissolving.

The moment, thin and breakable, trembled and stretched until it snapped. Joe exhaled like kissing me was the first inhale that didn’t burn.

The next kiss came harder, messier, a collision of grief and need. A plea made with teeth and tongue —make it stop, make me feel, don't let me fall apart.

We weren't careful, nor soft. We had never known how to be, and this moment wasn't any different.

JOE'S P. O. V.

The moment Y/n's palms slid under my jacket, something in my chest twitched. Not hesitation—God, I wasn't that noble. It was something uglier, sat behind my ribs like rot and grief and panic, waiting for a crack to crawl out.

I should've stopped her. Should've stopped myself when she pushed the fabric off my shoulders, parting it like she meant to take pieces of me with it.

Instead, I breathed against her mouth, "Yeah?"

"Yeah." She echoed, her lower lip grazing my chin. A white flag.

"Fuck."

I peeled off my jacket in one breathless shove, letting it fall to the ground and carry the stench of the dead with it. My digits locked onto her belt and yanked her forward, triggering a gasp as she caught herself against my chest. Her palms traveled down—slow, tracing where the shrapnel would hit if this was the end.

My mouth chased and found hers, quick, fingers already at the buttons of her jacket, fumbling like I hadn't touched another human being in years. Maybe I hadn't. Not like this. Not when it meant something.

She grabbed the back of my neck like she had in Hagenau, but there was no warzone behind us this time—just the ruins we carried in our skin. She dragged me down to her, and I let it happen. I let it happen because pretending this was about survival was easier than admitting I had never felt this hollow.

Her jacket dropped, but that horrid smell didn't.

Jesus.

It clung to her. To me. Ash and rot and that sweet, sticky stench of decay; those slave camps had carved itself into our pores. My stomach lurched.

I broke the kiss just long enough to rip my shirt over my head— I needed it off. Gone. Y/n didn't hesitate to follow my lead, her moves equally frantic.

I made the mistake to stop and look at her.

The light barely caught her skin—her collarbones, the shadow between her ribs, the slope of her shoulder where a bra strap slipped loose. She was haunted, colorless, wide-eyed and worn down to the bone —and still the most alive thing I'd seen in days. Weeks. Months.

I dragged her back in, my mouth crashing into hers, my hands rough at her waist, pressing so close there wasn't room for thought. Y/n didn't waste a second to shove me backward through the door.

I let her.

My heel kicked it closed and the sound broke through the air like a shot.

Her hands were impatient now, dragging over my back, around my waist, slipping down to my belt. I was already working on hers, undoing the buckle, the zipper, the fucking weight of it all.

"How—" I began.

How did she want this? How did she want me? How far could we go before the weight of everything we’d seen, everything we’d lost, collapsed on top of us?

She didn't give me the chance to finish.

"I dont care," she breathed, voice barely more than a gasp. Her fingers pushed her waistband down her hips. "Just… I don't care."

I swallowed, hard, lips still brushing hers. "No?"

She shook her head once, her touch skimming over my exposed skin, never once leaving me.

Her pants hit the floor, the clink of metal accompanying the soft fabric pooling at her feet. My grasp was back on her before she could step out of it, hands gripping her hips, teeth grazing her jaw. My breath punched out hot and heavy against her cheek.

Nothing else mattered. Not the war, not the fucking smell of death that still clung to the walls, not the ghosts I saw every time I blinked.

Just her.

God.

I wanted her to feel it—all of it. That she was real. That I was still here. That we weren't just some walking carcasses in a uniform. Dragged over every inch I could reach—hips, ribs, the swell of her breasts, the dip of her spine. Skin so warm I thought it might leave burns in my palms.

I reached for her bra clasp, but her fingers were faster. It slid down her arms, and I let my eager digits chase it, dragging slow, trembling lines down her back. I needed the moment carved into me. I wanted it to hurt.

She kissed me hard—desperate, trying to crush the ache in her chest against mine. Her nails scraped my shoulders, bit into the meat of my arms. She clung to me like she'd fall through the floor without the contact.

I didn't even notice her hand on my stomach until it slid lower.

"Jesus Christ—"

It left me like a prayer. Like a warning.

I shoved down my pants in a blur. The buckle clattered, loud in the silence, and I stepped out of the rest like it offended me to still be dressed. Her fingers ghosted over my thighs, and I almost stopped breathing.

She looked at the bed and I mimicked her on instinct.

Too small. Too far. Too civilized.

I turned and pinned her to the wall instead.

She winced when her bare back met the cold surface, a sharp inhale against my shoulder. My mouth attacked her breast, tongue circling, lips rough, unkind. The soft sound she made cracked me open to the point of no return.

Her hands dove into my hair, clutching hard when my thumb flicked over her nipple. Everything about her body was pulling. Pulling me in, pulling me apart.

Too fast. Too hard. Too much.

Good.

I grabbed under her thigh, yanked it high around my hip, and before I had time to second-guess it, I pushed into her—raw and full and overwhelming.

Y/n choked on a breath, head tilting back against the wall, lips parted, frozen in the moment. Crescent moons dug deep into my back, my nape—anchoring or punishing, I couldn't tell.

My forehead hit her shoulder with a dull thud. Her skin was damp. Warm. Alive.

This was bad.

This was so fucking bad.

But it could be worse, right? Or so I told myself. I could be in the room alone, crying so hard I made myself sick. And I wasn't alone, even if just for the night.

"Joe—" Her voice broke. The leg around my waist dragged me deeper, and I had to lock her in place, my palm splayed at her hip.

"I know," I rasped, chest heaving. "Just—fuck, give me a second." I pressed my forehead to hers, eyes screwed shut, every muscle in my body tight as a wire. I inhaled, deep, slow, buried my face in the crook of her neck. And somehow, somehow, under the blood and sweat and rot, I smelled it.

Her perfume.

Still there.

Still hers.

It made my knees buckle.

"Joe—fuck—please,"

"Gimme a damn second, sweetheart."

My throat worked around the knot rising in it. I pulled back just enough to see her face. Our eyes met—half a second of unbearable clarity—then we both shut them again, as if it hurt too much to witness the other breaking in real time.

I swallowed hard, shoved the swelling in my chest back down, and moved.

A slow, dragging pull. The friction of her body clinging to mine. I pushed forward again, hips grinding deep, and our mouths collided, raw and searching and needy. I swallowed the broken sounds she made, gave her my own in return.

The way we fell into a rhythm—frantic, intimate, unforgiving—was a goddamn tragedy, because she felt too good, and I was a wreck. The fact that this was how I got to have her, was almost funny.

Fucking comical.

Her skin, flushed and slick, shifted against mine with every movement. Her legs locked around my hips, tightening, guiding me, begging; her nails leaving raised welts that made me gasp; her crown tipped against the wall. I couldn’t stop watching the way her lashes fluttered with each thrust.

Couldn't stop watching her.

Couldn't stop.

It was heartbreaking.

I kissed whatever skin I could find—her neck, her collarbone, the space under her ear— between heavy pants and muffled cries neither of us would mention afterwards. My hands shook where they gripped her thighs.

Every time the pressure inside me started to give in, every time I felt myself teetering on the edge of falling apart, the feel of her against me, wrapped around me, with me, pulled me back.

God, I hoped it did the same for her.

I hoped.

[theunholybastard]

(yes I'm aware the tour already started but pretend it hasn't for this post ok shhhh)

Just Five More Minutes... (Frater Imperator x Cirrus)

Requested by @thecrepegremlin

Tags: Drabble, Established Relationship, Slice Of Life, Fluff, Slightly Suggestive, Copia Does NOT Have His Shit Together

Copia was not a morning person. He prided himself on being a friendly and sociable person, a ball of energy and liveliness; After he's had his coffee, of course. Anytime before that, he is a completely different person, a person he does not want the general public to see. A big ol' grump, if you will. It was hard enough for him to pull himself out of bed in the morning on a good day, but ever since he was forced to take on the role of Frater Imperator, it's been all work, no play. This schedule was not made for him.

He dreads waking up. Having to stumble his ass out of bed and spend all day locked up in his makeshift office, agonizing over mountains of paperwork while he watches his twin brother live his dreams. Fucking V. He's never felt more isolated. Luckily for him, there was still one special someone in his corner to make his mornings a bit more bearable.

Copias eyes fluttered open, the delicate touch of a hand stroking his cheek stirring him awake. He groaned groggily as his eyes began to focus, looking up to see Cirrus, unmasked and unclothed. What a sight. He'd have an instant hard-on if his body wasn't so drained from their night of fun before. "Rise and shine, sleepyhead." She cooed, running her slender fingers through his hair.

"Ugh... five more minutes..." Oh, how he wanted to slam his pillow over his face, but the only thing stopping him was his dearest Ghoulette snuggled up close to him, gently trying to nudge him awake. "Mia bella... What time is it?" Copia sighed, leaning towards the warmth of her soft touch. How desperately he didn't want to get out of bed, to pry himself away from such bliss. Cirrus pursed her lips awkwardly.

"Well, uh... You're a little late for work."

"Late? How late?"

"Psaltarians already tried to call you three times."

His eyes widened. "Goddammit!" He swore, launching himself out of bed with a pained grunt. Lucifer, he was getting out of shape. "Why did you let me sleep so long?"

"You know how hard it is for me to wake you, baby. You look so peaceful. It's the only time I see you not yanking your hair out nowadays." Cirrus stifled a giggle, watching him fumble around frantically in search for his pants, her vision locked shamelessly on to the jiggle of his thighs as he ran around the room.

"My love, you know I'm backed up with paperwork enough as it is! Mind-numbing, pointless paperwork, but still. Shit, the Clergy will have my ass for this; So many things to do, such little time! And with the tour coming up so soon, I-" He stops dead in his tracks, eyes darting towards his lover still tangled in his sheets. The tour was starting, and for the first time ever, she was leaving. And he was staying. He never had to be apart from her for this long. He never even thought about it, really. It's like he just realized this would be happening.

"I just wanted our last night in bed together to, y'know... Last a little longer." Cirrus shrugged, trying to hide her melancholy.

"Shit... Is it really-?"

"First thing tomorrow, yeah." She sighed, getting out of bed to wrap her arms around his waist. "I'll miss you. I hate having to miss you. Being on tour already feels like forever, but without you...? Ugh, I'm in Hell. Again."

"I know, amore. I'll miss you most of all." He smiled sadly, bringing his hands up to cup her face. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever laid his eyes on, he was sure of it. "Please promise to call me every night, I don't care how late it is. And most importantly, have fun... But not too much, si?" She chuckled.

"I could never, not without you." She stood on the tip of her toes to press a long, tender kiss to his lips, pulling away only to murmur a sweet, irresistible, "Can't you stay in bed with me? For just five more minutes?"

His phone lit up with another incoming call from Psaltarian...

It can wait.

-

[grandcovenant]

considering venigni is ~the prince of high society~, and puppet ripper is strongly suggested to have been arlecchino's weapon... it really is a weapon befitting of a kingslayer, huh

[no-144444]

the oscars- o.piastri

꩜ summary: you bring your own oscar to the oscar's!

꩜ pairing: married! oscar piastri x actress! fem! reader

꩜ a/n: just realised i never posted this and it has been sitting in my drafts for over a month and a half ish lol

I want you to come with me. 

Those words had run through his head like a fucking jack-hammer for weeks. What did that even entail? Acquiring a tux, sure. He could do that. Learn all the names of the people he could potentially meet, any celebrities or old co-stars he’d probably met but didn’t remember. Again, he could do that. Sit beside you all night and let you be your wonderful self as he got a first class seat and bragging rights about the fact that he was yours, he did that all day everyday. 

So why did this feel so different? He’d been to award shows before. Not the award show, but motorsports ones. You’d come as his date. The world knew about you two. He’d gone to the BAFTAs with you one year. He should be fine. He knows he’s just there to hold your hand all night and make sure you don’t forget to eat something, but this just feels… different. This was the Oscars. The one night all of Hollywood steps out in their very best, hoping to get something back. And you were nominated in 3 categories. 

“Fix your bowtie,” Hattie fussed over him as he rolled his eyes. You’d even invited his whole family. You weren’t super close with yours and they hadn’t really supported your career, but the Piastri’s had. Nicole went to every premiere you offered her, sometimes flying last minute just to be there to support you. He remembered how touched you’d been when she showed up at your Cannes debut, you called him crying that night, not even knowing what to do with yourself because you thought it was just so nice. You were 14 then, but you were 24 now, and you weren’t just his girlfriend, you were his wife. You were officially part of the family, even though you had been from the moment he’d brought you home. He started playing with his ring, a nervous habit he’d picked up since getting married. 

“It is fixed,” he snapped back as she fiddled with it. “Mum said it looked fine-”

“I wasn’t looking at you when I said that!” she called from the other room. Oscar rolled his eyes again. 

“Your eyes are on swivels today,” Mae teased, looking up from her phone. Oscar fought back rolling them again, and instead went for a scoff. 

“I’m the only reason you guys are even coming,” he scoffed, Hattie still fixing his tie. Mae’s jaw dropped in offence. 

She gasped. “Excuse you! I think Y/n would still invite us even if you guys got a divorce.” 

A shiver went up his spine at that thought. Leaving you?  He couldn’t do it. He knew in his bones he’d adore you until he was old and grey, and probably a while after that too. 

“She definitely would,” Eddie added, walking in. “Plus, she’s dressed now, if you want to see her.”

Oscar tried to pull away from Hattie, but he just got choked by his bowtie, resulting in a fit of coughs and a gaggle of laughter from his sisters. 

He heard a chuckle he knew all too well and he turned his head. You were radiant. A burgundy formal gown, your hair exactly the way you loved it, and that wonderful look in your eyes. The one he saw when he woke up next to you. The one that made him blush no matter how long you’d been together. “You alright there?” you questioned.

He chuckled and Hattie finally finished with his bowtie, so he turned to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his lips to yours as he lifted you off the ground- just slightly. You grinned against his lips and he felt the panic that had been building completely subside. You pulled back as your feet reached the ground again, and chuckled. “Do I have lipstick?” he asked, a question he asked most days. You nodded, but Mae got up to take a photo, giggling at her brother with you. It didn’t bother him. You finally just wiped it off and smiled at him. 

“What do you think?” you asked, pulling back and giving him a spin. You showed off the low back and he knew he’d be ripping this dress off of you tonight. He swore the breath was knocked from his lungs every time you looked at him, but truly, you were breathtaking. 

“I think you’re the most beautiful woman in the entire world,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

“Oh yeah?” you smirked. He nodded. 

“Oh yeah.” 

The Red Carpet was as overwhelming as usual, but he enjoyed watching his sisters interact with the few fans of theirs that were there. He watched you with so much love and pride in his eyes, so much so that Tim had to nudge him to remember to walk on and not just stand in the back of your photos looking at you lovingly. When you finally finished up, you grabbed his hand as he led you into the auditorium. 

“You still have my speeches?’ you questioned. He tapped his chest, signalling that it was in his breast pocket. You smiled. “Thank you.”

“Always,” he smiled back. “Forever.” 

As soon as your moment began, it ended, because Nicole pulled you away to go talk to people and he fucked off to the dinner table. He watched as you worked the room, animatedly speaking to people as he watched on from his seat at the table, thoroughly enjoying his food. 

It was his dad who pulled him out of his daze, asking how he was feeling. 

“I’m fine,” he nodded, only slightly lying. 

Chris smiled. “She’s going to win ‘em, I bet you.” 

“She will,” Oscar nodded. “Her work has been incredible this year.”

“You’re telling me,” he chuckled. “I cried for three days over the Outrun.”

Oscar laughed out loud as his dad shook his head. “I know what you mean.”

Just then, Oscar caught your eye from the other side of the ballroom and you smiled at him, waving. He waved back. You were a vision in burgundy. He swore to go he was going to get heart palpitations from how beautiful you were. 

“Starting soon now,” Tim clapped his hands on Oscar’s shoulders. “Better be ready with those acceptance speeches.”

Chris smiled at Tim. “Took the words out of my mouth,” he chuckled. “Also have to practice your shocked face. Even though we all know she’s going to win every single one of them,” Chris tapped his leg. “Like how she pretends to be shocked when you win.” 

Oscar laughed, his cheeks going red. Why was he being embarrassed by his own father and step-father at the Oscars right now? He wanted you back, you could always calm them down, make them less… whatever they were. 

“Busy?” you asked, coming up to the table, your question directed at him. He stood up immediately. 

“Not at all,” he shook his head, the boys behind him chuckling like schoolgirls. He took your hand and you led him to the foot of the stage, squeezing his hand. 

“I’m so glad you’re here,” you whispered, leaning to his shoulder. “Thank you for coming.” 

“I'm so proud of you,” he smiled, his hand sneaking around your waist to pull you closer. He loved this. These quiet moments between all the hustle and bustle of your own lives. The room melted away behind you as you both stared at the stage you hoped you’d end up on tonight, but he knew you would. “I’ll always come.”

You chuckled. “You said cum.” 

He rolled his eyes, the soft moment between the two of you, now abruptly over due to his choice of words. He looked down at you and you laughed at his unimpressed stare. “I love you?” you offered, cupping his cheek. 

“I guess I love you too,” he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours gently, but quickly- as to not get lipstick all over his mouth. 

“And the nominees are; Anora, written by Sean Baker. The Brutalist, written by Brady Corbet, Mona Fastvold. A Real Pain, written by Jesse Eisenberg. , September 5, written by Moritz Binder, Tim Fehlbaum; co-written by Alex David. The Substance, written by Y/n Y/l/n,” the crowd cheered and he felt your hand squeeze his just a little tighter. “And the winner is… Anora, written by Sean Baker!” 

Despite the loss, you stood and clapped for him. Oscar joined you, though he thought you should’ve probably won. You both sat back down as his speech began and he took your hand again. “You alright?”

You nodded beside him, your eyes fixed to Sean and his speech. “There’s still like 4 hours left, don’t worry.”

He chuckled and pressed a soft kiss to your hand. Ever the positive person. 

“And the nominees are; Anora, Sean Baker. The Brutalist, David Jancso. Conclave, Nick Emerson. The Outrun, Y/n Y/l/n. Wicked, Myron Kerstein,” you tensed beside him. “And the winner is… Y/n Y/l/n, The Outrun!” 

And the room stood for you. He felt like he was in slow motion. You both stood up at the same time, a bright smile on your face (he was sure he looked ridiculous), and you turned to him and you hugged him. 

“Holy shit,” you whispered. He smiled back, nodding. 

“You fucking did it,” he cheered as he pulled the speech out of his pocket. “Go accept it.” 

You nodded and started your descent down the stairs. The entirety of Hollywood was on their feet for you. You’d been working in the industry since you were a kid. Everyone knew how wonderful you were. Only he got to see it everyday. He watched, pride practically spilling from every pore as you stood up on that stage, taking the award in your hand, the sheet of paper in your hand. You looked up, a teary smile on your lips. “Wow,” you breathed out, looking at the room, but your eyes immediately met Oscar’s, and you both smiled again. “Hello, and thank you,” you started. “Umm… alright, speech- yes!” you unfolded the piece of paper in your hand and took a deep breath. “Well… first of all, I’d like to thank the academy, because this-” you held up your award. “Is incredible. And next, I’d like to thank my family. Nicole, Tim, Chris, Hattie, Eddie, Mae,” Oscar was already tearing up, and he was sure his mom was at the floodgates stage of it all. “You’ve been so incredibly kind to me over the past decade. You took me in when I was just a random 14 year old your son or brother was dating, and you gave me a family, and I'll always be grateful. Next, I’d like to thank my husband-” he felt a tear fall down his cheek and he knew there were about twenty cameras on him. There were a few cheers from the crowd. “- Oscar, you’ve made me insanely happy, and you’re my everything. But you’re also the only person I’ll ever let in my editing room. I love how curious you were at the start, and now, how effortlessly you help me. Truly, this is half yours-” you chuckled, and so did he. “No matter what. Whether you were coming in from a race weekend, totally exhausted, or just come back from a run, you’ll sit beside me in silence and help me make it all work. I don’t think you understand how much that means to me, so, thank you. I love you all, thank you!” you finished off, just wiping the small tear that had fallen away, as the crowd rose for you again. Oscar was a goner, tears falling freely as he tried to wipe them away. God, you were too kind. He adored you. 

The night ended at 3am, you walked away with two Oscar awards, and one Oscar. He was grinning the whole time, too. Couldn’t stop. You won Best Editing and Best Supporting Actress. His family were elated and you giggled on the way back tot he hotel as you watched videos of them react to you winning, since they weren't sitting beside you.

Both you and Oscar were exhausted, so you fell into bed, immediately tangling with each other and knocking out. 

He ran a hand through your hair as he lazily closed his eyes. "Y/n?"

You hummed against his skin, sign enough that you were slightly conscious.

"I adore you," he whispered, the silence of the room seeming even quieter in the dark. You looked up at him through tired eyes, a soft smile on your lips.

"I feel it," you smiled. "And I love you too."

Best night ever.

mclaren masterlist

navigation for my blog :)

[golden-ebony]

Ten's a Crowd ·ᴥ·✿˖°

♡ Pairing: Logan Howlett/female!Reader

♡ Word Count: 2.4k

♡ Rating: Explicit 18+

♡ Warning/Tags: SMUT! MINORS DNI, p-v, oral fem!receiving, a tad of overstimulation,

♡ Summary: As Robo said: Logan would turn your plushies around before fucking you raw btw, he told me himself—pulls em off to the side with a gruff little “You don’t wanna see this next part bub” before turning you every way BUT loose.

♡ Note: @robo-writing MADE A POST THAT MADE ME BOTH SCREAM CHUCKLE AND INSPIRED TO CREATE THIS PIECE. robo is also one of my favs so check them out too!

You wanted to take it slow with Logan. Even if every bone in your body wanted to jump his, you actually liked him and didn’t want to do anything you believed could sabotage your budding relationship. This was a mutual yet unspoken understanding between the two of you. 

He had every intention of taking things slow with you–make his intentions clear. Having met you while you bartended at his favorite spot, you had seen him pick up and take a few girls home. You were different, and he wanted to make that clear. 

Still, every time Logan dropped you off at your apartment, it became more charged. After your first date, he simply dropped you off. After your second and third date, it ended in short yet sensual kisses. The tension was building the entirety of your fourth date. When Logan had you pressed against your apartment building door, your moans were smothered by the passionate open mouth kisses. And by god, you wanted to give in, but mother nature had other plans for you. Despite either of your wishes, you called it a night.

Your fifth date was at a drive in-movie. You brought the blankets that were laid out in the bed of Logan’s truck. The both of you admittedly got a handsy during the movie, practically missing the end of the movie.

As Logan parked in the front of your building, he carried the folded blankets that you brought to your building door. Before he could offer to bring the blankets up for you, you muttered the four words he had been waiting to hear for almost a month.

“You wanna come up?”

Logan couldn't help but perk up at that question. Your voice was as sweet as honey, and the soft glow of the porch light framed your face perfectly. He tried to keep a straight face, but the corner of his lips tugged into a small smile when you invited him up.

"Course," he said, his voice rough and low as he tried to contain the lewd thoughts that started flooding his brain. 

As you brought him up the elevator, the tension between the two of you was thicker than the blankets he carried. You needed him–need him bad. 

As soon as you entered the apartment, you told Logan that he could put the blankets on the couch. He haphazardly tossed them on the cushions but didn’t take his eyes off you. The intensity in his eyes was betraying the restraint he was trying to maintain for weeks. 

Barely a beat afterward, you were all over each other. The kiss was sloppy, your tongue immediately submitting to his. Logan’s hand roamed slightly under your sweater, fingers pressing against the warmth of your skin. 

Stumbling backward toward your bedroom, Logan kept his lips on your, drinking in the taste that he desperately wanted–hell, needed. As he laid you down, he didn't break the kiss, slowly trailing his hand up your thigh. His lips found their way to your neck, nipping and sucking the sensitive skin.

“Been thinkin’ about this all night, darlin’,” he growled against your neck as he hovered over you. His grip on your thigh tightened, earning a gasp from your lips. “Just like that, baby, I need to hear ya.”

Logan’s other hand hiked up farther near your head until his hand began crushing something soft, something smaller than a pillow. Still focused on marking the skin over your pulse, he moved his hand again just to squish another item, almost losing his grip on the bed. 

With a hint of frustration, Logan’s eyes glared open. His stare was immediately met with glossy, black buttoned eyes of a brown cow and the cheery eyes and blushing face of…maybe a dumpling, he thought.

He paused his lips’ freezing against your skin. Logan pulled away slightly to get a better look at what was under his hand. He chuckled, his voice gravelly as he looked down at the squished yet irate octopus.

You sighed due to the loss of contact, swiveling to see what had caught Logan’s attention over the woman he was making out with. He had a mixed expression of confusion and amusement. 

“You find my plushies entertaining?” you softly giggled, propping yourself up by your elbows.

“I just…” Logan’s voice was gruff with a smirk as he sized up the 6–no, 8–plushies eyeing him down. The cow, dumpling, octopus, platypus, jellyfish, hot sauce bottle, bumblebee, and mushroom propped against your pillows all had their eyes on Logan, silently judging him. “I just didn’t expect an audience. Your little posse is a bit intimidating,” he teased, looking down at you with a cheeky grin.

“Didn’t think you were one to falter under pressure,” you chuckled. From your back, you turned to look at your plushies. You gave him a tantalizing look as you grabbed the angry octopus from his hand, shaking it in his face. “They’re just here to be cute.”

“Yeah, they’re cute.” Logan’s attention was diverted back to your exposed abdomen from your slightly lifted sweater. A deep growl emitted from his chest as he lifted your sweater further to reveal your plum colored bra. His large hand cupped your right breast as a wry smile grew on his lips. “But what I’m planning on doing with you…it’s far from cute, sweetheart.”

Logan was quick to remove your sweater, throwing it toward the  mushroom, causing it to fall off the bed entirely. He dipped back down to your lips with a renewed passion. Dropping the octopus on your nightstand, you were quick to tug at Logan’s t-shirt, practically begging to lose it.

Ripping it off, you could feel your arousal pool at the sight of his broad, hairy chest and sculpted form. Over your head, he tossed his shirt. It landed over the eyes of the soft platypus, but you didn’t notice. You were too enveloped in the hot kisses Logan was lying between the valley of breasts down to the waist of your leggings. His rough hands massaged your breasts until they popped out of their constraints. 

Ragged short moans fell from your lips as he grazed and twerked your hardened nipples. Your hands raked over his larger hands before moving to his taunt shoulders, nails scraping his shoulder blades. Logan grunted as he felt your nails rake across his shoulders, his darkened eyes locking on you, hungry and filled with lust.

“Love the pretty moans you make for me, baby,” Logan groaned, his hands moving to the sides of your leggings to wiggle you out of them. Taking your panties with them, you were exposed to Logan. The glisten and scent of your arousal was too tempting.

Feeling his warm breath against your aching cunt, you inched forward, desperate for any form of contact, “Please, Logan. I need to feel you…”

Without another word, Logan applied a heavy striped lick against your cunt all the way to your pulsing clit. A stuttered moan escaped your lips as Logan buried his face into your cunt, wrapping his arms around your soft thighs to pull you closer and keep you legs opened wide.

“Hm, so fuckin’ sweet. All for me, sweetheart?” he muttered against your cunt, the vibrations causing a shiver to run up your spine. You almost missed what he said as tongue lap and darted into your sopping core at a speed that had to be sinful. 

You could barely get the words out. Your mind was reeling with such intense pleasure that Logan could only grab your attention again by nipping on your inner thigh. You quickly winced 

“You gotta speak up, darlin’. I gotta hear you,”

“All for you, Lo-Logan! Because of you!” Despite your volume, your voice came off small and pathetic as your need for Logan grew.

Rewarding you, Logan pressed a harsh kiss against your clit, sending shockwaves through you. Your hips tried to buck but were secured firmly by the strength of Logan. He was practically making out with your cunt, his nose adding just enough pressure to your clit to run you like a facet.

“So goddamn pretty, so perfect,” he softly breathed against you, darkened eyes temporarily meeting your lust-blown ones like man possessed. Your head tilted back in ecstasy, his stare too intense.

Your finger interlocked with your comforter and his hair. The grip Logan had to keep around your thighs only grew harsher as you thrashed around him. It was a vicious cycle. Your elevated moans drove Logan to delve deeper which only made your thrashing worse and your moans more boisterous. Logan knew you’d learn better once you woke up with the bruised prints in the morning. You knew you’d cherish them. 

From your tightened grip on his hair and the sheets, Logan knew you were near your edge. His name was spilling out of your lips as if it was the only word you knew now. Coming up for air didn’t matter; Logan was prepared to drown in your soaked core.

Your climax was almost violent, your legs quiver as you released. Logan lapped it up like a dying dog, the taste of you making him moan. He couldn’t help but rut against the edge of your bed as he licked you clean through your high. The friction was welcomed but not enough.

Your body relaxed as you tried taking in deep breaths to regain a semblance of control. Before releasing your thighs, Logan affixed one last bold brush to your ruined cunt for good measure. Your cheeks were flushed as you looked down at him again. His eyes locked with yours, dark and intense. His eyes seemed almost feral, his need for you evident. He needed more–more of you, all of you.

Logan slowly kissed a path up your body, pausing momentarily to admire the indented prints he had left on your hips. He relished the taste of your skin, his lips leaving a trail of light kisses along your thighs, hips, your stomach, your chest. Your body was still quivering 

Finally, his face, still damp with your arousal, was mere inches away from yours, a smug smile on his lips. He gave you a moment to catch your breath before he spoke, his voice a low, rough whisper.

“You okay, darlin’?”

You huffed into a small smile. It floored you how he’d asked, knowing damn well he could still feel your toes curling and your leg involuntarily shaking. It floored you further how badly you still wanted him.

Kissing the corners of your mouth, darting your tongue to gather the remainder of your arousal from his face, you hand grazed his growing bulge. You received a strained grunt from Logan.

“Why do you still have these on?” The sound of your rough and sultry voice, your question–it only made the strain in his jeans worse.

Standing and exposing his full physique, he was quick to remove his jeans and briefs.  Your eyes went wide as the sight of his thick, engorged cock, the tip already leaking down a vein. 

Logan chuckled lowly at the sight of your reaction. Seeing your widened eyes and parted lips, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

“So goddamn greedy, baby. Didn’t get enough already?” he mocked, laying down to cage you under the weight of his body again.

In response, you pulled him closer, your lips attached to his neck. Your tongue smoothed over every nip. Logan growled, his cock finding some relief from the friction against your hip.

Logan's eyes softened as he was again face-to-face again with the soulful eyes of your cow, slightly tilted on its side. Its fallen comrades were on the floor, preemptively averting their own innocent eyes.

He spoke gruffly, under his breath, “Uh, yeah, you don’t wanna see this next part, bub.” He picked up the cow and spun it around, leaning it against the headboard.

Your plushies didn’t see it, and you could barely handle it. Tears spilled from the corners of your eyes as Logan continued to roughly push into you climax after climax after climax. From your back to your stomach to your side, your body was completely coated with sweat and pleasure. Hearing you moan, beg, and whimper only drove Logan to push you further and further till the only word you could conjure was his name.

“It’s not too much, sweetheart, yeah?” Logan’s warm breath groaned against the back of your neck, raising the hairs on it. His bulky arm hooked around to belly, trapping your pelvis against his. He had slowed his tempo in comparison to the previous two rounds, but he hadn’t been this deep. With his leg The tip of his cock was pressing faint kisses against your cervix. Resting his chin on your shoulder, he could witness your face contort in continued pleasure. “You can take it, baby. Taking me so fuckin’ good all night.”

Your voice was gravelly–surely going to be gone in the morning–as your exhausted eyes peered toward Logan, “I-I can’t, Lo-gan…not again.” 

“C’mon, just one more for me, baby. Fuckin’ sinful how good you feel,” he murmured against your flushed cheek. 

You nodded as you watched Logan hand move down to your overstimulated clit. The slightest pressure was enough to make your soft walls abruptly clench around his cock with a lusty ring. Rolling your hips against his, Logan was close to losing it. A growl escaped Logan’s chest as he picked up his pace–a stuttered pace. 

“That’s it, baby. Let it happen. Drench my cock.”

“Fuck, Logan!” You cried, your entire low body trembling against his. Your own arousal dripped down to your thigh, dampening your blanket.

Logan pressed your arched back closer to his hairy chest. With one final thrust, he was incoherently grunting before staining your walls with his seed. Filled with his warmth, you felt your body completely relax–finally. 

Logan's breathing was ragged against your neck. The only things that filled the room were your and Logan’s shared pants and the scent of your mixed arousals. He held you like that for a few moments, his heart pounding against your back. Logan was now having second thoughts about ravishing so rashly for your first time.

“Too much?” Logan asked, his voice tired and laced with concern as his hand softly massaged your side.

You wrapped your hand behind you to caress Logan’s cheek. A weak smile formed on your lips, “No, no…it was…” You couldn’t find the words. Your brain was foggy with gratification. Instead, you reached for your irate octopus on your nightstand. Quickly inverting the plushie, the octopus now had a gleeful expression. 

Handing it to Logan, he gruffly chuckled, accepting your response. He planted a chaste kiss on your cheek with a satisfied smile. It was just the beginning for you two–or the ten of you.

♡ note: i love hearing y'all's thoughts

[valeriehalla]

actual writing advice

1. Use the passive voice.

What? What are you talking about, “don’t use the passive voice”? Are you feeling okay? Who told you that? Come on, let’s you and me go to their house and beat them with golf clubs. It’s just grammar. English is full of grammar: you should go ahead and use all of it whenever you want, on account of English is the language you’re writing in.

2. Use adverbs.

Now hang on. What are you even saying to me? Don’t use adverbs? My guy, that is an entire part of speech. That’s, like—that’s gotta be at least 20% of the dictionary. I don’t know who told you not to use adverbs, but you should definitely throw them into the Columbia river.

3. There’s no such thing as “filler”.

Buddy, “filler” is what we called the episodes of Dragon Ball Z where Goku wasn’t blasting Frieza because the anime was in production before Akira Toriyama had written the part where Goku blasts Frieza. Outside of this extremely specific context, “filler” does not exist. Just because a scene wouldn’t make it into the Wikipedia synopsis of your story’s plot doesn’t mean it isn’t important to your story. This is why “plot” and “story” are different words!

4. okay, now that I’ve snared you in my trap—and I know you don’t want to hear this—but orthography actually does kind of matter

First of all, a lot of what you think of as “grammar” is actually orthography. Should I put a comma here? How do I spell this word in this context? These are questions of orthography (which is a fancy Greek word meaning “correct-writing”). In fact, most of the “grammar questions” you’ll see posted online pertain to orthography; this number probably doubles in spaces for writers specifically.

If you’re a native speaker of English, your grammar is probably flawless and unremarkable for the purposes of writing prose. Instead, orthography refers to the set rules governing spelling, punctuation, and whitespace. There are a few things you should know about orthography:

English has no single orthography. You already know spelling and punctuation differ from country to country, but did you know it can even differ from publisher to publisher? Some newspapers will set parenthetical statements apart with em dashes—like this, with no spaces—while others will use slightly shorter dashes – like this, with spaces – to name just one example.

Orthography is boring, and nobody cares about it or knows what it is. For most readers, orthography is “invisible”. Readers pay attention to the words on a page, not the paper itself; in much the same way, readers pay attention to the meaning of a text and not the orthography, which exists only to convey that meaning.

That doesn’t mean it’s not important. Actually, that means it’s of the utmost importance. Because orthography can only be invisible if it meets the reader’s expectations.

You need to learn how to format dialogue into paragraphs. You need to learn when to end a quote with a comma versus a period. You need to learn how to use apostrophes, colons and semicolons. You need to learn these things not so you can win meaningless brownie points from your English teacher for having “Good Grammar”, but so that your prose looks like other prose the reader has consumed.

If you printed a novel on purple paper, you’d have the reader wondering: why purple? Then they’d be focusing on the paper and not the words on it. And you probably don’t want that! So it goes with orthography: whenever you deviate from standard practices, you force the reader to work out in their head whether that deviation was intentional or a mistake. Too much of that can destroy the flow of reading and prevent the reader from getting immersed.

