#i've kind of been waiting for this all semester

[cryptfile]

Ꮺ˖˚₊ leeches, [ logan howlett x vampire!reader au ]

summary — logan howlett lacks of patience (and he can also be a nice little blood-bag while losing his temper). 8k+

warnings — 18+ mdni, fem!reader implied, blood kink (keep in mind you’re a vampire! not twilight but more of a true blood kind?) downright filth im sorry, dead dove do not eat, smoker!reader, endless tension, manhandling, praise kink, kind of porn without plot (LIES CAUSE IT HAS ONE THO??) my boy's into paaaaaain can't help it it's canon, age-gap at first (reader is her 20's but again, vampire), public sex (it just happened), daily reminder to wrap it before you tap it, p in v, choking, filthy mouth, pet names.

side notes — thought this could take place after days of the future past? au cause why nottttt ,,currently on ovulation season so bare with me,,, been a little mia cause i’m surviving aka going through the worst semester of my life at uni? internships are breaking my ass currently so well, here i am just existing, also, english’s not my first language and everyday i’m grateful for it, so any mistakes i’m not sorry in advance lol i’m also too lazy to correct once published,, feel free to send more logan requests since i've basically been a slut for him for a while now (i'm rotting in hell).

He could swear the mansion got ten degrees hotter when you came in.

It’s inevitable. It’s this thing you carry, the way you move — Graceful, elegant, almost compelling as the air fills the room. It’s not public knowledge that you’re not a mutant itself, yet you’re presented like one, like you have healing factors and age painfully slow, but human after all, a subtle lie, one that can harm no one.

It’s safe to say you catch his attention in the most annoying way: How couldn’t you? All you do is this weird seduction he’s appealed to, whether you’re conscious or not it’s just captivating, an invisible force that even when you ignore it is there, there waiting for the perfect moment to flood every time you happen to be in the same room.

Captivating. That’s the word.

The room becomes smaller after, the air grows thicker, and it’s almost like a ticking bomb, the way you wouldn’t even look at his face while he’s noticeable pinning after Jean Grey, the mystery that surrounds you and he cannot seem to resolve no matter how much time he puts into it.

It’s like he's the plague. You don’t really try to exchange more than just a few words, only when it's needed and you cannot avoid him any longer, and he didn’t say anything at first, keeping his distance too cause he don’t see how you’d become friends, cause after all, what he could have in common with a girl that doesn't surpass the twenty years?

But soon he's upset about it, even when he doesn't really say anything out loud, it's a spike he cannot reach under his skin. You seem to become friends with anyone but him, mutant kids in your history lessons, the rest of the team, even the damn mailman when he delivered a package — You'd say hello like it's a long time lover or so, greeting people like they mean the world to you.

He has students now that are asking for a transfer from his class to yours cause it seems you're fun to be around, more like he is, and he fucking hates it.

It's fair to say it's been getting into his mind lately. That thing you do with your hair, twisting it in your index finger on a lock as you speak, the subtle red glow in your eyes he always catches by mistake, not enough fast to stop looking at you, pretending he didn't even see in your direction at first.

Tension. Logan just happens to hate tension.

In fact. He's almost sure your problem is personal, that you might hate him enough to act like he didn't exist at all, enough to avoid him like he was not there.

That's why it's just so weird.

When he finds himself walking down the hallway to the kitchen and he smells this cherry-scented aroma that settles under his nostrils, he changes the direction he's walking to, to instead, follow the path to the person that was silently smoking outside. Hiding. Maybe, a student he'll have to scold like the old man he was turning into.

No smoking in the mansion!

However, as the night is just settling, he doesn't recognize a little mutant, but instead happens to recognize you in the middle of the gardens of the mansion, close to the maze; escaping the comfort of the inside to enjoy a self-rolled cherry tobacco he has smelled before in the air. He's a victim mostly, cause his legs move on it's own as his mouth go dry, approaching you in silence.

"What do you want?" you ask when he's halfway there. And your tone is just cold as ever, not an ounce of feeling as he contemplates your side profile, the way the tobacco sticks out of your parted lips, seated on a bench hidden between bushes and trees — "Is Scott bitching about the smell going into the mansion already?"

No. He's not. But he doesn't have enough reasons to explain exactly why he's outside if you asked, why, all of sudden, he followed the scent of cherry knowing it was you the only one who carried a colts package in the pocket of every single jacket you wore, constantly asking Storm if she could hold on to the bag of filters for you while you rolled in the worst moments.

It's distracting, to say the least.

"Yeah," he quickly says, lying cause in reality he hasn't seen the guy in the whole day, yet it sounds like something he would say. "Do you happen to have another one of those to share?"

You don't talk much, hand reaching his as you offered him from your tobacco without a single word, the same that was placed between your lips and now was on his in what seemed to be something more intimate than what he'd like to admit, the cherry taste filling his lungs as they weirdly enough, shared a cig.

"Aren't you too young to be smoking?"

You laugh, and the sound sends a shiver down his spine cause he has never heard a sound quite like it, nothing that resembles that throaty, raspy sound that came out of your lips in amusement thanks to his words. He, out of all people, has never seen you like that — "And how old you think I am?"

He seems to think about it for a second, carefully picking his next words. Logan knows that women and their age are a tricky thing, you cannot say a number that's too compromising, nor act stupid and say something that's clearly not correct — "Not a day over twenty-two."

The answer pleases you, and he just knows he's wrong, but you don't seem bothered by it, instead, you nod pretending he's right, like he just got the answer right away.

He can see why everyone's switching classes now. Cheeky bastards.

"Twenty-two is not young at all, but i'm twenty-seven though," you say, and he scoffs at the statement, seeking for any change in your heartbeat, any sign of a lie. The strange thing happens when he cannot pick any heart at all, any sign of pulse.

"You are pretty young still," he says, against his age, you’re just starting out living—. "You don't look like you are twenty-seven at all."

"Cause I age slower than the rest," it's a practiced lie. One you know from repeating the same explanation over and over again, the priced answer of why you haven't changed a single bit in the past few years and made you a mutant — "I never looked my age."

Such a fucking liar. He doesn't need any heartbeats to confirm it cause deep down you are a terrible actress, he can see it so clear, how you're calculating every answer, thinking about the correct thing to say, the normal thing to say.

"Is that your thing?" he asks, playing pretend almost as bad as you do. Tilting his head to the side as he questions you — "Age slowly?"

"I have healing powers," you explain as he tossed you the joint once again. "My saliva kinds of help healing wounds. It's pretty boring."

"Boring" Logan repeats. The word itself sounds so damn fun in your lips it's contradicting. "That doesn’t sound really boring."

There's a moment of silence after that. Where you smoke in silence taking in the taste of the cherry, and he is having a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that your lips also touched the side of the cigar he was smoking before, the plain lies you've been repeating over and over the last ten minutes.

It's almost infuriating. Makes his blood boil without question, he surely endures your treatment of silence, but being lied to? That's a whole different level.

“How old are you, kid?”

Your brows furrow in response, a clueless face. You are pulling out this show once again Logan don’t buy for a damn second. Something about the scrunch in your nose, the way you dismissed your own powers as if they weren’t enough. He knows it’s all a lie. He knows it even when he doesn’t really know you at all, when it’s the first time you’re truly speaking to him after your arrival to the mansion almost a year ago.

“How old you really are?”

You laugh at the question once again, and he just knows it, knows it when he sees you barely illuminated by the dim light of the moon, the act you always keep up, a web of tangled lies you have to be into— “Told you i'm twenty-seven already, didn't you hear?”

“Is it now?” he asks, amused by the sass, exhaling the smoke of the low-quality tobacco he doesn't understand why you're so invested in when passed it to him—. “Cause you don’t seem very convinced, it really sounds like bullshit to me.”

You're almost offended. By the look you give it's like the worst mistake he could ever make, yet you remain silent, not giving the satisfaction of an honest answer yet. Testing his patience like he did have one to begin with.

"Is that why I can’t hear your heartbeats, darlin'? Cause you age so slowly?”

The nickname scratches a part of your brain, and you hate him for it. The word rolls out of his tongue with an accent, smoking your cherry tobacco cause you happen to be nice.

“You can’t?” you’re good at faking it suddenly, at least, that's what he thinks when your brows furrow in alleged curiosity, stiffening your back, uncomfortable. “How weird.”

“Damn right it is” that's when you realize he knows you are lying. Even when you don’t talk much, even when you act all stiff and bothered when he’s close, he knows that you are fully invested in lying. In whatever twisted little lie you've planned, like it was your real life and not something you made up. “Are you going to tell me truth, then or do I have to find out? Does the professor know that you're lying?”

The smoke lingers in the air.

“How old are you?” he asks once again, demanding an honest answer this time — "Thirty? Thirty-five?"

You find his questions annoying, mostly cause he won't stop until he gets an answer, one that pleases him enough to leave you alone, the other part cause you happen to like the playful banter you two keep going, dangerously much. You don't hate attention it's clear, what you do hate it's the way he seemed to see pass the lie, to demand more even when he has no right to.

He enjoys being the one who's right though, Logan cannot help it. He's pleased to catch that look on your face who says everything but nothing at once, to have you where he wanted, almost at the edge of admitting a truth.

Is it payback because you've been stealing all of the little mutants from his class? He's jealous cause kids like being around you? It does not make much sense, but he is fully invested. Questioning all.

Even when you're outside, it seems like the air grows thicker. And Logan finds himself seeking for your breathing, cause he don't know nothing, nothing about you more than the fact you don't seem to have a heartbeat, or pulse and now, breathing.

“If you really are that eager to know, i'm a hundred and twenty-seven” the words float in the air for a while, and he's sure you're just messing with him, cause there's no way a pretty little face like yours had endured a century. “I've been alive for quite a while.”

He doesn't fully believe it first. Of course he doesn't. Logan's sure you're messing with him also, distracting him about your real age.

“And I supposed this do come from you slow aging powers” He tries to give you a point there, but it's difficult to be serious when you're just playing with him—. "How so?"

To be honest, you do have a little temper yourself, you've learned to stand up for yourself most of the time, so when you happen to notice he's teasing you, that he doesn't really believe you, you adopt this attitude of defense he notices as you shift over the wood you're seated in.

"No, it doesn't" you steal the joint from his hands to have a smoke yourself. "You really aren't as smart as I thought you were, huh?"

Do you happen to have a dead wish? His muscles tense beneath his shirt, and in contrast of his problem, you can hear it all. All the sounds his body makes when he's all bothered just by the beat of his heart, that annoying sound his bones make each time he moves.

"What are you?"

"That's it," the praising goes directly into his chest, the tone you use to tell him he's going in the right direction it feels just so right he forgets why he got mad in the first place—. "That's what you should be asking right there."

It's almost a shame having to admit he would also switch classes. That he would also go through all the paperwork himself without a second thought and that right there, is pathetic, but you're smiling at him as if you're encouraging the man to try harder, to find the answer himself, and fuck — He's old, too old, he's tired, he's in a bad mood as fucking usual, and he happens to dig a drink in the quiet of his own room, but he's pulled by something as equal as devastating as the gravity force, shoot towards you in pure need to have some answers even if he has to make you spit them.

"I find it strange, cause when you don't have a heartbeat, you aren't usually alive" Deep down he's fascinated, hazel eyes glues on your face trying to understand. He feels like he has it in the tip of his tongue waiting to leave his mouth as a catastrophic answer, but he doesn't find the right words.

"That's cause i'm not," you state it like it's something obvious. And just as he knows you're lying, this time, he knows you're telling the truth, blowing the smoke in his direction just to bother him — "Why do you think i'm teaching history after all huh?"

He hasn't seen it all, it seems.

Yeah.

He's losing it after that night.

It’s known that Logan has sleeping problems, but that night specifically he thinks about something else rather than what usually torments him, a truth he also has to keep a secret now that he's learned more about it.

See, Logan doesn't expect you to be really dead. Much less to hear what you are and have been hiding this whole time from the rest of the people in the mansion — He also learns that you feed on blood, that vampires are a common thing in the world and that he shouldn't, at least, be that surprised when he's a mutant in a world full of humans himself.

You are a folklore myth on small villages, stories in Rumania and horror character in films, so you don't blame him when as you spoke, he finally understands why you're so damn attractive, so damn seductive as you explained more about your way of living, some memories you've been keeping to yourself since being a vampire was so damn solitary, memories he listens to cause he knows what it's like, to be misunderstood, to be eternal, to be alone as well.

It makes the two of you grow closer by the next weeks. You now talked during broad daylight about random shit at first, about the war sometimes, about your condition as he refers to when people is around, eaves-dropping on what you two are talking so invested in. Friends.

Simple as that.

And it's safe to admit also that in the course of the next days, Logan Howlett is a fucking mess, and he knows it, but he won't do anything about it.

He won't flirt cause he knows you're a hell of a woman, in every good sense of the word, that he's way too damaged for a vampire even, for all kinds of people out there, and as much as he'd like to say anything, he values your attention, how you switched the attitude of acting like he didn't exist to be a friend, one that you came to share secrets with a cherry aroma glued in their skin.

It gets him insane, to the point he's no longer spending much time with Jean and people start to pick up on it as if he didn't have enough headaches already. He doesn't care. Shit you are not bothered by what people say, and to be honest, he cannot seem to care either.

At first, he's reluctant of keep on talking to you as normal as it is. He's not really invested in religious themes, but he sure admits you're a sin by all meanings, a religious experience of some kind if anyone asked him — He agrees with what he has heard also in the hallways. Innocent conversations of teens and their platonic crush on their teachers. You are pretty hot.

He's so interested in knowing more about you, about the nights you spend in Rumania, when you leave to Canada, the different lives you've lived across the years. He finds himself looking forward to share his stories too, weird enough, cause he's over two centuries himself and he just craves to talk about it with someone who also gets him in a deeper level, that weariness that fills your body when you age so long.

You got the best of immortality, and instead of feeling envious, Logan finds himself attracted to you so much like he's never been in his whole existence. Not at the point it happened with you at least.

By the end of the first month he knows your little treats. You use a lot of sunscreen, and avoid activities outside as much as you possibly can with those classic, tiny black sunglasses that hided you from the rays of the sun, always in the shadow so unapproachable; how you'd usually dismiss food offerings from anyone who's kind enough to even offer you something, and when you haven't fed well during the course of the week, you'd become the most maddening woman he'd ever met.

Maddening.

"What wrong with you, Leech?" Leech. You've been in such a bad mood lately that when he's seating next to you in another random smoking session outside, your fingers twitch, clearly pissed at the nickname after saying multiple times you don't like it.

"I'm not in the mood for plays now."

He can tell from before. When you talked to him that very morning and stared at the collar of his flannel for what it seemed a good, nice minute, he realizes the same moment that you were staring at that pulse point in his neck, where the flesh blood was pumping in his blood flow: You're hungry, as any living creature would be and at your own manner, in constant control as you fight the sense of hunger.

So instead, the mutant ask, like he always does when he’s curious about something that involves you:

"When did you last feed?"

"A couple of weeks ago."

That would explain it. You don't talk much about your meal plan, he knows the professor is in charge of all of that. You've told him about blood bags and hospitals, but he's not really aware of how constant you need to eat, how the blood supplies most of your energy, makes you stronger, gives you vitality, so Logan at first, don't really know what its like to not drink any blood in the course of two weeks.

"What happened with the blood bags from the Hospital?"

The mention of blood out loud seems to triggers you. A groan escaping your lips as you can swear you feel the taste in your mouth — "Don't know. Haven't seen a single one this week, Charles said something about next week, problems in the bank I guess."

You're clearly worked up. It's a new look he hasn't registered before, your hair is tangled in a less-composed look, and there's a slight shake in your hands as if you're going through withdrawal, deprived for what you needed the most.

"And animals?" he questions, trying to find a solution. “Can’t you eat a cat or something?”

"Like shit i'm going to feed from a fucking animal," you're almost immediately grossed out, scrunching your nose at the idea. "I can barely handle being so close to a damn human but animals? I'd rather fucking die this time for real, no waking up."

"That bad huh?" the mutant asks, taking a sip from the beer he sneaked outside, chucking lightly afterwards. "So you're a leech with elegant taste, huh? Of course you are."

"Clean blood is rare," you explain, rolling your eyes. It's inevitable. He knows you hate the nickname so much that he insists to keep on calling you that way just to get a reaction—. "Humans nowadays taste like dirt. They consume drugs among other substances, pills, food supplements, even damn vitamins, don’t get me started about blood diseases cause it gets me in a bad temper. Every single thing affects on your taste, even what you eat. It's all registered there. Clean, good blood is rare to find. Call me elegant, call me picky. It's a damn fact."

"And what about mutant blood?" he questions. And it seems like a mere phrase at first, one with no subtle tones, he’s usually curious about your nature so you don’t pay much attention as he spoke—. “You’re picky about mutants too?”

“No, i’ve never had a mutant before.” The truth is, you hate feeding from people, the act being something so intimate, so damn personal, you refrain yourself. Killing humans, picking a next victim to fed on, is considered now a treat you don't appreciate from your kind, making you steal from hospitals and any kind of blood bank before Charles offered you help. You haven't fed from a mutant, cause you avoided everyone equally, but you don't want to be rude about it. “You all smell different, but i’d be lying. Maybe yes, i’d be picky about it too, feeding is something intimate.”

It's an undeniable admission, and now that he's trying to be in your position, he would also be picky about someone's blood. Logan remains stoic cause he’s suddenly filled by the thought of something else, a glimpse of his own weird creativity he forces himself to push aside, to really suppress now that it's not the time or the moment.

“How do I smell?” It's too late to stop the words from coming out of his mouth when he asks her. And at first, is out of pure curiosity. He has never encountered a vampire in his life until you, let alone had someone talking about the subtle tastes of the blood being undead, so he doesn't want to let the opportunity slip — Of course he wants to know if an over two hundred mutant like himself would be as remotely good as a fresh, clean bag from the hospital.

"You stink like wet dog," he surely deserves it after all the times he’s been calling you a leech — "Like those cigars you tend to smoke, alcohol, and musk. It's similar as wood. That smell you got when you're in a forest and it's not raining but straight pouring."

"Is this a way of telling me i'd taste bad, peach?"

You make a mental note to let him know after you like peach way more than leech.

"If i'd found a human smelling like that, you won't be hearing from me anytime soon" you're just messing with him. A playful banter you enjoy more than ever, the distraction you needed to think in something else rather than the blood bags you craved so deeply — "Hell, i've would just walked the other way."

"So i'm taking you won't be feeding from me anytime soon."

It all takes a dark turn there. You're very aware of the tension the last month now that you talk to him in daily basis, but it’s just mere tension, nothing that ever goes beyond the limit. Logan has never said something to flirt with you despite the million chances he got, and he always remained like a friend, one that you enjoy spending time with now. Cannot be blamed when you're taken aback.

“Cat got your tongue, kiddo?” Man. You're about to whine about the name before you remember he is indeed, older than you are. Vampire or mutant.

"You want me to feed from you?"

He seems so willing when you ask. Even when you teased about his smell calling him a wet dog. He just seems so eager to let you just do it, try a mutant for the first time.

"Yeah," he dismisses it like it's not something so deep — "I doubt Charles is going to let you take a bite since you could clearly kill him, and I'm not sure the others would be pleased with the idea of you sinking your teeth in them, so yes. Me, leech."

Logan Howlett doesn't really smell bad. And you don't know why cause he has all the ingredients to fucking stink, yet, you'd call him interesting. That's what you thought when you find his pulse point again, the vein in his neck you looked earlier in the morning, thinking just as the same you were thinking now.

Of course you would feed from him. Is it a good thing to do? No, in any other circumstances you'd decline. He's your friend.

Now? You’re having a hard time.

"So I'm guessing that you're pleased with the idea, then," Real talk?, you just want to hear him say it. He doesn't talk much usually, but now that he's very vocal about what's on his mind, you have to take advantage of it—. "I'm not sure either. But I do think Storm may be interested too."

He seems content with the response, taking a long sip from his beer before adding — "Please, go and ask her so you're less annoying."

You're almost completely sure he doesn't find you annoying. You also don't care about Storm. And maybe he knows you're not going anywhere, that you're not moving.

"You really want me to bite you?"

"I dunno now, princess" he looks at you pleased now cause he got you where he wanted to, cause he managed to awake all the interest now that you're looking at him "Are you going to pull a Dracula on me?"

"No, i'm not going to suck you dry if that's what you're asking."

Logan chuckles. He's a damn masochist. It's been like that as long as he can remember. It may have to be with his healing powers cause he likes it more than usual, but the idea gets to his head soon enough, all falling so damn fast: Your breathing would be against his neck and he'd take the bite like a damn champ.

"Yeah I can handle you," he says, aroused. "You're not gonna hurt me if you take some blood. I'll be fine and you won't be a pain in the ass."

He acts so gruff about it but you hear the sound of his heartbeat already high enough to wake the entire mansion, his labored breathing since he suggested the idea himself. He digs it, strange enough. Thrives on the idea.

He's a grown man already, and he can take a little leech like yourself.

It's clear you're hungry, cause it doesn't take much for you to accept, nodding like you're defeated, like you just lost the war entirely, cause there's no many options here to take and even if it were, you are now interested in have him more than any other blood bag. In fact. To hell with the hospital.

"Okay."

It's a simple answer, and it sure works with him as you get close to him, the bench you always used to sit now seeming so small as you look around confirming you guys really are alone—. "You won't tell anyone?"

It's something stupid to ask, cause after all that time he has never said anything, keeping your secrets as if they were his own, saving you from weird questions people get sometimes as they didn't know much about you. He's clearly not going to say nothing at all.

"Are you going to stop whining for a second and just eat darlin'? Cause I might change my mind here."

He's feeling overload soon after.

You don’t need a formal invitation to lean closer to his neck.

There's no way to describe it also cause he has never seen something like that, never felt a similar sensation more than when he's fucking, the cold touch of your fingers in his chest, taunting the vein in his neck without a previous warning before leaning in even closer than before—. "Stay still" you demand, face close against his bare skin, only one goal in mind. "Don't move for a minute. Just-"

You cannot finish the sentence, and Logan can experience the sporadic pain of the bite first hand when your teeth finally sink in his neck, piercing the flesh so easily as you let the blood fill your mouth. He grunts at the sharp pain, his face contracting momentarily before it's replaced by a nice wave of pleasure, one that hits him right in the guts as he grabs you by the nape of your neck, pushing you against him, almost demanding you to be closer, to keep on taking what you want, what you've been craving for two weeks.

When did he turned into this perverted sick? Getting off by something so primal as the fact you're feasting on him.

The feeling of your lips and the clear suck you gave when feeding are sending him into a spiral, and to be honest, he didn't expect to be so devastated by you, by the way your fingers stay against his chest to prevent him from moving, pinning the mutant between the wood bench and yourself so he won’t move, won’t do anything unless you want him to,pressing on the wound to draw more blood out.

"You heal so damn fast," you complain, looking at the traces of your bite with an unpleased face as they disappeared on his skin as fast as you created them.

"Then bite me again. I don't care."

You chuckle before leaning once again, and you can feel how the air grows hotter than how it was usually, the shift on his breathing as you bite him again, pressing on the wounds once again just to suck.

And you’re hungry, it’s the whole deal. His taste differs from what you believe at first, a huge change from what humans taste like, from what you’re used to deal with in hospitals. There’s a subtle taste of alcohol yes, but it mixes good with the sweet taste of honey, the weird taste you cannot put into words. It must be a mutant thing for sure cause it’s thicker than usual, a mix of flavors that explode in your tongue.

The headache you suffered from the whole week seems to dissapear as you drink in, feeding the monster you responded to in your stomach, demanding you to make him bleed more, to satisfy yourself until you can’t have any more.

Logan, on the other hand, is really fighting against his very own war.

You’re already close enough, but he just wants you damn closer, as much as he possibly can. It’s clear that well, it hurts slightly, but he has endured much worse, means nothing when it’s the pleasure that comes with it who strikes on his body, the light sucking, the idea you’re full of his blood, that you are not on trouble as you were before thanks to him. All because of him.

He's not used to acts on his impulses, but he does it anyway.

"C'mere" he says in a strangled voice, Logan's having no trouble moving you around, grabbing you by the hips to make you straddle him, keeping you glued to his neck as he doesn't want to disturb you—. "You really are a pretty leech, huh?”

You hum against his skin, pleased at the contact, and when he realizes you’re not complaining about his actions, he let his fingers grip your tights, keeping you against him.

You can hear him making this sound, quite like a moan but not exactly when you’re licking the holes you left in his skin, he does heal fast and don’t need any of your help when you’re done, but you coat his skin with your saliva anyway just to speed up the process, cause you want to do it, looking down to him after to check if he’s pale or nearly dead. You never really know.

And Logan himself is just fine cause his fingers gather the blood under your lip when he takes the sight of you sitting in his lap as the pearly white rays of moonlight makes your skin shine, and he pushes them inside your mouth so you don't waste any drop of what it can be considered food.

"So what's the final verdict?" he asks as his hands are now grabbing your tights, there's something so intimate about the moment, so personal, hot as he presses his fingers against the flesh of your muscles, he understand what you said before—. "Do I taste like utter shit?"

"Well, i’d need another taste to have my final decision" he laughs, and he don't really laugh often so the unexpected sound sends a shiver down your spine now that you’ve heard the sound quite a while now—. "Not much, just a little."

“Have you fill then, peach” He encourages you. “I want you full so you don’t whine the rest of the week.”

You don’t have any heartbeat, but if you did, it would be ragging in your ears at his words. At the warmth he’s spreading like a disease on her body that, despite being dead and cold, you can feel more than ever.

“I like peach,” you admit, this time pressing a soft kiss before directly hurt him—. “Leech is annoying.”

He’s going to say something, tease you about it maybe but he’s interrupted by the nice feeling of what he considers are your fangs tearing his skin apart, familiarity hitting him all sudden as he moans, a rough sound that comes from the deep of his throat, hands coming down to squeeze your ass, making you gasp against his neck when you experience the aching need physically forming in his pants.

“Still,” you say, concentrated on not allowing the wounds to close. But at the lack of complaints on what he's doing, Logan’s hands kept wandering around, making you move against his now clearly stiffed cock—. “Fuck’s sake I said still.”

“Stop being a damn brat. You can eat while I move you,” he grunts annoyed, shoving you against him, the friction of his jeans against the thin fabric of your shorts is enough to keep you quiet: Feeding from a stranger and feeding from a person you’re attracted to are two different things, especially in the position you find yourself in. “You don’t have to do anything. Quit whining about it.”

In response, your fingers press against the wound, not caring if it hurts or if it bothers him, but just enough to get him to bleed more and prevent the cut from closing, lapping at the blood that gathered over his collarbone, staining his white tank before you could even avoid it.

Your fingers grab the fabric just to pull it slightly down so it won't bother you, and the deep sound his chest make when he mocks about your desperation is stuck on your brain for the next couple of minutes, indulging in his taste, shutting up the rest of the world.

A moan comes out of your lips, muffling it against his skin. You're too zoomed out to hear it, but he's on a hell of a ride too, moaning as he demands more. It's been a while since the last time you did something like that, combine the pleasure of something as primal as eating with a mundane activity like sex, so you kind of forgot how good it felt, blaming yourself from depriving from something so needed.

"Do you always get this turned on when someone bites you?"

"No" Logan answers as you finish. He's rock hard beneath you, and he lets you know it when he's controlling the movement of your hips, working you against him at a slow pace—. "See, the woman i'm trying to seduce don't usually bite me, nor make me their main dinner plate."

You whine at the friction.

He looks down to the cause of all his damn problems just to notice his pants being damped with nothing but a physical form of need, soothing the uncomfortable fabric of his blue jeans — "So wet for me already, you’re making a damn mess, do you always get this turned on when feeding?"

Cheeky bastard.

He's using your own words against you, and you cannot be less bothered as you laugh softly, licking your lips only cause you know there's dried blood in them, drowned in his smell, the honey taste that lingered in your mouth.

“No, I don’t.”

At the sight, Logan's hand grabs your jaw in a rough movement, making you look at him before making you kiss him, deepening the contact as fast as you give him the chance. His tongue is soon invading your bucal cavity as he takes control of it, slow, intense and needy, as if he was holding on so much time before giving in to his own desires.

It is something like that.

You don't need to breathe in daily basis, but there's a burning sensation in your chest of wanting, of infinite lust you've been also experiencing by yourself.

The old mutant can taste his own blood in your mouth, a metallic taste as he keeps on kissing you until your lips are pink and puffed. He has thought so much about it that now that he has the opportunity, he devours as if he's a starved man having his first meal in what seems are ages.

"You didn't tell me if I tasted bad."

You think about it for a second.

"I'm afraid you're a rare breed cause it doesn't make any sense" You don't need any help now moving, cause you're rolling your hips on top of him at your own pace, allowing him to use his hands for something else—. “You have all the ingredients to taste like shit, but it's nothing but the contrary, even better than the fucking blood bags.”

“Sounds like your going to make me your meal plan, darlin. I’m here offering you a hand and you just take everything,” — “Such a greedy little vampire.”

He doesn't seem to care though, same as before he's nothing but willing to let you take everything as much as he tries to bark about it. He's more worried about his hands now that they're sliding down your oversized shirt, tracing patterns over your stomach, his touch so hot against your usually cold temperature.

"Logan," you whine,— "Someone can see us out here."

"Now you care about that?" his hazel eyes are a shade darker when he speaks. "After you're nice and full of my blood?"

His hands are big enough to take your whole cunt, allowing his digits to roam over the fabric of your underwear, almost thanking you for using those loosened pajama shorts he has seen before that very night as he just takes the fabric and pull it to the side.

"Nobody is going to see us. It's late and everyone's sleeping, leech" he teases you, and you cannot bring yourself to care about the nickname at the feeling of his hand taunting you from over the fabric—. "If you can bite me here outside, you might as well take my cock here too."

You cannot battle against that. You're deep in whatever spell he puts you into, giving in to the attraction and the tension that now needs to be taken care of. Logan's fingers touch you in nothing but experience, cause he knows how to please after so much time alive, how much pressure he needs to apply to leave you plain dumb, pliable for him.

"D'you think I need to stretch you out before fucking you?" he asks against your neck after leaving a reasonable-sized hickey in the zone, he likes the idea of people finding out about what you've been doing with him the next morning. "Or you're a big girl and can take me all by yourself?"

He'd like to take your time with you. Thoroughly enjoy you as much as he wants to, let everyone know you're his now, that you're shuddering thanks to him only, but he's too needy for that, too deprived of you to take his time.

"I want you to use that pretty mouth of yours and talk to me," he demands, coming up to look at your face while torturing you, his index and middle finger rubbing your clit from over the underwear—. "I'm not properly touching you yet and you're losing it already, peach. C'mon, you can talk to me still."

"I can take you," you say in a strangled voice. "Please Logan, please."

It's the plea of your tone that gets him, the soft begging of an ache he can only soothe, your face while you ask for more, not aware of anything else but him.

"Please what?"

"Please just fuck me already," you ask in frustration—. "I just need you to fill me up for a damn while."

You are starting to love the sound of his laugh. The deep sound he makes when he’s really enjoying something, his voice in damn general.

"Be a good little vampire" He says in a gentle tone. Logan’s trying to be kind even when his touch is so rough. "Unbuckle my pants and take my cock out. My hands are busy now, and you can do it yourself."

He is busy indeed. Toying with your underwear being the only thing that’s keeping him from the direct contact, pushing the fabric against your hole as it works as a barrier, preventing his digits to fuck you as he’d like to. He’s busy keeping you in place, preventing you from downright melt as your hands came up to unbuckle his belt first, the sound of the metal as it moves filling the air for a couple of seconds before you put all your attention in the button of his jeans, the zipper coming down with the force you’re using.

“Yeah baby,” he praises—. “You’re doing so good, keep going.”

When you pull the fabric of his briefs down, he’s already leaking for you, pink head, slightly curved to the side, moaning, erratically how much he needs your hands on him, how you're wet and ready for his cock. You close your fist around him, stroking slowly as your hips lift up enough to position yourself on top of him.

He’s big. Damn fucking right he is, you’d expected it from before cause sometimes you swear you can see his full length in his jeans, but taking him in your hand is a struggle but itself.

“Are you going to take me yourself or do you need my help? I know you can.”

Despite his words, he does help. Grabbing the black fabric of your underwear to finally make it to the side, the tip of his dick pushing against your clit before he's the one to place it in your leaky hole, forcing himself slowly, giving you time to take him in, inch by inch.

“Good girl," he says, head rolling backwards for a brief moment as he experiences the warm sensation of your walls surrounding him, clenching against his cock as he keeps one hand on your hip, helping you as you lower yourself over him. "Let me look at you.”

His fingers grab your jaw, squeezing you as he makes you look back at him, pushing you once again as you holded a loud moan. He's stretching you at his need.

"One more time," he begs. "One more time and you got it, peach. You're almost there."

Jesus fuck. You can feel yourself getting dizzy. You've drank a lot of blood and you're now overwhelmed by this intense pleasure that formed in your lower stomach, gathering there and waiting for the perfect moment to explode—. "Fuck I-"

Logan's pampering you with kisses as a mere distraction, his lips travelling through your neck to your collarbone before you're finally seated on top of him, a muffled moan you need to shut filling the calm of the night.

"Fuck you're tight," he exhales, and he's lost in the sensation, the way your velvety walls welcome him inside. He stays still for a moment, giving you time to adjust, to make you the one who starts moving on top of him.

You can see his veins popping up. All over his chest and coming down to his shoulders and his arms, and god gracious — He smells so fucking good you’re tempted to ask if you can have a bite again.

The moment feels longer than usual, the seconds pass slowly as you stay there. Logan’s hands are just touching your skin from under your oversized t-shirt, taking in the low moans you gave him, the almost perceptible whispers as you get used to him, to his size.

He likes the intimacy of it, the bliss. Man you look so pretty in his lap when the light of the moon is stripping you all to his eyes, even if you’re fully dressed an he’s seated in a damn bench, he cannot enjoy it more, pulling you in for a needy kiss, one that is rougher than the first one and leads you to move inevitably.

His cock pushes past that nice spot inside, and the friction is enough to make you move again, rocking your hips at a slow pace for a few seconds. The sound of your moans is silenced by his demanding kisses, and now that he knows you can handle him, his grip on your hips turn more firm now, squeezing the skin there so he can control your speed, the rythm of your movements now faster than before.

“Shh, don’t whine” what he lacks of vocal usually, he pours it all in just fucking, talking you through it when he feels you’re being too loud—. “Do you want to wake the others? We can’t have them seeing you like this, all fed up and cock-drunk.”

“Let me bite you again,” you ask soon enough. And it takes a lot to do it, cause you’re doing it out of pure greed, cause you can’t have enough.

“Take whatever you want, leech, just don’t make me faint” he jokes, his panted breathing betraying him as he moans, incredibly interested in the idea—. “Want to be conscious when you cum all over my dick.”

Logan’s sure your eyes glisten in a red color as you lean over his neck. And this time is less affectionate, much less gentle as you finally bite him again, teeth piercing the flesh so easily his hips jolts against you in response of the sharp pain your fangs create, the warm sensation of his blood in contrast of your cold touch, tongue-licking all you get from him.

And fuck it feels good.

He shrudders beneath you, shaking his head just slightly at reflex of pain before continue working his way with you, placing his hand between your tights as he lets his fingers rub on your sensitive clit, just enough to make you bite on his neck harder, the lewd sounds of your cunt taking him between holded moans as you suck on his neck.

“That’s it taking me so good,” He praises — “You like that, princess? Like how you’re full of me?”

You hum against his skin. The blood coates your chin as it goes down through his chest, staining his white tank for a couple of seconds before the holes your teeth made finally closes on their own.

It’s pure ecstasy. He can feel it when you clenching around his cock, cheeks red from his blood going now through your system, his vitality, his energy.

You can feel him fucking everywhere. So when you kiss him it’s all teeth, bite and his blood.

The pleasure’s taking control of you now, and Logan’s dizzy from the blood loss, his body covered now in sweat as his words slur together, not threading any coherent thought.

“That’s it,” he says, making you bounce of his cock. “Gonna’ have you in my room then, all spread out f’me.”

His hand wrap around your neck tightly, keeping the direct contact as he chokes you. Shit. You don’t need to say a word. Logan already got you.

“James-” he’s too deep to question why you’re using that name with him. How you facade is crushing down now as you let go.

When your body trembles on top of him he’s already cumming too, the squeeze on his cock sufficent to fuck him up personally, his bruising grip on your hips shoving you as deep as he possibly can as his release hits him like a brick falling from the damn sky.

He lets you work for it, ride each second of your high, milk him dry as a white circle of his own cum mixed with your juices coated the base of his cock, his underwear now slick with your orgasm.

He’s struggling to breathe, to properly say something as you’re finally coming down from your peak, looking at him through half lidded eyes.

“Did you called me James?” he questions, and you’re a damn bad liar, cause he knows imediately you’re hidding something cause of the look on your face—. “Do we know each other? From before.”

You don’t know how to respond at first, at least, cause you cannot lie in a position like that now.

“Well uh. It’s quite a long story here.”

Before you can continue he gets up, making you wrap your legs around his hips before stsrting to walk to the mansion.

“Logan-” you say in a strangled moan yourself, still sensitive as he’s balls-deep inside you.

“It will be less than two minutes, leech” he responds gruffily,— “Need to get you into my room so I can enjoy you the rest of the night, and you can tell me all of it.”

He don’t care if he’s bloody or a damn mess as he squeezes your ass climbing up the stairs, much less if anyone see the two of you in that state.

“I want to hear all the details, Cause I have a weird feeling that this has happened before.”

You cannot find a reasonable excuse to say no as the man’s already reaching the second floor.

Logan’s fucked after that night. When he learned about all that you were before, weirdly connected to you through the decades.

It must be the bite isn’t? Shit. He’s more in sync than ever now that you’ve been feeding from him a lot the last few weeks.

Ah. You fucking leech.

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[sunnys-side-upside-down]

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[moonfromearth]

- My horoscope forgot to mention anything about escaping a serial killer... B-but I'll do my best to help... If I can.

Day Five - The Academic

"Nerdy, kind-hearted, and loyal. They're either finding clever ways to outwit the killer or making the cast easy prey - by accident of course.

from @windbrook's Slashed Challenge.

[starsenha]

WET DREAMS / L.H

Pairing ◊ sub!fem!reader x roommate!dom!heeseung

Genre ◊ SMUT, roommates to ???

Warnings ◊ SMUT (minors dni), cursing, neck kisses, nipple play, petnames, praising, dirty talk, fingering, kind of needy!hee, oral (f. receiving), bigdick!hee, unprotected sex (wrap it up ppl), rough

Word count ◊ 7,4k

Summary ◊ when heeseung moved in with you, Jake's friend, he knew it was a bad idea the moment he saw you for the first time because you were exactly his type. But it became even worse when he started making wet dreams about you.

a/n: not proofread, enjoy!

You were just another broke college student trying to survive the semester when your old roommate decided to move out, leaving you with a hefty rent and an empty room. Desperate for a new roommate, you posted an ad on your school's website. Enter Heeseung, a friend of Jake's – and since Jake was a solid guy, you figured Heeseung would be too. From the moment he moved in, it was clear this was going to be interesting. Heeseung was charming and easy to get along with, but there was one tiny problem: you were exactly his type. Beautiful, sexy, teasing, playful, but also cute and funny. After just a week, the tension between you two was undeniable. It would be a lie to say you didn't feel the same. The sparks were real, and living together was about to get a whole lot more complicated.

But everything became weird after that night: the night he had his first sex dream about you.

Heeseung lounged on the couch, a textbook open in his lap, though his mind was miles away. The apartment was quiet except for the occasional creak and hum from the old pipes. Heeseung was drifting off, and before he knew it, he was deep in a dream.

In his dream, the living room was dimly lit, bathed in the soft glow of a few strategically placed lamps. He heard the soft patter of your bare feet on the hardwood floor before he saw you. You were wearing nothing but his oversized shirt, the hem barely brushing the tops of your thighs. Your hair was tousled, and there was a mischievous sparkle in your eyes.

"Hey," you purred, leaning against the armrest of the couch. "Whatcha doing?"

Heeseung's breath hitched as he looked up at you, his mouth suddenly dry. "Just… studying," he managed to say, though his voice was thick with desire.

You sauntered closer, a playful smirk on your lips. "Mind if I join you?" Without waiting for a reply, you slid onto the couch, your leg brushing against his. Heeseung's pulse quickened as you leaned in, your lips so close to his ear that he could feel your warm breath.

"You know," you whispered, "I've noticed the way you look at me."

Heeseung swallowed hard, trying to keep his composure. "I don't know what you're talking about."

You chuckled softly, your hand resting on his thigh, dangerously close to the edge of his shorts. "Oh, I think you do." Your fingers danced lightly over the fabric, teasing him. "I see the way your eyes linger."

His resolve crumbled, and he turned to face you, his hand cupping your cheek. "You're driving me crazy," he confessed, his voice a low growl.

"Good," you replied, your eyes dark with want. "Because I've been wanting you too."

He crashed his lips against yours, a hungry, desperate kiss that spoke of all the pent-up desire between you. You moaned into his mouth, your body pressing against his, and he could feel the heat radiating from you.

Heeseung's hands roamed over your body, slipping under the shirt to feel the smooth skin beneath. You arched into his touch, your fingers tangling in his hair as you deepened the kiss. The air was thick with the scent of arousal, and Heeseung was lost in the sensation of you.

"Tell me what you want," he murmured against your lips, his hand sliding up to cup your breast.

You whimpered, your back arching as you pushed into his hand. "I want you, Hee. I want you to take me right here."

Heeseung growled in response, his hand slipping between your thighs to find you wet and ready. He stroked you lightly, eliciting a gasp from your lips. "Fuck, you're so wet for me," he muttered, his voice rough with need.

"Only for you," you whispered, your hips bucking against his hand.

With a low groan, Heeseung positioned himself over you, his hands gripping your hips as he aligned himself with you. He entered you slowly, savoring the way you stretched around him, your moans music to his ears. "God, you feel so good," he breathed, his forehead resting against yours.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. "Faster, Heeseung," you begged. "I need you."

Heeseung complied, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more demanding. The couch creaked beneath you, but he didn't care. All that mattered was how delicious and incredible you felt around him. Your nails scratched down his back, leaving marks that would linger long after.

"You're fucking mine," Heeseung growled, his pace relentless. "Say it."

"I'm yours," you cried out, your body trembling as you neared the edge. "Only yours."

With a final, powerful thrust, Heeseung sent you spiraling into bliss, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. He followed soon after, his release mingling with yours as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing hard.

Heeseung jolted awake, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. His body was slick with sweat, the sheets tangled around his legs. He groaned softly, feeling the unmistakable wetness in his shorts. He just came in his dream. His mind raced, the vivid images of you still fresh, your breathy moans echoing in his ears. He covered his face with his hands, feeling a wave of guilt wash over him. "God, what's wrong with me?" he muttered to himself. "She's my roommate." Heeseung sat up, the room dimly lit by the early morning light filtering through the blinds. He ran a hand through his damp hair, trying to shake off the lingering arousal. But as he glanced at the closed door of your bedroom, he knew resisting his feelings for you was going to be harder than ever.

The next morning, Heeseung reluctantly dragged himself out of bed, the remnants of his dream still clinging to the edges of his mind. He took a deep breath, trying to push it all aside, and headed toward the kitchen, hoping a cup of coffee might clear his head.

As he turned the corner, the scent of something delicious hit him, and he saw you standing by the stove, humming softly as you flipped pancakes. You were wearing an oversized shirt that fell just below your thighs, the fabric worn and soft, clearly not yours. His heart skipped a beat as he realized it was probably Jake's shirt. The thought made him gulp, his throat suddenly dry as the dream came rushing back in vivid detail.

You turned when you heard him enter, your face lighting up with a smile that made his heart do a somersault. “Good morning, Hee,” you chirped, your voice sweet and playful as always. “I’m making breakfast! I hope you’re hungry.”

Heeseung swallowed hard, trying to keep his cool as he forced a smile. “Yeah… morning,” he mumbled, his voice embarrassingly shaky. He couldn’t meet your eyes, afraid that you’d somehow see right through him and know exactly what had been running through his mind all night.

You tilted your head slightly, noticing his unusual shyness. “Are you okay? You seem… off,” you asked, concern lacing your tone as you walked over to him, placing a gentle hand on his arm.

Heeseung stiffened under your touch, his pulse quickening as the warmth of your fingers seeped through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. “I’m fine, just… didn’t sleep well,” he lied, hoping you wouldn’t press further.

You gave him a soft smile, squeezing his arm lightly before letting go. “Well, breakfast will help, I promise,” you said, gesturing to the pancakes with a grin. “And coffee’s ready too.”

Heeseung finally managed to meet your eyes, the sincerity and care in your gaze making his guilt twist even tighter in his chest. “Y-you didn’t have to, really,” he stammered, moving to pour himself a cup of coffee, hoping the familiar routine would steady his nerves.

“I wanted to,” you replied simply, your voice warm and kind. “You’ve been working so hard lately, I figured you could use a little pampering, seungie,” you added, using the nickname you’d given him that always seemed to melt his defenses a little.

Heeseung took a sip of the coffee, trying to hide his flushed cheeks behind the mug. “You’re too good to me,” he mumbled, the words half muffled by the rim of the cup.

You laughed softly, the sound light and cheerful, easing some of the tension in the room. “You deserve it,” you teased, reaching up to ruffle his hair playfully. “Besides, it’s fun spoiling you a little.”

Heeseung’s heart raced at the casual affection in your touch, and he couldn’t help but wonder if you had any idea what you were doing to him. “Th-thanks,” he managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper as he sat down at the small kitchen table.

You joined him a moment later, sliding a plate of perfectly golden pancakes in front of him. “Eat up, Hee,” you said, sitting across from him with your own plate. “And don’t think too much today, okay? Just relax.”

Heeseung nodded, but as he cut into the pancakes, his mind was anything but relaxed. The sight of you in that oversized shirt, the smell of the warm breakfast you’d made just for him, and the way you called him “Hee” so sweetly—all of it was making it impossible to forget the dream.

He desperately needed a distraction. Anything to keep his mind from wandering back to the dream that was now seared into his memory. As you dug into your pancakes, he forced himself to speak, his voice a bit too loud as he asked, “So, um, how are your classes going?”

You looked up at him with a smile, happy to share. “Pretty good, actually! I’ve got this new project for my psychology class that I’m really excited about. We’re studying—”

But Heeseung barely heard a word. His eyes kept drifting to the way your shirt clung to your body, the soft curve of your waist, the smooth skin of your legs peeking out from under the hem. Every time you shifted in your seat, his thoughts betrayed him, flashing back to the way you felt in his dream, warm and soft beneath him. He could almost feel the ghost of your touch, the way you whispered his name in that breathy, needy tone.

“—and so I think I might need to interview a few people on campus,” you continued, oblivious to the turmoil inside him. “It’s going to be a lot of work, but I’m really looking forward to—Hee? Are you even listening?”

He blinked, realizing too late that he’d been caught staring. His cheeks flushed, and he quickly tore his gaze away, focusing on his plate like it was the most interesting thing in the world. “Y-yeah, sorry, just… zoned out for a second,” he stammered, trying to play it off, but his voice betrayed him.

You smirked, sensing something was off but not quite sure what. “Uh-huh, sure you did,” you teased, leaning in a bit closer. “What’s up with you this morning? You’re acting kinda weird.”

“N-nothing’s up!” Heeseung blurted out a little too quickly, his pulse spiking as he forced a shaky laugh. “Just tired, that’s all.”

You raised an eyebrow, not entirely convinced, but you decided to let it slide. “Okay, if you say so, Seungie,” you said, still smiling but with a hint of curiosity in your eyes. “But you know, if there’s something on your mind, you can talk to me.”

Heeseung nodded quickly, trying to avoid your gaze as he took another bite of pancakes, barely tasting them. “Thanks, I appreciate it,” he muttered, though his thoughts were spiraling again. He could feel your eyes on him, and when he glanced up, the sight of you, all sweet and concerned, sent a jolt of heat through him.

His eyes betrayed him, lingering on your lips, imagining how they had felt against his in the dream. He was falling back into that dangerous territory again, and his body reacted almost instantly. He felt the blood rushing south, his breath hitching as he realized he was getting hard just from looking at you.

Panic set in, and he knew he had to get out of there before you noticed. “I-I gotta go to class,” he stuttered suddenly, pushing his chair back with a scrape. “Don’t want to be late!”

You blinked in surprise at his abruptness. “But, Hee, it’s only 8:30. Your first class isn’t until—”

“I need to, uh, review some notes!” he interrupted, stumbling over his words as he stood up, avoiding eye contact. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

Before you could say anything else, he turned on his heel and practically fled the kitchen, his face burning with embarrassment. You watched him retreat to his room, a little confused by his behavior but deciding not to pry. “Okay, then…” you muttered to yourself, shrugging it off as one of those weird morning moods.

As Heeseung shut the door to his room behind him, he leaned against it, exhaling sharply. His heart was pounding, and he cursed under his breath. “What the hell is wrong with me?” he whispered, running a hand through his hair in frustration. But deep down, he knew the answer. It wasn’t just the dream—it was everything about you. And the more he tried to push those thoughts away, the stronger they seemed to become.

The entire morning, he couldn’t keep his thoughts from drifting back to you. No matter how hard he tried to focus on his classes, his mind kept replaying scenes from his dream, the way your body had felt beneath his, the sound of your voice whispering his name in that sexy, sultry voice. He just couldn't you out of his head and that was driving him crazy.

By lunchtime, he was a mess of pent-up frustration and confusion. He had barely touched his breakfast, and the thought of seeing you again made his stomach twist with a mix of guilt and desire. So when Jake texted him, suggesting they grab lunch together, Heeseung jumped at the chance to get out of the apartment, hoping that his friend could help take his mind off things.

