#if i say it out loud enough it will come true

[fairyofhee]

the space between.

PAIRING. heeseung x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS. It was a mutual agreement between you and the boy with high status and reputation to say that the kiss you both shared was a mistake and meant absolutely nothing. But while trying to win over your crush, you were distracted by that mistaken kiss from the boy who's won over your heart.

WORD COUNT. 16.3k

GENRE. smut, slight love triangle, rich!heeseung, basketball player!heeseung, flower shop worker!reader, angst, hurt, fluff, bickering, some themes inspired by f4 thailand

WARNINGS. 18+ only. MINORS DNI. profanity, kissing, fingering, oral sex (m and f receiving), protected intimate sex

—

I. THE SPACE OF HIM

Everywhere he went, his presence was distracting, almost intoxicating.

It was pretty typical to say that Lee Heeseung had an infamous reputation of being the golden boy. Taking the captain spot of your school’s basketball team, the privilege of freedom to do whatever he wanted, and a lot of money based on the fact that he came from a pretty well-off family.

He had everything you didn’t.

He tended to get everything handed to him, considering how admirable he was to other people. They looked up to him as if he was a god, and it wouldn’t be a surprise if it had to do with how rich he was. Everyone in his way stepped aside and would let him walk through wherever.

And literally everything was handed to him. A true spoiled kid, his mom hired a personal maid so he wouldn’t do a thing himself.

You didn’t live a life Lee Heeseung did. He lived easy in luxury, unlike you, who had to work your ass off. While he was out celebrating the win of the basketball game with his team, you were either studying for your exams or working your shift at the flower shop. You were a hard-worker, a perfectionist who simply wanted to please your strict parents. A life without luxury costed your social life, and it was difficult to make friends as freedom never came your way.

You were grateful to have your cousin Mina, who often helped to break you out of your shell with her popularity as one of the head cheerleaders. After much convincing to your parents, she would invite you to hangouts at her house which were merely cover ups to sneak out and attend parties.

Mina insisted that you both should attend tonight’s party at Park Sunghoon’s house. After working an eight hour shift at the shop, you were tired and didn’t want to attend. You let out a frustrated groan when Mina practically drags you inside the house.

The school’s basketball team won another game that made them advance into the playoffs — a step closer to championships. Of course, the players wanted to celebrate, or throw a rager perhaps.

The only thing that you were looking forward to tonight was seeing your crush who was one of the players on the team. Oddly enough, Park Sunghoon is aware of your crush on him because of Mina’s little slip up. It took a few weeks to forgive her but now that he is aware, Sunghoon began to initiate conversations with you and became your friend.

Based on the small interactions, it seemed like he didn’t find your feelings for him weird. It was also hard to tell if he felt the same way.

"I'm going to find Chae," Mina raised her voice over the loud music, "Go have fun."

You slightly rolled your eyes watching Mina disappear. "How fun," you mumbled after taking in your surroundings. There were a lot of people making out, drunk people running into you, and it smelt like piss. You’re starting to regret coming here.

Exploring the house, you try to find the kitchen to get a drink and hope to run into Sunghoon, but you were suddenly pushed and ended up on the floor.

“What the hell?” You exclaimed, looking up to the person who pushed you. It was a girl, someone you recognized because they were on the cheerleading team with Mina.

“Hey! Watch where you’re going bitch,” she laughed while leaving you on the floor, not bothering to help you up. You quickly brought yourself to your feet and grab the cup from the girl’s hand, throwing the alcohol towards her. But unfortunately it lands on someone else.

You cover your mouth with a hand, glaring at no other than Lee Heeseung who was looking down at his soaked shirt and already feeling a stickiness on his skin.

“Shit,” you mumbled, glaring at the boy who turned his attention to you. Surprisingly, he didn’t look pissed off — unlike the girl you wanted to cuss out who tried to drag him away. Heeseung still had his eyes on you but not one word came out of his mouth.

The crowd was beginning to build up as you scan the room, making you incredibly anxious.

“Are you okay?” announced a familiar voice who then stood in front of you blocking your view from Heeseung. It was Sunghoon, thank god, you thought. And before you knew it, he was pulling you away from the crowd of people and leading the way to the kitchen.

You finally got what you wanted tonight, a chance to talk to Sunghoon. But rather than excitement, you feel like shit. You were embarrassed about throwing alcohol into Lee Heeseung’s face. Out of all people, why’d it have to be him?

"Did you see everything?" You groaned out while washing your hands then whispering a 'thank you' when Sunghoon handed you a paper towel.

Sunghoon shook his head, "I heard there was a fight- or something going on, but then I saw the crowd with you in the middle and wanted to make sure that you were okay."

That giddy feeling was back again. “Thank you for checking up on me," you gave a smile. "Someone ran into me which made the alcohol spill.”

Sunghoon laughed, "Is that all what happened?”

“Heeseung's shirt was practically soaked." He didn't believe your half-assed story.

"No," you shook your head, holding in a grin.

"Everything's fine, Heeseung will get over it," Sunghoon declared after remembering how defeated you looked when he first found you.

Park Sunghoon was always the one to make you feel better. Even with the smallest acts from him, it was impossible not to like him.

You recall when your coding class test results were out and you failed, it was clearly evident in your face. Sunghoon noticed and approached you before giving you words of encouragement. “This is only the second test, Y/N, you’ll do better next time,” you remember him saying.

"So, congratulations on the game tonight." You changed the topic of conversation, hoping that he'll keep you company the entire night.

"Thanks," he grinned. "I haven't seen you at the games yet, you should watch us play." You sighed, "I've been so busy with work, but l'll the catch the next one. Playoffs right?"

Although it was exhausting, you were already thinking of another lie in your head to tell to your parents so that you can attend the playoff game.

Sunghoon nodded his head before reaching for the cooler in front of him, grabbing two drinks, handing a soda to you. "I'll try not to show off."

He carefully watches your reaction as you roll your eyes, trying not to laugh at his remark. You wanted to ask more about Sunghoon's position on the team, just to get the conversation flowing but he took your chance to speak.

"Someone's looking for me so I have to go. You should look for Mina," He says after finishing his beer. “Don’t run into anymore trouble," was all Sunghoon said before he left.

Your cheeks heat up watching Sunghoon leave.

The conversation was short, but it made your entire night. You don't feel so terrible anymore about the incident earlier.

You get out of the kitchen and search the entire house for Mina. She was in the living room dancing with a drink in her hand, having the time of her life. She was your ride home so you'd hope that she was sober enough to drive when it's the time to leave. You decided to wait for her outside, but before you could leave, you noticed Sunghoon standing in the corner near the DJ.

He wasn't alone. Your heart palpitates, watching as Sunghoon leans to whisper into a blonde girl's ear with a red solo cup in his hand. The girl reciprocated his action, whispering into his ear.

"If you stare too long, he's gonna notice," Mina murmurs when she catches you staring at the boy from across the room who was now dancing with the girl, bodies close and on each other.

"Is that his girlfriend?" You ask, hurt evident in your voice. Mina nudges your arm, bringing your full attention to her. "Do you want to go home?"

You thought about it for a while, "No, I'll just wait for you. I don't want to ruin your fun."

“Are you sure? We can go.”

After convincing Mina to stay, you sat on the stairs in front of house. You didn't want to make assumptions but the way that they were close and when Sunghoon was in a rush to leave makes you believe that they have something going on.

As you sit alone in your thoughts, you realize that it's getting late. You've only been at this party for an hour and so much shit has already happened. You had a feeling that Mina was already drunk so she was unable to take you home.

With this given circumstance and your parents expecting you to be home, you had to take an uber. As if your night couldn't get any worse, a couple started making out next you while you were trying to get wifi on your phone.

You walk upstairs and knock on a bedroom's door, hoping that inside was empty. Walking in the room when no one answered, your eyes widen unconsciously, looking at the one person that you didn't want to run into. Heeseung was sitting on the couch alone with a different shirt on, and the one that was soaked by you was laid out on the bed.

"Are you here to apologize for getting me wet earlier?" he broke the silence, not one hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"Please don't say it like that," you scoff and cringe at the ambiguity. "And no, but if you want an apology you'd have to ask."

Heeseung paused at your response then tilted his head quizzically, "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be with your boyfriend?" He teased, trying to get a reaction out of you.

"He's not my boyfriend," you walked closer, taken aback. "He's with someone else tonight."

"So you wanted to find some company?"

"I'm trying to find signal since there isn't any in this house," you peered intently at him. "Mina is drunk and I have no ride home, I'm trying to get an uber," you say while taking a seat next to him.

You weren't sure why you stayed but Heeseung was probably right, you wanted some company.

As you try to order an uber you feel his stare, "Why are you here alone?" You ask.

"Shouldn't you be with your girlfriend?" You think back about the girl who pushed you, who laughed about it then attempted to drag Heeseung away.

He let out a low laugh, "She's not my girlfriend.”

You turn your gaze to him, "Why not?" Your arms were crossed to taunt him, "Because Mr. Perfect doesn't do girlfriends?"

There was a long stretch of silence after your comment, Heeseung avoiding your eyes until he gains the courage to meet your gaze again. "If anything, you're Ms. Perfect.” He retorts.

"How?” Confusion crossed your face.

“Hmm,” Heeseung placed his hand on his chin as if he was thinking. “Perfect grades, working everyday to help your parents, and refusing to go out because you don't want lie to them."

Your brow furrowed, "How do you know all this?"

"Your cousin talks too much."

Of course Mina would tell him. Maybe it's best to not tell her anything from now on, you thought.

"My parents have given me a lot and I don't want to disappoint them," you explain the perfectionist side of you. "At the same time, they're always pushing me and sometimes I can't handle it."

"I get it," Heeseung stared at you, eyes filled with mutual understanding. You shake your head, not having a clear comprehension of his response.

"My mom pushes me to be this perfect business partner,” he starts. "I'm expected to attend these business meetings every week and listen like I understand what's going on just because I'm the son and future owner of the number one real estate company in the city."

"And honestly, I don't know shit. But I want to make my mom happy so I try my best to understand," Heeseung finishes and watches as you listen attentively without saying a word. "Sorry," he lets out low laugh while scratching his head, “You probably don't care-"

"No," you interject, "I-I didn't know that."

"You must have a lot of pressure. Especially balancing that with school and basketball. I'm sorry you have to go through this," you voice out your sympathy. You and Heeseung were more similar than you'd thought, and it was as if you were on different sides of the same coin. You felt sorry for how he has to run a huge business at a young age, but you can also relate with having to please your parents and expecting to be perfect.

"I'm also sorry for throwing alcohol in your face," you rush out, deciding to lighten the mood. He laughs, "It's fine, I should've seen it coming.”

Your phone then buzzes, it was a text from Mina.

mina: just saw park leave with a girl. i didn't see who it was but i’m sorry babe :(

Your expression flipped like a switch.

“What’s wrong?” Heeseung asked with an obvious look of concern on his face.

You shake your head and try to plaster on a fake smile, ignoring the heavy feeling in your chest, “It’s nothing, everything’s cool.”

He notices your pout and disappointed expression, “Nothing? You seem upset.”

A low sigh leaves your mouth as you place your phone on your lap. “It’s really stupid but Sunghoon left with a girl,” you shrugged while trying to forget the image of your crush leaving with someone else.

“He probably took her home.”

You try to meet Heeseung’s eyes, waiting for his reaction because you expected him to laugh in your face and make a stupid remark. Instead, he’s looking down and returning your same pout, possibly collecting his thoughts and words.

It was then too silent for a few seconds, except for the sounds coming from downstairs. You left Heeseung speechless but what was he supposed to say? He wasn’t even considered your friend.

You were maybe too open about your crush and Heeseung was probably tired of hearing it. You took his silence as a hint and decide to go back downstairs to wait for your uber. You stood from your seat and Heeseung finally looks up.

“How about we forget about him tonight?”

You return his stare, taking your seat back on the couch. “What do you mean?”

Your straight brows furrowed when he wasn’t answering. You almost flinch as Heeseung straightens his posture and moves closer to your face, training his eyes to yours then to your lips.

He’s leaning in and every second that he gets closer, you feel your heart stop. You were supposed to focus on your crush on Sunghoon. Kissing someone else wasn’t on your table.

“Heeseung, we can’t.” You shyly responded and guiltily avoid his stare, choosing to turn your attention to your hands.

“But you want to,” Heeseung softens, gently holding your hand to stop you from leaving. You look into his rounded eyes, filled with desire.

“All you have to say is ‘stop’ then I’ll stop.”

You subtly take a deep breath and study his face. Being this close was new and you can tell Heeseung wants this, he wants to kiss you so bad. You were uncertain if you wanted this too, but his look of desperation was almost too gut churning that you didn’t want to pull away and leave.

You cupped his cheek and made the move to meet your lips on his. First it was soft and languid, his lips tasting like cheap vodka. His fingertips were holding your chin as he sweetly returns your kiss. He was gentle like he wanted to take his time, but you were eager. Maybe it was the adrenaline from reading Mina’s text because you ended up on his lap with his hands on your waist.

You look into his eyes for any signs of discomfort, but his sure grip makes you continue. You reached for his nape to pull him in a deeper kiss, feeling the corners of his mouth raise into a grin. Your eyes roll knowing that he was thinking about your eagerness and how desperate you seemed. He was just smart enough to not comment about it.

A sound comes out of your mouth when Heeseung kisses you harshly before biting and licking on your lower lip, asking for entrance. His grip becomes more firm when you accept. The feeling of him on your mouth causes you to roll your hips, and Heeseung lets out a forced laugh.

You feel his hand slipping under the hem of your shirt and you almost freak out, not knowing what this is leading to. Before you both were able to do anything further, your phone next to you buzzes.

You broke the kiss, catching your breath to reach for your phone to check the notification.

“Ignore it,” Heeseung slurs out before trying to bring his lips on yours once more while adjusting his seated position with you still on his lap.

But you gently push on his shoulder, checking the notification on your phone. “My uber‘s here.”

It was all quick movements when you completely pull away your body and escape his grasp before standing and making yourself look decent. There was a slight delay in your thoughts, not surely processing that you kissed Heeseung.

Your flustered cheeks and beating heart causes you to hesitate, but you managed to move your feet and try to leave until Heeseung’s hand quickly wrapped around your wrist.

“Wait,” Heeseung lets out after a moment of catching his breath, his grip still holding onto you. You turn around to face him as he speaks.

“Let me take you home,” he pleads.

Afraid to look him in eye, you watched as his throat bobbled before moving your eyes to his contact on your warm skin. You’re shaking your head, refusing his offer and at that, he lets go.

“My uber’s already here and you‘ve been drinking, I can taste it,” you retaliate while licking your bottom lip, the taste of him lasting on your lips.

“What about your parents?”

You finally meet Heeseung’s gaze through half-lidded eyes, not noticing a hint of disappointment on his face. “I’ll be fine. Bye Heeseung.”

You left the party and lie in your bed, surprised that you’re not mentally cursing yourself out for initiating the kiss. It was difficult not to replay how his lips were perfectly in-sync with yours and the way he held your body.

You were in disbelief, not expecting yourself to makeout with anyone tonight — someone who wasn’t Sunghoon but let alone, Lee Heeseung.

With everything that happened tonight from Sunghoon leaving with someone else, to Heeseung practically comforting you with his surprisingly good kissing skills, it was unsure to you if what happened was a mistake.

Another notification sound from your phone interrupted your thoughts and you decided to turn off the ringer before checking the message.

Your eyes began to widen while reading Mina’s text.

What the hell? It was another moment of shock, the message confirmed that the girl Sunghoon took home tonight was his sister.

—

It was playoffs day, a few days after your kiss with Heeseung and the confirmation of Sunghoon not having a girlfriend. After finding out that Sunghoon was not dating anyone, that kiss with Heeseung long forgotten to you. It was a stupid mistake due to a rush of hurt feelings.

You were looking forward to the game tonight in which Sunghoon technically invited you to. It was also the first game of the season that you were actually attending, so tonight was going to be fun. With Mina’s help, as usual, you managed to convince your parents that you were going to study at her place.

Now you’re at your school’s gym, lining up to buy a ticket for the big playoff game. Since Mina was cheerleading tonight, you both arrived super early. Taking a seat in the student section, the junior varsity team’s game was starting which meant that the varsity team’s was after. Across from your peripheral vision, you see Sunghoon sitting near the bench. He gave a small wave which made the corners of your mouth upturn into a smile.

You feel your smile drop when you notice Heeseung taking a seat next to him. Sunghoon whispering something in his ear, Heeseung shot his head up and met your gaze. He barely moved a muscle in his face, not expecting you to be here.

You turn your attention to the game and fought the urge to not look in the direction of the two boys. However throughout the game, you didn’t miss the all times Heeseung moved his eyes towards you.

The junior varsity game was over and thankfully, they won. There was a small fifteen minute break until the next game started and the varsity team was getting ready to warm up. Walking back to your seat after taking a trip to the bathroom, you felt a small tap on your shoulder.

“Hey, can we talk?”

Your brows raised when the boy in front of you was not on the court where he was supposed to be, “Shouldn’t you be warming up?”

“We kissed the other night,” he spat out.

You’d hope the conversation that you were avoiding wasn’t happening so soon, especially now before he’s about to play. “We were drunk-“

“I wasn’t drunk- I was tipsy but you certainly weren’t,” he interjects, trying to meet you eye-to-eye but his height causes him to easily hover over you. “I remember everything.”

“Then try to forget about it,” You dismiss his words, “If you’re afraid of me telling anyone then don’t be. I don’t kiss and tell.”

Heeseung finds your remark funny as it was evident in his laugh. “I don’t care if you tell anyone,” he says, looking back to check how much time was left before the game started.

T-8 minutes until the game starts.

You sighed, “Heeseung, what do you want?”

“Why’d you kiss me?”

You feel a lump in your throat, recalling the moment when you initiated the kiss. “Why’d you kiss me back?” You asked, also recalling the moment when he was the one practically begging you to kiss him.

“Wait- you’re the one who actually started it.”

“I asked first.”

You let out a groan, “I was upset about Sunghoon and wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry that I kissed you, promise me that you’ll forget because it was a mistake and meant nothing.”

He was silent, his expression unreadable but you didn’t care to try to figure it out.

“Promise me,” You looked up at him with your pleading doe-eyes — now you were the one practically begging on your knees for a mutual agreement to forget the kiss ever happened.

“I promise.”

“Thank you,” You let out a big sigh of relief before noticing the clock had 5 minutes left.

“The game is about to start, captain.”

Heeseung left without saying another word and you head back to your seat. The game was about to start and you take out your phone to take a picture of Mina as she was cheering on the baseline in her cute uniform.

You watch Sunghoon play, or at least attempt to, since your eyes unconsciously land on Heeseung throughout the entire game. You noticed that something was off. He looked distressed and he wasn’t making any of his shots. It was probably his mother and the business on his mind, you thought. Heeseung’s look of frustration continued until the buzzer of the final second went off.

At the end, your school team won the playoff game and you can’t help but feel worried that something happened to Heeseung.

Once the team headed to their locker room, you and Mina walk back to her car to go home.

“Y/N, Mina,” a voice caught both of your attentions, and it was Sunghoon who was out of breath with sweat glistening on his forehead. He was in casual attire now, his uniform assumingly in his bag that was over his shoulder.

“You did so well tonight! How many points did you score?”

“I think it was 12- I don’t know, I wasn’t counting,” He laughs as a huge smile appears on your face. “Thank you for coming to watch. We’re going to the pizza place down the street.”

You turn to Mina, trying to hide the confusion on your face. “The team usually goes out to eat after the game to celebrate the win,” she tells. “I’m too tired to go, but I can drop you off there?”

“I can bring Y/N there,” Sunghoon murmurs to Mina before turning to you,” If you’re okay with that of course.”

“No- yeah, that sounds great.”

Fighting the urge to scream in excitement was difficult. Park Sunghoon wants to hang out with you? And he’s offering to drive you?

The drive was literally down the street, but the gesture was sweet and your heart felt warm. You weren't sure how you were going to go home but that was problem for later.

“Thank you for letting me hang out,” you say before entering the pizza place with Sunghoon behind you.

Sunghoon then catches up and leads the way, “You came to support the team, of course you’re welcome to hang. I’m glad you came to watch.”

You hold on a big grin, “I’ll make sure to watch more of your games,” your voice was surely going to crack soon.

“I’d like that,” he says before excusing himself to go to the bathroom.

You found Heeseung who was in line to fill his drink and approach him, “Hey, what happened out there captain?” You spoke to him softly after noticing the look of frustration still on his face.

But his expression quickly changed when realizing that it was you talking to him. “I think that was the worst I played all season,” he laughed.

“Are you okay? Did something happen?”

“No everything’s cool,” he shook his head, “I-I was just off today.”

“I think that you played well and helped the team advance to the championships.”

“Thanks,” He grins. “Where’s Mina?”

“She’s at home. She was too tired to come so Sunghoon gave me a ride,” you say while trying to hide the wide smile that slowly crept on your face.

Heeseung raised a brow, “He did?”

You nod. “I also forgot to tell you,” your eyes lit up, “The girl Sunghoon brought home was actually his sister. She was super drunk so they went home.”

Heeseung studied the light in your eyes, “You feel relieved?”

You nod.

“And you still like him?”

“Yes,” you nod again, hearing a breathy laugh coming out of Heeseung’s mouth.

“That’s- great,” he smiled, “I’ll see you later, Y/N.”

Heeseung quickly left the conversation and you by returning to an empty table. You watch as a girl who was still in her cheerleading uniform shows up and sits next to Heeseung. They’re in the booth laughing and you immediately recognize her.

The one who humiliated you, who called you a bitch. You feel a hint of bitterness and don’t have an exact idea as to why you felt this way.

“Who's that girl?” You turn to Sunghoon, “I remember you saved me from her at the party.”

“That’s Ji-ho,” Sunghoon says. “Her and Heeseung have always just been… friends, but I guess they’re finally dating now.”

His girlfriend? Dating? You think back to your kiss and knew how messy things were going to be if she’d ever find out.

—

A week goes by since the playoff game and the night when Sunghoon gave you a ride home, and still, no progress with Sunghoon. It’s as if everything went back to normal. Heeseung and his girlfriend seemed happy (not that you cared) and that kiss was never mentioned again.

The scent of fresh blooms enveloped you as were surrounded by vibrant petals. Working with flowers wasn’t just a job to you, it was a canvas for your creativity. You especially loved working with customers and hearing their stories, knowing that you were part of their special occasions.

It was an everyday routine to organize the cherry blossoms, and overtime, they became your favorite flowers and you hoped to visit a cherry blossom garden someday.

“Hello! This is ‘Our Happy Florists’ located in Seoul,” your voice rang through the phone. “How can I help you?”

“Hey, am I speaking to Park Sunghoon’s girlfriend?”

You jumped out of your seat, “I’m sorry, who is this?”

“The one you kissed at the party, does it ring a bell?” The voice laughs in amusement.

“Heeseung?” You raised your voice then lowered it, “I told you not to mention it again. I will end this call right now.”

“Wait- don’t hang up. Sorry, I won’t mention it again,” his laugh remains.

“Um,” you cleared your throat,” How do you know where I work?”

“Your cousin.”

Of course Mina would, you groaned. “Why exactly are you calling?”

“I need advice. Please,” he pleads.

You put the phone down for a second to look over at your supervisor who was busy putting away flowers. “I’m trying not to get fired right now, Heeseung,” you say, almost whispering. “But if it’s urgent you can stop by during my lunch break.”

“Really?” he sounds surprised, almost elated.

“I’m not gonna repeat myself, but my break is in an hour.”

You find it odd that he went out of his way to ask you advice, but you also found it odd that you accepted without hesitation.

And so exactly one hour later, you were on your break and Heeseung was standing outside with his hands in his pocket and eyes roaming around the shop.

“So why can’t you talk to me at school? Why come to my work?”

He crosses his arms, “I’m a busy person and you know that.”

You roll your eyes, “Yeah, busy at parties.”

“Ha-ha,” he says with sarcasm, “I’m free after school on Tuesdays so I’m not busy today.”

“Whatever, you said you needed advice?”

You weren’t sure if he was worth your time. Were you considered his friend? Friends don’t kiss right? Stop — Why are you thinking about the kiss?

“You’re a good girl right?”

His choice of words cause your eyes to squint and he notices while exhaling a laugh, succeeding at trying to get a reaction out of you.

“I meant that you have perfect grades and you’re a good daughter to your parents. I need help with my mom.”

“I want to work on bigger projects and show her that I am responsible enough to handle them. And maybe even speak at meetings, but she doesn’t trust me. How can I earn her trust?”

Now you furrow your brow, intrigued while also in thought.

“Be consistent and confident. If you show her you’re working hard, she’ll start to trust you.”

“But does that work? Do your parents trust you?”

You shrugged. “They definitely trust me, but they’re just overly protective.”

“That makes sense,” Heeseung replied, nodding slowly as he processed the advice.

A period of quietness hung between you two, the noise of the wind fading into the background.

“Anything else you need?” You finally asked, breaking the silence.

Heeseung shook his head. “No, nothing else. I will take your advice, thank you.”

“Sure,” you said, trying to gauge where this was heading but he simply left and you returned to the shop.

He took his own precious time to drive to your work and have a conversation about advice on how to handle his mom. Weird, you thought.

—

A cold Monday morning, you were irritated and stressed out. Assignments piled up, deadlines loomed, and the weight of expectations — both from school and your part-time job — felt heavier than ever. However, your parents seemed to leave you alone and minded their own business lately, which was a glimmer of peace amidst the chaos.

In the bustling hallway, you spotted Sunghoon leaving his locker as soon as he spotted you. He started waving and approaching you.

“Y/N, hey!”

“Hey.”

“Have you started on Ms. Kim’s project yet?” he asked.

“No, not at all. I haven’t even found my partners yet.”

“You’re friends with Heeseung, right?”

You hesitated. “We talked a few times.” And kissed, but it was a mistake and we’re supposed to forget that it happened. “Did he say that?”

Sunghoon nodded. “We’re looking for a third person to join us, and he suggested you since he says we’re all friends.”

Friends? Does he mean it?

“Yeah, sure, I’ll join you guys. We can work on it tomorrow at my place? Since I know Tuesdays are free for you guys. And my grandma will just be at the house, not my parents.”

“That sounds perfect, just text me your address! I’ll let Heeseung know. Thanks, Y/N.” Sunghoon replied, a grin spreading across his face.

As he turned to leave, you felt a mix of excitement and nerves. Taking a deep breath, you pulled out your phone and sent a quick message to Sunghoon, your heart racing at the thought of him being at your house.

sunghoon: thanks for your addy!

sunghoon: can’t wait for tomorrow!

—

Today was your study date- or should you even call it that? You stood in the living room, glancing around with a mix of excitement and nerves. The afternoon light streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow over the space.

You set to work, your science textbook and notebooks were stacked neatly on the coffee table, and you arranged some colorful pens nearby for good measure.

With a quick check of the clock, you raced to the kitchen to grab a plate of snacks — sliced fruit and a few bags of chips. You set everything out on a small tray, arranging it carefully to look inviting.

You were glad that your parents were away for the weekend at a work trip and that your grandma, watching you, was super chill, not minding that two boys were coming over for a project hang out.

The soft sound of the doorbell sent a jolt of nerves through you. You hurried to answer and as you opened the door, you glanced at Heeseung, who stood shifting on his feet with a tray of drinks in his hand.

“You’re 10 mins early,” you said, raising an eyebrow.

“I can leave then come back,” he replied with a half-smile.

“Get inside.”

He walked inside, peering around your home and following you into the kitchen before speaking.

“You’re welcome, by the way.”

“For the drinks? Thank you.”

“No, your boyfriend is coming over because I suggested that the three of us should work together,” he places the tray of drinks on the countertop. “And I figured that if I leave early, you guys can spend time alone.”

You shake your head, “You don’t have to do that.”

“Yeah, well, I thought it’d be nice.”

“Also your advice worked, my mom’s slowly but surely finally letting me handle the big projects and she even wants me to attend training workshops.”

“I’m glad to hear that my advice worked,” you chuckled, running a hand through your hair.

“It took a bit of convincing, but I didn’t think she’d actually take me seriously at first.”

“Well, you just need to show her that you are committed, that you could handle it,” You said, your eyes sparkling with encouragement which makes Heeseung smile.

“I have a few questions,” he suddenly says.

“Hmm let me guess,” you replied. “It’s not about the project or your mom?”

“Did you kiss him yet?”

You raised an eyebrow, confusion flickering across your face. “No, nothing’s happened between us.”

Heeseung chewed on his bottom lip and let silence pass by.

The air between you crackled with unspoken tension as Heeseung suddenly walked towards you. You could feel the electric pull of his proximity, a magnetic force that had been intensifying ever since he’d stepped inside your house. Your heart raced as you looked up at Heeseung, it felt like deja vu when his doe eyes are searching yours for permission.

You try to hide the fact that you were panicking when Heeseung leaned closer. You had nowhere to go, feeling the kitchen counter behind you. His breath was warm against your face and he licked his bottom lip. You knew he wanted to kiss you again and for a second, you would’ve let him.

“Heeseung,” you said, your voice betraying a mixture of frustration and vulnerability. “I still have feelings for Sunghoon.”

You reached out, placing a hand gently on his arm, “And you have a girlfriend.”

He laughs. “You’re trying to find excuses to not kiss me right now even though you want to.”

Your hands meet his chest as you gently push him. “You’re annoying,” the hint of a smile tugging at your lips, “You know that our first kiss was a mistake right? I don’t want to be a homewrecker.”

You watched as he took a hesitant step forward. “So you’re saying that if I was single, you wouldn’t be opposed to kissing me again?”

You try to find your voice, a simple response to reject him, but couldn’t.

“I’m not dating Ji-ho,” he shakes his head, “We’re just-“

The sound of the doorbell interrupts him.

“We’re just friends, it’s nothing serious.” He admits.

“That’s probably Sunghoon at the door,” you turn away and head for the front door, trying to keep your cool and shake off what just happened.

“Hey, glad you made it,” you greeted as Sunghoon stepped into your home.

“Thanks again for letting us come over. I think Heeseung should be coming soon,” he replied, glancing around.

“Oh, he’s here already- he’s in the kitchen,” you said, motioning toward the back of the house.

“Surprised he’s early, he’s usually late to things like this,” Sunghoon remarked with a chuckle.

You lead Sunghoon into the kitchen and he greets Heeseung. You all moved into the living room to brainstorm ideas for the project.

“So our assigned topic is biomechanics. Does anyone have ideas? Or something creative that we should do?” you asked, sitting on the floor leaning forward on the coffee table.

“I was thinking we can go the simple route with a presentation. It doesn’t have to be super detailed, but it can include our information or maybe we can show the concept with a video,” Sunghoon suggested.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” you agreed.

“Since Sunghoon and I are athletes — no offense, Y/N — we can record a video of us playing basketball while explaining the mechanism,” Heeseung added.

“That’s actually a good idea,” you said, your eyes lighting up.

As you continued to brainstorm ideas for the project, the weight of your feelings began to feel less daunting. With every shared laugh, casual touch, or agreement with Sunghoon, you found yourself enjoying it more than you should. Maybe this project would lead to something even more.

And after a while of working on the actual outline of the project, Heeseung stood and stretched, checking the time on his phone.

“I got to head out,” he said, glancing at you as he made his plan to leave early, hoping to create a moment for you and Sunghoon.

“I have to go too,” Sunghoon then chimed in, clearly wanting to leave together with Heeseung.

Sunghoon was oblivious, but by the look on your face, Heeseung could tell that you were disappointed.

“My mom is calling me to go over training, but Sunghoon, you should help Y/N clean up.” Heeseung suggested, still pushing to create a moment for you and Sunghoon.

“No, it’s okay, Sunghoon says he has to go.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind,” Sunghoon replied.

“It’s fine, there’s barely anything to clean up.” You couldn’t deny that you were disappointed, but there was no point in trying to force something that clearly wasn’t going to happen.

“I’m glad we were able to get a majority of the presentation done,” you exhaled, leading Sunghoon and Heeseung towards the door.

“Definitely. We make a great team,” Sunghoon said, looking back at you, his eyes sparkling. “We should definitely hang out again, just for fun.”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. You reached the door, opening it wider, you wanted Sunghoon to stay, to prolong this moment, but he left with a simple ‘goodbye’.

Heeseung lingered for a while and and you followed him onto the porch. “Sorry, my plan didn’t work.”

“It’s okay, Heeseung,” you managed to reply, forcing your lips into a smile, but your heart wasn’t in it. “You can keep out of this, you know? It’s all too complicated, so I’d rather have everything play out without any scheming.”

He nodded, but just as he turned to leave, he paused, glancing back at you.

“Have a good night, Y/N.”

“Thanks, Heeseung. You too,” you said, your voice soft.

As Heeseung disappeared around the corner, the quiet of your home settled in around you.

You sighed, knowing that the day had been fun and special, but feeling a bittersweet sting. It’s only been two months, but longing for him has felt like forever. Sunghoon was only meant to be your friend, he has always been clear about that.

With a heavy heart, you have accepted the fact that Park Sunghoon doesn't like you back and possibly will never catch feelings for you.

—

Two weeks later and the project was over with. The presentation went smoothly and you received lots of great feedback about the video portion of the project — thanks to Heeseung for his idea.

It was honestly a great time working with both Sunghoon and Heeseung. They were both smart partners and fun to hang around. You’d wonder if things would be different if feelings weren’t involved. Would you all be best friends?

Sadly, you will never know.

Today felt like a regular Friday, but the excitement in the air was evident as students buzzed about the upcoming basketball championship game tonight. You were at the library, studying for an exam, and in walked Sunghoon, a grin spreading across his face. He was the last person you’d expected to see, but perhaps he did mean it when he said he wanted to hang out more.

“Hey, Y/N!” he called, waving as pulled out the seat next to you and sat down. Although you accepted your one-sided feelings, you couldn’t help but smile back.

“Hey, Sunghoon. What’s up?” you asked, closing your textbook.

“I wanted to see if you’d like to come to the championship game tonight,” he said, his eyes bright with enthusiasm. “It’s going to be epic, and I’d love to have you there.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Really? I’d love to, I’ve been hearing everyone talk about it.”

He nodded, a hint of relief washing over his features. “Great, I can save you a seat with my friends. Plus, I could use some support. You know, for luck.”

“Absolutely, I’ll be there cheering for the team,” you replied, trying to contain your excitement. The thought of being there, watching him play, made your stomach flutter.

“Great! See you then,” he said, standing up to leave. But just as he stepped out, he dropped something from his pocket — an old, worn-out bracelet that caught your eye.

Sunghoon!” you called, rushing after him. He turned around, his expression shifting from excitement to confusion as you picked up the bracelet. “You dropped this.”

He took a moment to process it, then chuckled, a hint of embarrassment creeping into his cheeks. “Oh, that? It’s just an old lucky charm. I didn’t think I’d need it anymore.”

“It looks important,” you said, holding it out to him.

He hesitated, reaching for the bracelet but then pulling back. “You know what? Keep it. Maybe it’ll bring you luck at the game too.”

You blinked in surprise. “Really? Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. I want you to have it,” he said, his voice steady. “If you want, you can return it to me before the game. Just take good care of it.”

A warmth spread through you at his words, and you couldn’t help but smile. “Okay, I’ll take good care of it.”

“Good,” he said, flashing that charming smile again. “See you tonight, Y/N.”

Just as you thought you were sure on where you and Sunghoon stood on feelings, the whole conversation just made you even more quizzed.

Nonetheless, you were still going to give him words of encouragement and his lucky charm bracelet before the game.

T-25 minutes until the game started.

You stood outside the gym, the sounds of sneakers squeaking on the polished floor and the echo of basketballs bouncing filled the air. You glanced at the time; you were cutting it close, but you had to give Sunghoon his good luck charm.

Clutching the bracelet tightly in your hand, you pushed the door to the locker room open. The space was filled with the scent of sweat and liniment, it was empty except for one person.

It was Heeseung and he was shirtless with a towel draped around his neck.

You couldn’t help but study him, his abs were defined and taut. Each movement he made showcased the hard work he put into training — his core muscles flexing with each shot, the lines of his physique both sculpted and strong. When Heeseung noticed you, his face broke into a grin.

You felt a rush of nerves as you stepped forward. “Hey, I haven’t seen you since in a while. I feel like I only see you during Ms. Kim’s.”

“I’ve been busy. You know that.” He smirks.

“Were you looking for me?” He asked, staring at the piece of fabric in your hand.

“No, I-“

You were silenced as Heeseung suddenly closed the distance, backing you gently against the cool metal of the lockers.

“Heeseung, what are you doing?”

Heeseung was known for his teasing nature, but there was something different in his eyes today. He leaned in slightly with his arms resting on either side of you, effectively trapping you in place. He had a teasing smile on his face as your bodies were pressed against each other.

“Looking for your boyfriend?” his tone was light but laced with something deeper.

You rolled your eyes, frustration bubbling to the surface. “Shut up. How many times do I have to tell you that he’s not my boyfriend?”

He shrugged, clearly enjoying the banter. “I know. I just like to hear you say that he’s not.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s obvious that you like me. And you’ve been wanting me ever since our first kiss,” he replied, voice dropping to a softer tone with eyes locking more intensely onto yours. “Me and you have something, and you’re aware of it.”

“What?” You don’t understand his sudden change of boldness and cockiness but you give into the banter.

“What about your girlfriend?” you challenged, trying to regain some control of the conversation.

Heeseung sighed, leaning forward which causes your foreheads to touch. “How many times do I have to tell you that she’s not my girlfriend?” His expression was serious. “I told you, we’re not dating. She’s just a friend.”

“A friend that you kiss? Sounds a lot like me,” you said, raising an eyebrow while trying to push him away, but it resulted in him pressing against you harder.

“Didn’t know that you were my friend.”

“Forget what I said. I’m not your friend,” you insisted, but a flutter of uncertainty crept in.

He leaned closer, the tension between you two palpable that you could cut it with a knife. You felt your resolve wavering, caught in the pull of his intense gaze that you’re familiar with.

“Yeah,” a hint of mischief in his eyes.

“You’re not my friend because you’re so much more.”

The air thickened with unspoken words. And for a moment, the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you, teetering on the edge of something that could change everything.

You’re silent as your eyes follow his hand that slowly crept under your skirt and you didn’t make any effort to stop him.

“Can I touch you?” The weight of his body keeps you pinned against the lockers.

You swallowed hard, feeling a mix of uncertainty and thrill, his confession left you speechless. You could push him away, but nonetheless, you nod your head wanting to feel his touch.

“I won’t do anything until you tell me ‘yes’,” his voice dropping an octave, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Yes,” You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, feeling the tension release.

“Please touch me, Heeseung.”

His hand caressed your tender skin before he lightly pressed down fingers on your core. Even with your panties still on, he could feel your wetness soaking through.

Heeseung felt proud of himself, because even though he didn’t fully touch you yet, his words and body against yours were enough to have you drenched.

You felt him move your panties to the side and his cold fingers dipping into your aching centre.

“You’re wet for me?” He murmured as he withdrew his fingers and lifted them to you, revealing your glistening slick.

You stammered, “Don’t- make fun of me.” Your cheeks flushed, overwhelmed by the way he was looking at you, his gaze intense and playful.

“You do this to me too,” he murmured while pressing his obvious bulging crotch against you.

“Why would I make fun of you?”

Heeseung reached under your skirt and dipped his fingers again into your soaking wet cunt. You moan loudly in surprise as one of his fingers enter your heat up to the first knuckle. He starts to slowly finger-fuck you with his thumb slowly rubbing circles on your sensitive clit.

The noises you’re making seem magnified because they’re all that you can hear. You feel Heeseung muttering words onto your neck but you can’t tell what he’s saying, all you know is that suddenly he’s stopped moving his finger which drives you insane.

“Need more,” you croaked desperately.

“Hmm?” he exhales, aware that he’s trying to tease you, to try to make you beg for him to keep going — and it’s working.

“Need more, Hee,” you plead, desperately trying to move your bound body to provide some sense of friction. “Please move.”

As soon as you think that he’s stopped completely and ready to leave you in heat, he suddenly thrusts two fingers deep into your cunt. “Oh my, fuck,” you clench around him with a surprised shout.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

“Yes,” you nod, “Please keep going.”

It doesn’t take long for him to build you up to that edge, your body so needy and responsive to his touch, and he’s enjoying it.

You praise him by telling him how good his fingers feel inside you. You’re lost in the sensation of him pounding his fingers into you as he frantically starts rubbing your clit.

“Heeseung, I’m close,” you whined out.

You feel yourself clench around him, and he shifts the angle of his fingers a little bit to hit your sweet spot. “You’re doing so well for me, baby.”

“Let go,” he urges.

You let out a lewd moan when you back arches up sharply as you come undone around his fingers. He keeps thrusting, helping you ride yourself through it. You want the feeling to never stop but he halts his movement.

While you catch your breath, he starts to clean up the mess between your thighs with the towel that was around his neck.

“You did amazing, my love,” he praises, which causes your chest to sting. You felt this before except it was now because of Heeseung.

After he was finished cleaning you up, he helps to adjust your skirt. “My panties will be sticky the entire night now,” you laugh with a sense of worry.

“I’m sorry,” he chuckles, genuinely apologizing which makes you grin.

Once you felt completely relaxed, you couldn't help but notice the prominent bulge sticking through his basketball shorts.

“Um,” you clear your throat, “Need me to help?”

He noticed you staring at how hard he is and he gives a smile to break through the tension. “No, don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”

“Are you sure?” You shifted on your feet, biting your lip. “I mean, I can be quick.”

His expression softened, and he shook his head. “I appreciate it baby, but I need to warm up soon. I know the gym must be packed though, so you should find a seat to cheer me on.”

“You’re right, the game is starting soon,” you said, trying to sound casual.

“You dropped something,” Heeseung pointed to the ground. It was Sunghoon’s lucky charm that you planned on returning to him.

“It’s Sunghoon’s,” you gulped with an unknown sense of nervousness. “He dropped it so I wanted to give it back, but… I’ll just give it at the party.”

Heeseung nodded, his expression unreadable.

Before you exit the locker room, you walk up to him and give a small peck on his lips, hoping he’ll kiss you back and deeply. “Good luck, captain.”

But Heeseung doesn’t. Instead, he murmurs a quick ‘thank you’ and accepts the kiss with a hesitant look on his face, which immediately makes you leave. You don’t think anything of it, though.

The gym was electric, filled with the sound of cheering fans and the rhythmic thump of basketballs. You sat in the bleachers while waving at Mina, who was cheering at the baseline. The championship game had drawn a massive crowd, and the atmosphere buzzed with excitement. You could feel the energy pulsing around you, but your focus was entirely on what just happened in the locker room.

Suddenly, Heeseung stood near the center of the court, his jersey clinging to him as he bounced the ball, starting his warm ups.

You found him incredibly intoxicating, you couldn’t even focus on the game because the only thing on your mind were his fingers getting you off a few minutes ago.

The game clock ticked down, interrupting your thoughts, and the game started.

You could see the determination in Heeseung’s eyes, and it made your heart swell with pride. This was his moment, and you wanted nothing more than for him and the team to succeed.

As the whistle blew and the first quarter began, you leaned forward, holding your breath with every play. Heeseung darted around defenders, his movements fluid and confident. He made a quick pass to Sunghoon, who took a shot — missed. The crowd groaned in unison, and you felt a knot of anxiety tighten in your stomach.

“He’ll get it next time,” you whispered to yourself, willing him on.

The tension reached a peak when it was the second half. It was third quarter when the opposing team made a quick drive toward the basket, and for a moment, it looked like they might score. But Sunghoon slid in, blocking the shot with a perfect timing that had the crowd erupting into cheers. Your heart raced as you jumped to your feet and clapping.

Sunghoon turned briefly, catching your eye, and flashing a smile in your direction.

The final quarter ticked down and shortly, the score was tied with minutes left. The pressure was mounting, but the team seemed unfazed. Heeseung received the ball and dribbled down the court, dodging defenders with ease. The gym fell silent as he positioned himself for the final shot, and all eyes were on him.

“Come on!” you urged silently, heart in your throat.

He took a deep breath, the world around him fading into a blur as he focused on the hoop. With a quick flick of his wrist, he released the ball, and it soared through the air in slow motion. Time seemed to freeze as you watched, holding your breath.

Swish! The ball hit the net perfectly, and the crowd erupted into a frenzy. You jumped up, screaming with joy as the realization hit— there was 5 seconds left and you had just witnessed Heeseung’s winning shot in the championship game.

Those 5 seconds flew by and Heeseung turned to the stands, his face lighting up with a mixture of disbelief and triumph. As his teammates rushed to him, engulfing him in celebratory hugs, you felt a surge of pride wash over you.

As the team huddled together, you caught his gaze once more. This time, he pointed in your direction, a wide grin spreading across his face. Your heart swelled, and you couldn’t help but beam back at him. In that moment, amidst the chaos and elation of victory, you felt an undeniable connection.

The gym erupted in cheers and the team celebrated their hard-earned win, you knew this was a moment you would never forget.

You went down the bleachers and ran to Mina, hugging her. “That was insane,” you stressed.

“That game had me stressed, fuck! Are you ready to party?” Mina exclaimed.

—

The sound of music pulsed through the air, reverberating against the walls of the house, which was already packed with students buzzing from the excitement of the championship victory. Colorful lights flickered in rhythm with the beat, casting a vibrant glow across the crowd. You stepped inside, the energy wrapping around you like a warm embrace as laughter and cheers filled the space.

The living room was transformed into a party zone, with decorations celebrating the basketball team’s success—banners hanging from the walls, balloons in the school colors bobbing along the ceiling, and a table overflowing with snacks and drinks. Friends and teammates mingled, some already animatedly retelling highlights of the game, while others clinked cups in celebration.

As the night unfolded, the music thumped louder, and the laughter grew richer. You danced, celebrated, and lost yourself in the jubilant atmosphere. But amidst it all, you kept stealing glances at Heeseung, who was now animatedly recounting the game to a captivated audience. The way he lit up while talking made your heart swell.

As you scanned the room, you also spotted Sunghoon across the way, surrounded by a small group of his teammates. He looked effortlessly cool in a casual black tee and jeans, his hair slightly tousled from the night’s festivities. The sight of him made your heart stop. He was laughing, his eyes shining with excitement, and for a moment, you felt a surge of admiration.

You made your way through the crowd, weaving between familiar faces and beaming friends. The atmosphere was infectious, and Sunghoon caught your eye with a grin spread across his face as he waved you over.

“Y/N!” he called, his voice cutting through the music. “Come join us!”

You smiled back, your nerves easing as you stepped closer and noticing Heeseung also joining in. “Congrats on the win! That was so nerve-wracking, but you guys did so well,” you said, genuinely impressed.

Sunghoon shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, but the pride in his eyes was unmistakable. “Thank you! I’m glad it was exciting.”

Heeseung nudged him playfully. “Yeah, and don’t forget your lucky charm.”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes, but the laughter that followed was infectious, and soon everyone was caught up in the moment.

“Oh shoot, here’s your bracelet” you take the bracelet out of your pocket and give it to him.

“Y/N, I need to talk to you,” Sunghoon said, ignoring the bracelet in your hand.

“Why can’t you talk to her here?” Heeseung asked.

You could feel the heat rise in your cheeks, but before you could say anything, Sunghoon grabbed your hand and led you outside in the backyard.

You stirred your drink, lost in thought, when you noticed him fidgeting. His usual calm demeanor had been replaced by something more vulnerable, and you sensed that something was off.

“Look, Y/N,” he started, his voice trembling slightly. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“What? Why are you sorry?” you asked, genuinely perplexed.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve been leading you on. I was aware of your feelings, but got your hopes up by flirting a bit and never taking it further.”

“I realized that I’ve been leading you on, but I also realized that I caught feelings.”

Your heart raced as you processed his words. “Sunghoon- wait.”

“Before you say anything,” he continued quickly, “It’s not out of pity. I caught real feelings.”

“Y/N, I like you.”

Your mouth was open to speak but no words came out, it was a sudden confession. The boy who you liked finally reciprocated your feelings.

Before you could process your thoughts and whirlwind of emotions, he started to lean in.

His eyes searching yours and his lips approaching yours. But you instinctively recoiled.

“I’m sorry, I can’t.” You shook your head. “I- I caught feelings for someone else.”

The words hung heavy in the air. You could see the realization dawning on him, his expression shifting from hope to disbelief and disappointment.

“It’s okay,” he said softly, a forced smile creeping onto his lips. “I guess I’m too late.”

You looked down at the ground, your mind racing. You had always admired Sunghoon, enjoyed your moments together, but recently someone else had entered your life — someone who made your heart flutter in a way you hadn’t expected. You were just too afraid to admit it.

“I’m sorry, Sunghoon. You’re such a good guy,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “And I’ve liked you for a while, but I think… I’m a bit confused right now.”

He nodded, arms crossed tightly. “It’s okay, really. If you have feelings for someone else, I understand.”

The moment stretched painfully, silence enveloping you both. You wanted to reach out, to reassure him, but the truth hung between you both like a chasm.

“Who is it?” he finally asked, his tone curious yet guarded.

“It’s someone-”

“Heeseung,” he answered for you.

“I don’t know- yes,” you admitted, your cheeks flushing slightly. “It’s complicated and I didn’t mean for it to happen, but it just did.”

He nodded slowly, “Heeseung’s a good guy. I’m not surprised that you caught feelings for him.”

“Please don’t tell him,” you insisted, your voice trembling. “I still haven’t figured it out yet.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t,” he chuckled, a sign that he wasn’t too saddened about the situation and you let out a quiet sigh of relief.

“I’m sorry, Sunghoon.”

“Me too,” he said quietly. “But maybe this is just how it’s meant to be. You and Heeseung are good for each other, you’ll realize it soon enough.”

With that, you both fell into a silence that spoke volume. You realized that you had a choice now. No matter what had transpired, you still admired Sunghoon and your feelings didn't just disappear, but now your heart was also longing for Heeseung. What’s important now is figuring out your feelings.