You may chafe at this idea. You may think these “rules” are confusing and arbitrary. You’re correct to think that. They’re made the fuck up! What matters is that they were made the fuck up collaboratively, by thousands of writers over hundreds of years. Whether you like it or not, you are part of that collaboration: you’re not the first person to write prose, and you can’t expect yours to be the first prose your readers have ever read.

That doesn’t mean “never break the rules”, mind you. Once you’ve gotten comfortable with English orthography, then you are free to break it as you please. Knowing what’s expected gives you the power to do unexpected things on purpose. And that’s the really cool shit.

5. You’re allowed to say the boobs were big if the story is about how big the boobs were

Nobody is saying this. Only I am brave enough to say it.

Well, bye!

[melminli]

I LOVEDDDDDDD your Thanos “bang bang bang” post and it made me very curious abt how they know eo and stuff and like I’d love to read more about it in general if you don’t mind. It’s so great and I love your writing <333 have a fun day / night 🫶🏻

BANG BANG BANG ll

summary - thanos was always just such an easy person to argue with. you really hated the guy and that was something that was never going to change, even if your life was on the line and it fucking was.

pairing: (thanos) choi su-bong x fem. reader

word count: 1.8k

contains: violence, angst, death, drug use and addiction, dark content - just usual squid game stuff really

a/n: ty so much! this turned out kinda freaky but that is because thanos is a freak so, i didn't really have a choice.

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There was an eerie silence among all the participants for the first few seconds after the first death happened. The realization of what this meant for everyone present slowly sank in, and you thought that maybe the crazy man with all his screaming, wasn't quite as crazy as you originally thought. The real madman was probably the person somewhere upstairs or - you didn't know exactly where, but you knew that they were watching you.

“Don't move!” His voice shouted again, but this time with a completely different force. It may be that this was the most logical conclusion one could draw from what had just happened, but some seemed to throw all logic out of the window as soon as the fear of death hit. It only took one person to panic to set off a domino effect and from one second to the next loud gunshots could be heard, following the fearful screams of one person after another. The participants were being slaughtered like frightened animals in a cage, what kind of sick game was really going on here?

You too began to tremble as you looked down at the floor, dissociating and trying to ignore your surroundings as best you could. You had to stop yourself from flinching when the person right next to you was killed, even as you felt his still warm blood covering your cheek, even as a small river of it started pooling around your foot. You were most likely going to leave a trace of him all over the ground as soon as you started walking again - whoever he was. It didn't take very long for everyone who had moved to be shot, maybe half a minute - and yet it must have been the worst half minute of your life so far.

“Don't you dare move,” Thanos said in a voice you weren't used to hearing from him. “I'm serious, don't make me mad.”

You just looked at his back from behind, with a tense posture while you tried to regain control of your breathing again. Finally, there was complete silence on the pitch again. Even if it wasn't an entirely welcome silence.

The voice from the loudspeakers began to speak again and you already knew that this would be a voice that would haunt you in your nightmares. “Let me repeat: You can move forward while the tagger shouts, Green light, red light. If your movement is detected afterward, you will be eliminated.”

Ah, so that's what you meant with eliminated. A bit literal but no biggie! The game continued, but no one really dared to move a muscle even when the puppet looked away. You then saw Thanos shift slightly out of the corner of your eye and noticed that he was pulling his cross necklace out of his t-shirt. Safe to say, that you could barely believe what you were seeing right before your very eyes. You've got to be kidding me, they took everything we had from us, but he was allowed to keep that old thing? “Are you seriously going to take that stuff now?” you whispered in disbelief but didn't really judge him for it. You were this close to just laughing out loud at the absurdity of the scene, but you didn't.

“You don't have to be jealous, sweetheart,” he replied with slightly shaky hands as he stopped his movement abruptly when the doll finished talking. He just stared longingly at the colorful pills in front of him. “I don't mind sharing with you, you know that.”

You sighed inwardly at the thing you were about to do. You had been clean for maybe about three years by now and quitting drugs of any kind overnight was fucking hard - definitely one of the hardest things you had to do in your life. On the other hand, your life was still as shitty as before, the only difference being that you were now consciously depressed and unhappy, so who cares? You could die every second anyway. “Thanks.” you just said after taking the pill out of his hand and threw the thing as quickly as possible in your mouth as soon as the doll looked away. Yeah, you were the biggest hypocrite on earth, old news.

It only took maybe a few seconds after that for you to feel the effects of the pill and then finally, all the stress started to dissipate. Your muscles relaxed, all the shouting about whatever felt like a soft pillow hugging you and the weird laying positions of the dead around you suddenly seemed incredibly funny. These were really strong pills, you could practically feel your whole body tingling. “Why are they all suddenly forming a line?” you asked with a grin and Thanos just hummed, not knowing the answer himself. “No idea, but watch this,” he said and waited until the puppet had turned towards you to push the person next to him, causing everyone in front of them to fall over too. “Ding! You lost,” he told them while wiggling his eyebrows and smirking after he watched them get shot.

You didn't even try to stifle your laughter at the scene. “You really are such an asshole.” you replied, shoving him aside this time after the doll averted its gaze. You then ran away as fast and as far away as you could so that he couldn't take revenge on you for what you had just done. However, you quickly stopped moving with both hands in the air as soon as the girlish voice emitted red light as if you were surrendering to her. You stifled your grin and pretty much failed when you noticed a slightly older woman standing relatively close to you. “Hey, are you trying to hide behind me to use me as a shield?” you spoke out without moving your mouth much and watched as she began to sweat more after you realized what she was doing. Still, she didn't pay you any further attention. “And now you're ignoring me too?” you spat out annoyed and grabbed her by the arm when you were free to move and pulled her in front of you against her will.

She tried to fight you off but you forced her further forward while she tried to defend herself. “You're older than me, aren't you ashamed of yourself?” You asked her and stopped walking before the robot's face turned towards you.

Number 57, who was still resisting your grip, stumbled a little to the side when you suddenly let go of her. She was about to howl in delight when she noticed how everyone else stood still. “No…” she mumbled out fearfully. “It's because of that bitch! I didn't -” she tried to defend herself to someone as she looked around the room, but her head caught the bullet before she could even finish her sentence.

“I may be a bitch, but at least I'm still alive.” you sang to her dead body on the floor before running past her. You didn't know how much time was left, but you had almost made it to the finish line anyway. You stopped with your back to the robot girl this time and it didn't take you long to spot the purple hair in the crowd. “Su-bong!” you shouted his name, since you had somehow gotten separated while running. You waited until he yelled back with a what?! “Last one there, gets fucked in the ass!” you yelled out without any shame or filter and saw his facial expression turn serious at the challenge. “Let's Go!”

The whole game went by relatively quickly once you took the pill from Thanos. It was actually quite fun, you thought to yourself as you both jumped around like two crazy people with grinning faces, waving your arms around wildly. I know it's not socially acceptable to say this, but I fucking love doing drugs! It was like everything around you was happening in slow motion and all the decisions you made felt foggy, like you didn't even realize what you were doing.

You loved being this person, it felt great to forget everything and just - not think. “I have won! No, really! You crossed the line two steps after me, I saw it!” you exclaimed before Thanos could object to a single thing. “Didn't anyone else see that?” you exclaimed in disbelief as if the others weren't busy staying alive while watching several others die right before their faces. You didn't care about the looks they gave you as you waved your hand. “No, they definitely saw it. I won.”

Thanos just gave in with a heavy sigh and a roll of his eyes. “Yeah yeah, I'm getting fucked in the ass which is gay, very funny.” he just mumbled to himself annoyed, and continued to avoid your gaze, but couldn't help grin again when you slapped him on the shoulder laughing. “Hey, why did we stop doing all this again?” he asked you when he couldn't remember the reason. All he knew was that he hadn't had this much fun in a long time, even though he knew that he always had a great time with you - no matter what.

You laughed. “Oh, that's because you promised me that we'd both get clean together, and then you spent the money I gave you for rehab on more drugs behind my back.“ you laughed along with him, even if Thanos frowned a little at the memory and you started to smile forcedly after remembering again how he had betrayed you. “Or what was it again? Was it something about that Youtuber you told me about…” you mumbled to yourself obliviously, feeling any sense of happiness begin to fade. You finally gave up, the details weren't that important anyway. “It doesn't really matter though, right? In any case, you used the money for something else, whatever it was. Even though you knew how hard I worked for it - hell, I didn't even eat most days to scrape it together, man.” you stated while you looked him in the face, even though he averted his gaze from you. “That's just fucked up dude.”

Exactly. You actually hated being this person. You might not remember it right now, but you would as soon as the effects of the pill wore off, which hopefully wasn't soon. You really hoped it wasn't soon, because you didn't want to be aware of anything that had happened today.

next.

[hwaretic]

Room 1117 | j.yh

note : immediately thought of this as soon as he posted that and he had no right to post these like what the actual fuck is wrong with him🤨

pairing : bf! yunho x gf! reader

genre : smut (warning : 18+)

word count : 5k

summary : after a late-night text from Yunho, you visit his hotel room, where unresolved tension ignites into deep, passionate intimacy. What starts as lust turns into something more tender and emotional. By morning, tangled in sheets and soft sunlight, neither of you wants it to end—and for the first time, it feels like the beginning of something real.

The knock came soft, almost unsure.

You hesitated. Your fingers hovered over the hotel room handle, heart thudding faster than it should’ve after a simple text from him:

“1117. Come if you want to.”

You almost didn’t go.

Almost.

But now, standing outside his door with only the muffled hum of the hallway lights and your own heartbeat for company, you couldn’t turn back. Not when you remembered how he’d looked at you earlier that evening—lips parted, eyes dark, like he already knew you’d say yes.

You pushed open the door.

Warm light spilled out. There he was—Yunho—leaning against the headboard, robe loosely tied, collarbone peeking out, damp hair falling messily across his forehead. His hand was pressed to his cheek, watching you like you were something he wanted to savor slowly. The room smelled faintly of clean linen, his cologne, and heat.

“Hey,” he murmured, voice deep and scratchy, as if you’d woken him up from something dreamlike.

You swallowed, stepping in and shutting the door behind you with a quiet click. “You’re really just… sitting there like that?”

He smiled lazily, head tilting as he eyed your figure. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

“You told me to.”

“I said if you want to,” he corrected, his gaze lingering as you dropped your bag on the chair. “So… do you?”

You stepped closer, heart threatening to jump out of your chest. His robe parted slightly as he shifted to sit up straighter, revealing a sliver of toned stomach and the lines that disappeared beneath the fabric. You tried not to stare. Failed.

“I shouldn’t,” you breathed.

“But you did.”

You nodded.

“Good,” he said, his voice almost a growl now. “Because I haven’t stopped thinking about you since you left my bed the last time.”

Your breath caught.

That night had been chaos. Desire, rushed touches, clothes hitting the floor like confessions. But this time… this felt different. Slower. Like he wasn’t in a rush to have you, because he already knew he would.

“Come here,” he said softly.

You obeyed.

As soon as you were within reach, Yunho’s hand reached out, fingers wrapping around your wrist and tugging you down onto the bed. You landed beside him, and he didn’t waste a second—his lips were on yours, warm and coaxing, tongue brushing yours with a deep hunger that had your skin prickling.

His hand slid behind your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as he kissed you like he had all the time in the world. The robe slipped open a bit more, and the heat radiating from his skin was dizzying.

“You feel so good,” he whispered against your lips, before trailing down your neck, biting gently at the spot below your ear. “Missed this… missed you.”

You didn’t even realize your hands were untying his robe until you felt the fabric fall away, revealing his bare chest beneath. He looked so good it hurt. His skin was smooth and warm beneath your palms, chest rising and falling steadily as he let you explore.

He leaned back slightly, watching your face as you touched him. “You gonna just look,” he murmured, “or are you gonna do something about it?”

You gave him a look that made him smirk—before you pushed him down against the pillows.

His eyes darkened immediately.

“I want to taste you,” you said, voice hoarse, honest.

“Fuck,” Yunho breathed, “come here.”

You crawled over him, straddling his waist, and he sat up just enough to pull your shirt over your head in one swift move, mouth dragging along your collarbone, down the swell of your chest. Your skin burned under his lips, and your back arched instinctively when his tongue flicked over your nipple, teasing, then sucking softly until you gasped.

You could feel him hard against your thigh, and the sheer heat between you two was making it hard to breathe.

“You drive me crazy,” he whispered, voice low and raw. “You know that?”

His hands slid down your waist, thumbs pressing into your hips as he rolled you over, switching positions so quickly it left you breathless. Now, he was over you, robe discarded, his body pressed fully against yours, skin to skin.

Everywhere he touched felt electric—his mouth trailing down your stomach, the scratch of his jaw against your inner thigh, the way he looked up at you before disappearing between your legs like he was about to worship you.

And he did.

Tongue slow and deliberate, fingers steady as he built you up—until your back arched off the mattress and your moans filled the room. He held you there, trembling, falling apart just for him.

When he came back up, your lips met in a mess of desperation. You needed him now.

“Condom,” you whispered, barely able to speak.

Yunho reached into the drawer beside the bed, rolling one on with practiced ease. And then—he was there, pressing into you slow and deep, forehead against yours, like he couldn’t stand to be even an inch away.

“Look at me,” he whispered.

You did.

And in that moment, nothing else existed—just him, the feeling of his body moving against yours, the way he kissed you like he needed to, like he missed you, like he never wanted to let go again.

The pace built quickly—each thrust rougher, deeper, like he was trying to mark every inch of you. Your nails dragged down his back, and he hissed into your neck, rutting harder, faster, until you were both trembling on the edge.

“Cum for me,” he growled, voice wrecked. “Wanna feel you lose it.”

And when you did—when your body shook beneath him and he followed moments after, groaning your name into your skin—it felt like the world had stopped spinning, just for the two of you.

After, Yunho didn’t move.

He stayed there, wrapped around you, chest rising and falling against yours. The afterglow settled like warmth between your bones, and his hand found yours beneath the sheets.

“I don’t want this to be just one night again,” he said softly, lips brushing your forehead.

You turned your head, eyes meeting his. “Then don’t let it be.”

You must’ve drifted off. The sheets were tangled around your leg, skin sticky with sweat, heart still finding its rhythm again. The room had gone quiet except for the low hum of the air conditioning and Yunho’s soft, steady breathing next to you.

You opened your eyes slowly.

He was lying on his side, propped up on one elbow, watching you.

“You’re staring,” you murmured, voice still wrecked from earlier.

He smiled, the kind that made your stomach flutter. “I’m thinking.”

“Dangerous.”

He reached out, brushing a damp strand of hair from your forehead. “I want you again.”

You blinked. “Already?”

Yunho leaned in, lips brushing against your jaw. “I’m not done showing you how much I missed you.”

Before you could reply, his mouth found your throat again, slower this time, lazy and teasing. His fingers slid along your waist, gripping possessively before moving lower. You gasped when his hand slipped between your thighs again—already knowing exactly how to touch you.

“You’re sensitive,” he whispered, trailing kisses down your chest. “Still so wet for me.”

You whimpered, hips arching off the bed as his fingers toyed with your folds, dragging slow circles that made you tremble.

“I love how your body reacts to me,” he breathed. “It’s like you’re made for me.”

You reached for him, your fingers tangling in his messy black hair as he slid lower, tongue replacing his fingers, lapping at you slowly until your thighs were trembling around his shoulders.

“Yunho—please,” you whispered, and the way your voice broke on his name made him groan against you.

He came back up, lips slick, eyes dark. “Want me to fuck you again, baby?”

“Yes,” you gasped.

He reached for another condom, tearing the packet with his teeth like he couldn’t wait. And then he was on top of you again, this time slower, deeper, rolling his hips in a rhythm that had your toes curling and your head thrown back against the pillows.

“You feel so good,” he growled, kissing your collarbone. “I could stay inside you forever.”

You clenched around him at his words, dragging him closer, bodies moving like they’d been made to fit. He held your face in both hands this time, looking into your eyes as he thrust into you harder, deeper.

“I want all of you,” he said, voice breaking. “Not just tonight.”

You barely heard the words over the sound of your own pleasure rising, threatening to drown you again—but you felt them, in the way he kissed you after, slow and almost reverent.

Your second orgasm crashed over you like a wave, Yunho following a moment later, burying himself deep with a groan that sent shivers through your spine.

This time, when you both collapsed into the sheets, you didn’t untangle.

The Next Morning

The sunlight was soft when it slipped through the curtains, casting golden lines across the sheets and your bare skin. You woke to the feeling of arms around your waist, warm breath on the back of your neck.

Yunho was spooning you—legs tangled with yours, chest pressed to your back, heartbeat a steady thump against your spine.

You smiled sleepily, not opening your eyes just yet.

His voice was quiet, groggy. “You awake?”

“Mmhmm.”

His grip tightened slightly, like he was making sure you were really there. “Good. I had a dream you left.”

“I didn’t,” you whispered, turning in his arms to face him.

Yunho looked softer in the daylight, still devastatingly beautiful, but boyish in a way that made your chest ache. His hair was a mess, lips kiss-swollen, and his robe was still draped at the end of the bed, forgotten.

You reached out to touch his face, thumb brushing over his cheekbone. “Didn’t plan on leaving.”

He leaned into your touch, eyes closing for a second. “Stay longer?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

He smiled, pulling you into him again, lips finding yours for a slow, sleepy kiss that tasted like warmth and second chances.

No rush. No pretending.

Just Yunho. Just you. And the soft hum of a morning that felt like the start of something real.

[natsaffection]

Redline. pt 5 | N.R

Older!Motorsportboss!Natasha x Younger!Racing!Driver!Reader

Warnings: Age gap (N= 32, r=23), Crash, dealing with shock, 18+! MINORS DNI! Fingering, begging

Word count: 10,9k

A/N: Rewrote it several times and now have a little stomach ache about posting it…Good night! I’ll check the reactions tomorrow morning. 🫠

Part 4

Natasha shoved past the pit wall, not caring about the protests, not hearing her own breathless curse as she ran towards the wreckage. By the time she reached the scene, the fire marshals were already dousing any lingering flames. And then, you.

You were moving.

A sharp wave of relief punched through her chest as she saw you push the cockpit open yourself, struggling against the stiff restraints. The front of your car was utterly decimated, debris scattered across the track. But you..God, you were standing.

Still, something was wrong. You weren’t looking at her. You weren’t even registering the chaos around you. Your eyes were locked onto your ruined car, hands trembling as though your mind was still catching up with what had happened.

Natasha was on you in an instant. You expected anger to come first, What the fuck were you thinking? Why didn’t you back off? But the words never left her lips. Because as soon as she got close enough to see past your helmet’s visor, Natasha realized the truth.

You were in shock. Your breath was coming too fast, your hands clenching and unclenching at your sides. You weren’t even trying to take your helmet off, just standing there, locked in a daze. Natasha’s voice softened, barely above a whisper. “Hey..”

Nothing. She cursed under her breath and stepped closer. This time, her hands reached for your helmet, gently unlatching it. Your fingers twitched as if you wanted to protest, but you couldn’t quite make yourself do it. Carefully, she lifted the helmet off, revealing your wide eyes, dilated pupils, skin pale beneath the grime and sweat. You blinked at her, still disoriented, but then your focus shifted back to the car.

Natasha saw it before you even moved. The way your body swayed slightly, your balance failing you. “I-I have to sit do-” You didn’t make it that far. Your knees buckled and Natasha caught you before you could hit the ground, strong arms locking around your waist.

“I’ve got you.”

The words were so uncharacteristically soft that even in your dazed state, you noticed. Natasha, who never coddled, never let an ounce of emotion slip through during a race, was holding you as if you might disappear. She helped lower you down carefully, kneeling beside you on the asphalt. One hand pressed firmly against your back to keep you upright, the other finding your wrist to check your pulse. Too fast.

“You have to look at me.” Natasha murmured, voice calm but firm. “Breathe.”

You swallowed hard, trying to steady yourself, but your body was still trembling from the adrenaline. You hadn’t even realized how hard you were shaking until Natasha’s fingers brushed against your cheek, grounding you. Her eyes, sharp and unreadable, searched yours for any sign of real injury. You felt exposed under that gaze, but for once, there was no anger, no disappointment. Just something deeper, something you didn’t dare name.

Your lips parted, voice hoarse. “I-I’m fine-”

“No.” Natasha cut you off, her grip tightening just slightly. “You’re not.”

The medics were arriving, voices blending into the background. But Natasha didn’t move. You blinked up at her, trying to focus. Trying to ignore the way your heart was racing for an entirely different reason now. “You scared the shit out of me.” she admitted, voice rough.

That caught you off guard. Your breath hitched, and for the first time since the crash, you truly looked at her. Natasha..your impossible, untouchable, ruthless boss..looked wrecked. And that, more than anything, made your chest tighten. “I didn’t mean to..” you mumbled, feeling small.

Natasha exhaled, something unreadable flickering behind her eyes. “I know.” She didn’t say anything else, but she didn’t have to. Because her hands were still on you, steadying you, refusing to let go.

And for once, you let yourself lean into it. You weren’t sure when she had stopped being just your boss and when she became the one thing anchoring you to reality. The shock was wearing off, slowly being replaced by exhaustion and a dull ache settling deep into your muscles. Your adrenaline had carried you this far, but now that it was fading, you could feel every bit of tension clawing at you.

Natasha opened the car door, guiding you carefully towards the seat. But as soon as you settled inside, your eyes flickered to the road ahead, and your stomach twisted.

The medical tent.

“No.” you muttered, straightening despite the lingering dizziness. “I don’t need this. I’m fine-”

Natasha didn’t even hesitate. “You’re going.”

You turned to her, frustration bubbling up beneath the exhaustion. “I just need a s-second, I don’t need-”

Her hand came down on your thigh, grounding you. Not hard, not forceful, just enough to make you stop. Her grip was warm even through your race suit, her thumb pressing against the fabric in a silent warning.

“Y/n..” she said, her voice lower now, quieter. Steady. That was all. Just your name. But somehow, it cut through the panic better than anything else. Your chest rose and fell too fast, your body still caught somewhere between fight and flight. But Natasha wasn’t budging. She stayed close, unwavering, her expression unreadable.

After a moment, she sighed and softened her tone. “You’re going to the tent.” she repeated, slower this time, like she was making sure you heard every word. “You can argue all you want, but I’m not letting you walk away from this without getting checked.”

You clenched your jaw. “But I’m fine.”

Natasha leaned in slightly, her face inches from yours now. “Then prove it.”

You blinked, thrown off. “If you’re fine..” she continued, “then let them check you. Get cleared, and I won’t say another word about it.”

She had you there. You could either sit and argue, or you could go through the motions and be done with it. Either way, Natasha was not backing down. You exhaled sharply, dropping your head back against the seat. “Fine.”

The corner of her mouth twitched. almost a smirk, but she said nothing as she closed the door and rounded the vehicle to get in beside you. The medical tent smelled of antiseptic and fresh gauze, bright fluorescent lights making the space feel colder than it actually was. You sat on the examination table, arms crossed, trying not to wince as a nurse ran her fingers over your ribs. Natasha was standing a few feet away, arms folded, watching everything with the sharp intensity of a hawk.

You weren’t sure if she was monitoring you or the nurse, but either way, she wasn’t leaving. “Any dizziness?” the nurse asked.

You hesitated. You could lie. But Natasha would see right through it. “Some..” you admitted, reluctantly.

The nurse hummed, continuing her assessment. “Headache?”

“Not really.”

Natasha made a sound, a short exhale through her nose, almost like she didn’t believe you. You shot her a look, but she didn’t move, just kept that unreadable expression on her face. After a few more tests, the nurse stepped back and gave you a nod. “No signs of a concussion, but I’d still suggest resting for the next twenty-four hours. You took a hard hit. Any unusual pain, dizziness, or nausea, come back immediately.”

You nodded, already hopping off the table. “Thanks-” Natasha caught your arm before you could move any further. You stilled. Her grip wasn’t tight, but it was firm. She wasn’t stopping you, just… keeping you there for a moment longer.

The nurse glanced between you two before offering Natasha a polite smile. “She’s alright. Just needs rest.”

Natasha nodded once. “Good.”

The nurse left, and suddenly, the tent was too quiet. Your legs were steady now, though your body still ached from the impact. You’re turning toward the exit. But Natasha was faster. She blocked your path, arms crossed, gaze steady. “You’re coming with me.” she said simply.

You blinked. “What?”

“I’m driving you home.”

That threw you off. Natasha never left mid-race. Ever. The woman would sooner cut off her own arm than abandon her team during a critical event.

“But the race-”

“Yelena is taking over.”

You frowned. “What?”

“She’ll handle the rest of the strategy meetings. She can manage for a few hours.” Natasha Romanoff, the most controlling, hyper-focused team principal in the paddock, was just…handing things over?

“You don’t have to do that..” you said carefully. Natasha’s expression didn’t waver. “Get in the car.” The tone left no room for argument. You hesitated, glancing past her toward the paddock. The race was still happening, mechanics scrambling, engineers glued to monitors. It felt unnatural to leave in the middle of it.

But Natasha wasn’t giving you a choice. She took a step closer, voice quieter now. “You just hit a wall at over 200 kph, dorogaya. You’re not going back to the garage like nothing happened.”

You swallowed hard at the way she said it. Low, steady, controlled. When she’s calling you darling in Russian, you knew it was serious. She didn’t wait for you to argue. Her hand wrapped around your wrist, not too tight, not too gentle, just enough to make sure you were following.

The drive was silent. The sound of the engine filled the space, smooth and controlled, a stark contrast to the chaos you’d left behind. You stared out the window, arms crossed, trying to shake the exhaustion creeping in. Natasha was focused on the road, her jaw tight, fingers wrapped around the steering wheel like she was gripping onto something unseen.

You couldn’t tell if she was mad, worried, or just thinking too much. The tension sat thick between you, heavy and unspoken. You shifted in your seat, needing something..anything, to distract yourself. You pulled out your phone and started scrolling. And, of course, it was everywhere. Every headline. Every tweet. Every article.

Another brutal crash for Y/N L/N—can she recover?

Disaster strikes again: Second crash in just a few months.

Is Y/N L/N too reckless for GT?

Your stomach twisted. Before you could keep scrolling, Natasha’s hand shot out. In one swift motion, she plucked the phone right out of your grasp.

“Hey-”

“You don’t need to see that.”

Your mouth opened to protest, but when you turned to face her, something about her expression stopped you cold. It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t frustration. It was something else. Something softer, something raw. For the first time since the crash, you saw the weight in her eyes, the worry she had been hiding under sharp commands and unwavering control.

And maybe you were too tired to fight back. You exhaled, letting your head fall back against the seat. “It’s not like it’s anything new..” you muttered.

Natasha’s fingers curled around your phone, her knuckles briefly turning white. “It’s bullshit.” she said flatly.

You let out a dry laugh. “That’s racing. People talk.”

Natasha’s jaw tightened. “Let them talk. It doesn’t change anything.”

You scoffed, turning your head toward the window. “It changes everything.”

Silence. And then, “I don’t give a damn what they say.”

Your breath hitched. You turned back to her, but she kept her eyes on the road, her grip on the steering wheel just a little tighter than before. You swallowed hard. The woman who was always pushing you harder, expecting more, never accepting less than perfection, was sitting here, telling you she didn’t care what anyone else thought. You should’ve been annoyed. Maybe even a little angry. But instead, you just felt something deep in your chest ease, just a little.

The moment Natasha pulled into the driveway of her trackside home, you knew this wasn’t just about getting you away from the chaos. This was personal. She didn’t say a word as she parked, cut the engine, and got out. You sat there for a second, staring at the darkened windows of her track, still trying to wrap your head around the fact that Natasha Romanoff had left an entire Grand Prix just to drag you here.

A soft click pulled you out of your thoughts. Your door opened, and Natasha stood there, one hand gripping the edge of the frame, “Come on.” she murmured. No sharpness, no impatience. Just quiet insistence.

You sighed, unbuckling yourself, the exhaustion weighing down your every movement. She didn’t say anything as you stepped out, just stayed close enough to steady you in case you wavered. Her eyes tracked every movement, like she was still waiting for you to collapse.

You sighed. “Natasha, I’m fi-”

“Fine?” she finished, arching an eyebrow. “You’ve said that enough times today.”

You pressed your lips together. You were so damn tired. And she knew it. Wordlessly, she led the way inside. The space was just as you left it before the race: tidy, quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos at the paddock. But even here, you still felt the weight of what had happened, lingering in the back of your mind like a dull ache.

Natasha didn’t let you dwell. She brought you straight to your room, pushing the door open before standing aside to let you in. You hesitated, glancing up at her. “You don’t have to do this.” you muttered.

She met your gaze, something flickering in her eyes. “I do.” That shut you up. With a heavy sigh, you stepped inside and sank onto the edge of your bed, your muscles finally giving in to exhaustion.

Natasha lingered in the doorway for a moment, watching you closely. Then, after a beat, she reached into her pocket and pulled out your phone. She held it out to you. You blinked in surprise before taking it, the cool weight grounding in your palm. “Text your parents.” she said quietly.

You swallowed. Oh. Oh, shit. The headlines. They would have seen it by now. You hesitated, fingers hovering over the screen, then slowly started typing. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. You hit send, exhaling softly. Natasha watched the tension leave your shoulders, and something in her own posture eased, just a little.

Then, just as you thought she was about to step back, she spoke again. “I have something to take care of.”

You looked up, already sensing the shift in her tone. “Nat-”

“No.” she said, voice cold. Your stomach twisted. “You don’t have to do anything..” you said carefully. “It was just a racing incident-”

Her jaw tightened. “That wasn’t an incident.”

You swallowed hard. She took a step closer, her presence filling the space between you. “You could’ve been killed today.”

Your throat went dry. “I let you walk away, I let you tell everyone you were fine.” she continued, voice dangerously quiet. “But I am not letting him get away with that.”

You wanted to argue. To tell her it wasn’t worth it. But this wasn’t just about the crash. It was about you. And Natasha didn’t let anyone mess with what was hers. She reached for the door handle but hesitated, glancing back at you one last time.

“Rest.” she murmured, softer now. “I’ll be back soon.”

And then she was gone. You stared at the closed door, your phone still clutched in your hand. Outside, the faint sound of an engine revving echoed through the night. And for the first time since the crash, you weren’t sure who people should be more afraid of Walker…or her.

You sat there for a while, still gripping your phone, still replaying everything in your head, the crash, the impact, the way Natasha had looked at you like she’d seen a ghost. You should have been relieved. You had walked away. You were fine. So why the hell did it still feel like you couldn’t breathe?

You peeled yourself out of your race suit, wincing at the dull ache in your limbs as you stepped into the bathroom. The steam rose instantly as you turned on the water, letting it run until it was nearly scalding before stepping under the stream.

The heat hit your skin, washing away the sweat, the grime, the reminders of the race. But it didn’t wash away the feeling. No matter how much you scrubbed, no matter how hard you tried to focus on the warmth, the crash still played in your mind like a never-ending loop.

Walker’s car edging too close. The world tilting. The way your own voice had cracked. The impact. The absolute helplessness. Your fingers curled against the tiled wall, your breath coming too fast. It was fine. You were fine. So why the hell couldn’t you stop shaking?

Your knuckles turned white as you pressed your palm against the wall, grounding yourself. You weren’t scared. You had been through worse. You had crashed before, had felt the sting of losing control. But this time, it had been different. You had been different.

And Natasha had felt it too. The way she ran to you. The way her hands had trembled, just slightly as she took your helmet off. The way she had looked at you when she told you to rest..You squeezed your eyes shut, letting the water pour over you, trying to drown out the thoughts. It didn’t work. Nothing was working.

Your body still ached, your head still spun, and no matter how hard you tried to shake it, the weight of what had happened sat heavy in your chest. You hated this. You hated the helplessness. Hated the way your body refused to listen to logic. You weren’t weak. You weren’t fragile. But damn it, this shook you. And for the first time, you weren’t sure if you could shove it down and pretend otherwise.

The knock at your door was firm, but you didn’t answer. You had been lying on your bed for what felt like forever, staring at the ceiling, still damp from the shower, hair clinging to your skin. Your body ached, your chest felt hollow, and yet, you couldn’t seem to do anything but exist in this unbearable quiet.

But Natasha didn’t wait for permission. The door creaked open, and the familiar weight of her presence filled the room. You didn’t have to look to know it was her, the way she moved, controlled and quiet, the faint scent of leather and adrenaline lingering in the air.

You didn’t move. Didn’t say anything. Natasha let out a soft exhale before she finally spoke. “Walker’s been disciplined.”

You blinked slowly at the ceiling. “FIA gave him a penalty. He’ll get more points on his license, and if he pulls shit like that again, he’ll be out.” Her voice was steady, cool, but you could hear the sharp edge beneath it. The restraint.

You swallowed. You should have felt relieved. But all you felt was tired. Again. It was happening again. The crash. The headlines. The scrutiny. It’s always the same. You didn’t move, your fingers curling into the sheets. Natasha must have sensed it because she took a step closer, voice lowering.

“You don’t have to think about it now-”

“I don’t want to hear it.” you muttered.

Silence. You clenched your jaw, forcing yourself to sit up. Your chest felt tight, your pulse erratic, but you didn’t want her looking at you like this, like she was waiting for you to break.

“I don’t need you standing there like I’m about to lose my mind.” you said, voice sharper than you intended. Natasha studied you carefully, her eyes piercing through every inch of the walls you were trying so desperately to hold up.

“I didn’t say that.” she said evenly. You scoffed, pushing your hair back. “You don’t have to.” A muscle in her jaw ticked.

You could feel it coming..the spiral, the weight, the suffocating loop of thoughts you had been shoving down since the moment you stepped out of that car. You didn’t want to do this. Not in front of her.

“I get it..” you continued, voice shaking slightly. “Walker got punished, people are talking, and now I just have to deal with it.” You forced a dry laugh. “I mean, it’s not like this hasn’t happened before, right? Another crash, another round of bullshit. That’s just how it goes.”

Your fingers curled into your palms, nails digging into your skin.

“Y/n, you don’t have to-”

“It’s always the same..” Your voice cracked, frustration rising. “They talk, they judge, and then they wait, wait for the next crash, wait for the next moment I fuck up, wait to pick apart every single thing I do.”

Natasha’s eyes darkened. “And you know what the worst part is?” You let out a breathless, humorless laugh. “I let it happen. I go back out there and pretend it doesn’t get to me. I pretend like it’s not crawling under my skin. Because if I stop, if I let myself feel it-” Your throat closed up. You could feel it now. The weight pressing down, clawing at your chest. Natasha took another step forward, her voice softer now. “Y/n-”

“I can’t-” Your voice caught, and suddenly, you couldn’t hold it back anymore. The tears burned before you even realized they were there. No. No, no, no, not now.. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing them to stop, willing yourself to shove it all back down.

“I know.” Natasha murmured, barely above a whisper. And that did it. The dam broke. A sob ripped through you, shaking your entire body as you clutched the sheets beneath you. The pressure, the frustration, the helplessness, it all came crashing down at once.

You barely registered Natasha moving until she was there. Warm. Solid. Holding you. Her arms wrapped around you, pulling you against her. One hand tangled in your hair, the other pressing against your back, steady and unyielding.

You gasped against her shoulder, fists clenching in her jacket, as the sobs overtook you. You weren’t even sure what you were crying for anymore, the crash, the exhaustion, the sheer repetition of it all. All you knew was that Natasha wasn’t letting go. Not this time. She didn’t say anything, didn’t try to hush you or tell you it would be okay. She just held you.

Her grip tightened every time your body shook. Her fingers ghosted over your skin like she was grounding you, reminding you that you weren’t alone. Minutes passed. Maybe longer. Eventually, the storm faded. Your body slumped against hers, drained, exhausted. Your breath slowed, hiccupping slightly as you tried to come back to yourself.

