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multiwreckedmess · 3 days ago

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The Bed You Made

Pairing: Yunho x reader WC: 8.4k Summary: People say it’s all uphill or downhill from here, but both sound like losing. You’ve got your lines rehearsed, your smile fixed, your role down pat. Still, one night out is enough to test how long you can keep the mask in place.”

As per usual this is 18+, warnings below the cut but honestly the most objectionable thing is cheating. Please DNI if you are not 18+ for my PERSONAL boundaries!!! Nothing against you, i'm sure you're very mature for your age but to me you are babby. Please do NOT use this as a fucking moral guide or sex ed oh my god please. This is illustrative, not instructive. If you don’t know the difference, do not interact.

Also this is FICTION. This is not meant to represent Yunho or Ateez or any people in real life. If you haven’t read previous entries this may not make sense. unless you just are here for the fucking in which case, proceed. it’s porn with a side of feelings and plot but mostly so the porn is ~*angsty*~

cheater!yunhoverse: [9:42PM] / kinktober / [12:39AM] / [10:45PM] / [1:06AM]

CW/TW: lots of spit and cum, humiliation/shame kink, cheating, y/n slaps yunho, y/n fucks boyfriend out of a sense of obligation, lots of “good girl” and “princess”. Pls if you’re a frequent reader let me know what you need tagged I just don’t know what’s too much vs not enough.

It’s 1am and you’re sore. Not in the pleasant, well fucked sort of way. Sore in the way that you should’ve maybe used more lube or maybe more foreplay or maybe just not fucked to begin with. Staring into the slivers of moonlight coming from between the blinds, empty resentment gnaws at you. Your boyfriend snores. Rolling onto his side he sleepily gropes at your hips, pulling you closer to him. He’s still half hard, nudging your thighs with it in his half-awake state. If it was someone else, would you actually like this? You wonder as your stomach turns. Still left unsatisfied from the first round and yet this man wants more even in his sleep. You squirm out of his grip, nearly off the edge of the mattress. He follows, “whaat? I wanna cuddle my girlfrien’. Can’t I?” You bristle at his baby voice and move to sit up. “Just needa- use the bathroom.” Another small lie. You don’t need to, you just want to leave. To get some distance. The small room serves as a refuge, pants around your ankles, not unlike the last time you ran into that other man’s car.

A cold splash of water to get your head straight. A minute in silence to think. A few breaths to ease your racing pulse. It’s a bit like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, fixing on home and letting it carry her weary legs forward. You too let that solemn determination drive you. “I’m happy, I’m loved, I’m home.” Over and over in your mind like a prayer. Like if you say it enough that it will wedge itself deep enough to fill that part of you that craves believing it. You don’t want him to text. You told him that. But you hadn’t blocked him. For a second you wonder, if you texted him if he’d respond. Or was he out with some other girl? Or his friends? It would be so easy just to go check his snapchat, just a peak. Another deep breath in. “I’m fine,” you practice it out loud. The eyes staring back at you look dull. You’re not fine, but you say it anyway. Say it until it’s true, just like your mother taught you. All you have to do is fake it until you make it. You rinse your hands again in the cool water. They aren’t dirty but you feel unclean. Like something’s settled on your skin that you can’t scrub off, not sweat or sex but something quieter. The water running down the drain is perfectly crystal clear, yet you half expect it to turn black, to show some evidence that you were making progress. It never does.

Opening the door to the bedroom, you keep the knob held tight in your hand. A trick you’d learned early in life to keep the latch from clicking shut too obviously. Other palm pressed to the trim you press the door flush and tight before slowly releasing the knob back into place. You’d like to think you’d perfected this technique to evade being caught staying up too late. A childhood level muscle memory, a survival tic for lonely girls with bad sleep habits. Nearly sliding your way to your side of the bed, light on your feet with your heels barely brushing the floor, you make it. He’s snoring lightly, face plastered to his pillow. It’s a wonder he can breathe at all. You lift the corner of the blanket and ease yourself under, inch by inch. You don’t exhale until your back hits the mattress. Even then, it’s shallow. Just enough to stay alive. Your head hits the pillow, eyes closing. “Are you cheating on me?”

Your heart stops. The question is soft. Flat. A line said so quietly you almost think you imagined it. You don’t respond right away, not because you’re shocked but because you’d hoped he’d never ask. If no one ever asks, you never have to lie. It’s easier to pretend when you don’t have to lie. “No,” you say, finally. Keep it clean. Don’t explain. Don’t qualify. One small lie.

It’s not like you’re cheating on him anymore anyway. He mutters a quiet “okay,” and rolls onto his back. You both go still again. Resigned. This is the bed you made, right?

The air outside is warm, just hot enough where your skin starts to bleed into the night air a bit, meshing yourself with the universe. A comfortable blanket of atmosphere making the molecules between you and the earth a little hazier. It’s officially summer, the calendar date and the weather confirm it. A rare union of time and place. This bar is cute. Not yet hit by the insta-crowds but primed and ready. The back patio is strung with fairy lights twinkling pleasantly above an ample seating area with waterproof couches and chairs galore.The brick buildings that encase it makes it feel low-key enough for a chill hang, almost homey and lived in. Your friend has already wrangled the large seating area in the middle, the life of the party as always. A few “in progress” drinks are placed in front of the seated group of high heel wearers while those in more comfortable shoes seem to mingle around the outskirts of the central hub like wheel spokes. It takes two seconds before your boyfriend joins them. His can of Miller Light in hand, he walks confidently towards the crew, already yelling something getting a game of shuffleboard going. Biting the inside of your lower lip, it takes everything in you to keep your smile frozen neatly in place.

“Don’t get the watermelon marg!” Your friend yells, nodding apologetically towards the drinks on the table. “It’s nearly undrinkable. Straight tequila! The bartender is trying to kill us!” “Just chug it,” you shrug. “I mean you paid for it…I’m sure someone will drink it.” The others blink at you. “No it’s-it’s really bad,” she’s half laughing half grimacing. “Like battery acid bad.” “Do you need me to drink it?” You ask as a joke, but maybe a little too earnestly. The table is silent. “I mean I just don’t want it to go to waste.” “No! You really don’t need to do it-” you friend laughs maybe a little too much as you grab her glass and sniff it. They’re right. The smokey burn of mezcal hits your nostrils first, activating your salivary glands. There’s no bright Jolly Rancher sweetness to be found, only the herbaceous bitter smack of a watermelon picked too early. It’s bad. And yet. Everyone else has already moved on, talking about some drama with some friend you were never invited to care about. You chug it.

Tossing your head back, letting your hair fall, you gulp down the icy slurry like it’s the first drink of water you’ve had in months. It burns. Your stomach turns. By some small miracle you push through and polish off the glass without so much as a grimace.

You place the cup back on the table with a soft thud, throat raw, eyes watering just enough that you can blame it on the mezcal. “Right, I think I’ll get something else!” The burn creeps back up your throat, your body ready to reject it. You push a smile into place, not for anyone watching, but to trick your gag reflex into staying quiet. A bar trick you read somewhere. Or maybe made up. Doesn’t matter. It works well enough. A few who notice clap lightly. Your friend slings an arm around your neck in thanks, muttering, “you’re a legend,” in your ear. This laugh feels for real, almost. Maybe it's the alcohol, or the residual heat from the pavement but for a second, you feel warm. Like you’re part of something again. Like maybe you belong here, as you always did. Like it was really starting to work. As though you were finally shedding your cocoon and becoming the beautiful butterfly you’d pretended to be with perfectly symmetrical wings to match.

And then you see him. Yunho. You don’t even know how long he’s been there and yet it irks you, how he’s sitting across the patio like . Like he didn’t already know you were here. He’s leaned back in his chair, one arm draped lazily across the seat next to him, drink in hand. His eyes flit across the crowd like he’s just now noticed you, a direct hit that lands on you with perfect timing. No smile. No wave. Nothing obvious like that. Just a short nod as your eyes widen in horror. Because you know, and he knows you know. He doesn’t need to avoid it like you do. The mezcal threatens to come back up as you jump to your feet. “No but seriously I’m gonna grab a different drink,” you stammer, half-laughing, already stepping away from the table. No one questions it. Your friend is mid-story, the group drifting into something else. Your exit doesn’t register.

One hand trails along the plasticy edge of a couch cushion as you pass, grounding yourself. Your face is hot. You can feel Yunho’s gaze on your back. The kind of look you’re not supposed to return but can’t help feeling. You step inside and head to the bar. It’s cooler, dimmer, quieter here. A sanctuary. The shift is instant. A different kind of air. Less curated, less exposed. You adjust without thinking, posture straightening, expression smoothing. Just enough distance from the noise to take a deep breath. You order something easy, something refreshing, something rehearsed. “Vodka soda with a squeeze of lime,” your order slips out, a phrase worn smooth from overuse. It’s the kind of order that says you’re easygoing, low-maintenance. A drink that tastes like nothing, because tonight you need nothing. You stare straight ahead as the bartender nods, already moving, you aren’t interesting to him. Your dramas don’t matter, just your tip. And for that you’re grateful, grasping the slim glass with a flashy smile as he passes it to you.

Immediately the blanket of heat smacks you in the face as you rejoin your friends. Condensation clings to your glass, slowly dripping down your fingertips. Music and laughter flood over you like an overwhelming wave. Your friend is smiling, words dulled by the din. Her lips move as clear as day. “Oh my god, Yunho?” she’s saying, eyes lighting up as she looks past you. “We were JUST talking about bars with outdoor patios or something. I didn’t think he’d actually show up!” She’s already peeling away before the words finish, waving as she crosses towards him You float in the space between, unmoored. Unable to neatly fold yourself back into the conversation at the table you’d left nor willing to debase yourself by trudging after your friend towards that man. Almost like a lift raft appearing over the horizon you hear your boyfriend cheering. He’s calling something over the shuffleboard table, laughing jovially. You head toward him, fast. Like gravity. Like default. The ease is too irresistible. It’s a trap. Just as you reach your arm out to tap him on the shoulder, just as you put yourself into the thick of the group, one of the guys steps back, trying to position himself. He doesn’t see you, doesn’t mean to do it, it just happens. Just about to throw, he shoulders into you, setting you off balance. Your drink spills. Ice and vodka splash across your dress, cold and instant. A shock to your system. Your glass is half empty. He’s laughing. And so is your boyfriend. He’s not looking at your face, frozen in shock, he’s looking at the crowd. Everyone is laughing and laughing and he’s joining in. “Party foul!” He jeers. More laughter. “Shot penalty!” Someone adds, your boyfriend points and eggs them on. Your dress clings uncomfortably, fabric damp and plastered to your skin in all the wrong places. You move without thinking, just trying to get somewhere away. Somewhere to fix yourself. Blindly stumbling back inside to solace you spot the sign for the bathroom. That’ll do.

The lights inside are low and of course the line for the women's stalls is long despite the low crowd. Girls pressed to the sticky plaster wall, clinging to their phones to avoid eye contact. You join them for a moment, damp and invisible. Discarded to handle the mess yourself. “The men's is open, if you want.” You turn. Yunho. He flicks a few water droplets from his hands to the floor, nonchalant. Calm as ever. Like no time has passed. Like you didn’t banish him with fire and fury. “I’ll stand guard,” he says. Not offering, exactly…just stating it. You open your mouth. Close it again. Your brain’s still catching up to your body. Still soaked. Still alone. He’s not supposed to be here. You told him that. You don’t have anything to say to him and yet you feel the compulsion to say something. Anything. He nods toward the door. You can almost hear your legs creak as they activate, almost against your own will, and march you towards him. “Don’t worry,” he says quietly, as you cross him, stopping you dead in your tracks. “I remember what you said. No calls. No texts. Pretend you’re dead.” A pause. “But you’re not.” His eyes flick toward yours, just once. Not asking for forgiveness. Not pushing for conversation. Just… there. “I’m not here to make it worse. Just figured you wouldn’t want to stand alone like that.” You don’t respond. You can’t. The words get caught somewhere behind your tongue, too heavy to swallow, too raw to spit out. So you walk past him. You half expect him to follow you, move, catch you off guard on the way in. But he doesn’t, he just stands there faithfully, dutifully. There’s a twinge of disappointment in your heart as you realize that he really isn’t going to try anything with you. It’s fucked up but at least then you could unleash yourself. The door to the men’s room clicks behind you. Inside, you let out your breath, wishing it was a scream that could shatter glass. You’re so acutely aware of every inch of your skin, how the wet fabric clings uncomfortably to it, how many eyes had stared at you when you fled ungracefully, how people would probably look at you when you left the men's room. There’s no way around it, any of it. So you get to work dabbing and drying and fixing and planning. Put putty in the cracks of the plaster and hope no one else’s gaze lingers long enough for them to show. Its not even a week later when you get a text from that same friend who’d abandoned you to chase your nemesis. Not that she knew he was your nemesis. Not that he even really was. A quick “hey, do you know whats up with Yunho? Is he really settling down again?” The nonchalance makes you blink at your phone. “No, aren’t in touch these days really. You probably talk more,” texting can conceal a lot if you just word it carefully enough, are lax enough with the grammar. Looking over your text a couple times you remove a period there, a comma here, and voila it’s perfectly nonchalant. Three dots to signal she’s typing. You swipe away from the conversation even though your read receipts are off. Keep the bubble in the notifications just in case. “Ah, just thought…well…you were close even after you broke up. I just figured he’d have to literally physically move away to get over you. Sort of shocking…” You don’t reply. Instead you run to instagram to see the damage, hoping there's posts but finding only a lingering story notification. You don’t even bother to hide yourself, clicking his profile picture without a second thought. It’s not fresh, posted almost eighteen hours earlier, a girl in silhouette with her back to the camera surrounded by the light of a setting sun, arm extended with two well manicured fingers making a peace sign to top it all off. Someone cute who lets him take pictures of them. Good for him. You suck your teeth. It’s definitely good for him.

Yunho hears the knock just before the end of the game. He can feel the victory in his bones so he tosses out a lazy “gg” into the chat before pulling his headset off and dropping group, not bothering to log off. The monitor bathes the room in soft pink light, flickering slightly. The dregs of a now warm beer on the desk. Cracked window open just enough to make the blinds rattle.

Three more short taps. Decisive. He already knows it’s you. You’re not the type to knock if you’re unsure.

A stark contrast from your last meeting you stand at the threshold. No makeup this time. Some other guy’s hoodie zipped halfway. Eyes that say you hate yourself for being here. Holding your body like it betrayed you the moment you knocked. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” he says, quietly. You push past him without looking. “Shut up.” Toothless, no fight, no drama. Just a line dropped in the space between you like a stone.

He lets the door click closed behind you. Doesn’t bother locking it. If you really wanted to leave, you wouldn’t have come here in the first place. You stand across from him just barely inside the threshold. Arms folded like a shield across your chest, hoodie still on, still undecided as to whether this is a mistake or not. Like you’re waiting for someone to stop you, be it an act of god or act of wrath. Yunho won’t. He just watches. He’s a patient man. He knew you’d show up like this, stiff and guarded. Boiling over with parts of you that no one else gets to know. No one but him. You wear the boyfriend-shaped hoodie like it means something, as if this wasn’t inevitable. He lies in wait, looking you over. He’s not here to pull anything from you that wasn’t already there. “You said you never wanted to see me again, but you came here.” Yunho pauses. Long enough that you could interrupt. Giving you the grace to try to explain yourself. You don’t. He didn’t expect you to anyway. “So either you lied… or you’re worse than you thought.” You flinch, almost microscopically, as the words hit you all at once. Wound tight like a trap waiting to be sprung. “I hate this.” “I know.” “I hate you.” “I know.” Yunho is calm without needing to force it. He knows he can withstand whatever storm you hurl at him. And you look like you’re about to pitch something fierce. “What do you want from me?” “We broke up.” Yunho cocks an eyebrow, more for show than actual surprise. He’d known you were doomed from the start. “Was it me?” He smirks, pushing his tongue into his cheek. You’re silent. Stewing. Your mouth twitches as your lips seal words you want to say behind them. “You don’t have to tell me if it was but, I think you’d feel better if you did.” He watches you wind tighter, almost curling in on yourself to protect the core of truth in his words. You look best when you’re in distress, but he’s always been a bit toxic that way. That night when you caught him, with tears streaking down your face, he’d never cum harder. “When you- the girl- the girl I caught you with did she know? Did she know you were dating me?” “Would it have made a difference?” “Are you dating her?” “Which her?” Yunhos lips twitches. He knows if he keeps pushing back like this, giving half answers in the form of follow up questions, you’ll crack gloriously. “Theres been a few.” The sting of an open palm smack crosses his cheek violently. He knows he deserved it, he doesn’t complain. He catches your wrist before you can follow it up. “It’s not my fault you didn’t ask a more direct question. Now, do you want your answer? Does it matter right now?” A dangerous play, no rewards are without risk and you’re his greatest prize. His fingers pressed to your pulse point he can feel your heart start to race. “I don’t know what matters anymore.” “You matter to me.” “Did I matter when you were balls deep in that chicks cunt?” Crisp and clear plosives rain specks of spit fly on Yunho’s face as you verbally do what your hand is currently unable to. This was the rage he was looking for, the wrath, the undoing. “If you’re any louder the neighbors might hear.” He grips your wrist tighter. “Wouldn’t want that, would you? Or are you done with that Pollyanna bullshit?”

Yanking your wrist free of him, your upper lip twitches almost imperceptibly, a huff of air escaping your nose. He watches your mouth pucker and tense as gears grind together to find a comeback. His own mouth starts to curve into a smile, he’s here to save you once again. “Tell me, does it really matter if I’m seeing someone right now? What do you want? Why are you here in my living room, in those clothes, looking at me like its my fault that at your core you’re just as fucked up as I am?”

The silence that falls is tense. Yunho feels it in his stomach. Maybe he’d finally pushed it too far. No, no. He knew you too well. Your lips tighten to a thin line, chewing the inner skin between your teeth. “I’m not like you,” you mutter finally, eyes cast down to the floor. So close. He can see his opening, it’s slim but not impossible. Someone less skilled would’ve missed the moment, the opportunity, the fissure in the veneer. Fingers brushing below your chin, he tilts your head up to his. He can feel your breath hitch as his lips nearly close the gap between you. “Do you want me to finish the job then?” Yunho whispers against you. He’s given you ninety-five percent of the way, it’s up to you to simply fall the rest of the five. You whimper. Clearly fighting a losing internal battle. You’d lost it long before now. Yunho barely tamps down a faint chuckle as you willingly press into the kiss, growing steadily hungrier and hungrier. Your body follows, hurtling into his orbit again.

Yunho’s slender fingers dig into the flesh of your hips almost a little too hard. Your soft, half gasped groan morphs from pain to pleasure as he pulls you with him. He’s barely willing to make space for air to pass between you. It feels like it was forever waiting for this moment. The moment when you hungrily chased after his lips again. He doesn’t bother removing his pajama pants as he leans back into the headboard, too focused on the feeling of your hands searching for the hem of his shirt. Your nails tickle the sensitive skin of his lower abdomen, inhaling sharply as the tips tease just below the elastic of his pants, just for a second, good at playing innocent. Abs tensing, his hips roll ever so slightly, too proud to beg for your touch. Hand threading through the hair at the back of your scalp, he feels you gasp into his mouth at the slightest tug. “Tell me, why are you here?” Yunho rasps. You hastily shove the elastic of his pants down, his cock rests heavy against his lower belly, head flushed pink and pretty. Fingers ghosting over the underside of his shaft, you inhale sharply. His fingers catch your chin. “Use your mouth for words first. What do you want?” You blink up at him, soft shining eyes searching his. He waits. “I want you.” “Princess,” he purrs as his hand at your jaw tightens just a bit, not hurting, just holding. “Try again.” You gulp. Every second stretches. Shame prickles hot under your skin, down your spine all the way to your inner thighs. “I want you to ruin me.” He smiles, slow and cruel, as he feels you shiver at your own words. Sentencing yourself to your own fate. “There she is.” His palm trails your jawline, gripping the hair at the back of your neck. “That wasn’t so hard.” He cranes up ever so slightly from his leisurely recline, hot breath on the shell of your ear. “Color?” Your cunt throbs. “Green,” you barely breathe.

He releases you, letting you sink back onto your knees between his legs. Drool pools heavily in your mouth before his tip even touches your lips, threatening to spill out of the corners as you look up at him. “Open,” he murmurs, eyes locked on yours. You oblige, parting your lips, breath stuttering as a strand of spit slowly dribbles down from your tongue to his length. He grabs himself at the base, stroking slowly, slicking himself with your saliva as you wait. Hovering. Tip just out of reach. Yunho rests his other hand at the back of your skull, the weight subtly pushing you lower. Tapping the blunt head of his cock on your tongue, he doesn’t slide in all at once. He rolls his hips, palm still pressed lightly at the back of your head, dragging himself along your tongue. Slowly, shallowly, barely fucking your mouth. “Look so pretty making me all messy like this.” You groan, moving to take more of him, sealing your lips around him. His hand tightens, pressing you down before you’re ready. Your gag reflex flares, throat fluttering tight around him, and spit spills from the corner of your lips. He groans, low and pleased. Tears start to flood your eyes, your lashes sticking together, mascara not quite as waterproof as advertised. His hips roll up into the pressure of his palm, trapping you between them as your throat gulps for air, forcing you to take more than you meant to. Humiliation burns hot across your cheeks, pooling low in your stomach. Your cunt throbs with betrayal. Whimpering, Yunho eases back just a fraction, thumb stroking your jaw as if to soothe. “Color?” he asks, voice tight. “Green.”

“Good girl.” The relief in his voice is real. He pushes you down again, firmer this time, until your nose almost brushes his abdomen. Your throat clenches helplessly, drool, tears, and precum dripping down your chin onto your chest. He groans louder, knuckles flexing in your hair. “Look at the state of you,” he pants. “Begged me to ruin you, and now you can’t stop.”

Every bob of your head leaves a string connecting you when he pulls back. His cock glistens with spit, your lips swollen and wet. Yunho’s hand never leaves your skull, using you, controlling the rhythm until your jaw aches. Finally he pulls you off of him, leans down, and kisses you messily, tongue sweeping yours. He doesn’t mind the comingled taste of saliva and precum, not as long as its you. Pulling from your lips a strand tethers you together, his eyes looks back into your softly, hazy, fond. The kind of softness the cuts and bleeds your heart open. “Good girls get rewarded.” You want to shove him away, call him a liar. Instead your lips chase his again. He smirks into your mouth. “Let me taste you.” His hands slip under your arms, dragging you up and back onto the mattress. He shoves your pants off, tossing them over his shoulder thoughtlessly, spreading you on the bed with ease. His head dips low, nose brushing the soft inside of your thigh before his nips, lightly, teasing. You shiver, feeling the flood of heat in your cunt. His hands travel your inner thighs as your legs threaten to snap on him before he’s even reached your core. Two fingers spread you, cool air hitting before his hot tongue is on you. Lapping at you broad and slow. Hungry in that way that feels like reverence. “Yunho,” your voice cracks. Your hips twitch, but his hands pin you against the sheets. His tongue pushes deeper, curls around your clit, circles until your thighs start to tremble. He hums low in his chest, sending vibrations up through you. “You’re such a sweet girl,” he mutters into your skin. “Right through to your core.” Heat blooms under your cheeks, guilt anchors in your gut. You should not love how much he loves this. You shouldn’t let him bury his tongue this deep in your slit. He drapes an arm over you hips and slowly guides two long fingers inside of you, working in tandem. Crooking them upwards he quickly finds that smooth squishy spot on your walls. You can almost see the wicked grin that spreads across his face as you twist below him. Stuttering his name as his tongue flicks faster. Fucking gamer reflexes you think briefly as your eyes roll back. Your orgasm hits you before you can warn him. Thighs threatening to clamp tight to the sides of his face, he rides it out as you whimper and pant and squeal his name. He stays there, fingers stuffed tight to you with his head on your stomach as you come down from your high.

When he crawls back up, his jaw is drenched with your essence. Tongue darting out to lick it up he doesn’t waste a drop. He kisses you again, lets you taste yourself on his tongue. “Ready?” You can’t even open your eyes, nodding before you think, already lazily arching into him. “I want you to choose this,” His voice is a growl at your throat. “I want you to choose me.” “Please, Yunho.” You swivel your hips suggestively as you feel the tip nudge inside, catching just barely, just enough. He needs more. He needs you to say it. All of it. “Use your words Princess.” His voice is taut, threatening himself just as much as you. The words catch in your throat. You rasp and gurgle, nothing coming out at first. Heat crawls up your neck. “I-I can’t-” You sound pitiful. His cock nudges at your entrance, the pressure enough to steal your breath. “You can, for me, you can.” His grip on your hips tightens as you threaten to impale yourself before he gets what he needs. “Make it hurt…I don’t care- fuck me, please. Fuck me, Yunho. God, just fuck me. I don’t want to think anymore.”

Yunho’s breath hitches at your outburst, jaw flexing like he’s barely holding himself back. His eyes flick down where his cock drags slick at your entrance, then back to your face, wet and desperate. That’s all he needs. He pushes into you slow, deliberate, the blunt stretch stealing your breath. You gasp, clutching at his shoulders, nails dragging angry red lines down his back. His lips press to your jaw as he bottoms out, chest heavy against yours. He holds you there a second too long, just enough to make you sob, as the fullness in your stomach threatens to break you. Pulling back almost as slowly your brain scrambles. His thumb strokes slow soothing circles in your hip as you pant and squirm. Whining and whimpering you paw at the sheets, fists balling up and winding the cloth as tightly as your stomach. His hips slam forward without warning. The stretch is brutal, heat tearing through you as he buries himself deep. Your back arches, a raw sound breaking free from your chest. Yunho swallows it with a kiss, greedy, unforgiving, like he needs to taste the exact second you come apart for him. “Fuck,” he exhales for the both of you. “So tight, Princess. Did he stretch you out at all?” His hips roll forward, dragging another broken sound out of you. “Don’t-” you choke, shaking your head. “Don’t what?” His smirk is against your neck, his pace cruelly unhurried. “Don’t compare? Don’t talk about him while I fuck you? Don’t remind you?” You sob and shake your head again, tears pricking. The words won’t form, your throat too tight. He sets a rhythm, hard enough to punch little noises out of your chest. He swallows them with another kiss, hand fisting in your hair, tugging until your throat arches for him. Every thrust feels like undoing, like punishment and reward bound up in the same motion. “I bet he never made you cum. Never made you this wet.” You whimper, try to turn your face away, anything to hide your blooming realization. His hand snaps your chin back to him. “Say it.” His voice is a snarl in your ear. “Say who.” Your body betrays you, clenching around him until the words rip free. “You- Yunho- only you.” “Thought so,” he smirks, groaning into the column of your neck. His hips grind slow once, savoring the way you sob against him, before he shifts.

You’re already falling apart by the time he drags you up against him, sitting back against the headboard with you in his lap. His hands grip your ass, guiding your hips to move even as your thighs shake. “Fuck, Princess, look at yourself,” he pants, staring at your face, then down at where you’re joined, thighs glistening with sweat and release. “Use me, ruin yourself. You’re so close.” Your eyes roll back as his hips thrust higher, catching that spot inside you again and again until sparks burst white behind your eyelids. Your thighs clamp around his waist, trembling, slick dripping down his cock and onto his stomach. “Good girl,” Yunho’s voice is rough, hands digging into the meat of your ass as he guides your body down harder. “Take it. Take all of me.” The sound of skin meeting skin fills the room, wet and merciless. You try to muffle your cries against his shoulder, but he yanks your hair back until your back arches for him. “No hiding. I want to watch you come undone.” He keeps you moving a few more punishing strokes, letting gravity bounce you down hard on his cock until your voice cracks with each thrust. Then his pace slows, grip easing until he’s only holding you steady. The work becomes yours without you realizing, your hips still rolling, desperate to chase it.

Yunho leans back against the headboard, eyes dragging down your body. “Look at you,” he groans, lips curling. “All that polish, all that poise…and you drop it the second I get my hands on you.” Heat floods your cheeks, stomach twisting with need. You grind down harder, thighs trembling, cunt clenching as you use him like he told you to. His thumb finds your clit, lazy circles that make your rhythm falter, then lurch faster. You cry out, nails biting into his shoulders, still bouncing yourself while he just smirks and rubs you raw. “That’s it,” he mutters, voice ragged but pleased. “Nobody else gets this. Nobody else sees you like this.” Your chest heaves, want curling hot in your belly as you ride him harder, legs quaking with the effort. Each downward push squeezes another broken sound from your mouth. The humiliation goads you, bitter and irresistible forcing you faster, slick smearing across both your stomachs. Yunho watches you like he’s starving, lips parted, eyes heavy-lidded. “Fuck…just like that,” he groans. He doesn’t even mind the marks as you claw at his shoulders, nails dragging down his skin, but your hips don’t stop, grinding harder, chasing the friction even as fever under your skin burns you. The sounds spilling from you are raw, unguarded, animalistic, nothing like the careful image you’d curated. That’s his favorite part. “Perfect,” he pants, his thumb pressing tighter, hips jerking once beneath you. “My pretty little whore.” The mix of praise and punishment pushes you over, and your climax rips through you, violent, humiliating, every squeeze of your cunt milking him deeper. You collapse forward, arms flung around his neck, chanting his name into his shoulders. Your face pressed into his chest, snot and spit and tears leaving damp marks. Yunho curses, snapping up into you as heat floods your walls. His hands lock tight on your ass, grinding you down into his lap as you shake, messy and overrun. Groaning, he keeps himself buried deep, tightly sheathed in your warmth. Shuddering through his own release he fills you until it leaks with hot white streaks down your thighs.

He sniffles, kissing the damp line of your throat, hands stroking the small of your back as your body betrays you with aftershocks. You stay there for a while. Slumped against him, sobbing into his shoulder, his breath ragged against your ear. He stays with you. “It’s good to let it out.” Yunho says without thinking. He doesn’t mean much by it. You punch him in the shoulder, keeping your face hidden in his embrace. “I hate you.” “I know,” he nuzzles the top of your head. “Do you want to talk about it or do you wanna fuck again and see how you feel after that?” “Again? You aren’t- Yunho. Yunho-” “Who told you I was dating someone then?” “Why does it matter? Who was that in your story post?” You can feel him flex inside of you as he chuckles. “I asked you a question first. Are you jealous?” “Aren’t you jealous? You can’t stop talking about him.” Yunho feels you clench around him as he gently rolls the two of you to the side. Holding him tightly to prolong the connection. Still, he pulls from you slowly, relishing the small unguarded puff of disappointed air from your nostrils. What a pouty princess. “It’s to make a point, love. You’re mine. You have always been mine.” He smiles as he loses this round of the game. You’re just so easy to appease. Or at least you are to him. He pulls you to the edge of the bed, turning you on your stomach before you really realize what's happening. You’re just that easy to maneuver. This push in is easier, still slick with the previous release. Still both of you groan in unison as he sinks into you again. “Since you didn’t want to talk about it, thought I’d get started on round two.” “You’re such a bastard,” Yunho can only half hear you, words catching in the sheets. “You’re more honest when I’m taking you apart.” Belly pressed to the mattress you really feel him in your guts this time, spongy tip prodding at your bellybutton from the inside. It doesn’t leave a lot of room for words…or air. Each drag of his cock feels like a tide pulling you under, steady, merciless, pressing your stomach flat to the mattress. It feels dizzyingly nice, simple, you don’t need to do anything for both of you to enjoy it. “Mm,” Yunho leans close in, elbows caging you into the mattress. He’s not too heavy, just a ballast pinning you in place. His hips roll forward, deep, unhurried, the kind of thrust that lets you feel every inch. He hums into your hair, breath hot. “Tell me, did you think of me every time you were with him?” You gurgle, sound stifled by the bunched sheets. They taste of fabric softener and salt as your tongue catches. “Naughty girl,” he sound pleased, his hips steady. He could last forever at this pace. “So, did you get what you came here for?” Your throat burns with words you don’t want to say. “You’re dating- my friend said- your story-” “Ahh,” a taunting melody floats between you. Yunho’s hand trails your arm, weaving his fingers between yours and pinning it to the bed. Tightening his grasp he uses you as leverage. “She’s family, Princess. You could’ve just texted but you came all this way…” He kisses your shoulder, teeth grazing lightly over the spot, chuckling as you shudder. “..came all this way in his hoodie.” Heat floods your face, still your body craves him. Even your fingers help anchor you both as he takes his time with you. Piece by piece, question by question, answer by answer whether it be words or body language. He hums against your skin, pleased, lips brushing the shell of your ear. His hips grind forward, deep and steady, as if patience alone could peel you apart. “Tell me then,” Yunho whispers. “Did you even try to leave him?” Your nails into the mattress where he pins your hand down. The protest in your throat dies under the weight of his next thrust. “Mm.” He tilts his head, listening to every wanton moan. “Didn’t think so.” His tongue flicks across the mark his teeth left on your shoulder, soothing where he stung. “You’d rather come here wearing that bullshit than give him the truth.” You want to shake your head, give some sort of excuse. You open your mouth, some half-formed protest clawing its way up, but his next thrust punches it back down. Slow, deliberate, Yunho drags through you in a rhythm that won’t let you breathe steady, each roll of his hips stealing the pieces you need to build a lie. You try again, grappling for words to form sentences, only for the next deep grind to scatter them, leave you gasping instead. Each intelligent thought fucked from your mind until nothing’s left but the raw sounds you swore you wouldn’t make for him again. Your body climbs higher without permission, every push dragging you closer to a peak you can’t out-think, can’t out-lie, no matter how tightly you bite your tongue. Heat coils low in your belly, pulling tighter with each deliberate drag of his cock. Yunho shifts, catching the back of your knee and folding your leg higher onto the bed. The new angle makes you gasp, the blunt head nudging deeper, crueler, brushing that spot inside that makes your vision go white at the edges. His palm stays heavy on your thigh, holding you wide open as he grinds into you again. “Mm, that’s it,” he murmurs, voice taut, smug. “Can feel you fluttering around me. You’re close, aren’t you?” You nod helplessly into the sheets, nails clawing for purchase. He bends back over you, lips grazing your ear, hips never breaking rhythm. “Gonna let me watch you fall apart? Let me feel you come on my cock?” You try to tangle the unbearable pleasure tightening in your belly tangles with knots of self loathing. Anything hold it in, tamp it down, but each steady thrust unravels another thread pulling you steadily apart. The room darkens at the edges of your vision, breath catching, blood rushing to your head.

A buzz cuts through the haze, sharply smacking you back to earth. vrr vrrrrrt… vrr vrrrrrt… Muffled, but unmistakable. The pattern you know too well, the one you assigned to him. The vibration that you made so you swore you’d never miss a call of his. Your whole body seizes, cunt clamping down around Yunho. For a heartbeat you think you can hold it together, but the humiliation detonates inside you. The orgasm tears through you feral and merciless, ripped from a place you didn’t want to acknowledge. You gasp, a soundless scream into the sheets as your thighs spasm, slick spilling hot around his cock. Every pulse of the phone rattling under the clothes drags another wave out of you, shame and release fused so tightly you can’t pull them apart. Yunho groans low, grinding through it, steadying you with a firm hand at your hip. “Fuck,” he hisses, pace stuttering. He buries himself deep, riding your spasms until he comes with a ragged gasp, cum spilling from your already overfull hole. The phone falls silent. Only your harsh breaths and his uneven panting remain. For a moment he stays there, chest heavy against your back, catching his breath with you. Your cunt still flutters weakly around him, unwilling to let go, each twitch making him bite back a moan against your neck. Warmth pools where your bodies join, you can’t tell where you end and he begins, only that you’re both steeped in it, caught in the same gluey haze. The sheets beneath you are damp, catching at your skin. You stay there, suspended. If you both remain still, maybe the world outside can’t reach you. Then the second buzz cuts through the room. vrr vrrrrrt… vrr vrrrrrt… a modern version of a bell tolling. The spell breaks. Cinderella’s gown turns to rags. Your heart stops and you jolt, a tremor racing through your spent body. It’s a reminder of the world waiting for you. Yunho grunts at the sudden squeeze around his cock, his head lifting slightly as the phone rattles again from somewhere under the clothes. You stay frozen, stomach turning with dread, like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar. Still and quiet so hopefully neither man, here or calling, catches on. Yunho pulls back with a grunt, leaving you sticky and raw. You don’t bother to stifle the helpless whimper that breaks free at the loss, you’re too preoccupied. Warmth seeps out immediately, trickling down your thighs, undeniable evidence that spills forth no matter how you press your legs together. “Mm.” His sound is low, unreadable. Craning your neck you see his face illuminated by the faint glow of a phone, your phone. The curve of his mouth remains neutral as his eyes skim your recent alerts.

A soft tsk. Yunho places the phone on the bed within your eyeline, screen down into the mattress, letting you decide the moment of execution. You stay facedown in the sheets, every nerve on end, your body feeling like its about to tear itself in half. You almost wish it would instead of this. Yunho disappears into the hallway. Water runs briefly. When he returns, he’s carrying a damp washcloth. Kneeling on the ground between your legs he settles in and cleans you with unhurried strokes. Careful. Almost as if to apologise. The cloth drags warm across your sensitive skin, chasing the mess down your inner thighs, pressing gently at your swollen mound. “I can tell you if-” “No,” you yelp, bile rising in your throat. A fresh gush leaks over his hand, your body reminding you of your betrayal all over again. “No. I can.” His movements slow as he watches you like a hawk. You stretch an arm toward the phone, lifting just the corner to prop it up. Three missed calls. Two from your boyfriend, the third from your friend. Two texts. Both from him. You bring your legs up and onto the bed, curling in on yourself protectively. Your stomach plummeting deeper into the depths of hell than you could even realize. “You fucked up, Princess.” Yunho states simply, plainly. “Or rather, you’re fucked up.” Swearing fiercely under your breath you can barely bring yourself to swipe up to read the messages. Don’t tell me whose house that is. I don’t want to know. Be here in the morning. We need to talk.

The words blur. Your vision tunnels, stomach hollowing as if the floor dropped out beneath you. It was inevitable, there was no way you’d get away with this forever. Yet you’d always assumed you’d find some graceful out. Some way to gently drift into something…different. You don’t cry. You can’t, there isn’t enough water left in your body to let the tears fall. You just curl tighter, curling in on yourself until your knees press to your chest. The phone slides from your hand, dimming against the sheets like it’s ashamed too. Yunho doesn’t bother asking what happened. He doesn’t need to, your quickly shrinking form is enough to get the gist. Tossing the cloth aside and he climbs up after you, arm slipping around your waist, pulling you back until your spine rests against the solid warmth of his chest. He holds you, a silent guard, one hand smoothing lazy circles over your hip. You stare into the darkness at nothing. Catatonic. Empty. Every nerve feels spent, scraped raw. There's almost too much room to feel so therefore you feel nothing. He doesn’t try to fill the silence. Just breathes with you, slow, patient, until your body remembers to follow. His heart eases as he feels you soften into him. First your shoulders loosening against his chest, then the shallow hitches in your breath lengthening into something steadier. His hand snakes around to hold you closer and your hands unclench, curling instead around his arm. Each surrender warms him, collected carefully, as though you were letting him hold you one fragment at a time until there was nothing left to keep for yourself. Your lashes brush the pillow, your weight heavier in his hold, what little resistance you had left dissolving. He lowers his face into your hair, breathing in the faint salt and soap clinging to you. To him this is a revelation, the unveiling of what no one else will ever see. The girl stripped of polish and pretense. The only version he believes is real. His lips graze your ear, his voice so low it barely stirs the air. “Go back to him, put the mask on again. But you and I both know it’s the girl underneath who keeps crawling back to me.” The words fold around you like a blanket, sinking deeper as your eyes close, carrying you down with them. He feels your breathing even out, slow and trusting, and holds you tighter. In the quiet he repeats it, not in longing but in certainty, the way a man names what already belongs to him. Her body tells the truth that her words won’t. That’s enough. That’s mine.

He presses one last kiss into your hair before closing his eyes, a small, self-assured smile sending him to sleep.

I know i know, I’ve been WORKING on this one for forever. Truthfully I didn’t really know how to continue this one but then In Your Fantasy just hit like a brick to the back of the skull. anyway that’s it for a while. please feel free to flood my inbox! i’m sorry i’m a bit shy here but i’d like to be chattier!

If you liked this please check out my masterlist

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 1 day ago

Note

Okok that last one was a silly one :3

How would Nathan feel if reader had a comfort object (maybe a childhood stuffed animal?). I feel like he’d be very “why do you have that? I can make you something so much better”

When it’s not about the *thing* itself but the memories it holds/comfort it provides

Anyways tehehehe ily fen

I'm so sorry this has taken 50000 years!

Well Worn

Nathan Bateman x gn!Reader • Rating: pg pals • Masterlist • ao3 • want to be tagged? | request info • ko-fi •

Summary: Nathan asks about your childhood toy.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, teasing, typos, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 867

“Why do you still have this thing?” You have never seen such a disgusted look on Nathan’s face, which is pretty impressive considering one of his main hobbies, other than annoying the hell out of you for sport that is, is glaring at practically everything with an utter look of disdain. Honestly, you’re quite surprised he’s managed to reach this whole new level. Surely it’s some kind of record, or something, that was previously held by some long dead royalty, or a food critic.

“Have what?” You poke your head out from the wardrobe to look at him fully. He’s lounging all over the chair, though he’s turned it around from the desk and has his bare feet up on your bedside table, his hands in his hoodie’s pockets.

He nods his chin towards your bed. “That?”

“Well, you see Nathan, that’s called a bed, and 99.9% of the population use for sleeping instead of, oh, you know, the sofa, or the floor.”

He gifts you with a glare and smirk. “You know what I mean, dumbass.”

“I obviously don’t, no one but you knows what’s going on in that head of yours.”

He’s about to open his mouth to retort, but you don’t give him a chance.

“What are you doing in here anyway? This is my room.”

He goes to speak again.

“Don’t give me any of that ‘It’s my house shit’.”

He grins, wiggling a little in the seat. “I’m helping.”

“By sitting on your ass?”

“Moral support.”

You scoff. “You’ve got an answer for everything.”

He shrugs, “That’s because I know everything.”

“Then you don’t need to ask me any more questions, do you?”

He grins, thoroughly amused, and showing his canines. “You like having me here.”

You roll your eyes and go back to the wardrobe. “Stockholm syndrome, you mean.”

“That’s not real, you know? ‘The Norrmalm Square Syndrome’ was first coined due to hostages having a connection with their captors, bank robbers, but really, the police were being so fucking incompetent and not giving a fuck about their lives that the hostages had to negotiate with the robbers themselves. And they seemed to care more about keeping them alive than the police did.”

You poke your head around the door, and keep your expression deadpan. “I did actually.”

Nathan’s smile widens, a giddy thrill running down his spine. He’s not quite sure if you’re being truthful or not.

“Take your feet off my table.” You add.

“My table.” He says playfully, but does as you ask.

You ignore him, quickly turning away so he can’t see your smile.

He stands slowly, taking a few steps to your bed before gingerly touching the practically threadbare tiger on your pillow. “Why do you have this mouldy toy?”

“What?”

“This?” He goes to pick it up, and you practically jump on him.

“Don’t!”

He raises his hands like he’s been burnt, snapping his mouth shut.

You pause, and then readjust the soft toy back onto your pillow so that he looks comfy.

“Do I need to call a doctor?”

For a second, as you turn, you’re ready to tear him a new one, thinking he’s trying to make an unkind joke about how you are unwell for caring.

It’s only when you see his face that you realise he was trying to make a light comment to break the tension about your toy needing medical attention after he moved him.

Your shoulders relax and you pick up the tiger; his head lolls to the side, his fur matted from hugs and body soft, no longer holding its shape the way it did.

“This is Bilbo.” You say. You think twice about waving his right paw, but do it anyway.

Nathan snorts. But the sound is kind, amused. He actually waves back.

“My grandad got him for me when I was four.” You move Bilbo around in your hands so you can brush your fingers over his forehead. His fur used to be so fluffy that it practically covered his eyes; you’d always rearrange it so he could see better. There wasn’t any need for it now, but the motion remained ingrained.

“He’s cute,” Nathan says kindly.

You give him a teasing look. “Weren’t you just questioning why I had ‘this old thing’ a second ago?”

He shrugs and chuckles, “That’s when I thought it was just something you had. Not something that means something.”

“Something I had?”

“You love stuff. It’s a poor person problem.”

You give him a glare, and he laughs loudly.

“I could make an amazing one for you, it would move and everything.”

You know he’s pulling your leg, trying to tease you.

“Yeah? And then the second I’m asleep, it goes all Five Nights At Freddie’s or something? No thanks.” You put Bilbo back onto your pillow carefully.

Nathan chuckles. “You doubt my genius.” He says quietly with a smile as you go back to the task at hand.

You see him, out of the corner of your eye, softly touch the tiger, running his fingers over the well worn fur gently while he thinks you’re not looking.

It makes your heart warm.

You don’t comment on it.

Thank you for reading!

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killerkendallroy · 1 day ago

Text

CHAPTER ELEVEN

NON COMPOS MENTIS

NEW MONEY: A ROMAN ROY X READER FIC

MASTERLIST WORD COUNT: 6.1k

“You’re missing out on a fuck tonne of drama upstairs, y’know. I almost told the President to blow me but I figured it would make his little Raisin heart implode.”

Warnings / Tags: Succession canon themes including sexual jokes and innuendo, heavy swearing, BrightStar cruise cover ups, mentions of su*cide and SA, mentions of cocaine and marijuana, Logan’s UTI delirium, imaginary dead cats?

Kendall’s driver Fikret greeted him politely as he effortlessly slid into the backseat of the car, nodding and saying a quick 'morning' before feeling his phone vibrate in his pocket. A part of him prayed it wasn't Rava calling again, but an even larger part of him was relieved once he saw Stewy’s name on the screen.

"Yo Stew, what's up?" Kendall says as he answers the phone, cradling it between his ear and shoulder.

He pulled a small vial from his suit jacket and tipped a hefty amount of cocaine onto the back of his hand before lifting it to his nostril and snorting it in one go. Kendall always made sure to check if any had drifted down onto his clothes; after one too many unfortunate mishaps in the past. He brushed his hand against the lapel of his suit jacket but on closer inspection he realised that the white speck he saw wasn’t coke, it was fur from his daughter’s pet rabbit. Phew.

"Dude, they're still not backing down," Stewy complained. “Fucking private jets.”

"Are you serious?"

Stewy pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs, "I'm about to get in an elevator so the connection’s gonna cut out but I can tell you right now, Sandy is the angriest fucking vegetable.”

"Let me uh… Let me fix it. I can fix this," Kendall assured.

"You better, cos this belligerent zucchini is about to walk," Stewy warned before hanging up.

Kendall groaned to himself and let his head fall back against the leather head rest, staring out the window as he contemplated what exactly he'd do to 'fix' everything. He had no time to commiserate, he had to be on his A-game today. So, he texted his siblings in a group chat that Roman aptly named 'Satan's Spawn':

 Kendall Roy Need to meet with you two.

Kendall Roy Urgent.

Roman Roy Pass.

Connor Roy There's 3 of us.

Kendall's jaw clenched as he read the responses from his family members. Roman wasn't willing to help him at all, Connor had no real sway in the matter and Shiv's lack of response said more than both of her brothers combined. Kendall knew she was actively seeing each message just seconds after they were sent though, because her read receipts were on.