The conversation was left after your realization and you needed time to yourself. The soft glow of the streetlights illuminated the front porch of the house. You leaned against the cool brick wall, your heart still racing from Sunghoon’s confession. The laughter and chatter of the party faded into the background as you pulled out her phone, glancing at the time. Just then, the doe-eyed boy emerged from the house and walking towards the lot.

“Hey, captain,” you stop him in his tracks.

“What are you doing? You’re not leaving, are you?” you asked. “You know this is your party, you won the game. And that last shot was insane,” you beamed proudly.

Heeseung laughed, “I’m glad you were there to see that. I played well today, probably the best I played all season. Maybe because you were there.”

“And I’m actually heading home. I have a meeting in the morning and need to prepare for it since it’s the first time I get to speak,” he replied, trying to sound nonchalant as he scratched his neck.

“Why are you outside alone? Are you okay?” He stepped before you, his expression softening. “I was looking for you after Sunghoon dragged you outside. What did he want?”

You took a deep breath, the weight of your emotions pressing down on you.

“Sunghoon almost kissed me tonight.”

Heeseung’s eyes widened. “What do you mean almost?”

“I don’t know,” you said, your voice shaky. “I just… I rejected him.”

“Why? Don’t you want to kiss your crush?” Heeseung’s tone was a mix of disbelief and surprise.

“I’m not sure anymore,” you admitted, feeling a knot of uncertainty tighten in your stomach. The thrill of your moment with Sunghoon had turned into confusion.

Heeseung stepped closer, his gaze locked onto yours. “Y/N,” he said softly, “What’s going on?”

You grabbed the bottom hem of his leather jacket and pulled him closer. “Heeseung, I need you to kiss me.”

The words hung in the air, electrifying the space between you both. You visibly see his cheeks heat up as your heart pounds louder than ever.

“You want me to kiss you?” Heeseung asked, uncertainty lingering in his voice.

You searched his eyes, feeling the pull between you two intensifying. You knew that there was so much at stake — potential heartbreak or the possibility of something new.

You nodded, your gaze unwavering. “Yes.”

Taking a leap of faith, Heeseung closed the distance, you hesitated for a heartbeat before leaning in, your lips brushing softly, igniting a spark that sent electricity coursing through you. The kiss deepened, a mix of urgency and tenderness, and for a moment, the chaos of the night faded away.

You cling to the back of his neck and pull him close, mouth and lips mixing with his tongue and teeth.

You didn’t know how bad you needed his lips on yours again — it’s something that you’ve been craving ever since that party when you first had a taste of his lips.

Before you could press your body against his, wanting to experience the same feeling as what happened in the locker room, you feel him pull apart.

“We should stop.”

“I don’t want to stop,” You desperately urged, still feeling the remnants of the kiss linger on your lips.

“I want you.”

“I want you too,” he paused, “So fucking bad, but you’re confused about your feelings.”

You shake your head, “You're the one making me confused. The things you did to me in the locker room, this back and forth that we keep doing, and the way you keep-“ you groan in frustration.

“I want this Heeseung.”

Heeseung watched as you shifted nervously, concern etched on his face. “Do you still have feelings for Sunghoon?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I don’t know. He just confessed that he liked me too, and a part of me wished I hadn’t rejected him. But I’m so glad I did because I’m here with you now.”

You process your own words, realizing that what you are doing wasn’t fair to him. “I’m sorry, I guess- yeah, I’m a bit confused right now.”

Without another word, he reached out and gently grabbed your hand, grounding you. “I’ll take you home.”

You felt a rush of warmth at his touch, the familiarity of his hand in yours bringing a sense of comfort when he led you to his car.

He opened the passenger seat and you sit down with a pang of regret.

“Heeseung, I didn’t mean to make this complicated,” you said softly, “It wasn’t fair to ask you to kiss me.”

“I know,” he replied, his gaze steady. “But whatever you’re feeling, I know you’ll figure it out. It will take time, but that’s okay. I can wait.”

“You’re willing to wait for me? Why?”

Silence passed by.

“It’s been a long night. We can talk tomorrow, okay?” He shows reassurance through his eyes, and you appreciate his understanding.

The car ride was silent, both of you falling deeply within your thoughts of each other. Every now and then, you’d glance over at him. There was something about the way he held himself — so easy and entirely present — that made your heart skip. You weren’t sure if it was the quiet of the night or the way he seemed so at understanding with you, but in that moment, everything felt still.

The car slowed as he approached your house and he stopped at the curb. He turned to you, his expression softer now, a quiet sincerity in his eyes.

“Thank you for bringing me home,” you said, breaking the silence.

His lips quirk into a smile before he kisses your forehead. “Goodnight.”

You held his gaze, something unspoken passing between you, heart swelling at the tenderness in his voice. You opened the door and stepped out of the car, but before you closed it, you looked back at him. He was watching you, his hand resting on the wheel, his expression a mix of fondness and something more, something hopeful.

The world outside was quiet, but inside your mind, it was anything but. You lay in bed, your thoughts were racing and tumbling over each other like waves crashing against the shore.

Every little moment from Sunghoon’s confession to admitting wanting Heeseung seemed to replay in your mind, each one a gentle reminder of the feelings that simply can’t be ignored. You turned onto your side, staring out the window, trying to make sense of the whirlwind inside.

The idea of something more with Heeseung doesn’t scare you anymore. You made your choice and for the first time in a long time, it felt right.

—

The gentle chime of the doorbell signaled the arrival of a customer, pulling you from your thoughts as you arranged a bouquet of vibrant daisies. The flower shop was a cozy haven, filled with the sweet scent of fresh blooms and the soft rustle of leaves. Sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow over the colorful displays, but today, your mind was elsewhere.

You glanced out the window, lost in thought as you watched the street bustle with life. It was one of those quiet days at the shop, and as you worked, your thoughts inevitably drifted to Heeseung. You couldn’t shake the feelings that had blossomed between you.

You finished the bouquet of daisies when a familiar voice broke your reverie. “What are you thinking about?” Mina asked, plopping down on the stool across from you, a curious look in her eyes.

You hesitated, feeling the weight of your secret pressing down. “I... I need to tell you something,” you said, your heart racing.

“I have feelings for Heeseung.”

Mina’s eyes widened, her mouth dropping open in surprise. “What? Since when? What about Sunghoon?”

You sighed, “Sunghoon made me realize that I like Heeseung. Heeseung and I kissed at the party, then again last night after Sunghoon confessed to me.”

“And yeah, I rejected Sunghoon because I like Heeseung.”

“Oh my gosh,” Mina leaned back, processing your words, her expression a mix of shock and excitement. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

You glanced around the shop, ensuring no one else was within earshot. “I’m sorry, but you have a big mouth. And I needed to figure my feelings out before it turned into something bigger.”

She grinned, a playful glint in her eyes. “So you’re certain about your feelings for Heeseung?”

“I am,” you said, the confession feeling like a weight lifting off your shoulders.

Just then, the door swung open again, and you looked up, holding your breath. There he was —Heeseung, with his easy smile and a carefree energy that filled the shop. He looked around, his gaze landing on you.

“Hey, got any good recommendations for a perfect flower for a pretty girl?” he asked, leaning casually against the counter.

“It depends, who might that pretty girl be?” Your heart raced as you stepped forward, trying to sound casual despite the flurry of emotions swirling inside you.

“It’s a secret,” he says, which makes your eyes roll playfully in return.

“Sure, I have the perfect one.” You gestured for him to follow you to the back of the shop, where the blooms were arranged in an array of colors.

As you guided him through the flowers, you couldn’t help but notice how the sunlight caught his hair, the way his eyes sparkled with curiosity. “I think a pretty girl would love cherry blossoms,” you said, pointing to a delicate bunch of pink blooms.

Heeseung’s expression brightened. “Cherry blossoms? Those are beautiful. Perfect choice.”

You smiled, feeling a rush of warmth at his approval. “They symbolize the beauty of life and new beginnings,” you explained, your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach. “Plus, they’re just really pretty.”

“Definitely,” he said, nodding. “I’ll take a bouquet of those, then. When are you off?”

“In about ten minutes,” you replied, trying to contain your excitement at the thought of spending more time with him.

“Wanna get some ice cream after?” Heeseung asked, his tone casual but with an underlying hint of hope that made your heart leap.

“Ice cream sounds great,” you said, unable to hide your smile.

“Perfect. I’ve been craving something sweet since the game yesterday,” he laughed, running a hand through his hair.

You nodded, feeling your nerves fade as the idea of ice cream and time spent with Heeseung sank in. “We can go right after I finish up here. I’ll just wrap these up for you.”

As you moved to prepare his bouquet, the air felt charged with excitement. Maybe this was the chance you’d been waiting for to explore your feelings with him.

“Thanks for the recommendation,” Heeseung said, watching you intently as he gave you his card.

“Just doing my job,” you replied playfully, though the compliment made your cheeks warm. You carefully arranged the cherry blossoms into a beautiful bouquet, tying it off with a simple ribbon.

“Alright, all set!” you announced, handing it to him. “I hope she loves them.”

“I’m sure she will,” he said, taking the bouquet and flashing that charming smile of his before giving them to you. You try your best to hide your big smile at his cute gesture.

“Let’s get going then,” Heeseung said, motioning toward the door.

After clocking out, you stepped out into the warm afternoon, feeling a flutter of excitement at the prospect of ice cream and a chance to spend time with him. Maybe this was the perfect way to discover where your feelings could lead.

The ice cream shop buzzed with laughter and the sound of scoops hitting cones. The sunset streamed through the large windows, casting a warm glow over the pastel-colored walls.

Heeseung leaned against the counter as he waited for his mint chocolate chip ice cream, his brow slightly furrowed as he watched you asked for a cup with a swirl of chocolate and strawberry.

“You already got me flowers, you don’t have to pay for me,” you said, glancing over as he handed the cashier his card.

“I’m the one who invited you on this date, so I should pay for it,” Heeseung replied, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Thank you,” you said, your eyes softening.

As you both took a seat at a small table, the sun warming your skin, you couldn’t help but be distressed, the memory of last night swirling in your mind.

“Heeseung, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for bothering you about my feelings. I was confused, but I’m certain now.”

“Hey, you didn’t bother me,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “I should be the one apologizing. I kept teasing you about Sunghoon and actually helped to get you with him, but then tried to convince you to get with me. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” you replied, a hint of warmth in your cheeks. The memory of his playful jabs at your friendship with Sunghoon felt less burdensome now, more like a teasing lightness.

Heeseung took a deep breath, glancing around the shop as if searching for the right words. “Let’s save this conversation for later. We’re supposed to be enjoying ice cream, right?”

You chuckled, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. “Right. Ice cream first, feelings later.”

“Deal,” he said, his smile returning, a spark of mischief in his eyes. “I want to show you something at home. My mom went on a trip and doesn’t get back until tonight.”

Your eyes squint in uncertainty, “You’re making it sound like-“

“It’s not what you think,” he laughs, “I made sure to make it look clean this morning.”

You chuckle at your own ambiguous thoughts.

“But just so you know, I’m not letting this go. You owe me a proper discussion about your feelings.”

“Fair enough,” you replied, enjoying the banter.

—

You stepped through the grand double doors, your breath catching slightly at the sight before you. A crystal chandelier hung from the high ceiling, casting a soft glow on the modern art that adorned the walls. Your footsteps echoed softly as you followed Heeseung inside, feeling the weight of the place — the luxury and the quiet elegance.

Heeseung hadn’t said much since you arrived to his home, but there was an excitement in his eyes, an energy that made you curious.

"So," you said, breaking the silence, "what did you want to show me?"

He glanced at you with a half-smile, his fingers brushing against yours before he took your hand fully, his touch warm and steady. "Follow me," he said, his voice low, almost secretive, like he was leading you to something special.

You felt a flutter in your chest as you let him guide you to the back of his house. Eventually, he led you to a small archway, its intricate woodwork twisted into delicate, curling patterns.

The air felt cooler here, more peaceful, and as you stepped through it, your breath caught in your throat. It was a garden unlike anything you’d ever seen, a sprawling space filled with vibrant flowers in every color imaginable.

"Wow," you whispered, taking in the sight. "It’s beautiful."

He squeezed your hand gently, his eyes softening as he watched your reaction. "It’s a butterfly garden," he explained, his voice filled with something like reverence. "My dad had this built for my mom on their tenth anniversary."

The butterfly garden was a kaleidoscope of colors, delicate wings fluttering against the backdrop of lush greenery and blooming flowers. The air was filled with the sweet scent of blossoms and the soft rustle of leaves. You and Heeseung wandered along the winding paths, the sun filtering through the leaves and casting dappled light on the ground.

You turned to him, surprised by the tenderness in his words. "This is... incredible. I’ve never seen anything like this."

He nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Yeah. It’s been here ever since I was a kid. Every time I come here, it reminds me of them."

You glanced around, taking in the beauty of the garden — its winding paths, the quiet trickle of a small fountain in the corner, the vibrant flowers, and the butterflies that seemed to dance through the air, so effortlessly. It felt intimate, serene, like it held memories in the air itself.

"It’s perfect," you said softly, your gaze lingering on a butterfly that had landed on a nearby flower. "It’s like you can feel the love here."

He nodded, his fingers still holding yours, his gaze not leaving you. "Yeah. It’s a place where everything feels still. You know?"

He looked at you for a long beat, his expression soft but serious, as if weighing something important in his heart. Slowly, he stepped closer to you, the world around you fading into the background.

"It’s my favorite place in the world," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "When things get hard, I like to come here and escape from everything. I wanted to share it with you."

You felt your heart flutter at the words, the weight of his honesty settling in the space between you. This wasn’t just about a beautiful garden, it was about him trusting you with something deeply personal, something precious.

"I’m honored," you said quietly, looking into his eyes. "Thank you for showing me."

A gentle smile tugged at his lips, and for a moment, it was just the two of you in that sacred space — no words needed, just the quiet, steady beat of your hearts. As you stood there, hand in hand, surrounded by the butterflies, you knew this was a memory that would stay with you forever.

“So, Sunghoon confessed,” Heeseung spoke, glancing at you.

“Yes,” you replied, your voice slightly subdued. “It was so sudden and made me even more confused. He was sorry for leading me on and I didn’t expect for him to return his feelings even if I wanted him to, but I appreciated his confession and honesty.”

“Bringing me home last night was a good idea,” you continued. “I was being messy the entire night and before I went to sleep, I thought for a long time.”

You remembered how you’d spent hours thinking about your feelings, trying to make sense of everything.

“Earlier, you mentioned that you were certain,”Heeseung began, looking at you, his expression earnest. “I’m certain about my feelings too. I’m certain about you, so whatever you tell me, I won’t be mad. I know I was an ass getting in the way of your feelings for Sunghoon, but just please be honest, and I’ll figure it out and leave you alone.”

“I don’t want you to leave me alone,” you said softly, looking directly into his eyes.

“Heeseung, I like you,” you blurt out without hesitation. The words hung in the air between you, bright and clear, like the vibrant butterflies flitting around. “I was trying to win over Sunghoon, but you kept distracting me.” You let out a playful scoff, trying to lighten the moment.

“You made me really confused and it was annoying — but in a good way. After being around you and knowing what you’re going through, I started to care for you and wanted to be there for you. And when we kissed or when you’re simply around me, I couldn’t handle it. I’ve always wanted more but was too afraid to admit it.”

“I want more with you,“ You confess,” If you want more with me.”

Heeseung’s eyes widened slightly, surprise flashing across his face before a grin broke through. He stepped closer, the warm sun illuminating his features, “I do want more with you. I’ve been wanting to tell you for a long time, but obviously didn’t know if you felt the same.”

“I like you a lot… probably since our first kiss,” he laughed, a sound full of relief and joy, before leaning over, his forehead resting gently against yours. “If you give me a chance, I promise I will try my best to be good for you, because you deserve it. And even when things get complicated or messy or when shit gets in the way, I need you to know that I’m not going anywhere."

You swallowed hard, feeling your stomach flutter. His words were beautiful, something that was never said to you before.

“I know that especially for you, things will be hard but I’m not going anywhere either,” you promise.

Unable to think of anything else to say, you found yourself closing the distance between you and him. You reached up, your hand gently cupping the side of his face, feeling his warmth beneath your fingertips. His breath hitched, and his gaze softened.

Heeseung’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer, and you could feel the pulse of his heart beating in time with yours. You kissed many times but this one felt different, it was slow, tender, full of warmth and everything that had been unsaid between you for so long.

When you pulled back, you were both breathless, your foreheads resting together as you smiled.

“I’ve said this many times, but I want you, Hee.”

He nods and lets out an exhale, “You have me.”

Without thought, Heeseung led you upstairs. You both haven’t spoken yet, the desire of wanting each other too strong. The heavy wooden door swung open with a smooth, almost imperceptible motion, revealing a room that seemed more like something out of a dream than reality. Your eyes wide as you take in the sprawling space before you.

You reach out and pull Heeseung back in, kissing him fiercely desperate. You move before him, making him walk backwards until he’s sat on the edge of his bed.

When you released from his mouth and pulled back for air, Heeseung’s eyes were glowing, shifting between yours in silence. He knows exactly what you’re asking him.

“Can I?” You asked, eyes drawn upon the tent in his pants. He nods in approval, and slowly, you begin unbuttoning his jeans and kneeling before him.

Your fingers drag lightly against Heeseung’s hips before pulling his pants and underwear down.

As your breath hitches with the reveal of his cock that sprung free, you feel him studying you intently. Your eyes widened, he was thick and big, and you weren’t sure if he was going to fit.

“Are you sure you want to?” Heeseung asked.

You nod, “I want to make you feel good.”

Heeseung let out a small noise once you took hold of his cock and started stroking him slow. Then you guided it to your mouth, the taste of his pre-cum salty but sweet.

You watch his eyebrows pinch together as you lick a stripe up the underside of his cock and circle the head with your tongue without breaking eye contact.

“Oh, fuck baby,” his groan sounds strangled, almost pained. You continue to wrap your lips around the head, tongue teasing around it before tracing along the slit.

“Been wanting to feel your mouth,” Heeseung’s voice, shaky when he reverently admitted. “Please don’t tease me, you feel fucking good.”

You take his praise as motivation when you slowly sink your mouth down on Heeseung’s cock, swallowing the tip deeply into your throat, trying not to gag, and holding it there before bobbing your head and repeatedly continue the motion.

You didn’t want to stop after hearing the pretty whines and moans spilling out from him. Heeseung guides you a bit, holding onto your head and pushing it down so you can take him even deeper.

You felt his dick twitching as if he was almost there at release so you continue to move up and down, reminding yourself to breathe through your nose.

“Doing great baby,” he praises, “I think I’m close.”

Heeseung clutches onto his sheets with a hand as he grips your head tighter with the other. Your movements are getting faster, more frantic, you want him to let go already and spill in your mouth.

But he releases his grip and tries to stop you.

“Hold on, I don’t want to cum yet,” Heeseung brought a hand down to cup your face, his thumb tracing where your lips stretched around his length.

“I want to cum while I’m inside you,” he says.

You pulled off of Heeseung with a pop, an eager look in your eyes as he brought you towards him so that you’re straddling him.

“Thank you, that felt amazing,” he brought both hands back to your face, cupping your cheeks. Heeseung leans towards you and kisses you again, taking his time to savor it as he tastes himself.

He nips at your bottom lip, running the tip of his tongue alongside the edge of your mouth. You melt against him, responding in kind.

Heeseung lifts you, turning both of you around until your body is placed gently on his bed. He hooks his fingers through the elastic of your waistband and then slides down your pants and panties, leaving you naked from the waist down. You’re uncomfortably wet, all from getting a taste of him.

He pauses for a second just to admire you with a soft look in his eyes before glancing back at you, and your heart starts pounding intensely in your chest. You’re suddenly nervous, but desperate to feel him in every single way.

As you lie there on his bed, you’re unable to take your eyes away from him. Heeseung leans down to place a soft kiss on your hip bone before starting to undress, wanting to be completely naked, and you follow his lead.

Heeseung kisses your neck and drags his mouth down to your bare breast, then your stomach. He pauses for a moment before ducking down, and suddenly his mouth is on your cunt, leaving a kiss. His breath and mouth warm, wet, and, fuck, he hasn’t done anything yet but it feels amazing.

You feel him placing a hand flat against your stomach, strong and steady, keeping you still as his tongue begins to slip in and out of you.

“Heeseung,” you breathed, hands immediately darting out to grab the sheets on either side, fabric clenched between your fingers as you felt his tongue confidently lapping up and down your cunt.

“Fuck… shit, fuck,” Your words came out in soft mumbles as you screwed your eyes shut, feeling Heeseung nudging your clit with his sharp nose.

He sucks rapidly and noisily, and his grip around your thighs tightened when your hand traveled down to tangle amongst his messy locks, tugging in appreciation as his tongue rolled against your clit in circles.

You felt him let out a moan against you, which makes your vision blurry and your core clench tight — you felt yourself close.

“I’m- gonna-”

Your fingers grasp his hair tighter, and you desperately pull him closer once you come undone on his tongue. Your legs tightened around him, hips started bucking wildly which made it hard for him to stay in place.

Heeseung pressed soft kisses along your inner thighs, watching you relax under his touch. He waited a few moments until your eyes met his own, the sight was something that you wished to engrave forever.

He was too pretty, too cute. His cheeks were flushed, eyes glossy — bambi eyes glowing. You were lucky to see him like this.

“Was that okay?” Heeseung broke the silence.

You nod, trying to steady your breathing, “It was perfect.”

“I want you inside me now, Hee.”

Heeseung felt the same way, wanting to be inside you. He pressed his lips against yours before a small smirk formed.

He reached to the dresser next to his bed and opened the drawer to find a foil packet. You left a watchful gaze as Heeseung opened the packet and slowly slid the condom onto his cock, pumping it a few times until he was shifting his hips.

He began to line it up his cock with your entrance and sliding his head along your soaking slit a few times for full preparation.

“Tell me if it hurts okay?” He murmured. He takes it slow, stretching you out and allowing you to get used to the feel of him, while carefully searching for any discomfort on your face.

The feeling was unexpected, due to his girth and size. But you nodded your head and kissed him, giving him the approval to bottom you out. Heeseung didn’t expect you to feel so tight around him. Your cunt clenching his cock so perfectly that he could have sworn that he came already.

“Baby-“ he gulped. “I don’t think I’ll last,” he lets out a chuckle mixed with a soft whine.

“Me neither,” you breathlessly laugh in response.

“I’m going to move now.”

You felt Heeseung begin to roll his hips, starting a rhythm, settling a hand at your neck. All it takes is a nod and mumble of the words, “Go faster,” from you for him to pick up his pace. You don’t have too much difficulty matching it, and soon, your hips meet messily and erratically. The pace is fast and the feeling indescribable.

“Hee,” You moan out, “Just like that-“

One of your hands unintentionally makes a mess of his back, nails scratching when he snaps his hips and hits your deep spot, and Heeseung’s brows furrow at the feeling.

"Oh my fucking god," you felt the his breath against your ear as he groaned out. You were approaching your high and Heeseung can feel it too.

You continue rocking your hips back and forth, matching his rhythm while biting down on your bottom lip to try to stop the sound that's trying to escape from your throat. "Heeseung," you finally let out a whine, "I'm so fucking close."

"I know," he felt your walls clamp around him, watching your face scrunch up, unable to hold it in any longer.

His rhythm gradually gets faster, and you feel him get deeper causing you to clench even more tightly to the point where you start digging onto his shoulder with your fingertips.

"You can cum now," he grunts while bucking up his hips. Just from your face alone, he notices how much you want to let go. He removed hair out of your face before placing a sweet kiss on your lips.

"Go ahead, my love," he whispered.

You feel yourself let go and your body spasming. He carries you through your orgasm with small shallow thrusts until he follows, eventually releasing himself into the condom.

The condom gets thrown in the trash and Heeseung grabs a towel from his bathroom. He cleans you up, and you watch with a smile on your face. Heeseung rejoins you, pulling you into his arms under the covers. You curl up into him, feeling relaxed and happy in his embrace.

“What are we?” You ask, unsure of the new status between you two.

“We can be whatever you want to be,” he kisses the top of your head, “But I want you to be mine.”

“Well, before we officially become boyfriend and girlfriend,” you began, hesitating slightly, “I want to know more about you. I want to know what goes on other than basketball and partying. I just want to know about Heeseung.”

Heeseung raised an eyebrow, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. “You’re asking a lot. But I want to know everything about you too. We can start tomorrow. Let me take you out on a date.”

“Another date? I’d love that.” A flutter of excitement stirred in your chest, but reality pulled you back.

“I want to stay here forever and I don’t want to leave yet, but I promised my parents that I’ll be home by 8.”

“Okay, let’s get ready. I’ll drop you off,” he said, his tone shifting to one of determination.

You shook your head, a playful frown on your face. “No, don’t worry. I know your mom is coming home soon, so- so just let one of your drivers take me home.”

Heeseung sighed, running a hand through his hair, a mixture of frustration and understanding. “I don’t like the idea of you going home alone. Just let me drop you off. I promise I’ll have you back before my mom comes.”

You could see the concern on his face, and it made your heart swell. “Heeseung, I’ll be fine. I appreciate it, really. But I think it’s better this way.”

“Fine,” he relented, but his expression remained serious. “But we’re definitely going on that date tomorrow. No arguments.”

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you at his insistence. “Okay, it’s a date.”

—

”This is Seojoon,” Heeseung said, his voice casual but with a hint of authority. "He’ll be driving you tonight."

Seojoon gave you a polite nod, his eyes steady and respectful. “Miss,” he greeted, his voice smooth and professional, with just the right amount of warmth to make you feel at ease.

You gave a smile, feeling a little out of place in such a world of luxury, but his quiet confidence made you relax. “Hi, Seojoon. It’s nice to meet you.”

He opened the door to the waiting car, a sleek black luxury vehicle that looked like it could glide on air.

Heeseung’s hand rested briefly on your shoulder, his fingers warm. “I’m looking forward to tomorrow and everyday with you,” he leaned closer, his voice low and sincere. ”I want to know everything about you too, and I promise to share more than just basketball and partying.”

The moment lingered, the air thick with unspoken promises and the thrill of what was to come. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” you said, giving him a kiss on his lips before getting inside the car.

“Call me when you get home,” he replied, his smile brightening as he closed the door.

On your way home, the world outside was still buzzing, but the night felt different now — calmer, and more intimate especially after the day with Heeseung.

You felt happy.

—

As soon as Heeseung returns inside, a sharp voice sliced through the warmth of the moment.

“Who’s that? You never bring anyone home,” his mother demanded, her eyes narrowing at him.

Heeseung straightened, determination flashing in his gaze. “She’s my girlfriend— well, soon to be. But I like her a lot, and she’s special.”

His mother’s expression darkened, her voice dropping to a more serious tone. “Heeseung, we cannot allow this.”

“Who’s ‘we’?” Heeseung shot back, a hint of defiance creeping into his voice.

“Me. The company. Our family,” she replied, crossing her arms, a look of disapproval etched on her features.

“But, Mother, she’s the first girl to make me feel this way. I’m actually really happy.”

His mother sighed, her expression softening for just a moment before steeling again. “Heeseung, we already had this conversation a long time ago. And I don’t want to have to have it again.”

Heeseung’s eyes bore into his mother’s, a mix of frustration and desperation. “Can’t you just try to understand?” he pressed. “I know what our family’s expectations are, but she makes me feel like I can be myself. Isn’t that what you want for me?”

His mother hesitated, her facade cracking slightly. “You know how things are in our world, Heeseung. It’s not just about feelings. There are expectations-”

“Expectations that make me miserable!” he interrupted, his voice rising. “I’m not asking you to approve of her right now, but I need you to at least try to see why I like her.”

“I need time to think about this,” she said, a reluctant sigh escaping her lips.

“Then time is all I’m asking for,” Heeseung replied, his voice firm but gentle.

As the air slowly eased, Heeseung gave a glance with a mixture of hope and apprehension.

—

hee: can’t wait to see you, my love

hee: wear something warm :)

The next day was your and Heeseung’s date. He texted you that he was going to take you to a park that had pretty cherry blossoms, which is something you’ve wanted to do for so long.

As Heeseung stood at your front door, the afternoon air thick with anticipation. The soft glow of porch lights cast a warm hue over the two of you, and the world around felt still, as if it were holding its breath.

“Hey, you look cute in your scarf,” you giggle. “Is everything okay?” you asked, your brow furrowing slightly at the uncomfortable look in his eyes.

“Yes- no,” he replied, a mix of frustration and longing evident in his voice. He stepped closer, his gaze intense. “I just want to kiss you. I missed you.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his confession, feeling warmth bloom in your chest before leaning in to kiss him. “I missed you too, Hee.”

Heeseung hesitated for a moment, his hands fidgeting at his sides.

“What’s wrong?” your tone shifted, concern creeping into his words.

“I don’t want to waste any more time,” he admitted. “I know you said we shouldn’t rush into being official, but I just want to be yours already.”

Your eyes widened, the spark of surprise quickly morphing into determination.

“Can I be your boyfriend?” he asked, his voice steady yet filled with an undercurrent of hope.

“Yes, Heeseung, you can be my boyfriend,” you replied, your words tumbling out with an undeniable certainty.

A grin broke across his face, and in that moment, all the uncertainty from the past few days melted away. He stepped closer, the distance between you shrinking until he cupped your face in his hands.

“Really? You mean it?”

“Of course,” you said, smiling widely.

Heeseung leaned in, closing the gap, and pressed his lips against yours. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, but it quickly deepened as the warmth of his mouth sent a thrill through you. You melted into him, feeling his hands move to your waist, pulling you closer as if he were afraid to let go.

When he finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, foreheads resting against each other. With a renewed sense of excitement and belonging, you took his hand, intertwining your fingers. The future for you suddenly felt bright and full of possibilities.

As for Heeseung, he knew that whatever the future held, it was just the beginning of something even more complicated and uncertain.

But he knew that everything would be okay as long as he had you in his world.

—

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[d-z20]

The Agent Next Door (18+, NSFW)

Pairing: Agent Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: You don't really talk to your (extremely attractive) neighbour, Rio Vidal, until one day an accident leads to you staying at her apartment for a couple of days. And an awkward encounter results in having your fantasy come true. -OR- Rio finds you injured after you slipped and fell out the shower and decides to look after you (non-magic AU)

Warnings: Blood, small injury, fluff, smut, fingering (R receiving), oral (R receiving)

Words: 3.4k

A/N: Just wanted to write a bit of Rio caring for reader and well then it turned into smut and I have no regrets. Also I have their whole relationship arc in my head now lol

Read it on AO3

Rio Vidal is your neighbour. You've noticed her plenty of times before—a striking woman with a sharp, confident look that's hard to ignore. You live in the same apartment building, just across the hall from one another. Most days, your interactions are limited to polite smiles and brief chats in the elevator, her dark suit and badge often catching your eye. You've heard her phone buzz with work calls that end with her curt, professional voice. It's obvious she's someone important—serious and dedicated. You've pieced together that she's an FBI agent, but beyond that, you don't know much about her.

You can't deny that you're drawn to her, though. There's something about the way she carries herself—all self-assured and enigmatic. You've caught yourself staring a few times, your heart skipping a beat when she looks back and flashes a rare, amused smile. It's not just her looks—it's the way she moves, the air of mystery she carries, like she's seen things you could only imagine. It makes you nervous, but at the same time, you can't help but look forward to those fleeting moments when your paths cross.

One morning, your shower decides to betray you—your hot water cuts out just as you put your head under. You let out a bloodcurdling scream, quickly trying to jump out of the shower. Unfortunately for you, your foot slips on the hard floor, and you come crashing down, hitting your head on the sink, landing with a very loud thud. Dazed and confused, you are unsure if you passed out for a second there or not, but either way your head is killing you. 

"Fucking brilliant," you mutter to yourself, draping an arm across your eyes to shield them from the light.

At that moment, you heard your front door slamming open and hurried footsteps searching your apartment. You had just about enough sense to yank your towel off the hook and cover up your naked body.

"Y/N?" called a voice just outside the bathroom door.

Shit. It was Rio. You wished the ground would just swallow you up.

"Are you okay? I heard you scream, and then I heard something shatter." You could hear the genuine concern in her voice.

Lifting your head slightly, you noticed the shards of glass from what used to be your bathroom shelf, surrounding you. All you could do was let out a groan and close your eyes at this new development of what was turning out to be the worst morning of your life so far.

This was a bad choice, as a split second later, Rio barged into your bathroom.

"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" Your neighbour teased, but you could hear the relief in her voice. She moved further into the room, assessing the damage. "Not to ruin such a perfect morning for you, but I might have broken your door getting in here." 

You open your eyes, blinking up at her. Taking her in, you noticed she was wearing a cropped baggy tank top and gym shorts. You blink up at her again, and your head throbs with each beat of your pulse, the pain radiating down your neck. You're still dazed, trying to process how you ended up sprawled on the cold bathroom floor with your FBI agent neighbour standing over you. Rio's sharp eyes take in your silence, concern clouding the playful smirk she'd worn just moments before.

"Hey," she says, voice softer now, as she crouches down beside you. She reaches out, fingertips gently brushing your cheek to turn your face towards her. "Y/N, can you hear me? Do you know who I am?"

You swallow, trying to focus. Her touch is surprisingly tender, a stark contrast to her usual no-nonsense demeanour. You nod slightly, the movement making your head spin. "Rio," you manage to croak out. "Neighbour, FBI agent. And, apparently, a door kicker."

She huffs a laugh, a brief flicker of relief crossing her face. "Good. That's a start. I don't usually make a habit of barging into people's bathrooms uninvited, but I heard that scream, and... well, I'm glad I did." Her eyes drop down to your arm, where blood seeps from a jagged cut. She curses under her breath, her grip on your shoulder tightening just slightly. "You're bleeding. We need to get you cleaned up."

You glance down at your arm, wincing at the sight of blood trickling down to your hand. "I really know how to make an impression, huh?"

Rio shakes her head, lips pressed together in a tight line. "Let's save the jokes until you're not covered in glass, yeah?" Without another word, she slips an arm under your shoulders, helping you sit up. The world tilts slightly, but her hold on you is firm, steadying you as you get your bearings.

"You're going to have to trust me for a minute," she tells you softly. "Can you stand?"

"Maybe," you say, though you're not entirely sure. She helps you up, careful not to jostle your injured arm, and you try to ignore the heat of her skin against yours, the way her fingers dig into your side just enough to ground you.

Rio's eyes dart around the room, quickly assessing the mess of broken glass and water pooling on the floor. "Alright," she says decisively. "I'm taking you back to my place. We'll patch you up there. Your shower is out of commission, and I don't trust that you won't take another tumble if I leave you alone here."

You don't have the energy to argue, so you just nod, letting her guide you out of the bathroom. The two of you make it to the hallway, but not before she grabs a spare towel and wraps it around you more securely. Her movements are quick and efficient, but there's a gentleness to them that surprises you. It's a side of Rio you've never seen before—one that's patient and caring, not just the tough, sarcastic woman you've exchanged pleasantries with in passing.

As you step into her apartment, you notice it's much more personal than you'd imagined. There are framed photos on the walls—nothing too sentimental, mostly candid shots of places she's travelled to, city skylines, and sunsets. Her living room is cosy, with a worn leather couch and a small stack of books piled on the coffee table.

"Sit," she instructs, pointing to the couch. You sink down into it, feeling strangely out of place but oddly comfortable. Rio disappears into the bathroom for a moment, returning with a first aid kit. She kneels in front of you, carefully prying your hand away from your arm.

"This is going to sting," she warns, pulling out an antiseptic wipe. You flinch as she cleans the cut, her brows knitting together in concentration. "Sorry," she mutters. "I'm used to dealing with criminals and suspects, not clumsy neighbours."

"Criminals don't trip in the shower much?" you quip, trying for humour despite the pain. It earns you a small smile from Rio, her eyes flicking up to meet yours.

"Not usually, no. Though I'll admit you're far more entertaining." Her voice softens again, the smirk fading as she wraps a bandage around your arm. "You scared me for a second there, you know."

The confession catches you off guard. "I did? you ask, watching her face as she finishes tying off the bandage.

She doesn't look up, her focus still on your arm. "Yeah," she says quietly. "I thought something bad had happened. Guess I care more about my neighbour than I realised."

Your heart skips a beat, the words hanging in the air between you. It's the first real admission of anything beyond casual friendliness, and it leaves you breathless. You're about to say something—anything—but Rio stands up, offering her hand to you.

"Come on," she says. "Let's get you some proper clothes and maybe a coffee. You can stay here until we sort out your door and shower."

Rio's grip on your hand is firm as she helps you up, her expression still hovering somewhere between concern and her usual, dry amusement. You follow her into the kitchen, and she releases you, motioning for you to sit at the table. It feels strange being here, in her space, especially after the chaos of your morning. She pulls out a chair for you with a slight roll of her eyes, as if it's absurd that you'd even try to resist her instruction.

"I don't have any shifts for the next two days," she announces, moving towards the coffee maker without glancing back at you. "And considering you might've blacked out for a second back there, I'm not letting you out of my sight. So, you're staying with me, here, until you're back on your feet properly."

You open your mouth to argue, but the look she throws over her shoulder silences you. It's one part worry and two parts something else—something softer, almost protective.

"I can manage," you say, but your voice lacks conviction, especially as you rub your throbbing arm. The bandage is already starting to bleed through a bit. Rio's eyes narrow at the sight, and she steps closer, prodding your arm gently.

"Yeah, you're doing a great job," she says dryly, then nods to herself. "You're staying here."

"Fine," you sigh, though part of you feels a flutter of something—relief, maybe, or the thrill of being looked after by someone like Rio. "But I can sleep on the couch. I don't want to kick you out of your bed."

Rio's lips twitch into a smirk. "I'm not letting you take the couch. You've already proven that you're a danger to yourself in any situation that involves standing up."

You can't help but laugh, despite everything. "So, what, we share your bed?"

She raises an eyebrow, as if daring you to challenge her. "It's a queen size. I think we can manage. Unless you've suddenly developed a fear of co-sleeping?"

The thought of sharing a bed with her sends a rush of heat through you, but you try to play it off with a shrug. "As long as you don't hog the covers."

"I'll do my best," she says, the smirk widening.

-

The first night is awkward, as expected. You lie stiffly on one side of the bed, while Rio takes the other, the space between you feeling like a chasm despite the closeness. She's warm though, and you can feel the heat radiating from her body and the subtle scent of her shampoo filling your senses. It's both comforting and maddening, making it hard to fall asleep. Your hyper-aware of every shift she makes, every time her arm brushes against yours. At some point, she turns onto her side, facing you, and you feel her eyes on you in the dark.

"You still awake?" she whispers.

"Yeah," you reply, swallowing hard.

There's a pause, then you feel her hand brush against yours. It's light, almost as if by accident, but when you don't pull away, she leaves it there, her fingers barely touching yours.

"Try to get some sleep," she murmurs. "You need to rest."

"Alright," you say, voice hoarse, and somehow, with her so close, you finally drift off.

Over the next day and a half, the tension between you shifts, It's subtle at first—small, lingering glances from Rio that last a bit too long, the brush of her fingers against your back when she helps you into the kitchen. Her sarcasm returns, but there's a flirtatious edge to it now, like she's testing the waters.

"You're really milking this injury, aren't you?" She teases, handing you your drink to have with the pizza she bought for dinner. "You'd think you broke your entire body, the way you're lounging around."

"Hey," you protest, setting the drink down. "You're the one who insisted I stay. Don't blame me for enjoying the hospitality."

She leans against the counter, arms crossed, a grin tugging at her lips. "Oh, I'm well aware. But don't get too comfortable with me waiting on you hand and foot—I've got to go back to work tomorrow.

-

That night, the atmosphere between you shifts even more. When you climb into bed besides Rio, there's no hesitation this time. She turns towards you almost immediately, her hand resting lightly on your hip as if it's the most natural thing in the world. You can feel the heat of her body through the thin fabric of your shirt, her breath warm against the back of your neck. It's a small touch, nothing too bold, but it feels significant—an unspoken acknowledgement of everything simmering between you two. You fall asleep like that, closer than before, your fingers unconsciously brushing hers under the covers.

When you wake up, she's already dressed for the day, leaning over you with a mug of coffee in hand. She sets it down on the nightstand with a playful smile. "Morning sweetheart," she says, her voice laced with that familiar teasing tone, but there's a softness to it now. "Try not to do anything risky while I'm gone, yeah? I don't want to come back to find you've taken a tumble without me here to save the day."

You laugh, reaching for the coffee, but there's a flutter in your chest at the pet name, even if she means it jokingly. "I'll do my best," you say. "But no promises."

She smirks, leaning down just enough to press a light kiss to your forehead. "Good. I'll be back later. Make yourself at home."

You do. The rest of the day passes in a strangely pleasant haze, and you find yourself enjoying the small comforts of her apartment. It's quiet without her, but there's a sense of ease you haven't felt in a long time, like you truly belong here. You find yourself smiling for no reason, touching the small trinkets on her shelves, running your fingers over the soft throw blankets she has draped across the couch.

By the time you decide to take a shower, you're feeling entirely too content. You strip down, stepping under the hot spray with a sigh. That's when your thoughts drift back to Rio—how she looked last night, half-asleep and tousled, her arm draped over your waist, her expression unguarded in a way you'd never seen before.

Your thoughts turn to fantasy almost unbidden. You imagine her joining you in the shower, pressing you back against the cold tiles, her hands sliding down your wet skin. You can almost feel it—the heat of her breath on your neck, the firmness of her body against yours. You start to move your hand towards your aching clit, letting out a quiet, shuddering moan, lost in the fantasy of what it would be like to kiss her and have her hands on you.

You don't hear the bathroom door open, but suddenly, you hear her voice—low and amused. "You sure you're okay in here? Didn't have another fall, did you?"

You freeze, eyes snapping open. You can barely see her through the steam, but she's there, standing just outside the shower curtain, and you realise with a jolt that she must have heard you. You heart slams against your ribs as the curtain slides back just a little, and Rio steps inside completely naked, her smirk evident even through the haze.

"I really just can't trust you not to injure yourself while showering, can I?" she says, voice teasing but thick with something else—desire, maybe. Her eyes travel down your body, lingering in a way that sends a shiver through you.

"Rio," you breathe out, half a warning, half a plea.

She steps closer, crowding you against the wall, her hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck. "You know," she murmurs, her lips so close to yours now that you can feel the brush of them with every word. "I think you've been waiting for me to do this."

And then she kisses you, slow and heated, like she's been thinking about this just as much as you have. Her mouth is soft but insistent, coaxing a response from you until you melt into her, hands tangling in her hair as you kiss her back just as eagerly. The steam from the shower mixes with the heat between you, the world narrowing down to just the two of you.

When she finally pulls back, both of you are breathing hard, her forehead resting against yours. "I knew it," she whispers, her voice laced with satisfaction. "You've been wanting this so badly, haven't you?"

You nod, swallowing thickly. "Yeah," you admit, barely louder than a whisper. "I have."

She grins, tugging you closer until you're pressed against her, chest to chest. "Good," she says, leaning in to kiss you again, deeper this time. "Because I've been wanting it too."

And with that, she shoves you against the wall. Hard. She's kissing you all over, igniting the skin where each one lands. She nips and sucks at your neck, finding where you're most sensitive. A moan escapes your lips, and you buck your hips, trying to get any kind of friction against your core. For a brief moment, you start to get embarrassed, but then one of Rio's hands finds its way between your legs. She dips a finger between your lips and hums at how wet you already are for her.

Looking directly into your eyes, silently telling you to keep her gaze, she lowers herself to suck on one of your tits, tongue swirling around your nipple, making it harden quickly. The hand not on your clit, starts to pinch your other nipple, pulling another loud guttural moan from you. 

Working her mouth down your torso, marking up your body as she goes, Rio sinks to her knees, her face now directly opposite your dripping cunt, eyes still locked on yours.

Her hands deftly grip your hips, steadying you against the wall. "You've got to promise me you're not going to fall again, sweetheart," she all but growls, the arousal evident in her voice.

You nod your head, but it wasn't enough for the woman, who digs her nails into your skin where she's holding you. "Ye-Yes. I promise."

That was all Rio needs before she starts to drag her tongue through your folds. Switching between broad licks along the length between your entrance and your clit, and firmer, more purposeful circles over your bundle of nerves.

You feel dizzy, but you know it has nothing to do with your concussion and everything to do with the woman kneeling between your legs. Despite your head spinning, you manage to bring your hands down to tangle in Rio's hair, pushing her harder into you. You need more.

She moans against you, clearly enjoying how turned on you are. The vibration from the moan goes straight to your core, and you nearly cum just from that. Sensing you're close, Rio pushes two fingers inside you, causing you to curse her name inbetween moans.

You feel her chuckle and then start fucking you more vigorously. "I want to hear you, baby. I want the whole floor to hear you moan my name," she says, momentarily pulling away from your pussy. You can't help but oblige as she starts to curl her fingers, resuming her licking and sucking.

With her fingers curling inside you like that, it isn't long before you climax, legs shaking, coming hard over her fingers and tongue. Rio helps you through the end of your orgasm, making sure to hold you up as you come back down. 

"Okay, darling, I think we need to sit you down before you lose another fight with gravity," Rio smirks. You can't help but agree; your knees feel very weak and it's taking all of your concentration to stay upright.

"Oh, by the way, I bumped into the maintenance guys on my way in," Rio says lightly, helping you out of the shower. "And they said that your door isn't getting fixed for at least another week. So, it looks like you'll have me to help you shower for a little while longer." Winking, she drags you to her bed, determined to continue what she had just started

[bontentrio]

ATEEZ GETTING OUT OF THE FRIENDZONE

san x gn reader + mingi x gn reader (separated)

part 2 to ateez stuck in the friendzone! read that part so this makes sense

tw: slow burn + veeery dramatic + angst + fluff

a/n: both have the slowestttt slow burns in history of friends to lovers omg my heart did kinda break a little while writing them lol so keep in mind that both are VERY dramatic. maybe even cliche but honestly i just wrote what i, personally, enjoy reading. i’m just a girl in love with love 🥹

masterlist

SAN

san found himself attempting to hide his smile while you told him about your awful date from a few days ago. you were laying down with your head on his lap as san casually untangled strands of your hair, while you rambled on and on about the misfortunes he secretly thought were fortunes in disguise.

“who talks about their mother on the first date? like the whole time i mean, of course it’s okay to mention one or two things following the context of the conversation” you said, moving your hands dramatically to prove your point “but the whole time? i tried to switch the topic of the conversation towards work and can you believe he told me about what his mother does for a living before telling me what HE does for HIS?”

san couldn’t help but let out a loud laugh. you were so cute and he was so happy and relieved that the date had failed.

“he should go to therapy” he said, in between giggles. “right?! sigmund freud would have been thrilled to have him as a patient” you exclaimed, laughing too.

after a few moments of cracking jokes and laughing about the situation, you turned your head to face san. “so what about you?” you asked. he looked down at you, smile on his face still. “what about me?”

“have you gone on dates lately?” you asked. he threw his head back, shaking it slightly “with what time? i’m too busy with schedules” he answered, half lying. it’s true that he’s very busy with his idol duties, but he always managed to make time for you. he knows he could easily use up that time to go on dates, but for obvious reasons that you still were ignorant to, he didn’t. to you, he was just an introvert.

“but are you not interested in anyone?” you pushed, lifting your head and sitting up to face him properly. san chose to avoid your eyes, not trusting himself to keep his own secret. instead, he looked to the city on his right, suddenly finding the building architectures more interesting. he noticed that the air in the terrace got warmer too, and the concrete platform you were sitting on got harder. or was he the one that got warmer and stiffer? “no, i don’t think so” he lied, but you knew him enough to see through it. “liar, you’re blushing”

“well it is an intimate question” he answered, attempting to smile in order to play it off. you shook your head no “you blushed and your left eye twitched a bit. that was definitely a lie and as your best friend i want to know!” you exclaimed, grabbing his hands. if only you knew the effect you had on him.

when he came back from tour, he was determined to confess. but now that the perfect opportunity arose, he couldn’t open his mouth. questions and different negative scenarios plagued his mind, convincing him that maybe it was a bad idea. he much rather work on moving on than lose you as a friend.

“are they that special to you?” you asked, in a much quieter tone of voice, noticing his silence. he nodded, staring at your eyes, hoping you could notice the love they held whenever he looked at you. but despite his desperation, you didn’t. “they are very lucky then, you genuinely are amazing in every aspect sannie”. you continued, going back to your original place with your head on his lap, but still holding his hands. he kept staring at you, if only you knew.

“thank you” san managed to say.

———

“how fast can you come over to help me with something?” you asked san on the phone, as he exited the practice room. it was like the stars aligned, because he had just finished for the day. “i can come over right now, are you okay?” he asked, worried something may be wrong despite you sounding relatively okay. “i can’t pick an outfit and- shit my aunt his calling me, invite yourself in when you arrive, i’m in my room and you already know the lock number of the door” you said, before hanging up.

outfit for what?

———

so that’s how san found himself sitting on your bed on a friday night, numerous pieces of clothing scattered all over without care. he scrolled through some unread messages while he waited for you to try on a different outfit for your new date. yes, new date. as if his heart haven’t just healed from last time.

“i matched with someone on this app and they immediately invited me on a date so now i’m having a fashion crisis” you had explained to him as soon as he entered your room. why was it so hard for you to realize that your dates have been failing for a reason?

you appeared once again, now wearing an outfit that honestly took san’s breath away as soon as his eyes landed on your figure. it was nothing too extravagant, actually, it was rather simple, but it was enough to make san’s head spiral. specially when you twirled around to show the outfit from the back, since your shirt had an open back.

“so? what do we think?” you asked, eyes filled with hope.

san was conflicted: he was 100% sure he has never seen anyone look more beautiful, more dashing, more perfect. but, it wasn’t for him. he didn’t want anyone else to look at you like that, they would never come remotely close to the way he feels about you.