But Natasha was still so close. And when you finally lifted your head, when your red-rimmed eyes met hers, you both stilled. The air shifted. Your breath mingled, the space between you almost nonexistent. Her hands were still on you. One resting against your back, the other hovering near your jaw, fingers brushing against your skin in a way that made your pulse stutter.

Her gaze flickered, down to your lips, just for a second, before snapping back up. And God, you could feel it. The pull. The tension. The undeniable inevitability of it. You leaned in. Or maybe she did. You weren’t sure who moved first, but the moment your noses brushed, the air thickened, heavy and intoxicating.

It would only take a second. Just one second, but then, Natasha sucked in a sharp breath. And pulled away. The cold hit you immediately as she stepped back, her hands dropping from your skin as if she had just realized what she was doing.

Her jaw clenched, her breath unsteady, and for the first time, she looked conflicted. “I-” She exhaled, running a hand through her hair, her voice quieter now. “You’re vulnerable right now.”

You blinked, the words hitting you like a slap. Your stomach twisted” I-I’m sorry-”

“You should sleep. It was a long day.” She hesitated, just for a second. But then she shook her head, her walls slamming back into place. She stepped toward the door, her hand already reaching for the handle. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

And before you could say anything else, before you could even process what the hell had just happened..She was gone.

The office was dark except for the dim glow of a desk lamp. The moment Natasha stepped inside, she exhaled sharply and headed straight for the small bar in the corner. Her hands were steady, but her mind was anything but. The whiskey burned as she poured it into a glass, but she welcomed the sting. Anything to quiet the almost still lingering between her lips.

She leaned against her desk, swirling the amber liquid, her jaw tightening as her mind replayed the moment over and over again. Too close. Too fucking close. One more second, one more breath, and she would have kissed you. And God, she wanted to and that was the problem. She clenched her jaw and took a long sip, letting the burn trail down her throat.

She had been reckless before, on the field, in battle, in life. But this? You? You were something else entirely. The door creaked open.

“Finally.”

Yelena’s voice cut through the silence, followed by the sound of her boots clicking against the floor. Natasha didn’t look up. “Not now.”

“Too bad..” Yelena muttered, crossing her arms as she stepped into the office. “We need to talk about Walker.”

Natasha took another sip, her fingers tightening around the glass. “I handled it.”

“I know.” Yelena said. “I just wanted to say..” She trailed off. Natasha could feel her younger sister’s eyes scanning the room, and then- “Oh.” The realization hit fast. Natasha could sense the smirk forming on Yelena’s face before she even turned her head.

“You’re.. drinking.”

Natasha didn’t respond. “You never drink after a race unless..” Yelena’s eyes narrowed before her lips curled into a knowing grin. “Unless something happened.”

Natasha sighed, setting the glass down harder than necessary. “Yelena-”

“Oh my God.” Yelena’s grin widened.

Natasha pinched the bridge of her nose. “Don’t.”

But it was too late. Yelena’s whole face lit up. “This isn’t about Walker, is it?” Silence. A slow, wicked smile spread across Yelena’s lips. “This is about her.” Yelena laughed. Not just any laugh, a full-body, delighted, finally-I-fucking-knew-it laugh.

Natasha’s eyes snapped up, glare sharp enough to kill, but Yelena only laughed harder.

“Oh my God, I knew it!” she cackled, leaning against the desk. “I fucking knew it!”

Natasha clenched her jaw. “Yelena-”

“You almost kissed, didn’t you?” Yelena interrupted, grinning like she had just won the lottery. Natasha didn’t answer. That was answer enough. Yelena lost it. She doubled over, shaking her head as if this was the greatest thing she had ever heard.

“Are you kidding me?!” she wheezed. “This has been coming for months!”

Natasha glared. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I do..” Yelena shot back, still grinning. “The tension? The fighting? The glaring across the paddock? I swear, every time you two argue, it’s like watching foreplay.”

Natasha groaned, rubbing her temples. Yelena smirked, eyes still alight with amusement. “Come on, Nat..” she teased, nudging her. “You like her.”

Natasha didn’t move. Didn’t respond. Yelena’s smirk softened, just slightly. “You always like her.” she said, quieter this time. “That’s the real problem, isn’t it?” Natasha exhaled, staring at the amber liquid in her glass. She didn’t need to answer. Yelena already knew. And for the first time, Natasha hated how well her sister could see through her.

The next morning, the air in the briefing room was thick with the low hum of conversation and the scratching of pens against paper. Engineers, strategists, and key members of the team sat around the long table, all focused on the monitors displaying telemetry data, damage assessments, and projections for the next race.

Seven days. Seven days until the next Grand Prix. Seven days to fix everything that had been shattered: your car, your confidence, and whatever the hell had happened between you and Natasha last night.

You sat in your usual spot near the end of the table, arms crossed, back straight, trying to focus on the words being exchanged. The screen showed the state of your wrecked car from yesterday, the entire front end mangled from the impact. The mechanics were already deep into repairs, and a new chassis was being prepped.

“We’ll have it ready before transport to the next circuit.” one of the lead engineers assured the group. Yelena leaned back in her chair, flicking a pen between her fingers. “And where does she start on the grid?” she asked, nodding toward you.

“Depends.” your race strategist replied. “But given the new components, we should be looking at a competitive position. With the right adjustments, we can get her back at the front.”

You nodded, barely processing the words, still trying to steady yourself. Because she was here. Natasha sat at the head of the table, posture straight, fingers tapping idly against the desk as she listened to the report. But she wasn’t just listening. She was watching you. It was subtle, so subtle that if you hadn’t spent so much time around her, you might not have noticed. But you felt it. The weight of her gaze. The way her eyes flickered toward you every time someone mentioned your car. The tension in her shoulders whenever someone brought up Walker.

You should have looked away. But you didn’t. And neither did she. For a moment, the entire meeting room disappeared. The voices, the numbers, the data..it all faded into the background as you locked eyes across the table. Your fingers curled around the edge of the chair, your heart hammering against your ribs. You could still feel the ghost of last night. The way she had held you, the way she had almost-

Natasha cleared her throat and broke the stare first, looking back down at the notes in front of her. You exhaled softly, forcing yourself to focus. Yelena, sitting next to you, didn’t miss a thing. She smirked, leaning in slightly. “You two going to keep eye-fucking the entire meeting, or should we actually discuss the car?”

Your stomach dropped. Heat rushed to your face as you shot her a warning glare. “Shut up..” you muttered under your breath. Yelena grinned.

Natasha, meanwhile, remained perfectly composed..on the surface, at least. But you didn’t miss the way her fingers curled into a fist against the table, or the sharp inhale she took before adjusting her posture. The meeting went on, but the tension never left. It was still there, unspoken, heavy, and impossible to ignore. The meeting had been going on for nearly an hour, filled with data breakdowns, car repair updates, and strategy discussions.

But none of it mattered. Not really. Because the only thing that did matter was the weight of Natasha’s gaze, the way her fingers drummed against the table every time your name was mentioned, the way she was avoiding speaking to you directly. Until she wasn’t. “We need to talk about the next race.” Natasha’s voice cut through the discussion, sharp and precise.

The room went silent. You straightened slightly, fingers tightening around the edge of the chair. Natasha turned to you fully now, her expression unreadable, but her voice was steady. Too steady. “You’re getting back in the car.”

Everyone was watching you now. Waiting. You swallowed hard, pushing through the tension in your chest. “I know.”

“No.” Natasha’s voice dropped slightly. “I need to hear you say it.”

The words hung heavy in the air. You exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of her expectation, her concern, her need for you to be okay, even if she wouldn’t admit it.

“I’m racing.” you said firmly, meeting her eyes. Something flickered in them..something unreadable, something that sent a shiver down your spine. A long pause. Then, Natasha gave a single, sharp nod.

Good.” The tension in the room didn’t dissipate, but the discussion continued. Data was reviewed, strategies were finalized, and plans were set into motion. But even as the meeting went on, you couldn’t shake the way Natasha had looked at you. Like she was preparing for war. And you weren’t sure if the battle was against Walker.

The next seven days were nothing short of relentless. Every day was a battle: fixing the car, running simulations, analyzing data, and ensuring that you were mentally and physically ready to race again.

But none of that compared to the real battle. The one happening between you and Natasha. Since the night you nearly kissed, something had shifted. It wasn’t something you spoke about..God, no. If anything, both of you had gone out of your way to pretend like nothing had happened.

But it was there. In the way her eyes lingered on you just a second too long. In the way your hands brushed when she passed you a data sheet. In the way your breath hitched whenever she leaned over your shoulder, her voice low as she analyzed your sector times. In the way she snapped at other engineers who wasted your time, as if she was the only one allowed to push you that hard.

It was like walking on a knife’s edge, waiting for something, anything to happen. And yet, neither of you made a move. Not when you caught each other staring across the garage. Not when your fingers brushed over the same laptop screen. Not even when she gripped your wrist during a briefing, her touch lingering just a second too long before she realized what she was doing and let go.

Instead, the tension built. And built. And built.

The paddock was a storm of movement, media personnel swarming, cameras flashing, journalists desperate to capture the story of the day. And they all knew exactly what it was.

“After her brutal crash just last week, Y/N L/N returns to the grid for redemption. But is she ready?”

“All eyes on L/N—can she handle the pressure?”

“Walker may have gotten a penalty, but is that enough to prevent further risks on the track?”

The words echoed through the speakers as you walked toward the garage, the pre-race energy buzzing in the air. You forced yourself to ignore it. The moment you stepped inside, the outside world melted away.

Your car was ready. The mechanics had worked tirelessly, and now, it gleamed under the garage lights, waiting for you. The team was moving efficiently around you, checking final tire pressures, adjusting wing settings, ensuring everything was perfect.

And then there was her. Natasha stood at the pit wall, headset on, arms crossed, watching the live broadcast of the pre-race show. She was composed, unreadable, except for the slight clench of her jaw every time they mentioned your crash.

She turned the second she sensed you. She had that look again. The same one she had given you before the last test session. The one that told you she saw everything, every flicker of hesitation, every unspoken fear, every piece of you that was still remembering the last time you had done this.

She didn’t look away. “You’re ready.” she said, voice steady. It wasn’t a question. You swallowed, fingers twitching at your sides. “I..”

Natasha exhaled through her nose, stepping closer. “Look at me.” she murmured. And there was something in her eyes, something that made your breath catch. “You can do this.” Her voice was softer now, but no less firm. “You belong here, Y/n.”

You clenched your jaw, exhaling through your nose. “Everyone’s waiting for me to crash again.” Her grip tightened around the helmet. “Fuck them.” Natasha’s gaze hardened, her grip tightening around the helmet. “Let them talk. Let them doubt you.” She took another step, the heat of her presence suffocating, overwhelming. “You know who you are. I know who you are.”

Your throat tightened. “I wouldn’t be standing here if I didn’t believe in you.” she continued, voice quieter but sharp as a blade. “You’re going to get in that car. You’re going to fight. And you’re going to win, because you can.”

Something in you shifted. It wasn’t immediate, wasn’t magic. But her words, her presence, the sheer weight of her belief in you, it settled deep in your chest, pushing back against the doubt, against the fear clawing at the edges of your mind.

Natasha lifted the helmet, tilting it slightly. Your fingers twitched as you reached for it, but she didn’t let go right away. Instead, she turned it in her hands, like she was making sure everything was perfect before handing it over. And then, instead of letting you put it on yourself, she helped you. Carefully, deliberately, she guided the helmet over your head, adjusting the fit, her fingers lingering against your jaw as she checked the strap. Her touch was soft. Almost too soft.

It sent a shiver down your spine. When she finally pulled back, her fingers brushed against your chin for half a second longer than necessary. The moment stretched, thick, electric, dangerous. She exhaled sharply, her face unreadable as she reached for your fireproof gloves. She didn’t just hand them to you.

She slid them onto your hands herself, pulling each finger snugly into place, like she needed to be sure you were completely ready. Your chest felt too tight, your pulse too fast. Finally, she nodded. “Get in the car.”

You stepped toward the cockpit, movements precise, automatic. But just before you swung your leg over the side, Natasha’s voice stopped you.

“Y/n.”

You turned back. Her green eyes burned into yours, and then she smirked. Just slightly. “Make them regret doubting you.”

A slow exhale left your lips. You nodded once. “I will.” And with that, you slid into the car, hands wrapping around the wheel, heart pounding not from fear, but from something else entirely. Something fierce. Something alive. And over the radio, just as the lights on the track began their countdown, her voice came through one last time, “Let’s hunt.”

Welcome back to the paddock, where we are moments away from lights out at today’s Grand Prix!”

“And all eyes are on Y/N L/N today. After a terrifying crash in the last race, the young driver is back on the grid, starting from P9. What a statement to make!”

“Absolutely! She’s had a phenomenal qualifying session, proving she still has the speed. But the real question is, has she fully recovered? Will the fear of another crash hold her back?”

“And let’s not forget, her rival, Walker, is starting just 4 position before in P5. After what happened last week, this could get very interesting.”

The grid was lined up. The tension in the air was suffocating, the anticipation electric. The lights above flickered one by one:

Five.

The engine beneath you rumbled, the vibrations rattling through your bones.

Four.

Your fingers flexed around the wheel, grip tightening.

Three.

The crowd was deafening, but you barely heard them.

Two.

Your heartbeat slammed against your ribs, the pulse echoing in your ears.

One.

The world held its breath. And then, Lights out. You launched off the line, the car screaming as it shot forward, the immediate chaos of the pack swallowing you whole.

Turn 1 was a battlefield. Cars dove left and right, fighting for position. You barely had a second to think before reacting, shifting your weight, holding the inside line as the chaos unfolded around you.

Someone clipped your rear tire, just a tap, just enough to make you twitch. But you held it. Your stomach clenched, your hands locked in place. Not again. You clenched your jaw and kept pushing. The first real battle came sooner than you expected.

You had climbed two positions already, slipping past rivals with aggressive but clean moves. But the next overtake wouldn’t come easy. The driver ahead—P6—was defensive, weaving down the straight, forcing you to choose a side before braking late.

You faked left. They bought it. You dove right, slipping through just in time, cutting the corner with perfection.

“Nice move.” Natasha’s voice crackled through the radio. You barely registered it, your focus already locked on the next car ahead.

Each overtake was aggressive, sharp, brutal, unforgiving. You weren’t here to play it safe. You weren’t here to wait.

And Natasha knew it. “Good pace. Keep it clean.” she said over the radio, her voice as steady as ever. You barely responded, your entire focus on the car ahead.

Lap 10.

P5.

P4.

P3.

And then.. Walker. P2 now. He was right there. Your hands tightened around the wheel. The crash flashed in your mind before you could stop it.

Walker’s car too close. Your own scream. The impact. You gritted your teeth. Not this time. You pushed. Your foot slammed onto the throttle, the engine growling in response as you overdrove into the next corner. Your tires screamed, barely gripping the edge of control, but you didn’t care.

All you saw was him. You needed to pass him. “Y/n.” Natasha’s voice cut through the radio. You ignored it. Walker was fast, but you were faster. The gap closed. Half a second. Then a quarter. You could see the back of his car right there, close enough that you could almost reach through the cockpit and rip him out of it yourself.

He wouldn’t take you out again. Your foot slammed on the throttle as you lunged forward, closing the gap, the DRS kicking in, giving you just enough speed to attempt the move. He left the inside open. Your heartbeat spiked. You sent it and in a split second, it happened. Walker turned in too soon. You were already there-

Contact. Your front wing clipped his rear tire. It wasn’t enough to take either of you out, but it was enough to cost you.

“Fifteen-second penalty for causing a collision!” the radio crackled. Your stomach dropped…Fuck.

“Pit now.” Natasha’s voice came through, calm, but not neutral. You bit down the frustration as you brought the car into the pit lane, the speed limiter kicking in, the car crawling compared to the chaos of the race.

The moment you stopped, the seconds stretched painfully long. Fifteen seconds. Fifteen seconds of nothing. Fifteen seconds of watching the field pass you by.

“What the hell are you doing?” She’s leaning down just enough to look at you directly through the car window.

Your grip on the wheel tightened. “I had the move.” you muttered. Natasha tilted her head, her green eyes sharp. “No, you didn’t.”

Silence. Your heart pounded. “You weren’t going for the position..” she said, voice dropping lower, more dangerous. “You were going for him.”

Your breath hitched. She saw it. She knew. “You think I don’t recognize it?” Natasha continued. “The rage? The recklessness?”

You stared straight ahead, your jaw clenching. “This isn’t about winning anymore.” she murmured, her voice softer now. “This is about proving something.”

A muscle in your jaw ticked. “I don’t have to prove anything.”

Natasha exhaled sharply. “Then act like it!” she said firmly. Her fingers gripped the edge of the cockpit, just barely, just enough to be grounding. “You want to beat him?” she murmured, voice dropping just for you. “Then do it the right way.”

Your chest tightened. For a moment, it felt like everything in the world had narrowed to just her, just those words, just those eyes, just that belief in you that burned through the anger in your chest.

The penalty was over. You should have gone. But for that brief second, you didn’t move. Not until she let go of the car, stepping back.

Not until she said, “Go take back what’s yours.”

Lap 15

You were last. Fifteenth place. Fifteen fucking seconds wasted. And you didn’t care. Because now, now, you were faster than ever. The rage was still there, but now it was controlled. You weren’t just fighting. You were hunting.

Lap 16: P14.

Lap 17: P12.

Lap 18: P10.

Each overtake was clean, brutal, efficient. The car was perfect. The balance was yours. “Good.” Natasha’s voice came through. “Keep going.”

Lap 19: P8.

Lap 20: P7.

The crowd was watching now.

“Jesus, she’s coming back through the field like a bullet!” the live commentary echoed.

Lap 21: P5.

Lap 22..P3.

And then.. You saw him again. The number on his rear wing burned into your vision like a target locked in place. The air between you crackled with tension, the slipstream pulling you in closer, closer, closer.

Your hands gripped the wheel so tightly your fingers ached, but you didn’t care. This was it. Your chest tightened as memories flickered, Walker’s car too close, your scream in the comms, the helpless spin, the wall rushing toward you—

No. You shoved the fear down, erased it. You weren’t that driver anymore. And this time, Walker wasn’t taking shit from you.

“Alright, you have five laps left.” Natasha’s voice crackled over the radio. “Take your time. Find the right moment.”

But you knew Walker. You knew his style, his defense, the way he always left the door open just enough to tempt an overtake before slamming it shut at the last second. You weren’t falling for it this time.

Lap 24: You faked a move down the inside into Turn 5. He bought it. Defended hard, taking a wider line, just like you knew he would. But you didn’t go for it. You let him run wide, closing the gap further instead.

“Smart.” Natasha murmured.

Lap 25: The DRS zone was coming. You had one shot. One perfect move. Or nothing. The back straight stretched ahead. You were too close now. The DRS opened, power surging, the engine screaming, the world blurring as your speed climbed.

This is it. Walker swerved, one move, legal, but barely. You anticipated it. Your eyes flickered to Turn 12 fast, dangerous, only one racing line. If you’re going to take it, you have to commit. Your breath hitched. You threw the car right, outside line. Walker reacted. Too late.

You braked later, later, the car on the edge, tires screaming, but you held it. The car stuck. You stuck. And in that split second, you were ahead.

“You got him.” Natasha’s voice burst through the radio, but the race wasn’t over yet. Walker was pushing, desperate, ruthless. You could feel him behind you, could see his car in the mirrors, but you didn’t care. You weren’t giving him an inch.

Turn 15.

Turn 16.

The car was flying, balance perfect, your mind so clear it felt like you were part of the machine itself. One more corner. One more breath. And then..The checkered flag.

The radio erupted, the team roaring, your own breath shaking as the realization crashed into you.

“Y/N L/N WINS THE GRAND PRIX!”

Your hands trembled on the wheel. You did it. You fucking did it. And through the chaos, through the sound of the world losing its mind, Natasha’s voice came through.

“That’s my driver.”

Your hands were shaking on the wheel, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins, your body vibrating with the sheer force of what had just happened. You had won. Not just the race. You had won yourself back.

“Fucking incredible drive, Y/N!” your race engineer shouted over the radio, his voice barely audible over the roar of the crowd. “What a comeback!”

The grandstands were thunderous, the entire circuit erupting as the reality of your victory sank in. But none of it compared to your team. Through the visor, you could already see them, gathered at the pit wall, fists pumping, mechanics jumping onto each other’s shoulders, pure euphoria radiating from them.

And somewhere in the chaos, Natasha. Standing behind the pit crew, arms crossed, but her smile..God, that smile, was visible even from the cockpit. Your chest tightened, your breath coming in short, exhilarated gasps.

“Bring it to P1, Y/n.” Natasha’s voice came through, lighter than you’d ever heard it. “Then get your ass out of that car and celebrate.”

You let out a breathless laugh, shaking your head as you guided the car through the cool-down lap, your heartbeat still pounding.

“On my way, boss.”

As you pulled into the designated stop, the team was already climbing over the barriers, their bodies packed together in a frenzy of victory. The second the car came to a halt, you didn’t think. You threw off the wheel, ripped your belts loose, and jumped out of the cockpit like you’d been set on fire.

The moment your feet hit the ground, you turned and ran. Straight into the arms of your crew. The mechanics caught you mid-air, your body disappearing into the sea of hands, laughter, and pure fucking joy.

They were screaming, shaking you, slapping your back, gripping your shoulders as if they couldn’t believe it was real. “HOLY SHIT, Y/N!”

“SHE DID IT! SHE FUCKING DID IT!”

“THAT WAS INSANE!”

You let out a giddy laugh, arms flailing as they pushed and pulled at you, each one desperate to congratulate you. One of the engineers grabbed your helmet and yanked it off, and the moment the fresh air hit your face, you let out a roar, pumping your fists into the air, the rush of it all making you dizzy with ecstasy.

You barely registered the cameras flashing, the broadcasters yelling into their microphones. None of it mattered. Because this, this overwhelming, uncontrollable flood of joy, was everything.

And then..You saw her. She wasn’t in the center of the chaos. She stood just behind the pit wall, arms still crossed, her expression composed, at least, to everyone else. But you saw it. The way her lips twitched, fighting a full smile. The way her chest rose and fell, like she was steadying herself. The way her eyes softened, just slightly, the moment they met yours.

Something inside you shifted. For a split second, everything else, the cameras, the shouting, the flashing lights, disappeared. It was just her. Just the two of you. And for the first time since the race began..since before that, since the almost, since the everything-

You let yourself feel it. The adrenaline. The victory. The weight of her gaze on you. Your chest heaved. Your body still buzzing with energy, you took a step forward-

But just then, someone grabbed you, another mechanic pulling you into another celebratory hug, breaking the moment. And when you looked back, Natasha was gone.

The second you stepped onto the podium, the energy of the crowd hit you like a tidal wave. The champagne bottles popped, the roar of the fans blending with the flashing lights, the cameras capturing every second of your victory.

It was chaos. Beautiful, reckless chaos. You could barely hear yourself think as the mechanics pulled you into another round of hugs, the engineers cheering, even Yelena wrapping an arm around your shoulders and shaking you violently with pure pride.

The adrenaline hadn’t worn off, not even after the press conference, the interviews, or the moment you saw your name officially at the top of the championship standings. For the first time in a long time..you won. But even through the celebrations, through the waves of congratulations, champagne, and endless cheering-

You felt it. The weight of something unfinished. Because this wasn’t the end. It was just the second race of the season. And there were still 22 races to go.

By the time the paddock had settled, the celebration had moved, to the team’s private lounge, deep in the heart of the circuit’s hospitality center. The place was alive, filled with laughter, clinking glasses, and the undeniable high of victory. The mechanics were already a few drinks in, celebrating like they’d just won the championship itself.

Yelena had made it her personal mission to keep the drinks flowing, practically forcing a bottle of champagne into your hands.

“Come on, golden girl.” she teased, nudging you. “You actually did it. Time to celebrate!”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I am celebrating.”

“Not enough.” she countered, tilting the bottle toward your glass. “Drink.”

You rolled your eyes but took a sip anyway, the sharp fizz burning against your lips. And then, You felt her before you saw her. The pull was unmistakable. You turned- And there she was. Natasha stood near the edge of the room, her expression calm, drink in hand, the soft glow of the overhead lights casting shadows over her face.

She wasn’t celebrating like the others. She was watching. You. Your pulse stuttered. Because there it was again. That same tension. That same unspoken thing that had been lingering since before the race. Since the almost..You swallowed hard, setting your drink down.

Your feet moved before your mind caught up. You crossed the room, weaving through the crowd, until you were right there, in front of her, the noise of the party fading into the background.

She tilted her head slightly, lips curving in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Not enjoying the celebration?” you asked, voice softer than you intended.

Natasha’s eyes flickered over you, lingering for a second too long. “I am.” she murmured. “Just..observing.”

Your heart twisted. Because you knew her well enough to know that wasn’t the whole truth. She was thinking. Calculating.

And feeling, more than she wanted to admit. You exhaled, shifting closer. “Natasha-”

She cut you off. “You drove like hell today.” she said, voice low. “You fought like hell.” Something in her tone made your breath catch. “But.” she continued, softer now, “it’s not over.”

And just like that, the weight of it all crashed back down on you. The victory. The adrenaline. The illusion of finality. But she was right. It wasn’t over. There were still 22 races to go. Your grip on your drink tightened, the celebration suddenly feeling distant. “Yeah..” you muttered, exhaling slowly. “I know.”

Natasha’s eyes softened, just a little. She lifted her drink slightly, her gaze locked onto yours. “Then enjoy this one.” she murmured, her voice dipping just enough to make your chest tighten. “While it lasts.” You swallowed hard, clinking your glass against hers, the taste of champagne still lingering on your lips. But even as the party went on, as the laughter and music filled the night. You both knew the truth. The fight was just beginning.

The next ten races were a rollercoaster of emotion, grit, and war. If the second race had been about proving yourself, the next ten were about survival. Every lap, every overtake, every mistake and triumph was a battle..not just against the other drivers, but against your own mind, against the past, against the unrelenting pressure that came with leading the charge in the championship fight.

And through it all, Natasha was there. Watching. Calculating. Pushing you to your absolute limits.

And Walker? Walker was waiting. He wasn’t finished with you yet. The third race was a fight. You started P3, behind Walker and another rival. The car felt perfect, the balance just right, and by Lap 20, you were leading.

It was yours to win. Until- “Puncture! Rear left!” The words hit your radio like a gunshot. No. Your heart plummeted as the car twitched, the tire barely holding on as you limped back to the pits.

By the time the crew slapped on fresh rubber, you had dropped to P7. Your jaw locked, your breath ragged.

“Head down, recover.” Natasha’s voice cut through the noise. You pushed. You fought your way back to P3, but Walker won. And in the post-race press conference, he made sure to remind you of it.

“Bad luck out there, Y/n.” he said, his smirk just mocking enough to make your blood boil. “But hey, at least you’re getting used to fighting your way back up the grid.” You clenched your fists. It wasn’t over. Not even close.

Race 13

You didn’t just win. You dominated. Walker had pole, but you took him into Turn 1, clean, precise, unstoppable. Natasha’s voice over the radio was pure steel.

“Now hold it.”

And you did. For 58 perfect laps, you controlled the race, crossing the finish line five seconds ahead of the entire field.

Walker barely made it to P4.

And this time, when the cameras flashed, you smirked at him first. Headlines read:

“L/N vs. Walker: A Battle for the Ages”

“Two Titans, One Championship”

The tension between you and Walker was all-consuming, turning every press conference, every overtaking battle, every glance into something that felt like war.

The championship lead was shifting constantly. One race, you had it. The next? Walker stole it back. And with every lap, every podium, every single fucking mistake, Natasha’s grip on you tightened. Because she knew, just as well as you did. If you let anything slip now, it was over.

The media loved talking about race days. The victories, the mistakes, the rivalries. But no one ever talked about the days in between. The seven days between races, where the real battle happened.

Because those were the days Natasha broke you down. Mornings? Training so hard your muscles screamed. Cardio, weightlifting, reaction drills—pushing your endurance to the limit. Afternoons? Simulator sessions, lap after lap, perfecting every single braking zone, every racing line, every overtaking strategy. Evenings? Race debriefs, where Natasha sat across from you, arms crossed, green eyes pinning you in place as she tore apart every mistake you made.

“You should’ve covered the inside on Lap 42.”

“You hesitated in sector two.”

“If you let Walker get in your head, you’ll lose everything.”

It was ruthless. It was relentless. And yet, somehow it was the only thing keeping you from falling apart. Because she never let you break. No matter how close you came to shattering, no matter how exhausted you were..She never let you give up.

And that? That scared you more than anything. Because it meant she cared. And neither of you were ready for that conversation. The Unspoken Shift - Natasha, Closer Than Ever.

Race 18

The ride back to the track was silent. Painfully, suffocatingly silent. Natasha’s grip on the wheel was tight, her knuckles white. Her jaw was clenched so hard you thought it might break. You wanted to speak. Wanted to say something..anything. To explain, to defend yourself, to apologize.

The second the race ended, you knew you were in trouble. Not because of the result, you had still finished. Not because you had lost, because technically, you hadn’t. But because of how you raced. Because you had ignored Natasha’s orders. Because you had pushed too hard, took too many risks, fought too recklessly..

And Natasha? Natasha had seen all of it. The team felt the tension the moment you rolled into the garage. The air was thick, charged, dangerous. You knew you had pushed her too far this time. You had ignored every single call over the radio. You had fought her instead of Walker.

And now? Now she was so furious, so cold, so quiet, it almost scared you more than if she had just started screaming. You swallowed, exhaling sharply. “Nata-

“Don’t.” Her voice was low, firm, cutting off whatever you were about to say. You clenched your jaw, sinking into your seat, the weight of it settling over your chest. You wanted to apologize. But she didn’t want to hear it. Not yet. And as the car rolled into the facility, as she pulled into her usual spot with precise, controlled movements, you knew..

The worst was still coming. The door in her office slammed shut behind you. And then? Natasha lost it. “What the fuck was that?!”

Her voice cut through the air like a gunshot. You barely had time to process it before she was on you, her fury crashing into you like a hurricane.

“Do you have a death wish?!”

Your chest heaved, adrenaline still pumping through your veins. “I-”

“No, Shut up!”

Your breath hitched. Her tone was dangerous now, low, firm, absolute. She took a step forward. Then another. Until she was so close, you could feel the heat rolling off her skin. “You think you’re unstoppable?” she demanded. “You think you can just ignore orders? Disobey me? Throw yourself into battles you can’t fucking win?!”

Your stomach twisted. “I was racing! I-”

“No, you were fucking reckless!”

The words hit hard. Too hard. Your hands clenched into fists, your body coiling with frustration. “I was fighting-

“You were out of control!”

Natasha’s voice rose, her green eyes flashing, her entire body taut with rage. “Do you even realize how close you were to wrecking the car? To wrecking yourself?”

Your pulse spiked. “I knew what I was doing!”

“No. You didn’t.” Her voice lowered, rough, almost dangerous. “You let him get inside your head.”

Your breath caught. Because that was the truth. And you hated it. Your fingers dug into your palms, your jaw tightening, burning with anger, with shame, with something else entirely.

And Natasha? She saw all of it. Her breathing was uneven now. Her shoulders tight. Her chest rising and falling just as fast as yours.

The air between you crackled..so thick, so charged, so suffocatingly tense, “You don’t get to fight me on this, Y/n.”

Your body froze. Your heart slammed against your ribs. Because it wasn’t just a command. It was a warning. You swallowed, breath shaky, eyes locked onto hers. “Natasha-“

“You don’t get to argue with me.” Her voice was lower now, dangerous, daring you to push her further. Your pulse skipped. You should have backed down. You should have stepped away.

But you didn’t. “Please..”

A muscle in her jaw ticked. And then, She kissed you. Hard and Punishing. A lesson. A correction. A reminder of exactly who was in control. You gasped against her mouth, but she didn’t let you pull away. She owned you. Her hands slid down your sides, gripping your hips, pulling you against her, your body melting into hers.

You moaned into her mouth, and she devoured the sound. Your back hit the desk, papers scattering everywhere, but neither of you cared. Her hands roamed your body, possessive, taking exactly what she wanted.

Her teeth scraped against your lip, and you whimpered, gripping her tighter, pulling her closer, needing more, more, more. She was everywhere. All fire and control and dominance, and you were drowning in it. She broke the kiss just long enough to murmur, “You drive me crazy, do you even realize that?”

Your body burning from the inside out. And then she kissed you again. And this time? Neither of you were stopping. Your breath hitched as she dragged your racing suit down your body, the cool air hitting your flushed skin.

Natasha didn’t hesitate. Her hands gripped your thighs, spreading you wide, her gaze hungry, demanding. “Look at you.” she murmured, her fingers teasing, barely touching, making you squirm.

“So fucking stubborn. So fucking desperate, even when you pretend not to be.” Your hips bucked involuntarily, chasing friction, but she held you down, denying you.

“There you go..” she taunted, her pace slow but ruthless, her fingers curling inside you in a way that made your entire body tremble.

“Still think you don’t need to listen to me?”

Your hands gripped her shoulders, your nails digging into her skin, trying to ground yourself. “F-Fuck-”

She growled at the sensation, loving the way your body clung to hers, resisting but so goddamn weak for her at the same time. “Say it.” she demanded, her voice low, wrecked, dripping with authority. “Say you fucking obey me.”

You shook your head, your lips parted, gasping for breath, still fighting her. “I—N-Natasha, I—”

She thrust deeper, her other hand gripping your throat, tilting your head back so she could watch you completely fall apart beneath her.

“Say it, Y/n..”

Her pace increased, her fingers relentless, knowing exactly how to unravel you. Your eyes squeezed shut, your body tightening around her, fighting the pleasure overtaking you.

“I-I obey—fuck, I obey you, Natasha—”

Natasha let out a wrecked groan, her lips crashing onto yours, swallowing your surrender. “That’s my girl.” she murmured against your lips, moaning as she felt you shudder beneath her.

“Now take it.” She didn’t stop. Didn’t slow down. Didn’t let you breathe. Her body hovered over yours, pressing into you, her fingers curling inside you just right, her lips ghosting over your jaw.

“You’re mine..” she whispered, her voice possessive, dark, full of something uncontrollable. “Say it again.”

Your head tilted back, your moans breaking into wrecked sobs, your hands clutching her shoulders like she was the only thing keeping you grounded.

“I’m yours, Natasha—fuck, I’m yours—”

Her pace increased, dragging you higher, higher, until you couldn’t hold on anymore. “Come for me, Detka..” she commanded, her voice raw, her fingers working you over the edge. “Now.”

And fuck, you did. Your orgasm ripped through you violently, your body arching, convulsing, completely lost in her. Natasha let out a guttural moan, her forehead pressing against yours, holding you through it, keeping you safe even as she completely wrecked you.

“Good girl.” she whispered, pressing kisses to your jaw, your cheeks, your lips. “You did so good for me, detka.”

Your body was still trembling, your breath uneven, shattered. Natasha didn’t let go. She stayed pressed against you, her arms wrapping around your waist, her lips leaving soft, grounding kisses along your skin.

“Still think you don’t need to listen to me?” she teased, her voice low, adoring, but still smug. You let out a weak, breathless laugh, your fingers trailing up her arms, holding onto her.

“Guess I had to learn the hard way..” you murmured, voice still wrecked, but teasing. Natasha smirked, pressing another kiss to your lips, slow, deep, full of something more.