The shareholder meeting so far has felt less like a serious corporate event and more like a ticking time bomb. Even from the audience you can tell nobody knows what’s going on because Gerri has spoken on stage twice now and Frank started rambling about Much Ado About Nothing. Your phone buzzes in your lap and you subtly look down at the notification:

Tom Wambsgans Level 18, Meridian Room. I need you here.

As you discreetly slip out of the conference room and take the elevator upstairs, you enter a large meeting room that for the most part, was empty. Apart from Greg standing at the catering table stacking a selection of cheeses and swiping French patè on a plate, and a few of the Waystar execs sitting up the other end of the room watching the livestream, you furrow your brows at Tom at the lack of Roy’s in the room.

"Where's the rest of the Addams family? You and Lurch over there the only ones here?" You joked, nodding towards Greg.

"Negotiating. But um, listen,” Tom says with a hushed tone. His whisper is loaded with the kind of gravitas usually reserved for nuclear launch codes or the news that someone brought Bodega hummus to the function. “Logan is... Not right in the head.”

"Are you only just figuring this out? Tom, come on buddy," you chuckle, “It’s Logan, that’s just who he is.”

"Well, sure. But he’s just uh, he's different today... He's kind of loopy," Tom continued.

"Loopy? Like Willa after her wisdom teeth surgery kind of loopy?" You joked, chuckling to yourself as you remember the video that Connor sent of her a few weeks ago.

Tom shakes his head, “Angrier and more delusional, far less musically inclined."

He went on to explain that Logan had somewhat been his usual self earlier this morning. He had loudly announced to the group that he 'needed a piss' which again, was pretty standard for him but had asked Tom of all people to escort him. What an honour for any son in law. Once in the cubicle, Tom heard Logan groan out in pain which struck him with fear thinking the bastard had caught his 'Johnson' in the zipper of his pants — a common fear for most men according to Tom.

He glances behind you and instantly straightens his posture again, which no doubt meant that Logan had walked back into the room. Or Shiv. You’d learnt that Tom acted pretty similarly around them both. Turning around to check if you were right, you see Logan sitting down in an armchair with his bodyguard Colin standing beside him, stoic and emotionless.

Connor walks in too, which is surprising since he rarely gets invited to events that have anything even remotely to do with the company his family owns. He smiles and gives you a quick wave before Logan started shouting.

"Get the Raisin on the phone!" Logan yells, to nobody in particular.

Slowly you turn back towards Tom with widened eyes, now realising that yes, Logan was indeed 'loopy' like Tom had described. “What the fuck… He really is losing his marbles…”

"That might be the most cohesive thing he's said all day actually," Tom sighs. "The Raisin is their nickname for the president."

Greg, who has been lurking by the food table like a wallflower during prom night, freezes mid chew and looks over to you and Tom. Colin doesn’t move a muscle, which you’re starting to think might be his superpower. Professional statue. Connor assures his father that they’ll try to get the President on the phone and walks over to you and Tom instead.

“So we got ahold of Kerry… Pop’s got a UTI and must’ve forgotten to take his medication,” he says under his breath.

"And that can make him crazy?" You ask.

"At his age? Shit yeah. Reagan had one and nearly nuked Belgium," Connor nodded, as if this is common knowledge you’d learn in third grade.

Meanwhile, Logan shifts in his chair and lets out a groan that could mean anything right now. Pain, anger, or just disappointment thinking about one of his children.

Tom asks if anyone’s called his doctor or located his medication but Connor assures him the doctor is already on the way.

Logan swivels his head and jerks a finger in your direction, “You! Girlie.”

The room goes still for a beat, the words hanging in the air. Tom nudges you forward with his shoulder gently, before you nervously walk over to Logan like a prisoner taking their last steps towards the electric chair. Awkward doesn’t even begin to cover how you feel standing next to him. You’ve barely exchanged more than a few words with him before so you really had no clue how this was going to play out. Probably in the worse way possible.

Logan’s eyes flicker toward you, sharp for a moment, but delirious for the most part. He rasps out a demand to bring him a glass of water and you oblige. Of course you do. Why wouldn’t you? You carefully hand him the glass, like you’re offering him a live grenade and he takes it without any thanks. Typical. He tilts his head toward you, just slightly.

“You good?” he rasps, voice low and gravelly, like his question is less about your wellbeing and more about whether you’re about to collapse in front of him.

You blink, caught off guard. “Mhm, yeah. Yeah, I’m good, Logan.” The words stumble out a little too quickly, your tone overly careful to not set him off.

He nods and presses his lips together in a grunt that sounds halfway between approval and disdain. “Good. Good.”

And that’s it. No follow up, no tirade, nothing. Which is surreal, because the man currently looks as though he’s only being held together by rage, money, and a dangerously untreated urinary tract infection.

Suddenly the door swings open and you turn to see Roman walking in with Shiv, Gerri, and Karl in tow. You could’ve sworn you heard the faint melody of The Imperial March playing somewhere in the back of your mind, because that’s exactly how their entrance would have been soundtracked. Like Darth Vader storming in with inevitably bad news about how everyone was about to fucking die.

Roman leads the charge with his usual satisfied smirk replaced by something a lot sharper, like he’s ironed out the chaos in his brain long enough to make people nervous. Shiv follows close behind, cool and precise, radiating a lethal efficiency that even her father would be impressed by if he wasn’t all non compos mentis. Karl looked suspiciously relaxed alongside Gerri whose presence was always a calm, unrelenting storm waiting to happen.

Logan’s still slouched in his chair like a man who dares the universe to bother him even more today and grunts to Colin that yes, again, he needed to take a piss. Relieved that you could finally step away from being Logan’s water bitch, you hurry back over to the safety of Tom who stood next to Shiv and Roman.

“Uh… Why were you standing over th-” Roman starts to say, but his brother jumps in to address the elephant in the room.

Connor steps in immediately, his hands flailing just slightly, trying to convey competence while clearly having none. “Pop’s got a UTI and he’s kind of uh…”

“Insane,” Tom interrupts. Cutting right to the chase.

Shiv lets out a snort that sounds more like an unamused laugh. “So, the usual.”

“And get this damn thing out from underneath me! I don’t want Rose to see it!” Logan snaps at Colin, pointing over at Tom and demanding that he escort him to the bathroom instead.

Colin hesitates, “I’m sorry Sir, do you mean the… The paper bag?”

Logan’s glare could have melted steel. “The cat! How am I supposed to run a business with dead fucking animals laying around? Get rid of it!”

Colin nodded and made his way over to the group slowly, not wanting to raise alarms for anyone else that could be watching. Let alone raise alarms to Logan, who was on another planet right now. Nobody wanted to add any more stress to what was already a highly stressful day without Logan going awol.

"Logan’s concerned that there's a dead cat under his chair," he said bluntly.

"Well, that's just great," Shiv sighed in defeat, throwing her hands up with a huff.

"Is there anything under the chair?" Roman asked as he bent down to check. Nope. It was just a brown paper bag.

"And he, uh... he says that he wants someone to take it away before Rose sees it?” he continued.

"Fuck, Colin just get it out,” Shiv says dismissing him and turning back towards you and Roman. “Was he like this in the morning when he told us to throw the deal away?!”

You look over her shoulder as you notice Kendall storming over, like a human tornado fueled by righteous indignation and a desperate need for therapy. The sight of her brother was not what Shiv wanted to see right now. Nor Roman. Nor anyone.

"Fucking hell, not now," she murmured under her breath.

"What the fuck is going on?" Kendall shouted.

"Jesus fucking Christ, just when I thought it couldn't get any worse..." Roman sighed.

"Stewy called me and said you're screwing him on the deal. Are you fucking kidding me?" Kendall raged in disbelief.

He was on the verge of another meltdown and he desperately needed another bump of cocaine but the sudden nonsensical shout from his father made his attention divert. "Uh... What the fuck?"

"He's fine," Shiv lies.

"Everything is under control, so just leave," Roman said trying to force his brother out of the room.

"What the fuck is going on here? What is that?" Kendall asks as he watched Colin rush out of the room holding an empty brown paper bag in front of him.

"That is an imaginary cat. Now could you please fuck off?" Roman snapped.

As the siblings argued, you slipped out of the room in desperate need for a break from the Roy family. Logan’s insanity was enough, let alone Shiv’s intensity and Roman’s lack of care. Not to mention Kendall bursting in all guns blazing high on fucking coke. Needing a breath of fresh air with the grace of someone who has given up on all healthy coping mechanisms, you go out to the street and light up a cigarette on the busy New York City kerb. You were trying to quit, but that plan went out the window today.

Stewy appears seemingly out of thin air beside you, if that air smelled faintly of expensive cologne, hedge funds, and bad decisions. He doesn’t bother with a hello, or make small talk about the weather. He doesn’t even acknowledge the fact he and Sandy were the key players in the shit show of a settlement that Waystar was trying to reach. No, he just holds his hand out towards you.

“Got a lighter?”

You hand over your Bic and he thanks you, pulling a cigarette from his jacket and popping it between his lips.

“That was one hell of a promotion present you had sent to my office the other week.” You say, breaking the ice by mentioning his cryptic butterfly gift.

Stewy just smirks and lights his cigarette, like he’s imagining your reaction to opening the box in your cushy new office, basking in his own performance art. He hands back your lighter, “I figured a smart girl like you would appreciate the symbolism.”

You inhale and take a deep drag of your own cigarette, holding it in your lungs as you tried to process his comment. “Am I supposed to be the ugly little caterpillar breaking out of its cocoon and becoming a butterfly?“

“I wouldn’t say ugly. Transformational metaphor, sure. Some cultures believe they’re god’s spies. Like the spots on their wings are eyes that watch over you.” He says taking a deep inhale.

“In Persian culture there’s this, story if you will, Shama o Parvaneh. The butterfly is drawn to a candle flame in times of darkness, searching for some sort of greater truth or deeper love. But if they’re not careful, they become so consumed by their desire for the light that it’ll drive them to the point of self-destruction. It kills them.”

You take another drag, letting the smoke fill your lungs and try to look like you’re not so lost by his metaphor. “Which means?”

“The annihilation of one’s self in the pursuit of something beyond,” he says before shrugging. “I dunno. I just think they’re fragile and delicate and pretty to look at.”

“Gee, thanks for the doomsday warning,” A laugh slips out like muscle memory but when he turns to face you, there’s a flicker of threat beneath his charm.

“ATN…” he whistles. “You know, it’s impressive how a woman like yourself only a week away from 30, rose through the ranks of BrightStar Cruises to somehow end up becoming Head of Digital at ATN. Without any prior broadcast news experience.”

You don’t respond, you just take a drag of your cigarette and look out at the street. People with resumes twice as long and egos twice as inflated were still sitting in their middle management roles but here you were perched at the top of ATN. To an outsider it probably looked suspicious, but to those on the inside… Well, everything at Waystar was suspicious if you looked long enough so there really wasn’t a difference.

“So I did some digging…” he adds before taking another drag. “You, the daughter of Pennsylvania’s longest running Senator, graduate from Wharton and move down to Florida after college. Pretty standard for a privileged upper middle class kid with a decent brain. But even I was surprised to see you didn’t study politics. Really pushing hard to steer clear of the nepo baby claims, huh.”

“Why the sudden interest in me?” You say narrowing your eyes, “Are you planning on writing my fuckin’ biography or something?”

Although your tone may have sounded lighthearted and playful, it was sharp enough to cut through his bullshit and he could tell. Stewy doesn’t even flinch, in fact his mouth twitched into something that resembled the beginning of a grin. He’s enjoying how you’re starting to push back. A worthy challenger.

“You’ve done well for yourself. Especially back in Florida. Promotion after promotion, award after award. Truly a model employee.” He smiles smugly. “But then I stumbled upon a photo in one of Waystar’s company newsletters… Of the 2018 BrightStar Management Training cohort...”

The smug curve of his smile suggests he’s enjoying this little excavation project far more than he should, far more than he’s letting on. “You looked so cute and innocent with your grown out roots, wearing a cheap blazer from fucking, I don’t know, Zara?”

You sigh, anxious about how he was dragging this out in such a performative way, though it came out as a short, frustrated huff. “What’s your angle here?”

“Everyone in that photo? They’re still working their same shitty middle management jobs except for you.”

“Perks of moving to New York I guess. Bigger offices mean more people, which means more opportunity,” you shrug, like it’s a no brainer.

He tilts his head at you, like a cat watching a mouse try to act casual about it being cornered. His point isn’t subtle. The gap between then and now isn’t just a matter of ‘moving to New York.’ Stewy doesn’t look convinced. He never does. He wears skepticism like a tailored suit, fitted perfectly to every occasion and his smirk deepens. Not cruel or malicious, but not kind either. Just… Entertained.

“Except one person in the photo no longer works at Waystar… Paul Wilson.” He says asking out his cigarette by dropping it on the ground and crushing it with the toe of his shoe. “Yeah, he got fired less than a week after that trip. Must’ve done something stupid, probably got back to HR.”

The name slams into you harder than the nicotine ever could. Fuck, harder than anything could. Right about now you could’ve injected meth straight into your fucking bloodstream and his name would’ve still affected you. Paul Wilson. The man who assaulted you on the cruise ship.

The noise from the street; the taxis honking, the tourists bustling down the sidewalk, a nearby busker drumming on empty paint tubs, it all fades to muffled static in your ears. Your chest tightens. Not from the cigarette you’re dragging every last breath out of but from the sheer fact that his name had clawed its way back into broad daylight.

Stewy, of course, watches the reaction ripple through you. He’s too sharp not to notice the way your grip tightens, the way your breath skips again. He doesn’t say it outright. Not yet at least, because he doesn’t have to. Just the mention of Paul tossed out as casually as if he were commenting on the hors d’oeuvres upstairs, is enough to draw blood.

Stewy nods to himself, “He got a divorce not long ago y’know? Yeah, his wife posted a bunch of Facebook comments back in June accusing him of cheating on her. Piece of fucking shit, right?”

He delivers it with the same tone he might use to mention a stock dipping a few points, a passing comment so detached and emotionless that he really couldn’t give a shit but found it interesting enough to bring up. “The guy committed suicide last month.” He finally adds. “Bullet to the brain.”

You don’t flinch. You don’t even fucking move. Your silence is your armour, thick and deliberate like it has been since the incident happened. Stewy just watches, waiting for a reaction just to see you crack. To see if you’ll confirm his suspicions. But you give him nothing. Not grief, not pity, not relief. Just an empty fucking void.

Because really, you don’t give a shit if he lives or dies. If anything, it’s better he’s dead. In your eyes, it means he can’t abuse another woman. Good fucking riddance.

Stewy studies you like a man who just dropped a grenade and is fascinated to see if you’ll bleed. When you don’t, something flickers in his eyes. Not disappointment but not satisfaction either. It’s more or less out of curiosity, like he’s realising that maybe you’re stronger than he thought.

“Look, this is just speculation on my part but it seems to me that Waystar might have had something to do with it,” he suggests casually.

You scoff, “Are you insinuating Waystar had him killed?”

Stewy laughs, “No, no… I just think it’s a morbid fun fact. That everyone in that training program stayed in their boring mundane jobs except for the two of you. You moving to the big city, him having his life ruined to the point where he couldn’t live with himself… It’s just funny.”

The scoff tasted bitter on your tongue, but it’s easier than letting anything else slip. Easier to lean into sarcasm than admit the nausea curdling in your gut. Funny. That’s the word he chooses, tossing it out like a cocktail garnish. As if a man’s suicide, your corporate silence and Waystar’s ability to spin lifelong trauma into hush money is just another punchline in his stand up routine. And maybe it is. For Stewy, life is just one long comedy bit, where the stakes are only ever real when there’s cash attached.

But the way he frames it… With you and Paul being the two anomalies, lands heavier than you want it to. The others are still in their beige cubicles, clocking into work and living their same old routines day in and day out. You don’t give him the satisfaction of a proper reaction. If he’s waiting for outrage or guilt or some trembling confession, he’ll die out here on the sidewalk before you feed it to him. Instead, you ash out your cigarette and toss it into a nearby trash can.

Stewy turns on his heel to head back inside the hotel but stops, “Oh, and congrats on the new property. Real estate agent listed it at ten mil?” He says whistling. “Big price for such a small salary… Heard you paid for it in cash too.”

The words hit you like a punch in the back of the head which you didn’t see coming. Ten million paid in cash wasn’t a big deal to him or anyone in his social circle but for someone like you it was absurd. Your stomach twists because suddenly the careful walls you built around your secret feel dangerously thin. He knows. He has to know.

“Who’d you hear that from?” You ask, walking besides him into the hotel again.

Stewy’s smirk is effortless, almost lazy but underneath it is that razor sharp thrill he so desperately gets off on. You don’t need him to say the words out loud because the implication of him knowing just a few little morsels of truth is enough. He didn’t need to dig through your finances or threaten subpoenas to prove his point.

“Ken mentioned you bought a Brownstone in the Upper West Side, I checked what had sold recently and lo and behold, I happened to know the owner of your realtor agency.” He added.

The corner of your mouth twitches, part anxious disbelief, part unbridled fury. He’s leaning back slightly, hands in his pockets, casual posture like he’s just strolling through Central Park instead of rattling skeletons from your carefully locked closets.

"Solid detective skills there Nancy Drew, you wanna tell me why you're doing all of this digging?" You finally snarl at him, standing at the elevators next to him.

He smiles, amused, but still dangerous. “Call it curiosity. I just think Waystar got lucky with the senate only being aware of the cover ups in cruises that happened during the 90’s… Imagine if they found out it was still going on.”

“Yeah, imagine,” you nod, both stepping into the elevator and standing on opposite sides. He’s facing you, but you’re facing the doors. “I can paint that picture for you though. Waystar’s stock would plummet even further than it did before. Which means you’d be fucked with all the capital you invested. You know, by saving the firm from all that debt last year… What was it, four billion?”

His smirk deepens, just enough to let you know he’s enjoying this little sparring match. Finally, you’re hitting the ball back in his court. There’s a flicker in his eyes, maybe even a hint of respect that tells you he’s been waiting for this.

You’re trading spars with a master manipulator here, a man who makes deals with people’s ambitions and insecurities like currency, and right now, he’s thoroughly entertained by your counterstrike. He’s sizing you up, recalibrating, realising that you might not be just another upper middle class pawn with a meticulously polished resume. You’ve got bite. Wit. Tenacity. Teeth behind your carefully curated facade. And he’s majorly impressed by it.

“And this takeover you and Ken are trying to plan? You could kiss that dream goodbye because nobody, and I mean nobody, would trust you after the collapse of America’s biggest media conglomerate.” You add casually.

Stewy leans just slightly closer but keeps his casual, easy demeanour like a predator testing its prey without rushing in. “You think another little cruise scandal would hurt me that much?”

You turn towards him slowly and smile, “It’ll hurt your bank account that’s for sure. Probably your reputation and your career too. But it sure as shit will destroy Kendall more. VP of Operations during the time in question? Yikes… I’m sure his name would be all over the financial sign offs of any and all potential shadow log entries.”

Stewy’s smirk tightens just slightly, a micro adjustment that tells you he’s recalibrating his next ten moves. He’s assessing whether you be trusted to play in the big leagues, or simply collateral. The thrill of watching someone handle the messy, rotten truth with grace seems to ignite something in him. Pride? Maybe. Recognition? Definitely.

“And given you’ve been backing him so publicly to all of Waystar’s major shareholders? Fuck, they’re going to lose every skerrick of trust in you. Them, and the rest of the world’s major investors.”

You feel that rush of power he’s been so comfortably using against you. For once your knowledge, insight, and careful piecing together of what went wrong and who’s still hiding it, wasn’t just a weapon you hid in your back pocket. It’s a loaded gun and it was pointed directly at him. He knows you’re not bluffing and exactly how high the stakes are. For him, for Sandy, for Kendall, everyone.

The elevator doors open again. “My recommendation?” You say sweetly, “Brush this one under the rug like Waystar did. It’s in your best interest.”

As you headed out of the elevator, you couldn’t help but think about the leverage Stewy potentially had. But you also knew it wouldn’t be in his best interest to expose you like that. He wasn’t dumb enough to lose so much. Money, power, reputation. It would kill him just as much as it would kill you.

If you looked at the facts, Stewy had nothing. He might have had several dots that he connected through speculation and assumption, but to the average person those dots would seemed far fetched. If he had a piece of damning evidence however, whether it be a copy of the NDA or records of the lump sum of cash deposited into your accounts, you would be fucked.

You straighten your shoulders, walk down the hall and remind yourself that this whole game is about staying two steps ahead. Or at least, try to as you feel your heart begin to race again and tears pricking at your eyes. Quickly slipping into an empty meeting room you let yourself fall into one of the armchairs and let out an exhausted sigh. Deep and guttural from the pits of your fucking soul, verging on mental and emotional collapse.

You held your ground with Stewy back there, you knew that for certain. What you didn’t know, was what he would do next.

Roman strides down the hallway and almost does a cartoonish double take seeing you in his peripheral vision as he passes the room. Then, taking a few steps backwards to stand in the doorway he looks at you properly. Shoes off, legs tucked up to your chest in a plush hotel armchair and staring out the windows into the abyss.

“Hiding?” he says casually, as if it’s no big deal to see you looking like a forlorn widow waiting for her dead husband to return from war.

You force your mouth into something that could, perhaps in very forgiving lighting, be considered a smile. “Huh? Yeah, no, just taking a bit of a breather.”

He doesn’t move. He just lingers at the doorway with his arms crossed, staring at you. Reading your face. The silence lingers and you already know he’s thinking about whether to tease you for being a loner and leave, or try to prod his way into finding out why you were here in the first place. Roman has an unsettling knack for prying things out of people, he just didn’t know how to do it subtly.

“You’re missing out on a fuck tonne of drama upstairs, y’know. I almost told the President to blow me but I figured it would make his little Raisin heart implode.” He says with a grin, closing the door behind him and waltzing over to sit on the couch beside your chair.

Sit down, lay on, sprawl out across. Same thing for Roman. The man never sat in a chair normally.

“That’s kinda why I’m down here. It’s so intense… And the Logan thing? Fuck, that was… Weird.”

He tilts his head at you, studying your face with laser focus. “Your eyes are glassy,” he says completely deadpanned.

You maintain your best poker face, “Are they?”

He nods, “Mhm. And red.”

“I uh, I might have smoked a little bit of weed just to like, de-stress.”

It wasn’t a great lie but it was the best cover up you could think of to avoid telling the truth. You know, having to admit to him that you had been crying because then he’d ask why, and you’d have to come up with an even more convoluted lie to avoid telling the truth again. Pretending to have smoked a bit of pot was a much easier lie than getting emotions involved.

He’s not entirely convinced, but he’s intrigued enough to keep playing along just to see if you really are telling the truth or if you’ll crack yourself and give in. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, so don’t fucking tell anyone,” you threaten, pointing a finger towards him and narrowing your eyes. “That’s why I’m down here. I don’t want people upstairs grilling me for being high so I’m waiting it out a little.”

You glance up briefly to see he’s still watching you. It was a little unsettling but you were just glad he wasn’t questioning you still. He wasn’t jamming the silence with a bunch of words or insults or random sound effects he’d make whenever he was bored. He was actually letting you have your moment of peace, though you’d prefer it if he weren’t in the room at all. Mentally, you give yourself a pat on the back after realising that weed was kind of the perfect alibi for your glassy red eyes, shaky voice, weirdly anxious behaviour and going non-verbal.

Roman didn’t have the strongest of emotional skills, but one of his strengths was detecting weakness in other people. Maybe it’s because he had all the practice in the world looking in the mirror, who knows, but he can call bullshit one someone faster than anyone else you’d met. It was a fucking talent. He doesn’t always say it out loud either. You notice it in the way his eyebrow arches, how his lips twitch into a little smirk or how much he enjoyed letting the other person lie through their teeth just for him to reveal his cards at the very end.

He didn’t believe you for one fucking second and you could sense it. He clocked the way your chest rises a little too fast, and how your eyes dodge his eye contact here and there. He couldn’t smell any weed on you whatsoever, just the perfume you wore every day. He shifts to lie back against the arm rest of the sofa and nudges your ribs with the tip of his shoe.

“You gonna tell me what’s going on,” he drawls, eyebrows lifting, “Or are we gonna keep pretending like you’re high when you’re stone cold sober?”

You take in a deep breath to try and ground yourself but tears start to sting at the corner of your eyes. Before you can stop it, a tear rolls down your cheek and you swipe it away with your sleeve so fast it’s almost violent. As if erasing any trace of emotion might make it feel less real.

“I um, I don’t really wanna talk about it right now if that’s okay,” you manage, voice blunt but tight, the kind of tone that’s more like a barricade than statement.

Roman screws his face up and lets out a theatrical, whiny groan that bounces off the bland conference room walls. “Fuck, you’re actually upset, aren’t you?”

His words land somewhere between a complaint and realisation, like your emotions are now becoming a personal inconvenience he has to deal with now. You don’t bother answering, you just nod softly in response but it’s enough. He exhales sharply, like this is a burden being thrust upon him, though the way he fidgets says he’s more rattled than he’ll ever admit.

“I’m not good at this whole consoling thing,” he huffs, shifting against the sofa cushions restlessly like physical discomfort is the tax he has to pay for being exposed to human emotion. “But uh, you can hug me, if it’ll make you feel better.”

Such a quintessentially Roman offer. Half out of reluctance and half out of weird sincerity, yet dressed up in sarcasm. Though beneath the surface it really is him being genuine.

A shaky, teary laugh escapes your lips at his attempt at ‘consoling’ another human being. You shake your head slightly but then on impulse, you lean over and rest your head against his shoulder. It’s not a hug, but it’s good enough for the both of you. To be frank, hugging him whilst crying would have made you feel just as uncomfortable as it would have for him. The tension of the world around you seems to ever so slowly start melting away. For both of you. The shareholders, the Roy’s, the President, the fucking Stewy of it all. Things feel oddly simple around Roman, despite the two of you being anything but.

“Do you need me to like,” Roman says before swiping his thumb against his neck and making a sound to mimic someone’s throat being cut. “Get rid of anyone?”

You chuckle, knowing he was rich and powerful enough to probably hire a hitman without a trace but you shake your head gently. “Thanks, but no. No murders necessary.”

The two of you sit there, letting the muted chaos of the hotel and the shareholder circus bleed away for a moment, the tension lingering but quieter, the proximity somehow less suffocating than it should be.

You lean into Roman’s shoulder a little more and subconsciously bit at the inside of your cheek from nerves, “Do you think the DOJ is going to find anything bad?” The question slips out before you can stop it, almost embarrassed by how small and naive you sound. “Kendall and Stewy are kind of gunning for Waystar right now…”

Roman scoffs, shaking his head like the idea alone is laughably absurd. “The FBI raided us last week and they still have jack shit in their investigation,” he says, carrying that signature mix of sarcasm and bravado he uses to convince himself the world is under control.

You let out a quiet exhale, a mixture of relief and lingering tension. Roman’s not exactly reassuring, but his blunt reality check has a grounding effect on you nevertheless. It doesn’t quite soften the screaming voice inside your brain but it gives you a glimmer of hope that your world isn’t about to collapse and cave in any time soon.

“Besides, the DOJ will probably change once the new President gets sworn into office.” He shrugs, kind of bucking your head off his shoulder without thinking about it. “Luckily for us, we get to pick who that’s gonna be. As long as the rest of America decides to vote Red, we’re in the clear.”

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spicy-secret-sauce · 3 days ago

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𝕰𝖓𝖍𝖞𝖕𝖊𝖓 𝕶𝖎𝖓𝖐𝖙𝖔𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟝 𝕻𝖗𝖔𝖒𝖕𝖙𝖘

☙𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔨𝔱𝔬𝔟𝔢𝔯

여러분 안녕하세요! It's that time of year when ghosts, vampires, and my kinks come out. This is the first Kinktober for my blog, and I'm ambitious with 31 posts planned for October. I will let you know now that I reserve the right to drop any of these should I not finish them by their scheduled date. I'm about 1/5 of the way through the month, and it's very ambitious for me to assume I'll be able to do them all. If there are any particular prompts anyone is excited to see, then let me know and I'll try to prioritize getting those done!

☙𝔉𝔯𝔢𝔢 𝔘𝔰𝔢

And not the sexy kind ;), anyone is welcome to use my prompts! Feel free to adjust them as needed to fulfill all your bad desires. No credit needed (unless you feel like giving me a shout-out), just have fun with it! Please do tag me, though, so I can read all the fantastic things you write!

☙𝔑𝔬𝔱 𝔉𝔬𝔯 𝔐𝔦𝔫𝔬𝔯𝔰 (𝔬𝔯 𝔑𝔦𝔨𝔦)!

This page is not intended for minors. Going off of that same vein, Niki is of age, but I'm almost 24 and do not feel comfortable writing smut using the image of a 19-year-old! He will be included in the aftercare prompt, though, as I'm comfortable writing fluff. Finally, just a reminder that this is all fictional and does not represent the thoughts, feelings, beliefs, or actions of Enhypen's members in any way. All prompts will contain adequate warnings when posted as full content; some of these prompts will be heavier by nature. Please never take anything I write as anything more than a fantasy :)

☙ 𝔒𝔠𝔱. 1 - ℑ𝔤𝔫𝔬𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔖𝔞𝔣𝔢𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 - 𝔖𝔲𝔫𝔬𝔬

Sunoo didn’t mean to ignore you when you said it was too much. He just was so deep into it that he didn’t hear the safeword tumble from your lips amongst the gasps of pleasure.

"𝓣𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓯𝓾𝓬𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓱𝓸𝓽."

☙ 𝔒𝔠𝔱. 2 - 𝔒𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔲𝔩𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 - ℌ𝔢𝔢𝔰𝔢𝔲𝔫𝔤

Heeseung swore he wouldn’t edge you; in fact, he’d promised he’d be nice. But maybe he was a little too nice as he asked for more and more from you.

“𝓒𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓸𝓷, 𝓼𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽, 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓶𝓮.”

☙ 𝔒𝔠𝔱. 3 - 𝔒𝔯𝔤𝔞𝔰𝔪 𝔇𝔢𝔫𝔦𝔞𝔩 - 𝔍𝔲𝔫𝔤𝔴𝔬𝔫

Jungwon made you lie back in bed, his fingers buried deep inside of you, but every time you come close to the edge, he stops, caressing you and whispering sweet nothings to you until you’re pleading for release.

“𝓖𝓸𝓭, 𝔂𝓸𝓾’𝓻𝓮 𝓼𝓸 𝓬𝓾𝓽𝓮 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾’𝓻𝓮 𝓭𝓮𝓼𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓽𝓮 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓶𝓮 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼.”

☙ 𝔒𝔠𝔱. 4 - 𝔐𝔲𝔱𝔲𝔞𝔩 𝔐𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔟𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 - 𝔖𝔲𝔫𝔤𝔥𝔬𝔬𝔫

Sunghoon and you are working on a college project together at his apartment. As you return to his room after getting a glass of water, you can’t help but notice Sunghoon’s boner. After teasing him and encouraging him to deal with it, you find yourselves both getting yourselves off to the sight of each other.

“𝓣𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓼𝓮 𝓭𝓪𝓶𝓷 𝓹𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓼 𝓸𝓯𝓯 𝓪𝓵𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝔂, 𝓘 𝓷𝓮𝓮𝓭 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓰𝓮𝓽 𝓸𝓯𝓯 𝓽𝓸.”

☙ 𝔒𝔠𝔱. 5 - ℭ𝔲𝔪 𝔡𝔲𝔪𝔭𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯 - 𝔍𝔲𝔫𝔤𝔴𝔬𝔫 (𝔣𝔱 𝔍𝔞𝔶)

When Jungwon brought his best friend over and asked you for a threesome, you couldn’t have prepared yourself for the amount of cum you’d be practically swimming in by the time they were done.

“𝓢𝓽𝓪𝔂 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓪 𝓰𝓸𝓸𝓭 𝓰𝓲𝓻𝓵, 𝓘 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓲𝓷 𝓶𝓮. 𝓦𝓱𝔂 𝓭𝓸𝓷’𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓬𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓷 𝓙𝓪𝔂 𝓸𝓯𝓯 𝔀𝓱𝓲𝓵𝓮 𝓘’𝓶 𝓪𝓽 𝓲𝓽?”

☙ 𝔒𝔠𝔱. 6 - ℌ𝔢𝔞𝔱 & ℜ𝔲𝔱 - 𝔚𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔴𝔬𝔩𝔣!𝔍𝔞𝔨𝔢

Jake is feeling the full moon and finds himself deep in a rut. Reader, who works at a convenience store not far from Jake's place of residence, is feeling particularly horny due to her current ovulation cycle. The two find one another on the reader's walk home, and they find themselves relieving their urges in the woods.

“𝓘 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝓘 𝓭𝓸𝓷’𝓽 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝔂𝓸𝓾, 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝓽𝓸𝓷𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾’𝓻𝓮 𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓮.”

☙ 𝔒𝔠𝔱. 7 - 𝔖𝔬𝔪𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔦𝔞 - ℌ𝔢𝔢𝔰𝔢𝔲𝔫𝔤

You fell asleep on his chest while watching a movie. When you wake up, part of the way through him rubbing himself to your sleeping body, you can’t help but find yourself equal parts endeared and turned on by the way he looks at you.

“𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓴 𝓼𝓸 𝓱𝓸𝓽 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓼𝓵𝓮𝓮𝓹.”

☙ 𝔒𝔠𝔱. 8 - 𝔖𝔢𝔵 𝔓𝔬𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔫 - 𝔍𝔞𝔨𝔢 (𝔣𝔱 𝔖𝔲𝔫𝔬𝔬)

Jake and you are practically strangers, having only met in passing before. Still, when Jake's roommate and your friend, Sunoo, leaves his lab project on the kitchen counter and Jake knocks it over, neither of you could care less who the other is, only that both of you are feeling an insatiable hunger for one another like you had never experienced.

“𝓞𝓱 𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓽, 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓭𝓲𝓭 𝓢𝓾𝓷𝓸𝓸’𝓼 𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓼 𝓰𝓮𝓽 𝓼𝓸 𝓱𝓸𝓽?”

☙ 𝔒𝔠𝔱. 9 - ℭ𝔩𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔡 𝔖𝔢𝔵 - 𝔖𝔲𝔫𝔬𝔬

Sunoo doesn't feel comfortable getting undressed for sex in his college dorm room. What if Sunghoon walks in? That doesn't stop him from humping you until he's cum in his pants.

“𝓢𝓱𝓱𝓱, 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓲𝓯 𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓼 𝓾𝓼?”

☙ 𝔒𝔠𝔱. 10 - 𝔐𝔲𝔩𝔱𝔦𝔭𝔩𝔢 𝔒𝔯𝔤𝔞𝔰𝔪𝔰 - 𝔖𝔲𝔫𝔤𝔥𝔬𝔬𝔫

Your thighs were wet, coated with your own slick and your fiancé’s saliva as he trailed his tongue over you, collecting up as much of your slick as he could manage. Just as you settled from your last orgasm, he was on your clit once more, eliciting a chorus of whimpers and moans from you as he worked another orgasm out of you.

“𝓘 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓶𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓬𝓾𝓶 𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓪𝓰𝓪𝓲𝓷 𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻.”

☙ 𝔒𝔠𝔱. 11- 𝔉𝔯𝔢𝔢 𝔘𝔰𝔢 - 𝔍𝔞𝔶

You were playing a game on your Switch when Jay decided he was horny. Thus, of course, Jay encouraged you onto your stomach on the bed so that he could meet his desires while you fulfilled yours.

“𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓴𝓮𝓮𝓹 𝓭𝓸𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾’𝓻𝓮 𝓭𝓸𝓲𝓷𝓰, 𝓫𝓪𝓫𝓮, 𝓘’𝓵𝓵 𝓽𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓬𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓲𝓽.”

☙ 𝔒𝔠𝔱. 12- 𝔅𝔯𝔢𝔢𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤 - 𝔚𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔴𝔬𝔩𝔣!𝔍𝔲𝔫𝔤𝔴𝔬𝔫

Jungwon had chosen you as his mate a few months ago, and you both had been very careful in your sexual relationship, not feeling ready to be parents, but as he looked over you with a new hunger in his eyes, his hands pulling at your hips, you knew today was the day that would all change.

“𝓢𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓽𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰, 𝓘 𝓷𝓮𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓰𝓲𝓿𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓹𝓾𝓹𝓼.”

☙ 𝔒𝔠𝔱. 13 - ℭ𝔲𝔠𝔨𝔥𝔬𝔩𝔡 - ℌ𝔢𝔢𝔰𝔢𝔲𝔫𝔤 (𝔣𝔱 𝔖𝔲𝔫𝔬𝔬)

You had known for a while that Heeseung had started forming an appreciation for the art of cuckolding, the way his eyes churned with unspoken fantasies anytime you interacted with his friends, the way he found a way of hinting at sex just enough to bring his friends' eyes to you. So it was no surprise when he came to you begging to let his friend fuck you for him.

“𝓗𝓮𝔂, 𝓫𝓪𝓫𝔂, 𝔀𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓻𝔂 𝓵𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓶𝔂 𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭 𝓯𝓾𝓬𝓴 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓲𝓷 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓷𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓶𝓮?”

☙ 𝔒𝔠𝔱. 14 - 𝔇𝔯𝔲𝔫𝔨 𝔖𝔢𝔵 - 𝔍𝔞𝔨𝔢

You met at a bar by chance, both with friends, you started chatting, and before long, you had somehow found your way back to your apartment, fucking.

“𝓔𝓿𝓮𝓷 𝓲𝓯- 𝓲𝓯 𝓘 𝓭𝓸𝓷’𝓽 𝓻𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓶𝓫𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓸𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓻𝓸𝔀... 𝓭𝓪𝓶𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓯𝓮𝓮𝓵 𝓰𝓸𝓸𝓭.”

☙ 𝔒𝔠𝔱. 15 - 𝔑𝔬𝔫-𝔠𝔬𝔫 - ℌ𝔢𝔢𝔰𝔢𝔲𝔫𝔤

Life had been busy, with neither you nor your husband finding the time to be intimate. So when Heeseung showed up with pent-up sexual frustration and you turned him down once again, he couldn’t help but push you for more.

“𝓕𝓾𝓬𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓱𝓮𝓵𝓵, 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓵𝓮𝓽 𝓶𝓮 𝓯𝓾𝓬𝓴 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓪𝓵𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝔂.”

☙ 𝔒𝔠𝔱. 16 - 𝔖𝔢𝔫𝔰𝔬𝔯𝔶 𝔇𝔢𝔭𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔳𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 - 𝔖𝔲𝔫𝔤𝔥𝔬𝔬𝔫

When you got home from a long day at work, you wanted nothing more than to just zone out and doomscroll, but as your boyfriend Sunghoon insisted on showing you something he found online, suddenly, there was another kind of zen tugging at the edges of your mind.

“𝓛𝓮𝓽 𝓶𝓮 𝓽𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓬𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾; 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓭𝓸𝓷’𝓽 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓭𝓸 𝓪 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰.”

☙ 𝔒𝔠𝔱. 17 - 𝔗𝔥𝔯𝔢𝔢𝔰𝔬𝔪𝔢 - 𝔍𝔞𝔶 (𝔣𝔱 𝔍𝔲𝔫𝔤𝔴𝔬𝔫)

The sex life had been getting a little boring, so Jay suggested getting his best friend involved to spice things up a bit. Jungwon was pretty hot, so what did you have to lose?

“𝓦𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓲𝓯 𝓘 𝓬𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓮𝓭 𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓰𝔀𝓸𝓷? 𝓓𝓸 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓴 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔀𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓫𝓮 𝓯𝓾𝓷?”

☙ 𝔒𝔠𝔱. 18 - ℭ𝔬𝔠𝔨𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔤 - 𝔍𝔞𝔨𝔢 (𝔣𝔱 𝔖𝔲𝔫𝔤𝔥𝔬𝔬𝔫)

When you lay down on the couch with Jake, you hadn’t intended for things to end up like this; his cock was buried deep inside you while his roommate made dinner a few feet away, and you couldn’t be more grateful for the blanket that protected his unassuming roommate’s eyes from just how dirty the two of you were.

“𝓢𝓱𝓱, 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝔂 𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓵𝓵, 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓲𝓯 𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓪𝓽𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓼 𝓾𝓼?”

☙ 𝔒𝔠𝔱. 19 - 𝔉𝔞𝔠𝔢𝔰𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 - 𝔍𝔞𝔶

Jay had always been a little obsessed with your thighs; something about them was just so hot to him, so when he saw a video of a girl sitting on her boyfriend’s face, he knew exactly what he needed you to do that night.

“𝓑𝓪𝓫𝓮, 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓰𝓮𝓽 𝓱𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓽𝓸𝓷𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽, 𝓘 𝓯𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝔀𝓮 𝓷𝓮𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓻𝔂.”

☙ 𝔒𝔠𝔱. 20 - 𝔇𝔬𝔲𝔟𝔩𝔢 𝔓𝔢𝔫𝔢𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 - 𝔖𝔲𝔫𝔤𝔥𝔬𝔬𝔫 (𝔣𝔱 𝔖𝔲𝔫𝔬𝔬)

Sunghoon knew his roommate was home, and he knew his roommate was listening. Sunghoon also knew you had a fleeting crush on his roommate, so he knew when he proposed that his roommate join in on the fun, neither of you would say no.

“𝓞𝓱 𝓢𝓾𝓷𝓸𝓸, 𝓰𝓮𝓽 𝓲𝓷 𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓯𝓾𝓬𝓴 𝓶𝔂 𝓰𝓲𝓻𝓵𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭, 𝓷𝓸𝔀. 𝓘 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝔂𝓸𝓾’𝓻𝓮 𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰.”

☙ 𝔒𝔠𝔱. 21 - 𝔎𝔫𝔦𝔣𝔢 𝔓𝔩𝔞𝔶 - 𝔍𝔞𝔨𝔢

When Jake proposed bringing a knife into the bedroom, you were a little flabbergasted but intrigued. But as the cold metal traced over your body ever so slightly, you suddenly understood the appeal.

“𝓓𝓸𝓷’𝓽 𝓶𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓪 𝓶𝓾𝓼𝓬𝓵𝓮, 𝓼𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓽𝓼. 𝓘 𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓶𝓲𝓼𝓮 𝓲𝓽’𝓵𝓵 𝓫𝓮 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓽𝓱 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮.”

☙ 𝔒𝔠𝔱. 22 - ℜ𝔬𝔩𝔢-𝔭𝔩𝔞𝔶𝔦𝔫𝔤 - 𝔍𝔲𝔫𝔤𝔴𝔬𝔫

You had started getting a little bored with your fairly vanilla arrangement; missionary, riding him, rinse and repeat, so when a sex possitive influencer you followed posted on her story that she was trying some new roleplays with her husband, you knew exactly what you needed to do.

“𝓦𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓰𝓮𝓽 𝓱𝓸𝓶𝓮, 𝓱𝓸𝓷𝓮𝔂, 𝓘 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓮𝓪𝓬𝓱 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼.”

☙ 𝔒𝔠𝔱. 23 - 𝔅𝔢𝔤𝔤𝔦𝔫𝔤 - 𝔍𝔞𝔶

Jay had never had to ask for anything from you; you always seemed one step ahead of him, knew exactly what he wanted, sometimes even before he knew. So he was left bewildered when you dragged out foreplay, a grin across your face as he bucked into you desperately.

“𝓢𝓱𝓲𝓽, 𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮, 𝓫𝓪𝓫𝓮, 𝓘 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓵𝓵𝔂 𝓯𝓾𝓬𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓷𝓮𝓮𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓽𝓸 𝓯𝓾𝓬𝓴 𝓶𝓮 𝓻𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓷𝓸𝔀.”

☙ 𝔒𝔠𝔱. 24 - ℌ𝔞𝔱𝔢 𝔖𝔢𝔵 - ℌ𝔢𝔢𝔰𝔢𝔲𝔫𝔤

You couldn’t stand him, the way he stocked shelves wrong so that you would have to redo them, how he would stand off in the corner on his phone while you dealt with the line of customers. He was hot, though, which is why right now you were both locked in the supply closet with his cock buried in you.

“𝓨𝓸𝓾’𝓻𝓮 𝓼𝓾𝓬𝓱 𝓪 𝓰𝓸𝓸𝓭𝓲𝓮 𝓽𝔀𝓸-𝓼𝓱𝓸𝓮𝓼, 𝓵𝓮𝓽 𝓶𝓮 𝓯𝓾𝓬𝓴 𝓲𝓽 𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾.”

☙ 𝔒𝔠𝔱. 25 - 𝔈𝔵𝔥𝔦𝔟𝔦𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔦𝔰𝔪 - 𝔍𝔲𝔫𝔤𝔴𝔬𝔫

Everyone at this forsaken party was drunk, high, or on some sort of illicit drug, so was anyone really watching as your boyfriend pressed you against the wall, drilling his cock into you like another man was watching? Probably.

“𝓛𝓮𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓶 𝔀𝓪𝓽𝓬𝓱, 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝔂’𝓵𝓵 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝔂𝓸𝓾’𝓻𝓮 𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓮.”

☙ 𝔒𝔠𝔱. 26 - 𝔅𝔲𝔩𝔩𝔶 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔙𝔦𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔪 - 𝔖𝔲𝔫𝔬𝔬

His spiky black hair and amber eyes almost haunted you in your sleep, taunting you to no end. You weren’t quite sure how you ended up in this scenario, alone under the bleachers together after the football game had ended. There was nobody to help you as he pinned you down, years of tense chemistry crescendoing into a night you’d never forget.

“𝓘 𝓬𝓪𝓷’𝓽 𝓵𝓲𝓮, 𝔂𝓸𝓾’𝓻𝓮 𝓱𝓸𝓽 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓷 𝓲𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓽𝔂 𝓭𝓪𝓶𝓷 𝓹𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓽𝓲𝓬.”

☙ 𝔒𝔠𝔱. 27 - 𝔙𝔦𝔯𝔤𝔦𝔫𝔦𝔱𝔶 𝔏𝔬𝔰𝔰 - 𝔖𝔲𝔫𝔤𝔥𝔬𝔬𝔫

All the boyfriends you had before Sunghoon were too boyish and immature, but Sunghoon was different. The way he looked at you, the way he kissed you, felt special, so as you hung out together after a nice dinner date, you thought it was the right time to give him the honor of being your first.

“𝓓𝓸𝓷’𝓽 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓻𝔂, 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮, 𝓘’𝓵𝓵 𝓽𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓬𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾.”

☙ 𝔒𝔠𝔱. 28 - 𝔒𝔣𝔣𝔦𝔠𝔢 𝔖𝔢𝔵 - ℌ𝔢��𝔰𝔢𝔲𝔫𝔤

Your CEO was hot, and you had the misfortune of having known him long before he held that title. As his secretary, you were often stuck working late nights with him at the office, watching as your coworkers filtered out while he continued project after project. One night, when you asked him if you could leave early, he finally let his true feelings show.

“𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓴 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓬𝓪𝓷 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓲𝓷 𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝔀𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓭𝓻𝓲𝓿𝓮 𝓶𝓮 𝓬𝓻𝓪𝔃𝔂?”

☙ 𝔒𝔠𝔱. 29 - 𝔖𝔢𝔪𝔦-𝔭𝔲𝔟𝔩𝔦𝔠 𝔰𝔢𝔵 - 𝔍𝔞𝔶

Your boyfriend was so lovely, setting up a sunset picnic date on the beach in your hometown. As you lay together watching the stars and hands began to wander, you allowed yourself to forget where you were, lost entirely in the bliss of being with him.

“𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓸𝓷𝓵𝔂 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓫𝓮𝓪𝓾𝓽𝓲𝓯𝓾𝓵 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼 𝓲𝓼 𝔂𝓸𝓾.”