“san-?” you started to ask after a few seconds of silence, but got interrupted by him: “don’t go on that date”

you looked at him confused, as he stared back with the same surprised face. that really had slipped from his lips before he realized what he was saying. you fucked up big time san, he thought to himself.

“why? do i really look that bad?” you asked, turning around to face the mirror in order to examine your body and face. he noticed the way your eyes dimmed, as you carefully traced your eyes over your figure, finding little imperfections that made your face turn into a sad frown. san felt his own heart shatter at the sight, and before he knew, he stood up and quickly hugged you from behind, hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

“sannie?” you asked, startled by his sudden action and making you momentarily forget about the insecurities that started flooding your mind. you looked at him through the mirror: even if he was leaning down on you, he was still much wider, making you feel very small in his arms. unconsciously, you lifted your hand and patted his hair. san lifted his head, looking at you through the mirror as well, and your eyes interlocked.

“you’re perfect y/n” he whispered. “i’m sorry if i gave you the wrong idea, you look beautiful and your date is very lucky”. he was trying to be supportive, but traces of sadness and desperation were evident in his face. enough for you to notice. you turned around, and the same hand that was patting his head went down to his cheek, holding him in place to look at you.

“what’s wrong san?” you asked, softly. your thumb traced comforting circles on his cheek, and you could feel his arms tighten around you as he closed his eyes.

“go on that date” he whispered in a shaky voice, before adding “you look beautiful”.

you stared at him confused for a few moments, not really knowing what to say. then, he kissed your forehead and, with the little bit of strenght he had left in him, unwrapped his arms, stepping back. he grabbed his jacket and went to the door, but not before shooting you another sad look and saying “like i said, your date is very lucky”.

he left, heart in his hands, slowly breaking with each step.

you cancelled the date.

———

san couldn’t sleep that night, he kept tossing and turning as his mind wandered about what you were doing with your date. were you still having dinner? no, probably not since it’s like 2 am. maybe it went so well that you invited them over for coffee at your place, something that will probably lead to something else. something he didn’t even want to imagine, since it wasn’t him committing those sins.

maybe it was time to move on, after all. he wants you to be happy, truly, so if your happiness doesn’t include him, then he should at least be supportive. and in order to do that from the bottom of his heart, he should move-

*knock knock knock* he heard, coming from the door. he decided to ignore it, thinking that it was probably mingi, so he turned around and closed his eyes, pretending he was asleep.

“maybe he’s asleep, i should come back tomorrow but thank you soenghwa” he heard you say from behind the door. he never got out of bed faster, as he sprinted to the door and opened it widely.

there you stood, now dressed in a familiar oversized shirt and baggy pants. completely different from the outfit he last saw you on, but to him you still looked beautiful. you looked at him with wide eyes, as seonghwa smirked next to you.

“i’ll leave you alone” he said, before he made his way to his room and shut the door behind him.

you stood there awkwardly, avoiding his eyes. you came here with a question, but now that you had san right in front of you, thoughts were scattered all over your mind and you couldn’t say a word.

“come in” he said, sensing your internal dilemma. you nodded in response, as you entered and made your way to his unmade bed.

“did i wake you up?” you asked. san shut the door and shook his head “actually i couldn’t sleep”

“me neither” you said in a low voice.

“how was your date?” he asked, unsure of what to say. he sat next to you on the bed, looking at you while trying to decipher your expression. you turned your head to san’s bedside table, finding the small plushie you once gifted him randomly. you smiled. “i cancelled it”

“what? why?!” he asked, with surprised wide eyes. you turned back to him. “i suddenly didn’t want to go, that’s it really. so while i was tidying up my room i found this shirt” you said, fiddling with the ends of the shirt that looked a little too big on you “the one you once lent me after we got stuck in the rain that one time. i told you i would wash it and give it back, but i didn’t. why didn’t i give it back to you?”

san stared at you in silence.

“so i realized it still had your perfume, and before i knew it, i had put it on. then i started thinking about you, about us. you’re my best friend, you know? but as i was laying down on my bed, i was thinking: what if you were not? what if my dates always failed for a reason?” you continued, as your fingers reached for his. “what if the reason they always failed was because i always searched you in them? so again, before i realized i was standing in front of your apartment, but with one question in my mind”

san could feel his heart beat increase and his breath shorten.

“what will happen to us and our friendship if i told you how i feel? how i think i always felt even if i didn’t know it?” you asked, looking at him scared.

“you’re dumb” he said, loud enough for only you to hear. that didn’t surprise you, what did was the way he immediately let go of your hand in order to hug you close, bringing you closer to his body. “what will happen? how would i feel? y/n you’re dumb because that’s how i’ve been feeling for a long time now” he said, hands leaving your waist and craddling your face. san stared at you, and now you realized that his eyes looked different: they held love in them. something you always searched on random people in dating apps, yet were never able to find. instead, it has been right in front of you this whole time.

“i love you” he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours. finally, he thought. he finally said the words he has been keeping locked deeply inside him for years. you smiled, as your nose touched his. “i love you too, i’m sorry i just realized”

maybe it was time to give you the silver necklace he bought you on tour, since now the timing was right.

MINGI

mingi missed you, a lot. he hadn’t heard from you since you stormed out of his house a week and a half ago. he had left you a couple of texts apologizing, and even attempted calling you, but to no avail. you had disappeared, and he didn’t blame you, he was stupid enough to let you go. in fact, that’s the thing he regretted the most about the fight: not chasing after you.

so he did what he knew best: he took his misery and transformed it into work, to be precise, he wrote three songs, all about his feelings, the situation in itself and you.

three different scenarios that made him hear yunho’s voice calling him dramatic in his mind. to be honest, he knew he was being a little dramatic about the situation. he knew that you probably just needed time to cool down, and that if his apology was good enough you would forgive him in a heart beat, because, in the end, he knew you loved him. maybe not in the way he wished for, but you loved him nonetheless.

mingi stared at the ceiling in silence, wondering what were you doing while he layed on his bed feeling miserable. did you miss him too? were you also thinking about him? he was certain of one thing only: he wanted to see you. it didn’t matter to him if you opened the door or not, he needed to at least hear your voice through the door.

he checked the time: 11:47 pm, almost midnight. fuck it, he thought. he stood up and quickly got dressed in a speed record time, tied up his shoes and grabbed his keys and song notebook in the process. by 11:55 pm he was already closing the door of his car.

as mingi started driving, questions also started flooding his mind: will you hate him if he suddenly showed up? what if you had invited someone over? shouldn’t he have discussed this with one of his friends first just in case?

questions, questions, questions.

no answers.

soon enough, he found himself standing in front of your apartment door. he could easily ring the door bell, knock on the door or simply use the spare key you gave him once for emergencies. yet, he was unable to do any, frozen in place as he mentally debated on what to do.

mingi decided to do something odd, something he would have probably laughed at if he saw it in one of the movies you usually forced him to watch with you: he took out his pen and notebook, ripped off one of the pages and wrote on it. then, he slid it under the door and left.

“i’ll tell you everything -m”

———

you have always been a hopeless romantic, mingi knew that perfectly well. you believed in happy endings, and that love and friendship can win over everything. so why hasn’t he heard from you still? did you not get the note? should he leave another one? no, that would be too pushy, it was only two days ago.

questions, questions, questions.

still no answers.

mingi was sulking again, and honestly it started to worry seonghwa and san, who watched as he walked back to his room right after dinner, without saying a word during the whole night. honestly, he was just too lost in his thoughts. their pair exchanged a look, before following him.

“mingi, hold up, everything okay? you’re more… distracted than usual” seonghwa said, carefully choosing his words. mingi hummed in response, nodding as he stopped in his tracks. “yeah, there’s just a lot in my head” he answered, not looking at his friends. “let us hear it then” san said, patting his back and leading them towards the living room.

the trio sat down on the sofa they had bought a few months ago, the one you had scolded them about because it seemed very expensive and too hard to clean. they had all laughed, but soon enough realized you were right when mingi spilled a bit of sauce on it. the stain was still there.

“so? what’s wrong?” seonghwa asked once they all got comfortable. mingi sighed, looking down before he started spilling everything that had happened, from two weeks ago until now. he noticed the eldest nodding along the story, but neither of them said anything until he finished.

“when exactly did you leave this note?” san asked, fidgeting with his bracelet. “two days ago” mingi answered. san’s eyes went wide, as he muttered a small fuck before he sprinted towards the kitchen. seonghwa and mingi exchanged a look, both equally confused at their friend’s actions. after a few moments and very weird sounds that came from the kitchen, san appeared again, with a crumbled up yellow post it in his hand. he handed it to mingi.

“the hell is this? it has food stains san, gross” mingi said with a disgusted face as he barely touched the paper. “open it, i found it this morning” san said, sitting down next to him again. mingi gave his friends a strange look, before carefully opening the crumbled up piece of paper. as he read, his eyes widened in surprise.

“what time is it?!” he exclaimed. “9 pm” seonghwa answered, checking the time in his phone. mingi muttered a small fuck, before putting his shoes on, and grabbing his bag.

“i’ll be back in a while” he said, before shutting the door behind him.

seonghwa looked at san, confused. “what the hell did the paper say?” he asked. san picked it up from the floor and showed it to him:

“8 pm, our special place”.

the hand writing was yours.

———

mingi was almost sure he broke one or two speeding laws on his way to the park where he hoped you were still waiting at. he cursed san for not telling him sooner, even if he knew it wasn’t really his fault to begin with. the park wasn’t far from his apartment though, just a short 10 minute drive. as cliche as it sounds, it was the park were you both met.

at that time, around 6 years ago or so, his mind revolved around perfection, hard work, pressure, debut. so he would succumb to overwhelming feelings pretty often, that forced him to need some time alone. that’s how he found a park nearby, and specifically, one peculiar tree that caught his attention for some reason. he used to sit down under it, notebook on his lap and pen between his fingers, as he scribbled down some random thoughts that plagued his mind during hard moments. he didn’t really plan to turn his words into songs yet, it was just his way to deal with stress. he used to find these little moments very special: it was like he was reconnecting with his inner, truer self, and not the mean facade he wore in front of his soon to be members. yeah, some of them irked him, like that wooyoung guy, but he didn’t mean to be that rude all the time. so, to escape the constant pressure kq fellaz was facing in between the company walls, he found solace in a park, but specifically, he found solace under that tree.

he could remember the day he met you like it was yesterday. he remembers all the stress he was feeling, debut date coming closer and closer. everyone was on edge, from the members to the staff. he had also recently come back from morocco after successfully shooting his first music video! but he couldn’t deny it: as much as he was excited, he was already feeling a little tired. he needed some alone time, just himself with his thoughts. so he found himself walking towards his favorite spot in the park.

only to find you there, sitting down under the tree. his tree to be precise. and you were writing on a pink notebook with a fluffy pen. mingi felt like he was looking at a reflection of himself, but instead of being comforted by it, he felt annoyed. it was HIS tree after all!

“excuse me, this is my spot” he said, coming into your field of vision. you looked up to him, pausing your hand and taking an earphone off. “excuse me?”

“this is my spot” he reiterated, making you chuckle slightly. “the tree you mean? does it have your name or something?” you asked, finding the situation hilarious. he rolled his eyes in annoyance, why did nothing go his way?! “listen, i had a shitty day and i need to sit there for a while, so can you leave?”

“no, i got here first. plus there are tons of other trees here, it’s a park after all” you said, putting your earphone back on and turning your gaze to your notebook. he stayed still in his place in front of you, making you huff in annoyance at his persistence. “look dude, i am not going to move. you can either sit on the opposite side or leave, i don’t care but stop bothering me” you continued.

mingi really really reaaaally needed to be at his safe place, too overwhelmed to funcion rationally, so he rolled his eyes and sat on the opposite side of the tree.

that’s how the story started: at opposite sides of the tree. soon enough it got replaced by sitting nearby, and eventually next to each other. some times you would even bring snacks to share in silence, as you both wrote down your thoughts on your respective notebooks. once he debuted, he broke the silence for the first time, urging you to listen to his song. after that, you started talking more, about music, shows, your respective jobs and life in itself. the safe place you both found under the tree, was also found in each other, quickly realizing you often shared the same thoughts and views about the world.

the story started under a tree, and he hoped it wouldn’t end there too. he needed you to be there, because he wasn’t ready to lose not only his best friend, but also his safe place. even the tree would become stained from the pain. and he would have nothing left, just questions, questions, and more questions about different what ifs.

you weren’t there.

but mingi wasn’t about to give up anytime soon. he started running towards the direction of your apartment, forgetting that he had parked the car on the opposite direction. his legs were aching, and he felt like he was a bit out of breath, despite all the idol training he has been enduring for six years. but he kept running.

until he spot you in the distance.

“y/n!” he yelled. he saw you stop in your tracks and turn around to his direction, confused at the sudden call of your name. once you spotted him running towards you, you sprinted to him.

his body collapsed against yours, as he hugged you tightly, like you would disappear if he let you go. mingi hid his face in the crook of your neck as you wrapped your arms around his back. you could hear his quick heart beat from how close he held you, and you were sure he could hear yours too.

after a while, mingi lifted his head from your neck, and looked at you. “why are you crying?” he asked, wiping away the tears with his thumbs. “i thought you wouldn’t come, why are you crying mingi?” you asked, repeating his own actions, but on his cheeks. he giggled, he didn’t even realize he was crying. “i thought i lost you” he said, truthfully.

the park was dark, the only lights came from street lights. so, for outsiders, you probably looked like a random couple having a dramatic moment. definitely not mingi from idol group ateez and his best friend y/n reconciliating.

“i’m sorry” he whispered, locking his eyes with yours. they still held tears, that threatened to spill depending on your answer. you shook your head “no, i’m sorry mings, i shouldn’t have walked away like that. plus i didn't even give you a chance to explain”.

“i’m sorry for not showing you the songs, for not chasing you, and for being too much of a coward to not face you directly” he apologized. you hugged him again, shushing him. “i shouldn’t have pressured you to show me, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do”

mingi looked at you again, and bit his lip. “can i still show you though?”

“it’s not necessary, mingi, it’s fine real-“ you started saying before he interrupted you, taking your hand and leading you towards the same old place from before. “i want to” he said, determined.

you let him whisk you away.

———

back at the peculiar tree that was iluminated enough by a street lamp a few meters away, he sat you down at your usual spot. he sat down beside you, as he pulled out his notebook from his bag. mingi gave it to you.

“mingi, this really isn’t necessary-“ you started saying once again. “please” he interrupted, with pleading eyes. so you took his notebook and opened it on the first page. you already read that song, it was the first one he ever wrote a long while back. “read the last ones”

you turned the pages, until you found them. mingi looked at you nervously, starting to feel fidgety at the thought of you realizing his deepest secret, the only one he hid from you. he just hoped you wouldn’t hate him. he scanned your face, puffy eyes filling with tears once again as realization hit you. you turned your gaze back to him with wide, surprised eyes.

“mingi- what? wait, hold on” you stammered, as tears fell from your eyes. you quickly set his notebook aside to grab your own bag, taking out your new pink notebook, your diary. you handed it to him, saying: “open it on august 5th”

he stared at you confused, and slightly unsure too, since you’ve always been pretty secretive about what you wrote there. he found the page and read:

“august 5th.

so i realized something, that i’m almost too afraid to write even here. i’m scared that if i admit it, i’ll have to face a sad reality. i think i’m in love with my best friend, isn’t that stupid? that’s how i feel, at least. i haven’t seen him in a while because of his work, and i feel like i’m slowly losing my mind. why do i only feel complete when he’s with me? scratch that, why am i even writing this?

anyways, i’ll probably die with the secret”

“now turn to september 16th” you said, avoiding his eyes.

“september 16th.

i’m in love with my best friend. i love mingi. how insane is that? and how stupid? he is my best friend, for god’s sake. but i can’t help the way i feel, specially when he’s so annoyingly observant. like for example, the other day he noticed my pen was dying, so today he surprised me with a new fluffy pink pen. i hate him for making my heart swell at such gestures. specially because i know I KNOW that’s what best friends do.

anyways i’m not gonna use his pen because i decided i’m going to preserve it forever”

“and now, tun to november 10th” you muttered. mingi realized it was yesterday’s date.

“november 10th.

i still love him. and i fucked up. but i’m still in love with him”

he closed your notebook, turning towards you. he found you with your face on your knees, as you hugged your legs, too embarrassed to face him, despite now knowing his feelings. he loves you too, with the same devotion, with the same desperation and intensity. mingi loves you, his best friend.

“look at me, y/n” he whispered. you slowly lifted your head, hesitantly looking at him. the way you both looked at each other held more intimacy than ever. mingi slowly reached for you, bringing your face closer to his. his hold was shaky, almost unsure, this was a whole new territory. he took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

“i love you” he admitted.

too many questions, that finally got an answer.

“i love you too” you whispered.

taglist: @yoongles2025 @reallychaoticwoo

(to be added please let me know)

[buzzinrusso]

Please Don't leave pt.2

(Light at the end of the tunnel)

Summary: where ingrid and mapi try to mend the forces , leading alexia to explain herself to you.

Contains: angst ,fluff ,polyamory and a little suggestive at the end

Word count : 1.3k

The next few days were a whirlwind of emotions .

You cried about it. You sobbed and cried, but eventually accepted the fact that you weren't enough for them .

Your manager was contacting multiple teams for your "loan" that you were hoping to turn into a full transfer. The teams interested were Manchester City ,Arsenal , Real Madrid, and Chelsea , along with a few other European teams .

Today , you had a meeting with the team manager to actually talk about if you really wanted to transfer.

Your plans were deranged when a fan account posted about your possible transfer from Barcelona to Manchester .

Word got around quickly, and surely enough,your teammate started flooding your messages ,questions you throughly in the team group chat.

You decided to just ignore them and talk it over at practice.

So , you got up ,went into the shower whilenoncall with your best friend from back home ,telling her about your situation.

This led to her talking and intense amount of shit about the girls and telling you that she was there for you.

A few hours later

You arrived at practice with the intention to ignore everyone .

You parked your car at your designated parking spot and went to the trunk of your car to get your bag .

When you walked into the training ground ,you were greeted by the media woman asking you what your phone wallpaper was ,you quickly showed it to her ,telling her that I was a picture of you and your bestfried ,alya,from back home after your graduation.

You sighed and then continued your way to practice ,making sure that it was a normal ,civil, and calm day ,avoiding anyone and everyone who tried to mention that rumours about your transfer .

Until patri came up to you in the middle of practice and started interrogating you about the post , which led pina to start questioning you too while the while team listened in ,especially two girls who were hoping that the rumours were not true.

"For the last time, Claudia, I'm not telling you anything right now ." You rolled your eyes at the girl for what felt like the 100th time today and walked away .

You marched into the locker room with full intention of packing your bag and rescheduling your meeting until a certain blonde walked in with an unrecognisable look on her face.

"Why are you leaving ?" The captain asks .

"None of your business, alexia." You snapped at her .

"I know something is wrong." You went quiet ."You can talk to me, nena."

You let out a loud scoff ," I clearly can't," you said while rolling your eyes at the captain as you got up to storm away .

"Come o-" you immediately cut her off with a yell ."Just stop ,alexia! I heard what you said at the team bonding night ,so you can stop pretending and say what you have to say to my face instead of talking ahit behind my back!" You borderline yelled at your captain and stormed out of the room with your training bag in hand.

Later that evening, a knock sounded at your door ,you swung the door open with annoyance painted on your face only to be met with the only two people you didn't want to talk to at all.

You rolled your eyes at them before trying to close the door only to be stopped by the one and only ingrid engen who shoved her foot between them and the door.

"We need to talk." Maria said as she walked into your apartment. "Please don't leave ,cari"

"Oh ,I think we're done talking." You exclaimed."I think the way you laughed at me when alexia was joking was enough talk for me."

"Wait ,wha-"

"You can save it .you know, I actually thought that you guys liked me . It was so obvious that I had the biggest crush on you guys ,and you were always - what I thought was - flirting with me .and I really liked you guys up until I heard you guys laughing at some cruel joke about me." Tears were starting to prick up in your eyes as they stinger them, but you kept calm and carried the weight of the rift.

Mapi eventually stopped your rant ."Look,cari, what you walked in on was not what you think it was . It's actually a really fucked up miscommunication about a really embarrassing conversation. We were talking about football .we were talking about the double tackle we did on Monday, and it turned into sex talk about tops and bottoms, and alexia was claiming that ..."

"Claiming what?"

"She was claiming that we would top you..." ingrid said in a hushed whishper as embarrassment flooded her body.

A moment of silence passes .it was a minute ,then two ,and then your laughter filled the air .

You were full on crying of laughter as mapi and ingrid just stared at you in confusion .

"What the fuck" you said in between breaths while still wheezing from laughter ."God, this is so ridiculous. "

"Are you still going to leave Barcelona?" Mapi asked.

"Ugh,I don't know .I've been in contact with a few teams, but I can pull out of it anytime before next week.".

"Can we get you not to leave?" Ingrid questioned

"I would take a lot of stuff for me not to go." You said truthfully .

"Stuff like this..?" You looked at the raven haired girl confused until she pulled you in and planted her lips on yours .

The kiss was electric , passionate, and perfect. Her soft lips moved against yours in the most glamorous way ever ,like you guys were meant to be.

It's only when you hear mapi whine that you moved back away from ingrid and then pulled into another kiss from Maria.

Her lips were like candy on yours as you easily melted into a rhythm with her .She moved her lips just right and snuck her tongue into your mouth while pulling you over her lap .

You pulled away for a breath of air but then got quickly pulled back in as ingrid started gently kissing your neck.

------------------------------------------------------

Sorry that this one is a bit of a short one ! Next chapter will be about 5k words of just fluff and smut ;)

Tags :@marvelwomen-simp , @iamagoddess1

[sainzfav]

❝︎ must be fate ❞︎ … joe burrow pt.1

left you out there standing

summary - after a tragic loss to the ravens, joe finds himself pissed and frustrated. on the contrary, a marylander visiting her parents, getting a break from the busy new york life finds herself crossing paths with a certain quarter back

pairing - joe burrow x fem!reader

song inspo - n/a

warnings! - cursing, alcohol

word count - 1.4K

authors note - this takes place at the november 7th, 2024 game when the bengals played the ravens!

"Fuck"

Joe said under his breath. The Bengals lost 35-34 to the Ravens.

"It's just an away game, man, we'll get them next time, trust," Alex said, coming up behind Joe.

"Alex, we were up for half the fucking game, then because we got lazy, we lost," Joe said, pissed off about the outcome of the game.

It was true; they got lazy. It started off great for the Bengals. The Ravens weren't playing well, and that was enough to get two touchdowns ahead, but the fourth quarter came, and the Bengals got lazy. Even when the Ravens threw a touchdown pass instead of wasting time, leaving the Bengals with about a minute of playtime, the Bengals still managed to lose.

"I don't want to hear any fucking excuses, we lost cause we were dumb and lazy, now get out of my face."

Joe's tone was sharp and angry. There was no "bright side" to this situation. They had the perfect opportunity to win and didn't take it.

-

*liked by alexconsani, charlidamelio, and 1.6M+ others*

ynofficial gotta love a w

"Wow Y/n, over 1.5 mill already, you're insane"

Y/n whipped her head around.

"Maya, you're fucking joking... 1.5 million?! There's no way"

"How are you surprised? People love a good casual post, anyway, what's the plan for tonight? Are we going out, back to your parent's house? What are we doing?"

"I feel like we have to go out, right? Plus, I wanna show you the bars around Baltimore. We could do a little bar hopping night, how does that sound?"

"Oh my god, perf" Maya exclaims, going back to scrolling on her phone.

Maya and Y/n had been friends since college, and she was truly the one person who treated Y/n like a normal person.

Y/n then connected her phone to the car to play her music through.

"Play some Pitbull, I want to get hype for the bars," Maya says loudly from the backseat. Y/n chuckles and rolls her eyes while finding a good Pitbull song to put on.

-

"Joe, some of the guys and I are going out, how about you join us. I know it was a shitty game, but going to a bar or somethin' is probably better than sitting alone like a loner," Tee says, reaching to the seat in front of him, putting a hand on Joe's shoulder.

"I'll think about it"

"Well, hurry up, cause once we get back to the hotel, we're all gonna shower and get ready and shit to go out"

"Yeah, alright"

Joe was honestly not as much of a "going out" person as some of his other teammates, but going out to distract from the shit game that just happened did seem appealing.

-

The sound of the music and conversation filled Y/n's ears the second she and Maya stepped into the bar. The electric atmosphere was impossible to ignore, and a feeling of excitement flooded over Y/n.

"This is the best bar in Baltimore; the vibes are always so good, and their drinks are the best," Y/n tells Maya.

After about 45 minutes, Maya is gone, nowhere to be seen, leaving Y/n on a bar stool as she drinks the last of her vodka cranberry.

Just as Y/n is about to order another drink, she feels a presence next to her. She turns her head and notices a familiar figure.

Joe fucking Burrow?! Y/n thinks to herself. What a coincidence, holy shit.

Joe Burrow was the last person Y/n expected to see at a bar. Actually, she hadn't even thought about it once, but here she was.

He looked pretty pissed, which made sense after tonight's game. Just then, a loud voice came closer to where Y/n was sitting.

"Joe! Whatcha order?"

It was Tee Higgins, whose mood was the complete opposite of Joe's.

"I don't know, hey... Mike? What's your best drink?" Joe asks the bartender, reading the name tag.

"It's basic, but how about an Old Fashioned? Can't go wrong with that"

"Yeah, alright, I'll have that"

Joe then glances over and gives Y/n a weak smile, then looks down to notice her Ray Lewis jersey, chuckling to himself as he looks down at the bar table.

Y/n notices his face and immediately feels awkward.

"Would you like another vodka cranberry miss?" The bartender asks

"Oh, uh, yes, please, that would be great!" Y/n says, getting caught off guard by the bartender, still feeling awkward about sitting next to Joe.

Should have planned to go out and wear something other than a fucking jersey. This is so fucking awkward.

"Good night for you guys, huh?" Joe suddenly says, breaking the awkward silence between the two.

"Yeah, and rough one for you?"

"Yup. So, you from around here? Not to be weird or anything"

Y/n smirks at his comment. For a star, Quarter Back, he's a little awkward and shy.

"Sorta, I mean, I'm from Maryland, Annapolis to be specific, but I live in New York"

"Oh nice, what brought you to New York?"

"Work, I'm an actress, so everything I do is pretty much over there and on occasion, LA"

Never in a million years did I think I would be making small talk with Joe Burrow at a local bar in Baltimore, but here we are.

"Oh sick, how is that life? It seems like it would be crazy"

Y/n chuckles at his response. Being an actress is not a normal job by any means, and it's always so chaotic, but it's Y/n's passion.

"It is, but I wouldn't give it up for the world"

"That's pretty cool"

Just then a loud, drunk Maya comes over.

"Holy shit, Y/n, I met the hottest guy, and he bought me a drink, but then it turns out he has a girlfriend, well, they also just broke up because he bought me a drink, and oh my god, is that Joe Burrow?"

Joe starts laughing a little while Y/n covers her face in embarrassment. Maya was probably the most outgoing person Y/n knew. She was never afraid to speak her every thought, which sometimes led to awkwardness.

"Y/n, pretty name"

Y/n blushes at Joe's compliment, catching her completly off guard.

"Thanks," She says kindly, still partially embarrassed of Maya's story.

"Well, if you don't mind, Joe Burrow, I'm taking my best friend dancing, so kiss your goodbyes, and Y/n lets go"

"Hold on, let me get your number. I've had a shitty day on top of a shitty week, and our conversation, although short, has been nice."

Was Joe Burrow really asking for my number?

"Uh, yeah"

He then gives Y/n his phone for her to type in her number. After she adds her contact, Maya practically pulls her arm off, dragging her away from the bar, leaving her drink and Joe behind.

-

The next day, Y/n woke up to a line of texts from Maya.

Maya: Heyyyy, Y/n, so I know I said I would get an Uber back to your house, but I'm at a guy's apartment right now.

Maya: You up, Y/n? I assume you're still in bed, actually, but I'm at this guy Derek's apartment, just letting you know.

Maya: Y/n

Maya: Y/n

Maya: Y/n

Maya: Well, love you, I'll be back at your parents sometime today.

Are you fucking kidding me?

Y/n rubs her eyes, trying to wake up more and make sense of Maya.

Just then she get's another text.

Rolling her eyes, expecting Maya, she checks her texts.

Instead, it's an unnamed number.

(513)111-1111: Hey, it's Joe!

Y/n sits up immediately. Sure, she gave him her number, but she didn't expect him to actually text her.

Holy shit

Y/n: Hey! It's Y/n

Joe: Yeah, I remember haha

Joe: Also, how's your friend? I saw you leaving the bar, but she stayed with this guy, who, and I mean no disrespect, looked like a douche...

Y/n: She's fine, at least I'm pretty sure. She texted me this morning that she's at this guy Derek's house, and she seems fine. She said she'll be coming back to my parent's house sometime today. All is good, haha. Thanks for asking, though!

Joe: Okay that's good. Well I gotta do some shit for press, but I'll talk to you later, Y/n.

Y/n: Have fun! ;)

And with that, Y/n turns off her phone, all of a sudden smelling the sweet smell of bacon from downstairs.

[mustainegf]

reader is insecure about her appearance and Jase comforts her :')

FIRST JASON FICCCC!!!!!

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 ¹⁹⁸⁷

I watched him across the room, his back to me, scribbling down notes on a scrap of paper he'd found on the coffee table. Jason was lost in his own head, humming a bit to himself, tapping his fingers on his knee. That was Jason for you, dedicated. I loved it so much, but a part of me couldn't help but sometimes wonder how someone like that could have ever fallen for someone like me.

I turned away from him to look at my reflection in the mirror, and I caught sight of the small curve of my stomach, the way my thighs touched, how I never seemed to look like the girls in magazines.

The rational part of my mind could recognize that I was being too hard on myself, but at that moment, another voice inside me had almost grown comfortable to tearing myself apart. I let out a sigh that was a little too loud, and he must have heard it, because the next thing I knew, there Jason was right beside me, his hand on my back.

"What're you thinking?" he asked, his voice low and soft, as it was only when it was just us. His calloused fingers slid along my arm, warm and comforting.

"Nothing. Just…" I replied, though my voice cracked, belying me. He narrowed his eyes slightly, seeming to see through me. Jason would sometimes have this weird feeling for things, like he could tell the storm brewing in my head when I hadn't even said anything.

He spun me round to face him properly, his hands coming to rest on my arms. "I don't buy that for a second," he said, his lips twitching in a little smile. But his eyes held that softness that always melted my heart. "C'mon, what's bothering you?

I bit my lip, looking down. "I just...I don't know. I was looking at myself, and I guess I just don't feel good about how I look right now. It sounds stupid I know, but it gets to me."

Jason was silent for a moment, just easing his hands down to take mine. His thumbs circled over my palms in gentle arcs, soothing me, anchoring me. "Hey," he whispered, leaning his head down to look at me. "Listen, it's not stupid. It's real and I get it. But it's also not true. Not even close... you know that right?"

I shrugged, feeling my throat well up into a lump. "You're just saying that because you're nice, Jase. I mean look at the girls around you all of the time, the ones at your shows, the ones in the magazines. They're perfect. I just… I don't measure up."

He shook his head, and I could almost see the sad tinge in his eyes. "Those girls?" He waved his hand like he was shooing the very idea away. "They're not even real, babe. Half of 'em are pretending, the other half don't even know what they're getting into. And anyway, that's not what I want. You're what I want.

I opened my mouth to protest, but he leaned in closer, his forehead pressing softly against mine. "I know you're not seeing what I'm seeing," he said softly. "You're kind, and funny, and smart, and you're beautiful. And when I'm with you, that's what matters."

My face grew hot, and I couldn't force away the tiniest smile, though I knew I wanted to stick to my skepticism. "You make it sound so easy, Jason."

"That's 'cause it is." He chuckled, his thumb brushing over my cheek. "I'm not saying this 'cause I think it's what you need to hear. I'm saying it because it's the truth. You're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen, and that's the first thing I think every time I wake up next to you."

My cheeks flamed red, but his words picked at the lump in my chest until it slowly unwound. "I wouldn't trade you for anyone. Not those girls, not anything in the world."

Jason wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close and I buried my face in his chest, letting myself just feel his heartbeat steady and strong against me.

He leaned back just far enough to cradle my face between his palms, his eyes delving into mine. "You're perfect to me. Every fuckin' inch, every curve, every part of you that you think is to big or too small. And even if you can't see it yet, I'm here to remind you, every single day if that's what it takes."

My throat constricted, but this time it wasn't from the insecurity. It was something else altogether, something warm. I nodded, burrowing my head against his shoulder as the words soaked into me like a sponge.

Jason didn't let go. He just kept holding me, and for a long time, we stood there wrapped up in each other.

[rita-repulsa-ke]

Ritual of the Rose - Ch2

Agatha crossed her arms, but Rio could see her evaluating, calculating, deciding how she was going to get herself out of this one. She softened, ran her fingers through her hair in a way that, despite herself, caught Rio's attention, made her press her teeth into her bottom lip. "Come on," Agatha said, eyes downcast, pouting ever-so-slightly. "You don't really want to hurt me, do you?"

Fic Summary: Changes the events of the last episode. Instead, Agatha swears a vow and prepares to go on one final adventure with Death.

Part 1 here

I feel like I should say at this point that I know next to nothing about the mcu, so this fic will be taking only the events of Wandavision and Agatha All Along as canon and then just making things up.

Chapter 2 - Rio Bites

Death returned. She did not come on black wings or holding a scythe. She was neither robed nor skeletal. Between one breath and the next, she was simply there.

"Hi, baby," she said, sprawling in Agatha's yard, looking around with interest. "You know, I kind of like it? It's a little overgrown, little wild, clearly tended by someone who has no idea what they're doing, but that makes it feel so much more authentic. Like a real person lived here, though of course, that hasn't really been true for a while, has it, Detective?”

Agatha gave her a deeply unamused look, and she laughed, too sharp, too loud, not even particularly amused, and then twisted her head around at a wholly unnatural angle to meet Agatha's eyes with hers. "So what's the plan, Agatha? Where's the catch?" She reached out, started to prod Agatha's cheek and the other woman came to standing before she could make contact.

"No catch," Agatha said, not looking at her and that was so funny that all she could do was snicker.

"There's always a catch," she said, as she watched Agatha. She never stopped watching Agatha, except for a very unpleasant time when Agatha had used the Darkhold to hide from her. She had still looked, of course, looked and looked and looked. She would never give up on Agatha.

And eventually she had found her, in trouble as always, and freed her. Did she get any thanks for that?

Of course not. Agatha Harkness didn't know how to say thank you. It simply wasn't in her vocabulary. "Out of curiosity, how are you planning to wriggle your way out of this one?" Rio asked, coming to her feet without bothering with knees. She’d never quite gotten the hang of knees.

Agatha glanced back at her, head tilted slightly, a smile tugging at her lips like it wasn't sure whether it wanted to stay. "If you're so sure I'm going to wriggle out of it, why'd you agree?"

Rio closed the distance between them in less than a breath, her hand cupping Agatha's cheek. "Because I love you," she reminded the other woman. And then, because she did love Agatha, but there was only so much anyone could take, cruelty spanning centuries, she added, "I love you enough to gift you time."

The blast of purple magic that hit her in the chest was honestly nostalgic, and she skidded backwards without ever quite making contact with the ground. "I do like you more like this," she admitted. "I've missed your powers. It makes you feisty. So what did you tell the kid?"

"Oh you know," Agatha said, waving her hand through the air with lazy, dismissive contempt. "Sentimental stuff. Be good, don't do anything I wouldn't do, that sort of thing."

"Wow. That is not even a good lie. You aren't even trying," Rio said and she's surprised to find that she's a little annoyed about that, too, that Agatha didn’t feel the need to put in any effort in her lies.

"Why should I? You wouldn’t believe me regardless,” Agatha said, turning and strolling into the house. "Anyway, forget the kid. We've got a year to find and defeat one of the most powerful magic users alive so I can get my book back."

Rio followed, as she had for many years, Death always one step behind Agatha Harkness. "And then what? You run again?"

"The ritual doesn't work like that and you know it. It will kill me even if you can't. And then I'm all yours," Agatha said.

That was how it should work, on paper, in magical theory. There was no way Rio was trusting that. Agatha always lied. "So where's the catch?" she repeated, perching on the arm of Agatha's couch.

"Believe me or don't, but you agreed to it and your part is null and void if you don't help," Agatha snapped. "So can we get on with it, please?"

For a moment, nostalgia threatened to choke Rio. This was Agatha as she remembered her, impatient, demanding, moving from one objective to the other, always seeking power, always hungry for more. She found herself caught by it, leaning forward, and remembering one more of Agatha's endless series of manipulations, Agatha's bleeding fingers across her lip. "When I left you with the boy…"

"Hmm?" Agatha said, pretending innocence. Rio stared her down and she held up her fingers, trying and failing to look even slightly regretful. "Oh, the bleeding stopped. What a shame."

Rio's knife was instantly in her hand. "I could fix that."

Agatha's fingers crackled with power. "Try it," she crooned. "I'm not so vulnerable anymore."

Rio slipped to her feet, sauntered forward. "Do you really want to do this, Ags? Without the Darkhold, you know you can't beat me. We can play it out though, if you like. I owe you, after all. Maybe one cut for each year you disappeared on me?" She spun the knife in her hand, comfortable, familiar. She very much did want to hurt Agatha, to seek weregild in blood for all the suffering her beloved had inflicted on her over the centuries.

Agatha crossed her arms, but Rio could see her evaluating, calculating, deciding how she was going to get herself out of this one. She softened, ran her fingers through her hair in a way that, despite herself, caught Rio's attention, made her press her teeth into her bottom lip. "Come on," Agatha said, eyes downcast, pouting ever-so-slightly. "You don't really want to hurt me, do you?"

"No, Ags, I don't really want to hurt you. What I really want, you won't give me. Hurting you isn't a terrible consolation prize, though."

Agatha huffed, her arms going tighter around herself. She was afraid, a coward as always. She'd never liked anything that could touch her, get past her defenses.

And, more simply, she didn’t like pain.

Well, neither did Rio, but that hadn't stopped Agatha from wounding and scarring her for centuries.

"Can we maybe talk about it?" Agatha suggested, always her way out. Agatha's battlefield was words, endless words, all of them lies.

"What else is there to say, hmm? What different, exciting new ways of saying you hate me have you come up with this time?" she'd stopped in front of Agatha, and she could feel herself smiling, a big grin she noticed Agatha didn't seem to want to look at for too long.

Agatha hesitated, shrugged, then stepped forward, reached out and here was Agatha's most potent weapon, the way her fingers brushed through Rio's hair and her hand closed on the back of Rio's neck, tugging her closer. And of course, Rio could have used the knife here, with so little space between them, but Agatha's other arm had looped around her waist and she was so close, so alive, so warm, so much herself, that instead of stabbing the other woman, the sensible, sane decision, she found that she was nuzzling against Agatha's neck, trying to bury herself in this sensation before it went away again.

Agatha tilted her head back, moaned softly and that sound undid Death entirely, a soft whimper escaping from between teeth she seemed to be clenching. Agatha petted her soothingly—

And then yelped as Rio's teeth bit and twisted hard enough to draw blood. Rio ran her tongue over the wound, gathered her beloved's lifeblood, the familiar, intimate taste of Agatha in her mouth, copper and magic and relentless will, then pulled back to smile humorlessly up at Agatha. "There," she said. "Price paid."

Agatha glowered at her, hand clapped to her neck even though the wound had already healed. "Savage," she murmured and Rio burst into shrill hysterics.

"You. Should. Talk," she said, sprawling on Agatha's couch, tossing her knife from hand to hand. "So. The book."

Agatha nodded, pulling up a kitchen chair with magic, perhaps to remind herself that she could. "Wanda has it."

"The Scarlet Witch. Destroyer of worlds," Rio murmured. "So where is she?"

"I was hoping you would know," Agatha admitted.

"She's not actively destroying any worlds, I'm afraid. I don't keep track of most mortals, they generally come to me." She gave Agatha a smile. "Mostly just you."

Agatha faked gagging and that, too, was painfully familiar. "All right, so first step is we find her."

"Didn't she kick your ass last time?"

"Yes, but I didn't have Death on my side," Agatha said, favoring Rio with a smile of her own, a smile that hinted at a promise Rio knew she would never fulfill. "Still, even for both of us, she's going to be a lot to handle, especially with the Darkhold."

"So where's the kid figure in, Ags?"

Agatha didn't flinch, but it was there, a tightening of her jaw, a tug at the edge of her lips. "Insurance. If everything else fails, we can always trade the boy."

"Very you," Rio approved. "But you let him go. Why?"

Agatha considered, then got up and paced over to sit next to Rio. Rio felt herself go overly still, less certain how to handle Agatha in such close proximity, even more so as Agatha's hand settled on her knee, intimate and nostalgic. "Because, Rio, my darling, if you need someone to trust you at a critical juncture in the future, sometimes you have to pretend that you’re on their side."

Rio rolled her eyes, but it was a weak response, all of her attention fixed on that hand and that word, darling, rolling off Agatha’s lying tongue. She knew exactly what Agatha was doing. It still worked every time. "Nothing to do with the fact that you're attached?"

Agatha snorted loudly. "Me? To that boy? No. He's useful, though. The son of the Scarlet Witch."

"Still an abomination," Rio said, and thought, I bet you want me to forget that. I bet you want me to forget that there's another one. I haven't.

But I don't need to play my whole hand at once either.

"Sure, sure, but can we deal with what's more important here first?"

"Your plan?"

"That's right. My plan," Agatha said as she leaned too close, her smile wicked and crazed and so, so beautiful. Self-centered as always, Rio thought, unable to suppress the wave of affection that accompanied that thought.

With Agatha so close. Rio couldn't resist, she darted in to steal a kiss, then howled with humorless laughter as Agatha jerked away, her expression that of someone who'd turned the corner and made eye contact with a dead mouse. "You, you, you," Rio singsonged. "Who else would Agatha Harkness think of, other than herself?" She tossed her knife up, caught it too close to Agatha's face and wasn't sure whether to be happy or sad when it made the other woman scoot back, putting more space between them. "But you know, there isn't only one Darkhold."

"Of course I know that," Agatha said. "But the others are lost to—" she paused, realized where this must be going. "…Rio, you wouldn't lie to me, would you?"

"Not about this," Rio said, amused at the implication she'd ever been the one who lied. "I agreed to help, didn't I? Aid given freely."

"…You never mentioned this before."

"I didn't know when we were together. After that, I had a vested interest in not giving you powerful artifacts filled with dark magic. …Also, it is rumored to drive people mad."

"Weak people," Agatha said instantly. "Sheep. Do I look mad to you?"

Rio didn't try to stop herself from laughing. "Nooo comment."

Agatha fixed her with a long-suffering look. "Yes, yes, you're very funny."

"You know you love it," she said and Agatha did the fake-gagging thing again, which only made her giggle. "You already used that one twice," she pointed out and Agatha—

It wasn't fair of Agatha to smile like she meant it, a reluctant tug of her lips into a very pretty shape. "Oooops. I'll have to vary it up. Wouldn't want you to get bored with my disgusted reactions."

For a moment, their eyes met and no time had passed at all.

I love you, Agatha Harkness, Rio thought. And I know you still love me.

Then Agatha's lip curled in a sneer and she looked away, settling with her head on her hand on the far end of the couch. "Another copy of the Darkhold? Really?"

"Really. If you don't want to tangle with the Scarlet Witch."

"I'm not scared, you know," Agatha clarified, suspiciously like someone who was scared. "But she's not going to be easy. So, if there's an easier way—"

"Of course. You're the bravest person I know," Rio said, sprawling across the couch toward Agatha, fully expecting Agatha to run, because Agatha always ran.

Then, somehow, her head was in Agatha's lap.

She stared up and Agatha glanced down, gave her a twisted grin and a shrug, then looked away again, still brooding. "Tell me about it. The other one."

Right. Words. Rio knew how to do words. "The usual. Cursed cave in a treacherous mountain protected by ancient guardian spirits from some long-dead order."

Agatha's glance at her this time was brimming with disbelief. "You've got to be kidding me," she said. "Come on, really?"

Rio shrugged. "I don't make the rules."

"Seems too easy."

"How'd you get it the first time?" she asked and was surprised when Agatha went too still. There was a story here, one she didn't know.

From the way the other woman’s pulse flicked in her throat, one Agatha didn't want to discuss. More and more interesting.

"Something very similar," Agatha said, a little too fast. "Ancient crypt, all these terrible magic traps…"

"Riiiight," Rio said, doubtful, but not inclined to push yet, because—

Well, because her head was in Agatha's lap.

"Anyway, doesn't matter now. You're sure it's there?"

"No," Rio admitted. "But several people told me it was, after they died trying to reach it. …This will be dangerous, you know."

Agatha's fingers carded through her hair and she couldn't stop herself from exhaling, eyes falling shut. "You'll help keep me safe, won't you?"

Manipulative monster, Rio thought, with something akin to pride. "Mm, I have to. But I can't say I'll be devastated if anything happens to you." Her eyes flicked open and she smiled humorlessly. "After all, I get my prize either way."

Agatha stared down at her, then tugged her hand out of Rio's hair and wiped it perfunctorily on the side of the couch before standing up, spilling Rio off her.

"Oooh, touchy," Rio said, giggling from her new spot on the floor.

“You wish,” Agatha snapped. “Fine, we have a year. We’ll try it your way first.”

“Our last big adventure.”

Agatha gave her a crooked, vicious smile that would have made anyone doubt the other woman’s sanity. “Don’t say it like that,” she said, pretending to sulk, but the tone too obviously mocking. “You might get what you want yet.”

Rio came to her feet, too close. “What I want, Agatha, is you dead.” Almost as much as she wanted Agatha's fingers back in her hair.

“And what happens after that?” Agatha asked, a question she'd asked a hundred times.

Rio answered the same way she'd always answered. "Come and see."

"Not yet," Agatha said, dismissive. "I'm not done yet. Now, tell me where this cave is."

If you'd like to read more stuff I've written for Agatha All Along, I'm just going to link to the tag on my blog, there's a bunch at this point.

[changenameno]

Sugarplum, then?

(One-Shot)

Summary: Back in the day your dad’s been in the military, where he met most of his long term friends, including Syverson. He apparently was his best friend, though you’ve never met him. Well, until now…

 

Pairing: Sy x Fem. Reader

Warnings: MDNI, 18+, older man x younger woman (off age though! reader is attending college), praise kink, pet names, teasing, reader is a brat, rough sex, slapping and choking, p in v

Word Count: 2.7K

 

A/N: Okay this was honestly quite spontaneous, buuut Dad’s best friend aka Sy did just NOT leave my mind, so here we go. This is FLITHY, you’ve been warned. Any mistakes are my own. Reblogs and comments are much appreciated! Enjoy ;) ❤️✨

!Syverson is not my creation!

 

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When you came home, you could hear loud laughter, coming from the living room. At first you thought your parents had invited over the neighbours once more. But when you put your jacket on a hanger listening in closer, you noticed the southern drawl as the deep rumbling voice continued to tell a story.

 

 

You didn’t recognise that voice? Though it certainly didn’t belong to one of your neighbours. Curious, you peeked around the corner into the living room. There at the dinner table your parents sat with their backs turned to you, and in front of them was a bearded man, burly arms crossed. His imposing form, clearly meant that he wasn’t just big, sitting down. You could only guess, but as you had seen quite a few military men over the years he had to be one, estimated by his demeanour alone.

 

 

As your eyes moved over every bulging muscle you could make out from where you stood, they finally landed on his face. His dark beard looked well-groomed, framing his plush lips, then his pearly whites were on display as he grinned. That made you look up and sure enough his blue eyes were already focused on your face.

 

 

Heartbeat picking up, as his smile widened into a shit-eating-grin, he had caught you blatantly staring at him. A brief nod from him, made your presence known to your parents as well, they turned in their seats and your mother chided right away, “Oh you could have announced yourself know? Come and say hello to our guest!”

 

 

You didn’t really have much of a choice, so you reluctantly entered the room, greeting the man opposite your dad, “Um, hello…nice to meet you, um… Sir?”

 

 

A smug look replaced his grin, when he answered, “Well, no need to call me Sir, kiddo. Sy ‘s fine, too.”

 

 

You wanted to huff at the dumb nickname, but held back, to avoid making this anymore awkward than it already was. So you simply chose to nod.

 

 

Your Dad shook his head laughing lightly, “So that’s our daughter. Normally not as shy though, am I right, sugarplum?”

 

 

You wanted to desperately vanish, why would your dad call you that in front of a guest?! No less, a guest who looked incredibly handsome. Embarrassed beyond believe, you tried to escape, mumbling something about having to study.

 

 

“Alright, but dinner is in an hour,” your mom called after you, as you’d already jogged upstairs.

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True to her words she knocked at your door an hour later. When the door swung open before you even had the chance to answer, you growled angrily without looking up from the book you’ve been reading, “You could have waited until I said yes! I could have been naked!”

 

 

The answer you got, made you freeze, “Really? Maybe ya could’ve locked your door then?”

 

 

Sy’s voice sounded amused and it riled you up, tremendously. Closing your book, you slowly rolled onto your side then sat up on your bed, glaring at the man casually leaning against your doorframe.

 

 

“No need to give me such dirty look. Just here to tell ya, dinner ‘s ready, kiddo.”

 

 

As if he knew that name annoyed you immensely, his blue eyes seemed to sparkle even more, when you ground out, “Don’t call me that!”

 

 

As you stood up, approaching him, he teased back, “Why not?”

 

Mirroring his crossed arms, you huffed, “Well, first of I’m not a kid anymore. And second-“. Sy had suddenly stood up straight, very much towering over you now.

 

 

There it was, that stupid smug smirk of his, “Should I call ya, sugarplum then?”