Part 6

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🏷️ Taglist: @l0nelyish @ayrtonwilbury @ima-gi--na-tion @whatthesnoodle @blackswanxzn @ivyasproperty @seventeen-x @wandanatlov3r @nebthetautora @casquinhaa @veroeuqin @1234mockingjay @artemisarroxvolkov @natashasmuse

[mssishipi]

taste of indulgence - sjy, pjs

CHAPTER 4 — SHOW ME SPICY

Avoidance was your only way to move forward, but Jay and Jake weren’t about to let you slip away so easily. How could you pretend you didn’t want them when your body told a different story? If you wanted to play stubborn, fine. But brats don’t get to run—they get put in their place. And they were more than ready to show you exactly what spicy really meant.

content tags: everyone is gay or fruity!!! angst! reader is self sabotaging, she made jake cry, jay is angry (and stressed), let's play back to friends by sombr, psych majors who don't know how to communicate, reader assume sunghoon's sexuality, reader cuts her hair short, jay's pov, sunoo is just sunoo.

explicit content (smut): uhm threesome (switch jake, rough mean dom jay, sub reader), dubcon!!! public sex, unprotected sex, humiliation (?), dacryphilia, rough throat fucking, cunillingus, jake tried to be angry but went soft, overstimulation, double vaginal penetration, creampie, anal sex (mxm). MDNI! WC: 21.5K

want a taste?

"I think red nails would look good on me, don't you think?" You flipped your hand over, inspecting your nails with a thoughtful look.

Sunoo barely glanced up from his phone before reaching out to grab your hand, tilting it side to side. "Hmm... Maroon, definitely. With silver designs," he decided with a nod.

"Almond shape?" you asked, watching his expression closely.

Sunoo furrowed his brows, eyes drifting toward the ceiling as he considered. "Square could work too... gives that classic, clean look. But yeah, almond is a solid choice. It'll look good when you're, like, casually reaching for things."

"Okay, I should set an appointment with the nail tech Wonyoung keeps talking about," you mused, already pulling out your phone. As you both walked past a full-length mirror in the store, you stopped in your tracks, turning your head slightly to get a better look at yourself.

"Maybe I should cut my hair, no?" You ran your fingers through the strands, tilting your head as if trying to picture it. "Or maybe I should dye it? What color do you suggest?"

Sunoo looked up from his phone, finally giving you his full attention. His mouth was slightly open, eyes squinting as he observed you.

"I tried a new makeup style today," you continued, adjusting your reflection with your fingers. "I don't know if it suits me yet, but if I cut my hair, maybe it would. This length would be good, right?" You pointed just below your ears, mentally mapping out the bob cut you were suddenly considering.

Sunoo blinked, then gasped dramatically. "You're planning to get a bob cut, bitch? Are you fucking serious?!"

You raised an eyebrow at his tone. "What? You don't think it would look good?"

He placed both hands on your shoulders like he was about to shake some sense into you. "Do you have any idea what a bob cut means?"

You laughed, shaking him off. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Short hair on a hot girl?" Sunoo huffed, crossing his arms. "That's a crisis cut. A post-breakup cut. A someone just emotionally wrecked me and I need a fresh start cut!"

You rolled your eyes, but your smile faltered slightly. "Maybe I just want a change."

Sunoo wasn't buying it. He crossed his arms, his expression shifting into something more serious. "Yeah, right." He paused before adding, "By the way, Jake keeps texting me, asking when our vacant period is. He says you're not replying to them."

Your steps faltered, but you quickly regained composure. "I already told them I'm busy," you said, forcing a casual shrug. "Our internship is coming up next year, so I have to start networking now. I need professors to recommend me to the best hospitals—ones that actually offer jobs after the internship."

Sunoo narrowed his eyes. "That's a solid excuse, I'll give you that. But babe, you're literally ghosting them."

"I'm not ghosting."

"Bitch." Sunoo deadpanned. "You left them on read for two weeks."

"Because I'm not in the mood to fuck them anymore," you said flatly, resuming your pace.

Sunoo gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. "Oh my god. The coldness. The absolute heartlessness." Then, his voice softened. "Babe, you sound like a total bitch right now, but I know you. And I know there's a reason you cried that night."

You exhaled sharply, staring straight ahead.

"I'm your friend," Sunoo continued, his tone gentler now. "You can tell me if they hurt you. Did they do something? Say something? I mean, yeah, they're my friends too now, but you know I'll always have your back first. So tell me."

You sighed, rubbing your temples. "It's not like that. They didn't do anything."

"I just... I don't know, Sunoo." You stopped walking, running a frustrated hand through your hair. "I thought I could handle it. I thought it would be easy to keep things casual. But the longer I stayed, the harder it got. Now, it just fucking hurts."

Sunoo crossed his arms, watching you carefully. "You like them."

"Sunoo—"

"You like them," he repeated, this time with certainty. "Not just one of them. Both of them."

Your throat felt tight. "It doesn't matter."

Sunoo scoffed. "It matters if it's eating you up like this."

You swallowed, avoiding his gaze. "I was never supposed to catch feelings."

Sunoo let out a long breath, his expression softening. "You're human, dumbass. Not a fucking robot. It was bound to happen."

"It doesn't change anything." Your fingers clenched at the hem of your uniform. "It's just—fuck. I don't even know where I stand with them. I mean, they're sweet, they treat me so well. Who wouldn't fall for them?" You let out a bitter chuckle. "But that's the thing, isn't it? I don't know if it means anything."

Sunoo tilted his head, watching you carefully. "Have you told them how you feel?"

"What for?" You scoffed. "So I can humiliate myself? So I can hear them say, 'Oh, that's cute, but we never actually saw you that way'?" You let out a hollow laugh. "No, thanks."

Sunoo pursed his lips. "You don't know that's what they'd say."

You exhaled sharply, tilting your head back. "It doesn't matter, Sunoo. Because even if—if—they felt something, it wouldn't change the fact that I'm still just an extra in their relationship. They've had each other for years. I'm just..." Your voice faltered, and you forced a small smile. "Temporary."

"Babe," Sunoo frowned. "That's a really shitty way to look at it."

"Is it?" You met his eyes, voice quieter now. "Or is it just reality?"

Sunoo sighed, rubbing his temple. "I'm saying, maybe just tell them what you feel. Communicate—"

"No." You cut him off, shaking your head. "It's better to just move forward. Cut them off and be done with it." Your voice wavered, but you quickly steadied yourself. "As I said, even if they did feel something, it wouldn't change anything." You swallowed the lump in your throat, "I'll just consider them a hookup. That's all they were supposed to be anyway."

Sunoo huffed. "Look, babe. You wouldn't be spiraling over them, trying to change your hair, your nails, your entire damn life just to get away from the way they made you feel." He sighed again. "I get it. Feelings suck. But lying to yourself? That's worse."

You exhaled sharply, looking away. "It doesn't matter, Sunoo."

"It does matter." He poked your forehead. "And sooner or later, you're gonna have to face it."

Well, too bad because Sunoo didn't have a choice but to deal with your stubbornness. He had seen you shut down before, had watched you bury your emotions so deep that even you forgot they existed.

Avoidance was the only way. Cutting them off was the only way. If you ever told them the truth, it wouldn't change anything. If they did feel something for you, it still wouldn't matter. Because being together with two guys? It wasn't realistic.

Jake and Jay were perfect together—enough for each other. Their love was already deep, already established, already real.

You were just an afterthought, a temporary distraction, a spice added to their relationship to make things more exciting for a while.

That was why you had to let it go. Because holding on would only break you more.

Avoidance was the only option. But that didn't mean it was easy.

You shared three majors with them, which meant there was no real escape. Every time Jay or Jake tried to talk to you, you scrambled for a half-baked excuse, something—anything—to put distance between you.

And you felt guilty. Because at this point, you weren't just avoiding them, you were leaving Sunoo to deal with the fallout.

Every. Single. Time.

"Sorry, I already made plans to get my nails done," you said, forcing a smile as Jake grabbed your arm after your laboratory class, trying to pull you toward the arcade.

"We can just go with you!" Jake perked up immediately, his eyes practically sparkling at the idea. He turned to Jay, beaming. "Right?!"

Jay, as always, was quieter, but his gaze was on you.

You resisted the urge to sigh. "Uh—actually, I'm going with my other friends."

Beside you, Sunoo tensed, trying not to roll his eyes so hard they got stuck.

"Then Sunoo can go with you guys," you added quickly, shoving the attention onto him.

Sunoo's head snapped toward you so fast,  "Excuse me?" His expression was pure betrayal.

Jake blinked, tilting his head. "Wait. Sunoo's not going with you to get your nails done?"

"Nope!" Sunoo answered before you could. "Because I'll be with you guys. Losing all my money on rigged machines. Can't wait!"

He hooked his arms through Jake and Jay's, dragging them away before you could say another word. But not before shooting you a sharp, knowing look.

Avoidance was the only option, but it was hard.

It was almost funny, how desperately you were trying to erase them from your life, only for your own mind to betray you at every turn.

Jay's lips were always dry. Did he ever listen and start using the lip balm you recommended? Or was he still stubborn about it?

Jake had a terrible habit of not drinking enough water, always running on boundless energy until he inevitably crashed. You wondered if Jay kept that in mind—if he reminded him to drink more, if he handed him a bottle without a word, the way you used to.

Not your problem anymore.

"Your nails are so pretty!!!" Wonyoung screeched, grabbing your hand and turning it under the flashing club lights. The silver designs shimmered, catching every flicker of neon.

"Thank you," you muttered, tipping back your drink without hesitation. The alcohol burned down your throat, but you welcomed it. Anything to dull the edges. Sunoo sat beside you, talking how he wants to have sex tonight.

Another drink. Then another. By the time the rest of your friends arrived, your head was already buzzing, you can't even keep up with the conversation anymore. You laughed at the right moments, nodded when necessary, but your mind was elsewhere.

"Can you recommend a good waterproof mascara?" you mumbled, resting your head against Sunghoon's shoulder.

He exhaled through his nose, clearly unimpressed with your state. "I don't know? Maybelline, I guess? Or some Japanese brand—those are good too."

"You're gay," you giggled, voice slightly slurred.

Sunghoon scoffed, shifting slightly so you didn't slide off him. "How the fuck is that gay?"

"You just know things." You poked his chest, eyes drooping.

"It's called having sisters, dumbass," he deadpanned.

You giggled, the alcohol making everything funnier than it should be. "Hehehe, ever since you joined our group, you've had this, like... boy love energy."

"I'm not into boy love," he muttered, taking a sip of his drink.

You gasped dramatically, placing a hand over your chest. "Oh my god. You're homophobic."

Sunghoon choked on his drink so hard he nearly spit it out. "What?! Where the fuck did you get that from?"

"How are you not into boy love?" You slurred, pointing an accusatory finger at him. "Boy love is great. It's wholesome, it's cute, it's—"

Your voice cracked and your lips wobbled, remembering Jay and Jake. Suddenly, your eyes burned.

You sniffled. Sunghoon, who had been mid-rant about how you made no sense, suddenly froze. He stared at you, wide-eyed.

"Hey... are you—are you crying?"

You sniffled, waving a hand dramatically. "I miss them."

Sunghoon blinked. "Miss who?"

"Boy love!" you wailed, smacking the table. "Boy love is so cute! It makes me so jealous! Agh—fuck! How can you not like boy love?! I miss seeing some boy love, but it hurts seeing some boy love!"

"Bro, what the fuck are you talking about?"

You sniffled harder, rubbing your eyes aggressively. "It's so unfair. Why are they so perfect together? Why can't I just be happy watching them be happy?!"

Sunghoon, still utterly baffled, slowly turned his head, scanning the club for someone or anyone to deal with your mess. His gaze landed on Sunoo, who was currently twerking in the middle of the dance floor, hyping himself up with your other friends.

"It's really hard to avoid them," you hiccupped, wiping at your face with the back of your hand. "I miss them."

Sunghoon let out a slow breath. "Uh-huh."

"I'm making the right decision, right?" you asked, eyes wide and desperate, like you were begging him to validate your self-sabotage.

He scratched his head awkwardly. "Uh... yeah?"

"Yes," you repeated, sniffling. "I'm right. They'll stop. They'll forget me. They'll live happily ever after."

Sunghoon nodded again, then you let out a wobbly sigh. "I will also forget about them," you declared, before promptly bursting into tears again.

You wiped your nose aggressively. "I'll just go back to my old self. No more stupid feelings, no more heartbreak, no more—no more them."

He gave you a cautious thumbs-up. "Sounds... healthy."

"I'll just masturbate with my vibrator," you continued, completely ignoring him. "At least my vibrator doesn't make my heart hurt."

Sunghoon groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Jesus Christ."

"Women can over-complicate things, and that's because they go deeper—sometimes too deep, admittedly."

Yes. Exactly. To avoid over-complicating things, avoidance was the only solution.

You were just walking down the hallway, minding your own business, when a hand suddenly grabbed yours.

You yelped, eyes widening. "What the—?!"

Before you could even react, you were being pulled, not roughly, but firmly, until you stumbled into an empty mini-theater room. The door clicked shut behind you, and your heart pounded as you whipped around.

"Jake?"

He was standing there, hand still wrapped around your wrist, brows furrowed, lips pressed into a tight line. His usual playful energy was nowhere to be found.

The room was too quiet and intimate. The only sound was the distant hum of the campus outside, muffled by thick walls, the kind that trapped secrets and held them hostage. Your pulse was a dull roar in your ears as you stared at him.

God, you missed him. The playful lilt of his voice, the way he always smelled like clean laundry and something unmistakably Jake. You missed the way he touched you—soft, then rough, then soft again. You missed them. Him and Jay.

Your chest tightened, instead you swallowed, immediately trying to pull away. "Jake. Let go."

His fingers twitched against your skin, like he was debating something—like he wanted to hold on a second longer, just in case you changed your mind. But then, finally, he released you, but he didn't step back.

He was still too close.

"You are avoiding us." He said, wounded by frustration. "Why?"

Panic coiled inside you, what the fuck. You weren't ready for this. Your thoughts scrambled, reaching for an excuse, anything—anything—that would make him back off. Think. Think. Think.

But then Jake's face softened, and he exhaled shakily, rubbing a hand over his mouth. "I'm sorry if we did something wrong," he said. "Just—please, talk to us. If you don't want to have sex anymore, that's okay. I understand. We understand." He took a step closer, voice cracking slightly. "Just don't shut us out, please."

Fuck. You almost caved. Jake have this eyes that knew exactly how to weaken you, but you spent enough time to hardened yourself. Pulled your walls up so high that even you couldn't see over them.

Lied through your fucking teeth.

You crossed your arms, forcing a blank expression. "I'm busy, Jake. I don't have time to play around with you two anymore."

Jake blinked, hurt was flashed across his face. "P-Play around?, I-Is that what this was to you?"

You scoffed, "What else would it be?"

Jake's expression twisted, like your words had physically knocked the breath out of him. Good. Maybe he'd finally get the hint.

"Look, Jake." You forced yourself to keep your voice steady, swallowing down the lump clawing its way up your throat. "I don't want to be mean, but get a fucking clue. Okay? Yes, I'm avoiding you. You and Jay were fun. The sex was good. But that's all it ever was."

Jake inhaled sharply, his jaw tightening. His eyes, still locked onto yours. "Just explain to us, why?"

"I don't owe you an explanation in the first place!" you snapped, voice rising despite yourself. You could feel your resolve cracking, your emotions clawing their way to the surface. But you couldn't let them win. You couldn't let him see you break.

Lied through your fucking teeth.

"I got tired of it, okay?!"

Jake's breath came out unsteady. "You could've just told us," he said, "I-Instead of... this—instead of just shutting us out like we never meant anything. We're friends, r-right?"

That last word came out, and his voice cracking, and that was what almost broke you.

Because Jake was looking at you like he was desperate to understand, like he needed you to say something—anything that could make this all make sense.

"Friends?" You let out a cold, hollow laugh, tilting your head like he'd just said something stupid. "Jake, we were never friends."

The second the words left your mouth, Jake flinched, his breath stuttering. His entire body stiffened, his shoulders curling inward.

"Don't say that," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "You don't mean that."

You clenched your jaw so hard it ached. "I do."

Jake swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing as he stared at you like he was trying to see through the wall you'd just slammed between you. Like if he looked hard enough, he'd find something—some sign that you were lying.

But he wouldn't. Because you were good at this. You were good at pretending.

"Just tell me why," he tried again, softer this time, more pleading than before. "If you ever cared about us at all, just... tell me why you're doing this."

Your hands curled into fists at your sides, nails biting into your palms, your entire body screamed at you to stop, to take it all back, to fix this.

But you couldn't. You forced out a sigh, rolling your eyes. "God, Jake, you're so clingy." Jake flinched, and you saw the exact moment something in him cracked.

"You took everything way too seriously," you continued. "It was just sex. I don't know what the fuck you thought this was, but it wasn't deep."

"You were convenient," you added, twisting the knife deeper. "That's all. And now? I'm over it."

Jake sucked in a breath, his shoulders stiffening. You noticed the way his lips trembled. And then slowly—he nodded.

Tears streaked his cheeks, but he didn't wipe them away. He didn't lash out. He didn't beg. He just looked at you—looked through you—his expression heartbreakingly soft despite everything.

Jake didn't yell. He didn't curse you out, didn't demand answers or call you a liar. Instead, he just stood there, letting the weight of your words settle between you. His eyes were soft—too soft, filled with a quiet kind of devastation that made your stomach churn.

Without another word, he turned and walked away. The door clicked shut behind him, and that was it.

Your body sagged the moment he was gone, like the strings holding you together had been severed. You sucked in a breath, trying to steady yourself, but the air felt suffocating. Your hands trembled at your sides, your fingers twitching like they wanted to reach out, to pull him back.

Don't break down. Don't be weak. You did what needed to be done.

One minute. Just one minute to get yourself together.

Your heart pounded against your ribs, your throat burned from holding back something that wanted to crawl out, guilt, regret, longing, you didn't know. Didn't want to know.

Then, finally, you exhaled. Straightened your back. Set your shoulders and walked out.

The hallway was quiet, but not empty.

Your steps faltered as you saw them—Jake, standing there with his back slightly hunched, his hands gripping the hem of Jay's uniform. His shoulders shook and his breathing uneven.

And Jay stood right in front of him, tense and rigid, watching him with a concern expression. His fists were clenched, but his hands hovered just slightly—like he wanted to touch Jake, to comfort him, but didn't know how.

And when he looked up, his eyes found yours. The softness that was there for Jake was gone.

Jay's gaze was dark, sharp, and cold in a way that made your breath hitch. There was no visible anger, just an overwhelming quiet rage simmering.

Your pulse kicked up, you immediately turned away to avoid his gaze.

Spun on your heel and walked in the opposite direction, forcing your steps to be even, controlled. Ignoring the way your chest ached, the way your throat felt tight, the way your lungs felt like they couldn't get enough air.

You did the right thing.

BACK in high school, Jay never really liked being around too many people. He wasn't exactly antisocial, he could hold a conversation when needed, and he got along fine with classmates.

But having a solid group of friends wasn't his thing. Socializing felt like a chore, something that drained him. It was exhausting trying to keep up with people's expectations, their small talk, their unnecessary drama. So, he kept his distance, floating between different groups without ever fully settling in.

Girls, especially, were a whole different kind of exhausting. He wasn't clueless—he knew most of the guys in his class were obsessed with them, always whispering about who had the best tits, passing around porn links like they were trading cards.

Sure, Jay could admit that women were attractive. Sexy, even. Tits were nice, pussy was great. But in his experience, being around women felt more like a headache than a pleasure.

They were too complex, too hard to figure out. One moment they were sweet, the next they were upset over something he didn't even understand. And somehow, he was always expected to know why. It was frustrating. The high-pitched screeching in the hallways, the emotional rollercoasters, the way they'd take out their bad moods on him for no reason—it was all too much.

So, he stayed detached. Women were beautiful, but from a distance. Up close, they were just another thing he didn't have the patience to deal with.

"Did I just... get rejected?"

Jay barely had a second to process before the words came tumbling out from the stranger standing in front of him. The guy was wearing a soccer jersey, his eyes red-rimmed like he'd been crying for a while.

Jay raised an eyebrow, not sure why he was being dragged into this. He didn't even know the guy.

"Do you think I'm ugly?" the stranger asked, pouting up at him like some kicked puppy.

Jay gave him a once-over. The guy was about his height, maybe a little smaller, with messy hair and wide, golden-retriever eyes that only made his pathetic expression worse.

"She said I give the best head," the guy continued, sniffling. "But, continue to say some monologue that it's not me, it's her. What does it even mean?"

Jay sighed, running a hand down his face as he stared at the sky. Out of all the people this guy could've dumped his sob story on, why him? He just wanted to go home, lay in bed, and maybe practice a few guitar solos, not babysit some heartbroken stranger.

And that's how he met Jake.

If Jay was being honest, Jake could be a lot to handle. He was loud, clingy, and had the attention span of a golden retriever, but somehow, they just worked.

They balanced each other out in a way Jay never expected. They didn't argue much, jealousy was never an issue, and even when they weren't in the mood to deal with each other, they just shrugged it off—no drama, no unnecessary fights.

And Jay loved him. So much that he followed him to university, enrolling in the same classes just to be with him.

That was why, when Jake first brought up the idea of a threesome, Jay had been flabbergasted. He wasn't the sharing type. He was possessive by nature, and the thought of someone else touching his Jake made his blood boil. But Jake was patient, communicating his feelings in the only way he knew how: between tangled sheets.

It took months for Jay to even consider it. He didn't know what to think, didn't know if he'd be okay with it. Whether it was another guy or a girl, the thought of it made him wary.

Then, one day, he and Jake went out to his favorite café, and that's when he noticed you.

You weren't looking at him. You were looking at Jake. Staring—too long, too obvious.

Jay's eyebrow twitched. He knew exactly where he had seen you before.

You were the girl at the freshmen welcoming party, kissing random girls like it was nothing, completely lost in the haze of alcohol. He remembered the way you moaned when two girls did body shots off your stomach. You were that drunk—so far gone that, by the end of the night, it was him and Jake who had been instructed to carry you back to your dorm.

And now here you were, staring at his boyfriend.

You like guys too?

He huffed, raising an eyebrow when he caught you looking.

Then there was the train ride during the retreat. Another moment. Another time you stared at Jake when you thought no one was looking.

Jay had noticed.

"Do you think she's into threesomes?" Jake had whispered to him that night, curiosity practically dripping from his voice. He was always like this—open, playful, intrigued by new experiences.

Jay had just sighed, brushing the thought aside. "How would I know?"

He didn't think about it much after that. At least, not until he saw you sneak out of the drinking room at the retreat.

And for some reason, he followed.

He wasn't sure why. Maybe it was suspicion, or maybe it was something else. And that's when he saw you grinding against some guy named Heeseung, lips locked in a messy kiss, your whimpers barely muffled by the night air.

Jay's fists clenched at his sides. He should've turned back. Should've left. But instead, he stood there, watching.

And fuck, he didn't expect his pants to feel this tight.

Jay thought you were beautiful. Not just in the obvious way—yeah, you had the kind of face that turned heads, but it was more than that. You had this energy, this pull, something that made people gravitate toward you like you were a magnet. And Jay had always been the type to keep his distance, to stay in control, but even he wasn't immune to it.

And he knew Jake wasn't either.

Jake was naturally affectionate, clingy even, but with you, it was different. He paid attention in a way Jay had never seen before, like he was cataloging every little thing about you.

"She likes soft textures," Jake mused, scanning the shelves of the convenience store. He grabbed a puff pastry filled with chocolate and strawberry, tossing it into their basket. "She'd like this."

Jay raised a brow, watching as Jake continued down the aisle, muttering to himself.

"I think we should get makeup wipes," Jake said, grabbing a pack without hesitation. "She uses this brand, right?"

Jay exhaled through his nose, amused. "Since when did you memorize her entire skincare routine?"

Jake shrugged, grinning. "Since she started leaving her stuff at our place."

That part was true. At first, it had been little things, a stray hair tie, a forgotten hoodie—but now there was a whole section of their bathroom cabinet stocked with your products. Your shampoo was in their shower. Your chapstick was on the nightstand. Your presence was everywhere, lingering like the scent of your perfume.

It annoyed him, how easily you captured Jake's attention, how effortlessly you slipped into their dynamic like you'd always belonged there. Jay had never been the jealous type, not really, but something about the way Jake gravitated toward you, the way he paid attention to you in ways that felt too careful made something uneasy settle in his chest.

But over time, Jay realized it wasn't just Jake.

He found himself watching you more often than he cared to admit, listening when you talked, remembering the small details about you without even trying.

He started noticing things—how you always smelled like vanilla and something sweet, how your nose scrunched up when you were focused, how your lips parted slightly when you were about to tease someone. It wasn't just Jake who was drawn to you. Jay was, too.

"Men have different parts in their brain," their professor droned on at the front of the lecture hall, pacing slowly as he gestured to the board. "It's an anatomical difference that affects communication—"

Jay barely heard the rest. Instead, his attention drifted to you, slumped against Sunoo's shoulder, your mouth slightly open as you slept. Sunoo was just as bad, his head tilted against yours, completely knocked out.

Jay huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head.

The two of you looked ridiculous, but for some reason, he felt that same annoying warmth in his chest that he'd been trying to ignore. The same feeling that made him buy your favorite snacks at the convenience store without thinking. The same feeling that had him listening a little too intently whenever Jake talked about you.

"Anatomical difference, my ass. Men just use their dicks instead of their mouths, that's why they're assholes," Yunjin muttered, typing away on her laptop while half-listening to the lecture.

Jay didn't agree with that. He knew men communicated—just differently. Maybe not with words the way women did, but through actions and through presence.

Like how Jake never outright said he wanted you, but always found an excuse to bring you up in conversations, to keep you close.

Like how Jay himself never said much at all, but still, for some reason, his attention always gravitated toward you.

They just had different ways of showing affection, and for a while, Jay thought that was enough.

Until it wasn't.

"It's freezing. What are you doing out here?" Jay asked, stepping onto the snow-covered porch where Jake sat curled in on himself. The night air was sharp, biting against his skin, but Jake didn't seem to notice.

Jay's eyes trailed over him—his red nose, the slight tremble in his fingers, the way his eyes were swollen and glassy.

"Were you crying?" Jay frowned, reaching out to tilt Jake's face toward him.

Jake flinched, but he didn't pull away. His lips parted like he wanted to say something, but nothing came out.

"Baby, talk to me," Jay said, firmer this time.

"I—I..." Jake's voice wavered. His breath came out in a shaky cloud, visible against the cold air. "I'm sorry."

Jay's brows furrowed. "For what?"

Jake squeezed his eyes shut, as if saying it out loud would break him.

"I like her, Jay."

Jay's breath hitched at the confession, Jake had always been expressive—his love was loud, easy, all-consuming. But maybe, just maybe, Jay had never truly listened. Never truly looked. Because if he had, he would've seen this coming.

Jay let out a slow breath, steadying himself. Then, without hesitation, he cupped Jake's face, thumb brushing away the tear that slipped down his cheek.

"I'm sorry, I know it's wrong —"

"You don't have to be sorry," Jay murmured.

Jake sniffled, confused. "But—"

Jay shook his head, cutting him off. "I like her too."

Jake stilled. His grip on Jay's jacket loosened slightly, as if he didn't believe what he just heard.

Jay exhaled, looking past Jake for a moment, toward the snow-covered street, the dim porch light casting a soft glow around them. It had taken him too long to realize it, but now that the words were out, they felt right.

"I didn't want to admit it, but I get it. I get why you feel this way."

Jake's lips parted slightly, his breath hitching. "Then why did we—" He hesitated. "Why didn't we talk about this sooner?"

Jay fell silent, because that was the problem, wasn't it?

Their entire relationship had been built on silent understandings, unspoken words, actions instead of conversations. It had always been enough—until it really wasn't.

Jay wasn't the type to talk about feelings, and Jake... well, Jake always just went with whatever Jay was willing to give.

Jay sighed, finally meeting Jake's gaze again. "Because we never really talk about things, do we?"

Jake let out a breathy, broken laugh, shaking his head. "No. We really don't."

Jay reached up, threading his fingers through Jake's hair, pulling him into a slow, grounding hug. Jake melted into him instantly. For a while, neither of them spoke. The cold wind bit at their skin, the snow crunching softly beneath their feet as they shifted slightly in place. But neither moved to go inside.

"I miss her," Jake finally whispered. His voice was small, fragile in a way that Jay rarely ever heard. "Is it right to tell her how we feel?"

Jay stiffened slightly at the question, that was the real problem. It wasn't just about their feelings anymore—it was about yours too.

He wasn't an idiot. He had noticed the shift in your energy, the way you had started pulling away, the way your texts had become shorter, emptier.

Maybe you felt it too. Maybe you had been trying to fight it just as much as he had.

But unlike him, you had chosen to run.

And Jay hated that.

Because the truth was, he had spent so much of his life avoiding unnecessary complications, keeping people at arm's length to protect himself from feelings he didn't know how to deal with. Relationships were easy when they were just sex, when there were clear boundaries that everyone followed.

But you had blurred every single one of those lines.

He had spent months trying to ignore the way he felt, convincing himself that this was nothing more than what it started as — just a bit of fun. But then you wormed your way into their lives in ways he never anticipated.

It was in the way you laughed at Jake's stupid jokes, in the way you pout your lips at certain foods, in the way you always took extra time to make sure Jake was drinking enough water or that Jay wasn't skipping meals.

It was in the way you would fall asleep on their couch, curled up like you belonged there, as if you had carved a space for yourself in their world without even realizing it.

And yet, they had never said anything. They had never talked about what any of this meant, never acknowledged the growing weight of their emotions.

"I don't know," Jay admitted, "but I know I don't want to lose her."

Jake swallowed hard, his grip on Jay tightening. "Me neither."

He wasn't sure how to approach this, wasn't sure how to untangle the mess they had all made. But one thing was certain—he and Jake wanted you.

And if there was even the slightest chance that you wanted them too, Jay would figure out a way to make this work.

Poly relationships existed, didn't they?

And if that was the way to keep you, then Jay would do everything in his power to make you stay.

...

Except you were acting like a fucking bitch.

Despite all the planning, about how to approach this properly, Jake had gone ahead and done the one thing Jay told him not to do—talk to you without a plan. Without giving you time. Without preparing himself for the worst.

And now Jake was curled up in Jay's arms, shaking, trying to choke back his sobs while Jay clenched his jaw so tightly.

Jake was impatient, and you were pushing them away.

Jay's head was going to fucking explode. He didn't know how to handle this. He hated seeing Jake cry, hated the way his hands trembled as he held onto him. Hated the way you had shut them out like they didn't mean a goddamn thing to you.

Well, he knew that they meant something to you.

Jay's patience had been stretched thin for weeks now. Every time he thought he might have a chance to talk to you, you slipped away like smoke between his fingers. It was pissing him off. He could feel you pulling back, putting up walls he hadn't even realized were there. And the worst part is he had no fucking idea how to break them down.

He wasn't the kind of guy who begged. He wasn't the kind of guy who chased. But for you? For you, he was losing his goddamn mind.

"Hey, shhh, it's okay, I'll talk to her," Jay murmured, his voice steady despite the frustration simmering beneath the surface. Jake sniffled, his face buried in Jay's shoulder, but his grip didn't loosen. His whole body shook, fingers digging into Jay's back.

Jay sighed, bringing a hand up to wipe Jake's wet cheeks with the pad of his thumb. Jake's lips trembled.

"She's not even giving us a chance."

Yeah, he fucking noticed.

And it pissed him off. Not just because you were avoiding them, not just because you were pushing Jake away—but because Jake wasn't even mad about it. He wasn't angry; he was hurt. Both of them knew you didn't mean what you had said that day. But what could they do when you refused to talk? When you were so hell-bent on running?

"...Many individuals engage in self-sabotage not because they don't want happiness, but because they fear it."

Jay blinked at the professor's voice, his jaw tightening as he focused on the lecture.

"Fear of commitment, avoidance of intimacy, and reluctance to accept positive emotions often stem from deep-seated insecurities. This can manifest as pushing people away when they get too close, fixating on imperfections to justify emotional distance, or convincing oneself that they are 'better off alone.'"

He exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down his face.

"To put it simply," the professor continued, leaning against his desk, "people self-sabotage when they don't believe they deserve good things. They anticipate failure or abandonment, so they preemptively destroy what could be good before it has the chance to hurt them."

Jay's head instinctively turned to where you usually sat. Your seat was empty. Of course, it was.

His fingers drummed against the desk, irritation flaring in his chest. He already knew you were avoiding them, but it was becoming worse. First, it was the silent treatment, then skipping plans, ignoring texts. Now, you were barely showing up to class. What the fuck were you thinking? Were you really about to fail a major subject just to get away from them?

Jake nudged him lightly, his eyes worried. "She's really doing this, huh?"

Jay clenched his jaw. "Fucking ridiculous," he muttered.

He didn't understand. Why were you acting like this? They had never once made you feel unwanted. Never treated you like an afterthought.

The professor moved on, but Jay wasn't listening anymore. His mind was spinning, the weight of your absence pressing heavily against him.

Prelims came and went. And still—no shadow of you.

Jay barely glanced at his exam paper as he turned it in. He had spent the past hour only half-focused, tapping his pen against the desk in frustration, mind elsewhere. He already knew his score wouldn't be his best. Not with the way you were consuming his every thought.

Outside the exam hall, Sunoo approached him hesitantly. Jay didn't miss the way he shifted awkwardly on his feet, fingers twisting together like he was debating whether to speak.

"I'm sorry," Sunoo finally said, sighing. "I hope... whatever's happening with you guys, you'll be patient with her."

Jay exhaled sharply through his nose. Yeah. He was trying to be patient, but patience was running thin when you wouldn't even look at them anymore.

Sunoo hesitated again before glancing around, making sure no one was listening. "It's not my story to tell," he admitted carefully, voice softer, "but she likes the both of you." He shook his head, lips pressing together. "She just... she's being negative."

Jay's grip tightened on his exam booklet. Of course, he fucking knew that. It wasn't just obvious—it was the only explanation that made sense. But hearing it from Sunoo, having someone else confirm it, should have made him feel better. It didn't.

Because knowing that you wanted them didn't change the fact that you were pushing them away. It didn't change the fact that you were choosing to ruin this before they even had a chance to prove to you that it could work.

Sunoo studied Jay's face, reading his silence before sighing. "She's just scared," he muttered. "That's how she is."

Jay huffed out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah? Well, I'm getting really fucking tired of watching her run."

Sunoo gave him a look, almost as if to say, then catch her.

Fine. He would. One thing was clear—this avoidance shit? It needed to end.

They had to talk. They had to communicate. Well, they had been trying. But talking to you was like grasping at smoke. Jay had tried to contact you, but it was clear you had soft-blocked them both. His messages stayed unread. Calls went straight to voicemail.

Jay had tried to find you. But every time he did, you ran. Midterms came. Jay was exhausted, irritated, and so fucking done with the distance.

And then, he saw you. Laughing like nothing had happened, like you hadn't disappeared off the face of the fucking earth. You were standing outside the library with a group of friends, flexing your nails dramatically as the others fussed over them. Jay's steps slowed. Your hair was different, it was short.

A bob cut. The sight of it made his chest tighten. It wasn't a bad thing—hell, it looked good. But it was different. You were different.

He inhaled sharply and stepped forward, but before he could close the distance, your gaze flickered up. And you saw him for a second your expression froze.

Then, before Jay could even process it, someone else entered the scene.

Some guy. That fucking guy and his girlfriend.

Jay watched as they approached you, watched as the girl kissed your cheek, Heeseung slinging an arm around your shoulder.

And you let them. You let them pull you away before Jay could even reach you. No fucking way.

"Do you think we should give up?" Jake had asked once. Jay only shook his head. No.

Communication is key—but with the way you're acting, they need a different strategy to reach you.

You don't get to run. Not anymore. Men speak in different ways they said, and if the softest way doesn't get through to you then he'll have to go rough.

"Oh my God, this is the most chaotic event ever," Sunoo complained loudly, fanning himself dramatically with his schedule sheet. "Who in their right mind thinks it's a good idea to hold university games when summer is practically melting us alive? That's actual insanity."

Sweat clung to your forehead, your clothes sticking uncomfortably to your skin. All around you, students were sprawled across the open field, desperately searching for shade or breeze.

Sunghoon turned on his small turbo fan and aimed it toward you and Sunoo. A soft hum filled the air, and you immediately leaned into the stream of cool air.

"Bless your soul," you moaned, eyes fluttering shut as the breeze hit your face.