☙ 𝔒𝔠𝔱. 30 - 𝔄𝔠𝔠𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔞𝔩 𝔖𝔢𝔵 - 𝔖𝔲𝔫𝔬𝔬

You didn’t mean for things to end up how they were, but Sunoo was so pretty, and the way the cannabis in your system made each touch feel electric. It felt just right.

“𝓓𝓪𝓶𝓷, 𝓘’𝓶 𝓼𝓸 𝓱𝓸𝓻𝓷𝔂. 𝓦𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓲𝓯 𝔀𝓮 𝓯𝓾𝓬𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓻𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓷𝓸𝔀?”

☙ 𝔒𝔠𝔱. 31 - 𝔒𝔯𝔤𝔶 (𝔇𝔬𝔢𝔰 𝔑𝔬𝔱 ℑ𝔫𝔠𝔩𝔲𝔡𝔢 𝔑𝔦𝔨𝔦)

Desperate for some quick cash to get you through finals, you had thrown up an ad online offering yourself to whoever was willing to pay your price. What you hadn’t expected was for six friends to triple your rate, as long as you were willing to show up to their apartment and let them have their way with you.

“𝓚𝓷𝓸𝓬𝓴 𝓽𝓱𝓻𝓮𝓮 𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮𝓼, 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓰𝓮𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓸𝓸𝓻. 𝓑𝓮 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝔂, 𝔀𝓮’𝓵𝓵 𝓫𝓮 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝔂 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝔂𝓸𝓾.”

☙ 𝔑𝔬𝔳. 1- 𝔄𝔣𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔢 (𝔄𝔩𝔩 𝔐𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯𝔰)

Write a collection of short drabbles on how they would take care of you after intimacy. Include Niki because there will be no spicy content.

☙ 𝔍𝔞𝔡𝔢'𝔰 𝔉𝔦𝔫𝔞𝔩 𝔑𝔬𝔱𝔢𝔰

So! To have enough time to write all the things for Kinktober without wanting to delete myself from existence, I have two fics planned for September: a Jay pov JayXReaderXSunoo that I need to finish the spicy scene for and edit, hopefully it will be done by tomorrow. Then there is a Jungwon fic that I am planning to put up on the 20th of September. From there, it will be a mad dash to write as many of these as I can hahaha (kill me now).

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enha imagines #enha x reader #enhypen hard hours #enha smut #enhypen smut

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keeperskey · 1 day ago

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Of Monsters and Men

Chapter Nineteen (All Chapters Here)

Dom!Remmick x Fem!Reader

Chapter Summary:

Remmick struggles to support David's new vampiric lifestyle, even to the detriment of his own self.

Author's Notes:

Thank you to everyone who patiently waited for this chapter. I know it's been a bit. My one-shot Cat and Mouse took over my mind for a while. As always thank you for the love. ♡

Warnings: This fic is heavily NSFW, gory, and depraved. Please read warnings. 18+ only.

Tag List: @kurapikasslutw @just-jack-oconnell @cocochannelmoi @fiction-fantasy-folks @scrprints @jackoconnellarchives @mariayjws5 @lilidora

Remmick:

Twelve years passed, stuck in time, as David adjusted to his new vampiric lifestyle. He carried on as he used to but spent much more time by himself. It took him many years to adjust to his new hunger, the disgusting ache that constantly took over his every thought until he staved it. He refused to feed on humans, even on the rare occasion he found himself in town, around vulnerable ones that he could easily cover up the kill. He never allowed himself to touch another human. He was a skilled hunter before his turning, so, when his hunger became unbearable, he’d make his way deep into the woods surrounding his small home and hunt. His hunger was only unbearable some days, others, he didn’t need a meal at all. Those were the days he craved, when he could feel human again, not blood hungry and mad.

David was turned late, meaning he could go into the sun for short periods of time with no consequences. This suited his lifestyle well, as he was a man who tended to outside duties much more during the day. No pain, burns, agony even would hold him back from keeping himself busy, anything to keep from thinking of the hunger.

Those years were a nightmare not only for David, but also for Remmick.

The two shared one soul now, governed by Remmick. Normally, anyone he turned would become empty and he’d introduce them to his Hive Mind. But David was too stubborn and strong-willed to ever allow Remmick to take over his mind. So Remmick took over his body instead, ensuring he could carry on as human as possible and not feel the stabbing ache of being undead every moment of the day. Though, taking on David’s needs didn’t come without consequences. Remmick was being drained, having every ounce of life sucked from his own bones. David’s vampiric body could withstand the sun for only so long before he’d begin burning, even as a newer generation vampire. But Remmick used his resources himself to sustain David as he spent his days outside. He syphoned the need for blood from David as much as he could, causing David to only need to kill every couple of days. So, his mind could get relieved, he could think clearly and continue to do the things he loved. He felt when David got angry, lashing out at nearby objects as he accepted what he now was. He felt when David was lonely, sheltered in his cabin, never speaking to anyone. There was no way for Remmick to truly leave David, with their connection so strong.

There were many times in which Remmick wanted to leave Alabama and travel away and finally give David the space and peace he always wanted. But as soon as he began packing his things, he’d see the banjo sitting in his room and he’d stay.

It was a warm spring night when Remmick met her. Her name was Dolly, from across the Mississippi River. Strong-willed and stubborn, she never let any man take her out, no matter how often she was asked. Her skin was creamy white, peppered with orange freckles over her cheeks and down her shoulders. She was filled with southern charm, respectful to everyone, but also incredibly disrespectful to those who deserved it. She was always willing to help anyone in need, pulling out her raggedy overalls to bail hay, or put on her best dress to support the town with their yearly fairs. She spent most of her days assisting Melvin in his shop, adding feminine charm to the inside so it was much more welcoming.

Tonight, she stayed late at the shop, painting the porch outside a bright white color to accent the brown dilapidated panels covering the rest of the building. She hums a tune as she works, pausing only to wipe her brow or take a drink of beer that she had sitting in a six-pack on the steps.

Remmick sat on a bench, illuminated by a single streetlight overhead. He plucked at his banjo, legs crossed, enjoying the spring night. He liked to watch her, she was beautiful, and he loved beautiful things.

She had looked at him a few times, studied him and the music he made before she finally dropped her paintbrush in the can beside her and made her way over to the stranger. She took a seat right beside him with a heavy sigh, taking a swig of the beer she had in her hand.

“Ya often sit in darkness watchin’ ladies work while playing a ge’tar?” She asks him, her accent lay heavy in her throat.

“It’s a banjo, darlin’.” He plucks a few cords in a cheerful tune before looking at her. “N’I often love watching beauty at work.”

A manicured brow perks up, followed by the corner of her lips - she was amused. “I’ve never seen you around, where you live? I know everyone in the area, don’t see many new faces around these parts.”

Remmick lets out a soft laugh, perching his arm over the top of his instrument, and he slumps back in the bench. “I’m not a local,” he tells her. “And you don’t know everyone.”

She narrows her eyes at him, taking that as a challenge. “No? Now, that’s bold of you to assume. It’s a small area, and everyone in the area comes here to shop. I like makin’ friends, so I always introduce myself to everyone. So, pray tell, who are ya?”

Remmick doesn’t answer right away, but when he does, he doesn’t look to her. “A traveler. Just blowin’ through. You don’t know everyone.” He adds again.

She takes another slow sip of her beer, red lips wrapping around it delicately. Her face showed confusion as she thought of what he’d just told her, then she smiled. “You teasin’ me?”

He shakes his head, finally looking at her. Her eyes glisten from the light above them, full of life and happiness. She wore a soft, powdery floral perfume, which hit his heightened senses hard. She truly was a breath of fresh air in this stale old town.

“A friend of mine, an acquaintance really, could use some supplies from the store, if ya’d deliver them to him, he’d be mighty appreciative. He’s…a bit of a recluse. He lives a few miles out.”

“Really?” Her face was lit with that familiar brightness. “Well, give me a list of what he needs, and I’ll deliver em to him tomorrow.”

The following day, she kept her promise and packed up the few things Remmick said he needed. She drove her silver Chevy to his home that evening, parking it around the side before climbing out. She wore a nice pink dress pants, and a long-sleeved silk shirt, it tied together with a leather belt around her waist. Her green sunglasses reflected the evening sun as she made her way to the porch and knocked.

David rounded the side of the house, hand perched on a gun hooked to his side. He never got visitors and he had every intention of killing anyone who bothered him. But, when his eyes met the tiny woman standing on his porch with a bag of items, his back straightened.

When she catches sight of him, her bright red lips pull into a grin. “Ah, you must be David!” She hops down the stairs and makes her way over to him.

She was a good few feet shorter than he, tiny in her build compared to his wide frame. She was the sunshine, he was the darkness. He watched her with a hesitant look, brows pressed together as his eyes drifted over her. She glowed with positive energy, smelled like powder and spring, and washed over his senses with positivity.

“Now look at you,” She clicks her tongue at him, lifting a manicured hand to press his bangs from his eyes. He’s not taken care of himself since turning. He’s allowed his hair to grow long and unkempt on his head and around his face. He’s thinned out some, though he still was very bulky, not nearly as much as he had been before. His eyes hung low with exhaustion, dark circles painted on the skin under them.

“You need a shave,” she tells him, wrinkling her nose as she takes him in ahead of her. “And new clothes, a haircut maybe? When’s the last time you slept?”

He huffs out a breath from his nose. “Who are you?”

“Oh yes, name’s Dolly. I work at the ole general store in town with Melvin. A friend of yers told me you needed some things, so I brought ya some.” She holds up her bag, opening it for him.

He peers inside, looking over the items. “Friend?” He shakes his head once more, pushing the bag away. “Nah, I think ya got me mistaken for someone else. I ain’t got no friends.”

She laughs, it's sharp and loud, causing him to flinch. “Everyone’s gotta have a friend. And if you ain’t have one, then you will now.”

She ties off the bag and drops it at his feet, shoving her hands in her trouser pockets. “I’ll be back tomorrow. We will start on that beard of yours. I’ll bring my shaving cream.”

He opens his mouth to protest but she’s turned and walking back to her car before he can speak another word. She slips into the driver's seat, placing a hat over her braided hair.

“Expect me around eleven. I want lunch, I like sandwiches.” She beams a smile at him before she pulls away, leaving dust swirling after her tires.

He stands, planted in place – shocked. Twelve years and he hasn’t seen another body, now this beautiful woman is coming to his house?

“Dolly,” He mutters under his breath before he makes his way back into his house.

That was all it took, that one interaction. Dolly came by almost every day after that, determined to break David’s tough exterior. She helped tailor his beard, trim his hair back down around his head. She spent hours at his home cooking, gardening, and assisting with chores. No matter how much he begged her to leave him alone, she always came back with that same glowing smile on her face.

They shared their first kiss in the back field, surrounded by corn and moonlight. You were made five months after that.

Remmick was able to watch as they fell in love, watch as they laughed in the back yard, chasing each other with the hose, threatening ice-cold water against one another. He got to see him celebrate another birthday with her by his side, she baked him a cake that he had to fake enjoying. They spent every night wrapped in each other’s arms, though, the few nights he’d sneak off to feed – she never knew. Not until they sat together by the fire one night. She leaned back in his lap, his arms wrapped around her as he massaged her swelling belly. Seven months pregnant, you were growing healthy inside her. He was thrilled to meet you, you made him feel human again. You and her.

She asked him where he snuck off at night and he plainly answered that he was a vampire. She looked to him, studied his face before she sank back down into his arms, laughing.

“Okay, s’long as you ain’t cheating on me.” Was her response, they went back to cuddling after that and the conversation was never had again.

Remmick spent his time alone during this. At night he visited towns and small villages, killing and running as he went. For the most part, he left the people he killed to be on their own, destroying the families they’ve made, turning them as well. He left a trail of grief wherever he went, turning sweet small towns into bloodshed and depravity.

Syphoning David’s constant need to feed resulted in Remmick having to sustain himself much more often, which meant more feeding, killing, and bloodshed from himself.

He was hollowed out, becoming nothing but a shell of who he once was. His frame was malnourished, just sunken in bones wrapped in pale skin. His eyes were empty, limbs frail and hollow. No matter the meals he took, he continued to starve, taking on another person’s aching hunger as well as his own was incredibly painful. Instead of David feeling the effects of the sun, Remmick took that on as well. Burns scattered over his skin as a result. They wrapped his flesh in painful boils and raw bloody patches. He would do anything he could to keep David feeling the most human he could, he owed him that, even if it destroyed himself in the process.

Evan begged Remmick to let David go, to let him be his own person and learn from trial and error as all vampires must at some point in their lives, but Remmick couldn’t let go. He loved David and he loved you. He hadn’t met you, but he felt you. He knew you were the one and he would do anything to keep you and your family safe and protected.

His actions didn’t go on without consequences though, as the bodies piled up, suspicion and fear grew all over. Vampire hunters emerged from neighboring towns to hunt down the infestation of blood suckers now inhabiting the area. They chased them down, giving them agonizing slow deaths. In a matter of days, most hordes of vampires were eliminated, just by this small group of hunters.

They caught up to him one night, as he took a meal from a young man outside of a bar. He was unsure how he hadn’t heard them sneak up behind him, his senses must be ruined as his body shut down. A tall man, the head of the group, was thrilled to finally find Remmick.

“Ah, now this is the prize we’ve been lookin’ for. The originator, our long-lost friend. Ya lookin’ rough, buddy.” The chipper tone of the man startles Remmick from his meal.

The vampire looks to the hunter who’s shadowed by his group, just a lit cigarette perched on his lips – it lights up his bright green eyes. Remmick scrambled to his feet, even after taking a whole blood meal, sucking that poor boy dry, he still felt sick with hunger. It didn’t compare to the hunger in these men’s eyes, though. Remmick’s feet met the dirt before he could look any further at them and he darted in the direction of the forest in the distance. The men all prepare to run after him, but the lead hunter stops them, telling them he deserves some time to run before they catch up and bleed him dry. Remmick didn’t get far before they released their dogs on him, they sniffed him out in minutes and bit into his legs. One managed to wrap his jaws around his calf, sinking his teeth deep. When Remmick yanked his leg to be rid of the beast, the teeth ripped a chunk of flesh with them. The other grabbed his pant leg, shredding it, Remmick only stopped to kick the animal in the face, it whimpered as it fell over. He limped away, blood pouring from the chunk of flesh missing from his leg, it drug painfully under him, leaving an indent in the mud covering the forest floor.

The men howl behind him, carrying burning torches in their fists and shotguns over their shoulders. They taunt the vampire, whistling at him as they draw closer. He truly had no chance, not against six men and their dogs. This is the second time in his life he knew he was going to die, again, at the hands of the same vampire hunter. The sound of the gun firing met his ears before the hot bullet sliced through his shoulder, ripping through the bone, shattering it. He cried out, crumbling to the ground. The bullet wasn’t a silver one, but it still caused damage that wrecked his whole body with shocking pain.

The sounds in his ears were muffled now, bouncing around in his head but not quite reaching his ears. Normally, he’d fight back. One bite and a bullet wouldn’t stop him. But he was drained of nearly all his life. He had nothing to give to put up any sort of fight - he was nothing. No master vampire, no strong god, just a sick man. His eyes lifted to the sky above him, and rain clouds drifted overhead, threatening to break open. When they do, the cold rain bathes his burning skin with a soothing balm, sizzling on his open burns, causing them to smoke. His eyes melt back into his human ones; they flutter as the rain patters over his cheeks and against his lids.

Nothing else mattered in this moment, he didn’t feel his pain, didn’t hear the men as they approached, didn’t see anything in the distance. He simply bathed in the sensation of the rain, of the mud under his back. Shadows surround him and the men talk to one another, but he couldn’t make out the words being said. He was human again, his vampire self was gone, leaving him even more vulnerable to the hunters. A gun cocks in his left ear, it was loud in the silence of it all. He shut his eyes, praying to a god he never believed in, before his life was taken. But instead, the bullet rattled from the barrel and shot straight through one of the men standing over him, he crumbled at Remmick’s side, face blown into pieces. Shadowed in the distance was a man. He was tall and thick, wearing a black trench coat and a brimmed hat. He steps forward, boot heavy in the mud underneath, and he aims his shotgun at the men, standing straight and confident.

“Yer on my property,” David tells them, aiming his barrel at each, watching them steadily. “Ain’t nothing gets shot unless it's from this here gun of mine, n’right now it’s aimed at you boys. So, I suggest ya scatter before I smear ya business on the ground like yer friend.”

The men aim their guns at David, but he doesn’t waver. The brim of his hat dips low with rain as it begins to pour down, coating everyone in wet. Another man cocks his gun and goes to pull the trigger, but David has already pulled his, shooting the man through the chest. The man flies back, smashing into the ground behind him.

“Alright, alright big guy,” The leader says, holstering his gun back in his belt. “Let’s calm down with that gun-happy self of yours. Ya know what we are right? What he is?”

“Do you know what I am?” David cooly asks him, cocking his gun as he points it at the leader. “Pissed. Now get off my property before my bullet meets, ya skull.”

The man laughs, nodding once as he looks down at Remmick who pants on the ground. “He’s been killin’ whole towns and you wanna protect him? You have no idea how long he’s been slaughtering families and children. You wanna allow him to keep slaughtering people?”

“I won’t tell ya again,” He aims down, shooting one of the men in the foot. “Get off my property.”

The leader adjusts the hat on his head, blonde hair sticking to his forehead with the rain drenching it. “Alright,” He agrees, glancing down once at Remmick. “Though, if I see him or you again, I’m killin’ ya both.” He snorts, coughing up phlegm and spitting it at the vampire.

He calls his men off and they all fade into the trees in the surrounding forest, their dogs barking as they follow behind.

“We gotta stop meetin’ like this, boy.” Were the only words Remmick could make out before he was folded into the strong arms of David and carried back to his cabin.

#ofmonstersandmenfic #remmick #jack o'connell #fanfic #remmick sinners #jack oconnell #sinners remmick #sinners movie #sinners fandom #sinners film #sinners #remmick x y/n #remmick x you #remmick x reader

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shokoieirifest · 1 day ago

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I Was There Too: Shoko Ieiri Fest

This fest is aimed at fans of Shoko Ieiri who want to create more fanworks where she is appreciated. I welcome all headcanons, interpretations as long as they center Shoko and her character.

Key Dates:

Prompting Period: September 10th - September 17th Claiming Period: September 18th - September 25th Creation Period: September 25th - November 6th Fanworks Revealed: November 8th Authors/Artists Revealed November 13th

-> AO3 Collection

Rules are in the AO3 page and below the cut

FAQ

0) What does it mean "to appreciate" a character? Well, there is no straightforward answer to this. Every fan has their own vision and interpretation. For someone appreciation is a whump fic with no happy ending and for others it's a simple fluff piece in a meadow with sunflowers. I do not limit the interpretations, headcanons one can have for this fest. The more the merrier I think and our dear healer sure has many facets to explore. And selfishly that's why this fest is here. We don't have enough Shoko-centric works! We need moar!!

1) Is there a minimum or maximum word count for fics submitted to the fest? The minimum word count for fics is 1,000 words. There is no maximum word count. If your fic ends up being a multi-chapter story, you don't have to have all chapters completed before submitting to the fest. As long as the first chapter is completed, you can submit your WIPs!

2) Can I include other characters in the fanwork? Yes! As long as the focus is on Shoko's character.

3) Are not romantic relationship centric fanworks allowed? Yes!

4) Are there any restrictions as to what tropes are not allowed? No. All tropes are allowed no matter how dark or taboo.

5) Are crossovers, AUs, Fusions allowed? Yes, yes and yes.

6) Are OCs or Reader-insert fics allowed? Yes and yes.

7) Are there any restrictions as to what ships are allowed? No. All ships are allowed without any exceptions.

8) Are genderbends allowed? Friend, buddy, pal, the world is your oyster!

9) Can I sign-up for more than one prompt? You can however a caveat: you'll need to submit completed fic for your previous prompt to grab a new one.

10) Can I share that I'm creating something for this fest before the reveals? You're free to share that you work on this fest on socials but I ask you to keep the fic itself private.

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#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #shoko ieiri #jjk ieiri #jjk shoko #sugushoko #sashisu #satoshoko #shokohime #shokokuna #shoko x reader #shokoyuki #announcements

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gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan · 2 days ago

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Little Hope

Author's note: More of Imhoden and his bonded in Husbandry AU. Also- I remember reading from somewhere about Salamanders in Husbandry Au *stealing people* and getting away with it.

Summary: Imhoden learns the truth about his bonded human’s daughter, Hope, meets the fragile infant for the first time, and clashes with the Salamander who already shares a bond with her.

Warnings: Parental abandonment, infant medical complications, financial hardship, emotional distress, coercion regarding family bonds, tense confrontation. LMK if I need to add anything else.

tagged: @sleepyfan-blog @c-u-c-koo-4-40k @i-am-a-dragon34 @ms--lobotomy @jaghatai-khock @legionsofthehungry

tagged: @kit-williams @whorety-k @aprofessionaln00b @bleedingichorhearts @thevoidscreams @gra93fruit-blog

Tagged: @felinisnoctis @bispecsual, @egrets-not-regrets @finchly-tintinnabulation @nereidof40k

Imhoden had been learning his bonded human for weeks now. Each day revealed something new to puzzle over—small habits, strange phrases, quiet strengths. He was endlessly curious.

But one question gnawed at him more than any other.

Most baselines who worked and lived within a fortress-base were already Bonded to a Marine. For an unbonded human to do so freely was not merely unusual—it was almost unheard of.

So, during a rare moment when their breaks aligned, Imhoden finally asked. He crouched slightly to soften his towering presence, his words tumbling out in a halting rush.

“I have noticed something—that most baselines here are already Bonded to a Marine. It is… highly unusual for one unbonded to live and work in such a large base. So I wished to know—” he faltered, then stumbled forward, “you do not have to tell me, of course, but—how did you come to work here without a Bond?”

The reaction struck him like a spear to the gut.

His human seemed to wilt, his shoulders curling inward. His eyes darted, not toward escape, but toward the Salamanders across the hall. Fear, thin and sharp, edged his posture.

“I—” he began, voice thready. “You don’t have to—”

But then he drew in a shaky breath and cut himself off. “Let’s… go somewhere more private. And I’ll explain.”

Imhoden inclined his head solemnly. Unease coiled in his chest as they walked side by side down quieter halls, their footsteps swallowed by the hum of the base’s machinery. At last they reached a storage alcove—quiet, the air still, the walls muffling sound. His human stopped.

“I’ve… been meaning to tell you something.”

Imhoden bent slightly, softening his voice. “Oh?”

“I—” his hands twisted together, knuckles white, “I have a child. A baby girl. My little Hope.”

Imhoden blinked, startled, but held his silence.

“When she was born…” The man faltered, then pressed trembling fingers to his brow. “Her mother… After I held Hope for the first time, she told me she needed to check something with one of the doctors. I thought nothing of it. But an hour later, I found out she’d signed over custody to me. She abandoned us.”

The words fell raw, disbelief still clinging after all this time.

“I—I would have supported her,” he pressed on, voice cracking. “If she didn’t want to be a parent, I’d have understood. I supported her choice to carry our baby. But—” He dragged his hands down his face.

Imhoden’s chest tightened. He longed to reach out, but held still, letting him speak.

“She was born too early. Fragile. With health problems that will follow her all her life. The bills piled up. My hours were cut. I was drowning.”

“That is truly unfortunate,” Imhoden murmured.

A bitter laugh escaped him. “Yeah. Then the Salamanders came. Outreach program. Accredited childcare, sliding pay. I applied. And I got help. A Salamander was assigned as Hope’s caretaker. And things got better. For a while.”

His shoulders sagged. “But then… he Bonded with my baby. And suddenly, I was given a choice: go with him and stay in my daughter’s life, or never see her again.”

Imhoden growled before he could stop himself, lips pulling back in distaste. Such coercion… such theft of choice.

“So I went,” the man finished softly. “I noticed he’s been trying to find one of his brothers to Bond with me. When I bonded with you instead—” a flicker of humor broke through, “his reaction was… something. I laughed. He didn’t.”

Imhoden winced. “I am not surprised. My Legion has… a mixed reputation.”

A silence fell. His human stared at the floor, worn but unbroken. Resilience radiated from him like heat.

At last, Imhoden spoke again, gentle. “May I… meet your little Hope?”

The man looked up, startled. Slowly, his expression softened, a warmth breaking through the pain. “Yeah. I do want you to meet her.”

They walked to the residential wing together. Imhoden felt his pulse quicken—not from fear of battle, but from anticipation.

When the door slid open, the first thing he noticed was the quiet. The room was modest but lived-in: toys tucked into corners, a blanket draped over a chair, the faint scent of baby powder lingering in the air.

And there, in a cradle shaped with surprising care by massive hands, lay Hope.

She was tiny—so small it startled him. Fragile, her chest rising and falling in delicate rhythm, wisps of soft hair clinging to her forehead. Her breaths rasped faintly with effort, yet her little fingers curled with stubborn strength around her blanket.

Imhoden lowered himself carefully, massive frame filling the room, yet every motion deliberate, gentle.

Hope stirred, blinking open bright, wondering eyes. She peered at him, a questioning sound bubbling from her lips.

Something inside him shifted, hearts clenching with fierce, unexpected tenderness.

“She is…” His throat thickened. “…She is beautiful.”

His human, watching, nodded faintly. “She’s my everything.”

Imhoden extended a finger, pausing. Slowly, Hope’s tiny hand reached out and latched onto it. Her grip was impossibly small. Impossibly strong.

Imhoden bowed his head. “Little Hope,” he rumbled softly. “You are seen.”

His human’s eyes shone, shoulders finally easing.

But then the door hissed open.

The Salamander stepped in.

He filled the doorway—armor stripped down but presence no less imposing, the green of his Legion marking him unmistakably. His gaze fell immediately on Hope, then on the sight of her hand clutching Imhoden’s finger. His jaw tightened.

“You,” he growled, voice deep as grinding stone. “What are you doing here?”

Imhoden rose slowly to his full height, careful not to jostle Hope’s cradle. He stood tall but not aggressive, his voice calm. “I am meeting my bonded’s daughter.”

The Salamander’s eyes narrowed, flicking to the human. “You should have told me.”

The man stiffened, stepping instinctively closer to Imhoden. “I didn’t have to.” His voice shook, but he didn’t back down. “He deserves to know her. She deserves to know him.”

The Salamander’s nostrils flared, his massive hands flexing at his sides. His whole frame vibrated with restrained anger, not at the child—but at Imhoden.

Imhoden met his gaze steadily. “You care for her. That much is clear. But do not mistake care for ownership. She is not a prize. She is not leverage. She is Hope.”

A taut silence hung between them. The Salamander’s chest rose and fell heavily, his eyes burning.

At last, he rumbled, voice quieter but still edged: “If you harm her—”

“I would sooner die,” Imhoden interrupted, his tone unshakable.

Hope cooed suddenly, her tiny hand waving in the air as if to punctuate the oath. Both giants stilled, their gazes drawn to her. The Salamander’s expression softened—just slightly, a flicker of the tenderness that bound him to her.

Imhoden’s human stepped between them, voice trembling but firm. “This isn’t about either of you. It’s about her. She deserves to have all the family she can.”

Another silence. Then the Salamander exhaled sharply through his nose and gave a curt nod. “We will see.”

He turned his gaze to Imhoden once more—still wary, still hard—but no longer burning with outright fury.

Imhoden inclined his head in return. “We will see.”

And for a moment, the three of them—two towering warriors and one fragile infant—stood together in uneasy, fragile truce.

#warhammer 40k #warhammer #adeptus astartes #space marine husbandry sentience #space marine husbandry

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botslayer9000 · 2 months ago

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is there any possible way to brute-force vriska into positive character development

#WARNING: endless yapping in the tags #am trying to write a fic. am currently stuck on what to do with vriska #there's no sgrub but i want to keep the whole revenge cycle because its so compelling. yes i know it doesnt make sense without the game #constructs like doc scratch being present. my excuse is uhhhhh idc #in any case. as satisfying as it is for many (including myself) to see vriska get beat to shit by aradia in [s] make her pay it basically #does nothing but reinforce vriska's might makes right worldview #also she got tiger afterwards so like. no consequences really #she doesnt even hate aradia or anything afterward. she hated aradia for being boring and dead but was cool with her beating her up #i read a post recently that basically put it as vriska being unable to understand why her friends don't want to be friends with her anymore #after she kills and maims them because SHE is perfectly fine remaining friends with them after they kill and maim her #and i really wonder if part of it is because she never experienced permanent consequences for her actions? because of the way that fate was #supposed to swing for the purposes of sgrub and stable time loops and shit she ends up 1: getting robo replacement parts 2: god tier and 3:#dream bubble afterlife. and besides nobody in homestuck stays dead its a whole thing #and she doesn't even get to be shunned by her friends because theyre forced to work together to win sgrub #and this is how it all needs to be for the timeline to work out and all that #therefore in a world where there is no game and death is permanent would vriska end up feeling the brunt of her shitty actions and their #consequences more acutely? would being forced to undergo some of the shit she imposed on others (no matter the motive) give her some #perspective? walk a while in another's shoes and all that #i think that maybe if vriska experienced real consequences even if its just the whole loss of limbs thing that might change her character a #little bit #it might not fix her. but it might do something #maybe it pushes her even further into the mentality that has her fighting against the whole world to assert her status as the bestso she ca #comfortably sate her ego. maybe its the opposite. i really don't know. halp #(also im assuming for this situation that nothing meaningful has changed about alternia or the alternian empire and the system that these #kids live under. because its my fic and i get to choose the worldbuilding)#so tavros aradia terezi etc. situations alongside vriska's are even more precarious because the threat of culling is actually real and not #easily escaped when they enter the game. would that situation make her wisen up a little to the pain she put her friends through #or again just push her further into that good ol alternian might is right mentality #maybe it depends on whether spidermom is still around and still mentally abusing and eating children. can't discount spidermom #and the whole hemospectrum thing also makes it easier for higher bloods like vriska and terezi to survive life-altering injuries like the

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gutsby · 4 months ago

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High Risk

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: Your dad finds out.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected piv/a. Age gap. Daddy kink. Sneaky sex. Breeding kink. Anal. Use of various sex toys. Joel Miller eats it from the back like a gentleman should. Slight pain kink, but it’s consensual. Omitting one tag to avoid spoiling the ending—please read at your own risk!

Word count: 15.0k

Read on AO3

Joel Miller had the willpower of a sack of flour.

If you beckoned, he came. If you called, he answered.

No matter the hour of day, any time or place, that man would be there, no hesitation and no questions asked.

Hell, he might’ve had a couple qualms about fucking at a gas station off I-10 in the middle of the day, but his devotion to you quickly overpowered any better sense. He just unzipped his jeans in the front seat of his Bronco, let you climb across the center console and into his lap, and, parked directly next to a gas pump somewhere just shy of Webster, Texas, he let you ride him for six minutes.

That was all either one of you needed to get off. With his keys out of the ignition and the thin, frigid air of a winter’s day soaking straight through to your bones and his, you needed to move quick to keep warm. You buried your face into his neck and whimpered repeatedly, ‘Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,’ and Joel had no choice but to oblige, really. He stroked the back of your head with one of his big, warm palms and told you he was right here, ‘m always here, sweet pea. That helped you climax fast.

It also didn’t hurt that you’d nudged the hand cupping your ass to start touching somewhere lower, inside there

Joel’s fingers brushed through the wet, sticky glaze from where your bodies connected and started rubbing someplace new—at your request, of course—and his heart damn near burst out of his chest when you let out a wanton moan at the touch. His cock twitched, and your walls clenched around him when his index first petted that tight ring of muscles. You squirmed in his lap.

“Fuck me there, Joel. Push it in,” you whimpered.

At least half of that sentiment must have been the pre-climax talking, Joel reckoned, but he couldn’t deny that he felt equally enthralled by that spot. It was more just curiosity and mindless need, wondering what you’d feel like wrapped around him in that new place. His fingertip breached the tiny ring, and the two of you groaned into each other. It was mind-numbing. He might’ve plunged his digit in and out all of five times before you were both pushed over the edge. You came with a shuddering cry, and Joel filled the condom inside you in thick, hot spurts.

Joel’s vision blurred for a second with how hard he came

He was still blinking, still breathing like his ribcage might cave at any moment, and you were lifting off him gently.

A little squelch and a sigh from your lips were all that he heard over the rush in his skull. Absently, Joel plucked the rubber off and looked around for a tissue to put it in.

He’d just secured it, and was zipping up his pants to step out of the car and toss it in the trash, when he saw you turned, peering out the back window. He chucked the condom and returned to find you in the same position.

“We should try anal next,” you said simply.

Clinically.

Joel almost dropped his keys turning the Bronco back on

“Try w—” He choked on the last word and stumbled for the third and fourth, sputtering. “What do you mean?”

Finally, you shifted back to face the front, to face him, and a smile was playing at your lips. Your nose wrinkled.

“You don’t know what that means, Joel? Pretty sure the mechanics are about the same as any other type of fucking, just like…in my butt,” you said teasingly.

Like hell it was.

You were no more than forty-five minutes away from your destination in Galveston. Your dad was already at his timeshare down there and would be expecting you soon. Both of you had been a little off-kilter ever since the man had called out of the blue that morning and offered you, Tommy, and Maria the weekend getaway at his place, but still. This? Where the hell had you gotten an idea like that in your head, when the focus was supposed to be on laying low the next couple days? Keeping sex to its usual bounds, not doing anything risky near your dad.

You and him had a pretty bad track record in that.

All the same, trying anal at your dad’s beach house sounded more than just crazy. It was plainly absurd.

Joel was planning to tell his best friend that he was in love with you not too far in the future. How was that conversation likely to fare if the man happened to catch him with his dick in his daughter’s backdoor beforehand?

“I ain’t fuckin’ your ass,” he mumbled grumpily instead.

He turned on the car and cranked the tunes to drown out any protest from you—and to quiet his own wild musings

What if he could, just once?

Would you even like it?

Damn, it might not—

“You need COOOOOOOOLIN’, baby I’m not FOOOLIN’.”

Thank you, Robert Plant.

The song started playing, and he felt especially grateful.

Actually, Joel might need the entirety of Led Zeppelin’s discography to clear his head of the nonsense currently coursing through it. He gripped the wheel tighter in his fists and started out of the gas station parking lot then.

You drummed a mindless beat with your fingertips on your thigh. Your legs were crossed, and you occasionally flit looks over your shoulder. At what, Joel had no idea.

“Take a left on General Acacius Way,” you said casually.

“What?” Joel turned to you.

Your finger was already pointing in the direction you wanted him to take the car. Your shoulders were relaxed, and that mischievous glint in your eye was unmistakable.

“Left on that road, then there should be another parking lot just behind the auto shop. It’s right beside the…yeah.”

Yeah.

Joel turned the wheel to pull onto the nearest street, and suddenly, he saw it. Right across the intersection, no more than a stone’s throw away from where he sat, there was a storefront that nearly made his eyes pop out.

He never considered himself a prude before.

In fact, he’d always thought he was pretty adventurous when it came to sex and being open-minded about stuff.

But this was fucking nuts.

There, on the corner of General Acacius Way and Clint Avenue, he saw a store with flashing pink-and-white lights and an even bigger, gaudier neon sign hanging above them, blinding half the street and making sure that it was seen on even the brightest, sunniest of days:

‘Mandalorian Sex Emporium: This is the Way…to Pleasure’

You had to be fucking joking.

You weren’t joking.

You’d gotten the idea driving to Galveston—or, rather, seated on your boyfriend’s lap and having him finger you in a place he’d never done it before—and then ran with it.

Sprinted, more like.

Your life and Joel’s were rife with stressors and uncertainty and fucked up paternal concerns galore. You’d been thinking nonstop about your dad’s latest conversation with Joel and about the possibility of him finding out about your secret relationship, and it had nearly sent you spiraling. You needed a distraction.

Was it the wisest idea to have that distraction be Joel’s dick in your ass? Probably not. But there were certainly worse ways to be spending your time, and sitting around wondering why the hell your dad had never bothered to tell you that he might not be your biological father, or that Tommy fucking Miller might have been, was useless. You wouldn’t know a thing until you talked to him yourself—and that conversation would have to take place later. This weekend, probably. Presently, you were perusing an aisle full of water-based lubricants, smiling.

Joel wasn’t quite scowling, but he certainly had that look

Like a father himself, far from approving of this scheme.

“Y’think flavored is the way to go?” you asked casually.

You held bottles of Beskar Berry Blast and Coruscant Cotton Candy in either hand and held them up for the purpose of getting your old man’s opinion on them, but his eyes glazed over both. His gaze penetrated yours, and then it flitted down to what he held in his own hand.

His phone.

Also, he had on his reading glasses.

They sat perched atop the tip of his nose, and from that look alone, you knew whatever came next would be good

Joel cleared his throat.

“Sugary lubricants are much more likely to cause a bacterial imbalance—infection, even—and with the heightened risk of microtears in the anal cavity—”

“Jo-el.”

You groaned.

Joel didn’t blink.

“What? If you’re grown-up enough to want anal sex, you need to be able to say the words. I mean it, sweetheart…”

And with that, he straightened. His back audibly cracked. Though he didn’t wince, you could tell that he’d felt it, as his brows were furrowed returning his focus to his phone

He was even more serious than normal, you could tell. Swiftly, you sidled up next to him. You looked down.

In the search bar on Joel’s phone, you read:

How to do anal first time painless & safe

Peering up, you saw his lips were in a line. He was scrolling through results like this was of the utmost importance, and your heart clenched, realizing just how much he cared for your well-being. On top of that, you sensed there was more to his nerves than just the sex.

“We don’t…have to do it, Joel,” you told him softly. “Seriously, it’s OK if you’re uncomfortable. Or worried.”

That last word carried the weight of the sentence, and at length, Joel met your look. His shoulders sagged a little.

He pocketed his cell. Put his glasses in his breast pocket.

“No. I’m alright. Really. Just thinkin’ of stuff,” he replied.

“Like Dad?”

“Like him shovin’ a shotgun up my ass.”

And both of you smiled some, but it was tense. Strained.

That momentary relief of humor between you two was, by force of circumstance, dampened by some weightier considerations. Like maybe this detour was a bad way to distract, and you shouldn’t be seeking that out right now

Maybe sneaking around your dad was risky enough.

Hell, maybe even the truth about you two had to wait.

It was a thought born of fear, but an honest feeling all the same—and, seeming to sense this, Joel’s expression softened. Suddenly, his hand was reaching for yours.

“I’m not havin’ second thoughts about tellin’ him, if that’s what you’re wonderin’,” he resumed, eyes on you.

“We just need to…go slow,” you finished. Questioning.

The fingers threaded through yours squeezed them.

“If that’s what you need, then I’ll do it, sweetheart.”

Slow.

Steady.

Setting an even pace for everything to come.

You couldn’t help but see some parallels, to, well…this.

You set the flavored lubes aside. You took Joel’s advice—got some simple, no-frills stuff. It wasn’t about being in a rush, or needing this new, fun thing to be a diversion from the reality you were currently facing. You did it because you wanted to. Because Joel was open to it, too, and though he was being extra cautious, you knew it all stemmed from the love that he had for you. It always did.

You picked out toys. You had to bite back a smile seeing your old man take in the sight of some thick, ten-inch plastic shafts and whistle quietly to himself. He picked out vibrating panties he thought might be fun, and you got two different sets of plugs and beads. By the end of your little excursion, both of you were calmer and content. You strolled out of that Mand’alor sex shop feeling more at ease than you’d been for a good bit.

In the Bronco, back on the road and hitting the homestretch of your trip down to the beach, you did feel like a weight had been lifted. If not completely dissolved, your anxiety, at least, had seemed to take the backseat.

With Joel up front and occasionally squeezing your thigh, telling you just how excited he was to spend the weekend together, you wanted to forget your worries.

You wanted it to be you, Joel, and no one else for a while.

Tommy picked the worst goddamn times to show face.

It was either that he had the worst timing known to man, or he secretly relished catching his brother in the most compromising positions—like the one he was in now.

You and Joel had gotten to the house around noon, not long after you were expected to arrive. Your father was already gone when you got there, having shot a text to say he was looking at bike rentals and that he’d made reservations for lunch at a restaurant down the road—head on over in twenty minutes, and I’ll meet y’all there.

Naturally, with the code to unlock the front door and almost a half hour to spare, a quickie had been a must.

You’d gotten busy in the first guest bathroom you could find and washed off the sex toys you’d just bought, too.

It was incredible how fucking arousing the sight of a little silver plug with a jewel at its base could be to see inside you. After a few slow pumps of his fingers while he fucked you up against the sink in doggy, along with a dollop or two of lube, he’d worked it in you. He thumbed at the spot where your hole was stopped up and smiled.

Then his brother had barged into the house downstairs.

“Who’s ready for some fuckin’ gruuuuuub?!” he’d yelled.

That had been over an hour ago. Now you, him, Tommy, Maria, and your dad were all finishing up said grub at a little cafe on the beach. You were dining outdoors, and the sun was shining bright, but not oppressively. A gentle breeze blew. The food was so good Joel could’ve sworn that his eyes had rolled back in ecstasy twice.

You, too, were squirming—but for very different reasons.

Before you’d left, you put on the vibrating panties. Joel had the remote that controlled them, and he’d been turning it on and off, up and down, all at his leisure.

He wasn’t going crazy, though.

The two of you had agreed you needed to be careful this weekend and couldn’t take too many risks near his friend

But, then again, you were you, and Joel was Joel.

Of course, you’d be fucking around a little bit.

Your dad was calling for the check presently.

You’d just reached for your glass of sweet tea, now nearly empty, but the second the rim touched your lips, your grip slipped. For a beat, Joel thought you might drop it.

Shit.

Dial that down to a…four, maybe?

The settings went all the way to ten. Apparently shocking you out of nowhere with a six was enough to make your eyes bug out and a cough to push itself out of your chest

“You alright, kiddo?” Tommy asked beside you.

You coughed again and forced a smile.

You quickly nodded back at him.

“Fine. Just—fine.” And at the last, your gaze shot to Joel.

You fucker.

He deserved that.

Under the table, holding the remote to your panties, he notched the toy back down to two, just to be nice. You visibly relaxed and pried your eyes off of his, but not before narrowing them briefly. I’m watching you, Miller.

Joel hoped you’d do a lot more to him than that by the time he was done. Just when your dad reached for the bill being handed over by the waitress, he intercepted it.

He slid his card out and stuffed it inside the little folder.

“Meal’s on me,” Joel announced without ceremony.

His friend gave him an appreciative, if not slightly objecting look. He looked like he was about to protest the offer, when Joel tucked his wallet—along with your underwear’s remote—into his pocket. He handed the check back to the waitress and told her not to accept a penny from his friend. Your dad barked a laugh at that.

“Joel, you know I’m fine to—”

“Fucking shit.”

The words leapt through your gritted teeth before you could even think to stop them from coming, it looked like

Joel’s eyes were on you the same second you said them, and as soon as he did, he saw you grip the edge of the table. You blinked hard and coughed a third time. Loud.

He hadn’t even…

“Language, young lady,” your dad snapped. “What is it?”

He gave the same look Joel had seen his own father give him and Tommy countless times growing up—the kind that said we’re out in public, don’t be showin’ your ass.

It wasn’t really your fault, though, if Joel had to guess.

Shortly, he was feeling around for your remote.

Next to you, Maria had a hand on your back.

“You need some water? Here.”

And she offered you hers.

You shook your head vehemently, and shifted in your seat again. Cursed again, though bit your tongue with it.

“Motherfuckin’ piece’a—ah, ah.”

You clamped down at the last.

Was that a moan at the end?

Joel fished around his pocket even quicker. At the same time, your dad ditched his fork from trying to shovel in the last couple bites of his mahi-mahi and glared at you.

“Is there something you’d like to share, sweetheart?”

No the absolute fuck there isn’t.

Where is it, where is it, where is it?

Joel had just been holding it a second ago. His pants pockets weren’t that deep. If he could just grab it and—

“No!” you cried. Actually, it was more like a plea. Your expression pinched, and your fingernails dug into the table, and right as Joel got his hand on the little pink remote, you almost jumped sideways out of your chair.

Fortunately, the waitress arrived with the check again. She handed it to him, thanked them for stopping by, and while your father was momentarily distracted, Joel found the remote. He clicked the button and realized that it had been cranked to ten as his ass was crushing it under him.

Whether you were about to climax on the spot or bawl your fucking eyes out was anyone’s guess at that point.

Joel shut your undies off.

You let out a heaving sigh.

Your father eyed you incredulously. Frowning.

“Any other stunts you’d like to pull before we go biking?” he said, though it was clear he wasn’t expecting a reply.

You gave him one anyway.

Answering your dad but looking directly at Joel, you said:

“I don’t think I wanna come, actually. I’m too tired now.”

***

It was a wonder you hadn’t murdered him on the spot.

If looks could kill, yours just might have done him in.

Lunch had ended without event—well, as much as could be said for your father occasionally stealing looks your way and seeming to wonder whether you might not have gotten drunk during the meal—but still, you made it out. Of course, your dad had roped you, Joel, Tommy, and Maria into riding bikes that afternoon, despite your protests, and despite the fact that the man was still recovering from an injured femur. Your dad had agreed to ride an e-bike to minimize strain, and he’d seemed as cheerful as anything to get going. Joel felt your sidelong dirty looks the whole walk to the rental bike place, and though they weren’t the dirty looks he liked, he still managed to maintain a happy demeanor himself.

He’d even gone so far as to squeeze your elbow playfully and say, ‘Bet I’ll beat you in a race down the beach, kid.’

He did make sure it sounded as platonic and innuendo-less as possible, though. If there was any time to ensure you kept things G-rated and non-suspicious, now was it.

Evidently, you weren’t having it.

Still shaking from your almost-orgasm at lunch, and likely dreading having to sit on a bike an excruciating hour or three, it seemed you wanted nothing more than to make Joel’s life misery now—in a sweet, discreet way.

He should’ve known it when you first peeled off your shirt getting onto your bike, leaving you in nothing but a lime green string bikini top and your shorts. Technically, it had been Tommy who started the trend by claiming it was ‘hot as shit’ and proceeding to rip off his own tee, but Joel sensed from the look you gave him as soon as you shed yours too that you meant to torture him. If he’d had his fun with a vibrating pair of panties, you could do the same showing off your rack while you rode this bike.

And you did. You’d pulled up right beside him no more than ten seconds after your dad had started off down the path to lead the way, and you’d arched your back, pretending to stretch in your seat before setting off yourself. You’d made sure Joel saw your tits in all their full, heaving, teasing beauty, and then you’d leaned in.

“What do I get if I beat you down there, daddy?”

You’d said it quietly; Joel didn’t hesitate.

“Whatever the fuck you want, baby.”

He might’ve been in for an afternoon of torment, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t tempt you right back—he would get a moment alone with you one way or another today.

Still, as expected, the bike ride went on forever.

Joel’s balls ached, and it wasn’t just from the triangular-shaped, hard-as-shit seat underneath him. You rode beside him, in front of him, weaving back and forth with ease and showing him everything he couldn’t touch with his best friend no more than fifteen feet away from him. It was agony. And it didn’t improve when your group hopped off their bikes an hour later to stop for ice cream. If anything, the torture just took on a bittersweet tinge.

You were talking to your dad again. On the bike ride, along the boardwalk, at the ice cream shop—for what had seemed like the first time in ages, you were really speaking to your old man and seeming to enjoy yourself. Joel knew there was a lot more to be ironed out between you two, and that would come eventually, but for now, you got to relax. On top of this absurd, mind-numbing attraction he had for you, he also felt oddly content to watch you bond with your father like this, in front of him.