 

 

This man irked you, so much. Additionally it was incredibly unfair how good he looked doing that.

 

 

“Hell no!” You didn’t even like it when your dad called you that.

 

 

“How ‘bout I call ya,” he paused, then leaned down, lips against your ear whispering, “my good little girl, then?”

 

 

You weren’t fast enough, the unexpected proximity combined with his filthy words, made a whimper escape, before you could suppress it.

 

 

Sy leaned back, pupils clearly blown out because of your pathetic, little whimper. “Atta girl. Now, I believe dinner ‘s ready.”

 

 

Completely petrified, at your own wanton response to him, you tired shuffling past him, but not before a big hand landed on your ass, making you squeak at the impact.

 

 

When you glared back at Sy, he only winked at you, making your stomach do summersaults. How could someone you just met, make you that desperate?

 

 

Before you could do anything stupid, you quickly descended the stairs.

 

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Yesterday at dinner you had found out, that Sy was indeed military. He’d been your dad’s captain and was still his best friend apparently. You tried not to think about the fact that you found him extremely desirable and wanted nothing more than to jump him right here and now. Especially as the conversation continued and the Captain’s heavy eyes hadn’t left you for even a second.

 

 

Igniting an inextinguishable fire inside you, an unbearable need to have this behemoth between your legs. Wanting to find out first hand, just how quickly that man could ruin you.

 

 

You were also very delighted to find out, he’d be staying with you for a couple of weeks. Unconsciously rubbing your thighs together in anticipation when it was announced he’d sleep in the guest room, right across the hall from yours.

 

 

Now you were lounging on the couch downstairs, knowing your parents wouldn’t be back, until later tonight. They had a previous engagement they couldn’t cancel, not having known then, Sy would show up. Though he had tried placating his best friend, by swearing he’d just wanted a quiet evening anyway.

 

 

You could have sworn his blue eyes had flitted to you as he’d said that, making you wonder what exactly he meant by ‘quiet evening’.

 

 

It was anticlimactic though, because when your parents had left an hour ago, Sy had wordlessly turned, walked upstairs and you had heard his bedroom door shutting in the distance.

 

 

Leaving you here lounging on the couch, waiting for something to happen. As the hours ticked by, you mindlessly switched through the channels, not truly interested in what was on. How could he lead you on so much and then do nothing? That was more than a little diabolic, wasn’t it?

 

 

Your frustration slowly turned to anger, when nothing, absolutely nothing happened. Mulling over the few interactions you’ve had with Sy, you began to doubt he’d wanted anything from you in the first place. Had you just imagined the burning gaze of his eyes? It couldn’t be, right? You weren’t that desperate, were you?

 

 

No answer you could come up with, was in the least bit satisfying, so you decided to call it a night. Switching off the TV, you went upstairs into your room to change into your favourite sleep shirt. Admittedly it barely covered your panty clad behind, but you were beyond caring now. The Captain was probably already asleep anyway.

 

 

Once you’d brushed your teeth and were ready for bed, you tiptoed back to your room. Still too frustrated to actually fall asleep, you lay on your side glaring into the darkness. And now what?

 

 

Your parents had come home some time ago, actually earlier than you had expected, at only half past twelve, though they had retired to bed right away.

 

 

You signed, you were wide awake and you blamed Sy with his filthy mouth and his stupid ass muscles and…

 

 

Just as you were about to curse his entire existence, you heard a door open and close again. Then you heard the tap running.

That was your chance. You were going to show him what teasing meant!

 

 

As quickly as you could, you ran out of your room, across the hall and entered the guest room, silently shutting the door. Just as you had hopped into his bed, the door opened again, revealing Sy’s muscled silhouette against the light coming from the bathroom.

 

 

You couldn’t see his face, but when he closed the door, slowly locking it as well, you were sure he smirked smugly when he turned, addressing you, “Took ya, long enough.”

 

 

You nearly spluttered, at his cock-sure remark. That devil had you waiting four hours and then he dared to say, you were late?!

Oh. Two could play that game though.

 

 

“Aww sorry, is that a grey hair from the stress of me being late, Captain?”

 

 

You only just finished the sentence, when Sy’s big hand closed around your neck, lightly squeezing in warning, as he growled, “Don’t get smart with me girl.”

 

 

He leaned down, tilting your head back, so you had to look up into his face. “Listen, I’m not some college boy, alright?” You swallowed thickly, nodding in agreement, as well as you could with his rough hand still squeezing your windpipe.

 

 

You knew he wasn’t, actually you’d hoped for exactly what he said next, “Meanin’ I do rough and fast. If ya stay, ya agree to that, understood?”

 

 

His hand finally loosened, so you could answer verbally, “Y-yeah, understood.”

 

 

“Atta girl.” Then he switched on the bedside lamp, illuminating the room in a warm orange hue.

 

 

You bit your lip to stop the whimper from escaping, Sy stood there as naked as the day he was born.

 

 

Every part of your body began to tingle, pussy pulsing between your thighs. He was big. No.

That was an understatement, he was huge. His cock stood erect, just as proud as he did. It wasn’t just his sheer length, his girth wasn’t anything to dismiss either.

 

 

He meanly grinned down at you kneeling on his mattress, “Still sure ya wanna stay?”

 

 

Licking over your bottom lip, you panted excitedly, “Yes, please.”

 

 

He spit into his right hand getting it wet, then he moved it between his tree truck thighs gripping his cock, “Hmm my, what a polite, little girl. Excited, aren’t ya?”

 

 

As he began moving his hand up and down his shaft, your eyes were glued to the movement, not able to look anywhere else. He groaned his next words, left hand landing on your naked thigh, “Lose the shirt, wanna see ya.”

 

 

You did as he said, pulling your sleepshirt over your head and flinging it onto the floor.

The second the light illuminated your nearly naked body, his cock twitched violently and he quickly let go.

 

 

“Fuck. Will ya look at that? Such a pretty lil’ thing and all for me yeah?”

 

 

“Yeah, all for you.”

 

 

His eyes seemed darker, somehow more sinister than before, fully blown out by lust. “You’re killin’ me darlin’…How ‘bout ya lose them ruined panties as well.”

 

 

It wasn’t really a question, but you nodded anyway before you leaned back and shimmied out of your panties. His hand encased your wrist, stopping you before the soaking wet fabric would land on the floor as well. Sy took the panties, bringing them to his mouth, making a show of licking through your juices left behind in the sullied fabric.

 

 

This surely set your already overheated cunt on fire, mewling desperately at the way his eyes greedily drank your body in, while he tasted your sweet nectar.

 

 

Apparently satisfied for now, he tossed your panties aside. Gleaming sapphires fixed between your legs, “Think I’m ready for the main event.”

 

And with that he pushed you back, until you lay on your back and he could step between your spread thighs.

 

 

A little panicky that he hadn’t prepared you, you piped up, “W-wait aren’t you… gonna prepare…me?”

 

 

Sy chuckled, then landed a light slap onto your exposed clit, making your whole body spasm, back bowing off the mattress as you shrieked at the pain mixing deliciously with blinding pleasure.

 

 

“Love, you’re soakin’ wet, what more ‘s there to prepare?”

 

 

You gulped, when he took his imposing length, rubbing it through your velvety folds. Then without further warning, you felt the head starting to slip in. Eager to feel your tight walls enclosing around his throbbing cock, Sy slowly pushed further inside. Quickly you wrapped your arms around his neck, squeezing when a light stinging sensation spread through your straining cunt.

 

 

He noticed your furrowed brows right away, leaning his head down and taking one of your erect nipples in his mouth, suckling gently until you threw you head back, panting as a familiar warmth invaded your lower stomach. Even before he was half way inside, Sy had you coming around him with a loud squeal.

 

 

Swiftly he used your orgasm to thrust forward, burying his shaft inside your quivering pussy to the hilt. Full beyond anything you’d felt before you moaned loudly, though this time a hand covered your mouth as he huskily hissed, “Gotta be quiet darlin’. Unless ya want Daddy to come knockin’ at my door.”

 

 

He groaned, as your cunt continued to squeeze around him, “Ya feel even better than I imagined.”

 

 

Only being able to breathe through your nose, didn’t make it any easier to get used to the huge poker inside your stomach. But Sy was kind enough to wait until you did.

 

You nodded and when he didn’t seem to notice, you lightly licked his hand that got his attention immediately.

“Hmm I see, someone ‘s ready. Next time we’ll try out that lil’ tongue.”

 

 

When he shifted a bit, he was pressed into your g-spot, grinning cockily when your back bowed off the bed again. “Found it.”

 

 

That smug bastard, knew exactly what he was doing, without leaving that spot, he manoeuvred you into a mating press, both your legs positioned over his broad shoulders. Your chest touching his hairy pecks, immediately creating friction, as he pulled back a little bit, only to slam back inside you.

 

 

A groan left his lips, and a scream would have left yours if it weren’t for his hand sealing them shut. Your hips automatically bucked upwards, trying to keep up. But Sy just kept ramming inside your tight hole at a pace that you thought humanly impossible, using you as his own personal ragdoll, grunting every time his balls slapped against your ass.

 

 

You couldn’t do much as his free hand held onto your shoulder, so you wouldn’t slide up the bed away from his rough fucking. Each stroke of his impossibly wide cock, had you whimpering behind his hand. Sy’s body continued to slam into yours, though his groans got louder and louder, until he suddenly decided to switch gears.

 

 

His teeth sank painfully into your shoulder, trying to stifle his own sounds of pleasure against your flesh. The hand that previously covered your mouth had slid down, wrapping around your neck, smothering your building moans right at the source. The sensation made your head feel pleasantly empty, pussy convulsing rhythmically around him.

 

 

It was too much, you couldn’t hold on any longer, the pain of his bite mixing with the onslaught of pleasure and the breathlessness you felt, tipped you right over the edge. Overwhelmed by pleasure, tears started streaming down your cheeks, choking on a whimper as Sy grunted a last, “Fu-uck!”

 

Then you felt his thick, hot cum filling your insides, prolonging your orgasm for a bit, he finally ceased his movements after a last hard thrust. Sy’s hand left your throat right away, as did his teeth your shoulder.

 

 

He gently ran a hand over your stomach, making you shiver as the movement tickled. “You did so well, my good little darlin’, aren’t ya?”

 

 

Completely boneless you nodded and smiled up at him, when he muttered his next words, “Let’s freshen up, hm?!”

🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑

Taglist:

If you’re interested in being on my taglist, please let me know! And if you want to be taken off (my taglist), feel free to tell me!❤️✨

[bluebellhairpin]

do you have thoughts of killing yourself? yes no. hurting yourself? yes no. hurting others? yes no. others hurting you? yes no.

[tonycries]

MONSTA!

Synopsis. Mama, you’re in love with a criminal monster!

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, weréwolf!Toji, rúts, bíting, ghostface!Choso, slight knífeplay, breéding, creampíes, knots, true form!Sukuna, dp, smácking, NÉEDY boys, vampíres, turning, clan leader!Gojo, cúlt leader!Geto, exhíbitionism (Geto), mentions of having kíds, PÚSSYDRUNK, squírting, bódy worshíp, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 5.9k (whoops)

A/N. First post of kínktoberrrr, hope y’all have a lovely month <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - FULL MOON FULL YOU!

“Baby–” Toji’s raspy baritone vibrates throughout your squirming body, all the way down to where he was unapologetically stuffing you gapingly full. He’s pressing hot kisses along your face, your neck. Everywhere and anywhere. “Baby.”

You’re never seen him this needy. This unable to hold back. 

And suddenly you’re finding yourself flipped over to straddle his strong hips, the bed creaking strenuously when he jabs up all greedy inches stretching your overfilled pussy open. 

There’s nowhere to run - nowhere to hide from Toji and the way he’s simply dragging you down with five of his thick digits wrapped snugly around your throat. “My baby.”

Truly, he was always so mean to you whenever it was a full moon. 

So determined to make sure you end up just as round and glowing as you are in his wettest of dreams. 

You’re gasping, “Wh-what do you-”

“Whoops” He titters, sucking lewdly on your glossy pout, “Did I say that out loud? But, I mean- really silly girl-” Toji bares his elongated canines at your drunken look of shock. Feral. Depraved. “-what else did ya expect coming to a werewolf in rut?”

Drool trickles down the corner of his mouth when the vicious curve of his fat tip draws relentless glides across your g-spot, mapping you from the inside out. Bouncing you precariously on top of him while he fucked up relentlessly over and over-

“Ah!” you’re yelping when Toji bites down harshly on the tender crook of your neck. Hard enough to draw blood, your hips stuttering down in a lewd thwack! onto his sharper ones.

“F-fuck–” the sharp nails on your fingers just dig into his skin, and it makes him grin. “Right there- hah- right there- need you to cum in me again, Toji-”

“Yeah?” he croons from below, quirking up a dark brow. “Think you can handle it- I mean just look.” There’s a low, sultry growl coming from the very depths of his broad chest when Toji’s pulling out ever-so-slightly. His vice-likehold around your neck tightens even more, breath puffing in raggedly hot pants against your cheek. “Look at this.”

And, fuck, you can’t look away. 

Toji’s gripping the red, angry base of his cock, giving the peak of your puffed-up clit a stinging smack! smack! smack! with the very tip of his weep, rotund head. 

And your overspilling pussy just clenches to coat his throbbing cock in such a milky gloss of cum and saturated slick, dredging down to form a creamy ring at the very bottom of his thick hilt. “Yeahhh- think you can handle it, heh.”

As soon as he’s bullying his length back in-between your sopping wet pussy lips, Toji just throws his head back, darkened eyes rolling to the back of his head.

His mouth just waters, heavy cum-filled balls squeezing so painfully, all the blood in his writhing body flowing into a thick knot at his base. And he has to hold himself back from marking down your neck once again. 

“Fuck- fuck yeah tha’s what m’talking- a-about.” His words are slurring now, heaving. You’ve taken him fully before - but he always grew so massive during this time - all the air knocks out of your lungs at how sinfully he stretched you wide open. “Gonna give ya a baby- gonna- ah- gonna make you such a pretty momma.”

And maybe it was because of the rut - maybe you were just that cockdrunk already - but Toji’s rough handling on your hips were veering into bruising territory. Leaving neat little fingernail patterns along your skin, making use of each and every bit of inhuman strength he had to hammer with such pressurized pummels into your poor pussy.

“Oh-” your jaw slacks open when his sloppy hips jerk you to and fro. It’s like his girth was just molding your plush walls to his size. The calloused curve of his thumb dances upwards to roll over your clit, “Feels so- hngh! So good Toji– oh my god-”

“Ya think god can hear ya right now, baby?” he’s leering, jutting his engorged dick upwards until it leaves a messy puddle of his swelteringly hot cum at your thighs, “Tell me how much you hah- want it.”

Each word is just spat at you, and your breathy little whimpers and moans mumble out into his cushiony pecs. “Want it s-so-”

There’s another mean smack against your sensitive clit. “Nuh uh. No stutterin’”

“Toji–!” Big fat tears are streaming down your eyes, ones he lolls his tongue out to catch. Groaning at the slightly salty taste, “Want it so- hah- so bad. Wan’ you to get me pregnant- ngh!”

Such a deep growl is hissed against your kiss-bitten lips, and it’s all it takes before Toji’s breath hitches - rough - and he cums all over again. 

He barely even slows down, grunting out the hoarse mantra of your name. “Oh fuck-” Toji’s feet plant firmly on the silken sheets, arching his back in a tantalizing curve upwards. Achy cock pushing and pushing until he’s managing to squeeze that fattened knot at the very base of his cock through that first ring of muscle. And then he’s shooting such thick spurts of cum all the way into the very back of your pussy, coating your channel in drippingly wet coats of white. “Yeah- fuck- Take it all- m’gonna make you a- ohhh-” 

As if on cue, his teeth find their way back over where your pulse was thundering rapidly. Marking. Claiming. So filthy that it takes only a few more of his hurried, sloppy swivels before you’re cumming as well. 

You’re breathing out shallowly, smoothing out one of your palms over where you could feel the excess of his seed oozing down slowly along your womb. 

“Oh- don’t do that- f-fuck-” Toji was the one stuttering now, his unsteady hips trying desperately to get back that sultry push and pull from before. Difficult with his knot, he was cockwarming you so thoroughly now, all of his solid inches plugging you full - making sure you take his seed the way he wanted to. And it was killing him. 

“When this thing goes down-” He drags you by the throat to crash your lips against his. Free hand patting at your stomach, “-ya better know m’breedin’ ya once more. Until I physically can’t.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - BloodLUST

“Hngh- K-Ken-” your syrupy, slurred-out moans sounds so pretty in Nanami’s ears. So greedy just like the way your drippingly wet cunt calls to him, making such a primal part of himself rear its dark little head. ”It feels so- hah– good-”

“Does it now, my love?” Nanami’s intertwining his fingers with yours, gifting a gentle kiss on the back of your hand. His knees spread apart your trembly legs even further, fucking you harder and harder into the cushiony pillows.

God, the mating press he had you viciously folded into felt so torturously good. Exactly his favorite position to have you in - to spear his thick cock into you like an animal. Jostling out your insides until you were stretched tautly around his swelteringly hot cock, stuffed with so many of his solid inches that you could barely speak. 

Yeah, times like this, Nanami was so entranced by your cunt that his pussydrunk self lets his control slip - just a little bit. He could bare his gentle, fawny eyes with something dangerous. Something that had you gulping, nervous gaze flickering down to his sharply glistening fangs.

“Ken-” you’re pulling him closer by his favorite speckled tie - barely even bothering to change out of his work before he caught a whiff of your bubbly sweet scent. Before he just had to have you. Hot breath sending goosebumps down his spine, “I wan’ you to bite me-”

Slam!

Just the thought of that has him heaving his hand down onto the rickety headboard, jaw clenched. Gritting out, “Don’t- fuck, don’t say things you’re not s-sure about.”

And all he gets is your protesting pout, thighs squeezing even tighter around his broad shoulders. Easily swallowing up every inch after inch that slammed so recklessly into your cunt, clingy ropes of precum seeping out of those bare edges. 

“But I am sure.” Your sweet coo makes him just throw his head back, and he can only pant and pant while you’re bringing up a tender hand up to cup his cheeks. Thumbing just barely over the pointed curl of his canines, “I’m sure I want you to f-fuck bite- me-”

It’s like he’s trying to fuck that little plea out of you. Dragging you down those damply silken sheets with one of his big beefy arms. The other smushing your cheeks together, “Tha’s jus’ this needy pussy talkin’, darling.”

“But Ken don’t you wanna be with m-”

“Hush, now.” he’s dragging a slick thumb over the gaping opening of your pretty pussy, eyeing down in wonder at just how much you seemed to clench at this conversation. Your already drenchingly wet channel sputtering out wave after sloppy wave of squelches each time he buried himself to his blond hilt. “Of course- I wish to only be with you for s’long as you’ll have me.” All the way until Nanami was sure he’d leave the lingering convulses of your pussy clamping around nothing, until your eyes were drooping shut, and those pretty whines were all that smart mouth of yours could get out. “But dontcha think s’better to be human? Better than- this-”

Each of his pressurized plunges have the bed creaking protestingly - absolutely no match, and it was a wonder that you hadn’t broken bones. Yet. 

But you knew that Nanami Kento would never hurt you.

It’s what has you dragging him in for a deep kiss, letting him moan harmonically into your mouth. “M’sure.” Drawling out before he could get a second word in, you’re threading your fingers through his undercut, tugging just slightly enough that his breath hitches in a fully deep gasp. “Please- I wanna be with you Ken-” He’s turning to kiss the golden band of your recent engagement ring, slow and lingering. “-forever.”

Nanami just swallows, “As you wish, my love.”

And then he’s biting you - and then you’re cumming. Only, you don’t know which one comes first.

Just that suddenly your fiancé’s surging his hulking body forwards, crushing you under the heavy weight he can’t hold back. Glinting fangs sinking deep into your booming pulse with a raspy groan, you see white - cumming and cumming so hard that all you can do is drag your nails down his muscled back. 

“Oh-” Nanami gasps out, heaving - as if he’d just run a marathon. He’s holding you so sweetly, but fucking you as roughly as your semi-human body would allow. He only parts with your neck for a split-second, before running his hot tongue over and over in long, languid stripes. Drinking you in. Greedy. “Y’taste so sweet- fuck, always smelt so good but- ahhh fuck you taste so- so perfect.”

It’s only a matter of a few sloppy thrusts into your gooey heaven, him just dragging out your high by knocking feverishly into each of your practiced sweets spots. And with a final, slurping lick - Nanami’s cumming.

SNAP!

His thrumming dick flagging once. Twice. Before gushing out in such wet strands of seed, a creamy mess which fills you from the inside out. Only then is Nanami pulling away, letting you see him in all his utterly fucked-out glory - neat hair askew, high cheekbones blushing, mouth snapping with strands of saliva and your blood. It trickles down the twitching corner of his mouth, smearing lewdly when he rests his face atop your jiggling tits. 

His entire body is shaking. Sensitive. Fuck, he’s almost wondering why he didn’t do this sooner.

“Gonna be mine now.” he utters, guttural and deep from within his panting chest. Shallow. Needy. Jerking forwards in addictive little ruts, his furious cock was still beading out pearlescent ribbons of cum. Overfilling you to the brim. It was stretching out your insides full, dredging down each of your sopping wet wall with each fucked out rut. “Mine.”

Nanami takes his hand off of the now-demolished headboard, intertwining his thick fingers with yours. Kissing that metallic band, “Forever.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Mr. Leader

“Such a naughty girl ya are.” Geto simpers in that dangerously soft tone of his, two of his long, slender fingers draw a sultry circle around the very rim of your sloppily stuffed hole. Just coating it in a glossy sheen of his own cum from earlier tonight, he’s holding it up at the stony-faced crowd on the platform below you two. “Won’t you agree?”

And you can only scrunch your eyes shut in embarrassment at the ripples of whispers - agreement, no doubt, it’s not like anyone had the courage to test your cult leader boyfriend’s patience. Except for you.

“S-Sugu-” you whine. “Don’ hafta be so mean about it-”

You regret the words as soon as they’re tumbling out of your mouth, because that’s all it takes for Geto to unapologetically circle his pretty fingers around the column of your neck. Hauling your pliant self up to straddle his bulgingly angry cock for everyone to see. 

“What was that?” he whispers, lips curling up into a grin. And at your lack of an answer, he’s moving - rocking back and forth in such a slow, purposeful pace. Fingers tightening, “Would you care to repeat that, gorgeous?”

“N-no- ah!” you shake your head, entire body wracking with shudder at the feeling of the absolute mess he was making inside you. Sloshing all over the place, down your trembly thighs, pooling onto the association’s platform. Your hands are jittery once they grab onto his velvety robes, “Didn’t- hngh- didn’t mean it, Sugu…” 

A pout teases its way onto Geto’s face, and with no remorse he’s bending your back into the sluttiest arch for him. Showing off the way those puffy pussy lips of yours were struggling so sinfully around his thick girth, barely being able to accommodate each of the greedy inches you were swallowing so quickly.

“What do you think?” he groans, and you realize with a jolt that he’s not talking to you now. Taunting fingers scissor open your overfilled cunt even more, just having you gapingly held open, “Should I go easy on her?”

Geto doesn’t wait for an answer, instead he’s leveraging that powerful hold around your throat to just drag you down every inch of his thick, throbbing cock. Biting down on his lower lip at the way your gummy walls were so clingy. 

You’re whining an audible ah! ah! ah! at each of his hefty clashes against your g-spot - it echoes all throughout the stage and makes Geto laugh. Laugh.

“They might tell me to go easy-” he’s whispering against your ear, biting down smugly on your jaw. You’re trapped - so utterly helpless in his grasp and fuck do you want it so bad. “-but I don’t know if my girl deserves it.”

Each word of his drips straight to your velvety cunt, clenching in such a lewd pulse that Geto almost considered teasing you about how hard it was to fuck into you just the way he wanted. 

Your sweaty palms cup his face, bringing your lips crashing against his in such a messy, messy kiss. “Please- Hngh- I want it- wanna cum, Sugu. Wanna have you cum in m- mmpf–!”

He’s cutting you off with a harsh suck on your delirious tongue, and another pressurized thrust right into the very depths of your sloppy pussy. You’re all but bawling when he stutters up even harder at his sloppy pace - just rawly bucking up into you, making you take each sweltering kiss his thick head places along your plush walls. 

“Want want want-.” Geto hisses against your lips, gnawing down in warning against them. “All want- I’ve been fuckin’ you for hours now n’ you’re still s-so hah- demanding, gorgeous.” 

His slyly dripping undertone makes you rut your drenched cunt even harder down onto his smackingly sharp pelvis. Another spreading swipe against your sloppily full cunt reveals more of his potent seed dripping out, a sight that makes his mouth water. “Even after I’ve given you so hah- much, still want more, huh?”

And all you can do is nod half-drunkenly, “Want it.” And he has to admire how well you take his bullying thrusts. “Want it, please, Sugu?”

“Well-” that attractively authoritative tone of his voice makes you even more embarrassingly soaked. Planting a slidingly wet kiss against your lips, he raises his voice. “Whaddaya say? Think she’s learned her lesson enough to cum?”

Somewhere in the distance, you think you hear a low “yes.” But you can’t look over your shoulder - not with his steady, vice-like grip still blocking most of your airway. No, but you can just feel the moment when Geto’s bulbously swollen tip just twitches against your cervix, when his smacking balls clench. So hard, so tight.

And the only warning you get - “Cum then, naughty girl.”

Within a few more messy strikes to your g-spot, you do - and it’s all over Geto’s pounding cock, your snug pussy is just gushing all over his crushing hips. Light-headed, vision tinging with black, your nails claw furious red patterns down his wrist at your throat.

“Fuuuuck- yeah, milk yourself. Fuck yourself down on my cock while you cum.” Geto breathes out, voice lilting a few octaves higher than usual. His widened dark eyes lay locked on where your cunt was still coating him in all your slick juices, honeyed and syrupy down into a puddle. “Squirtin’ all over my cock i-in front of- hah- all these people? Ya really are something else, gorgeous.”

Slack-jawed, his glassy gaze only droops in disbelief at the sight of those dredges of cum and your juices dripping down the sopping wet ends of your slit. The way it slipped and slided between you two to make such a glossy mess. “Wastin’ it, too.” 

And you can’t do anything but gasp when his fingers dig even further around your throat, talking - not  you. “Now, do I hafta teach her a lesson about wastin’?”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - “Lookin’ at his t-t-t-FACE!”

“Baby-”

“...”

“Baby, please.” Choso’s gasping, his rounded Adam’s apple bobbing precariously at where you held his pretty little knife deftly to his neck. And despite that, it was the last thing on his mind. “Please- jus’ want ya to fuckin’ move-”

You have to hold back your drunken giggles when he’s practically knocking off his ghostface mask in haste, hurrying to grab a handful of your ass. Squeezing. Kneading. Dragging you downwards to feed inch by fucking inch of his needy cock into your glistening cunt. “Move those pretty hips f’me, why dontcha?”

“Hmmm…” you’re dragging out in that honeyed tone of yours. And it makes the dangerous man just huff so poutily in a way you wished you could kiss away - if only that mask wasn’t in the way, that is. You tug on a soft raven strand of his hair peeking out, “Only if you take that mask off.”

And that makes him keen. It makes him sob. 

It makes him bury his face into the crook of your sweat-sheened neck, easing another riotous half-thrust up into your silken smooth pussy, you’re practically cockwarming him now. “B-but-” Choso whimpers - whimpers. 

One that cracks so lewdly at the end when your cunt gives a clingy squeeze, massaging down the ridges and veins decorating his fat cock. The feeling makes him throw his head back, lips glistening with fucked-out drool. 

He’s trying oh-so-desperately to swivel his achy cock even deeper inside you, hips jutting upwards to rummage your insides tentatively. The very bulbous tip of his cock swirling your insides so deliciously. 

“Please-”

“Take it off.”

Such a pretty cry wrenches out of Choso’s mouth when your glossed lips press a chaste peck onto his mask, accompanied by such a slutty arch of your hip downwards. Snug cunt milking him with just an ounce of what he was begging for. Just a taste. “Please- please please plase- fine- fuck! You win! Just please-” And you’re barely even given the time to react before he’s snatching back the knife in your hands. Cutting off his mask in an easy motion. “-fuck me!”

And oh was this ghostfaced intruder so pretty - his dark, dewy eyes filled to the brim with pussydrunk tears, lids drooping down slowly when he feels himself twitch. Hair disheveled and damp, there was such an innocently rosy blush all over his cheeks. 

With wobbly, ravaged lips, he pleads, “Please. Fuck me, baby. Use me.”

And you just can’t help but slam your stuttering hips so sloppily down onto his, feeling the echoing smack! of his tight balls sting against your ass. Just two seconds of your riding him has him whining, his greedy hands didn’t know where to be now - at your poor, neglected clit, or maybe guiding your tantalizingly perky nipples to his mouth, maybe even letting you take back his prized knife. 

“Oh-” your mouth crashes messily into his. Hypnotic. Each push and pull of your tongues is accompanied by your sopping wet pussy coating him in another wave after wave of syrupy slick. It leaves him speechless. “Such a pretty, pretty boy. What a hah- shame you wear that mask.”

His head was so fucked. Just that little compliment makes him throb, hauling you down even further to feel his syrupy sweet precum sloshing around your gummy walls. The angry rounded divot on his fat head jostling inside you to bang right into your poor g-spot. It just felt so good.

“You- you think I’m hngh- pretty?” He’s batting his long lashes up at you, and you feel his strong arms tighten around the small of your waist. Your hardened nipples scratch so tantalizingly against the fabric of his thick black cloak. “You really- really think I’m-”

Each word is heaved out in-between such sloppy thrusts, and the way you’re sucking him up so needily - so heavenly makes him moan. And you could’ve sworn you felt his achy shaft grow two sizes larger, contorting your elastic walls.

Sucking on your tongue between his pretty lips, “You’re so- fuuuck- didn’t know it could feel this good. Ngh- please- more- want more-”

“So greedy–” you teasing, eyeing down at the way that only makes his blush grow darker. But that doesn’t stop him - no, the very thought of stopping isn’t anywhere on Choso’s mind. 

In fact, he’s only shuddering out a few sloppy thrusts into your gummy cunt before taking your sensitive clit between two fingers. Rolling his thumb gingerly, he mewls through lingering kisses. “Does it feel good, baby?” And oh he can’t take his eyes off of you, rutting upwards to chase after the lewd squelch! squelch! squelch! from down below. “You’re ah- t-taking me so ngh, well. Fuck-” Head just throwing back at the mere sight of your puffy folds stretching out widely around his girth, bulging when he unapologetically bullies every inch of him. “Please- tell me it feels good.”

Your grip just sears across his scalp when you tangle your fingers through his soft strands, baring his entirely pussydrunk face. His fucked-out grin, the way each bouncing pace of your hips had it growing wider and wider, eyes rolling to the back of his head. So pretty.

“Mhm, so good, Cho–” you moan, your fully stuffed cunt flutters at just how shamelessly that makes him throb. Letting you hover his knife just barely up, up, up his heaving chest, nipping lightly at Choso’s pale neck. “Makes me so hah- h-happy when you’re behaving f’me. Like you’re my good boy.”

He’s nodding before you’re even finishing the sentence, one hand tightening at your waist. Bruisingly so. The other drawing insistent, messy little circles, “Mhm, m’your good boy– always gonna be- hngh-” It drags from his throat guttural and raw. Leaning up to kiss such a sloppy kiss against your lips, “N’ I wanna fuck you like I am, baby.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Demon time?

“Tch-” You’re gulping when the towering demon in front of you quirks up his brow sharply. Admonishingly. Crossing all four of his arms over his muscled chest while you sat all pretty and fucked-out on his manspread lap. “How are ya gonna summon the king of curses n’ not even be able to take both his dicks, brat?”

He’s rolling his eyes at you’re protesting little whines, shifting done further on his decadent throne to have his fat cockspearheading even deeper. 

Smack! All five of his thick fingers burn brandingly into the fat of your ass, the very motion makes you jump, your trembly legs tightening around his toned waist. 

“Now now, I didn’t say to jus’ act all cute n’ cockdrunk, did I?” His rough hands push apart your legs even more, another third hand is slotting into the hot core between your legs. And Sukuna smiles at the way you’re so soppingly wet, squeezing your puffed-up folds even further apart to swallow his twin girths. “All I want is for you to- take- it-”

Oh, right now you couldn’t speak. Couldn’t even breathe with the way it felt like Sukuna was stretching out your insides so sinfully. Your pussy being stuffed to her poor limits, both of his hefty cocks bully their greedy way inside you. 

“O-oh–” you’re whining so sweetly in his ear when one of his fat, bulbous tips press up into your g-spot. Slow. Still. But not for long - because that large, ravenous tongue split across Sukuna’s abs open wide to slurp at your pulsing clit. Depraved. “Kuna- oh my god it f-feels so good- hngh-”

“Kuna?” he seethes. Each of his stacked cocks find their way knocking at your womb, marking you where no human had before - exactly how he liked it. “You dare call the king of curses “Kuna” brat?”

Tearily, you look up into his glowingly red eyes, “M’-m’sorry, Sukuna- didn’t think-”

But any and all answer is purposefully being fucked out of your now thoroughly hazy brain. He’s grabbing at your hips to plunge into your drippingly wet channel, brandishing that tongue on his stomach to roll harshly over your clit. Circling the very tip over and over the sensitive nub - all while he simply lounged on his royal throne. 

“Didn’t tell ya to not call me that, did I?” Sukuna scoffs, and if you were in any better state of mind you could’ve sworn that there was a light tinge of red tainting the very tips of his ears. “Tch- now don’t you fuckin’ look at me with those pretty eyes-” He’s giving your ass another clingy smack! Having you bouncing up and down easily along both of his impressive girth. “If ya wanna be fucked by a demon so bad then be fucked, woman.”

And shit- you could already feel the way his sharp hipbones dug into your ass, the resounding thwack! thwack! thwack! of his heavy, twitching balls echoing across the dimly-lit throne room you’d been thrust into. 

“Please- Kuna–” your arms make their limp way around his neck. And the slight change in angle has him assaulting into the line of your cervix, fucking two girthy divots into the spongy bottom. You crane upwards to kiss him in a way that makes him smile at how you struggle. “M’gonna feel ya for the next week, hngh- s’so much better than any human–”

Smack!

“What a naughty little minx ya are.” he jeers, but you could feel the way his throbbing cocks weep happily at your admission. Flooding your cunt with splatters of heated precum, slobbering out of you with each of his animalistic rams. “Really underestimated you, little human- hah! N’ look at you now, about to cum all because of a big bad demon. Aren’t ya embarrassed?” 

You couldn’t shake your delirious head “no” fast enough, and not wasting a moment’s time Sukuna’s planting such a deep kiss on your pouty lips. “Well then, aren’t you an interesting one, huh? Begging for the king’s cock.”

“Mhm–” you’re mewling, gliding your drooling pussy easily down his bulging cock. “Wan’ you- wanna cum- wanna- hah-”

You’re gifted with another one of his mean slaps, “Make up ya damn mind, brat. So greedy.”

But he doesn’t stop - doesn’t even think of it, actually. Because Ryomen Sukuna would never admit it but fuck, were you so perfect like this. So gorgeous. So very his. 

You’re already so full of him that you could almost spot the massive outlines of where he was steadily attacking your sweet spots. Draw a line across where he ended, rotund heads marking their way inside.

That he can’t help but increase that strikingly sloppy staccato of his, fucking you repeatedly stupid. He just lunges forwards to have you riding both his monster cocks and his tongue, the stimulation of it making him bite his lower lip. 

“Oh- yeah–” It takes every embarrassed fiber of his being to stop from rolling his eyes to the back of his head. The fourth of his beefy hands coming up to tweak your hardened nipples, tugging and teasing - just barely treading with his long nails. “Cum all over my cocks then if ya- hngh- if ya like it that much.” His feral hips snap! up even harder, leaving you with a final, unforgettable smack! “Cum for me, my queen.”

“Fuck- m’cumming-” you’re whining not even a split-second later. Head thrown back, your hips stutter down frantically to meet his, over and over- you can’t stop. He can’t stop. “M’cumming m’cumming- fuck fuck fuck, Kuna-”

Two of his engulfing arms wrap around you, pinning you to his cushiony pecs. He’s wrenching out each white-hot spark of pleasure, making your toes curl at every clash against the bullseye of your g-spot, every blissful lick to your clit. He groans throatily, smug grin simpering in place, “Yeah- heh, best believe m’keepin’ you after this.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - Madam.

There’s such a saccharine sweet whine leaving Gojo’s pouty mouth, fingers twitching wildly where they were pinning you down onto the cushiony pillows. “F-fuck- stop- hah, stop squeezin’ me like that or m’gonna cum early on our wedding- night-”

You can only jitter your hips back into his even further, knees aching from holding you up for so long now. Just a few hours ago you’d been wedded to the infamous head of the Gojo clan and now - well, now he was well and fully intent on proving to everyone in this estate exactly why you’d make the perfect madam.

“Toru–” you’re mewling, looking over your trembly shoulder to spy upwards at him. Fuck, the elders would faint if they saw how utterly defiled he was right now. 

His strong arms twitchy and flexing with each hammering thrust, the weight of his muscled thigh hiked up to pummel at the very bottom of your spongy pussy. You felt so soft, so soppingly wet inside with sloshes of his seed from before coating him with each passing second. 

“Heh.” Gojo hovers forwards to pat at your tummy, cutely bloated with all of his throbbingly thick inches. “All stuffed full of me- isn’t that right, wifey?”

“Y-yes.” 

“Nuh uh, louder, sweetheart.” he cuts off your babbling. “Wan’ everyone in this godforsaken house to hear.”

The bed creaks in sinful synchrony with your sappy whines, and the lingering smack! of his hips against yours, achy cum-filled balls sticking to your thighs. Shit, he saw stars behind his eyes with each clingy pull out of your tight pussy - and it drove him mad. 

“I-  I want-”

“Louder.”

“Fuck- yes!” It’s just about all you can get out before he’s crashing his pussydrunken-grin against yours in a messy clash of a kiss. Tongue lolling out to suck on yours, glassy eyes drooping just barely shut. You moan, “I want you to cum inside me again- Now. Gimme an hngh- heir.”

Oh. 

Oh fuck, that did it. 

“You want an heir?” he breathes, and it’s about several octaves higher than normal. Raspy. Reverant. “An heir- fuck!” Suckling softly on your neck, “S’my pretty wife wants an heir, huh?”

The very thought makes him giddier than it should’ve, and oh he’s choking back guttural whimpers. The sensitive divot at the very end of his swollen cock emitting steamingly hot wisps of milky white precum already. 

“Mhm–” you’re nodding, keening at the hefty weight of his muscled body pressing down into yours. Rippling abs rubbing up and down against your back at each jaggedly sloppy thrust, it’s like he’s just hauling you further and further up the decadent mattress. Batting your tearful lashes. “Want it so bad- Wontcha breed me, Toru? Fill me up?”

At this, one of his massive arms comes down to press hard at your womb. And fuck he was practically squeezing you dry, letting the thickly hot dredges of his cascade down your thighs. 

“Ohhhh yes. Look at that.” he’s groaning, the curving head of his fat cock bumping into those various ridges of your sweet spots inside. “Already so full of me and you hngh- w-want more? The new madam is getting bossy, hm?”

God, you felt so good that you’re scrambling towards those plushy expensive covers. Stammering out, feeling so delirious and stupid on his massive cock. “S-so what? What if I jus’ wan’ make you a daddy?”

He’s kissing oh-so-gently against your spit-glossed pout, acting for all the world as if his vigorous cadence isn’t just rendering you half-speechless. “Nothing wrong- ah- nothing wrong at all, in fact.”

That squelching staccato from down below was so loud now that you were sure it would be heard. But Gojo didn’t care - the last thing on his mind in fact. Gojo’s driving even more vigorously to kiss your g-spot with more of his precum. “In fact- I just hope that every one of those fuckers know it.”

And perhaps tomorrow, none of those usually-sneering elders will look you in the eye, and all of the housestaff will blush when they see your state - but right now, all you’re doing is cumming. 

“T-Toru–!” you’re screaming out, letting him grab both your wrists from behind you to drill himself even more solidly. He’s letting all the sloppy mess from before pool down onto the sheets, a lewd puddle that makes him slip n’ slide even deeper inside. “M’cumming- fuck fuck fuck- m’cumming ah-”

And Gojo only flashing you a leering smirk, hoisting you upwards to fuck you through each and every one of those crashing waves of pleasure, those jolts of electricity that have you twitchy so perfectly around his considerably large girth. “Heh- I already know, sweetheart. Can feel ya- hngh- trynna milk me- fuck. This pussy’s too- hah- good-”

His smug smile is dipping away from his pretty face, sweat perspiring like crazy across his lolling forehead. And before long, Gojo’s crying out your name like a broken mantra. Rough hands coming to pin you up against his hard muscled front, just pumping you full of every single one of his sticky ribbons of cum. 

It’s so hot, so potent, barrelling into your gummy walls and making you so soaked inside. His body shakes on top of yours, and you’re flinching at the soft pitter patter of his big, fat tears of sensitivity.

“Oh- my wife- my wife my wife-” he bites his bottom lip raw, head thrown back, throat shot. Cumming and cumming until he couldn’t anymore. Until his sensitive length was weeping nothing more than milky wisps of precum, blanks, even. Pulling out ever-so-slightly, he watches the sheer volume of seed slobber from between your syrupy sweet folds, squelch squelch squelch so loud it rings across his ears. 

Satoru catches your lips in such a gentle, gentle kiss, “Again. I don’t think the entire estate knows they’re having an heir soon, yet.”

A/N. Hnghgh vampire Nanami - also I headcanon that the elders got the Gojo Estate soundproofed after that.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[bunnys-kisses]

"ex" husband

simon "ghost" riley

cw: pwp/smut, ex husband!simon, possessive!simon, dark themes, mirror sex & other smut, major red flags, proceed with caution, bad husband!simon, manipulation

bunny says: once you fuck crazy, you never not fuck crazy

simon didn't believe in divorce. he made a vow to be with you till death, he wasn't going to skimp out on the years you could spend together. he wouldn't accept that you wanted to be without him.

he had you on the floor of your shared bedroom, you were holding onto him behind yourself while his hands were on your hips. he was rubbing his cock up against your slick entrance.

"have you had any other guys over? fuckin' them in my bed, in my home that i paid for?" he held it over your head as he watched your face contort with pleasure. he continued to rub his tip up against your slit.

"no, simon." you panted. your heart raced with every moment that passed. your body was hot all over. "i haven't had anyone else, not since you." your pussy clenched around nothing in anticipation for what was to come. you were almost certain that your cunt was formed to the size of his cock.

"good, good. i don't want some fuckin' prick comin' to my home and fuckin' my girl." his voice was low as he got a hand between your legs and touched your clit with his rough fingers.

you arched your back and moaned out loud. you could be as loud as you needed to be. he kept his wife in a home far enough from everything that you could whimper and whine to your heart's content. your eyes fluttered closed as you felt the thrill of pleasure through your body.

"nothin' can have ya. no stupid asshole who thinks he can have what is mine. you made a promise, love. to be loyal to your husband." he growled as he gripped your jaw with his other hand and made you look into the mirror, "i don't think someone who wants to leave her husband would be lettin' him fuck her in their bedroom."

"simon, please." you whimper.

"nah, nah, love.' he said, accent heavier due to the immense lust in his body, "i was a good man to you. lovin', carin', did everythin' for ya. and you turn around like an ungrateful brat and try to leave me." his voice was getting deadly. his hand still held your jaw and his other played with your clit. you were stuck to him, "fuckin' slag. surprised you haven't fucked your way through the neighborhood to find a new man. because you'd never find one like me. or you're scared. scared i'd find him, and make him go missin'."

you swallowed, fear struck through you, "simon. i didn't sleep with anyone."

he buried his nose into your hair and groaned as his cock still prodded your pussy lips, "i know, i know. you don't actually want to leave me. your girlfriends got these thoughts into your head that i don't think are true. better without me? love, i made you."

you panted heavily, it was hard to look into the mirror with his hot words into your mouth. maybe he was right, maybe you didn't want to leave him. he had given you everything throughout your entire marriage. why would you sacrifice it?

he pulled his hand away from your pussy and guided his cock into your pussy. the stretch had you gripping onto him. the angle was awkward but he had you contorted to fit his pleasure.

"my good wife." he purred, "i'll always love you. even when you're not usin' that head of yours right. but don't worry." he kissed your cheek, "i'll always take care of my girl."

you held onto him as he thrusted into your from behind. you felt the air leave your lungs whenever he pushed into you. it was an intense feeling on your behalf. you had never imagined that fucking your soon-to-be ex-husband would feel so good.

"like that, love?"

you nodded meekly, "it feels good."

"that's a good girl." he groaned, "made perfectly for me. you are such a good girl for me, love. why would you want to go anywhere? stay with me, keep your vow."

your thighs quivered from the intense feeling of pleasure. your breathing was heavy and your head felt full. your heart leapt every time his cock nudged against a sensitive spot.

"please, simon. i can't be your wife."

"you can. and you will." he took you by the face and tilted your head back so he could kiss you passionately.

you melted into the kiss, as did the last of your resolve. your core throbbed with a need for him. he melted away all your problems. the more he fucked you, the more you wanted to stay with him.

he was your husband after all.

the sex between you two was hot and messy. it made you core soaked as he continued to bully his cock into your sweet cunt with every hard thrust.

"say you love me."

"i love you." you replied, your eyes hooded.

"good girl." he groaned, "i want to hear that every day until you can no longer speak." he licked across your bottom lip, "my good girl."

you whined as your body shook with each thrust of his hips. your pussy clenched around his cock. you felt your mouth to be dry and you voice strained.

simon loved taking you apart, only to put you back together. he continued to fuck you with abandon. he gazed at you with his nose in your hair as he thrusted up into you.

your noises were so cute, you really just were so small compared to him. you needed him! what were you thinking leaving him? you needed your big strong military husband to make sure that you were safe. don't be silly now!

he kissed your neck as he felt the surge of pleasure in his gut. his heart hammered with each every thrust. you were made for him. as he kissed the tip of your ear, he felt the blush that spread across your skin.

"please, simon."

"i got ya, love." he said, "i got ya." with a few more thrusts that hit in just the right place. you saw stars as you climaxed around his cock. his was soon to follow as his cum hit the back of your womb.

where it belonged.

as you rested your face on the carpet of the bedroom in an effort to cool down, simon grabbed your hips and started to thrust into you once more. his cock still painfully hard.

"you've done enough damage, love. so just sit there and let your husband take care of you." his voice was low and deadly. your best option would to just let simon do what he wanted.

-

"so mrs. riley. you've decided against the divorce. any particular reason why?"

you relaxed a little bit in the sleek office chair across the desk from your lawyer. your hand was on your middle as you smiled, "well, we're having a son soon, and he needs his father in his life. so i reconsidered."

"the case against your husband is fairly strong. broken locks on the door, his overly possessive behaviour, the text messages and voice mails, all of it. you could be granted a divorce quite easily."

you shook your head, "no need. we've worked it out." you smiled at the lawyer. you knew your simon was waiting for you in the car. his words echoed in your mind as you assured your lawyer that her services weren't needed.

you and simon were properly a family now. you didn't need to tear it apart. after all, how else were you going to end up with many little rileys running around?

[obsessedwrhys]

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ The Seven x Deadpool!Reader

t/w: loooots of dark humour/jokes, reader is insensitive and an asshole since they're also a supe working at vought, your powers are the exact same as Deadpool (even the skin condition), mention about killing, death, gore, r-pe, n@zis?!?!, alcohol, some intimacy (?). Also reader is gn!!

ᯓ★ here's a version with the boys <3

HOMELANDER

This man hates you so fking much

Has tried to kill you multiple times, he tried lasering you, tearing you in half and even throwing you into the sky but you just always manage to come back like the damn plague

Eventually he gives up trying to kill you and just had to deal with the fact you'll be kept alive... just temporarily though... he's still looking for ways to kill you

However, your powers gave you dozens of advantages when around Homelander.

He can be having a meeting about something serious and everyone would be listening to him due to their fear towards him, then there's you who'd be doing your own thing and just shout out unrelated things like "Donald Trump just blocked me on Twitter!! HAH!! SUCK IT CORNFLACKS!!"

Everyone turning to you with startled expressions while Homelander simply rolls his eyes before continuing his presentation.

You are a complete nightmare to the PR team, that's why for interviews or any events, you'll always be paired up with Homelander so he can keep you under control and stop you from saying weird shit that could ruin the company's image.

"So Deadpool, how does it feel being in the Seven working alongside Homelander? You've been working together for almost 3 years now" A reporter would ask as you two are surrounded by screaming fans.

"Like I'm in the twilight series, not because of the fantasy but because I'm still waiting for the part where he impregnates me—"

"O-kay! That's enough, just silly ol' Deadpool with those inside jokes"

"You can tell in this eyes that he wants to fuck me right now. HE'S GONNA FUCK ME!!" You shouted as you're being dragged away by him.

Obviously when you had found out about his relationship with Stormfront, especially her background, you had to say some shit about it. Not giving the slightest care about the fact he could be grieving over her death.

He'll be in his room standing in front of the window and you'd just storm in, being as loud as possible.

"I can't believe you dated a N@zi!! Is it because I'm Jewish?!" Which may or may not be true, nobody knows your origin.

He may hate your guts but if he ever needs someone to help him do some dirty work, you're the person for the job, you never ask why or how, which could be the only thing he likes about you.

"Y'know, maybe if you didn't have such a big mouth, you'd be tolerable"

"All the people I've slept with have said otherwise"

Compatibility? 50%

STARLIGHT

Before she joined the Seven, she had an image of what kind of person you were, she just didn't know it was this worse.

When you found out she used to work at this Sunday School Church, you just haaaaad to say something about it.