They met up at a small café near campus, Jake already waiting at a table with his usual easygoing smile. “Yo, Hee! Over here!” Jake called out, waving him over.

Heeseung managed a weak smile as he sat down, trying to seem normal. But Jake was too observant, and the moment Heeseung dropped into the chair with a heavy sigh, Jake’s smile faltered slightly. “You okay, man? You look like shit.”

“I’m fine,” Heeseung lied, picking up the menu and pretending to scan it. But his hands were a little shaky, and Jake wasn’t buying it.

Jake leaned forward, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “Uh-huh, sure you are. What’s going on?”

Heeseung sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s nothing, really,” he insisted, but his voice lacked conviction.

Jake grinned, sensing that his friend was hiding something. “Come on, man. You can’t fool me. I’ve known you too long.” He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms with a knowing smirk. “Let me guess… you had one of those dreams, didn’t you?”

Heeseung froze, his eyes widening as he looked up at Jake, who burst into laughter at his reaction. “I knew it! Dude, you’ve got ‘I had a sex dream’ written all over your face!”

Heeseung groaned, dropping his head into his hands. “Seriously, Jake? Can you not?”

The younger chuckled, leaning in closer. “Oh, come on! You can tell me! Who was it with? Someone from class? Maybe that cute barista at the coffee shop near your place?”

His face burned with embarrassment. He shook his head, hoping Jake would just drop it, but his friend was relentless.

“No way, man. You’ve gotta tell me now,” Jake teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’re not getting out of this one. I won’t judge, promise. Unless it was, like, a teacher or something, then maybe I’ll judge a little.”

Heeseung squirmed in his seat, trying to come up with an excuse, but Jake was too good at this. Finally, he gave up, knowing that Jake wouldn’t stop until he got an answer. “Fine, okay! It was… it was with her,” he muttered, his voice barely audible as he glanced around to make sure no one was listening.

Jake blinked in surprise, his grin faltering as he processed what Heeseung had said. “Wait… with who?”

Heeseung exhaled deeply, his heart racing. “With her… you know, my roommate.”

For a moment, Jake just stared at him, and then a slow, incredulous grin spread across his face. “No way. You had a sex dream about yn?”

Heeseung buried his face in his hands, his embarrassment reaching new heights. “Yeah, okay? I did. And now I can’t even look at her without… i don't know, thinking about it.”

Jake laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “Damn, dude. That’s intense. No wonder you’re all messed up this morning.”

Heeseung groaned again, feeling like he wanted to disappear under the table. “I can’t stop thinking about it, Jake. Every time I see her, I just… I remember how it felt, and it’s driving me crazy. I’m either embarrassed as hell or… or horny or something, and I don’t know what to do.”

Jake took a sip of his drink, clearly enjoying Heeseung’s misery a little too much. “Well, you know what they say,” Jake said, leaning back with a casual shrug. “You’ve got to fuck her to get it out of your system.”

Heeseung choked on his water, sputtering as he set the glass down with a clatter. “W-what? Jake, are you serious?”

Jake grinned, shrugging again. “Hey, I’m just saying. Sometimes the best way to stop obsessing over something is to just… do it. Maybe it’s your brain’s way of telling you that you need to, you know, make a move.”

Heeseung’s face was practically glowing red at this point, and he could barely meet Jake’s eyes. “I can’t just… I mean, we’re roommates! And it’s not like she feels the same way.”

Jake raised an eyebrow, giving Heeseung a knowing look. “You sure about that? I’ve seen the way she looks at you, man. She’s always so playful with you, always teasing. Maybe she’s just waiting for you to make the first move.”

Heeseung shook his head, his mind spinning. “I don’t know, man. It’s just… it’s complicated. And I don’t want to mess things up between us.”

Jake nodded, his expression softening a bit. “I get it. But you can’t keep torturing yourself like this. If you really can’t handle it, maybe you need to talk to her. Or, you know, find a way to cool off before you drive yourself completely insane.”

Heeseung sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah… maybe you’re right,” he admitted, though the thought of actually doing anything about it made him nervous as hell.

Jake chuckled, giving him a pat on the back. “Whatever you do, just remember I’m here to help, even if it’s just to give you shit about it later.”

Heeseung managed a small smile, grateful for Jake’s support despite the teasing. But as they finished their lunch, he couldn’t shake the lingering tension inside him, knowing that sooner or later, he’d have to face the feelings he was trying so hard to ignore.

The day wore on and he just couldn’t get Jake’s advice out of his head. The idea of just taking the plunge, of letting himself have what he so desperately wanted, seemed almost logical in his mind, twisted as it was with frustration and desire. Maybe, just maybe, if he gave in and finally fuck you, he could finally get you out of his system and things would go back to normal. But every time he even thought about it, an overwhelming sense of dread and guilt would wash over him.

The next few days were torture. Every time Heeseung saw you, you were just so effortlessly hot and beautiful, it made his resolve crumble. Like when you walked around the apartment in those tiny shorts and a tank top that hugged your curves perfectly, or when you’d smile at him, that playful, teasing glint in your eyes that drove him crazy. He couldn’t bring himself to make a move, not when the thought of losing your friendship or making things awkward between you weighed heavily on him.

So, instead of facing his feelings, Heeseung did what he thought was the next best thing—he avoided you like the plague.

Whenever he heard you coming down the hallway, he’d quickly retreat to his room, shutting the door quietly behind him. If you were in the kitchen, he’d grab a snack later, waiting until you left. If you sat on the couch to watch TV, he’d suddenly remember something he had to do in his room. It was ridiculous, and he knew it, but he couldn’t help it.

You, of course, noticed almost immediately. The first time you called out to him as you walked into the living room, he barely acknowledged you, muttering a quick “hey” before disappearing into his room. You frowned, staring after him with confusion etched on your face.

At first, you thought maybe he was just busy with schoolwork, but when it happened again and again, you started to worry. Heeseung wasn’t the type to just ignore you. You two had always been close, laughing and joking around, but now it felt like there was a wall between you that hadn’t been there before.

One evening, after another day of dodging you, you finally cornered him. Heeseung had just come out of the bathroom, hair still damp from his shower, when you caught him in the hallway.

“Hee, what’s going on with you?” you asked, your tone a mix of concern and frustration.

Heeseung froze, his hand still on the doorknob of his bedroom. “W-what do you mean?” he stammered, not daring to look at you.

“You know exactly what I mean,” you pressed, crossing your arms as you took a step closer. “You’ve been avoiding me for days now. Did I do something to upset you?”

He finally looked at you then, and the sight of your worried expression made his heart ache. “No, you didn’t do anything,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “It’s not you, it’s… it’s me.”

You raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “That’s the oldest excuse in the fucking book, Heeseung. Seriously, what’s going on? We used to hang out all the time, and now it’s like you can’t stand to be around me or something.”

Heeseung sighed, running a hand through his hair as he tried to come up with something, anything, to say that would make sense. "Look, can we talk about it later? I'm really tired right now," he started making his way to the kitchen.

“No, don't you run away from me, Lee Heeseung,” you called after him, your voice tinged with anger as you followed him into the kitchen. “I’m done with the vague answers and the weird behavior. I want to know what’s really going on!”

Heeseung stopped in his tracks, his hand gripping the counter's edge as he tried to keep his emotions in check. “I told you, it’s nothing; I'm just tired,” he muttered, not meeting your eyes.

“Tired? Seriously? That’s all you’ve got?” You stepped closer, your frustration boiling over. “You’ve been avoiding me for days, acting like I’m some kind of stranger, and now you’re telling me it’s ‘nothing’? What the fuck?”

Heeseung turned around to face you, his jaw clenched as he tried to find the right words, but they kept slipping away. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to hurt you, but I just… I can’t…,” he trailed off, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“You can’t what?” you pressed, your patience running thin. “What’s so horrible that you can’t even look me in the eyes anymore?”

Heeseung’s frustration finally reached its breaking point. The tension, the guilt, the overwhelming desire—it all came crashing down at once. “I’ve been avoiding you because every single time I lay my fucking eyes on you, I just want to fuck your brains out!” he snapped, the words spilling out before he could stop them.

The room fell into a heavy silence. Your eyes widened in shock, your mouth opening and closing as you tried to process what he had just said. Heeseung immediately regretted the outburst, the rawness of his confession hanging in the air like a storm cloud. He sighed deeply, cursing under his breath as he ran both hands through his hair, looking anywhere but at you.

“Shit… I didn’t mean for it to come out like that,” he muttered, his voice filled with a mixture of frustration and regret. “It’s just… it’s been driving me crazy. I had this dream, and it was so real, and ever since then, I can’t stop thinking about you like that.”

You finally found your voice, though it was tinged with disbelief. “You’ve been avoiding me, acting like I don’t exist, just because you had a sex dream about me?”

Heeseung nodded, his shoulders slumping as he braced himself for whatever you might say next. “Yeah… I know it sounds messed up, but it’s true. And every time I see you, it just makes it worse. I didn’t want to make things weird between us, but I ended up doing exactly that.”

You let out a laugh, but it was devoid of humor, more of an expression of sheer incredulity. “So let me get this straight,” you said slowly, needing to confirm you weren’t misunderstanding. “You’ve been avoiding me, treating me like I’ve got the plague, all because you want to fuck me?”

Heeseung winced at your bluntness, but he couldn’t deny it. “Yeah… I’m sorry. I know it’s not fair to you. I didn’t know how to deal with it.”

You shook your head, your emotions a chaotic mix of anger, frustration, and something else that you hadn’t fully processed yet. “You know, hee, you could’ve just asked,” you said, your voice carrying a hint of sarcasm.

Heeseung looked up at you, shocked, as if he hadn’t heard you correctly. “Wait, what?”

“You could’ve just asked me,” you repeated, crossing your arms and looking him dead in the eye. “And I wouldn’t have said no.”

For a moment, Heeseung just stared at you, his mind struggling to comprehend what you were saying. “You’re kidding… right?”

“No, I’m not,” you replied, your tone steady and serious. “You’ve been making things weird all by yourself when you didn’t have to. If you’d just been upfront with me instead of avoiding me, we could’ve dealt with this a lot sooner.”

Heeseung was at a loss for words. The idea that you might actually want him too had never seriously crossed his mind, not like this. “I… I didn’t think…” he started, then trailed off, still trying to wrap his head around it.

You sighed, a mix of exasperation and amusement coloring your expression. “Well, now you know. So what are you going to do about it?”

Heeseung swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest as he realized the door you’d just opened for him. The air between you was thick with tension, but this time it wasn’t just from frustration or anger. It was something more, something that had been simmering beneath the surface for far too long.

He took a tentative step closer, his eyes locked on yours. “Are you sure?” he asked softly, needing to know that you were serious.

You nodded, your gaze steady and unwavering. “I’m sure, seungie. But only if you’re ready to stop running away and actually talk to me about what’s going on in that head of yours.”

Heeseung’s breath hitched, his thoughts racing as he looked at you, really looked at you. The playful, teasing side of you, the warmth and care you always showed him, the way you were looking at him now—it all made his desire for you flare even hotter.

“I’m done running,” he said quietly, but with conviction. “But… can we take this slow? I don’t want to screw things up.”

You smiled softly, the tension easing just a little. “Slow is good,” you agreed, stepping closer until you were just inches apart. “But maybe, just this once, we can forget about slow?”

Heeseung’s pulse quickened, and with a shaky breath, he closed the remaining distance between you, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with yearning.

“Then stop fucking talking and show me,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his as you finally closed the gap, giving in to the moment that had been building between you for far too long.

The moment your lips met, it was as if a dam had burst, releasing all the tension that had been building between you two for days. Heeseung wasted no time, his hands immediately finding your waist and pulling you flush against him. The warmth of his body against yours sent a shiver down your spine, and you gasped into the kiss, giving him the perfect opportunity to deepen it.

He took control, his lips moving over yours with a hunger that left you breathless. He tilted his head slightly, angling the kiss just right as his tongue slipped past your lips, exploring your mouth with a fervor that made your knees weak. You moaned softly, your hands sliding up to his shoulders, clinging to him as he backed you up against the kitchen counter.

The edge of the counter dug into your back, but you didn’t care. All you could focus on was the way Heeseung was kissing you, his lips demanding, yet so incredibly soft against yours. He broke the kiss just long enough to murmur against your lips, “You taste so fucking good,” before diving back in, his hands gripping your hips tighter as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

You responded eagerly, matching his intensity as you kissed him back, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. Heeseung pressed his body against yours, pinning you against the counter, the heat between you growing with every second. His hands roamed up your sides, brushing over your ribs before settling on your waist again, his touch sending sparks of electricity through your skin.

“Fuck, you have no idea how much I’ve wanted this,” Heeseung muttered, his voice rough with desire as he broke the kiss for a moment, his forehead resting against yours as you both caught your breath.

“I think I have some idea,” you whispered back, your voice just as breathless as you stared up at him, your eyes half-lidded with want.

Heeseung’s eyes darkened at your words, and with a low growl, he claimed your lips again, his kiss more demanding this time. He pressed you harder against the counter, his hands sliding down to grip the backs of your thighs, lifting you slightly so you were perched on the edge. The movement made you gasp, and Heeseung took the opportunity to kiss down your jawline, his lips trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck.

You tilted your head back, giving him more access as he nipped at the sensitive skin just below your ear, his breath hot against your neck. “Hee…” you moaned softly, your fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer.

Heeseung groaned in response, the sound vibrating against your skin as he kissed his way back up to your lips. This time, the kiss was slower, more deliberate, but no less intense. He took his time, savoring the feel of your lips against his, his tongue teasing yours in a way that made your heart race.

You could feel the hard edge of the counter digging into your thighs, but it only added to the intensity of the moment. Heeseung’s hands were everywhere, exploring your body with a mixture of reverence and desperation, as if he was trying to commit every inch of you to memory. When his hands found their way under your shirt, brushing against your bare skin, you gasped, arching into his touch, a soft moan escaping from your lips.

"Look at you," he murmured, his voice thick and low. "All shy and putty in my hands, and I haven't even touched you." You shivered at his words, your hands clutching at his shirt as you tried to steady yourself. He kissed his way back to your ear, biting softly your earlobe. "What's the matter, baby? I thought you were the confident one," he smirked, his lips brushing against your ear.

You wanted to answer, but before you could, his lips found your sweet spot just below your ear, and a loud moan escaped from your lips. You could feel him smirk against your skin as he started nibbling and sucking that spot. You closed your eyes, your head tilting to the side to give him all the room he wanted to do whatever he wanted. "God, you're so sensitive," he murmured against your neck, his breath hot and rigged.

You whimpered, arching your back to press closer to him. "Hee, please..."

He chuckled softly, his fingers brushing lightly over your inner thighs, teasing you. "Please, what, baby?" Use your words."

You shivered at the pet name, your teeth capturing your lower lip to avoid any more moans slipping from your mouth. "Please, touch me," your voice came out more whiny than you intended, but at that point, you didn't even care.

His eyes darkened, and he captured your lips once again in a hard kiss. "Good girl," he murmured against your mouth, his hands slipping your shirt before finally pulling it over your head, revealing your bare chest to him. His hands immediately flew to your tits, caressing your nipples, rolling them between his fingers. "You're so fucking beautiful," he whispered, his lips trailing down your jawline. "So perfect for me."

Gathering your courage, you reached out, tugging at the hem of his shirt. He raised his arms, allowing you to pull it over his head and discard it on the floor. Your hands roamed over his toned torso, feeling the hard muscles beneath his skin. You marveled at the contrast of his strength and the gentle way he had been touching you moments before.

Heeseung's breath hitched as your fingers traced the lines of his abs, but he quickly regained his composure, his eyes locking onto yours with a predatory gleam. "Enjoying yourself?" he teased, his voice low and husky.

You nodded, unable to find your voice, your hands still exploring his body. Heeseung smirked, leaning in to capture your lips in another searing kiss. As he kissed you, one of his hands slipped between your legs, finding your core outside of your shorts. He hissed, finding you already wet and ready for him.

"You're so wet for me," he murmured against your lips, his fingers brushing over your sensitive folds. "I barely have to touch you, and you're already this fucking needy."

You whimpered, your hips bucking involuntarily as he teased you. "Heeseung, please," you begged, your voice trembling with need.

He finally took your shorts and panties off, his fingers finding your bare cunt. His index parted your folds, his eyes fixed on your face to catch every little reaction. Then, without a word, he slipped two fingers inside you, his thumb finding your clit. He started moving them roughly, setting a relentless pace as you gasped for air.

"Is that what you wanted, baby?" he asked, his voice a low growl as the wet sound of your pussy filled the kitchen.

"Fuck, yes, hee, just like that," you moaned, your hands gripping the edge of the counter for support.

His fingers curled inside you, hitting that perfect spot with every thrust. Your brain quickly turned to mush, and you found it increasingly difficult to form coherent thoughts, let alone sentences. Every time you tried to speak, it came out as a garbled moan.

"Fuck, look at you," Heeseung mocked gently, his eyes filled with a mix of adoration and amusement. "You're already a mess, and I'm just using my fingers. What are you going to do when I'll have my cock inside you, mmh?" You whined in response, your hole sucking him in even harder as you clenched around him. He smirked at that, his lips dropping beside your ear as he whispered. "You like the idea of my cock stretching your little hole, yeah?"

You let out a loud moan, your eyes closing shut as you threw your head back. Your body started to shake as he continued to work you over with his fingers. "You gonna cum for me, baby?" he whispered, his thumb circling your clit with increased pressure.

You nodded, not trusting your voice at that moment. And with a final rough thrust of his fingers, you shattered, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. You cried out his name, your body convulsing with pleasure as he continued to move his fingers inside you, drawing out every last bit of your release.

Heeseung smirked, watching you come undone beneath him. "So beautiful," he murmured, finally slowing his movements. "I love seeing you like this."

He looked at you, eyes filled with an insatiable hunger as he licked his fingers clean. You were still reeling from your orgasm, your body trembling with aftershocks when he suddenly knelt down in front of you, his hands gently parting your thighs.

"Hee, what are you—" you began, but he silenced you with a heated look.

"I need to taste you," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. "I need to hear those beautiful little sounds you make, you can do that for me, right?."

Before you could respond, Heeseung's mouth was on you, his tongue parting your folds and delving into your sensitive cunt. You gasped, your hands flying to his hair as a surge of pleasure shot through you. His tongue moved with a skilled precision, flicking over your clit before dipping back down to slurp all your juices.

"Oh my god, Hee," you moaned, your head falling back as you surrendered to the sensations.

He groaned against you, the vibrations sending shivers up your spine. He was like a starved man, devouring you with an intensity that left you breathless. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he licked and sucked, his tongue exploring every inch of you. You'd never had someone eat you out like this before, so focused, so determined to bring you pleasure. Heeseung's mouth was relentless, his tongue circling your clit before sucking it gently, making you cry out in ecstasy.

"You're so sweet," he murmured between licks, his voice filled with admiration. "So perfect."

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as you rode the waves of pleasure he was giving you. "Fuck, please don't stop," you begged, your voice a mix of desperation and bliss.

Heeseung's response was a deep, guttural moan, his tongue moving faster, more insistently. He was already addicted to your taste, the way your body responded to his every touch. Your moans and whimpers were music to his ears, driving him to push you further, to see just how much pleasure he could give you.

Heeseung's hands moved from your thighs to your hips, lifting you slightly to get a better angle. His tongue plunged deeper, his nose brushing against your clit, sending electric shocks through your entire body.

"Oh, God, hee!" you cried out, your back arching off the counter as you felt another orgasm building rapidly. "I'm so-so close."

Heeseung groaned again, his mouth working more fervently, his tongue lashing against your most sensitive spots. "Come for me, baby," he murmured against you, his voice a low, sultry command. "I want to taste you when you come."

That was all it took. With a final, desperate cry, you came undone, your body shuddering violently as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Heeseung didn't stop, his mouth continuing to work you through your orgasm, drinking in every moan, every whimper.

You were a quivering mess, your mind blank with ecstasy as Heeseung finally pulled back, his lips glistening with your arousal. He looked up at you, his eyes dark and filled with satisfaction. He stood up, his hands firmly gripping your hips, and you could see the raw need in his gaze. He tugged at his sweatpants and boxers, hastily pushing them down in one go, and your breath hitched when you saw him. He was big, and your mouth watered at the sight of him.

"Fuck," you whispered, eyes wide with a mix of desire and apprehension.

He noticed your reaction, a smirk playing on his lips. "Like what you see?" he teased, his confidence bolstered by your response.

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. "You're... you're so big, Hee."

Heeseung's smirk widened, and he leaned in to kiss you deeply, his hands trailing down to position himself at your entrance. "Don't worry, baby. I'll make it fit," he murmured against your lips, his voice dripping with promise.

You bit your lip, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. "Are you sure? I don't know if..."

Heeseung's hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over your lips. "I'm sure," he said softly, his eyes locking with yours. "I'll go slow at first. Just tell me if it hurts, okay?"

You nodded, your heart racing as he began to push inside you. The initial stretch was intense, and you gasped, your hands clutching his shoulders. Heeseung moved slowly, inch by inch, giving you time to adjust to his size.

"You're doing so well," he whispered, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "Just relax for me, baby."

You took a deep breath, willing your body to relax as he continued to slide into you. The sensation was overwhelming, but the look of pure desire and care in his eyes made you feel safe. Finally, he was fully seated inside you, and he paused, giving you a moment to adjust.

"God, you feel so good," he groaned, his forehead resting against yours. "So tight."

You whimpered, your body clinging to him, feeling so full. "You're so big, seungie."

He kissed you softly, his hands caressing your sides. "Just tell me when you're ready, baby."

After a few moments, the initial discomfort began to fade, replaced by a deep, aching need. "I'm ready," you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation.

Heeseung's eyes darkened, and he pulled back slightly before thrusting into you with a powerful, rough stroke. You cried out, your hands gripping his shoulders for support. "F-fuck," you moaned, the intensity of his movements sending shockwaves of pleasure through you.

He set a brutal pace, his hips pounding into yours. "You like that?" he growled in your ear, his voice rough and filled with desire. "You like being fucked like this?"

"Yes, f-fuck," you gasped, your mind going blank with pleasure. "So good. So fucking good."

Heeseung's lips trailed down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. "You're mine," he murmured, his voice possessive. "Only mine. Say it."

"Only yours," you echoed, your voice barely more than a whimper.

"Good girl," he praised, his hands gripping your hips harder as he pounded into you. "You're taking me so well."

You could barely form coherent thoughts, let alone words. Every thrust pushed you closer to the edge, and you felt yourself spiraling out of control. "Heeseung, I... I can't..."

Heeseung's hand slipped between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing it in time with his thrusts. "Come for me, baby," he commanded, his voice a low growl. "I want to feel you come around my cock."

With a final, desperate cry, you shattered, your orgasm crashing over you with a force that left you trembling and gasping for breath. Heeseung followed soon after, his own release hitting him hard as he buried himself deep inside you, groaning your name.

As the waves of pleasure subsided, Heeseung held you close, his forehead resting against yours. "That was fucking incredible," he whispered, his voice filled with awe.

You smiled weakly, still catching your breath.Heeseung chuckled softly, his hands gently caressing your sides. "We should definitely do this more often."

You laughed, your heart swelling with affection for him. "I think I'd like that."

[mythic-hunter]

presenting my portfolio in about an hour and a half

feeling like i'm about to be sick

[mooishbeam]

『♡』 Brittle is Devotion

♡ featuring: ex-husband!toji x f!reader

♡ summary: it's been a while since you've seen your ex-husband, and on a drunken night, buried feelings emerge. wc: 12.2k+ (bruhhh)

♡ cw/tw: mentions of violence/blood, angst/comfort, rekindled feelings, rough sex, missionary, prone bone, full-nelson, overstimulation, cervix fucking, creampie, m/f receiving, throat fucking, sadism/masochism, dom/sub dynamics, squirting, fingering, praise/degredation kink, dumbification, edging, breeding kink, feral toji mmm, pet names (angel, sweetie, baby)

notes: good morning!! hope everyone is having a lovely day, i am so so so so sorry i haven't posted in so long i didnt abandon the account!! i've just been getting it together before the semester starts, and i didnt expect for it to be this long :(( im very tired but ill try to get some stuff out in the next couple of weeks, most likely long fics too. ty so much, and srry for any spelling mistakes. art by ilameys_ on ig! <;3 comments and reblogs are appreciated!

Picking up the pieces after Toji is rough. The divorce was bad enough, and you currently have an aching pain stilling in your chest that makes it hard to take the shallowest breaths. It hammers in the tight confines of your ribcage, and as you sob into your pillow the only relief you desire is sleep, so that you may have temporary solace from the grief wrecking your brain. Your new apartment feels entirely too shallow. There’s no crumby television to use because you were too broke to afford the higher-end appliances, or that creaking mattress you both squeezed into until you could thrift a reasonable headboard. You missed the 60s style tiles painted a horrific green in your kitchen, and the shower that ran out of hot water every other day. It was terrible, downright unlivable for most, but you had each other.  

It hurts more because you love him. So much. Unbearably, to the point where you screamed at the top of your lungs until your throat scratched through angry hot tears, begging him to care for a moment, to give you a reason to stay. Countless times, threatening to walk out if he didn’t endeavor to change. But he never believed you. He thought you’d never leave, because all you had was him.  

And it was true, for years it was. Toji was your dream man; funny and thoughtful. It wasn’t conventional kindness, but it was his. Money didn’t matter—even as you enjoyed a frozen meal on the floor of your empty apartment in the first couple months of moving in with him, you had a smile on your face. Even when your friends and family begged you not to marry him, because they couldn’t stand the sight of him and his arrogant, sometimes aggressive candor, you went on with it anyway. You knew who he really was at heart.  

He was your first everything, you felt if he left, you’d melt to nothing and become a shell of who you once were, because Toji had become an extension of you. You waited for him to get home, had dinner, and slept through the outside commotion of cars and bar fights; his securing arm locked around you, hand cradling your head and legs intertwined. There was no one like him.  

He knew that and got greedy.  

To you, the change was fast, but it’d been spreading like a nasty mold for years. You’d sunk so deep you hadn’t noticed the drought until you reached the bottom. He taught you love, then pulled away; separated himself with additional shifts and pathetic excuses. In turn you punished yourself, showered him with heavier instances of love and endearment, and convinced yourself you needed to try harder. If the sex wasn’t daily, you gave him more. If he didn’t like the food, you learned how to be a better chef. If the house wasn’t clean, you scrubbed top to bottom. Wringing a tired towel, dry of sacrifice. Chasing after him until the soles of your feet blistered. Still, not a smidge of praise or approval came to fruition. When he did—which was rare—those peppered spaces ignited a lasting burn in your heart, keeping withering fire alive.  

Soon, those fleeting kisses and distant pauses weren’t enough, and he didn’t care enough to change. You’d plead and cry at his feet, and he’d scoff and walk past you.  

“We’ll talk about it later”, he’d say more often than not. You didn’t have the confidence to leave, and he consumed himself with whatever underground work he participated in, while you decayed in a declining marriage.  

A grimace on his face, laid back on the couch and looking at you expectingly, as if you would drop to your knees and service him in a heartbeat—but you did exactly that. And you were tired, utterly tired of pulling the emotional and mental leaden baggage on your own. It was heavy, and you were crushing yourself underneath it. You still loved him with every inch of your being, and you’d do it all for him, but it couldn’t be just you anymore. He came home one fateful night to you sitting at the dining table, spotlighted under the stark glass pendant lamp in your dark apartment, dejection that foreshadowed the unfortunate end.  

“Do you love me?” He gazed at your solemn face and scratched his head.  

“Mhm.”  

“Will you change?”  

“No.”  

That’s what you needed to hear. The next week, while he was at work, you gathered your clothes and measly possessions to leave. You sobbed the entire way through, shaking with uncertainty and fear of the unknown—unsure about a future without him. As you slid the dissolution of your marriage on the counter, the sudden reality made you unable to control your knees as you dropped to the floor, and tears spilled down your cheeks and freckled the papers. Luckily, Shoko was there to comfort you and help pack your things. The corners of that confinement spared a gentle, loving memory, and vitriol was left in its wake. Turning back to its hollowness for the last time, you imagined Toji, plopping onto the couch as he’d usually do to watch some late-night television show or going to bed. Like you weren’t there.  

Maybe you never mattered in the first place. 

It’s been a year since, and things are looking up for you. An opportunity surfaced in a field you were interested in applying for, and you miraculously got the job. Moving over a city helped you adjust to your new life—that, and a bottle of dark burning liquor. No matter how much you mindlessly typed at your computer or partied with coworkers, you couldn’t stomach the pit gorging through you, a hole that surfaced everything you’d been burying. 

You’re not prepared to face the forlorn mock of your bleached walls today. As you pry your eyes open, the flickering shimmers through your sheer curtain cast across unattended sheets, soothed by stuffed animals strung along the comforter. You reach for something that isn’t there in your groggy state—a gentle reminder that your morning would be just as empty as yesterday. 

Today isn’t any other; it’s what would’ve been your five-year anniversary. One year, of new beginnings and new friends. A year of solitude.  

You don’t bother slinking out of bed. The accumulation of tasks awaiting you is more daunting than the actual execution. In an attempt to regain control of your life, you established a healthy routine. It entails waking up at early hours to exercise and work on projects and meal prep, and ending your night early with extra exercise and skincare. It was amazing at first and quelled your sadness. What they didn’t inform you of, was the spectacle; the appearance and perception of perfection, and not the struggles or gradual burnout of maintaining that lifestyle. When the distraction died down, and work and social activities became a congealed, monstrous chore, you quickly resented those limp salads and vomit-inducing runs. 

You expel a loaded sigh and pull the covers over. 

The vibration of the phone buzzing on your stomach peels your eyes awake. You allow it to pass, but it rings again. From a frustrated exhale, your languid hands muster the strength to flip to its notification; Shoko’s calling.  

“Hello?” you mutter, fatigue caught in your throat. 

“Fuck, you sound like hell!” she replies. The repetitive clack of office keyboards and analog phones being slammed by stressed out coworkers distorts the background. Thank God I used my paid time off. 

“I love you too, Shoko.” 

“Sorry, didn’t mean it like that…you ok?” It’s much sweeter. Shoko has always been a supportive friend, perhaps bordering on too supportive. You cherish her motherly concern, and rather vulgar honesty. 

“Mm, I’ll manage.” 

“I can come over after work.” You flip onto your back, soaking in the mild sunlight. 

“S’alright, I’m sure you’re busy, and I might sleep in. Wallow in sorrow for a few hours.” Shoko drawls a dramatic groan and creaks back in her chair. 

“Nothing good comes out of feeling sorry for yourself. Go to the club or somethin’.” 

“‘N how’s that gonna help?” 

“Better than whining at home. Wear something sexy, look pretty and get laid. That’s how I get over shit.” 

“Mm, right. I don’t know if that’s gonna work” you giggle, toying with one of the ears on your stuffed bunny. 

“Oh yeah, forgot you’re the born-again Virgin Mary now. You know… if you want to get over ‘him’, you have to take the first step.” You can envision her air quotations. She treats his name as forbidden speech, and regularly refers to it in conversation as “he who shall not be named.” 

“Ugh, mother Shoko’s speaking.” 

“Listen, it may or may not work. Don’t knock it ‘till you try it is all I’m saying.” 

“Yea? Well, if he has a tiny dick, I’m blaming you.” 

“Nothing wrong with shellfish.” 

The last curl falls in place, and you follow it up with copious amounts of hairspray. Fanning your bathroom after a drawn out coughing fit, you get a good look at your figure in the mirror. The backless lacy black dress you’re wearing hugs you in all the right places and guides the detail sitting tight under your butt. It’s undoubtedly revealing, coupled with strappy heels and a dark cat eye.  

You walk past your vanity and pause at the messy jewelry box, riddled with remnants of Toji’s adoration. Sparkling varieties of heavy necklaces and rings and precious diamonds; ninety percent of your jewels were because of him. You’d asked if he stole the items he gifted you, and he’d come up with an elaborate sarcastic story about a jewelry heist he carried out, and how appreciative you should be. Buried underneath rested your engagement ring, a sparkling cut that crowded your entire finger. You couldn’t bring yourself to pawn it, opting to occasionally revel in its beauty before shoving it in a far corner with your feelings. 

Shoko wasn’t lying about how sexy you’d feel dolled up, and it shows in your confidence as you modeled around your bedroom, striking poses to no one. Your plushies weren’t very appreciative of the full-blown fashion show, but you hadn’t felt like this for a long while. Maybe it was about time you entered the dating scene. 

The entrance to Infinity appears as a run-down tacky club from an outdated era, and it’s easy to miss the multicolored flashes dotting the black tinted glass on each side. A few steps past the black and white checkered vestibule, and you get to experience the scale of a roaring, clashing club. It’s not half as lively on the outside; sweat dripping under twinkling lights of multicolor, bodies colliding and moving to the melodic sway of erratic music vibrating through the floor, freely drowning and expelling their insecurities, deepest struggles. It’s both welcoming and hopeless.  

A woman balances her shot glass as she gyrates against a stranger while another stumbles off the dance floor in a drunken stupor. The heat and screams are overstimulating, circulating around you. You consider withdrawing, especially since you held some reservations about partying solo. However, this is what you need, to get comfortable with doing things by yourself. 

So you down shots, two, three, burning of different varieties that heighten your body temperature and nerve. You throw back a mix of dark and white liquor, a dangerous combo that dizzies your vision and runs up an unfathomable tab you can't afford. The strangers accompanying you at the counter encourage you. No rational thoughts, let alone decision making, register in your alcohol-sodden mind. Like strings being fielded by a puppeteer, your legs move on their own to the dance floor.  

It’s hot. The blurring iridescence bends to produce shapes that make your fuzzy brain giggle for some odd reason. You’re moving in slow motion, and the world’s continuing at max speed. You don’t care either way. You’re light on your feet, and the music goads you to dance. Spinning, hands tangled between your locks traveling down the curve of your thighs, hearing the lyrics inside and out as if no one is watching. 

You dance with women and men alike, anyone willing to help you overlook your heartache. It’s floaty, an airiness that spills sober thoughts from cotton mouth and makes every touch electrifying. It’s in your legs and arms, your restless feet and fingers. You laugh hysterically, incomprehensibly, and switch to sadness in a heartbeat. These aimless bodies, just as lost as you, drinking to your despair. Was it worth the abyss tomorrow held, or the agonizing headache as a result? 

After those dances, mainly flailing efforts at rhythm, your head is barreling. You’re suffering from a heavy case of vertigo at the slightest turn, and your stomach’s riddled with knots. It hits you like a car crash, and you strive to stabilize yourself as bile fills your throat, cringing when you reluctantly swallow. A disorienting slurry of words and faces ask you things you cannot hear or see, and it suddenly becomes too real. 

In few sparse moments, your life plays before you in stop motion. From heaving over the toilet while a lady with long nails held your hair back, to knocking the drink out of someone’s hand on your way out. Now you’re walking on one heel and holding the other. You might’ve popped a nail if not for security holding the door open. They attempt to flag you, but you reply with a curt slurred “‘M fine.”  

You push your knees together, sitting on the corner of a curb. This isn’t how you expected the night to end. It’s pitch black beside street lamps, and awfully quiet in contrast to inside. Shivers ripple through you despite the persistent warmth pooling in your ears. You lean on a street lamp in the calm cold as people leave, probably running to participate in intimate affairs with their acquaintances. The gentle hand on a waist or shoulder forms a subconscious smile; young, passionate love blooming on a random night. 

And you burst into tears.  

Ugly tears streaming down your face in blobs that don’t stop no matter how much you wipe them, followed by deep sniffles. They smear across your phone while you search for a taxi app, and your cloudy eyes deceive you. 

You jolt when a hand brushes against your arm and turn to meet the foggy face of a man with stubble. You wipe your wet cheeks and lean further from him.  

“Hey baby, you alright?” The pet-name makes you shudder. You definitely don’t know him, and at this point there’s no one outside. 

“Wh’re you?” you garble. 

“Kusakabe. Where ya off to?” 

“Waitin’ for uh frien’” Your eyelids waver, failing to stay alert under the frightening stare burning holes through your skull.  

“A friend, huh…you gotta man?” he asks, stepping closer to you. You back away to the side of the light. 

“Go away.” You’re definitive, but he laughs as if it were the ridiculous request of a child. 

“I like that dress. You look hot.” His hand drags along the strap of your dress, but you nudge his hand.  

“Mm’get off me. N’don’ need your help.” He scoffs with offense, and as you go to leave, he grabs your wrist firm. 

“Relax. Tryna go home with someone tonight?” You’re trembling, tugging with as much force as you can muster in your punch-drunk state, but he doesn’t budge. 

“L’ve me alone” 

“Don’t be like that, baby. I’ll call a cab-” 

Whack! Your wrist goes limp, and the crunch and crack of flesh hitting concrete echoes. You sluggishly pan to him, knocked out cold beyond the spotlight. The influence takes you, however, and you nearly find yourself joining him on the sidewalk. Before you can fall, a broad, rough hand supports your lower back. Their deep gritty tone is inches away from you. 

“C’mon, sweetheart.” 

You rise from an unusually sweet slumber. The light shines through your eyelids, unavoidable even when you maneuver the velvety warm blanket for shade. Your eyeballs shift across thin skin being prodded by intrusive sun, and as they crack open, you catch a glimpse of the glass coffee table in front of you, arranged with perfection resembling a furniture showroom. You smile to yourself half-asleep, wondering when you bought such an expensive item, and how an abundance of sunlight made its way through your average window. You’re drifting off anew. 

Then, you shoot up. 

You start to really take in the surroundings, and when you do, a pit drops in your stomach. An ultra-wide flat screen television faces you, decorated with plants on either side. Craning your neck, the long windows of this penthouse line the adjacent wall up to the ceiling, which hangs a glass geometric chandelier. This isn’t your bedroom, nor your apartment.  

 Instantly you switch to sitting, and recoil just as fast. Pain envelops the wrinkles of your brain, and you wince from abrupt tension. You palm the bridge of your nose. 

“Fuck” you whisper. Last night replays in your head through staccato bursts, though you couldn’t remember the minutes before you passed out. Embarrassment creeps onto your ears at the freak show you performed hours ago. You’d made a fool of yourself, puked and tripped like a sloppy drunk college girl. You can’t be more ashamed, and to top it off, you’re in the house of a stranger you possibly slept with. You look down from the smooth sectional sofa, and notice your heels arranged neatly beneath you with your phone and bag. At the very least, the man you engaged with seems to be accommodating.  

You scurry to put your heels on, and hopefully sneak out in silence before you face further humiliation. Something about this blanket smells familiar; musk and oakmoss and man, grazing across your nose like the aroma in an intimate embrace, the earthy dew of calm before a storm, a trace only you can understand. 

“Finally up?”  

It’s that gravelly smoky voice you lived in for five years, and some before that. The voice you fell asleep to, mumbling nonsense in your ear through boorish snores. The voice you fell in love with, easily saying “I do” when you wedded at the courthouse. The voice you resent, saying nothing at all when you cried. 

You look behind you, and there he is, walking down the staircase. He’s wearing boxers, settled under the tufts of hair running down his belly button. His rugged muscles peek out from the untied black robe dangling to his strong calves. His hair grew out a bit since you’ve last seen him, shaggy bedhead running across his eyes and covering his ears. 

He smirks the same, though, sweet and soft for such a dour man, like nothing ever happened, approaching you while you sneer at the cruel joke bestowed upon you. 

“Toji.” You haven’t said it in forever. It’s abashing how quickly your regularly tense shoulders relax in his proximity.  

“How ya feelin’? Hope the couch was comfortable enough, figured you wouldn’t wanna sleep in my bed” he says, rubbing the back of his neck as he stretched his sturdy back.  

“It was fine.”  

There's an awkward quiet afterwards. The air’s thick, glass straining under pressure, threatening to give way at the smallest disturbance. 

Toji clears his throat. “So, um...you need somethin’? Water?” 

“No” you bark, folding your arms across your chest. You can’t look at him, not without feeling enraged. You’re the afterthought, the chaser, rushing after a man who wouldn’t dare look twice. “How’d you even know I was there?” 

“Coincidence” he replies, and you scoff. He couldn’t get away with lying to you; playing games with moves you’ve lost to countless times. 

“Like hell it was a coincidence. I’m in a completely different city now, what were you doing there?” You have to physically bite back the words begging to spill from your mouth as his head wanders in thought, possibly concocting another fabrication. 

“Had business” 

“Oh, I’m supposed to believe the man who hates keeping a job had ‘business’. Okay.” You don’t acknowledge the extravagance of the apartment he must be paying for monthly. That, or a chain of illegal activities—whatever assumption suited your irritation in the moment. 

“Well, ya wouldn’t believe me no matter what I said, anyway” he chides. You’re a shaken bottle ready to explode, and his nonchalant demeanor only eggs you on. Toji’s perpetually dismissive, looking down on you like a pitiful puppy. 

“Because you’re always full of shit” you snap. He exerts a loaded sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose, as if he had any right to be tired of the situation. 

“’M not lyin’.” 

“Right.” You observe your surroundings more. It’s too opulent, pricey vases you wouldn’t expect from the ex-husband that once thought hanging jackets in the doorway was “decoration.” Definitely not fit for a single guy. You’re separated, and you know it's not your responsibility to keep tabs on his sex life, but that caviling thought won’t stop taunting you. How could he get over it so soon?  

“If you were just gonna bring me back to your fuck pad, I should’ve slept on the curb. Who knows how many girls you’ve had here.” 

He gets eye-level, sitting on the coffee table with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped together like a drained salaryman, “What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

“What’s wrong with me? You can’t be serious. Like you never do anything wrong, like everything that’s happened until now is somehow my fault and you did nothing, nothing, to contribute to the bullshit. Stop acting like a fucking victim.” 

“Little lady, you got shitfaced, and some guy was tryna take your drunk ass home. You’re lucky you went home with me instead.” 

“I could’ve handled it; I don’t need you for anything-” 

“You could barely keep your eyes op-” 

“I would’ve handled it! Just like I handle everything else. Alone. Every time. It gets done, I’m not incompetent, Toji!” 

You could hear a pin drop in the stillness. Those forested eyes are gazing into your soul. It’s said and done, and you’ve got it off your chest, yet it hurts like a freshly sliced gash. The arguing doesn’t change, married or not. It sucks when you shout, uncontrollable like a blazing fire, only to be snubbed out by his calm, condescending tone. 

“...I know.”  

You can’t take it, it’s stifling being near him. Wounds loosely covered by band aids seem to peel at his presence, and you’re stuck at his mercy again. You can’t give him the satisfaction of crying in addition to the drunk, poor decisions you made, hardening your expression as you fumble for your phone. 

“Take me home” you demand. Toji stands with an exaggerated stretch on both arms, painfully slow. Before you can hurl your phone at him from the dramatics, he looks down on you with that intoxicating gaze. 

“Are ya hungry?” 

You furrow your brows, and hastily put on the other shoe. Turning on your heels, you go to leave, and are immediately stopped by Toji's calloused hand holding your wrist. You don’t watch, but his palm is gentle. You could smoothly slip out and exit his apartment, forget this engagement and continue a peaceful, isolated life. You’d move on eventually—perhaps to bigger, happier jobs and romances. 

 Despite that hopeful outcome, you remain.  

“I don’t wanna eat. If you don’t take me home, I'll call a cab.” 

“I’ll take ya home, just...look, I know you’re hungry, and I’m down to eat at a diner down the block. Don’t worry about a thing, I’ll pay for it.” Toji isn’t known for being docile, but with his curved posture almost leaning into you and dejection in his eyes, you swear he’s searching for pity. 

“I said I’m not-,” The untimely arrival of your dinning, rumbling stomach cuts off any excuse. A corner of his mouth upturns, and your face contorts to scorned pride. 

“...Fine. Let’s make it quick.” 

“Great. Can’t have ya walkin’ around like that, though.” He pans to your chest. You haven’t thought to give your outfit a glance, but when you do, your eyes grow wide. The entirety of your conversation with Toji, your chest was spilling out the dress, and now part of your areolas is exposed. You cover up the top, but he stares with an x-ray's invasiveness. You reprimand him, swatting his chest; 

“Pervert!” 

There was an added benefit to being around Toji; the way people cleared a path for him and treated him with frightened kindness, afraid that pissing off the physically intimidating man would land them a one-way ticket to the nearest hospital.  

They weren’t exactly wrong, and you have a satisfied pep in your step as people scoot aside. He strides in front of you to get the door, and you mutter a small “thank you.”  

Sweet fluffy pancakes and charred grills mingle with faint notes of bleach. At least he knew better than to take you to a fancy establishment, especially since you were wearing a baggy t-shirt from him, and basketball shorts you had to tie around the waistband. His massive slides had you flopping across the dining aisle as you got to your booth. He’s not particularly dressed either, wearing matching shorts and a compression top. 

It’s hard not to perceive the way women ogle him, drooling at the way his biceps flex when he raises the menu, and his chiseled jaw tensing while he ponders the food options. It was a notable problem when you were married. They’d glare at you, shower him with compliments in front of you, and you’d shrink yourself. Occasionally the waiter would pretend you don’t exist as she swayed her hips at every little thing Toji said. If they want him, they can have him. It’s not your business, right? It’s no different with this waiter, twirling the curl of her hair as Toji reiterates his order, shifting from one leg to the other to highlight her curves.  

Not my business. You're nauseous.  

Not my business. Your fists clench underneath the table. 

Your head’s swimming in thoughts, uncertainty crashing down like a wave upon your increasingly loud intrusions. You drown within yourself, until you’re pulled out by a thumb travelling up your hand, and other fingers clasping around it. 

“Watcha wanna order, angel?” You regain composure, and when you blink, Toji is waiting for you. The waiter side-eyes you and the joining of your hands.  

“You lost? Take her order” he spat. 

The food's steaming hot and fresh, and you salivate at the plate in front of you. Toji snatches your bacon before you can, and you begrudgingly watch as he breaks the strips into two pieces, the way you like it. He winks, and you groan. You coat your strawberry pancakes with maple syrup, trespassing territory around the scrambled eggs and bacon, and he laughs across from you. 

“What’s funny?” 

“Never stopped drowning your breakfast in syrup” he ribs. You pout and swirl your bacon, “It makes it taste better.” 

Soon, food in your belly aided your dialogue, and the old banter returned; an easygoing flow, similar to a lifelong friend you hadn’t spoken to in decades. You giggle between bites and gossip about mutual rumors. 

"What you been doin’ since..." Toji trails off, falling short of “divorce”—a word he never wants to say. 

"Shoko recommended me to her boss, so I'm working uptown now. Pay's okay, nothing to write home about."  

"S'good. Livin comfortable?"  

"As comfortable as I can be"  

"Real humble. Guessin’ it's better than before" he jokes, though you sense a displace in his bearing at the nervous grin he flashes. You reach onto to his side and grab one of the grapes off his plate. You pop one in your mouth, "So, what drug ring got you that house?"  

"The cartel. Good vacation time, too" he jests. 

"Nice. at least it's not that shitty garbage gig you had for a while."  

"It did pay well."  

"Yeah? Couldn't get rid of the rotten milk and vomit smell for weeks after. Remember I made you shower at Geto’s apartment?" 

“Heh, yeah, he was fuckin’ pissed” he laughs, stealing a piece of sugary bacon from the syrup pool. "I'm a CEO, run a company downtown."  

"Ooo, look at you. Can't be little if it did this much for you" you say as you gesture at the empty dishes on the table. Restaurants were a luxury in your household. 

"I guess. I had a vision, and some people believed in me”, he pokes at the leftover blueberries, “I finally made it happen, that counts for something, right?"  

You pick another off his plate, smile stretching, "You're a natural born leader. People will follow you regardless, even if it's not the right choice."  

His eyebrows raised in surprise, "That's the first good thing you said about me today."  

"Don't get used to it." 

You wait for Toji to retrieve his car after walking back to his apartment. You’re awestruck in many ways; he paid for the whole meal with a black card and showed undying manners. He bowed to your requests. You’re smarter than this, though. This is his opportunity to get on your good side, and he’s showing the best version of himself. However, it fills your heart with want—like the initial dating phase, those butterfly stricken, heart-numbing, sappy gestures that made you melt.  

He wraps around the car to open your door, and you plant yourself in the sleek beige interior. Your eyes flick to the veins in his forearm straining as he steers, his deadpan focused expression and the composed R&B music low in the background. It starts to drizzle, and raindrops plink the car roof. 

You feel complete; And that alone is a dreadful reality. 

The scar on his lip twists to a smile, “Did’ya like the food?”  

You turn your nose up, “it was satisfactory.” He snickers, and navigates to the street your apartment is on. “Shit, I gotta give you your clothes back.” 

“Forget it, bring it when you get the chance.” Chance. He expected to see you again. You hang your head as he approaches the complex. You didn’t want today to end, but this is it. You’ll leave this car and go your separate ways. This is how it should be.  

You place an earnest hand on his shoulder and cast a smile. The corners quiver and your first syllable wobbles, but you finally speak, “I’m proud of you, Toji. I mean it. You’re going to do great things, and I’m always rooting for you.”  

He swallows stiff, and suddenly he’s sickly pale. Something within you is pleased at that reaction; if he wants redemption, he should beg and drop to his knees and crawl for forgiveness, he should lock himself up for your eyes only and cut off everyone else in his life. You’re walking away a second time, rightfully so, but you struggle to decipher what you want in this moment. He palms your hand, staring at you, “I’m all for praise, but tell me when we meet again” 

“Toji, there can’t be a next- “ 

“Give me your phone.” 

“Huh?” His urgency throws you off guard, “Don’t think, just give me your phone.” It’s impossible to kill the complicated slurry that is your mind, and a new bundle of thoughts emerges from his request, but for a heartbeat, you allow yourself to wander. Pitter patter and muted music, heated seats, the cologne radiating from Toji—all that exists. 