Joel hoped he wouldn’t be the reason it all went to shit.

You were licking cookies and cream ice cream off the side of your cone, then your wrist, where the milky substance had trickled down a little bit. Joel was fighting like hell not to make that sexual in his mind, but it was difficult when you’d sucked him off dozens and dozens of times before. Your dad laughed at something you said; he practically wheezed, and then he’d pinched your nose affectionately. You wrinkled it in response, still grinning.

Joel loved you.

He was seconds away from sporting a raging erection under his shorts, and he loved you more than anything.

He really didn’t want your relationship with him to be the reason why you lost your own with your father, and for a moment, Joel wondered if it might not be a good idea for the two of you to wait. Until you were a little older, out of college, maybe making some money of your own and able to decide for yourself if he was what you really—

“Sweetheart!”

That was your dad.

But it wasn’t for you.

It wasn’t spoken to you, but rather behind you, where the ice cream shop’s front door had jingled with a new arrival

It all happened faster than Joel could process it—your smile had been so big beaming back at your father, reminiscing on some old memories together, and then, as quickly as it had come, it was gone. Lost. Dropped off of your face completely the second you turned around.

His friend rose to his feet and went for a warm greeting; at the same time, Tommy’s eyebrows shot to his hairline.

Beside him, Maria’s did the same.

So he’d told her about Helen, then.

Your dad had just pulled the woman in for a quick hug and a peck on the cheek. Helen had smiled appreciatively at first, then a little sheepishly as her gaze darted over the four other people sitting at the table.

Your look was as deadened as Joel had ever seen it—leagues worse than when you’d been mad about the vibrating panty situation. Your whole demeanor had taken a nosedive, and your back straightened reflexively.

You lowered your ice cream cone and eyed them both.

“Maria, I don’t think you and Helen have been introdu—” your dad started to say, but even he, in all of his affable humor couldn’t ignore the way your chair scraped back.

You stood and tossed your cone in the trash.

Then, without saying another word, you left.

It wasn’t particularly dramatic, loud, or angry. In fact, your movements were as mechanical and unaffected as if you’d just felt a cool draft and wanted to take a step outside. It didn’t look like you were annoyed at anything.

You got the fuck out of there, though.

You discarded your frozen treat like it was nothing, and, without thinking, Joel did the same starting after you.

Dimly, he was aware of the bell over the door jingling a third time with his exit. He felt the sun on his face and a breeze through his hair as he followed in your wake. It seemed you’d considered your bike outside for all of one second before quickly diverting your path; you decided you’d walk. You did walk for several yards in front of him.

Joel called your name.

You were off at a fast clip, so he had to jog to catch up.

When he did—and that didn’t take long—he reached out.

You jerked your arm away: “I’m not doing this shit, Joel.”

“I know.”

Another step closer.

Another pass for your elbow.

You didn’t fight it at first, as you’d gotten better about trusting him in moments like these. You’d improved your general reaction to bad situations and had managed to leave the shop without causing a scene. Still, old habits died hard, and in a second, you were pulling away and starting off even faster—further from him, to the beach.

Speed-walking at this point, like you needed to blow off some steam and couldn’t do that anywhere but near a body of water. Joel watched you scrub at one of your eyes and could sense something brewing inside you.

“He knew,” you spat, words harsh several strides ahead. “Motherfucker knew what he was going to do, so he took me to my favorite ice cream place from when I was a kid, talks to me like we’re—we’re good again, then fuckin’—”

You reached the boardwalk leading to the beach. You curtailed your speech just long enough to take a quick, ragged breath, and then you climbed the wooden steps.

“He’s a fucking asshole,” you muttered.

Joel could only see your profile, but at least you’d slowed down. You were maybe four feet ahead, and you had your mouth in a tight line, like words were getting difficult to say. He knew that look. He knew tears weren’t far away.

“And we’re—FUCK!”

At the last, you’d nearly made it all the way to the sand but had gotten your shoe stuck on a crooked part of a plank walking up, and you stumbled. You fell down, hands instinctively flying out to catch yourself.

Joel’s did the same.

As soon as you went down, it seemed, he was right there with you on the ground. If he’d acted a second faster, he might’ve been able to prevent you from hitting the sand at all. Unfortunately, you’d been a little too far ahead of him to make a catch possible. He dropped to his knees beside you, and his hands were reaching again. Grasping.

Holding, and not being nudged off this time. You cursed.

“Fucking sh—” you started, going in for your knee.

“Baby, hey—hey.”

Fear must’ve flashed in his eyes, because the second you met it, you were blinking hard—expression softening the slightest bit in spite of the pain probably shooting up your leg just then. You pulled your knee to your chest, but you let Joel hold it, too. You let out a labored breath.

“You OK? Lemme—” Joel brushed some sand off your leg. “—lemme see it, sweetheart. Just let me see, OK?”

His words were as soft and placating as he could manage it; it was silly, really, since a couple seconds’ inspection of your knee revealed you’d suffered no more than a minuscule scrape from your fall. Still, he leaned in.

And as soon as he reached down for your ankle, checking to make sure you hadn’t twisted it or anything in the process, he heard another sigh. It was softer.

A little more strangled, too, by the sound of it.

“We’re doing the same thing, aren’t we?”

Your voice was small. On hearing it, Joel’s hands stilled in place, and his gaze flitted up to yours. His brow furrowed

“What?”

“Lying,” you said, somehow even quieter. Frowning, but not on account of any pain. “Hiding. Just…just like him.”

Now it was Joel’s turn to soften his expression looking at you—he couldn’t help it. Your face was mottled with a mix of warring thoughts, from anger to fear to shame, and it made his chest hurt. He hated seeing you hurt.

“No. We ain’t like him.” He shook his head.

Your dad destroyed his marriage and upended your life for a love he should’ve fought to keep or left in the past.

You didn’t know that. Joel had only learned the truth the night before, and the story was fraught with so many other deeply personal things, he didn’t think it was his place to share it with you himself. You’d have to hear it from your father when you talked to him, and he knew that that would be soon. You’d already learned part of it.

“We ain’t them, sweetheart. Nothin’ even close to that.” And as he said it, his hand lifted to your cheek. He cupped the side of your face and thumbed at it gently.

You sniffled. You looked like you might jump into his arms and demand a hug, which Joel was more than happy to give, but then you stopped. You had to, shortly.

More footsteps down the way. They thundered fast and loud down the creaky, sunwashed stretch of boardwalk and came clambering to where you and Joel crouched.

Joel’s hand jerked back.

He didn’t want it like that, but he had no choice. Your father’s voice was booming overhead, concern laced in every word as he approached at a lightning-quick pace.

“Honey! Hon—fuck—are you alright?”

Then he was at your side. Reaching for you in that same, urgent way Joel had, only Joel was helping you up. The two of you shared a final look before you turned to him.

You were already waving your father off, “I’m fine, Dad.”

“Did you trip? What happened? Is your ankle alright?”

At least a half-dozen emotions were all flickering over his face at once, like the man couldn’t pick which feeling to stick to, but each one was born of fear, Joel could see.

As a matter of fact, Joel never saw his friend’s features betray such bone-chilling concern than when he happened to be worrying over you. It showed again.

Your father was fretting and fawning for no reason at all—no matter how insistent you were that you just tripped, that’s it, now lay off, Dad, please. It was clear that your admonitions fell on deaf ears, one right after the next. You were persistent, but you got that from him, and he wouldn’t let it go until he’d held you steady in his hands and checked your legs and feet and told you, sweetie, you could’ve hurt yourself. What were you thinkin’?

Running off like that was what he meant, surely.

Joel had to force his gaze away when he saw how earnest your father was on those last couple words. He was stooped a little, bent to match your height, and his eyes were glistening with a paternal apprehension like he’d never seen. It almost seemed too much. Overdone.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

And he wasn’t talking about you taking a spill on the boardwalk anymore, suddenly. His expression softened.

True to your stubborn self—true to being his daughter—you just shook your head and sniffled once. Then you tried to nudge him away again, your movements wooden

“I don’t ca—”

“Can we talk?”

Another sniff. Another step away.

“I don’t wanna talk.” You sounded resolute.

Your dad was even more adamant: “Well, I wanna talk.”

And that made both you and Joel stiffen involuntarily. It wasn’t necessarily the words that he spoke but the way in which they were said; your father’s voice nearly broke.

“We need to talk, pumpkin.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK.

Something tugged at Joel’s chest that felt like a blade. Your father straightened and cast a look around, eyes scanning the sunny, colorful scenery like he was thinking, and then he quickly reverted his focus to you.

Joel wasn’t sure if his friend’s gaze had missed him on purpose, or if there were something more beneath it.

He was paranoid.

Insane.

“Five minutes. Then I’m going home,” you said coldly.

Whether you meant the house on the beach or the one back in Austin was anyone’s guess. Frankly, Joel was only aware of his surroundings in the vaguest, dullest sense, and the rest of his body was buzzing. He couldn’t stop blinking, fearing what was coming next for you both

A breath got lodged in his throat and he almost choked when your father turned his way, at length. He coughed.

“Miller, you—”

Fuck, this was it. The end.

Your father paused to cough, too, though this time, it looked natural. He appeared to be clearing his throat.

“—mind giving us a minute? Shouldn’t be too long.”

Oh.

“Sure thing, man.”

Shouldn’t be too long.

This was the last thought ringing through his skull as he turned to leave. He couldn’t bear to meet your look for longer than a second, for fear that your father might change his mind and suddenly out you both for fucking each other’s brains out these last three months. That would be horrific, and Joel wasn’t about to test his luck.

From what he could glean from your expression in the glimpse he got, you were feeling about the same as him.

Your voice was small—and growing more faint as he started to walk off from the way you two first came.

Down the boardwalk, haunting him all the way back:

“So what do we need to talk about, Dad?”

Your head hurt.

The talk ended up taking more than five minutes.

At the start of that conversation, you swore you’d tell your dad to fuck off and then head back to Austin before he could even utter the name ‘Helen,’ but here you were.

Staring blankly at a wall recalling every last minute detail of the exchange, hours later, and wondering what the fuck any of it meant. Freshly showered and splayed out over the front of a big, familiar frame and inhaling his scent. Laying with your head on his chest and your cheek growing hotter the longer it stayed in place.

You blinked and wanted to forget everything.

A hand stroked up and down your back, moving slowly.

“Your dad loves you, sweet pea. More’n anything.”

Joel murmured that into your hair, then kissed the crown of your head. Instead of giving you a good, warm feeling or making goosebumps break out across your skin, the gesture hardly registered. You could only stare harder at the wall beside the bed and recognize how numb you felt

“Even though I basically ruined his life,” you replied dully.

“Hey.”

Your head was nudged to turn up to Joel’s. Reluctantly, your chin came to rest on his chest, and at the same time, you felt two broad palms cup the sides of your face.

Joel’s eyes pierced you with a marked, solemn sincerity.

“Don’t say that,” he rasped.

“It’s true. I wrecked everything.”

“You didn’t wreck a single damn—”

“He doesn’t even know if I’m his daughter, Joel!”

Those words were spoken with an even harsher edge. Louder, like they needed to get out. You shifted a little.

“How the fuck am I not supposed to feel guilty when my being born was the only reason he chose to stay with my mom at all, and then it turns out, he might not even b—”

It was too ugly to say aloud. It was too foul, too shameful, too fucking gut-wrenching to think that your very existence was the reason for another’s unhappiness—and that that whole premise might’ve been built on a lie. Stupidly, you scrubbed at your cheek and pushed to sit, like the act and the new posturing might make the chances of you breaking down crying any less likely.

Joel sat up with you.

His arms wrapped around you, and you didn’t have the strength to push him off or tell him you were fine, really.

Shoulders sagging, you simply leaned in and buried your face in the crook of his neck. You let him hold you close.

“‘S’alright, sweet girl,” Joel cooed. Stroking your hair like he’d last done running his hand up and down your back. “He’s still your dad. You’ll always be his, no matter what.”

At that, the first crack in your exterior gave way.

You didn’t mean for it to happen, but a sob racked through you, and your body melted into Joel’s bigger one. Your numbness fled, and it left you feeling raw.

Needy.

Clinging to the old, heather gray shirt your boyfriend had on and hoping that your tears wouldn’t soak the material.

Carefully, Joel slid up the bed with you tucked snugly in his arms, and he leaned back into the headboard. He let you cry, probably because it felt appropriate, and also because he loved you more than words could express.

For some reason, that made you want to cry even harder.

Joel continued to stroke your hair and murmur sweet nothings in your ear, and the pit of unease in your stomach grew more and more painful as he did.

You fisted his shirt fully in one hand and wept. After some seconds or minutes passed, you could hardly decipher what had brought you to tears in the first place, but you knew what kept you there—what made you want to curl up in a ball and sob your eyes dry on the spot.

There were words sticking to your throat, begging to claw out, so in the next second, you ended up blurting:

“I don’t—I don’t wanna be like him, Joel.”

The sound was a little muffled against Joel’s neck, but it must’ve reached his ears all the same, because suddenly he was shifting the slightest bit and drawing back gently.

“Wh—”

“I don’t wanna lie like him. Keep…fucking things up.”

“Sweet pea, I promise you’re not—”

“I don’t wanna lose you.” And your voice was alarmingly steady, despite the tears you’d shed and the uncertainty you felt; you didn’t know how things would go with your dad, and neither did Joel. “I— I just love you so much.”

Hell, you might’ve heard his heart splinter at that.

You might’ve seen his throat work and his eyes glisten and the same feeling you’d expressed in words flood his features in a look—that he didn’t want to keep hiding this—but you also wouldn’t see it for long. Joel kissed you.

His lips crushed yours at first, the force of it so strong that it almost knocked you off balance. Sharp, gray stubble, parted lips, probing tongue, searching hands, and a rich, woodsy smell all overwhelmed you at once.

It wasn’t a question of if you kissed back but whether you could keep up, and you could feel it in every breath.

“I love you, baby,” Joel groaned against your lips, as if pained. “More than you know—I love you. I love you.”

This quiet refrain continued well into the kiss, as he laid you down and crawled over your frame. You melted beneath him. Your legs fastened themselves tightly about his hips, and you brought Joel in—welcoming him.

It wasn’t an altogether uncommon thing to be meeting each other with such urgency and need—in fact, these days, it seemed to be your favorite way to approach sex—but here, in your family beach house, on the brink of sharing something new and terrifying and unable to be walked back with your dad, you grew doubly restless. Your fingers threaded messily through his hair, and you tugged those soft, salt-and-pepper locks like your life depended on it. You opened your mouth wider and whimpered into the kiss; Joel ground himself into you.

“T—Tommy. And Maria?” you managed breathlessly, in between kisses and feeling Joel’s tongue explore every crevice of your mouth. Trying not to lose all your sense. You wanted to make sure the house was totally empty.

“Dinner. Probably—” And Joel had to stop himself just long enough to fight a chuckle, though a smirk remained. “Probably makin’ babies afterward, if I’d had to guess.”

“Yeah? That serious?”

“He plans on marryin’ her.”

“Never pegged him as the marrying kind.”

“Well, when you find the woman you want forever.”

As Joel said it, his gaze flitted from your lips to your eyes. You weren’t in a state to even attempt to decipher that look, so you didn’t. You leaned in and kissed him instead.

He tasted like wanting and something more. He moved his mouth over yours like his oxygen supply had come from your lips and tongue, and the rest of him was captive to your every other touch. You moved, and he followed. When you drew back to try and catch your breath, Joel swallowed and watched you just as closely.

“Dad should be out a few more hours,” you added, soft.

Joel didn’t speak, though his gaze trailed your body as you started peeling off clothes, beginning with your top.

He undressed quicker despite not being able to take his eyes off your body the whole time, and you felt need burrow even deeper inside you. The room got warmer.

The two of you were stripped down in a matter of seconds, and still, the temperatures seemed only to have increased and left you basking in a scorching heat. There was familiarity and ease, having done this so many times before, but nothing could ever really prepare you for when Joel spread your legs and slotted himself between them. There was his bare skin on yours, absurd amounts of warmth, and your head resting gently on a pillow, peering up at the man with wide and excited eyes.

Joel’s hand reached between your thighs, and your expression only brightened with the movement of it.

You canted your hips upward at just the right moment.

Joel sucked in a breath. Blinked hard, as if remembering.

“Honey…” His voice tapered off with just one, lone word.

You were glad he hadn’t completely forgotten, and you didn’t miss the way his length twitched against your hip. He liked what he felt, evidently. His fingertips had grazed the little jewel notched into your back entrance, and he was reminded, in no uncertain terms, that you wanted it.

You wanted him there.

Needed him, you hoped he knew.

Joel already had the pad of his thumb pressed up against it, and he was starting to stroke it. Considering.

“Want me to…keep this in while I fuck her?” He lifted his knuckles to brush the seam of your cunt—the ‘her’ in question, obviously—and when he did that, a shudder coursed through you. Your walls clenched around nothing, and more warmth trickled out of you.

All but blinded with desire, you still managed to get out:

“No. Want you to fuck me in there, Joel. Please.”

It was a borderline obscene request, but you didn’t care. He knew this was what you’d been wanting him to do, and so long as he was on board, you hoped it would happen. You ached to feel his cock someplace new. Claim you in a way he hadn’t gotten to do before.

When it seemed a warning might not be far from Joel’s tongue, you rejoined with equal warmth, even needier.

Lifting your hips again and digging your heels into the soft, white comforter beneath, saying, ‘Daddy, please.’

Joel was as good as sold hearing that, if you’d had to guess, but you went even further to seal the deal for yourself. Reaching down and touching the plug, pulling on it, gently, all while your gaze remained plastered on his. A soft whimper slipped past your lips when you did.

“Help me get it out, Joel. Wanna feel you—”

“Shit,” Joel panted. Shortly gritting his teeth.

At a glance, it seemed the man was primed to drop face-level with where you were currently playing with yourself. Maybe lick a stripe up your wet, aching slit and then tease the toy out with his fingers just like you wanted.

To your shock and dismay, Joel stood up from the bed.

Your body lurched with confusion at first; another whine might’ve escaped. Your mind was a wild and wanton place in that moment, filled to the brim with ideas of your father’s best friend having you any way he wanted. The thought that he might be planning to tease you now, or leave you hanging in this terrible, tireless deprivation altogether, was almost more than you could bear. You pushed to sit, eyes widening and lips about to protest.

Joel nudged you back down.

He turned and opened the top drawer of the nightstand.

Then, before another moment could clue you into what was going on or what Joel might be trying to do with the item he’d pulled out, you felt it: a hum between your legs.

A mechanical buzz and a palm pressing to your hip.

Joel ducked his head just in time to catch your lips in a kiss, soaking up the startled sound that had been quick to claw out. You couldn’t help it, of course—whenever Joel took a vibrator to your clit, you were putty under him

Joel also knew you loved the feeling, so he kept it there.

He kept his mouth pressed to yours through the initial shock of it, swallowing a moan or two, but then, almost as quick as he’d stunned you with the buzzing vibration, he pulled back. He waited until your eyes re-focused and your lips were trembling lightly, dying to whimper or groan or tell him, as best you could, that you needed him to push inside you, now, now, now, before he spoke.

“She’s already drippin’ for me, baby,” Joel said, near- mournful. Rolling the vibrator between forefinger and thumb and causing a shockwave of pleasure to course through you. Teasing up and down the slick, puffy seam. “So wet and needy, wantin’ to get stuffed full’a me. Be a real shame if I neglected my sweet girl now, wouldn’t it?”

It was true, your cunt needed him just as badly, and your walls were fluttering and aching with every twist of the vibrator’s tip on your sensitive little bundle of nerves.

Still, when Joel flipped you, sliding a pillow under your hips, you felt that urge for something more. Your back arched mindlessly, and you clutched the sheets tighter.

“Just—just give her a kiss,” you stuttered into the bed.

“Just a kiss?” Joel repeated, hands gripping your hips and lifting you toward him. If you’d had to guess, his face was hovering somewhere close, wearing a conceited grin

Then you knew that it was; his lips connected with your throbbing, glistening folds from behind, and his hold tightened. Sharp stubble—all mostly silver—tickled your thighs, and after that, a soft wet pop graced your ears.

Then a chuckle.

“How ‘bout a couple more?” he drawled out, teasing.

“Just fuck me, please.” You wriggled helplessly.

And you thought, as needy and visibly aroused as you were, Joel might oblige. He could extract that little jewel without issue, slick himself up with lube and plunge in. Simple as that. You arched your back again, higher now, and you begged him with every movement, every breath you were drawing in and exhaling, that you wanted this.

Joel kissed you again.

He pressed his lips to that shiny, wet place and sank in. Spread your cheeks with his hands, parted your folds with his tongue, and mapped the whole, weeping expanse of your cunt with that one, curious muscle.

Joel had gone down on you plenty of times before and every instance, without fail, had left you a writhing, whimpering mess—sometimes in a puddle of your making—but this was different. The feeling was new.

This sweet, gentle man was eating you from the back, and every muscle in your body was starting to contract.

Chin pressed firmly to the pillow and eyes staring, unblinking, at the headboard, you stuttered again:

“P—Please fuck me, Joel. Fuck me anywhere.”

“Anywhere?”

“Yes.”

“In the ass?”

At the same time, Joel pressed the still-buzzing vibrator to your clit again and started licking into your entrance.

“Yes!” you cried, fingers twisting the covers and squeezing. “Please—please fuck my ass, daddy.”

You sincerely hoped Tommy and Maria wouldn’t be home at all tonight. If your dad came home, well…you might cry

You were about to sob, feeling Joel’s tongue push an inch inside your needy cunt and start stroking gently.

“I—” Joel had to pull back after just a few licks to reply. “Can’t fuck you there til you’re good an’ ready, baby. Gonna hurt you if I don’t. ‘S’alot to fit. Needs prep.”

Fuck prep.

“I don’t care if it hurts,” you huffed defiantly.

Just as you started to curve your spine higher, a wordless invitation for him to go ahead and try it, please, a palm came to rest on the small of your back, gently.

“Sweet pea, I don’t wanna hurt you.”

Those words from Joel sounded serious. You turned your head to the side, eyes catching the soft brown irises awaiting you from behind, and you understood it.

You understood him, now leaning back on his heels.

This was a brand new frontier for you both. Not only being here, doing this, but preparing for something else. For a moment, you were transported back to your old troubles from before, and neither of you needed to articulate in words just what that was going to be, as it hung in the air between you with every breath, presently.

It felt like losing your virginity. Taking a new step. Although you knew that nothing would fundamentally change in what you and Joel had, it was still frightening. You turned around to find Joel still on his knees, thinking

Worrying what your father might say to him, probably.

“Come here,” you said, legs spreading wider.

You had ample support in the wall of pillows and cushions behind you, so when Joel crawled eagerly, and draped his body completely over you, you could hold him without struggling too much. You pulled him even closer.

And, with his head on your chest and your fingers combing affectionately through the black and gray strands, you did what felt most normal in the moment.

You told him you loved him, just like he’d told you before.

Joel’s body responded in kind, the way it always did.

It wasn’t lost on you that neither you nor Joel had ever been in a relationship serious enough to use those words, so whenever you said them now, they felt weightier. Particularly after spending so long trying to suppress those feelings, it seemed like you couldn’t get enough. Joel couldn’t control how much it affected him.

For one thing, he was hard as steel against your leg.

For another, his grip tightened protectively over your hip.

Instead of saying ‘I love you’ back immediately, he sat up and tilted his head to meet your gaze. Propped himself up on an elbow and adjusted his body between your legs.

Joel was warm. Broad. Muscular and thick through every inch of his frame, and his length was pulsing gently against your lower belly. His tip was probably leaking.

“Say that again.” It was an order, but nothing harsh.

You knew he was desperate to hear you, not merely asking you to obey, and, shortly, his hand lowered to his cock. He fisted it in a suffocating grip and squeezed it.

“Go on, sweet pea.”

“I love you, Joel.”

Then a tug on your shiny blue jewel. With his free hand, Joel gave it a pull, and he watched you squirm a little.

Still fisting his cock and starting to stroke, he said:

“Again.”

A beat. Another soft tug.

“Push when I pull on it, OK, baby?”

You nodded, not wanting to waste a second.

“OK. Joel…I-I love you so mu—oh.”

You were breathing in through your nose, bearing down like Joel had told you, and then, all at once, you felt a pop

“Don’t move, sweetheart. It’s OK.”

‘S’alright, darlin’, it’s just gonna feel a little different now, rang clear as anything through your ears, and you had to suck in a breath. Damn clueless and stupid as you felt, you hadn’t realized it would be so…weird coming out

Maybe it was best if you took this slow, like Joel said.

Before any real sting could settle in, though, something sticky and cool was being smeared between your legs.

You looked down and saw Joel using his thumb to stroke the raw, slightly stretched spot and soothe the muscle. His touch was tender and easy. Your heels dug a little deeper in the bed, there on either side of Joel’s body, and for a moment, you felt strangely, sorely exposed.

You were, after all, but that was what you wanted, right?

Another sharp breath rattled your chest—Joel’s thumb had notched inside, no deeper than a quarter-inch—and your feet slid reflexively again. Your legs tried to clamp.

Joel kept you open to him, thumb working in circles. Then, likely sensing your discomfort, he scooted closer.

His gaze flickered to find yours, and his look was soft.

“One word and we stop,” he said. “You got it?”

That voice was a little stern, trying to evoke some sense of austerity, but it was an altogether kind tone anyway—you knew Joel just wanted you to be completely safe.

You nodded.

Joel smiled.

“Now tell me again,” he murmured, eyes shining.

You’d nearly forgotten what the two of you had been doing just a few moments ago, but then it hit you. At the same time, while you opened your mouth to speak, one thick, lubricated finger replaced the thumb pressing in.

Joel’s index teased a little, then sank in an inch.

He withdrew, before plunging it back in gently.

Your muscles instinctively contracted around him, and while you did, as if from another reflex, you rushed out:

“I love you, Joel.”

And you did.

The man was eyeing you hungrily, but still with a reverence and a respect all the same. It pained him not to speak those three words back, but he was refraining from saying it so he could focus on working you open. He knew that as long as the anticipation was building, while you were aching to have more of him and growing more needy each second, he’d have an easier time at it.

Instead of talking immediately, he slid a pillow under your hips like he did before and drew close enough to where he could lay down beside you. He got more lube. He plumbed his finger in delicately, watching your face for any sign of discomfort or pain, and when you gradually relaxed into it, he grabbed the bottle of lubricant again.

Wet and slippery as everything was, you still couldn’t help but wince when Joel added a finger—his were thick.

No sooner had your features screwed up than Joel was kissing the top of your head, halting the motion of his digits momentarily, and then grabbing more lube. Again.

“This OK?” he murmured, coating his two fingers.

“I—I think. It’s just…tight,” you answered quietly.

Joel kissed you again, this time on your temple, and his index and middle fingers moved as slow as anything to work your entrance a little more. He was drenching it.

Lathering it with as much slick, artificial help as he could

“I know it’s hard, but try to relax. It’ll feel better that way.”

Joel had a perfect voice for coaching. He wasn’t pushy or gruff, agitated or in a hurry to get you someplace you weren’t quite ready to go. He let your body guide his touch, and he didn’t push for a third finger until you’d visibly gotten your bearings. When you were leaning in.

It started to feel good.

The push, the strain, the stretch. Joel’s never-ending words of encouragement as you fit him inside this narrow and unfamiliar channel. He kissed you more. Groaned into your skin. Said you were doing so fuckin’ good for him, and he couldn’t wait to make you feel better with his cock. You believed him. You wanted it.

And when, after several minutes, a third finger did make its way inside you and you really felt a stretch, you nearly bit clean through your bottom lip trying to stifle the moan that pushed out of your throat. Your head fell to Joel’s shoulder, and your breaths picked up a little more.

You weren’t even really aware when you said it, but then it came out of you all at once, face buried in Joel’s neck:

“Y-Y-You love me, too, right?”

It sounded uncharacteristically meek and almost pitiful to your ears—of course you knew he loved you, why ask?

But before you could chastise yourself, or even think twice about having said it, a warmth enveloped you.

Joel enveloped you, his free arm snaking down your side.

The big, muscular, protective and tender-hearted man with your pleasure in his hands nudged your cheek softly.

He wanted you to look up at him.

And when you did, your worries trickled away.

Or, at the very least, they took a backseat for the time being; Joel was meeting your gaze with the single most kind and loving look he might’ve ever imparted. Mixed in that expression was a tincture of guilt, you could see, like he was sorry not to have made this clearer to you sooner.

He blinked once, then resumed:

“As long as I live, sweet pea.”

And if that wasn’t enough, or else because he wanted to communicate it on your terms, with your needs in mind:

“As long as you’ll have me, and then some. I’m all yours.”

If three of Joel Miller’s fingers weren’t currently buried to the hilt inside you and stretching you wide open for him, you might’ve jumped the man. Hugged him. Squeezed him to your body as tight as you possibly could and assured him that you were his as much as he was yours and you’d never get tired of this, ever, you would have done that. Your eyes likely said as much, growing glossy.

Feeling a lump in your throat, you had only to turn into Joel’s body and try to get the words out, soft and hoarse.

“I love you, Joel. So much.”

Moving closer, though your bodies were practically flush with each other—but Joel didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, a grin just graced his features as he peered down at you. He pushed his nose to yours, and you grinned back.

“I love you more,” he said, not peeling his eyes away.

Before you could even try to reply, ‘Well, I love you most’ like some silly, lovesick puppy, Joel had you beat. He slipped his fingers out carefully from you and shifted in bed, to then overtake your frame and hover above it.

He dropped a kiss on your head, still smiling like an idiot.

“And I’ll love you most, ‘til my lungs give out, alright?”

“You better not be lyin’ to me.” You said it teasingly.

And Joel was just about to answer for himself when the sound of the front door swinging open downstairs interrupted you both. Noisy footsteps followed after, and in a second, you recognized the clamor as belonging to Joel’s brother and his girlfriend. Both were laughing.

The weight of Joel’s body pressed even heavier to yours.

He wasn’t stiff, for once, likely because you didn’t have to hide from those two anymore. And he’d locked the door.

“I ain’t lyin’, baby, swear on my life…” he went on softly.

Now his lips were at your ear, grazing your cheek, lowering toward the hinge of your jaw at a maddening pace. He didn’t seem to pay it any mind when Tommy and Maria went bounding up the stairs and retired directly into the bedroom next to his; he was busy.

You’d almost forgotten you were about to fuck.

With any luck, the couple next door wouldn’t be doing anything like it—or at least keeping their activities quiet.

“Get ready to hear some bullshit,” Joel supplied shortly. His face was buried in your neck, as if annoyed, but you could feel his smirk. “Probably makin’ babies right n—”

“So are we,” you hissed indignantly.

“Last I checked that can’t happen in your ass, sweeth—”

“Joel Miller.”

Technically, he was right.

“Less talking, more fucking, OK?” you added swiftly.

“Yes ma’am.”

Then he did.

It took more than a couple seconds for the levity and amusement of the moment to die down between you, but eventually, you both settled down. You got calmer.

You were reminded that the insides of your thighs and cheeks were completely smeared with lubrication, your walls were fairly well-stretched, and you were ready for it.

You were ready for Joel, and Joel was ready for you—or as close as he could possibly get while checking in to make sure that you really wanted to do this. He angled his cock and brushed the tip through your slick-drenched folds. Above you, his stomach muscles clenched, and you couldn’t help but admire the way his thick, soft middle looked in the glow of the lamplight. How the smooth and veiny member jutting out from a shock of dark curls looked absolutely delectable. Your bodies were almost connected, but not quite. He was hovering.

Gently, your legs beckoned Joel in. They spread wider.

Not even really knowing what you were doing or how you planned to fit all of this man from root to tip inside you, your gaze focused on the place Joel was lowering to.

The head of his cock nudged that tiny ring of muscles, and you sucked in a startled breath. You hadn’t meant to.

Next door, you could hear the Star Wars theme song—Tommy and Maria must’ve been watching the new Mandalorian movie, curled up snug in bed together.

Seeing your face, Joel hesitated. “Baby, we don’t hav—”

“I want to,” you said, breathlessly. Then you looked up. “Want you to have every part of me, even if…if it hurts.”

Joel didn’t seem too crazy about that last part, and he blinked back slowly. He braced a hand beside you on the pillow and used the other to grasp the base of his cock.

He leaned down to kiss your forehead again.

“I ain’t gonna hurt you,” he said softly.

You knew it wouldn’t be the easiest to keep that promise—at a minimum, discomfort seemed almost a given—but of course, Joel managed it remarkably. It was like he understood your body better than you ever had yourself.

The first push of his hips got him no more than half an inch, but the feeling was fine. He’d applied more lube, moved as slow as he possibly could, and grabbed your toy, which had been tossed to the side on the bed. He turned it back on, and, while notching in the head of his bare, slippery cock, he pressed it to your clit. You jolted more than a little at the buzzing—and you focused on it.

You weren’t even thinking of the stretch, as the sensation blended with the pleasurable vibrations between your legs, and you visibly relaxed. Your muscles softened.

Thanks to that, Joel was able to glide in another half inch, and his tip fit snugly inside you. It didn’t hurt.

In fact, it actually felt pretty…nice.

Tight.

Strange.

But also very, very right. Like you’d unlocked some secret bliss, and Joel was guiding you through it.

The buzzing struck you in just the right spot, and that only amplified the feeling as Joel pushed even further.

“See?” he murmured, voice the slightest bit strained. “Ain’t gonna hurt ya, sweet pea. Lean into that feeling.”

Another minuscule slide, another tight smile from Joel.

He was really trying not to go too fast, or cause pain.

“Just…relax f’me. Let me in,” he coaxed you gently.

You tried. And it almost felt like you were losing your virginity all over again, so odd and unfamiliar and new was this pushing, pulling, contracting, and tightening, the last of which couldn’t seem to have been helped.

You were giving him something in a way, though an uncharted physical boundary wasn’t all that it was.

Joel met your gaze, and he clearly felt it, too.

“I love you,” he said, nose brushing yours.

I love you, I love you, I love you, he seemed to say with every strange, painstaking inch. You accepted him, and you drew in a labored breath, lips parting to say it back.

“I lo—oh fuck.” Your words tapered off in a moan.

Joel was down to the hilt, completely sheathed.

Your muscles clenched one more time, and—

“Damn. Oh, shit. Fuck. Fuck, I-I love you.”

Your arms snaked around Joel’s neck, and you held on tight. You gripped him even tighter below, and your eyes trailed down, momentarily, to see how he’d made this fit.

Joel chuckled.

“Like how we look?”

“I love it,” you panted back. “I love having you here.”

And really, you’d never seen a sight more mind-numbing—whenever Joel was inside, balls deep and filling you up to the brim, you got lightheaded just watching him—and knowing how close you were, physically and emotionally, made it even better. Joel looked down with you and stroked the back of your neck. He helped tilt your head.

“Where?” he said. Teasing. “Where’s daddy, baby?”

And shit was he smug. Handsome as anything.

You knew just as well as him what kind of effect your words would have when next you told him, tone soft:

“In my ass. Feels—feels so good, daddy.”

Acknowledging the fact alone was enough to make your breath hitch, and Joel’s cock to twitch inside you as he let out a groan. He drew back, just an inch, and both of you grunted with the friction. You clung tighter to Joel.

“Fuck me now,” you begged him. “Please, daddy.”

Maybe you weren’t ready. Maybe you were still getting accustomed to the stretch and the sting and the weight of Joel Miller’s broad, warm body pressing into you then, but at that moment, you didn’t care for perfect timing. You didn’t need it to be ‘right’—you just wanted Joel a panting, groaning mess above you while he worked himself in and out of you, repeatedly. You wanted more.

“Gonna cum if I move too fast,” Joel confessed, sheepish

“That’s alright. I’m close, too.” And it was the truth.

“Yeah? Y’like gettin’ this ass fucked that much?”

Of course you did. Clearly, you liked it a lot.

You nodded your head, and you held onto Joel’s gaze. He didn’t waste another second drawing out, almost to the tip, then plunging back in. And again, again, and again.

You couldn’t lie—it burned a little. It felt like Joel’s girth was searing a hole inside you, stretching you tight and leaving you sore, over and over and over with his thrusts.

Still, you liked it.

You loved the pain in a way that wasn’t really hurtful—you just enjoyed how Joel’s cock was invading you, breaking you in and making you his like nobody had.

And Joel liked it, too. His movements seemed to have taken on a more possessive edge as he fucked you into the mattress, bed shaking with every punch of his hips.

“This all mine?” he mumbled against your lips, panting.

Another stroke. Another crash of wood to the wall.

“All yours,” you repeated back. Voice cracking.

Your legs were wound tight around Joel’s lower half, and true to how you two normally had sex, the eye contact was constant. Your faces were inches apart, and Joel’s expression was strained. He swallowed, watching you.

“Ain’t—ain’t nobody else for me but you, baby,” he said, while his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat and a fine dusting of gray stubble shifted with it. Muscles tensed.

You knew he wanted to say more. Then a door opened.

Thank fuck it wasn’t yours.

Still, you jumped.

You and Joel froze in place as the sound of footsteps echoed in the room directly beside yours—not Tommy and Maria’s, but your father’s bedroom on the other side. Time seemed to speed up and slow at once, and then the door that had opened in the other room slammed closed.

Through the wall, you could hear your dad groan.

Joel’s eyes met yours, and he blinked once.

‘Well…fuck’ that look seemed to say.

You hadn’t been expecting your father back for another hour at least. This, paired with the fact that the man was probably buzzed from whatever outing he’d taken with Helen and keen to stay up, made you nervous. Of course, you and Joel had been banging in secret for ages, but…

“Keep goin’.” It tumbled out of your mouth before you could stop it. Your heels dug deeper where they were planted, and the once-sharp stinging between your legs had ebbed to something more like a dull, tender throb.

Joel’s eyes shone above you.

Then, like he always loved saying: “Yes ma’am.”

He fucked you softer this time—most likely to keep the headboard from screaming—but with as much purpose. His thrusts succeeded at a steady rhythm, and his chest pressed closer to yours; his body weight draped over you

Your ankles locked behind his back, and you drew him even nearer, not wanting to miss one moment of this.

At the same time, a bed frame squeaked with someone’s weight dropping onto it. Again, it wasn’t your bed at all.

It was your dad’s.

He was in the room next door, and of course, his king-sized bed was pressed directly against the wall where Joel’s was positioned on the other side. Your father budged an inch, and you could hear it clear as day.

The walls were paper thin. What if that meant—

“Gotta be quiet,” Joel said through his teeth.

You were both so close to the edge that you were a mess of trembling limbs on the bed; Joel was panting, sweating, telling you over and over again how good you felt, how perfect you fit him, how nice it was going to be to feel you squeezing around him soon, and would you be able to control those pretty moans when you came?

“Gonna scream and let him hear? Have dear old dad come bargin’ in, see what I’m doin’ to his precious girl?”

Oh, fuck.

It was one of the worst things to imagine, you both knew. The thought of your dad catching you in the act, after everything you and Joel had done to keep this under wraps, well…it was nothing short of nightmare fuel.

As a matter of fact, it was horrifying.

It also pushed you both to the brink of climax, trying harder than anything to keep your sounds confined to strangled breaths, your movements to the quickest, quietest bursts, and your words no louder than whispers.

“What? Like finishing in my ass?” you taunted him, low.

Joel groaned. He probably shouldn’t have.

“Gonna let me, sweet pea?”

“Yes, daddy.”

Those two little words were all it took, for either of you.

It seemed like the sound of it was all you needed to hit your peak, and before you knew it, a coil was coming undone; a dam was breaking, and suddenly, shortly, a series of pulses and a rush of hot blood in your head was all you could feel. And then a wetness, spreading deep.

Shooting into the furthest recesses of your body while you fell apart beneath him, Joel’s heat was scorching and soft. It flooded your insides in thick, white ropes.

You wanted to scream with how good it felt. Joel’s expression above you was suffused with just as much pleasure—and pain, trying to contain it—and at the same time tiny dots started to flood your vision, the man’s words were a quiet, constant refrain for almost all of it.

“I love you, darlin’. Always, always gonna—”

“—love you,” you finished for him. “I love you, Joel.”

You might’ve said it fifteen times that night, and it still didn’t feel like it was enough. Your bodies were damp with sweat pressed together, and Joel’s eyes were flitting between yours, searching. In between breaths and lightly peppered kisses, you could tell that he was thinking hard.

You could hear your father cough in the next room over.

There was no better time to say it. As sore and satisfied as you were, as soft as Joel’s lips were grazing yours to soothe them, and as terrified as you both were for what was to come soon enough, the words just tumbled out.

“I’m ready to tell him, Joel,” you whispered.

A beat passed, and Joel blinked.

Then, slowly, a smile crept in.

“Y’mean it, sweetheart?”

“I mean it. Tomorrow.”

Mark never claimed to be a good father.

In fact, from the first moment he held you in his arms, on the day that you were born, he was almost certain he’d be the shittiest dad there ever was—holding a baby so perfect and sweet, how could he possibly deserve you?

He didn’t. Wouldn’t. Couldn’t, and still, he’d decided just as fast that that didn’t matter, because he would be trying his damn hardest to act like the kind of father you needed to have. You were his entire world, and he’d told you as much all throughout your childhood and beyond.

He should’ve seen Joel coming a mile away.

He hadn’t wanted to believe it the first time.

It might’ve been in a glance he’d caught this fall when Joel thought he wasn’t looking—watching you, and smiling so big that his cheeks probably hurt him a little after—and then the sound of his laughter around you.

It had been easy to chalk it up to superficial attraction, seeing as you were a beautiful young woman. Mark told himself that those kinds of feelings always faded in time.

Then they didn’t.

Mark could say your name aloud once, and you’d think someone had just told Joel he’d won the lottery; that was how his eyes would always light up. Of course, the man would quickly try and snuff it out the second his expression was set ablaze, but Mark caught it.

It might last an instant or five, but he always caught it.

Joel hadn’t batted an eye at the bachelorettes practically throwing themselves at him at the bar the other night. Hadn’t cast a look their way or even attempted to entertain their antics, all while nursing a drink and looking mad as shit. Mark had teased him. Told him he oughta get laid, chase a little tail—put himself out there.

Probably without meaning to, his best friend had given him a look like he was out of his fucking mind to say it.

It was in that moment that Mark realized he had a much bigger problem on his hands than the one he’d expected.

Joel didn’t just have a crush.

He was almost certainly infatuated.

What was worse, it wasn’t just attraction that had him.

What caused Joel’s face to flush each time your name was mentioned, his expression to flare with indignation at the mere idea of being with someone else, and his eyes to nearly pop out of his skull when Mark told him that Tommy might be his daughter’s biological father—complete bullshit, by the way—was what assured him beyond a shadow of a doubt that Joel Miller was guilty.

Mark had invited him down to the beach to confront him.

Then you’d taken a spill yesterday, and plans changed.

What was originally meant to be a showdown with Joel ended up being a heart-to-heart with you, telling the whole ugly truth about his relationship with your mother, Helen, and the very slight possibility that he wasn’t your father. Before that, though, Joel had rushed to your aid.

Out on the boardwalk, in the middle of a bright and sunny day, as if Mark needed another flashing neon sign telling him, ‘Your best friend is head over heels for your daughter,’ he found the two of you together: Joel crouched beside you, his eyes scanning you in a panic.

That look wasn’t far off from the one Mark had been wearing himself. It made him wonder even worse things.

Was he—

No, he couldn’t.

He didn’t even know you like that.

It couldn’t be that his daughter had reciprocated anyway.

You were a good girl, and there wasn’t a chance in a million years you had the faintest inkling about any of this nonsense—of that much, your father was certain.

Now, strolling down to the same beach in the same clothes he’d had on yesterday because he hadn’t been able to sleep, Mark was deep in thought. It was 7 A.M.

The sun had just begun its ascent in a sky painted tangerine and pink, and the breeze on his skin was soft.

Calming.

Mark knew he’d have to have one of the most soul-draining conversations that day, telling his best friend that his daughter was completely, unequivocally off-limits, and that he never stood a chance with her, ever, and still, he tried to stay optimistic. Tried telling himself that nothing too bad could happen in a place this pretty.

Idly, he scanned the horizon. His eyes roamed everyplace they could, watching the waves make their way to the shore and lap at the sand every other second, gently.

Nothing too bad.

Nothing too terrible.

Nothing a simple, straightforward conversation couldn’t be able to fix, and then things would go back to normal.

Mark’s gaze drifted to the shore. A couple stood at the water’s edge, huddled together, and presently, he took a sip from his travel mug. The coffee’s heat soothed him.

One day, his daughter would find someone her own age.

Someday, Mark hoped, Joel would find his person, too.

His attention shifted from directly in front of him to the tumbler in his hand, and only vaguely was he aware of some far-distant splashing. He read what his mug said.

Emblazoned on the side, in letters a bright yellow shade:

WORLD’S

BEST

DADDY

You’d gotten him that in first or second grade for Father’s Day, if he was remembering correctly. Mark smiled at the memory, recalling how pleased you’d looked handing it over to him. Two gaping holes between your front teeth, grinning like he was the single most important person in the world and your hero, for life.

He’d keep trying to be that guy for you.

No matter what happened, he always would.

Just as old memories began to fade, his gaze lifted.

Still smiling, still reminiscing and trying his best not to worry too much about what was in store for him that day, Mark fixed his focus on the beach out front, and to the happy, laughing couple now chasing each other down it.

The girl stumbled; the guy snapped her up in his arms.

“Daddy, stop!” the former shrieked, giggling.

Then Mark’s face drained of all its blood.

“Daddy, pleeeeease!” you begged for mercy.

There wasn’t a chance you were getting out of this.

You’d defaulted to using your most cloying, affectionate voice with Joel in the hopes of making it out of his grip and not ending up in the ocean, but that seemed unlikely

Impossible, really, as Joel squeezed you tighter to his chest and started stalking toward the water’s edge where waves were hitting the sand and your worst fears were being realized. You squirmed harder in his arms and kicked your feet like you were being dragged to the chair.

“You asked for this, sweet pea,” Joel chuckled softly.

In point of fact, you had. You’d asked him to take you swimming at 7 A.M., just after the sun had started to rise, but on the journey over, you’d changed your mind.

It was chilly as shit, and the water looked uninviting.

You’d thought a quick dip—possibly naked—could’ve been a fun little sidebar in an otherwise nerve-wracking day for you and Joel, but now you just wanted to be back in bed. Under the covers, kissing each other, grinning like two lovesick fools as you planned for the future, maybe…

“Let me go!” you wheezed. “I’ll—I’ll do anything.”

Joel had just made it into the water up to his knees. He was cradling you in his arms, smiling as he peered down.

“Anything?” he repeated.

“Anything!”

In a moment when some dirtier thoughts might’ve been starting to take shape in Joel’s mind, you decided to capitalize on the opportunity: you jumped up. Out.

While Joel was momentarily distracted, you got away from his hold and went stumbling toward the water. Narrowly, you kept your body upright and grinned.

Then, like a crazy person, you dropped to your knees.

It was meant to be a joke, obviously—waves rushing almost to your hips at this depth and a surge of murky, ice-cold ocean water all but chilling you down to the bone—and Joel laughed. He tried not to trip when you yanked him by the swim trunks and tugged his groin closer to your face, and then you were going to stand.

You were freezing your ass off, but you couldn’t resist giving Joel one, teasing wink as you looked up at him.

“I’ll suck your dick right here, real quick, if you—”

“MILLER!”