"So like, you say that prayer always works, but every night I pray for my hair to grow and it never does. Do you think God has me blocked? How do I get unblock?"

"Uh..."

You two surprisingly get along without one wanting to slice the other's throat, except sometimes the things you say can really piss her off. Which is why when the company assigned her a new costume, she was trying her hardest to avoid you, but you found out anyways.

"Holy shit Starlight! Nice costume, is this your Miley Cyrus breakthrough? Girl power!"

Insert her groaning out of annoyance.

Again, the second you discovered she was dating a guy behind the death of Translucent, you were heartbroken :(

"Of course this happens right when my therapist gives up on me!"

Despite your behaviour, you pitied her when it was revealed that she was taken advantage of by The Deep, so like any good friend, you took revenge by cooking his friend octopus and eating it happily in front of him.

"Revenge does taste sweet" You'd say happily while Starlight just watches by the side, both grateful and horrified at your actions.

In my opinion, you would definitely be the person she goes to once she starts working with the boys, you'll always be providing whatever information that happens in the company for her to use.

It helps her worry less about getting anyone killed 'cause you literally can't die.

Compatibility? 60%

QUEEN MAEVE

You're half the reason why she rethinks about her life choices when she wakes up in the morning

Not because you're a handful (which you are) but because you're always paired together on missions

"Deadpool! The hostages!"

"OKAY! God... you act just like my drunk uncle"

Which is a joke/nickname you like to address her by because of her alcoholism (yikes)

Whenever the company needs you for something, half of the time she's the one assigned to search for you.

There was this one time she caught you trying to have Anika track down Kanye West's location, nobody knows what shenanigans you were up to.

Another thing to mention was that you two were chosen by the company to sing a Christmas song for the year's Christmas ceremony.

Just imagine during the bridge of the song, she's singing normally while you're completely going off, your high note so high you were sure you had Mariah Carey a run for her money.

Even though she finds you a lot to deal with, you're actually her buddy to train with.

Since you're very skilled with Katanas, she likes to practice her swordsmanship with you.

You like to tease or make fun of her everytime she fails to strike you which is good motivation for her to get better. Maybe you guys bring out the best of each other?

Last thing I'd like to add is when she was found out by the public that she was a lesbian (She's bi but you get the running joke), you had gifted her a t-shirt that says, 'Biggest Dick in Town'

Compatibility? 80%

THE DEEP

Your human punching bag

If Vought was a high school instead of a company, you'd be the bully and he'd be the nerd getting stuffed inside the locker room.

For example, Homelander could be confronting Starlight about her relationship with Hughie and everyone would just start raising their voices til you come in yelling "SHUT UP!" to the Deep who had not said a single thing during the entire time.

Just imagine him staring at you like 😐

To be honest you also ate his friend octopus so you guys are actually never getting the chance to make up.

"Look dude, I don't appreciate your tone"

"I don't appreciate your haircut either but we can't all get what we want"

You may be a crazy person but you weren't going to be okay with the fact he violates every woman he sees, so not only did you cook the octopus but you also called in a male stripper disguised as a woman just for him to celebrate on his birthday.

Just imagine him all happy when you tell him the news and later that night he'll run inside your room, completely pissed off at your act after finding out but you just laughed and said.

"Happy April Fools 😚!"

"That's next month dipshit!"

Also, you never understood his weird fantasies. He has a thing for sea animals??You've caught him multiple times either flirting or getting off to one. It was concerning even for you.

"From how many animals you've fucked, you might just turn from the ocean's 'Seaman' to 'Semen'." You joked which he did not find funny.

Maybe you messing with him could just be your way of getting along with him since you're the same with everybody else, it's just he has more flaws to poke fun of and he's sensitive about them.

Compatibility? 5%

A-Train

He thinks you're fucked up in the head.

Half of the shit that comes out of your mouth just has him reacting like in the GIF

Buuuuuut you're the one he always brings to the club because you always know ways to give the party life.

You've somehow even got on the wall of fame, a lovely portrait of you with your hands making out a heart.

Also, you know about his business with Compound V waaaaay before anyone else did. He's still grateful you didn't tell anyone.

Just like everyone else, you also enjoy messing with him except he's fast and constantly avoiding you.

"Hey A-Train, how much do you wanna bet that I can die faster than you?"

"Dude... seriously?"

You guys rarely get sent on missions together because you're always slowing him down, not basing off the fact he's fast but because you get easily sidetracked with other things.

"Alright, we're here now, how much C4 do we use?"

"Fuck math! Let's use all of 'em!"

You ended up detonating all of the C4 on you before he could object the idea, he was able to run out in time, your action nearly getting him killed while you ended up dead.

But it's fine you'll just grow back.

You know that race he has against Shockwave? You'd be at the VIP section standing near where Homelander and Queen Maeve is, waving your huge banner that has a picture of A-Train's face and yours pasted over a figure carrying the other in bridal style.

Compatibility? 55%

TRANSLUCENT

He makes people paranoid but you make him disgusted.

There was this one time he was bored so he snuck in your room to see what you were doing.

At first he was confused why you had so many cute plushies but then the more he explored your room, he realised your room is basically every collector's dream.

You even had a huge teddy bear in the corner of your dressing room.

The reason why he doesn't like to spy on you is because the last time he did, he saw you putting your hand in the blender, then proceeding to put your private part into it.

Never again, he thought, never again.

He doesn't need to witness you carry out your intrusive thoughts.

Surprising enough, you're close with his son, I'd like to think that after his death, you practically became the kid's godparent. Though you can be sort of a bad influence, leading up to how he is in Gen V.

You always tell him you hate kids but he thinks otherwise.

After all, he can read people well.

You guys like to pull pranks on each other since you guys like competing on who's more sneaky

There was this one time, you woke up to find your suit gone so you ended up walking around the building, completely naked and unfazed by people's stares.

It was when you walked around the corner that you found your suit worn by someone else, turns out it was Translucent under it.

"Why is it so fucking tight dude? How do you stay in this shit all day?"

"You get used to it"

Compatibility? 85%

BLACK NOIR

Lovers.

He doesn't mind your attitude because he actually can't say anything about it.

No seriously... he can't talk.

But hey he's got a good shoulder to cry on.

"I just... hffgh... I can't believe my album didn't surpass lady gaga's... She doesn't even know how to use Katanas like I do!" You'd let out a loud sob while he just stares at you for a while before placing a hand on your shoulder, patting you gently.

You know the scene where he's playing the piano for one of the company's party? You'll be laying down on top of it and singing in your usual overdramatic high pitched voice.

He finds your humour amusing so he always does this little head tilt like in the GIF when you say some weird shit while waiting for his response.

Since both of you are the only members of the Seven that wears a full body suit, obviously you had to try on his but since it was impossible to achieve that, you just had the company make a copy for you.

He'll be walking down the hallway doing his normal routine until he notises another person in his suit, the moment you speak and he realises its just you is when he let's his guard down.

"I just got some transplants done to my ass, that's why I look different"

You both are never sent on missions together 'cause you guys don't work well, pretty much nobody works well with him since he's the silent type.

Example, you two were hiding behind some crates ready to jump on the bad guys who were snucking in illegal drugs. He gestured for you to wait as he went to check again, only to turn back to see you gone.

"Marry Christmas motherfuckers!"

He heard your voice shout and he found you standing on top of the stacked crates, machine gun in hand and began shooting aimlessly.

He didn't even do anything but just watch until you ran out of bullets. However, multiple survived and began shooting at you so you ended running towards where he's hiding at.

"Yankee yankee!" You yelped.

You know the video of the two girls taking off their wigs to reveal that they're bald and they start bonding over it? I'd like to imagine that's you and Black Noir with the skin condition under the suits.

One more scenario I wanna add, you guys could be having a meeting but since you were bored and you always hated meetings, you'd draw a big heart on a piece of paper and show it to Black Noir from across the table. Surprisingly he'd draw a heart back to you.

You were overjoyed so you began to draw you and him doing it, doggy style. He stares at your doodle for a while before choosing to just focus on the meeting instead.

Compatibility? 90%

(This took a while cause I was on vacation)

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　TOO MUCH

chris sturniolo x reader

SUMMARY: Where Matt and Nick say some hurtful things to Chris during a fight, bringing his insecurities to life and causing him to turn to his anchor, Y/N.

WARNING: Insecurities, fighting, crying, anxiety attack.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by anon.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

The noise in the living room had escalated from playful teasing in front of the camera to sharp, biting words. Chris stood behind the kitchen table, his hands clenched into fists at his sides as he glared at Matt and Nick, who were both looking at him from the other side of the table with expressions caught between frustration and exasperation.

"Do you ever think before you act, Chris?" Matt's voice was, surprisingly, raised, an edge of impatience in his tone. "We can’t get through one day without you doing something childish and making a scene, or worse, making our videos look like shit because of it!"

Chris’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond immediately, his eyes darting between his brothers, trying to make sense of how things had gotten so out of hand.

"I wasn’t trying to do anything." He muttered finally, his voice barely above a whisper laced with hurt. "I was just... being myself."

"Yeah, exactly." Nick jumped in, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. "And that’s the problem. You’re always yelling and doing the most, Chris. It’s just... exhausting, okay?"

Chris clenched his fists, jaw tight as he glared at Nick, feeling himself crumbling a bit because sure, he’s too much. Sure, he speaks too loud and had opinions about everything and wasn’t afraid to share them, even if they were about the silliest things. Sure, he feels cornered and childish and immature and annoying, and most of what they're saying is probably true, but hearing his own brothers say it out loud... it pains his heart.

"You know, that’s actually rich coming from you." He shot back, his voice carrying a frustration he couldn’t hold back, trying to disguise his pain with anger. "You’re always the first to say that people watch us because we’re different, because even though we look the same, we're still different. But all you ever do is complain that I’m not just like you or Matt!”

Nick’s expression shifted, taken aback by Chris’s words. But Nick wasn’t one to back down, his voice snapping back almost before Chris had finished speaking.

"That’s not what I’m saying at all!" He fired, eyes narrowing. "Is it so insane to want you to stop yelling and acting like a literal child in every video? We’re trying to be professional, Chris! People like us, yeah, but they won’t if you keep acting like-"

Chris dragged a hand over his face, pressing the heel of his palm into his forehead, trying to shut out Nick’s words, trying to drown out the overwhelming feeling of being misunderstood.

"... and we can’t keep dealing with it, Chris. Grow the fuck up."

The youngest felt his chest tighten even more. His greatest insecurity - one that clawed at his chest every night when he couldn’t sleep, when the silence around him became deafening - was now on full display, brutally brought to life by the people he trusted most.

The internet was relentless in labeling him as "the weird one", the "annoying triplet", just because he was loud and talked too much, just because he was unapologetically himself. He’d laugh it off, of course, joke about it even because it was easier to pretend it didn’t bother him. But deep down, those words haunted him, scraping at the edges of his self-worth, making him wonder if maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t enough.

And now, hearing Matt and Nick throw those same words at him... he felt hollow. Like all the air had been knocked from his lungs. They knew. They knew how those comments got to him, how hard he tried to ignore it, to rise above the criticism.

"Fine." He said bitterly, hating how his voice trembled slightly as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. "I’ll get out of your way, then."

He pushed his weight off of the table, preparing himself to get out of there, but as Chris stormed away, Nick's frustration boiled over, and he turned to Matt, his voice sharp and incredulous.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" He hissed, his eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and disbelief.

But Chris kept walking, his shoulders tense as he made his way to the stairs, refusing to let himself look back. His brothers’ voices felt like static at this point, blending into the background as he forced himself to keep going.

Behind him, Matt muttered under his breath, an edge of impatience creeping in.

"Why is he being so dramatic?" He called, exasperation evident in his tone. "Chris, just come back, man! Let’s finish this video."

But Chris didn’t even slow down. Each word felt like salt in a wound he was struggling to ignore, a constant reminder that he wasn’t on the same level as them, that they were all looking at him like he was the problem.

Maybe he was.

As he went down the stairs, his mind was racing, every emotion simmering just below the surface.

His hands trembled slightly as he reached his bedroom door, a mix of anger, shame, and sadness twisting in his chest, his breath hitching as he struggled to keep it together. He wanted to scream, to push all the hurt away.

Finally, he opened the door and stepped inside.

Y/N - curled up on his bed with notebooks spread around her and laptop balanced on her knees - looked up instantly, a huge smile spreading across her face as she noticed him, her expression so genuinely happy to see him that it made his heart ache even more.

"Hi, honey! How was filming?" She greeted brightly, unaware of the turmoil written across his face.

But her smile faltered quickly as she took in his red-rimmed eyes, the way his face seemed almost haunted, his body tense and trembling as he stood frozen in the doorway. She blinked, worry flashing across her features.

"Chris? Hey, what happened?" The girl whispered, and her words were like a lifeline, breaking the dam he’d tried so hard to keep in place.

She was quick in put her work together, placing her notebooks and laptop gently onto the floor beside her, leaving it all opened for her to come back to it later, her arms instinctively opening up to him.

"Come here, baby."

Without another thought, Chris crossed the room and collapsed into her open arms, sinking onto the bed as if the weight of the world had become too much for him to bear alone.

His arms wrapped tightly around her waist, his face burrowing into her shoulder as if he could somehow hide from everything that had been clawing at him. His legs slid between her thighs, his body curling into hers, every part of him drawn in close, seeking refuge in the only place that felt safe.

Y/N didn’t say anything at first. She could feel the way his shoulders shook, the silent sobs racking through him as he tried to hold back, his breath catching painfully against her neck. She held him even tighter, her hands slipping up to cradle the back of his head, her fingers threading gently through his fluff hair as she pressed soft, reassuring kisses to his forehead, his temple, anywhere she could reach.

"Shh... It’s okay, sweetheart." She murmured softly, pressing her lips to his line of hair. "I'm here. You're safe. Just breathe, Chris. Just breathe, baby."

But Chris felt anything but safe in his own skin. Shame and hurt twisted inside him, tightening like a vice around his chest. He tried to fold himself even smaller, curling tighter into her, trying to somehow look smaller for a 5'8 grown man, pressing his body as close to hers as he could.

He wanted to disappear, to melt into her embrace, and let the world live freely without his presence. The words Matt and Nick had thrown at him - the very same words he read online, the labels he was used to brushing off - felt so true, so much a part of him that he couldn’t deny them.

Childish. Annoying. Immature.

He hated himself in that moment, hated how much he cared, hated how the words dug under his skin, making him feel unworthy, unloved.

"Am I... am I really that annoying?" He whispered, his voice cracking and sounding more horse than it should. "Do you... Do you think I’m too much, too?"

Y/N’s heart twisted painfully as she heard his words, the broken way he spoke them. She frowned deeply, pulling back just enough to look down at him, her hand cupping his wet cheek as she met his gaze, her thumb brushing away a stray tear that had slipped down his face.

"Oh, sweetheart..." She shook her head gently, her voice laced with disbelief and fierce love. "No. No, Chris, of course not. You’re not annoying. You’re not too much. You’re everything I could ever want. You’re perfect exactly the way you are."

He clenched his fists, gripping onto Y/N’s hoodie - or better, his own blue hoodie -, his knuckles white with the force of it as he tried to agree with her, but her words didn’t seem to reach him. His brow furrowed, his eyes filling with fresh tears as he choked out.

"They said... They said I’m always yelling, being loud, making a scene... like I’m always... embarrassing them." His voice caught on the last words, his breath hitching as he fought to keep from breaking down completely.

Y/N held him tighter, her hand moving to the bottom of his white shirt, traveling inside of it only to rub soothing circles along his naked back as she spoke in a soft, steady tone, hoping her words would anchor him.

"Chris, they love you. They’re just... they don’t understand how much their words hurt sometimes. But that doesn’t mean you’re a burden or that you’re too much. You bring so much joy and energy to everything. That’s part of who you are, and it’s one of the things I love most about you."

He shook his head slightly, his breathing coming faster as anxiety started to build again, overtaking him.

"I... I just don’t get it. One minute, they’re saying people watch us because we’re different... and then they tell me I should be more like them. I don’t... I don’t know how to be that. I tried so hard to be like them, you have to believe me, but I don’t know how to change who I am-"

Y/N felt the depth of his frustration in the desperate way that he begged, wanting - no, needing - her to believe him. She cupped his face gently, urging him to look at her.

"You don’t have to change, Chris. Not for anyone. You’re enough just as you are, baby. And you’re not a burden. Not to me, not to anyone who really sees you and loves you for who you are."

He nodded slowly, finally trying to take a deep breath, only to feel like his nose was closed and his throat was being chocked by invisible hands. He closed his eyes forcefully, biting his bottom lip in concentration as he tried to breathe in a gulp of air that never seemed to be enough. Chris could feel his heart tightening, his chest struggling in the quick movements of going up and down too many times in a second.

"Can't- I... Please-" He tried, tightening his hands around her hoodie, panicking with the anxiety attack that seemed to come so suddenly.

"Hey, hey, Chris. Sweetheart, you’re okay." Y/N whispered softly, her voice a calming presence against the storm inside him. She shifted slightly, one hand now resting on his chest with a firm press as she guided him through deep breaths, her own voice slow and steady. "Come on, just breathe with me, okay? In... and out... Nice and slow. I’m right here with you."

Following her lead, Chris pressed his eyes tighter in a way that made him see stars behind his eyelids, focusing on the rhythm of her voice, the rise and fall of her own breathing against his fists. With each exhale, he felt a bit of the tension release, his chest loosening as he tried to match her calming breaths.

Gradually, his racing heart began to slow, the adrenaline draining from his body, leaving him feeling heavy, exhausted.

Y/N smiled softly, brushing her fingers through his hair as she pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.

"There you go. That’s it... Well done, my strong boy. Now, just relax. I’ve got you."

As his breathing evened out, Chris opened his eyes slowly, his blurred gaze meeting hers with a vulnerability that tore at her heart.

"You don’t have to carry all of this alone, Chris. I’m always here for you, no matter what. You’re safe with me, okay? I love you... so much." She leaned down, pressing another kiss to his forehead as she held him close, her voice soft.

The gentle reassurance, the quiet love in her words wrapped around him like a blanket, pulling him further into her warmth. His eyelids grew heavier, the tiredness finally catching up with him as he let himself surrender to the comfort of her arms, a quiet whine escaping his throat.

"I know, honey. Sleep." Y/N whispered, a tender smile on her lips as she cradled him closer, holding him like a mother would hold her kid, her hands tracing soothing patterns along his back. "You can rest. I’ll be right here when you wake up."

As she continued to whisper soft reassurances, her fingers running gently through his hair, Chris’s breathing finally evened out, his body relaxing completely in her arms. His head rested on the curve of her neck, his arms still wrapped around her waist as he drifted off, his pain and worries slipping away in the safety of her embrace.

Y/N leaned down, pressing one last, lingering kiss to his hair before laying her cheek against his head, her arms wrapped securely around his body as she watched over him.

"I love you, sweet boy."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

A couple of hours had passed, the sunsetting casting a soft, warm light over Chris’s room, where he and Y/N lay wrapped together on the bed. Chris’s face was nestled against her shoulder, his breathing steady and calm now, his chest rising and falling in sync with hers.

Outside the room, Matt and Nick exchanged a glance. They’d been standing in the hallway for nearly five minutes, trying to muster the courage to knock. Their earlier argument with Chris had weighed heavily on both of them, guilt twisting in their stomachs as they replayed every hurtful word that had left their mouths.

Finally, Matt raised his fist and knocked softly on Chris’s door, the faint sound echoing in the silence. When there was no answer, he hesitated, glancing at Nick before slowly pushing the door open.

They both froze at the sight before them. Chris and Y/N were curled up together on the bed, Chris’s face still damp from tears as he lay against her, completely relaxed in her arms. Y/N had one arm around his shoulders, her fingers resting in his hair, while her other hand was hiding inside his shirt, holding his back, cradling him protectively. They looked peaceful.

Matt’s heart clenched at the sight, guilt intensifying as he took in Chris’s tear-streaked face. He glanced over at Nick, who was staring down at his feet, clearly feeling the same crushing remorse.

"Let's go. We can come back later." Matt muttered, pulling Nick towards himself before starting to back out of the room, thinking it might be best to give Chris a bit more time.

But just as they were about to close the door, Chris stirred, shifting slightly in Y/N’s arms. He nuzzled his head on her shoulder, his face just inches from the gentle slope of her neck where he could still catch the faint, familiar scent of her perfume mingling with the natural warmth of her skin.

He moved slightly, careful not to wake her, though his movement caused her to pull him in closer, her fingers instinctively brushing over his back. The feeling of her hand tracing small, soothing circles over his shoulder as if it was a muscle memory grounded him further, coaxing a soft sigh from him as he nuzzled deeper into her embrace, pressing a gentle, barely-there kiss to her neck.

When his sleepy eyes finally traveled around the room while gently stretching his legs between hers, he finally caught Matt and Nick's figures standing in the doorway.

His face fell the instant he realized they were there, his peaceful expression replaced by a guarded, distant look. Carefully, he eased himself up, making sure not to wake Y/N as he pulled himself away from her arms.

"Came for round two?" He looked at Matt and Nick, his sleepy voice laced with bitterness as he asked.

Nick swallowed, words catching in his throat as he struggled to find the right thing to say. What an irony. He opened his mouth but only managed to mumble, stumbling over his words as he tried to get them out.

Finally, Nick took a small step closer, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Chris, I... we came to say... We just..." His pearly teeth caged his bottom lip momentarily, taking a deep breath. "We love that you’re different."

Chris stared at him, incredulous, eyebrows raised as he scoffed softly.

"Different? That’s what you’re leading with?" His eyes narrowed, hurt simmering just beneath the surface. "So now I’m the ‘different’ one? Funny, ‘cause that didn’t seem to be a good thing a few hours ago."

Nick faltered, his face flushing as he realized his words weren’t coming out the way he intended. He tried again, tripping over his explanation.

"No, no, I... I didn’t mean it like that. I just-"

Chris took a deep, shaky breath, his gaze lowered as he avoided Nick and Matt's eyes, interrupting Nick.

"Look, I want to apologize, alright?" He started, his voice barely more than a murmur, thick with emotion. "I know it was all my fault and that I’m a lot to handle. I get it. I can be too loud, too... everything, really. And I know I’m not like you guys. I’ve tried so hard to be, but it’s just... not me." His words hung heavy in the room, his fingers twisting anxiously in his lap. "I feel like sometimes I just ruin things because I don’t know how to turn it off. You two seem to have this balance, you know when to joke and when to be serious, and I’m over here just... always pushing things too far."

He exhaled deeply, finally lifting his eyes to meet his brothers', the weight of insecurity and years of self-doubt written all over his face.

"I’m sorry if it feels like you have to put up with me. I’ve tried to be more like you, but it’s never enough. And sometimes... it just feels like who I am isn’t what anyone wants." His voice cracked at the last words, his vulnerability laid bare, and he quickly looked away, bracing himself for whatever they would say.

Nick and Matt shared a look, each seeing the guilt mirrored in the other’s eyes as Chris���s words sank in, cutting through them like a blade.

Matt felt his chest tighten, a pang of regret settling heavily in his stomach, making it hard to breathe. How could he have let Chris - his little brother, the boy who was always loving him no matter what - believe, even for a second, that he wasn’t wanted exactly as he was?

His legs moved on instinct, carrying him back into the room before he even registered it, straight to Chris, who looked so small and hurt, slumped at the edge of the bed. Kneeling down, Matt reached out, placing a steadying hand on Chris’s knee, his fingers gently pressing into his brother’s skin as if trying to ground him.

"Chris, you’re our little brother. I don’t ever want you to feel like you’re too much for us." He swallowed, his voice wavering as he continued, willing Chris to see and feel every word. "I love you, man. We love you for who you are. You don’t need to change a thing. It’s your energy, your spark that makes everything better. You have this way of bringing life into everything, and that’s something I wouldn’t change for anything." He looked into Chris’s eyes, his own gaze filled with a raw honesty. "We need you to be you, Chris. No one else."

Nick’s heart clenched as he watched, his own guilt building with every second. Gaining control over the hurt and regret flooding him, he crossed the room in long strides, dropping down beside Matt. He looked up at Chris, his throat tight with emotion, the sight of his little brother so closed-off, so wounded, cutting deep. He was supposed to protect him, not hurt him.

"Yeah... you being another person? That’s not what we want at all. We’ve never wanted you to be anyone else. You’re perfect the way you are, Chris." Nick’s voice shook, filled with a determination to make Chris understand the truth, to undo every careless word he and Matt had thrown his way earlier. "I'm so, so sorry that we said all of those things and made you think so bad about yourself."

Chris’s defenses wavered, his resolve crumbling as he glanced between his brothers. Their sincerity seeped through, but doubt still clouded his gaze. He let out a heavy sigh, loosening his grip on his hoodie just a bit.

"You promise?" His voice was barely a whisper, fragile and laced with uncertainty, his fingers twisting anxiously into the fabric of his sleeve.

Without hesitation, Nick reached forward, taking Chris’s hands in his own, intertwining their fingers and squeezing firmly.

"We promise. We love how wild you are, how you’re always the one bringing the energy. You’re louder, sure, but that’s not something bad, it's exactly what makes you, you. You’re the happiest out of the three of us, Chris, and we wouldn’t change that for anything." He gave Chris’s hand another reassuring squeeze, feeling the smallest hint of relief when he saw the younger brother begin to relax, if only slightly.

Matt nodded, adding gently.

"And hey, I don’t think we need to be professional or act in a type of way for our videos to be good. The viewers love us for who we are... the mix of chaos and calm. That’s what makes us, us. It’s why they stick around."

Chris took a shaky breath, letting their words settle over him, feeling the weight of them begin to ease some of the pain. Slowly, he nodded, his fingers curling back around Nick’s reassuring grip.

"Okay."

Matt leaned forward, placing a hand on Chris’s shoulder.

"We’ll do better, alright? We’re brothers. We’re gonna mess up, but that doesn’t mean we won’t have each other’s backs. Always."

Chris exhaled deeply, finally letting the tension melt away as he leaned into their touch, the comfort of his brothers grounding him in a way only they could. Straightening himself, he managed a small, tired smile, his heart feeling a bit lighter.

"Yeah... always."

"Well, I’m really glad you guys are okay again." Y/N’s soft voice broke the silence, bringing all three heads up in surprise.

She moved with a quiet strength as she sat up and brushed her hand tenderly through Chris’s hair, watching his face light up as he realized she’d been awake all along.

"But just so we’re clear... if either of you hurt my baby like that again, you’re going to have to answer to me." She turned her gaze to Nick and Matt, a playful but fierce glint in her eyes.

"Y/N..." Chris dragged the last letter of her name in a whining tone, feeling flustered with how she called him 'her baby' in front of his brothers - even though they were more than accustomed with it.

Nick’s eyes widened jokingly with her threat, a chuckle escaping him. He lifted his hands in mock surrender, glancing at Matt as if to say, 'Well, we better watch out'. Matt nodded, eyes a bit sheepish, scratching the back of his neck.

"Alright, alright, no more ganging up on Chris. You have our word, Y/N."

Content with their promises, Y/N turned her attention back to Chris, opening her arms and pulling him into her embrace once more. He let out a soft sigh, sinking into her warmth, his head nestled against her shoulder. Her arms wrapped around him protectively, fingers tracing soothing circles along his back as she whispered.

"I told you they didn't mean it." He closed his eyes, letting her words wash over him, the last bits of hurt melting away.

Nick and Matt watched the two of them, a fondness softening their expressions.

"You know." She murmured, pulling Chris's head away from her chest and looking at him with a mischievous grin. "You’re pretty lucky to have all of us wrapped around your finger."

Chris laughed, a real laugh this time, the sound full of relief and love.

"Yeah, I know. I just... I guess I forget sometimes."

"Well." Nick started, squeezing Chris’s shoulder with a grin. "We’re not going anywhere. So next time, just remind us if we’re being idiots, alright?"

Chris nodded, glancing gratefully at each of them, feeling more grounded and cherished than he had in a long time.

[caramelkoo]

before we shatter — jjk [one]

genre : established relationship, idol!jungkook

word count : 6k

summary : dating an idol is fun, they said. having a family with one is fun, they said. Until you're falling face forward because of your reality. A reality where Jungkook dreams of a future and a reality where your own future is collapsed.

chapter warnings : nsfw, strong language, mature content, fluff, so much angst, smut, talks of infertility, clit sucking, fingering, Jungkook worships her, dirty talk, doggy style, reader is in so much pain i love her sm, fall vibes <33, gift giving as a love language, pussy slapping with his d, big dick energy, jungkook is desperate. that's about it please mention if i missed anything.

read part two here

a/n : based on this ask so thank you anon for coming forward and giving me a chance to write this. i also wanna mention that im no doctor so please forgive me if i didn't do the topic of infertility justice. the second part gives more clarity in their case so please be kind to wait. enjoy and im v v grateful for you. you're so loved.

When you were a child, barely five, an orange butterfly came flying outside your front door. Your mom told you about it since she saw it first causing your entire face to instantly light up like the fourth of july.

An inexplicable joy filled your whole body making your day ten times better, not that you were having a bad one. A five year old can’t have a bad day whatsoever.

After you were done chasing it around, secretly hoping that it would land on your nose just the way they show on television, you had to let it go and head back inside. 

Oddly enough the next morning you saw it again, this time it was not flapping its wings like it had last night, instead it was sitting on the window beside the door. Quiet and still. 

You, ever so curious, had to ask your mom about it. “It might find comfort there,” she said. 

Up until you met your boyfriend you had spent the majority of your time wondering where your comfort place is, what is that one place where you can just be yourself and not pretend to be some stoic woman. A place which lets you cry whenever you want but also replaces those tears with wide smiles and loud giggles. 

Turns out, it’s your boyfriend’s arms. 

It’s true. Jungkook with his kind, sparkly bambi eyes and bunny smile stole your damn heart a few years ago and is not willing to give it back. Although you can’t complain, in a world where people can’t seem to find the one for themselves, the angels up there granted you a guy every inch a gentleman. Safe to say it’s not one like one of those titular relationships you've come across. 

He’s your solace, a roof where you can safely just about exist. 

He heals you.

Dating an Idol comes with several perks, the biggest one of those being dealing with the huge amount of selective criticism. You feel hurt, of course, but when you’re with Jungkook, they are nothing but words behind a pixel. A pain that only lasts momentarily. 

This pain though, is not as mundane. This one is making your stomach twist in apprehension. You’ve lost the count of how many deep breaths you’ve taken.

“I’m afraid this is a case of infertility miss _____” the doctor says, earning your attention.

You’re not able to form a word, however that does nothing to stop your subconscious mind from screaming, I knew it.

Being stupid enough to think you were well prepared to hear her say this, you mustered up the courage to enter the four walled white space which, at that time, didn’t feel as narrow as it does now. It’s almost as if it’s closing up on you.

Only after you sat before the woman in white coat and bad news, did you realize how gut wrenching this actually feels.

You face her with a weak smile, one that doesn’t actually reach your eyes, “Are- are you sure you’re not mistaken?” 

Dr. Ana leans forward, resting her forearms on the table. The move itself tells you more than you need to. “Miss _____, I know it’ll be hard for you to come to terms with this but I suggest you try. I would also like to tell you, and I hope I’m not overstepping, but you can always go with adoption. The options are endless.” 

Your throat feels awfully dry and you gulp. “Thank you uh, can I ask you for a favor?” 

“Anything”

“If you happen to cross paths with Jungkook, please don’t mention anything about this to him.” 

Dr. Ana flashes you a kind smile, “Of course not ____. It’s your personal matter. I wouldn’t dare.” 

“Thanks a lot.” 

With one last nod you excuse yourself from her office. Your phone buzzes inside your pocket and you take it out, seeing Jungkook’s number stare up at you. 

“Hey” 

“Hey, my love. Are you busy?” His voice nearly brings tears to your eyes. It also brings up a question. Will he act the same towards you after you tell him where you are and what you just heard? Will his voice be filled with the same amount of excitement and affection for you? 

“No, honey. I’m actually at my sister’s place. She was craving some alone time with her husband and asked me to babysit Coco”

You can visualise him awing already. Jungkook has grown attached to your sister’s daughter a little too much. His bond with Coco is just so bright it makes you wonder if they happened to be an actual father and daughter duo in the past life. They’re both full of beans and it’s a delight to see them both together. 

He chimes, “Ah my little Coco bean. Is she near? Let me hear my angel.” 

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you try to come up with any transitory excuse that doesn’t make you run for the hills. “She’s sleeping right now. Made me work for it but I managed to settle her down” 

Jungkook moans from the other side of the line and you mentally curse yourself. Not only are you lying through your teeth but also using your innocent niece as a pawn. From the day you began dating Jungkook, you’ve not looked at any other man. For the first time now, you have this nagging feeling as though you’re cheating on him. 

“Well, alright next time then. When are you coming back home?” 

“As soon as they do. Do you miss me already?” I tease.

“Pfft me and miss you? Impossible” 

You gasp, the audacity of this boy. “How rude!!”

Your goofy boyfriend dares to chuckle, “I carry you with me everywhere I go, love. It’s hard to miss someone who���s this close to you every time of the day.” 

It doesn’t take you long to grasp what he is referring to. The heart shaped bracelet rests proudly on his wrists and the man had refused to take it off ever since you gifted it to him. A sense of longing already creeps up in your heart, twisting it until you run out of breath. 

Your chest expands as you fill it with much needed air, “Listen, honey I’ll give you a call soon yeah? I think Coco has woken up and I must go check if she needs something,” you fake a chuckle, “You know how she gets when she’s irritated” 

“Oh yes of course. Promise to give me a call soon?” 

This time the smile on your face is genuine, “I promise” 

“Give Coco a kiss for me. I love you.” 

“I love you.” 

There’s a heavy weight on your chest as soon as you hang up the call. Maybe it has always been there. So, for a couple of minutes you just stand there in the hallway of the hospital taking in the sterile smell and worrisome patients, praying that the highest power up there gives you one last chance so you could try and fix what’s been ruined.

The commotion around you does nothing to overtake the voices in your head and sadness fires through you as you feel like you’re burning your boats. Despite all of that, you pray for one last time, this time for again being strong enough to let go. 

Let go of your happiness.

Let go of your salvation.

Let go of your comfort.

Let go of Jungkook.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

You click the door shut behind you, hanging the coat on the rack. You’re not even done turning around when a muscular arm wraps around your abdomen and you’re pulled back against a taut chest. 

“I missed you” his voice is muffled against your jumper.

You run your palms over Jungkook’s forearm, stopping to interlace your fingers with his.The way his hands fit with yours is adorable to you as if they were made to do so. The bracelet on his wrist is cool against your skin and you smile. “You know what’s funny? This guy I talked to earlier said it’s impossible for him to miss me” 

He rests his chin on top of your shoulders, cheeks warm against yours. He has grown out a stubble which makes him look manlier for some reason and you can’t stop caressing it with your fingers whenever you cup his face.

“You’re talking to other guys?” If you hadn’t known Jungkook better than himself, you would have missed the pout of his lips when he said that. 

You turn your face and place a sloppy kiss on his cheekbones, “Only my favourite guy in the whole world.” 

He breaks out in a toothy grin and holds your gaze. “You’re my favourite girl too but I think you already know that.” 

You nod but the pang of guilt is still lingering in your heart. “Still love hearing it.” 

Jungkook releases you from his embrace and walks back, rounding the kitchen counter until he’s holding up a large bowl. “Ready for our fall ritual?” 

Jungkook and you have been using your mum’s recipe to bake chocolate chip cookies every fall and while you enjoy baking with him, the thing that you take the most pleasure from is his face when he munches on the first cookie.

It’s one of your favorite sights ever. It takes quite a bit of effort to bake them but hell if you wouldn’t do it all over again just to see him close his eyes and moan like it is the best thing since sliced bread. 

You join him behind the counter and look around. From the way the batter has already been prepared you suppose he’s been at it for a while. There are some chocochips in a small bowl across from you with some cranberries next to them because he knows you like them in your cookies. 

“You don’t ever forget about the cranberries, do you?” 

“Nope. They’re your favourite plus if you eat well, I can eat you well– ouch,” he jumps, “What was that for?” 

You offer him a glare which does nothing to stop the smile threatening to break out of your lips, “Behave” 

His face inches closer to yours, “Now honey don’t be acting like I didn’t give you the best orgasm this morning” 

Oh well, how can you forget about that? Ninety nine percent of the time you love waking up in his arms while he’s the big spoon but there’s that one percent where he wakes you up with his head between your legs, sometimes with his face under your shirt sucking on your nipples. Indissoluble passion within him. His ability to satisfy you with his mouth alone needs to be studied because god if you don’t crave more and more. 

You blink, once twice thrice, “You’re incorrigible” 

He lets out a cackle at your flustered face as you wonder when you will stop blushing like a fool around him. It’s been years and he still makes you feel like you’re wrapped up in a ball of jitters. Jungkook leans back and straightens up. He plucks the apron from the counter before coming up behind you. “Hold your hair up for me” He demands. 

You grab a fistful of your hair and lift them up as he settles it on your neck before tying the knot at your back. With one last kiss on the back of your neck he joins you. 

“How long has it been since you began making this?” 

“Not long ago. Thought I’d wait for you to come back home and then continue”

You watch him add the chocochips into the dough. His tattoos are barely visible behind the cozy sweater he’s wearing. At the risk of sounding like a hypocrite, Jungkook with his perfect physique and gorgeous face looks good in everything, more so naked, but nothing triggers your cuteness aggression more than him wearing a fluffy knitted sweater, believe it or not. One which you knitted at that.

He pulls your attention away pausing your little drooling session, “How’s Coco bean doing?” 

A sudden urge of getting close to him creeps up and you sneak between the counter and him, hugging him as you nuzzle your face in his chest. He smells like cinnamon. He places a gentle kiss on the crown of your head before resting his chin there. 

“You smell so good” 

“Thanks and she’s as chaotic as ever. Nailea bought the cutest pair of pyjamas for her,” you look up at him,  “She looked like a loaf of bread when they made her wear it.” 

“No way. Should we buy her another one of those?” he pulls back, barely able to hide the excitement on his face.

“You’re gonna spoil her” 

“Damn right I will and if you call this spoiling, wait till I get one of those made by me.” 

There it is. 

If Jungkook wasn’t so fond of children, would it have been easier for you to cope? You do realize that you’re a stone’s throw away from losing him for once and for all. In the old days you heard somewhere that it takes a strong man to save to save himself and a great man to save another.

You want to be that brave person who saves him from lifelong loathing and regret towards you.

This turning point in your life gives you two options, one where you can hang by a thread and bite your tongue while you continue your life with him, another where you set him free. The latter one wins and you, however, lose. 

“Hey you went silent there. You okay?” He cups your cheek with one hand, his thumb grazing your cheekbones so gently you try not to cry. 

You nod and flash him a smile. Or at least you try to smile and detach yourself from him. “Perfect. Let’s get those cookies baking shall we?” 

Jungkook keeps looking at you with an expression which tells you he’s trying to search for something, but you try not to give anything away. Yet.

He gives you a look, his eyes sparkling under the low light in the room,

“Wait here for a second i’ll be right back” 

“Where are you goi-”

“Just a second. Don’t move” His voice trails off as he goes further into the bedroom. A minute later when he comes back, there’s nothing different about him except the sneaky smile on his face. He walks towards you and grabs you by the waist as he sits you on the counter. Your hands instantly clutch his shoulders for support. 

“What is happening, baby?” You mumble, clearly in a fog. 

He says nothing as he gets down on his knees. Taking a hold of your right leg, he places it on his thigh. You swallow.

He looks up, clashing his eyes with yours, “You ask too many questions, do you know that?” 

Seconds later he’s taking something out of his jogger pocket and a cool sensation brushes your skin. You peek down, curiosity finally killing the cat as you see a silver anklet adorned by a pink stone in the middle of it embraced around your ankles. 

His name is a whisper on your lips, “Jungkook”  

He gets up, facing you as he stands. But not before pecking the anklet as well as your skin. His face which earlier was eerie, now entirely soft. 

“Mom sent this for you.” 

You don’t hold back tears this time, letting them run free. You glance at the jewellery again as it shines under the light of the kitchen lamp. The pink stone glares at you as if it knows you’re not worthy of such a valuable item. 

“It’s beautiful”

He gently wipes the tears away,

“It’s just the beginning, love. I’m not gonna stop until I see a band wrapped around your finger. I feel too lonely being the only one there.” 

You playfully smack him on the chest, a giggle slipping free. With a tired shake of your head you admit, “This is overwhelming” 

“What is?” he asks,

“All of this,” you keep your gaze on him, sniffing as you continue,“Your little acts of service, your love, your presence and now this gift. I feel like I’m taking too much not giving enough” 

Your throat feels too tight, as if someone is just cutting off your air supply when you should be feeling free in his arms. 

Jungkook’s eyebrows tense as he reaches for you. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear he tries to reassure you, “Don’t say that. I hate when you question your worth,” he pecks the back of your hands, “These hands feed me, hold me when I need them to, give me warmth, gentle touches”,

His lips find both of your eyes next as you close them, feeling his soft lips on them,

“These eyes tear up with happiness every time you listen to me in the studio”,

Your ears follow next, “These ears tolerate my snoring”,

Then your lips, “And this mouth, my favourite, whispers ‘i love you’ to me every morning, leaves kisses on my skin, screams my name and most importantly, forms the loveliest smile when I make you happy.” His eyes are oh so gentle as he says this. 

You’re about to respond when his phone buzzes on the counter next to you. Your heart stops. Fuck is it Dr. Ana?

To your surprise, it’s Jimin’s number on the screen.

“Pick it up, honey. It might be important.” 

His thumb presses on the red button as he declines the call, “I’ll talk to him later. My girlfriend comes first.” 

Neither of you say a word as the room gets filled with a comfortable silence. The cookies are long forgotten, your eyes doing all the talking. Even if you try your hardest you’re not sure you can say anything which is remotely justifiable of what he just said to you.

Jungkook is so much more than meets the eye, he’s vulnerable, he’s empathetic, he’s loving. His eyes shine the brightest when he’s happy about something and you’re so full of contempt about the fact that eventually you will be the one to snatch away that shine. This hornet’s nest is going to ruin me, ruin him. 

“I wanna kiss you so bad” He whispers, leaning closer but you stop him with your palms on his chest.

“Wait, I-I want to talk about something” 

His voice is downright pleading when he says, “Later baby. I’m fucking gonna die if I don’t take that mouth right now. Please?” his breath touches your bare lips. 

Feeling a flutter in your chest you nod and he leans towards you, hand cupping your lower jaw as he touches his lips to yours. Softly at first, then his pace quickens. Your hands grab his sweater as you pull him even closer, deepening the kiss. His moan echoes followed by your own as you both lose yourselves in each other. You let go of every menacing thought and just focus on the taste of his lips. 

He pulls back slightly, taking a deep breath as he fills his chest with air. Those beautiful lips are pink and swollen from the heated kiss you just shared with him. Getting rid of the sweater, he tosses it aside as his eyes sparkle with amusement.

Without wasting any time he begins nibbling at your neck, slightly biting onto it as your hands run over his back. He’s so beautiful it takes your breath away. Not to toot your own horn but you have the most gorgeous boyfriend and you’re not ashamed to show him off. 

His lips ghost over your nipples from over your high neck top and you groan.

“Jungkook, please” 

He pulls back with a smug look on his face, “Please what ____?” 

“Please fuck me. I need your cock so bad.” 

“Yeah? Is that what my girl wants?” 

At this point your body is thrumming with anticipation and desire as you watch him move his hands closer to the waistband of your pants. His hands pause when they meet the lace material, his pupils dilate. 

He smiles, “It’s the one I gifted you. Were you hoping for this huh?” 

Your lips stretch into a smile. You hadn’t particularly hoped for this, no, because your relationship with him is not just based on physical pleasures. You guys have sex of course, but it’s not the prominent part of the bond you share. It’s more than that. The lace lingerie set was gifted to you by Jungkook on a random day. It was one of those quote unquote just because gifts. 

“What do you think?” you ask, giving him a quick kiss. 

He grabs you by the back of your neck and holds you there for a moment before leaning back and looking straight into your eyes. “I think you should lose it or else I’ll ruin it” 

You gasp, swatting him on the bicep. “Don’t you dare. It’s my favourite pair”  

Without preamble he picks you off the counter making you wrap your legs around his waist. You both are so close it takes your breath away. Chest to chest, groin to groin, face to face with lips inches away from each other’s as you share a breath. 

He walks into your shared bedroom as you clash your lips against his, pulling his lower one between yours, earning a groan out of him. You both are downright feral, letting your hands run over every area of each other’s body. Jungkook’s hands grabbing your ass, yours pulling on his hair lightly before trailing down his chest, pausing on his pecs. 

When you reach your bedroom, he sits himself down with you on top of his lap. Your hips move forward and you hiss as your still jean clad pussy brushes his cock. He’s so hard you wonder if he’s close to coming already. 

Rough hands scrape over your back, hips, down your thigh before they finally settle on either side of your waist, gipping them tightly but also with a hint of gentleness. One thing you admire about your man is that he doesn’t treat you like a fragile woman, he knows you’re strong and you’ll not break if he’s rough with you. 

Jungkook pulls back from your lips.“Fuck honey, you’re such a goddess. Look at this body. I still can’t believe I get to call you mine” 

You shake your head, totally under his spell. “I’m the lucky one here, baby. You have no idea how lucky I am.” 

His hand brushes over your ass before he dips it inside your pants, reaching your already soaked pussy as he pushes a finger inside you. This earns a whimper from you as you tip your head back. 

“That’s where you’re wrong, ____. Want me to show you how lucky I am?” He takes the finger out before pumping it back again. You moan as his other hand gips the nape of your neck and he brings his mouth to your neck, biting on it. 

“Oh my god” you cry, seeing him suck the finger clean and face forming an expression filled with the deepest level of satisfaction as he closes his eyes. 

Setting his eyes back on you, he sighs, “This isn’t my first time tasting you, honey. But it gets better every fucking time and I find myself craving you an unhealthy amount, you know that? Do you know how crazy I am for you? Could eat you out everyday and wouldn’t need anything else to feel full.” His words send a shiver down your spine. “You’re my favorite meal.” 

He pushes three fingers back inside with a slight force and you let out a scream, arching your back. He takes one nipple into his mouth and gives it a long suck, letting it go with a loud pop. 

“Oh yes, just like that. Suck it again, baby” You beg and he does exactly that as he takes the other sensitive bud into his mouth. 

You’re not sure if you have been this vocal about your needs with anyone before him. Not that you dated a lot, for a person who’s a hopeless romantic to the core you’ve always found yourself waiting for the right one. Additionally, you believed your body to be as sacred as a temple. Surely there had to be a guy somewhere who would treat it as such.

Then, enters Jungkook who not only was out of your league metaphorically but literally. He lived miles away from your place so there was not a chance you could have let anything take place between the both of you. But as they always say, the heart wants what it wants. To put it briefly, there was chemistry, a connection you didn’t want to lose.

Strong fingers pump into you. In and out, in and out. “You’re so wet. What do you say? Should I lick you clean?” 

“Yes, ah oh my goodness that’s sooo good” you toss your head back, slowly grinding against his hands. 

He wraps an arm around your waist, lifts you off his lap and tosses you back on the bed. Keeping his eyes still locked with yours he gets rid of his jogger, letting his cock spring free.

It bobs and you lick your lips, already wanting to take it into your mouth but you know for a fact that he wouldn’t let you do that, not because he doesn’t want you to but because he wants to give you the highest amount of pleasure first. As he always does. 

Jungkook lets out a shaky sigh as gives his cock a pull, his eyes running over your whole body. Up and down then back at your face again. You’re still not fully bare in front of him while he’s standing there, all in his glory. 

“Lose the pants” he commands. 

You immediately slide out of them and toss them on the floor somewhere. He grabs you by the hips, jerking you to the edge of the bed as he sinks down on his knees. Spreading your legs wider he releases a breath. Warmth touches your wet pussy and you prop yourself up by the elbows to look at him. 

You need to look at him if you want to stay sane, have to feel him with you here. Shivers run through you even by the thought of not being able to feel him and this ever again. This might as well be your last day on this god awful planet from the way the ache in your chest keeps on increasing. It makes a home there, not letting you entirely forget about the eventualities. 

“God you’re dripping, honey” 

“For you” you admit.

Hot and wet kisses are left to the inside of your thigh and your hands find the back of his head as you grip it lightly. 

His head lifts up, his eyes finding yours, “Don’t hold back,____. Grip it as tightly as you want to. I don’t want any hesitations because when I fuck you, I’m not going to be holding back. You hear me?” 

A desperate moan leaves you, and he rewards you by kissing your pussy. Keeping his eyes on you, he doesn’t give you a chance to whine out your needs before his tongue is licking a single line up your clit.

He moans and gently tugs on your clit. “Such a perfect cunt” 

You push his head against your pussy and rock forward, chasing your orgasm. 

“Feels so good, feels so perfect, baby” you murmur.

Just when you’re starting to feel the climax incoming, when Jungkook suddenly grabs you by the waist and flips you, so he’s lying down and you’re on top. Then, he grabs you by the back of your neck, pulling you for a heated kiss. 

He pulls back, “Sit on my face, my queen” 

Your eyes widen and you hesitate, but you don’t want to. You wanna let go, knowing you’re lucky enough to get something like this in this lifetime, so you give in. He hoists you up by the hips, positions you over his face and pulls you down. His warm breath feels like a soft whisper against your pussy. 

You cry out in pleasure as soon as his tongue dives deep inside you, squeezing your tits in your hands. Grinding against his face, you close your eyes and just… feel. Feel the heat, feel the emotions, feel the intimacy, feel the ache in your chest.

A thought crosses your head and you wonder if you’re doing something wrong, something selfish. Touching him like this and getting consumed by him feels like you’re doing nothing but ruining him. 

He sucks on your clit with sheer eagerness and desire, pulling you further down so you’re putting your weight on his face. Concern perks up and you look down, trying not to crush him but it seems like he couldn’t care less. 