 You moved on instinct, and now your phone is in Toji’s hands. He's adding his contact information. He hands it back to you, fingers brushing against your soft skin.  

“I won’t text or call you. ’S there whenever you need me. Move at your own pace and call me when you’re ready.” With that, you exit his car. No hug or gratitude, skipping goodbyes as you rush out the car. It’s bittersweet when he pulls off, and you’re left with the ghost of him.  

The familiar click of your convoluted keys in the apartment door could bring you to tears. You’ve officially reverted to your mundane, boring lifestyle. The walls look duller today. 

You curiously click on his contact, and giggle at the name he assigned himself: 

dumbass ex 

tick, tock, tick, tock 

The blue light beaming through your office computer is an eyesore, but you have little say in the matter. There's an upcoming deadline for these reports, you can’t waste precious skill complaining about circumstances out of your control. It’s tiresome, and you rove to the cobweb missing a string in the corner of the room, or the single drop of water roaming outside those wide sterile windows. The balls of your feet carry your flats as you absentmindedly push a pen against your lip. 

Your concentration has been out of commission since meeting Toji. He kept his word and hadn’t called you whatsoever. A month passed, and still nothing. Be glad, you told yourself, get your goals back on track. Your exercises get vicious, from jogging to a full sprint, hoping that those buckets of sweat will shed off the extra weight of Toji’s abidance. The fruit bowl on your break offends you with mocking displays of strawberries and grapes. You’ve pondered deleting the contact entirely to repel enticement, but you can’t do it. It’s painfully clear that you miss him. 

He’s horrible, callous and selfish. Of course, Toji had a way of showing up at your lowest to fill your head with empty promises and gestures of affection, that charming grin shooting daggers at your weakness. In his gaze, you’re defenseless, and in his arms, you’re exposed.  

Albeit late, a pestering thought carves into you, unfortunate and disgraceful to the healing you strive to accomplish; message Toji. 

A set of wheels rolls above the carpet, and you see Shoko, lifeless arms hanging beyond the armrests. The bags under her eyes signify stress from finalizing late papers.  

“Unnghhhh, (Y/N), I can’t do it” she laments, drooping her head to the side. You pat the top of her hair, “I believe in you.” 

“What are you working on?” She quirks a brow, and you stare at the screen with her. You’ve typed an entire page of straight gibberish. “I’m getting distracted too...” 

“Let’s quit and tell her to shove it.” 

“You know I can’t do that” you fuss as you backspace the document. “Mm, me neither. What’s got you zoned out?” 

“Nothing in particular.” You’re afraid to tell Shoko of your rendezvous, she might become volcanic and fire magma at the sound of any “-oji”. 

“I know it’s not nothing. New boyfriend, hm?” 

“S-something like that” you chuckle. She shapes an ‘O’ with her mouth, and wheels closer. Her bangs touch your eyebrows, and she rests her chin on her hand. Her usual dead eyes have a malicious twinkle in them. 

“What’s he like? Is he tall or short?” she gasps, “did you meet him at the club? I told you it was a good idea; I really am the best advisor.” 

You sigh, “It’s no one new.” 

“Ooo, an old flame. Spicy. What’s his name?” You turn slowly, a nervous bite on your lips. She studies your face, and slowly hers drops. 

“Do not fucking say it.” 

“Shokoooo” you whine, searching for sympathy from her. Instead of that, your body is shaken violently as she whisper-yells, “Are you kidding? Get a grip! What’s gotten into you, you were fine!” 

“But I wasn’t. It sucks, I feel lonely all the time.” 

“You felt lonelier with him than without him!” 

“I know, but...” You ball your lips in with furrowed brows, and she holds her breath. 

“I wanna go see him” you squeak. Instantly, she squishes your cheeks with both hands to hold you in place. 

“Absolutely. Fucking. Not.” 

At home, you pace back and forth in front of the phone resting on your bed. Toji’s contact is open, and nausea is brewing in your stomach. You’re giddy and ill, working up the courage to press “call”. You really should be practicing Shoko’s advice, but you’ve long surpassed common sense. You leave and come back, spying on it from a distance. Eventually, you forgo the theatrics and grab the phone to hit the messenger app. 

Three dots vanish and resurface. You can’t get it right:

'Hey stranger I got custody of ur clothes rn' 

'Hey haha I missed u can I come over?' 

'Yo what’s up? Still have ur clothes do u want them?' 

'I’m coming to give u ur stinky clothes' 

This shouldn’t be complicated, and you don’t usually perform the process of elimination for simple responses, but it’s Toji. You’re scrambling and overanalyzing, reiterating your choice of slang only to delete it all over again. You settle for a simple message. “Hey Toji, I wanted to return your clothes. Let me know when you’re available. Thanks”  

Once you hit send, you run a marathon around your bedroom, tippy tapping to expel your anticipation. The churning grows as seconds pass, and so does your doubt. You tiptoe to the phone as if a displaced floorboard would activate the alarm. You’re about to tap the screen, and then your ringtone plays.   

Oh god. 

You take a deep breath and swipe right on the faceless profile picture labeled “dumbass ex”.  

“…Hello?” 

“Hey, angel.” You avoid a dull pound in your chest at the memorable pet name. “So, um-“  

“I wanna see you. I’m available now, and I’ll be home by the time you get here” he states, direct and confident. His conviction validates yours, you bend to his direction. 

“Okay then. I’ll start getting ready.” 

“I’ll send a cab to your address. See you soon.” When he hangs up, you dive into the pile of plushies. Squeezing them for emotional support, kicking your feet in the air as you scream into your ruffled pillows like a girl’s first crush. You have a long night ahead of you. 

You access Toji’s building. He must’ve notified them you were coming, as the doors were open upon arrival, and a bellhop was sent to guide you to his floor. You’re standing outside of it, clothes and a bottle of champagne in hand. Your stretchy maxi dress clings to your figure, complimenting the juicy shade of lip gloss you’re wearing—the shade he loved most on you during your marriage. You ring the bell, and it doesn’t take long before he opens the door. The scene you’re exposed to swells heat between your legs. 

Toji has nothing but a towel shimmied low on his hips, v-line adorned with veins and biceps corded with muscle. He’s trimmed his hair since your last encounter, and it’s dripping wet along with the rest of his soaked body. You’ve interrupted his shower apparently, but he didn’t hesitate to rush to the door, water cascading from the raven veil, sluicing down his sculpted chest. He had to have done this on purpose, but you weren’t complaining at this point; he looked damn good doing it. You can’t disengage from the beads branching amid his pecs and through his happy trail. God, you wish you were water personified right no- 

“You’re staring, dollface” he teases with a smirk. Your eyes snap to his, and you remember to breathe. You clumsily hold up the liquid peace offering, “Brought a little something.” 

“Thanks. Make yourself comfortable, I’m gonna get dressed.” You nod, and he marches upstairs. You don’t need comfortability; you need to be in and out of here before you do something you’ll regret.  

But...is that cedarwood and vanilla? The interior gives off romantic energy at night, attractive dim lighting throughout and dull flickering pops of his fireplace in the living room. You find the source of that heavenly scent sitting on his kitchen island, and awkwardly place the bottle down. You don’t know what to do with yourself, more so you don’t know what to say. It’s hard to recite a script when things aren’t going according to plan. Did you want to apologize, or force him to apologize? Maybe you should’ve cursed him out, rehashed his asshole behavior from the past until he drowned in guilt. You want to kiss and slap him, cry in his arms until your voice gives out and disappear all at once.  

There’s a beautiful clear vase in the center, crammed with your favorite flowers, and your fingers dance across the petals. “You like ‘em?” he asks stepping into the kitchen. His hair’s still saturated, but he’s sporting grey sweatpants and a black ribbed tank top. “They’re very pretty.” 

“They’re for you.” 

You switch between his playful expression and the burst of colors, “You don’t have to do that.” The bouquet evokes recollections of heated arguments—anytime he’d angered you to tears, and you slammed that bedroom door in his face, you always woke up to similar flowers on the floor. They were cheap, but it meant more than money; because despite the fights and disagreements, it let you know that he’d love you regardless. 

“I wanted to. As thanks for bringing my clothes.” He’s pacing towards you, and you’re bound to the floor like melting wax. His gaze is captivating, and you’re entranced by the verdurous ardor that won’t deter from you. 

“Thank you”, you say as he looms above you and inspects the scripture on the pale bottle. His large thumb blocks the intricate lettering he’s trying to read, “I should be thanking you. Didn’t think you’d ever message me.” 

You can feel the body heat radiating off him, the airy words as he mouths the contents. His eyebrows furrow to follow his focus, while you lose yours.   

“I-I should probably get going-” Without delay, Toji blocks your side with an iron grip on the island, trapping you in the confines of his broad wingspan. 

“Leaving so soon? You got plans tonight?” Saying and doing are completely different stories, and from the way your feet haven’t moved, you aren’t in a rush to go anywhere. 

“Not really, but I worked today and I’m kinda tired-”  

“Then what better way to unwind than with a bottle? I can’t drink this by myself, might as well keep me company” he suggests, persuasion to a greater extent when your lower back hits the bar. A drink or two couldn’t hurt, right? 

“I guess I can stay for a few minutes.” Toji flashes a victorious toothy grin and retrieves cups from the sink cupboard. He gives you a rounded glass, and his muscles flex below candlelight as he maneuvers the cork at an angle. 

“Let’s crack this open” he says, popping the cap off and pouring a substantial amount of golden fizz into both cups. 

Toji raises his glass, “A toast.” 

You tilt your head but raise yours as well. “To what?” 

“Us.”  

Us is a funny thing—with enough effort, it becomes you and I just as quickly as it formed. You don’t know if you’re willing to accept the responsibility of eternity. The devastation of commitment could damage you forever. There’s no us, but there’s you and him. So, you clink your glass, “To us,” and his eyes never leave yours as he takes a swig. It lasts a lifetime among longing breaths and unsaid words. 

He brings the champagne to the living room, “I’ll turn on a movie. You know that cheesy romcom shit you used to watch? They made a sequel.” You fall flat on containing your excitement. He grabs the remote and lays back with his thighs spread apart.  

Toji pats the couch, “Come sit. Don’t worry, I won’t bite.” You hardly believe that, but you remove your heels and relax upon overstuffed cushions. You opt to sit farther on the couch, and there’s an annoyed twitch on his lip at your display of boundaries. Nevertheless, he starts the movie. 

Toji’s not particularly sneaky. He announces multiple bathroom breaks, returning to a spot on the couch that’s inconspicuous, but inching closer to you. The intent becomes clear when the ghost of his shoulder knocks against you, spreading his thighs wider to brush against the softness huddled into your snug figure. You’re half paying attention to the cliché performance, and half observing Toji. It’s hard not to smile when he behaves like a disobedient dog obligated to sit.  

It’s cute that he arced himself to be eye-level with you. His tank rode up to expose his lower abdomen, and he adjusts himself in his sweats, jaw occasionally clenching. It could be the drink talking, perhaps you’ve had too many.  

The movie ends, and you exhale a sigh of relief. “I forgot how corny this shit is.” 

Toji shrugs, “I didn’t think it was too bad.” 

“No way, you actually liked it?” you gasp. He huffs out his nose, smiling, “People change.” 

“I’m shocked” you quip. Dusk creeps into a descending sunset, and you steal a glance at your phone screen. Bright as day, a notification from Shoko emerges. “NO TOJI >:(" 

You’re stumped thinking of a reply, one that doesn’t compromise your less-than-ideal situation, when Toji puts his hand over the screen. “Hope I’m not gettin’ ya in trouble.” 

“Like you care.” He chuckles and slides it to the far side of the couch. “You’re right. Let’s watch another.” 

This next movie's decent; a flat racing plot with excessive sequels. He unleashes an exaggerated yawn, extending his triceps to land behind your head. You quirk a brow at him, and he plays innocent. “You look cold” he says. You don’t care as much as you pretend. His pads trace the shell of your burning ear down to the lobe, to fine hair at the end of your neck. His rough hand massages the back of your head, and you lull to his chest. Be it the champagne or his actions, it’s too hot for comfort. Clamping your thighs shut spurs the intensity. His other hand languidly tests the limits of your skin, gossamer touches from your knee to your thigh. It's asking, and when you don’t object, he invites the entire palm to your knee, rubbing delicately. He brings it to your upper thigh, and retreats to the outside, getting dangerously close to your rear. The worst part is it’s not that bad. It’s intimate. Warm. 

Loving. 

It takes you a minute to comprehend you’re tearing up, but Toji recognizes that hushed sniffle. Airy and choked, quiet as to not be a burden. He circles a hand around your waist and pulls you impossibly close. He tilts your chin to his gaze, soft and deceptively gentle when he asks. 

“What’s wrong pretty, hm?” You say nothing through the constrains in your throat, streaking the tears that fall faster than you can wipe them. This man alone can reduce you to mush with a wave of his hand. He bares your rawest state and sculpts you back together with such purity, such devotion, that you’d plead for him to sink his clay sodden fingers into your nothing, and make you everything. 

“Tell me, and I’ll fix it.” 

You say just above a whisper, “You’re selfish, you know that?”  

“Mhm, I know” he nods, grazing his thumb across your lip. 

“This isn’t healthy for us; we can’t heal like this.” He angles your head with his half lidded gaze, polishing your damp undereyes.  

“I don’t need healing. I need you.” 

You find passage in his hair, and surrender to temptation. 

You test with a smooch. Then another. Then a series of tender, sugary kisses are pushed upon his pliant lips, and he responds in kind. You curl your fingers through his tresses as you explore the contours of his lips for what feels like the first time. Toji isn’t known for patience, but the sensation of his mildly dry lips getting smoother from your supple kisses gives him the will to savor this moment. You push and pull from each other, indulging in the messy smacks and caresses. You stop amid shared breaths to skim and nudge his yearning lips, diving into more hungry kisses. Toji abruptly lifts you over him, and you deepen its bruising passion.  

You lick his bottom lip, and he groans, parting his mouth to allow your entry. You traverse the pink mass, interlacing in a wet feverish exchange. Your mind is numb, and the heartbeat in your core strikes stronger when your tongues intertwine. Toji hikes your dress up and slinks his massive hands over the plush fat of your rear. He earns a muffled moan from you as he kneads and gropes, and you feel his smirk against your lips. He grips your ass and starts to grind your hips on the bulge in his pants, a silent beg for any amount of friction. You wind with his movements, consuming him, and you hear a whimper get lost in the back of his throat.  

You drag your teeth along his neck. You lick and suck in a few spots and decide to draw harshly on a responsive patch of skin while circling the fat of your pussy over his sensitive cock, taut in his boxers. His breath hitches, and he slaps your ass. “Fuck, baby please.” It’s rare to witness him begging like this, and you’re drinking it in. You lick up his Adam’s apple and pepper his jaw with kisses. “You like it?” 

“Need more.” You bite his bottom lip for what seems like an exchange, but break away once he leans in. “Mm, be patient Toji.”  

Your hands traverse the rugged muscle under his tank top. He aids in taking it off, and you rake over his breathless torso. You kiss along his pecs and lick the groove of his abs, delighting in the parts you missed during your separation. Toji has a tinge of red soaking his chest and ears, shifting uncomfortably from his throbbing cock when you bat your eyes as you slope to the floor. You slip a finger under his waistband, playfully running over its span, and snapping it from a peak. He hisses. You palm his erection, and he grinds into it.  

“Wait” he husks. He reaches for a pillow and shuffles it under your knees. “Oh, thank you” you say, but it doesn’t look like he hears you in the chaos of tugging his sweatpants down to expose his boxers. The anticipation’s killing you, so you free his dick from its confinement. 

You can’t forget the mouthwatering size. His girth meets his length with equal satisfaction. The base is tan, fading to a rosy tip and a faint curve. You committed his veins to memory, small ones embossing the sides and a prominent one meandering to his tip. 

You maintain eye contact with him, hand steady on the base as you deliver taunting little licks to his frenulum. You precisely ring around his urethra and trace the veins, pulsating from the flick of your wrist. Toji hisses shaky curses and bucks, beefy thighs stiffening when you roll a flat strip to his leaking head and pump the base of his cock. He didn’t want to push you, but his whole body twitched in desire. “Your mouth” he groans. You react a coy ‘huh?’, tapping the head on your tongue and slathering it in saliva with cutesy doe eyes. He’s homed in on the strings of saliva connecting him to your tongue. 

An undertone of desperation in his gravelly voice, “Whole thing. In your mouth,” he expends another shaky breath, “please.” 

He bites his lip and stifles a moan, watching you engulf the cockhead in your mouth. You hollow out your cheeks while the underside of your tongue holds firm, and cautiously accommodate his size. It’s too big for comfort and it stretches the capacity of your plump spit-covered lips, but you work through the daunting pressure poking your reflex. You gradually relax, periodically gagging from an unprepared increase, and he twitches at your tightening throat. Your nose finally touches the hilt, flooded in his musk, and you start to suck. You bob leisurely, adjusting to the sense, and he subtly squirms in your touch.  

Toji crinkles his brows when you release a pleasant pop on his tip, purely to observe his eyes rolling back when you wreck him in a noisy suction. Noise was no longer a factor—sounds of spit and dry retching overpowered the volume of the movie regardless. He holds your hair away from you to get a better view of your face, smothered with tears and mascara, drool ceaseless down your chin. “F-fuck, you’re so good, so, so good to me” he groans. 

Your tongue swirls around him as you’re bobbing, and you accompany it with a tender massage to his balls. You cup and fondle them, using the lubrication from your spit to glide your fingers across. He sighs and grabs a handful of your hair. “Need to come. Keep that pretty throat open for me, yeah?” 

He rapidly shoves you down to the hilt, and you wince before he continues at a relentless pace. You anchor his thigh for stability, and he throws his head back, fucking your throat raw. There's a sheen of sweat where his bangs stick to his forehead, and he emits an endless measure of moans the closer he gets. Rambling about nonsense, yes’s and curses as he stiffens. He treats your mouth like a flesh light, evident by the throat bulge disappearing and reappearing. You happily accept the searing jaw, swaying your ass from thrumming in your saturated panties damp to your inner thighs.  

You can tell he’s about to climax because he goes completely quiet minus the panting, open mouthed with his head back. You resume massaging his balls, and he shoves you to the base, “C-coming” he moans. You grab onto him, and a squeak dies in your throat when he paints it white. He shakes, groans for each spurt coating your mouth, pumping the last of his semen as you swallow. 

Toji shudders when he pulls out, and his panting returns to a soft huff. You expected him to be spent, or at least sit in the aftershocks for a while until he calmed down. But he tightens the grip on your hair and forces you to look up. “Show me” he husks. You stick your tongue out, proof you swallowed every bit. “Now c’mere”, he guides you into a filthy French kiss, devouring you with much more dominance than before. It’s as though your nearness restored him. You can hardly stand your feeble knees and sopping core, but Toji takes care of it for you. With unnatural vigor, he lifts you over his shoulder, and marches up the stairs. “Ah, Toji, maybe you should take a sec-” 

He swats your butt harsh, and you yelp from the sting. “Don’t fuckin’ tell me what to do. You’ve been so mouthy, a damn tease, too. You’re gonna regret it.” 

You’re ferried into the rather plain bedroom lined with dim hues, and a wide ceiling length mirror opposite the bed. He tosses you on the dark gray bedding and climbs over you. Your heart’s racing with thrill. Toji yanks the dress over your head, uncovering the sheer white lacey bra, similar to your underwear.  

He stares like you’re a piece of meat, feasting on your flawlessness not yet smothered in hickeys and bruises, your nipples at attention under the fabric. “It’s all for me, huh?” he whispers, lust rolling off his tongue. You nod, because it’s always been for him, whether he was here or not. He buries himself in your cleavage and hums in satisfaction. His touch sends goosebumps to your skin and keeps your back arched when he drags a pad along your spine. Then your bra unclasps, and he removes it carefully, as if he didn’t want to spoil the surprise by unwrapping his gift too early. He gawks at them for an embarrassingly long pause, enough to make your cheeks hot, and you chide, “Stop staring.” 

“Shut up, you’re gorgeous.” Toji submerges the bud, whirling around it while he roughly squeezes both breasts. He molds the dough of your breasts with strong palms, nips and tugs your nipple before soothing it with fierce tongue kisses. Consistent teeth grazing hikes your sensitivity before he trades it for sucking. When he switches to the other, he pinches the maltreated peak, eliciting a whimper. You merely bind your thighs and embrace the disarray being caused on your spit-soaked nipples. The cold air your abused tits receive as he withdrawals from suckling is nullified by the hickeys he leaves. You quiver from constellations of splotchy purplish red, delicious pain tingling throughout your torso. “Not so much, I have to go back to work soon” you moan, not very convincing.  

“Even better; everyone’ll know who fucks you” Toji winks, and your heart skips. He dumps a nice vibrant bruise on your sternum, and advances to the dainty hem. He parts your thighs with ease, throwing them on his shoulder. Then he develops a haughty smirk.  

You’re monitoring his face, until he presses a pad against your aching clit, and the subsequent juices overflowing from a huge wet patch. He plays with the spiderweb of slick between his digits, “Mm. Y’still my girl.” You blush as he sucks on them and licks his lips afterwards. Hooking under the panties, he pulls them taut, projecting the swell of your pudgy vulva in tightening lace. It sinks past your outer lips and cages your clit—you want to writhe from friction, but it makes it worse. He ghosts against you and kisses the print, and you want to scream. “Tell me what you want, or I won’t do it.” 

“P-please...” you whine. You lock eyes, and you can hardly manage a word in the foreground of his intensity. How can he expect you to form coherent sentences when he sees through you like this? He gives a disappointed tut and puppeteers the strings, shifting them back and forth upon your neglected vulva. You cry out, and he cinches it together, isolating the part that pulses incessantly. He has an evil grin on his face, the bastard. “Details, baby.” 

“Toji...please t-touch me alre-eady so I can come, m’sorry I won’t tease you again!” you promise, willing to do whatever it takes to reduce your sentence. 

“And what else?” 

“Your mouth on m-my pussy...please lick it.” You’re humiliated at the request that tumbles from your bottommost desires, but he’s satisfied. He’s never been one to shy away from dirty talk. 

“Good girl.” Toji slithers your panties off, and you sigh from a loss of pressure just as his bangs tickle your pubic area. He interlocks your hands, a breath from eating you. 

“You don’t look at me, I’ll stop. Think you can do that f’me?”  

“Mhm!”  

He hums in agreement and submerses into you. Toji’s a messy eater, especially when he’s desperate. He ovals the outer lips and precisely stirs your clit, and your stomach turns in knots from simple motions. He frames it and carefully winds around his capable tongue, really focusing on the spots that make your back curve; really focusing on your entry, as he teasingly digs in.  

Toji cajoles a groan from his nose caressing your bud, then laps a level tongue over your wetness, truly tasting you. It isn’t long before his teasing farce began to crumble, and he obliged his ravenous appetite. He eats you starving, insatiable as he absorbs your twitching cunt and perfumed essence spilling down his chin. You clasp your hands, desire building in a trembling quake, but he doesn’t falter. He slurps your inner lips, and finally delivers proper care to your neglected clit. He hums a low vibration when he sucks, his pursed lips moving from a steady tongue to full on slobbering like some savage animal.  

You appreciate the support his steady hands give your shaky ones. “Toji, hahhh coming” you whine, a familiar sensation flipping in your core. He lets his words fan onto you, “You know better” he husks. Your hips are bucking frantically, and so you whine, “Please, can I come sir, please please please please!”  

“Hmm, I don’t know, you were ready to disobey me just now.” He says that, however the look in his eye is unrelated; it craves you, the want to make you squeal repeatedly until you’re on the verge of collapse. “’M can’t take it anymore, please let me come!” You urge your hips to his mouth, and meld into his warmth. 

“Come on my face, pretty girl” he groans, just as hankering as you. He laps at your clit, and you sooner fall apart underneath him. Your whimpered plea forms an innocent sob as you spasm from overstimulation. Toji just doesn’t stop. His head careens against you, tasting everything your body has to offer. You’re suddenly regretting how badly you wanted to come. 

“Toji- I-it’s too much” you protest, but it receives no response. Your release dribbles down his chin and he persists, ultimately unbinding when you lose a hold on his hands from the tremors. He diverges your lips and admires the way your mess clenches around air. 

“Heh, you’re shaking. Cute.” He rubs the back of your legs, reassuring you in spite of his previous cruelty. You make a sad attempt at wiggling away, but he grabs you firm. 

No running. Be good and hold your legs back.” He folds your legs to your shoulders, and you mewl, reluctantly wrapping your hands around them. ‘No’ isn’t a valid response at present.  

Toji’s thumbs spread your wrinkling opening, and you feel a draft on its expanse before he spits directly into your hole. You jerk, startled, and he shushes you. He slathers his thick digits in your glistening strip, and smoothly sinks one inside. “Pussy so slippery for me. Miss this...miss you” he sighs, starting to pump. He prepares you for the main course, scrapes your walls and curls his finger to hit a spot you can’t reach. The nasty squelching sounds you echo from a mere finger casts heat on your cheeks, and he seems to enjoy your responsiveness as he adds another finger to the commotion. He twines a ‘come hither’ motion that makes your back arch from every delightful swipe against your velvety walls. Then his pink muscle undulates along your swollen bud, and you dissolve to a puddle. Your hips stutter, and surge after surge of torturous pleasure strikes you with no end in sight. 

“Toji, f-fuck wait- hng s’feels too good” you whimper, and he gruffs a chuckle. He expands his fingers with precision, then chooses to slide a thumb in your butthole. The combination of both hands intruding your being, coiling into your soul jams your head with intoxicating dizziness and fictitious futures. Static pools in your stomach and circulates like the goading flickers of a raging inferno. He contacts your g-spot, and you moan, “Ah- can I, I’m close” 

“I know, I know. Let go for me,” he says, or at least that’s what it sounds like when he’s face-deep. Your eyes are screwed shut, white noise before you crash and shatter around his fingers. Fortunately, you’re deaf to your own lewd wailing, clutching for dear life through contractions. It gushes past his wrist. Tears reside in your lashes, croaked sob from the slap he gives your puffy pussy. “That’s it, baby, there we go.” 

Toji shows mercy and slips out. You’re still registering sultry bliss, untangling your limbs to lay slack. Empathy isn’t forever, though, because he forces your butt rearwards as he hops off the bed. Precum seeps from his tip, sheeting his shaft and heavy brimming sack. He propels your thighs to your chest, and your expression switches to fear for a second at the angry red tip sitting at your entrance. It's as if it grew since the blowjob, and you’re sure you’ll die if he stuffs that monster inside you.  

He slides up and down the entrance, seizing the sore bud, “Mmm, pretty thing making a mess all over my cock.”  

“Just go slow, okay?” you meek. 

“Of course, ‘m not tryna kill you.” Toji doesn’t disrupt the yearning gaze between you, giving your entry several threatening caresses. He groans from the sensation of your puffy lips snuggling his length. Then he plunges the bulbous tip, encased in your passion. He’s unhurried for the most part, besides the instants he stops himself from ramming into you, cock begging to feel the fervor. He’s plugging you to capacity, and you’re only halfway in. Soreness whirrs in your walls being outstretched beyond belief, yet you’re milking what remains, dragging the rest of him in. His breath hitches, a spiderweb of veins pulses in your tight embrace and he rocks his hips further. “Look at the way you’re gripping me. Fuck” he shudders. His tip presses on your cervix, and you feel the weight of his balls on your rear. 

Toji drives into you nice and slow. In this position you feel each vast stroke massaging your tumid core, squelching amidst your languid bodies. There’s almost a gloss film on his eyes as he indulges in the sweet addiction swamping his thoughts with unfiltered lust. “When you left it hurt real bad, y’know? I even cried.” You’re a bit stunned at his spur of honesty, but it’s short-lived as his thrusts get wilder and brutal. Your mouth hangs open, drool shameless out your mouth as he kisses your cervix without trying. You throb frenetically, chest heaving from the way his sack smacks against your ass and the creamy translucent ring forming at the base of his cock. His swinging strokes graze your g-spot and you sob, but he doesn’t check for your mitigation, encompassing your numb clit in the heat of his mean smacks.  

“Heh, dunno if you remember, but you left a pair of panties when you moved”, Toji regresses to the tip and bottoms out repeatedly, “I’ve jerked off in them so many times, imagining you backing up this juicy pussy on my dick.” You’re hysterical, flushed from head to toe and struggling to take breaths. Toji has you locked slamming into your cervix. It coaxes a mix of pleasure and pain burning through you, and your toes curl. “You love me?” he asks. It’s unfair to ask you now, scatter-brained and drooling like a stupefied slut. But you nod, and he plasters a cocky grin. “Good. ‘S long as I have that, I’m okay.”  

The unexpected flood of your orgasm quakes you, unable to warn Toji, or even ask for permission. How disappointed he’d be in you, as your juices sluice and soak, fluttering where you come undone. It’s a trail of fire, and it hurts to come. His hips sputter and he mutters a string of curses, flicking your nub faster to heighten the intensity of the earlier mess. You paw at his chest, back arched and fresh tears clustering in the haze. “Please, please!” you babble to an unresponsive Toji, stuck in a feral trance.  

Toji pulls out, palpitating at the precipice of his own climax. You take this opportunity to flip on your stomach and creep to a farther part of the bed. He’s in no rush. You can’t go far like that, a net of arousal at the apex of your thighs. He climbs onto the bed and grapples your hips, thighs capturing yours. He curves your back and slips into your gummy walls anew. You grip him like a vice notwithstanding the complaints. You hate to say it, but Toji’s length bullying its way to your cervix is a poison you’d drink habitually. He snares your hair and holds the underside of your chin. “Hah- c’mon baby, you can take a little more”, he groans at a savage pace, “be a good girl.” Your ass ripples against the brawny man, hoarse voice in your ear, scrotum pummeling the overworked bundle of nerves. Your knuckles turn white on the sheets. All you should do is let him use you, that’s all you need to do, right?   

Toji pans your head to the mirror, “Look how good you’re taking me, angel. You’re doing well.” His honeyed praises make you throb, attended by the bestial snap of his hips. “See that?”, he references your release slugging both legs, air heavy with sweat, “you’re such a f-fucking slut, what man could satisfy you besides me?” You sniffle and muster a pathetic babble, and he laughs. “You’re my perfect slut, though, fuck- ‘nd I’m not gonna make the same mistakes again.” There’s a tinge of regret swimming in the sea that is Toji’s confidence, and you feel it. It’s a subtle confession; please don’t go. 

Then he stops. Toji lets go, and you’re impulsively manhandled in front of him while he’s behind you. He lays back, and in doing so, ferries your knees to the sides of your face and hooks his hands to the rear of your head. You’re unveiled in the reflection of the mirror, a panel that bounces back the thin sheen of sweat on your bodies, your disheveled hair and makeup, wrinkled sheets, and the sticky lacings attaching you to Toji. You want to shy from the humiliating sight. “Don’t hide your face” he coos. You glimpse a portion of his face in the mirror, a glint in his eye, “I like this view more.”  

He bends his knees and pounds your chubby cunt with reckless abandon. He’s fucking your cervix, heedless grunts and panting groans as you swallow him up. Toji sputters, throbbing along your abused body and reverberating vicious staggering plap’s that could be heard on the lowest floor. You can’t breathe, let alone think, and the asphyxiation goes straight to your pussy. “O-oh fuck, heh, feel s’good. Gonna fill you up, yeah? Shit- have a mini me crawling around. Y-you'd like that, wouldn’t you, doll? Wanna carry my baby?” The headboard thuds against the wall, and in your fog, you call out for him, chanting his name like a mantra. The emotion is overwhelming, you claw at his bicep as shockwaves burst and fizzle out on your skin. “You’re dripping down my balls, sweetie, you close again?” Tougher, nastier strikes allure your orgasm, and you bleat a scream as a stream of liquid surges from you that drenches the sheets and Toji’s shaft. It’s a blinding white light, and you go limp through the violent spasms.  

“Ohhh shit, that’s it baby, take everything I give you” he rasps. Toji shoulders your dead weight with ease, going silent, then plummeting you to the hilt. His balls tighten, and he manages some slushy pumps before he comes. He spurts thick, hot globs that paint and crowd your walls with greed. You milk him dry as he bucks. It overflows to trickling down his length, and his muscles quiver as he comes down from his high. His staggering pants reduce to hitching, and he relaxes your exhausted limbs. 

Toji drives out and turns you around. You’re edging unconsciousness, sporadic jolts and innocent sobs carrying in your scratched throat. “I know. Breathe, baby.” He brings you flush with his chest, and you absorb his gentle puffs, the methodical beat of his heart. “You okay?” You’re unresponsive, gathering yourself in an incomplete collage of thoughts. You want to talk but it dissipates on your tongue. He rubs your back and kisses your forehead.  

Then it’s muted; solely the dwindling rate at which your heart races, and the tender smooches Toji dots on your face as you cuddle. When you open your eyes, the sheets are changed, and you’re cleaned. Clearly some time has passed. You sit, and Toji comes out the bathroom, running water in the background. “How ya feelin’?” 

You wince at the blunt thrum in your vulva, “Okay. How long was I out?” 

“Like half an hour. Up for a bath?” You don’t have the energy to move your body. Toji scoops you bridal style and leads you to the bathroom. You found it amusing how considerate he was after wrecking your brain. 

Toji spoons a generous quantity of Epson salt into the corner jet tub. He helps you in and joins once you’re stable. It’s a lavish proportion, but you decide to be next to him. Your head situates on your forearms over the tub rim while Toji sloshes water onto your back. The steam and serene jets below ship you to a luxury vacation on a tropical island, its quality comparable to spas with extensive dollar signs. You study each other. 

“I’ll let you get whatever you need from your place.” You knit your brows, “For what?” 

“You live with me.” You simper at his audacity.  

“So, you’re the decision maker now?” 

“For this, yes. Can’t risk you runnin’ off again.” 

“It’s your fault I left.” He pauses, brushing your cheek with his thumb. “I know. I’m sorry.” 

A piece of you becomes whole at his acknowledgement. There are no petty jabs to be had where lingering truths wade in the mist. “Never thought I’d hear an apology from you.”  

“It’s overdue. I was a dick, and I should’ve never treated you like that. Was tryna sort out my shit, but I didn’t have to take it out on ya.” 

The corner of your mouth quirks up. “Sorry...but not sorry enough to let me go?” 

 “No. You need nobody but me.” 

You chortle, and he cracks a smirk. “Arrogant asshole.”   

“I love you, too.” 

[peachdues]

HEARTBALM

Kyojuro x Reader (modern AU NSFW)

A/N: I have COVID brain fog and it shows. You legally can't hold how bad this is against me. But if you somehow like it, likes/reblogs/comments, always appreciated! I promise I'm saving Netherwood for when I've recovered lmao.

This is like a Frankenstein-fulfillment request of several of my 2K event requests. So if you asked for Kyojuro and any of the prompts involving “please let me cum in you” or “woah, woah, I’m here. I’m right here,” congrats! This is for you. I’m sorry it’s ass.

CW: angry/possessive Kyojuro • mentions of toxic/slightly verbally abusive ex boyfriend • ex boyfriend gets decked • explicit sexual content • breeding kink • creampies • car sex • MDNI.

Everything was too loud and too close. You swore you felt a dozen pairs of eyes burning holes into you with such intensity that you were surprised you were still standing, rather than folding over like a piece of Swiss cheese. The judgment in their gazes felt like a blade against your throat, the cold sting imploring you to fold, to disappear.

There was no air in your lungs, so before you could choke in front of all of your ex-boyfriend’s cronies and friends, you turned and did as cowards did; you ran.

You pushed and shoved your way through the thick crush of bodies that had gathered in this small, off-campus house for the last party of the semester, the last chance for them all to let loose before their lives became a flurry of final exams and papers and discarded coffee cups in dimply lit corners of the campus library. You’d thought it would be your chance to relax, too, after the hair-pulling stress that had been the last month and a half of your life. Stress, that had been expounded upon by the simpering, smarmy asshole you’d once called your boyfriend, who now stared after your retreating form with a vicious grin, apparently pleased to have gotten under his former girlfriend’s skin once more.

There was a buzzing beneath your skin that would not quiet, that seemed to only grow hotter and more incessant as you navigated the maze of bodies and tables set for beer pong in this labyrinth of college-aged debauchery. In the three minutes you’d been darting and ducking around what had to be half of the Ubayashiki University student body, you’d not seen a friendly or familiar face once.

Where was Kyojuro?

You needed to find your sun. You needed your kind, supportive, and steadfast best friend who’d been glued to your side ever since freshman orientation, when you’d shyly approached him and asked if you could eat lunch beside him, feeling too nervous to risk approaching anyone else. He’d laughed, warm and welcoming, as he made room at his table for you, welcoming you with such sincerity and kindness that it was no wonder that you and so many others were drawn to him.

And though Kyojuro treated almost everyone as though they’d been best friends for years, you had been the only one in your orientation group that he’d allowed to truly get to know him. Whether it was during a morning stroll through the campus green as you made your way to your early morning classes, or pressed up against the greasy wall of the grill as you waited for the fry cook to call out your orders, the walls Kyojuro had so carefully crafted to conceal the tempest of passion and fire that raged beneath his dazzling smiles and loud, booming laughs began to peel back, and you saw him for what he truly was.

Truthfully, the more he showed you, the more you wanted; he was a riddle you would never tire of working out, a puzzle you hoped never to solve, even as the pieces fell faster and faster into place.

As your circle of friends grew, your bond only strengthened. It was Kyojuro you called when you found out your beloved childhood dog passed away, hardly able to speak through the tears as they streamed down your face. It was Kyojuro who had all but sprinted from his residence hall to yours, well across campus, with three pints of your favorite ice cream in tow, and who’d let you eat your fill until your stomach was full and the emptiness in your heart had subsided.

And it was you who Kyojuro had called to come join him as he’d smoked a rare cigarette, hands shaking with both his hurt and his anger after a particularly nasty call from his father.

And yet, you’d never dated; you’d never escalated your friendship beyond a few, charged moments that had been marked only by a series of almost and never anything completed.

He wasn’t a fan of your ex-boyfriend; that much he’d made clear. Though Kyojuro had never been one to be unkind towards anyone, you hadn’t missed the way his eyes tightened any time your ex let a door slam in your face or ignored your hand in favor of his phone. Kyojuro hadn’t been shy to let you know that he thought you deserved better – far better.

You’d wanted to ask him whether he thought better was with him, because you knew deep in your heart, if he asked, you would be his; but you never built up the courage to ask, and so you quashed these feelings down deep, hiding them away in a locked chest never to be opened.

Then, you’d finally broken up with your ex only a month prior after discovering he’d cheated on you with no shortage of other students on campus, everyone but you apparently having been in on the cruel joke. Kyojuro had been one of the few steadfastly in your corner, insistent that you’d done nothing wrong, no matter how many times your ex tried to claim you’d pushed him into sleeping with half the student body.

You hadn’t seen your ex, not since you’d coolly told him the pair of you were over, all those weeks ago; not until tonight, when you’d nearly smashed into him while trying to get a drink from the makeshift bar in this strange house you’d never been in.

“Well, well,” your ex-boyfriend had crooned, hand gripping your elbow and keeping you trapped there with him and his smirking pack of hyenas looking at you like you were something to devour. “Did you miss me that much, gorgeous?”

“Get off me,” you’d tried to growl, though the slight wobble in your voice defeated any attempt of yours to be threatening, instead leaving you to come off as a scared little girl, cornered somewhere she shouldn’t have been.

Your ex’s eyes were malicious as they raked over you. “Did you wear that for me, darling?”

He was referring to the red sundress you’d worn, the one you knew made your curves look downright sumptuous, but now you felt like it was a neon sign that read “HARASS ME,” given the hunger in your ex’s eyes that sent your skin crawling. You’d worn it for yourself, to feel confident, only now, you felt like a piece of fruit ripe for plucking, and you’d somehow fallen into the greediest hands on campus.

By divine luck, your ex’s grip on your forearm loosened and you yanked back out of his reach, forgoing the red plastic cup containing whatever grotesque combination of alcohol the party hosts had come up with in favor of putting as much distance as possible between yourself and your ex.

You’d come with Kyojuro and your friend Tengen, but now you couldn’t find either and it only made you feel more lost; more vulnerable. There was a buzzing in your ears that drowned out the pounding base of the music thumping through the blown-out speakers haphazardly set up in the house’s den. Your vision tunneled, and you wondered whether anyone would notice if you dropped to the floor and screamed; if anyone would care.

Stumbling blindly, you smashed into something warm and sold, and it sent you staggering backward.

“Sorry, sorry,” you mumbled, eyes still wide and unfocused as you moved to push past whatever or whomever you’d smacked into, uncaring at the way your torment was surely etched into your face.

“Woah, hey, hey,” a warm hand closed around your arm as you tried to shove past the body, steadying you, locking you into place. “Y/N, look at me.”

The familiarity of the voice and the touch did not register, and you only continued to shake your head, muttering your apologies.

“Woah, woah, woah. I’m here. I’m right here.” Kyojuro caught you by the arm as you tried once more to shove past him in your haste the leave the party you’d stupidly decided to attend. A hand gripped your chin and firmly but gently turned your head up to meet a pair of ochre eyes, running over you in concern.

“Kyo,” you breathed in relief, feeling yourself melt slightly beneath the steadying warmth of your best friend.

Kyojuro’s mouth was set in a hard line. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

You uttered the name of your insufferable ex and Kyojuro’s eyes darkened. “What did he do?”

His hand gripped yours and you were grateful for the way it helped anchor you and kept you from spinning out under the anxious whirlwind of your thoughts. “Nothing, he’s just being an asshole – please, Kyo, can we leave?”

You felt slightly guilty – after all, it was you who’d suggested you all come to this party in the first place, and now you were the one wanting to leave less than an hour later, but it was too much. Surely, your best friend wouldn’t hold your fickleness so terribly against you, not when it wasn’t your fault in the first place that you’d been sent careening toward an anxiety attack.

Kyojuro didn’t hesitate as he nodded. “Just let me find Tengen and I’ll let him know. I’ll drive you home.”

You smiled faintly in relief, squeezing his hand appreciatively before letting him go. The way Kyojuro’s fingers had lingered against yours had made your heart flutter, chasing away thoughts of him, your ex, and replacing them with a shy curiosity that made you want to know what those fingers would feel like if they touched other parts of you.

Or, it may have been the little alcohol you’d ingested coloring your thoughts; after all, you’d hardly eaten that day in preparation for getting properly soused at the party you now were so desperate to leave.

You retreated into the kitchen, near the open door that led out to a finished, in-ground pool in which several other attendees were already swimming, some without clothes on, too lost in whatever beverage or drug they’d ingested to care. You’d thought yourself safe, amidst a crowd of admittedly drunk party-goers, but it seemed not even the threat of onlookers would keep your abrasive ex at bay.

A hand grazed your rear end, and it sent every hair on your body standing. “Why in such a rush to leave, gorgeous?” A sickeningly familiar voice purred in your ear.

You spat your ex’s name with as much vitriol as you could muster as you turned to face him. “I told you not to fucking touch me.”

Your ex placed a hand mockingly against the wall, next to your head as he leaned in close. “What’s wrong, baby?” His breath was rank with the stench of stale alcohol, and it made your stomach churn. “You used to like being manhandled.”

Your face hardened. “Not by you; not anymore.” You swatted his hand away from where he’d boxed you in, eager to put this party and him behind you, where they belonged. “Now, if you’ll excuse me –”

Your ex’s hand seized around your wrist, its grip tight – too tight. “Just hold on, you haughty little thing,” his tone was kept light but the look on his face was menacing. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

You pulled at the hold he had on you but to no avail. Though you were surrounded by other party attendees, you felt alone, more isolated than ever, as countless eyes pointedly ignored your struggle. You were about to open your mouth, to shout, to curse your ex out, when your ex’s hand suddenly released your arm.

“Take your fucking hands off of her.”

Wide-eyed, you looked to see Kyojuro’s considerable fist wrapped tightly around your ex’s forearm, its size dwarfing the limb beneath to look like a mere twig. Kyojuro’s eyes, normally so inviting and open, had gone hard and black, his jaw stiff with his ire. Though the cold rage contorting your best friend’s face was not directed at you, its sudden manifestation from your otherwise sunny, warm, and gentle friend made you recoil.

“Kyo,” you started, voice low in warning as your eyes darted between the lethal anger simmering on Kyojuro’s face and the infuriatingly smug look on your ex’s, as he smirked at the burly blonde.

“I don’t think this concerns you, Rengoku,” your former boyfriend simpered, a challenge lighting his eyes as he jerked his chin towards you. “This is between me and her, pure and simple.”

Desperately, you glanced around the room hoping to find any of your other friends who could step in, who could intervene before things turned too ugly. Mercifully, you locked eyes with Tengen, who was just on the other side of the pool, grabbing another drink. Eyes wide, you looked back and forth between Kyojuro and your silver-haired friend, hoping he understood your silent plea.

A curt nod from your friend communicated he had, and Tengen quickly began pushing through the throng of people who had begun to coalesce around the edge of the pool as they watched the pair of men engaged in a stare-off beside you.

Kyojuro raised his head slightly, looking down upon the man you used to claim to love in disgust. “Any yet she told you to leave her alone. Are we having listening problems?”

A sardonic smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Perhaps I can help you with that.”

Your ex’s eyes cut back to you, a sneer curling his lip. “Figures,” he spat, his tone full of acid. “Not even a month broken up and you’ve already spread your legs for him like a fuckin’ whore.”

There was a collective intake of breath from the surrounding spectators as Kyojuro stepped closer to your seething ex, their noses nearly touching as he held his stare.

“Say it again,” Kyojuro said quietly, all traces of that mocking smirk long-gone, replaced only by a malicious glint in his eyes that promised swift violence that had your hand jumping to grip his arm in warning. “Go on.”

Your weak tugs at Kyojuro’s bicep did little to divert his attention. For one, terrifying moment, you feared that blows were imminent, until a painted hand shoved between the two men, pushing Kyojuro back by his chest.

Tengen.

“As much as I hate to break up the fun, I’m sure you don’t want the entire school witnessing you getting your face pounded in,” The silver-haired senior said coolly to your drunk ex.

Kyojuro allowed himself to be pushed back by his friend, though he refused to break the tense stare he held with the man he’d marked as his opponent. “We can work this out anytime, it doesn’t have to be here,” he taunted with a jeering smirk. “But stay the fuck away from her.”

“Don’t try and fucking tell me how to talk to my ex-girlfriend,” your former lover spat, taking an unsteady step towards the three of you. “Why’re you standing up for the bitch, anyways? The whore has kept stringing you along for god knows how long without putting out –“

His drunken ramblings were cut off by a sickening crunch of bones beneath a fist that seemed to echo through the crowded backyard. Onlookers stared in shock as your ex staggered back, hands flying to staunch the crimson now coursing from his broken nose, curses thick and garbled slipping from his mouth as it filled with blood.

“Shit.” Tengen breathed, his eyes wide.

A dozen pair of eyes turned towards you and your best friend, round with shock as an uncomfortable buzz settled into the thick, night air. Kyojuro was panting, the skin of his knuckles stained with blood from his split skin and that of your ex’s as he stared at your flame-haired friend.

“I warned you,” Kyojuro’s tone was almost jovial but its cheerfulness was undercut by his glower. “Watch your fucking language when speaking about a lady.”

Your hand clenched at his bicep once more. “Kyojuro, let’s go.”

Your tone snapped him out of whatever cold rage in which he’d been simmering and his amber eyes lifted to meet yours. You did not wait for him to follow as you turned sharply on your heel and stormed out of the house, eyes resolutely focused on the door in order to avoid acknowledging the way dozens of pairs of eyes followed your every step.

---

Your feet hit the pavement of the street outside, the night air cool on your heated skin. You heard the steady beat of your friend’s footsteps behind you, and you whipped around, eyes blazing, and blood boiling.

“What the fuck was that?” You hissed once the two of you were far enough away from the party and any nosy on-lookers as you stalked toward Kyojuro’s car. “Were you trying to get yourself arrested?”

Kyojuro did not answer, the scowl on his face turning into something menacing beneath the flickering lamps lining the crowded street.

“I was handling it just fine, you know, but you had to step in and turn it into a fucking pissing contest –”

“Stop talking, Y/N.” Kyojuro finally snapped, his voice a low growl.

You only seethed. “Who the fuck do you think you are –?”

Your fiery companion only placed a hand firmly at the small of your back and pushed you forward, your feet nearly stumbling to keep yourself upright as he guided you towards your car.

“Kyojuro –” you began, testily.

“Shut up, Y/N.” He cut you off severely. “Just – be quiet and get in the fucking car.”

Something about his tone coupled with the stormy look on his face quieted any further protest you may have had, and you allowed him to forcefully guide you to his car. Kyojuro wrenched the door open and pushed you down into the passenger seat, even taking the time to fasten your seatbelt for you, the brush of his hand against your waist searing into you in a way that made you squirm.

As embarrassing as you found it, you could not deny that your friend’s protectiveness over you stoked something hot and molten in your gut; made your thighs rub together, as your stomach fluttered.

Kyojuro was silent as he drove, the air between you cackling with electricity.

“Have you calmed down?” You asked sarcastically after several minutes of tense silence, unable to stomach the quiet any longer.

Kyojuro’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. “I can’t believe you dated something like that,” he ground out, eyes fixed hard on the road ahead of him. “The way he spoke to you just now – that doesn’t come out of nowhere.”

You fidgeted in your seat, fingers playing with the band of the seatbelt as the weight of Kyojuro’s accusation settled.

“That wasn’t the first time, was it?”

Your shoulders curled inward, and you suddenly felt like a cornered animal; you resented him for it. “What does it matter, now? We’re done. It’s over, and I’m not going back.”