One word pierced the cool, windy climate like a blade.

What was once quiet and easy all at once became a cacophony in a single sound—your head jerked to it.

Your hands and feet flailed to get you standing back up.

Joel almost fell backward trying to make some space from where you’d just been kneeling in front of him, pretending to blow him at the worst possible moment.

You hadn’t seen it at the time, but now you did.

Your dad was standing on the shoreline, aghast.

No more than ten feet away on the hard-packed sand and staring on in horror, he remained there, motionless. While you regained your bearings and Joel shifted on his feet, probably trying to hide the boner poking up through his swim trunks, it seemed as if your father would never speak. He was so still, eyes wide and jaw hanging slack.

Then the scene changed faster than you could blink.

Your father was a blur of blue and gray, still wearing the jeans and t-shirt he had on the day before, and Joel was stationary. Shirtless. Entirely unprepared for when the former sped forward and, like something out of a nightmare, went for his neck with one, hard hit.

A stainless steel tumbler in the other hand made for an easy weapon; you recognized the shape of it immediately

Just as that travel mug struck the side of Joel’s skull and gave an audible crack, you saw the words fly by in a haze

WORLD’S

BEST

DADDY

“DADDY!” you screeched as the old, weathered steel came down on Joel’s head a fourth time, unforgiving.

Joel was cowered in the water on his hands and knees, having been knocked off balance with the third full hit, but he wasn’t moving away. Wasn’t fighting his assailant.

As a wave rolled over his frame and soaked his back and shoulders, you saw him lift a hand, and it was trembling.

Not venturing to fend off the blows to his face but rather making a plea of a kind, Joel tilted his head to his friend.

The shock that had had you paralyzed up until that point snapped then. Before you knew what you were doing, you were trudging over in the water, motions graceless.

Your father raised the mug again, and your vision blurred.

You didn’t sound like yourself, screaming: “Stop! Stop!”

The words hardly felt like yours at all, or seemed to have been heard. Your dad did drop the tumbler, but only to yank Joel up by the back of his head and stand over him, threading fingers through wet locks of salt-and-pepper and pulling hard. You saw Joel wince, and at the same time, you realized you were seeing his face on full display

Still crouched down in that frigid ocean, face no higher than a half-foot over the water’s surface, Joel was forced to turn his head to your dad, and the whole left side of it was streaked with blood. Saltwater splashed over his face and seemingly blinded him. The mug must’ve struck Joel right near the temple and torn the skin, because the whole length of his cheek was bleeding.

His head was hardly up for a moment before it was shoved back down, under the water, with brutal force.

This time, you grabbed your dad. Sank nails into his arm.

“Daddy, please. Please don’t hurt him, pl—” you started.

“My fucking daughter?!” your father roared over you.

Joel’s head might’ve been under for a second before it was jerked back up, and you saw him spitting up water.

Your dad was asking a question. It came again.

“My fucking daughter, you fucking—”

And the last part cut out, swiftly.

Joel’s head went under again, and simultaneously, you shoved as hard as you could to get your father off of him.

For a second, you did.

Joel’s head was released, and he resurfaced.

Your father took a hard breath and gritted his teeth.

And, just when you thought he might be reconsidering, or else slowing his attack, he went right back. He lunged for Joel and forced him under the water again, and every nerve-ending in your body seized with fear. Instincts kicked in, and you were about to reach over toward your father in a more demanding push. Maybe yank his shirt, shove him hard, tell him this isn’t Joel’s fault, let him—

“Go,” your dad snarled, pulling Joel back again. “Tell me.”

You expected another hit; maybe a kick to the head.

Instead, your father stunned you then, shouting:

“Are—are you fuckin’ in love with her, Joel?!”

It should’ve been low. Harsh. Threatening. And it was all those things, but underneath it, for the first time, you heard hurt commingled with it. Your dad’s grip tightened in the hair at the nape of Joel’s neck, and he bent down closer. He brought his face within a foot of his friend’s.

Joel, for the first time since he’d been hit, didn’t hesitate.

“I love her.”

As fast as he’d asked, your father kneed him in the face.

Joel’s head jerked back with the force, and at the same time, blood spurted from both nostrils. He blinked hard.

You wanted to strike the man standing over him even harder, and presently, you tried. You stepped up to your dad, about to take hold of his arm and yank it back, when suddenly, sharply, he turned to you. His eyes were ablaze

“And you?” he hissed.

He grabbed Joel again.

You didn’t have to think.

“I love him, daddy, I love him.”

Your father shoved Joel under a fourth time, as if punishing him for your response. Your stomach lurched.

And, in much the same way sheer impulse had guided your last answer, your body moved without considering itself. Your limbs moved of their own volition, and not thinking, it moved closer—this time, not to your father.

You dropped beside Joel.

He resurfaced a second later, sputtering for air.

His face was mottled with blood. Even with a near constant surge of water and being submerged every other instant, the bleeding was profuse. He kept blinking.

And, thanks to all the hits he’d taken, he hardly seemed to see the world in front of him at all. He coughed again.

More blood.

More blinking.

Scarcely conscious at all, he inched closer to you.

Over the lapping of waves, your pulse thudding in your ears, and sobs racking through your chest, you couldn’t hear much at all. Still, you saw his lips move limply then.

“‘M’sorry—”

The sound stopped and started with a strangled breath. One from him to exhale at first, and another to suck in some air while he was able. In the next second, before either one of you could think, his head was forced under.

It was held underwater, hard, by your father.

Tears nearly had you blinded, but you saw it.

Time might’ve slowed a little more, and your sense of seconds and minutes could’ve skewed, but it was still clear as anything to you that your dad was keeping Joel there, unable to breathe, and he refused to move an inch

You blinked, and the body in front of you had gone limp.

In summary:

#‘YOU NEED COOOOOOOOOOOOOLIN 😩 BABY I’M NOT FOOOOOLIN 😤’ actually changed me as a person the first time i heard it LOL #led zeppelin and b*tt stuff……….for the culture #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller tlou #the last of us fic #dbf!joel #dbf!joel miller

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hauntedhowlett-writes · 1 month ago

Text

SPECIAL GUEST

PAIRING: johnny storm x female reader

RATING: none

WORD COUNT: 1.2k

SUMMARY:

where getting caught after spending the night with johnny storm leads to breakfast with the fantastic four.

(or: H.E.R.B.I.E. is a snitch)

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

consider this a sort of prologue to an eventual full fic about these two, but @birdie-birdie-birdie sparked this in my brain and i had to get it out. and also, thank you to @munsonstorm for giving this a read for me!

WARNINGS/TAGS:

johnny storm - fantastic four: first steps, female reader, no use of y/n, established relationship (or situationship?), getting caught trying to sneak out, awkward encounters, fluff.

Reed enters the kitchen with a yawn, tying the belt of his robe into a knot at his waist. H.E.R.B.I.E. has already started to prepare breakfast — eggs and bacon sizzling on the stove, slices of toast stacked neatly on a plate, the juice maker churning fresh orange juice and, most importantly, coffee steaming in the carafe. He grabs a mug and fills it to the brim to combat the exhaustion Franklin’s middle of the night cluster feeding has caused.

“Good morning, H.E.R.B.I.E.,” he says after a sip. The robot beeps back at him as he rolls by with a stack of plates and placemats to set the table. Reed finds the morning paper in its usual spot on the counter and flips through it, skimming the headlines between more sips of coffee. H.E.R.B.I.E. beeps to let him know the table is ready and he looks up, brows pinching together when he notices a fifth table setting.

“Does your programming need to be updated again?” He wonders aloud. H.E.R.B.I.E. responds with a series of beeps that Reed interprets as “no” and “guest”. “We don’t have any guests coming,” he adds.

H.E.R.B.I.E. beeps again, robotic arm pointing up. Reed frowns, unsure of what it means.

You tip toe down the stairs, your shoes clutched in one hand and your bag in the other, dressed in the same clothes from the night before, now slightly wrinkled from being left in a pile on Johnny’s bedroom floor.

Staying the night is not usually part of the routine when you visit Johnny at the Baxter Building. The risk of getting caught together was too high, given the fact that he shared the apartment with his family, but for the first time since starting whatever this thing between you was, he had asked you to stay. And you, being a sucker for his big blue eyes and warm hands and sinful mouth, agreed. He kept you wrapped up in his arms all night, his face pressed against your neck and his legs tangled with yours beneath the sheets.

Pulling yourself away from him this morning had been torture, especially when Johnny let out a little whine when you escaped his hold, but with the sun already up and the chances of making a clean escape dwindling by the minute, you knew it had to be done.

You reach the bottom of the stairs and peek around the corner, cursing to yourself when you saw Reed Richards, Mister Fantastic himself, standing in the kitchen with a cup of coffee. You press yourself back against the wall, trying to think of an alternative. Maybe you could just go back upstairs and hide in Johnny’s room until the coast was clear?

You take a couple steps back in the direction you came from, heading for the stairs, but freeze when you hear Reed clear his throat. Turning slowly, you find that the man is now standing a few feet away, watching you curiously.

“Uh…hi,” you say, giving a little wave. Beside Reed, H.E.R.B.I.E. beeps, waving back at you. He looks down at the robot.

“This is the guest?” He asks. The robot nods. Reed’s attention returns to you. “Hello. I’m Reed Richards.”

The idea of Reed Richards introducing himself to you, like he’s not the most well known man in the world, is almost enough to make you laugh but you bite your tongue and introduce yourself.

“Reed, honey, who are you—“

Sue Storm appears behind her husband with her son on her hip, looking far too beautiful for how early it is. She’s dressed for the day in a smart pair of pants and a soft looking sweater, hair already styled and makeup applied, though the dark circles beneath her eyes are becoming harder to cover as Franklin’s sleep regression wears on. Her sentence trails off when she sees you.

“Hello,” she says, lips curling in a knowing smirk. “Who’s this?”

“She’s a guest,” Reed says, sharing a look with his wife. Some unspoken communication passes between them and you wonder if maybe the universe could help you out and produce some sort of emergency that would call the Fantastic Four away from this painfully awkward encounter.

“What’s cookin’, H.E.R.B.I.E.?” A booming voice asks, heavy steps coming down the stairs.

You look over your shoulder just as Ben Grimm appears, stopping short when he spots you. He looks toward Reed and Sue, who must also be able to communicate telepathically with Ben, because his confusion morphs into understanding, rocky mouth now tilted in a sly grin.

“Come sit,” Sue says, setting Franklin into a high chair at the head of the table.

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose—“

“H.E.R.B.I.E. makes a mean breakfast,” Ben chimes in, pulling out one of the chairs and gesturing for you to take a seat. You blink at him.

“Okay,” you acquiesce, sinking onto the chair and setting your stuff on the ground by your feet. “Thank you, I appreciate it.”

“Of course,” Reed says, taking a seat beside Franklin’s high chair. “Would you care for some coffee? Or fresh squeezed orange juice? We also have milk and tea.”

“Coffee would be great,” you reply.

H.E.R.B.I.E. rolls up beside your chair a moment later, balancing a tray with a mug of coffee, a pot of sugar, and a tiny silver container of creamer that he sets on the table. You take the mug and add a couple scoops of sugar and a splash of cream.

“So,” Sue says, sitting down on the other side of Franklin, across from Reed. She gives you a friendly smile. “Tell us about yourself.”

The family listens attentively as you tell them about working as a librarian at the public library. Between bites of eggs and toast, Reed follows up with questions about your educational background when you mention that you have a degree in chemistry in addition to your Master’s in Library Science. Sue, while spooning oatmeal into Franklin’s mouth, asks to hear more about the outreach programs you’ve helped implement.

It’s Ben who asks the question on everyone’s mind.

“So, how’d you meet the hotshot?”

Your cheeks feel warm as they wait for you to respond. “He comes into the library a lot,” you reply honestly.

“Really?” Sue asks. Her surprise is mirrored on the other family member’s faces. “Huh. Imagine that.”

Footsteps on the stairs announce Johnny’s arrival. He turns the corner into the dining area, arms stretched above his head and eyes squeezed shut as he yawns. You pretend that your gaze isn’t immediately drawn to the strip of skin revealed when his shirt rides up.

“Morning,” he says, blinking the residual sleep from his eyes. H.E.R.B.I.E. rolls up with a mug filled with creamer and a hint of coffee, just the way he likes it. He scratches the robot on the head. “Thanks, HERB.”

It takes him a moment to realize that everyone is staring at him and that, more importantly, you’re seated at the table.

With his family.

Eating breakfast.

His lips stretch into a wide grin as he rounds the table and bends over to plant a kiss on your cheek. You stare at him, wide eyed with surprise, while he settles into his seat.

Sue hides her smile behind her mug. Reed busies himself with wiping oatmeal off of Franklin’s chin.

“Nice of you to finally join us,” Ben says, voice smug. “We were just gettin’ to know your friend here.”

“You mean my girlfriend,” he corrects, shoving a forkful of eggs into his mouth. “She’s great, right?”

“Sure is,” Ben replies. “What’s she doin’ with you?”

Johnny glares at his friend, flicking his next bite of eggs in his direction. Ben laughs and Reed asks him a question that drags his attention away, allowing you to lean closer to Johnny.

“Girlfriend?” You whisper. He looks over at you, gaze soft and sweet. Your heart pounds in your chest.

“That okay?” He asks, blue eyes suddenly filled with uncertainty. You smile at him, closing the distance between you and kissing him softly, aware of the others at the table attempting to sneak glances at the two of you.

“More than okay.”

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or drop by my inbox.

LINKS

main blog | masterlists | ao3

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anxiouscherubs · 7 months ago

Text

find you in my heart

✦ summary: the one where you get dumped and your best friend is there to help you realize what you truly deserve… what’s been in front of you all along.

✦ warnings/tags: MDNI! 18+, explicit, smut, slight angst, some fluff, oral sex (f receiving), oral sex (m receiving), fingering, throat fucking, big dick yh, unprotected sex (be safe!), yh is desperately in love, best friends to lovers, mutual pining, mentions of cheating (past relationships), yh and reader met as baristas, pet names, au where jeong yunho can actually cook, yunho is a lil possessive

✦ pairing: nonidol!yunho x reader

✦ author’s note: as a yunho ult, a yh best friends to lovers has been at the top of my list of things to write. i started this fic after yun posted these photos because i just could not get the vision of late night walks with him out of my head! i am new to writing so any feedback is appreciated. i hope you enjoy ♡ as always, thank you to my lovely best friends for enabling me and proofreading my depravity. love you guys forever. ♡

✦ word count: 12.9k

✦ read it on ao3: here

Two years. Two years down the drain because your ex decided he “wasn’t feeling it anymore.” You had a sneaking suspicion his change of heart had to do with his hot new coworker, but you couldn’t think too far into it or it would rip you apart more than he already had.

He had grown distant, and you chalked it up to the stress of his new job. But when he started staying late every other day and missing your sacred Thursday date nights, you knew it was the beginning of the end. You were happy together (most of the time), but you were never certain you could see yourself spending the rest of your life with him. There were certain things about him that you tolerated, but you wanted your forever to be spent with someone who felt perfect for you. And he… didn’t.

Even though you knew he wasn’t who you’d spend your life with, it stung just the same to receive his messages.

loser: hey y/n… i’ve been thinking about this for a while now but i think it’s time for us to part ways.

loser: we’ve had a good run, but i’m just not really feeling it anymore. i hope you understand.

loser: wish you the best. xx

You’d changed his contact and blocked his number immediately, saving yourself from the hurtful words he’d throw your way if you tried to ask for any reasoning or clarification. He always turned into a different person the moment you tried to express your emotions.

“She’s just a coworker, y/n, stop being crazy. You don’t have to worry about her.”

You push his words out of your brain again before they take over. So what if he left you for her? They probably deserve each other. You knew you were better off, that wasn’t the issue. It was that you settled for two years, letting this man who clearly didn’t respect you treat you like an afterthought the entire time. The more you think about it, the more you blame yourself for placing such little value on your own time and energy.

You sit on your couch, your coffee table littered with tear-soaked tissues and instant ramen cups. You haven’t left the house since you got The Texts last night, and you've watched a season of your favorite crime show and eaten your body weight in Buldak since then. You know you can’t sit here and wallow anymore or you’ll start to lose your mind, so you drag yourself to the bathroom to assess the damage. Eyes red and puffy from crying, hair tangled and tied loosely in a scrunchie, tear drops lingering on the same sweatshirt you’d been wearing for the last 24 hours. You look like hell.

“I need to get out of this apartment,” you say to yourself. You pull out your phone and send a quick text to your best friend before hopping in the shower. After washing your hair 3 times, shaving your legs, and exfoliating the sadness away, you’re finally starting to feel human again. You wrap yourself in your favorite towel before checking your phone again.

y/n: yunnie… are you free tonight?

yunho: for you? absolutely. you ok? haven’t heard from you all day.

Of course he’d notice you going MIA for a day. You and your best friend texted every single day, sending quick little updates or funny videos. He’d probably been worried sick, but he never wants to pry. He’s always respected your space like that.

y/n: long story. i’ll explain later.

y/n: meet me in front of blossom in 30?

Blossom was the cafe you and Yunho met working at. You were both burning the candle at both ends working nearly full time as baristas during your senior year of college. Your closing shifts together kept you sane during finals, blasting music and sharing your life stories while you cleaned up the shop. He’d even walk you home, after every closing shift, never wanting to let you walk alone so late. You both gave your two weeks notice right after graduation, but promised each other you’d make up for all the time you wouldn’t spend working together anymore.

That was four years ago, and he’d been such a stable presence in your life since then. You’d grown closer over the years, spending countless movie nights and BBQ dates together. He knew everything about you (after a movie night with too much wine and lots of oversharing) and hadn’t gone running for the hills, so you knew he really cared. You didn’t really have time to make friends in college because you were either working, in class, or studying, so he was really all you had. He was your safe space. You both stayed close by after graduation, staying in your apartments in the city 2 blocks from the cafe on either side. It was nice having your best friend so close by, and the cafe remained a staple in your friendship as a middle point between your two homes. In your reminiscing, you realize you missed your Saturday morning coffee date with him.

yunho: of course, bean. i missed you this morning.

Your heart fluttered in your chest at the nickname. It always does. That, and when he calls you sweetheart. Your heart almost came up your throat the first time he pulled that one. Yunho started calling you bean after you spilled an entire bag of light roast on the cafe floor trying to refill the hopper for the openers. He’ll never let you live that one down. You remembered giggling and scooping coffee beans off the floor on your hands and knees together, his hand brushing over yours when you both reached for the dustpan, your eyes meeting, breath quickening…

You shake the memory from your brain, coming back to reality just as you both had snapped out of it in the moment four years ago, scattering to finish cleaning up and avoiding eye contact the rest of the night. You always dismissed the electricity you felt when his skin touched yours, blaming the exhaustion from working a closing shift after being up all night studying. He had a girlfriend at the time, he wouldn’t have been interested in you that way anyway. He’s your friend, y/n, be realistic. You’re reaching. You send another quick text before getting dressed, and he of course responds right away.

y/n: i missed you too, i’m sorry i should’ve texted. it’s been a shitty 24 hours. i’ll see you soon

yunho: no need to apologize. i’ll be there, see you in a bit.

25 minutes pass and you somehow manage to make yourself look somewhat presentable. You dried your hair and pulled half of it up in a claw clip, leaving some pieces out to frame your face. You threw on some concealer and a bit of blush, trying to hide how puffy your eyes still were. It was a chilly fall night, so you opted for your favorite pair of light wash jeans and an oversized black sweater, accompanied by your beat up black chelsea boots and your gray wool coat.

After a quick 5 minute walk you round the corner to see Yunho standing in front of the cafe, his back facing you. Of course he’s right on time. His broad shoulders fill out the black jacket he’s wearing, his crossbody bag tucked under his arm. The neon sign in the cafe window leaves a purple hue reflecting off his freshly dyed dark gray hair. He turns his head at a car passing by, and you catch yourself smiling at the lost puppy look in his eyes. He must’ve seen you approaching in his peripheral, his head snapping in your direction. A subtle smile plays on his lips as he locks eyes with you. His warm brown eyes are full of an emotion you can’t quite name.

Your chest aches at the realization that your ex, in the two years you were together, never looked at you like that. Why did you ever think you were important to him? Your throat suddenly tightens and your vision starts to blur, tears welling in your eyes for the millionth time today. Yunho’s smile drops, his brow furrowing as he takes two long strides to meet you.

“Y/n, what is it, what happened?” He reaches for your shoulders to hold you steady, but you push forward to bury your face in his chest. He wraps his arms around you without hesitation, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other snakes around your shoulders. Your hands find his waist, gripping his shirt underneath his jacket. His familiar scent of jasmine envelops you, and you realize how badly you needed your best friend to help you through this.

”H-He dumped me,” you sniffle, letting out a shaky breath into Yunho’s chest, “he d-dumped me yesterday, through a fucking t-text message,” another unsteady exhale as you try to level your breathing.

“He did what?!” He pulls you in closer to him, the disbelief lacing his tone reassuring how rational your feelings are.

“It’s over,” you blink away your tears, tilting your head back to look up at your best friend. You’ve never seen the expression on his face before, like anger and worry are battling it out in his brain, and he can’t decide which one should take center stage first. “He texted me last night, saying he ‘wasn’t feeling it anymore’ and he ‘wished me the best,’” your mocking tone repeating his words reignited the angry flame in your chest.

“Wished you the best,” he scoffs, “is he kidding?” He rolls his eyes. “That’s how you end a two-year-long relationship?” He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, taking a half step back to give you some more space to catch your breath.

“I can’t believe I wasted two years of my life with someone who just kicked me to the curb without a second thought,” you pinch the fabric of his shirt between your fingers, your eyes lingering on his collarbone peeking out from his slightly unbuttoned shirt. “I’m convinced he left me for a coworker, the one he told me not to worry about.” A humorless laugh leaves your lips, the burning feeling behind your eyes returning as more tears come. “I’m more upset with myself for letting him treat me like this for so long,”

“Hey, look at me,” Yunho cautiously brings his hands to your face, cradling your head gently. You lean into his touch, dragging your gaze up to meet his.

“He doesn’t know what he just threw away, sweetheart,” Yunho holds your teary cheeks in his hands. “You are the most beautiful creature this world has ever seen, and if he doesn’t see that, he doesn’t deserve you.”

“You think I’m beautiful?” You choke out between sniffles.

“Oh y/n… of course I do. I always have,” he wipes a tear from your cheek before it reaches your lips, “since the day I met you.”

Your breath catches in your throat at his admission, your chin wobbling as you try to hold it together.

His eyes search yours, that unspoken emotion taking over his features again. You almost catch the moment he shakes it away, reminding himself that he’s here to support you. His hands fall from your cheeks to grab your hands instead, that familiar electricity prickling your skin as he rubs his thumbs over your knuckles.

“Do you wanna go inside? I called ahead and ordered you a maple latte and a raspberry scone as soon as I got your text.” He tilts his head in the direction of the cafe next to you.

You look inside to see two to-go cups and a brown paper bag sitting on the counter. “And an iced caramel latte for you, I’m assuming,” you poke his stomach teasingly, “thank you, Yun, you didn’t have to do that.”

“Of course I did,” he gently squeezes your hands, a warm smile taking over his features. “Come on, it seems like we have a lot to catch up on. I have a feeling you have a lot to get off your chest.” He lets go of one hand, keeping hold of the other to walk you to the door. You lace your fingers through his, and it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

You’d spent the last hour sitting in your favorite booth with Yunho, hashing through every single thing you hated about your ex. He was appalled by the things you’d told him, wishing he knew sooner so he could’ve tried to help you see you deserve someone better. Someone who valued your emotions, understood your needs, respected your boundaries… Someone like —

“Yunho, are you with me?” Your voice shakes him out of his daze, bringing him back to the conversation.

“Sorry bean, I just can’t believe he was such an asshole behind closed doors,” he recovers, “I wish you told me sooner. I feel like I wasn’t there for you when I should’ve been.”

”It’s not your fault, I could’ve told you and I didn’t. I think I was in denial,” you scoff. ”I was settling and I knew it, I was just trying to pretend things were better, but I think I’d been checked out for a while.” You swirl your coffee around in your cup, avoiding the concerned look in his eye. If you looked at him too long, you’d risk reading something deeper in the way he cares about you, something that made your heart flutter and ache all at once.

”Y/n, do you remember the girl I was dating when we met?” His tone shifts, a slight vulnerability creeping in. You stop moving your cup, watching the drink settle. You nod hesitantly, still avoiding his eyes.

Of course you remember her. You had developed a crush on Yunho in your first week working together, but you had to smother it at the first mention of her. Any hope you had left for a chance with him disintegrated the first time you saw her — she was the kind of beautiful you only saw on TV. Flawless skin, no split ends, a perfectly sculpted body. Even her voice was smooth. She seemed perfect for him.

“She cheated on me.”

Your head snaps up to him in disbelief. “Excuse me?”

You remember him telling you they broke up in passing — it had been a month after you started a relationship of your own. Part of you always wondered if you had just missed your window to pursue something with Yunho, but you pushed that thought out of your head so you could be present for your best friend. He didn’t want to go into detail about the breakup at the time, and he never did in the two years that followed.

“For the last six months of our relationship, she’d been sleeping with someone she reconnected with from high school. They realized they loved each other, and she ended things.” He offers a sad smile, but the bitterness lingers beneath the surface. You feel a tightness in your chest wondering why he didn’t want to share his pain with you while all of this was going on.

”Oh, Yunnie,” you reach for his hand across the table, holding his large palm in yours. “I’m so sorry. I don’t understand how anyone could ever do that to you. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Maybe we can call it even?” He lets out a breathy laugh, ignoring your question. “You didn’t tell me your relationship troubles, I didn’t tell you mine. Now it’s all on the table and we can leave it in the past.” He squeezes your hand, waiting for your response.

“Fine.” You flash a tight lipped smile, wanting to hash this open again with him at a later time. You didn’t keep secrets from each other, so why was he avoiding getting into this with you?

“Well, it’s almost closing time.” Of course he’s gonna change the subject. “Do you need a night alone or are you coming home with me tonight?” He forces a smile from across the table, and you could’ve sworn his ears turned the slightest bit red asking you to spend the night. Sleepovers weren’t out of the norm for the two of you, but this proposal felt different for some reason.

“I think if I’m alone at my place tonight I’ll revert to the sad couch potato I was before I texted you earlier.” You don’t really believe that, feeling like you’ve moved past the depression stage of grief and slowly inching toward acceptance. But you still wanted the company.

“I’d love to come home with you, Yunnie.”

“Then let’s go, sweetheart.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Your neighborhood was so beautiful at night. The soft streetlights cast a gentle glow on the sidewalk, illuminating little puddles of water from last night’s rain. The fall air feels cool and crisp, carrying the faint smell of the changing leaves. This late at night, the stillness is calming… usually.

You two had found this to be the perfect environment to have your deepest talks. Taking regular nighttime walks with Yunho had become one of your cherished rituals, especially when one of you needed to get something off your chest. You’d shared fragments of your lives, from your family drama to his frequent arguments with a stubborn coworker at his new job. But tonight, a suffocating silence swirls around you.

You’d taken a full lap around the neighborhood in silence since leaving Blossom, the familiar path devoid of your usual chatter. As you approach Yunho’s place, his brisk pace and hands shoved deep in his pockets told you he wasn’t going to be the one to acknowledge it. He was never one for confrontation. If he wouldn’t tell you what’s going on voluntarily, you’d have to coax it out of him.

You stop walking, the cool air feeling sharper on your skin. He takes three more strides before he stops too, spinning back around to face you, confusion etched on his devastatingly handsome features.

“You okay, bean?” he asks, tilting his head at you, genuine concern flickering in his eyes.

“I feel like I should be asking you the same thing,” you reply, barely above a whisper. Maybe you weren’t one for confrontation either.

He takes a step closer to you, “I’m fine,” he says with a quick shrug and a slight shake of his head.

“Then why haven’t you spoken to me since we left Blossom? Did I say something to upset you?” You try your hardest to grab your frustration before it bubbles up, but you can already tell it’s too late. His dismissive tone, both here and at the cafe, gnaws at you. It triggers something inside of you from your recently ended relationship, and you feel on the verge of either shutting down or letting your emotions spiral.

“I just thought you might want a quiet walk is all.” He can barely look you in the eye, and that’s when you know something is very wrong.

“Come on Yun, you know that’s not what’s going on. Something is bothering you.” The frustration claws higher and higher, an unwelcome tightness gripping at your chest. Don’t cry, y/n.

He opens his mouth, the words hanging on the tip of his tongue, but stops himself, his hands finally pulling from his pockets to rest on his hips. He stares at a fallen leaf swirling in a puddle between you.

“Is it because we talked about your ex?” He winces just a little at your words. “I didn’t mean to open old wounds, I just thought after everything we’ve shared with each other that you’d want to talk to me about it.” You don’t mean for your words to sound accusatory, but based on the way his body tenses, you realize they must have.

“It’s not that, y/n, it’s not about…” his voice trails off into a sigh. His eyes search yours, his mind racing trying to decide if he wants to get into what’s really going on, what he’s been keeping inside for so long.

“Then what is it?” You’re grasping at straws, desperately trying to get him to give you anything to go off of. When you’re met with more silence and an indiscernible look in his eyes, you push forward.

“I just don’t get why you wouldn’t tell me she cheated on you Yun, we help each other through everything.” Anger wells up in you, more at yourself for not asking him to open up to you about it at the time.

“Y/n, please, it’s more complicated than just her cheating, and I just don’t know if now is the best time to get into it, you’re still—”

“Still what, Yunho? Grieving my own relationship? Just because I just got dumped doesn’t mean I can’t be here for you!” Your voice rises, each word sharp, the tension in your throat threatening to break. “You don’t get to decide what I can and can’t handle, that’s not up to you—”

“Fine,” he interrupts, “do you wanna know the real reason I didn’t tell you, y/n? Is that what you want?” His ears redden, and you can’t tell if he’s angry, embarrassed, or a combination of the two. You nod hesitantly. “I didn’t tell you she cheated because I didn’t care, okay? I didn’t care. Her heart wasn’t in it anymore, but neither was mine.” His chest heaves, squeezing his eyes shut tight for a brief moment to brace himself.

“I didn’t care that she cheated, because I didn’t want her anyway.” He lets out a shaky breath. “I wanted you.”

Oh.

His eyes burn into yours as his words hang in the air between the two of you.

“Yunho…” You take a step toward him only for him to take a step back. Your heart is pounding so hard in your chest, you wonder if he can hear it. What is happening right now?

“I’m sorry y/n, I can’t keep it to myself anymore. I’ve held it in for so long, and I just can’t do it anymore, I—” He stutters over his words, “I wasn’t grieving my relationship, I was grieving yours. You found someone just before she ended things with me, and I realized maybe you and I weren’t meant to be. That we’d never have the chance to try.” His eyes gloss over with pent up emotion, thinking about all the time he spent wondering what could’ve been. “I wanted you, but I had to act like I didn’t, and we were becoming such good friends, I didn’t want to ruin it, I just—”

”Did you think I didn’t feel the same?” You interrupt him. “That I don’t feel the same now?”

He tilts his head at you, the tension in his body visibly disintegrating. “What are you saying?” Brows furrowing, cheeks blushing, so many emotions flying through his features at a speed neither of you can process. He runs his hands down his face before resting them on his hips. “Sweetheart, what are you saying?”

“I wanted you, too, Yun…” The words tumble out of you, a rush of honesty that feels both exhilarating and terrifying. “I want you too.”

He takes another step toward you, his mind racing as he searches for answers to never ending questions. “You did?” Another step. “You do?”

“Yes, and yes,” you nod, feeling warmth flood your cheeks at your admission—both to Yunho and to you. You realize you’d never said it out loud before, not even to yourself.

“Say it again,” he urges, closing the gap between the two of you. One hand finds your waist while the other gently cradles the back of your neck. His touch lights a fire on your skin, his hands feeling heavier on your body than they ever have before. Your hands find their way to his waist, tugging him closer to you. Chests heaving, hearts racing.

“I want you, Yunho.”

The tension between you peaks, your grip tightening on one another, like if either one of you lets go, the moment will slip away. Yunho’s eyes search yours, looking for confirmation.

He gently cups your face, his thumb brushing your cheek, wiping away the remnants of your tears. His touch sends a shiver down your spine, igniting the familiar spark that had always lingered between the two of you. Your breath hitches in your throat, caught between the fear of moving too fast and the undeniable pull you have always felt towards him.

You bring a hand up to his cheek, your fingers gliding over his skin, feeling the warmth radiating from him. You linger for a moment before wrapping your fingers around the back of his neck, pulling him closer to you.

“Y/n,” he whispers, “sweetheart,” his gaze drops to your lips, and you swear you can hear your hearts beating in time with one another in the quiet.

You take a deep breath, searching his gaze for the same spark of desire you feel coursing through your body. He inches closer, breath mingling with yours, heating the space between you.

“Is this okay?” he asks softly, his voice trembling slightly.

You nod, breathless, as you lean in just enough to finally close the distance between the two of you.

The tip of his nose brushes against yours, the contact making your head spin. You’ve thought about this moment countless times, and being here feels so right.

“Yunho,” you breathe, “please kiss me alr—“

His mouth molds to yours before you can finish your sentence, pulling all the remaining air from your lungs. The world around you explodes in a flash of warmth and tenderness, all the hurt you had been feeling melting away into a puddle at your feet.

You feel a rush of emotions— relief, joy, and a deep, intoxicating desire— as he deepens the kiss. Your hands tighten around the back of his neck, pulling him closer as he sweeps his tongue across your bottom lip. You lose yourself in the sensation, the taste of him and the feeling of his lips on yours erasing everything else you’ve ever felt.

His fingers tangle in your hair, holding you as if you might disappear. This moment, this kiss, feels like a declaration— a culmination of all the unspoken words, the hidden glances, the years of longing between the two of you. It’s exhilarating.

He finally pulls away, resting his forehead against yours, your heavy breaths the only sounds on the quiet street. Your hands slide from his neck, traveling down his chest before settling on his waist.

“Sorry sweetheart, I didn’t mean to cut you off,” he chuckles, brushing a strand of hair from your face, “I’ve just been waiting a really long time to do that.” He drops a gentle kiss to your forehead before wrapping his arms around you to pull you close.

“You can cut me off anytime if it means I get to kiss you,” you nuzzle into his chest. The steady thud of his heartbeat slows yours to match.

“Oh yeah?” He looks down at you, a teasing glint in his eyes.

“Yes, abso—“

His lips connect to yours again, a fire igniting in your belly when his tongue tangles with yours. He tastes like caramel, the sweetness of his latte lingering on his tongue. Wide hands wrap around your hips, dragging you closer, rolling your body into him.

You snake your hands up his lower back, digging your nails into his skin through his shirt. A low groan rumbles deep in Yunho’s throat at the sensation, sending a bolt of heat straight to your core. A whimper crawls up your throat before you can stop it, and Yunho smiles against your mouth. He draws your bottom lip between his teeth, biting down gently.

“Your lips are even softer than I imagined they’d be,” he gives you one more lingering kiss before pulling back. His deep eyes find yours, his blushed cheeks glowing under the streetlights.

“You’ve imagined kissing me?” Shyness creeps in at the realization that Yunho thought about you in the same way you thought about him.

“Among other things, yes,” he brushes your hair out of your face, his palm settling to cup your cheek. “You’re cute when you blush.”

“I am not blushing!” You hide your face in your hands. “Maybe I am, but how can I not when you talk to me like that,” you muffle into your palms.

“I’ll talk to you any way you want if it means you’ll react like this,” he teases, gently pulling your hands from your face to hold them in his. “Your hands are freezing, sweetheart,” he brings your hands to his mouth, holding them between his and blowing his hot breath onto them to warm them up.

”Well we have been out here a while,” you shiver at the feeling of his breath on your skin.

“Am I still allowed to take you home tonight, or would that complicate things?” He’s either nervous, or hesitant. Either would make sense, you just got dumped and 24 hours later you’re confessing your feelings for your best friend (and kissing him). Anyone with a brain might wonder if you’re rushing, or worse, rebounding. Once you get out of this cold, you can talk things through.

“Yes, please, let’s go.” You take his hand in yours, kissing his knuckles before pulling him in the direction of his place.

“You got it, baby.” He slings an arm over your shoulder, planting a kiss to the top of your head. Your heart flutters as you walk toward his apartment.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

As soon as you walk through Yunho’s front door, he breezes past you to grab two wine glasses and a bottle of your favorite rosé while you kick off your boots. As you shed your jacket, he sets two full glasses on his simple wooden coffee table, heading back to his kitchen to grab a bag of chips and some chocolates. He returns with his hands full, confusion lacing his features when he finds you standing in the middle of his living room stifling a laugh.

“Is something funny?” He chuckles at your reddening cheeks as you let out a giggle.

“When did you get so nervous to have me in your apartment?” Part of you feels bad for teasing, but he looks so cute when he’s flustered, you can’t help it. “I’ve never seen you move so fast to get me a glass of wine.”

“Well, when you decide to tell me you want me in the middle of the street, that tends to change things, baby,” he grins at you, clocking you for the second time now having a physical reaction to his newest pet name for you. You thought sweetheart sounded beautiful coming out of his mouth, but baby is a whole new level of intoxicating.

”You said it first, but I guess that does change things, huh, baby?” You cross your arms, challenging him. “Do I make you nervous, Jeong Yunho?”

“You make me a lot of things, sweetheart, but nervous isn’t one of them.” He pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue, the gesture making your head spin. After setting your snacks down on the coffee table, he finally takes off his jacket and kicks off his shoes. He plops down on his couch, patting the empty cushion next to him. “Come sit with me,” the deep, inviting tone of his voice has you moving to him immediately. Grabbing your wine, you sit next to him, folding one leg up onto the couch to turn to face him. He copies your position, his knee resting just an inch from yours.

“What do I make you feel, then?” You swirl your wine in your glass as your gaze flicks over his handsome features. Landing on his eyes, your heart jumps at the way they shine for you.

“Fulfilled,” he starts, scooting closer to you so your knees are just barely touching. “Cared for, understood,” the corner of his mouth quirks up slightly, “and loved.”

A bloom of warmth floods your chest at the word. This is what you’ve been missing the last few years. You thought your ex would give you this sense of gratification if you gave him more time, but what you were searching for was in your best friend. You always knew in the back of your mind that it was him. The one who held you when you cried, who made you laugh until your stomach hurt, who would drop everything to be there when you needed him. You take a big sip of your wine.

“I was settling,” the words fall off your lips before you can stop them, the alcohol warming your cheeks right away. “I thought that if I kept giving him everything he would eventually give me half of what I was craving, but in the back of my mind I think I knew he’d never be what I really needed… I settled for him.”

Yunho offers a soft nod, zero judgment, only understanding. “And what is it you were craving?” He moves even closer to you, your shins now pressed together.

“You,” you sigh, his deep eyes boring into yours, waiting for more. You tap your fingers on your wine glass, contemplating your next words. “The connection, the comfort, the joy, the love that you gave me,” your throat tightens thinking about the nights you spent longing for your best friend. “I wanted you, how you made me feel…but I settled for him.”

“Right person, wrong time,” Yunho scoffs, a gentle shake of his head, “kind of applies to us, right? We’ve wanted each other for years now, but we just never had the chance.”

“I should’ve told you sooner, Yun,” your hand rests on his, his fingers immediately lacing between yours. “We’ve wasted so much time,” hot tears blur your vision, but you blink them away before they fall.

“Hey, we have all the time in the world, baby,” he brings your hand to his mouth, planting a gentle kiss on your knuckles. “All the time in the world,” he muffles against your skin. You turn your palm to hold his cheek, and you notice his eyes roll back before they flutter closed.

“All the time in the world,” you repeat, threading your fingers into his hair. A future with Yunho flashes through your mind. Lazy Sunday mornings, celebrating milestones and holidays together, late nights tangled in the sheets, his body taking over yours —

“Y/n…” His deep, smooth voice brings you back to the moment, the sound of your name on his lips heating your cheeks.

“Hm?”

He gently takes your wine glass from your hand, setting it on the coffee table next to his untouched one. When his eyes find yours again, warmth pools in your belly at the darkness that’s taken over his features. “I really want to kiss you again, but I feel like we should talk first,” he takes both your hands in his, and your heart pounds a beat faster in your chest. “If you spend the night tonight, there’s no going back. Once I have you, I don’t think I can let you go.”

“I don’t want you to let me go, Yun,” you squeeze his hands in yours. “I’ve waited too long to get here, I don’t wanna go back… You already have me, don’t let me go.” The thudding in your rib cage intensifies with every second of heated silence.

“I couldn’t if I tried,” he finally says, pulling you in, crashing his lips into yours. His hands find your waist, his tongue exploring your mouth, and you wrap your arms around his neck as he pulls you into his lap. You straddle him, resting your knees on either side of his hips, deepening the kiss as his hands wander to cup your ass, pulling you closer to him. You roll your hips against him, his grip tightening on you as he drags your body over him. A groan rumbles in his chest and you feel his cock stiffening beneath you, grinding on him slower and harder.

“I can’t believe you’re finally mine,” Yuhho’s hand snakes up your back and into your hair, gently removing your clip and tossing it to the floor before gripping your locks and tilting your head to the side, exposing the sensitive column of your neck to his mouth. He nips at your skin, licking the spot with his tongue, moving up to the tender spot under your ear. “My beautiful girl,” his hot breath in your ear has your entire body blooming with goosebumps.

”Yunho,” you roll your hips over him again as his lips travel down your neck to your collarbone, a whimper crawling up your throat at your rough jeans catching on your swelling clit. He feels harder and harder underneath you with each rock against him, and you’re cursing yourself for wearing such thick pants. You just want to feel him.

“Yes, sweetheart?” He tightens his grip on your hair, kissing back up your neck until his lips connect with yours again. You moan into his mouth as his other hand guides your hips back and forth, shamelessly grinding your bodies against each other like horny teenagers.

“Touch me please,” you beg, catching his bottom lip between your teeth, sucking on it gently.

“Only because you asked so nicely,” he teases. He snakes an arm around your waist and smoothly rolls you onto your back, laying you down in the soft cushions. He kneels, settling between your legs, spreading them wide to roll his hips into your needy clothed core. His mouth finds yours again, tangling his tongue with yours.

The hand in your hair loosens, trailing down your body, ghosting over your breasts, down your belly, and lifting your sweater slightly to get to your jeans. He makes light work of the button and zipper, his nimble fingers undoing the fastenings with ease, all while keeping his mouth on yours. You feel him tapping on your ass, signaling you to lift your hips. When you do, he shimmies your jeans down your legs agonizingly slowly, breaking the kiss to admire the bits of your skin he’s dreamt about for years.

He tosses your jeans on his living room floor, and a timidity slithers up at the realization that you’re in your underwear on your best friend’s couch. His broad hands rest on your thighs, letting you close them slightly, your shared shuddering breaths the only sound in his quiet apartment.

“Getting shy on me, sweetheart?” He teases you, reading your mind. He knows you so well. You giggle as he slides his hands to your sweater, dragging it up your body, exposing your panties, shifting it higher and higher until the bottom hem of your bra is barely showing. He slides his hands under your top, expertly cradling your bra-clad breasts in his hands, letting out a restrained groan. The energy shifts and you whimper, watching his eyes locked on the way his fingers swim beneath the fabric of your sweater. You let your legs fall open slightly as Yunho slots himself between them, peppering your belly with gentle kisses and thumbing one of your pebbling nipples through the thin material of your bra.

“Yun…” you sigh, running your fingers through his hair as he kisses you lower and lower, “please,”

“Mhm,” he nods against your soft skin, shifting down to lay on his belly between your legs, hooking your knees over his shoulders. You feel his searing breath over your pussy, cooling the growing wet patch in your panties, making you clench around nothing. He picks up on your reaction, gripping your hips before blowing a steady stream of air over your sensitive heat.

“Oh,” you breathe, wriggling under his strong grasp, spreading your legs wider for him.

“You’re so reactive,” he murmurs, biting down on your inner thigh, soothing the spot with his tongue. You yelp at the sensation, covering your mouth in shock of the sound that just came out of you. Yunho chuckles darkly, “don’t hold back, baby, I wanna hear all the noises you make.”

He hooks an arm over your hip so his hand rests on your mound. He grips your panties in his fist, pulling them up until the fabric slips between your wet folds, gliding firmly over your clit. You stifle a sob as he tugs them harder, biting you once more.

“I thought I told you not to hold back, sweetheart,” he licks your skin again, soothing the angry bite mark that will surely be bruised by morning. Another tug of your panties has you mewling, one hand gripping his hair for dear life, the other blindly searching for anything to ground you.

“Yunnie, please, stop teasing me,” you never thought your sweet and wholesome best friend could have you whimpering and begging beneath him, hardly having touched you. He has such a dark, dominating presence about him in this moment, and it’s making your head fuzzy.

He lets go of your panties, swiftly pulling them to the side, exposing your wet heat to the cool air. You suck in a sharp inhale, finally bare to him.

“Fuck,” he moans, “look at you, baby,” he runs two fingers through your heat, the sudden contact making you cry out. He spreads you wide to see every inch of you, taking his time. “So pretty,” he breathes.

“I need you, please,” you whine, “are you gonna make me keep begging?”

“Baby, I’ve wanted to touch you like this for years,” he drawls, “let me savor it a little.” Before you can protest, he teases your entrance with two fingers, slowly thrusting them deeper and deeper inside you, little by little, until his palm is flush with your cunt. Your head falls back into the cushions, your chest heaving. You had daydreamed about how his fingers would feel inside of you, but nothing compares to the real thing. He pumps in and out a few more times before he curls his fingers, hitting the spot that makes your back arch. You grip his hair, tugging on it harder than you mean to, but you can’t help it. You miss the way his eyes roll back, his mouth hanging open at the pain.

Yunho lets you guide his mouth to your core, his fingers keeping a steady pace as he uses his free hand to spread you open, swirling his tongue around your clit.

“Yunnie…” you whimper, grinding your hips on his mouth. He nods against you, sucking your clit into his mouth, rolling his tongue over the swollen bud over and over in time with his fingers moving in and out of you. Pleasure blooms in your belly as he works you, each flick of his tongue bringing you closer to the edge.

“Feeling good, sweetheart?” He replaces his tongue with his thumb, circling your clit softly to ease you into the sensation. You push yourself down into his hand, needing more. He chuckles, applying more pressure until he feels you melting under him.

“Yes, so good Yun, fuck,” the pressure low in your belly builds rapidly, and you know if he keeps going at this pace, you’ll fall apart in no time. You prop yourself up on your elbows to look at him, and once your eyes lock with his you know you’re a goner.

His hair is mussed from your tugging on it, his cheeks flushed, his mouth glistening, a bead of sweat dripping down his temple as he picks up the pace ever so slightly. He smirks at you, letting your legs fall from his shoulders so he can kneel between them again, sitting back to get a good look at you, never slowing his ministrations. You make the mistake of glancing down, your mouth drying at the sight of his cock pressing against the confines of his jeans. He hits that spot deep inside you again, and you fall back into the cushions, breathy curses falling from your mouth over and over.

“You look so beautiful like this, fucking hell,” he drops his free hand next to your head, caging you in beneath him, watching his fingers pistoning in and out of you faster and faster, circling your clit in a matching pace. “Mine, mine, mine,” he repeats over and over, like he can’t believe this is finally happening. He brings his lips to yours, mumbling the words against your mouth as you nod wordlessly in agreement, the taste of yourself on his tongue making you dizzy. He kisses you down to your neck, nipping at your sensitive skin, praise after praise whispered into your ear.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he emphasizes his words with a sharp thrust of his fingers, and you cry out at the sensation.