“Let go, honey. Just focus on my mouth.” 

Let go. God, how bad you hate those words. They feel like acid in your ears. 

“Keep going, Jungkook. Don’t you dare stop” you cry out. 

Soon enough you’re aching your back, cunt pulsing against his lips as you come. He swallows every single drop as if he’d die if he doesn’t and leaves you in awe. You slump, letting your body relax.

Much to your amusement, he doesn’t give you enough time to relax before he’s turning you over until you’re on your knees. Hot passionate kisses are placed on your sweaty back, pulling a gasp from you. 

“What a fucking sight. I wish you could see how stunning you look right now and it’s all because of me, isn’t it? This glistening back, this wet cunt,” he strokes a finger down your pussy, “It’s all because of me and you dare to call yourself lucky?” 

You catch a sight of him stroking himself over your shoulders and your breath quickens. 

His abs are glistening with sweat and his chin still has your cum on it. 

He smirks, “Like what you see, honey” 

“You’re beautiful” 

His eyes soften, letting his hands drop from his angry and already leaking with precum cock, he grabs either side of your hips and lines himself against your needy pussy. You let your head drop on the mattress and clench your fist, preparing yourself for him. He gives your cunt a slight slap with his cock before filling you in, groaning as he goes deeper.

You moan, “Fuck baby. That’s so deep.” 

“You’re so warm, honey. You feel like home” he thrusts again. 

His hands grip yours, and he covers your body with his own, still thrusting inside with rough movements. His chest feels warm and safe against your back as it fills you with a deep sense of safety, protection and love.

You match every thrust of his with your own, moving your hips backwards. Your tits are getting equal attention from him as he pinches the two sensitive buds between his fingers. 

You both chase your high with you screaming out his name and him whispering yours like a prayer. He gives in one last thrust before he’s coming inside you, his teeth biting on your shoulder. You’re following him soon as you grip the bed sheet tighter in your fist, moaning as you come. 

Before you collapse, he pulls you upright and lets his cock slide out of you. His fingers push his cum inside your throbbing cunt, making your stomach twist in pain.

You murmur. “I love you” 

His lips stretch into one of those lazy smiles you love so much. “I love you too, my precious girl. Now, do you wanna sleep or go make those cookies?” a sloppy kiss is pressed on your forehead. 

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders you pull him on top of you, “Should we save those for later? I really wanna cuddle” 

He presses a soft kiss on the tip of your button nose, “Sure. Let me clean you up first. You don’t have to move an inch, just relax.” 

Minutes later he’s coming back with a bottle of water and a bowl of marshmallows. You bite back a chuckle when you look at his face. There’s such a deep crease between his eyebrows you’d think he’s trying to win a game of uno or something. 

But it’s short lived when he places the items on the nightstand and gazes at you, his eyes having the same funny look they had earlier in the kitchen.You try to summon your most unbothered and good natured grin but it doesn’t do shit to stop the electricity from running through your blood. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask, biting your lip.

An uncertain laugh slips out of him, “I don’t know. I’m- God, I really don’t know but I have this weird feeling that something is not right.” He begins cleaning you up but you can’t shake the feeling of nervousness and anxiety away. 

You know for a fact that he’s right. Something is not right, in fact nothing is right. 

He peeks at you from between your legs, “Hey, what is it that you wanted to talk about?” 

The air whooshes out of your lungs. Should you come clean? Is it the right time? 

You huff a tight laugh. “It’s nothing actually. Can we talk about it later?” 

When he’s done cleaning you up he places a small kiss on both your knees and stands up. Offering you a nod, he says, “Whenever you feel like it. I’m not going anywhere” 

Yet. He’s not going anywhere yet. 

You grin, “I wouldn’t let you” 

He lets a laugh slip out as he walks inside the bathroom. Then, he comes back, settles himself beside you and brings you closer by wrapping his arm around your waist. His feet find yours as he touches the anklet with them. 

“Let’s sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up” he promises. 

Morning comes quickly as the sun casts its glow on your sleepy yet excited eyes. Holding out a hand, you try searching for your boyfriend next to you, but a slight sting arises in your heart when he’s not there. You open your eyes, adjusting to the sunlight. 

Although, you hoped you did not wake up, you hoped death consumed you in your sleep because the person across from you is a total stranger. A stranger whose eyes are misty and mouth is pulled down in deep frown, a sunflower bouquet in one hand and the other one holding a blue file so tightly you can see his knuckles turning white.

Jungkook holds out the file to you, “How long were you planning to hide this from me,____?” 

For the first time in your life, you hate your name. You hate how bitter it sounds coming from his mouth like this.It has always been “____, you’re my everything,” “I love you,____”, “_____, you mean the world to me”.

Acid bubbles in your stomach at his words, and you can’t help but sob. You wonder if the butterfly was preparing you for this day. If she could talk, what would she have said to you? 

The words that leave him next might as well be daggers in your chest, "Tell me, honey. Is it the important thing you wanted to talk about but held back just to get a good fuck out of me?"

@fluttershy-vanilla @theyysam37 love you pookies. enjoy <3

[capslocked]

PASCAL

male reader x karina & irene

part 1 of two roses, by every other name

28k words

It goes without saying that Karina’s reputation is flawless. 

Irene’s is remarkably not.

You're not even staunchly a romantic or anything. You just can’t be assed to manage the distinction between desire and distance. So when the dust settles, the best case scenario is the three of you going around telling people, "all of this is actually a true story by the way."

-

You don't need the extra helping of moody and foreboding, but the wind picks up enough to chill you to the spot.

It blows some of the longer, darker strands of Irene's hair into her eyes and she shivers, too, against the cold as she tucks it behind her ears. You’ve got both hands balled into your coat pockets, watching her pretend like she isn't about to say something you absolutely do not want to hear. Then, a sigh - the length of which is probably unwarranted. You can feel the frost on the air burning through your teeth as you face back out toward the taxi stand. 

It’s gotten late and you're still waiting on an empty cab - you’re realizing there was never a conversation to be had in the first place.

“For what it’s worth,” Irene says, and there’s an indecent proposal just in the way she glances at you. “I had my eyes on her first.”

It’s all on account of some sort of moral quandary, or whatever nonsense Irene pretends to believe every time it comes up. A gross power imbalance; an issue of innocence and entitlement; a threat of abuse. Something, another thing, patriarchal expectations, blah, blah - she fudges around the details, but never ever cares who gets hurt. Not really.

And it’s doubtful Irene believes what she says, not to mention she’s skeptical anyone is even capable of zipping their way down Karina’s denim, working a pair of hands up the contour of her long legs, and making her pant and gasp hard enough that she forgets to breathe.

Well, supposedly - that is anyone, save the two of you. Nevermind the fact she’s always, always been off-limits.

The bottom line is she's a whole decade younger than either of you. This just for starters - only legal for alcohol by some narrow margin. Because between you and your fiancée there are all these rules: no coworkers, no labelmates, no close mutual friends, no personal assistants, no jealous ex-lovers, and absolutely none of her juniors. It’s in poor taste, among other things.

Also, just as straightforward: crossing any number of those lines has its own kind of appeal.

"Okay,” you say, “then maybe you should be the one to tell her we’re taking her home."

Irene's arching her eyebrows at you like a silent rebuttal. She smiles after a laugh, quick and easy, because it's what she's good at. It's what she knows. “Like you weren’t hoping she’d be here, too."

The ash Irene taps off the end of her cigarette falls to the ground like snow. Hitting the pavement as if it might punctuate the thought. That's a rare first mistake from someone like you, and then a second one from her: she thinks she’ll need to defend herself with an explanation, like she’d ever need to justify anything to you.

“Besides, she’s not waiting for me to ask.” There’s a curl to her mouth - and then, she adds, for your benefit, "she'd follow you anywhere."

The twisted irony is that the two of you could pick up any woman, anyone at all.

"I think it’s a discussion for another day," you tell her, serious. She laughs out loud.

"Which one? Who Karina wants, or that you're aching every bit as much as I am to spread her out on our bed and fuck her? Because I'm pretty sure we can both agree that at this point-"

Your palm curls around the nape of her neck with a touch of on-your-feet-thinking: one of these moments that lets Irene sit with the knowledge of how small she really is against you, her head against the collar of your coat, chin angled just so to look up at your face. And there's only a beat that passes between your fingers in her hair, tugging gently as her hand releases to your waist, her teeth clipping against the press of your lips, before a cab pulls up right next to you. You kiss her hard. It probably looks cinematic.

If for nothing other than to give Karina one less thing to overhear when she comes back outside to join you.

"Really not the time," you whisper right into the subtle twist of her grin. Her cigarette's gone out in the snowy mess, but Irene smirks deeper in response before throwing it onto the wet concrete. She grinds it beneath her boot like a reminder, her hand still firm on your hip.

"What, you don't think it’d make her day? Don’t think she'd want to hear all those kinds of thoughts running together through our heads?"

You pull Irene in closer. “She’s not you.”

-

For context - only so you’re aware how it all starts - it wasn’t actually New Year’s Eve, even though everyone had been drinking like it were.

Also for context, it’s not something you were strictly invited to either. Irene’s company holds this holiday party at the end of every year where all of their employees show up (read: idols; Irene likes to argue about work sometimes - to which you have never contested the value of her labor - but your brain tends to fuzz out in the middle, and instead you mostly just watch her pretty mouth in motion). All of the high-up executives and department heads bring their uptight wives and girlfriends to some restaurant ballroom for a cocktail reception that only really functions for name dropping, or influencing the media, or placing side bets on who is sleeping with the CFO - or whose mistress might show up unexpectedly and meet someone's wife face-to-face for the very first time.

It happens to someone Irene knows, once. You pray every year it will happen again.

Be that as it may, there are a plethora of other terrible ways to spend an evening and a half, but it’s all laid bare in Irene's contract - attendance being mandatory; enjoyment excessively optional.

And sure, it’s taken time, but you have gotten used to it: the industry, all of its excess, the inevitable display, the million and one things required of Irene that you, on the other hand, will simply never be able to relate to.

The machine’s so fine-tuned and tightly wound, like clockwork.

"Yeah, whatever," she had said, leaning her hip against your bathroom sink earlier in the day. Her dress laid out neatly across your bed, already pressed, set with her heels and jewelry, everything set on schedule to the point of absurdity.

And so it goes.

You can hear her brushing her teeth through the open door - and see her profile through the hand-swiped-fog on the mirror. She drags the toothbrush to the corner of her mouth: "And before you even ask, yes, you have to come. That's the deal. That's always been the deal - bored, or busy, or trapped talking to some social climbing board member who’s realized the liquor flows fast and free - I don’t wanna hear about it. You’ll be there."

"Uh-huh," you say, eyes fixed on her reflection in the mirror.

"Look, I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” she adds, spits, and lets the faucet run, “but this one’s shaping up to be a really long night.” 

You watch the meticulous effort to pull her dark hair back into a low, neat bun as she turns and comes back into the bedroom, tossing her hair clip onto the bed to reclaim later. 

“So I guess, pace yourself or something.”

"Ever the salesman, Irene," you say, facetious.

"Um, saleswoman, thank you." Her words are slightly muffled by a silk tank top pulled on over her head, then down the flat length of her body until it hits the tops of her thighs. 

It’s not a matter of opinion that she'll look gorgeous in the stilettos, the dress - those earrings that catch light wherever it dares touch her. She'll smile her practiced grin. It'll probably taste sour after the hundredth person asks how long it's been and she tells them she can't remember. But then look - Irene here, still perfectly disheveled: her damp-darkened hair sticking to the porcelain skin of her neck, skin washed free of makeup. She’s beautiful. In a plain and simple way, simple-but-good. Even with the tight little scowl she shoots your direction. It’s a look she has to know could launch a thousand ships; could start a real, actual war; though you're far too charming to know how to fight - you’ve never seen the appeal.

Irene's teeth tug at the corner of her lip like she knows you'd probably end up dying in it. She puts forward this unassuming, nonchalant, “hey.”

She muses it right into a laugh. Covers her genuine smile with her fingers.

"Hey," is how you answer, always.

You’re noticing, now, the strap of her top has fallen just down the petite slope of her shoulder. You want to get your fingers beneath it. Maybe get her back in the shower. You’re never too picky.

And here: an unspoken demand, the thing that always gets you about her - while Irene stands in front of you, her finger looped between the top buttons of your shirt to draw you close. The bow of her lip perked ever-so-slightly, this soft pucker - all pretty in pink. "Before I slip into this dress, you’re going to push me against something sturdy and kiss me until I'm dizzy," she instructs, calm and methodical.

"A lot," you continue for her. You nod seriously, for a moment. "Dizzying."

She closes her eyes and leans in, and you lean into her, too. "Yeah, exactly," she ends up murmuring under a hot breath. "So, get to it.”

And so it goes, and so it goes.

-

"Have a drink," someone keeps saying.

As a matter of fact, they all do: four shots together - or one old-fashioned, or two vodka seltzers, or three of these mystery concoctions that come in a tall-stemmed glass you didn’t actually catch the name of, and jesus, it fucking reeks of prosecco. You pace yourself, within reason. You really do.

Irene gets elusive under the surface, which is to say, she doesn't change at all - not even at the edges.

And though everyone is here to be seen, only a few actually do any of the talking. Irene has it covered - you do your time.

Happy New Year, sorta. You wait it out.

-

She tastes like everything sweet, strong on her heels and sharper on her tongue - and sometimes, it’s not the best mix, given all you can manage is the touch and scent of Irene without actually getting at the insides of her thighs or that tempting stretch of skin under her ear, her neck, down to her chest.

This much, and she has no complaint - hardly seems surprised or inconvenienced - to you stepping her into the wall like it's a matter of instinct.

She just sighs, a short huff. "Don't miss these kinds of parties," she then confesses, right into your mouth, her warm exhale filling you whole. The sounds of people laughing and champagne glasses clicking nearby, a new song starting up, it's all an unnecessary backdrop, and Irene isn't distracted by a single bit of it.

Character, setting, scene; it’s all rather textbook, no? 

You know what the sounds mean, the soft hums, the lingering touches, the firm press of your palm into the dip of her waist or the slender line of her back. She knows where all the cameras are because she knows everything that anyone could possibly ever want to know, such as the fact that this empty stairwell is a perfect place to start, that there isn't a real plan as to where this might go - or when it should end.

And you should know where not to press - or bite or grab or leave a mark - not in some liminal space, nor some vacant practice-room, not beneath a desk, not behind a curtain. No, not here, cloaked in shadow and secrecy, another scandal in the making. Not that the knowledge stops you from testing out the lines, from drawing little patterns up Irene's waist, slipping one hand along the barest skin where her dress has hitched up along her thigh. To a boundary, the low pitch of her voice, some suggestion like, "not here, are you serious?" mumbled across your lips like it really doesn't matter what gets said or does not.

She’s pinned so properly, so precisely, that the discord between her gentle coaxing, and your hard, bruising edge - that sheer incongruity between what you should do and what you should not - can make the adrenaline spike.

She kisses you harder - and harder, and harder. She catches the small sigh you let out. She kisses you breathless.

You can’t shake the feeling that you’re wasting an opportunity, given that you’re both dressed to the nines and are usually more homebody than anything else. Isn’t that the irony of fame? You sign up for an escape, and spend your life running away.

Irene eventually sinks back into the soles of her heels, wiping her mouth with the back of her wrist, and she smiles so easy. She tugs at the cuffs of your jacket, sets your collar flat and proper.

"I'm thinking," you hear her say, taking stock for herself, the flush high in her cheeks, the tousled sort-of-curls now bared, "in half an hour, if you feel like leaving early, we could, oh, I don't know - escape?"

Escape to a bed with a door that locks, you assume she means. Irene wants; you deliver - however she'd like.

“Sounds tempting,” you tell her. She laughs against your shoulder. "Are you waiting on someone else to sweep you off your feet, maybe? Another offer?"

"Uh, always," she scoffs. It's the little things, confidence, and certainty, the honest-in-practice; how her palms sit soft and secure, cupping the angle of your jaw, one hand, now, toying with the knot of your tie like she's contemplating just how it might fall off of you later. Irene shrugs, leaning her weight back against the wall.

She taps a finger to her lips. Ends up saying, very solemn: "Thirty minutes."

As if you had any intention of absconding without her.

-

Irene holds true to her word - she catches you on the second to last pass around the banquet room. Some executive with a slack mouth is just launching into what sounds to be a spiel about a merger - it's unimportant, not well-versed, so Irene sidles up to you, and immediately steals your attention. It doesn't bother you in the least. She curls her finger into the cuff of your jacket sleeve, and without really being prompted or asked - and only, probably, due to the clear discomfort she has being there with anyone else - she begins dragging you out of the room; you, her ticket out of hell.

"I'm so sorry," Irene dons the industry smile and is probably charming. It's difficult for you to tell. You follow her blindly. "So sorry," she tells someone else as you exit, just before you both disappear entirely, "We're leaving. But, we'll see you next year, promise!"

A real celebrity.

The two of you suddenly a duo - and for everyone’s safety, the way it should probably always ought to be - here’s how it’s all supposed to go:

You, standing almost amidst a bank of snow gathered at the curb, your coat fanned out around Irene, shivers racking up her slight frame. All hidden just enough that if anyone were to notice where your hand ends up arriving at the narrow of her waist, they might think: 'it's not really any of my business,' and look away.

Her, curled beneath your touch - even the single press of your fingers over the small of her back as a stranger pulls a car up to the curb; or, the pull of you that ensures the driver can't actually see what you're both up to, what you're hiding; the little reach she makes into your pocket for a lighter, smiling appreciatively as she presses her cold face to the crook of your arm, your jaw, the juncture of your neck; a safe space.

“So.” Irene will look up at you, pale moonlight gathered in her lashes. She’ll make another face: this thousand kilowatt grin or her brow raising - sharp, quick, there-then-gone. She'll turn the lighter over in her hand once, twice, and say, “how long has it been since we’ve done anything social?”

You’ll know it’s not what she means, but you’ll offer her the out anyway: "could go downtown - there's a place you've probably never been to. Might even play your style of music, if you're really lucky."

Irene will arch her eyebrow as she raises the cigarette to her mouth, lit up before you know it.

"Is that right?" she'll say, dismissive, a smoky tendril curling up over city neon and catching starlight.

You're no stranger to what’s actually being suggested - an unspoken sort of arrangement. All because Irene sees herself as being above, hiding her intentions in euphemism, tact; in long, slow drags; in lilting lashes - while she's fully and shamelessly aware there's nothing virtuous about it.

Who the hell else could make it sound dignified, pretty even: ménage à trois.

Then, you’ll do your part. You’ll help interpret: another girl, gorgeous and probably unclothed, another bad decision, or two, the three of you finding yourselves back in your apartment where Irene will not hesitate to run her tongue up the side of a sweat-glistened neck, to tilt her head and whisper out a mantra of, honey, sweetie, anybody ever tell you how good you look between a woman’s legs? Or, fuck, let’s get you out of those jeans, let me take you all in, how the fuck have we not gotten our hands on you before?

Which means the question you really ought to be asking sounds more like, “maybe we can invite someone over?”

You’ll meet her eyes as they flick up - a lazy expression, easy to read. "Bingo," she’ll say, blowing smoke and even more caution to the wind.

Almost to a fault, everything she does draws attention. Every fool with a blog and a camera posted outside of an event will have her labeled on-sight. You can already see the headline - because the only thing worse than everyone thinking you're the antagonist is looking the part. The imagery, red carpet, sexy evening dress, sultry, regal. The caption, Bae Joohyun - they use her government name like they really know her - sulking in smoke, or thirty flirty and thriving? below a thumbnail of her holding the cigarette, with your suit jacket draped over her shoulders. She's a total tabloid darling. Irene the temptress, or Irene, ice in her veins, or Irene - "How does she look so fucking gorgeous without makeup?!" or "Do I wanna hate her, or wanna be her? @RedFlavor_ROYAL," or "In every shot I feel like Irene has me staring into her soul."

Add that to the fact the girl’s utterly shrouded in myth.

Everyone running amuck with speculation; she's the girl-next-door, she’s the fantasy-in-real-life, she's someone everyone could see themselves fucking - she’s the heroine they say, the villain, the perfect wife, the one-that-got-away. They never do decide.

Though there’s only one opinion she’ll concern herself with, and only on occasion: yours.

Her fingers will come in the dark to trail feather-light from your collarbone, between the rise and fall of your shirt buttons, before pressing open palmed to your chest to still right there, and she's such a pretty thing in the plain black dress, all yours and very much in the mood - which you'll already have reason to know, in part from having felt your way around her no more than a hour prior, but also just the way Irene's been looking at you from beneath her dark lashes all evening, that subtle predatory gleam in her eyes.

You’ll hold her close. Irene will have the audacity to comment, “love you,” in this delicate little whisper, quiet like it could go either way - affection or gratitude. Maybe a touch of both.

A car will shortly arrive, pulling up to the curb with snow melting under its tires, headlights in your eyes, and then finally, in no particular order, your heart hammering: the click of the lighter, the falling ash, the sweet easy laugh, the crunch of ice under foot as she steps down beside you, the soft sweep of your arm.

You have no complaints about the proposal. A lack of argument or dispute is basically the same thing as consent, isn't it? For all intents and purposes, as a whole, it's really kind of a win-win:

Irene needs variety, which you're well aware of. It's only natural for someone who can have anything they want. And, sure, you happen to be a willing participant when it comes to satisfying the occasional whim.

So - the conversation will follow you right into the backseat of the cab, simply to iron out the details. 

“Tall. Beautiful. Soft, soft, soft - like cashmere, a luxury brand," Irene will have one heel off and her knee braced up into the back seat while the other leg extends across your thighs, fingers running along your coat collar to make idle circles against the exposed skin there. "Or, at the very least, someone with a little more bend to their character - you know how those prim and proper types always get a bit lost in you.”

"And wouldn’t you know."

It’ll sound smooth, probably. Irene will roll her eyes.

“So, okay,” you'll return to her, right after instructing the cabbie how to get to Irene's place. None of the implications here are lost on you. “You have anyone particular in mind?”

"Hm, I’m thinking."

You can picture it, roughly: Irene's whole body sunk into the dark corner of the seat - one leg idling over the other. Her foot bouncing at your thigh. She has her heels in one hand, earrings in the other.

She’ll look wistfully out the window; the intermittent flashes of city lights casting her face in different hues. The curve of her jaw; the stately line of her nose; her thick black lashes - composition and subject. It's this kind of attention to detail that the cameras scramble to pick up. It’d be better if they got it for the right reasons.

You’ll pull out your phone. Start the usual scroll from the top of your contacts. The girls you know, the girls you don't, the ones who might be awake or who definitely are, regardless of time of day or night.

Irene will finally perk up, gleaming.

Someone cute, she might say, only because she'd rather not admit, someone like me. There's limits to her vanity insofar as her taste - in all sorts of things.

But she does like the idea of it. Someone young and pretty and impressionable; someone naive, or tiny and helpless; it's never difficult to find the girl who will fawn over her - all wide-eyed and doe-faced the instant Irene floats her fingers across her collarbone, smirking - when she starts at the zipper at the back of her neckline and says, "we’re going to see how wet I can get you," without missing a beat. Someone who will eventually say please when Irene gets a little stern and tells her, "ask me what I'm gonna do to you," in a rasp so smoky that it would make the cigarette seem blasé.

But that, you suppose, is the nature of Irene. A touch domineering. A little more than just a pretty face.

She always takes, but she takes gently - a push here, a pull there, she knows people will give her anything.

It will be more obvious when there's a small voice trembling between the two of you, twisted up in your sheets and simpering with the gentle sort of affection that Irene deals so expertly: two fingers sliding up, pressing down. Curling, beckoning. Slow and tender, without giving up that she's looking for any soft spot; a weak point. Some vulnerability to exploit.

It'll be right after whichever plaything of the hour pulls her lips off yours, off the length of your fingers - or when she unfastens her mouth from the hard shape of your cock with an obnoxiously loud pop: "do you guys do this kind of thing often?"

And Irene, without even an ounce of hesitation, will rip right into the sheer of her stockings, letting out an aggressively casual laugh. She’ll plant a kiss somewhere deep. Say, "oh, honey," as she nuzzles into the crease of her thigh. "We're pretty new to this too."

Everyone, just - believes her. For the same reason you suppose they believe she's perfect. She’s good, really good at all this.

In the taxi, Irene's foot will continue to tap against your leg, until you're stopping her by covering her knee with your hand. As for now, the evening will remain all but written in stone. You'll run a hand through your hair, you’ll lean an elbow against the window - the whole while, ignoring the sudden itch between your shoulder blades at the thought of something else. At the thought of all the other girls who'll take an instant liking to her. Who wouldn't. 

The light will change. The intersection will empty. The radio will turn to static.

You'll eventually offer up a name like, "Jennie Kim," among others. Moving alphabetically down your contacts list. Taking you a long while to make it through the 'K's.

"Hm." Irene's soft hum of disapproval, non-committal. "Are you asking, or telling?"

The difference won't matter. "I'm suggesting," you'll say.

You’ll watch how Irene turns the name over in her mouth a few times before smiling - how she knows, there's the smallest part of you that has her held in a certain light. "Maybe," she'll say, tapping her phone against her cheek in the contemplation of whether or not this is a tentative no or a provisional yes - when really what she'll avoid an answer with is, "aren’t we a little tired of Jen?"

Tough to say.

Good, sweet, and just naive enough to get twisted up between you, in her case. Oh, Jennie’s the type of girl - you'll stuff your cock in her pretty little cunt while leaning into her, taking her arms and pinning them to the base of her spine, so she can't reach and can't claw and can't make an utter fucking wreck of herself. The two of you have known Jennie for too long, is what will strike you then. And a moment later, the idea of sinking into her ass from behind with your palm flat and warm against her hip and your voice husky and deep in the way she likes, and saying, god, fuck, Jen, you’d let me do anything wouldn’t you, you’d let me cum in here too.

And - she would, really.

She wouldn't even complain. Her face would be pressed so firmly against Irene's thighs, and she would whimper, not beg. Even though you know it’s what Irene might prefer; how it makes her look real cute - cheeks stained crimson as the syllables roll around her tongue before being forced out into the open.

"I think she's great," you might say out loud, lowkey.

And in a voice that is louder than strictly necessary, Irene will cut in: "she lets you finish in her ass, and then not even three minutes later she'll say it was the best lay of her life, of course you do."

It’ll make the cab driver clear his throat.

"What you’re saying is ‘no.’"

Irene will frown, thoughtful, but not conceding anything - perhaps she means hold onto that thought for now. If nothing else sounds particularly enticing, we'll call it a maybe. "I’m saying: Jennie is. I don't know."

You can hear the end of her sentence: not quite good enough. Not this time around, but someday, sure, someday soon.

"And for the record," Irene will follow, casual, with a dismissive hand wave. "Just because you got to her first doesn't mean she's ever liked you more."

The few that fall afterwards will never make the cut. Irene will turn them all down. Jisoo - no, sorry, look, she's so, so pretty, Irene will be trying to explain, gesturing in a way that's hard to interpret. "But a little too stuck up for my tastes."

You've been speaking in code for years. She means: way, way, way too straight.

"The blonde though," Irene will try right after that. “Daisy, or Lily, oh god something or another, what was her name-”

"Um, do you mean Rosé?”

“Yeah.” Irene will sink back into the leather, sipping down a memory or two and shifting her skirt up the top of her thighs.

You'll consider the angle. Your options: Rosé on her knees right inside the foyer of your apartment, Irene's hands wrapped tightly in her hair, controlling the rhythm. The way she gets her fingers spread under Irene's knees and draws her forward, pushing up with her eager, prying mouth - licks and licks, nosing against the heat of Irene's pussy until she’s gasping and locking her hands around the younger girl's head to steady the jerk of her hips.

Then, you'll laugh out loud. Because you know, Rosie isn’t anywhere close to straight enough. 

And the back-and-forth of what-ifs and could-bes will follow. An endless string, a laundry list. Where Irene makes a face for every name, every suggestion: too messy, or too innocent, or too sweet, or too boring, or not nearly shy or gullible enough, or whatever other bizarre caveat she finds to slot between all of her impassioned criticisms. The cabbie will be shaking his head at some point too, because the question hangs over the taxi at large: 

What exact criteria could possibly be good enough for the distinguished tastes and sensibilities of Bae Irene?

-

(The truth is: it doesn’t go like that at all.)

-

Enter then, Yu Jimin.

The run-in starts there, downstairs, out standing in a pool of warm, yellow light. The snow flurrying about in the glow of a street lamp - melting into where her smoothed curtain of jet-black hair spills over her shoulder and trickles down her sleeve. She looks a little cold, but not noticeably shivering. There's a red flush to the exposed length of her legs, between a pair of knee-high boots and the short hem of the coat itself. The stockings underneath offer little in the way of wintery protection - nor do the little bows that rest at the the bands of elastic around her soft, pale thighs - though it's obvious to anyone who's looking why she'd choose to wear them.

An assay into form over function. She's never cared for pragmatism.

But the lines around her are pristine, a clean-cut of shadow and substance; you take a step onto the curb, feeling yourself fall right into the foreground.

Look: you know Karina. You both do. Enough to recognize where it’s calmest before a storm.

Irene eventually calls out her name into the silence, and there is a split-second where her fingers reflexively wrap around the crook of your elbow. Almost possessive.

A car rushes by. Karina turns with her ungloved hand holding her cellphone to her ear and she's fucking gorgeous as can be, always pinning you with these big, unapologetic eyes - strikingly and somewhat deceptively innocent beneath her sharp brows. A breathy huff in response; she's otherwise unaffected.

Her shoulders shrug in easy dismissal; a quirk of the corners of her mouth. She slips her phone back in the pocket of her pea-coat. "Oh, how we all doing?"

Not for long, the question lingers.

"Fine," Irene finally replies, though her voice doesn't rise above a disinterested murmur.

"Easier, right? To fight for breath down here than it is up there," she says, pointing her gaze up high into the rafters of the building, and in a lot of ways, you realize, she's just like Irene - sweet, charming, this uncanny ability to make you think she's close, when she isn't actually looking to share anything. When she hasn't exactly decided that she likes you or anything at all.

You squint slightly. Take in where her silhouette appears darker against the backdrop of city lights, blending with the velvety black, bleeding into the ink-smudged night sky.

"There's certainly something to be said for flying under the radar at these things," she continues, taking one step closer towards you as if for comfort. Or privacy - to guard against anyone who might walk by.

"You've still got it easy," Irene says, "that, and everyone thinks you're too pretty to go after. No one even seems to consider the idea, it’s insufferable."

"Jealous?" Her tone is playful. There’s a smirk she’s suppressing - until she can’t hold it in: an unexpected, stunning smile, dimple and all. This incongruously kind face.

Oh, and listen, no one gets it better than Irene.

"No," Irene exhales, hot. “Not at all.” You can see where the thin plume of her breath hangs over her like a cloud for a moment, thinking, before dissipating against the harshness of a frigid December breeze.

"Really." She smiles at you again. Makes a sound that could be a laugh, you don’t know, the wind takes it, far away.

"Are you out here waiting for someone?" you have to ask. 

"Loaded question." Karina purses her lips for a moment. Her long eyelashes blink once, twice. "Because, I dunno, aren't we all?"

"Some of us more than others." Irene speaks quietly, moreso to herself than anyone else - but somehow her voice carries.

"Cheeky," Karina says, and this time she does laugh. "No. I'm waiting for a cab. I've had one hell of a night, and no interest in spending the rest of it in some rising socialite's bed, doubters excluded, because - look, I'm happy for you guys, I guess? You're gonna get married," she claps slowly, slow and mocking, slow enough that Irene rolls her eyes, "-or, the two of you will make a statement saying that you are - either way it sounds fucking exhausting - congratulations to you both. But seriously, congrats."

This is sorta how you've always known her. 

Faintly-hinted secrets, flirty half-truths. Her love life is an utter wreck, but that’s not something you’re supposed to know. So that's all she gives, which is more or less how everyone knows her. It's the only way to survive, probably, in a world of glitter and glamour, when everyone's vying to look, to feel, to take, and take, and take. Irene knows how suffocating it can be - she doesn’t lie about it, not to you, which is the only reason you're so well-versed.

Point being, no one wants to admit to any cracks in the fantasy; the gold too shiny, the surface too slick, the mirror too smooth for that illusion to slip.

"So go grab a guy with a half-decent smile and get him to buy you a drink about it," Irene suggests, derisive, "arch your back, push your tits out, get creative. I doubt it'll be much trouble at all."

Karina looks down, back up - with a slight chew of her lip, saying, "you just have me beat in all the important ways, I suppose. You got it in the bag, no real competition."

Irene is smiling, but her expression is unimpressed; it doesn’t mean much, really, to be her friend, her colleague, or worse, her opponent. Irene is calm like an evening in July, a low, cool, languid feeling. "I don't mean to be a prick, but, aren't you a little young to be so jaded?"

"Gosh," Karina’s grin doesn’t change, but does turn a touch wicked, like she's biting back. "I'd hate to be around when you do mean to be a prick, but maybe we'll find out - you know, down the line, someday.”

Irene tuts softly. It sounds patronizing. "Please, you'll have to forgive me - for mistaking you for someone more aware of how the rest of us work."

“You're one to talk, Irene."

“Careful,” Irene warns.

"What, you gonna set me straight?"

"Right." The way the word rolls off Irene's tongue, slow, thick, bitter, like molasses; like the coffee she has when she's tired, like the cigarette she swears left and right she’s cutting out and the vodka she needs you to reach for in the upper cabinets, like the person she is after midnight when you've let her keep drinking to find the limits to her inhibition. You understand Irene too well. And no matter what anyone says, you will not have the facts wrong.

There's no kindness to the way she laughs. None.

She tilts her head to you, grinning: an honest grin, her favorite thing - inimitable, unique, and hers alone; her version of cruelty is what will always have them doubting. You hold her gaze as she adds, "of all things, right now - wouldn’t you just love to set her straight?"

-

Depending on who you ask, you’ll get different results.

Irene insists you kissed Karina first, probably out there in the snow - god knows how cliche would that be.

She also insists that it was you who suggested that “there’s a lot more sense in splitting a cab,” and then minutes later, “please, it'd be no trouble, just let us pay. Our place is five blocks that way," and Irene - being Irene - mentioning it's actually quite a bit further, but hey, it isn’t worth splitting hairs over. And it's not worth explaining - she shuts you up with another kiss, pressing her weight hard up against you, the arm she slings around your neck.

Then in a sort of mythologized version of the timeline, it's you who makes the proposition - invites Karina upstairs, with the charm that Irene knows is usually reserved for her benefit alone: that slight tick of the brow, the delicate slant of your mouth, the confidence you seem to have in thinking no one will ever say no, no matter how brusque the invitation-

"You two are unbelievable. Is this really your standard procedure?" Karina asks, once you're through the door, or maybe during a bout of smalltalk in the kitchen. Something flirtatious; and suggestive, and maybe a little offhand. A pointed glance downwards, back up. All it really will take. "You get some girl into your home and they're just so overwhelmed and dazzled and in love, they can't even make eye contact for longer than a second? Because that's quite a line," a soft huff, the exhale that seems to carry the faintest note of a sigh. You could call it wistful. Just this side of romantic; very attractive.

“That’s more or less the gist of it,” you offer.

“You’d be surprised.” Irene is lingering on it, back against the counter beside you, laughing. "Some people are more than happy to be swept off their feet."

"Imagine that. If that's how this is meant to go, then tell me," and Karina lifts her chin, a breath drawn slow and deliberate, "what exactly do prince and princess charming do next?"

Consider that Karina’s interpretation of events is closer to reality: no pretense. She is not drunk, and in this story, she never will be.

But it's the slow-burn thing, the rivals-to-lovers thing, the sexual-tension-through-conflict thing, the white-hot-blistering-rage matter gone awry. Not a series of happy accidents, but a result of intentional circumstance - this slow arc of descent. She knows exactly how Irene is tightly wound, and which thread to pull to make everything start to unravel. She'd flirt with you right under her nose - say things in this obnoxiously girlish tone, pout a lot, lean into so much innuendo it becomes impossible to miss the meaning, or the sincerity behind it.

If you had to guess - Karina’s been pining since forever, since Irene accidentally etched her DNA into the girl upon saying, carelessly, that she’d always seen some part of herself in Karina. Probably around the time Irene wrapped a palm over an expanse of bare thigh, just beneath the hem of her skirt, telling her, you're getting way too pretty for your own good.

Doesn’t matter who you are, that’ll fuck you up for real.

And it's not just how she looks at Irene when she thinks no one is watching either; swings and roundabouts, Karina probably can’t keep the thought of you sprawled out over Irene’s petite little frame, or Irene kissing you hard while wrapped around you tight. Your hand, her hand, intertwined and picturesque, sliding down Irene's stomach. Together - and so very without her - fingertips stroking lightly over Irene’s clit, gently dipping inside her.

Irene is not stupid. She picks up on everything, and there's a lot to unpack:

"Can you believe it? Minjeong just asked me if I've ever kissed a girl before," Karina had said to you once, ages ago, between a workout or dance practice, something or another - she was wearing a loose-fit tank top and very intent on showing off. She seemed then to be taking mental note of the face Irene put on, the look of someone trying to hold in an aneurysm.

“Well,” you played along, because you’re not really without blame here either. "Have you?"

"Oh my god." Karina knew what she awas doing, the playful slap to the chest, the lingering touches she’d have on you every chance she could get - total fucking coquette - anything to get a rise out of you, your fiancée. She hushed her voice down to this strategic whisper that Irene could just overhear: "of course not."

You better believe Irene broke her composure not soon afterwards, after Karina made her exit. 

"Do not fuck her," she demanded, firm, "I don't care how good you think she might be in bed, or what she would probably let you get away with."

You remember the knit of her brow.

“Do not.”

You’re sighing, profoundly. The memory - not to mention its shocking clarity - has put a smug sort of satisfaction into your bones, indulging. The nip to Karina's jaw, a hot, open-mouthed kiss to her shoulder. A hand tracing down the curve of her hips, under the guise of helping her settle between the cushions of the couch. You feel like you catch the color flooding her cheeks. Then, Irene, her pretty little shadow: the steady presence over her other shoulder.

"What." Karina sounds defensive when Irene pulls her lips away, but the hand she has buried in Irene's hair doesn’t appear to be going anywhere. "Are we going to pretend for a minute I don't see the way you're both looking at me right now?"

"Don't be stupid, darling, of course not." Irene leans up close again. Kisses up her neck, behind her ear, and coos, "the two of us, you just seemed like you were needing someone, that's all," and then whispers the words, barely audible: "I mean look, who wouldn't want the three of us right now?"

Karina hums. "Ah, so - you think I deserve to have a little fun."

"Maybe," she draws it out a little longer.

Your hands dip below her knees, running over the silk-slick surface, tugging at the frills lining her thighs - feeling up over the outline of where her body curves under her dress. Over the dark pattern printed across the front.

Karina swallows visibly, her head dropping back against the armrest, the couch cushion; by the way she shudders slightly and starts breathing, you realize that it's probably been a while since she's had much experience being in a position this helpless. You draw your fingers lightly across the bareness of her skin, right as Irene finds that sensitive spot just where her neck slopes to her collarbone. You trace along the fabric until you have her squirming beneath you both.

She sucks in a breath as Irene drags a touch right over the obvious seam, across the expanse of her hip, and despite your fiancée being a tad forward -

"Both of you should know I'm not that type of girl. Who puts out so easily-"

"Likewise," Irene practically sneers, not missing a beat and threading her fingers beneath her jaw, feeling her pulse against the pad of her thumb.

"Yeah, well. If this isn't a setup, then, what-"

“A setup.” Irene breathes the word out, contemptuous, which is almost as if she says yes, you figured it out, and she starts to lean in closer - the distance between the two of them now negligible as her mouth tightens with her derision. "That is awfully conceited of you."

"Ha."

You choose right there to run your palm between her thighs and cup at the front of her pussy through the skirt of her dress, squeezing tightly. There has to be an element of good cop, bad cop to this whole routine, and you'd be remiss not to participate in the former. Irene's glare is starting to become pretty intimidating.

"The way I see it," you begin, and it's so gentle. Easy to slip through, but easy enough to grip - no threat, or indication that she should stop rocking forward to the motion of your fingers, toying idly. "There's no catch. Only: Irene calls the shots. If you end up with a crush, or worse, think you're in love," a light squeeze to illustrate the point, the dig of nails, not too rough, but definitely drawing attention. "You've gotta walk it off.”

Karina just runs her tongue across her lips, sighing.

“No strings attached, no special treatment. Or anything."

"Oh." Karina is looking straight at you, dazed - as your fingers work harder, picking up where her hips started rolling a second before. She licks her lips. "You're telling me that I'm going to get fucked so thoroughly here, that it's gonna be a problem."

"Actually," you pull away, pushing her dress up so you can touch up ever higher this time. Rooting between her soft thighs. "I can't make any guarantees. You'll need to convince us first."

There's a laugh, from a spot inside her diaphragm - and yeah, there's no denying the reality here. She's nervous; or excited; or nervous-excited. Karina just lets it pass, an exaggerated sound in her throat, before gasping on an exhale of breath: "convince you to fuck me?"

"Between us, we've kissed our fair share of pretty girls in the heat of the moment," Irene supplies.

Karina laughs. Starts saying, "in that case, can I start by confessing that this whole exchange has left me pretty fucking wet-" 

You slip one finger down the rise of her panties, this lacy little number she probably picked out with sordid fantasy in mind. 

"Oh god," she says, voice drowned in her throat, husky, and sultry - it’s really hard not to appreciate the girl, like this - and then she closes her eyes, saying it again, "oh, yeah, like - like that. Okay, thank you."

Irene puts a hot kiss into her lips, and a subjugating silence stills over the living room, softening around her small voice, her breathing. Everything comes together so seamlessly, so effortlessly: 

The click of Irene’s heels against hardwood, these soft sounds of wet tongues twisting and bodies grinding, Karina's face, buried somewhere under Irene's chin, letting out the cutest moan. Irene's helping the rest of the dress up over Karina's ass, then up past her waist, pulling down the scalloped elastic of her stockings. She grabs hold of her hips, feeling the draw of her curves there - you watch how your other half does the thing she does best, the thing where she strips a girl down to nothing like she's doing them a favor.

"Pretty," Irene appraises her naked body - not her face, not her mind, not her ambition or the strength of her determination, or god forbid, something banal like her personality, but, "fuck, look at you, look at this figure," her palm skates along the plane of her stomach, "so pretty."

It could be the insinuation: Irene is ready to reduce the girl down to a heap of jumbled nerves; to tears, probably - given half the chance. Like she's telling her a body as flawless and well-manicured and sweetly receptive to being toyed with as hers needs to get absolutely wrecked, among other things.

(Fucked so deeply, and to the point of utter exhaustion - the point is that she forgets her own name.) 

Irene knows just by looking, her eyes tracing down each and every one of Karina’s curves like they’re taking inventory. It could be as simple as a handprint seared into her ass, a stinging red stain etched into her soft, creamy white skin, marking the insides of her thighs, her beautiful fucking tits - oh, the things the two of you could do.

"How do you want it, exactly?" Irene's eyes are dancing around her face, in her stare, darting down, then back up. "How, baby."

Karina smiles against Irene’s lips like she knows the answer, the perfect one. She must already have the script prepared. It's no stretch of the imagination: "anything, as long as it means you both keep looking at me."

Because maybe it's down to the pure physicality of it all. Something Karina's been waiting to feel, desperate to have, for some time - as you set into action, dismantling any pretense that you weren’t about to devour the heat of her aching cunt, from running touches all over her slick pussy. It’s a strong theory, you figure, from the visceral response you get when you get start to fuck her, when you slide a finger inside: tight and snug, and so unbelievably wet. 

“Oh,” she breathes out, and it sounds sated and needy all at once.

You make sure to glance at her face before pressing another into her. All the way past the knuckles. She looks lost to the feeling, the pleasure; her expression gone hazy-eyed as you start fucking into her with a few steady pumps of your wrist - slow and then faster, then faster again - fucking into her with increasing urgency.

Just to keep her gasping, panting.

Like a woman starved for it.

"God," Irene kisses softly into her mouth. Her hand tangled in Karina's hair, twisting strands between her fingers and tugging just shy of something painful, "you're really sensitive, aren't you?"

Karina nods, slightly. It’s all she can manage.

You have a soft spot for girls who will spread themselves open like they can't wait, but still end up flustered over how your lips ghost across aching flesh. Who can't even form the words - asking for this, and that, and a million little things; and look at Karina - blushing, her eyes fluttering closed, and digging her nails into the couch the moment you finally put your hot mouth on her. Her entire body is drawn taut like a live wire.

"Relax," you coax, speaking more to the muscle - her legs tensed, and knees pulled tightly together. You know just where to place your lips to make her go to pieces, but it's worth suspending pleasure - your own, and Irene's, who won't admit that this sorta turns her on too - so Karina's face might open up, so the tilt of her brow can slack, and the twist of her expression can soften. Like it's the only chance she'll ever get.

When you place your palm across Karina's stomach to steady her and look up, Irene has started peeling off her own clothes, down to nothing but the little panties underneath. That garter-belt thing that makes her ass look like she was sculpted straight out of clay - a reminder she's always worth your time, no matter what mood she's in, or whether or not she'll eventually let you take the lead. She's lifting herself on the couch to throw off the little slip of a dress, the high heels. “Baby," she purrs, teasing, maybe to distract from how she’s gone from dragging circles with her fingernails across Karina’s collarbones to kneading roughly at her tits. And she might even insert something she's never actually had a chance to confess out loud, or even consider much, like: she's been dying to know what Karina's face will scrunch up into, or what her eyes will look like, tears stained across her lashes while you fuck her within an inch of her life. The image you’ll find when you find all those spots that drive a girl wild.

Your mouth drags over the slick, her lips, her clit, and down again - as if to illustrate the point.

"That feels - so," she starts, and bites off the rest of the words.

Irene grabs hold of Karina's hands. Presses their mouths back together, and bites Karina's bottom lip. Kissing the words out of her, the sentences that start in half measures and stifled gasps:

"- so, good, oh. Do - ah, fuck. Oh, god-"

-and vanish somewhere in Irene's mouth.

"-oh, do that again. Oh my god. There. Just - lick- please, keep fucking, exactly that-"

And pay close attention, because here now is how she slips: from the image she maintains for the cameras, the audiences, her admirers, her competition, her detractors, the ones who mean it, the ones who don't mean a damn thing; the girl who shies away from anything overtly sexual, or sensual, or remotely hedonistic; and doesn't act as though she too, just as much as anyone else, needs someone to fuck her stupid - as if it's an eventuality of her own humanity, instead of a concept she's learned to scorn.

Irene picks up on the distinction, all too familiar with the look filling out across Karina’s angelic features.

She ghosts her thumbnail across Karina’s nipple. Tries out: "why don't you make her cum, baby, right here, on the couch.” A look at you, a quick tilt of the chin. Then, her tongue peeking from behind her teeth, and her voice dropping, "just so you can tell Minjeong, or whoever ends up asking - 'you have no idea how good they fuck.'"

And just like that - with Karina’s body laid out beneath Irene’s hands, your mouth - you simply fucking ruin her. 

You both do. 

Until it's only a mess of whines and shuddering limbs and that lovely look: pure agony. So helpless. So utterly exposed.

Karina hiccups something incoherent - you’re doubling down. You’re working your touches through the torrid mess between her legs. Her pussy is shimmering wet and hot and every bit as pretty as she is. Then, the motion of your tongue, the slow, heavy flick back and forth, relentless and constant - dragging back and forth, keeping her right up, riding the wave. Back and forth, back and forth. 

"Oh my fucking god." Karina can only gasp, jaw-slacked open. 

Overwhelmed and blissed-out and suddenly awash in this searing and wondrous sensation that the only real way she's able to make sense of is by twisting her hands in your hair and pulling you flush against her cunt while she cums on your lips.

"Ah - you're fucking kidding me. Please, don't stop, please don't-" Karina has her head turned. Voice pitched right into Irene's shoulder. You fuck her on two fingers until she’s got the heel of her palm pressed firm into her forehead, and she’s starting to jerk her hips into your face. Stutter her breathing, her words: “I, I, I- fucking - what the fuck, you’re making me - jesus fucking christ."

Like some delicate and intricate piece of her had just been irreparably snapped. Broken. You hear her expletive-laden screams - and think, better her, than either of you.

And all the way through every last part of it, cresting, waning, quivering, the tremble of her thighs snapped shut against your ears, the grind of her teeth, and each little choked out gasp-

“I'm… fucking cumming.”

Karina spends the entirety of her first orgasm between the two of you, heaving.

The look on her face alone, just from what parts you can see, has your lower gut clenched - it goes from anguished pleasure, mouth pulled wide and brows wound high and tight, all the way to calm and cathartic, the pretty bow of her lips settling into something manic. Eyes softening with a luster, half-closed. A mask, the afterglow: blissed-out and smiling dreamily.

How anyone could say no to a picture like this, you're unsure. Though not particularly willing to test the theory, naturally.

"That was mean," Karina finally huffs, letting a moment pass to even out her breaths. "Both of you, so mean."

"You said to," is all Irene says, amused. 

Karina looks down; lifts her head just slightly - as you bring your own mouth off her, catching her glance. Not even your palm and your fingers covered with the evidence - it's her lips that give her away, the swollen, pouting, bright pink lips of her pussy, still radiant with her climax.

She breathes, "god. Irene."

It sounds an awful lot like she's begging for mercy.

Irene hums softly. Leans in for a kiss, with her slender hands cupping Karina's face. Manages to say: "you just look so fucking hot when you're struggling. Can’t fault us for that." She reaches down, and digs her fingernail into the line of Karina's cheek - near the center, just short of the outer curve where her dimple naturally settles. She works her lips to a very soft, "ow."