Kyojuro pulled sharply off an exit, following a bumpy road to a quiet, darkened overlook that abutted a state park. He stopped the car, slamming it into park as his hands remained tightly curled around the steering wheel, his breath hard and fast in his nose.

“Why did you date him?” His tone was almost accusatory. “He was an asshole from the start, and yet you dated him for almost a year.”

You bit your lip and Kyojuro’s eyes followed the movement closely. “Because I wasn’t sure of another’s feelings.”

Kyojuro exhaled sharply, turning his body more towards you, his eyes locked onto you with searing intensity. “And this other – did you ever confess your true feelings?”

You hesitated for only a moment, shaking your head slightly. You chanced lifting your gaze up to meet his, gulping slightly at the heat which you found there.

There was a beat, and then the two of you surged towards one another over the center console of his car, drawn to one another like a pair of magnets. Your mouths met in a fiery clash of lips and teeth, Kyojuro’s tongue sliding seamlessly into your mouth to dance with yours. His hand rose to tangle in your hare, ensnaring you against him and his fervid touch and desperate lips.

He moaned your name against feverish kisses, his lips only breaking from yours to dance across your jaw, your neck, any part of you he could reach.

He wasn’t close enough; you tugged at the collar of his button down, trying to pull him atop you, to feel if his chiseled body felt as rock-solid as you’d always imagined.

“You’re impatient,” he chuckled against your throat as he sucked his mark into your skin. “Do you want me to keep going?”

Your fingers, buried deep in his flame-colored hair, tugged, insistent. “Yes. Don’t you dare stop now.”

Warm hands gripped your waist and hauled you up out of your seat. Somehow, you were folded in just the right position to be passed over the console of his car, and Kyojuro swiftly tossed you into the back seat of his car. As you panted for breath, the skirt of your sundress rising high up your thighs, Kyojuro clambered over his own seat to join you, pinning you half between the backseat and the car door.

Before he reconnected your lips, Kyojuro’s hands found his way under you once more, deftly maneuvering you until it was he who sat against the backseat of his car, and you were straddled in his lap, chest heaving and cheeks pink.

“Was this your goal?” You teased, and to your delight, you felt something hard begin to press into your groin as your breath mixed with his, a slight fog beginning to condense on the windows. “To have me at your mercy?”

Kyojuro leaned up slightly, brushing his lips against the fluttering pulse point in your neck, smirking against your skin. “If you’re asking whether I took you out of the party with this in mind, then no,”

His hands smoothed up and down your sides before sliding behind you to squeeze your ass, rubbing firmly as he rolled his hips up into yours.

“But if you’re asking if I’ve planned to have you this way at all… then I would say,” he cut himself off as he kissed his way back to your lips, holding back the tantalizing feel of his mouth against yours for a fraction of a second. “That has always been my goal, beautiful. From the moment I first laid eyes on you.”

He kissed you softly then, teeth lightly nipping at your lower lip before he pulled away once more to look over you.

“But I want far more from you, if you’re willing to give it.”

Your heart fluttered in your throat as your legs clenched. You knew there were several meanings to his words — both in terms of the physical and with regard to your long-term relationship.

You settled on his lap, arms looping around his neck as your breath mixed with his, anticipation fluttering in your stomach.

“Kiss me, Kyo.” You whispered, your eyes lowering to his lips.

He regarded you with a half-lidded, lust-filled expression of his own. “Where?”

Your fingers wound in his hair, pulling softly in a way that made him moan. “Everywhere.”

Sturdy yet nimble fingers worked their way up to the buttons on the bodice of your sundress, undoing them with a swiftness you’d not realized he possessed.

The last button undone, Kyojuro brought his hands to the loosened folds of your sundress and pushed them aside, warm hands grazing the sensitive skin beneath.

“Christ, woman,” he groaned as your bare breasts were revealed to him. “You’re killing me.”

You giggled, inwardly glad you’d forsaken wearing a bra beneath the dress, though you certainly hadn’t intended to wind up like this — perched in your best friend’s lap, his growing bulge digging into the sensitive spot between your legs as he leaned in to take one pert nipple into his hot mouth, his hand covering the other breast and rolling it beneath his fingers.

Not a single part of you could bring yourself to regret the decision, however, not as Kyojuro’s teeth grazed your sensitive bud, your head falling back as you pressed your chest against his face, begging him for more.

Kyojuro moaned against your breast, his hand steadily working the other as he nipped and sucked at you, covering your chest in splotches of purple and red, your skin bearing the mark of his teeth as he claimed you.

You ground down against the rigid bulge nestled between your thighs, breath hitching as he pressed against that sensitive spot between your legs, causing a rush of your fluid to surge forth and coat the flimsy lace of your thong.

If you weren’t careful, you’d risk leaving evidence of your desire smeared right on the front seam of his pants. But if Kyojuro cared, he certainly didn’t show it as his free arm looped around your waist to push you down, forcing your groin to mash tightly against his.

Your hands moved desperately down Kyojuro’s front as his mouth continued to work your breasts, until they reached the top of his pants. You fumbled with his belt, determined to loosen it and free the hardened bulge straining against the crotch of his pants.

“You’re so,” Kyojuro panted, his hips twitching up against your touch. “Eager, my flame.”

Your ears perked at the affectionate nickname. “Your flame?” Your lips swept to the side to suck at the side of his neck.

Kyojuro’s head tilted to the side, allowing you more access as he pressed you harder into his face. “Yes, my flame,” he nipped lightly at your pert nipple, just as his fingers slid between your thighs to dance along the sensitive skin between your leg and hip. “Because you make me burn.”

His fingers grazed the front of your thong and Kyojuro groaned at the wetness he felt seeping through the thin lace.You nearly hissed at the contact, grinding yourself against his fingers, beseeching your best friend to give you more, to touch you where you needed him most.

“Kyo,” you whined, head falling back.

“Oh fuck,” Kyojuro slid two fingers beneath the crotch of your underwear, dragging them right up your drenched slit. “You’re wet — so fucking wet.”

“I just want to slide right in,” your friend teased, and his fingers easily breached your entrance, working deep into your opening as you mewled for him. “I bet you could take me just like this.” 

His thumb brushed against your clit as his index and middle finger worked your core, making you stiffen stop him as your breath labored. Kyojuro swore again as he curled his fingers upward, feeling the way your velvet walls clenched around him.

“K-Kyo!” You gasped. “I can’t wait — I need you. Need you now.”

“Then I guess we agree,” Kyojuro growled against your lips as he shifted you beneath him. “Because I can’t wait to be inside you, either.”

Kyojuro spread you out beneath him, against the worn cloth of his backseat. He fumbled above you, trying to contort his large body in the small, cramped space of the back of his car.

His hands moved to loosen his belt and shove the tops of his pants and briefs down his hips, just far enough to let his leaking, stiffened cock spring forth, its tip smacking against his belly. Your mouth watered at the sight, at the thickness of his length, far more than you’d ever encountered before.

Kyojuro smirked at the awe on your face. “Trust I know how to use it, too.”

You flushed dark at the boldness with which he spoke, though your voice somehow remained steady. “Then prove it.”

Kyojuro covered you with a low growl, his hands flipping the skirt of your dress out of the way as his fingers slid your thong down your legs, chucking it to the side. He tugged you forward over the seat, a buckle of a seatbelt digging somewhat uncomfortably into your back, though that discomfort was quickly chased away as Kyojuro lined himself up with your entrance and pulled you sharply down, impaling you on his rigid length.

Your scream choked off in your throat as he shifted to press one leg up against the back rest of the seat and used his hands to hold your other open, keeping you spread wide for him. His thrusts were wild and frenzied, though his motions were somewhat limited by the spatial constraints of the backseat of his car. You didn’t care, however; not as his cock pistoned into you so deeply, you swore you saw stars; not as his coarse base ground against your sensitive clit, Kyojuro’s name falling in a repeated whine from your lips.

Kyojuro tried to brace his feet against the rear door for leverage for his thrusts, but each haphazard movement only caused him to grow more frustrated.

He tried to distract himself by pressing his lips bruisingly against yours, but it was not enough. Your flame-haired friend slammed his hand against the roof of his car in frustration.

“Fuck this,” he growled against your lips before he pulled out of you and away. You whined at the loss of his body heat, so warm and all-consuming. The ache between your legs had become nearly maddening as the empty walls of your core now clenched around nothing.

Even in the dark, Kyojuro���s eyes glowed, like pools of molten ore threatening to burn you with their heat as he reached blindly behind him and jerked on the handle of the car door, using his foot to kick it open.

He slid out, his stiffened cock still standing proudly above the loosened waistband of his pants as he rose to his full height. Reaching back into the car, Kyojuro wrapped his strong, warm hands around your knees and tugged you across the backseat toward him until your ass was on the edge of the seat, your legs dangling outside the door, toes just grazing the gravel below.

“Wrap your legs around me,” Kyojuro’s voice was harsh yet commanding, and your compliance was automatic. Your legs instantly wound around his waist, locking at the ankles against his lower back.

His hands then dipped below where you still lay against the worn seat of his car, splaying across your back. His grip secure, Kyojuro hauled you up and out of the back seat, his arms readjusting his hold as his hands came to rest under the skirt of your sundress, fingers kneading the fleshy curve of your ass.

You decided you’d gone far too long without his lips against yours, and so with a needy moan, you slanted her mouth back over his, sighing happily into him as his lips parted to allow your tongue to sweep in and glide alongside his.

So intoxicated were you by his kiss that you did not realize Kyojuro had walked you around to the front of his car, his headlights still beaming bright through the dark of the night air. A startled gasp broke your kiss at the warm press of metal against your back as Kyojuro laid you over the front hood of his car. Your cry of surprise did not seem to faze him, for Kyojuro only moved his lips to sweep across your neck with needy, open-mouthed kisses.

“Much better,” he grunted against your skin, his tongue flicking out against the hollow of your throat.

“K-Kyo!” You hissed, though you found it difficult to actually feel irritated toward the fiery blonde pressing you against the hood of his car – especially given the way his hips ground and bucked against yours. “We’re in the open!”

Kyojuro’s mouth pulled off your neck with a groan as he lifted his head to glare down at you as you panted and blushed beneath him. A hand reached between your bodies to grip the base of his cock, and your eyes nearly rolled back into your skull as you felt Kyojuro begin to drag the leaking head of his length up and down your slick folds, teasing.

“If I’m going to fuck you, I’m going to do it the way I want,” he warned, his voice roughened by raw desire. “I’m not letting myself be held back by a damn car seat.”

Any protestation or witty response you could have lobbed back at him died on your lips as Kyojuro pressed the tip of his cock firmly against your clit. Your head fell back against the hood of the car with a cry, your hips bucking up against his, begging him to take you and end the torment between your legs.

“I don’t want to hear a fucking word out of you that isn’t my name or how good my cock feels, got it?” Kyojuro bent low and took your nipple between his teeth, sucking at it harshly. “Answer me.”

A thumb and a forefinger replaced the head of Kyojuro’s erect length at your clit and squeezed once, in warning.

“Yes!” You yelped, your thighs tightening around his hips in a desperate but futile attempt to clench shut. “I understand – Kyo, please –”

Your begging was cut off with a scream as Kyojuro sheathed himself back into your dripping heat in a single, fluid stroke. Before you could catch your breath, Kyojuro began circling his hips, rolling them heavily against yours.

“That’s it, baby, just feel me,” He murmured, teeth grazing the sensitive shell of your ear.  “God, you feel like fucking heaven.”

“Kyojuro,” you moaned, your eyes rolling heavily back into your skull. “Oh god, more –”

Kyojuro’s answering groans were loud and unrestrained, tempered only by the squeak of his car hood as he brought one knee up to rest upon it, bearing more of his weight down upon you as his thrusts grew harder and harder.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, his eyes shut tight. “Fuck, I can’t get enough, I need more –”

His hands gripped your hips with a bruising force as he tiled them further, tugging you flush against his groin with your backside nearly suspended above the car hood. Your moans melted into loud, high-pitched cries as you thrashed against the front of the car, the heels of your feet digging deeper into the steel of Kyojuro’s backside to press him closer, deeper into your velvet heat.

The new angle allowed Kyojuro’s cock to reach parts of you you hadn’t known could be explored, stretching you in ways you hadn’t realized could be stretched. How you’d managed to go so long without knowing the euphoric bliss that was Kyojuro’s body was a mystery you weren’t sure even the most revered philosopher could solve. All you knew, however, as the thick tip of Kyojuro’s cock pressed against something so deep within you it made your eyes roll back and your jaw slacken until drool leaked from the corner of your mouth, was that you could never have anyone else. No one would ever be capable of fucking you the way Kyojuro was right then, and you didn’t think you’d even allow them to try.

Despite your brain having been largely reduced to a puddle of gray matter in your skull with every lurid drag and push of Kyojuro’s cock into your soaked cunt, you forced your mouth to form a single, desperate command.

“More,” you begged, the word slurring off your tongue, breaking up the series of nonsensical babbles that had poured from your mouth the minute Kyojuro decided to mold your insides to the shape of him. “More.”  

“Jesus fuck,” Kyojuro’s jaw was clenched tight enough to crack his teeth, sweat running down his neck and sliding between the mass of his pectorals.

Broad hands slid to the back of your thighs and pushed them up and back until your knees kissed the hood of his car. The new angle allowed Kyojuro to pound even deeper into you, though it simultaneously rendered you utterly helpless to accept the battering of his cock as it rammed so far into you, you swore he would bruise your organs before the night was over.

The new position meant that Kyojuro’s base was pressed flush against your clit, the coarse hair of his groin circling against your sensitive nub as your own slick gathered, making a mess between where the two of you were joined. The stimulation made your toes curl, even as your feet flopped helplessly against Kyojuro’s broad back.

Whatever coil you felt winding tight in your gut, Kyojuro felt gathering as well, given the whimpers and moans that lilted from his lips in strings, his lips working a frenzy against whatever part of you he could reach.

“P-please, Y/N,” his voice broke through the pleasured haze in which you’d found yourself floating as you plummeted back down to earth; to him. “Please let me cum in you. Please.”

“God fucking – please,” Kyojuro groaned, his voice cracking under the weight of his desperation. “I need to fill you. I need it, I need it.”

You didn’t doubt the sincerity of his need; the dull thwap of Kyojuro’s heavy balls against the underside of your ass made it clear your friend was pent up, and desperate to find his release. And that release wouldn’t be nearly as pleasurable if he was forced to waste it over your stomach or breasts as it would be if you allowed him to fill you to your brim.

The answer was easy. “Y-yes,” you found your voice after a moment, though it came out as more of a squeak. “Give it to me, Kyo, please!”

Kyojuro’s lascivious groans deepened, the sounds falling from his mouth more akin to shouts of pleasure. His pace quickened though his rhythm grew sloppier. Kyojuro brought the leg still anchored to the ground up onto the hood of the car and positioned himself in a kneel, spreading his thighs wide and allowing his hips to weigh down heavily against yours as he pinned you in place, rolling into your heat.

“Fill me up, make me yours!” You were babbling now, half-delirious with pleasure and over-stimulation as you felt your orgasm build, the tight coiling in your belly promising to unleash the most powerful climax you’d ever had. “N-no one else has – no one else has – ngh – finished inside!”

A warm hand slid up to your throat and squeezed lightly as Kyojuro’s hips snapped against yours, his groans quieting to mere vibrations in his chest. “Not even – fuck – him?”

You didn’t need to ask him to clarify. “Never!” You gasped, limbs turning to liquid against the light pressure he applied against the sides of your throat. “Only yours – only yours to f-fill!”

Your affirmation made Kyojuro shudder violently above you, and before you knew it, Kyojuro was spilling forth within your core, giving you every drop of his hot seed as his hips rolled heavily into yours.

A broad hand slid down from your throat to rest against the bottom of your stomach and pressed down.

“Take it,” Kyojuro somehow had the presence of mind to speak, even deep in the throes of his climax. “F-feel how much I’m filling you up – oh fuck.”

You could. The weight of his hand against your lower belly pressed your front wall against the spurting tip of his cock as he unloaded deep within your core. And it was precisely because of the way you could feel him painting the inside of your walls that you felt yourself tip over your edge, that coil in your belly not merely unwinding, but breaking wide open.

With a sharp cry, you came, a rush of your sticky pleasure spurting forth from you and soaking Kyojuro’s lower abdomen and groin as he continued to pump into you, every twist and churn of his base against your clit only prolonging the sweet, torturous pleasure you felt as you screamed for him.

Kyojuro’s high finally ceased, as did yours, but that did not stop your flame-haired friend from continuing to pump into you, as though chasing yet another dizzying high.

“Kyo,” your cry was shrill was your nails sunk into the ropey muscle of your best friend’s back, your teeth gritting against the flicker of overstimulation flaring to life as Kyojuro’s rough base continued to grind right against your clit.

“I’m sorry, my flame,” and to your shock, you noted the desperate whine in his tone. “I can’t stop, I need more – c-can’t stop –”

You felt his cum squelching over where you remained connected, its sticky warmth dribbling down your inner thighs as Kyojuro continued to plunge his still-erect length in and out of your full cunt.

“I want to get you pregnant,” Kyojuro confessed, his eyes burning as they flicked between where he appeared and disappeared inside you, to the way your tits bounced with each of his punishing thrusts, and back to your face. “I’ve been dreaming about it since I met you.”

“C-can’t tell you h-how many times I’ve imagined filling you with my seed until – fuck – you’re carrying my child.”

Some small, rational part of your brain genuinely did not know whether he was serious, and an even smaller part was baffled that you couldn’t find it within yourself to care one way or the other. The only reaction you gave him, instead, was a struggle of your legs against his grasp until he allowed you to wrap them around his hips to hold him close as he chased his second release of the night.

“Tell me you don’t want it, and I’ll pull out,” Kyojuro grunted, though, with the way he continued to thrust even harder into you, you doubted his ability to do so. “Just say the word.”

Admittedly, it was probably too late to worry about that, given that you could still feel the traces of his cum trickling out of you as he continued to ram his length into your spent core. But even if that ship hadn’t yet sailed, you knew you could not let him pull out; could never, not when he made you feel this good.

“Don’t you dare pull – ah – pull out,” you managed, legs tightening around his hips to keep him pinned against you. “I want it – I need it, Kyojuro. Give it to me.”

Your words were enough. With a strangled shout, Kyojuro came once more, his excess cum leaking out of your stuffed cunt, its hot stickiness trickling between your cheeks and pooling on the car hood beneath you, staining faded red with milky white. The cant of Kyojuro’s hips still did not cease as he continued fucking his seed right back into you, and you could do nothing but spread your thighs wider and accept it, mewling softly with your lips against his collarbone.

Kyojuro remained tense above you for several more seconds before he relaxed, his weight pressing you fully against the car hood as he collapsed against you. You both remained quiet for a moment, working to catch your breath.

“Are you alright?” your friend breathed after a moment, nuzzling your sweat-slickened neck affectionately.

You nodded, unable to stop the wide grin which formed on your face. “One would think you’d been waiting a long time to do that, Kyojuro,” you teased, arching your neck to expose more of your throat as his lips traced delicately across it.

“And if I have?” He murmured, pausing to suck lightly on the sensitive skin below your ear. “What would you say then?”

You threaded your fingers through unruly, golden hair and tugged lightly, pulling his face from the dip in your neck so that he would meet your eyes.

“I would say,” you began seriously, suppressing a giggle at the way Kyojuro’s eyebrows furrowed. “That you should probably take me home, then, because I’m not nearly done with you.”

Your fiery friend answered with a growl, low and deep in his chest as he rolled his hips into yours once more, his cock twitching back to life.

Instead of pressing you back against his car, Kyojuro instead flipped you to your stomach, your breasts smushing against the windshield of his car, the sweat clinging to your skin certain to leave behind a lewd outline of your body against the glass.

“You should probably buckle up then, my flame,” he said with a dark chuckle. “Because I’m afraid I can’t wait until I get you into my bed to have you yet again.”

[bbybaku]

BOY NEXT DOOR SHIG

i actually really like this one. like might be my fav thing I've ever posted lol. slow burn i fear. ends w smut. as always

follows the American academic calendar sorry its all i know and it'll make sense why at the end

5k ish words (sorry idk how this one got so long)

warnings: uhh slow burn, smut, multiple positions, make out, dirty talk, choking, dom shig, slight voyeurism, slight exhibitionism

you went to college a little over an hour away from where your parents lived.

which meant you only really went home and stayed with them on school breaks. Summer, Thanksgiving, Christmas break.

You didnt think or wish to be back at your parent's house, your whole life was at college. Your friends, your stuff, your job.

That was until your parents got a new neighbor over the summer.

He was tall and kind of lanky. He had long fluffy blueish-white hair that was a little past his shoulders and always slightly in his face.

You saw him and what looked like his dad moving in.

Their new house was the one right next to your bedroom window.

Your parents went next door to introduce themselves. They came back and told you that the boy was only a year older than you and he was also in college.

You asked more questions, what school? What is his name? Does he live at home? is he on social media?

but they said they didnt know. They told you to go over and introduce yourself but you had a better idea.

You knew better then to open your bedroom window. For all you knew the new boys dad could be in the room directly next to yours.

But you did it anyway. You took down the curtains, opened the blinds and opened your window.

It was summer after all.

You never got the opportunity to talk to the boy over the summer.

You saw him in passing.

He was akward. When you saw him in the neighborhood he would give you one of those closed-mouth smiles and lift his hand in a wave. he was so hot in one of those loser-man type of ways.

You also saw him doing yard work. He never took his shirt off but he had more muscle on on than you initially thought.

Luckily, the neighbor boy also took the bedroom across from yours and he seemed to notice your open window.

Sometimes in the evenings he would open his too.

there was a little bit of distance between the houses but you could still occasionally hear the music he was listening to, you could hear him talking while he was gaming, and sometimes you would wait until he was in his bedroom with his window open to change clothes.

you hoped he would notice. maybe even take interest.

but as the summer ended and you packed up for school you knew you had to accept that it was too soon. you knew it needed time.

as the semester progressed you tried to forget the neighbor boy. you went out with you friends, you went to class, and you lived your life but he was always there in the back of your mind.

no matter where you were or what you were doing you couldn’t help but think of him. what he was doing, where he was, his long slender hands, the veins on his forearms. when you would listen to him talk to his friends. if he had a girlfriend.

obsession is a big word but you were swiftly approaching it with how often you thought about him.

when you went home for thanksgiving in mid-november you were actually ecstatic, unlike your usual sadness to have to leave your life behind. not this time, you were going to get to see him.

even if if was in passing or if it was just listing to him play video games through his window.

something was anything.

and anything was something.

just like he did over the summer he opened his window in the evening.

you tried not to stare into his house but it was much more decorated and lived in than it had been over the summer.

he had posters on his walls, better lighting, furniture arranged to be more fung shiu, and dirty clothes on the ground.

what you would do to get a hold of his dirty laundry.

he still played video games at night and listened to music.

you still changed infront off the window.

you two saw each other in passing and he did the same thing he did over the summer.

a closed mouth smile and his hand would lift up as a wave.

but now your parents and his dad were friends so they had more to tell you about him.

you had to play it cool they couldn't know that you were obsessed, no you were asking out of morbid curiosity.

your parents told you his name was tomura shigaraki. his dad adopted him, it was just the two of them, he was a year older than you and he was in computer science.

and no it did not seem like he had a girlfriend.

you had to hide your excitement.

how much did he know about you? was he even interested?

as your excitement began to dwindle and you got ready to leave home and go back to school for the last few weeks of the semester you herd someone call out your name.

you looked up and sure enough getting out of his car was the neighbor boy, tomura.

“hey! you’re (y/n) right?”

you tried to control yourself. you knew your face had to be beet red.

“oh yeah hey”

“well i just wanted to say hello" a pause. he looked around a little awkwardly, then finished his train of thought "im tomura.”

you gave a small smile “it was nice to meet you tomura, i guess ill see you around”

he did his little wave and went inside.

you could feel the butterflies in your stomach.

you couldn’t get his devious little grin out of your head.

he had to be interested. you two were the same age and the same demographic. he was a loser and you were beautiful.

if you weren’t obsessed before, now there was no denying it.

the last three weeks of the semester went by agonizingly slow. even your friends noticed your distracted demeanor.

you chose not to tell them. you didn’t want to ruin the magic. and you didn’t want to sound delusional about the neighbor you’ve been stalking and only spoken to once.

when the semester finally ended you were practically already packed and ready to head home.

you spent the entire drive trying to calm yourself down. knowing you had to play it cool around the neighbor boy. around tomura.

you got home and pulled into the driveway, you noted that his car was in his driveway.

you walked in the front door and were met with not only your parents, but also tomura and his dad.

your eyes instantly met.

you dropped the bag you were carrying.

“oh hey” you said not breaking eye contact.

“uhh what’s up” he said sounding nervous but there was no denying that he was happy to see you.

your parents introduced the two of you. he awkwardly shook your hand. you could feel how clammy they were.

your mom announced that tomura and his father would be coming to their yearly holiday party that they throw every year.

you had to rein in your excitement.

“oh, I'm excited to see you guys there”

they left and you immediately went upstairs to scream into your pillow, with your window closed of course.

the holiday party's theme was to wear holiday-esc clothes, you knew who would be there so of course you wore a little black dress and a santa hat.

you saw tomura walk in but you didn't approach him, not yet.

he was wearing a collared shirt under an oversized dark green sweater with Christmas symbols on it that looked thrifted.

you helped yourself to the access of alcohol that both your parents and their guests provided.

you had left your window closed the last few days in anticipation of seeing him tonight.

you noticed he was drinking a beer. your eyes met from across the room. he was standing next to his dad, talking to a group of neighbors.

you were talking to a different neighbor, an old lady who was telling you to dress more modestly.

you risked a glance. he was checking you out. how little you left to the imagination in your little dress.

he caught your eyes and blushed, looking away instantly. he was back into the conversation as soon as he looked away and you looked back.

you excused your self for more alcohol.

you talked to your mom

felt the warm effects of the alcohol.

made eyecontact with tomura.

talked to some more of the party guests

more prolonged eye contact.

You were laying it on thick with your "fuck me eyes"

after what felt like an eternity of dancing around each other finally, your parents were talking to him and his dad.

you joined the circle, only a little motivated by the alcohol you had been drinking all night.

the alcohol that mad the blood rush between your legs a little more than usual.

your parents were asking him about college. he answered their question but was staring at you.

"- yeah I dont really have plans after graduation I'll probably just go wherever the wind takes me kind of thing"

he didnt take his eyes off you. even after he finished talking. he was a good head taller than you. his hair had gotten longer but it still looked good on him. you noticed the contrast of his light hair against his dark eyebrows. he was well-groomed. clean shaven. you wondered what he would look like first thing in the morning with stubble and no shirt on-

"Y/n?"

"Sorry?"

"they were asking about your plans after college"

"Oh um- Im also not sure yet, Ive been looking into grad school but I'm still on the fence,"

your eyes flicked to tomura, an invitation.

"Now, if you'll excuse me I'm gonna go get some water."

he took the bait, "I think im gonna get some water too"

he followed you to the makeshift bar on the kitchen island.

you poured yourself another drink.

he cracked open another beer

“so what are you drinking?”

he shrugged and took a sip

“doesn’t taste very good”

you simply nodded. you could feel the heat on your cheeks. all these months of thinking about him and now you have absolutely nothing to say.

“so you study-“

“can we quit it with the small talk?”

he stepped closer to you and wrapped his free a hand around your waist, he leaned down so that his mouth was right next to your ear.

he said it just quietly enough that only you could hear, “i don’t want to act like i haven’t been jerking off to you changing in front of your open window and you can’t act like you’re not the little slut who opens her window and gets naked for me.”

you flushed. your blood should be cold from the embarrassment but it wasn't.

it was the opposite.

you felt like you were on fire.

it felt like your excitement was pooling in your underwear.

you realized he was still holding on to you, he hadn't moved.

it was like you and tomura were the last two people on earth. your surroundings a blur,

"wanna get out of here"

"yes. yes please" you whispered.

"thats what i like to hear"

he took your hand and walked you to the back hallway of the party since so many people were blocking the front door and the stairs.

he stopped you in front of one of the doors.

you wanted him so bad that a drunk makeout next to the guest bedroom was enough.

your back was against the wall and one of his hands was leaning against the wall next to your head.

"do you ever think about me when you're away?" he whispers.

you run a hand down his chest. stomach. brush your fingers against something else.

something hard.

"all the fucking time" you whisper back.

he doesn't say anything.

he pins your back to the wall with his body. his hand runs through your hair.

his hand does it again.

youre looking down.

his hand grabs your jaw and forces you to look up him.

he inspects your face, eyes lingering on your lips,

and then he kisses you.

not a little gentle kiss.

your mouth is met by his wet open mouth.

your hands locked around his neck, one of his hands found your waist and the other was in your scalp.

you could feel his hard on.

you rubbed your sex on him and he sucked in a breath while kissing you.

his tongue was exploring your mouth, he wanted in while simultaneously sucking on your bottom lip and biting your tongue.

tomura was warm, he smelled like ocean and spice and laundry detergent. he was all you wanted and more.

he pulled away from the kiss and took a step away from you. he wiped your mouth with his sleeve and then wiped his.

an old man you recognized as one of your moms coworkers wandered back into the hallway.

you quickly understood why tomura just pulled away.

“this isn’t the bathroom” he said looking between the two of you.

you and tomura look at each other and fake a laugh.

his face was flushed, his hair a mess, and your there was a tint the color of your lipstick around his mouth.

"oh yeah we were just talking about college. the bathroom is that way." you pointed to where the party was happening

the man smiled and walked away.

once he was gone you and tomura went right back to what you were doing.

this one wasn’t like the first one though.

it was rougher. it was something more

tomura grabbed your jaw with one hand and squeezed your ass with the other, saying between passionate kisses,

“you have no idea how badly i’ve wanted this”

he pulled on your hair, forcing your head to angle up towards his face.

you can’t ignore his big strong hands, the length of his fingers, the veins on his arms just peeking out from under his rolled up sweater sleeves.

your santa hat must have fallen off a while ago.

his other hand on your ass kneaded it like it was bread dough.

he grabbed at your ass by the handful, pulling on the skin and fat and muscle before letting it go, occasionally feeling your waist, the swell of your hips, and then going right back in for your ass and repeating the process.

his tongue explored the inside of your mouth like it belonged to him. he sucked on your bottom lip, shoved his tongue in, sucked on your mouth with his entire mouth all in no particular order.

you pressed your hips into him and liked what you found.

with one arm wrapped around his neck, you other massaging his scalp and occasionally pulling his hair, a signal to him to come closer to you.

you moved back and into him again. grinding against him. he was hot and hard.

you removed your hand from his scalp and palmed his member.

he pulled off your mouth but not your body and let out a shaky breath.

“if we start with that i won’t be able to stop” he whispered into your hair.

“who said that’s a bad thing” you whipered back.

you could feel his smile against you even though you couldn’t see his face, “i never said it was bad but maybe we should find somewhere more private”

“can we sneak out to your place?”

this was when he pulled his body off of yours and you could see his smirk, “i think that’s a great idea.”

the two of you tried to tidy each other up as best as you could but there was no denying the fact the the two of you just did something. both of your cheeks were flushed, hair was ruffled, and clothes disheveled.

there was also no denying his excitement. you pulled his sweater down to help him attempt the hide the tent in his pants.

he mumbled out a "thanks" and looked away blushing.

he walked out into the party first, raising his eyebrows at you as he said to meet him outside in ten minutes.

you counted to 100 before entering the party so as not to look suspicious.

you didn’t want your parents old and nosy friends know yours and tomura’s business.

you found your parents and stood in on their conversation. casually looking around every chance you got to find him. you spotted him in the kitchen standing next to his dad talking to a woman.

he was standing with his hands in his pockets, slouching, his cheeks still pink, his lips a little swollen, and his his looked like someone had just ran their hands through it.

you noticed you were staring. then you noticed he was staring at you too. he gave you a small smile and he pointed his head toward the front door.

you gave him a small nod in agreement.

you whispered to your mom that you were going to go sit outside and to not worry about you.

she had a few drinks in her system and was more concerned about her holiday party than whatever nonsense her daughter was up to, so it was easy to slip away.

you instantly started walking towards the front door when you felt a hand grab yours. you didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

the next five minutes were a blur.

your hand in his.

running over to his house.

his frantic effort to unlock the front door.

instantly making out against the front door once inside.

running up the stairs with him right behind you.

hands intertwined.

barely making it to his room before, once again, aggressively making out against his closed bedroom door.

tomura peeled your desss off in one fluid motion and picked you up throwing, you on his bed.

he whipped his sweater off, and climbed on top of you.

you began to undo the buttons on his white button down but he stopped you,

"ah ah, not yet. its my turn"

he pulled one of your breasts out of your bra, nipple already hard, and put his mouth around your nipple.

his right hand finds yours, interlocking fingers and pressing you to the bed.

his left hand finds your other breast and kneads on it. pulling on your nipple, grabbing the flesh with his palm and fingers.

all while milking your other.

his mouth sucking and teeth bruising there was nothing you could do to conceal the unholy wimpers he coaxed out of you.

his eyes find yours.

“look at me” he says then resumes what he was doing.

your mind couldn't form coherent thoughts.

the only thing you could focus on was the pleasure you were experiencing at his hands.

and mouth.

your hips find his.

you could feel his rock-hard member in his pants.

your free hand finds his member between the two of you and you rub your hand up and down him over his pants.

he inhales shakily.

"mmm not yet" he whispered into your breast.

he maneuvers to switch sides, his mouth now on the opposite breast and his hand cupping the breast his mouth was just on.

your back arches and you moan as his mouth makes contact.

you couldn't stop yourself from grinding your hips against his again.

he bit your nipple in response, getting a yelp out of you.

you knew for sure by now that you were soaked through your panties.

since Tomura had taken your dress off your arousal was evident but his attention was still on your breasts.

he was holding one of your hands and the other was in his hair, nails scratching circles on his scalp and occasionally pulling on his hair.

your hips still moving against his you gave a tug on his hair for his attention.

he kept his mouth where it was but stopped what he was doing, lazily looking up.

you pet his hair and whispered "can we please?" pushing your hips into his for emphasis.

he raised his eyebrows slowly.

he removed his mouth from your nipple dramatically with a loud sucking noise.

he sat up and switched the position he was in to now hold down both of your wrists with one of his hands and to hold your hips down with the other,

"I said not yet,"

and he turned his attention to the nipple he had previously been working on.

you thought you couldn't have been more aroused but with his new found control over you? you could have come just from the sight of him.

your hips struggled against his arm, seeking any form of release as you whimpered in pleasure from the love he gave to your nipple.

you came out of your trance and realized he was still fully clothed and you were still wearing your bra and underwear.

he removed himself from you slowly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and pushing his mane of hair out of his face.

you were breathing heavily and slightly disoriented from what he had just done.

"lets get rid of these, shall we?"

he started to pull off your underwear. and you went ahead and removed your bra.

"it cant be fair that im the only one who's naked?"

you motioned to him still being almost fully dressed save for the sweater he had been wearing over his now half unbuttoned button-down shirt.

shigaraki sighed and began unbuttoning his shirt

"I thought you preferred to be naked?" he looked up at you and smirked "or are you just a show off?"

you didnt really have a good response to his call out so all you could do was stare at him.

you watched him undress making sure to emphasize one of your signature looks, the fuck me eyes.

he definitely noticed your gaze.

he smirked back at you as he stood up and shucked off his pants.

Leaving him in nothing but a pair of blue plaid boxers.

your favorite.

he crawled back onto the bed and sat on his knees in between your legs, where you lay on your back. head propped up with pillows and still panting from what his magic mouth and fingers just did with your nipples.

he locked eyes with you, hooked his hands underneath your knees, and pulled your bottom half up to him.

he pushed your legs up, essentially folding you in half as he brought his mouth down to yours.

He kissed you sweetly and deeply. with care but also disrespect like he would stop if you asked you him to but you were pulling him closer, scratching his back, and grinding against his member.

so he squeezed your thigh, groped your boob a little tighter, and explored the cavern of your mouth a bit deeper with his tongue.

his hand previously on your tit found your throat. he choked you as his mouth pulled from yours.

the pressure of his hand caused your mouth to open, searching for air and only getting a little bit of it.

he squeezed tighter as he licked down the column of your neck and back up.

kissing your mouth lightly one last time as he released your throat and started kissing down your body.

kissing down to your soaking wet sex.

his hand stroked your face at first. he kissed your jaw, your neck, your chest, booth boobs, your navel, then he found the space between your legs. he lifted your legs over his shoulders and started kissing you there too.

he kissed your clit similarly to how he kissed your mouth at first. softly. respectfully. passionately. like he was waiting for permission.

you gave it to him by grabbing a handful of hair and rubbing yourself against his face. you could feel his nose and his smirk on your sweet spot.

he took your invitation, and you could hear him inhale through his nose he grabbed two handfuls of your ass and went to work.

with his mouth on your clit you could feel him sucking on it, lapping his tongue against it, and eventually sticking two fingers into your sopping entrance.

you couldn't hold your moans in. especially once his veiny, long-fingered hand was pumping in and out.

your first orgasm didnt even build it just ripped through you, without anything you could have done to stop it.

shigaraki, satisfied enough with his handy work sat up and whipped your wet from his mouth with the back of his hand.

you could have orgasmed again from the sight of his flushed cheeks and messy hair in the ambient lighting of his bedroom.

"your so fucking hot" you couldn't stop yourself from saying.

his hazy eyes found yours "You should see yourself right now" he gave you that smirk after he said it.

there was no hiding his arousal. he pulled his boxers down and his member sprang free.

he was hung.

8 inches long and thick.

all you could do was stare your mouth slightly open and your blood pumping between your legs.

"you like what you see i take it," he says that fucking smirk on his face.

all you could do was nod your head.

he spits on the tip and starts pumping himself as he moves forward toward you.

he hooks his arm under your right leg and maneuvers himself between your legs.

"you ready?"

you hum in response

"mmm i need a yes"

"yes, I am ready"

"good girl, thats what i like to hear,"

he inserts himself slowly, you feel the familiar sting of being stretched out

tomura pauses, looking at you as if asking permission to continue.

your hand is covering your mouth but you nod for him to continue.

he does.

you look down to see that he is not even halfway in.

"oh my god" you whisper "its so fucking big"

he just smiles, not losing his focus on what he is doing.

once hes almost all the way in he pauses again, looking at you for permission to continue.

"can you start moving slowly?"

he doesn't acknowledge your words other than thrusting in and out as slowly as he can,

with each thrust in you couldnt with hold your whimpers.

tomura was slowly increasing speed and how deep he was going,

"is this okay" he asked his breath slightly shaking

"oh my god yea" you struggle to get out

he pushes the leg hooked. under his arm up higher and finally bottoms out in you,

you both moan.

"fuck, youre so tight,"

"you youre so big"

his hand hound your face and stroked your cheek before he took your jaw in his hand,

"youre so fucking beautiful"

you could feel your heart flutter in your chest as he pounded in and out of you and an unholy speed.

"lets switch positions"

you hum in response, so fucked out that you couldn't form coherent words.

he grabs a pillow and flips you over, shoving the pillow underneath your hips.

he taps the small of your back, you spread your knees and arch your back for him, grabbing one of the other pillows to hold in your arms.

tomura grabs hold of your hips and inserts himself, going in smoother this time.

just because the entry was easier did not mean the new angle was any mind boggling.

and tomura was not holding himself back in the slightest, he moaned once he was all the way in and wasted no time in absolutely fucking the shit out of you.

you didnt know it was possible for a human being to experience pleasure like this. your second orgasm of the night rips through you with an inhuman moan.

tomura gathers up your hair and pulls you toward him,

"came again so soon? thats my girl"

he wraps one hand around your throat the other finds your shoulder to use as leverage as he continues to fuck you from behind.

his thrusts begin to stutter losing speed and consistency,

"im close i wanna see your face"

"okay" you say through breaths

he once again flips you over, pumping himself as you readjust the pillows under your head and hips,

tomura heaves your legs up and enters you one last time.

your hands find the back of his head and you pull his face up to yours as he resumes his no longer consistent pace.

his hand finds your throat and your other hand finds his bicep, squeezing at the cords of muscle,

you look up at him slowly, from the sight of his cock entering in and out of you, his muscular upper body, to his big red eyes staring down at you. watching you watch him.

one last orgasm rips through you, starting in your stomach and then spreading to your core and to the rest of your body.

tomura finishes at the same time as you, pulling out and coming all over your stomach and boobs.

the two of you just sit there for a moment. both of you breathing heavy. both of you fucked out of your minds.

tomura is the first to break the silence.

he swallows and rubs his jaw,

"do you think we should go back to the party because I kind of want to do that again?"

m.list

[eclectickss]

Taste the Tango

Wanda x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SoftTop(switch if you squint)!Reader, age gap (reader is of age), reader's best friend is Wanda's son, Tommy is graduating high school? (a choice that I don't think I've seen before, so let me know if you like?), Wanda is reader's former teacher, slight alcohol use, smut (fingering, oral)... I think that's everything?

Summary: You are in your hometown the summer before your senior year of college hanging out with your best friend. Unexpectedly, you also get some quality with his mom (and your former teacher).

WC: 10,350 words?!?! (a record for me)

╔══《✧》══╗

"Hey Y/N!" Your gaze shot up from the pavement to the open door ahead, smiling as you saw your best friend standing in the frame.

"Hey Tommy!" You jogged up to hug him, seeing as he and his twin brother just returned from a week long beach trip. You normally wouldn't be this excited to see him, but with complicated summer schedules and school across the country, it had been almost 6 months since the two of you had spent time together.

"This is crazy, I missed you so much!" He backs up and you immediately spot the sparkle in his eye that is easily recognized in the rest of his family.

"I know, me too!" You shook his shoulders and hugged him one more time. "So, you said you had something planned for today?" The two of you walked into the house and towards the kitchen. Your eyes secretly darted around the space for a certain someone, but you are slightly disappointed when you don't see the person you're looking for.

You feel guilty for hoping she would be there, since you were there to spend time with her son, but you couldn't silence your thoughts, no matter how hard you tried.

"Well I know it's kind of silly, but I picked up some rocks we could paint?" He scrunched up his face. "I don't know, I just wanted something mindless we could do while we caught up."

"Are you kidding, that sounds great!" You smiled.

"Alright, awesome! I've gotta head out by six so I can meet Ruby for dinner, but we have plenty of time," he said as you followed him back to his room. Ruby was his girlfriend of six months, so it prided you to know that hanging out with you was his priority.

The two of you made it to his room and he encouraged you to sit down as he left to get art supplies. Just before you were able to sit though, a voice reached into the depths of your mind.

"I knew I heard a familiar voice!" You turned around and there she was, as breathtaking as ever. Wanda Maximoff. The way her soft eyes met yours and her red wavy hair sat just above her shoulders made you melt. You prayed the moment would last forever, but the passing seconds were inevitable.

"Hi!" You excitedly walked over to your former teacher to give her a hug, painfully ignoring all other emotions you were feeling.

"How are you, Y/N?" She moved out of the hug, cheeks grazing, making you briefly look away.

"I'm absolutely wonderful, how about you?"

"I'm alright," she spoke as she softly smiled. "Are you excited for your last year of college?" She leaned up against the doorframe.

"I guess so? I love California, but I can hardly wait until I'm done with school already so that I can come home. Are you ready to become an empty nester?"

Billy and Tommy were three years younger than you, so they were just about to begin their college journey as you were ready to bring yours to a close. Tommy was only going to university an hour away and Billy five hours, but you imagined it would still be a lot for both boys to be leaving the house at once.

"Oh hush, dear." Ms. Maximoff playfully shoved your shoulder, a gesture you struggled to not linger on. "I don't wanna hear that talk. Let me soak in my boys being home while I can. And you being here while I can." She smiled with a small glint in her eye, but you knew she was dreading the boys' absence.

"Oh well, two more semesters and you won't be able to get rid of me."

"Perhaps it's selfish to say that we can't wait to have you back either, but I know you'll accomplish wonderful things in your last year there." She placed a hand on your shoulder and instinctively you placed your own on top of hers.

You internally panicked, worried that you were being too affectionate for a teacher/student/best friend's mother relationship, but she just moved to gently caress your cheek and proceeded to walk away.

You could hardly process your thoughts as your brain replayed the previous moment over and over, but this torturous habit is nothing you weren't unfamiliar with.

Every day that went by with Ms. Maximoff in your presence was a day to strenuously remember. You mentally recorded her words, her movements and her reactions. Time slowed with her around as you soaked in every detail about her possible.

Every day that went by without her was filled with daydreaming and guilt. You always wondered how she would react to something, or how she would respond in a private conversation. You tried to picture her thoughts and envision her smile before you. You hated how much you thought about her, yet craved to dream of her.

She was your high school english teacher, your best friend's mother, and your go-to mentor in any sticky situation.

She has already given you so much, and you despised the fact that you wanted more. You knew it was wrong, but she was your addiction.

"Earth to Y/N," A hand waved in front of your face and you quickly realized that Tommy had returned with the rocks and art supplies.

"Oh, hey Tommy!" You rubbed your eyes in shock.

"Where'd you go there?" He laughed and sat down on the floor.

"I uhh... can't remember." You lied, joining him on the floor, not letting him see the guilty emotions written across your face.

---

Hours pass as the two of you work on your rocks and talk.

You tell him all about your travels while he fills you in on everything that happened at the beach and on his trips prior.

You love listening to all his little stories, especially those where his mom is involved. One of your favorite stories was when he talked about her affliction with the terrible kitchen at the beach house. She wouldn't stop complaining about the quality of the stove, which you ended up finding rather funny.

You asked him if she even actually used the stove, and he said no, which made you laugh out loud. Supposedly she apologized at the end of the trip for making such a big deal out of it.

He thought it was stupid, but you found it cute.

Of course that was something that she would do.

"What else crazy did she do on the trip?" You couldn't stop yourself from inquiring about her. Tommy never caught onto your special interest as he laughed it off and launched into the next story.

"So it was movie time, right?" He starts and you nod. "Well mom and I were advocating for She's Funny That Way since we're both madly in love with Kathryn Hahn."

You cackle and quickly agree with their side. "Of course."

"But Billy and Auntie Nat wanted to watch Knives Out!"

"I thought you liked that movie..."

"Ok yes, but Kathryn Hahn or Chris Evans?"

You thought about it for a moment. "Fair Enough." This made you wonder though about Ms. Maximoff's interest in Kathryn Hahn. There's no way she's.... attracted to her, right?

If Ms. Maximoff actually liked women, the hole you've dug for yourself would become infinitely deeper.

"Anyways, so mom, out of nowhere, says, 'You wanna watch Knives Out? Well guess what, Chris Evans is the villain and Ana de Armas gets the estate and money,' and Nat and Billy were furious."

"Oh my gosh!" You laughed with your hand over your mouth in disbelief. "So did you guys end up watching She's Funny That Way?"

"Well mom and I did. Billy and Nat went off to watch something else."

"Wow! That was vile!"

"It really was intense." He laughed and the conversation paused as both of you returned your attention to your rocks. Right before your paintbrush hit the surface though, his phone alarm went off.

"Aw, shoot. That's my timer for Ruby. We gotta clean up."

"That's alright." You gave him a soft smile. "We do have the last two weeks to hang out before I go, and I understand I'm not the only important person in your life."

He looked at you and smiled. "I love you, you know?"

"I love you too, you dork. Now let's clean these brushes and get these rocks outside to dry."

The two of you were cutting it real close to six once everything was cleaned, but before you knew it, you were saying goodbye to Tommy in the driveway just as Ruby had pulled in to pick him up.

"Alright, Y/N, we'll hang out soon!" He hugged you and stepped back.

"Oh you know it."

He followed you to your car, but you quickly realized you had left your keys inside.

"You know, I think I left my keys on your floor, but don't bother waiting for me to drive away. Go have fun with Ruby."

"Alright. My mom will let you in if it's locked." He hugged you one more time and joined his girlfriend in her car. You released a breath of air and headed back to the house, happy to see that the kitchen door was still unlocked.

Ms. Maximoff was standing in the room though when you walked in.

"Oh, hey Y/N/N! Did you forget something?" She looked up from the cutting board and veggies on the counter.

"Yeah. My keys are somewhere in Tommy's room," you said as you headed in that direction.

"Oh, so you're not back because you forgot to say 'goodbye' to me?" She teased.

"You read my mind!" You yelled from down the hall, embarrassed by how quickly you turned red.

Your keys were rather easy to find, but you took a bit longer to collect yourself before exiting Tommy's room.

"So," she said as you re-entered the kitchen. "What are you doing with your last two weeks before heading back to California?"

You were caught off guard with her conversation starter, but you were overjoyed that she wanted to talk. You leaned back onto the counter to face her.

"Well, it's all just trying to hang out with friends, even though most of them are off doing internships or traveling. I'm honestly just hanging around home a bunch," you shrugged.

"What, you didn't want to travel or anything?" She said as she continued to work on the cutting board at her fingertips.

"You know me, Ms. Maximoff, I love home just a little too much." You smiled and looked at your feet.

"Wanda, dear." She stopped her chopping and looked directly at you. "I was Ms. Maximoff to you because I was your teacher, but we've been over this, darling. Wanda, please."

You sighed. "It just... feels weird!"

"Ok, well you know what we do when things feel weird, Y/N?"

You looked at her questioningly.

"We practice, dear." She stepped around the kitchen island to lean on the counter across from you, and your thoughts started to get louder. "Say it. Say my name." She openly challenged you, so you had to accept.

"W- Wanda?" Your insides were burning.

"With confidence, dear."

You took a breath. "Wanda." You exclaimed, meeting her gaze from a few feet away.

"Good girl. Now use it in a sentence."

You blushed, knowing she saw it, but hoping she assumed it was from your discomfort. "Like... what?"

"Well, I don't know! A compliment, a question, a simple statement? I don't care, just say something. Anything." She commanded as your heart was pounding in your chest.