“I’m yours, I’m yours— fuck!” You feel the cord in your belly tightening and tightening.

“Good fucking girl,” he whispers in your ear, nipping at your earlobe, “come around my fingers, baby,”

“Oh, oh,” you shudder underneath him, his words pushing you over the edge as your orgasm rips through your body, pleasure burning from the inside out. He kisses you hard, slowing his pace bit by bit to ease you through your climax, your body trembling in his hold. “Yunho,” you mumble into his mouth, “I’m yours,” you whisper.

“You sure are,” he peppers your cheeks with soft, tender kisses, your brain slowly coming back online as he slows his fingers, coming to a stop. “And I’m yours,” he kisses you gently, easing his fingers out of you, slipping your panties back into place. He lays down on the couch next to you, pulling your favorite throw blanket over your exposed bottom half, tracing hearts and stars on your skin while your breathing steadies, running his fingers through your hair as you let your eyes flutter closed. You snuggle into him, the warmth of his body keeping the flame in your core burning.

“You are incredible, Jeong Yunho,” you giggle as he kisses every inch of your face, his soft lips mapping the details of your skin. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

“Why, because I made you come in 5 minutes flat?” His low drawl has desire coursing through your veins, part of you feeling embarrassed he can turn you on so easily with just his words.

Your breath hitches as you nod, trying to keep your cool, but he knows you better than that by now. “You really like when I talk to you like this, don’t you, baby?”

“Apparently I do,” you turn to look at him, a teasing glint in his eyes, his fingers dancing across the bare skin of your belly. “I’d love to hear what else you have to say,” you tease.

“Well for starters, I want to take you to bed” His mouth hovers over the shell of your ear, the combination of his hot breath fanning over your skin and the vibrations of his deep voice have lust taking over your thoughts once again. “I want to fuck you properly, and we just don’t exactly have the space for that here,” you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Oh,” you giggle, his straightforwardness taking you by surprise. Just like that you’re throbbing for him again, your mind racing thinking about where your night with him is going to go. “I’d like that.”

Before he can catch you, you jump up from the couch, leaving your throw blanket behind, beelining for the hallway toward Yunho’s bedroom, giggling the whole way.

“Hey!” He laughs, clamoring up to chase after you. A few long strides and he’s caught up to you, right in the doorway of his bedroom. He hooks an arm around your waist and you yelp as he spins you around to face him, the momentum of both your running carrying you to the foot of his bed. The backs of your knees hit the mattress, but he holds you upright, pressing your body against his. Your eyes lock, both of you breathing heavily.

“Someone’s excited,” Yunho chuckles, giving you a firm kiss before pushing you back onto his bed. You let out a breathless laugh as you plop down on the mattress, pushing yourself to sit upright.

“A little,” your hands find his torso, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. He smirks down at you as you run your hands under his shirt and up his stomach to chest. He lets out a shaky breath at the feeling of your hands on him, and pulls his shirt off over his head, discarding it on the floor. You’d seen him without a shirt a handful of times, but this close he looks ethereal. Your fingers dance across his bare skin, reveling in the feeling of being able to touch him like this. You want to see more of him, touch more of him, taste more of him.

“Yun,” you start, hesitant to take the lead. You slide your hands down his body until your fingers feel the smooth leather of his belt. Your eyes meet his, not breaking contact while you smoothly undo his belt buckle. “Can I?” You whisper.

“You can do whatever you want to me, y/n,” he breathes, looking down to where your fingers are undoing the button of his jeans, sliding the zipper down slowly. You pull his jeans down, and he kicks them to the side, standing before you in only his boxers, his hard length pressing against the confines of the fabric.

His fingers lace through your hair, gripping it gently to tip your head back. Keeping your eyes on him, you slowly pull your sweater over your head, letting him let go of your hair to take it from your hands and toss it to the floor. You reach behind you, undoing the clasp of your bra, slowly sliding it from your body and dropping it next to your discarded sweater. Yunho’s chest heaves as he pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue, drinking this image of you in, dragging his gaze across your exposed chest.

“So beautiful,” his voice has dropped even lower, a tone you’ve never heard from him, the deep timbre stoking the fire deep inside you. “You are so beautiful,” he cups your face in his hands, bending over to kiss you softly. He parts your lips with his tongue as you rest your hands on his abdomen, sliding one down to palm his cock over his boxers.

“Fuck,” he groans into your mouth, your fingers wrapping around him as much as you can through the fabric, stroking his impressive length as he licks deeper into your mouth. You pump him from base to tip, running your thumb over the wet patch at the head of his cock, drawing another guttural moan from his lips. Your mouth is watering at the feeling of him, but it’s not enough.

You dip your fingers under the waistband of his boxers, and Yunho breaks the kiss to watch you pull them slowly down, down, down, until his cock springs free, hanging heavy in front of you. You absentmindedly lick your lips at the sight of him, feeling the wetness in your panties growing. Lust prickles across your skin thinking about feeling him inside of you.

“Yunho,” you sigh, wrapping your fingers around him, pumping him slowly as he stands up straight, tugging your hair in his fist to tip your head back again. “I want you to fuck my throat,” you whine, “please,”

“Oh, baby,” he grips your hair tighter at your words while you stroke him, the sting making your cheeks warm, “you want me to stuff your pretty little mouth? Wanna wrap those beautiful lips around me?” Towering over you like this, you start to realize just how much he could overpower you, and the thought spreads heat through your abdomen.

“Please,” you nod, “I wanna taste you,” you open your mouth, sticking your tongue out for him, keeping your eyes on his. You pump his length twice more as you guide his hips toward your mouth, dropping your hands into your lap as his tip rests on your tongue.

“Mmh, so pretty,” he whispers, wrapping his fist around his cock, tapping his tip on your tongue before sliding past your lips. “If it gets to be too much, just tap my thigh, okay sweetheart?”

You nod, wrapping your lips around him, sliding your tongue over the sensitive underside of his tip. His head falls back, a beautiful moan falling from his lips as you slowly start to bob your head. You take more of him, inch by inch until his cock taps the back of your throat. You swallow around him, and he absentmindedly thrusts deeper, chasing the sensation.

“Fuck,” he groans, his grip on your hair tightening again as he holds you there. “I’m gonna move now, is that okay?” He brings his free hand to your cheek, caressing it gently as you nod in confirmation. As soon as you give him the signal, he pulls back slightly, rocking his hips slowly, savoring the feeling of your lips wrapped around him and your tongue gliding over him. “So beautiful with your mouth stuffed so full,” he praises you, thrusting deeper into your mouth, down your throat, testing the limits of what you can take. He finds a steady rhythm, and you match his pace, bobbing your head and licking over every inch of him as he pumps in and out of your mouth, the stretch burning your throat deliciously.

You can’t take your eyes off of him, tears blurring your vision as you admire his lustful features. His furrowed brow, his blown pupils, his flushed cheeks. The bead of sweat dripping down the tip of his nose, the tensing muscles in his stomach as he pumps into your mouth… he looks so beautiful. You find yourself rocking your hips, grinding into the mattress, looking for any friction you can get.

He thrusts deep into your mouth, his cock hitting the back of your throat again, and he holds you down on him, your nose brushing over his abdomen. The lack of air makes your head spin, and you want him even deeper. You reach up to grab his hips, but your hand bumps his thigh on the way up, which he takes as your signal that it’s too much.

“Shit,” he pulls out of your mouth, and you gasp for air as he drops to his knees in front of you. “Are you okay, baby? I’m so sorry, was that too rough?” His eyes are full of panic and he brushes your hair out of your face, wiping the saliva that had bubbled up at the corners of your mouth. It all happens so fast, it takes you a moment to process the man waiting in front of you, waiting for a response. Before you can stop yourself, a smile breaks across your face and a giggle rises up your throat.

“Yunnie,” you laugh, cradling his concerned face in your hands, “I’m fine, more than fine,” you try to catch your breath. “I was trying to…grab your hips to pull you closer, but I … bumped your leg by mistake,” his panicked face relaxes, a beautiful smile taking its place, and he lets out a deep sigh of relief. “I do appreciate how quickly you stopped though,” you tease him, your breathing finally steady, “it’s nice to know my boundaries will be taken very seriously.”

“You scared me!” He laughs, dropping his head in your lap.

“It was an accident!” You laugh with him, brushing through his hair with your fingers. “I actually wanted you to be more rough with me,”

He straightens up. “Is that so?” He plants his hands on the mattress on either side of your hips, the darkness returning to his gaze as he stands again, leaning over you. You lean back onto your elbows as he towers over you, his eyes raking over every inch of your body.

“It is,” you whisper, suddenly feeling so small beneath him, all lightheartedness suddenly sucked out of the room. “I would enjoy that very much,”

“Mmh,” he hooks an arm under your waist, lifting you easily and moving your body further up the mattress. You let out a small yelp as he drops you, heart warming as he reaches above you to grab a pillow to prop under your head. Once he’s sure you’re comfortable, he hooks his fingers on your panties, and you lift your hips for him to peel them off of you. He tosses them to the floor, turning his attention back to you, spreading your legs wide open, kneeling between them.

“I would enjoy that too, however,” he runs his hands up your calves, your thighs, until he reaches your center, using both hands to spread you wide open. You watch in awe as he runs two fingers through your arousal, teasingly dipping them inside of you. “I want to savor every moment of this,” he dips down to kiss you softly as he drives his fingers even deeper, prodding that tender spot inside of you, drawing a whine from your lips. “Let me be gentle this time, let me show you how much I–” he pauses, something indiscernible flashing through his eyes. “Let me show you how much I’ve been wanting you,” he recovers. “Then next time,” his thumb flicks over your clit, “I will do whatever you want me to do to you,” he circles the sensitive bud, your mind reeling. “Does that sound good, baby?”

“Mhm,” you nod, “so good,” you whimper as he scissors his fingers inside of you, surely trying to stretch you open for what’s to come.

He reaches for the drawer in his nightstand with his free hand, but you stop him. “You don’t have to wear one,” you interrupt.

“Are you sure?” His fingers keep moving inside of you, stretching you wider with each thrust, but still giving your conversation his attention.

“I’m on the pill and was tested recently, so yes, please Yunnie, I want to feel you,” you mewl, “please let me feel you,”

“So good for me,” he praises you over and over, “are you ready?”

“Yes, please,” you whine when he pulls his fingers from your cunt, desperate for him. He lifts your hips, pulling you closer to him, nestling himself between your legs, being sure to adjust your pillow once more. He spreads you open with one hand, tapping the tip of his solid cock on your swollen clit before rubbing it up and down your slit, lining up with your entrance. You both freeze at the same time as the reality of what’s about to happen finally hits you.

The feeling of this moment is nothing you’ve experienced before. For years, you’ve longed for Yunho, wanting the intimacy of your friendship to go beyond just emotional intimacy. You’ve yearned for him as long as you’ve known him. You wanted him– all of him. Finally, the universe decided it’s time for you two to experience that.

You realize he’s feeling it too, his hand finding your cheek in the silence, brushing away a tear that you didn’t realize had fallen down your cheek. “I know, baby,” he whispers, and that’s all you need to hear.

He presses his lips to your forehead as he slowly pushes inside, easing you into the sensation, gently stretching you out on his cock. You feel grateful that he prepped you with his fingers, the sting you feel only lasting a few brief moments before he’s smoothly gliding into you. He pushes in deeper and deeper, until you’re filled to the brim. He drops his hands to the mattress on either side of your head as he bottoms out. Almost in unison, you both let out a shuddering exhale.

“You feel incredible, fuck” he breathes against your forehead, finally pulling back to look into your eyes, your bodies finally connected physically in the way they’ve felt connected spiritually all these years. “And you look so pretty, my angel,” he whispers, his eyes shining.

“I don’t know how you can still manage to make me blush when you’re literally inside of me,” you pant, shyly giggling as your cheeks warm under his loving gaze. He hisses at the way you squeeze around him when you laugh. “Sorry,” you cover your mouth with your hand to stifle your giggles.

“I’m learning so much about you today,” he pulls hips back slightly before burying himself inside you again, all teasing coming to an instant halt as the tip of his cock presses against your g-spot.

“Oh my–” your back arches at the feeling, “God Yunnie, I feel so f-full.”

“You’re doing so well baby,” he praises you again, giving you a moment to adjust to his size. “Look at you, so beautiful taking my cock.”

“I need you to fuck me,” you scramble to grip his forearms, feeling the taut muscles under his skin. “Please,” you wriggle your hips beneath him, “move,”

“Mm,” he pulls out almost completely, just the tip of his cock resting inside of you, “say it again, sweetheart,”

“Fuck me Yunnie, please,” you beg, trying to push your hips down on his cock.

“God, I’ve waited so long to hear you say that, I’ll never get tired of it” he slams into you, and you cry out as he bottoms out inside of you again. He sets a steady pace, rolling his hips into you over and over, the feeling of him pumping in and out of you more delicious than you could’ve ever imagined. He kisses you hard, licking into your mouth, swallowing all of your pretty little moans.

He cups one of your breasts in his wide palm, running his thumb over your nipple, stoking the fire in the pit of your belly. He straightens, admiring how beautiful you look while you take him. Your lips red and puffy, your eyes half lidded, your breasts bouncing with each thrust.

“So pretty, taking me so well,” he praises you as his hand coasts up your chest, fingers gently wrapping around your neck. He holds his hand there for a moment, making a mental note of the way your eyes light up when he briefly squeezes the column of your throat.

“F-feels so g-good,” you choke out between thrusts. His thumb slides along your jaw toward your chin, prodding at your bottom lip, coaxing your mouth open. You wrap your lips around his thumb, sucking on it briefly before he pops it out of your mouth, trailing it down your body until he reaches your clit. The contact has your head spinning, the cord in your center tightening and tightening as he flicks your sensitive bud.

“Baby, look,” his voice cuts through the foggy lust in your head, grabbing your attention. He nods down to where your bodies are connected, gesturing for you to take a glance.

One look at him splitting you open has your climax threatening to wash over you, warmth running up and down your spine at the sight of your arousal shining on his cock as he pistons in and out of your heat relentlessly. He swirls his thumb around your clit faster at the feeling of you squeezing around him.

“You close, sweetheart?” He’s breathless as he fucks you, hitting so deep inside you that you can feel it in your stomach.

“Mhm, fuck, yes,” you cry out, scrambling for his free hand, lacing your fingers between his.

“Come on, I want to watch you fall apart around my cock.” He’s fucking you impossibly hard, each thrust hitting just right, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. “Let me feel you, love,”

“Oh my god,” you stammer out a string of curses as your second orgasm washes over you, your heart thudding in your ears as your body tenses underneath him. He barely slows his pace, keeping his thumb resting on your clit, fucking you through your high.

“There she is,” he coos, slowing little by little until your body starts to relax. He thrusts all the way inside, bottoming out, collapsing over you.

“Wow,” you laugh, bringing your hands up to cradle his flushed face. “That was,”

“Incredible?” He finishes your sentence, kissing your sweaty forehead over and over. You let out a soft moan in agreement, and his cock jumps inside of you at the sound.

“Mmh,” you whimper, the warmth creeping back into your belly, and you squeeze around Yunho’s cock.

“Wanting more already?” He teases, pushing his hips against you, thrusting himself in even deeper.

“Absolutely,” you squeeze around him again, craning your neck up to capture his lips with yours. “Fuck me however you want, baby,” you whisper against his mouth. His cock twitches inside you again and you giggle, waiting for his next move.

“Flip over,” he pants, “I wanna fuck you like this,” he slips out of you and you whine, feeling empty. He helps you roll onto your belly, kneeling behind you as he pulls your ass in the air and plants a hand in the middle of your back, guiding you to arch for him. You squish your cheek into the mattress, trying to look back at him. “Fucking hell,” he palms your ass with both hands, admiring your delectable form, “you are unreal.”

“Yun, please, I need you,” you whine as he bends over your body, planting hot, wet kisses up your spine until he reaches the nape of your neck, bringing his lips to your ear. You feel his cock bump against your backside, his body flush against yours.

“You are insatiable, my love,” your heart flutters at the word, but your lust pushes any overanalyzing to the back of your mind in favor of how desperate you are for him.

You push back into him, feeling the tip of his cock bump against your heat. He straightens at the feeling, rubbing circles into your hips with his thumbs as he watches you move. You roll your hips, catching the tip of his cock between your folds, wiggling and rocking to find the right angle before it finally slips inside.

“Oh, fuck,” he whimpers as you push back, taking him deeper and deeper until your ass is flush against him. You start bouncing your hips, taking him in and out, slowly at first, the sounds of his moans filling your ears and soaking your center.

“Feel good, baby?” You muffle from beneath him, moving your hips quicker with each bounce on his cock. You open your legs a little wider, the new angle rocking his cock against your g-spot.

“The best thing I’ve ever felt,” he rolls his hips to meet yours, the sound of skin slapping filling the air of his bedroom. “I can’t believe how long we’ve waited for this,” he grips your hips, meeting your thrusts in earnest, fucking into you impossibly deep. You match each other’s pace immediately, moans and whines filling the air.

He threads his fingers through your hair, tugging you upwards until your body is flush against his, your sweat-slicked bodies rocking together. His hand drops from your hair to wrap around your neck, holding you firmly in place as he threads his other hand between your legs, his middle and ring finger easily finding your swollen clit.

“I want you like this forever,” he whispers in your ear as he drives into you, your motivation to bounce on him melting into the mattress beneath you. You want him to take you however he wants you, your body molding into his grip.

“Forever,” you nod as he kisses your neck, “you have me forever Yunnie,”

“Again,” he groans as you tighten around him, his fingers swirling around your clit, your third orgasm of the night building rapidly low in your belly. “Say it again,”

“Forever,” you repeat, “I’m yours forever,”

“Fuck, sweetheart, I’m so close,” he growls into your ear, “you take me so well, like you were made for me,”

“I was, Yun,” you assure him, “I was made for you,” he rubs your clit faster, “and you were made for me,”

“God, yes,” he kisses your shoulder, his pace faltering as he gets closer to the edge, “I love you, y/n, fuck.” His fingers swirl around your clit as his hips stutter, spilling hot and fast inside of you. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” he repeats over and over as he ruts into you.

“I love you, Yunho,” you cry out, your heart exploding as your orgasm follows, your body shuddering against him as you come together, your words and his swirling around you in the afterglow.

He holds you tight against him, guiding your spent form back down to the mattress, kissing every inch of your skin as you both come down from your highs. He slips out of you, lowering your hips, massaging your sore muscles before rolling onto his back next to you. You mimic his position, flipping over so you’re both staring at the ceiling, processing the words you both just confessed. You lay together in silence, the sounds of both of you trying to catch your breath filling the room. You let your eyes close, processing the moment.

“Jeong Yunho,” your voice is hoarse once you speak. “Tell me you love me.” Your eyes flutter open, turning your head to see him already beaming at you. He rolls onto his side, bringing himself nose to nose with you.

“I love you.” He declares, clear and confident, your heart swelling in your chest. His lips brush over yours, both of you smiling as he kisses you softly. “Your turn,” he whispers. You copy him, rolling onto your side, brushing his sweat slicked hair from his forehead as he throws an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“I love you,” you giggle, kissing him again.

“One more time?”

“I, love, you,” you emphasize each word with a gentle kiss on his lips,

“I will never get tired of hearing that,” he whispers. “Let’s go get cleaned up.”

You whine in protest, but Yunho eventually gets you into the bathroom, running a hot shower for the both of you. You wash up together, hardly able to keep your hands off of each other. Once you’ve fallen apart in his hands twice more and the water’s run cold, he helps you into a pair of his boxers and his biggest, softest sweatshirt.

“This feels like a dream,” you think out loud once you’re snuggled up in Yunho’s bed together. “Is this a dream?”

“If it is, I never want to wake up,” he smiles at you under the dim street lights flooding through his windows. “This is all I need, forever.”

You kiss him at that, soft and tender, his arms wrapping tighter around you, holding you close. You fall asleep shortly after, nose to nose, hearts full.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

You wake to the morning sun shining through Yunho’s bedroom windows, the sweet smell of vanilla flooding your nose. Stretching your tired limbs, you roll over to find the other side of the bed empty. Panic floods your mind at the sight, your past making you assume the worst. Is he sleeping on the couch? You wonder. Does he regret what he said and now he’s avoiding me? Before you can reason with yourself, you jump out of bed and speed walk down the hallway, stopping dead in your tracks when you reach the kitchen.

“You’re not freaking out, are you y/n?” Yunho drawls, his voice still laced with sleep, low and raspy. He hasn’t even looked at you yet, his focus being on the plate on the counter in front of him, but he already knows where your mind is at just by the sound of your footsteps coming down the hallway. Of course he does. His bare, wide shoulders shake as he laughs to himself. His pajama pants hang low on his hips, the muscles in his back moving beneath his skin as he throws the final touches on what’s in front of him. He spins around to face you holding a plate of pancakes, littered with strawberries cut into hearts. Your heart flutters at the scene in front of you. “You think I’m gonna make love to you, tell you that I love you, and not make you breakfast in the morning?”

Suddenly feeling self conscious over your immediate assumption that he regretted your night together, you cross your arms, avoiding his gaze. “I got scared,” you whisper.

“That I left you in my apartment all alone? Baby,” he puts the plate down, “I would never, especially after last night,” he crosses the kitchen to reach you, pulling you into his warm embrace, his hot skin beneath you melting away the coldness you felt from waking up alone. “I’m not like…him,” he reminds you, brushing his fingers through your hair. “You are safe with me. Safe, loved, protected, respected, I could go on and on. Do you understand me?” He presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

You nod against his chest. “I do,” you feel a tear slide down your cheek, spreading from your skin, onto his. He squeezes you in a tight hug.

“Come on, let’s get some food in your system. You haven’t eaten since our pastries at Blossom last night,” he releases you to grab your plate, as well as a second he made for himself, and drops another quick kiss to your forehead before carrying them to the coffee table in his living room.

“Come sit,” he beckons you, and you follow automatically, plopping on the couch. He grabs your favorite throw blanket before sitting down next to you, draping it over both of your laps. No matter how hard you try to ignore them, negative thoughts are still plaguing your mind. You both pick up your plates, eating in silence for a few moments before Yunho speaks up again.

“Y/n, what’s on your mind?” His tone is so sincere, you immediately feel guilty for making him worry.

“I’m just–” you hesitate for a moment. “I’m scared it’s too good to be true.”

“What is? Us?” Worry flickers across his features, his heart aching seeing you so distraught.

“Yeah,” you sigh, poking at one of your pancakes with your fork. You know you’re being unreasonable, and that Yunho has shown you nothing but love and commitment as long as you’ve known him. But your self doubt and your history of awful relationships is screaming at you that you don’t deserve him. You’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t even realize that you’re crying.

Yunho gently takes your plate from your hands, putting both his and yours back on the coffee table. He shifts his body slowly until he’s kneeling on the floor in front of you, resting his hands on your blanket-covered thighs.

“Y/n, look at me,” he pleads. You wipe the tears from your cheeks, patting the dampness into the blanket in your lap. You rest your hands on top of his, tracing the lines of his veins for a moment before dragging your gaze upwards to meet his. His eyes are glazed over with tears of his own.

“Yunnie, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you, I–”

“Listen to me,” he interrupts. “You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. The most precious thing in this world to me. Each moment that I spend with you fills me with a joy that I never experienced until I met you.” He turns his hands over to cradle yours as his tears finally fall down his cheeks. “I love you. And I will spend every day of the rest of my life proving that to you. And proving to you that you deserve the love that I give you.”

You stifle a sob at his words, trying to take all of it in as the beautiful truth. You know he means it, he’s always meant every word he’s ever said to you, and you know you need to silence your anxieties in favor of what you know to be true.

“It’s gonna take time,” you whisper. “It’ll take time for me to believe that I deserve what you give me,” you wipe your own tears, then his, both of you laughing breathlessly at your own emotions. “But I will get there,” you continue, “I just need you to be patient with me.”

“Of course. I will spend the rest of my life reminding you what you deserve, sweetheart. That’s a promise.”

“I love you.” You cradle his head in your hands, memorizing every inch of his face, savoring the first day of the rest of your lives.

“I love you,” he kisses the tip of your nose. “Let’s go finish our breakfast in bed.”

“Okay,” you giggle watching Yunho jump up to grab both your plates, giddily walking toward his bedroom with a wide smile on his face.

“You coming?” He glances over his shoulder at you, his ears blushing bright red as he waits for you.

You nod, hopping up to follow after him, to your new forever.

#ateez yunho #ateez x reader #ateez fic #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #yunho x reader #ateez imagines #yunho #yunho smut #anxiouscherubs updates

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notquitecanon · 7 months ago

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IRL Plug and Play || Poly!141 x Fem!Reader

Summary: Third part of my Search History series (based on Penelope Garcia from Criminal minds) , the dinner party. The culmination of a month of knowing the boy's browser histories. Not much of a summary, it's pretty much dirty from start to finish.

18+ NSFW MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Warning: Fem pronouns and genitals, alcohol consumption, alcohol used during sex, porn, emulating porn, group sex, unprotected sex, tagging dub con just to be on the safe side but not really if you read the other parts you get it, Oral (M & F recieiving), fingering, penetration (F receiving) , allusions to penetration (male recieving), inappropriate use of cigar ashes. Genuinely this is just me being gross about these men for almost 12,000 words, proceed with caution. Say it with me one more time- irl this would be workplace harassment and NOT sexy. However, these are fictional war criminals who ARE sexy so we’re forgiving it.

Original Idea First Prev My Masterlist

made a lil header for the first time these are the vibes of reader and 141 :) (not Penelope's psychical description just her vibes)

pssst see how they're all on their mics in the pics?? its cuz your the voice in their ears :)

When you pulled into a parking spot on John Price’s street thirty minutes early, you automatically feel squirmy and a little foolish. Foolish because you’d convinced yourself that you were reading too much into things. So much so, that, somehow, the boys seeking out your porn twin had circled back around to you feeling like the unprofessional one. Squirming because you’d found the video they’d all watched more than once (more than three times) in the last days of their assignment. Barrack’s Bunny Get’s Gang Banged!

(Of course it was a military inspired orgy video, with four men and one woman that looked almost identical to you. Because, JFC, why wouldn’t it be? Was this actress in on the torment? Was she taking requests or was this some sort of cosmic joke where the punchline was your own sexual frustration?)

Ok, how the hell were you not supposed to read into that?

You hadn’t been able to watch it all the way through yet, having to pause and take breaks to calm yourself down. The thumbnail alone of your doppelgänger with four sets of hands and… other extremities... was enough to tempt you put your car back in drive and go back home. Because you weren’t sure you could look any of them in the eyes, and also for the third time in the last hour, you were second guessing your outfit.

Because what the hell does one wear to the porn-party with their boss and superiors? (Ok, maybe you should start by stop calling it the ‘porn-party’, because outside of your own finding in their browser histories, they’d yet to mention any actual porn to you in real life, but what else were you supposed to call this?)

After leaving work, you’d spent a long time debating if you needed to change and, if so, into what, and would it be delusional to put on a matching set? Johnny did say he liked seeing something soft… And were your work clothes too stiff? Was the skirt too presumptuous after that video Kyle liked titled Easy Access ? And was it just you or did your work blouse look slightly too much like the one from the office-scene Price had bookmarked? And why the hell was this all you could think about? Strewing your clothes around your bedroom like a teenager before a party, different combinations and options littering your bed and dresser until you got frustrated with yourself and your closet. With a what the hell moment of ambivalence, you’d settled on something comfortable, but switched into a lacy bralette, lying to yourself that it was more comfortable than the one you’d worn to work, and if the lacy strap happened to coquettishly accent your shoulder when your sweater sleeve slipped down your arm? Well, if it wasn’t a Porn Party, then no one would notice, and if it was, well it’d be sure to draw some appreciative eyes.

Your car was still cranked as you sat slightly down the block from Price’s house in your casual sweater and hidden matching set, anxiously killing time by alternating between tik tok, instagram, tumblr, and oh yes, the Barracks Bunny Gets Gang Banged video that you’d been working through thirty seconds at a time because any longer had your overheating and threatening to leave a snail trail on your upholstery. So enthralled and flustered, you’d barely thought of the fact you were quietly playing porn over your car’s bluetooth system, you’d made it to the official halfway mark, and each time you’d switched out to a different app, the ‘break’ was short lived as you went back for more, one hand white knuckling your steering wheel as if this was a particularly good movie with a plot twist you just couldn’t miss.

So enthralled, that a sudden knocking on your window startled you so bad that you half-tossed-half-dropped your phone with a sound that could only be described as a ’squawk’ as you slammed the mute button to your car’s stereo. It was as you were turning towards the knocker, that you realized you could 100% catch a public indecency charge for this, and somehow were still only half relieved to find Johnny leaning slightly down so he could meet your gaze through your driver-side window. He had his raincoat on, and a lit cigarette pinched between his thumb and pointer as he looked in on you with a cheeky smile and raised brows. When you just stared up at him like a deer in headlights, mentally trying to figure out just how long he’d been there and if from that angle he could’ve seen your screen and how good was the sound proofing on your car…. As you ran those mental calculations, Johnny simply knocked again and this time added a downwards motion with his cigarette, requesting you to roll down the window.

You’d never noticed how slow your windows descended as the two of you held eye contact (awkward on your side, delighted on his), until there was no longer a pane of glass between you. The cool, damp night breeze carried the scent of tobacco and some kind of Old Spice fragrance into your little car as you looked up at the Scotsman. He seem amused, but happy to see you, "Coming?"

Your brain short circuited for a moment. Were you… cumming? You stared at him wide eyed, convinced you’d misheard him.

"What?" Was all you managed to respond with, your brain still trying to scrub filthy, lewd images from between its lobes, like a community service volunteer cleaning graffiti off subway walls. Johnny’s eyebrows only raised higher with his signature, Can’t wait to tell Ghost about this look, as he took another deep puff of his cig.

"Are ye coming inside, hen?" He clarified slowly with that shit eating grin after blowing his smoke away form you- what a gentleman, "Or are’ye planning to sit out here all night?"

"Oh, right." You mumbled, resisting the urge to scrub your hands across your face to physically redirect your thoughts. Instead, you nodded and started gathering your things, "Yeah, yeah, I’m coming inside."

"Good, Si was getting impatient." Johnny grinned, stepping back so you could open your car door after you fished your phone from the passenger floorboards and cut the engine. Si? You hadn’t head that nickname for Ghost before, hell, you still excusively called him Ghost to his face, because you’d not received permission for anything else. Simon was personal, Si… was intimate... He watched you expectantly, snapping you out of your thoughts, and when you only responded in silent confusion, he reached inside the still open vehicle and tapped the buttons, "Window, bonnie, s'raining."

Cheeks heating in mild embarrassment, you quickly cut the battery back on so you roll up the window and then get out. You’d always been a little scatter-brained, prone to being in your own little world, but this was getting excessive. Maybe all the porn really was melting your brain… With the windows up and double checking the car was off, you finally got out of the car. Johnny immediately took the plate of brownies out of your hand in the guise of gentlemanly conduct, but actually snuck one from under the plastic wrap before you could scold him.

"Why so grim? Y’look like yer marching off to war." Johnny seemed pretty pleased with his own little joke, his free arm resting in the small of your back to guide you up Price’s porch step and into the house like you might run off down the street without his guidance. You were considering it anyways.

"I don’t look grim." You shot him a look but didn’t shake off his arm, nor could you prevent the smile that was fighting at the corners of your mouth, snatching the brownies back from him before he could snag another, happy to have something to fidget with as you smoothed the plastic wrap back into place.

"No, you most definitely do not." And there was the other sergeant, Kyle, holding the door open for the two of you. Smiling as charmingly as ever, Kyle was already taking the dish out of your hands only to hand the dessert back to Johnny to carry off somewhere else. Then, he was on you, "Glad you could make it, love. Don’t listen to Soap, you look beautiful.” “Hey! Dinnae say she couldn’t be grim and beautiful.” Soap called back, already on his way deeper into the house.

"Such a shameless flirt." You scoffed just loud enough to drown out Johnny with your own teasing smile, a more usual routine amongst all the overthinking you’d been doing, as Gaz helped you out of your coat. Maybe you were imagining the sensuality, but you were not imagining how his touch lingered, and how his fingers grazed the fabric of your sweater as it was exposed. Hell, he was basically unwrapping your raincoat like it was the gift wrap on a present, "Don’t look half bad yourself, though."

All the boys looked good in their civilian clothes, hell they’d all look good in anything (or nothing… Focus. Focus.). But Kyle? In his stylish and tailored clothes? He always looked he’d walked off a J. Crew magazine cover when he wasn’t on base. His burgundy sweater looked like something you wanted to rub your cheek against, soft and warm and it fit him like a glove. Gaz grinned at your little praise, not speeding up his maddeningly slow pace of peeling off your raincoat and adjusting your hair for you afterwards, which distracted you just enough that you didn’t notice the others watching his little show. One of his lingering fingers seemed to all together abandon it’s mission, instead tracing the arced lace strap of your (meticulously chosen) lace bralette strap that had fallen off your shoulder. You watched Kyle’s finger follow the flowery lace pattern for a moment before fixing back on your shoulder with an audible snap! that made you jump a little from the sting.

This time you did see Johnny’s amused grin and slightly devious eyes as your own went wide and you let out a little yelp, snapping your eyes over your soldier at the sergeant. Gaz was quick to soothe the ouch, humming at you before you could get disgruntled while his warm palm cupped the curve of your shoulder and rubbed the slightly stinging skin softly. And if you were still reading into things (you were) you could swear it was just for him to have a reason to touch you more.

"Sorry, love, had to fix it, was bothering me." Was the only explanation offered for his actions. Once your jacket was off, Gaz hung it on the foyer hooks, it looking comically small and feminine between all four of theirs. You knew your brain was melted from all the porn when the visual immediately reminded you of the stupid video’s thumbnail picuture… the pretty, feminine actress with four huge actors surrounding her… Fortunately, Kyle tugging you further into the house pulled you out of your dirty-thought spiral.

In the kitchen, John Price was waiting, marinating a platter of steaks. You couldn’t help the amused quirk of a smile at seeing the apron tied over his civilian clothes, an unlit cigar in the chest pocket for easy access. The captain smiled first to Gaz with an approving nod, and then to you with a teasing smirk, "Thought you’d sit out in your car all night."

"I’m early." You defended yourself, cheeks now must be permanently stained into a flush with how easily they managed to fluster you. Gaz parked himself right beside you, leaning on the counter but standing so close that his shoulder was slotted slightly behind you, half his chest pressed to your back, distractingly proving your early guess that his sweater was, in fact, very soft. It took the steam out of your vehement defense, "You said, eight. It’s 7:50."

"Yeah, but you’ve been sitting out there since 7:30, love." Kyle chided. You wondered if it was the whiskey he was sipping that gave him the courage to puncuate his teasings with a slight pinch to your hip that made you squirm. His closeness kept you from slipping away as he shifted his attention to his captain, that easy going smile still on his face, "She brought brownies."

"I know. Johnny’s already had two." Price smiled, slathering another steak with marinade and massaging it into the meat with tender but deliberate ministrations of his long fingers that, for a moment, made you jealous of a dead slab of beef. His eyes caught yours staring at his hands, chuckling as he cleared his throat, "We had something else in mind for dessert. Very sweet of you though."

Something Price said made Kyle chuckle like it was some kind of inside joke, his fingers still on your hip, tracing little circles that were almost as distracting as… whatever the hell it was that Price was doing to the steaks.

"Now, go off and relax. I’m about to cut onions and we don’t want to mess up that pretty make up." Price ordered, shooing you off towards his stocked bar cart, before adding quietly enough you thought you might have hallucinated it, "Not yet, anyways."

Later, after you’d been supplied a drink and deposited on the couch with Ghost to watch what you were pretty sure was a rugby match (you were a little distracted by his warm arm draped over your shoulder, fingers tracing the same floral lace Gaz had).

"Gonna have to make some more room, love." Kyle grinned, looking down at you, holding his drink in one hand and one of your brownies in the other. You looked around yourself, already sandwhiched between the armrest of the sofa and Ghost who hadn’t closed his legs even a fraction when Johnny’d led you to the couch originally. Wasn’t much room to make room with.

"Oh, I can just-" you started, standing carefully as to not spill the drink Kyle had made for you. Before you could step away to claim the plush arm chair by the mantle (a safe distance from Simon’s thigh against yours and Kyle’s lingering touches), a strong arm wrapped around your middle and tugged you right back down. Instead of your original seat, however, it was Ghost who had pulled you side saddle into his lap, his other hand steadying the drink in yours. Gaz chuckled, taking the spot you had been sitting in, both men unbothered by your startled yelp.

Despite the fact that Simon had forecully and silently pulled you onto his lap, when you gave him a bewildered look, he seemed not to even notice the fact you were sitting on him, his amber eyes focused on the fame playing even as his finger’s kneaded distracting little circles into the plushest part of your waist, his arm still wrapped around you like you might try and escape. And when you just blinked at him, his only offering was, "Tha’s Price’s chair."

"Ye look comfy." Soap chided as he came around the corner with a beer and a lo-ball glass of some sort of whiskey, beer for himself and the (presumably) bourbon was given to Simon, both however, were offered to Simon, "Crack that for me, Si?"

You watched, wide eyed and enamored, as he lifted his mask over his nose and used his teeth to crack the bottle open before taking a long swig and then handing it back to Johnny in exchange for the whiskey. You had a front row seat to the bob of his Adam’s apple, and the way a scar split the top corner of his lip vertically (you wondered if you would feel the scar if he was kissing you, focus, damnit, focus). Soap noticed your expression and the blush in your cheeks with a twinkle in his eyes, " ’s not nice to stare, bonnie."

You stared a moment longer before forefully shaking yourself out of the stupor and taking a swig of your own drink, thankfully ice cold. The momentary pause allowed you to dip back into your usual well of sarcastic wit, offering the Scot a raised eyebrow, "You’re just jealous I’m not staring at you."

Johnny only shrugged, stretching his arms across the back of the sofa, making his broad chest only seem broader, his grin showing just enough teeth to appear wolfish as his thigh pressed into Ghost’s and therefore the round of your ass, "Aye, maybe I am."

"Ignore him, he’s been watching too much…" Simon started swirling then sipping his bourbon before tugging his mask down again afterwards. You knew the answer to his trail off and your internal body temp went up five degrees, alarm bells ringing in your brain. Johnny elbowed the taller man, so Simon only shrugged and finished lamely with, "stuff."

Porn. He’s been watching a lot of porn. You all have. I know that. You know that. We all know that. You brain chanting in time with those stupid circles he was rubbing on your hip as Johnny took the liberty of adjusting the hair off your shoulder, his voice a challenging chide, "What’s that look for, bonnie? What’d you think he was gonna say?"

Your mouth opened, and then closed, and you were saved from answering by Price coming into the living room, declaring the steaks were marinating so they had a while to just hang out. He gave Kyle a shoulder squeeze in passing, and offered you a warm smile before settling in his chair by the mantle. The chair you’d tried to escape to earlier.

For a get-together planned around watching the game, it occurred to you that not a single eye was on the TV at the moment. Instead, you realized they were all on… you. Price in his chair, smoothing his beard. Simon still had you on his lap, amber eyes carefully scrutinizing your expression as you flicked your eyes over to Gaz, who was watching you- or rather the rise and fall of your chest as he pulled your legs into his lap- with a slightly cocked head, a small smile on his lips. And finally, Johnny, who’d not stopped fidgeting with your hair and the neckline of your sweater.

Once again, you were uncharacteristically at a loss for words, squirming a bit on Simon’s lap as you tried to figure out what to say or if to say anything at all, because all that was coming to mind right now were two options. Are y’all trying to fuck me? and How’s the weather?. Both options made you want to crawl in a hole and stay there.

"You’re quiet tonight, sweet, something on your mind?" Price raised his eyebrows, still smirking, knuckles tapping against the armrest, "Something you wanted to tell the boys, right? What we talked about in my office?"

How were you supposed to broach the topic of their internet history, essentially admit to knowing about your XXX twin, while sitting on your superior's lap, having your hair played with, and your calves massaged through your leggings…

"No, no. Just… enjoying my drink." You muttered, draining the rest of the beverage before leaning over to place the empty glass on the side table, which was a mistake because it just had you practically sprawled over the three men on the couch, "What game are we supposed to be watching tonight?"

"Never mind that, hen." Johnny shrugged, clicking the TV off before tossing the remote to Price, "We’ve been into a… different form of entertainment lately."

Yeah. I know. The problem is that I know. You thought to yourself, now not even able to pretend to watch the screen, forced to focus on all the hands and eyes on you.

"Let’s stop dancing around it." Simon gruffed, resting his head against the back of the couch, his fingers trailing from your hip to the top of your thigh, "She’s not daft."

"Lieutenant Riley, always the subtle one." Gaz rolled his eyes before sliding his eyes over to Price who gave him an affirmative nod, not unlike they would do in the field, and then his eyes were back on you, "So, we know you aren’t blind, love, sure you noticed something going on here."

You weren’t sure if he was talking about what you’d dubbed the porn party or if he was just talking about the general bond between the men that went deeper than just elite squad, so you just nodded, hoping he would proceed with some more context clues… any keep rubbing his thumbs around your calf. It was not helping you focus. Kyle just grinned, his hands gently roaming up your shins to your knees and then back down, "Well, we’ve noticed something, too, love. You."

"Me?" You parroted, half sincere half forced faux shock, that sent you further back into Johnny’s chest, the Scot who was still fiddling with your hair had also pressed his nose into the crown of your hair to smell whatever products you used. "Don’t sound so surprised, bonnie." He murmured into your hair before leaning past you to Simon, planting an open-mouthed,

wet kiss against the larger man’s mask right beside your own face. Your mouth dried out despite just finishing your drink, tongue seeming too big for your mouth, eyes flicking rapidly between them and Gaz. You were beyond flustered, your stomach twisting in a both nerve wracking and enticing way. You didn’t know where to look, or if you should look, or look away. You didn’t want to look away, seeing Soap’s tongue find Simon’s mouth even through the cotton. Did they want the illusion of privacy and if so, how were you supposed to give them that when Simon was half groping you at the same time Johnny was lapping at his tongue

through the balaclava? Johnny slid his eyes to you, barely breaking from Ghost, "S’alright, hen, don’t mind you watching us. After all, s’only fair."

Your eyes widened, owlishly turning to Gaz though Simon kept you from slipping off his lap. Was that them telling you that they knew you knew? Was this some confession about finding your doppelgänger and watching enough of her content to pay off her car? He rolled his eyes at the other sergeant, his easy going smile returning when his eyes came back to you.

"They’re so impatient." He chuckled with a what can you do shrug, as if they’d simply skipped to dessert (innuendo intended) instead of started sloppily making out with you in their lap. He quit massaging at your calves, instead using his middle and pointer fingers to trace patterns (you could swear it was a mimic of the lace pattern he’d traced earlier). Your eyes flicked over to Price, who was still just watching, leaned back in his chair, jutting his chin back to Gaz as if telling you to pay attention. Sheepishly, you turned back to Kyle, "So, we’ve… discovered this person online, and she looks… so much like you. Genuinely, love, it’s uncanny. And there’s this video she made that really caught our attention-"

"She knows the one." "Aye, She’s seen it."

Both Price and Johnny answered at the same time. Price, because you’d brought up the issue to him in his office. And Johnny… had apparently been standing outside your car longer than you thought and could see your screen. Your cheeks had to be glowing by now. Kyle’s smile just grew, flashing perfect white teeth at you as he leaned in closer, "Perfect, then we can skip that explanation. But once we saw it… well, it kind of got under our skin. You’ve gotten under our skin, love."

Johnny and Simon hadn’t stopped though they had shifted and suddenly there lips were back and forth on each other, and also over your neck and shoulders as you tried fervently to keep your eyes on Gaz as he leaned closer, pulling the sleeve of your sweater off your shoulder to expose that lace strap again, "And, judging by how you’ve been acting lately, we’ve gotten under yours too."

"Yeah. Yeah. That’s one way to put it." You admitted in a released breath, eyes flicked down to Simon who’d been kissing and sucking right at the curve of your shoulder for several long seconds, like if he wasn’t already under your skin, he’d supplant himself there personally. Johnny wasn’t going under your clothes, but his hands were tracing the line of your spine, finding the waistband of your leggings, nosing into your hair so he could kiss the shell of your ear. All while Kyle just kept that pretty grin on you, somehow putting you at ease and twisting your nerves even more.

"And, truthfully, we could sit here talking about it all night, Or…" And Kyle Garrick, with that unfairly, stupidly charming smile of his, made a veritable orgy sound as commonplace and sensible as going to the pub afterwork, and you found yourself dumbly nodding along to his easy words before you anxieties, logical and/or otherwise, could convince you that group sex with your coworkers was probably not the most professional way to spend a Friday night. But, damn, the sparkle in those pretty hazel-brown eyes was doing a good job of easing any worries that charming smile had missed…

Price finally spoke up again, but stayed in his chair, "You're nodding, sweet, but we gotta hear it. Out loud. Do you want this?"

When you looked over again, John Price was looking wholly the Captain he was. If you thought he was making a point to manspread in his office earlier in the day, now… Now he was just showing off. He looked like he was posing on a throne, legs spread, elbows resting on the arms of the chair as he settled in, watching the three soldiers and you on the couch. Seemingly completely nonplussed by his subordinate employees’ heavy petting on his couch.

Your internal reflection was swift. You were already getting felt up. If going into the office was going to be awkward on Monday, it was going to be awkward regardless of whether or not you cut it off at groping. You might as well let them relieve the nagging itch in the back of your mind while you were at it. So after another dumb nod, you found your voice again, "Yes. Yes. I want it. Please."

"So polite." Johnny murmured, taking you verbal confirmation as permission to slip his hands underneath your clothes, mapping your bare skin, "And you’ll say something if it’s too much?"

"Yeah, yeah." You nodded fervently, turning your head to try and catch one of their lips, the sweater had been stifling for the past hour, but now it was itching at your feverish skin. Johnny just smiled, helping you out of the thing.

"Good girl." Simon nodded before his amber eyes lit up a bit, "Well, would you look at tha’."

His fingers dipped under the lacy band of the bralette you were wearing. Johnny had already run his hands over the fabric while Kyle just whistled lowly. Price was the one who spoke up about it, "Did you put that on just for us, sweet?"

"Just in… just in case." You nodded in a breath, leaning back into Johnny as he started rolling your leggings down, exposing the complimentary lace waistband of your panties. Another round of appreciative comments and touches, Simon’s teeth nipping at the curve of your neck again.

"Too good to us, love." Gaz shook his head, helping his fellow sergeant get your leggings all the way off and tossing them somewhere out of sight, pressing kisses to the top of your thighs, then your knees, and finally one too the inside of your ankle. " So you suspected all along. How’d you see the video?"

"Go on, sweet, fill him in." Price prompted with that stupid little smirk, the one that tugged the corners of his beard up. The one that made you want to get on your knees and do anything to earn one of those approving nods.

"I-I can see the websites y’all visit." You admitted breathlessly, watching as Kyle kissed his way back up your legs, how those eyes never broke contact with yours, "I have to clear them for security purposes. I’ve.. I’ve seen all the videos y’all’ve been sharing with each other." “

All of them. So

that’s why you’ve been so quiet, bonnie?" Johnny hummed, a smile pressed into the base of your neck, watching Simon nip at your neck, teeth digging in harder every time, making you whimper which seemed to only egg Ghost on.