"Listen," Irene says, "is there anywhere else you've been considering going? Because in the event you're looking to stay for the night-"

Karina replies, "only everywhere I still haven't gone."

Her smile looks honest. Her cunt seeping and slick - there's abundant honesty there, too. And you manage to catch the wicked glint in Irene's eye, like she's a bit obsessed with all that glisten, and what it means - that Karina hasn't felt a real, good dicking in ages. Maybe, probably, never. That she's slept with everyone and filled her quota of playing pretend: of someone just going through the motions, dragging their mouth or tongue or cunt along the most obvious, conventional routes.

It’s written all over her face: the girl between you needs to be touched everywhere, and by someone who knows how. Needs it deeper, more. Has to feel the pressure everywhere all over.

Irene asks her, plainly, “how might we get you moaning like that again, hm? We're both dying to know."

She puts her hand under Karina’s chin, tilts her face towards hers, and kisses her long and deep. Until the both of them are having trouble catching any breath. Until they have to break, only so one can take another in: inhale, exhale, and back in her mouth.

"Maybe." Karina lets go of Irene's lower lip. She sounds almost bashful, "you'll need to let me get my hands on that cock of his. Let me get it inside, want it real fucking deep inside. Tell you if I'm just, you know. Really fucking horny. Or maybe I have some hangups about sex I've never told anyone - and we have to work past that," she takes Irene's mouth into her own again.

It's the short consideration of sure, mm, why not? until the next suggestion is: "he should be on his knees, in bed, those hands around my waist, behind the small of my back and pulling me into every stroke."

“Oh,” Irene agrees, “I love that. Should I play with myself while I watch him fuck you senseless? So hard and rough - you'll start seeing stars. I wanna see him completely railing into your dripping pussy from behind, fucking you so goddamn well until you're screaming so loud it’ll wake the neighbors."

Karina sighs. “Well I’d hate to get all the way here and half-ass it.”

You barely catch it, but there's a lovely note in Karina's voice. It’s saying, and don't you dare treat me like glass, like I’m fragile.

All in all, a filthy, filthy way for a girl with virtually no ill-reputation or ill-gotten gains - no record whatsoever - to describe how she wants you to fuck her, until she’s biting down on the consonants in your name, moaning loud and unmistakably clear, and-

“-sorry, whose cock?” Irene has no intention of letting her off easy.

You draw away from the meat of her thigh, licking your lips clean, and insert mid-conversation with a husky-voiced, "hmm?"

Karina just shoots you a sharp-eyed look. "You heard."

"Only," you play dumb. You run a hand between her legs, using your palm as you go, so you can pull more sound out of her throat; the pleased sighs, a hum. Another. "The part where you want it 'real fucking deep inside,' I think I heard."

"I mean, wouldn't you?" Karina looks satisfied with that. Lets out an easy laugh and turns to Irene. "Besides, I need to know if it’s more than just pretty eyes and a handsome smile that you’ve gotten yourself so hung up on."

The tilt of your fiancée’s brow above her is noticeable and apparent. Not a twinge of surprise; more like recognition. It's Irene looking haughty - beyond the usual - wrapped up in the afterglow. It's the confidence, and not at all humbled by the reality that she is no stranger to fucking a girl this downright gorgeous, knowing the danger inherent in allowing that kind of damage, but if Irene has you figured - she's figured Karina even better: someone willing to push through the burn. Someone, she’s betting, with the capacity to handle pain like it's an artform.

“Karina,” Irene says, and she's really leaning into it, "you really ought to be more careful with that smart-mouth of yours.”

It's the absolute worst way to proposition someone; maybe second only to what Irene whispers straight into her ear:

"If I had to guess, it’s your sweet, pretty face that has everyone bending over backward just to let you fuck them, hmm?” 

You’d anticipated this much. You watch how your beautiful wife-to-be eases forward and leaves a slow kiss into Karina's throat, before adding the worst, most awful thing she can manage, “they're eating up this adorable, innocent facade of yours just as soon as you let it slip - letting you straddle their waist, and slide right on, and chase some clout out of oh, she must have this tight little cunt, or how good it would fucking feel to ruin a load just slamming these perfect tits, or. The best of the best, when it comes to pretty things with brains and mouths on 'em: 'fuck, I bet Karina has a face like an angel, she's the kind of girl who probably really, really loves taking it raw - filled and fucked as deep as she can manage'."

“She’s insinuating you’re a slut,” you offer on the next beat, down from between Karina’s knees. “Or something.”

"I put that much together." Karina has that teasingly pragmatic tone in her voice, matching Irene's level. "Your point?"

The joke is that even Irene - after she has the chance to drag her thumb across Karina's lips - looks mildly impressed.

"Sweetheart," the corner of Irene's mouth quips, as if the reason is so, so very obvious, "let’s say you’re just like me, total hypothetical. You're going to have to let us know which part feels better: the praise, or the degradation. I know it’s what makes you tick: all the attention. I know you need it. The same way I know that I could eat this perfect pussy out for hours just to get it slick, and wet, and wanting, and the thing I’m still not sure you’d be ready to learn," she tells her, a light in her stare that flicks upwards, eyes going from Karina's cunt and back to her eyes, her own mouth, and then hers, "the really good sex? Isn’t always pretty."

There isn't room for misunderstanding, let alone any mercy in it. Irene's face is dark; dangerous. Like, seriously. Karina knows better. Everyone does. You know exactly what she's doing. You know what comes next, but this time, you can't shake the feeling like-

Like Karina wants you to look.

She has her fingers on her cunt, spread, presenting - and a small shrug; her response is so fucking coy: "I guess I can't really help it. Besides, it’s common knowledge, isn’t it? The brattiest girls always turn out to be the best fucks. Honest, I get so wet sometimes, you know and then god, I can't think straight.” 

She laughs at the premise. 

“I dunno, what's a girl to do?"

You can feel the room starting to tighten up, just barely: Karina’s breath still heavy, her chest heaving, the way Irene holds her still, how her arm curls across her stomach, palm flat under her tits; that pose in particular, the power to entice.

And maybe it's the fact Irene is still making eyes at you from Karina's shoulder, the cruel bite to her upper-lip, showing how she's working at the soft skin of her neck - a smirk, before pressing into another kiss there. Your insides are running hot, a shudder racing up your spine. There’s no mistaking what she's getting off on, not just some pretty-as-paint newcomer. There’s your Irene, your fiancée - and her beautiful, adorable, awful little shadow.

-

So what if, by some pure hypothetical, this all spirals out of control?

You don't know the consequences of taking home what amounts to a coworker and screwing her with a certain reckless abandon. There’s power harassment, a toxic workplace environment, boundary issues, sexual-fraternization. So on, so forth. It's all relative, but watching Irene and Karina make their way up the stairs and admiring the things that only a woman's hips can do, swaying this way, and that - and, following the path from one tight little ass, the other, all the way up their spines - there are no such qualms to contend with, because there's absolutely zero chance that’s the thing that’ll be keeping you up all night.

Irene laments and hopes in the same breath. 

She has two pairs of panties in one hand, Karina’s fingers laced into the other, explaining with a quick squeeze, "don't tell me, baby, I already know," a wink, a laugh. She’s such a sweetheart when she means to be; charming, wooing, the coy girl Karina seems to have gotten so drunk off the idea of getting mixed up with. And yeah, when she drops them on the floor, and pushes Karina gently against the wall. Traces her finger up her jaw, then her cheek, and leans into the crook of her neck, into that same spot from earlier; yes, Karina can count herself lucky, or whatever.

"So, don't stop now, baby-" Karina's huffing - the line of her throat so taut and exposed. "You should really fucking try harder if you want me to beg."

"Honey," is how Irene responds, leisurely.

There will come a point in their intimacy, in all things considered, where this act no longer plays itself: Irene, the seductress, and Karina, a deft and innocent prey; of course you, the hammer to a nail, pushed and pulled in one direction, the next. The moments in which her lips leave the crescent of Karina's mouth - hot, hazy, and half-wet with their own spit, their tongues twisting, the muted click, and the telltale wet drag of a body pushing and straining up against her own-

Maybe in her bones, she is begging for it. Maybe, Irene hopes, she'll have to: eyes turned up, watering, tears coming hot, streaming down her flushed cheeks as she cries it from her lungs.

"I wouldn't have you beg for anything."

It's true that Irene is ninety-nine percent grace, one percent child-like wonder; she's easy to read when the mood hits her. The lines of their bodies tousling, twisting and tangling in moon-lit-darkness. There's some irony to it, only a few steps away from the bedroom. At the base of the staircase. In front of the tall windows covered with frost that serve, now, primarily to remind Karina that she's in a part of town she could never afford, in an ostentatious apartment she could only dream of; but most importantly, that the woman in front of her - with her fingers dipping down between her thighs and up again, tracing over her navel and the rise of her hip and her cleavage - can have anyone she likes, without limitation.

Karina can't deny it's everything she wants.

"Karina, I'm curious." You're easing into that spot, where the two of them have coiled themselves up - you’ve got your cock in your hand and you’re stepping out of your pants - in the hallway, the frame of the door, a heavy, long shadow cast: Karina has Irene pinned now, a wrist over her head, against the other side of the wall where the white paintwork is starting to run thin. "Didn't you say something before about how hard you wanted it? Raw, deep, I believe was how you put it."

Irene smirks. It's just the slightest sneer, until she has her hands reaching over the curves of Karina's hips and pulling her fingers into her soft ass. Spreading her cheeks. Touching up, then down, back in the same groove, this slow rhythm that builds - like they were both expecting this exact sequence of events.

You watch Irene whisper something into the girl's ear, and - fuck - the light catches her expression at just the right moment, head lolled to the side.

"Hey," Karina drawls. She lets it come out breathy - on the note, the middle and upper registers of her voice, hitting something near a perfect alto. "How about instead of having some heart-to-heart, and making me out to be some naive-ass kid, you stop asking questions and get to fucking the life out of my little pussy."

She ends it so charming.

“Oh,” you tell her, feeling how fucking drenched she is right at the end of your cock - sliding her slick up and down the length of her cunt, and knowing the feeling will likely stick to your skin and drip to the floor, all of it - "well. If that's all."

Your hand arrives on the lithe stretch of muscle between her waist, right along the ridge of her hip bone, your cock pressing onto the heat of her cunt. Karina turns her head over her shoulder so you can see it all in profile: that pout. That look. That everything.

"There you have it." Irene squeezes the flesh she's got cupped in her palms, drawing circles. "If only everyone else got to hear that sweet, sharp edge you've got underneath, hm?"

Karina opens her mouth with some clear quip to needle, but stops herself, a catch in the center of her throat, her brows shooting up. The pull of her voice is somewhere out and over.

“God, fuck-” she can just manage to sputter. “You’re- ah, ah - your fucking cock-”

Oh, it has you cursing too. You're pushing so far into her tight little cunt - the soft airy moan, that pretty sound, riding back on every last stroke until you've filled her right to the hilt.

“I know, I know - that feels so good, right?” Irene coos.

You just pull her all the way back onto your cock, thrusting deep. Base to tip. So goddamn fucking deep.

Karina probably doesn’t even mean to whimper, but the press of your hips, slowly snapping in and in, has her lungs constricted, as the pressure slides through every hot, slippery inch inside of her - this glide of agonizing intensity.

“I bet you want to just cream all over that cock,” Irene says, fine eyebrows knitting into something like contentment. “All filled up and feeling full, and just fucking letting it go - he’ll take such good care of you. He’ll fuck you so good you won’t ever get that warm, hazy, blissed-out feeling out of your veins ever, ever again, if he has his way-”

All while the head of your cock works over every fucking sensitive part of her, dragging out to thrust all the way into her soft cunt, the round of her ass bouncing back to meet each stroke. Again, and again, until you've worked through that wet stretch of muscle. And the motion isn't exactly elegant. Karina's mouth hangs wide open, catching short breaths that curl inwards when you reach the line of her waist.

“It’s so fucking good,” Karina’s sighing out. She’s all fluster, no bite.

There’s no lack for juxtaposition in the way Irene dotes on her either - these small beguiling bits of praise like, baby, you’re doing so good, these tits of yours are just, you are - just gorgeous. Mouth quirked into a tight grin as her fingers pull and twist around her nipple. The sharp yelp that comes after. The fact that she's kissing the words into her mouth on the very next whimper: “a girl like you needs the time, and patience, and opportunity to have her insides completely, totally, catastrophically ruined.”

Irene had it exactly right on the first read. She’ll say, “I told you so,” when Karina’s washing the cum off her chest or out of her eyelashes in the shower. It’s the praise; it’s the degradation; it’s you leaning down, your hands finding her hair, curling in, and getting her right up against your lips to say it quiet, low, intimate - like a lover, like she hasn't already heard it before, “such a good little slut for me.”

And the girl absolutely fucking keens.

You grip onto her hips. You pull her hair tight. Her throat bobs under your thumb and you can feel the anxiety start to throb, her pulse hot and heavy in her cunt. How it soaks the base of your cock. Jesus, you’ll fuck a load right into her. So easily. Her pussy is so snug, so unbelievably wet. Perfect enough to know if you fuck into her any faster, any harder - it’ll be just that: you'll paint right up to her cervix; you'll fill her to the fucking brim.

"Fuck, Karina, this pussy is such a fucking dream," is what you're making sure she knows, and at that, Karina just finds that bend. Arches more of herself to you, until her ass is slotted into the plane of your stomach, the head of your cock prodding, testing the limit where her cunt is hottest and wettest. "God, this has to feel incredible. Your ass bouncing on my cock" - Karina goes slack on the force, leaning forward - "as I rail your tight little cunt."

If anything, Irene is there to catch Karina's tearful, thankful gaze when she finally starts fucking crying, a litany of yes, fuck yes, yes-yes-right-there, please fuck, and a wet, dazed little "you're goddamn - you're ruining, fucking - fucking, ruining me," every other syllable broken by her shuddering breaths.

"Aw, you're going to cum again, huh? Baby-" Irene's got her head at an angle - their gazes locked, watching - and maybe Irene really gets it: how much of a big, bad crush this gorgeous fucking woman's had on the pair of you all this whole time, with all that faux-romance, and lust, and envy wrapped up inside her - but if she wasn't so obsessed with the shape of Irene's mouth, the contour of her jaw, the lean and sleek lines of her frame and the soft, round swell of her ass - she’d still be left with the shape of your cock, where it’s pounding her apart. Fucking her and fucking her up.

It's more than worth the breath to remind Karina what she came here for. Irene's fingertips brush the line of her lips, part them just so. 

“All over him, baby, let him make a mess of you. Just a total fucking mess. We'll fill you up, and fill you up, until your poor, aching pussy is full of cum," and it's probably as well: Karina does what comes most natural to her - with you three, the whole number. Her eyes flutter and go dreamy. There's not even a moment of hesitation:

"-until it's leaking down these fucking thighs-"

"You're doing so good, babe," is your supporting role in all this, murmuring encouragement straight into her ear as you fuck her to pieces. Your breath fans out against her cheek. And then, your hands make a grip under her thighs, holding her steady, making her mouth fall open - this keen, wobbly, vulnerable thing that exposes the naked girl she is, behind all the makeup, and the heels, and her seductive and all-consuming appeal, everything.

“Just so you know: it’s the best fucking part, Karina. I mean, the look on his face.” Irene laughs with her whole body, until the rich, raspy sound of it fills the hall. “The way he bites his lip when he's close, his eyes clenched - and god, I fucking love when he finally cums. It's so good, watching him. Letting him have his way. Feeling his cock throb and spill into you - hot, and still, and just pumping inside you - just so, so good.”

"Fuck, ah-" the little gasp is like she's starting to hyperventilate. 

"Because baby,” is the final nail in the coffin, hammering home, “he’s fucking you just like he’d fuck me.”

"Fucking, please, god-."

Irene's hands have her breasts in their grasp and are playing at where she’s sensitive, then pushing into the soft, delicate space beneath, thumbing the indents. "He's so fucking good, isn't he? Are you going to cream and cream all over his hard fucking cock?"

Then - and because it comes so instinctually to her. Because, actually, your Irene has a slight propensity for evil:

She slaps Karina, right across her tits. "Fucking cum on it."

One.

Tugs hard on a nipple. "I swear, every single bit of you is so goddamn beautiful-"

Two.

"That body is built, perfect. So easy to ruin. And god - what a perfect little pussy you've got-"

Three.

Karina struggles to breathe. Her voice is torn, frayed. She barely manages to utter out a very shaky, very desperate, "harder, fuck- you’re fucking making me so- you can, harder-"

Four.

The cruel contact of Irene’s palm pulls this deliciously hedonistic sound in Karina's throat, a loud moan; like she just hit the sweet spot inside that's all her nerves coming alight. Irene plants a quick peck in Karina's hair. Her temples, the ridge of her brows. Slides her thumb across her eyelashes, brushing them clean from whatever tears had sprung free. You don't even want to try, not at that moment, to try and endure the quiver of slippery muscle all over your cock as she shudders into her orgasm. It's simply too fucking much. She's too fucking tight.

"Aw, shh shh, shh," and then Irene's soft hushes are coming down from the other side of her head. Irene kisses her full, straight on her mouth. Karina is shaking, convulsing and caught and fucked from head to toe - and what she needed was someone like the two of you - to watch her cunt swallow your cock like some magnificent and unbelievable sight, taking the whole damn thing. Irene is telling her, "it's okay. You can let it go."

The silhouettes alone. From the end of the hall, and where the afterimage lingers: the smoke-frosted windows, the dim lights, their bare, beautiful forms - this picture that will stick in the center of your head, will probably haunt you-

"God, I can’t, just- ah.”

“Breathe,” Irene says.

"I'll cum again, it's too- I'm so-" Karina can only plead and sigh.

Irene shushes her one more time. "It's a lot. It's alright, baby. He's going to keep fucking you until he's ready to pull out, until he has a whole mess just painted onto your ass, and thighs, and I'm going to make sure that little pussy gets so wrecked, fucked, stretched on every last inch- until the thought of sex hurts, and then we're going to make you cum again, and again- over, and over-"

You're leaning over her, nose buried into the waves of Irene's hair, the curve of Karina's back, and the flush of skin in contrast. That's when you feel the coil in your chest come loose - unspooling, and bursting - when Karina's lids roll into the back of her head and her lips fall open with a pleasured gasp and a stammer, "y-you're, ah, both, you're so, both- oh god."

You're about to just pull her down and absolutely cream her, stuff her full - a mess.

And she wants you to-

"That feels so fucking good," she lets slip out on the cusp of a shiver, just as her inner muscles are spasming, milking your cock with the pressure from one pulse through the next, squeezing.

She’s right. It does. Her, coming undone. You, at wit’s end. 

Another breath, and Karina is managing out between these small hiccups - not as much out of breath, just dumbstruck - simply muttering, "I’m cumming, I- oh my god." 

You barely manage it; you unbury your cock from her cunt; you’re cumming all over her ass. 

A shot of white that streaks right down to her bare-slicked skin, before it gets painted down into the crease of her pussy, all swollen - wrecked and raw.

Just the way it feels on her skin is enough to earn another hushed moan from her, this sweet little whimper as she can hardly stand up straight. She lets her knees buckle, but Irene is right there, to catch. Her eyes are closed, eyelids clenching, as Irene tilts Karina's face her way, to lay one, two, three soft, adoring kisses on her mouth, the angle all wrong. 

“Mmm.” The smack of her lips. The pull of whatever breath she still has to give - right out of her heaving chest. "Sore, that, ahhh- um, thank you."

You fiancée wraps a slender hand right around Karina's wrist, and starts whispering to her, unbridled, "just had to. Had to see how you look-"

It’s wicked, for one thing. More than that, it's seamless:

While Irene still has the girl's voice caught in her throat, she reaches around the curve of Karina's hips and drags two fingertips through the puddle of warm cum that sits right at the base of her spine, glistening all over her ass cheeks and inner thighs, slipping and rolling off her cunt, down the center, running in rivulets. Your cum between her fingers is so filthy, so obscene - dripping hot - right off her reddened skin, and Irene can't possibly help it; not after a display as indulgent as that. The trembling that remains in Karina’s thighs does nothing to hide how her legs now jitter and shake under Irene's touch.

“That’s my good girl,” she whispers as her fingertips hover across the apex of her puffy lips. Over and over again, with more force, and more, until you're almost positive it's Karina that leans in a moment later, kissing the rest of her soft assurances right off her tongue.

Listen to her: this incoherent string of words pouring from her mouth, like they can't move fast enough, tripping over each consonant, "are you, oh, oh - oh, fuck."

No one else could make that kind of overstimulation feel so heavenly, you figure, the way she just properly melts. You take a step back, just to let Irene work. Just to watch. To appreciate the craft.

You absolutely get it. 

How to touch, how to tease. Firsthand experience has you know she'll ride your cock until you're throbbing and spilling cum and she'll just shh-shh, let you have it - it's okay, sweetie, just let go - until she's rolling her hips just right, or reaching a hand back to massage your balls, or stroking your inner thigh in that exact kind of spot; some method that keeps her all the way on the end of your cock, but not quite off the edge, and your cum leaking down your shaft, spent.

She’ll bite into her smirk. She’ll tie up her hair. She’ll get that serious look on her face because she knows: you’re all hers for the taking.

So she'll sink onto it, again and again, until she's fucking you with the slippery friction only your own spill might provide. "Just a little more," she'll tell you, which is absolutely a lie, "come on, just a bit harder, I'm so close." Irene does this thing - she's had years to refine and perfect - and her voice gets a husky edge to it as her teeth graze the shell of your ear; she makes a small, pained groan into the curl of your hair and breathily hums it: 'I'm almost there.'

Who stands any chance to resist?

And she's always asking you - the same way she's coaxing and promising Karina the world with just the movement of her fingers, this delectable in and out, in and out, pushing that filth up into the red-soaked lips of her pussy - "now, what did I ever do to deserve someone like you?"

Karina blinks, once - a sleepy-lidded draw that leaves her lashes, lush and long, and fanning her flushed cheeks. 

The sound between her legs is wet, squelching with your cum, with hers, the barest hint of slapping her tender skin. The beat of Irene's wrist against her thighs - like that's where she needs it most - a deep, primal rhythm, like the last thing she wants is to take a breath. It's fucking hot; her head is tilted, her jaw clenched, and Irene has the tips of her fingers twisted between Karina's legs, swirling your cum right back around in her slick cunt - those plump pussy lips that you've watched stretch out on the first press, the first and the second and the third, as Karina finds what gets her there fast, fast-fast-fastest-

"You can cum for me too, baby."

It’s not a suggestion. There’s nothing but expectation in Irene’s voice. 

“Just cum.”

You watch it knock the architecture right out of Karina's legs.

-

Indulgent, just isn’t quite the right word for it. Careless, reckless, clumsy even-

Look - the tumultuous tangle you three make is all over the fucking place.

One moment, you're at an angle, moreover twisted-limbed with Irene bent over her dresser, then propped up on top of yours the next, your forehead landing against hers, feeling the soft cradle of her shoulders, her legs around you. She has her hands wrapped in Karina's, in that muddled in between: it's a collision of sorts.

There's the chair in the corner of your bedroom that really has only ever known one purpose, a plush rug, all these surfaces, horizontal and vertical for you to take the two most breathtakingly beautiful people in the world on and let your bodies settle into the shape they've needed to ever since your fingertips met Irene's in the cab, ever since she blinked her heavy lashes at you with Karina in-tow, just shy of smiling.

And boy, do you learn that Karina likes to watch herself get fucked in front a mirror. Specifically, the tall one beside Irene’s closet. It's hard to blame her. When you hold her hips tight, and really, truly fuck her, you can’t keep your eyes off how her face twists with the pleasure; or, when you drill the length of your cock into her sopping wet cunt: the wide, glossy rim of her pretty lips pulling back into a wince - and your eyes dropping past the reflection of her shoulders, her collarbones, down to her perfect tits.

The back and forth, the up and down, the way they fucking wobble in their beautifully buxom blur.

Though the eventuality remains unchanged, spread out across your bed. Karina takes a moment, hand pressed to the mattress experimentally like it's all running through her head - this is where Irene gets all that fairy-tale-inspired romance from, really - a quick pause where your future-bride is up on her elbows and staring, watching - your finger sinks in slowly, between where she's soft and warm and wet. She's thinking, you can just read it off her face, 'oh. So that's what you'd do, huh?'

Just for demonstration’s sake, you fingerfuck her in all kinds of ways - show-off and performance and dirty and mind-blowing. Because even better than the whiny, gut-wrenching moan it gets out of Irene, Karina can't get enough of how it’s all presented.

"Ugh," she slides up next to you at the foot of the bed, helping you turn Irene on her side, "why does she have to be so pretty, it's annoying, she's- she's like, made it so fucking far by playing the girl everyone wants to wife, huh?" She's talking directly to you, even while Irene rolls her neck to press her head against the pillow. "Inspirational."

You're drawing circles into her clit. Thumbing the dip, circling in the opposite direction. Karina has her nails biting right into the crease where your knees touch. In tandem, you’ll help your fiancée reach the top of that first wave. 

Karina presses, all cheek - a very dry, "cute."

It’s so simple: you eat Irene’s cunt. You hold her down. And Karina slides her tongue lazily against the tight pucker of her ass.

The three of you know she deserves nothing less.

“Oh, christ, you have no idea,” Irene is murmuring into the pillowcase, head tilted at an awkward angle, looking at the wall, almost distant; but her legs are split wide and her hands are reaching forward to rub a circle into your cheek, "you know how sensitive-? Yeah. Like, really, super. Super, super fucking sensitive, okay? So - if you'd keep doing, uh, oh- oh…”

Simultaneous, then slow, and easy - kisses landing right onto Irene's clit. So much so, you can't help but turn a little, smiling right up at your girl as she digs her toes into the duvet and threads a hand into Karina's hair.

The thing is, with Irene: facades fade fast.

Karina gets to measure that fact up close - where the details of Irene's composure are not only sharp, but also readily and openly and emphatically pound to dust by the time the last loose curl of Irene’s hair falls over her collarbone; she ends up on all fours, spread out over Karina - pressed along the length of her stomach, spread over your duvet and fitted sheets, your hand at the base of Irene's waist and tightening into the divots. She’s so small beneath you that when you bury your dick inside her- 

“Fuck.” Her cunt is so wet. Her breath uneven - and her words are starting to slur. There’s the gooseflesh on her back that lets you know it’s all already over for her. “Okay,” she tries to steady the ache in her stomach, “okay, okay, just- right there.” 

The drag through her pussy is fucking extraordinary. It knocks the wind out of both of you; so soft to the touch, like velvet - she’s unbelievably tight. You pull her hips into you and it opens her right up. Then when you end up balls deep inside your girl a second, third, fourth time:

She simply shudders apart.

Even though you fuck her so slow, so easy - her cunt clenches and squeezes on you like Irene detests the very idea of letting you go. You don’t even need to rail her lithe body to complete and utter ruin just to feel the familiar pent-up tremor starting to build in her muscles, how she rolls her hips back just so-so. How your hands fit that round and pert little ass of hers so well, and when your fingers finally sink in, you’re pulling it all apart to get a good look where your cock shimmers with her slick before disappearing right into her tiny cunt.

Karina mutters something in her ear. It pulls on some thread, somewhere - you feel her wind like a spring, further, and further; your cock edging her so close. The smirk Karina saves for you over your fiancée’s shoulder makes you think she’s figured her out- 

“Irene, look-” 

Well, at least she’s tuning in on all the right frequencies.

"Aren’t we all about being thorough?" Karina raises a perfectly trimmed brow. She drapes her arm across Irene's neck, their lips sliding together again, and that kiss is drawn-out and languid, albeit needy. "So, say," it gets muffled against the seam of their lips, and comes up, and comes out like a slurry, "are we gonna use everything else too? Your mouth, your perfectly tight ass?"

Irene can hardly muster out, "fuck- fuck- yes, fucking, god," as she takes it, so deep. There’s enough there to make both of you cum, you’re sure.

“Who could’ve guessed - like there’s ever been a more perfect cocktease than bae-fucking-Irene," Karina coos, all lips. She plants a row of kisses along Irene's exposed throat. The tilt of her hips, as she pushes closer - as you press the head of your cock as deep as it can go. "Go on. Cum, baby. Be a good girl, a good hole to fuck, just do it. All over his big fucking cock. Let him fucking have you."

Which is probably about the same time you realize that you, Irene and Karina are all well enroute - becoming this one mind, a single unit. This plurality you know there’s no coming back from.

You look down, with a little more focus, and Irene is being pulled apart in every which way - your cock stretching her out, over and over - Karina’s fingers right under her clit, every circle making her whimper. She’s all sharp edges and delicate angles, but manages to be soft for you in just the right places.

“God, you’re so fucking tight,” you tell her, shifting your hips; pulling her ass flush and filling her completely. Your grip tightens on her waist and she doesn’t flinch a bit. "It's so goddamn easy to cum in this needy little pussy of yours. All wet and slick, and, hah- just pulsing-"

Irene lets out this wanton sound, desperate.

“Oh, right there, huh?” Karina asks. It’s not quite mean, but it’s getting there, fast. “Is that how he’s going to make you cum?”

You thrust on the same angle again, the same depth - you’re hitting all her nerve endings, all her sensitive spots. There isn't even room, now, for some imaginary head-to-head, some verbal volley, the banter; what comes forward is her tiny, broken moan.

How many times had Irene done the exact same, after all. Fucked you without holding back? Fucked you over? The flood of sweet-nothings as you started to approach: honey, you're so perfect, we can go slow, you just have to ask, and if you feel uncomfortable at any point, if you want me to stop-

“Just say please, doll,” Karina tells her.

If Irene told you a quarter of what made it out of the side of Karina’s mouth, you’d have never believed it. "I can't wait to feel what that arrogant mouth of yours will do when he cums inside this cute ass-"

You watch Karina spank her. Hard. There’s a red stain in the round of Irene’s cheek, and her skin is so pale that the imprint of all five fingertips looks stark, glaring.

"Just," Karina presses the rest of herself against Irene's skin and steals a quick glance at you - this half-coy smile pulling on one corner of her lips, "thought I'd do that in the name of-"

"Mmph," Irene’s groan is long, loud, "yes. Fuck, yes- please-"

Karina immediately looks away. An effort to hide the smug satisfaction. She fiddles with the auburn locks behind Irene's shoulder.

You’ll finish the sentiment: "-being thorough," and drive your cock to the hilt. Irene collapses forward onto Karina’s lap.

The sound she makes you swear is a sob. See - for Irene, it’s only about getting control in so far as it is about getting off; she’ll take whatever comes her way so long as it’s directly to her benefit - the theatrics of being pinned, the willingness for surrender, for subjugation, for the sake of telling you, yes, push my knees, spread me apart, hold me there; look at the things you do to me - it's the Irene everyone imagines, when they see the dresses, the gltiz, the glamour, just the brief flash of her grin, or the way she holds her fingernail between her teeth. Everyone wants to put her on her heel and feel a bit powerful. To have you watch the supple arc of her neckline bend, to hear the humility slip off her lips: the notion goes beyond simple kink-

It steps out into pure necessity.

She really, really needs it, and it's written into every muscle and tendon - it's on her breath as it shudders through her whole body. The beautiful, harrowing sound. "I love the way you two fuck me," she murmurs, head buried into the crook of Karina's neck. It's the sort of line, coming from someone like her, you know could raise a few blushes - if either of you was still in the business of such things.

"Honey," her voice wavers. Then, it falters: "please."

The desperation is thick, husky, almost. Karina seems like she's breathing her in, nose tucked against Irene's forehead.

You watch how she runs her nails up Irene's sides, a hot whisper sliding over her skin. You feel it, and so does Irene, this white hot pleasure singing up from the tip of her clit and spreading throughout the soft curves, the sensual lines of her body, this tangible current, a hum, a whine. You see her strain the lean stretch of muscle connecting her neck to her shoulder.

Until her face is tucked under Karina’s jaw, with a hand reaching back and hooked around your wrist and keeping you fucking, filling her, your hips drawn tight against hers, like a second home.

In and in and in.

Fucked-out and outright to the extent she goes completely silent. Almost completely still. The moment she cums all over your waist. Mouth hung open, like she’s in pure disbelief.

It doesn’t really matter, how often or how precisely Karina has imagined the whole thing. It's still a fucking revelation the first time she gets to watch Irene cum.

“No way,” she’s almost laughing, holding Irene’s jaw with both hands. “No fucking way. All the times you- what? No. Nuh-uh. You better fucking explain why this face, you- it’s not fair, the perfect face- I swear, even mid-fucking-orgasm, you are such a fucking doll-"

There's the sheer intimacy - Karina holding Irene's lips open, dragging her thumb down along the center. Quiet and sordid curses slipping from her mouth. And the obvious, her free hand already running down the curve of Irene's spine, her ass: all this sensitive-touching, admiring, appreciating-

"Hey," Karina says, voice raspy and drunk on the sex, the premise, "do me a favor, and tell me this feels as amazing as it looks. Or maybe, for once - just for the sake of fucking argument, is it actually better for the both of us, hm?

Her eyes are half-lidded, heavy, sultry. She's arching up into Irene's warmth - until her palms are spread out against her chest, thumb sliding right over everything sensitive, and she leans right to pull the other breast to her lips, and start all over again. It's clear what she means, spreading her legs as far as she can, pinned beneath the orgasm you're still fucking into Irene. As much as her petite frame will allow.

And in case you missed the point:

"So. What are we waiting for," is what she says a breath later, matter-of-fact, not at all expecting denial. “Or am I not as fuckable as our princess here?"

There's so much wet spill around the base of your cock, and the sound Irene's pussy makes when you finally draw free - all her creamy slick mixed into your mess just fucking leaking around your shaft. Karina holds herself open for you like that, spread wide. All your attention to her pink, raw cunt; you slip right inside. 

Karina lets her arms go slack on the mattress, her chest shivering, lips locked around Irene’s panting breath.

And so it goes, and so it goes, and so it goes.

-

(To anyone taking notes - chemistry, by definition, is the sum total of a certain process; where and when energy becomes matter becomes another.

More relevantly perhaps, it is that race and rise you feel inside your chest. 

Nothing about the sensation, it seems, is too exclusive either - Irene, and now Karina, the pair of them equally devastating, all over and again. It has you in communication with a different kind of contentment: to fall apart inside their embrace in particular, and kiss them with enough breath and time to waste until the morning.)

-

“Jesus,” Karina laughs out loud, “you really believe that? You corrupting me?" she makes another scoff, both hands buried somewhere in the pockets of the sweatshirt you've lent her. "At least do me a favor and cut it out with the solemn tone."

You're leaning over your apartment’s balcony, watching an emergency plow make the slowest grind of progress up the road. It's late. And cold. Or actually - it’s early. The sky is the kind of dark midnight navy you see after all the snow and stars have run through the horizon. Time ticks on, and Irene’s inside sound asleep. A woman that small has no right to snore like heavy machinery.

So,

You and Karina happen to be two things at once: very tired, and very awake.

"What I mean is: I'm sure your manager, or your parents - fuck, someone - would fly off the handle," you say, pulling a cigarette from the pack and offer it begrudgingly. She takes the end and slips it between her lips, a little unsure. You then draw a lighter and offer it, too, and Karina puffs with all her strength. She's no expert, but it looks like the end catches and turns bright. 

A bit of color.

"My parents?" Karina flouts, sucking at it, pulling deeply from her chest - smoke pours from her nose.

She finishes with a cough. And says again:

"Um. Your girlfriend had her fingers in my ass - your cock down my throat - and we're worrying what my parents might think?"

Well. She's got you on that count.

"Not to mention: who the fuck thinks they're so virtuous-" a small chuckle as she passes it back. The cigarette is lit, bright. You take a drag. Watch her tap her feet on the snow. "That they need to do that to begin with. It's more trouble, telling me what to think and feel, as if that hasn't just the opposite effect."

“Irene’s protective, albeit in her own sorta peculiar way. So, you know, by extension, she worries-" you pull, and exhale, the smoke blowing past Karina. It gets caught in her fringe, in the wisps. You offer it back when you see her shiver. "That some shit happens, after."

"Your concern is heartwarming, truly - if you want to let me think on it, I might go and write a nice little diary entry tonight. It'll have sparkles and glitter - if you're that worried." 

Karina reaches in. Lets her fingers graze yours. Her skin is cool. 

“Besides, I don’t need a lesson in image from Irene of all people. She’s her; I’m me.”

She holds onto the cigarette between two long acrylic fingernails, tapping the end so the ash flits out onto the ice. You're caught staring, probably - the dark hair framing her face, all messy and soft, falling about her cheekbones. How that pretty pink blush in her skin seems to never go away.

Your eyes drop to where her mouth is red, a bit swollen - well-kissed; it is snowing again, after all. And it’s easy to be kind of transfixed.

"You're not, I dunno, say embarrassed?" you ask, after a beat.

"Nope." Karina swallows. Brings the cigarette to the pucker of her lips again. You watch how she holds the inhale, holds her wrist up and slacked, head tilted back a little. This exaggerated fashion-model exhale follows, all smooth.

“Because I'm not the type.”

The heavy stream of smoke then blown right into your face.

"Really, I think - sorry, I have always wanted to do that. It felt like a movie. Look," she coughs on the next breath. "I get your dilemma. But also, um-"

There are some quiet moments too, here and there: the heat between your thighs, her pressed up close. She smells like Irene's shampoo and bodywash and that just confuses your head some.

"Who’s to say I’m not just looking out for you," you offer. Every good lie is rooted somewhere in the truth.

"Don't bother," her words hit you square on. "It's about getting off right? You invite me to your bed; I’m so starstruck and enchanted by the very concept of it - Irene and her charming, intoxicating husband. Fuck, I dunno - the way the two of you kiss, look, feel: the experience that you will let me be a part of," she stops and makes another face of amusement, so fucking confident, "you let me play, too, just once, and we're all just a little happier. My version."

“We’re not married,” you correct.

“That’s the part you’re hung up on?” Karina leans over, her upper half across the balcony, staring right up at the sky. “Same difference.”

The moon finds her smile bright like nothing else. It's something infectious. Immediately, it reminds you: of Irene.

"Trust me," she goes on to say. The cigarette slips back into the space where you are connected - the lines of her fingers, her knuckles. "I had a wonderful time, but the sun will rise here, and I'm not gonna stick around to blow you while Irene burns three omelets and finds a spot for me in her fucked up game of house or whatever."

She makes you laugh, free and easy, like a gust of cold air. Something genuine and natural. And as the laugh shakes, Karina makes it impossible not to crumble farther. Not to fucking simper there like an idiot.

“I really thought she was going to make me call her mommy or something, I swear-”

"Hey, I'm sure if you had asked." A spark catches you. The flash of her canine, and those eyelashes. “She’d have done you the favor.”

"Oh, shush." The touch of Karina's fingertip against your hand is delicate, careful - unassuming. But, god, everything with her is just the right amount of heat - it melts you; and when it stops, her touch: that feeling is so cold that you just chase her out of impulse.

"What about New Year's?" you ask. There are still boundaries you really shouldn't be crossing, but here you are, straddling yet one more.

Karina's grin cracks like an old fault line. "You're not allowed to ask me out like that," she insists, batting you away - trying her hardest not to lead with the obvious. You look out on the view, watching a guy in a parka trudge over to a garbage can, a handful of newspaper bundles, then a glance back-

The slightest flush has bloomed up Karina’s face, right underneath where the makeup's been rubbed bare. It's utterly irresistible. "Go wake up your fiancée and ask what her New Year's Eve looks like. Doubt it involves me and my dumb friends."

She’s probably right.

"Karina," you start, watching her push open the balcony door with her foot and walk slowly, lazily, back into the apartment. The window rattles, and she looks back over her shoulder. The bob of her ponytail, the sweeping lashes, that perfect slow-burn smile. That’s how you end up with a title as ridiculous and reductive as ‘original visual’ or ‘the human cg’.

"You’re really going to let them in on what we all got up to?"

"Oh," she makes this low, delighted hum - it sounds so dreamy, how her voice gets the richest sort of rasp, "every last detail."

-

On Monday: the holidays are officially over.

There's a bunch of stuff on the to-do pile. A lot of loose ends you have to clean up, a ton to catch up on. Irene is judiciously ignoring all of it. She's wearing her glasses - the ones with the big round frames that should look entirely obnoxious - which means she's already decided she's not leaving the apartment; Karina's still wrapping the world at large around her finger and has everyone convinced that she's all femme, no fatale; and you - well, you're back to thinking about how to climb the ladder and maybe how to stay there.

You head downtown with a cup of coffee in one hand and a musing mood in the other.

On your phone, some more choice text messages arrive in the late AM: had a great time by the way, stay out of trouble, this sweatshirt is actually just mine now, duh. 

The selfie alongside it is pretty suggestive, but just vague enough to flirt with indecency.

She sends one more at lunch where she's gotten out of the shower, or a hot pool, or maybe a long workout - her breasts squeezed between a towel and an arm - she has the camera all zoomed in and framed tight, almost full body. If her intention is to mess with you, that's what she gets. The texts: ah, fuck off and did you have a nice date with your left hand then, thanks for reminding me, the hotel wifi is shit lmao.

The messages just keep on coming and there's really no better descriptor.

And Irene, later, in a way that's neither diplomatic nor nuanced: jesus, don't let her catch you by yourself. For simplicity’s sake. She interprets being alone with a handsome boy as carte blanche to do absolutely whatever she wants and she's vapid that way.

There’s a chance it fizzles out into nothing. An even greater chance it all goes sideways. You'll have to see what becomes of you three.

-

Okay, right - new year, new you. The resolution for the past couple remains unchanged, and unfulfilled - less takeaways and eating out; more meal prep, less calories, healthier decisions.

Irene has this cute little apron over her sweater that is fixed extra tight, the belt trailing down the tops of her jeans to accentuate her nice round hips and slim waist. She knows the nature of her charm, her sex appeal. How it occurs, almost, as if by accident.

You say something that will get right under her skin like, “looking real domestic, Joohyun,” as she slides a chopped onion from a cutting board to a bowl.

She presses her hips out just a smidge, just enough. Turns a bit as she opens up the fridge, and the smirk she has for you, that sidelong glance-

“Don’t you Joohyun me,” is her lightest rebuke. 

She twists her way onto her tiptoes to fetch at the highest shelf. The crochet corner of her sweater rides up a couple of inches, flashing a hint of the fair, bare curve of her lower back. "You can help me by grating the parmesan, hm? Into that," she gestures back at the table, pointing with the bottle of olive oil.

And so you're ten, fifteen minutes into helping with dishes, with the grunt work - with the realization that Irene is going to chop her fucking fingers off if you leave her to it unchecked.

"Actually, here," you say, "can I?"

She tilts her head, skeptical - still, a quick nod of permission - and her slender fingers surrender the knife and wooden chopping board to you. She's tapping away at her phone, finding the playlist you're both always secretly listening to.

"Wow," Irene says, low, as you start dicing mushrooms, a stalk of celery. "So brave. There’s no way I could do that. Is it safe? Are we, like, in nuptial bliss now, do you think? I fancy you, I fancy you-"

It's always this sorta-delicate dance with her: how much should you step up; how much should you put out of hand; how much she accepts versus how she pushes you aside and gets through you all the same. You're too proud, really - both of you - but fuck. She's adorable; the apron adds insult to injury; and it makes the switch in your head simple.

“I always forget how much I love this song,” she’s saying; the rolling pin she’s grabbed is a reasonable surrogate for a mic. When she’s through singing a verse, she shoves it in your face. You don’t know any of the lyrics. 

She doesn’t really care.

You have to laugh at everyone who's ever wasted the effort to theorycraft who she is behind the smoky lashes, the lowered chin, the downturned glance. All the characters and archetypes she'll wear and cast off as she needs.

"Here." She sidles up and tucks her hair behind her ear, the side of her hip grinding into your thigh until she’s pressed firm into the line of your leg. Because she needs to tell you that's way too much garlic, and she's not going to kiss you if your breath is trying to kill her first. She uses the word "pungent" a number of times, just for good measure. Go on - she’s murmuring - taste; right off her finger. If anyone caught this you’d be embarrassed for weeks

“I think, definitely, should open a bottle of wine-”

That’s how you earn all the responsibility for getting the both of you fed; she gets distracted looking through the recipe book.

But there's the way she looks up at you from the opposite of the kitchen island, face held up between her hands, fingers folded underneath her chin. "What?" she asks. 

She’s totally caught you staring.

The truth is: Irene only looks this gorgeous when it's just her. When she forgets that she's supposed to stick to a script.

You tell her as much when you end up fucking her right there on the counter.

It's so slow, atleast at the onset. Her panties pushed aside, jeans spilling off an ankle - the fucking apron managed to make it to the floor but her sweater got kinda stuck on the way up. So you're reaching through some overpriced fabric blend to pull down the wire of her bra and get your palm where she most prefers it.

"Say it again," Irene sighs into your neck, clutching to the back of your shirt - white-knuckled at the seam. "Come on, you can be so charming when you want something."

"I wouldn’t push your luck," is all you choose to tell her. 

You're hitting all the spots she wants you to hit anyway: her pretty pink cunt, slick, all wet for you already. Everything clenching as she arches her back, until she's hanging off the edge of the marble. You find it’s just enough leverage to fill her completely with your cock - stretching her out and open until her thighs bracket around your waist at the perfect angle.

"Or what?" Irene is out of breath, but hardly at a loss for words. "I know. You'll have to remind me how much smaller I am than you, right? So easy to keep pinned."

Well, if you really wanted: "Hah, ah - right." You get right next to her ear, muttering the words as deep as your chest can go - then take hold of her waist to put her in a spot she can't escape. And, by Irene's usual logic, once that happens, that's as much a victory for her as it is for you. You're being compliant, aren't you? The in and out: fucking her, filling her up, pulling your messy cock out of her pussy and slapping her clit just so she can hear how fucking soaked you make her, merely as a reminder-

"I wonder if she was even half as desperate," she moans against your jaw. "Her heart probably stopped the second you, ah - told her, what? About all of this?"

You stop fucking her, halfway.

"I’m sure you wouldn't be referring to Karina, right?" is where you glance at her. “I remember us both agreeing to chalk that up as a total absolute mistake. That was that.”

Irene just swallows, looks off somewhere over your shoulder. No one wears a blush better than her.

But she won't say it. Her honesty is such a privilege. The prodigy-type. Or at least, that's the word Irene chose. Then again, there’s you and your uncanny ability to turn a blind eye. 

To the vice, the virtue, and everything in-between.

"So, can I ask," you press your lips together, finding the point of her chin with a gentle tap - you have her looking you straight back at you. The moment could let you drive back inside and fuck her brains right out, right there, like that - right through, instead: you watch her try not to squirm. 

The tension in her upper chest, the rising heat that settles between her thighs, her weight struggling where you spread her knees, as far open as her body can allow. “How long exactly," you choose your words, careful and pointed, "are we going to pretend that she isn't texting both of us?"

You bury the question deep where she’s practically molten - hot and wet and so incredibly needy.

You do, again, and again. You pull her against you, watching that pretty brow scrunch and un-scrunch as your cock bathes in that soak. And hell, Karina had sent her a selfie today, is what she's explaining when you slow down enough - a bit of red, on her cheeks and her lips, and a lot of black, all the rest - the part about a midnight flight that's on hold until tomorrow morning. And then another, an hour later. To you both: her tits, the lace lingerie - so heavy, and soft, and easy to see yourself getting lost in-

Irene gasps at how fast you find all her favorite spots, then repeats - twice and again - hey, Karina said you're "such a cutie," and she sees her as the perfect mistress-material, don't you think? Wouldn’t it be ideal? The perfect fantasy? The perfect toy-

Obviously, that is morally bankrupt, even for the two of you. And you’re making sure she hears about it.

You ask her, point-blank: "are you really so selfish? So callous." It's ground out, slowly, against her hip, into her cunt. You've got Irene dripping wet, she's running everywhere, and you're telling her, "and this is your roundabout way of asking me to validate your twisted little ego?"

Don’t get it too confused: Irene lives for this shit; that sharp, hard-hitting tone - it drives her up the fucking wall. 

"Duh. Tell me - just a guess," she presses her hands further back, arching into each push. The slim curves of her chest are bouncing, just under her sweater. "You like to feel so guilty and morose but I bet-" she chokes off mid-sentence, you know exactly how, the exact motion that has her wanting. She gets a leg over your shoulder with no effort at all, and your fingers find their place, digging into her hips as she locks into your thrusts. 

Like fucking her is the only thing the two of you ever do.

Your whole body buzzes, it hums in resonance with where her gasps conflagrate to moans - you're pulling her slender frame down into every sloppy thrust and she takes you so fucking well.

"I bet it all sounds like, ah, the prettiest fucking music - in your head-"

“Fucking god, Irene-”

“Mhmm?” she fucking coos.

Because the things she wants to hear never actually leave your lips - your girl, fucking relentless.

Because the line between you fucking her and her fucking you becomes less distinct every time she rocks back and takes you deeper. Or when her mouth catches your next kiss a bit lazily. She takes over to swivel and slide her cunt up and around your length. So good that you have to keep her there. Hand locked onto her throat, digging a bruise or two in her collarbones, fucking her senseless against the countertop-

"Irene, fuck.” Your voice comes out thick, like gravel, and practically as an aside, “you’re going to make me-.”

Irene cuts you off, nodding, shh-shh’ing you into silence. “I know, baby. I know.” This total sigh of agreement - a hushed yes, or maybe uttering something she knows will sink right into your core, two words that sound a lot like “good boy.”

What, is that tacit approval? Probably. It’s hard to think straight.

So you bury yourself inside her, instinctually. Irene tips her chin up when she feels you paint her fucking womb. Every throb - with a fistful of her ass and your face pressed against her chest, sucking and biting and marking her anywhere, everywhere - right through her sweater. Fucking her so full that your mess is dribbling out all over the fucking floor, drip, drip, drip, and-

"Hey, I want you to know that I" - she sounds so amused as she cards through your hair, pressing a kiss to your forehead - "really couldn’t ever ask anyone except you."