"I think your eyes are gorgeous, Wanda." Fuck. That wasn't supposed to come out. The woman across from you seemed to freeze briefly. "I mean- your eyes, Tommy and Billy's eyes... you all have the same eyes. I think... I think they're pretty. Wanda." FUCK.

Wanda still hadn't moved, her gaze digging into your soul. She finally took a breath, leaving a long pause in the conversation.

"What do you think of me, Y/N?"

"What?" Disbelief dripping from your reply as the intonation behind her question became lost on you.

"How do you process my image? My persona?" Wanda playfully smirked. "It must at least be slightly askew since I was your teacher, but what role do I play in your life?" She moved some cooking items away from the edge of the counter, proving to you that you had her full attention.

"Do you want me to be honest or uncomfortably honest?"

"I want to know why you chose me. Why you always turned in my homework but nobody else's. Why you wrote me thank you notes and asked me to write your college recommendation letters... why you confide in me and why you respect me so much..."

You stood in shock, feeling your body start to shake from the nerves. Your shoes all of a sudden became really interesting.

"Uncomfortably honest it is, then." You gave a long sigh and glanced back up to see her eyebrows raise in anticipation.

"It was one of the first lectures you gave me in 11th grade. I had started to realize that I was more introverted than I wanted to be, so I challenged myself to break out of that shell. I started doing that by speaking up in class. You had asked a question about our summer reading, and because I already knew you through Tommy, I felt comfortable to answer.

"To my surprise, you started a debate with me... and I didn't back down... and then you applauded me for standing up for something I believed in. That made me want to pay a lot more attention to you." You paused to take a breath, making sure the other woman was still paying attention. Wanda nodded in acknowledgement, but stayed silent to let you continue. "I started to listen to every word that came out of your mouth. I memorized every piece of information you shared, I watched what candy you picked out of the bag first, I payed attention to what music you were listening to, what books you were reading." You paused. "And so I started to notice things.

"You work to understand every single story in the room. You want to help as many people as possible, and you don't let their faults get in your way. You have a passion for what you teach and you want to share it with the world. You have good and bad days just like the rest of us, and you allowed me to see that. You are kind, empathetic, beautiful, and I have a great deal of respect for the way you carry yourself, Wanda."

Your heart raced as the two of you stared at each other for what felt like minutes. You had just poured your heart out to the one person who was never supposed to know anything. Wanda was speechless, which made you nervous. You continued to ramble.

"And- and its tricky because Tommy is genuinely my best friend and I don't know what I'd do without him... but if you're wondering what I think of you, I don't know what I'd do without you either. This family has made me who I am today. And it's all very complicated and confusing and difficult to navigate."

Wanda's eyes still stood stagnant, but you couldn't bear the silence anymore.

"Why do you ask?" You quietly gulped, praying some sound would exit her mouth.

"Would you like to stay for dinner? Billy is with friends tonight and Tommy is with Ruby, as you know, so I fear I have nobody to eat with." Wanda returned her attention to the preparations. The change of subject caught you off guard, but the opportunity to spend time with her was never something you wanted to turn down.

"Uh... sure! Let me just tell my mom I won't be home for our frozen pizza dinner." You made a goofy face that Wanda found hilarious after you commented on your other dinner option.

"Wonderful." A beautiful smile spread across her face as she pulled another plate out of the cupboard and set it on the dining table. "Would you care for a glass of wine?" The offer felt odd coming from the older woman, but it's easy to forget that you're legally allowed to accept alcoholic beverages now.

"That would be nice." You gave her a soft smile.

"I can't believe you're old enough to drink now... better for me so I won't be drinking alone," You both laughed. "Red or white, darling?"

"Whatever you're having." Wanda practically waltzed around the kitchen. "Is there anything I can do to help you prepare?" You asked as she handed you a glass of red.

Wanda paused her movements and looked at you with a silly yet impressed smile. "Well... have you ever made paprikash darling?" She asked and you shook your head. "Would you like to learn?"

"Absolutley." You grinned and Wanda took a sip of her wine.

"Wonderful." She held out her hand for you to join her at the cutting board. "We've got to dice two onions, one tomato and one pepper, as well as mince two cloves of garlic." She placed the kitchen knife in front of you. "I like to use four cloves of garlic though," she nearly whispered in your ear.

"Do you know your way around a cutting board?"

"Uhh... not really?"

"A teaching opportunity then! You can never get away from me, can you?" Wanda's words were spinning in your head even though you knew they were not intended to be. The older woman stepped behind you, moving the knife to your left hand.

"How did you know I was left handed?"

"I pay attention, dear." She casually replied. "Now curl your fingers on your right hand like this-" She placed her palm on top of the back of your hand. "And hold the knife like..." She adjusted the positioning of your thumb and pointer finger. "Good. This is the best way to avoid chopping an extremity off." Your eyes widened, thankful Wanda couldn't see the fear written on your face.

"All that's left to do is slice." She grabbed the readied onion and placed it in the center of the board. Before you knew it, she was guiding your hand through the vegetable while pressing you into the counter from behind. "Wonderful!" She exclaimed as the slice of onion fell onto the board. "Now you keep going!" She stepped out behind you and you tried your hardest to not sulk at her absence.

You missed Wanda's warmth, but nevertheless, you continued slicing and she continued watching.

"Good girl." She spoke the words again, nearly making you loose focus with a dangerous object in your hand. "Now you cut in the opposite direction. I was never good with onions so as long as the pieces look somewhat like cubes, you will have done a wonderful job." That made you laugh and you continued working.

"So tell me more about college! I love having you here but we never get one-on-one time like this. How is your degree path, your teachers, friends? Are you seeing anyone?" The last question was delivered in a goofy, sultry manner as Wanda pulled raw chicken out of the fridge.

You giggled and rolled your eyes. "To get the most pressing question out of the way, I am not seeing anyone. I was slightly interested in a graduate student but we decided it would be better to stay friends. Plus, who gets lucky enough to date a graduate student?"

"A graduate student, eh? How did the two of y'all meet anyways?"

"Well she used to live in the rental where I am now, so I received some old mail of hers. Who woulda thought that the nearly outdated postal service of America almost brought two women together?"

Your joke made Wanda cackle as she turned on the stove to heat the pot.

"Well, at least you have the opportunity to date women on campus, dear. That would have been so much more complicated in my day." She stirred the melting butter in the pan.

"Oh Wanda, don't say 'in my day', that makes you sound like a dinosaur!" You laughed.

"Well, honey, I am a dinosaur!"

"Oh shut up, no you're not. I am shocked every day that there aren't sad little high school boys making rude comments to your face or handsome men on your tail." The room oddly fell silent and you immediately started reflecting on what you had said. You put down the knife even though you were nearly done with the tomato. "When you made the comment about back in your day... - did you... do you wish you had the opportunity to date women?"

An all-telling silence came from Wanda.

"You'd rather have beautiful women on your tail? Is that it?" You smiled at her a little bit, just to make sure she knew that you understood.

"Well... I guess so. The whole 'men' thing only did me one good and that is my boys. Their dad, Vision, was just a good friend and it took me a really long time to realize that."

"That makes perfect sense Wanda." You almost hesitate with your next question, but it feels natural to ask. "Is there any woman that you've ever been particularly curious about?"

Immediately, you could tell Wanda had an answer, but her various facial expressions made it difficult to decipher if she was going to tell you or not. Finally, a glimmer of playfulness lit in her eye.

"Yes, but you have to promise not to tell anyone. Not even Tommy."

"So we both know this person then! She must be from school!" You exclaimed, getting excited.

"SHHH!" She looked at you seriously. "I always wondered how I really felt about Carol but she got herself a partner back in May."

It took you a moment to figure out who Wanda was talking about. "Wait- Carol as in Ms. Danvers Carol Danvers?!?" Wanda sheepishly nodded and you smiled wide. "Wanda, I can't blame you at all. Carol was hot at hell." You returned to your tomato, smirking.

"Excuse me!" Wanda was shocked at your remark.

"Oh, c'mon, Wanda. You must know that students talk about a few teachers. Mostly the boys... but they still talk. Danvers was a popular topic in my graduating class! Even I added a comment occaisonally..." You mumbled as you watched Wanda return her eyes to the stove with a scoff.

"Unbelievable." Fake disgust dripped from Wanda's voice as you held back your laugh. She pulled the chicken out of the pot and grabbed the onions from your board, tossing them into the oil. "You said a few teachers..." She whipped back around. "Who else was on the hot commodity list?"

You playfully scoffed. "Well there was coach Wilson amongst the girls and also Ms. Hill with the guys."

"Interesting."

"Oh, and of course we can't forget you."

"EXCUSE ME?"

You let out an outrageous burst of laughter. "What?! All of the students fangirl over how nice you are if they aren't upset with their grades in your class! The boys love how mysterious and alluring you are and the girls think you're extremely personable, which is true."

Wanda let a brief silence fall on the conversation. "And you?"

You paused. "I already told you what I think of you Wanda." You smiled and handed her the rest of the chopped veggies. "Here you go." A comfortable silence fell over the two of you as Wanda continued to work, claiming there was nothing else for you to do at the moment. Eventually, she covered the pot she had been focusing on and turned the kitchen timer on.

"We've got about thirty minutes of waiting before there will be anything else to do," she spoke as she finally poured more wine into the both of your empty glasses. "I hope you liked this red, darling. I don't know how experienced you are with alcohol yet... although i'm assuming it's more so than you should be for your age."

You giggled. "I have maybe had my fair share of underage drinking, just like any decent college kid might," you replied as you accepted the glass from Wanda and followed her to the nearby couch. You both got comfortable and you watched as the older woman pulled a blanket across her thighs. The absence of conversation began to feel a little overwhelming, but you weren't expecting Wanda to break it with the next sentence she spoke.

"You're actually the first person i've told about liking women," she began. You raised your eyebrows in shock. Not that she hasn't told anyone before, just that the first person she wants to confide in is you.

"Wow." You began. "I don't know if I'm the most appropriate person to offer this, but do you have any questions? I am comfortable answering anything as long as you are comfortable asking." You stared at Wanda as you sipped your wine, watching the gears turn in her head.

"Yes I-" Her hesitations finally diminished. "Have you ever dated a man?" You were not expecting that.

"Yes, I tried. I was in a similar situation where he was my best friend. This was in 9th grade, that is, but I still knew that I was supposed to feel more."

"How is it different?"

"Than women?" You watched as Wanda nodded. "Well there is an objective answer and a personal answer. The objective one goes to say that it comes down to the person and how you connect with them. How your life experiences tie together and whatnot. Objectively, I can't say that much because every individual is unique. Personally though, women are infinitely better."

This made Wanda laugh, which you were quickly realizing you would give anything to hear more and more of.

"They better understand your life experiences and how to navigate emotional situations, especially the mature ones. The way they display affection is usually more personable and caring, too. They also are more attentive to details, both mentally and physically."

"How so?"

You could feel the alcohol beginning to stir, making it harder for some thoughts and words to stay away from your brain. "Well mentally, women tend to catch onto social cues faster, like when their partner needs a break or needs to eat or needs cuddles or space. Physically, they pay more attention to how your lips move and how you like to be kissed, not just where." You noticed Wanda's eyes following the path of your lips and jawline, making you stammer for a moment.

"What else?"

You gulped, beginning to realize you had no idea how far this conversation would go. "Well, The body parts that they work to please are also the same parts they touch in their free time. They know how moving on something feels different than something moving on it... and so on."

Wanda tried to verbally confirm that she understood but you could tell she was a little lost in her head. She took a big sip of wine. And another.

"I was reading something the other day..." Wanda drew out and took a big breath. "Her tongue was on the...- and she had two fingers in-" Wanda stared at her hands, oblivious to the glaze over your eyes as your listened to your former teacher talk about fucking another woman. "Is that even possible?"

"Uh- um- yea- yes. It is. It takes a little bit of practice to figure out how to do it comfortably but - yes."

It was now your turn to take a big sip of wine.

"Oh I see."

"Do you have any other questions?" You know you shouldn't, but you wanted her to say yes. Your heart was racing and you could feel a velvety slick form in your pants.

"How are your classes going?" Her tone changed but she was still focused on her hands.

You let out a big gust of air from the tension you were feeling, semi relieved that the conversation had changed but also slightly confused. "Uh, classes are good. I've got most of the hard ones out of the way, so it's really just the fun ones left."

"Like what?"

"Well I have a science elective left so I'm taking intro to geology which is supposed to be wonderful. I've also signed up for a Shakespeare lecture that should be phenomenal too. It's being taught by my favorite professor, so I can't wait to have her again."

Wanda's eyes glanced up at that. "Again?"

"Yeah, I had her for my ethics class in freshman year and she was excellent. One of those teachers whose work I actually enjoyed doing. She really understood the students and designed her class structure to fit our interests."

Wanda didn't want to address the confusion that she was experiencing... almost jealousy, but the next question did not hesitate to fall from her lips.

"Do you have a picture?"

This caught you off guard. "Uh, yeah, I bet I could find her Linked-In or something." You pulled out your phone for a quick internet search. "Here she is on the school website."

You moved your phone in front of Wanda, not realizing until now how similar the two of them looked. Wanda also took notice.

"Was she on the list?" Wanda asked. "The list of teachers that students would talk about?"

"Oh, ha, no she wasn't." This line of questioning was risky, but you continued producing a response. "She was only part time and besides, that's more of a hormonal high school thing."

A brief pause entered the conversation. "Well, would she have been?" Wanda was speaking softly.

"Well, you were in high school once. What do you think?"

"Me?" Wanda's eyes widened and you nodded. "I think she would have been," the older woman drew out.

"I think you're right, Ms. Maximoff." You smirked as you took your phone back.

The two of you spent the rest of the half hour dancing around dangerous conversation, the mood lightening a little bit. You gained some insight into how the high school was holding up, and even heard some gossip about the faculty which made you really excited. You told Wanda more about what you were studying and what your plans were for after university, as well as how your summer was.

When dinner was finally ready, Wanda topped off the wine and the two of you sat down together to eat. The food was phenomenal and the company even better. The two of you went back and forth sharing memories from high school, true feelings about teachers and students being poured out. Wanda also got to know you more as you shared what books you had been reading and shows you had been watching.

Eventually, the room had quieted down as the two of you were focused on finishing the rest of your food.

"The food was astounding, thank you so much Wanda." You smiled as you set down your utensils and the older woman took her last bite.

"Mhm..." She swallowed, covering her mouth. "I would say 'you're welcome' but you helped me cook, dear, so I should really be saying thank you."

Your eyes met as the two of you stared, an odd silence threatening the conversation.

"So, clean up! What can I do to help?" You asked, standing up from the table with your plate.

"Oh, no, dear, please let me take care of it!" Before you knew it, Wanda had snatched your plate out of your hands.

"Are you-"

"Yes, yes, just sit down honey." She smiled at you as she moved around the kitchen, swiftly cleaning the mess from dinner. "So what has been your favorite class so far?" She asked as she worked. "Besides- besides that class with that teacher you like." The comment unintentionally sounded bitter, and the idea of Wanda being jealous entertained you.

"Well, besides ethics, I actually really liked my required fitness class. The semester I dedicated to the credit was a popular fitness semester, so finding an open section was hard, but I was able to get a seat in ballroom dance."

"Interesting! I didn't take you for much of a dancer." Wanda looked up at you from the sink, smiling.

"Neither did I, Wanda." You heard her lovely laugh again. "And I was not the star student in the class either, but I think I liked it the most."

"Oh yeah? What was your favorite dance?"

"The tango," you replied as you smiled, some bout of confidence overcoming you. "Would you like to learn?"

Wanda paused what she was doing then looked up at you with a smile. "Bold of you to assume to I don't already know it, but you would also be right. I would be open to it." She replied and you giggled, pulling out your phone for some music.

"Oh, now?!" Wanda watched as you stood up. "Honey, I-"

"No better time like the present!" You held out your hand for her to join you, the alcohol adding to your charm and boldness.

"Ok..." Wanda mumbled, wiping her hands off on the closest rag. She joined you in the open space, placing her hand in yours and you guiding it into place.

"Now the tango is a walking dance, so it is perfect to take it slow and steady. There are 5 basic steps, but i'll keep it simple and teach you two." Wanda nodded as you pressed play on your phone. "Now, screw traditional roles, but for the sake of simplicity, I will be the man and you the woman." You locked eyes with Wanda as she smiled, but you could see the looming intimacy behind her eyes. You could feel it too, standing this close to her body as you placed your hand on her back.

Teaching the first step was easy - Wanda was more inclined to the movements than you thought she would be. All you two were doing was striding in a circle, but every step you took became lighter and relaxing into each other was easier. Her nose tilted further towards you and yours towards hers - and for a moment, nothing else existed in the world.

Wanda was staring into yours eyes and you could barely breathe. Staring back was difficult - you kept averting your gaze to the floor or elsewhere in the house, desperately trying to comprehend the situation. But it was magical. Once you discovered though, that Wanda's piercing green eyes were the most relaxing thing to focus on, you were stuck.

And then you stepped on her toe.

"Fuck!" You exclaimed, tripping as Wanda struggled to keep you from falling.

"Are you alright?" She asked as you composed yourself.

"I should be asking you that! I'm sorry."

Wanda laughed. "I'm perfectly alright darling. Now what's this about a second step?"

You blushed, Wanda essentially admitting she was enjoying this and wanted to continue. This was bizarre.

"Uh, it's pretty much the same for me. You get to shake it up a little bit."

"Oh?" She smiled and held her hands back out, awaiting the comfort of your return. You stepped into her grasp. "I can't wait," She winked.

This woman was going to be the death of you.

"Uh-m... - good!" You swallowed. "This is essentially the same as the last one, except now you're pivoting into me instead of pacing." You returned your hands to their proper placements.

"Like this?" She attempted a few steps with you.

"Almost. You don't need so much power to twist. Try again?" The two of you resumed stepping together.

"How's this?"

She almost had it, her knees just weren't getting the proper guidance. You dropped your hands down to her hips.

"Oh-" You froze. "May I?" Your hands were softly touching her jeans. You found Wanda staring, eventually returning a nod. Gently, you applied more pressure onto her joints and resumed stepping. Now, you could easily move her hips, and she quickly picked up the proper motion. "There you go." You looked back up at her eyes. "You're doing so well, Wanda."

She was speechless as you moved your hands back up to their proper position, rarely letting your fingertips leave her surface. It was easy to assume that a lot was going on behind her eyes... the step became mindless to her as she continuously scanned over your facial features.

"Wanda?"

She snapped out of it and ended the dance just as the song ended. "Thank you for teaching me, darling." She smiled softly. "That was wonderful." She returned to the kitchen in silence, leaving you alone.

"You were able to pick it up rather quickly. I was surprised." You said, following her to the kitchen and leaning against a counter. You could tell though that there were still gears turning in her head, so you let her be the one to talk next.

This allowed for a moment of quiet as you watched her finish cleaning the pot from dinner. Her back was to you as she washed and rinsed, softly humming the song from the tango.

When she was done, she still hesitated to turn around.

"Y/N?" She finally spoke, still away from you.

"Yes?"

"When I asked you what you thought of me, you said...- you said you thought I was beautiful."

You quietly laughed. "Out of all that I said, that's what you took away?"

"Darling, I-" she hesitated again. "Did you mean it?"

You did not wait to conjure up a response. "I meant every word of what I said. I mean... I have practiced telling you all of that nonsense for so long even though I never thought it would happen. I just want you to know that... that I care about you. And I do think you're beautiful, Wanda Maximoff. Without a doubt."

"You think I'm beautiful?" She tried not to choke on her words.

You took a deep breath, having done all possible damage already. "Yes, yes I do." You hesitated before speaking again. "I think that you are beautiful. Inside and out."

Wanda finally turned around, and her response was something you couldn't have predicted in a million years.

"I... I think that you are beautiful too."

You stared at her in disbelief.

"You do?"

"In every single way, you are beautiful." She paused. "The way that you carry yourself... the way you smile, the way you laugh. The moments you hold onto and the memories you make. The way your eyes shine when you're proud of something... all of it is beautiful."

She pushed off the counter and walked towards you as a tear formed in your eye. Her hand reached up to brush it away as it rolled down your cheek, but instead of placing it back at her side, her hand stayed cradling the side of your face. Your eyes raced as you traced every line and mark on her skin, noticing how her green glazed stare wouldn't look away.

The two of you stayed like that, simply staring at each other, hearts racing.

"Y/N?" Her eyes didn't leave yours.

"Yes?"

"I'm going to do something really stupid."

"Ok."

For the first time in what felt like hours, her eyes left yours, and instead went to your lips. She met your gaze one more time before slowly leaning in, closing the distance between you.

You couldn't believe what was happening as everything in your body burned. She used her hand to tilt your lips in her direction, and before you knew it, her mouth was on yours.

You initially didn't return the kiss, but before long, her sensation became addicting and you needed to know what more felt like.

Your lips were now pushing back on hers with curiosity and interest, slowly working through the feelings coursing through your entire body. Her mouth only briefly left yours before you were returning to another delicate kiss, delighted to see that it was being reciprocated with the small swipe of a tongue.

You let her into your mouth, eager to know what it felt like.

And whatever she was doing... well... it rocked your world. You caught yourself about to moan, which quickly brought you to your senses as you pushed her away.

"Oh my god." You took a deep breath and stared at the floor.

"What?" 

"You kissed me." You looked up and found her gaze full of lust; dark eyes roaming your body unapologetically. You couldn't believe that look was real, but the excitement consumed you.

"You kissed me back." She said, finding your stare again. The only thing worse than her intense gaze was the fact that she was right.

You were finding it very difficult not to pull her back on top of you. "Shit."

"Did you- were you ok with that?" Wanda asked nervously. She seems as nervous as you were, almost as if she couldn't believe what was happening either. Neither of you knew that you wanted this, but everything feels right now that it's there.

"Fuck, yes." You rubbed your face in frustration, struggling to function in the current situation. The nerves, heat and alcohol were all mixing together and before you knew it, the real uncomfortable truth slipped out.

"I'm fucking obsessed with you, Ms. Maximoff." You held your breath after messing up on her name, but instead of correcting you, her jaw slightly dropped at your desperation.

Out of some bout of confidence, you stepped into her space, backed her into the counter and dismissed every reason why the two of you should not happen. Her eyes stared you down with anticipation and desire. You brought your hands up to her head and wove your fingers into her hair, craving to feel her again.

"It's my turn to do something really stupid now, ok?"

She nodded slowly, afraid to avert her gaze.

As you leaned in towards her mouth, she took a deep breath and shuttered. Her hands moved to hold your hips just before your lips met, and this time, it was her turn to freeze once your mouth touched hers. You immediately began to panic, but just as you pulled away, she pulled your hips into hers and met your mouth with haste.

Immediately melting into her touch, a soft moan quickly escaped your lips as you tugged on her fiery locks. She gasped in return, giving you the chance to slide your tongue into her mouth and elicit a sound off of her shaky breath.

After all of your longing and pining and secrecy and wishful thinking, she was yours. Right now, as her fingertips were feeling your body for the first time and her sensation was consuming, you were struggling to believe that everything was real.

But the warm skin touching your side was undeniable. The wet tongue that was gently exploring your mouth was unquestionable, and the moans that were escaping the woman in front of you were unlike anything you could conjure in a dream.

One of your hands shakily released its grasp on Wanda's hair and made its way around her neck, giving it a gentle squeeze. When your action resulted in a smooth moan from the other woman, you smirked, not expecting that in a million years. You brought that hand down to her waist so you could hold her body as close as possible.

"You liked that, Ms. Maximoff?" You breathed into her mouth, knowing she could sense your heated grin.

"Shut up and do it again."

You lightly laughed at her begging, but you were desperate to please her. Leaning in to kiss her again, you pushed your hand on her waist from her belly button back up to her neck, this time squeezing harder. She threw her head back from the pleasuring pain, which you saw as an opportunity to turn your mouth's attention to her neck. As your warm lips met her skin and your hands went to roam her curves, she audibly gasped, and you were soaking up every reaction that you could drag out of her.

Wanda's hands found the back of your head as she encouraged your sucking and biting, careless of how aggressive you were being. Your own fingertips began to entertain the rim of her jeans, testing the waters as you caressed her lower back. You were itching to move lower, but every aspect of the current situation was territory that you never imagined you would be in before.

"Where can I touch you?" You whispered under her ear.

She laughed, followed by a soft moan as you bit her lobe. "Oh, detka, we've moved way past that line of consent," She replied as she grabbed one of your hands and moved it to her ass. "I want to feel you. All of you."

"Yes ma'am," You smirked and returned your kisses to her neck, placing both hands on her ass and pulling her hips into you. A groan reached your ears as your tongue met the base of her collar bone.

With your mouth now at the top of her shirt, your hands traced her sides as you bent your knees to meet her clothed belly button. Grasping and lifting the bottom of her shirt with your fingers, you began to stand back up, slowly kissing and licking a straight line up her front to where her bra connected in the center.

"Wait," She said as you were about to teethe the fabric, immediately dropping the shirt and standing all the way back up. Your heart was racing, unable to predict what she was about to say. She looked as if she was genuinely questioning the situation, and you were terrified. "Bedroom. Now."

Before you could process the sense of relief that washed over your body, Wanda was dragging you towards the hallway that led to her room. Even though you'd been in her space several times, the idea of fucking her in her own bed was driving you mad.

Before either of you could make it two steps into the room, you shut the door and placed her up against the wood. For a moment, all you could do was stare into her eyes, and all she could do was stare back. This was crazy. Her hand twitched on your back, and you lost control.

You immediately pressed your lips back onto hers, lifting her wrists up and holding them against the door. She groaned as your tongue explored her mouth, your hands eventually finding their way back to the rim of her shirt. Now wasting no time, you lifted the article of clothing off of her body as she gladly held her arms above her head.

After tossing the shirt aside, you found yourself taken aback by her body. Her simple, red bra complimented her soft skin, hugging her gently. The stretch marks that remained from her pregnancy were like highlights of the moon reflecting off of the ocean, and the way her breasts moved with her heavy breathing had you in a trance.

"Holy shit," you whispered, slowly moving your mouth towards her sternum, beginning to place soft kisses in a line.

"What?" Wanda asked.

"You're breathtaking."

"Well, I'm not what I used to be."

Your hands roamed her back as you continued your delicate kisses on her breasts.

"I don't want what you used to be, Wanda. I think you're perfect the way you are now." You said as you unclipped her bra, slipping the straps off of her shoulders. The two of you locked eyes as you slid the article down her arms. Her swollen lips and wondrous gaze were stuck on your being as your lungs seemed to be missing air.

To your surprise, Wanda's next move was to lunge at you, forcing you to walk backwards as her tongue explored your mouth and her hands worked to remove your shirt. You jumped when the backs of your knees met the bed, but Wanda didn't seem to notice as she pushed you back and climbed on top. Distracted by the feeling of being in her bed and her tongue beginning to explore your chest, you tangled your fingers into her hair and tugged.

"Fuck," She moaned, looking up at you, and you froze. A pair of of desperate green eyes and wet, swollen lips were staring up at you, and your english teacher had just moaned a curse word. You felt like you were on another planet.

"Shit, you're attractive." You mumbled and the older woman blushed. "Tugging hair, choking... this is only the beginning, Wanda." You smirked at her from under her body, and her only response was kissing you deeply.

You used this moment as an opportunity to push her on her back, quickly mounting her before she could protest, although you don't think she would have. You took the moment to drag your fingertips down her front and run each nipple over with your thumbs.

"Oh, Fuck, babygirl, you're driving me-" You eagerly latched your mouth onto a breast, receiving a heavy gasp from the woman below you. You continued on with your work, playing with the free nipple in one hand and stroking a thigh with the other. Her fingers were dancing across your back, eventually making their way to unclasp your bra.

The moment you felt the relief, you gently bit down on her delicate nipple, causing Wanda to arch upwards and rake her nails down your back. The pain caught you by surprise as you leaned into her and moaned into her ear. You could feel her smirk against your skin.

"Shut up." You groaned.

"Make me." She replied, trying to tug your bra down your arms.

You sat up to fully remove the article of clothing, entertained by the hands that were running up your side to cup your breasts. You rested for a moment, enjoying the feeling of Wanda's massaging.

"Is this what you wanted from me, detka? Is this what you picture when you think of me?"

"To be honest, I never let myself consider it. But I always wondered what it would be like..." You smirked and placed your hands on her stomach. "Why? Is this something you've fantasized about? Having me on top of you, topless and moaning?" You leaned back over her body, your hands moving to massage her breasts and your breath teasing her other nipple.

"Oh honey," She laughed and moved her touches to and down your back. "I've thought about all of this. What your mouth on my tits would be like, how your fingers would feel inside of me..." Your movements stopped as you stared at her. "How hard would you fuck me and with how many fingers and how much tongue. How much would you edge me and make me crazy. What you would look like in-between my legs with my cum dripping from your lips? I'm simply curious, darling." Her hands cupped your ass as you worked up a response.

"Well aren't you lucky, Ms. Maximoff," You began with a shakey voice, one hand holding you up and the other teasing her stomach. "Cause you get to find out." You moved your fingers to the top her jeans and you popped the button open. "Have you ever pictured me rubbing out your cunt?" Wanda simply stared. "Well, we should probably start there." You slid your hands into her jeans and started making circles over her clothed pussy, watching as she took a deep breath and opened her mouth. You could feel her slickness in the fabric.

"Fuck, Wanda, you're already drenched." You groaned as you finally placed your lips on her other breast. Her wet cunt was already coating your fingers and you realized that you were so close to tasting her. "You're so wet for me, I've hardly done anything."

"Darling, you've done more for me than anyone else ever has." She groaned.

"Do you want me to do more?"

"Baby, please."

You immediately took your hand out of her jeans and turned your attention to taking them off entirely. You could hardly contain yourself as she lifted her hips and helped you slide the denim off of her skin, her now drenched panties completely visible.

"Wow," You whispered, crawling back on top of her body, bringing your face up to hers so your noses could meet again.

"Hi," She smiled sheepishly, and you gave her a loving kiss.

"Gods, you're stunning. I can't wait to be inside you." You kissed her again.

"I want to touch you too, babygirl." Wanda whispered and you smiled.

"Touch anything you'd like, Ms. Maximoff."

Wanda's eyes scanned your body. "I also want these off." She pulled at the hem of your pants then dragged her fingernails up and down your sides.

Shivering, you dismounted Wanda and stood up, putting on a show of you taking off your pants.

"You mean these old things?" You bent over so Wanda could see the fabric sliding down your ass, taking your time even though it was painful.

"Detka, you're killing me." Wanda sat up to watch as the hem dragged down your legs, revealing your most flattering panties. The attention she was giving you was lighting you on fire. You heard her audibly gasp when you started to pull at the final piece of clothing, but you instead let go of your panties and turned back around, smirking.

"Now, Ms. Maximoff, I can't do all of the work for you." You waltzed back over to the bed, remounting the older woman. You watched as her eyes followed the dark spot on your only remaining article. Grinning, you leaned into her ear. "Ill touch yours if you touch mine."

"Please, baby." She whispered. You sat up so she could see all of you again, this time reaching a hand down to where your panties covered your pussy. Making sure she was watching, you pulled the fabric aside.

"Go on, Wanda, it's all yours."

She slowly reached a hand to your slickness, and the moment you finally felt contact, you took a deep breath. At first, she just held one finger there, but eventually, small movements began to circle your clit. You moaned. "Good job, M- Ms. Maxi- mo--" She slipped a finger into you. "FUCK. You feel so good. You're doing so good." You noticed Wanda's eyes were glued to her finger moving in and out of you, trying to fill in the picture that was still hidden by the thin fabric.

You opened your eyes just in time to see her pull out her finger and bring it up to her lips, sensually sucking you off and whining at your taste. Excitedly, you let go of your panties and leaned down to taste yourself on her tongue.

"How did that feel, Wanda?" You smirk, coming out of the deep kiss and pushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. 

"God- babygirl... you- you're driving me crazy." Her hips softly rolled under you as she pulled your head back down for another aching kiss. You ran the hand that wasn't supporting your weight over her breasts and down her body, scratching at the skin below her belly button. "Please, honey... I..." She mumbled in-between kisses, you hardly giving her a chance to speak. When you finally pulled away a few inches, no more words were leaving her lips as her chest heaved for air. 

"What is it, Ms. Maximoff?" You smirked, playing with the elastic around her waist. 

"I need you to touch me." 

"Yes ma'am." You watched her facial expressions as your hand finally dove into her panties, the moisture immediately apparent. Her eyes widened when your pointer finger found the velvety slick and you immediately knew you would do anything in your power to make sure she knew how good another woman could make her feel. Your digit slowly started exploring the rest of the area, soft moans escaping the older woman as you glazed over her clit and entrance. 

"Have you ever been touched like this, Wanda?" You whispered into her ear, making a few nips at her lobe.

"N-no..." She sighed as you began intentionally circling her clit. 

"Nobody to notice what you like... what you want. This wet, pretty pussy wasted on cheap condoms and a quick fuck."

A sinful moan left her body as your lips once again returned to her neck, you quickly learning where her sensitive spots were. "Shit, baby." Her nails were digging into your shoulder blades. 

"Nobody to know how warm and soft you are," You said, shoving a finger into her entrance, groaning as she gasped. "And it's a damn shame, cause you feel so perfect, Ms. Maximoff." You met her eyes when you could see the surprise on her face at your last statement. Your finger started moving slowly in and out, trying to map out every dip and line you could feel. "So perfect." 

You once again reattached your lips to hers, feeling the vibrations from her moans on your tongue. You could stay like this forever, you felt. But Wanda did not. 

"Detka, I need more. Please." Her slight accent slipping through, reaching down to your core. 

You pulled your finger out of her and she whined, fearing her pleading made you step back. Little did she know, but she would be getting exactly what she asked for. 

"I would love to give you more, but these are gonna need to come off." You dragged your soaked finger down her stomach to grab at her panties and she frantically nodded.

"Yeh- yes please. I want to feel all of you." 

You smirked, moving back to finally drag the rest of the fabric down her legs. When you finally brought yourself to look at the painting between her legs though, you could hardly breathe. Her folds were swollen and soaked with her wetness, slightly moving with her body as her chest rose and fell. You felt so divided, debating consuming her immediately or taking your time to work her up. 

You realized while the first option was so tempting, the second would give her the full experience. You slowly reached your fingertips to graze over her thigh, small whimpers coming from the older woman. 

"Oh, Wanda, you are divine." You muttered, now dragging both palms up her waist and down the sides of her ass as you repositioned yourself closer to her core. Eyes dragging up and down her person when you spotted the wetness that you had left on her stomach earlier. You leaned down to clean it all up, finally getting to taste her tanginess on your tongue. You moaned into her skin.

"Detka..." She gasped as you moved your mouth down to her inner thighs and you hands to grip her waist. Her smell was driving you crazy as her taste lingered in your throat. You began to slowly suck at the warm soft terrain, finding it easy to pull the skin between your teeth. A hand was placed on your head, pulling on your hair in a desperate attempt to get you closer to her core. You simply laughed, leaving red spots everywhere in-between her thighs.

Despite your grip on her hips, she still found some movements, directing your attention to the quiet sticky sounds coming from her pussy. You watched in a daze as her small twitches pushed around the slick, begging to be touched again.

You couldn't take it anymore, fully embracing her wetness with a torturous lick up her core. The groan that escaped Wanda was heavenly as she tried to tug you back onto her. You complied, picking up a slow routine of collecting her mess into your mouth. You dug your fingers deeper into her sides, addicted to her pain response. 

"Oh, good girl, baby. That, wow." She said as you began to suckle on her clit, striving for every reaction you could get out of her. "Holy fuck."

You smirked, finally sliding a finger back into her dripping hole and continuing to work on her clit with your mouth. You knew this pace you were making would not be enough, but you wanted the older woman to beg for it. You could tell she already wanted to as your hair only got tugged harder and finger nails started scratching at your arms. 

After only a short time, you decided to amp up the teasing with another finger into her entrance, but you would not change your pace. You took breaks on her clit when you felt she was building up too many knots, paying attention to her audible sighs as if she was taking a cold plunge and making sure her lungs were still working. 

"Darling, please... oh-"

You blew on her clit as you watched how your fingers slid in and out of her, collecting up her slick.

"Baby please make me cum. You feel s-so good but you're destroying me Y/N/N."

"You want me that bad, Ms. Maximoff?" You grinned. 

"Darling, its not a want. It's a need. Now. Please."

"Ok, as long as you look at me as I fuck you clean. I want you to know what good love feels and looks like." You smirked as she pulled a pillow under your head, elated when she gasped at the image before her... your chin soaked, eyes hungry and smile cruel. You kept eye contact with her as you sunk back down to her core, living in the light of her stare. You began to continue the licks and pumps, but she let her eyes roll back, which you hadn't told her to do. 

"Eyes on me, Ms. Maximoff. I'm in charge right now." You couldn't believe those words had just rolled off of your tongue, but clearly she hadn't either as your gazes reconnected. 

"You little sl-" She went speechless as you started a more aggressive pace, ensuring her green glare was on you. Once you had decided she would stay like that, you moved all of your attention to her pussy, finally tying all the knots together in her core. Her moans and whimpers were everything to you, even when you noticed her upper body was becoming too weak. You decided to let her finish, knowing she more than deserved it. 

"Detka, I think I'm gonna cum- I" 

"The stage is yours" You mumbled into her, internally grinning. You pumped a few more times and the next thing you know, Wanda has thrown her head down and arched off the bed. You could feel her cum as you watched the sight before you, the older woman unable to control her high. 

You stared in awe as your fingers worked her off her high, chest heaving and hands rubbing her eyes. You slowly pulled your fingers out of her twitchy hole, making sure her eyes were back on you as you raised your digits to your lips. 

"Wow, babygirl, that was... amazing." She pulled you over for a kiss, adjusting to her taste on your tongue. "Thank you."

You giggled. "You know, Wanda, another nice thing about women is that they have the stamina to make you cum more than once in a night... if you're interested." You smirked.

Her jaw slightly dropped. "More than once?"

╚══《✧》══╝

Thanks for reading!

[whirlybirbs]

— BURNER CELL ; 2 ; DABI ; 荼毗

summary: after a week of silence, you finally text dabi. pairing: dabi / f!reader ; quirkless word count: 1.3k tag: humor, maladjusted dabi meets normal adult woman, flirting, canon-based world building, cancer mention, texting as a plot device, slight au, univeristy student!reader a/n: this stole all my concentration. siri play emo boy by ayesha erotica ← previous | the tag

It's the kind of week where, aside from class, human interaction isn't really on life's setlist. 

It's also the kind of week where you rediscover making a meal of raw cookie dough straight from the package. Your econ textbook might have a stranglehold on you, but you make enough time to scarf down a few globs between chapters — after all, who needs protein or fiber when you're sure this five-year master's program will kill you first?

Your head hurts.

You slump against the counter, refilling your water bottle. 

It's late now — and you can feel the quiet woes beginning to wane as you blink at the clock. By now, your friends are probably on their second or third drinks. You turned the invite down when they asked yesterday. Nuri tugged on your sweater sleeve and pouted the best pout she could manage, but you didn't budge. 

I've gotta finish this paper, I'm sorry, Nur'. 

You roll your jaw as you shut the faucet off, wandering to your freezer to wrangle some cubes from the tray. You bend it slowly, deep in thought. A few pop out, and you idly drop them into your water bottle with a twang. 

You're staring at your phone. It's by your computer on the counter. 

...You never did text Dabi. 

You told yourself it was for the best — after all, you weren't looking for a catastrophic derailment of your life at the moment. Things are good. You're two semesters away from finishing University, your family's bakery back in Kyoto is doing well, and Dad's chemotherapy seems to be working. Things are good! It's almost fall, you've managed to stick to your monthly budget, and Mizu settled in happily to your new apartment. 

No four-day poop strike like the last time you moved.

The large tuxedo cat in question ambles through the kitchen — brushing against your leg and letting out a long, low mrrooow. 

Things are great! 

You shouldn't text Dabi.

But... even if you did, it's not like it'd be the end of the world, right?

Wait, could he figure out where you lived from your number...?

You could use one of those anonymous texting services. Then, it wouldn't even be your number. Just some fake string of digits that allow you to satiate the bizarre curiosity that's been swirling in your head for the last week. 

You're sure the novelty will wear off. 

He's probably not even going to respond. 

You're telling yourself this is stupid as you begin to set up an account with the service — the app boasts privacy, andunlimited calls and texts... You can't help but feel a little strange as you finalize your account. 

It's done.

You import his contact with two taps and stare at the blank screen. 

...Now what?

Are you really going to do this? I mean — he's a wanted criminal. He's a member of the League of Villains. If anyone ever found out you were in contact with him, you'd be toast. You'd have All Might kicking your door in and demanding to look through your phone and that mental image is enough to make you cringe. Say goodbye to your degree, goodbye toyour future as Sakura Flour's owner, and goodbye to freedom. You're sure the Safety Commission would place you on some watch list for the rest of your life, and frankly, your tweets are already questionable. You don't need more scrutiny. 

...So, there are two options. 

Delete his number and move on... or don't get caught. 

You shouldn't text Dabi.

...But, you do.

Truth be told, he isn't shocked to see that cute Nuri girl hanging on Giran's arm again. The Broker seems pretty into her — the guy even mentioned something about taking her to a nice dinner during the week as a congrats on passing some big test. Dabi can't blame him. She's cute. Looks good in red. Not his type, but he can appreciate it from time to time.

However, Dabi is a little shocked that you're not a part of the group cheering in Giran's VIP section. There's bottle service being ordered, laughter, dancing, and a gaggle of pretty, five college girls — and none of them are you. 

His lips twist into a scowl. 

He decides he's leaving; his piss-poor drink is tossed back, and he dumps a bill down for the bartender before tugging his hood up and sucking his teeth. 

He never liked this club anyway.

He's crossing the threshold of the back door, stepping into the damp and dark alley, when the phone in his back pocket buzzes. Someone's smoking a Marlboro by the dumpster. The familiar smell makes Dabi's fingers twitch. 

He's tryna quit.

He tugs the phone from his pocket, no longer bothered by the splintered glass screen. His battery is at 13%. This fuckin' thing barely holds a charge anymore. 

The number on the screen isn't one he knows.

Dabi's passcode is unnecessarily long. His phone clicks open as he narrows his eyes and shambles towards the opening in the alley. He doesn't know this number. He has everyone's cell memorized that he needs. Shigaraki, Toga, Spinner, Jin, Compress, even Giran. He doesn't keep contacts. Doesn't work when he's ditching phones all the time. He's got his noggin. That's good enough.

The text is one word:

hi.

Dabi's squinting at the text when another buzzes through. 

← 909.999.3399 ;  11:48pm sorry, this is bar girl

→ dabi ; 11:46pm thought u were never gonna txt me ur girlie nuri is here where r u

There's no way.

Your phone buzzes three times from its far place where it sits face down on the counter — you just walked away from it, hellbent on distracting yourself while you waited out the potential reply. You go rigid in your kitchen. 

Did he seriously text you back immediately?

You purse your lips, then slink towards the phone. It buzzes again.

→ dabi ; 11:47pm c'mon don't leave me hangin pretty

Your eyes are wide as you stare at the string of replies. He has read receipts turned on like the psychopath he is. 

You lean back against the counter, chewing your cuticle as you let out a ragged sigh. Nuri is with him? Or... No, they said they were going to that club you hate. 

← 909.999.3399 ;  11:4pam oh, are they at the bar?‎

Dabi's fingers move fast.

→ dabi ; 11:49pm nah in downtown club tropical or whatever the fuck it's called

You snort a little.

← 909.999.3399 ;  11:49pm i hate that place. their drinks suck.

Dabi has started making his way back to their hideout — back to the shit box apartments they're renting above Kurogiri's bar. He's slow, idly texting as he weaves through the crowds of nightlife in Kamino Ward. 

→ dabi ; 11:50pm a girl after my own heart where r u ur dodging my question u on a date or smthng????

He's insistent, you'll give him that. You cross your legs as you lean back against the laminate counter and chew the inside of your lip.

He's typing. It starts, then stops, then starts again. 

When you start typing, the bubble disappears. 

← 909.999.3399 ;  11:50pm nah, got a huge paper to finish uni student, remember? sorry to disappoint 

→ dabi ; 11:51pm ur missin out giran got bottle service  him and nuri looked cozy

← 909.999.3399 ;  11:51pm not shocked she thinks she can fix him

→ dabi ; 11:51pm ooooo love when that happens poor girl

Typing... 

Typing...

→ dabi ; 11:51pm u think u can fix me? :p

The emoji makes your face break into a smile — it's so... not what you expected. 

← 909.999.3399 ;  11:52pm nah i'm not stupid

→ dabi ; 11:52pm just busy.... really lame of u tbh coulda been fun

← 909.999.3399 ;  11:52pm wasting cash on mid drinks is the opposite of fun

→ dabi ; 11:52pm i meant seeing me

Oh, what the fuck.

Why does that text make your face feel hot? Why does that text make you feel like you're not texting the League of Villain's #1 Arsonist, but some cute boy from class? He's not a cute boy from class. He's a danger to society. 

You're glad you don't have the opportunity to reply. Your phone is buzzing in your hands, the haptic feedback lighting the neurons in your brain on fire.  

→ dabi ; 11:53pm gtg phone is gonna die have fun with ur paper u loser hope u get a good grade or whatever i'll txt u later

You shouldn't have texted Dabi.

But you did. 

[roosterforme]

The Grateful Dad Part 2 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: Bradley can't believe you and he are about to be parents. Just when he was getting used to the idea of how his life would be, the two of you get an unexpected surprise. And by your third trimester, when you make a promise to him and then break it, he's left to deal with some things in his own.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, swears, smut and pregnancy

Length: 4900 words

Pairing: Beer Boy and Sugar! Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (former fuckboy college student Bradley)

This is an optional one-shot to accompany my fics Old Habits Die Hard and Right Girl, Wrong Time!

Read Part 1! Check my profile for my masterlist

It didn't fully hit Bradley until the first time he noticed that soft swell of your belly. It seemed to sneak up on him, the way it took several months before it was noticeable. But once it was there, it was all he could think about. 

He was going to be a dad. And you were going to be a mom.

"Sugar," he whined that first day he noticed it. "You have a bump." You were lying in bed, trying to read as he pushed your tie dye shirt up a few more inches. "This wasn't here yesterday."

You set your book down and glanced to where his hands were resting gently on your belly. "I guess I do have a little bump," you replied softly, running your fingers through his hair as he kissed the spot just above your belly button. "My wool skirt is getting snug for work, but I thought I was just bloated."

Bradley was mesmerized. "Do you think it's a girl or a boy?" he asked, glancing up at you with a grin. 

"Do you really care?"

"Not at all." He kissed your bump and started humming his favorite Grateful Dead song. Bradley knew this was likely the only time you'd want to get pregnant. Your career was important to you, and you were already concerned about the baby coming before the end of your spring semester. You said you were going to have to take the following fall semester off from teaching, because you didn't want to let down the math majors at San Diego State University where you taught calculus. 

"You don't know how easy it is to love you," he sang to your belly before abruptly rolling over in bed. 

"Where are you going?" you asked him with a laugh. 

He grabbed his phone and opened his music app, mumbling, "The baby should get to hear the Grateful Dead perform it. Sounds better than when I sing."

He queued up the song and placed his phone near your belly as it started. "I don't know. I kind of like your version, Beer Boy," you promised, and he kissed your lips before pushing your shirt up high enough so he could see your tattoo of the song lyrics. 

"That's good, because I'll never stop singing it," he whispered, running his nose along your tattoo. He placed one hand gently on your belly and sang along.

--------------------------------

"I'm so excited," Bradley whispered for the seventh time in five minutes. "I don't think I've ever been this excited before. I also kind of feel like I'm going to throw up."

"Relax," you whispered, taking his hand. If he was this bad today when you were getting a high definition ultrasound, maybe you didn't want him with you when you actually delivered the baby.

"I just want to see the bean," he mumbled, practically bouncing in the waiting room chair. 

You tried not to smile, because he actually looked a little pale and nervous. "We don't even get to find out the sex today."

"Yeah," he replied, exasperated, "but we get to see the bean, Sugar. Up close and personal."

When they called your name a minute later, Bradley jumped out of his seat and dragged you down the hallway. He paced around the first room while you had some blood drawn. And then he paced around the next room while you waited for the technician to come in.

"Why did they call us back if they weren't ready?" he grunted, eyeing you up and down as you sat on the exam table in a hospital gown. "This is taking for fucking ever."

"Watch your language in front of the baby," you scolded, and his eyes went wide.

"Shit, you're right. Oh, fuck. Damn it!" You were cracking up now as he sat down with his forehead resting on his palms. "I'll get better, I promise!" 

"You have about six more months to shape up your act." 

He thought about everything he had planned for the next six months. Buy a crib and a stroller. Put a car seat in the Bronco. Paint the extra bedroom. Put those little plastic safety things in all the outlets in the house. 

When the exam room door opened, he jumped to his feet as a woman in pink scrubs walked in. "Hi, I'm Elaine! Sorry for the long wait, but we were double checking your blood work," she said walking toward you.

"What's wrong with the blood work?" Bradley asked, his voice suddenly hoarse. The desire to throw up returned, and he was reaching backwards for the arm of the chair. 

"Nothing at all," she replied smoothly, helping you lay back on the table and opening the hospital gown. "A lot of different levels were elevated, so we wanted to be sure. But if you're ready to see the babies, then we can get started."

"Babies?" you and Bradley nearly shouted in unison as Elaine opened the software and turned on the gigantic monitor. 

"Yes," she replied with a smile. "You're having twins."

Bradley nearly collapsed back into the empty chair. "Holy shit. Holy shit, Sugar!"