Meanwhile, Wonyoung sat cross-legged on the grass nearby, sipping water with a serene expression, completely unbothered by the scorching sun.

"This is actually so unfair," you muttered, glancing at her in disbelief. "I look like a soggy dog, and she's out here looking like a skincare commercial."

"She's probably not human," Sunoo said flatly.

You slumped dramatically closer to the turbo fan, shoulders sagging with defeat. "Why did you even register us for dodgeball?!" you whined, voice muffled as you practically shoved your face into the breeze. "I look like I've been through five stages of grief, I don't even barely survive now that we don't do anything, then what about tomorrow."

Sunoo shrugged, unapologetic. "It's tradition. And it's the only time I get to legally throw a ball at people I don't like."

You gave him a flat look, lifting your face just enough to mutter, "That includes me, doesn't it?"

"Depends on how much more you complain," he deadpanned, eyes hidden behind his oversized sunglasses.

Sunghoon leaned slightly forward with a furrowed brow. "Hey, your mascara is kind of melting. Like... a lot."

You gasped, sitting up straight. "No! No, no, no—" You fumbled through your bag in a mild panic, fishing out your phone. The moment your reflection came into view, you groaned. "I look like a raccoon who just got dumped."

"You always say that," Wonyoung chimed in with a lazy smile, finally acknowledging the conversation as she shifted beneath her sun umbrella. "And yet somehow you still pull."

"Not in this heat I don't," you grumbled, pressing a tissue to the corner of your eye. The moment you pulled it back, it was smudged black. "Great. I look like I'm melting from the inside out."

You leaned into the mirror on your phone, trying to fix the damage but the more you dabbed and adjusted, the worse it got. The eyeliner smeared into your under-eye, and your lashes clumped at odd angles. You cursed softly under your breath, cheeks hot with both embarrassment and the unforgiving sun.

"I need to go to the bathroom," you muttered, standing quickly and brushing off the back of your shorts. "This is a mess—I need to fix this before I look like I got dumped and then thrown into a fire."

"I told you to change your mascara," Sunoo mumbled. "Waterproof isn't just a suggestion in this weather."

"I didn't think it'd get this bad!" you hissed, reaching for your bag—which, naturally, was hanging from Sunghoon's overburdened shoulder. He handed it off without complaint, arms already full of Wonyoung and Sunoo's things too.

"Where are you going?" Wonyoung asked without moving.

"To salvage my face," you said over your shoulder. "If I don't come back, assume I drowned in the sink."

You didn't wait for a reply, slipping away from the group as your shoes scuffed against the hot pavement. The chatter of students faded behind you, replaced by the distant hum of activity inside the university. The moment you entered the shaded hallway, the temperature dropped just enough for you to breathe.

Your footsteps echoed lightly as you made your way toward the restroom, the cold tile of the building cooling the soles of your feet through your sneakers. You exhaled a long, slow breath—finally out of the noise and the sun.

You pushed open the bathroom door and slipped inside, letting it close behind you with a soft click.

You dropped your bag on the counter, you pulled out your makeup, eyeing the smudged disaster on your face. Carefully, you began dabbing away the ruined mascara and eyeliner, patting concealer beneath your eyes and slowly rebuilding the illusion of composure. Your lashes clumped slightly as you reapplied your mascara, and you leaned in closer to the mirror to separate them.

You were just about finished when a voice cut through.

"Figured I'd find you here."

You jumped, nearly knocking your makeup pouch off the counter. Your head whipped toward the door—where Jay stood, leaning against the frame.

"This is the girls' restroom," you snapped, the panic slipping into your voice. The last thing you wanted was to be cornered by him. And God, of all the times, why did he have to look so fucking good in that damn denim jacket?

Jay didn't flinch. He just stared. "It's not like I haven't seen everything already," he said, stepping inside and letting the door swing shut behind him with a low thud.

You scoffed, hard, grabbing your bag off the counter. "Right. And that gives you a free pass to stalk me now? Is that how it works?"

Jay's jaw tightened, but his voice stayed low. "I didn't stalk you. I came to talk. Since you're ghosting every call, and message, avoiding us, and you made Jake cry," he added, emphasizing the last part.

"Maybe because I don't want to talk," you bit out, slamming a lipstick back into your bag. "I already told your boyfriend—I'm done with the both of you. So stop. Stop being so fucking annoying."

You tried to storm past him, but his hand shot out fast, gripping your shoulder, forcing you back.

"What the hell is your problem?!" you snapped, "You think cornering me like this is gonna change anything?"

Jay's eyes darkened, his voice dropping a notch. "Yeah. Maybe it will. Since the version where I let you push us away didn't work."

"You don't get to decide how I feel," you hissed, shoving at his chest. "You don't get to show up like this just because you're pissed I won't answer you."

"And you don't get to shut down every time something doesn't go your way," he shot back. "You act like you don't care, but if that were true, you wouldn't be shaking right now."

Jay's eyes dropped to your arm, the subtle tremble giving you away. You quickly swallowed the lump rising in your throat and tucked your arm behind your back.

He raised a brow. "Can you stop being a brat for five seconds and just hear me out?"

You scoffed, biting down the sting in your chest. "I told you—I'm not interested anymore. Why are you so damn pushy?!"

"Because we fucking like you!" Jay snapped, you stiffened, the silence that followed hitting louder than his voice had. Your breath caught. His jaw clenched, and the space between you suddenly felt way too small.

Being with them isn't realistic.

Push them away.

Lied through your fucking teeth.

"Wow. Great. That's your excuse?" you spat, though your voice shook just enough to betray you. "You like me, so now I'm supposed to just roll over and forget everything? Grow up, Jay. That's not how this works."

Jay stepped forward slowly. You instinctively backed up, your spine hitting the cold edge of the counter.

"You felt something too," he said, eyes fixed on you. "Don't bullshit me."

"Shut up," you shot back too fast, and too obviously defensive.

He didn't stop. His gaze locked on yours, footsteps steady. "You can act cold, pretend you're done, like we didn't get under your skin. But I know better."

You pressed harder into the counter. "You don't know shit," you hissed. "It was a mistake. A phase. Whatever the hell you thought you saw—it wasn't real."

Jay's mouth curled, smirking. "Funny. That 'phase' made you tremble like that? That mistake had you gasping my name?"

Your chest rose and fell fast, your heart thundering behind your ribs like it wanted out.

He leaned in, close enough that you could feel the heat of his breath. "You're not scared of us. You're scared of how real it felt. You're scared because it meant something—and you don't know what the hell to do with that."

"Shut up," you repeated, but your voice cracked on the edge of it this time.

Jay went still and finally, he heard it. That tiny crack in your armor, the one you didn't mean to let slip. The one he'd been waiting for.

His expression shifted, the usual smirk gone. What was left was quiet, focus and dangerous stare.

"You can keep pushing us away. Say it was fake. Say it was a lie. But you and I both know—" his voice dipped, "—it was the most real thing you've ever felt."

You clenched your jaw, refusing to look at him. If you met his eyes now, it was over, you knew it. So you stared at the floor, at the sink, at anywhere but him.

"Look at me," he said.

You didn't. So he grabbed your jaw, rough, and tilted your face toward his. Your pulse pounded in your ears as you locked eyes with him. And that was it. The moment cracked open, revealing everything you hadn't said.

His gaze bore into you, not blinking, not softening. "You gonna keep pretending this meant nothing?" he murmured, breath ghosting over your cheek. "You gonna keep walking around like you're not haunted by us every fucking night?"

You said nothing because you couldn't. Jay stepped in closer, so close the space between you vanished, the scent of his cologne hitting you hard, that familiar deep and musky. Your legs wobbled, barely holding you up, and you cursed your body for betraying you.

He leaned in, his hand still holding your face, thumb brushing the edge of your lip. "You really think you can just move on? That someone else is gonna touch you the way we did? Know you the way we do?"

His voice dropped even lower, a growl at the edge of it. "You think you're just gonna give that cunt to someone else?" His hand slid down, slow, dragging along your throat, pressing just enough to make your breath catch. "You think it's gonna listen to them?"

Your thighs clenched on instinct. Fuck.

Jay caught the reaction—he always noticed. His lips curved just barely. "Your body doesn't lie," he said, "It remembers us. The way you moaned. The way you begged. That pussy listens when we speak. You know it. I know it."

His hand rested just above your chest now, feeling your heartbeat racing beneath it.

"You can lie all you want," he said, eyes dark and locked on you. "But your body's telling the truth."

You were frozen, pulse slamming in your throat, heat spreading beneath your skin. Jay's lips brushed the shell of your ear. "Say it didn't mean anything. Look me in the eye and say it."

A soft, broken gasp—no, worse. A moan left your mouth. You felt the slow smile curl against your skin, felt the change in the air as his grip shifted.

"There she is," he murmured. "Couldn't hold it in, could you?"

"Fuck you," you choked, breathless, humiliated, every inch of your skin lit up with heat and shame.

His hand slid from your chest to your neck again, thumb brushing your jaw as he tilted your head up. "You already did," he said. "And you fucking loved it."

His other hand slid to your hip, fingers digging in just hard enough to make you gasp. Then he stepped in fully, pressing his body flush against yours, pinning you between the counter and him.

"Push me away," he said, his forehead resting against yours, breath mingling, eyes locked on you like a hunter cornering prey.

But you couldn't look away. His scent coiled around you, and your legs barely held you up. You felt it, the warmth blooming between your thighs, the traitorous ache soaking into your panties, and you hated how much he could still do this to you with so little.

"Push me away," Jay repeated. "Make me cry the way you fucking did to Jake."

His hand tightened around your throat suddenly. Your hands flew to his wrist on reflex, clutching him but you didn't push. You didn't even try. A squeak escaped your lips, your fingers just held him there, trembling, as the air caught in your throat and heat flared down your spine.

"Stop talking," you whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut, as if you could block out the sound of his voice.

But his grip on your throat only tightened. "Why?" Jay murmured, his tone taunting. "Can't take it?"

Your lips parted, breath ragged. "I—I'm s-sorry, okay? I'm sorry," you gasped.

Jay's eyes narrowed, and a sharp, mocking smile curled at his lips. "Sorry?" he echoed. "Now you're sorry?"

"No. You don't get to say sorry and pretend that fixes this," he snarled. "You lied. You ran. You made Jake cry. You threw us away —and now look at you."

"Look at yourself," he hissed. "Pathetic little whimper in your throat every time I speak."

You tried to shake your head, but he didn't let you. "No. Don't look away now," Jay growled, fingers still wrapped tight around your throat, forcing your eyes up to meet his. "You wanna play cold? Strong? Then own it. Stand tall. Push me off. Say it was all a fucking lie."

Your lips trembled. You tried. You tried to hold it in—but everything broke at once. "It's not!" you cried, voice cracking, hands shaking against his wrist. "It's not! I'm sorry!"

Your chest heaved. "I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to—I just—" your voice splintered into breathless pieces, eyes glassy, vision blurring, "please just—just—fuck!"

You grabbed his shirt, knuckles white.

"Touch me, please!"

The words left your mouth like a scream torn from your core, soaked in shame, in need.

"There's the truth." His grip released your throat to slide lower, hands now on your waist. Your hips met his, and the hardness pressing against your core made your breath stutter, arousal flooding you so hard your legs gave a twitch.

"You begged," he whispered, eyes never leaving yours. "Say it again."

You swallowed hard, breath catching, lips parted and trembling.

"Say it," he repeated like a command. "Say it so you remember how low you got."

You hesitated, just for a second, but the ache between your legs, the fire in your belly, the heat in your cheeks—it was too much.

"Please..." you whispered, eyes wide, voice shaking. "Touch me."

Jay tilted his head slightly, then leaned in to your ear again, mouth brushing your skin. "Louder."

You shut your eyes, biting your lip, humiliated but so fucking far gone. "Please," you gasped, louder now, every word dripping with shame, "touch me. I need it. I need you."

Jay didn't answer immediately. He let the silence hang heavy, waiting—making you sweat in it. Then he leaned closer again. "Think you deserve it?"

Your breath caught. "No..." you whispered. "N-No. I don't."

Jay smiled. "Exactly." And then, without another word, he pulled away. Just let go of you and stepped back, turning his back.

"H-Huh?" you breathed, the air suddenly cold without his touch. "Where are you going?"

"Back to the field," he said flatly. "You don't deserve shit—not after all the stupid games you played."

Panic flared so violently inside you it made your knees weak. The throbbing heat between your legs was unbearable now, your panties soaked, your stomach aching from how badly you needed release. But worse than the arousal was the cold pit of humiliation, of abandonment.

You lunged forward, clutching his wrist with both hands. "No, no—please! I'm sorry!" your voice cracked. "Please, I'm sorry, I just— I got jealous. With you and Jake, I— I like you. I like both of you, I just thought..."

You were sobbing now, tears spilling hot and fast down your cheeks. "I thought it would be better if I was out of the picture. I didn't know what to do. I miss you! I— I need you. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!"

Jay turned slowly. "And you acted like a bitch because you thought it'd be better?" he hissed. "We chased you for three fucking months."

You froze, mouth parted, lips trembling. "And what did you do?" Jay continued, voice rising. "Blocked us. Ignored us. Walked away like we were nothing. Like you didn't feel anything."

"I did," you whispered. "I did."

He stared down at you, breathing hard, chest rising and falling, eyes locked on your tear-soaked face and the hands still clutching his wrist

"You're going to earn your place back," he said coldly. "We're not just taking you back. You'll crawl for it. You'll beg for it."

You stood there, frozen, tears still fresh on your cheeks. Shame burned through you, and the arousal between your legs was only getting worse.

"You want me to touch you?" he asked, his voice low, mocking. "You think I'll give that to you just like that? Just because you cried a little? Because you finally admitted you fucked up?"

You shook your head slowly, lip trembling. "N-No..." you whispered.

"No?" he echoed, lips curling. "Then why are you still standing like you're in control?"

You blinked at him, confused for half a heartbeat. And then the word dropped. "Kneel."

You flinched. Your legs almost didn't respond but your body knew. Knew the command, knew his tone, knew exactly what was expected. Your knees buckled beneath you, and you sank slowly to the floor, the cold tile biting into your skin.

Jay towered over you now, looking down with nothing but cold amusement in his eyes. "Pathetic," he muttered. "You were so full of fire. So quick to run your mouth. What happened to all that attitude, huh?"

You kept your head down, cheeks flushed hot, hands trembling in your lap.

He stepped in close behind you, hand fisting in your hair and yanking your head back just enough for you to gasp. "I should make you wait longer," he said, staring down into your eyes. "Should make you watch me walk away again. But then I'd miss watching you break. And I like this view too much."

Your lips parted, breath caught between a sob and a moan.

"You know what I should do?" Jay whispered. "I should call Jake. Let him see what's left of the girl who told him she was 'done.' Let him see you begging on your knees, soaked and broken. You think he'd feel sorry for you?"

You shook your head again, tears welling up all over, and yet—your thighs pressed together.

Jay smirked. "Yeah. That's what I thought."

He released your hair, let you slump forward just slightly. "You're going to stay right here," he said. "On your knees. Hands behind your back. You don't get to touch. You don't get to beg again unless I say."

"Yes..." you whispered, eyes shut, heart racing. "Yes, okay..."

You heard the soft rustle of denim—Jay pulling off his jacket and tossing it carelessly onto the counter. The metallic click of a belt followed, then the slow grind of a zipper sliding down. The sounds alone made your pulse spike.

Jay stood above you, fingers resting at his waistband. His gaze dropped down to meet yours and the look in his eyes made your stomach twist in the most helpless, humiliating way.

He shifted his stance slightly, drawing closer, one hand sliding into the front of his jeans, adjusting himself as his breath hitched low in his chest. A dark patch spread along the front of his briefs, Jay let out a low hiss through his teeth, his jaw tightening as he watched you watching him.

Jay's thumb brushed your bottom lip, dragging the soft flesh down just enough to part your mouth. With one hand, he pushed his briefs down just enough to free himself, fingers wrapping around the thick base of his cock. The head was flushed, already wet at the tip, and he slowly angled it toward your waiting mouth.

You opened for him without hesitation, lips parting wide, tongue slightly curled. You saw the flicker in his expression, by the way his breath hitched sharply, his brows twitching together.

"Fuck..." he muttered under his breath, just before his hips surged forward. The sudden thrust made your throat constrict, a choked gasp escaping you as you adjusted, eyes watering.

Both of his hands moved to your head now, fingers splaying through your hair, rough and needy. He let his fingertips glide against your scalp at first, almost soothing, before his grip tightened. A sharp tug followed.

"Why'd you cut your hair, anyway?" he asked, breathless, but the question was half a growl, half a genuine bite of irritation. His fingers tangled in your shorter strands, clearly missing the length he used to wrap his fists in.

Tears blurred your vision, slipping down your cheeks, but you didn't stop. Your throat worked hard around him, swallowing, adjusting, the wet sounds of gulp, gulp, gulp are echoing against the tile walls of the bathroom.

Your lips stayed stretched around him, tongue coiling beneath the shaft, dragging slow and deliberate from the base upward as you swallowed him again and again.

The world outside the bathroom didn't exist. You'd forgotten where you were, forgotten the echo of distant footsteps, the fact that the tiled walls weren't just enclosing heat and pleasure but public space. You were too far gone in the taste of him, in the stretch of your lips, in the burn of each breathless gasp you took through your nose.

Then—knock knock. A sharp, sudden rap on the door snapped. You flinched, instantly trying to pull back, eyes wide in panic, throat clenching around him. But Jay didn't let you go.

"Shh," he murmured. His fingers tightened in your hair, the other hand sliding to the back of your neck. Before you could react, he forced you down—all the way. His cock sank into your throat in one sharp, complete thrust, your nose pressed flat against the skin of his pelvis. The breath caught in your lungs. Your eyes watered harder. You were choking, but you stayed, frozen, as his grip held you exactly where he wanted.

The door creaked open.

"It's just me," came a soft, casual familiar voice.

You heard the unmistakable click of the lock sliding into place behind him. A moment later, you could feel the weight of Jake's stare, as he stood there, just inside the bathroom door, watching.

Jake's tone was edged with uncertainty, but not surprise. "You said you were just gonna talk," he said as he took in the scene—your knees on the cold tile, face flushed, cheeks hollowed, and Jay buried deep in your throat.

Jay exhaled through his teeth, head tilting back slightly, his grip finally loosening just enough for you to breathe again. But he didn't pull out.

"That's her way of apologizing," Jay hissed, his hips rolled forward again with purpose, forcing another wet choke from you. "Isn't that right?"

His hand remained in your hair, holding you steady, guiding your mouth with every thrust. His other hand slipped down to your jaw, thumb brushing the corner of your lips, smearing the spit that clung there like gloss.

You looked up and there was Jake.

You'd always remembered Jake as soft-spoken, the kind of boy smiled too gently. Sweet to a fault. The kind of person who would've cupped your cheek and whispered it was okay, would've helped you up and kissed the tears from your face.

But not now. Now his eyes weren't soft. They were cold, sharp and predatory.

Even through the blur of your lashes and the sting of fresh tears, you saw it: the shift. The hunger.

"You're crying," Jake said. He tilted his head, studying your face. "She's crying, Jay."

And how you remembered, too well, the way he had this thing with you crying every time he fucked you. A fascination of your tears.

"She should be," he said flatly. "After the shit she pulled? She should be sobbing." He thrust forward again, slow and deep, watching your throat stretch to take it.

Jake didn't blink. His expression didn't soften. He just knelt lower beside you, one hand resting casually on his knee as he leaned in a little closer. His eyes were fixed on your tear-streaked face, watching every twitch of your mouth, every breath you struggled to take around Jay's cock.

His cock twitched in his pants. There was a fire building in his chest stoked by the sight of you like this—on your knees, choking, tears running, all for his boyfriend. And yet... all he could think about was that moment. That time he tried talking to you, voice soft, reaching out with patience, and you'd barely looked at him. Just shrugged him off.

Maybe he'd been too kind. No—he had been too kind.

Jake didn't know exactly what he was feeling as he watched Jay drive himself deeper into your mouth, but it wasn't softness. Not anymore. A new edge in his blood he hadn't recognized before. Every time your throat clenched, every time another tear slipped down your cheek, something inside him twisted tighter.

"You're so unfair," Jake said. He stood slowly, eyes never leaving your face.

Jay reached up, hand curling around the back of Jake's neck, fingers threading into his hair. He pulled him down, and their mouths met in a slow kiss.

You whimpered around Jay's cock, your voice small and choked as your eyes followed the scene unfolding above you.

They didn't look at you. Their kiss deepened quickly, mouths open, tongues sliding together in a messy, hungry rhythm. Jay tilted his head, humming low against Jake's mouth, and Jake responded with a moan that vibrated through him—a sound that made Jay's grip on your hair tighten just slightly.

Their bodies leaned into each other, mouths devouring, heat bleeding off them like they'd forgotten you were even there. You whimpered again, louder this time, throat sore, nose running, your jaw aching, but they still didn't acknowledge you.

Then you sobbed, your body trembling as another wave of tears spilled down your cheeks. Jake pulled back from the kiss, breathless, lips slick.

"Stop being dramatic," he muttered as he looked down at you. His hand came down with no hesitation, fingers sliding into your hair alongside Jay's to push you further.

You whimpered one last time, cut off by the sudden pressure as your head was forced forward. Your nose pressed flush to Jay's skin again, throat stretched to its limit.

"Shut up," Jake said quietly. Jay hissed through his teeth, his body jerking slightly as your throat took him again, deeper now under Jake's added weight.

You gagged again, but Jake didn't flinch. He just turned his head and watched his boyfriend with a crooked smile. before leaning in to kiss him again. Their mouths met above you, hot and open, tongues sliding as if you weren't there.

You couldn't breathe.

Your throat burned, raw and stretched too wide, and your jaw felt like it was splitting apart under the unrelenting ache. Jay's pace had become erratic now, his stomach bouncing against your nose with each desperate thrust. You could feel the tightness in your chest spreading, oxygen slipping further and further out of reach.

Your lungs screamed. Your eyes streamed. But neither of them looked down.

And just when you felt his cock throb in warning, when your body tensed in anticipation of the inevitable—

Jake pulled you off.

You gasped as you were suddenly released, choking, coughing, collapsing sideways onto the cold tile floor. Your body folded, weak and trembling, chest heaving as you dragged in greedy, ragged breaths. Your lips were swollen, spit-slick and trembling, and the back of your throat felt like it had been clawed raw.

You barely had time to lift yourself onto your elbows when you saw Jake move again.

He dropped to his knees smoothly in front of Jay, his mouth opened without a word, and he took Jay in deep, his jaw relaxed. You watched through bleary, tear-streaked eyes as Jake's head began to bob, slow and sinuous, his lips wrapped around the same cock that had just brutalized your throat.

Jay groaned, one hand bracing against the counter, the other curling in Jake's hair. His hips jerked once, twice—and then he came.

Jake didn't flinch. He swallowed it all, his throat working silently, eyes fluttering shut as if savoring it. His fingers dug into Jay's hips, keeping him in place as the last tremors rolled through him.

You stayed on the floor, trembling, watching through a curtain of tears you couldn't stop.

Jake pulled back with a wet drag of his mouth, lips glossy, tongue flicking out to catch the last trace of Jay's release. He looked up at him with hooded eyes, mouth still parted slightly, breath heavy. Jay let out a soft, breathless laugh, brushing Jake's hair back from his face.

Something in you twisted again. Bitter. Ugly. It crawled up your chest and sat there. You wiped your face with the back of your trembling hand, smearing the tears more than cleaning them. The other reached up shakily, trying to push your hair out of your eyes, trying to regain some kind of dignity.

But Jake didn't give you the chance. He turned to you slowly, head cocked, still licking the corner of his mouth. His gaze locked onto you, that same hunger was still in his eyes.

"You think you're done?" he asked. Jay's hand dropped from Jake's hair, and looked down on you again. 

Jake stood and approached you with the lazy certainty of someone who already knew you wouldn't resist.  He crouched in front of you, his face level with yours. He reached out and brushed your hair back

Your lips trembled as you tried to speak. "I-I'm sorry, Jake..." you whispered, barely able to meet his eyes. "Both of you mean something to me. I just... I didn't know how to handle it. I miss you. I didn't mean to make you cry. You're precious to me, baby."

Jake stilled. For a moment, he didn't blink. His gaze searching yours. His breath hitched, just enough to give him away, his jaw tightening as his face flickered with softness. Behind you, Jay leaned back against the wall with a soft exhale, arms crossing over his chest. His eyes flicked between the two of you.

Jake's hand hover near your cheek, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. You leaned into it simply to feel him again. Just that brief, tender contact that used to come so easily. Your skin brushed his fingertips, and he didn't pull away.

"I'm so sorry," you sobbed. Your body trembled, shoulders shaking, the emotion too big to contain any longer.

Jake exhaled sharply, his entire demeanor going soft suddenly. "Shhh..." he finally whispered, pulling you into him.

His arms wrapped around you tightly, and he tucked his face into the side of your head. His nose pressed gently to your temple. One hand moved to your back, slowly rubbing up and down.

"You meant it?" he murmured. "All of it?"

You nodded into his shoulder, arms tightening around his waist as you clung to him. "I meant it," you whispered, breath hitching. "Every word."

Jake didn't move right away. He just held you there, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other drawing slow, rhythmic circles against your spine. You could feel his heartbeat against your chest, faster than it should've been.

For a moment, everything else faded— the ache in your throat, the sting of your tears, even Jay's quiet presence nearby. It was just Jake. Just the closeness you hadn't had in too long.

"I should be angry," Jake murmured after a pause. "But I missed you too much." He pulled back just slightly, enough to look at you. "Don't lie to me again. Don't run." he said softly.

"I won't," you whispered. "Let me fix things." The moment the answer left your lips, Jake moved, he hooked his arms beneath you, lifting you up.

You let out a small gasp as he turned, setting you down on the cold counter behind you. Your back hit the mirror with a soft thud, the glass cool against your scalp as your legs instinctively parted to accommodate him stepping in between them.

He kept his eyes on yours, even as his hands moved to the waistband of your shorts, his fingers working them down. "Let's fix things, huh?" he murmured, dragging your shorts down in one motion. "You want to make things right?"

You nodded again, barely able to breathe as the air hit your wet skin.

"Then spread those pretty thighs," Jake growled under his breath. He dropped the fabric carelessly to the floor, hands sliding up your inner thighs, his eyes landed on the soaked fabric of your panties before he pushed them aside.

"Already dripping," he muttered. His fingers pressed against your folds through the soaked cotton, dragging slowly up your slit, teasing you. The friction of the fabric sent jolts through your core. He pressed a little harder, making your hips twitch in response.

Another presence pressed close—Jay. He moved in behind Jake. "You're spoiling her again," Jay said as he leaned in, his breath warm against your neck.

His hands slid up your body from behind, palms rough, until they found your breasts. He cupped them through your top, thumbs brushing over your nipples until they stiffened beneath the fabric. He gave a sharp little pinch that made you whine, your body jolting forward as your thighs tensed around Jake.

"I don't think she's learned her lesson though," Jay muttered, rolling your nipples between his fingers lazily.

"She looks sorry," Jake said, but his eyes were locked on your glistening cunt. "But I don't think that mouth means anything until it's begging."

Jake dropped to his knees between your legs, mouth already parting as he pressed it against your heat. He pushed the fabric aside with one hand and gave your folds a slow, deliberate lick that made your head fall back against the mirror.

"I'm sorry," you choked out, voice shaking. "I mean it—please. I'm really sorry!"

Jake didn't answer. He just groaned against your pussy, his tongue flicking against your clit. The vibrations made your thighs clench around his head, but he held you in place, grip firm, unmoved by your squirming.

Jay chuckled above you. "That's one. Keep counting." He leaned in closer, lips brushing your ear. "You don't get to say you're sorry once and expect it's over, sweetheart."

"I am, I swear—" you gasped as Jake sucked your clit into his mouth, making your hips jerk. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Jake. Jay, please—please forgive me..."

Jay's hand slid lower, fingers trailing a heated path down your trembling stomach. His hand slipped between your thighs, right above Jake's head, and his fingers found your clit in seconds, rubbing slow, tight circles in contrast to the deeper movements of Jake's tongue.

The combination made your head tilt back, a cry caught in your throat.

Jake groaned against you, the sound buzzing through your core as he pushed his tongue into your hole, fucking you with slow, deep strokes. His nose nudged against Jay's fingers as he worked in tandem.

Jay's free hand found your breast again, making your shirt up to your collarbone and exposing your skin. His fingers found your nipple in your bra, pinching it between his knuckles until your back arched involuntarily.

Jake pulled back just enough to speak. "She tastes like guilt," he muttered before dipping back in. This time, his tongue flattened against your slit, licking long and firm, each pass rougher than the last.

"I am guilty!" you cried out, voice cracking as your fingers clutched the edge of the counter. "I fucked up—I know I did, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry—I missed you, both of you—"

Jay didn't respond right away. His thumb rose to your throat, brushing the hollow there gently, deceptively.  "You're not forgiven yet," he said calmly. "But keep begging. Maybe we'll believe you."

Jake moaned into your cunt, tongue working harder, faster, burying himself in your heat while his grip on your thighs tightened, nails biting into your flesh to keep you still.

Your body arched reflexively, head pressed hard against the mirror behind you. The cold glass was a cruel contrast to the fever building inside you, the friction between their mouths and fingers making your thoughts blur and your words tumble out in desperate, breathless gasps.

"I'm sorry—please, I'm so sorry—Jake, Jay—don't stop, please—don't leave me—I'll do anything—"

"You will do anything," Jay murmured, lips brushing your jaw as he kept one hand working your clit and the other still wrapped around your throat. "But that doesn't mean we're done punishing you."

Jake pulled back just long enough to spit on your cunt, watching it drip down before diving back in.

"Y-Yes, yes, yes..." you breathed. A few strands of your hair had fallen across your face, clinging to your flushed cheeks. Jay tsked under his breath, brushing the messy hair away with care. His fingers swept your temple, tucking the strands behind your ear to clear the view. He wanted to watch your face, every twitch, every tremble, every silent plea written across your features.

Jake's tongue flicked over your clit again, followed by a slow, deep press inside. Your thighs shook against his shoulders, toes curling over the edge of the counter.

"You don't even know which one of us you're moaning for, do you?" Jay whispered.

"I c-can't—" you whimpered, breath stuttering. "I'm sorry—Jake, Jay—I'm sorry, I swear—please..."

Jake growled softly between your legs, like your apology alone made him want more. He shifted his angle, tongue plunging deep as his nose rubbed against your clit, creating friction that made your spine arch and your head knock back into the mirror again with a dull thud.

Jay caught your head this time, hand sliding behind your skull, fingers threading through your hair.

"You'll come like this," Jay murmured, his lips brushing yours without closing the distance. "On his tongue, with my hand around your throat, and every breath you take will be ours."

"Jake—fuck!—Jay—I'm—" You choked on your own voice, the climax coiling inside you about to snap.

Jake didn't slow. His tongue moved in steady, ruthless strokes. His grip on your thighs tightened, keeping you anchored, legs trembling under the weight of everything he was drawing from you.

Jay's hand remained firm around your throat, not choking but holding. His thumb pressed lightly just beneath your jaw, grounding you as the rest of your body lost control. His eyes stayed locked on yours, watching every flicker of surrender build in your face.

"Look at me," he ordered softly. "Don't look away."

You tried—God, you tried—but your vision blurred with tears and white-hot pleasure, your eyes fluttering, lashes damp as you clung to consciousness. "I—can't—" you gasped, every breath shallow, high-pitched.

Jay leaned in, brushing his mouth against yours without kissing you. "You can," he whispered. "You will."

Jake's mouth locked around your clit, sucking hard, his tongue flicking fast, perfectly cruel. One hand slid beneath your ass, lifting you just enough to change the angle, and the pressure hit exactly where you needed it. The world around you fractured.

Your entire body arched.

A scream tore from your throat as Jay's hand held your windpipe and Jake's tongue forced you over the edge. Your vision went white behind your eyelids, every nerve in your body seizing with the violence of your orgasm. Your thighs clamped around Jake's head involuntarily, hips grinding into his mouth.

"There it is," Jay growled, watching the climax crash through you. "Fuck, that's it. That's what sorry looks like."

You sobbed, mouth open and shaking as aftershocks rolled through you, making your legs twitch, your fingers slip on the counter's edge.

Jake didn't stop right away. He licked you through it, each drag of his tongue coaxing every last tremor from your core. Only when your body jerked from overstimulation did he finally pull away, mouth slick, chin wet, his breath ragged.

"Goddamn," he muttered, voice rough as he looked up at you from between your legs. "Still the sweetest fucking thing I've ever tasted."

Jay eased his grip on your throat and let your head fall forward against his shoulder. You collapsed into the space between them, boneless, panting, your body trembling and used, your voice lost somewhere.

Jake rose, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he reached for his waistband. He was flushed, breath ragged, hands already moving to undo his pants. You lifted your head weakly, eyes wide, still dazed as you looked up at Jay. "A-Are we really doing this? In here?"

Jay arched a brow. "Jake just had his mouth buried in your pussy," he said smoothly. "Don't start playing modest now. Don't be selfish."

Jake let out a sharp breath as he freed himself, hissing softly as his hand wrapped around his cock.

Your breathing hitched when he stepped in closer. He lined himself up with you, the swollen head of his cock teasing your entrance, sliding up through your folds, collecting the wetness there before grinding it against your clit.

You whimpered at the friction. "My back hurts..." you managed to stammer out. "It's... it's uncomfortable."

Jake didn't even flinch, he pushed in his whole length into you in one motion. You both moaned at the feeling.

"We'll make it comfortable." Jake growled, breath hot against your cheek as he gripped your waist. 

Without warning, he lifted you off the counter, his hands strong under your thighs. You let out a startled gasp, your legs instinctively locking around his hips as he held you up with ease. His cock stayed buried inside you as he adjusted his grip, settling you in against him.

"Ahh—Jake!" you cried out as he began to move, bouncing you on his cock. Every thrust drove him deeper, the sound of skin on skin echoing sharp against the cold tile walls. Jay moved without a word. He slipped in behind you, one hand found your hip, steadying you as your body jolted from Jake's pounding pace, while the other reached up, sliding to seize your breast.

"God, fuck—" Jake groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck, lips brushing your damp skin before he started kissing and biting, not caring about the sweat.

Jay's mouth found your shoulder first, then your throat, trailing wet kisses up your jaw until he reached your lips. Your head lolled back against him, mouth already open, and he took full advantage—tongue slipping between your lips, swallowing the moans Jake was forcing from your chest.

You whimpered into Jay's mouth, his cock grinding against your lower back, the friction syncing with every bounce of your hips. Your body moved helplessly between them, each movement rubbing him against you, closer... lower...

"You're so fucking wet," Jake growled against your throat. "I can feel it all over me." He thrust harder, teeth grazing your shoulder as he panted.

Jay broke the kiss with a sharp nip to your bottom lip, tugging until you gasped. "I think we'll fit," he said, voice low, eyes flicking down to where your bodies met. "Don't you think?"

Your heart lurched.

Your eyes widened as you felt Jake adjust his stance, your weight shifting in his arms. Your body tensed immediately, the pressure at your core tightening to near-panic. "Wait! W-Wait—!" you stammered, breath catching in your throat.

Jay was already positioning himself, one hand on your lower back, the other on Jake's hip for balance as he leaned in. You barely had a moment to catch your breath before you felt it—his cockhead, thick and hard, pressing lower just beneath where Jake was already buried inside you.

The angle was careful. Slick with your arousal and the lingering wetness of Jake's earlier mouthwork, Jay began to push slow his shaft grinding against Jake's through the tight squeeze of your entrance, the pressure unbearable even before he was fully inside.

Jake slowed immediately, holding you tighter in his arms, breath ragged against your cheek. His voice was low, firm, grounding.

"Relax for him. Breathe. You can take it."

But your body was shaking, the stretch is too intense, and too foreign.