"Flattered or offended?" Kyle asked, but his smile told you he already knew the answer. Because, with you sprawled over the laps of three men, if you were offended you had a funny way of showing it.

"I should’ve been." You gulped after breaking off Johnny’s lips for a moment, adding on, "Offended."

"But you’re not?" Price prompted, head cocking to the side as he fiddled with lighting his cigar.

No. For better or for worse, this roundabout workplace harassment approach had really worked on you. So you just shook your head, opening your mouth as Simon pulled his mask up and caught your lips, tongue domineering itself into your mouth almost instantly.

"So cooperative, nice change of pace." One of them hummed, but you couldn’t place it, too focussed on the fingers kneading at your inner thighs, slowly working your legs open into a spread so your knee’s were hooked over each side of Simon’s wide spread legs, which exposed the dampened gusset of the deliberately chosen panties.

"All right, deal’s a deal, Garrick," Simon all but growled into your mouth, your eyes fluttering open to see his amber eyes watching Kyle who was smirking like he’d just gotten away with something, "You get first taste. Warm ‘er up for us."

Oh. Oh. Just diving right in. Though Gaz was ever the gentleman, charming through and through.

"May I?" He asked softly, waiting with his fingers hooked in the lacy waistband as he sunk to his knees in front of you. Your breath picked up just from the sight, and it was only Simon holding you to him that kept you from leaning down and catching a kiss from Kyle as well. Since that wasn't an option, you jerked your head in a clumsy nod, punctuating with the cant of your hips towards him that just made him chuckle as your panties were discarded towards the same direction as your pants.

"Please." You whined, the tone making all of the men snap their eyes up to you, the expressions all reading make her do it again. You didn’t even have time to adjust to the cold air on your exposed bits before Gaz’s hot mouth was covering the sensitive flesh, drawing a gasp as you threw yourself back into Simon’s chest. Ghost only hooked his chin over your shoulder, lazily watching as Gaz licked a flat stripe, first dipping into your entrance, teasing a bit as deep as he could get. Your clit got a little attention from his nose bumping it, make you breathe sharp breaths with little clipped moans. But when he withdrew and traced his tongue back up, finding your clit and slipping under the hood, your attempts at demure noises were nixed by a sudden and echoing moan.

"That good? Yeah, Gaz’s pretty skilled with ‘is tongue." Johnny nodded, nuzzling at your other shoulder as he watched on too, palming himself through his jeans, "Meticulous thing he is."

"How’s she taste, sergeant?" Price asked, adjusting himself as well. Kyle surfaced for only a moment, replacing his tongue with his fingers when you whined in disappointment.

"Better than the bloody brownies, that’s for certain." He hummed, his corners of his mouth glistening, eyes flicking up to you as he rested a cheek against the inside of your thigh. You tried to be offended at the diss to your baking skills, but as Kyle dove back in, a skillful swirl and lewd slurp killed any smart comment on your tongue, or rather on his. You weren’t sure if it was even possible to actually decipher, but you were certain he was spelling barrack’s bunny over your clit with his tongue, letter by unraveling letter. All four men seemed to delight in how your breathing sped up, how your head seemed so heavy to hold up that it flopped backwards into Simon’s shoulder. Kyle tolerated your hips rolling twice, but his chivalry ended the third time, reaching up and placing Simon’s hand at your waist to hold you still for him, while his hands kept your thighs from closing around his head. The message was clear. Anything you were getting would come from him and only him. You recalled how so many of his preferred videos revolved around control, pleasure dom, a term you had had to google. All you could do was stare down between your legs and watch him devour you.

"If she tastes half as good as she looks…" Johnny trailed off, catching the corner of your mouth for a short kiss, his fingers tracing the lace pattern right over your perked nipples, at least Simon was lenient enough to let you arch your chest into the touch, "Right treat you are, hen."

Your first climax was a quick thing, a full body clench and vulgar moan clawing its way out of your throat, your thighs trembling around Kyle as he licked and slurped his way through your high, collected anything you put out for him. His movements only slowing when your body relaxed back against Ghost. He gave your pussy a comedically sweet kiss before sitting up, and it was only then that he pulled you down to him for your first real kiss from him. It was tender and sweet, with the appropriate amount of tongue, almost the kind of kiss you’d give on a really good first date, if it wasn’t for the fact you could taste your essence on him, your cum making his lips slippery against yours.

"Called dibs on that weeks ago." He grinned, breaking the kiss to watch his fingers to dip between your legs, collect some more of your wetness and pop it in his mouth, eyes closing like he was savoring a fine wine. You watched him with mouth agape and eyes half lidded, "Alright then, Tav, surprised you held yourself back this long, go on then."

Johnny’s smile was all teeth as he descended upon you, kissing any of your slick off your mouth that Kyle’d left behind like he was getting a sneak preview. Though, for someone so often ridiculed for being impatient, he was anal about this kiss. Making sure to try every angle of his mouth against yours, then repeating his tests with tongue, and then once more splitting your attention with Simon. Ghost played along for a while, letting his sergeant explore your lips and your chest before he nodded down to the floor when Kyle’d been.

"Keep yourself busy, Johnny." Was the clipped order, as he took over kissing you, one large hand splayed along your face to keep you drawn to him, as if you might try to get away. He had nothing to worry about, the whiplash of switching partners and desires had you craving attention anywhere you could find it. You were already putty on his lap with Johnny taking over Kyle’s place between you legs. While it was still overwhelmingly pleasurable, his actions were more sloppy than Kyle’s. His strategy was to barrage your nerves as opposed to Kyle’s precision attacks. It still had you whining and squirming, which was enough to short circuit your focus. Johnny didn’t seem to mind you instinctively grinding into his face, in fact it only seemed to encourage him. Simon’s job was to keep you from melting off his lap, which he did while his kisses became harder and harder, sometimes biting at your bottom lip, "Now you just taste like his shitty beer, you’ll lemme fix that, won’t you, lovie?"

When you nodded, he smiled, tugging the balaclava all the way off. You didn’t even have time to properly admire how handsome he was under the thing, didn’t have time to pepper those scars with kisses or wax poetic about how all his unconventional features played together harmoniously to make him exceedingly handsome. Before you could do any of that, he’d taken a sip of his bourbon, swallowing as he watched you watch him.

"Open." He directed, nodding when you obediently dropped your mouth open. He tipped your head back at the same time as he took a longer draw of his bourbon, holding it in his mouth for a moment before pulling your lips up to his and kissing the liquor straight onto your tongue, burning off anything and anyone else. When he’d given you every last drop, he pulled back and manually shut your mouth, "Go on and swallow for me, don’t waste it. ’s hard to get this stuff ‘round here."

Bourbon wasn’t often in your rotation for drinks, the taste smoky and sharp just like the man that had kissed it into your mouth, but one look into Simon’s eyes had you nodding again. As you forced yourself to swallow it, the burn going all the way into stomach, stoking the fires the men had started in you. After he watched your throat bob, he nodded approvingly.

"Good fuckin’ girl." He praised which made the burning sting worth it, catching your lips in another punishing kiss when you moaned from Johnny’s sloppy slurping. Simon hummed, finding that your mouth now tasted like his preferred pour, "Much better."

After kissing the taste of his bourbon off you, he pulled back for a moment just to watch you whine and grind against the sergeant between both sets of your legs. After a moment of appreciation for the garment against your skin, the bralette they’d all liked so much was roughly yanked down, the straps down your shoulders while the cups and band bunched up under your now exposed breasts. Johnny was watching from the floor, his big blue eyes crinkling and lips pulling into a smile against you, while Simon ran his hands over your bare chest, stopping to squeeze and pinch when he pleased. “Johnny-

Ghost-" You almost shrieked not sure who to call too or thank for the electric static in your nervous system, arching your chest up into his hands, and when the movement moved your hips away from Johnny, he just took your legs off Simon’s knees and hooked them over his shoulders, keeping you firmly in place, "

Shit."

"Language, sweet." Price teasingly scolded from his chair, still stroking his beard from his arm chair. Gaz and Simon just chuckled when you pouted through another throaty moan. Simon was nudging your cheek with his nose, skimming his teeth across you jawline between kisses that trailed fown your neck, sucking marks that would stay for weeks, always finding his way back to what seemed to be his favorite spot in the curve of your neck. “Should’ve seen the Sergeants when they first found that video, acting like they’d won the fuckin' lottery. Been wanting you for months but tha’ really sealed the deal, lovie, couldn’t even get through the first quarter before this one was panting and rutting. Like it was the first time they’d ever seen a dirty video. Ain’t that right, Johny?” It was the most you’d ever heard Simon talk in one go, every couple of words grunted and groaned out between kisses across any skin he could reach with you sitting back against him, breath hotly fanning along your neck as he went. And when he finished the thought, he reached down between your legs and fished the sergeant up by his mohawk, leaving both you and Johnny whine at the loss of contact. Simon just laughed coldly and gave Johnny a prompting jerk, much rougher than he’d been touching you, “You gonna answer us, Johnny?” “Aye. Aye. Knew I had to get ma’ hands on ye.” Was all he managed before diving in for another taste of you, surfacing briefly again to relay a message up to Simon, half moaned half growled,

"This cunt's like fucking silk, I’ll tell you, Lt.” Strong hands clenching into the plushest parts your thighs holding them around his face like he was

hoping he’d suffocate down there, "Ye gotta get in here, ain’t nothing like it."

"You want that, sweetheart?" Simon hummed, moving from your lips to your jaw and down your neck, "Want me in you?"

"Fuck. Yes, fuck me." You rambled which just made them chuckle at you as one of your hands when into Johnny’s mohawk and the other palmed at your breasts. Johnny moaned when you tugged at his hair, sending subtle vibrations up with his tongue that almost sent you undone again. Simon easily pushed you down his legs, still supporting you with one hand as Johnny kept going, and freeing his erection with the other. Gaz and Johnny had worked hard to warm you up, to break you in for them, but Simon’s dick threatened to break you, period. He was just as thick as John, but almost as long as Kyle, cut, veiny, with a pretty pink tip. Como se dice, how you say… hung like a fucking horse.

He must’ve seen your wide eyes, the subtle fear in your eyes that was chased away when Johnny drug his teeth over your clit with just enough pressure to make you choke on your own spit. Ghost reached down intermingling his fingers with your folds and Johnny’s tongue, "We’ll start easy. Just the tip, lovie. Johnny’ll handle the rest for now."

They did just that. He held his hand out to Johnny, letting the man on his knees spit into his palm and then rubbed it against his dick, before pulling you back against him once more. Before he even attempted any sort of penetration, he slid his erection through your folds a couple of times just to collect some more slick, "You are just like silk, Johnny was right."

He grunted into your neck with another few slippery passes before reaching down as easing the tip into you. He was thick, enough so that it stung a bit as you tried to adjust. Despite his soft voice and unusually soft eyes, Simon’s control slipped, rutting a bit before you were ready. At you uncomfortable whine, Johnny mirrored the sound in disapproval of your upset, immediately going to remedy the hurt with his tongue, servicing both you and Simon with a flat lick up Simon’s exposed length and then up to your clit to help you relax.

"Breathe for me, lovie." The Liutenant ordered, like he was trying to be gentle with you but his jaw was gritted, trying even harder not to snap his hips against yours and bully his too-big dick into your hole, "Try to relax for me."

You were panting, cheeks puffing with your breaths, not sure if Johnny’s tongue was helping or just tensing you up more, but God, it felt good and you weren’t going to be the one to tell him to stop. Not yet at least. You got another inch in, which earned a kiss to your neck.

" s’all I can take right now." You breathed, reaching back to support yourself against him.

"Better than I did on my first go, eh, LT?" Johnny grinned up before kissing up the length of Simon’s cock that wasn't inside of you, flicking his tongue over the stretched rim of your entrance that was still trying to clench around the sudden intrusion, "She’s tryin’ so hard."

By the look in his eyes, he wasn’t talking about you. The She in question was just your pussy. Simon nodded along, hissing curses into your hair.

"Alright, lovie, alright, no more for now." He gritted out, " ‘m gonna move now, just try and stay loose as you can for me."

Humming in agreement, you tried to let yourself be pliant against him, feeling his hips rock, the in and out of his movements pleasurable enough to draw out a keening moan despite the less than comfortable stretch. His lips were at your neck again as he continued his thrusts, slightly steadier, growing more confident. And then it was his teeth, nipping between sucks, though his words were still growled, "That’s it, doing so good for me, for us."

Your mistake was losing yourself in the feeling, letting your hips rock because it shattered what little control Ghost had at the moment. He sunk in another few inches, teetering between painful and pleasurable, making you cry out, nails digging into his forearms as a tear slipped down your cheek. The dig of your nails only urged him on, the nip of your teeth turning into a full bite, enough to break skin just slightly. However, the moment your cry was one of actual discomfort instead of pleasure, he withdrew completely, kissing over where he’d bitten, "Sorry, sorry, lovie, got too rough, too quick with you."

He slowly eased you off of him, nudging Johnny off as well, still kissing at the spot he’d bitten too harshly, fingers kneading comfort into your hips and then your thigh, "Y'alright? Need to stop?"

You took a breath, let the initial shock of the stretch and the bite fade away, let him swipe the rogue tear off your cheek, let your body readjust…. and then shook your head, signalling you wanted to keep going, pulling him by the back of the neck down to you again for a kiss. Johnny was still at your knees, massaging your thighs, watching Simon deepen the kiss as much as you’d let him, and then pushing a little further, his fingers flexing hard into you again making you wince just a little. Honestly, you could’ve endured that, hell with another couple of kisses, you could’ve enjoyed it. But this time, he cut himself off, pulling back with a slew of curses that’d send a sailor to confession.

"Fuck, ‘m sorry, sweetheart, I’ve never been good at taking it slow." Simon growled, jaw still clenched so hard you were afraid he’d crack a tooth., thumbs easing the irritated skin he’d clenched just slightly too hard, "You’re just too perfect, can’t keep my head on straight."

Ghost stopped to think for a moment, breathing hot and heaving against you skin, before flicking his eyes down to Soap who’d stopped massaging your thighs in favor of featherlight kisses where his stubble had chafed you. You’d seen this before, the internet called it cuteness aggression.

"Price." He called, nodding to his Captain, a signal to take over. John nodded, and after meeting your still lust glazed expression, ascertaining you were alright, seemed rather amused by the tag-in. It seemed, despite the civilian clothes and whatever intimacy was shared amongst the group, rank hierarchy was still firmly present, because when Captain Price finally rose from his arm chair, the sergeants and Lieutenant wordlessly moved out of his way, presenting you along the way for him as his belt buckle jingled being loosened and discarded.

Still, despite his evident imposition, his strength was gentle as he peeled you off his lieutenant who stood, manhandling Johnny off with him to the chair. Half dazed and panting, you were grateful for his patience as he asked with only a little teasing, "Can you stand for me, Sweet, just a little?"

And when your legs were still jelly and trembling, he just chuckled, leaking cigar smoke into your mussed hair, "That’s alright, Sweet, you just let me lay you out all pretty."

With that, you were bent over the arm of your boss’s sofa, callous hands traced slowly down your spine and then paused at your hips, massaging your flanks much as he had his cuts of steak. Price massaged his way from your hips, over and around your ass, and then worked from outwards to the inner most part of your thighs. Finally, he dragged a flat palm up your exposed sex, and when you looked over your shoulder, he was licking his tongue across that same hand, a deep rumbling growl shaking you to your core as you watched him taste not only you, but also notes of his boys, "Sweeter than fuckin’ sugar, love. Fuckin’ perfect."

You just stared at him with wide eyes, limply spread over the arm rest, hips instinctively pressing back into him to find more touch, more friction, more him. Words failed, only high pitched whines made it out. Which made Johnny, off to the side, chuckle.

"Think this is the longest I’ve ever seen her quiet." The scot chided, watching with great interest as Price took another swipe through your folds, coating his cock in whatever (whoever’s) bodily fluids he collected there.

"Maybe you should take some notes, mutt." Simon gruffed, taking a fistful of the sergeant’s Mohawk and tugging it rather harshly backwards, exposing Johnny’s throat that his teeth descended upon almost immediately. Some time between being between our legs and being in Simon’s lap, Johnny’s shirt had disappeared, his jeans still on but unbuckled and Simon was fishing his erection out.

"Ignore ‘em." Price chuckled down to you, physically redirecting your attention by giving your clit a bit of attention as he eased himself slowly in, all the way to his base, "Y’feel even better than you taste, sweet thing, y’know that?"

You didn’t know that, but you’d take the compliment, if you remembered it, or your own name by the end of… whatever this was. He gave one slow and steady thrust, almost like an experiment, one hand holding your hips in place, the other holding his cigar up to his lips.

"Dessert before dinner, how about that, lads?"

There was a moment of recall to his earlier words, "Already had something else in mind for dessert" echoed with what he just said in your fuzzy mind. You had been dessert all along, and judging by the ravenous eyes with varying degrees of satiation, the 141 intended to eat their fill, your online look-a-like was simply a taste test. A momentary taste of vindication on your tongue- you hadn’t been reading too far into things or fluffing your own ego, this was premeditated, and your matching set wasn’t presumptuous. Still, that only lasted a singular breath, the smug vindication was phsycially forced out of you with a rough snap of his hips, the first of many from the demanding, almost brutal, pace John set for himself.

"There’s a girl, you just take it for me," He grunted between thrusts, seemingly pleased with your little cries and moans, "Just like that, sweet, you’ll be taking Simon’s cock in no time."

John Price’s couch was not picked out with ‘being bent over the side’ in mind. Or perhaps, you were just a bit softer than the other’s that had had the pleasure of being bent over the arm like John had you at that moment. Taking mercy upon your ribs, or perhaps just for his own selfish purposes, Kyle slotted himself underneath your front and sat you up against his chest, throwing your arms over his shoulders. While John still had your hips over the couch arm, Gaz had pulled you chest up to his, his lips finding your lips, your cheek, jaw, and breasts as he went.

"Poor sweet thing" Kyle cooed, his perfect pearly teeth nipping at your ear while is chest steadied you against Price’s onslaught that pushed a thought our of your mind with each quick, but deep, thrust, "Didn’t know what you were walking into, did you? And now look at what a mess we made you?"

You couldn’t tell if Kyle was mocking you or praising you, kind words and little digs were both dipped in that sugary sweet tone that just made you nod up at him with wide eyes and a pouted lip. One of this thumbs reached up and swiped a mascara laden tear out from under your eye, the same thumb dipping into your mouth and holding it open in the pornographic O-shape after Price drew a vulgar moan out with a particularly deep thrust that also managed to scoot the sofa a couple of inches. Gaz didn’t even waver, just laughed a bit as he held you steady, "Mean, innit he?"

Another moan blocked the chance at a snappy reply, not that you had the current brain power to make one. The sergeant just took the chance to swallow your noises with his mouth over yours, kissing you and biting your bottom lip as he pulled away. With what little fortitude you had, you grabbed the collar of that soft sweater and hauled him right back up to your mouth. It was aggressive kissing. Tongue and teeth and nails, sloppy and dirty, your noses bumping together from the force of Price’s thrusting.

When Price adjusted your hips, it forced you onto your tip toes to maintain the angle. And while the new angle provided incentive and reward in the way of relentless pounding of that delicious spongy spot inside you, that fact only made it harder for your already shaking legs to support you.

"Hold her fast, Sergeant." Was the grunted order as he gave your ass a smack, like he was punishing you for the indiscretion of already having you legs fucked out from under your from the other men in his living room. Honestly, How dare you? Kyle took orders beautifully. The best multitasker on the squad, as he not only, held you at that perfect angle for his Captain, but also, trailed wet, hot kisses down to your chest, locking onto one of your nipples with devious precision, only sucking harder when you cried out.

" ‘m gonna cum-!" It was strangled and whined into Kyle’s shoulder still fisting the collar of his shirt while your other hand posed serious risk of shredding the upholstery.

"You gonna cum on me, sweet? Go ahead, but I’m not stopping." Price chuckled through his warning, leaning over your head and pulling Gaz in by the back of his neck for a sloppy kiss of his own.

"Go on then. Give it to him." Kule urged in that sickly sweet tone, "The captain’s working so hard back there for you, least you could do is let ‘im feel how pretty you fall apart."

Another moan, a garbled cry of both of their names mashed together when they pushed you over the edge in tandem with a well timed deep thrust and light smack to your clit from Price at the same time that Gaz tweaked both of your nipples..

"You feel that Cap? That flutter?" Gaz called, talking (literally) over your head as you sagged, twitching against him, unlatching from the hickey he was sucking into your collarbone, "That’s fuckin’ magic, that is."

"Flutter? She’s wringing me dry in there." Price groaned, his pace only slowed by the vice like grip your core had as your eyes rolled back, "Sweet’s cunt’s practically swallowing me, bloody hell, greedy thing, aren’t you?"

The only reprieve you had was Price leaning forward so his warm chest pressed to your back, his big hands circling your clit like it might encourage you loosen back up for him so he could resume his movements, "C’mon, love, you gonna answer me?"

"Yes…" You drawled, flopping your head over so you could meet his eyes over your shoulder, that signature mirthful smile twitching the corners of his beard of as he tweaked the little bundle of nerves to correct you. With a little cry, you answered once more, "Yes, sir."

"Atta girl." Price nodded approvingly as he took a long draw of his cigar his pinkie shaking off little bits of ash onto your raised posterior (which should’ve made you feel degraded, or maybe it did which is why it made your eyes flutter again), both at the answer and at the relaxing of your muscles allowing him to build his pace back up.

"Hear that, love?" Kyle’s attention returned down to you when your face dropped back down into the curve of his shoulder, "what a good pussy, taking us all so well, and she just keeps wanting more."

"More?" You croaked out through another moan, panting and trying to count the stars dotting your vision, not sure if you were requesting or parroting in disbelief. Though with a clearer mind, you wouldn’t have been so shocked. Price had barely stuttered in getting his rhythm back up to it’s pace, riding you all the way through your orgasm.

"Told you, ‘m not fucking stopping." Price growled with another smack to the round of your ass. Something between a moan and a cry crawled out of your throat, but tapping our hadn’t once occurred to you.

"You can take it, love, bet you can even give us another big finish, yeah?" Kyle encouraged. It occurred to you the Gaz had now coaxed you through two orgasms, and really hadn’t even asked for anything in return from you. And while you were sure, between the four of you, someone would throw him a bone(r), you decided to take that cross upon yourself, reaching down between him and yourself and wrapping around his dick. From what you could tell, he was on the leaner side, but he was the longest in the group, slightly curved. Which gave you plenty of room to rub and squeeze, from base to his tip where you thumbed the slit, spreading the precum back down as you followed the vein on the underside. Kyle tried to chuckle through a moan, "Bloody hell, love."

Jerking off took on a new meaning as your movements, meant to be languid and smooth, turned jerky and choppy with the force of Price’s increasing speed, his rythym stuttering as he chased his own release. Kyle leaned down using one of his free hands to roll a nipple in his fingers, catching the other in his mouth as you continued to pump him. Between the two of them, it didn’t take long to come close to the edge once more, and you didn’t even have time to be proud of bring both of them over with you in tandem as your third orgasm tore through you, leaving all three of you dazed and breathless. You were vaguely aware of Gaz’s cum on you chest, kind of feeling the warm, sticky trail it left as it leaked down your front while John gave a few more lazy strokes as he softened inside of you. Though Gaz twitched hard again just watching your eyes roll back, and when Price was finally done, he gave your thighs a gentle, almost proud squeeze, watching his spend leak out for a moment before gently collecting you upright once more. With a sweet forehead kiss that contrasted so heavily from the cigar ashes and ass slaps, he gave your cheek a little pat, "Still with me, sweet?"

"Mmmhm." You nodded, eyes only half opned as Gaz sat up behind you and sucked kisses across the back of your shoulders. You’d be wearing turtle necks for weeks. John’s attention shifted over to Simon, who you now realized had been watching the show with the darkest eyes you’d ever seen with poor Johnny taking the brunt of whatever storm Ghost had brewing. Your eyes fluttered watching the liutenant’s hand tighten around Johnny’s throat. Despite the tears on the Scot’s face, he didn’t appear to be too upset with his current predicament, in fact giving you a groan through a watery smile as Simon’s other hand tightened even more around Johnny’s leaking dick.

"Got it all out of your system, Lieutenant?" Price asked with a raised brow, both him and Gaz still keeping you upright with gently roaming hands. Simon gave both his hands another squeeze making Johnny pant.

"I’m solid." He nodded, surprisingly tender as he released Johnny, the sergeant stumbling off his lap. Simon rose behind him, both men approaching the couch. You weren’t positive what ‘it’ was or why it needed to be out of Simon’s system, but Gaz nodded and pressed one last sweet kiss to the curve of you shoulder before letting Simon slide into his place. The largest of the men simply laid down on the couch, taking up most of the three-seater, efficently pulling you backwards so you straddled his lap facing away from him.

"Nice and slow for me, lovie." Simon directed, lining himself up with your entrance after bumping your clit with his tip. Thank god for his strong hands guiding your hips down at the pace he set. Though Price had thoroughly broken you in, and you’d already partially taken Simon once, you still tensed up nervously but set your jaw with determination to do it again and get all of it from this new angle. With your back to his face, you had a front row set to the others watching hungrily. Kyle was leaning back against Price’s chest, the older man reaching around to palm the sergeant’s erection as Gaz pressed his back to Price’s front, grinding backwards. But Johnny, poor Johnny, with his cock almost purpled by Simon’s earlier teasing, rocking on his heels like he was just waiting for permission to join in, sapphire eyes bouncing between Simon’s face, your face, and the stretch of you pussy around Simon’s cock- like he couldn’t decide who was most jealous of.

Inch after deliciously painful inch, Simon helped you ease yourself down until your ass was flush with his hips. From this angle, though Simon could still rut up against you, the pace was all your decision, making it harder for him to lose control again. With your hands braced against his tree-trunk thighs. Simon gave you a minute to adjust, to pant and try to focus your eyes. The soldier underneath you grunted, fingers flexing on your waist as he adjusted himself making you whimper and almost fall forward.

"Si-" Johnny whined, his hands twitching forward like he wanted to help you, or maybe just touch you, his cock leaking down his leg. Simon’s voice was not as gentle to his sergeant, a gruff order.

"No’ yet." Before returning his attention to you, voice softening slightly, "Take your time, sweetheart, move when you want, I want you to feel good."

Giving a jerky nod, you gave an experimental wiggle that nestled him somehow even deeper. Your moan was lodged in your throat as your eyes shut, but the movement earned a deep groan and hiss from Simon. With a deep breath, you managed to move past the acclimation stage so the actual pleasure started building again, which felt like crossing the finish line of a marathon. Next, a roll of your hips that genuinely blurred out your vision, feeling so good that our body instinctively did it again to chase the feeling. And then again, and again- head falling forward and then rolling back.

"That’s it, lovie, find your rhythm." Simon tried to prain but it sounded more like a growl as his hands flexed again into the softest parts of your waist, his long fingers spanning so far that they kneaded into the plushness of your stomach, "Fuckin' hell."

"Si-" Johnny whined again, drawing the clipped nickname into two syllables, this time his twitching fingers finding purchase in the arm of the sofa you’d been bent over earlier. If you weren’t so focused on Simon’s cock rearranging your internal organs, you might’ve heard the ominous creak of the fabric under his strength. When your eyes fluttered open, they locked onto Johnny’s bright blues, darkened to a stormy hue with impatient want. His Scottish brogue thickening deeply, "Ah keened you’d be better than the lass in the fuckin’ videos, so fuckin’ sweet and pretty-"

"Alright." Simon gruffed before his voice softened down again, "Go on, sweetheart, show the mutt some love, won’t you? He won’t shut up until you do."

Even though the permission had been given to you, Johnny was immediately upon you. Much like Gaz, Johnny took up the job of supporting your upper body as Simon had your hips firmly in his grasp. With one knee pressed into the couch cushion, he hugged your chest to his, his hands groping and feel any part of you he could get his hands on like it was the first time he’d touched you or any other soft and pretty thing. Unlike Gaz, his mouth on your started out aggressive and when you would moan, he’d mirror the noises, groaning them right back onto your tongue.

"And soft. Ye sound better too." Johnny groaned when Simon suddenly rutted against your rocking, leaving you crying out and digging your nails into Johnny’s shoulders. With strong but surprisingly gentle grip, your fingers were removed from his shoulders. Johnny led one of your hands in an exploratory trail down his chest, following the path of thick, dark body hair, past his abs, until he wrapped your hand around his cock which twitched even at your slightest touch.

"So fucking soft, bonnie," he breathed, coaxing your hand into movement while kissing your other palm, before looking over to Simon, "Not a callous on her hands, Lt, dinnae even think about that."

Simon merely grunted in acknowledgement of Johnny’s discovery, seeing as his focus was an entirely different part of your anatomy. The larger man seemed content letting his sergeant be the vocal one, sometimes rewarding you with a hiss or a strangled groan. He’d given up on letting you control the pace now that you were acclimated and half bouncing against him, rutting and grinding against you in time with your own rolling and rocking as you sped up. It was only natural for your hand on Johnny’s cock to speed up as well.

"Sweetheart, why don’t you show him something even softer than your hands? He went through a lot for you, after all." He didn’t give you time to ask what that was supposed to mean, but you figured it had something to do the vicious series of bites and hickies on the man’s neck. You could tell Simon was moving because his cock was shifting angle inside of you, making you gasp. One of his large hands splayed against the small of your back, pressing you firmly forward and down. A sudden thrust as he applied pressure to your back made you go boneless, letting the men push your cheek first into Johnny’s stomach and then down to where your hand was still pumping Johnny’s cock.

"Look at that, a multitasker. ’s why she’s such a good analyst for us." Gaz chided from the sidelines like he was commentating on a sports match, watching as you were stroking Johnny, holding your cheek against him while trying to catch your breath from Simon’s thrusts. Johnny helped guide himself into your mouth. It wasn’t so much length as the girth, even thicker than Price, that stretched your jaw uncomfortably. But the way that Johnny moaned sinfully above you when your nose pressed into the dark curls at his base, the way he all but melted over you like butter, encouraged to breathe through your nose and keep going.

"Steaming Jesus, Si, I cannae last like this-" Johnny moaned, seemingly not even noticing how loud he was. Simon only laughed lowly, reaching around your thighs to dip between them, circling your clit. Your thighs were trembling, moans getting louder and less restrained, nothing about this was restrained anymore.

"That’s alright, Johnny, neither will she, will you, lovie?" He asked with another deep thrust, "feel ‘ow she’s shaking?"

You were shaking your head still with a mouthful of Johnny’s cock, because you weren’t going to last much longer, eyes rolling and fluttering, landing on the arm chair again where Gaz being treated as well, both him and John watching appreciatevly as Ghost and Soap had you in lopsided Eiffel tower. You were pulling out any trick for Johnny that you managed to remember between Simon’s thrusts, swirling tongue and bobbing heads. But what did him in was actually Simon’s doing. When Simon rolled his hips into you just right, hitting every good spot and giving your clit a swipe, your eyes crossed and you moaned, practically screaming around Johnny’s member, the vibrations and look on your face enough to finish him. His hand tightened in your hair, hips snapping, pushing your nose into his pelvis, and holding you there as he came with what some might call a battle cry. After everything Simon had put him through earlier, he was pent up, leaving him cumming. and cumming, and cumming, until you had to swat at his thigh because you couldn’t take anymore.

You swallowed what you could, taking a couple more spurts to your face and chest before Johnny crumbled onto the couch against you, kissing the taste of himself right off your tongue as Simon continued his thrusts, getting incrementally faster and harder as you proved you could handle it. The scot took over the praising and encouragement as his superior fell back into the quiet grunting and groaning against you, though you could barely make out any of the words as you approached your fourth finish. For the first time in your life you understood the phrase "fucked stupid". You were somewhat sure you were rambling gibberish accolades to the men, cries of ‘yes’ and ‘please’ and ’thank you’ intermingled with moans and curses that put your over the top XXX twin’s to shame.

"C’mon, sweetheart, one more f’ me." Simon growled out, switching positions so quickly and effeciently that you didn’t even realize it until you body was pressed face down into the couch cushion, Simon still behind you, drilling into you with a pace that put mechanized machinery to shame. You weren’t even sure how you were taking it just that you were and if he stopped you might start crying, "I know you’re close, just lemme have it-"

Johnny was back on his knees in front of the couch, catching your nipple in his mouth. And you turned your head towards John and Kyle, locked in their own encounter, and then it just snapped. Your orgasm not just washing over you, but a tidal wave crashing over you and frying every nerve a long the way. For a moment your vision whited out, the only thing you were aware of was Simon’s strokes slowing and working you through it. With your body practically vibrating with overstimulation, you let your unseeing eyes roam to to the cieling fan and let your mind wander as you floated somewhere above reality for a bit, enjoying the electric feelings between each neuron firing. Every noise and sight becoming background information as overstimulation fuzzed it all out except the aftershocks and twinges in your core.

You weren’t sure how long it was before you came back to yourself, but you heard Johnny’s voice first, "C’mon, bonnie, float back down to us."

"There she is." Kyle cooed in tandem with the other sergeant while your cheek, "Lost you for a bit there. Alright?"

You were more than alright, body more sated than it’d been in years, still thrumming and twitching with the aftershocks, so you just nodded slowly, trying to focus your eyes in on one thing at a time, voice slightly slurred with nothing to do with the drinks, " ‘m alright."

"Was worried I broke you." That was Simon, who’s lap your head was in. You only offered a dopey smile and a lazily blink.

"You might’ve, but I’m ok, more than ok." You sighed with a dry laugh, turning your head so your cheek pressed to his thigh, though you noticed he’d slipped his sweats back on.

"Si’s gotta work on being gentle, we don’t make him practice enough." Johnny teased, running soothing hands along your sides. Suddenly, a cup of water with a straw was placed in front of your face, and when you looked up it was Price holding it down to you before Kyle took it and held it steady for you.

"Never see you complaining about it, McTavish." John teased right back, trading off the cup so he could smooth hair off your sweaty forehead, "Take as long as you need, sweet, y’did good for us. So good."

His praise nestled deeply, right between your ribs, making you smile softly as Kyle coaxed the straw into your mouth, letting you sip on the water as he ran a caring thumb over the apple of your cheek.

—

You must’ve dozed off, because when you woke up, you were still on the couch, but everyone else had moved around you liked you simply always been nestled amongst them. The thought made your lips curl in a dopey grin as you looked around them. Half upright and wrapped in someone’s hoodie, you were laying against Price’s chest, head tipped back into his shoulder as he worked around a plate filled for two, the atmosphere was cozy now, the electric frantic tension from earlier had morphed into something warm and intimate.

“Evening. Hungry?” His chest rumbled as he held the plate closer to your field of view. Two very juicy ribeyes, baked potatoes, green vegetable- the stereotypical macho man plate. John seemed all too proud of himself when you opened your mouth to accept a fork of perfectly cut bite-size steak, laughing when you hummed in approval, “There we go, sweet, worked up an appetite, yeah?”

“Really? Thought we already stuffed ‘er pretty good.” Kyle teased, still gently swiping warm rags over your body, wiping away any evidence that wasn’t etched or sucked semipermanently into your skin, occasionally following his ministrations with gentle kisses and soft praises, “Feel ok, love? Need anything?”

When you shook your head, gently squeezing his wrist in gratitude, he only smiled, giving you a tender kiss to the forehead before retrieving his own plate and sitting on the opposite side of Price, claiming the captain’s other shoulder for his own head.

Johnny was in the same boat as you, though whatever the hell Simon had done to him made his attention to you look like princess treatment, having obviously reigned himself in with you. Was that what Ghost was getting out of his system before coming back to you? Still, the scot didn’t seem to have many complaints after Simon sat him down between your legs on the couch, letting the sergeant lay facedown against the softest part of your stomach, where he’d nuzzled the hoodie out of the way so he could rest against your bare skin. It was then you noticed that you and Johnny were the only ones still in a state of undress which if your mind wasn’t moving at a snail’s pace, you might’ve tried to read into.

Like you, he seemed half asleep and fucked out, a couple more bites around his neck that hadn’t been there the last time he’d been touching you. Soap’s mohawk gave you something to gently fidget with as Price nudged another bite against your lips. Simon took his seat on the floor, leaned back against the base of the couch with his head tipped back against the curve of your hip. One of his arms wrapped around the leg that Johnny had dangling off the couch, massaging gentle circles into the mans calf muscle. His other other arm was propped on his knee so he could catch your wrist where it flopped down on his shoulder. He was tender as he ran his ungloved hand over yours, massaging your fingers and comparing them to his much larger hands, murmuring himself, “No callouses.”

“Told you, Si.” Johnny sighed almost dreamily into your bare stomach, leaning into your fingers in his hair. With the rest of the men doting on you and Johnny, Simon didn’t even retaliate or tease something back, just snickering quietly and fondly, offering straw topped water bottle to the sergeant.

Another bite of food was offered to you, along with water, and something struck you funny, drawing a quiet chuckle out of you as you turned your face into Price’s neck to stifle the noise. It drew the group’s eyes, clearly waiting for you to divulge. “C’mon, hen, share with the class.” Johnny prompted with grin, always down for a laugh, propping his chin up on your belly so he could look at you through the valley of your cleavage, eyes shining like you’d hung the moon.

“What’s on that pretty mind of yours?” Price rose his eyebrows, cutting another bite of meat for you.

“Nothing, it’s dumb.” You snicker a little more, earning a expectant but amiable tug to your fingers from Simon, “It’s just all a little backwards, s’all.”

“Backwards?” The liutenant parroted in that deep Manc accent, making you giggle a bit more, nodding against Price.

“I let y’all fuck me every which way from Tuesday, and you didn’t even buy me dinner first.” You mused, ironically before taking another bite of one of the best steaks you’d ever had, which could be an effect of the post-sex endorphin rush, or maybe John was just a grill master. “Our apologies, sweet thing.” John rolled his eyes playfully, his apology deeply sarcastic as he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head.

“In our defense, dinner and a very nice bottle of wine were on the agenda before, but some people,” Gaz’s eyes flicked over to Johnny and Simon who didn’t even have the decency to look sheepish. Simon was stone faced as usual, still playing with and kissing at your fingers while Johnny just smiled into your belly, “got impatient.”

“Hey, the first time Simon fucked me all I got was the drink mix and wet nap from his MRE.” Johnny whined which only made you laugh harder.

“Y’didn’t ask for anything else.” Simon shrugged tilting his head to press an uncharacteristically romantic kiss to the curve of the Scot’s knee. “ ’sides, I got your mouth on her didn’t I? think I made up for it.” And before you could question if Simon was really the one to orchestrate all of this, Price quieted you with a bite of potato while Gaz leaned over to distract you with his lips on your shoulder, “Don’t worry about it, love.”

And for the first time since you’d seen their search histories, you weren’t worried about much of anything other than when this might happen again.

____

me, who doesn’t ever really write smut: yes i will enjoy writing a fivesome with at least ten hands, five mouths, ten arms, and four penises to keep up with.

Y’all should see the notesapp where I had to like draw out stick figures to see if what I was writing was anatomically possible. I feel like this has gotten me on some kind of watchlist.

Taglist in Comments because there were too many of y'all!! Thanks to anyone who has commented, liked, and reblogged! Whenever I'm feeling uninspired, I just scroll through y'alls comments and they make me smile so so much!!!

#call of duty modern warfare x reader #codmw x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #141 x reader #cod mwii x reader #captain price x reader #john price x reader #poly!141 x reader #johnny soap mctavish x reader #soap x reader #johnny mctavish x reader #Johnny mactavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader

3K notes · View notes

froggiequarium · 30 days ago

Text

imagine li's getting jealous over non!mc reader

warnings:(unedited) mc is referred to as she/her as well as partner/miss hunter/pipsqueak+meimei while reader is y/n or they/them. be warned that xav + caleb get a little possessive while zayne just sulks.... hopefully i did them justice? i quite like it at least hehe ofc raf + sylus pt coming later this tired me outtt but i hope u enjoy leave thoughts/any ideas i <3 reading thru them maybe it'll help spark more inspo lolol :p

tags: @xylov @asakiyu @xsammijoanneex @noxus123 @cordidy @nm4565natty

(tagging some who showed interest in more parts/asked to be tagged in prior part. pls lmk if you'd like to be add/removed ! :p)

something was missing.

xavier had felt it recently- like something was slowly slipping through his fingers before he realized he should try to grasp at it to no avail.

it was like a stray thought circling through the back of his mind, orbiting to the forefront every so often when he was by his lonesome, but quickly being shoved to the side in favor of other things (or, people), notably aiding his partner in whatever she might have needed.

that "something missing" would be placed on the backburner, neglected with the intention of returning to it later in order to find out what exactly was nagging at him.

but hours turned to days, and days into weeks before he finally realized what it was.

it happened in one of the training rooms.

xavier and his partner had just finished up for the day, getting ready to change with the lively idea of hotpot with the others floating around. she said she wouldn't take long, scurrying off towards the showers for a quick rinse and change of clothes.

xavier had finished before her, mind wandering as he waited for her to finish when he caught a glimpse of something.

out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a familiar star charm dangling off of a shoulder bag.

snapping out of his little daze, he saw you from a tall window, zipping your bag closed, taking slow steps down the sidewalk. he watched as you glanced at your phone, smiled, and continued on your way, eyes trailing your form as you disappeared further into a small crowd.

something clicked for him at the sight of you.

when was the last time he'd spoken to you?

suddenly curious, he pulled out his phone, finger tapping the messenger app and your contact.

it had been over two months since you'd last messaged him.

that's strange.

he wonders how he didn't notice it sooner.

after all, he had grown somewhat used to your messages, either checking in, telling him to eat well at various meal times, or just sharing something interesting or notable that happened during your day.

looking back at the messages now, he notices something.

you were the one who always initiated the conversations, the one that kept them going. most of his replies were simply sticker reactions or short apologies for seeing the message late.

he hadn't ever replied to the last message you had sent to him.

"have a great day today xavier! maybe if you're free after work, we could get some hotpot together? itll be my treat since you've been working so hard recently!"

his mind starts racing, staring at the message and wondering if he should say something now, anything, when his thoughts are interrupted by a voice.

"hey partner, are you ready to go?"

he feels himself lightly nudged, clicking the power button of his phone off in response before tucking it into his pocket.

"huh?"

"sorry for taking awhile, i was trying to find out how many of us were going!"

"how about inviting y/n?"

the words slip from his lips before he even thinks.

the girl infront of him doesn't flinch.

"actually, its funny you mention them! i caught them as i left the showers, and did mention it, but they told me they had plans already, and said maybe next time."

"when was the last time they accepted one of your invites?"

she takes a moment to think, humming as she tries to recall.

"actually, it feels like its been forever. maybe a month or two? i wonder if they're alright..."

something is wrong.

before he can mull it over too deeply, her voice sounds again as she checks her phone.

"oh, lets get going! we're going to be late for our reservation!"

despite the light laughs and enthusiastic chatter from his partner, xavier is a million miles away that evening.

. . .

xavier decides the best course of action is to trail after you.

its been a couple of days, and he can't quite shake the thought that something must be wrong, something must have happened, and he steels his resolve to find out what it may be.

he couldn't quite place why the thought of you handling something alone bothered him so much, but he felt a sense of duty to be there for you, whatever the case may be.

he finishes his work early as usual, lounging at his desk to send his partner a message to not wait up for him before shutting off his phone and shifting his eyes towards you.

he catches you just leaving, allowing a good distance between the two of you before leaving himself to follow you.

xavier is especially alert down the path that you take to wherever you're headed, focused on any energy fluctuations as he keeps his eye on you, though surprisingly, he finds nothing out of the ordinary.

its only then that he begins to recognize this particular path, but continues after you.

. . .

imagine xavier's surprise as he watches your steps pick up, right towards the entrance to philo. he hears the little bell jingle as you slip through the door.

since when have you been into flowers? were you just picking up a gift for someone? perhaps....

the thought seizes once he sees jeremiah enter his view from the back. he watches as the florist smiles at the sight of you, stepping closer to you and taking your hand in his before pulling it towards him, bending down slightly to plant a soft kiss on the back of it.

xavier feels something dark twist inside of him at the scene, heart suddenly so heavy he fears his chest might burst, especially at the sight of your flustered smile from the gesture.

why were you so lively with jeremiah? were you close? he wonders how you met him in the first place.

he doesn't know why the way you smile at jeremiah irks him, why the pink carnation he offers you makes him scoff, why your pleased reaction makes his heart feel like its being squeezed till it might burst, or why he wishes he could stop jeremiah when he moves to fix a lock of your hair behind your ear.

as much as he would like to barge in and interrupt the two of you, whisking you away to who knows where, the look in your eyes stops him, if just barely.

he hasn't seen your eyes that bright in so long, and he's frustrated at himself for not missing the sight sooner.

too pent up with emotions to think straight and not wanting to watch the scene for another second, he finds himself teleporting to a no-hunt zone.

surely, taking care of some wanderers will help him blow off some steam.

and when he was done, he would come up with a way to approach you properly the next time he saw you.

doctor zayne li is known for being observant. other than being part of his job, its simply something he picked up from an early age, and a habit he could never shake. naturally, he can tell when something new occurs, or somethings changed.

change especially since, as a man of routine, anything that disrupts that is immediately noticeable to him.

so when you stopped visiting him for lunch, and your overall drop-ins almost suddenly stopping out of nowhere, he noticed.

he noticed, and yet, he didn't say anything.

he didn't message you, he didn't seek you out, he didn't think much of it overall.

but maybe he should have.

perhaps you've grown busier, he reasoned. your job did keep you occupied, and though you messaged him less and less, you usually gave a rundown of your schedule and how work was treating you.

aside from this, a certain miss hunter had seemed to fill in that gap you'd left from the lack of your visits, so he decided to brush it off, to not pay it much mind. he was sure you'd fall back into your normal routine sometime, so he didn't worry.

though, no one could truly fill the gap you'd unknowingly left behind.

you and her were not one in the same, after all.

he recognizes this, and yet...

"zayne?"

he blinks back to the present, eyeing his white rice.

"you spaced out. everything alright up there, doctor?" she teased, a tinge of concern laced between her words.

"everything is fine," zayne answer simply, plucking a clump of rice with his chopsticks before raising it to his lips.

"where were we?"

he munches on the rice, allowing her to rattle on about work, a recent mission, any issues she'd encountered, and he sits there, content with her presence.

and yet, you remain in the crevices of his mind.

. . .

a couple of days later, he receives a message.

"sorry doctor, i wont be able to make it to lunch today T_T dont miss me too much, okay~"

he responds as soon as he sees it.

"dont worry about it. there's always another lunch."

his phone pings again.

"omg... you miss me already, i can tell!"

"dont get ahead of yourself, miss."

he sends a snowman sticker and turns off his phone, returning it to his pocket. since he'll be eating alone, he decides to pick up a few boards from the front to look over in the meantime.

but when he opens the door to his office about to make his way down, he sees an familiar face chatting with yvonne.

you.

his heart skips a beat at the sight, unexpected yet pleasant all the same. your hair is done in a hairstyle he hasn't seen before, and he takes note of a small container wrapped in a cloth within your hold.

had you really come to see him today? maybe he could ask you where you've been, what's been taking up your time...

the thought is interrupted by a cheery voice, causing both you and yvonne's heads to turn towards the source.