"Twins?!" you asked Elaine. Bradley couldn't tell if you were excited about the idea or not, but he was thrilled. Two babies? In one go? This was better than getting a promotion at work. This was almost as good as his wedding day. Almost as exciting as when you and he reunited in Virginia after ten years apart.

When you reached out your hand toward him, Bradley rocketed out of his seat to get to you. "Are you happy?" he asked, lacing his fingers with yours and kissing your forehead. 

"I... I think so. I think I'm kind of shocked."

"Me, too. But in a very, very good way."

As the two of you watched the monitor while Elaine moved the wand around on your belly, Bradley's eyes filled with tears. He had never seen anything so sweet in his life. 

"Two little beans," you whispered, and Bradley watched you cry as you smiled. When he nodded, you added, "Yes, I'm happy."

But when Bradley got you settled at home, his apprehension started to creep in. You were clearly tired. You were the one growing the twin beans. He probably wasn't doing enough. As you slowly dozed off in bed wearing his old Grateful Dead shirt, he watched your lips part, soft breathing taking over. 

His thoughts drifted to his own parents. He could only remember how much pain his mom had been in before she died, and he could barely picture what his dad looked like unless he had a photo in his hand. 

Bradley could feel his heart rate pick up, the rapid pounding filling his ears started to make him feel crazy. He sat up in bed, trying to catch his breath. "Fuck," he muttered. He was going to mess this all up. He didn't know what he was doing. He couldn't remember his dad. And all he knew was that his mom somehow made him feel safe without really doing anything that he could model his behavior off of. Carole just made everything seem effortless, which was not helping him right now. 

He bolted out of bed, and then your eyes were open and focused on him. "What's wrong?" you asked groggily. "I need you to snuggle with me."

He studied your pretty face and your earnest expression. "What if I suck at being a dad?" he blurted out.

You set your head back down on the pillow and reached out for him with one hand. "You're good at everything else. You'll be good at this, too."

"But what if I'm not?" he demanded. "I don't know what the hell I'm doing. I barely even had a dad." He thought of the navy desk lamp and how he'd followed in his father's career path and how he somehow knew Nick had loved him. 

"You've never let me down yet, Beer Boy." Your soft words and the way you reached for his hands were enough to get him back into bed. And then his pulse returned to normal as you wrapped him up in your arms. This time he was dozing off before you were. 

----------------------------

Bradley went sprinting out of work at the beginning of lunchtime. If Maverick kept them one minute longer, Bradley would have earned himself some push-ups for insubordination. It was your anatomy ultrasound scan day, and now he was going to be late meeting you there.

"Fuck," he groaned as he yanked down the zipper of his flight suit a few inches as he pulled out into traffic. He was trying so hard to stop swearing, but days like this just called for the f word. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he growled, weaving around cars.

He wanted to know more about the twin beans. You and he had been talking about names, and he was beyond excited about everything. Last weekend he had painted the nursery a soft gray color and assembled two cribs. He even ordered a variety of matching tie dye onesies. Then you told him he did a great job and pushed him down on the floor on the new cloud shaped area rug in the nursery. His reward was getting to run his hands all over your round belly and tits while you rode him.

Bradley was in love with you and the babies, and being late today was making him upset. You were already on the exam table with the technician when the receptionist led him back to the room.

"Oh good, you're here," you sighed as he rushed toward you and grabbed your hand.

"I'm so sorry I'm late," he whispered, kissing your forehead and then your belly.

The technician smiled as Bradley knelt next to the table with his hand in yours. "Let's begin?" the technician asked. And when you nodded, he rubbed some gel on your belly and ran the wand slowly back and forth until those adorable beans were on the monitor just like last time.

"They got so big!" Bradley said, proud of how nicely they were growing.

"They are measuring right where they should be," the technician said, pausing the screen to take some pictures. "And I can tell you the sex for both of them if you want to know."

"Yes!" Bradley nearly shouted, looking up at your beautiful face as you laughed. "Please!"

"Okay, here we go."

It felt like an eternity as Bradley gripped your hand, waiting to be informed about what he was looking at on the screen. You were stroking his knuckles with your thumb, always so calm and analytical. 

He glanced at your face and watched you as the technician said, "Baby number one right here is not shy at all. He's waving hi."

"He?" Bradley was on his feet, trying to get closer to the screen. 

"Yes. A boy," the technician said.

"Another little Beer Boy in the making," you said before Bradley leaned down to kiss you.

He was sure he looked ridiculous as he said, "Nah, he'll be so much better than me. He's half you."

The way you smiled up at Bradley had him kneeling next to you again. "What about baby number two? Can we look at that bean now?" he asked, squeezing your hand. 

"Okay," the technician said, drawing Bradley's attention toward the screen again. "And baby number two...well she's trying to hide behind her brother, but there she is."

Bradley shouted, "Yes!" so loudly that you and the technician both jumped a little bit. "Oh my god, Sugar!"

"One of each," you whispered, covering your lips with your shaky fingers. 

"This is exactly what I was hoping for, but I didn't want to say it out loud," he whispered against your ear before kissing you all over your face. "Two little beans. One of each!"

You wrapped your arms around Bradley's neck and said. "You don't know how easy it is to love you."

------------------------------

"I'm not going to make it," you moaned, laying on the couch while Bradley made dinner while his phone rang. You were at the start of your third trimester. You were huge. You were always hungry. It was getting hard to stand up for your lectures that were longer than an hour. And Bradley was the only thing holding you together. 

"Fuck!" he suddenly shouted from the kitchen. 

"What's wrong?" you asked, lifting your head up from the cushion. When Bradley walked into the living room, his brow was pinched and he was eyeing you warily. "What?" you demanded, struggling to sit up.

He knelt in front of you and eased you into a seated position. "Sugar," he whispered, pleading with you. "I just got the call. A special mission."

Tears sprang to your eyes. "A deployment?"

"Yeah, baby. I'll be back before the due date."

You cried while his lips met your belly through your shirt. "But, Bradley," you sobbed, "I can't! You've been doing everything! I'm so exhausted, I can barely function! And what if they extend you? That did that last time!" 

Great big sobs wracked your body, and you started gasping for air. Soon you were close to hyperventilating, but Bradley got you into the bathroom just in time for you to throw up in the toilet. And then you curled up on the floor and looked up at him. Your voice was a harsh whisper as he rubbed your back. "I can't do this without you."

He looked distraught as he said, "I don't want you to have to. But Uncle Sam owns my ass."

You closed your eyes, dreading asking him for the mission details. So instead you whispered, "No, the beans and I own your ass. Uncle Sam just borrows you."

"You absolutely own my ass, Sugar," he replied softly, kissing your tear streaked cheeks and helping you get to your feet. "Let's try to eat dinner, and we can talk this through."

Bradley carried two plates of food to the dining room table where you had the perfect view of the glossy white doors he had used to propose to you. He had hung them up on the wall, turning them into the most beautiful work of former frat boy art you had ever seen. 

SUGAR 

WILL 

YOU 

MARRY 

ME?

You picked at your food as he filled you in on the missions plans. He was perfect. Your husband was perfect, and now you were scared you weren't going to be able to get through a month without him. And then you started to spiral, because if four weeks alone while you were pregnant felt too daunting, how would you manage twins while he was gone for months at a time?

"Beer Boy?" you whimpered. "I can't do this."

"Yes," he said adamantly, "you can. You're the strongest person I know."

You bit down hard on your lip as it quivered. "What if something happens to you? Or me? Or them?" Your voice broke, and once again, Bradley was collecting you into his arms and abandoning the dinner plates. You cried softly as he helped you out of your work clothes and into his old Grateful Dead shirt. And then you curled up in bed and watched him strip down to his underwear. 

You watched the flex of his muscles as he took the hideous, tie dyed Grateful Dad shirt out of his drawer and pulled it on. "Nothing's going to happen," he whispered as he got in bed beside you. "You'll wear your shirt, and I'll wear mine. And we'll think about each other the whole time I'm gone. And I'll hang up all the sexy photos I have of you plus the ultrasounds of the beans. And before you know it, I'll be back. And then the beans will be here. And then we'll actually be even more perfect than I ever thought possible."

You cried yourself to sleep in his arms, soaking up all of his beautiful words. 

---------------------------

Bradley's duffle bag was packed. He was leaving in the morning. You'd made him a little folder of copies of the ultrasound photos, and he'd added a few wedding photos as well. He laughed every time he looked at the photos from your Vegas wedding with Elvis. But right now, he felt like crying.

Somehow you were holding it together better than he was right now. "You coming to bed, Beer Boy?"

He zipped his bag closed and looked up to find you standing there in your navy blue bra and matching panties. Your tits looked bigger than ever, practically spilling over the lace cups. And your belly had gotten so big, your panties were tucked below your bump. He reached out for you, pulling you close so his nose met your belly.

"I want the two of you to be good for Mommy while I'm gone, okay?" he whispered, kissing and tickling you with his mustache. He was rewarded with your fingers in his hair and a kick from one of his twins. "I love my Sugar Babies."

You giggled and said, "I wonder if that was the jellybean or the spoonful of sugar that kicked you." Over the past few weeks, you had taken to giving the twins cute little candy related names, and Bradley couldn't get enough. 

He'd never get enough of you either. The way your fingers felt in his hair as he knelt in front of you. The sound of your voice when he closed his eyes. The warmth of your skin where he kissed you. 

"I'm gonna miss you," he whispered before he stood and followed you to bed. 

"I'll be there to pick you up four weeks from tomorrow," you promised, reaching back to unhook your bra. "I promise."

Bradley groaned loudly as you sank back into the pillows. "Your tits look delicious," he moaned, crawling across the bed to get to you. "Fucking huge."

"Watch your language in front of the babies," you whispered against his lips as he palmed your breasts and stroked your tattoos. "Daddy."

Bradley pulled your underwear down your legs and tossed them aside, running his fingers through your slick. "Bradley!" you gasped, your eyes following his every move as he brought his fingers up to his lips. 

"You look delicious, and you taste delicious," he told you, licking his fingers clean before you reached for his cock through his boxer shorts. You squeezed him, eliciting a strangled, needy noise, and he whined your name. 

And you let Bradley do whatever he wanted with a devilish little smile on your face and his name on your lips. You sucked his cock until he was panting, and then you leaned back with your hands on your chest. When he ran his wet length through the valley between your breasts, you urged him along.

"I want you to," you whispered as he titty fucked you. Your tongue darted out to taste him as he tried to go slow. But you looked and felt so good, he was already so far gone by the time he pulled away from you.

"I wanna make you feel good," he gasped as you pushed him onto his back. "As fucking good as you make me feel all the time."

He was treated to the sight of you awkwardly positioning him at your entrance as you had to work around your belly. And when you slid down around him with your perfect pussy, Bradley let his hands come to rest on your hips. Your body was wider now and impossibly sexy, and you rode him as you ran your fingers gently along your breasts. 

"I love you, Sugar," he whispered, running his knuckles along your clit until you were clenching. His other hand came to rest on your belly, and Bradley felt so connected to you, so in love with you, that he felt a tear leak from his eye as you came from him. And then he came inside you as he met you halfway for a kiss.

As you eventually started to doze off on his shoulder, still full of his cum, you whispered, "I love you too, Beer Boy."

----------------------------

Being away from the three of you was tedious at best. Bradley found it hard to pay attention to the things he was supposed to do. He knew the mission parameters inside and out, but he didn't take the time to think about how dangerous it was. There was no space left in his jumbled thoughts for anything except you.

Phoenix had promised to go to your appointments with you in his absence, and when he was allowed to call you, he listened intently to your updates 

"Jellybean boy is measuring a little bigger than our sweet girl, but they both looked good! Nice and strong according to the doctor. And I gained three more pounds, which is probably not ideal, but all the meals you made and froze for me are so yummy." 

And then he flew the special mission, set on making sure it went as flawlessly as possible. Determined to stay as safe as he could. Whatever it took to get back home to San Diego and his perfect little family. 

You were less than a month out from your due date now. And when Bradley arrived on the dock exactly four weeks after you'd sent him off with some filthy kisses, he was so excited to see you. See if you'd gotten bigger or had trouble walking now. He was excited to kneel down and talk to his twins. 

But when he turned his phone on, he was greeted with a voicemail message of your incoherent sobbing. He dropped his bag to the deck of the aircraft carrier as the sound of you crying met his ears. His heart sank to his stomach. You'd left him this message just a handful of hours ago, but when he tried to call you back as the ship was docking, you didn't answer. 

"Come on," he whispered, his voice harsh and filled with unshed tears. "Sugar." But still, you did not answer.

He could feel himself gasping for air. He promised you nothing was going to happen. He never broke his promises to you. Not even when he was twenty one years old and didn't understand the strength of the love he felt for you.

He was staring at his phone screen for a few seconds as tears filled his eyes before he realized he was receiving a call.

"Nat?" he asked, answering his best friend.

"I'm on the dock," she said simply. "I'll find you as you deboard. We're going to head right to the hospital."

"What happened to her?" he asked, clutching his own stomach, barely able to speak. "To them?"

"Early labor," was all she said. Then she sighed before repeating herself. "We'll head right to the hospital."

------------------------------

You weren't sure what was going on. All you knew was the intense amount of pain you were in was enough to make you throw up over and over again. When your water broke during your calculus lecture, you shouldn't have been surprised. You'd been feeling off all week. You tried to chalk it up to missing your husband, but it was more than that. 

After your water broke, you collapsed, only breaking the fall with your hands on the hard floor. You were pretty sure at least one of your wrists was broken, but nobody at the hospital was even slightly concerned about that. Not when they were trying to determine if your babies were okay. 

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you had to beg Natasha to leave you and pick Bradley up from the port on base after she met you at the hospital. You had been informed that the babies were fine, but you needed to deliver them now as you were running out of amniotic fluid. They would deliver the beans by cesarean section. They were going to put you under general anesthesia for it.

You cried as they prepared you for surgery. You were alone. Bradley was probably with Phoenix by now, but they wouldn't wait any longer. "Let's get started," your obstetrician said as you settled on your back with your battered wrists as your sides. 

"Okay," you agreed, crying as the drugs to put you under started to cloud your vision. 

"Sugar!" 

You laughed softly at the nurse to your left. "That sounded like my husband," you said with a giggle. Then you caught sight of Bradley running into the room in his khaki uniform, drenched in sweat. "It looks like him, too. Hi, Beer Boy," you said, still laughing as he rushed toward you.

"Sugar," he gasped, eyes wide. But they wouldn't let him touch you as you fell asleep.

Pain. You woke up in so much pain. Everything hurt. You were on your back and the room was dark and you could hear beeping. 

"Bradley?" you gasped, trying to sit up, but you couldn't. You started crying and calling his name, and then he was at your side.

"I'm here, Sugar," he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "It's okay. I love you. You're just waking up again."

"Again?" you asked, completely confused. "Where are the beans?"

"In the nursery," he promised. "They've been in the nursery since yesterday when they were born." 

Your head was swimming with information and memories and fear as Bradley left you to turn on the dim hospital room lights. "They were born yesterday?" 

"Yes," he told you, making his way back over in his rumpled, wrinkly uniform. "And you had surgery on your left wrist today."

But you were starting to remember more now as your eyes settled on the white board across the room. The birth times and birth weights of the twins written in an unfamiliar scrawl. Baby A and Baby B were born just five minutes apart. You must have been on a lot of pain medication, because surely those were not the names you and Bradley had discussed?

You cleared your throat a few times, and then he was grabbing your cup of water and holding it so you could take a sip through the straw.

"Bradley," you started, but he stopped you with a kiss to your chapped lips.

"I'm so proud of you, Sugar," he said, letting his forehead come to rest against yours. "Do you have any idea how fucking amazing you are?" 

"But Beer Boy," you said, glancing at the names written on the board.

"The doctors said the kiddos are doing just fine, and when they wake up hungry in another hour or so, you'll be able to see them."

"But I-"

"And only your left wrist was broken. Your right one will heal on its own. And your abdominal incision will heal up great. And you'll be back to work after the fall term, no problem."

"Bradley!" you said loudly, realizing it was nearly three in the morning as you checked the clock before looking at the names again. "Did you go rogue and name the children without my approval?"

Your husband was silent now, and you could see his cheeks were a little red. "Just the middle names," he muttered softly. 

You sighed and read out loud from the board. "Emma Bean Bradshaw and Levi Garcia Bradshaw," you said slowly. "Really?"

He looked so sheepish as your gaze met his again. "I thought they sounded nice," he whispered, and you felt your lips curve into a smile.

"I love them," you said, swallowing hard. "Their names are perfect."

And then you were treated to your husband's lips and mustache as he kissed you all over your face until you were laughing. "I thought you were mad," he said with a sigh of relief.

"Not mad," you promised, letting him adjust your bed and get you more water. He flitted around the room for a few minutes, and then the door opened as two nurses pushed bassinets into the room, and you cried as you looked at your daughter and your son in their matching tie dyed onesies

Bradley picked Emma Bean up in his arms, and he gently held her out so you could give her a kiss. "Here she is. And check it out, Sugar. I've been feeding them and changing them since yesterday!" 

You marveled at how he held her and bent to coo at Levi Garcia at the same time. And then a moment later, he was sitting in the chair right next to you, feeding each baby a bottle as he sang his favorite Grateful Dead song. 

"Beer Boy," you said with a soft laugh. "You really are the Grateful Dad." 

He smiled at you and said, "I haven't been home yet to wash my hideous shirt, but one day soon we can all wear our tie dye together." 

You examined the cast on your left wrist and ran you right hand gingerly along your belly which felt horribly tender. "You're going to have to take care of all three of us when we go home."

"I'm up for the challenge," he promised immediately. "Nat's gonna help. And Bob will, too. And we'll be just fine. Better than fine."

Bradley stood carefully and set down Emma Bean, your tiny daughter, along your right side. Bradley didn't move as she snuggled up against you, rather he bent and let you kiss Levi's cheek. 

"We'll be perfect," you supplied, smiling at your son and daughter as you listened to your husband sing. 

"You don't know how easy it is to love you."

-----------------------------

I couldn't leave Beer Boy hanging in his ugly Grateful Dad tee without letting him know how was having twins beans. And I just know he's going to take the best care of all three of them. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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[onlyseokmins]

a tiger's dominion [2] • k.s.y.

"Some days you tame the tiger, and some days the tiger has you for lunch."

Pairing: kwon soonyoung x afab!reader Genres: porn with PLOT (minors dni!), camstars!au, university!au, best friends/idiots!au, goofy comedy, cheesy fluff, and angst Warnings: cam shows and camera sex obv, swearing, me thinking I'm funny, sex toys, alcohol, food, gym/exercises (reader works out), innuendos, perv behavior from everyone ngl, boob obsession, switch!Hoshi and reader, light-hearted threats, denial of feelings and lots of advice, subpar communication, spicy shower time, insecurity, lots of pet names, mentions of dacryphilia, fingering (fem. receiving), nipple pinching/pulling, slapping, spanking, crying after sex bc it feels good, lil bit of pain/temp play, multiple orgasms, grinding, dry (wet) humping, thigh riding, slight ab riding, face-sitting, slight punishment (?), nasty and messy 69, marking, slight possession, titty job, squirting, spit play, cum-eating, and it's just WET MESSY SEX FILTHY GRRR with a touch of sleepy after-care WC: 21.3k A/N: finally!!!!!!!!!!! the long awaited part 2!! this is such a huge labor of love for me despite the many hurdles, i am so proud and happy to post it finally! i would like to give a huge thank you to @duhnova and @onlymingyus for doing the big deed of beta'ing for me. without their help this would be an even worse mess ajdkfs <3 so so appreciated and a big thank you to the anons, readers, and kind blogs that left so many nice tags on the first part, i hope you enjoy the continuation just as much and look forward to the finale!!

➯ a tiger's dominion ◇ [teaser] ◇ [part 1]

Seokmin's a safe bet. 

He's clumsy, awkward, and kind of weird enough to distract people from the fact that he is absurdly handsome and his endearing nature easily melts everyone's heart. You like Seokmin a lot, you really do. 

Plus, he's a taken man, and that makes it even better for him to be the one to drive you out to the repair shop. The same one that he was ever so kind in recommending to help you save money.

Seokmin's best boi.

But you kind of wish he would shut up.

"You're telling me that the guy you've had the hots for — mind you, for eons — admits to jerking off to your sexy videos… and all you say in response is 'great'?" 

You cross your arms in defense, thankful the car's stopped at a red light when he throws his hands up in the air in disbelief. "What was I supposed to say? And it has not been eons."

"As long as I've known you, you've liked him. And that has been many, many, many years."

"We've been friends for a little over two, Seok. Besides… it's not like I 'like' him like that entirely."

Lee Seokmin. Better known to some as Dokyeom or DK. He's a fan-favorite and still rated number one on Svthub's audio porn section despite the sudden "retirement" announcement a couple of months ago. You're more familiar with the joint viewer account he shares with his girlfriend though — deathbyd1cks — and the expensive gifts they love to send.

They taught you a lot about the streaming world. The do's-and-don'ts. How to gain and maintain viewership, safety, and money. You hadn't expected to end up with mentors (turned sugar daddy and mommy, let's be honest) when you'd messaged his girlfriend — who was single at the time — for advice. Neither had you anticipated being the leading factor in pushing them to confess their feelings for one another. 

Nor could you have guessed they were locals attending the downtown city's university, not too far from your own. But here you were and boy — were you grateful to them. Because they were now dear friends. Although you saw Seokmin in person a lot more than you were able to see his girlfriend lately, as his schedule this semester was much freer than hers. Hence why he was the solo figure driving you out today.

"I can't wait to watch this stream," Seokmin mumbles as he excitedly taps his fingers against the steering wheel. "If you're already super dick-drunk now, imagine what's gonna happen when the real thing's in front of you. I'm tingling!"

You scowl. "Why are you more excited about this than I am? And I am not dick-drunk!"

"Because you're gonna see his dick — that you're totally drooling over — in the flesh… speaking of which, you're both all tested and clean, right?"

"It's not like I don't already know about ninety percent of his sexscapades as it is." You roll your eyes at the reproachful tone he uses when saying your name. "Yes, of course, he sent me his latest results and everything's fine. And you already know about me."

You hear him hum in agreement. His girlfriend really likes you — so much that she even offered to invite you to become part of a potential threesome. Not even for a camera act but out of pure (as pure as you can get with that kind of request) intent. 

Of course, you declined though. As much as you loved them and were flattered by becoming somewhat of their sugar baby, you had rather strict rules on engaging in any sexual activities with your friends. Or anyone for that matter. Regardless of how tempting. 

Until now.

Your head thumps against the headrest of the seat. "Why the fuck am I doing this to myself?"

"Doesn't have to be this agonizing. From the vibes I'm getting, he's into you. Definitely thinks you're attractive."

"This isn't some fanfic where the best friends fuck and there's this grand reveal that they've had mutual feelings for one another all this time."

"You don't know that."

"Don't make me question reality, Seokmin — my problems are real and there's no way there's some silly little author out there with their evil mind deliberately making me go through all this shit."

His shoulders reach his ears as he shrugs. "Maybe we're all just some god's little playthings in the grand scheme of the universe."

"You're literally so irritating when you get philosophical and ambiguous. Revoking your friend rights." When he simply snickers, unaffected by your empty threats, all you can do is shake your head. "I don't want to go off of vibes. And I don't want him only liking my body. I know, I know — as cliche as that sounds, you've got to understand where I'm coming from."

"You want his heart."

You purse your lips as the autobody shop comes into view. "I actually… don't want anything. It's better for everyone that way. Besides, he still has that date this week."

"Ouch," Seokmin winces at that as you get out. Rolling down the window, he calls out to you. "Still rooting for the best outcome, though. You know we've always got your back no matter what!"

A fake smile and thumbs-ups are all he gets before you wave goodbye. Once the car has disappeared down the gravel road, you turn and approach the open garage door. Jeon's Repairs looks like something out of a horror film. A creaky building covered in dust and located out in the middle of nowhere. 

Maybe if you were murdered out here, it would be better. But you know that's not going to happen.

"Hello?"

"Hiiii!!!!!"

It's just as much of a shock as the first time when you see the six-foot-two mechanic wave energetically as he stands up to full height next to the open car hood he was bent over. A thin, white wife-beater is barely able to properly cover his large chest muscles. The minuscule shirt is basically ruined from oil spills coating it, the shiny amounts of perspiration from the hard manual labor he performs, and various upper body sinew bulging as he moves.

"Hey, Mingyu. How're you?"

He sweeps back the curly bangs that fell out of his man bun and shoots you a dazzling smile. "Right as rain, like always, Sugar. Your car is too. Fixed 'er up and she's runnin' like brand-spankin' new! You'll be ridin' a beast in the streets for sure."

Mingyu's a funny guy. You already like him and this is only the second time you've met. That's why you can't help but tease him back with a mischievous smile. 

"How do you know my car's a girl?"

"Ah," he walks over to the stall where your car sits and you follow, eyebrows raising at the affectionate slap he gives to its side before leaning against the front, thick and muscular arms crossed. "'Cause I know my way best around the ladies. Always get them makin' the prettiest noises for me jus' right."

"Don't let him lie to ya, sweet stuff." The new tone you hadn't heard the last visit makes your eyes widen at the new visitor's entrance. Long legs on perfect display with short denim shorts and a white tank somehow even scantier than Mingyu's. They send you a saucy wink. "Why don'tcha tell the truth 'stead of bein' a creep, Gyu?"

"Sorry, Bun." When Mingyu grins this time, it's all teeth. "Not tryna steal your thunder or anythin'."

"'sides, if anyone knows their way 'round women, ya know who's best 'tween us."

"Although it's true Bunny is our star mechanic and a star at… other things, you're embarrassing me." The door to the office opens and the man in charge steps out, peeking at all of you with a stern gaze over his wire-rimmed glasses. "I apologize for their antics, it's a pleasure to see you again."

He greets you formally with a handshake that you return. "The pleasure's all mine, Mr. Jeon."

"Wonwoo is fine, 'Mr. Jeon' sounds like you're addressing my father."

"Wonwoo it is then. You can call me by my first name as well and please, it doesn't bother me whatsoever, my good friend is much worse, I assure you."

"Gyu said you're friends with MinMin."

"Uh, Seok… min? Yeah, he spoke highly of here."

"He's always been such a good boy." You would wholeheartedly agree but the way they say it almost hints at something else. "Dare I say it's a shame he's now hitched. Or prolly soon to be."

"Hey," Wonwoo calls their name warningly even as he's busy cross-checking your total but they don't pay him any mind. "Seok told us — "

Nor to Mingyu who is elbowing them not so discreetly in the side. "He also told us not to — "

"We're streamers!" they exclaim excitedly, interrupting both men. "Well… we were. Kinda hard to set shit up when yer out here fuckin' like — haha, bunnies all the time, ya know?"

The boss now refuses to look up from the papers he's writing but his partners' two pairs of sparkly eyes with matching, mischievous grins beam at you. Your cheeks burn at their openness but you do smile back.

"I see."

Flawless (despite the grimy work conditions) French manicured nails tap excitedly along your wrist before pulling you in close. "Don't worry, Seokminnie didn't say anythin' but ya know how ya can tell when he knows somethin'? So, we did some deducin' and detectin'. And we're sooooo excited for yer collab!"

"Ah, thank you? I didn't know I had such... enthusiastic supporters here."

"Friends can always be found in the most unsuspectin' of places!"

"Truly, um… I hope you didn't give me a discount or something just because of that." 

You chew on your lip out of concern because your car looks polished like brand new and you're sure it'll run great — even better — as Mingyu declared. All of that for the price deducted from your bank account almost seems unfair to them. In fact, you could return most of the sum Soonyoung had given you, perhaps rendering the collab null.

Except he'd already made an announcement on the forum page and then accidentally locked himself out of his account for forty-eight hours. And the post is still up for a ton of people to see and share around the community. Your notifications are blowing up — some in excitement, others jealous — but all in anticipation. Evident from the fact that the people way out here in the countryside with spotty internet knew about it.

And you hated letting people down. Or thinking you chickened out. 

Wonwoo finally unfreezes to refute and shakes his head adamantly. "No, our pricing is standard as always so please don't worry about any illegal or favorable treatment."

"Good, 'cause I don't think I can afford to go to court," you laugh. 

"It's only fun if yer on a reality TV show, hon. We don't intend to go to court unless we're on one 'n it's guaranteed we can win the case."

"Remind me to never get on your bad side, then."

"Oh, sweetheart — all I have are good sides." They turn in place, swaying and showing off the best parts of their assets. 

Mingyu wolf-whistles while you clap along politely and Wonwoo takes that opportunity to sidle up to you, returning your credit card, keys, and receipt. You thank him and he nods, subtly gesturing to follow him outside.

"It was a pleasure doing business with you. Hopefully, you'll consider coming back again if you need any more fixer-uppers. As long as the crew didn't scare you away."

"They didn't, I think they're lovely."

He regrettably looks over his shoulder and you peek along. Trying your hardest not to laugh at the scene of Mingyu having whipped out an expensive camera from who-knows-where and is now snapping shots of their partner dancing.

"Yeah, they are. They just get really excited meeting new people, especially fellow streamers."

"So, it's true, you used to stream?"

A wicked smile is shot your way. "Sure did. But watching is just as fun, if not more. Especially with folks as excitable as them."

"Oh, I'm sure you get into lots of trouble."

"You couldn't even imagine." 

"I can't." 

Wonwoo clears his throat after that comment. It's not surprising that he's good at picking up on things and reading the room. A nice expectation when you're in any type of relationship, especially given his shared dynamic. After a drawn-out goodbye with the lively throuple, you finally slide into the driver's seat of your car to leave.

The ride back to the city in relative silence allows your thoughts to wander. It's true. You couldn't imagine such a relationship filled with laughter, trust, and positivity. Now you're sure it wasn't perfect, obviously. But that's probably where a good amount of open, clear communication helps fix whatever issues arise.

It seems like something out of a fairy tale. Just as you told Seokmin, a fanfiction plot built to accommodate its main characters and their perfect story. 

You're not sure what role you're destined to live out and honestly, you don't care. You're goofy, impulsive, damaged, insane, and doing the best you can. That should be enough in this wretched world, right?

Although you decide it's not enough for you personally and make the split-second decision at the stoplight to pull into the parking lot of Limbo. Your favorite supply shop for some much-needed stress relief and serotonin boost.

"Welcome to Limbo, where our prices are as low as they go, and our products will — oh, heya!"

"Hey, Jun."

The welcoming slogan is always cut short when Junhui's on the clock and you walk inside. As the owner, he's all too familiar doing business with you. He might even consider the two of you as more than acquaintances. Friends maybe. Dropping the customer service routine, the attractive blonde smirks at you with raised eyebrows and leans against the counter.

"And what can I do for my favorite customer?"

"It's not good to play favorites."

"Who says I'm playing?"

You roll your eyes. "As the biggest playboy I've ever met, when are you not?"

"Touché," he laughs and quickly stops the fake flirtatious act. "Honored to be pulling more bitches than your furry 'boy friend'."

"I don't have a dog so you have to be talking about… why is everyone bringing him up today? You know he's not my boyfriend!"

"Because someone tends not to realize how much they overshare and don't worry, dearest. I know that foolish boy hasn't made a move on you yet, hence the air quotes. Shame on him."

"Don't talk about it," you mumble, "and he's not a furry. He genuinely thinks he's a tiger. Maybe that's how he's able to pull new dates out of his ass all of the time without a tail plugging it." When Junhui erupts into more manic laughter, you cross your arms. "Just tell me what you've got new in stock, please. It's the only reason I'm here."

"Of course, of course. Let's see — ah, do you know how revolutionary this is?"

You dubiously eye the large cardboard box he pulls out and starts waving around. "A… card game?"

"Bingo," he snaps his fingers, "except a hundred times better. It demonstrates the best way to find the clit through an interactive and compelling game!"

"Why are you showing me this? I know where the clit is."

"Congratulations! But not everyone does, do you think your friend can find it? Maybe you can buy it for him."

"How are you still in business, your sales pitch is terrible," you complain with half a mind to strangle said salesman right then and there. Your eyes drift over to what's behind him on the wall, eyes widening with the ideas suddenly flowing through your head.

"I thought we were besties, I just wanted to show off goods that aren't attached to my body." Junhui pouts, albeit good-naturedly but you're not paying attention anymore — despite his next words. "Perhaps, you can be the one to educate him."

When you don't respond sardonically as expected, he follows your zoned-out gaze with a questioning brow raised. Meanwhile, Mingyu and Wonwoo's partner's kind words before you'd left play over in your mind.

"First non-solo stream, eh?"

"Oh, um. Yeah."

"A word of unsolicited advice, darlin'? Enjoy yourself. Make it fun. The feelin's can figure themselves out after, yeah?"

After you'd assured them their advice was very much welcomed and that you appreciated another steadfast supporter you know in-person, you'd exchanged numbers. Now, their final parting words before driving off echo in your ears like a haunting siren's call. Bidding you to do its will. Your neck heats up, remembering their mischievous smirk and saucy wink. 

"I didn't peg you for someone into collars and leashes."

You're snapped out of your hazy thoughts. "Well, don't because you so aren't. Ever."

"Yeah, yeah. Well, I would have thought you were someone who'd prefer these more," Junhui snickers wickedly, an atrocious set of fuzzy pink handcuffs he'd pulled out from under the counter dangling off his pointer finger. "A more hands-off, no touching approach."

The vision that scandalously pops into your mind is quickly dispelled. Banished even. So you refute by lying and saying, "It's not cuffing season."

"Oh, you're down bad. So bad." He shrugs. "Think of it as a bonus then." You watch in mild horror as he also throws them in a plastic bag. "I'll even give them to you free of charge. So, what color do you think will compliment your boy toy best?"

"He's not my — " You close your eyes, taking a deep breath and trying again not to think too hard. "Any will do. Just give me black… oh, and that too."

A wolf whistle. "Someone's in for a treat. Or trick. Something."

"I will literally cry if you say another unnecessary comment."

"Luckily for you, dacryphilia isn't really my thing. Yet."

"Oh my god!"

"All I'm saying is, this'll be some good shit." 

"Do not — and I repeat, do fucking not — make me commit murder in broad daylight, Jun."

"Alright, alright," he holds his hands up in surrender, biting back the endless jokes and puns that always threaten to roll off of his tongue. Instead, he changes the subject to something you're less likely to kill him over. "If things get boring, tedious, heart-wrenching — text me. I can set you up for some decent mixers!"

"By my stupid luck, you'll be the only one who shows up."

"If you wanted to date me so bad, all you had to do was ask." He takes the credit card from your iron grip and swipes it with ease while batting his eyelashes at you. "Tempting but no thanks, darling. Though trust me when I say I have tons of acquaintances who know how to have a good time. And get down and dirty if you'd like."

"I don't even want to date you but… I'll think about those mixers," you concede and grab your purchases. Given the nature of his job, it's obvious he has all kinds of connections. "See you around."

When the little chime marks your farewell and you step back outside, you're not sure how much of a stress reliever that even was. The back of your head hits the headrest of the seat with a defeated thump once you're inside your car.

Damnit, Junhui!

Peeking inside the bag with a grimace, you toss it onto the passenger's side. What were you even thinking? The buzz of a phone halts you. The name belonging to the very bane of your existence flashes across the screen.

"Hello?" It's silent. The line crackles and you think he might have just butt-dialed you until a desperate call of your name comes through via a different but not unfamiliar voice. "Oh, hi there, Chan. Please don't tell me a certain someone's in trouble."

"I'm so sorry to bother you but… yes. He's um… very, very, very intoxicated." 

You glance at the clock on your dash with a frown. "At this hour?"

"We went out for a lunch break and he ordered a drink. Maybe two…"

"Oh, no. Why? He knows he can't handle liquor at all, especially at restaurants and bars."

"Like it was great to go out for a good time since he's seemed out of it. And we did try to stop him but…"

"You're not his babysitter."

"Yeah." You both fall silent. You're mentally cursing Soonyoung for embarrassing himself in front of his junior dance team. As their captain, no less. At least Chan had experienced this too many times. Unfortunately. "Um, and… he won't stop talking about you so… I thought the next best bet was to call you."

Your blood runs cold. "Is he saying weird things?"

"N-no… of course, not! You know how he gets."

Soonyoung's more of an emotional, lovey-dovey drunk than a secret spiller but maybe you have too much faith in him, judging by Chan's rushed and uncertain response.

"Yeah, I do," you sigh, "where are you?"

"We were at his place and tried to get him to go inside but," — "no, stop trying to kiss me!", someone in the background shouts in protest — "um, sorry but anyways, he keeps insisting to come see you. And none of us knew if you were home or not."

You can hear the drunken slur of your name clearer now and assume Soonyoung is getting all up in Chan's business while he's on the phone. Possibly to say hello to you. 

"I'm out right now —  "

"Oh oops, sorry! I'll try and get him to calm down — "

"Wait, so you're at his place?" you rush to ask after he accidentally cut you off. 

"Well," he lowers his voice as best he can, "we're just driving around with the excuse that he'll think we're taking him to see you." 

"Okay." Glancing around the parking lot you're in, you know you would die before admitting to the young, up-and-coming dance crew member that you were anywhere near a sex toy store. "How about we meet at my place? I'll be back home in about fifteen?"

He agrees readily, apologizing once more with a guilty tone at having to bother you. Soonyoung being a chaotic drunk doesn't occur as often as one might think but when it does happen — it's always an experience to remember. And somehow you and Chan always seem to be the victims of circumstance when shit goes down.

"I'm… I'm really sorry about this."

"Don't be. If there's anyone that has to apologize, it should be the one that caused the situation in the first place." You attempt to lessen the intensity of your glare when facing the younger man. "Unfortunately, that will have to be after he sobers up."

Chan shuffles his feet, cheeks dusting a light pink because he's not sure where exactly to look. After dragging his senior's body out of the car when he'd arrived at your place and then lugging him up to the door, the inebriated man completely melted right onto you and is now intimately nuzzling at the crook of your neck. All while you remain expressionless, arms crossed above Soonyoung's that embrace you.

Something gnaws at the young man, telling him that this is a bad idea. "Um, are you sure you don't want me to take him back? Drive around a few blocks before he passes out?"

"Wasting more gas in this economy? Don't worry about it… besides, he doesn't deserve to wake up by himself with the sun shining through his window and birds singing now, does he?" Your rather menacing tone causes Chan to instinctively step back to leave until you blurt out, "Oh wait!"

"Yeah?"

"You said that this buffoon kept talking about me, right? What kinds of things did he say this time? Y'know, wanna make sure it wasn't slander or something gross."

Being buried six feet under would be much better than ratting out his mentor or becoming the victim of your misplaced wrath. "Ummm… he said you have pretty… eyes, yeah! Pretty eyes!" When you blink them once — twice — Chan uses that as his cue to escape with a rushed "See ya!", taking two steps at a time to scramble back in the car with his friends.

Pretty eyes, my ass, you think to yourself and glower at the man clinging helplessly to your side.

Slamming the door shut a little too harshly causes Soonyoung to flinch and nestle impossibly closer to you. His clumsy hands knead the skin below your breasts, innocently inching a little too high for comfort. Gripping at the strands on the back of his head, you tug him away only to grimace at the inappropriate moan that escapes his mouth.

"Shut up."

"I… said nothin'?"

"Yeah, well. I've heard enough already," you snap and urge him forward until he topples onto the couch headfirst. "What's got you acting up like this?"

His eyes have stayed squinted this whole time even in the dim area of your living space, a perpetual frown on his puffy red face. It's cute even if he looks like he might cry. Although a closer glance and being all too familiar with his drunken habits, you think he might actually be on the brink of tears.

"…me."

"Hm?"

"You been… 'voiding me."

"No, I haven't."

"'course, that's what you think."

"I've been busy."

"'s what you always say."

"Do not," you argue. As a point, you stare directly into what you can see of his dilated pupils only inches away from those pursed lips of his to fluff the pillow on his right. "Had to pick up my car and everything. It hasn't been that long since you've seen me."

"No texts?"

"I'm not on my phone twenty-four-seven."

"Liar. Going without me."

"You wouldn't have even known where the place was. It was in the middle of nowhere and recced by a friend."

"You have friends?"

You sigh in defeat. "Yes, I do, Soonyoung. Whatever, it's not like you're comprehending or going to remember any of this anyways."

"I will."

"Yeah? What's two times two?"

"… Twenty-two!"

You nudge him over in exasperation and he falls down on his side, head perfectly landing on the pillow you propped up while he lets out a heavy sigh that you echo. "Sleep tight, dumbass."

Throwing a blanket around the lower half of his body, you know his tolerance has improved enough that he won't make a mess of the furniture. Shaking your head — albeit fondly — you head inside your room for the evening. Later on, lulled into a dreamless sleep by the even-tempo snores of your best friend.

Drunk Soonyoung is a deep sleeper — easily knocked out for more than twelve hours. 

By the time he's come to, he's slept through you waking up early, fussing in the kitchen, starting laundry, and stumbling around looking for your shoes before leaving (you needed to get out before you grew too soft over seeing him asleep on your couch). You don't even bother to keep quiet, knowing the man won't stir until his body has detoxed all the alcohol out of his bloodstream.

He's a little upset to find you gone, the living quarters noticeably a bit chilly without someone else — you — in it. Though a sheepish smile lights up his face after seeing medicine and a glass of water on the table. Plus, the usual post-it note with a frowny face scribbled on it that you left for him.

Like it's a habit, his fingers slide across his phone screen rather efficiently to speed-dial your number, smiling at the profile picture he chose. A candid picture of you laughing so hard at his funny antics you didn't hear the shutter clicking. Sometimes being bad at using technology works to his advantage.

"Morning, how's the hangover?"

"Barely feel a thing, must be the magical fairy dust you sprinkled over me."

You make a disgruntled noise before playfully asking, "Four times four?"

"… is sixteen. Whatever I said last night you cannot and will not hold against me, okay?"

"Sure."

He notes your noncommittal response. It's strange when you'd normally fire back at him. Rhythmic pounding noises thud in the background, and if he holds his breath to listen closely — he swears you're panting.

"What're you up to?"

"Workout. Treadmill."

Soonyoung blinks. 

Forbidden thoughts of your pretty tits and ass deliciously bouncing in time as you jog flood his mind. Licking his lips, the imagery turns to you bouncing on something else. Like his cock, for example, that's already starting to swell and stiffen up at the thought. His attractive best friend panting hungrily for him instead of in the gym. Exactly as when you squirted all over that pathetic vibrator of yours.

You're a goddamn perv, he chastises himself. 

Groaning as quietly as possible, he clears his throat. "You're not a fan of exercise routines. At least, you've always hated mine."

"Yours are stupid, insanely hard. A friend of mine said to keep fit, you know — to look nice for that."

"Friend? What kind of friend says shit like that?" You're reminded of his question last night but he continues on with sudden passion. "You're already pretty just the way you are!"

"Mhm-hm, and what exactly about me do you think is pretty?"

Heat burns on Soonyoung's neck, traveling upwards to set his cheeks aflame. There's no way you know what he's picturing right now. Banishing those scandalous ideas far, far, far away (for later maybe), he scrambles to answer. 

"Your… your… eyes!"

He's not sure what he's expecting but it's certainly not a scoff of disbelief coming out of his phone's speaker. Only the wall you're facing can see how hard those very eyes roll.

"Lies. All men do is lie."

Before he can ask you to elaborate, a male voice he can't make out nor identify takes your attention away. Soonyoung frowns, eyebrows furrowing in perplexity at your amicable, "Be right there," before you bid your friend a rather miffed goodbye. 

"Please lock the door when you leave."

"I can't stay?"

"… Just don't destroy anything."

A toothy grin emerges on his face as he thinks back to where you told him the spare key was. "I wouldn't dream of it, babe."

"Uh-huh. 'kay, bye."

"Bye!" The suddenly smug man hangs up. Donning a smirk on his face for no audience to see, one that Jihoon would shake his head and say his roommate must be up to no good.

Well. If you're going to do a workout with some other guy just because his routine is too intense — in more ways than he could ever know — Soonyoung's going to have to show you what you're missing out on.

Meanwhile, a chill runs down your spine. Puzzled, you pat at the sweat glistening on your forehead, neck, and back with the towel looped over your shoulder as you cool down. Turning off the treadmill, you join Seokmin on the large floor mat where he's attempting to stretch but has given up in pursuit of draping his body over a stability ball.

"What are you doing?"

"Becoming one with the ball."

You snort. "Is it working?"

"Yes." Turning his head, sparkling eyes stare up at you. "The universe has spoken to me and told me that was your special tiger boy. Does he miss you? Long for you?"

"There's a twenty-five-pound weight next to your girlfriend's foot. Don't make me go get it and throw it at your head."

He whines out to said partner about how mean you're being to him, only receiving delighted laughter as meager consolation in return. Setting down the heavy bar, she swings her legs off the bench and saunters over. Wrapping an arm around your shoulders, a bejeweled eyebrow raises at how Seokmin forlornly rolls across the floor before he drops the act to grin at her knowingly.

"I don't like the look you two are sharing."

"Relax, sweets. When have we ever done something bad?"

"Do you want the evidence mailed or faxed by the time I gather up all the receipts?"

"You're so funny and cute," she coos, fiddling innocently with your workout bra strap. 

"And you both are insane. Lovely. But insane."

"I promise it's nothing crazy, right Seok baby?"

"Yeah, it's really tame. Nothing big either."

You shake your head. "So, it's not another extra, extra large-sized vibrator? 'Cause I was told that wasn't big either."

More bubbly giggles fill the empty gym. "How 'bout we grab some food on our way out and we'll share the deets?"

"I suppose so, could definitely use a cold drink now."

"A drink? At this time?" Seokmin teases as you search for your cover-up hoodie and zip it up. He'd wrangled all the details out of you this morning about last night's events while you helped spot him on the chest press. "Was taking care of your tiger boy really that bad?"

"… How you haven't broken his perfectly shaped nose yet is beyond me."

"'cause he's adorable. And frankly, dearest, you can be a real sour puss sometimes."

"Sorry, I'm surrounded by irritating idiots all the time that test my patience."

"Even me?"

"Never you." You loop your arm through her free one, causing the fake pout on her face to disappear. 

Seokmin hangs giddily onto her other side, matching his girlfriend's radiant smile. He's used to the usual light-hearted jabs thrown his way and knows they aren't meant with any ill intent.

The three of you traipse outside where the fair sunlight and time of day increase the crowd of people milling around. Business always flourishes for the food stalls lining the sidewalk when the stroke of good fortune smiles down on them with pleasant weather. Especially when hungry gym-goers stop by for a refreshing drink or delicious snack like your trio needs after a hard routine.

"So, what's the grand secret you're hiding?"

Shiny, long hair is flipped over a tattooed shoulder with such a sure smile on her face and for the umpteenth time, you wish to have even a fraction of the self-confidence Seokmin's girlfriend exudes. "Got a sexy little number for you, darling. Nothing insane but I know you'll just love it and well," a glee-filled snicker, "I know he'll absolutely adore it. Isn't that right, 'Min?" she asks louder.

Her boyfriend nods in agreement even though he probably hasn't heard a thing other than his name from where he's busy paying at the stand. You roll your eyes.

"Thanks, but is that really necessary?"

"Of course!" she gasps, "it would be a bit of a shame, really, but I wouldn't be surprised if he tore it right off. Hah, it will be easy to tho… but anyways, the setup is always key. Remember, I told you it's just like foreplay and equally as important. You're already hot stuff and you're just gonna look even hotter flattering your best assets. He's gonna end up blowing his load, I just know it!"

"I'm going to have a meltdown," you state rather evenly while she squeals. Quite proud of yourself for the fake calm demeanor. 

A hand wraps around yours, squeezing encouragingly. "Listen to me. I was in the same boat a year ago and what great advice did I receive?"

"That was different."

"How so?"

"I mean look at you two now."

"Yeah, I found the love of my life. But that's not what I'm referring to. You know how murky our feelings stupidly were at the time and what did you tell me?"

You sigh in defeat and repeat, "'Whatever happens, happens but at least you know you tried'."

"Exactly." She puts a hand on your shoulder and the other one tilts your chin up so you have no choice but to meet her firm gaze. "And I wasn't happy when you said that but it's true. Plus, my intuition deep down is never wrong and something tells me this will be good either way. It's why we got you something to help boost your confidence, yeah? Think of it as armor… even if it doesn't cover much!"

You groan her name. "Geez, alright. You're right. Someone else said the same thing but I'm just — you know…" You wave your arm around and she nods understandingly. 

"I get it. It's okay to feel that way, perfectly normal. Be honest with him, at least about the nerves part if that's what you're only comfortable sharing. I think he's gonna treat you right during this, though. You're his best friend when it all comes down to it! Remember, you both have equal control over this so make sure to express and communicate at all times."

"I don't know if he'll have any control with what I have planned," you mutter and her eyebrows raise up in surprise before they wiggle suggestively with a salacious grin.

"Oh? There's my spicy sugar baby."

"Hah, stop it, you! I dunno, I mean we didn't discuss what we would be doing anyways so…"

"Mhm-hm. Well, don't forget we're always one phone call away. For anything."

"In fact, we could just book a nearby hotel." Seokmin returns and hands out your respective orders. "We haven't spent the night in one for a while, have we?"

You make a face of disgust following the couple to their parked car. "There's only trashy motels that reek of sex out my way. Like the dorms on campus but five times worse."

"Whaddya mean, that sounds perfect?"

"C'mon Seokmin," you grumble and he chuckles. 

His girlfriend takes out a white clothing box wrapped with an elegant black ribbon. "Don't open it until right before you're ready to stream. I know you'll overthink it if you see it any sooner."

You bite your lip but nod, pulling her in for a hug. "Thank you a lot. For everything you always do. I know you're right." Taking in a deep breath, you stand back and nod at both of them. "I'm going to do this."

"Yes, you are! You're gonna take that dick and own it, regardless of fuzzy feelings, you better enjoy it for what it's worth!"

"Baby, we're in public!"