"Fuck! I can't—" The words tore from your throat, panic bleeding into your tone—cut off almost instantly when Jake surged forward and kissed you. His mouth swallowed your cry as Jay began to sink in, splitting you further, claiming space that wasn't there.

Your entire body tensed, clutching, pulsing, your walls clamping down instinctively on both cocks as they shifted inside you, working together to make room.

Both men moaned low in your ears. "Shit," Jake gasped into your mouth, breaking the kiss just to breathe. "Fuck, she's tight—Jay—go slow."

Jay's groan was more guttural, his lips brushing your shoulder. "I am—she's gripping us like she's trying to push us out."

You whimpered as your body was forced to take it—all of it. The thick drag of Jay's cock sliding in alongside Jake's, every inch of your walls stretched to their absolute limit, friction pressing between them, heat building inside you so violently it made your toes curl.

Their hips pressed in unison, the base of their cocks grinding together deep inside you, buried to the hilt. You could feel them inside each other through you, the shared space, the impossible pressure, the slow pulse of them twitching inside your cunt, both thick and deep and so full it.

Jay hissed, forehead pressed to your back. Your mouth hung open, panting. All you could do was hold on—legs locked around Jake's waist, arms limp around his shoulders, your body trembling violently between them.

You couldn't tell where the pain ended and the pleasure began.

Jake's head dropped to your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin. "I can feel him," he whispered. "Fuck, I can feel him moving through you."

Jay's hand shifted from your hip to Jake's jaw, guiding his face upward. Their bodies pressed so close, only you between them, joined not just through you, but with you.

Jay leaned in, lips met Jake's, tongues brushing, mouths sliding together as their hips shifted slightly, still buried inside you. Their kiss deepened quickly, tongues pressing hard, teeth grazing. Jake groaned into it, when he pulled back from Jay only to kiss you next.

His lips claimed yours fast, almost needy—salt and sweat and desperation—and Jay didn't wait. He was already kissing along your neck, up behind your ear, while his hand slid between you to stroke your clit with slow circles.

The shift in pace was dizzying. They weren't pounding into you. Not yet. They were just holding you. Deep, warm, kissing, mouths trading between you and each other.

Jake finally broke the kiss, forehead pressed to yours as he whispered, "You feel like heaven right now."

Jay's mouth brushed your shoulder again. "She's shaking. Poor thing's too full to even speak."

Your fingers digging into Jake's shoulders, back arching slowly. The pressure of them both still lodged inside you kept your body humming with tension.

Jay kissed the side of Jake's mouth again before murmuring, "Move with me, baby."

Jake nodded once. They shifted. And then, slowly, carefully, they began to move.

One would pull back while the other pressed in, your body stretching and clenching around the rhythm. It was slower than before, more controlled, but no less overwhelming. The glide of two thick cocks inside you, perfectly in sync, had your body twitching, tears pricking your lashes again.

Their mouths kept moving, on your throat, on each other, across flushed skin and slick shoulders. They didn't speak much, just low moans, shuddered breaths, the soft slap of bodies finding rhythm again. Jay's hand never left your clit. Jake's arms held you close.

"Stay with us," Jake whispered into your mouth, the tip of his nose brushing yours.

"Don't run next time," Jay added, his voice deep in your ear. "We just want to keep you." And their cocks kept moving, slow and deep and together, keeping you open, full, and exactly where you belonged.

Jake shifted slightly beneath you, adjusting his stance, the grip on your thighs tightening as he found more control in his movement. The slow rhythm gave way to more deeper, and faster, his hips slapping up with wet, rhythmic sounds that bounced off the walls.

The moans pouring from you grew louder. You were unraveling again, overstimulated, but your legs refused to stop twitching, clinging around Jake's waist as your hands clawed at anything for purchase—his shoulders, Jay's neck, the edge of the mirror behind you.

A sudden sound echoing outside, footstep and people murmuring as they pass by. Panic stabbed into your chest. You froze for a moment, instinct flaring, shame bubbling up behind your ribs. The reality of where you were hit hard—legs wrapped around one man, another flush to your back, both of them inside you, fucking you, right there in the university bathroom.

But the pleasure didn't stop. You twitched, thighs squeezing reflexively, a cry caught in your throat. "Someone's—"

Jay's hand came up instantly, cupping the side of your face as he leaned in, swallowing your next sound with a kiss. His mouth sealed over yours just as Jake drove up harder, his thrust knocking the breath from your lungs, forcing the moan straight into Jay's waiting tongue.

"Let them hear," Jake hissed, voice rough against your skin, his pace unrelenting now. "Let them wonder who's making you sound like that."

The footsteps outside faded, but your heartbeat didn't slow. It thundered in your chest, driven by both fear and the savage pleasure coursing through your nerves.

Jay broke the kiss with a strand of spit between your lips, eyes half-lidded, and flushed. "You're squeezing us like you want to get caught," he murmured, fingers slipping between your bodies to rub your clit again, drawing a fresh, keening whimper from your throat.

Every drag of their shafts against each other inside your overstretched cunt sent aftershocks through your core, your body trembling violently with each grind and press. The feeling of them rubbing together inside you, separated only by the thin, spasming walls of your body, wasn't just overwhelming—it was ruinous.

"F-Fuck," Jake choked, hips jolting up hard. The impact of his thrust slammed you forward into Jay's chest, your breath ripped from you as your body tried—and failed—to brace for the intensity.

Jay grunted, catching your body easily, his hand fisting your hair as he held you in place. His cock surged deeper alongside Jake's, the slick sound of their movements inside you impossibly loud in the quiet space.

"Can't hold it," Jake panted, sweat dripping from his temple, breath stuttering. "She's—she's so tight I can feel you through her—fuck, Jay—"

Jay growled, his own control shattering with every convulsion of your clenching walls. You could barely think anymore—your mouth hung open, no words left, only broken gasps and sobs as your body tightened around them again. The pressure had built too fast. It rolled up from your core, cresting so high you couldn't breathe.

Your orgasm hit hard. It exploded through your abdomen, a pulsing, electric burst of heat that seized every muscle. You screamed, not even a word, just sound—your voice breaking as your cunt clenched violently around them, walls spasming uncontrollably.

"Fuck—" Jake snarled, the rhythm of his hips shattering.

He slammed in once more, his cock jerking violently inside you as he came with a rough moan, hot pulses of cum flooding your cunt. You felt every spurt, thick and hot and deep, and the sensation of being filled only sent another shiver of pleasure rolling through your already-fractured nerves.

Jay wasn't far behind. Your body's violent squeezing around both cocks at once pushed him over the edge—his thrusts turned erratic, hard, his breath tearing through his chest.

"Gonna fill you up," he groaned against your throat, voice ragged, hips pressing as deep as they could go. "You're gonna take all of it."

Then he came. You felt the way his cock throbbed next to Jake's inside you, the rush of hot fluid spilling in, mixing with Jake's release, both of them pouring into the same aching space. Their hips jerked in sync, involuntary tremors shaking them as your body held them tight, refusing to let go.

Your own climax still burned through you, wave after wave wracking your limbs, your nails digging into Jake's shoulders as your vision blurred.

You were just there, caught between their shaking bodies. They didn't pull out. They stayed inside you, panting, foreheads pressed to your skin, arms wrapped tight around your waist. The room was filled with the sounds of heavy breathing, the soft whisper of sweat-slicked skin, the occasional stuttered groan as aftershocks rolled through all three of you.

Jake leaned his forehead against yours. "Fuck," he breathed. "You're so beautiful."

Jay's hand came up to stroke your side. "No more running, okay?" he murmured, his lips brushing your temple as he spoke. "We're going to talk this time. Really talk."

You tried to nod, but your head only shifted slightly. A soft, low hum escaped your throat as your vision swam and your body slumped against Jake's chest. Everything ached. You weren't sure if your legs were still attached, or if you'd ever feel your core without that deep, burning throb again.

It had been so long since you'd let yourself be used like that... and even longer since it had ever felt like this. Safe. Claimed. Held.

Jake was the first to move, easing himself out of you. You whimpered faintly at the loss, but even that sound felt distant in your own ears.

"Hey," he whispered, fingertips brushing your cheek. He tapped gently, calling your name. "Hey, come back to me, baby."

But you couldn't answer. Your eyes were half-open, glazed with exhaustion. Your body limp between them. There was no strength left in your limbs just the slow throb of overstimulation and the deep, quiet ache that said you'd been pushed right to the edge of yourself.

Jake's expression changed instantly. "Shit—she's out of it," he muttered, voice sharp with guilt.

Jay's brows furrowed. "She's overwhelmed. Fuck."

Together, they moved quickly, shifting their grips. Jake bent to retrieve his pants, tugging them up with one arm while the other held you carefully to his chest. Your body sagged against him, boneless but trusting, your cheek pressed to the slick skin of his shoulder. "I've got her," Jake said quietly.

Jay adjusted himself quickly, stepping in to help. His hands cupped your thighs, his gaze scanning your face. "We need to get her cleaned up. Somewhere soft."

"Yeah," Jake agreed, his hand smoothing the back of your hair.

You couldn't speak—not really. You were too far gone, too worn down in the sweetest, most bone-deep way.

But you felt them. You felt the tissue as they wiped between your legs, cleaning their combined mess from your trembling thighs. Another passed over your face, cool and damp, brushing away the sticky sheen of sweat and the tears you didn't remember shedding. Fingers were tender as they tucked your hair back, smoothing it down, and you sighed softly into the sensation.

Jake carried you effortlessly, holding you to his chest. You felt Jay beside you, one hand steadying your legs as they moved together. Their voices were hushed now, murmurs exchanged just beyond your hearing, their steps soft against the tile.

When the door opened, the shift in air hit instantly—cool and dry from the hallway's air conditioning, raising goosebumps across your flushed skin.

You managed one last, drowsy breath as the cool air washed over you. Then your eyelids dropped.

You stirred slowly, the first thing you felt was warmth. A soft bed cradled your body, the sheets cool against your bare skin, but it was the sensation wrapped around your waist that anchored you. The scent pressing against your back was just as recognizable—clean sweat, faint cologne, and something uniquely him.

You blinked slowly, your lashes fluttering against your cheeks before you opened your eyes fully.

Your head was nestled into the crook of someone’s neck. His skin was warm beneath your cheek, his heartbeat a steady thrum beneath your ear. You shifted slightly, body still sore and heavy, and looked up.

Jake was watching you, eyes soft. He rubbed slow circles against your side with the pad of his thumb, his other hand still resting gently across your waist, holding you close.

“Hi,” he whispered. 

You managed a small, sleepy smile. “Hi. How long was I out?” you asked, blinking again to clear the haze still lingering behind your eyes.

Jake exhaled through his nose, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “About an hour,” he murmured. 

Your brows knit faintly, and he brushed a thumb along your temple. “Don’t worry,” he added with a soft smile. “We covered for you. Told them you fainted because of the heat—overexerted, nothing serious.”

You let out a quiet laugh, the sound dry in your throat. “Technically not a lie…”

Jake’s grin widened just slightly, a playful glint flickering behind the softness in his eyes. “Mm. They don’t need the exact details.”

You gave a breath of a laugh, but it faded quickly as your gaze lingered on his face—the gentle curve of his smile, the creases near his eyes, the way he was watching you so closely.

 “Jake…” your voice came out small.

He stilled, but his thumb never stopped moving on your side. “Yeah?”

You hesitated, the flood of everything you’d been trying to suppress surged up your throat. You swallowed it down once, then let it rise.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “For avoiding you. For running off. For shutting down instead of just…” You trailed off, sighing as your brows pulled together. “I was scared.”

Jake’s lips parted slightly, his grip on you tightening for a moment before he pulled you in closer, pressing your cheek against his chest. You felt the beat of his heart against your skin.

“I didn’t know what to do with what I was feeling,” you continued. "I started… caring. And that made everything messy. Because you and Jay—you’re already whole. You don’t need someone like me getting in the middle of that.”

Jake was silent, listening, his hand still tracing soft patterns into your skin.

“And I kept thinking…” You swallowed hard. “If I let myself fall deeper, I’ll only be the one who ends up hurt. Like I’d ruin what you both already have. That I didn’t deserve it, any of it.”

He finally spoke, his voice low. “Why didn’t you just tell us that?”

“I didn’t know how,” you admitted. “And then when I saw the two of you together, being so perfect—it made me realize how small my place in this is. Or… was.”

Jake shook his head, exhaling as he tilted your face up gently with his fingers. “You think we’re perfect?” he said, a sad sort of smile curling at the corners of his lips. “We’re not. We’ve made mistakes. We didn’t talk about a lot of things. But one thing we were sure of?” His thumb brushed across your cheekbone. “We both want you.”

Jake's thumbs caressed the apples of your cheeks, his gaze never leaving yours. His breath was warm as he leaned his forehead against yours, eyes closing briefly. “I’m sorry we didn’t make it clearer,” he whispered. “We thought we were showing you—through touch, through time, through every little thing we did. But we never said it. And maybe that’s where we messed up.”

You blinked back the heat behind your eyes, your throat tightening. Jake’s fingers brushed under your jaw, coaxing you to look at him again.

“We want you,” he said, “In every way. Not just in our bed. Not just when it’s convenient. We want you in our life. You’ve already made space in it—you didn’t ruin anything.”

You let out a shaky breath, and before you could stop yourself, you pressed your face into the crook of his neck again, seeking warmth, shelter, reassurance. His arms wrapped tighter around you.

“And Jay?” you asked quietly, voice muffled against his skin.

Jake chuckled softly, the sound a little choked. “Jay’s downstairs trying to pretend he’s not pacing. He’s been wanting to talk to you too. But I asked him to give me this moment first.” He pulled back just enough to brush your hair from your face. “You mean more to him than you think.” 

The soft knock came, Jake didn’t move right away, just held your gaze, giving you a choice without saying a word. When you gave the smallest nod, he leaned over and called out gently, “It’s okay. Come in.”

The door cracked open, and Jay stepped inside. His eyes immediately found yours, and the moment they did, the edge in his posture melted. He wasn’t guarded like he usually was.

“You’re awake,” he said softly, stepping closer.

Jake shifted slightly to make space on the bed, and Jay took it without question. He sat on the edge first, then leaned in beside you, bracing one hand on the mattress near your hip.

“How are you feeling?” he asked. “Sore,” you said, voice raspy with sleep. “Like I got hit by a very… affectionate truck.”

That pulled a laugh from both of them. Jake’s body vibrated behind you with the sound, and Jay let out a quiet chuckle as he rubbed a hand gently over your knee, his thumb brushing just above where the blanket had slipped.

“Sorry,” Jay murmured, though the smirk was playing at his mouth now. “Not sorry.”

You rolled your eyes but leaned into him when he bent down and pressed a kiss to your temple. His lips lingered there for a beat longer than expected. When he pulled back, he looked more serious. 

“No more running,” he said quietly, “I’m not great with… talking. Feelings. All that shit.” He scratched the back of his neck, eyes flicking down briefly before returning to yours. “But I want this. I want you."

Jake let out a quiet huff behind you, shifting closer as he nuzzled the back of your shoulder. “He’s always like that,” he whispered, “I was the one who confessed first. Initiated the first kiss. First sex.”

Jay’s head snapped toward him, eyes narrowing. “You asshole,” he muttered.

“You blushed when I touched your wrist,” Jake added, grinning now.

“I was cold,” Jay shot back. You laughed then soft, but real—and both of them stilled like they’d been waiting for the sound. Jake’s smile softened, and Jay, still glaring at his boyfriend.

Jake grinned wider. “He literally couldn’t make eye contact for twenty-four hours after we slept together the first time.”

“I hate you,” Jay muttered, but he was already reaching for you again, hand slipping beneath the blanket to rest on your stomach, drawing you back toward him as he curled in behind.

“You don’t,” Jake replied, smirking as he met your gaze. “He just never knows how to say the nice shit.”

“I will push you off this bed,” Jay warned to keep Jake from opening his mouth again. “Then we’ll fall together,” Jake countered smoothly, wrapping an arm tighter around your waist.

You sank into their warmth, nestled between their bodies. You turned your face slightly, resting your cheek against Jay’s collarbone while one of your hands found Jake’s under the blanket.

For a long, comforting moment, no one spoke. Then, quietly, Jay’s voice rumbled near your ear. “Were we too rough earlier?”

You shook your head without hesitation, cheek still pressed to his collarbone. “No. I needed it,” you murmured, honest and calm. “It pushed me out of my head. That’s what I needed.”

Jake’s hand tightened slightly around yours, and he smiled softly. “So… are we okay now?”

You turned your head toward him, lips curving with amusement. “That depends,” you said. “Was that makeup sex?”

Jake raised a brow, mouth twitching. “Wait—that wasn’t?”

Jay snorted behind you. “If that was just a warm-up, I’m scared to know what the actual makeup sex is supposed to look like.”

You laughed, low and a little breathless, the sound making both of them smile wider.

“I guess we’ll have to do it again,” Jake said, voice dropping just enough to make the tease linger. “Y’know. For clarity.”

It didn’t take long. Clothes were shed, tossed carelessly across the floor—shirts half-inside out, underwear tangled near the foot of the bed. You were on your back with Jake above you, his mouth on yours, his tongue moving with a tenderness that made your body ache all over again.

Then Jay moved. You barely had time to gasp before his hand curled into Jake’s hair, tugging sharply. Jake groaned into your mouth, the kiss breaking as Jay pulled him back.

“Not so fast,” Jay said, “You had your turn.”

He dragged Jake down the length of the bed, making him twist and arch, until Jake’s head was between your thighs, his back curved beautifully under Jay’s grip. Jake didn’t resist—he melted into the position, groaning as he inhaled the scent of you, mouth finding your cunt.

You gasped, your legs parting without thought. The sting from earlier still lingered, but it was chased by the familiar, glorious heat of Jake’s mouth. He licked into you slowly at first, tongue stroking over your clit.

Your back arched as he moaned against your folds, his face buried deeper. “F-fuck, Jake—” you whimpered, fingers tangling in his hair, hips twitching against his face.

Jay watched from behind him, one hand stroking down Jake’s spine, the other trailing lower. You didn’t see the moment he slipped his fingers between Jake’s cheeks, but you felt the way Jake moaned louder against your cunt, hips jerking slightly as Jay began working him open.

“Want to see you fuck him,” you breathed, voice cracked with need. “Please. I want to watch.”

Jake whimpered into your pussy, tongue fucking you deeper in response. Jay’s eyes lifted to yours. His fingers were slowly pushing into Jake. “She wants a show,” he said, leaning in to kiss Jake’s neck. “You gonna be good for her?”

Jake moaned again, his voice muffled by your cunt, and you tightened your grip in his hair, nails dragging across his scalp.

Jay’s hand slid away briefly, and you heard the soft click of the drawer beside the bed opening. A moment later, the quiet sound of a bottle opening filled the space. Cool lube met skin, and Jay didn’t hesitate—he returned to Jake’s body with a steady hand, working the slick between his cheeks.

Jake whimpered again, body shuddering beneath both of you. Jay kept stretching him, fingers moving in slow, deep circles, curling and scissoring in a rhythm that made Jake pant harder against your pussy. His mouth never stopped licking, sucking, groaning into your folds with more desperation the more he was opened up.

You looked down and nearly lost your breath at the sight: Jake’s flushed face buried between your legs, his lips wet and glistening, while Jay knelt behind him, eyes dark, and focused as his fingers slick, sliding in and out of Jake’s ass with increasing ease.

Jake was trembling now, his thighs twitched against the sheets, and you could hear the breathless hitch in his throat each time Jay’s fingers pressed just right inside him.

“She’s gonna see how good you take it." Jake moaned hard against your clit, and you cried out—your hips bucking into his face. He didn’t stop. If anything, he devoured you harder, tongue working you open.

Jay leaned forward, pressing a kiss between Jake’s shoulder blades. “You ready for me, sweetheart?”

Jake’s reply was only a ragged whine, and it made your pulse spike.

“Please,” you said softly, the only voice in the room not breaking. Jay’s eyes flicked to yours, gaze locking for one searing moment. Then he leaned forward, hand steady on Jake’s lower back, and began to push in.

Jake let out a strangled groan against your cunt, his tongue faltering for a heartbeat before diving back in with renewed force. Your legs tightened around his head, your hips rising helplessly into his mouth.

“Good boy,” Jay breathed, voice thick as he slid deeper. “Keep eating her.”

Jake moaned again, the vibration pulsing through your clit as Jay’s cock pressed deeper inside him. You could feel Jake struggling to hold rhythm, overwhelmed by the dual sensations—his mouth locked to your cunt while Jay slowly filled him from behind.

Jake’s fingers were clutching your hips, knuckles pale, his lips slick with your arousal as he flicked his tongue over your clit again and again—desperate, hungry, obedient. Behind him, Jay moved with a slow, grinding pace, hips rolling forward, burying himself inch by inch into Jake’s tight, slicked hole.

“Shit,” Jay groaned, head dropping for a second as his hands gripped Jake’s waist.

Jake whined against you, hips pushing back to meet Jay’s thrusts even as his mouth stayed locked on you, his tongue circling your clit in dizzying spirals. You could feel him moaning again and again.

Your hand threaded deeper into Jake’s hair, pulling tight, guiding his mouth where you needed him as your hips rolled shamelessly against his face. His moans were frantic now, high-pitched, especially when Jay snapped his hips forward harder—burying himself to the hilt. 

His tongue was relentless, and the pressure was building again in your core, fast and burning, pulled taut by every flick of his mouth, every grind of Jay’s cock rocking through him from behind.

You were right on the edge—suspended between pleasure and the raw thrill of watching them together.

Jay’s rhythm grew rougher, his groans more ragged. One hand slipped from Jake’s hip to curl around his waist, holding him in place, deepening every thrust. The wet slap of skin filled the room, matched by the obscene, eager sounds of Jake’s mouth on your cunt.

Your back arched. Your breath hitched. “I’m—fuck—Jake!” you cried, your orgasm tearing through you. 

Jake moaned loud and deep into you as you came, your body spasming under his tongue, your legs clamping around his head as your hands tangled tight in his hair. You rode it out on his mouth, grinding into him, the pressure of Jay’s thrusts making Jake groan right through your high, pushing you even further.

Your body melted into the sheets, chest heaving, but your eyes stayed locked on the scene unraveling in front of you.

Jay didn’t relent. He adjusted his grip, arms slipping under Jake’s chest to haul him higher, fucking into him harder from behind with a pace that was nothing short of brutal. His skin slapped against Jake’s ass with wet, relentless rhythm, and Jake took it beautifully—his moans muffled, body twitching with every deep thrust.

You watched them, your lips parted, breath shallow. Both their faces were flushed and wild, lost in each other. And instead of jealousy, the sight only fed the fire already burning in your gut. The ache that never really went away around them now pulsed hotter, deeper.

Jake’s voice broke as he moaned loud enough to echo through the room. “Jay, baby—oh fuck!”

Jay reached up, tangled a fist in Jake’s hair, and yanked him back just enough to crush their mouths together. The kiss was messy, desperate, teeth clashing, tongues sliding, both of them breathing into each other’s mouths.

The noise of it made you whine. You couldn’t stay still. You crawled forward on shaky limbs, eyes locked on Jake’s cock, thick and flushed and bouncing wildly with every one of Jay’s thrusts.

Your hand wrapped around it in one slow, sure stroke, and Jake shouted into Jay’s mouth. Jay pulled back just slightly, his eyes flicking down to see your hand wrapped tightly around Jake’s length, pumping him in time with the rhythm of their bodies.

Jake’s head fell back, hips jerking forward into your touch, his stomach tight and trembling. His mouth opened in a silent gasp, then a broken moan when you dragged your thumb over his leaking tip, smearing the precum down his shaft.

“Fuck,” he choked, voice shaking. “That—God, that feels so good.”

Jay groaned behind him, his rhythm stuttering just for a second at the sight in front of him. His gaze dropped to where your fingers wrapped around Jake’s cock—your nails catching the light, long and perfectly shaped, moving over him in steady, merciless pumps.

He hissed through his teeth, fucking into Jake harder. Jake moaned again, louder this time, his whole body pushing back into Jay while thrusting forward into your hand. His eyes fluttered open, hazy and wild as they met yours, lips parted.

Jay’s voice cut. “Lay down, baby.”

You blinked, heart pounding. You released Jake’s cock with one last stroke, watching his hips twitch at the loss, and moved backward on the bed without a word. You lay back across the pillows, your legs parting instinctively as you settled into the space, your body already pulsing in anticipation.

Jay pulled out of Jake with a slick, wet sound, his hand curling around Jake’s hip to steady him. “Come on,” he said, gaze flicking to Jake, then to you. “Enter that pussy and ride my dick.”

Jake didn’t wait. He crawled over you immediately, his hands braced on either side of your shoulders, and with one fluid motion, he lined himself up and sank into you.

You gasped, hands flying to his shoulders, nails biting into his skin as the stretch hit you hard all over again. Your walls were still sensitive, still twitching from your last orgasm, and now he was filling you again.

Behind him, Jay didn’t waste time. He adjusted, positioned himself, and with one slow, deliberate push, slid back into Jake’s ass.

"Ahhh!" Jake’s whole body jolted. A strangled sound caught in his throat, mouth crashing into yours in a kiss that was sloppy, all tongue and open breath. His hips began to move almost immediately, short shallow thrusts between your legs while Jay drove into him from behind.

“F-fuck,” Jake moaned into your mouth, pulling back only to drop his lips to your throat. He bit down hard—just enough to make you cry out—then dragged his mouth lower, tongue hot on your skin as he kissed, licked, and bit his way down to your collarbone.

Your fingers clutched at his back, and every time he thrust forward into you, it was followed by the shock of Jay’s cock driving him forward again—his motion caught between both your bodies.

Jake was trembling, moaning louder than ever, his rhythm completely overtaken by Jay’s pace. Every thrust from behind forced him deeper into you, the sensation nearly too much. His moans spilled against your throat, turning into helpless gasps as his cock slid in and out of your soaked cunt.

His voice broke in short, frantic cries. “Jay! Jay—please, baby, oh God—”

His mouth returned to your neck, teeth scraping the skin before he latched on, biting down with desperate force. The sharp sting drew a gasp from you, the pain blooming into pleasure just as Jake’s hips jolted forward again, burying himself to the base.

He held there for a moment—frozen, panting, his breath hot against your skin. His back was slick with sweat beneath your palms, muscles twitching under your touch.

Then he pulled back, just enough for you to see his face. His lips parted, breath shaky and shallow. His eyes were unfocused, lashes wet, the flush across his cheeks deep and burning. He looked wrecked, and completely beautiful—mouth closed now.

You clenched around him involuntarily. “You’re so beautiful,” you whispered, voice trembling with emotion. “So fucked-out.”

Your hips rose instinctively, pushing up into him, your body begging for more, for all of it.

Jake let out a shuddering groan. He rolled his hips again, slow and deep, and the way you took him made him press his forehead to yours.

Behind him, Jay didn’t slow. He was pounding into him with brutal control, groaning with every thrust, his grip locked tight around Jake’s hips to keep him in place. You could feel each stroke reverberate through Jake's body, transferring into yours.

“F-Feels so good—ahh, fuck—feel so good!” Jake cried out, voice cracking, mouth open in a moan that bordered on a sob.

You reached up with a shaky hand, brushing the damp strands of hair from his face, your thumb stroking gently along his cheekbone. He leaned into the touch, lips trembling, eyes half-lidded and glassy.

Your body clenched again, the pressure cresting high, unbearable and exquisite.

“I’m gonna cum,” you gasped, hips lifting to meet his every desperate thrust. “Jake—cum with me, please—ahh—now!”

Jake’s breath hitched, his hips faltered before he slammed into you one final time, burying himself deep. His entire body seized, a loud, gasping moan torn from his chest as he came hard, cock pulsing inside you with wave after wave of heat.

You fell with him, your orgasm ripped through you, stealing the breath from your lungs as your cunt clenched around him, milking every drop of his release. Your cry echoed into his mouth as he kissed you again.

“Fuck—both of you are so hot—God—”

Jay’s pace grew rougher, deeper, his restraint unraveling with every breathless sound spilling from Jake’s lips, every clench of your cunt around Jake’s cock. He watched you both, panting, his hands gripping Jake’s hips so tightly his knuckles had gone pale.

“Fucking hell,” Jay growled. Jake moaned again, overstimulated and soft, his forehead still resting against yours as Jay buried himself one last time with a low groan, 

You felt it in Jake’s shudder, the way his breath stilled as Jay’s cock throbbed deep inside him. The sound Jay made as he emptied himself, his body pressing tight to Jake’s back.

Jay was the first to exhale, his lips ghosting over the back of Jake’s neck as he slowly eased out. Jake let out a soft whimper, his body twitching from the sensitivity, and you wrapped your arms tighter around him, one hand sliding over his spine.

Jake collapsed onto you gently, his full weight cushioned by your body, his cheek pressed to your shoulder as he panted, still flushed and wet with heat. You stroked his hair, letting your fingers card slowly through the damp strands.

Jay shifted beside you, climbing up the bed on unsteady arms before dropping down on your other side. His chest was heaving, he wrapped one arm around your waist, hand splayed across your stomach, fingers brushing softly against your skin.

Jake tilted his face up to look at you. “You okay?” he whispered, voice hoarse.

You nodded, stroking his cheek. “Yeah,” you breathed. “Better than okay.”

Jake gave a breathless laugh, burying his face briefly into the crook of your neck. “Fuck,” he groaned, still catching his breath. “That was the most delicious orgasm I’ve ever had."

You chuckled, breath hitching a little as you threaded your fingers into his hair again.

Jay leaned in from your other side, his body pressing close, his mouth trailing a soft kiss along your shoulder before brushing Jake’s temple. His arm wrapped around the both of you, pulling you tighter into the warmth of him. Your legs tangled instinctively, bodies nestled under the sheets that now clung to the lingering heat of sex and skin.

None of you spoke for a moment, the silence stretching comfortably between heartbeats and shallow breaths.

Then you glanced between them, your voice still breathless. “So…” you murmured, a small smile pulling at your lips. “Does this mean I have two boyfriends now?”

Jake’s head popped up slightly, a crooked grin forming. “Only if you’re okay being heavily spoiled and never allowed to escape.”

Jay made a quiet sound of amusement beside you, his thumb brushing a lazy line along your hip. “We’re clingy,” he said, voice low, eyes half-lidded but sincere. “Terrible at sharing. Lucky for us, we just want the same person.”

You laughed, letting yourself melt back into the weight of them, your body still pulsing with quiet aftershocks and warmth. “I think I can live with that,” you said softly, eyes fluttering closed as their hands continued to drift gently over your skin.

And then you suddenly remember something. Your eyes snapped open as panic surged through your chest.

“Shit—Sunoo!”

You shot up so fast that the blanket fell off your chest and Jake practically flinched, startled, his sleepy post-orgasm daze completely shattered. Jay blinked at you from behind, frowning in confusion. Then he realizes what you meant.

“Sunoo!!!”

Jake’s voice echoed across the grassy field the next day, dramatically over-the-top as he broke into a slow-motion sprint—arms wide, expression exaggerated with mock desperation.

You couldn’t help but laugh under your breath, trailing behind him with your fingers laced through Jay’s. Sunoo, on the other hand, stood perfectly still ahead, arms crossed, expression locked in a glare.

Just as Jake went in for a hug, Sunoo’s palm came up and smacked him square across the face—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to jolt the dramatics right out of him. Jake stumbled back, blinking.

“You didn’t text, you didn’t call, and my best friend just disappeared with you two?” Sunoo snapped, pointing an accusing finger toward you and Jay. 

You smiled awkwardly, offering a sheepish little wave behind Jake’s shoulder.

“She fainted!” Jake explained, hands flying up. “We were busy assisting her. Medical-grade care. You should be grateful your best friend fell into the right hands.”

Sunoo’s eyebrow arched so high. His gaze slowly dropped to your neck… and then narrowed. “Yeah, right,” he said dryly, arms crossing again. “That why she’s covered in poorly hidden hickeys?”

Jake blinked, he slowly reached out and bit his own finger, eyes wide as he turned to stare at you. “Babe,” he whispered. “You said you’d cover those.”

You flushed, dragging the collar of your shirt higher with a quick tug. “I did! Jay distracted me!”

Sunoo rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Dodgeball’s starting now—don’t actually faint this time.”

Your fingers gently slipped away from Jay’s, reaching out to Sunoo instead. You slid your arm through his as you began walking beside him, your shoulder brushing his. He let you lean into him without hesitation.

“I assume the three of you are okay now,” Sunoo said after a pause, voice lighter, the faintest smile tugging at his lips.

You leaned your head against his shoulder. “I’m still scared,” you admitted. “But… as long as I’m with them, I think I’ll be fine.”

Sunoo gave your hand a gentle squeeze. “Yeah, well. You’ve got me at your back too.”

Jake popped up beside Sunoo, slinging an arm over his shoulder with a wide grin, pressing in close to you on the other side. Jay followed right behind, falling into step beside you with that calm, quiet presence that always made you feel anchored.

“So,” Jake said casually, stretching his arms above his head before locking them behind his neck. “What do you guys want to eat later? Because I’m seriously craving some Samyang Buldak noodles.”

Sunoo stared at him, blinking once. Then, flatly: “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Jake blinked back, innocent. “What?”

“It’s thirty-four degrees,” Sunoo said, gesturing wildly to the sky like the sun itself was his witness. “And your dumbass is out here craving spicy death noodles? Are you okay? Do we need to check for brain damage?”

"Well, I love spicy!" Jake scoffed, throwing his hands up. 

Their voices quickly dissolved into muffled bickering again—Jake insisting it was about heat and thrill, Sunoo arguing that eating molten fire under the sun was a cry for help.

Jay exhaled a quiet laugh beside you, his fingers brushing against yours. You felt the heat of it—not from the sun, not from the air, but from them.

From all of this. And as you watched your best friend and your boyfriend argue, with Jay steady at your side and your pulse still echoing from the day before, you couldn’t help the smile curling at your lips.

Maybe Jake was right. 

Maybe a little spicy-ness was exactly what made life interesting.

[tpwk-formula1]

Kinktober Day 1 - Hickeys - LN4

It is day one of my first Kinktober! I have been wanting to do one for years on different accounts and in different fandoms but I have finally started earlier enough to actually pump out an imagine a day!

All posts will be made at 12 PST according to the day

Lando Norris X Reader

TW - Hickeys, use of word whore, jealous sex, shower sex, unprotected sex, creampie

WC - 1400+

Y/N POV

"We're leaving," Lando said while pulling me away from the conversation I was currently having with Max.

"Lando! Stop, I'm trying to have a conversation, stop being rude," I said while pulling my arm out of his grip and trying to make my way back to Max.

"You've had enough conversation with him to last a lifetime! I've watched you giggling with Verstappen for the past 10 minutes. He cannot be that fucking funny! We are leaving now," Lando said while taking ahold of my hand and pulling me towards the exit.

Once we got outside and the loud blare of the noisy club behind us I can finally talk to Lando without having to shout.

"Lando, what the actual fuck was that?" I questioned him while we were waiting for our car to arrive from Vallet.

"I have barely seen you tonight and when I finally located you, you're practically on top of Max!" Lando replies back clearly mad about the situation.

"Lando Norris... Are you fucking kidding me right now? You're jealous of Max!" I reply back trying to hold my laugh back. Lando and I had been together since his rookie season so watching him get jealous over someone I had never once shown an interest in was quite funny.

"I'm not jealous of him, Y/N. But you don't need to all over him in a public setting like that!" Lando replies back before grabbing the keys from the young man who just returned the Porsche to the front of the club.

Once we got into the car it was fairly silent other than the noise of our breathing.

"You're ridiculous" I break the silence making Lando scuff.

"You're the ridiculous one! I don't understand how you aren't seeing the problem! You're over there flirting with my closest rival on the grid while you're in a very public relationship! You know how the media can be," Lando replies back. I just roll my eyes at how ridiculous his behavior has gotten.

"Lando you know damn well I would never even LOOK at Max like that! I have never once been interested in him, and I NEVER will be! You have never once had a problem with me being friends with the grid, do not start acting like this now because you are in a championship battle with him," I tell him while we pull into the garage of his Monaco appartment.