(All is fair in love and war, is an adage Irene takes to its logical extreme, tangled in your sheets or with a dress puddled at her ankles. A silk stocking rolling down her leg, the crochet thrown into some dark corner.

You never say yes. You never really have to.)

This all before setting her down, off the edge, back onto her feet and taking another half-step forward and having the awareness not to completely flatten her under the full weight of your body, so she can run a hand down between the two of you and her fingertips can start gathering up all the cum you've pumped inside her. Irene tells you in her sweetest lilt to pay attention as she leans back up against the counter and gathers as much into her mouth as it will allow-

The sight alone.

When her head tips back, tongue passing over her knuckles, and she swallows-

"You are so," you sigh into her temple. Her cheek. You've settled the rest to the space in between. “Absolutely unbelievable."

She reaches out and trails the tips of her fingers lightly along the rise of your cock - her softness up against your hard lines. Her eyes flash when you twitch on the fucking spot. It's so tender all coming from her.

And there, a moment or two more. You can see it in the way she has her lips tilting, dreamy. You've always known what you were signing up for - how she's thumbing the nape of your neck - what her ideal outcome was, is. There's nothing and no one in front of either of you to bar the way.

You’ll make your vows like any other.

"Well, hey," she finally says, slow and husky and curling toward you with a smug self-satisfaction.

You push her hair behind her ears, the dark brown locks. Some part of you understands, unequivocally, that she is the absolute limit of how far you would go for any other person on the planet. No questions. In a heartbeat, without hesitation.

The kiss to the corner of your jaw is unironically chaste - before she’s telling you, "shouldn’t we get a move on it, chef? There’s food to eat, recipes to ignore; aren’t you fucking famished?"

-

The bolognese reduces down to a scorch in the cast iron. Too much heat, or too long, you got too preoccupied, who knows - there's a moral lesson to ignore here if you're so inclined. So it ends up being over a tray of sushi delivery that Irene explains to you her working theory like it's high-stakes political intrigue.

"Listen," she's got her chopsticks pointed at you, "for one, Karina, to her core, is a total seductress; and she's told me already, more or less to my face - she gets off on the chase, and hates the other shit. To be involved, or invested."

“Okay then why all the go-around; the wait-and-see; what’s her endgame?”

“What’s anyone’s endgame?” Irene shrugs. “Validation." She slips a tuna roll into her mouth.

"I think you might be projecting."

"Or, I'm simply an extremely empathetic person," her sarcasm hits harder through chewing - she almost gets you, and finishes swallowing to say, "look, she's like us if we were pretending to care, okay? Just more, like - explicit about her lack of intention. So. Doesn’t matter if it's to piss her manager off. Or it's like a revenge-slash-extortion-thing against someone she either had or is having an affair with."

"An affair," you repeat, skeptical.

"It's not like it’s an unheard-of workplace hazard, come on," and then the final confirmation: "she’s just into it because it sounds dirty and sexy, okay, like everything else-"

"And you figure we should be the ones to dole it out."

"What I figure," Irene says, doing that same mental calculus she did the first time: how, where, why - it's clear. A dozen different kinds of naked are an old, tired song by now. "I want us to fuck her. However she likes, whenever she likes, for however long she likes. Let her think she’s won something, or think she has you totally fucking hooked - I don't really care. Because it would be so much more satisfying to hear you tell me about it - because the idea of you two being like that for me. It's," her words pitch up a touch. 

"That's the fantasy."

And Irene dives into the details. She explains what it could look like, all the more raunchy and ridiculous. This very specific arrangement. It makes no real sense, the conversation alone, and that, you decide - what can't be rationalized - is how she'll take it: by fucking both of you. That's the objective fact. That's the demand.

You listen until it feels less and less like the decisions have already been made.

“Okay, babe,” she’s presenting her case. “Hear me out.”

And she keeps going until you both can see it materialize: "if Karina thinks she can handle both of us, then both of us it'll be." It’s how her fingers end up buried in your boxers and around the throb of your cock. You hear the gentlest laugh Irene has as you start fucking softly into her grip, and she runs her thumb over your weeping slit until she finds you that much more malleable to the suggestion. Effortless almost, she lures the primal part of you from its confines and teases and prods at its wants and desires. Which is also how some charged vocabulary gets thrown in for good measure. Because no, no, no - she's murmuring into your mouth, tipped back, plush lips right above yours - it's not a cuckquean situation, or an open relationship, or anything like freeuse or whatever else might justify the concern. It's not even cheating, Irene’s explaining, strictly speaking, because who said you and I wouldn’t be doing it together?

(Lying by omission is the story you both live - and the difference: she's pathological. You’re just now getting the hang of it.)

"Fuck," is what you exhale out as she opens her fingers, offering. Her thumb glides across the expanse of your head, a trail of pre-cum drawn underneath a nail. And you know all the things her nails can do - can rip your heartstrings. "I mean. God damn. There has to be, like, terms."

There's still sushi sitting on the coffee table, and Irene is placing these kisses into the slope of your shoulder, your sternum, making a show of the movement, how she's traveling down, downward - to her knees. Where she finds the seat between your thighs and tugs your shorts, the fabric gathered down your leg-

"Let me handle it," she tells you, and there goes the cut of your t-shirt, shoved up to your chest. Her grip runs flat, down from the rise of your hip, fingers wrapping around, touching - the flat of her tongue laving across the tip of your cock until she decides to lower her jaw.

"Just think right now. How I want to fuck her and how I'd want you to fuck her, too-" 

Right in her warm, wet little mouth.

Jesus, her tongue too-

She has it gliding up, around and against the swell of the underside. Rolling to where you need it, the places she knows you’ve died before. Lapping up the mess she's already gotten out of you-

Like this, Irene's looking at the way that the idea strikes: you and you and you; the only person in the whole goddamn world that can handle her; you fucking know it too - it's the most perfect, hopeless kind of thing. Like the feeling that catches at the apex of your lungs. It burns in your stomach and grips in your gut. She's gone and cut out the nerves - there's the crown of your cock caught in a velvet grip between those pretty pink lips and her fingers twisting at the bottom. 

She breathes deep. Sinks her lips so slowly to the base. Anything, everything you want: to put your hands to the side of her head, to weave your fingers through her hair, and coax her, fuck her mouth like it belongs to you, all slow and hard and measured.

To hear all those wet sounds she makes as she chokes on the end of it. The gags as you force your cock into the back of her throat, holding her head tight, her hair pulled up into a fist, to have that mouth hanging around the length of you, tongue stuck to the bottom of her chin as you move her, your fiancée, your toy. To be looking her in the eye and watching her look the fuck back while she revels in every filthy second of it, not a single damn drop of hesitation or doubt.

"Really think," Irene urges, and she's all innocent when she tips her head to kiss her way up your cock.

She’s trying for some grace or finesse, or both - trying, you think, to make a point; instead, you end up watching her gulp and spit into her palm, just to obscure the sensual curl of her tongue with the sloppy-hard rhythmic stroke of her fist. "How hot it would be if you watched us both choke on your cum. Her face fucked stupid - the perfect little fuckdoll, is that not an image for the ages-"

You get a glimmer of that catlike grin - the one you would kill for a picture of. Something for the wallpaper, or the wallet; you've never met a boundary she hasn't challenged. The most depraved ideas in her head are just, as she is, a masterpiece. And so the answer has never changed - there has never been anything she's not been allowed-

"Trust me baby," she presses her cheek against your shaft. You feel her turn and run that mouth all over. The tip of her nose. Her eyelashes. The wet heat of her breath as she nuzzles the length. "Karina's all ours to share."

Her pout, right there, waiting.

You can't stop yourself from grabbing her face, the crook of her jaw, her neck and the tips of her shoulders. Until it all comes with a good, hard pull. The sound of her mouth on your cock, the blowjob she's been perfecting for years. It's starting to fill up the room, her lips wrapping your shaft - the sound of her being so obedient, the most receptive, sweet, pretty thing: letting you guide her pace until she has a steady motion going. Taking the thick base in her hands and working it over between her fingers. There's only enough room for that before you’re all the way inside her, in and out, again: the tip of your cock brushing over the softest curve of her throat.

When you take her at face value, it's fucking wild: your fiancée kneeling before you. Her chin and neck wet with her effort, lips wrapped so pretty, stuffed, used-

There are no questions. This is simply Irene, doing what she loves.

She pushes a hand between her legs and holds herself together as your hips tilt forward, meeting her halfway-

Just letting you get yourself off in her mouth like it's no big deal. It's her throat - it's her goddamn cunt and ass, and whatever else - because you fucking asked, right? Because you gave her the permission, the choice, the agency.

"Hey, where should I?" you’re muttering as you push the hair out of her face, already half-drunk on her slick lips and realistically only a few seconds away from doing some real damage.

There isn't a need; but you want her to tell you, to use her words. In her mouth, on her face, in her palm, you’ll go without thinking. You’ll cum straight onto your own stomach if it’s what Irene says. Even if she’s acting like you already have.

"Make sure you give her,” is what she garbles out around the hard line of your cock, and it’d be impossible to understand if you didn’t know every nuance to her, if you didn’t - you know - fucking love her. To have and to hold - to hold on tight and for better or worse, and this is pretty much as bad as it gets. 

The syllables come in-between hollow breaths, all wet and sticky. When Irene wrenches the fuck out of it, the base of your cock- “hm, that same sort of courtesy when, agh, I'm not around-"

Because the image alone is what matters. There, getting your cock sucked like you've earned the privilege - it doesn't have to be real, it just has to look like it's a new truth to believe in. The little motions in her wrist are just - hah, fucking unreal - and the way she sinks down lower on her knees for each stroke, from base to tip - lips pressing over the knuckles she has wet, and squelching, and twisting up and down and up-

She places a hand under your balls, the gentlest cradle, and something of your restraint finally breaks - it snaps - her insistence is ruthless.

"Yeah, god, okay- I’m just gonna go ahead-" 

There are these images in your head, of Irene: the upturned brows, the hollowed cheeks, and that slutty-as-shit smirk - and then of Karina: doing the exact same thing. Fuck, your cock is heavy, absolutely leaking cum: you can feel yourself leaking into the press of her mouth. It fills up her cheeks as she blushes into the fuck. Her lips become flush and go soft against the ridge of your shaft - her jaw slack in anticipation. 

"Your fucking mouth, Irene" you breathe out, “I'm going to cum-” 

Just at half the sentence, you're there, sunk into your fiancée's throat. Fingers across her ears and into her hair and watching her own hands pulling you, guiding you-

It’s all flexed in your back. Every muscle. Every fiber.

Irene hums onto a simple, satiated note. She always does, when she tastes it. When you dump a hot load of cum all over her tongue and straight into her throat.

(And yes, some might claim this is the death knell for all kinds of reasoning, but you’ll go ahead and admit it’s so, so worth it.)

"How thoughtful," she says, low and slow, once she's through swallowing the entire fucking thing.

The corner of her mouth tilts up. Because you're finished: two steps left in the brain from falling out of consciousness, a mess on the couch. You get to watch as she pulls you into sorts and slots each piece back to where it's meant to sit. The underwear, your pants. It's with such careful attention. Your soft cock gets cleaned with a tissue and wiped dry. A tiny parting kiss for the tip, her mouth full-on puckered, like she's kissing out anything you have left.

Though it's a pleasant daze. She prefers you soft like this, really.

All you have left to say is: "fuck me, baby." It sounds sloppy and open-ended as hell. "I guess I'll leave everything to you."

If that's a cue or sign for the evening, the only right thing: it isn't exactly misinterpreted.

-

The actual logistics don’t arrive for a handful more weeks. You find it surprising they ever happen at all.

// Karina 10:41 pm > i'm bored.

// Karina 10:42 pm > suggestions?

// 10:49 pm > have you tried looking into an incognito tab?

// Karina 10:58 pm > lol, and what is it i'm supposed to be finding?

// Karina 10:58 pm > help a girl out here.

"Send her a picture of your cock," Irene says, like it isn’t a joke. She looks up from the smutty-dash-of-romance-porn novel she's got herself wrapped in, with her best faux-serious expression. The pair of readers that usually are in her top desk drawer have made a new home perched low on her nose. "God knows she hasn't stopped leering since she found out what I'm marrying into."

"Please," you tell her, because she's full of shit. "I'm not sending her a dick pic."

Your laptop is warm on your thighs as you huddle on your side of the bed. That's the point of balance where it feels like Irene isn't trying to look. Though she clearly is. You flick up through a couple tabs just to drive the point home.

// 11:01 pm > sorry. i'm not in the business of just handing out freebies

// Karina 11:07 pm > really

// Karina 11:07 pm > thought we were making progress here

// 11:11 pm > you're funny

"Ask her if anyone's home with her." Irene dogears the page she’s reading and sets her book down. "Or ask if she's, like, tied up or something. Something edgy."

"Something edgy," you deadpan.

"Do you want me to put the readers away," Irene offers. She's wearing the sort-of smirk you always need to be wary of.

"No," you say. “God, no.”

"Ask her where she keeps her lingerie. Tell her she should be thinking about what it'd look like: all naked except a thong. With the straps digging into her. Tied up all nice and pretty-like."

// 11:13 pm > u alone right now?

"What the fuck?" Irene slugs a pillow at you. "That is the creepiest way you could've sent-"

// Karina 11:13 pm > yeah. i am :/

You and Irene are both struck a little dumb by that. 

“Sheesh, she must have had her finger hovering over the reply button.”

"Yeah," you say, eloquent. “Who could blame her, though.”

"Uh-huh." Irene exhales, staring a bit pointedly.

// 11:16 pm > cool if I come over?

// Karina 11:17 pm > and… do what?

Irene nudges you with her heel, a questioning glance: the window has just been left there wide open and hanging. She whispers like Karina can somehow hear her through the phone, "you are terrible at sexting."

“Can you fucking leave it-”

Irene rolls her eyes.

// 11:18 pm > do you need ideas

// Karina 11:19 pm > got a couple. i wouldn't be against hearing something that lets my imagination fill in the gaps though

"Text her that you're into her throat and want her to show you her tits," and Irene actually cracks a laugh as she has the audacity to make the request. She's in good form this evening; in nothing but her favorite silk camisole - the navy blue one, which pairs great with all 5’2” of the rest of her. Like the soft curves she wears and everything else isn't bad for your heart. "Seriously, I want you to-"

"How am I supposed to end it?" You ask. The tone is purely sardonic. "Babe. Baby. My future wife. Tell me. You do realize you're basically asking me to bait her, right?"

Someone will eventually put their cards on the table, and Karina, Irene, and ostensibly you will realize you’re all currently having a mental break from reality. Or something along those lines. "I mean. Could that really be a negative," she wonders with an eyebrow quirked and another gesture of her arm like she wants to showcase the night sky beyond the bedroom windows.

"How, what - babe."

"You could promise to let her sit on it."

"Is the cockslut routine an act? Like," you lower your volume, "do you really have a playbook, here?"

"So mean." Irene reaches a hand over. She has her head propped on an elbow, the rest of her sprawled and comfortably positioned on the bed. And you wonder why the fuck you feel compelled to argue a point that so obviously has already been lost. "Just go fuck her already, god damn, I dunno."

Right. So. This was the part that was kind of inevitable - and Irene's impatience aside, you probably were about to win a lottery when you showed up at her door - that golden little interaction: "hey it's me, your rival at work's future ex-husband, I guess - I'm so horny and I think you're so beautiful and wouldn't it be so crazy if we, like, boned, haha, what?"

"Just- have sex. Tell me about it after."

The novel beckons Irene back toward it. She makes herself the picture of someone perfectly comfortable with you walking right into the next most uncomfortable predicament.

The sigh. That long, heavy thing. A leadup you do so often.

The simple idea of sending Karina that sort of message sends heat, low - just under the band of your sweatpants, and right where you've got yourself in the palm of your hand and you're already wondering how this is the result, why your cock is coming to a rise already - god damn - why every thought of Karina's face, and Karina's ass, and Karina's everything, every moment her lip is caught in between those teeth is becoming impossible not to touch. "Okay," you huff, "fine. I'm getting up, I'm going now- I mean it, right now, just give me a minute, I am putting my clothes on."

"Wait," and she's saying, "wait. Wait."

And when you turn around, Irene has this cat-that-ate-the-canary grin all stretched on the canvas of her face. She takes off her readers - her elbows thrown into her lap as she goes to the very edge of the mattress, pulling your shoulders for balance. "Babe-"

"Mm."

Irene likes to get you at a low simmer. The way she runs her thumb pad along your bottom lip. And all those questions - a look into her eyes - it's hard not to fold or break - when she's holding onto that sort of expression, unwavering; no matter how her mouth seems to get soft and curious.

Her lips move onto yours, asking - a push. And your eyes - a brush against a shoulder and you've already gone a whole mile from anywhere decent. There's the touch of her tongue between your parted mouths.

"You'll be good right?"

"I mean, sure," is what you manage, watching her lips close.

"You'll fucking wreck her, and do it exactly how she needs it done." And her brow, knit. She can tell your brain is busy jumping ahead to a hundred different scenarios. "Stop worrying."

There's a brief nod of reassurance. Her fingertips dust down your chest and the rest of the way. You hear Irene tell you to-

"And give her an extra hello from me."

"Okay, I love you, but also you're insane, like certifiable."

"Shush, I know you," and Irene gives your hair a little tousle before pushing you out the door.

-

You're standing there at the front door of Karina's apartment a little after midnight, bathed in dim, orange wicked fluorescence. Like it knows your sins - past, present and future. There's no obvious answer when you go knocking, and for a half-moment, you're thinking, okay, it's alright, this is how I let someone down easy-

Until she answers and leans out, pulling open the door. It takes you by surprise-

"Well, I'd normally let you in," you hear Karina say, and a smug smile starts to cross her face, "but..."

It's about the degree to which she looks hot and a little off kilter in this tight t-shirt - a snug pair of panties around the sway of her hips - that almost sends you spinning. There's not an ounce of self-consciousness; it's like a punch to the gut.

"Aeri's date went south and she's drunk. She's passed out on her bed, like, right now, I don't think-"

There's no bra. It's hard not to get fixated on every detail. Like her nipples, practically standing out. You have an irrational desire for her to take a step back, further into the room, further out of your vision's reach-

"Uhh," you croak. And you do have the mental faculties for, uh. For telling her. "Maybe, you know, later, could be better, yeah, maybe call me."

Though, unfortunately, the suggestion falls short on delivery.

"No, no." Karina has her hands searching up and underneath your sweater. Her fingers dance flat up, right over your stomach - teasing as she hikes you back inside. Right past the threshold. Your mouth is half-caught and stupid under her, the gentle hum and pressure on her lips. "It means we need to be quiet."

She drags you another step forward, with just the hot flash of her gaze. 

"Shut the door behind you?"

"Locking it too," you tell her.

The laugh she makes into it, this one little scoff - it's an acknowledgment: an agreement. It's one of the worst fucking sounds, and the whole damn thing gets to you. Like her ass wasn't the perfect fit for the palm of your hands- like you don't want to trace your fingers under the elastic of her panties.

As if it wasn't fucking clear enough. It's the tongue in your mouth and the hands in her hair. She's kissing you soft, she's kissing you deep; her weight rests and pulls back with each swell of your ribs, pushing her fingertips down until they're skating, slow, low into the grooves of your spine. Like she's getting familiar with you again.

"Okay," you breathe. She laughs on your lips and presses forward - pulls you back, farther- "uhh. Okay."

She must see the confliction you're in-

"Hey." Karina keeps going until you've got her backed against a wall, until your thigh has pressed into the crux of hers and your hand is in her shirt. You don't miss how she lets her head tilt back when her eyes shut. It's her. There's no disputing the reality. "Whatever you want to do to me. That is all I've been thinking about. Do it."

"I- don't really-"

She makes a decent show of crossing her wrists and tugging her shirt right over her head. Tosses it someplace safe enough. "So are you just gonna leave me in suspense, or do you need my explicit, enthusiastic permission?"

Your lips draw themselves a blank on anything useful, while your heart rate accelerates.

"Here try this: you’re going to fuck me until I beg you to stop. Then you’re going to fuck me some more. Or whatever- then we can go somewhere, I don't care," she offers with a half-whisper. In all her goddamned glory - barefoot, almost bare chested - it's not like it could be any other thing.

-

You’re not exactly supposed to end up on your knees for this.

This isn't quite how you pictured-

Okay, fuck, Karina's making the prettiest noises where her spine is curling up against the wall; those sounds you couldn't even make up. How it feels like the easiest damn thing, because there isn't a question to why. Every inch of you is pressed to every inch of her. You know what you'll taste on your tongue, which of these breasts belongs in your palm and the fingerprints in the dips of her waist - her lips on the curve of your jaw - every mark and bruise on her skin, every hint of it is real; it's fucking you up because you're kissing the woman that Irene picked, the woman you met - it's how you pull yourself away-

Karina, for the longest few seconds, is shocked into stillness.

Because you could, of course, decide to give this one last shot, your head between her thighs and eat her out until she was so fucking wet your cock wouldn’t even enter the equation. This is not actually a new idea; the possibility has run through her mind enough times already.

"Yeah. That would work."

Like it's no big deal-

"Do you need instructions? I can get a bit graphic."

"Actually, you know what?" you choke a little, and - "trust me."

You stand straight up for a moment, a second, an extra fraction. You slip your cock inside her hot cunt, and, yeah. She collapses right into you. You’re holding up her just enough to fuck into - she's starting to breathe deeper, harder; you've got her pinned like that - a hand on her neck, fingers sinking into everywhere she's softest: her tits, her ass, her waist, her throat, and there is nothing that isn't some version of fucking glorious about Karina's weight grinding, heavy onto the tip and onto the ridge and down the thickest length of you-

And her face, jesus christ, her fine brows upturned, the tears heavy in her dark lashes, the little gasping-sobbing sounds that spill across her wobbling lips - this is the both the easiest and the hardest part: seeing her get absolutely fucking ruined-

(You know, god help you.)

-

Irene doesn't even have to ask. There are hickies and bruises shadowing in on your neck, your chest - these marks you never remember Karina giving you, and a ton of scratches all up your back.

"You know I was going to offer to make you breakfast," Irene says, smug, "but I'm wondering if Karina got to you first."

"What the hell do you think?" you say, dumb.

There are eggs burning on a skillet that are never going to be salvageable, no matter what Irene says. She has no respect for the process. And her voice is full of that infuriating smile: "was it everything you hoped?"

"God," you mutter, trying to mask the embarrassed laughter in your words. You can hardly move an inch on her behalf.

"At least tell me something fun, you insufferable tease," she presses her nose into your hair and tickles the spot on your side, just to be a pest.

You lay it all out for her. Everything she wants to hear.

-

Surprisingly, there’s still plenty to learn about each other; days to weeks to months. The first real thaw of the year comes, and you’re quick to fall into this odd rhythm.

Karina won't actually join Irene on set or production very often - too much heat. It shouldn’t have taken so long to figure out the two don’t belong in the same room together, and if they’d asked you, they’d know - but no one ever really does ask you. However she does spend more and more time around the apartment. In and out of your personal spaces. And maybe a bit in between, or a little underneath too: how she seems to slot herself right into every possible fold whenever Irene’s away.

Always traveling for this reason or that.

And god, the perfect powder keg Karina is - ticking, short-fused, all ready to explode. It’s ironic, you think, she’s drawn to scandal the way Irene will do anything to avoid it, and here, she's found her ultimate indulgence.

The quick lay, the time and place you know you can be patient in pulling her apart, the everything in between. 

In fact, you’ve taken to calling her "babe" just so she doesn’t think twice when she gets your cum pooling deep in her cunt, all hot and sopping. Looking like the picture-perfect centerfold. The fucked-dumb face - all twisted in your grip, flushed-red; and the musky scent of sex; the noises and her presence alone. You fuck her, and fuck her, and fuck her, rubbing a thumb across where the mascara runs thick.

To be the gorgeous girl, cock-drunk and fucked-out in your lap - so simple - so natural: Karina finds her way over more often than not.

After your shower, after your nap; your work, the bar - Karina’s never more than a text away. And you'll keep a hand around her waist as she stands around in the kitchen, stealing Irene’s leftovers out of the fridge. Karina ends up straddling your thigh right there at the breakfast table, holding onto the wood for support as she cums all over you.

The long and short of it is: 

She's fucking you. She's fucking your fiancée. She sees no problem in having her cake and eating it too. The only caveat is: Karina thinks neither of you know what's actually going on.

“You gonna say hi to Irene for me?" she's teasing one day, snapping her bra back into place. The t-shirt pulled over all that glossy-dark hair, the shimmy of her hips just to get back into the world's tightest jeans. She presses a fleeting kiss to the corner of your mouth. It's such a stark, clinical goodbye - ending with a flick of a thumb across a screen. "And oh, let her know if she ever wants me to teach her a trick or two. Anytime."

“Yeah, I’m sure she’d love that.”

Karina does the most insipid thing. She fucking winks. “I’m sure she would.”

-

"Uh, are you kidding me?" you ask Irene. 

It's late one night, and Irene is standing in the kitchen in her pajamas with a welt the shape of Karina’s lips kissed right into her jaw. A couple drinks in your system have given you both a false sense of clarity, and also an ill-timed desire to solve all your goddamn problems. You lower your voice. "In her ass?"

Irene has that all-triumphant and dopey grin that makes your heart ache for her. There's a soft curl of her hair loose, thrown across a shoulder. "I’m serious, pull her hair right, hold her wrists until her back has to be arched. Pin her to the bed," she continues to illustrate, "it's all in the finer points of how much. Tell her to count, even. I'm not joking-"

She takes another spoonful of yogurt between her lips.

"-she'll let you do anything, promise."

“That’s fucked up.”

“I know.” Irene wags the spoon at you. “It’s great.”

-

It's not only the hypothetical-homewrecking that gets Karina so torridly wet for the whole affair; when she's pinned beneath you with her legs spread and her toes pointed skyward, or perhaps later - the same day even - riding Irene's face in a locked dressing room and crying out - "ah, hah, jesus, please-"

In her head, she has you both at her beck and call. Forget semantics - Karina is a fool to her own illusion. Because in her head, not only has she managed to go toe to toe with the industry's reigning monarch, she’s managed to win.

-

You don’t exactly know how Karina ever intends to keep it casual. Because things are damn near constant:

It’s a weeknight, and the moon is high above the windows, casting a crisp rectangle onto the hardwood; it doesn’t actually matter, as far as Karina is concerned.

Irene’s on television again, the sequin in her dress clinging tight, and she’s found the gaze that never breaks for the cameras. Found the flash of her most practiced smile - that little chime of laughter she has that sounds like striking pure gold.

Then Karina: sitting cross-legged at the very end of the sofa. One leg thrown over your thigh, she’s got these nylons on her feet and she’s poking a toe into your ribs. "Isn't she stunning," you hear her muttering, "honestly. Doesn't it, like, turn you the fuck on?"

Her foot grazes your lap, all casual at first; the impossibly soft-curved heel of her sole. There are so many ways she'd prefer to pass the time and they almost all involve getting under your skin, if not just outright getting into your pants.

“Elaborate.”

"I mean listen, in your case, just knowing your fiancée is up there looking like a total angel and at the same time, thinking about you; how she’s got to be considering every which way she’ll unwind just after the showcase - at least, that’s what I’d be doing." She licks her lips, teeth. "Hell, I’m only imagining how pretty her eyes are when she can barely keep them open, and that’s enough to ruin my panties."

"Are you really."

She shifts her weight. Puts that ankle to good use. Rubbing it into the crease between your legs. "Tell me," her lips curl. She’s looking at you dead-on. "How does she usually prefer it, hm?”

Like a wildcat, you suppose, your Irene - a pretty, little predator. You could tell Karina everything, but you don’t. Instead you let her wander into the lair of her own making. Her eyes: light and curious; it’s written in the lines of her face how she's picturing it all so plainly.

“I’d guess she lets you go slow. Or hard. Or maybe a little rough and then you make her cum, and then maybe, just maybe, after the teasing; after the edging, I guess, that's when she comes in hot. I would hope."

Karina twists her foot around, swings her weight onto your lap, and sucks in a sharp breath when you reach out and grip the lean lines of her hips. It’s as easy to hold her still as it'd be to drag her across the couch and under the rest of your body, fuck the goddamn tension until there was no longer any room left for the pretty smirk in her lips. And her gasp would probably sound a hell of a lot better - than all the needling quips - a much louder and much less-pretend whine when you could throw those thighs open and really pound her wet, aching little cunt-

“Easy,” she chides when you end up taking two handfuls of her chest. "Shouldn’t you be more supportive? For god’s sake, it’s your fiancée’s moment in the spotlight, you know-"

There’s nothing stopping you from popping off the buttons of her dress, one by one by one - and kiss right there, into the swell. Your voice feels all the rougher when you respond, "and what a moment."

Her fingertips skim over the places she's been kissing you, where she's been marking and claiming and trying to, at least, to stamp you like her personal property - when the look is that serious. All cold-burn. Right through to the bone.

“So.”

You can feel her touching into your pants. The heat in her soft, silky thighs; she sits above you, keeping a leg on each side. A part of you feels trapped; another is confused why you aren't turning the tables right now - flip her and ride out her cunt on the couch. Some passing thought, or just a fraction, the only one that matters in that particular instant, wonders what Irene would do, will do - has done - in your situation. How her hips would roll. How Karina’s moan might sound when she dug a nail right into a sweet spot.

You push Karina's skirt a little farther up her body and try to gauge the moment she's finally decided she doesn't mind.

“How about you keep your eyes on her, and I'll suck your cock while you do," ends up being the short and not-so-sweet of it all. “-or maybe you can get off between my tits.”

She wraps those fingers around your base and pulls gently. It's not a decision, but merely a continuation, a culmination: a gesture made entirely to pull the response: the hitch to the throat. Her nails skim that ridgeline as her eyes track across the cut of your features. It makes you groan into her next kiss, to say, "if you wanted it so bad, babe, you could’ve just said. Would save us a lot time-"

"Are you complaining?" she husks, pulling your pants down your thighs. Your cock is in her hands and she smiles like a cat - licks her teeth when it twitches at just the slightest touch. "Yeah, I didn't think so," is how the breathless laugh leaves her lips.

You catch the quirk of her brows, her tone: straight-up, like nothing. You’re almost buying into that until she's got your shirt on the floor, those lips of hers in the divot of your collarbone, and her tits wrapped around the base of your cock, and, well, fuck-

She actually wastes no time - none at all. A couple feet away, Irene covers her laugh with one hand. There's a brass award in her other. And the television casts this soft, pale glow.

Karina tips her head, and a curtain of her dark, silken hair spills across the ridge of her breast. She runs those big eyes over you, all wide and round and vaguely-deviant. There's the perfect amount of motion, of squeeze, just a light-bit of pressure, and she's got a face smug-arrogant in an instant, knowing. Fuck, her hands on either side start pushing into the line of her cleavage as she bounces and rocks and draws every inch of your cock up through her soft tits and back down again.

"Fuck," is the harshest exhale she's ever dragged out from you.

She hums a low sound, all self-satisfied when it's her own namesake: your body wants her, like you know the full weight of her needs, your touch, how badly she's fucking craving to get off and still not admitting to anyone it might be more than sex. Like it's really as easy as her next breath, the flutter of her lashes: Karina wants your eyes, the weight of your attention and she's not going to beg for a fucking thing. The feeling, you think, is mutual.

"Irene," she says, her smile as open as it could ever get. "She's just so gorgeous, right?"

On one hand, she’s speaking between the lines. A perfect tincture of deceit - the bawdiness-by-nature: watch me, look at me - is what she might as well say - look what I can fucking do, the whole lewd display. And, god, how she knows every way to make a guy want it, like she wants you to remember it.

Because on the other, the movement is so, so direct. 

Karina twists herself in an upward tilt, just an easy, practiced thing; she lets her tits spill around your cock and through her fingers, full and soft - and her lips part, mouth slacking alongside yours, matching the sounds out your chest with her own. Like she knows exactly which slide of slippery friction will make you moan, or which pull and drag will send your teeth straight into your lip.

"Isn't it crazy," she lolls her head a little, letting her own saliva drip down the center, onto your weeping slit. "How much I want your cum filling my cunt, even knowing she's the one you'd rather put the ring on," the drag and drag and drag - her tits are fucking incredible, and she knows it. She pushes up with her fingers and gives you a long draw right through the press, right where the nerve endings run electric, right where she keeps moving, up and down, and up and down- 

“-it must be hard, I mean, jesus christ. Here I am, needy and hot. Begging you to wreck me and my only sin, hm - the sin of being second best, right-"

"Holy fuck, you're-"

"Obsessed," she says, and drops her tits against your waist again. "I know, I know. How could I not be?"

You're left muttering into the titfuck alone, watching her rub your precum up between their soft shape, feeling the slight give, how her skin goes warm. The act itself: such a simple-thing-bordering-on-the-absurd that you notice how you coil and flex beneath her curves, how she feels so soft and warm. The slight pucker of her lips every time your cock escapes her cleavage does little to help. It's probably the fault of the brain-fuck but the wet of her mouth is practically everywhere you look. You could eat her alive right here, spread her legs on the coffee table and finish with a bit of screaming, groaning and tearing, and no one would ever stop you.

But instead,

"-it's a good color on her, really; but then every color is a good color on her, isn't it so unfair?" She's taking your cock into her tits, deeper on every rock forward and back, holding them close - a gentle lock of those long manicured fingers keeping it all together. "Even wearing no color at all; you must just love how all the freckles are so easy to see," she murmurs, squeezing tight. The sound is wet, messy. A filthy chorus between her dirty words and the dirtier action, and just that glimpse of friction when she strokes down again is maddening. You're all slippery. So sticky-slick, so tight.

Of course there's not a fucking inch of a reaction out of her; you want to get off so bad-

"You could close your eyes," she tells you. "She would still be there. The sound of her laughter. The image. In that dress or not," and her mouth furls into a half-smile before she pauses. Reaches down, pulls her tits around you impossibly tight. "Just so damn pretty-"

You cum just like that: 

"Babe," is what you let her have. The soft, undercurrent hiss. "Fuck."

You shoot clean up, all thick, hot splatter.

Well, mostly up - along the expanse of her neck and throat, coating where her breasts sit so pretty against the lines of your thighs. Across her sternum and the hollow of her neck - her body's covered in your shared mess: slick-filthy-hot, all strewn across her perfect tits.

"Jesus, Karina, baby you’re-"

"Completely covered in you." She's still smiling. That deep-cut and perfectly symmetrical curl of her lips. The gorgeous fucking shade, and her chin, how her cheeks flush, just a little - they've always turned pink in the most specific places when she gets fucking cum-soaked. “I know, just look.”

And her hands slide across her chest, trailing a path through the thick of your release, spreading the glaze all down her front. Making it messy, making the exact look a guy sees once and is driven to the ends of his sanity - just to spill his load out onto her. To get her all used, and trussed up: just how she likes.

(Sanity is being generous, considering.)

You can't do anything other than what's expected: take her up in a kiss, breathe into the mess you've made on her skin. The gasp is full, surprised - just enough, maybe, to count as genuine.

Such a mess - she murmurs - um, come on then, you can do a girl a favor. Bath bomb, bath towel, bath robe - and really it doesn't have to be a suggestion.

You’ll pin her down and fuck her right over the lip of the tub if that’s what she really wants. Just being in her company is indulgent and excessive and begging you to make a terrible habit of it. Have some self–restraint, she has this tone in her voice sounding more and more like a dare. There's just enough there in her hands: one reaching for you and the other reaching into the porcelain, swirling up the lather - and that look on her face, as if to say, can't believe you have me waiting, like some desperate, depraved pervert - only it’s more explicit than that. Only it feels worse - and her mouth is moving again, speaking into the air that already feels stifling hot, words cutting through the steam: you're not very nice, I mean really, it should come as no surprise how she turns out, having this jerk for a fucking boyfriend- 

Nevermind. Not a dare, it's a challenge. She was right the first day you undressed her, the brattiest girls always have the worst kinds of fantasies, the darkest little tendrils of self-destruction. How she's laying there, asking and telling, pushing and pulling; and how she thinks she's so clever too.

Though that is no reason, she laughs, for you to think she won't love having her pretty cunt cockwarmed and spoiled for an evening or more. - And so it goes, and so it goes, and so it goes, and so it goes.

-

(Really, to Irene’s credit, she had Karina pegged right from the jump. A character study in, well, herself.

She's seen as an ingénue by the press, and an outright savant to the executives. They know her as the obvious successor. They give her the runway, they watch the leggy-girl-turn, the model-posture, chin held high and aloof, looking down at the gathered throngs of photographers.

The protégé, the goddamn heir-apparent:  

But her favorite game - that bit of innocence served on a platter, ingenuous when it comes to spinning a flaw to gold, and the deception too - Karina loves and loathes every second she spends upstage from Irene's own, hectic, international production. Because if anyone asks her, that girl would claim it's never been a competition in the first place. 

So you see, if you and yours have both decided to ruin her-

It is a disaster-in-the-making, isn’t it.)

[misctf]

Trouble at the Bachelor Party

“Dude! This is sick!”

“Bro, you’re telling me.” Liam replied, as him and his two friends explored the penthouse.

It was fully decked out. A massive flatscreen in the living room, a fully stocked bar, a beautiful view of the beach. It was everything Liam could’ve wanted. Initially, when his soon to be father-in-law offered his penthouse for the bachelor party, Liam was shocked. Mr. Reynolds often used phrases like “irresponsible”, “waste of time”, and “not good enough for my daughter” when talking about Liam. And he wasn’t afraid to let Liam know too.

“Dude! There’s a flatscreen in each bedroom too!” Chris shouted from down the hall, “Fuck, you were right. This guy’s loaded!”

It was true. Liam was marrying the heiress of a massive tech company. And Mr. Reynonds was certainly loaded. But despite his reassurances that he loved Susie, not their money, the older man viewed him suspiciously. Liam came from a pretty humble background and the world of upper class living wasn’t something he was used to. But perhaps letting them use his penthouse was Mr. Reynolds’s way of showing acceptance.

“Okay boys.” Liam said, “We have a few days here. Let’s make ‘em count.” He tossed Jeremy and Chris each a beer. After a quick toast to what was going to be the most incredible bachelor party on Earth, they downed their beers.

________________

“Lookin’ good.” Liam chuckled as he inspected himself in the mirror, “Can’t believe you’re actually getting hitched.” He flexed his bicep, “Sorry ladies, I’m off the market. Oof, I’ll have to practice that line a bit.” He grinned.

Leaving the bathroom, he found Jeremy sipping a beer on the couch. He was shirtless, wearing a pair of blue swim trunks. His dark brown hair was well styled, and his face clean shaven. He had that boy-next- door look that caused the ladies to swoon.

“Yo Jeremy, what’s up?”

“Not much, just texting Sarah.” He replied, “I forgot to let her know I got here safe and she’s pissed.”

“Oh shit dude.” Liam patted his friend on the back, “I feel for you.” Sarah could be scary when she was angry, but otherwise she was a solid 10. Liam looked forward to the day Jeremy proposed.

“All good.” Jeremy sighed, “Where the fuck is Chris?” Liam shrugged, “He kept me up all fucking night. Fucker must’ve been horny. I’ve never heard anyone moan so loud in my life.”

“Not even Sarah?” Jeremy didn’t seem amused.

“Seriously, we need to get him a girlfriend or something.”

Liam chuckled, “I guess I slept through it.”

“Lucky you.” The door to Chris's room suddenly opened and both men turned.

“Hey boys, sorry to keep you waiting!” The sing songy voice threw them both off, and Liam’s jaw dropped when he saw Chris. His muscles were proudly on display as always. But it was the tight speedo showing off his impressive bulge that shocked him, “Oh, is something wrong?” His voice carried a breathy sultriness, which was unusual for their bro.  

“Dude, I’m not one to judge, but don’t you think that’s a bit risqué?” Jeremy asked, raising an eyebrow, “What would Jesus say?” It was well known Chris was religious. In fact, Liam and Chris had met at their college’s church.

Chris shrugged and ran a hand through his curly light brown hair, “Oh this? You like?” He grinned and did a quick pose, “Come on boys, we’re burning daylight!” He said, sauntering towards the door.

________________

The walk to the beach was uncomfortable. Chris walked ahead of his two buddies at an unusually fast pace, his firm ass jiggling with each step. Liam didn’t even know where to begin. What the fuck had gotten into Chris? Usually they’d have to drag him to parties and give him pep talks to boost his confidence. But now? He was certainly turning heads.

“Wait, guys! Did you see that?” Chris asked, turning to his friends and waving excitedly, “That guy over there was totally checking me out!”

“Um, so what?” Jeremy asked, “Why do you care?”

“Do you think I should go after him? He was totally cute. And that ass- just wow.” Liam and Jeremy’s eyes widened, “What?”

“Are you gay?” Liam asked bluntly.

Chris placed a hand to his chin and shrugged, “Like totally! Since like forever probably.”

“Makes sense.” Jeremy said, “Repressed religious guys. It’s a thing.” But Liam was still having a somewhat hard time believing it. Was all their prior bro talk really a lie?

“Oh! He’s getting away!” Chris whined, “I’ll catch up with you later!” He blew them each a kiss and briskly walked over to the man from earlier, leaving Liam shook.

________________

Hours went by without hearing from Chris, and Liam’s mood tanked. Jeremy tried to cheer him up back at the penthouse. Beers and the big game on a flatscreen. Should’ve been perfect. But it wasn’t. Liam knew that Chris being gay shouldn’t matter. Good for him, right?

“Oh my god, that was incredible.” Chris said, gasping as he entered the penthouse, “How are my two besties doing?”

“Would’ve liked you around.” Liam replied, “It’s my bachelor party after all.”

Chris dramatically placed a hand to his sweaty chest, “Sue me for having fun!” His voice cracked and he headed towards his room, “If anyone needs me, I’ll be in my room.”

Liam didn’t reply. Sure, Chris is gay. Fine. But acting like a stereotypically fruity drama queen? That didn’t make sense to him. He turned to Jeremy.

“Look, its late and I’m tired. The game sucks anyway.” He said, “I’m off to bed.”

“Same bro. Gotta be up early for our tee time anyway.”

They went to their respective bedrooms. Once there, Jeremy sighed. He hated seeing his friend like this, but what could he do? Talk to Chris maybe? He'd try to salvage this party. But when he finally got comfortable in bed, the TV suddenly turned on. He was greeted by static.

“Weird.” He mumbled. He tried to turn it off with the remote, but failed. Sighing, he got out of bed to turn it off. But as he got closer, he could hear a voice. It was soft, but forceful.

“You are a gay slut. You like to fuck men.”

Jeremy raised an eyebrow, “What the fuck?” He whispered. But the voice only got louder.

“You are a gay slut. Your dick only gets hard for men.” Jeremy felt woozy as the voice reverberated in his head.

“No, I’m straight... I like...” He moaned loudly as the voice drowned out his thoughts. At this point, the screen was flashing various scenes of gay porn and Jeremy’s dick started to swell, “No... fuck...” He breathed out, “I-I... ughhh.” He tried to imagine tits and his nights with Sarah. But these thoughts were instead swapped out with images of juicy, jiggling bubble butts and twerking men.   

“You are a dominant top. You only fuck men.”

“I-I’m a gay slut?” Jeremy questioned, “I only like to fuck men?” That didn't sound right. Right? He never...

"You are a dominant top. Twinks are lucky to ride your dick."

His eyes became half lidded and vacant as the words carved his new reality.

“I’m a dominant top. Twinks are lucky to ride this cock." He said confidently, "I am a gay slut.”

Soon, the room filled with his pleasure-filled moans, his new reality taking hold over him.

________________

When Liam entered the living room the next morning, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Jeremy was aggressively caressing Chris’s face, as the two made out on the couch with their erect dicks on full display.

“What the fuck?” Liam gasped as the two men turned towards him.

“Oh Liam! Good morning!” Chris sang, ending his kiss with Jeremy.

“Fuck, just who we were waiting for.” Jeremy commented in a lower, more gravelly voice, “We have something for you.”

“No, this is fucked. What the fuck?” Liam fumed, “What about Sarah? What were you thinking?”

Jeremy shrugged, “I only like fucking men.”

Liam shook his head, “No way, fuck that.” He replied, taking a step back.

“Oh goodness, you’re upset!” Chris whined, “No Liam baby, its okay. Here, watch this.”

Before Liam could say anything, Chris turned on the TV. Static filled his field of vision. But then he heard it. Faint at first, but present nonetheless.

“You are a gay slut.” It said, and Liam grabbed his head.

“What the fuck?” He cursed, stumbling slightly.

The voice was echoing from within his head. Desperately, he moved towards the TV, wanting to shut it off. But Jeremy grabbed his arm firmly and forced him to sit between them. Liam tried to fight back, to get away from his two friends, but he felt so disoriented. The voice continued.

“You are a gay slut. You like taking cock.” It said.

Liam yelped as a needle entered his skin. He looked down to see Chris dump the contents of a syringe into his arm.

“Wh-what was that?” Liam slurred.

“Don’t worry, cutie. Just listen to the voice.” He giggled.

Liam groaned as the voice got louder and louder, “You are a gay slut. A slutty bottom. You love taking cock.”

Liam looked down and watched as his body hair started to disappear. Gone was his light dusting of chest and belly hairs, leaving him smooth. At the same time, the scruff framing his face vanished. He looked over to Jeremy, who smirked at this new development.

“Oh look at that! It’s totally working!” Chris giggled.

“No shit. Reynolds must’ve given us the good stuff.” Jeremy remarked, slowly massaging his cock.

“The good stuff?” Liam slurred, his voice cracking, “Like, what are you talking about?”

“Good because I was getting bored.” Chris sighed, “I mean, Jeremy baby, you’re an expert kisser, but like, I need a hole.” Jeremy nodded in agreement.

“A hole?” Liam whispered.

He let out a pained moan as his body temperature suddenly spiked. Sweat poured from him as his musculature dwindled away. His hard earned muscles atrophied before his terrified eyes. His bulging biceps and triceps became thin and lean, while his juicy pecs rapidly deflated. In a matter of minutes, years of workouts and optimal dieting were undone, leaving Liam slim and fragile.

“Wow, he’s so light now.” Jeremy chuckled as he man-handled his friend onto his lap. Liam yelped at the sensation of Jeremy’s erect cock grinding against his hole.

“Oh and he’s gotten shorter too! What a cutie.” Chris cooed.

“Ah, ass is still bony though.” Jeremy commented, giving it a firm squeeze.

But Liam barely registered any of this. Instead, his thoughts were filled with the words echoing from the TV. His eyes became half-lidded at this point and his resistance was fading.

“You’re just a bottom, a hole to be used by other men. You are a gay slut.” The words continued, “You like being used by other men. Your only pleasure is from getting fucked.”

“I-I’m straight... I like... I like tits.” He knew his voice sounds more feminine somehow and he cringed, “I’m a straight man.” Jeremy and Chris smirked, “I-I...” images of men getting fucked in all kinds of positions flashed on the TV, “Ohhhh I... I... I’m a...” Liam’s handsome face lost its masculine edge and his hair became lighter in color. At the same time, his cock started to shrink. Inch after inch lost as it retracted back, “Noooooo.... not my cock...” He moaned, tears now stinging at his eyes. His manhood, his masculinity. It was being stolen from him. And he was unable to stop it.

“Your only pleasure comes from your ass.”

Liam moaned again and this time his ass started to fill with jiggly fat. He could feel the extra padding build upon itself, his slim cheeks turning into mounds of soft flesh. And as Jeremy squeezed his ass again, pleasure filled his slim frame.

“Much better.” Jeremy remarked, his fingers massaging Liam’s hole, “Fuck, this is gonna feel so good.”

“Mhmm.” Chris replied, grabbing his own fistful of Liam’s juicy ass.

“Ohhhhhhhh yesssssss.” Liam slurred.

“So, what are you?” Jeremy asked.

“I-I’m...” Part of him didn’t want to say it. Didn’t want to acknowledge it. But as his lips plumped up into gorgeous cock suckers, and Jeremy’s teasing fingers penetrated him deeper, Liam was drowning in too much pleasure to care, “I...I...” The voice was so loud. It egged him on, beckoned him to admit his new truth. He wanted- no needed- to be like the men on the screen. To be fucked and used by other men. Who was he kidding? He knew what he was, “I’m like a total gay slut! I love cock.” He turned his head to look at Jeremy, then Chris, “Please daddies, use me! I need your cocks!” He begged.

And his new lovers were happy to oblige.

________________

In the afterglow of sex, the three men sat panting heavily on the couch. Liam was curled up between his two lovers, still rubbing their dicks. Despite draining them each multiple times over, he needed more. But his horny thoughts were interrupted by a video call. He grabbed his phone and smiled.

“Hey Mr. Reynolds!” Liam slurred, “Like, we love your penthouse.”

Mr. Reynolds grinned, “I can tell.” His eyes sparkled with satisfaction, “Look at you Liam. My god. You turned out better than expected. The boys at the lab earned their salaries with this one.” Liam nodded along, not really understanding the implication, “How do you feel?”

“Like a total gay slut.” He grinned, “And I love it, like so much, Mr. Reynolds.”

“Well I’m glad to hear.” he chuckled, “And are your friends treating you well?” Liam adjusted the phone so the older man could see his two lovers, who were both fast asleep, “Well looks like you have two very satisfied customers.”

Liam grinned, “Like totally.” A sense of satisfaction filling him, “Oh! Like, can you let Susie know the wedding is off? I’m like, so sorry.”

“Of course, it would be my pleasure. She’ll understand.” Mr. Reynolds replied- mission accomplished, “Now, get back to your party. Enjoy the penthouse for as long as you want.”

Liam’s eyes lit up, “OMG thank you!” The call ended, “Did you hear that?” Liam asked, his two lovers stirring awake.

And so their party continued- and it would for days. Their lives forever changed, and them none the wiser to it. But if their pleasure filled moans were anything to judge by, they certainly weren’t complaining.