"What, that's never stopped you before? You just handed over a lingerie set on a public street!"

As they bicker, you hear your phone ding. 

You gasp. For multiple reasons. None of them good ones.

Throwing your head back, you let out a frustrated groan before turning to face your curious friends. "It was great seeing you guys but I have to make a call and hurry home. Love you, will talk to you later."

They blow you kisses goodbye, acting as if they aren't chortling like little demons to each other that you have a very important dicking-down appointment to make. You pretend like you don't hear them, urgently dialing Soonyoung's number.

"Heya."

"Tell me you didn't bleach and dye your hair in my bathroom sink!"

Your devious best friend can't help but find your fuming cute as he plays with the tattered strings on his sweatpants. "I didn't."

You halt your fast stride and accusingly huff into the phone, "Then you're just fucking with me?"

"Not yet, actually."

"Kwon Soonyoung!"

"What? You didn't answer my question. Y'know I was gonna call and ask you what color you'd prefer but I didn't want your gym buddy to overhear."

"So you left and came back just to make a mess of my bathroom, maximizing the chances of my landlord potentially killing me?"

"Something like that, yeah."

"If you thought Jihoon was pissed, I can get much scarier than him."

"Oh trust me, I know. Better hurry that cute ass of yours home to get me to behave."

He hangs up, leaving you standing on the side of the street with your jaw nearly hitting the concrete. You hope that Soonyoung had learned his lesson after horribly — albeit accidentally — staining Jihoon's brand-new sink the last time he'd had done something crazy to his hair.

But as usual, he never fails to surprise you in the worst of ways. For as irritating as he was, it was honestly sometimes a surprise that you were best friends with him — let alone ending up with stupid feelings that totally don't exist.

The heavy weight of male testosterone hanging in the air smacks you right in the face when you open the door. So much so that you have to take a step back, shake your head, and approach your own living quarters with much more caution.

"Honest to god," you mutter to yourself, only just able to hear Soonyoung's grunts, groans, and controlled exhale over the obnoxious blaring of his workout playlist. You pray your neighbors won't file a noise complaint. "Is he for real?"

Like out of a wet dream (yours), the lean arms of your best friend curl inwards to bring the dumbbells toward his head. Biceps bulging, the rest of his muscles visible through the thin white tank draped over them ripple in time with his precise movements. An audible hiss from the burn of exertion is followed by furrowed eyebrows, lips curling inwards before he relaxes and releases the tension. 

The only thing keeping you from fainting is the sight of his fuzzy bleached hair sticking out at odd points. Reminding you of why you stormed home in the first place.

Having seen your reflection in the blank TV, Soonyoung sets down the weights and turns to face you with a lazy grin. Shaking out his arms, the bracelets on his wrists jingle and jangle, silver beads against his tanned skin make it glow even more.

Like who even wears jewelry when they work out, you think to yourself with critical disdain to distract away from the fact that you're staring. In disbelief obviously. Pure and utter judgment.

As if you don't have a dainty golden chain around your own neck, the pendant resting demurely above the low zipper of your hoodie. 

You miss the hungry dark brown irises following the way it dangles back and forth above your chest when you bend over to set down the bags you're carrying. Unconsciously biting down on his bottom lip at the pretty view presented to him. Hurriedly flitting his eyes away with slight shame when the charm nestles itself exactly where he was staring as you stand back up. 

Just in time to meet your fiery glare that burns into his dilated pupils — this time, not from alcohol.

You're too busy staring at the mess on his head to really notice and he uses that to his advantage. As much as possible. But the attempt at sexily brushing back his frizzy bangs only makes them look worse and causes your scowl to deepen. A failure in making you swoon or laugh as intended, he sighs in defeat and turns on the kicked-puppy-dog act. Even though he's a self-certified tiger.

"Don't give me that look."

"I'm not doing anything."

"That's what you should've told me on the phone."

"Ah but… oh, wait… " he calls out as you stomp over to the bathroom only to let out a frustrated shriek. "See? Didn't ruin your basin, babe."

"Oh, you! Like you even know what that word means!"

"I do!"

A withering look is shot his way on your return but it has no effect. Neither do the next words out of your mouth. "I'm going to strangle your rat-lookin' ass for giving me a false heart attack!"

"Hah, I might be into that if it's you doing it."

This time, though, the way you whine out his name causes Soonyoung to shiver. Tiny hairs stand at attention, eliciting bumps to cover his body despite the sheen of perspiration already coating his skin.

God, does he want to hear it again.

You turn away from him, having said enough of your mind and knowing he probably wasn't even listening. Which would be correct. Instead, he tugs at the hem of your shirt and taps your shoulder so you'll face him again, allowing him to put his hands on your hips to keep you in place.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Where are you going?"

"Away from you. Obviously."

"Trying to escape me in your own place?"

"Oh, trust me. I can evade very well while you… work out whatever alpha male energy you need to release in my home."

"But I'm a tiger — a solitary creature with no social structure." 

"No social skills, more like it." You push at his chest, hand jolting back like it'd been burnt upon the realization of just how thin and useless the almost-sheer fabric of his tank top is. Cheeks burning only hotter when his shit-eating smirk widens. 

Absent-mindedly kneading at your covered skin while mentally taking note of how short your attire was on your lower body, Soonyoung chuckles. "You're a tiger too, you know?"

"Stop, I could never compare to the level of your tiger-isms. Because I'm not a furry or whatever you like to call yourself."

"I could convince you to be my tigress," his breath hot against your already burning cheek, "change your mind a little bit, you're already halfway there as it is."

Any biting remark fizzles out in your throat like an opened soda can turning flat, knowing it'll only come out sounding like a whimper with how close he gets. Firm and warm — so warm and his dazzling, brilliant display of teeth only makes everything burn more. Your legs are as shaky as the breath you would have let out if you weren't holding it in just as hard as the grip on the last shred of your sanity.

Your best friend must deviously know who now has the upper hand at your ducked head. Sweatpant-clad knees knock into your bare ones. Urging you back, back, and back until you obediently sit down on the couch. 

Reminiscent of the night before. Opposite positions.

Soonyoung cages your head between his arms, wishing he was shirtless so you could see the way his abs flex in order to hold himself up, not solely relying on the strength of his arms. Your silence and stunned look are enough to boost his ego though, and he knows he can make it up to you.

"Have a few more reps to do, why don't you wait 'til I'm done?"

It's adorable, he thinks — how you're only able to cutely nod, mouth slightly ajar. Completely overwhelmed by him and him alone until he backs away to give you space to finally exhale in relief.

"And why would I do that?"

Broken out of the spell long enough to grouse at him and be taken aback by the unfamiliar but familiar pull-up bar station he's headed toward. However, before you can chew him out again, he easily targets your Achilles heel. Sometimes he's smart like that (or lucky), able to pick up on your strengths and weaknesses you don't realize or try to hide. Either for or against your well-being.

"'Cause I'll make it worthwhile, babe."

And right now, Soonyoung's actively using every effort to work against you. 

Pulling out a baseball cap from who knows where to cover his hideous hair and tossing away his useless top, you have no choice but to momentarily gawk at the defined valley between his back muscles with nothing shielding your view. It's up to your filthy imagination to envision what disappears under the waistband of his gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips.

"Yeah, right, I'll just look at my phone," you grumble, although you can't tear your gaze away despite unlocking the device with your thumb. 

"See something you like?" 

His teasing is relentless, your shrunken reflection on the TV screen becoming his focal point. Grinning to himself with his tongue sticking out, panting and moaning as acceptable as one can when doing pull-ups.

"No," you lie flatly, "I saw a lot of that not too long ago at the gym." More lies. Seokmin is a respectable man and keeps himself well-covered. "I'm just wondering how you got that damn thing in here."

"I'm stronger than I look."

"I know. Doesn't explain why you bothered to set it up here."

It's hard to shrug in the middle of a pull-up so he hums. "Change of scenery?"

"There's a great view at your apartment. A huge, wide window overlooking a green yard, not some beige wall."

Like he'd admit right now that he'd rather look at you. For amusement. For other reasons. Especially because he has a pretty good idea of how lovely you are undressed.

Continuing to ramble, you carry on. "And if you're all wrung up about me avoiding you — which I'm not — because of the collab, don't be. 'Cause I'll still do it — "

One of Soonyoung's hands almost slips off the bar, losing his grip in his sudden excitement at your words. Stabilizing himself with two feet planted on the ground, he faces you — chest heaving, abs rippling to catch his breath.

"You're still okay with it?"

"I mean why wouldn't I be? I just… had to process things. I'm a bit… well… nervous, okay?" You look down, expecting him to laugh at you.

"I'm nervous, too. Didn't mean to make you uncomfortable with the things I texted you, was just caught up in the moment, and I… " He rubs his neck, backpedaling when you flinch. "I meant it! Oh god, I mean… I didn't intend to be a creep, I just wanted you to know that…"

A deep inhale gives him enough air to rush out, "I do find you attractive. I mean you're hot, duh. And… I would and will do anything and everything to make sure you're comfortable at all times and… also… feel good… and… and stuff."

Soonyoung's voice fades away, the idea that he's fumbled the ball so hard and lost the game is super embarrassing. Defeat isn't common. Flirting and securing dates were his forte, his special skills, and the things he never failed at. Yet, with you sitting right in front of him right now — someone who is always by his side — he keeps fucking things up.

It gives him a small flutter of hope though when you raise your head to steadily meet his eyes. A hint of a soft smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "You're strange, you know that?"

"I'm trying to have a heart-to-heart for the third time and you're telling me I'm weird?"

"Strange, not weird."

"They're literally cinnamons."

"… Synonyms?"

"Yeah, you know when two different words mean the same thing."

"I — " You shake your head. Typical Soonyoung behavior. Attempting to get back on track, you mumble an apology. "You know, I've been caught up in my head without thinking about what or how you're feeling at all even though you've been pretty open."

"More than open."

"True. It just…. scares me. You're my best friend, Soonie — I don't want to lose you."

Your fearful whisper comes out more like a plea. The both of you search each other's shared gaze, unable to recognize the exact emotions you seek are in plain sight. 

Soonyoung frowns. "You aren't going to lose me over this."

"You don't understand."

"You haven't been upfront with anything if I'm being honest so, yeah. I don't."

"I'm — I'm sorry — "

"Don't be," he assures you with a wave of his hand and comes closer, "I get that it's new, scary, and gonna take time. I'm not expecting anything nor am I gonna leave when it's over, okay? Just want us to enjoy ourselves." His soft approach — the clumsy steadiness of the man you know and love — only makes your heart melt devastatingly so. "I promise this is gonna be great."

"It… it will be. I trust you."

He beams at you, holding out his hand. "Why don't we shower together then?"

"What?" Your body jolts, not at the coldness of the phone you had a death grip on falling onto your thighs but at the shock of his words. "Why?"

"To make up for the time we could've had during the communal shower incident?"

"Ugh, omigod, you perv…I should've known way back then."

Soonyoung wiggles his eyebrows and fingers enticingly. "How about just getting comfy and calming the nerves a bit? No cameras, no viewers, no one else — no pressures. Just us. Whatcha think?"

"No funny tricks," you warn but take his offered hand and stand up. It's horrible how the idea is enough to make your body thrum in anticipation.

"'course not, wouldn't dream of it, babe."

Despite the growing trepidation, neither one of you is eager to move too fast and disturb the careful equilibrium established. 

Once he's secured your hand in his, Soonyoung leads you toward the bathroom but pauses right outside the door. You peer at him curiously — thinking he's chickened out — but he simply winks, apologizing that he needs the bag left by his workout equipment.

"You little shit, you had this all planned, didn't you?"

"No, but I brought a few things in the hopes you'd at least let me stay over again. You see, Jihoon was planning a big romantic dinner tonight."

"Aw, was he? That's cute. Can you grab my stuff too? I'll… meet you in the shower in a few… gotta run to my room real quick."

"'kay, but you better not run from me," he whispers in your ear and delivers a playful slap on your ass before leaving.

Your legs wobble. Weird excitement mixes with the butterflies in your gut and then you're dashing off into your bedroom to glare at the flustered expression reflected in your vanity's mirror. Sorting through and tossing around various panties, undergarments, and casual clothing only to huff at yourself because what does it matter what you wear to the shower? 

Damn you, Soonyoung.

Patting at super flushed, hot cheeks causes you to unzip your hoodie and throw it in the hamper. Left wearing only a sports bra, the urge to waste time and calm yourself by staring at the glowing, rotating stars on the ceiling is strong. Instead, you crouch down on the floor to give yourself one final pep talk for mental fortitude and then head back to join said man in the bathroom.

So caught up in trying to steel your nerves, you don't realize how long it took him to get the bags. Nor the flush coloring his neck a scarlet red and even spreading across his shoulders after he dropped yours off in front of the closed bedroom door, having accidentally caught a glimpse inside one of them.

Yes, the unmarked plastic Limbo bag that had been left in your car due to the events that happened after. You had brought it in today and although he'd picked it up without a second thought, he had seen a particular item that left his head spinning. You are none the wiser — forgetting all about it already again because of everything.

Soonyoung's already stripped and turned the shower on, intently watching the stream of water like it's the most interesting thing he's seen all day. You're grateful, though. 

Although a bra and booty shorts are by far not the most revealing thing you've worn or that your best friend's seen, you feel bare before you're even naked. Quickly discarding them, you wait for his next move, shifting on your feet. Both bashful and antsy.

"You ready?" The soft way he calls your name has your stomach doing somersaults. 

"Yeah."

"C'mere, then." Brown eyes crinkle to match his smile at the way you shyly sidle up next to him. "Don't know if the water temp is good for you."

"It's fine."

"After you, then."

You snort at the so-called gentlemanly nature, stepping inside while Soonyoung fidgets. It's funny because he's never failed to ogle you before with clothes on. But now he's unsure where to even look, choosing to focus on the water flowing past your painted toes and down the drain.

"You coming?"

"Yeah, uh…" He asks himself why he was doing this despite knowing the answer. "Um, nice shower."

You play along as if he's never been inside the bathroom before. "It is a nice bonus considering the rent. Big enough for two people to stand inside and not… touch."

Soonyoung's back is pressed straight up against the shower wall, clinging to it like mold and using it as a lifeline. There definitely seems to be enough space between your two bodies but he would rather slip on soap than move his eyes off the chipped caulking he's focused on right now. Speaking of soap, his singular brain cell lights up for a moment and he grabs the shampoo bottle that's thankfully to the right rather than behind either of you. 

"You wanna wash my hair for me?"

"What did you do to it? Obviously, it wasn't bleached if you're getting it wet. And it doesn't look much different."

"Chan helped me lighten it. With apple cider vinegar."

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah." 

Another mistake. Not his hair. But asking you to wash it. Especially when you tell him to duck his head to his chest so you can lather it up properly. Though your nails feel great against his scalp, he squeezes his eyes shut — afraid to look again. Even after straightening up and you're rinsing out the suds.

"I thought we were doing this to ease up the nerves but why do you look ten times more uncomfortable?"

"… I'm trying really, really, really hard not to be a creep right now."

You have to laugh. Endeared and amazed, you tap at his hands which have curled into tight fists to try and get him to relax. "Don't you want to look?"

One eye opens to squint at you, a strangled groan escaping his throat. "The goal was to get you more comfortable with me. Not the other way around?"

"But it looks like you're having a harder time." The not-so-subtle innuendo has him groaning again, running a distressed hand through his wet locks. You're having zero difficulties checking him out, undoubtedly noticing the effect this is having on him. So of course, your ego grows just like his cock. "Do you wanna touch me, Soonie?"

"I… I…"

It's your turn to reach for the shelf of toiletries, the snap of the body wash's lid opening causes a shiver to run down Soonyoung's spine and his nostrils flare at the familiar scent. He's helpless to your sweet, seductive tone and lets you lift up his hand, squeezing a generous amount from the bottle onto it.

"You can get me all nice, clean, and pretty for our stream, yeah?" 

Which is a lie — you're not looking to get clean, necessarily. The hot water and occasional soap suds are enough to wash away the sweat and grime from both of your workouts. An actual scrub could come later. 

After the festivities. 

"Don't waste my expensive products," you teasingly beg and bat your damp eyelashes at him before turning around. How the tables have turned. "Please?"

He swears under his breath, muttering, "This is all your fault," (a lie) before running his hands along your shoulders to spread the cool gel. Circular motions bring them down closer and closer before cautiously, but eagerly, cupping at the underside of your breasts.

"Knew you always had a thing for them," you giggle.

"Can you blame me?" Soonyoung bites back and starts to knead at them the same way he's done to other parts of your body without this kind of intent. "They're fucking gorgeous. Can't believe I finally get to touch them."

Your sigh comes out more like an airy moan, leaning back against his firm body. Two and two click together. "So these are your favorite parts of my body, huh? You've been talking to your juniors about my tits?"

"No way!" he assures you, "It's true that your eyes are beautiful as well but I can talk about how pretty you are…. you know, as a person."

"I don't even want to know."

"Like… you know!" 

"No?"

"I mean all of them have the hots for you, I'm just making sure none of them make a move because that would be weird."

"Oh please, it's only weird if you make it weird."

"Think about it. If my best friend dates my younger peers and exposes all kinds of embarrassing moments, how am I supposed to hold onto my authoritative position?"

"You expose your stupidity all by yourself as it is and still somehow maintain it. I think you terrify them in so many ways you don't even have to worry."

"I dunno. Whatever, are underclassmen even your type?"

You shrug. "I don't really have a preference but I guess not."

"Good, let's keep it that way."

"You're incorrigible."

"And yet here we are." He points out, noting that his hands groping and squeezing at your chest has to feel good. A little too good, if you're the one being honest. "You still want to stream, right? Like tonight?"

"Mhm, we might as well. Besides, you have your date really soon and — " You yelp at the sudden pinch and tug at your nipples, lurching forward.

Soonyoung follows your body's motion, ensuring you won't slip or hit your head. You can feel the hot press of his cock laying heavy against your back, bodies melding together as he rises back to his full height and brings you up with him. He doesn't move away, one hand brushing across your stomach while the other soothes the harshness just enacted upon your breasts.

"Do you think you can handle one sweet orgasm for me? Before we put on a show? Please?"

"Wha — Soonyoung?" you splutter out, brain trying to catch up and process the change of his demeanor. 

His mouth is on your skin, not quite kissing and not quite biting or sucking. Just lips pressing along your neck with an occasional prod of his tongue that licks up water droplets as he pleads for permission. Followed by a slight grind of his hips that steals away your breath, his heavy cock swirling against the curve of your ass, its heat matching the heat building up in your abdomen.

"Just my fingers, baby. There's no way I'd have trouble getting hard again but I need… no, want to stretch you out first. Please."

Breathless laughter bubbles in your chest at his desperation. And of course, you find yourself equally as turned on — easily able to distinguish between the hot shower water versus the release of arousal that bursts from your gut and trickles out to coat your sensitive folds.

You tell him "okay," and then he's goddamn thanking you. Already panting. Would get on his knees if he could but it's too risky, even though he reaches behind and shuts off the water that's rinsed away all of the unnecessary suds. Now, Soonyoung can resort to using his fingers to explore where he hopes his mouth and eyes can later.

Prodding at the crease of your thigh, he mumbles more to himself, "Is this where it's at?", causing you to grimace. Not knowing he's referring to your tiger lily tattoo. 

"Thought you were a sex maniac? But you don't know how to finger someone?" Maybe Junhui was right. "I should've bought you a guide or something, my bad."

He scoffs. "A little mouthy, aren't we? Not that I was expecting anything less. Saw you bought some fun sex toys, babe and I assure you — I know how to use them and find my way around a body."

"We might use them in ways you can't imagine," you gripe and he silences you with a bold swipe of his fingers against the smooth folds of your cunt.

"You're shaking in my arms already and you don't think I know what I'm doing." He doesn't speed up his pace or make further movements, content to tease. Though his lips turn downward when you clasp a hand over your mouth. "Going quiet on me before I've even started?"

"I'm cold," you mumble behind your palm. 

Soonyoung's hand leaves your lower body so he can place it on your elbow instead. Not moving your arm away but it's a tight enough grip that you know he wants to and could if he tried. He feels the bumps covering your skin everywhere he's pressed against and shivers himself.

"Let me warm you up then. But you're going to have to let me hear how it feels or I won't know if I'm doing a good job." Fingers trail down your side again and you relent, tentatively dropping your arm down and letting out a soft, wobbly moan at his tickling motions. "And I very much like knowing that I am."

You can feel his smile against your neck. He can't help but be fond of such cute shyness that you don't normally exhibit around him but even that's not enough to feed the ravenous tiger. Soonyoung understands though, aware of some of the differences between sexual acts for a camera audience versus doing it with another person.

Especially if it's him. Not that he's actually aware of that fact.

"Words, gorgeous." But the man still desires to ask, intent on getting you to actually say something, breathy and sweet all for him — and him alone. Hopefully not just an act. Besides, he knows how mouthy you actually are whether there's something in that cute cunt of yours or not.

"Mhm yes, Soonyoungie…"

"Yeah?" He rewards you with a return to your damp folds, gently brushing back and forth to get his fingers thoroughly coated with arousal. "Tell me what I should do, what you like. Wanna hear it all from those pretty lips of yours."

"Hm, want… want your fingers."

"Where?"

"In… inside."

"Huh, inside… here?" A finger slowly eases its way into your warmth. "In this lovely little pussy of yours?"

Your reaction is incredible, arching your lower back to press even closer to him, wedging his cock between your ass cheeks, and throwing your head back. A louder moan echoes in the shower. One that glimmers with more confidence. 

You're no longer cold, sure the water droplets glistening on your skin are sizzling now and evaporating from the feral heat rushing through your body. And it is absolutely everything to Soonyoung. Almost.

"How many? How deep?"

Despite having shorter fingers, they make up for the lack of length with thickness and technique. You can clearly feel by the one alone that he obviously knows how to utilize as it explores the spongy walls of your cunt. Your moan turns into a whiny huff as he stills his digit and your foggy mind finally registers you need to answer.

"Two, please. Not… not too deep."

"'course, baby. Whatever you want. I know you can take more but I'll be gentle." He nips at your ear as he slides his ring finger next to his middle one inside, teeth bared hungrily at the filthy squelch. Pointer finger soothingly pets one side on the outer lip of your pussy that snugly wraps around him, tiny tremors of its nerves fluttering across it. "Anything for you."

He continues to mumble, stuff along the lines of "only for you" and "never do a thing to ever hurt you". But it's drowned out by the blood roaring in your ears, melting against Soonyoung's body, and attempting to keep standing. It doesn't matter too much, his strong grip ensures you won't fall — it'd be a waste of such a rigorous arm workout if he couldn't even brace and support you while he finally gets to stroke your velvety walls like he's fantasized about.

Or maybe that's fueling his strength alone. It's startling, how fast you rush toward that peak. The sensitivity of someone — him — touching you for the first time in years, the smell of your scent on him… everything in that moment, within the intimacy of your shower, is just you and Soonyoung.

It's intimate. Much too intimate. 

Emotions collide and crash, causing an intense ache that leaves you in a fragile state of vulnerability, stealing your breath with a sharp gasp. Paired with the slow, concentrated strokes of his fingers that are intent on helping you reach that peak, you have no choice but to follow along. 

Embarrassingly climbing up the hill and hurtling to your climax at a raging speed, like a roller coaster that races downwards off-track. And like its unfortunate passengers, you scream — albeit silently, the pleasure so mind-numbing that it steals away every single one of your functions. 

It satisfies Soonyoung though. The lack of noise from your mouth lets him appreciatively hear the accompanying squelch of your darling cunt pulsating around his fingers. Gummy walls squeeze his fingers in rippling waves that make his cock ache. You tremble in his arm and he feels hella pleased, content to support your shaking frame until he realizes you're sobbing.

Mush. Your brain, your body, your heart. It feels so so, so good it almost oddly hurts so, so, so bad.

Your best friend is quick to wipe your cheek tenderly, brushing away the trickling tears with his cleaner hand. "Hey, you okay? You still with me?"

It's hard to trust yourself to speak, the lump in your throat is too big to allow for speech anyways. Instead, you nod at him through bleary eyes, waiting for the roar to fade from your ears. Soonyoung scans your face repeatedly, worry knitting his eyebrows.

"Baby," he whispers, pet names slipping out without thought, and pulls down the fluffy towel on the nearby hook to drape over your shoulders. "Talk to me. Too much? I'm so sorry… gosh, I really am sorry, love."

Regret immediately eats at him. Regret at what, he's not quite sure. But like a stone is crushing his chest, he watches you attempt to talk to him — to actually assure him that you are okay — but your body refuses to cooperate in its hypersensitive state, stuck heaving dry sobs. So, you timidly open your arms, asking for a hug and he steps in to embrace you without a moment's hesitation.

Although it's like he's touching glass, afraid you'll break with one wrong touch so he's extraordinarily gentle. Your head buries into the crook of his neck. Toweled arms wrap around him, luckily sharing a bit of warmth and dryness. Breathing in his comforting scent that lingers beneath your shampoo, and the supportive strength of defined, moist skin pressed against yours. Both of your hearts beating rapidly off-sync starts to ease the shaking in your body. 

Every swallow you hear and feel from his throat continues to bring you back down to a calmer wavelength. Unsure of how much time passes until you no longer feel like you're a balloon floating away in the stratosphere. But once you finally come down and feel a sense of stability, you lift your head.

Soonyoung's quick to crank his neck just for the tiniest glimpse to gauge how you're doing when there's zero indication of you releasing him from your embrace. In fact, your arms might tighten even harder around his torso. A thumb reaches up to cradle the side of your cheek he can reach, swiping tenderly at the salty dampness.

"I'm sorry." It's your turn to croak out an apology and he frowns.

"Why are you apologizing? It's me who should be — "

"No, it's not you! Well, not exactly. Forgot how it feels to be touched by someone else and it's just… a little overwhelming. I didn't mean to scare you."

"Wasn't scared but definitely worried I took it too far. I didn't want or mean to."

"You didn't," you assure him, hands wrapped in the bath towel running up and down his lean back. "I'm fine. It felt… good. Really good. Probably too good. Guess you weren't lying about your skills."

Embarrassed laughter is muffled by burying your head back into the space between his neck and shoulder, a slight nuzzle against his warm skin. Refusing to look into your best friend's brown eyes yet upon the recollection that he'd just had his fingers deep inside of you, bringing you to a pleasurable precipice that you think is the best you've ever experienced.

"Ah."

When that's all he simply says, you have to lean away, honestly a little puzzled. Now it's his turn — once again — to not meet your eyes. A pretty flush illuminates round cheeks that are only emphasized more by the shockingly bashful smile growing on his lips.

"'Ah'?" you repeat in surprise. "I thought you'd be all… cocky and proud. Y'know, like earlier."

His hands rub up and down your arms, unintentionally but successfully finishing drying you off. "Hey, don't get me wrong. I am proud, it's not every day a man gets his pretty bestie to cum like that."

"I am pretty, aren't I?" 

"Yeah, you are." He confirms that by resolutely meeting your gaze and the moment stretches on until you blink to shatter it. "Don't like making you cry though."

"Really? That doesn't seem like your normal MO, Mr. 'I get told off for having too high of a sex drive'!"

"Well… you're different," Soonyoung huffs at you mimicking his words from days ago, and scratches the back of his head as you step out of the shower. Shamelessly ogling your backside in mild retaliation as if you aren't giving him a free show on purpose when you reach for another towel. It's pointless if you don't see and he's allowed to look. "You know that."

All you do is chuckle and shake your head, humor being your favorite defense mechanism. You don't dare to ask him to elaborate. What do you know? Sure, he treats you differently… because you're his precious friend. Because he —

You focus on his matted hair that kind of makes him look a bit like a drowned rat. Though your affection doesn't dwindle, at least you can focus on the conversation rather than Soonyoung and his undeniable attractiveness that now makes you weak in more ways than one.

"What I know now is that my best friend has a dacryphilia kink."

"Do not!"

"Sure," you say, the word absolutely coated in sarcasm but you don't push it. Instead, you ask, "What about you though? Anyone ever made you cry?"

Soonyoung tongues at his cheek, as he joins you at the sink counter, towel politely covering his modesty like yours. "And now who has a kink for tears? I'm aware of how much you love it when viewers are sobbing for you to squirt for them, all pretty like you do. Bet they wail into their pillows every night because they can never, ever have a chance with you."

"Ha, talking about yourself, Tiger?" Boldly, you run a finger down the crevice formed by his pec muscles, just stopping before you reach his abs. "Didn't someone admit to being a frequent viewer of mine?" Watching as he visibly gulps despite the smirk starting to quirk the corner of his lips up. "Ever shed tears for me, Soonie baby?"

It's a miracle that the poor man is able to remain standing with every single one of his nerves tingling and firing off at your words. His entire being thrums while he wiggles his eyebrows. 

"Wouldn't you like to know," he teases, unsurprisingly finding himself breathless.

"I guess I would. Or… I could just find out for myself."

"Fuck, so those toys I accidentally saw weren't for you, were they?" When all you do is bite your lip to try and hide your grin, he laughs and swears again. Turning away to run another hand through his hair, he looks back at you with an eager sparkle in his eyes. "I should've known, you naughty tigress."

"Are you up to it though?"

"Clearly."

"… I mean mentally, Soonyoung. Want to make sure you're okay with that."

"As okay as you were with what we did in the shower," he affirms, "because I trust you, too. Besides," his gaze lowers to drag across your covered body though you might as well be naked with the hungry way he stares before meeting your eyes again. "That sweet pussy of yours could bring anyone to tears. Hmm, maybe I do have a dacryphilia kink… "

"You think?" With a giggle, you try not to melt at his words. The whiplash of him jumping between hot and goofy still leaves you reeling. "We'll just have to confirm between ourselves, won't we? Let the viewers decide on the consensus."

"I'm all yours, baby." Always have been, rings silently in his mind though you likely fail to receive the message. "No matter how many people are watching or what they're saying, we'll go at your pace."

"Our pace."

"Our pace," Soonyoung repeats affirmatively and holds out his hand.

You clasp onto it like an anchor, an unspoken deal mutually accepted by the action. And then you're using it as a way to pull him out of the bathroom, eager to share with him all the ideas you've brainstormed for tonight's livestream.

This was it.

Your camming setup was in its desired location after making Soonyoung sit in various positions on the bed while you adjusted the angle for the best view. Then you turned everything off with strict instructions for the technology-inept man to not touch anything while you were gone and he lazily reclined on your bed to wait. 

He agreed just as amicably as he had after patiently listening to you stutter when finally discussing what you both felt comfortable doing on-cam. Winking lecherously as you leave the bedroom with his arms propped up behind his head causes his upper body to automatically flex. You'd probably seen more of his muscles today than you ever did over the couple of years of knowing him, the man only donning — startlingly normal-colored — boxers and various silver earrings dotting his ears.

"No tiger print?" you had asked, half teasing, half shocked.

"C'mon, it wasn't like I was that prepared. Besides, what's it matter when we'll be naked soon?"

And now you stand back in your bathroom with a cross look. Twisting and turning in different directions to assess your appearance in the vanity mirror. 

Seokmin's girlfriend has never done you dirty. In fact, she just seems to get better at buying things that not only flatter you but stuff you actually enjoy and feel comfortable with or in. And clearly, with this set… frankly, you think she's hit the nail on the head. But Soonyoung's casual words about getting naked eat at the normal self-esteem boost you would expect to be instilled by the beautiful lingerie.

It's simple and classy. Delicate yet sexy. Still, you don't feel as confident as you'd like to. 

But then you jump at the loud drawl of your name followed by, "If you don't come out here soon I'm gonna start touching stuff!" A beat of silence. "Hm, I wonder what this button does…?"

"Hey, you'd better not!"

"You're right, I'd rather be touching you! So get your cute butt over here before I count to three, ahem, one… "

"And I thought it was me who was supposed to be the one counting," you call back and roll your eyes. 

"Two… "

"Omigod! I'm coming, you beast of a man!"

"Yeah, that's what I want you to be say — oh, damn… oh wow… "

You barge back in and Soonyoung hasn't moved, still lying on his back and yelling on your bed like a child throwing a temper tantrum. But he turns to look when he hears you approach only to do a full-body jerk at the sight. 

Because his traitorous eyes are immediately drawn to the large but darling satin bow tied below a flattering display of cleavage created from the two matching pieces of fabric pulled comfortably snug around your breasts. Licking his lips subconsciously as his gaze follows the line of your body to the two additional bows adorning each of your hips and keeping the material of your panties on with one simple knot tied in each one. 

The man is mumbling all kinds of stuff you can't really make out as he sits up besides, "Oh my god," and probably something along the lines of "holy mother of —," and then curses. Suddenly your insecurity flares back up and you recoil instinctively to cover yourself even though he's already seen you naked.

"Wait, wait… don't hide from me…! No, no c'mere, baby. Please," his voice actually cracks as he begs and reaches out his hands, "let me see you… all of you."

And how can you resist when Soonyoung looks at you like that, glassy-eyed and tender? You go to him with timid steps until you're close enough to feel his body heat once more. 

"Sweet thing." Strong arms wrap around your thighs, hands gently laying against the back of them as he nuzzles tenderly around your stomach with his nose. "How are you gonna order me around when you get all shy on me like this?"

Your hands flutter at your side, twitching unsurely before they dare to settle on him — one plays with the tip of his ear free from piercings, and the other scratches his scalp with your nails right above his forehead. And Soonyoung practically purrs in contentment, strangely putting you back at ease. 

"Oh, you'll be surprised at what I can do."

He chuckles. "I always am. You're so beautiful and gorgeous, there's no reason to hide, okay? Never forget that. You still feeling alright?"

"Actually, yeah I'm… good. What about you?"

"Couldn't be better. Except my dick feels a bit numb as fuck but that's okay." When you snort, he smiles against your skin. "I'll manage."

"I'll take care of y — it soon, I promise."

He groans. "Might actually bust a nut at this point."

"Dear lord, Soonyoung… "

"Just kidding. Mostly." Backing away to get a better look at you again, his eyebrows crinkled. "You know I have excellent stamina and control. I'm as cool as a cucumber right now."

"Yeah, okay. Whatever."

"But you do look good enough to eat, goddamnit." Fingertips dare to caress the free end of the ribbon hanging from the knot tying your bra together. "This is new."

"Are you keeping track of the lingerie sets I wear?"

"Mhm… vaguely?"

You roll your eyes. "Yes, it's new."

"Thought so 'cause you've never worn dark green before but damn, do you look good." 

Soonyoung wiggles his eyebrows and you flick him gently on the forehead before turning around at his command. A low whistle and awakening twitch in his boxers at the satin that thins at the back, showing off the round perkiness of your ass. 

It's true that your normal colors are orange, black, or a combo. But the dark green material looks amazing against your skin, is fresh and new, and unsurprisingly — he finds himself hella down bad, noticing the way it also draws out the colors of your tiger lily tattoo that he's never really paid attention to before, when you've completed your 360-spin to face him again.

God, you're a vision.

"Hot, sexy, perfect… buy it for me to unwrap you, babe?"

You glance at the bows with a pout. "A friend bought them for me but I guess it makes sense, doing it with someone else is definitely more exciting with these."

"You said a friend?" Of course, that's the only thing he acknowledges even if he's indeed dying to undo all of the ties right away.

"Yes, Soonyoung. Again, I have friends besides you." 

"One that buys you lingerie?"

"Last time I checked, you weren't."

"Then I'll amend that problem."

"No thanks," you wave him off as you head over to your camming setup to start. "I get enough stuff as it is."

"I guess I should have my kittens gift me things." A hint of satisfaction fills his chest at the downward tilt of your lips when you turn back to the setup. But a pang overrides it because he can guess why you're really grimacing. "Since it's so worth it and all."

"Don't get all salty, I'll help you find a safe place to receive things if you want." You glance over only to find his arms crossed and a frown set on his face. "What's wrong? Did your cock fall off? Do I have to drive you to the hospital?!"

"No."

You're puzzled. "Then are you good to go or…?" 

"Yeah, I'm fine," he huffs, "sorry, got in my head a little."

"We can wait."

"No, it's all good. Let's get this show on the road."

"Alright… " 

You hesitate for a minute or so before decisively starting the livestream, the telltale red blinking dot starting after the countdown. Though your next words make Soonyoung feel like somebody dumped an ice-cold bucket of water over him, a cruel jerk back to the reality you'd both created. And maybe you just doused yourself with it too.

"Let's finally just get this thing over with."

TigerLily_61596 is now live… with a special guest!

The air has definitely suddenly shifted and both of you need to dial it in and dull it out. Whatever it may be. Because you've got an audience to perform for.

Luckily, it's easier than expected. The brief silence as you wait for viewers to tune in ends up permeating a blanket of calmness. The view count rises fast, everyone's excited anticipation is so palpable that it's starting to rouse in your body as well.

"Horang-HEY… " Soonyoung murmurs the infamous tagline while using his phone to monitor the chat. He's pleased to recognize many of the joining screen names consist of his regulars. "Yeah it's me, Hoshi AKA 0riginaltiger69. He/him pronouns, if you please."

He continues reading with a dubious adjustment to his covered crotch. "Ah, wooluv, kitten! No tigerprint…? Yeah, things are gonna be a bit different tonight anyways. Yeah, good to see you too. Miss me? Aw, missed my rowdy lil pussycats."

kingh0ng: im early for once but there's some just random dude talking abt his underwear?????

kingh0ng: and CATS????????????????? NOT PUSSIES???

NewUser4950: it's gonna be a collab

horny49yu: it's a good day to be a bisexual >>>

sugacub3s: and a furry apparently 🤨

"Hey now, no kink-shaming is welcome here."

While he starts an easygoing back-and-forth about whether or not kink-shaming could classify as a kink itself, you re-approach where he's seated on the edge of the bed. Fingers press into the firm muscles of his deltoids after you crawl to sit behind him and he sucks in a sharp breath.

kitkat69: 🤤 mama has finally arrived 

"Hi kitkat69, darling," you smile in comfort at the familiar user while peeking over Soonyoung's shoulder, a hand creeping over to brush above his pectoral muscle. 

NewUser3939: what are you okay with us calling u?

"Yeah, if you're new here… I don't care how you address me, I'm fine with anything. The regulars call me Mama, Tigress… all sorts. Spoiler alert though, I'm probably not the one you're going to want to be calling names tonight."

hoshis_d1ck: oh damn???? 🫦

wooluv: 😢 im so jealous 

You dare to tweak at the man's corresponding nipple. He grunts and leans forward into the camera, bare upper body hiding from the lens the way your lips purse at his actions. 

"'kay kittens, I hope you enjoy what we have prepared so get all comfy while the tigers set up their playpen." 

Once he moves to situate himself in front of the pillows piled by the headboard, you're quick to turn and kneel between his thighs. Dutifully showing off an enticing backside perched prettily on the back of your heels and the black leather strap draped over one of your legs hinting at what's in your hand.

s0turned0n: leash?! ummmmmmmm 👅

AnonymousUser4442: toys…….. oh- 🙃 😵‍💫 🥴

newuserjk: even between the 2 of them? yuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

deathbyd1cks: you look great in that set babe~ 😍 💦

crazy4w00: too true 😳

m3rs: HOT

"You're so cringey." Your whisper is just loud enough so only he can hear.

"And? They love it."

woolove: why can't that be me 😩😩😩😩

cumdaywh0ring: 😔 same here but which 1

horny49yu: again a great day to be a bisexual!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Soonyoung's still reading the comments and you huff. "You're supposed to be paying attention."

"I am."

"To me," you clarify and take the phone out of the man's rather loose grip. Placing it on the nightstand, your covered breasts softly press against his firm ones and another quiet grunt escapes his mouth.

He's still not looking directly at you even as you loop your arms over his shoulders to put the collar around his neck. Bravely, you place what could almost be considered a kiss — featherlight — to the rapidly pulsating vein, raised and visible on his neck due to an extremely tensed jaw. 

A whisper of "Soonie," in his ear and you feel the tiny hairs on the nape of his neck rise despite how the flesh beneath the pads of your fingers burns. "Relax for me," you continue in a low, seductive tone and then fasten the collar with a resounding click. 

deathbyd1cks: 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 everyone shut up they r having a moment 

NewUser1920: feeling inherently single! ✌️

crazy4w00: may be the point lololol

wooluv: 🥲

Leaning back to assess how good he looks with the black leather stretching around the honeyed skin of his throat, the defiant spark that smolders inside of a swift glare before he's glancing away ignites something within you. Maybe he's doing this on purpose. Egging you on to deliberately provoke what happens next in the hasty script you're both choosing to act out, weird feelings be damned.

It helps. 

Hesitation is nonexistent when your hand runs along his sharp jawline until it reaches his bottom lip, pulling it downwards with your thumb. Two fingers slip inside Soonyoung's mouth and push down on his tongue, encouraging him to open wider which he readily obliges. Your other hand sneaks into his boxers, just barely grazing the head of the growing bulge confined in them, and decisively pulling out the second surprise toy of tonight's show.

kitkat69: jsfkdjafkjfkJDKJdfjjdf

cherry_scouper95: 😏😏😏 my colors ayo ❤️ 🖤

8starfucks: this fucks 1000/10

4ngelic_m3nace: me n who ME AND WHO??????

The red sphere of the ball gag is filled with holes but the solid surface molding the circular shape lays sticky between your fingers. Holding it enticingly between your own teeth, you can't help but stick your tongue out and let out a tiny moan at the salty excess purposefully left behind by his neglected, leaking shaft.

You're not sure when Soonyoung placed his hands on your sides but he kneads the bare skin with usual familiarity, squeezing just a bit rougher after the sound you made. Before you dare let yourself wander too far off track, you lean in close. An accelerated heartbeat mixed with ridiculous flutters can be felt in your chest, your stomach, and even between your legs. So traitorous that you would grit your jaw in irritation if you could.

Instead, you tilt your head, raise up onto only your knees, and place your arms around his neck again, this time for support. Using a skilled tongue — while continuing to tease yourself with the taste of his precum — to nudge the ball into his awaiting mouth. Lips dangerously brush together and you're surprised he doesn't flinch away.

"No kissing."

"Okay."

"Not gonna question why?"

There's no need to because you respect his boundaries as he does yours. But as familiar as he is with your idiosyncrasies, you also realize Soonyoung is pushing the matter because he wants you to ask. 

"No one gets to kiss your virgin lips, I know."

"Wha — "

"That's what your drunk self — that kisses people very often — told me once."

"Oh, hm…"

"Don't worry, I get it. You should save kissing for someone special. Like maybe Yuna."

"Huh… I guess?" He shrugs noncommittally. In a way, you almost feel bad for the girl he's going on a date with. In fact, that's why you're trying so hard to protect your own heart, dare it get treated so flippantly like this.

"Besides, there's no reason for any kisses."

Not unless it's you, think two dumbass minds.

And maybe you linger a little longer than necessary or needed during the brush of lips that's clearly not a kiss. Surely Soonyoung doesn't lean in a little further, pressing up closer against your entire body. Perhaps it's simply your imagination when his hands move behind your back as if he would never let you move away from him again.

deathbyd1cks: 🍿 😎

Anonymous33001: i feel like i'm intruding on smth v personal 😭

jejusb00s: it's called intimacy 🤌  a connection

s0turned0n: sad lonely n horny

But you do distance yourself. You have to. 

Once the ball is lodged in his mouth, you drop your arms down, guide his hands onto the bed, and lean to the side to secure the strap of the gag behind his head. He's a vision and you know it. 

He probably knows it too.

Loose bangs are pushed up off his forehead that glistens in the low light of the room. Sweat also shines between the peaks of his tiddies and valleys of abs that flex and unflex with uneven breathing. Saliva starts to pool past his reddening lips. A hazy look in his eyes that has to be mirrored within your own. There's no other choice but to be proud of such a masterpiece — him.

You also can't help but show a cheeky smirk to the viewers when you turn around. Seating your ass right on top of Soonyoung's large bulge like it's no big deal that the moist wetness soaking the satin covering your cunt blends right into the seeping mess of fabric covering him. Bracing yourself with hands set on the two strong thighs below, you start a lazy grind of your hips that have you biting your bottom lip coyly when he throws his head back with a series of frustrated groans.

kingh0ng: woooo some action from the fav

Putting on an act, you frown as if hurt. "What do you think I've been doing all this time darlings?"

NewUser9031: not paying attention to us :(

"Aw, I know you need attention too."

The pleasant sound of tips pouring in is satisfying as is but you always have ideas on how to rack them up even more and rile the dirty minds of the viewers. Drive them crazy. Seemingly Soonyoung has the same thought process and acts quickly. Quicker than you can even react.

tigressb00bl0v3r: finally my time to shine!

Deft fingers loosen the bow of your bra causing it to easily slide down your arms. Warm hands palm eagerly at your breasts, kneading and squeezing and squishing them at a much more aggressive rate than in the shower before. 

kingh0ng: now we're talking

cumdaywh0ring: SCREAMING

cumdaywh0ring: creaming

cumdaywh0ring: jerking off

cumdaywh0ring: yEs

tigressb00bl0v3r: i love boobs &lt;3

Soonyoung's harsh yet pleasurable groping means you've stopped moving, the attention to your chest keeping you captive both physically and mentally. So he kindly picks up the initiative, desperate rutting of hips up against your pussy as if he was actually fucking you from below.

The man wishes he could be whispering all sorts of naughty shit in your ear but the ball gag keeps him silent save for the groans and whines coming from his chest and throat. Drool dribbles onto your left shoulder creating a shimmering sheen of saliva for the camera that eventually ends up coating the upper swell of your breast. 

tigressb00bl0v3r: god i wish that were me 😩

dickarawrous420: u and me both 🤝

He goes on long enough for a copious amount of spit to aid his hand in gliding with smoother ease across your skin. Messier. Faster. Harder. The extra slipperiness only makes him apply more pressure to grip and grab at your tit, causing a low moan to build in your throat out of pity for the more neglected one. You feel the rumble of humor in Soonyoung's chest against your back and your brain has to fizzle out the tingles and remind your body to fight against the pleasure you're receiving in order to take back control.

Who's the one holding the leash anyways?

"Stop," you say sternly and place a hand on his forearm, noting the way those muscles twitch in response.

kitkat69: mama using big words now 🫢

sugacub3: seriousness is such a turn on

But the little bastard continues to fondle your other breast without pause so you reach behind, yanking at the band of the collar. He moans. The audacity.

"What did I just say, Hoshi? You know only good boys who listen get rewarded, do you not want yours?" You pretend to wait for a reply. "Oh, that's right you can't talk, so I guess someone else should make that decision. What's the verdict, loves — has he earned his?"

dickarawrous420: absolutely not

wooluv: he's a good boi to ME

h0n3ybun: even good boys need a lesson

deathbyd1cks: punish him! 😈 make him beg bby!!

NewUser88963: tie him up and teach him some manners

8starfucks: touching w/o permission is a BIG 🙅🙅🙅🙅

"Should've kept your hands to yourself, baby boy. Looks like they wanna see you pay for not listening. And honestly, I do too."

You're quick to switch to your original position so you can face him again and Soonyoung isn't afraid nor ashamed to admit to himself that the wild, unhinged look in your eyes is crazy sexy. It's almost enough to make up for the loss of contact with one of his favorite parts of your body. He would have never, ever pictured himself submitting to anyone during sex but it comes quite naturally when it's you. Though a part of him that's not his cock aches, wondering if this is truly all for the camera as usual or what you're really like.

Will he ever know?

Those thoughts are luckily banished quickly when you dictate he put his arms behind his back. He complies, grateful to even have this kind of opportunity despite the circumstances, and focuses on doing his best to enjoy every moment.

"I'm even going to do you a favor because I like you so much and would hate to punish you more for additional misbehavior."

deathbyd1cks: oh??? 🫢

horny49yu: 🍿 😋

crazy4w00: 😎 this is better than a kdrama

newuserjk: am i the only one who feels like im missing smth???

4ngelic_m3nace: yeah im missing some1 tied up on MY bed 

cherry_scouper95: idk bout yall im just here to get off 😗 ✌️

To be honest, you planned on never touching the hideous handcuffs Junhui gave you even if they were free. For multiple reasons. Banished and stashed away in the very bottom of your dresser drawers, you are quite proud of the substitution you'd chosen to use instead.

Unclipping the leash in case Soonyoung might accidentally choke himself anyways (though he might like that), you loop the leather strap across his wrists and forearms until it's bound tight enough just to remind him it's there if he gets too impatient. It'd be a joke to think that could actually restrain him if he really tried to break free. Still, it's great for theatrics.

All the while, you're murmuring in his ear if he's doing alright even though the establishment of safety words and signals were already made very clear before this all started. Your best friend assuages any worries with an imperceptible nod that only you can feel though he whines audibly over Svthub's steady cash flow notification at your bare chests brushing against one another.

You relieve him (thankfully) by moving away (sadly) and deliberately brush against his cock (evilly) with your knee when you sit yourself prettily on his thigh. His eyes roll back instantly, hips stuttering at the teasing action as well as the spongy material of your panties saturating his bare thigh.

He huffs wetly, chin and throat, inside and outside, coated with drool. Incoherent noises, a mixture of whimpers and words he's trying to say, grow louder in desperation when you start grinding with no mercy, riding his thigh at an unforgiving pace that's wildly fast. Your hands grip at the covers behind you for support as you thrust your hips towards him and then away, knee inching closer to once again nudge his hardness with your motions. Messy cunt oozing so much arousal, the viewers don't have to listen too hard to hear the nasty sound of soiled fabric sliding against skin.

beg4gyu: i debated if i should watch this or not

beg4gyu: i caved,,,,,,, im weak

beg4gyu: i can live w/ this tho

beg4gyu: esp if tigress uses him like a hq dildo 

wooluv: hey!

beg4gyu: hi!

wooluv: (derogatory)

wooluv: sorry it's not my strong suit

beg4gyu: 🤨 um 

beg4gyu: n e wayz glad to see i didn't miss much

Comment wars rage on as usual but you're too occupied to care. It was a hard choice to decide on at first. The ridges of Soonyoung's abs and the insane vein that leads down all the way to the mushroomed tip of his cock surely would have felt divine rubbing between the folds of your pussy. Perhaps that would have to wait until you were unclothed next —

Or just forget about it. There won't be a next time. There can't be. So you must let it leave your mind. 