When I get out of the car I slam the door and make my way to the elevator trying to avoid Lando as much as possible.

The ride up to Lando's apartment was silent and awkward, both of us reflecting on the actions of the night.

When we finally get into the apartment I make my way into the bathroom before stripping down and getting in the shower knowing I need to clear my head before Lando and I can have a mature conversation.

I'm not even halfway through my shower before I hear the bathroom door open making me turn around and find Lando coming in shirtless and starting to unbutton his pants. Once he is stripped down he climbs into the shower with me.

I roll my eyes at him before turning my back towards him.

This was Lando's final straw because the next thing I know I am pushed up against the shower wall with Lando's chest pushed against my back.

"Drop the fucking attitude! I wasn't the one whoring myself out," Lando seethes out into my ear. When I don't respond to him he starts kissing behind my ear and down my neck.

Once he finds my sweet spot it leaves me gasping in shock before I feel his teeth sink into my neck and start sucking.

"Lando," I moan out. Once Lando pulls away from me I turn my head slightly to watch him observe the mark that is inevitably starting to darken on the side of my neck.

Without words, Lando takes my hips into his hands before aggressively spinning me around so we are face-to-face.

When I look into Lando's eyes I can see the lust swimming through them.

I grip onto Lando's neck pulling him down for an aggressive make-out session. It's not long before Lando is pulling back and trailing kisses down my jaw and neck again.

The feeling of Lando's teeth sinking into my warm skin has my knees growing weaker. Once Lando makes it to my tits I feel myself give out to the pleasure and if Lando wasn't holding me up I definitely would have been on my knees from the pleasure.

"Fuck," I gasp out when Lando takes my nipple between his teeth and biting down softly.

When I glance down at Lando all I see is his wet curls and little purple marks trailing down from my neck to my tits. I can't remember the last time Lando had given me a hickey let alone a whole collection of them.

"Lan please," I whine out trying to push him lower.

I get no response from Lando but he does start making his way lower down my body. All I feel is Lando continuing his trail of hickeys down my stomach leading his way to my soaked pussy.

When he finally reaches the spot I wanted him most instead of diving right in like he normally does he starts leaving hickeys all over my thighs. He has one of my legs in his hand giving him the perfect space to continue to tease me.

With the death I have on his hair I try to pull him close to my dripping core but instead, he makes his way to my other thigh but not before leaving a long lick from my dripping hole to my throbbing clit. This has me gasping for air thinking I was finally going to get what I wanted but Lando had other plans.

"Please, Lan," I whine out not knowing how much more of this teasing I can handle.

"Patience," All Lando says before starting his trail of hickeys again.

It feels like forever before I can feel Lando slowing making his way back to my soaking pussy. When he finally gets to the spot I needed him the most I let out a loud shrink when I feel Lando's teeth sinking down softly on my throbbing clit, before releasing it with his teeth and starting to suck on it.

"Fuck Lando," I moan out knowing I won't be lasting long if he continues this assault on my overly sensitive clit.

"I'm close," I moan out. This had Lando pulling away making me whine out from the loss of contact.

Lando doesn't say anything before he flips me back around so my chest is pressed against the shower wall.

It doesn't take long before I can feel Lando teasing my entrance with his hard tip. When he finally pushed in I let out a loud moan not knowing how to handle the overwhelming pleasure of being so full.

Lando starts thrusting in and out at a quick and rough pace. It doesn't take me long before I can feel my orgasm building again.

"Fucking, cum," Lando aggressively moans out making me explode all over Lando's cock.

"Fuck," I moan out feeling the early signs of overstimulation start to take course.

"Lan, fuck, please," I moan out not really knowing what I want.

"You're going to cum again," Lando grunts out making up my mind for me. I can already feel my second orgasm start to build when Lando reached around and started rubbing my clit which threw me over the edge again. This orgasm was stronger than the first leaving me shaking all over Lando's cock.

"I'm gonna cum in you," Lando whispers in my ear before I felt him slow his pace down but continue with the strong thrusts. When he finally spills into my still throbbing pussy I can feel how much cum he is pumping deep into me.

"Fuck," Lando groans out before slowly slipping out and allowing some of the cum to drip out of my pussy.

When we finally came down from our strong orgasms we finish our shower together before getting out. Lando gets out first and wraps his towel around his waist before grabbing the second towel and wrapping it around my body before helping me out.

When I finally get a good look in the mirror I can see just how much damage Lando had done to my skin. Just from my neck to chest I can see at least 8 hickeys ranging from small light purple marks to bigger deeper purple marks.

When I make eye contact with Lando in the mirror I see the smug look he is giving me.

"Well now he knows you're mine," Lando says with a small shrug before walking out of the bathroom, leaving me shaking my head at his petty jealousy.

[likeumeanit9497]

blue pill | m.s. |

matt sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: alternate outcome of this;)

warnings: unprotected p in v; oral (m/f receiving); fingering; switch!matt; matt the munch (yes pls); dirty talk; use of boner pills; deepthroating; 18+

notes: here u are my matt queens!! if u start reading this and think ummm hello i've read this before????? no u haven't dw this has the exact same beginning as red pill the reader just makes a different choice when things start gettin hot;) if you've read red pill already and don't feel like u need a refresher on the buildup skip to the bolded sentence. i hope y'all enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it!! love u all so so much <333

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

“This is so fucking stupid.” Matt groaned, sitting in between his brothers on the living room couch, holding a single red pill delicately in between two fingers as though it was a toxin. “Bro you’re the one who came up with the idea and bought them.” Chris retorted, inspecting the identical pill in his own hand. “Yeah, and I have no fucking clue why I agreed to this.” Nick chimed in, his voice filled with misery. “Because you can never turn down a competition.” I replied cheekily from my place on the other couch, giggling at the boys’ petty arguing.

Leaning forward, I pulled my phone out of my back pocket — opening up the timer app and hovering my finger over the start button. “Now hurry up and take them dummies, I’ll keep score.” I peered up at them as they gave each other tentative looks, seemingly hoping that one was going to have a change of heart. When nothing but silence followed, they all seemed to unanimously commit, dropping the red pills on their tongues and chasing them down with soda. As soon as they swallowed, I started the timer and sat back; crossing my arms across my chest with a smirk plastered to my face.

After the guys had posted the video at the gas station where Matt was talking about his idea for the sex pills, I had jokingly messaged him saying that I would gladly keep score if they really did it. Taking my message seriously, Matt had secretly gone out and grabbed three pills before inviting me over tonight. Thinking we were all just going to hangout, I was shocked when I showed up to find the pills neatly lined up on the coffee table and the three brothers pacing around the room arguing. After plenty of deliberation, Matt finally convinced Nick and Chris, and now here they were; awkwardly looking between themselves and me.

“How long do these even take to kick in?” Asked Chris, toying with the can of Pepsi in his hand. Grabbing one of the packages from the coffee table, Matt examined it for a moment. “It says thirty minutes.” He replied, sighing and running a hand through his messy hair. “This is ridiculous.” Remarked Nick, shaking his head as though he was disappointed in everyone in the room. Still giggling, I stretched my legs along the couch. “Oh come on,” I whined, “Relax, get comfy, and let the games begin.”

𓆩☆𓆪

“Okay, this isn’t working.” Nick deadpanned, locking his phone and throwing it beside him. “Really?” Asked Chris, turning to face his brother. Dropping his jaw, Nick made a disgusted face. “Is it for you?” Chris smirked bashfully, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m feeling somethin’.” He replied, to which Matt and Nick both groaned. “What about you Matt?” I asked, eyeing his still-relaxed frame leaning against the couch. Jutting out his bottom lip, he shrugged. “No, nothin’.” Chris groaned beside him, and I couldn’t help but notice him adjust himself slightly. “Great, now I feel weird.” He said, grabbing a blanket and swiftly draping it across his lap. I laughed and slowly pulled myself up from the couch.

“Looks like you might end up being the loser.” I teased as I began tidying up the packages strewn around the room. “I will n-” Dropping to my knees, I collected torn up pieces of packaging that had gathered at Chris’s feet. Noticing that Chris’s words had been cut short and now the room had fallen into heavy silence, I glanced up at him through my eyelashes. His eyes — which from up close seemed glassy and dilated — were on me, his mouth open slightly from his disrupted speech, and even his breathing seemed slightly rapid as his chest rose and fell.

Noticing this, Nick threw his hands up in the air exasperatedly. “Chris are you serious? See I knew this was a fucking horrible idea.” His sharp words pulled Chris’s eyes away from me, and he winced at his brother. “I’m sorry,” He replied, his words aimed at both Nick and myself, “I don’t know what the fuck is going on with me.” He added, seeming to grow increasingly uncomfortable. I giggled nervously before pulling myself back up to my feet. “It’s okay.” I reassured him before bringing the packages to the garbage; using the short walk to recover from that oddly intense moment.

As I returned, I suddenly noticed Matt fidgeting in his place on the couch, his brows knit in what seemed to be anguish. With Nick scrolling on his phone and Chris burying his head in his hands, I seemed to be the only one noticing Matt’s sudden discomfort. I chuckled as I slid back into my seat. “You good Matt?” I asked, teasing him. His eyes shot up to mine, and I watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed nervously. “Uh…yeah. All—all good.” He replied, his voice thick and slightly raspy.

Glancing down at my phone, I check the timer. It had been 32 minutes since they took the pills. I smiled gently. “Right on time.” I replied, shooting him a knowing look which just made him grow even more visibly restless. My comment grabbed the attention of Nick and Chris, and they turned to look at their rosy-cheeked brother. “You too?” Nick shouted, jumping up off of the couch. Matt grimaced, shrugging his shoulders again. “It’s not like I can control it.” He replied, letting out an uncomfortable laugh. Sighing, Nick began walking towards the stairs. “Whoa! Where are you going?” Chris asked him. “Nothing is happening to me dumbass! And I will absolutely not be sitting around you two anymore now that you’re both bricked up.” He sassed as he began climbing the stairs. “Good luck Y/n!” He called as he disappeared into his bedroom.

“Looks like we’re in a 1 v 1.” I said, wiggling my eyebrows teasingly. I registered the look of torment on the faces of Matt and Chris, and decided that it would be in my best interest to hold back my laughter. “Let’s see who can make it to an hour.” I added. Chris grunted as he shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “I’ll be lucky if I make it another five minutes.” He replied, his voice also more gruff than usual. “Aww c’mon, you can do it.” I encouraged, moving to place a reassuring hand on his knee but deciding against it. As the room fell back into silence, I could hear Matt’s heavy breathing permeated by the occasional soft whine.

Although I was trying to keep things light-hearted, their overwhelming arousal was growing more and more palpable. My wandering eyes flittered from Matt’s bottom lip pulled in between his teeth to Chris’s temple coated in a sheen of sweat. As I focused on their features, it was as though their chemically-induced lust was contagious. I began to feel my own heart pounding in my chest, and I noticed a dampness in my panties that hadn’t been there before. In that silent room, all of our desires suddenly fell in sync with one another, and it was growing harder and harder to ignore.

“I need to go deal with this.” Chris suddenly blurted out, his voice laced with urgency as his focused eyes stared straight ahead. “You’re throwin’ in the towel?” Asked Matt, his lips curling into a smile infused with what seemed to be an odd combination of arrogance and relief. Chris winced as he tried to lean forward, nodding his head intensely. I watched in painful silence as he folded his hands together and pressed them against his plump lips, deep in thought. Very slowly, his eyes were pulled in my direction.

I froze under his gaze, the look he was giving me was worth a thousand words. My brows furrowed momentarily, instinctually denying what his eyes were asking me, before I felt my body begin to react. Heart pounding in my ears, I leaned back against the couch and crossed my legs; dying for some relief. “Hey—what’s going on?�� Matt’s voice infiltrated mine and Chris’s stare-down. Picking up on the shift of air in the room, his eyebrows shot up. “Chris, no! That’s not how this works.” He exclaimed, turning to face his brother. Still looking at me, a smirk pulled at the corner of Chris’s lips. “We never laid down any ground rules kid.” He replied, and I felt my throat go dry.

“Well…” Matt’s exasperated voice trailed off for a moment, “Well, who said you get to fuck her?” The words sat heavy in the air around us, the reality of the situation being verbalized for the first time. I couldn’t manage to get a single word out if I tried, nor did I have the power to pull my eyes from Chris’s heady gaze. Chris chuckled, pulling himself off of the couch before slowly beginning to walk towards me. “No one,” He began, his voice suddenly menacing, “That’s up to her.” He finished just as he stopped in front of me, his frame towering above me with his tantalizing bulge directly in my line of sight.

Very slowly, he leaned down so that we were once again face-to-face. I felt my cheeks burn red from the situation I had suddenly found myself in, and the desire was radiating off of me in pulses. “What do you say?” He asked, his dilated eyes flooded with amusement. I swallowed, trying my best to re-instate my own vocal chords. Just as I was about to squeak out a response, a mindless gasp fell from my lips as Chris ducked his head down; his face buried in my neck.

My eyes fluttered shut momentarily, but once they opened they immediately landed on Matt’s tense figure sitting on the couch. His eyes were wide open, showing me just how badly he was suffering in that moment. The sheer need radiating from his gaze on me was infiltrating my mind, but the feeling of Chris’s warm breath dancing against my neck made it difficult for anything else to matter.

That is, until my eyes trailed down to Matt’s lap.

In between his fidgeting thighs, I saw the perfect outline of his cock. His pitiful arousal was evident in the shaded contours of his length in combination with the dark bead of pre-cum leaking through his grey sweats, letting me know that he had made the unsavoury decision of skipping on boxers. The visual of it — him being so transparently aroused while simultaneously ashamed — caused my mind to wander.

It wandered to the thought of me on my knees, wrapping my lips around his satin-skinned cock while he twitched and moaned out my name; dying to give into a release that was almost too much to handle. It wandered to the feeling of his sharp breath against my skin as he whined into my touch; bucking his hips as I teased his sensitive tip. It wandered to the idea of him taking out his insatiable hunger on my core — now slick with arousal —licking, sucking, groaning against its heat.

My silence flooded the room, and as I fought against the urge to drool at the thoughts swimming through my mind, a look of recognition flashed across Matt’s flushed face. I kept my eyes glued to him as Chris’s mouth traveled across my neck, and watched his heaving chest and white-knuckled fists at his side. His eyes — now four shades darker and twice as droopy as they usually are — were telling me a story. A story of exactly what he wanted to do to me — what he wanted me to do to him. And then — just as Chris nibbled against a particularly sensitive part of my neck and my eyes fluttered shut in pleasure, another soft whine slipped from the lips of the man watching me. The one who so clearly needed my help.

Using all my self restraint, I placed a gentle but firm hand on Chris’s chest. “I’m sorry Chris,” I spoke, feeling bad about my inability to help out both brothers. But, I knew for a fact that Chris had a much longer roster than his triplet brother, and was sure that he would be able to have someone over in less than 10 minutes to help him out. At my words, Chris released a disappointed huff of air against my skin but didn’t fight against my hand. As he stood up, I had to force my eyes away from his own visible arousal that was still within my reach.

“I wouldn’t recommend staying out here, I’m gonna get Marie to come over.” Chris grumbled, his voice still thick with arousal, before shooting his brother the middle finger and heading for the stairs leading to his bedroom. Once we were alone, the weight of the situation seemed to fill the space between us, making it difficult for me to breathe. The intensity of Matt’s gaze, never once leaving me, didn’t make things any easier — his retinas might as well have been screens playing out all of the filthy scenes that were running through both of our minds.

Forcing myself back to reality, I gathered all of my thoughts and nudged my head in the direction of his bedroom down the hall. “Should we go?” My question elicited the harsh bob of his Adam’s apple, and a curt nod of his head. On shaky legs, I stood up. He wrapped an uncertain, hovering arm around my waist and together we began walking towards his bedroom. As we walked, I felt, more than heard, his breathing grow more and more rapid; his pulse radiating from his body into my own.

Just as we passed the kitchen and entered the hallway, Matt stopped in his tracks. “Wait, Y/n,” Gently, he grabbed onto my hips and pressed me against the wall, standing in front of me with concern etched into his face. “Are you sure you’re good with this?” His question a paradox to his obvious desperation to get relief, I stifled a surprised laugh. “Yeah, I’m sure.” I replied, amused. Still not satisfied, he continued. “I just don’t want you to think that you have to do this, I mean I got these pills as a joke and really just invited you to keep score. You’re my friend and I don’t want you to think this was my pl—”

I cut him off with a finger pressed gently to his soft lips. Although his concern was charming and even comforting to me, it was entirely unnecessary. “Matt,” I began, my voice dropped to a low whisper as I looked up at him through my eyelashes, “I’m good with this.” Tracing the tattoos on his arm slowly, I continued, “See for yourself.” His eyes scanned my face for a moment, confused, before a glint of understanding appeared. Very slowly, his eyes dropped to my lower half and wordlessly I encouraged him by widening my stance slightly. One of his hands that had been resting on my hip began toying with the waistband of my shorts, before it creeped down the front of the cotton material blindly.

As soon as his long fingers reached my slippery heat, we both released simultaneous groans. His skin was so cold against my own, and as they gently slid in between my folds it sent a delicious shiver down my spine. “God,” Matt breathed, his eyes glued to my clothed heat as though he had x-ray vision. I bit my lower lip as I fought the urge to moan from the feeling of his exploring fingers, but all restraint disappeared once he reached my throbbing bundle of nerves. As the erotic noise fell from my lips, Matt’s eyes fluttered back up to mine before he pulled my lips into a feverish kiss.

Drawing slow circles against my clit, Matt’s tongue slipped delicately into my mouth with a certain hunger I hadn’t quite experienced before. Even as I relished in the taste of him combined with the exquisite pressure he was using against my nerves, I recognized that he was holding back some of his desperation. “Like that,” I breathed against his lips, panting as he worked me into a frenzy. He released a puff of air through his nostrils in response, shifting on his feet as he struggled to keep his composure.

“S-so wet for you.” I continued egging him on, finding his resistance to let go erotic. “S-so wet.” He parroted, his breathing rapid against my swollen lips before they traveled down my jaw and onto my neck. My eyes fluttered shut as I felt his mouth toy with my delicate skin, though the feeling was cut short as he pulled his head back slightly, his breathing hot against my ear. “D-don’t love that.” He muttered, running his thumb along my neck where I was sure his brother had left dark purple bruises just moments before.

Grabbing his jaw, I gently pulled his face up so that I could lock eyes with him. His fingers were still circling my clit, so through breathy gasps I spoke, “Why don’t you plant your own somewhere else?” I watched as his face suddenly grew overcome with aching fervour, before his hands slid back to my waistband and he sunk to his knees; taking my shorts and thong down to my ankles with him. My gaze followed him to the floor, and with a slacked jaw I watched as Matt took in the sight of me exposed just inches away from him. His hands crawled back up my thighs and his thumbs brushed delicately against the silky smooth skin of my bikini line before he brought his mouth to my pelvis.

His tongue swirled against my skin in a place I was sure had never been kissed before. He groaned, the sound muffled by his suckling lips, and I felt as though I might melt away from how worshipped I felt in that moment. My skin began to grow warm under his nibbling and sucking, and my stomach flipped from the sight of the angry purple bruise he had left once his mouth began moving closer to my aching core.

Just as Matt’s nose brushed against my heat, he pulled back slightly and used his grip on my thighs to pull my legs further apart. With a look of anguished hunger, he pulled his lower lip between his teeth as his thumbs spread apart my folds; granting him an unrestricted view of the arousal dripping from my core. “Jesus,” His singular word held the weight of all of the desire radiating between the two of us, and like the snap of an elastic band, all of his self-restraint dissipated as he impulsively ran his flat tongue along my heat; causing me to cry out in ecstasy as he savoured my sweet arousal against his tastebuds.

As if he was an addict and had just had his first fix, Matt turned into someone unrecognizable with his face buried between my thighs. His fingers wrapped so tightly around my thighs that I was sure he was going to leave a bruise as his tongue flicked deliciously against my swollen bundle of nerves. “Oh god, Matt!” I cried out, lacing my fingers through his hair and pressing my heat against him desperately. He responded to my pathetic moans by throwing one of my legs around his shoulder; granting his tongue a new angle that sent shock waves down my spine.

“So fucking good.” He groaned against my cunt, his voice more hoarse than usual. His tongue slid from my bundle of nerves down to my entrance, which he circled for a moment before plunging the strong muscle into it; lapping up my juices as I struggled to stand upright. He used his tongue to fuck me, his own moans echoing through my walls as his nose simultaneously rubbed my puffy clit, and the short hallway filled with the wet sounds of my needy cunt being worked towards my impending orgasm.

“F-fuck Matt,” I whined, rolling my hips hungrily against his face, “I-I’m gonna-” Without even finishing my words, Matt grunted in approval before fumbling blindly with his sweatpants. Through hooded lids I watched in glory as Matt slipped his pants down just enough to let his veiny cock free. Without removing his working mouth, he slid two fingers in the shape of a V through my folds to collect my juices before bringing his slippery hand to his cock; stroking it in rhythm with his movements against my cunt.

My legs began to shake and my vision grew blurry from my fast-approaching orgasm, though I couldn’t pull my eyes away from Matt as he milked his cock; clearly grown too desperate to wait another moment for relief. Just as he released a throaty moan against my cunt and I felt myself begin to give in to the overwhelming pressure radiating through every nerve in my body, I froze at the sound of the front door opening.

Chris’s lucky roster pick.

Matt and I locked eyes, sharing a look of mutual anguish before he jumped to his feet. Without even bothering to get dressed, I slipped out of my discarded bottoms and silently headed for Matt’s bedroom, the heat of his own brooding frame close behind me. As soon as we were behind the closed door, Matt tried to drop to his knees once again. Although it took nearly all of the self-restraint that I held in my body, I grabbed onto his shoulders to stop him. “Matt, you’re torturing yourself.” I whispered, dropping my eyes to his throbbing cock — bright red and swollen at the tip.

He pouted, running a gentle hand through my hair. “But you taste so fuckin’ good.” He breathed out just before engulfing my lips with his own; allowing me to taste my own sweetness against his slick tongue. His hands toyed with the bottom of my shirt, tugging it gently as though asking for permission. I pulled away from his mouth, drunk from the way I tasted on him, and allowed him to slip my shirt over my head. His pleading eyes dropped to my tits, and he ran the pad of his thumb along my pebbled nipple before dropping it back down to the bundle of nerves between my legs.

“You were so close to cumming,” He added. His voice was deep yet laced with the whine of a man who needed something bad, and it numbed my mind for a second. He pressed his thumb against my clit, slowly adding more and more pressure as I bit my bottom lip. “We can cum together.” I offered, looking up at him through droopy eyelids as my stomach flipped from the thought of him inside of me at last.

That thought seemed to have been mirrored in Matt’s mind as well, because his blown out eyes grew hazy and his brows knit together in wistful lust. Taking his expression as my answer, I gestured toward his bed behind him. With a curious smirk, Matt slipped off his t-shirt and began walking backwards towards his bed; using his grip on my hips to pull me with him. As his heels reached the frame, I gently pushed him down so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed. Although a part of me wanted to straddle his lap and sink down onto his gorgeous cock immediately, instead of following him onto the bed I dropped onto my knees before him.

His eyes glimmered for a moment. “What are you doing?” He asked, the mild concern on his face worked paradoxically with his hands gathering my hair into a make-shift ponytail. I snaked my hands up his legs, letting them rest just centimetres away from his cock; the nearly-there contact making it jump. “Just wanna taste you too,” My seductive words caused his hands to subconsciously tighten in my hair just as I wrapped my lips around his spongey tip.

His savoury pre-cum on my tastebuds intoxicated me, and I lapped it up hungrily before bobbing my head in a rapid, but steady, rhythm. A whiney groan fell from his lips, his thighs twitched under my hands as I let his cock reach the back of my throat; swallowing around it and relishing in his needy reaction. “Mmm Y/n,” He groaned, his breath rapid as he struggled to keep his composure, “F-feels so good,” His grip in my hair was firm, as though that was what was holding him steady, but I felt his thumbs gently brush my neck in a way that was comforting to both of us.

Relaxing my throat, I pushed myself all the way down his long cock so that my nose pressed against his flexed stomach. A sharp whimper filled the room as I gargled his entire length until tears began streaming down my face, and already I felt his cock begin to swell in my throat. “Oh god baby, not g-gonna la-ast — s-so clos-se.” His words were choppy, punctuated by his rapid breathing as his body grew red from the hot arousal. Panties flooding, I took his words as motivation and swallowed his cock fervently; knowing that he had to be close to pain by how hard he was.

A chorus of sharp, rapid whines began slipping from Matt’s lips, and I felt his body begin to tremble under my touch as his balls tightened against my chin. His hips lifted from the bed in uncontrollable pleasure, and after a final, exquisite moan, I felt the warmth of his cum as his powerful orgasm washed over him. I fought the urge to gasp at the sheer amount of fluid that filled my mouth, but was pulled back by the addicting taste of him on my tongue. Greedily, I swallowed everything that he had before continuing to slowly bob my head.

Matt’s body writhed under my warm mouth, and only once he released a pathetic moan from my tongue swirling around the crest of his head did I pull back; releasing his still-hard cock with a pop. My vision was blurry from my tears, but I still managed to pull my eyes from the string of saliva dangling from his leaking cock back to his flushed face; gazing down at me in shock. “I…I’ve never finished that fast in my fucking life.” His words were laced with genuine astonishment, causing me to laugh in amusement.

“We can blame the pill,” I replied, pulling myself off of the floor and climbing on top of him on the bed. As soon as my core was level with his lap, his hands gripped firmly onto the flesh of my ass and his cock flexed against the pressure of my body. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I laughed before subtly pushing him back so that he was laying flat on the bed. “Doesn’t matter anyways, looks like you still got more in you.”

My words seemed to awaken something within him, because as soon as they left my mouth Matt flipped us over so that it was now me who was laying flat against the bed. His mouth consumed my own once again, the taste of both of our arousal now floating between our tongues. My head spun from the glorious feeling of being underneath Matt, feeling somehow so powerless yet so in tune with my own body. A gasp slipped from my lips as I felt his cock brush against my heat, the urge to be filled now growing void of any ignorance.

“You still wet?” Matt breathed against my lips, using a hand to spread my legs apart before bringing it to my sensitive core. A satisfied hum fell from his lips as he felt the warm juices of my arousal not only pooled in between my legs, but smeared all down my inner thighs from the pleasure of having him fall apart in my mouth. “Oh you’re fuckin soaked baby,” He cooed, his voice gentle against my parted lips. I writhed against his investigative fingers, needing more contact than what he was granting me by admiring just how turned on I had grown.

Growing impatient, I reached down and grabbed his sticky cock, eliciting a hiss from him as I guided it towards my needy entrance. “Jesus,” Matt groaned, overwhelmed by the confirmation of my insatiable need for him, before allowing himself to be guided by my hand. Just as I felt the head of his cock sink into the crest of my aching pussy, I let go of his shaft and relied on the fervour warmth of my walls to swallow his length.

He slid into me slowly, with anguish, and once he bottomed out guttural moans fell from both of our lips. He filled me so intensely that I felt feverish, delirious with desire. My walls welcomed him graciously, though they enveloped him so tightly I was worried he may not be able to move. Just as that thought crossed my mind, Matt pulled himself almost entirely out of me before driving his cock back down to the hilt. A gasp fell from my lips as my arms wrapped around his neck, overcome with the relief that his movements granted me.

“Holy fuck,” Matt grunted, and as I looked up at him I recognized the look of strain on his face and throughout his muscles. “You’re s-so tight.” The tensity of his voice drew a soft moan from me, and by wrapping my legs around his waist I urged him to keep moving. Recognizing my silent request, he began pumping himself into me. He started slow, though on each thrust it was as if my cunt began to stretch more and more for him until it moulded to fit him perfectly, to which he responded by going harder and faster.

The squelching sound of our bodies as they joined together provided a perfect harmony to the slurry of moans that fell from both of our lips. Matt snaked a hand around my lower back, adding a new level of pressure as he held me tight against him. I cried out as he wrapped his warm mouth against a hardened nipple, swirling his tongue around the dark pink, sensitive bud as he snapped his hips into me. “Feels…so…good…” Matt’s words were punctuated by his thrusts, and his breath tickled against my skin as he spoke into my plush breast. I mewled in response, nails turning into claws against the tense skin of his back.

“N-eeded this s-so fucking b-bad. T-thank you,” Solace was already evident in his voice, and his gratitude was enough to make my head spin. He lifted his head from my chest and placed his open mouth against my own with the intention of kissing me, but we were both so caught up in the mutual pleasure radiating through our bodies that the most we could do was breathe against one another; matching the tempos of our beating hearts. Matt’s thrusts began to grow sloppier, his breath more ragged, and the heat of our bodies came crashing down on me.

“N-need you to cum baby,” Matt groaned, slight panic and desperation laced through his tone. I released a pathetic moan, knowing I was close but could sense from his words that he was closer. “P-please Y/n, I’m — so c-close,” The trepidation was evident in his voice now, and I whined as I fought to stay on track chasing my own high. “K-keep going, just l-like that,” I purred, closing my eyes as I focused on my impending orgasm.

Matt’s hand traveled down my body in between my legs, where his thumb went to work vigorously swirling against my overstimulated bundle of nerves. Immediately, I felt myself inch closer and closer to the high I had been dying for. “F-fuck!” I cried out, my body beginning to tremble from the intensity of the oncoming waves of pleasure. “Please—Please—Please,” Matt grunted with each weakened thrust, his voice thick with untethered need as I felt his cock begin to swell inside of me; ready to erupt any minute.

Finally, after another desperate swirl along my clit in sync with a quick snap of his hips, Matt drew a long string of moans from my lips and pushed me over the edge of my teetering orgasm. Upon the first erratic pulse of my spongey walls, Matt released his own guttural moan and cried out my name before I felt his warm seed spill deep into my core. Although his body seemed to want to give in to the waves of pleasure it was experiencing, he forced his hips to continue to drive into me; helping me ride out my high as my clammy back arched off of the mattress and my legs constricted his waist. I felt the indescribable release of pressure as I squirted all along his throbbing cock and lower stomach, earning a satisfied moan from Matt as he let his eyes drop to admire the sight.

Only once our bodies began to relax and we came down from our highs did Matt halt his movements; crashing his exhausted body onto mine and burying his face in my neck. I let myself sink into the soft mattress under his comforting weight, focusing on my decreasing heart rate and the feeling of Matt’s hand running up and down my side. My eyes fluttered shut, the physical exertion draining me of all energy, and I felt us simultaneously fall into a peaceful lull as our breathing steadied.

After what could have been hours, Matt lifted his head from my neck and shot me a bashful smile. “I’m never taking one of those fucking pills again.” Laughing, I propped myself up on my elbows and smiled down at him. “So what I’m hearing is that was horrible and you hate me.” Matt scoffed, jokingly rolling his eyes. “Obviously not, Y/n. The issue is that was way too fucking good. And we’re friends. Friends can’t be dogging each other like that.” Matt ran a hand through his hair, a sign that behind his joking tone he was genuinely stressing out over what we had done.

I grabbed his tattooed arm gently, getting his attention. “Hey crazy, don’t worry. It was a one time thing caused by your little boner pill. It won’t happen again.” He sighed, rolling off of me and draping his body along the bed beside me. “Won’t happen again.” He repeated softly, staring up at the ceiling with concern still etched in his face. “Hey,” I looked down at him in amusement, “At least you feel better though, right?” Slowly, Matt turned to face me with that same flushed look he had on the couch an hour ago. Wincing, he let his gaze drop to his dick — still standing straight up in the air; red and swollen at the tip.

“One more time?”

“One more time.”

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

[moonstruckme]

OMGGGGGGG

the first kiss was so cute!!! perfect!! james was so sweet and gentle w her😍😭😭

can’t wait to see there dynamic from now on

Thank you gorgeous! I held onto this so I'd have something to post this last part to, hope you don't mind <3

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │ part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

James is buzzing while he makes breakfast the next morning. Golden morning light pours in through the front windows, brightening the kitchen and warming his back where he stands in front of the stove, the buttery smell of pancake batter wafting up from the pan. He’d gone to bed later than usual last night and slept hard but woke jittery, desperate to do something about the commotion in his chest. 

A run hadn’t done it, nor had replaying the previous night in his head, and now he’s convinced he won’t be able to rest until he can kiss you again. It’s your fault, really. Your little sighs, your careful touches, the way you’d tugged at the roots of his hair when he asked you to, like all this time you’d only been waiting for permission. You’ve fucked him. James will never be able to get over it. Now, all he can think about is getting more. 

He’s made more pancakes than a family of five could eat when he hears the stair creak. 

“Good morning,” he says, turning around just as you pad into the kitchen, quiet as a ghost. 

Your eyes are bleary, but they still manage to widen slightly as you take him in, along with the precarious tower of pancakes beside him. You’re in that sweatshirt he loves so much, sleeves hanging limply from your hands and hem hitting just above your knees. 

“Morning,” you say, softer than soft. 

“How’d you sleep, lovely?” 

You shrug, not quite looking at him. “Fine. You?” 

James grins. “Beautifully. You want some pancakes?” 

Your gaze goes again to the stack beside him, and he can practically see the quip brewing in your eyes. Doesn’t seem like I have much of a choice. Are you planning to feed an army?

“Sure,” you say in that same quiet voice. “Thanks.” 

James studies you, intrigued. “Great. C’mere, sweetheart.” 

He plates up a few pancakes, keeping one eye on you as he does. You seem disinclined to look even in his general direction, finding distractions with the stove, your plate, the weather outside. 

“How’s this?” He turns around with the plate. You take it cautiously, by the complete opposite end to avoid any possibility of making contact with his hand. James’ heart warms at the way your fingers just peek out from the sleeve of your sweatshirt to grasp the plate. He wants to kiss you until you don’t know what day it is. “Too many? Not enough?” 

“This is good.” 

“Yeah?” He doesn’t let go of the plate. He tilts his head, trying to catch your eye, but you evade him. He has a hunch that if he were to touch your face (and god, does he want to) he’d find it burning hot. “Are you alright?” 

Your eyes flit up to his for a half a second before fleeing again. You hum, the sound tense and pitchy. “Mhm.” 

“You sure?” he asks, matching your soft tone. “Don’t go getting shy on me now.” 

You look like you stop breathing. 

And ordinarily James might feel bad, but post-kiss James cannot be prevailed upon to treat you as cautiously as he ordinarily might. Unfortunately for you, your secret’s out. You’re lovely, you’d said, voice soft and breathy and mere inches from his own mouth, I like having you around. I do. I really like you. Also unfortunately for you, post-kiss James knows things. 

He slips his palm alongside your face, working his hand behind your ear and letting his fingers burrow into the hair behind it. You melt, leaning into the touch. Your eyes meet his. 

It’s grueling work to keep from smiling. “What’s wrong, angel?” 

“Nothing’s wrong,” you say, still quietly but now with more of yourself in your voice. 

“Really? Because you’re acting like we’ve just met.” 

“Don’t you—don’t things feel different to you?” You seem almost distressed, eyebrows hooking upwards just slightly, pretty eyes imploring. Your voice softens again, now more with intimacy than reticence. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to talk with you about.” 

James lets his smile loose, thumbing at the skin behind your ear before letting you go. “We can talk about anything you want,” he says simply, grabbing his own plate and leading you into the living room. 

You’ve got a perfectly good kitchen table but almost never use it, each preferring to eat your meals on the couch. He flops down, careful not to tip his pancakes onto the cushion as he crosses his legs underneath him like you’re at a sleepover. 

“So, have any fun dreams last night?”  

You smile. It’s as heart-stoppingly lovely as always, and James thinks his own probably doubles in magnitude in response. 

“A couple,” you admit. 

“Oh? What about?” 

Your smile goes sheepish, bottom lip slipping in between your teeth as if to impede its progress. You fork clinks against the plate as you start cutting up your pancake. 

James’ brain short-circuits. 

“You were in my dream,” he blurts. 

Your eyes flit up to his warily. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah. It was one of those weird, super vivid dreams where nothing really happens, you know?” You seem to relax a bit. James douses his pancakes in syrup, starting to cut them up as he talks. “We were here, and someone had spilled something on the rug—probably Sirius, to be honest—and it made this huge stain. I’d tried to pour baking soda on it, but the whole box had collapsed and it got everywhere. We were both sitting right there scrubbing with literal toothbrushes, and I think I was worried you’d be upset with me but you were just laughing.” His heart warms at the pseudo-memory, the hazy feeling of contentment that had permeated the dream. The sound of your laugh, exactly as sweet as in real life. “Your hands were totally covered in baking soda, and the rug was ruined, but we were both laughing our heads off.” 

You’re smiling again, a small, knowing thing. “Had you said something to make us laugh?” 

“No,” he says honestly, “I think it was you.” 

James is aware that he’s barely functioning. It’s almost too much to talk and cut his pancakes at the same time while you’re looking at him like that, like he’s the loveliest thing you’ve ever seen. It makes it both a relief and a disappointment when you drop your gaze. 

“Do you think the stain might’ve been a premonition?” you ask. 

He raises his eyebrows. “How do you mean?” 

You laugh, and he’s instantly spellbound, caught somewhere between fantasy and reality. It takes him a second to realize you’re touching the edge of his plate, tipping it up. James looks down. It had been nearly falling off his lap, his pancakes cut up into tiny pieces and syrup pooled near the rim. 

You look up at him, seraphim with the morning light brightening your features and the hint of a smile playing on your lips. He thinks of how soft they’d felt on his the night before, the way they’d fallen open like welcoming him home. 

“You were almost spilling syrup onto the rug,” you say, that rare and beloved teasing lilt to your voice. “It would’ve taken more than baking soda to get that out.” 

“See?” he asks. “You know how to talk to me just fine.” 

You look surprised, then self-conscious, though not nearly as bad as when you’d come into the kitchen a few minutes ago. He covers your hand with his to keep you from going anywhere. Sets his plate on the coffee table. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

Your eyes are wide. “Again?” 

“Yes, again,” James laughs. “And again after that, preferably. Only if it’s okay with you.” 

You shake your head, looking something akin to bewildered. “Yeah. Yeah, please.” 

He starts to lean toward you, and you meet him halfway. Already, it’s a bit different. There’s no tentative stillness, no slow yielding. Your lips are pliant and eager, parting and closing around his like you’re trying to get as much of him as you can. Your fingers wind in his hair without instruction, and James responds by placing his hand in that spot you’d seemed to like it so well last night, the material of your sweatshirt soft beneath his touch. You taste like his pancakes, the syrup sweet on your tongue. 

“Keep talking to me,” he murmurs, kissing the corner of your lips worshipfully, “okay?” 

Your voice is breathless. “Why?” 

“Because I like you.” He tugs at you, wanting you closer. “And I think I’ve put in the work for you to warm up to me, if it’s all the same to you.” 

You make a tiny, amused sound. “Fine,” you say. You grow bolder, kissing your way up his cheek, the top of his eyebrow, until your nose is nestled in his hair and your lips are caressing his forehead. “Consider me warmed.” 

James grins, unable to help himself. He thinks that becoming your friend didn’t go quite as he planned, but he feels as though he won in the end.

[writeriguess]

hey darling! could I please request a katsuki bakugou x yn (dating) whereby they got into a heated argument post fight (against a rather dangerous villain) in which yn took a shot that was evidently meant for kats, so he’s reprimanding yn on how careless they are (as he struggle to properly express himself), thus, yn just accepts his scoldings and mean words and became distant w him. of course, he feels guilty after some time and tries to talk to yn, but it’s not going in his favour whatsoever (a cliff hanger type of ending please, thank you!)

Fears

The air was thick with the lingering scent of smoke and gunpowder, the aftermath of the battle still fresh in the ruined streets. Katsuki Bakugou’s hands were clenched into tight fists, his jaw locked so hard it could snap. The streetlights flickered dimly, casting long shadows over the debris, the only sounds being distant sirens and his own ragged breathing.

"What the fuck were you thinking?!" His voice was raw, hoarse from shouting commands during the fight—but this was different. This was anger laced with something else, something heavier. "You just fucking jumped in front of me! Do you have a goddamn death wish?"

You stood there, the pain from your injury dull compared to the sting of his words. The wound on your side throbbed, the makeshift bandage already darkening with blood. But what hurt more was the way he was looking at you—furious, livid, like you had betrayed him in the worst possible way.

“I—”

“No! Shut up! You think you’re a hero for pulling that shit?” His crimson eyes were ablaze, but they were also shaking, betraying the fear he refused to voice. "You don't get to be so fucking reckless! What if—what if you had died, huh? Did you think about that?" His voice cracked slightly at the end, but he masked it with a scowl, stepping closer, towering over you as his hands trembled at his sides.

You swallowed hard. "I just... I couldn't let you get hurt, Katsuki. I—"

"That's not your fucking job!" He raked a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. "You’re supposed to have my back, not throw yourself in front of me like some dumbass martyr! You think that makes you strong? It makes you fucking stupid!"

You bit your lip, absorbing the weight of his words. He didn’t mean it—at least, not the way it sounded. You knew that. But it didn’t make it hurt any less.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, barely audible over the distant sirens.

Bakugou stilled. His breath was ragged, his hands still trembling at his sides. He wanted to say more, but the words refused to come. He wanted to tell you that the thought of losing you had made his blood run cold, that seeing you bleeding out on the ground had sent a fear through him that he didn’t know how to handle. He wanted to admit, in some messed-up way, that he had never been more terrified in his life.

But all he did was scoff. "Whatever. Just... don't fucking do it again."

You nodded once, silent. And then you turned away.

Over the next few days, something changed. You still showed up to missions, still trained, still shared space with him—but you weren’t really there. You didn’t joke around like before, didn’t meet his eyes, didn’t linger near him like you used to. You spoke when necessary, but your words were short, distant.

And he fucking hated it.

At first, he convinced himself it was fine. That you just needed space. That you��d snap out of it soon enough.

But days passed, and nothing changed. And the guilt settled in, suffocating. It ate away at him during training, during missions, during sleepless nights where he found himself replaying that moment over and over. The way you had looked at him. The way your voice had sounded so... small.

One evening, he finally cornered you outside the agency, frustration boiling over. "Oi," he called, but you barely glanced at him before continuing down the steps. His eye twitched. "Hey! I'm talking to you!"

You halted but didn’t turn around. "What do you want, Bakugou?"

The way you said his name—so formal, so devoid of warmth—sent a sharp pang through his chest. "What the fuck is your problem?" he snapped. "You've been acting weird all week."

You exhaled slowly, gripping the strap of your bag tighter. "I got your message loud and clear, alright? You don’t have to yell at me again."

His brows furrowed. "What message—"

"That I'm a reckless dumbass who needs to stay out of your way."

Bakugou's mouth opened, but no words came out. Because that wasn’t what he meant. That wasn’t what he wanted you to take from it at all.

You finally turned to look at him then, and something in your eyes—something unreadable, distant—made his stomach drop. There was no anger, no fire, no fight left in you. Just a quiet kind of acceptance. And it fucking scared him more than any battle ever could.

Before he could get a grip on what to say, you turned and started walking away again.

And for the first time in a long time, Katsuki Bakugou didn’t know how to fix what he had broken.

[rafesangelita]

♡ when pope doesn’t want to hit you during sex..

warnings: oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, slight dirty talk, angst, finger sucking, mentions of past sexual encounters, reassurance and comfort, brief description of reader being treated poorly, overstimulation, soft sex, praise, reader cries, pope is so gentle and sweet ૮ . . ྀིა⁩

a/n: highly recommend reading bitchy!pogue!reader’s lore if you haven’t already so you could get a better understanding of her <3 this was slightly inspired by the ending of ‘anora’

wc: 1.3k

“pope, pope, pope—” you sounded like a broken record, the man’s name falling off of your lips like a mantra. working his tongue in skillful cirlces around your clit, you shuddered as his grip around your thighs tightened, arching your back off of his sheets with a cry. you didn’t think he had it in him. pope had effortlessly made you scream and cry in overstimulation for the past twenty minutes, your brain fuzzy and vision hazy as he pushed you over the edge time and time again.

“how are you so good at that?” you couldn’t help but ask as pope licked the remnants of you off of his lips, your eyes running down his shirtless form. “well i took a lot of anatomy classes for science and stuff, you know? bodily functions are kinda my thing. jj also might’ve given me some pointers..” you laughed, your chest rising and falling as you basked in your post-orgasm bliss. pope looked up at you sheepishly, sorta in disbelief that he had you of all people here in his room.

deciding to put his shirt back on, pope froze once you pulled at his arm. “what are you doing?” your brows knitted together in confusion when you saw him looking around like you two were finished. “i uhm— i didn’t want to assume that you wanted to have like full on sex, so i was just gonna let you get dressed whenever you felt ready.” you laid there dumbfounded. no guy has ever been this considerate. “are you kidding? i’m not leaving you high and dry..”

pope swallowed thickly when your hand trailed down his frontside, a teasing smile playing on your lips as you palmed him through his shorts. “did jj also give you pointers on how to fuck?” pope shook his head, allowing you to pull him down between your legs. he was rock hard in his boxers and he was still making it all about you. “you got this hard just by tasting me?” your voice was sugary sweet and pope swore he could blow his load right then and there when he felt your fingers working him out of the restraints of his underwear.

“yes,” he nodded, deciding to help you out when one of the charms from your nails got caught in his zipper, “you tasted so good, and you’re also just really, really pretty.” he stammered, the nervous look on his face making you giggle. ‘pretty’ the word was so wholesome, you hadn’t been called that in ages. you were so used to the terms ‘hot’, ‘sexy’, even ‘sinful’, but pretty? you couldn’t decide if you liked the way your heart fluttered in your chest when you heard it.

you shook off the weird feeling that came over you, instead distracting yourself by taking pope’s hand and wrapping your lips around his thumb. “oh, wow! that’s—” pope had never seen such an erotic sight before in his life. not even in the weird porn jj would flash him out of no where. pope could sense a slight energy shift, but ultimately decided that he was just mentally psyching himself out cause he couldn’t believe this was actually happening.

once he was prodding at your entrance, you and pope shared a knowing look before he pushed into you, a muffled moan tumbling from your mouth as he groaned, screwing his eyes shut at the sheer feeling of you being wrapped around him. you felt better than what he could’ve ever imagined. warm, wet, and gripping him like a fucking vice. he cursed to himself, hoping, pleading, that he wouldn’t finish quick and make a fool out of himself.

you were already a mess when his head was between your thighs, but feeling him inside you was a totally different thing. he knew exactly how to angle his hips so he could hit that spot that made you see stars behind closed eyes. he was slow and calculated, unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. the realization had you feeling exposed and slightly embarrassed.

why wasn’t he being rough?

why wasn’t he being selfish?

why wasn’t he using you purely for his own pleasure?

pope leaned down and started leaving open mouthed kisses on your neck, taking his hand and intertwining his fingers with your own. “you feel amazing,” he praised, “just perfect.” you blinked, your breath quickening as his lips found their way to yours. your brain wanted you to push him away and tell him that kissing on the lips was too intimate, but your heart had you giving in and kissing him back.

it wasn’t until you and pope were lost in each other’s orbit and his nose was nudging yours ever so gently that you panicked and turned your head away from him. you were losing control, and you needed to get behind the steering wheel fast. ripping your hand from his, you grabbed his shoulders and flipped you two over so you were on top. pope looked surprised, the sudden change in position throwing him for a loop. you reached back, lining him up with your entrance before sinking back down onto his length.

pope let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, his hands flying out to rest in the curve where your thighs and your hips met. you started up a steady pace, the man underneath you shamelessly grunting and moaning as you rode him with ease. you refused to look at him or meet his eyes, partly because you were terrified of seeing what you couldn’t handle right now; and that was the gaze of a man who wasn’t viewing you as some kind of sex object, but as an actual living being with emotions and thoughts and aspirations of your own.

pope knew what you did for work but it didn’t bother him. he was concerned about your safety more than anything. your fears came true when pope ran his fingers across your flesh, the look on his face saying it all. he wasn’t just admiring your body, he was cherishing it. every curve, every detail, he was engraving every single thing into his brain in hopes that he wouldn’t have to rely on his memory of you to be the only time he’ll ever see you like this.

you couldn’t take it anymore. you needed to prove that pope was exactly like everyone else. “hit me,” you moaned, grabbing his hand and placing it on your cheek, “please, i want you to do it.” pope felt his heart drop to his stomach, his face twisting in confusion. “hit you? why would i do that?” he stopped you, sitting up against the headboard while you avoided his heated stare. “why wouldn’t you?” you scoffed, “it’s like every guy’s wet dream.”

“it’s not mine.”

that’s exactly what you were afraid to hear. of course pope wasn’t some sick individual who got off on hitting girls and inflicting pain on them— words included. “please, just do it. choke me, pull my hair, anything— i want it.” with his palm still on your cheek, he cradled your face, forcing you to meet his eyes. “no, you don’t.” he whispered, stroking your skin with the utmost care.

him being gentle hurt you more than any man who threw you around with no regard ever did. you didn’t know no other way, you didn’t know what it was like to be put first. nor did you know how to outwardly express your appreciation or vulnerability without having to give something away. you stared at him, your resolve crumbling as you cried into his chest, his arms enveloping you immediately. you cried until you couldn’t anymore, all while pope was still nestled inside of you.

he didn’t say a word as he held you tightly, your tears dripping down onto his skin as he rubbed soothing circles into your back. pope already knew what was wrong, his ability to read you and see right through you was uncanny. “no one can hurt you anymore,” he stated, “not in here. not when you’re with me.”

[400badrequest]

a bit presumptious | Matt Murdock x F!Reader

SUMMARY: Mr Murdock is a good boss - it's not his fault that you day dream about him fucking you.

WORD COUNT: 4.6K

cw: enthusiastic cunnilingus, gratuitous smut, office sex, age difference

A/N: ik i spelt the title wrong this is a cross post from AO3 here

Interning for Nelson and Murdock was supposed to be good. Well, it was, but it was exhausting. While it was definitely better than the other less ethical options there was always so much to do. Your desk was constantly buried in paperwork no matter how late you stayed, things to be sorted, filed, signed by Mr Murdock (“Please. I know I’m older than you, but Matt is fine.”) or Mr Foggy (“Better than being called Mr Nelson!”). You were beginning to understand why Karen said fuck it and decided to pursue a journalistic career. It didn’t help that the heating was always broken and that even with your scarf and stockings you were still freezing your nips off. 

“Mr Foggy left some files on your desk before he left for his date,” You tell Matt when he arrives from the cold outside, watching as he tugged off his bulky coat. “Said that Detective Sergeant Mahoney wanted a second opinion on them.”

The wind had left his soft hair tousled, and he huffs a little as he runs his fingers through it in an attempt to fix it - you bite back a laugh as he somehow manages to make it worse. “Thank you,” Matt says softly, a gentle smile on his lips. “I can’t believe Foggy and Marcy’ve been together for two years now.”

You can’t help but watch as he takes his glasses off to wipe the rain off them, immediately locking onto his soft, unfocused eyes. He rarely took them off around you and tended to slip them back on when you entered a room. Foggy had explained once that he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable with the empty vacant look that they always had, glazed as he looked slightly past you - and you’d never really quite known how to tell him you didn’t mind.

“They’re cute,” you offer as he walks past you to his office. “Mr Foggy said something about um- Danny being an angel? They’re going to the Met for dinner.”

“ Danny?” Matt says from the doorway of his office. “That’s one hell of an anniversary date.” There’s a fond chuckle in his voice as he turns around. “Ow.”

“You okay?” You stand up quickly, heels clicking as you dash to his office. He waves you off, hand resting on the edge of the corner of his table, fingers rubbing at the corner. Your breath stutters as you can’t help but watch as his index and middle finger part over it, circling slowly.

“Bumped the desk,” he admits. 

“Oh uh- that’s my fault,” you say, embarrassment colouring your voice. “I ran into it when I put the paperwork on your desk - I completely forgot to move it back, I’m so sorry-”

“Hey, hey it’s okay,” he chuckles softly, shifting the table back. “Accidents happen.”

You can’t help but hover awkwardly in the doorway as he sits at his desk. The only light filtering into the room is from the dandelion yellow street lamp outside, peeking through the slats of the open shades. Shadowy impressions of rain trace their way down Matt’s face, tinted glasses almost black. Your eyes trail down with a droplet that slips down the window, following as its dark echo dancing down his throat and shirt, until it disappears into the shadow hidden behind his desk. He hums, fingers tracing the braille of the file. 

“Do you want coffee?” You blurt. “I- yeah. I need coffee. I’ll get you some-”

You turn on your heel and beeline for the tea station that Karen had set up ages ago. Matt’s chuckle follows you while you click on a new pot of coffee.

It made you feel like a perv - tracing your eyes across him when he’s across the room, watching his hands flex when he held his coffee cups, staring at his scruff when he smirked. Foggy sometimes stifled laughter at your rising flush whenever Matt pressed his hand to your lower back to move you out of the way, or to figure out his way around an unknown space. It was even worse when it felt like Matt had caught you, head sometimes tilting in your direction when you looked. You knew he couldn’t see you, but still. 

You sigh as you slump against the counter, fighting the want to bury your head in your hands and scream. The crush you were fostering on your boss was just a crush (at least that’s what you told yourself). It stemmed from admiration - Matt was so terrifying and silver tongued in court, but kind and soft spoken to clients. And it didn’t help that he liked to act like he cared about you sometimes; making sure you were sleeping, eating, draping his coat on you when it got too cold, tsking softly and exasperatedly when you prioritised studies over basic needs.

It wasn’t helpful either that you’d seen the types of women he went for - slim, willowy and assertive. You… you weren’t that. You didn’t have the genetic gifts of mile long thin legs and a godly metabolism. Your tummy pressed up against your pants whenever you tucked your button downs in, and the insides of your thighs rubbed together when you walked. Marcy said it made you a real woman, not some waif - but that didn’t stop you from believing that despite his lack of sight, Mr Murdock would somehow know.

Giving in, you groan into your elbow as the pot dings, giving yourself a single minute. Then, you straighten your blouse, pour two cups - both with milk, one with sugar - and walk back to Matt’s office. 

“Coffee,” you say, putting it on his desk, careful not to place it on any paper. “6 o’clock, 7 and a little bit inches.”

Matt hums as he grabs it smoothly. “You’ve gotten better at that,” he praises and you flush as you lean in the doorway, trying to ignore how hot the coffee is as it burns down your throat. 

“I’m trying,” You reply, a grin in your voice. “Helps that you’re easy on the eyes.”

“What?” Matt startles with a laugh, looking up at you with a raised eyebrow. “Uh-” you stumble over your words. “I mean- like- as in y'know- um-” A small grin starts to curve at Matt’s mouth. “I watch you.”

“You watch me.” He rises at that, hands braced on the table. It’s starting to spread into a proper smirk.

“Wait, no, not like that.” You say, affronted. “As in like- uh- watching how you do things, how you move so I can make it easier.”

“Mm, really.” There’s a chuckle weaved in his words. “ That’s what you mean by ‘easy on the eyes’?”

“Yes,” you squeak, lie tumbling out. “Absolutely.” You can feel your palms start to sweat, and it is not from the heat of the cup in your hands. Somehow, Matt has managed to get around the table, now leaning on it with his ankles crossed, hand braced behind him. You can’t stop your eyes tracing from his dress shoes, up to his belt and hovering there before your gaze crawls to his face. Matt’s head is cocked slightly to the side, as if listening to something. 

“So the way you’re undressing me with your eyes has nothing to do with you finding me attractive?” 

“Jesus Christ, how did you-?”

“I’m blind, not stupid,” Matt says with a smirk, and you can’t help but swallow thickly at how the shadows cut across his front, biceps tight in his dress shirt. 

“Never said you were,” you reply weakly. 

“Vision isn't the only sense that humans have, you know." He says wryly.

“I know that!”

"Do you?” His voice is teasing as he steps forward. “From the sound of your voice, the way you walk, how you always swallow when I touch you - I don’t need sight to know what you like.” You can’t stop the shiver that runs up your spine as he takes the cup from your hand, placing it on a filing shelf. “I can feel the heat coming from your body, the way it radiates off you."

Your head bonks against the door frame as you groan, face colouring with fluster and embarrassment. “Shush. Shut up, sir.” You grumble, doing your best to not look at him. 

His voice is tinged with amusement as he talks. "What's the matter?”

“C’mon sir,” You whine a little. “You’re being unfair.”

"I never knew I could cause you to have a crisis by just speaking." Matt murmurs. You can smell his laundry powder - it’s faintly floral. For a moment you’re glad he’s blind, knowing he can’t tell you’re staring at the soft curve of his bottom lip. 

"I- fucking- I’m going home,” You rush out. "I can't do this. I can't do feelings, feelings for my boss " You moan, face hot with what feels like shame. Maybe it’s arousal. 

“Wait." Matt murmured, the tone of his voice taking on a more serious edge. A small frown pulled at his lips. "You don't have to go. We can just ignore this entire conversation - forget it even happened." His voice is genuine, gentle and concerned. “Please.”

You swallow thickly, having to tilt your head up to look up at him, door frame digging into your spine. 

When you don’t speak or move, a smile lifts the corner of his mouth. His step forward is quiet, and even with your back already against the frame, you can’t help but push into it a little more. “What do you want?” He murmurs softly, gently cupping your hands with his. The calluses of his palms are rough against your smooth knuckles, the contrast jarring. 

“I- I don’t-” You stutter, voice caught in your throat. What the fuck was happening?

His thumb lightly brushed against the palm of your hand, gentle and comforting as he felt across your love line. 

Matt took another step closer, so close you could nearly feel his breath on your cheek, his firm chest gently pressing against the swell of your breasts. 

"What do you want?" He repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.

You let out a small whimper, looking up at the scruff on his jaw, the aged lines on his face, the greys starting to grow at his temples. Matt- Mr Murdock was much older, more experienced. There was the faint sparkle of greys in the stubble around his mouth too. 

Without a word, he reached up and gently cupped your soft jaw in his hand. The pad of his thumb gently stroked across your cheek, and you did your best to breathe as he tilted your face up to meet his unseeing gaze behind his glasses. A flush had warmed your face - he could feel the vestiges of innocence in the curve of your face. 

You could tell that even through the darkened shades he was doing his best to focus all of himself on you. Your heartbeat thumped hard in your throat - hard enough that he could feel it on the fingers curled gently around your jaw. 

He leaned in slightly, his breath ghosting over your skin. "Just tell me what you want," he whispered again, his voice low and husky, a tinge of pleading in his tone.

"Please," You whisper, tilting your face up. " Please."

"Please, what?" He tilted his head to the side. He was so close, his lips almost brushing against yours. He could smell the sweat and desire on you, you were sure of it. "Tell me what you want," he said again, his voice almost guttural. Your eyes flutter shut on instinct - from need or shyness, you don’t know. Your free hand twists into the doorframe. 

You know he can’t see you. But at that he groans and holds you still as he presses a firm full kiss on your waiting mouth. It’s slow and gentle, and for a moment he just holds you there - until you groan just the tiniest bit.

It’s like a switch flips - he drops your other hand, gripping at your plush hip and presses you hard into the jamb, squishing your soft tits and the swell of your tummy into the muscled planes of his body. The hand that was once gentle on your face snakes up into your hair, tugging until it’s out and then tangling his fingers firmly at the base so he can manipulate your head so he can deepen the kiss into something wet and filthy. 

You gasp, pulling him in closer with the front of his shirt, scrambling for purchase as you twist your hands in the fabric. As your mouth opens, Matt licks in - he tastes like sweet coffee and spit and sin. A whimper leaves you, unbidden, as he continues to paw at your soft hips, body lighting up from the inside. You know your underwear is ruined as it sticks to your cunt, already dripping from the feeling of him on you. 

He made a groan of his own, the sound escaping low and deep in his throat. His face is flushed, eyes lidded as he pulls away, still holding you in place.

"Oh fuck-" You whine as he pull away, you bosom heaving against his solid chest. "What the fuck, come back-"

Matt wets his swollen lip, his breath heavy. You know that you probably look the same - if not worse. He leaned down and brushed his lips over the soft exposed skin of your neck, leaving soft, feather-like kisses as he used his grip in your hair to gently guide your head to the side. "So impatient," he teases.

At that you moan reedily. “Oh- Matt-”

His grip on your hip tightened, pulling you firmly against him. You squeak as your breasts squish into him, pelvis to pelvis - you can feel him thickening in his pants, a flush climbing your cheeks.

Matt’s lips rove lazily over your skin. He could feel your pulse flutter against his lips, racing harder and faster. You could feel his sharklike grin as he hummed softly against your skin. "Be patient," he chided, biting gently at your throat.

A strangled groan rips from you as you feel him slide the hand on your hip to your chest, gently palming your full tits. “Okay?” He murmurs quietly. You don’t have the brain to be embarrassed about the pudge of your tummy being smushed.

“ Yes,” you whine. “Yes, just- please, Matthew.”

That’s all it takes for him to break - his mouth is back on you, fierce and possessive. “Again. Say it again,” He demands between kisses. You hear a clatter - he’s ripped off his glasses, throwing them carelessly behind him.  

“Matthew,” you breathe out as you slide a hand so it's pressed against his firm abdomen, heel against your abs, fingers ghosting his belt buckle. Matt growls at that, dragging you to his desk roughly - papers and pens alike hit the floor. 

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” He grinds out as he tugs open your pants. "Any?” “Matt-!” You squeak as he rips your blouse open, buttons flinging across the room. Your soft breasts sit heavy in your utilitarian bra, and he tuts when he feels it. His fingers are adept and nimble as they quickly unhook the back, wrenching it off - it skitters when it hits the wood floor. 

“ Fuck-” he bites out as he palms the dove soft, squishy flesh of your tits, roughly palming at your nipples. A small shriek pops out of your mouth when he twists a perk nipple, standing proud in the cold. In turn you start to fumble with his belt but he gently smacks your hand away, dropping to his knees.

“Matthew?” You ask confused - but he shoves his way forward, lifting one of your legs so it's hooked over his shoulder. Embarrassment floods your face when he mashes his face directly up against your clothed cunt.

“Matt!” you can help but protest, as he groans and you yelp as you feel him grab at the zip and rip your fucking pants so that your drenched panties are on display. “ Fuck,” He snarls, hands on your soft thighs, fingering at your stretch marks, kneading at them. “I can smell you from here.” Matt sounds enamoured, and he whines as he presses his nose to your soaked cunt, lapping at the cloth. 

“Oh my guh-” You can’t get the full word out - he shoves your panties to the side, latching onto your clit with his mouth and sucking. Your brain shorts out for a moment, all forms of conscious thought disappearing. His moans are almost as loud as yours when he finally unlatches to smack the flat of his tongue against your wet messy slit. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Matt whines, throaty and wrecked. Your heart stops for a moment when you look at him, where he’s cradled in your thighs - for the first time, you can see the proper softness in his unseeing gaze, the longing crease between his eyebrows. “Can I-”

“Yes, yes,” You rush out, nodding frantically. “ Please, Matthew.”

Normally, Matt was incredibly pedantic about making sure his partners knew what they were agreeing too - but you. You . You made him toss common sense on the window. He groans and shoves his face back into your slick cunt, ignoring your yelp when your legs are stretched open further to accommodate his broad shoulders. He stands so he can shove harder into your wetness, cheeks smearing your arousal everywhere. Spit and slick dribbles down your taint and arse and over Matt’s stubble - but he can’t find himself to care as he laps at you, trying to eat his fill. The rasp of his five o’clock shadow against your hole is sickeningly delicious. The smell of your arousal was so heady and intoxicating that he couldn’t even find it in him to be embarrassed at how desperate he was acting.

He can’t help but groan, realising you can barely see him over the chub of your mons and plush tummy. Your body is so delightfully soft and Matt can’t resist the urge to grab and paw at your soft pudge - your stomach, your padded hips, your thighs. The way your heart ticks faster when he starts grabbing at you only urges him on more. One of his hands drifts back to your swollen clit, still sensitive and puffy from being sucked on - your hand grabbing firmly at his hair when he starts deftly rubbing tight circles as it. The pulling and yowling seems to encourage him of anything, licking more firmly. 

The press of his fingers, the fingers you’d spent hours daydreaming about, finally press into your sloppy hole as he switches his mouth back to your clit. “Are you even breathing?” You can’t help but ask - the rumble of his laugh tells you he’s probably not doing it enough. “Oh fu-” Your back bows as he rubs methodically against the spongy bit at the roof of your cunt, stupid noises babbling out of you when you grip at his hair. “Ma- Matt, Matthew, oh God, oh o -”

His fingers stop moving as much, just pressing hard as your cunt starts to seize, your body curling tightly as your muscles tighten immensely at the precipice of your orgasm. Your clit twitches as the nerves under the skin continue to be abused by Matt’s mouth that was firmly suctioned to flesh directly under your soft mons. His nose was pressed into the flesh, squished happily into you. A hiccuped noise of pleasure rips out of you, reedy and desperate. “I- Plea-”

He doesn’t stop when you cum - he pulls his fingers out of you, yes, but he immediately starts lapping at your now puffy and leaky cunt like a dog, as if desperate to make sure he eats all of your dripping slick and cum. You shriek a little as he shifts you, licking at your taint to clean up all of it. “Mat- that- oh my god-”

“ Fuck , you’re such a good fucking girl,” Matt says, desperately out of breath. Your slick and his spit shines on the lower half of his face, and he doesn’t even attempt to wipe it off before standing and dropping his weight onto you to grab your face, kissing you wetly. You can taste your own thick arousal in his mouth, and can’t help but squeal when the seat of his pants bumps up against your sensitive sex.

“T-thank you-” You hiccup out between the press of his open mouth to yours. “I- please lemme-”

“Yeah sweetheart, hold on-” Matt rushes out as he tugs open his pants, groaning when his engorged cock slaps out against his stomach. It’s as large and as thick as the rest of him, nestled in a thatch of curls. Precum drops onto his shirt, and you can’t help but reach up and deftly unbutton it. Matt huffs a laugh at your gentleness - he’d all but ruined your blouse. Your eyes widen - you knew he was built and had some… rough history, but nothing prepares you for how the yellow street light dips and fills the curves of his trim muscles, the starkness of the thin gnarly scars that sit slashed across his full chest. 

“Jesus, Matt,” you exhale, fingers gently tracing them. His expression softens as he hears the concern taint your arousal. 

“I’m okay,” He murmurs, pressing his forehead to the roundness of your shoulder. His hands are gentle as he pulls you away from running your own over the scars - not to stop you, but to comfort. “It was a long time ago.”

You know there’s nothing you can say here - so you let him guide your face up so he can kiss you silly again, the head of his cock nudging at your cunt. Matt takes it slow, gently laying you out on the table so he can grip at your hips, revelling at the feeling of his fingers sinking into the soft padding. 

“You’re so soft,” He can’t help but murmur, kneading at your hips like a cat. The raised smoothness of your stretch marks feel like a soft pulled silk against Matt’s fingertips. “Feel so pretty…”

“Matthew,” you whine, face pinking. “That’s- you’re my boss, you can’t say that!”

Matt laughs at that - a little disbelieving. “Sweetheart, I just ate you out until you came on my face, and I’m about to fuck you raw. I think I’m allowed to appreciate how beautiful you feel under my hands.”

“Fair enough,” you gasp out as he rubs the fat head of his cock up and down your slit. Matt groans, eyes shut tight with his free hand kneading your plump hip. The heady heat of your dampened cunt makes his senses blur at the edges, the world narrowing down to the throb of your pussy. 

“Tell me I can fuck you,” Matt says, desperately, voice rough. “Sweetheart, please-”

“Yes, fucking damn it, Matthe- ah-”

Your breath catches as he notches the head of his cock into your cunt. It’s thick and hot, burning you from the inside out. “You can take it baby,” He grinds out, teeth clenched as he slowly slides all the way in. “There- there you go, good girl-”

You can’t help but gasp wetly as he bottoms out, eyes slamming shut as he gently starts rolling his hips. His heavy sac kisses against your taint and furled arsehole with each careful thrust as Matt carves a space in your cunt, slowly driving himself in harder and harder , until the table starts to shake with the force of it, your little ah, ah, ah ’s turning into gasped wails, as he whines into your shoulder. “Matthew-” you sob out as he grips tightly at your love handles so he can drag you onto his fat cock in time with his heavy thrusts. “Oh fuck- fuck-”

“So good,” Matt praises, strained as he pounds into you, hips snapping. He’d lowered himself onto you, his firmness pressing against your soft plush front. “Feel so good-” his tendons strain under your hands as you try to ground yourself by gripping at his wrist, spinning embarrassingly fast towards your orgasm. 

“It’s alright, c’mon,” Matt pants out - he noses under your ear. “Cum for me, please- cum for me sweetheart-”

The noise you let out is high and animal, desperate - your stomach tenses awfully and hard, legs shaking as your orgasm rips through you. Matt’s arms tighten around you as he murmurs softly in your ear, hips still rolling gently. “That’s it, that’s it-” His voice is strained and raspy. 

A wet sob gutters you. “Matthew, Matthew-”

Matt groans into your neck - you feel it when he cums, your throbbing cunt ripping the seed out of him. He chokes out a curse, his weight dropping down onto you, sweaty and pressing wet kisses onto your throat. “Good girl, you’re such a good girl.”

It’s like lying in a dense fog when Matt pulls out of you with a wet schlop. “Oh fuck,” You mumble, blinking hazily. Matt chuckles.

“Good?” He asks softly, free hand coming up to cup at your cheek, thumb running softly under your eye. You whimper a little - you can feel the slick and cum dripping out of your puffy wet cunt, pooling onto the table. Matt chuckles. “That good, huh?”

Before you can reply, Matt hums, slowly ducking his head back between your legs. “Matt-” He shushes you softly. “Let me clean up the mess, baby.”

His tongue is gentle as he laps at the mess between your thighs. Matt can’t help but groan at the smell, the bitter salty and heady taste. He’d missed this - being able to indulge in a sweet used cunt, a woman sobbing in pleasure above him. With work and his growing affection for you, he’d lost the want for casual sex. Father Lantom would’ve been proud. Matt locks his lips to your hole and sucks, swallowing down the mix of your cum and his. When your whines turn from pleasured to overstimulated, pained, Matt pulls away, with a final soft kiss to your puffy clit. Then a soft press of his lips to your thigh, and your hip. 

Matt looks like a damn vision when he looks at you - face flushed, hair sticking up in every direction. His smile is soft and heavenly as he gently eases you back into your pants, “Ah- sorry about your shirt, sweetheart,” He says sheepishly.

You can’t help but laugh a little. “You’re impossible,” You murmur, reaching forward and helping him button up his shirt - you’re still out of breath, and Matt’s skin is hot to the touch when you wipe the sweat off his brow. When he leans slightly into your touch, your heart stutters in your chest. Matt cocks his head a little, a small smile ticking at his lips, as if he can hear it. 

He hums, pressing a small kiss to your cheek - then your lips. “Hello,” Matt murmurs - his expression is soft, the street light seeping across his face like water colour paint on a wet page. 

“Hi,” You whisper, almost shy. Oh God, you’d just slept with your boss - your boss who was gently kissing your face as he dressed you. His hands are gentle on you, despite the rough pads of his fingers - like the rasp of sandpaper on silk. Matt chuckles. 

It had started to drizzle outside - the faint sounds of sleet hitting the roof soft and cold as a faint breeze sneaks in through the gaps in the windows. Matt doesn’t say anything - just grabbing his coat off the back of his chair and gently pulling the heavy material onto your shoulders as he tugs you into his lap. 

“Would it be presumptuous for me to take you out for dinner now?” Matt asks after a moment. A laugh startles out of you.

“Pretty presumptuous, yeah. But… I’d like that.”