It's not hard because his thigh wholly takes away any thoughts that even might enter your head, by far surpassing your expectations and dispelling any indication of disappointment. He flexes and releases the muscle just enough so it catches that sweet clit of yours at different points and angles while you slide back and forth. He'd give anything to push his knee up and temptingly stuff your soaked panties a teeny tiny bit inside your hole with a sinful squelch. 

Alas, he fears the repercussions if he tries to do too much. Content with the way your breasts jiggle cutely, wishing you were still wearing the pendant that you came home from the gym in so he could watch it bounce and sparkle in time with them.

You're moaning shamelessly now, mouth set in a gorgeous "O" and cute moans, almost squeals, coming out as you ride his thigh with even more vigor. Soonyoung hopes — prays — that you'll cum. Nearly cracking the ball gag with how hard his mouth squeezes around it in anticipation. 

The minute that thought resonates in his head, your body seizes up. Lower body shakes and shudders, lifting upwards… up, up, and up… enough for him to spy a hint of the dark green satin color turned black where it's wedged in between the puffy, soppy lips of your cunt that spasms slightly around the ruined fabric.

His eyes threaten to roll up out of pure delirium but he can't bear to look away and miss this moment.

Oh god, and then when you somehow have the wherewithal to move off of his thigh to engage with the hungry viewers that adore watching you come undone (who doesn't?), he just about faints. You even have the gall to wink at him over your shoulder and bet how many orgasms he can give you. He can't bother to try and pay attention as you continue to praise him in front of everyone watching just to egg on the comments and the long, blazing bling of money pouring in. 

Something itches at him. Soonyoung's well aware of the incredible amounts of arousal you're able to conjure with some lube helping you play with during your streams but he's floored. He could definitely feel the wet mess you were making on him. And then to see it. Slathered all over and across like he'd been oiled, it strikes a pleasant possessiveness as if you staked your claim on him. He watches star-eyed at the tiny quivers in your legs while you try and regain your breath.

Down bad, the poor man is. You'd be the death of him.

wooluv: i might have to accept i will never be as cool as tigress

wooluv: or as hot

"Aw that's not true, wooluv baby!"

h0n3ybun: believe in urself luv!!

wooluv: 😭 💔

"Seriously. Oh and hello, beg4gyu! Missed you."

beg4gyu: 😳 ME?????

"Yes, you silly. You were fighting with Hoshi during my last stream!"

beg4gyu: i was?

"He was under a different screen name but yes, it was so funny."

beg4gyu: yeah i mean i was and i was totally winning

You snort, shaking your head to hide your eye roll. "If you say so!"

beg4gyu: also… important -

deathbyd1cks: 🥱🥱🥱🥱🥱

crazy4w00: 😴😴😴😴😴😴

horny49yu: 😪😪😪😪 

beg4gyu: what's w/ all the haterz???

beg4gyu: this is a judgment free zone

beg4gyu: N E WAYZ why is he called 0rginaltiger if he's 69th 🤔🤔🤔

That makes you laugh and turn back to Soonyoung with a devious smirk, hand brushing against his bulging cheek. "Wanna tell 'em, tiger boy?"

It's a mocking tone you use, the ball gag still in his mouth obviously preventing the man from uttering anything except incomprehensible sounds at this point. He's not below begging in whatever way desired — rather be drowning in your arousal than his own saliva — and raises his eyebrows pleadingly. Dancer hips hump up pathetically but oh-so-temptingly, another strangled whine thrown in for good measure and shiny eyes threatening to tear up. 

Of course, you concede to finally taking it and helping with his boxers after removing the leash that's left pretty red streaks across his forearms showing where he strained against the binding. Your hands brush tenderly across the marks, a questioning hum while you wait for him to collect himself to respond.

"Guess we should," Soonyoung eventually chokes out in a raspy voice, "ya know…" a little too eager in the way he reaches for your hips, "demonstrate."

You click your tongue and gently yank on the collar before he can touch. His upper body jerks forward, merely inches from your face, nose brushing against his. 

"I don't remember you having the control here, Hoshi."

"Ah, but don't forget to lemme know if I'm doing a good job like before… "

And with that, you respond by pushing against his chest after the saucy wink and smirk sent your way. Urging your best friend to lay down on his back so you can place your knees around his waist, untying one side of your panties with a flourish while he rushes to slide a naughty hand over to assist with the other. Across the room they fly, joining the discarded toys on the floor with the nastiest splat imaginable.

NewUser94594: holy shit! 🫣 💦

dickarawrous420: my god... 👅

deathbyd1cks: 👁️ did sum1 say before? 

deathbydicks: hahaha n e ways — ruined ☑ 

You can't even be bothered to care, all your focus instead on the heat of your bare cunt pressed against Soonyoung's hard abs just as you imagined. He seems to be in a better mood and is finally obeying. But you don't like the look of the mischievous glint in his eyes when his teeth sink into his bottom lip, feeling what a sopping mess you still are.

He's covered in it. And he hopes for more. 

"You're so fuckin' beautiful," slips out before he can stop it which causes you to click your tongue to cover up the fact you're extremely flattered, cheeks aflame.

"Looks like I'll have to shut you up, huh?"

Twisting around and moving further up his body until your fluttering hole is over his mouth, you see his brow raise questionably.

"Aren't you gonna... ?"

"Work for it," you interrupt with a command and don't wait for his reply before seating yourself against his swollen lips. "Work for it and maybe I'll suck you off as a reward, baby boy."

sugacub3: this is SOOOO unfair

kingh0ng: im abt to unalive 

kingh0ng: i cant keep edging myself like this

kingh0ng: the drs r getting worried

AnonymousUser9999: weak

jejusb00s: concerning

There is zero hesitation in doing as demanded. Obviously. A vigorous tongue swirls to spell out his own name sloppily — s o o n y o u n g — against your sensitive clit, dipping into and all around your quivering pussy with each swipe, prod, and glide as you settle more and more of your weight onto his face. Tiny bites of cold metal from his earrings sting as they dig into your skin and only add to the pleasure. 

The man underneath you growls, absolutely feral in his euphoria, not minding being smothered one bit as your knees practically crush the sides of his skull. He would die a happy man this way. Nodding his head up and down in agreement then back and forth, nose coincidentally brushing against the rim of your asshole. 

You shiver at the sensation. Despite never having done any anal play, it's not that much of a turn-off. Paired with the vibrations from the noises he's making that fires off and alights your nervous system somehow even better than the XXL vibrator gift from Seokmin and his girlfriend, you're on some kind of otherworldly high. And his dick isn't even inside of you yet —

"Hah, he's… gawd, he's so good… at this!"

It's not like you forgot the only plea Sooonyoung asked of you but it's also not hard to fake or hold back the moans and praises that fall easily out of your mouth with his ministrations. Fully sitting back all the way, a treat to the viewers who can get a peek at your occupied lower body atop his shiny chin. Watching his jaw and tongue fervently working in tandem as he continues autographing your pussy. Sitting on his face like you belong there — which you do.

Only because his lungs are screaming for air, not because he's satisfied, is the reason he taps your ankle three times. Honestly, you find it a struggle to lift up and fall forward onto your forearms instead, the rest of your body prone against his. Soonyoung's rendered you weak, especially as he parts from your cunt with a lecherous wet smack like he's just had the messiest make out of the century. 

He kind of has.

You're left with your mouth hanging wide open and panting — though not as hard as he is — a flurry of emotions as your mind can only think of one thing. It's no surprise when drool dribbles out of the corner of your parted lips, perfectly falling onto the angry red cock below you that jumps adorably in shock at the contact.

deathbyd1cks: hehehehehe dick drunk dick drunk dick drunk 🙇

deathbyd1cks: called it! 

deathbyd1cks: 💵💵💵💵💵💵

h0n3ybun: i mean it IS pretty

horny49yu: THICC

newuserkjk: still feel like im missing smth

beg4gyu: its like a 100

beg4gyu: out of 100000000000000000000

wooluv: jealous much?

A wonky, dazed smile and a flutter of eyelashes dampened by tears is sent to the camera. While you might not be reading their comments, you can only imagine how they're eating this shit up. You let more drool accumulate and collect on the center of your tongue (easy with how good you feel and the sight before you), sticking it out so a singular clear strand can drip down from the tip. 

Like a baker drizzles icing on their cake with a spoon, you direct your head in various directions over his length. Eyeing greedily as it twitches agreeably and leaks more precum at the teasing, barely-there warm liquid that instantly cools beginning to coat it.

Whether out of repayment or retaliation, Soonyoung catches his breath and gathers up the moisture in his mouth (that probably consists more of your arousal than saliva), and then spits. Right at the pretty folds of your pussy that are eye-level if he keeps his neck lifted. Hungrily watching through a lidded gaze as it slides between them and mixes in with the sloppy cream that's starting to seep out and threatens to spill onto his chest. 

"This pussy…! Fuck, is it so perfect… totally made f'me."

His voice is choked and raspy. Like hell he'd waste any droplets of yours, vowing for them to only fall on his tongue. Hastily grabbing at your hips, pulling you back onto his mouth, and kneading at the plushness of your asscheeks before delivering a playful and light slap to them — daring you to finally suck him off.

And you do, reverently picking up his thick length with trembling hands. Marveling how it even makes your hands look small around it. Lying hot and heavy in your hold, you can feel the blood raging through its veiny prominence.

Then your lips are suckling at the tip, re-addicted to the salty tang you previewed thanks to the ball gag. Soonyoung lets out a grateful moan of relief and you echo it because of the satisfying taste of him.

horny49yu: actually

horny49yu: bad day to be a bisexual if youre not between them

4ngelic_m3nace: where do i sign up to be a part of this???

beg4gyu: bruh

beg4gyu: not b4 me 😑

deathbyd1cks: is sum1 having their bi awakening?

beg4gyu: no but

beg4gyu: ill do anything for tigress

wooluv: 😳 i think i might

deathbyd1cks: amen to that 🙏

Your best friend's now almost halfway inside your mouth while he's been tongue-deep inside of you in exchange. Granted, Soonyoung is only occasionally flicking your clit now, much lazier thrusts as he tongues and laps around your hole because it would be a lie to say he's not mildly distracted at long last by being enveloped with your warm mouth.

That's perfectly fine though, allowing a clearer mind to pay attention to him instead. Your head bobs up and down in a methodical, slow way until the tip of his shaft slips down your throat. Staying like that for as long as you can without breathing before popping off, proud of yourself for not gagging. 

Practicing with your toys for the past week must've paid off.

(Of course, you would die before you ever admitted that to Soonyoung, and likewise. Because if you asked him if he wanted to hear your gags, the answer is an obvious yes — but admitting it? Over his dead body.) 

You get more comfortable, breasts squishing against his thighs, forearms strewn across his calves so you can fondle at his ballsack while you work him deeper and deeper down your throat each try. Soonyoung mimics you, arms thrown across your lower back as he moans against your pussy. More than pleased when you start an unhurried, inconsistent grind that he happily continues to supply his drenched face for.

You're not even trying to look pretty for the camera, slobbering all over the place like you're devouring one of those ginormous round lollipops, nor did you intend to make such a mess. Who knows if it's precum or saliva dripping down between his balls? But there's so much that you can smear all around and all over like a heathen.

Only adding to all of it by briefly neglecting his cock (hand replacing your mouth to jerk him off because you're nice like that) and giving a love-suckle to each one of them simply because you can't resist with them right there for the taking.

kingh0ng: can it be a concern to cum sm???

cherry_scouper95: dude fr?? need to work on ur stamina

cherry_scouper95: get laid finally or smth

kingh0ng: im not a virgin!

h0n3ybun: no shame if u r

kingh0ng: w/ the amt of times i use my hands to these shows i could be tho 😔 

Soonyoung must be feeling the same way you do if his loud, open-mouthed moan and warm breath ricocheting against your clit are anything to go by. It might just be the hottest thing you've ever experienced, cunt squeezing deathly around his poised tongue that dips in and almost gets trapped. 

He growls, freeing it, and slaps your ass again, soothingly squeezing the sting away. Arms muscles taut as he holds your hips up and away so he doesn't quite literally drown in all of your arousal.

Still, licking his lips and tasting more of your tantalizing essence on them, he desires more.

"Think I can make you squirt?" He also thinks he deserves even more. "With just my tongue? Or… " A finger traces around the soft skin of your pussy lips, admiring the clenching and unclenching hole above him. "My fingers? Think you can do it for me, sweet thing?"

Instead of replying, you simply turn your head to the side so you can meet his dark brown, carnal eyes. Teeth scrape along that devastating vein and nibble on the sensitive skin that connects his pelvis to his cock.

"Watch it," he hisses, "easy, babe."

You whine, batting your eyelashes and mouth first curving downwards as it presses against his lower body before curling upwards in a smirk. "Only ever squirted with a dildo."

Soonyoung eyes your tiger lily tattoo and places an oddly domestic-like smooch to it. "Of course, the brat would challenge me."

"Wasn't — "

You let out the most unflattering squeak as he drops you back down on his mouth, slurping at your cunt again with an addition of a harsh suck. Before you can let him get too carried away, you match his pace.

beg4gyu: am i just a fly on the wall????

beg4gyu: do i even exist here?????

wooluv: 🥲 no 

wooluv: none of us do

deathbyd1cks: baby im not even here im a hallucination 👍

Licking from the base up to the slit that's trembling in your hold as your hand runs up a different vein, this time on the underside of his dick after another teasing squeeze to his balls. Deep-throating with much more ease, swallowing two to three times before coming up for air, and diving back down again. 

Rinse and repeat.

Soonyoung's hand sneaks between your body and his lower lip to fondle at your clit, pinching and pulling like a demon, though gentle in his actual administrations. The lovingly clumsy mannerisms of your best friend before are nowhere to be found in this pussy-drunk beast of a man who aims with precision at all your exact weak spots. Or maybe he was like that all along… 

And that's perfectly fine because damn Seokmin but he was right — you're positively, utterly, completely dick-drunk.

"In love with… in love with this pussy of yours," he rasps out and you mumble nonsense with a full mouth, responding more with the enticing wiggle of your hips. Encouraging him to bring you to that precipice, over it, and more while you return the favor.

deathbyd1cks: 📹 damn almost caught it in 4k

AnonymousUser7021: was there a lag??? did i miss smth??

deathbyd1cks: the confession of the century 😔 ✊

wooluv: HUH?

beg4gyu: HWAT???? THEYRE A THING???

crazy4w00: well not yet…

wooluv: 💔 so there's still hope 🥹

h0n3ybun: cute

cherry_scouper95: cute n all but r we ever gonna finish here??

cherry_scouper95: this dude's stamina…

kingh0ng: now who's weak? 😆 🫵

cherry_scouper95: 🖕

You're almost just as frustrated as cherry_scouper95. A mix of a growl and whine rises in your throat whenever it's granted reprieve in between thrusts, nails scratching and leaving crescent moon marks along his tense, sticky thighs. Because goddamn, even though his cock looks so achingly hard that it could probably stay up straight on its own, growing more difficult to bend it down your throat — he shows barely a hint of nearing that sweet release. You huff, cold air whooshing across his shaft and balls that has him jolting beneath you.

A brain cell lights up.

Sliding down his body, away from his mouth, and ignoring the devastating loss as well as his surprised groan of disappointment. Focusing as it turns to one that is pleasantly breathless in enjoyment when your breasts squish around his length instead. Pornographic moans ring out as the back of his head hits the mattress and shameful cries of "baby, babe, love," fill the air, so loud that the viewers have to lower their volume by a few decibels. 

"Oh, fuck… "

It only takes two slides up and down between your tits before Soonyoung's hips take on a mind of their own without your hands to hold him still. Rutting unapologetically and unforgiving up into the enclosed space, using your chest like it was nothing but a cocksleeve or fleshlight toy. 

You revel in it. 

Appreciating the pathetic grips and grabs at your asscheeks as he fails to ground himself. Sticking out your tongue to meet the pretty pink head that pokes through with each thrust tugging the foreskin back and forth as it rubs against your soft, tender skin.

You're positive he's almost lost control, surely chafing your skin despite the insane amount of wetness. Of course, you don't mind at all and add whatever moisture is left in your mouth so it can drip down your shared bodies, mixing in with the filthy, sopping mess that's probably ruined your bed. 

Soonyoung's intent on that promise, finally gathering hold on some of his wits to raise his head back up. Removing a hand to prop it behind his neck, the other one trails downward, pulling the fat of your ass slightly up. Your lower body presses into his to support the actions of your chest and torso but he's still able to see your empty hole leaking arousal all over the front of his body. 

You're right where he needs you. Wants you.

A digit pushes in to bury inside your cunt that greets the welcome, thick intrusion with a sickening squelch. He starts knuckle-deep out of caution before exploring farther, middle finger (essentially giving the viewers a big "fuck all of you" while inside your pussy) readily seeking out that bundle of nerves to brush against that he found in the shower. Stroking them relentlessly once found by his finger nestled within, and grinning sadistically when you cry out. Clit rubbing against the rough, top indentations of his abs.

"C'mon, baby… soak me. I know this nasty little hole can do it, know you can do it." Soonyoung growls when you feebly garble out his screen name. "That's right… mark me, baby 'n make me yours. Bet they're all crying out for you right now. But you'll do it all for me, just f'me, right?"

A strangled "Yes, Hoshi!" is ripped out of you followed by a wrecked sob as you grope at your nipples out of habit, coincidentally continuing to squeeze and release your tits around his weeping shaft. 

"Together!" you also beg with a scream, pleading for his release as well. The repetitive pulsating of his cock gains more consistency to match the rapid thumping of your heart beating in time against it which thrills you.

"Together," he confirms, "always."

AnonymousUser1205: wow hot damn

beg4gyu: just bc hes right doesnt mean he has to say it

beg4gyu: esp if he gets to be w/tigress >:(

cumdaywh0ring: let's gooooo

cumdaywh0ring: let's fcking gooooooooo

There's an audible hiss heard from both of you as your pussy lips tighten around Sooonyoung's finger, almost cutting off his circulation like a rubber band wound too many times. Cunt suctioning yet pushing him out, trapped as if his digit is a fish caught up in a dam, as you start to gush. Droplets of your essence dribbling down his flexed wrist that attempts to thrust within its limited range to coax you through your climax more.

"That's it, that's a good fuckin' baby," he praises and grunts, white spurts of cum erupting as his own release hits. "My baby. Take it, love. Take all of it 'cause you're mine, aren't you?"

The feeling of his cum hitting your face, tits, and mouth that's open already from moaning like the true star cammer that you are plus his hoarse voice repeating the demanding possession of, "Aren't you?," has you screaming out a confirmative "Yes, baby!". And then you're really gushing, squirting as desired because of his fingers and mouth, harder than you ever thought you could be capable of. Successfully ejecting Soonyoung's digit out in a spray that seems to last an eternity as you seize up and shudder and shake until you can give no more.

Most of it lands on his chest, dousing him and wetting the poor bed. With both of his arms free, he can basically do a light curl-up, tongue sticking out to catch whatever he can like a heathen. His balls empty and empty out across your face until his cock finally plops against your rubbed-raw chest, almost as weary as you are as it starts to soften. 

You may look like a complete and utter mess and wreck. But no one thinks you could look any prettier than you do now in this moment, especially Soonyoung whose muscles protest when he forces himself to move.

kingh0ng: is this heaven or hell

newuserjk: why not… limbo 😼

h0n3ybun: oh?

deathbyd1cks: 😏

newuserjk: $5 off, sale ends in 2 min! 

wooluv: my god… 😓 these ads

kitkat69: imma need 10 business days to recover,,,,

He fumbles a bit, hazy mind struggling to stop the livestream as he hastily thanks everyone for watching. Once it appears to have turned off, he chews on his bottom lip and decides to just power off the whole computer system for good measure.

"Hey." Handing you a water bottle after downing a few sips, he also grabs the towels and wipes from the table you'd prepared beforehand. Laying them down on the upper, cleaner part of the bed and collapsing back on the mattress with a bounce. "You with me, babe?"

Though your eyes are still glassy, you nod. Relief as the water soothes your scratchy throat. "I am, you good?"

"Perfect."

You both know you need to clean up properly before resting but it seems alright for now to just lay there and catch your breath. Soonyoung pulls you into his chest, rubbing circles on your back as a chill sets in — metaphorically and physically — in the sudden eerie silence shared between just the two of you in this room.

"Thank you."

Your best friend giggles. He goddamn giggles. "Was I that good that you're thanking me?"

A beat of silence.

"Honestly, yeah you were. More than good, you were great. With everything. So yeah, thank you."

"No, thank you." It's said with such gratitude, such conviction, and then a kiss is placed on the top of your head. Your heart thuds erratically. "You were perfect. Everything I've ever imagined and more."

"S-Soonyoung? "

"Hm?"

"… Wake me up in ten."

"Okay. But we'll have to wash up after, alright?"

You nod against his chest, shutting your eyes tightly. He inhales deeply, jostling you a bit to reach his phone and set the timer before tossing it onto the bed. Both of you miss when your respective phones light up with new messages.

"Soonyoung?"

"Yeah?"

Despite the way you want to relax and pretend like there's not the looming elephant in the room to face, you have to ask. 

Even if it hurts.

"So… what happens next?"

◇ Find out more in Part 3... cumming soon 😉 (like to charge, reblog to cast)

onlyseokmins: April 2023 ©

[olsenmyolsen]

This Is Me Trying - One - (A Y/N Parker Spider-Woman X Kate Bishop Story)

masterlist

Summary: The Winter semester is challenging as you fall behind on exams and essays all while an old threat emerges.

Word Count: 3.3K

Content: College stress, cutie Kate Bishop

You, Y/N Parker, loved Christmas time.

You loved how it changed the city from a smelly concrete jungle into a smelly concrete jungle but with snow!

Lights went up with trees covered in decorations. Lattes got better, and so did the cookies.

The air got colder, and sometimes the people got warmer. Whether it was buying things for strangers or for a lifelong friend. Random acts of kindness increased, but on the flip side, so did the rate of crime.

Plus, swinging in the cold was awful, but with some insulation in the suit, it helped.

All of this to say you still loved this time of the year.

"You know, since you love it so much, how about you let me go? You know, like you said, kindness of strangers and all that!"

You looked at the guy webbed to a pole who just mugged a woman coming home from work and tilted your head.

"You know what you're right. Tis the season!" The man nodded as you took a few steps closer. "However, on second thought!" The man's eyes widened before you webbed his mouth shut.

"Marv, how many times are we gonna do this, buddy?" You patted the man's head as the sirens were approaching.

"Happy Holidays!" You yelled as you swung up to the nearby rooftop, looking for the woman whose purse was in your hand.

As you stay perched on the corner, your phone starts to ring. It was Peter—your best friend and brother. You debated whether to answer it or not, but eventually, you gave in and pressed the side of your mask.

"Hey man, what's up?"

"Not much... I know it's late, but I- I was just wondering if you started on Dr. Ohnn's paper yet? I'm completely lost. H-He knows we're sophomores, right?!"

You chuckled and sighed.

You haven't started on the paper yet.

"Sorry, Pete. I've been busy..." You heard Peter let out a disappointed sigh.

"Y/N... you're out, aren't you?" You felt bad. For the last couple of weeks, Peters has been asking you to take it easy with your after-school duties due to the number of exams these previous few weeks have had and, as mentioned before, the crime rate, but you haven't. If anything, you tacked on more. "Y/N, you know how dangerous I still think this is."

You rolled your eyes. "Yes, Peter, I know, but-" Before you could finish, you saw a person jump from one rooftop to another two blocks down from you. "Hey Pete, I gotta go..."

"Wait Y/N... Y/N!"

The line went dead as you tapped the side of your mask and took off, swinging purse in hand to the stranger on the rooftop.

As you front-flipped from your webbed, you laughed. "Well, if it isn't the purple bird!" You said when you got up from your landing pose, scaring the crap out of the archer. He jumped and drew his bow on you before realizing who it was.

With an exaggerated groan, he withdrew his weapon.

"What do you want, Spider!?" He sounded annoyed. You put your hands over your heart. Purse still in hand. "Ouch! I just wanted to check up on the man who destroyed 30 Rock last year."

Clint Barton rolled his eyes.

"It was a tree and a skating rink. Get over it." You raised your hand and mocked the archer as you stepped onto the roof's ledge.

"Where's the youngster?" You asked switching topics. Clint raised an eyebrow. "What are you spying on me now?" You put your hands up. "As if! Just curious. Making conversation. It's not my fault you two happen to fall into my patrol area."

Clint looked at you. "Your patrol area?" You nodded. "It's called New York. Ever heard of it?" Clint rolled his eyes again. "You can be a pain in the ass sometimes, you know that."

"I've been told."

"By friends?" You laughed. "No by enemies. Wait..? Why did you hear something?"

Clint cracked a smile. "Maybe." He hadn't, but he enjoyed this back-and-forth you two played. Like his protege, it was nice to have someone around who reminded him of the heroes of the past. People that brought hope for the future.

"So is that purse yours or?" Clint looked up from his binoculars at you. "No. It's not my color." When Clint didn't laugh, you continued. "Lady got mugged, and I don't know where to find her."

Clint looked from the purse to you and did it two more times. "What?" You asked when no words were spoken. Clint huffed. "You have her purse. It probably has her ID." You tilted your head before your eyes got wide. "Oh! Her address!"

Clint nodded yes and grumbled about you before looking into his binoculars again.

"Thanks, bird man!" You said as you looked at the address. It wasn't far. "Same time tomorrow?" You asked as you twhiped away.

Clint sent you a thumbs-up even though he wasn't paying attention. But you didn't know that. You saw a thumbs up and smiled.

You were getting through to the old man.

As you twhiped to the woman's place to return her purse, a bright-eyed Kate Bishop saw you.

"It's the Spider!" She very awkwardly whispered to no one else before running to the building; she had no idea you had just left from.

And when she got to the top: "Clint!" She shouted, making the archer jump before realizing who it was. "What!?" He said, looking at her as she smiled with excitement. "The spider! I just saw her!" He nodded like a dad would. "And?" He said. "And! And! And isn't that cool!" Clint shrugged. "I guess. She was here. She actually asked about you." Clint held in a smile.

It was a not-so-secret that Kate had a slight crush/admiration for the web-slinging hero.

"And!?" Kate took the binoculars from Clint and awaited his answer. "And... that was it. Nothing else. She joked around. I rolled my eyes. That was it."

Kate was going to press for my information, but Clint was useless when it came to details so mundane.

"Ugh. Fine. Here." Kate tried to hand the binoculars back, but Clint shook his head. "Look and tell me what you see." Kate looked through them and into the window of a known wheelman. "Tracksuits." She said, making Clint nod.

"See the guy with the awful chops?" Kate shifted her focus to a guy with bad facial hair. "Yeah."

"Look past him on the wall." Kate did just that and smiled. "I thought people only drew on blueprints in the movies?!"

"Our guys must watch a lot of movies," Clint said as he chuckled.

Kate put the binoculars down and looked at Clint. "After last year, do you still think Kingpin and these guys are connected? I mean..." Kate made a gesture that said, "really, these guys??" while pointing in the direction of the Tracksuits.

Clint shrugged. "I think it's best to believe they're connected than to not. Plus.. drugs and money still need to be run for guys like Kingpin. Any disposable person that's easy to pay is like Christmas to these guys."

Kate thought about it and nodded as she looked through the binoculars again. "Remember when we destroyed 30 rock."

Clint groans and closes his eyes. "It was a tree and an ice rink. Not the whole city!"

While Kate was busy trying to figure out what annoyed Clint and what Kingpin was planning next, you were busy climbing into your dorm through the window.

You tore your mask off as your feet landed on the floor. You ran your covered hand through your freshly shortened hair and took a deep breath before frowning. You sniffed the air before lifting your suit close to your nose. "Ah, man.."

The city really got to it tonight.

You tossed your mask into the hamper in your closet as you started wrangling out of your suit. You've been meaning to make adjustments to your suit since your arm muscle has only grown, but you hadn't, which left it a bit tight to get out of sometimes.

Lucky for you, you never had people drop by unannounced, so you could always take your time-

"Y/N is that you- OH MY GOD!"

You turned towards the voice of your brother as the top half of your suit fell, showing off you in your black sports bra and toned abdomen.

"Peter!" You yelled as he threw his hands over his eyes. "I didn't know. I'm sorry!" He shouted as he went to run out the door but hit your wall instead, causing him to fall to the floor, knocked out.

An hour later, as you moved your clothes from the wash to the dryer, Peter woke up. And after scolding him about not knocking, you and him got to work on Dr. Ohnn's paper.

But with your exhausted brain and body. Plus Peter's... mild concussion, you two didn't get far. So, just as you were about to suggest calling it for the night, your roommate came home.

Where she was or who she was with was always a mystery to you.

"Hey, losers!" Michelle-Jones, aka MJ, greeted you and Peter as she ran to grab the TV remote sitting on the table. She clicked it on and found the local news channel. "MJ, what are you-" She held up a finger and shushed your brother. "Look!" She pointed to the screen as a reporter was standing in front of a run-down apartment building that was on fire. "It's the fifth one this month!" MJ stated. "Everything thinks I'm crazy, but I know insurance fraud when I see it."

You and Peter weren't sure how to continue.

"Okay..." You started. "What's your point?" You questioned, hoping your roommate and friend was going somewhere with this. "Obviously, someone is doing something very illegal."

"Okay..." Peter said. "What can we do about it?"

"We can't do anything about it. But someone here can." MJ started motioning her head towards you, making you sigh. "MJ. I've told you multiple times. The pictures were a summer thing. I don't take their pictures anymore!" MJ rolled her eyes. Clearly not believing you. "Whatever you say..." She narrowed her eyes at you. "Spider!"

Before you could argue back, MJ got up and went to the fridge before taking a box of pizza to her room. "I'm gonna crash. Night."

"I brought that pizza..." Peter quietly said as you collapsed onto the couch. "You were gonna give it to her anyways." You turn your head to Peter. "Was not!" He defends, but you see through him. "You've had a crush on her for the last year, so please let's be honest here."

Peter closed his mouth and then said: "You're the one not being honest with her."

"Dude."

"Sorry," Peter mumbled. "It's just she's going to find out on her own if you don't tell her." He whispered. You nodded. "I know. I know. But you and I both know that the fewer people that know, the less I have to worry about. The less people get hurt."

Peter wore a sad smile on his face. "You're right. I.. I just hate lying to her."

You looked at Peter as he brought his knees close to his chest on the other end of the couch. "I'm sorry, Pete." He nodded. He knew it was easier for you to do this if the less people knew about your other life, but he wasn't sure how much longer he could lie to MJ.

The following morning, after Peter returned to his dorm, you woke up late.

Apparently, in your sleepy daze, you hit 730 into your calculator app and not your alarm clock application. On top of that, you forgot to charge your phone, so as you panicked to get ready for the day, you quickly put in the cable to charge.

You grabbed your closest pair of jeans and threw on your school sweater, all while grabbing the textbooks scattered on your desk.

You ran into the kitchen and grabbed your last pair of pop tarts before heading to the door and slipping on your vans. You zipped up your bag and bolted out the door.

However, you immediately reentered your dorm, ran into your room, snatching your glasses and phone, now on 16%.

_

The lecture hall was full by the time you entered. The booming of the door attracted the attention of everyone.

Your brother included. Your eyes found his, and he gave you a weak smile as you sat at the first seat you could find.

When you pulled out your textbook and looked up, you saw Dr. Connors sigh before he continued speaking. "As I was saying. Yes, just because the holidays are upon us doesn't mean we won't have our test on Friday. I want something fun to grade over the break, people." He gave an awkward chuckle that few students, including you, gave back. "Oh, and don't forget. Your papers on physics are still due by the end of the school year. If you've forgotten... well, there's a reason I'm tenured, and this class lasts all year." He smiled and proceeded to dismiss everybody.

Everybody but you.

"Y/N Parker. A moment."

You knew it was coming, but you kept your head up high. You look to Peter, and he nods. He'd see you after class.

"Dr. Connors, look, I'm sorry about being late-"

"Late?" He cut you off. "You missed the whole dang class." You sighed and adjusted the bag around your shoulder. "Look..." Dr. Connors started. "You're a bright student. I've seen it firsthand, but lately... it's like you're not even here. Your grades have been steadily declining. You always appear exhausted."

You nodded. "I'm trying. I wanna be here!"

"Then be here." He said before he sighed. "You still haven't told me what your physics paper is on."

You perked up at that. "I plan on doing it about fusion and Dr. Otto Octavius."

Dr. Connors sighs. "Well, planning is not a major at this university." He walks past you and goes to the giant board in the middle of the room. He then stops. "Octavius is a friend of mine. Better do your research, Parker." You nod. "I'd really hate to see you fail."

"I don't want to, sir." You say, making Connors look at you with a sad smile on his face. "I can pass along your information to Octavius. Whether he contacts you or not is up to him. After that..." He looks at you. "It's up to you, Parker."

When you exited the lecture hall, you found Peter talking to your mutual friend Ned. The closer you got, the more you saw Peter panic and tell Ned to "shut up."

"What's going on?" Peter shook his head as if nothing was wrong. You looked to Ned, who sheepishly looked away. "Ned." You drug his name out.

Ned took one look at you and broke. "I think I might know about the fires around the city!" He smiled and looked excited. It paid to have Ned be the guy in the chair.

You looked at Peter. "You didn't want him to tell me?" Peter sighed. "Y/N, you have so much going on already we don't need you." He gestures with his hand as if he was shooting a web. "Right now. Besides, you haven't even started on your essay, and you just got in trouble with Connors!"

Before you could defend your lack of action, you get interrupted.

"Hey guys!"

Immediately, your stress melted away as you looked down at Kate Bishop. Captain of the Archery Team. Your friend and study partner.

Oh, and your crush.

Katherine Elizabeth Bishop.

"Hey Kate!" You said a little too excitedly, something that everyone caught on to. Thankfully, they chose not to make a big deal out of it. "Hey, Y/N." She looked at you and smiled.

There goes the butterflies.

"So what are you three amigos talking about?" She bounced on her heels as she looked away from you and to the other two. "Oh, nothing!" Peter said. "I don't think you're allowed to say that?" Ned added with a confused face.

"Doesn't sound like nothing," Kate said, making Peter glance at you. "Sounds like Y/N is getting in trouble with Connors." She replied as she turned to you with a teasing smile. "Let me guess..." She made a thinking face. "Too busy studying for our History test?"

History test!! Oh crap, that is Friday!

"Okay, based on the look I just gained, you forgot." You nodded. Kate made a hmm noise but kept her head towards you as she thought.

"Shit," Ned spoke up. "Peter, we gotta go, or we'll be late!" Peter looked at his watch and came to the same conclusion. "Gotta go! See you, Y/N! Bye, Kate!" Peter and Ned took off running down the hall and out the doors before they sprinted across the courtyard.

"What class do they have?" Kate asked.

"Robotics."

"Sounds about right." She said. "We should probably get going." Kate smiled and gestured her head in the general direction of your History class with Kate. "Don't worry about the test," Kate said as you two walked side by side. "You always do just fine." You shrugged her compliment off.

Kate noticed. "But I was thinking if you want..." You looked at Kate and noticed her fingers interlocking with one another. "Maybe you could come to my dorm to study some more. Besides, I still need help on the laws and how they changed once the Sokovian Accords were ratified."

You and Kate had always hung out in mutual gatherings and settings. You two were good friends, but you had never been to her dorm.

On top of that. Alone.

You suddenly felt very warm and wary of your every move.

"That sounds great!" You managed to say. "When were you thinking?"

Kate thought. If it were up to her, you'd come over tonight, but Kate wasn't sure what her roommate Cassie was doing. Plus, she and Clint had a hot new lead to follow up on. "Ummm, is it cool if I text you?"

You nodded. "Sounds great." You smiled widely and pushed the door to your History class open. Letting Kate walk in first. You and Kate walked to your seats and sat beside one another.

"Shit." You heard Kate mumble when she opened her bag. "You okay?" You asked. "Uh yeah.." She bit her lip. A habit you noticed that she only got when she was embarrassed. "What's wrong?" You asked when you tore your eyes away from her chewed-on pink lips.

Kate sighed when her lips parted. "I forgot my textbook. I thought I packed after Clint- Clint-on Clinton and I got back from Archery, but I guess I didn't." Kate didn't look your way.

She was now warm and aware of every move she made.

"Hey, I surprisingly remembered mine." You pulled yours out. "We can share." You moved it in between the two of you. "Really?" She charmingly lifted her eyebrows. "Really." You said.

Kate let out a little cheer and wrapped an arm around you. "You're a lifesaver!"

If only she knew.

Kate didn't remove her arm from around you as quick as she usually would have; instead, you could feel her hand slide up your muscles to your shoulder.

Kate had been noticing your muscle growth as of late but didn't know where it came from...

Eventually, Kate removed her touch from you.

Yet you still felt her.

"It's no big deal." You said about sharing the textbook. But you and Kate both knew that based on your actions recently, you remembering to bring your book or not falling asleep in class was a miracle.

This was Kate's first time forgetting a book, and she could sense Clint's disappointed sigh.

Kate smiled as she watched your fingers turn the corners of the page in the textbook. Her eyes lifted to your fingers, to your sweater, and up to your face. She watched your side profile as you silently read a paragraph to yourself. She only stopped when you looked her way and hid a smile when you pushed up your glasses. "What's up?" You quietly asked.

"Do you want to come to my archery practice tomorrow?" Kate whispered back.

Kate wasn't sure what you had going on in your life. You and her were close but not close, like with Peter, Ned, and MJ. So she never pushed.

Plus, she liked you and didn't want to ruin what you two might have.

But when you said, "Yeah! That sounds awesome!" Like a dork, Kate smiled.

dividers by @/benkeibear

[lucysgraybird]

modern!university!coriolanus x fem!reader. part 2 here, part 3 here

notes: this is not set in panem -- if you're looking for a vibe, think harvard/uchicago/any of the old-guard, upper echelon US universities. i have another part in the works that i'll post tomorrow or thursday. also i promise that they both have some crazy in them . It will appear in later parts

“Please remember that I cannot accept late work for this essay,” your professor says as everyone packs up. “The deadline is the deadline for work for the semester, so everything has to be submitted by then. This includes any outstanding work you might have.”

She shoots a look at a boy in the front row when she says that, and he bows his head.

“Have a wonderful weekend, and I'll see you all Monday.”

You shove your laptop in your bag, sling it across your body, and make a beeline for the exit. This is your last class of the day and you have no intention of spending any more time in a lecture hall than you have to. Just as you're about to leave the building, someone catches you by the shoulder and pulls you back.

“Excuse you,” you mutter, turning to see who would do something so…well, to put it diplomatically, bold.

There stands a boy with a shock of hair so blonde it's nearly white and eyes so blue they're nearly translucent. It would be eerie if he didn't wear it well: angular and bright, it's like he's been carved from the purest block of ice. His pale features are offset by the rich ruby of his sweater. He looks royal, though you'd think a prince wouldn't go around grabbing girls by their arms.

“I'm sorry,” he says. “I've been wanting to talk to you for weeks, but you always fly out of the building and I didn't want to miss you this time.”

“Talk to me? About what?”

God willing, not about some group project that had slipped your mind. You're so careful about organization, but sometimes things slip through the cracks.

“Would you like to go out with me?”

“Who are you?”

His eyebrows (the only dark thing on his face) twitch, and you wonder if he's so arrogant as to assume you'd know who he is. He doesn't say anything, though, just extending a hand to you.

“Coriolanus Snow. Pleasure.”

You shake his hand, finding the official-ness of it a little odd. When you open your mouth to introduce yourself, he stops you.

“I realize this is going to sound…odd, but I do know who you are. You're the only person I listen to in that insipid class.”

“Oh.”

Because honestly, what are you supposed to say to that?

“Let me take you to dinner, please,” Coriolanus says. “At least for the conversation.”

Your pause must spur him on, because he continues, “And you're gorgeous. Honestly, you caught my eye before you even started speaking, and then…well.”

He's very forward, but it doesn't come off as desperate. He carries himself with such a confident air that if he hadn't tried to be suave, it would've been more awkward.

You allow yourself to be flattered, offering him a soft laugh. His poise must be a front, at least a little, and you can put up a façade too.

“Why, thank you, Coriolanus. I'd love to go out with you, but I'm so busy with finals coming up…”

This is partly true – you're taking the maximum number of credits your advisor would let you, which is over the credit load the school has set, so you have a good deal of work to do. However, you're not above playing a little hard-to-get, especially if you are interested in the person. Half the fun of a hunt is the chase.

“All the more reason to go out. I know a spot if you're free tonight – one more bit of fun before hitting the books?”

“What kind of fun, Mr. Snow?”

“Well, we'll see where the night takes us, if that's a yes.”

It can't hurt, right?

“It's a yes. I'll text you my address?” You extend your phone to him, a delicate smile gracing your lips.

“Perfect,” he says, putting in his number. “I'll pick you up at 7:30. Wear something nice.”

“Where are we going?”

“A surprise, but it's very classy. You'll love it.”

You can't wait to look this guy up when you get home. “I'm looking forward to it. See you tonight."

“See you tonight.”

—

“Classy” is an unhelpful dress code, you're discovering. It refers to such a range of places, so you're left to take a guess and hope you don't make some sort of grave faux pas. You're limited in being overdressed as a university student, so you select the nicest thing you brought from home. It's a wine-coloured dress that skims just the middle of your calves, with a cowl at the neck and a sweeping back that shows a tasteful (yet tempting, you hope) amount of skin. With a thin necklace and some earrings, you could fit in at most “nice” restaurants that would be appropriate for a first date with a nigh-stranger.

At 7:25, you slip on your coat and heels and head down to the lobby of your apartment building. Something tells you that Coriolanus has a tendency towards extreme punctuality, so you'd rather not keep him waiting a moment.

Just as you suspected, at 7:30 exactly the silhouette of a tall man appears at your door and your phone buzzes with a text.

Coriolanus Snow: I'm here.

When you open the door, he is, indeed, there, holding a bouquet of white roses and wearing a red vest and slacks with a white dress shirt. He is nothing if not coordinated, you suppose.

“Ah,” he says. “Hello. These are for you.”

It is a lovely gesture, and it garners a genuine blush from you while you accept the bouquet. “Thank you. They're gorgeous. I didn't even know they made white roses.”

He offers his elbow to you, which you accept. Though it's odd, there's something sweet about his anachronistic nature. You, like any college girl, have had many a bad first date, and it's pleasant to have one with a man who is, at the least, polite.

“My grandmother grows them. I dropped by and picked these up on my way here. You look wonderful, by the way.”

“Oh! Thank you. I wasn't quite sure what to wear because I don't know where we're going, so I'm glad I chose well.” You glance over at his outfit. “We match, sort of.”

“So we do.”

He smiles in a way that's almost indescribable – it's not quite aloof, though it has some of the same calculation behind it. It actually feels incredibly personal, and sets your heart racing. Why this boy gets under your skin the way he does – the way no one has before – is something you have yet to discover.

Your walk with him ends at a black car, for which he opens the back door and allows you to climb in before following you. A scan of social media earlier had turned up tragically few results, and every single thing Coriolanus does makes you more curious about him. He settles next to you.

“So are you a polisci major, or are you just taking the one class?” You ask, unwilling to let silence be for more than a moment.

“Polisci and philosophy,” he replies. “My goal is law school directly after college, and then politics.”

“I should've guessed,” you say.

“Oh?”

“Not in a bad way. Just…you're very smooth. Well-spoken, attractive, all of that. You'd do well in politics.”

The corners of his lips turn in a slight smile. “You think I'm attractive?”

You laugh. “I certainly do, Coriolanus. I do have standards, you know.”

“Then I'm very glad I'm meeting them. Are you looking to do politics too, then, or…?”

“Honestly, not right now. I think I might stick to academia for a while. I don't have the stomach for pandering that you have to have for politics.”

“It's my least favourite part, honestly. I did some work for a senator last summer and the endless word-parsing drove me insane. No one ever says what they mean.”

“Right. The image of it all is fun, though. Like playing a character. But you don't have to do politics to do that.”

Coriolanus nudges his knee against yours. “Are you putting on an image for me right now?”

“A lady never tells. Are you putting on one for me?”

When you turn, he's a lot closer than you expected. You can see the spires in his irises, like cracked moonstones, and can smell his cologne: whiskey and spice and something woody, clean.

“You'll just have to find out,” he says, his voice low in his chest. It's said as a secret – there's no one else in the car, but it's as though if he says it too loud the leather of the seats might remember. These words were for your ears only, the rumble meant to coast across just your skin, and you shudder.

[hellyeahsickaf]

Abled people don't fucking get it.

You don't get to imply I'm living some kind of "forever vacation". It's perpetual pain. If you see me doing something I enjoy, it's not because it's what I'd rather be doing than being "productive". I fucking miss the gym but things like video games are just a much more accessible activity these days. I'm not "lounging", I don't get a break from the pain just that sometimes I'm able to take my mind off of it

Unemployment isn't some kind of break or excuse to not participate in society (capitalism is garbage but being disabled=/=unemployed for the hell of it). For reasons, I fell behind in school, bad. But I got myself a diploma equivalent and finally felt I'd chosen the line of work I wanted. I had connections, opportunities. I had fibro and some fatigue (unknowingly CFS as that was manageable) but I was getting PT and managing it as best I could. All I needed was to take courses and I was ready for that even with the difficulty of my then undiagnosed ADHD.

And then I got sick, really sick. Worst mono infection my doctor had ever seen due to medical neglect, Shoutout to those shitty CVS minute clinics. It made my ME/CFS so much worse, I was stuck in bed all the time before getting put on Adderall for my then newly diagnosed ADHD. Then I thought the fatigue was finally healing and a side effect of Adderall was a huge crash and wave of fatigue. No it turns out when it wore off I just felt the fatigue again lmfao

I was told I'd be better within 6 months. Okay so I can opt for the Spring semester, no big deal. 8 months go by, a year, a year and a half. I waited and waited. Hoping that "when I get better" I could be caught up with everyone else I knew my age. That was over 7 years ago. Do people think I wanted that all taken from me? To get progressively worse and worse?

Do they think loss of agency is something I enjoy? Needing help, being unable to drive, to enjoy my old hobbies, cook for myself regularly? I've been accused of enjoying this and not wanting to get better as if this hasn't put my head in very dark places. Sometimes I feel like I see a way out of this and it isn't recovery. They don't get it. I don't enjoy being heavily medicated but I know I need to be. I don't enjoy having things purchased for me because I want more financial independence. I don't enjoy feeling like a leech, actually.

It's not a vacation, it's hell. You can go on about how much more exhausted you are because you work or whatever but the thing is I don't need a job to feel what you feel after working. I feel like I worked a 12 hour shift after taking a shower on some days, no exaggeration. You can't compare your able bodied exhaustion to the effects of a chronic illness that fucks you up without you needing to work a full time job. This is my full time job and it wasn't the one I was hoping for exactly

[thebearer]

wife thinks carmy is late because of the restaurant even though he said he would be home, but he’s actually late cause he stopped to get her flowers 🫶🏻🥹

love your work! i hope your school year goes well. remember to take breaks 💗

thank you so much! first week already done so hoping it's a good semester :) hope you enjoy this!!!

You were furious. No, beyond that. You were enraged, a new kind of fury that left you just bristling and boiling with pure anger when you looked at the time, at your phone.

Carmen was supposed to be home an hour ago, and while you knew Chicago was busy and bustling- you also knew the few blocks from the restaurant did not take that long.

Carmen stayed late again. At the restaurant.

Your blood boiled with the thought.

It wasn't like you had anything planned, not really. A nice night in. Maybe watch a movie. Maybe actually get to have sex. You'd had an everything shower to prepare, put on the panties that always had him blushing and grinning with excitement when he saw them. For once, not a morning quickie that was rushed, or tired, half hearted thrusts when he finally did come home at night.

It was supposed to be your night. Your time together.

The deadbolt turned, your eyes cutting to the door.

"Hey, baby," Carmen smiled, bustling through with carry out bags from the restaurant- an apology meal, you were sure.

"Hi," You quipped, eyes narrowed at him.

"You good?" Carmen's brows furrowed, looking at you carefully. "What's'a matter, baby?"

"You said you'd be home an hour ago, Carm." You pouted, the whine in your voice making his heart lurch. "I've been waiting, and you didn't even text me? Why?"

"'m sorry. I-I, fuck, I should've texted you. I just..." The crinkling of cellophane accompanied his tone, pleading eyes, when he revealed the flowers. A beautiful bouquet of peonies, roses, lilies, and the other accent flowers that tied them all together.

Your face melted, features dropping in surprise- pleased and melting away any irritation you had. "I wanted to get you some since I know I've been working a lot, and-and you've just been... really cool about it." You blushed at his words, mumblings as his eyes flickered from you to the bouquet. "I spent longer in the shop than I meant to, and-and I'm sorry. I just-"

"-They're beautiful." You cooed, creeping closer to him, looking carefully at the flowers. "Did you... You picked these?"

Carmen's cheeks heated, nodding sheepishly. "Yeah. Well, I-I mean, the flower guy helped me, like, get the colors all right, but yeah." His eyes cut to yours. "You like 'em?"

You grinned, a swooning, love drunk smile when you pressed yourself into him, careful not to crush the flowers when your lips slid over his. "They're so beautiful. Thank you." You muttered, nose rubbing against his lightly.

Carmen laid the flowers down on the counter, pressing you against the counter top, his lips hungry on yours, hands sliding down your frame slowly.