"ah, there you are!"

doctor greyson.

zayne's brows furrow at the scene, watching his fellow doctor makes his way towards you, casual, friendly, and the way a smile stretches across your face at the sight of him.

he watches the way you offer the wrapped box to the doctor and feels his heart clench.

what was he meant to be doing again?

whatever it was could wait. right now, zayne wanted to trap himself in his office and occupy his time with checking his patient charts.

. . .

he's just passing by, zayne reasons with himself.

today was a nice day, and given that miss hunter was out on a mission, he decided to get a bit of fresh air before busying himself with more work.

despite this being the idea, he still finds himself reading a research article on protocore syndrome on what's supposed to be a short break.

he would argue it wasn't technically work when you'd jested once about him being a workaholic that even read research on his breaks. you would laugh, telling him how admirable it was the way he spent his time.

the thought of you makes him momentarily pause his reading.

his mind often drifted back towards you these days, it seemed.

he picks up where he left off, just about to round a corner when he hears that familiar laughter.

that airy laughter of yours that would float through the air when he used any of his dry humor lines around you, or made an expression you found particularly amusing as a result of something you had said.

he almost instinctually follows that sound when he hears another familiar voice.

"hey, don't laugh at me!"

"i'm not, its just—"

"you are! it totally wasn't my fault, you know," the male voice huffs, crossing his arms over his chest.

"i mean... you were holding food. did you expect the raccoon to ask before taking?"

he groans, burying his face into his hands. your giggles ring out once more.

zayne watches the exchange, taking note of the closeness in which you two are sitting on the bench, the two pairs of chopsticks sticking out from one container settled between the two of you. he notes the way greyson looks at you, his attention completely captured by you, animated and lively, drawing out your amusement easily.

moreover, he notices the way you lean into him slightly, the way your eyes are bright and centered on him like he's the only one in existence, the way your fingers twitch when his hand gets just a little too close to yours, the way your expression is something joyous, open, honest and oh-so lively.

zayne can't recall a time where you wore that same expression when you were with him.

something swirls inside of him, something unpleasant and cold. his chest feels heavy, he feels out of place, and he feels like he's intruding on something sacred.

is this how you felt before?

he can't fathom the thought.

in hopes to escape these feelings, he turns back the way that he came, article rolled up and clutched tightly in one hand, your laughs fading with every step that he takes, the weight on his chest growing heavier and heavier the further he gets from you.

he doesn't know why he feels the way that he does, he only knows that he doesn't like it.

he doesn't like seeing you with greyson.

and as he makes it to his office, clicking open the door before disappearing behind it, only one thought clouds his mind:

perhaps he should have reached out to you first.

you were avoiding him.

it was the only thing caleb had managed to come up with, and yet, he couldn't find a reason, not really.

he liked to pride himself on his intelligence, on reading people (or maybe it was just his pipsqueak that he was so accustomed to reading, used to every micro expression and microaggression that was thrown at him and pinpointing the cause easily). he'd wracked his brain, going through every possible scenario, and couldn't come up with one possible reason that would warrant you avoiding him.

normally, you would send little texts throughout the day, simple goodmorning's to sleep well's, little pictures from any outings or maybe a new recipe you'd decided to try out.

he'd always make sure to respond, often seeing the images a little later but always at least reacting with his familiar apple stickers.

though, thinking about it now, you messaged less and less these days. he actually wasn't sure off the top of his head when the last time was that you sent him a photo of anything.

huh.

now that he thinks about it, hasn't it been awhile since he's seen you? the last time he can remember wasn't anything too recent, maybe a couple of months ago, but its a haze in his head, distinctly remembering his pipsqueak that night.

wasn't someone else there too?

he shakes his head, deciding not to think to hard.

maybe he would invite you out to eat with him sometime. he knows you like his cooking, and since you're close with them both, surely you'd accept, reconnect, and everything would be better.

. . .

you'd left his message on read.

you never left messages on read.

he remembers once when you offhandedly mentioned that when you do, you feel bad, always at least reacting to the message to make sure the recipient knows you're not deliberately ignoring them and that you did, indeed, see the message.

he reasons that this is what happened.

so instead, he decides to give you a call. that should be simple enough, right?

it rings once.

twice.

three times.

...

voicemail.

he groans.

seriously, what did he do?

maybe you were just busy.

...or maybe something happened to you?

he doesn't want to entertain the thought. hes sure you're fine, you can handle yourself.

...but—

he shakes the thought from his head.

surely, you would've reached out to him.

a pause.

he decides he'll give it till the end of the day.

. . .

later, he's scrolling on moments, having received a notification that his meimei posted something. he comments something teasing, smiling to himself and scrolling to the next post only to freeze.

it was from you.

from just two hours ago.

the same time he tried to call you.

...

caleb would have to take drastic measures.

if you were avoiding him for whatever reason, maybe he would have to pay a visit in order to find out just what it was that he did.

. . .

you're startled from your seat on the sofa by a knock on your door.

you raise a brow, thinking over the possibilities.

you weren't expecting a package for another couple of weeks, you hadn't invited anyone over, and you hadn't placed any delivery orders today (at least not yet, though you had been mulling it over, craving something from that one restaurant that you just didn't quite feel like venturing out to yourself).

you sit up, thinking of any possible person that would be at your door.

when another set of knocks ring out again, you begrudgingly rise from your spot, muttering a "coming," as you walk towards the door.

you neglect peeking through the peephole, figuring whoever it was, you would deal with them relatively quickly.

you swing the door open to reveal the last person you thought might drop by your apartment.

"hey hey, little apple," he all-too casually greets, leaning against the doorframe, a boyish grin taking over his features.

your shock at seeing caleb at your door renders you speechless, and before you can find any words to respond with, he's already pushing his way into your apartment as if he owns the place.

"hmm, not intrudin' on anything, am i?" he asks, walking around the living space before he's peeking around other nearby rooms, almost inspecting them as if he's searching for something.

you shut the door, turning around and trailing towards him, tilting your head at his puppy-like grin.

"caleb wha— why—"

"thought you were in trouble," he shrugs, lifting his hands up and stretching them behind his head, eyes locking on you.

"why else would you not answer my texts?" his voice comes out nonchalant, but his eyes take on a dark look.

shit.

surely he wasn't upset at you for that, was he?

you thought he wouldn't even notice you not texting him anymore, with his attention always elsewhere. as a matter of fact, you figured he'd be grateful your daily messages gradually died out into nothing.

its not like he seemed all that interested in what you had to say, anyway, if his responses were anything to go by.

"i—"

"didn't answer my call either," he says, hands falling to his sides as he takes a step towards you.

"your phone isn't busted, is it, little apple?"

his voice takes on a lower tone, and he takes another step towards you. you instinctively take one back.

"n-no, its just—"

"just what?" another step.

"because if i didn't know any better..."

he's right before you, arms outstretching and hands hitting the wall behind you. he's so close you can feel his warm breath tickling your ear.

"i'd say you were avoidin' me."

you can feel his eyes on you, and you can't help but avert your gaze from his intense stare.

"caleb..."

"so, what is it? what's the problem?"

you huff out a breath.

"you're impossible," you pout.

he chuckles, almost sounding amused.

"yeah? go on."

you sigh.

"i didn't even think you'd notice when i stopped texting" and it seemed like you didn't until just recently you want to add, but bite your tongue. you're honestly surprised he noticed at all.

his brow furrows.

"why wouldn't i?"

"really, caleb?"

his eyes suddenly take on that kicked-puppy look, and you tear your gaze away.

"'m not avoiding you," you mumble, ears hot.

"liar."

"well—!"

your heads both turn at the sound of your phone dinging in your hand.

"so you do receive messages," he teases, eyes trailing towards the lit screen.

"whos it from?"

"does it matter?"

"yeah, it does," he says, tone underlying with finality, his hand moving to pin your wrist to the wall.

"caleb—"

he grasps your other wrist easily when you try to wriggle free, clutching onto your phone tighter.

"let me go—"

"nuh-uh~" he sing-songs. you don't know how he manages to have that look in his eye when his voice holds such a teasing lilt to it.

"caleb, i'm not kidding—"

"yeah? neither am i."

despite his tone, you keep fighting to escape his grasp. you seriously can't think of any reasonable explanation for the way he's acting right now. was he just messing with you? surely he couldn't be that bored. and where was his precious meimei? why would he waste his time here with you when she was likely waiting for him?

your thought is cutoff by another ping from your phone.

caleb's hold tightens as he leans in to peek at the contact.

"hey, still up for tonight? i dont mind picking you up, like usual! /._./"

caleb feels his heart drop at the name he reads.

"ow, caleb, let go—"

in a fruitless effort to keep your privacy, you wriggle your hands again, dropping your phone to the floor and letting it clatter to the carpet below.

caleb's grip loosens but he doesn't completely let go.

"gideon? when did you meet?"

"that little banquet night a couple of months ago, remember?"

something clicks at your words. that hazy night where he was doting on her as per usual...

and you and gideon in the background.

something in him cracks, and he doesn't know why.

"since when were you two close?"

"it doesn't matter."

"it does."

you scoff lightly, looking away from him.

"i dont think it matters who i talk to or make friends with, why are you so concerned?"

"because, you—"

caleb stops himself.

why does he care so much? sure, he was hurt you were avoiding him, but this felt like a stab in the back and he couldn't quite place why.

"because...?"

caleb sighs.

"why were you avoiding me?" he tries again, softer this time, avoiding your eyes.

your eyes widen at the sudden change of attitude.

"its not your fault."

a half-truth.

'its not your fault that i let myself fall for you' was the actual truth, but to hell if you were actually going to tell him that.

you were starting to feel a little bad.

"i really didn't think you'd notice," you add.

something flickers in his eyes for a moment, but you barely catch it. instead, he meets your gaze, sunset eyes all puppy-like.

"i did. i do."

your heart clenches.

curse this man.

"i..." his gaze wavers for a moment before meeting you again.

"don't do that again." he decides on that, hands slipping from yours and pulling back, arms falling to his sides as he finally puts some distance between you two.

he looks like he wants to say something else. you look up at him expectantly, but when he finally opens his mouth, his own phone goes off.

he jumps at the sound but quickly fishes his phone from his pocket and answers.

you only catch half of the conversation.

"hm? oh, nothing much. don't worry about it."

"uh-huh, be there in time for dinner."

"trust your gege, yeah? ill be home soon."

your heart wilts with every word.

he's talking like you're not even here, like you're the one intruding in his space.

by the time he hangs up the phone, your heart is on the floor.

"i've gotta go," he says, making his way towards the door.

"okay," you reply simply.

he reaches for the doorknob, pausing before opening it.

"be safe tonight."

a pause.

"ill kick gideon's ass if somethin' goes wrong."

you breathe out a laugh.

"okay." he can hear the ghost of a grin painting your lips.

"ill see you," he says, opening the door before disappearing behind it.

you take a deep breath, finally feeling like you can breathe properly. you then reach over to retrieve your phone from its place on the carpet, typing out a message.

"actually, do you wanna come over before we go out?"

. . .

caleb has half a mind to turn right around, to demand more answers, to stay with you in your apartment, in your space, surrounded by you.

especially when the thought of gideon and you leaves a bitter taste on his tongue and even worse feeling in his chest.

he wants to, but the familiar call of his pipsqueak comes first. always.

that night at dinner, if she's able to tell that something seems off with him, she decides not to comment on it.

caleb's mind is on another planet, one where he's with you, figuring out what his feelings mean when it comes to the thought of you with his friend.

a/n: back from the dead bc the writing gods urged me to return to this ( soooo sorry for how long it took me to write another part i didnt realize how much i missed this idea :x ). i have been reminded of my ideas for this... full length fic/s/ is still a desire of mine for this "series" ig we can call it ? but this scenario was on the forefront of my brain so had to write it out... i thought it would be interesting since in other non-mc fics ive seen jealousy from li's but thought it would be different if it was towards their "best" friends :p xavier's part is so unbelievably long n thats bc i started writing smth that kind of lost the plot so im saving that for a future part. so whats there is actually the shortened vers w some tweaking. im afraid the others wont be as long but there will be opportunity to expand on this in the next part i wanna write (that follows this one at least) soooo pls look forward to it :x

2K notes · View notes

gowjow · 22 days ago

Text

I've Loved You For Almost As Long As I've Been Alive ──★ ˙

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

꒰ ‎﹒ pairing: sunghoon x fem!reader … ﹒ childhood friends to lovers au, loser! sunghoon and loser!reader, he falls first and harder, fluff﹒ w/c: 10k~ summary: you and sunghoon are attached at the hip after you beat up a kid in primary school for him. he's just very sweet and in love with you. he has eyes for nobody but you.

꒰ ‎﹒ warnings: does contain smut at the end so NSFW (18+), fingering, praising, very nervous and gentle sunghoon, bear hug method iykyk

꒰ ‎﹒ note: i am always down for the loser! sunghoon agenda please enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it!

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

In primary school, Sunghoon is the only kid in class with extremely thick glasses. It doesn’t help that he’s shy, so the kids tend to pick on him a little. Their favorite thing to call him is Bug Eyes. He doesn’t say much to defend himself. He just remains quiet and plays on his own most of the time. Y/N, on the other hand, is talkative and friendly. She considers herself friends with everyone in her class, including Sunghoon, even though he isn’t much of a talker.

During recess, she notices how Sunghoon remains by himself, playing on the swings alone. She always invites him to play tag with the rest of the kids, but he shakes his head.

One day, instead of playing tag with everyone else, Y/N sits on the swing next to Sunghoon. They swing in silence for a few minutes until she turns to him.

“Do you want to see something cool?” She asks him.

He looks over at her skeptically, but once he sees her big smile, he reluctantly nods. She cheers before getting up from her swing and grabbing his hand, pulling him to a rocky patch at the edge of the park. Sunghoon watches curiously as she starts flipping over the rocks and moving rotting leaves with a stick.

“Aha!” she exclaims, moving the leaves with her hands. “Look!”

He peeks over her shoulder to see a metallic green beetle scuttling along the dirt. He cringes away immediately with a small shriek. She looks up at him and giggles.

“Isn’t it cute?” she asks, picking up the beetle with her fingers.

“D-don’t touch it,” he stammers.

“Why not? My dad said they’re harmless,” she says, holding out the beetle towards him.

Sunghoon takes multiple steps back. He’s scared of the bug, but he’s also wondering if she’s doing all of this as a way to make fun of him. He’s “Bug Eyes” after all. She notices his discomfort and puts the beetle back underneath the leaves.

“You don’t like bugs?”

He shakes his head.

“Oh, sorry,” she says, walking over to him. “I love bugs.”

He stares at her as if she’s lost her mind.

“I think they’re cute,” she says, “You don’t like any bugs?”

He shakes his head.

“Not even butterflies?”

He shakes his head again.

“What do you like then?”

“I like fish…” he says softly.

“Fish are cool. Do you have a favorite?” she asks.

Sunghoon nods and starts to quietly tell her about his favorite fish. It’s the first time Y/N has ever gotten him to talk to her for more than three sentences, and she’s excited. She keeps asking him about different fish, if he likes fishing, if he has any pet fish, and so on. Sunghoon slowly opens up and happily answers her questions.

“What’s your favorite bug?” he asks shyly.

This triggers a long spiel from Y/N about different types of bugs she likes. By this point, they’re back on the swings, and Sunghoon is gently swinging his feet and listening to her quietly with a bashful smile on his lips.

One day during P.E., when they’re both age 7, groups needed to be formed to play a game of dodgeball. As students were being picked one by one, Sunghoon stood there awkwardly knowing the teams would fight to NOT get him on their team.

“Bug Eyes is so uncoordinated.”

“Yeah, he’ll make us lose.”

“Hey, stop that!” Y/N storms over to the two boys that were making fun of Sunghoon.

Sunghoon stands quietly with his head slightly downcast. She has her hands on her hips and a frown on her face.

“What? It’s true,” one of the boys says.

“Say you’re sorry,” she huffs.

“Or what?” the other boy challenges.

Sunghoon watches with horror as she picks up a dodgeball and hurls it at the boy’s face. The sound the ball makes as it slaps the boy’s cheek echoes through the gymnasium, making everyone fall silent and look over in their direction. The boy that got hit starts crying while his friend looks back at Y/N with fire in his eyes.

“Bug Girl is defending Bug Eyes. How fitting,” he snarls.

He picks up a dodgeball, rolling it in his hand.

“It’s a perfect match,” he says just before he hurls the ball at her.

She tenses and closes her eyes, waiting for the ball to hit her. She hears another slap of the ball against skin, but she doesn’t feel anything hit her. When she opens her eyes, she finds Sunghoon on the floor in front of her with his glasses broken and scattered on the ground.

“Oh my god. Are you okay?” she crouches down to look at Sunghoon. His face is red from where the ball hit him. He nods ever so slightly, his hand trembling as he cradles his face.

Y/N’s head snaps up to glare at the other boy. Before anyone could stop her, she hurls herself at him, knocking him down to the floor with a thud. She starts yanking at his hair as he begins to scream.

The fight is over quickly, the teacher pulling Y/N off the boy and sending them all to the principal’s office. She gets suspended from school for a week, and when she comes back she’s shunned by most of the kids in her class.

She’s swinging alone during recess when a timid Sunghoon comes up to her. His glasses are taped back together and his hands are clasped together in front of him.

“Do you want to see something cool?” he asks softly.

She nods, her eyes flickering down to his hands. He unclasps them to reveal a spotted black and white beetle. Her eyes sparkle with excitement.

“Oh my god. An ironclad beetle!” she exclaims.

As she gets closer, she notices his hands slightly shaking. She immediately takes the beetle from his hands and watches as he brings his arms back to his sides and wipes his hands on his pants.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“For what?” She asks as she watches the beetle crawl between her fingers.

“For making everyone hate you.”

“It’s okay. You’re cooler than all of them combined,” she smiles.

Sunghoon looks down at his shoes, a pink blush painting his cheeks.

From then on, they are practically inseparable.

His favorite thing to do with her is explore the pocket of woods behind his house. It’s the perfect place to play pretend. Some days they’re wizards making potions with dirt and leaves, other days they’re pirates looking for treasure. Sunghoon particularly likes digging in the creek to see what he can find. Y/N likes pretty rocks which leads to him compiling different rocks and bringing them to her to inspect.

One day, when they’re both age 8, he’s ankles deep in the creek while Y/N is climbing a nearby tree. He’s using a net to sift through the debris in the water when he finds a rock with many tiny ridges. When he looks closely at it, it looks like some sort of bug. His face immediately lights up.

“Y/N!” he exclaims, stumbling through the muddy creek bed to get ashore.

She’s halfway up the tree when she stops and looks down at him. He excitedly waits at the base of the tree trunk and holds up the rock for her to see.

“I think I found a fossil,” he says.

“No way!” She beams and climbs down as quickly as she can.

Sunghoon watches with a smile on his face as her eyes light up at the small fossil. Her finger traces over the ridges.

“It looks like a trilobite,” she says.

Sunghoon stares at her.

“Ancient pill bug,” she clarifies.

“Ohhh,” he nods. “Do you like it?”

“I love it,” she smiles. “You’re always finding all the cool stuff.”

“I can show you where I found it. Maybe we can find some more,” he says, grabbing her arm gently and pulling her towards the water.

They search for another hour, but they don’t find any more fossils. When Sunghoon is crouched down sifting through the rocks, Y/N comes up behind him and pushes him forward. Since the water isn’t too deep, only half of his body gets wet. He looks up at her in disbelief, and she’s laughing.

“Maybe if I bury you, you’ll turn into a fossil,” she says, grabbing a handful of mud and throwing it at his chest.

“Hey—” he’s cut off by another handful of mud hitting his shoulder. He stops talking and starts grabbing handfuls of mud and throwing them back at her, making her squeal and run away. They chase each other until they’re both covered in mud from head to toe, leaves and twigs stuck to their bodies from rolling around on the ground. They’re giggling messes.

There’s something about the way the leaves cling to her hair that make him stop in his tracks. The way her smile shines brighter with mud all over her face, and her little giggles as she bends down to grab more mud. Something stirs within him, but he doesn’t know what that feeling is exactly. He just can’t stop staring.

“What? Do I have something on my face?” Y/N asks teasingly.

“Um…mud.”

“Yes, I know, stupid,” she laughs.

He’s glad that the mud on his face covers his blushing cheeks.

Y/N doesn’t realize she has feelings for Sunghoon until she’s 11 and he starts wearing contact lenses. Suddenly girls are talking about how cute he is and that they didn’t know he was so good looking without his glasses on. It starts to irritate Y/N overhearing the girls in her classes whisper and talk about him.

“Why’d you stop wearing your glasses?” She asks him. “You look better with glasses.”

Sunghoon frowns. “Are you saying I’m ugly?”

“No!” She immediately interjects. “I just think you should go back to wearing your glasses.”

“Why?”

She groans and paces around for a moment. She’s frustrated she can’t put her thoughts into words. She can’t put her thoughts in order at all. Sunghoon watches her grow even more restless.

“If it bothers you that much, I’ll start wearing my glasses again,” he says quietly.

“No. It’s okay,” she sighs, defeated. “It’s not the glasses that’s bothering me.”

Sunghoon’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “What’s bothering you then?”

Suddenly, Y/N gets shy, which hardly ever happens. Sunghoon’s eyes widen as he catches the tips of her ears turning pink along with the apples of her cheeks. His heart flutters at the sight.

“It’s just,” she pauses, collecting her thoughts. “It’s making me mad how people are suddenly interested in you just because you got rid of your glasses.”

He stares at her with a stunned expression on his face, which makes her keep going.

“You’ve always been an amazing person, and I’ve been with you since the beginning. All these other people don’t deserve you,” she grumbles.

Sunghoon’s heart is about to leap out of his chest at her words. He looks away bashfully, trying to hide the small smile on his lips.

“Don’t worry,” he says softly, “you’re the only person I want to be close with.”

Their eyes meet momentarily, both of their faces red with blush. She looks away, not being able to maintain eye contact with him. He smiles and looks down at his hands.

The next day he wears his glasses again.

One day, when they’re 13, Sunghoon’s family goes on their yearly weekend trip to a cabin, and he begs his parents to let Y/N come this time. During the trip, Sunghoon teaches Y/N how to fish.

“Ugh, I’m boredddd,” she groans.

They’re standing at the edge of the pier with their fishing lines cast out into the lake. They’ve been waiting for a total of 30 minutes so far.

“Fishing is all about patience,” he tells her.

“What if I went into the water and tried catching one with my hands?” She asks.

“You’ll scare the fish away,” Sunghoon clicks his tongue.

“But what if I stayed still and waited for the fish to jump and come to me. Like how the grizzlies do it.”

“They can only do that because the fish are swimming upstream. We’re at a lake,” Sunghoon points out.

She groans again. Her next complaint is cut short when something starts pulling at her fishing line. She practically screams.

“Sunghoon, what do I do?” She frantically grabs the fishing pole.

He chuckles and grabs her hand, placing it on the reel handle. He moves her hand clockwise, causing the fishing line to pull towards them.

A fish about the size of Y/N’s foot splashes up out of the water, dangling from the end of the hook. Sunghoon grabs the fish and holds it out for her to see. It wiggles in his grasp.

“Oh my god. It’s kind of cute,” she says. “Can I hold it?”

He places the fish in her hands, showing her how to hold it without dropping it. He grabs a bucket and fills it with some of the lake water.

“You can put it in there. We can eat it for dinner,” he says.

Y/N freezes. “Eat?”

Sunghoon looks up at her, slightly confused. What else were you supposed to do with a fish you just caught? He sees the tears welling up in her eyes and he immediately starts backtracking.

“Or you can release it back into the water,” he says.

She sniffles and nods. He watches as she bends down at the edge of the pier and lets the fish wiggle out of her grasp and slide back into the water.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

“It’s okay. We can eat something else,” he reassures her.

“I was talking to the fish,” she says.

Sunghoon chuckles softly and walks up to her crouched figure.

“Maybe fishing isn’t for you,” he starts, “did you want to go look for some cool bugs in the woods?”

She shakes her head. “You don’t like bugs.”

“That doesn’t mean I won't help you.”

“But I want to do something we both enjoy,” she murmurs.

He smiles and squats down next to her. She glances over at him with tearful eyes.

“There’s a waterfall not too far down the trail into the woods. Do you want to go see it together?” He asks softly.

She sniffles and nods again. “That sounds fun.”

“Okay. Let’s go,” he says, standing up straight and holding out his hand for her to take.

They often have sleepovers at each other’s houses on the weekends, but this particular sleepover when they’re 14 is different. They’re watching a movie in Sunghoon’s room like normal until Y/N turns to look at him.

“Have you ever kissed anyone, Sunghoon?” she asks abruptly after seeing the two main characters in the movie share a kiss.

Sunghoon practically chokes on the popcorn he’s eating.

“W-why are you asking?” he coughs, trying to avoid eye contact.

Y/N sighs and leans back on the headboard of his bed.

“I keep hearing every girl in class talking about the boys they’ve been kissing. I’m just curious.”

He remains quiet for a second, not knowing where this is going.

“No. I haven’t,” he finally says.

“Thank god,” she sighs in relief.

Sunghoon’s heart leaps in his chest, and suddenly all he’s thinking about is what it would be like to kiss her. His eyes flicker to her face for a brief moment, his face turning red. He quickly looks away.

“W-what?” he stammers.

She turns to look at him. She immediately notices how shy he’s gotten.

“I’m not the only loser that hasn’t kissed anyone yet,” she says.

Sunghoon’s mouth falls open, and his head snaps over to look at her in disbelief. She smiles at him, making his face turn even redder. He frowns slightly, but his eyes flicker down to her curved lips.

“Why does that make us losers?” he mumbles.

“It doesn’t,” she says, “I just feel like I’m missing out.”

Sunghoon furrows his eyebrows together. He didn’t understand the need to fit in with what most of the other kids at school were doing. He thought their idea of fun was boring.

“So you want to kiss whoever just to say you’ve kissed someone?” he asks, his tone of voice growing slightly irritated.

She shakes her head.

“No, I want to kiss someone I’m comfortable with.”

Their eyes meet for a second, and Sunghoon’s throat dries up. He looks away again.

“You’re the only person I’m comfortable enough with,” she starts, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I can always wait for someone else to—“

“NO!” he practically screams. His cheeks turn pink when he startles her with his objection. “I-I mean…I can help you…i-if you want.”

“Really?” She smiles.

His eyes flicker to her mouth again, and he nods.

“Are you sure?” She asks again. She scoots closer to him, making his heart race.

He nods again.

She leans forward slightly, her eyes glancing down at his lips. They’re slightly parted, his chest rising and falling in short breaths. He stays completely still, letting her get closer and closer until there's no space between them anymore. He freezes when he feels her lips press against his. He closes his eyes and stops breathing for a second. The kiss is over before he can fully register what happened.

He blinks at her, his emotions tangling in knots inside him. He’s absolutely terrified. How does this change their relationship? Does she like him too?

“Um…” he starts.

She’s watching the TV again, rewinding the movie to the part where the main leads are kissing again.

“Do you want to try that?” She asks.

Sunghoon glances over at the screen, watching as the characters move their lips against each other’s. He swears he saw a tongue peek through.

His face is flushed when she turns to look at him. She watches him, waiting for his reply.

“I’m sorry. I’m making you uncomfortable,” she says after he’s taking a little too long to give her an answer. “That stuff should be reserved for someone you like.”

Sunghoon’s heart sinks to his stomach. She’s getting the wrong idea from his stunned silence, but it’s already too late. She turns back to watch the movie, skipping the makeout scene.

For the next few weeks, Sunghoon tries multiple times to bring up the topic of kissing again, but he gets too flustered. He’s losing sleep because of it. He keeps replaying what happened in his head and groans at how he handled it.

Things between them hadn’t necessarily changed since they kissed or at least it didn’t seem like it from the outside. On the inside, both of them were dealing with some very conflicting and heavy emotions.

Sunghoon was under the impression that Y/N didn’t like him in a romantic way because she mentioned kissing as something to mark off a bucket list, not something she wanted to do with him because she had feelings for him. Y/N, on the other hand, was under the impression that Sunghoon didn’t like her in a romantic way because he refused to keep kissing, and that he only agreed to kiss her in the first place to help her as his friend.

So what do they do? They act like it never happened, but it doesn’t stop their feelings for each other from consuming every fiber of their being.

Then they hit puberty. Their physical and emotional changes alter their dynamic significantly.

Sunghoon grows taller and his voice grows deeper. He stops wearing his glasses again, causing girls at school to chase after him. Y/N also grows taller, but not by much. Her body is changing and Sunghoon is definitely noticing, especially after one summer at the pool where he almost drowned after seeing her wear a bikini for the first time.

Sunghoon is very attractive…just extremely beautiful. It has Y/N fighting for her life. She has to endure all these girls at school confessing to him and fawning over him. When a particularly pretty and popular girl shows interest in Sunghoon, it has Y/N losing her mind. She’s scared that eventually Sunghoon will date and forget about their friendship. She’s jealous. She wants him all to herself.

She’s jealous for no reason, though, because Sunghoon does not give any girl the time of day. He’s polite, but he always declines their confessions or attempts to ask him out. Most of the time, he sees right through these girls’ intentions. They find him attractive, but they don’t like him for who he is. They compliment his looks and make assumptions about what he’s like, and when they ask him about himself and they find out he likes fishing and playing chess, they look at him with a blank stare.

Meanwhile, Y/N gets no play. It’s not because she isn’t pretty. She just gives no attention to any guys. She has a habit of scowling at any man that looks her way. They just don’t compare to Sunghoon. He’s all she ever needs in a man, even if it’s just as friends.

Sunghoon grows a little too comfortable in the fact that Y/N doesn’t have any secret admirers, so when she starts ranting to him about a supposed stalker in her economics class, he has to remain calm. She describes how this guy is always staring at her, smiling at her, trying to talk to her. He comes up to her desk and asks why she’s always so quiet and what her hobbies are. Somehow this guy finds out that she likes bugs and tries to start a conversation with her about it.

“He’s just so creepy, Sunghoon,” she groans. “Whenever I walk into class, he’s already staring at me.”

Sunghoon is clenching his fists at the mere thought of this random guy clearly having a crush on her. He wishes he had the class with her so he could glare at him, but all he can say is, “Yeah, he seems weird. You should ignore him.”

He teases her a lot more too. Maybe it’s puberty or maybe his feelings are just harder to contain, but looking at her pretty face makes him get cuteness aggression. He loves getting a reaction out of her.

He loves to randomly come up to her and play fight with her. He throws playful punches at her arms and dodges her failed attempts to hit him back. He sometimes lets her hit him, but it just ends up with him tackling her playfully onto the couch or bed.

“What happened to my sweet Sunghoon?” Y/N whines. “Now I just have a bully.”

He smiles at her fondly, “You’re just fun to mess with.”

“It’s only fun for you. I’m out here getting assaulted,” she continues pouting.

His smile grows wider, and he extends his arms out in playful surrender. “Okay. Hit me then.”

She glances over at him quizzically. When she sees he’s being serious, her expression changes into something mischievous. Before Sunghoon could backtrack, she pulls his sweatpants down leaving him in his boxers.

“What the—“

As he’s bending down and picking up his pants, she jumps on his back and puts him in a chokehold.

“Y/N—“

“This is what you get,” she says playfully.

He starts laughing and takes a few steps back until the back of his knees hit the edge of his bed. He purposefully falls backwards, landing on top of her. Her arms slacken around his neck, allowing him to pull free and spin around to face her. He pins her arms down and smiles triumphantly. When he looks down at her, her cheeks are painted pink and her eyes are fixed somewhere to the side. That’s when he realizes the position they’re in and blushes.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, getting off of her and sitting down on the bed.

“It’s okay,” she says, sitting up. “Sorry for pulling your pants down.”

“It’s okay. It was funny,” he replies.

They sit in silence for a moment.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” He asks, getting up to turn on the TV.

Girls eventually leave Sunghoon alone when it’s clear he only ever has eyes for Y/N. No one knows how they are able to stay just friends with the amount of tension between them. All of their classmates can see it except for Sunghoon and Y/N. God forbid they ever have a class together because they will be giggling and whispering in the back of the room the whole time. They always disappear during lunch hour to sneak onto the track field and lay in the grass. They walk home together after school every day, always going to each other’s places to hang out.

You would think they’d get bored of each other eventually, but they’re always finding things to do together. They also love to do their own separate things in the same vicinity. Y/N would be working on her latest crafting project on her desk while Sunghoon is on her bed playing with a deck of cards trying to learn magic tricks. When Sunghoon wants to go fishing, Y/N will sit on a floaty and read. They’re comfortable with silence as long as they’re together.

“Would you rather fight ten, kid sized Y/Ns at the same time or one, 10 foot tall, buff, Y/N?” Y/N asks Sunghoon as they’re sitting in her bed with face masks on during a sleepover.

“Oh god. They both sound terrifying,” he says with horror.

She hits his shoulder playfully, making him giggle.

“Mm…” he thinks about it a little too seriously. “You were very feisty as a kid, so having to fight ten of you at the same time…I think I’ll take my chances with the buff Y/N. I feel if someone is that tall and buff, they will be slow. I just have to dodge.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “I wasn’t that bad.”

“You got suspended for fighting that kid remember? You definitely gave off ankle biter—OW!”

Y/N starts to yank at his hair, stopping him mid-insult. He grabs onto her wrist to try and get her fingers out of his hair.

“Okay! Okay! I’m sorry.”

She releases his hair, and he glares at her.

“Now I’m questioning my decision. I’m scared what a buff Y/N would do in comparison to that,” he says, rubbing his scalp.

She grins at him. He stares at her for a second, a smile growing on his lips too.

Sunghoon and Y/N make the decision to attend the same university because they can’t bear the thought of being apart for 4 years. They decide to move in together, so they don’t have to deal with the school’s prison-like dorms. Off-campus student housing isn’t the best, but they make it work.

Sunghoon is still scared of bugs, so Y/N always has to catch all the spiders and moths that make their way into their apartment and release them outside or else he will be yelling and throwing things.

One time, as Sunghoon is about to go to sleep, he sees a cricket crawling on his pillow and he absolutely freaks out. He has to wake Y/N up to come catch and release it.

“Can I sleep in your bed tonight?” he asks her.

“It was a cricket, not a cockroach, Sunghoon,” she groans, half asleep.

“But it touched my sheets, and I don’t want to stay awake for two more hours to wash them,” he whines slightly.

She keeps mumbling in her sleepy state and doesn’t protest any further as he follows her into her room and climbs into bed with her.

Sunghoon gets strangely more clingy once they start living together. He’s always tagging along when she goes to run errands. She needs to return a library book? He’s trailing behind her with his backpack saying he’s going to the library to study anyway. She’s going out to get a sweet drink? He’s tagging along claiming he’s never been to that coffee shop before and that he’s been wanting to try it out. Y/N doesn’t mind, though. His presence always makes things more comforting.

They’re busier due to the amount of workload some of their classes have, so he’s constantly wanting her attention. Sometimes a simple, “do you want to go eat?” will do the trick, but sometimes he has to resort to more drastic measures for her attention.

He starts off by sighing loudly. If that doesn’t work, he starts poking her repeatedly on the shoulder or sides. If all else fails, he will hug her waist and push her onto the couch.

“Why do you hate me?” He grumbles.

“Who said I hate you?” She laughs, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

“You don’t want to go out to eat and you’re ignoring me. Just say you hate me,” he says.

She playfully pulls at his ear. “Ok, babygirl, sorry for not giving you my undivided attention.”

The tips of his ears turn red and he buries his face in her shoulder. She pats the back of his head.

“Let’s go eat,” she says.

“No. I don’t wanna eat anymore,” he mumbles. “I’m comfortable here.”

He definitely lets her get away with more things now too. She just has to bat her eyelashes and he will willingly be dragged around to do absolutely anything. He hates how she’s able to figure it out too. It’s like she knows the effect she has on him.

“Sunghoonnnn,” she calls sweetly.

Oh no.

“Can you do my laundry? Pleaseeee,” she clings to his arm.

“I don’t want to do your stinky laundry,” he groans, trying to pull away and not look at her face before he folds.

“C’monnnn, don’t you love me? I wash your dishes when you leave them in the sink because I love you,” she says, placing her cheek against his arm.

Oh, he’s a goner. His cheeks are bright red.

“Fine, fine,” he grumbles.

One night, Sunghoon gets a call from Y/N at around one in the morning.

“Sunghoon…” he hears her slurred mumbling from the other side of the phone, and he instantly knows she’s drunk. He can hear the loud music in the background.

“I thought you said you were going to a friendly get together?” he sighs into the phone.

“I know…I lied,” she mumbles, “I’m sorryyyy. I didn’t want you to get worried.”

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Mhm,” she hums, “Can you pick me up?”

“I’ll be there in a bit,” he tells her after getting her location.

He finds her immediately. She’s outside the club, digging through the bushes.

“Y/N, what are you doing?” Sunghoon asks, the worriedness he had dissipating at the sight of her. He chuckles slightly when her head pops up from the bushes, leaves stuck to her hair.

“Sunghoonnn,” she whines, stumbling out of the bush towards him.

He grabs her by the arms, making sure she doesn’t topple over.

“I thought I heard a katydid. I can’t find it,” she frowns.

“You probably scared it away,” he says, picking the leaves from her hair.

She pouts, ducking her head to let him run his fingers through her hair to flatten out the knots caused by the bush’s branches. “But I tried to be super stealthy.”

“I know, Y/N. I know,” he says softly.

He wraps his arm around her shoulder for stability as he starts to walk her back home. She leans her whole bodyweight against his side. She’s mumbling incoherently and dragging her feet sluggishly. By the time they make it through their front door, he’s practically carrying her inside. She clings to him like her life depends on it.

“Sunghoonnn, you smell so nice,” she mumbles. Her eyes are closed as he drags her to her room and makes her sit down on the bed.

“It’s the cologne you got me for my birthday last year,” he says as he bends down to take her shoes off.

“Mmm,” she hums, “I have great taste.”

She sways slightly even though her eyes are closed. Sunghoon goes into their shared bathroom and grabs her makeup removing wipes. She tries moving her head away from his touch as he begins to wipe her face with the towelette.

“Nooo,” she whines, “I worked so hard on this makeup look.”

“I know, Y/N. It’s very pretty, but you can’t go to sleep with it on,” he says, gently grabbing her chin to hold her still as he continues to wipe it off.

“Why not?”

“You’ll get your pillow dirty.”

She groans but complies. She stops resisting and lets him finish. When he tries to get her to stand up and go wash her face in the bathroom, she whines again and flops backwards into her bed. Sunghoon sighs and gives up. He walks over to her dresser and pulls out a pair of pajamas, throwing them at her.

“Change at least,” he says.

Instead, she pulls up her covers and hides under them.

“Y/N, stop being difficult,” he sighs, ripping the covers off her completely.

“Why can’t you change me?” she whines.

“You know I can’t do that,” he says.

“Why not?”

“You need to change yourself.”

“But what if I want you to change me?”

“I’m not going to do that.”

“Then I’m sleeping in this,” she gestures to her dress, her eyes still closed.

“Y/N…”

“Sunghoon…”

He sighs, “How about this? I can unzip your dress and you do the rest yourself.”

She thinks about it for a second before nodding. She sits back up, opening her eyes slightly. He helps her back to her feet, and she turns around, holding her hair out of the way as he unzips the back of her dress. He turns around and gives her some privacy as she changes into the pajamas.

“Sunghoon, you’re so nice to me,” she starts sniffling.

He turns around to find her sitting back down on her bed with tears in her eyes. He sighs and sits next to her. She immediately leans her head on his shoulder.

“I hope you never get a girlfriend,” she mumbles.

He pats her head gently, letting her talk herself out until she falls asleep.

“I think I’ll die if you get a girlfriend. Promise me you won’t get one?”

She lifts her head up from his shoulder to look at him with tear stained cheeks. His eyes soften at the sight of her.

“Y/N, you should get some rest,” he says, gently trying to lay her down.

She starts sobbing at how he evades the question.

“You probably already have a secret girlfriend. That’s why you didn’t promise me, right?” She cries.

Sunghoon sighs and grabs some tissues from the nightstand. He gently wipes the tears from her face.

“I don’t have a girlfriend, Y/N,” he says.

“Then why won’t you promise me?” She looks up at him with the most adorable pout, making his eyes flicker down to her lips.

“Because I want a girlfriend eventually,” he says softly.

She starts crying again, pulling the covers over her head so he can’t keep wiping her face clean.

“Y/N…” he sighs.

He tries to pull the covers off, but her grip is strong.

“Go away, you traitor,” she hiccups.

“Y/N, you’re drunk. You should get some sleep.”

But she continues rambling.

“I thought we were going to stay together forever,” she cries, “You’re the only man that exists to me. Every other man is boring and ugly compared to you. Do other girls exist to you? Do you find them pretty? Is that why you want to get a girlfriend?”

Sunghoon’s heart races, but he tries to stay calm. He crouches down so he’s eye level to her on the bed.

“No, other girls don’t exist to me either,” he says gently.

She sniffles and peeks her head out from under the covers to look at him.

“That doesn’t make sense,” she says.

“Yes, it does,” he says, pulling the blanket lower so he can see her face fully.

“If other girls don’t exist to you, who will be your girlfriend?” She asks.

“Think about it.”

She remains quiet for a moment, her eyebrows furrowed in thought.

“I don’t know…” she mumbles eventually, making him sigh.

He notices the way her eyelids droop, fighting to stay awake. He pats her head gently.

“I’ll tell you tomorrow. You should sleep.”

She protests weakly, but he brings the covers up to her chin and tucks her in. Her eyes are closed again and her breathing even. He stares at her sleeping form for a moment before leaning down and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Think about it,” he whispers before leaving her room.

Sunghoon, in fact, does not tell her tomorrow. She completely forgets the conversation, and he gets cold feet. They fall back into their routine, but Sunghoon can’t stop thinking about what she told him. She wants to stay with him forever…

“Why are you blushing?” Y/N asks, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Oh…nothing,” he mumbles.

They’re at the library trying to study for midterms. It’s been three hours already, and it’s getting harder to focus. Sunghoon’s mind keeps drifting off.

“So,” he starts, catching her attention. “After you graduate, what are you going to do?”

“Pick a city we want to live in, find jobs and move there. Preferably somewhere that has a lot of parks or outdoor recreation,” she says. It seems like she has it all planned out.

“As in us together?” He asks.

“Yeah. Obviously,” She looks at him, immediately noticing how flustered he’s getting. “Why? Do you not want to be together?”

The wording she uses makes his heart want to leap out of his chest.

“It’s not that. It’s just…” he pauses for a moment, debating whether or not he wants to ask this. “You don’t want to branch out on your own or anything? Live alone, be independent…get a boyfriend?”

She makes a face. “Living alone as a girl is scary, I’m already independent, and I hate men. Except you of course.”

Sunghoon remains silent. She makes him feel like he’s the center of her universe and it only makes him fall for her even more.

“So we will be old and still living together?” He asks.

She shrugs. “Why not? I can see us sitting on our porch, yelling at random kids to get off our lawn that we perfectly crafted to have a fish pond and flowers for pollinators.”

She watches him as his face turns even redder.

“You’d want to spend the rest of our lives together?” He asks softly.

“Yeah. I mean I can’t see it without you.”

They stare at each other in silence. His eyes flicker down to her lips before looking away sheepishly.

“As friends?” He asks.

It’s Y/N’s turn to blush, realizing how what she said may have come off.

“If that’s what you want,” she says. “I’m okay with being just friends.”

His heart pounds in his chest, and he looks up at her. “Just?”

She quickly realizes her slip up and hides her face behind her hands.

“I meant…” her voice trembles slightly.

“Y/N…” he smiles and gently pulls her arms to the side so he can see her clearly. “Quite frankly, if we’re going to spend the rest of our lives together, I don’t want to be just friends.”

Her eyes flicker between his, her heart racing in a panic in her chest.

“Y/N…” he says softly after seeing the panic in her eyes. “I’ve loved you for almost as long as I’ve been alive.”

He gently cups her face with his hands.

“And I will love you for the rest of it.”

Her breath comes out shaky as she continues to look into his eyes, seeing the sincerity in them.

“I don’t want to be just friends,” she whispers finally.

She watches as his eyes glance down at her lips then back up to her eyes. His thumbs trace her cheeks.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks.

She nods ever so slightly. His smile as he leans in makes her heart flutter. His lips are as soft and gentle as she remembers, and it makes her head spin. The kiss is short and sweet, and when he pulls away, he’s still running his thumbs across her cheeks. She blushes and tries to pull away from his touch. The smile on his lips only grows, and he leans in for another peck to her lips.

“Sorry,” he laughs. “I’m just very happy right now.”

His hand runs through her hair and rests at the back of her neck. The cuteness of her flushed face makes him gently squeeze her cheeks with his other hand, swaying her head side to side every so slightly.

“Is this what I’m gonna have to deal with for the rest of my life?” She chuckles.

“Unfortunately, yes. No take backs now,” he smiles, squeezing her cheeks again before placing another kiss on her pouty lips.

The transition between friends to lovers is surprisingly difficult for Sunghoon and Y/N despite the years of tension. They fall into their routines and end up forgetting that they’re actually a couple now.

They get shy when it comes to any form of intentional physical affection. They have always been somewhat affectionate towards each other but now there’s romantic intention behind it, and it makes them shy, especially Sunghoon.

Sunghoon has been dreaming about the day of them becoming a couple, but he’s scared of moving too fast and scaring her. This results in shy touches or Y/N having to initiate things. She teases him a lot about it.

They’re cuddling in bed, facing each other. His arm is loosely draped over her waist, and his eyes are closed as she traces his face with her fingers. There’s a small smile on his lips and a pink tint to his cheeks.

“I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen you this up close,” Y/N whispers. “You have a small mole under your eye.”

He hums, and his eyelids flutter open to look at her. He remains silent as he watches her admire him, a warmth spreading through his chest. Her eyes lock with his for a brief moment. The look of pure adoration in his eyes makes her melt.

“It’s kind of surreal,” he whispers. “I’ve thought about this for years.”

Y/N chuckles softly and brings her hand to cup the side of his head. Her thumb gently traces over his ear.

“Oh, you want me bad,” she teases.

Sunghoon bites his lip out of embarrassment and tries to look away.

“I mean, yeah…”

Y/N’s heart races in her chest, and a blush spreads to her cheeks and ears.

Sunghoon loves to be babied, but in private or else it hurts his pride.

After a long few days of final exams, he walks into their shared apartment. He drops his backpack on the floor by the door and shuffles to the couch where Y/N is sitting. He whines softly and lays on top of her.

“Hold me,” he says. “Comfort me.”

She laughs as he wraps his arms around her and buries his face in her neck. She rubs his back comfortingly, and he instantly melts into her. She plays and runs her fingers through his hair. He hums happily.

“Finals were that bad?” she asks after a while of silence.

“Mhm,” he hums against her neck. “It didn’t help that I was sitting next to this guy who does not know what deodorant is.”

He buries his face deeper into her neck, inhaling deeply.

“You smell so nice,” he mumbles.

The feeling of her hands running up and down his back is so comforting to Sunghoon. He wants to be even closer, wants to fuse with her if ever possible. He’s already face deep in her neck, getting lost in the smell of her body wash. His hands start roaming her sides, and he starts planting kisses to her neck.

Once she realizes what he’s doing, she clicks her tongue and gently tugs at his ear, pulling him out of her neck. He looks at her with the saddest eyes.

“Can I please just kiss my girlfriend?” he asks.

“Last time I let you do that you left my neck purple,” she glares at him.

He looks up at her with the smuggest grin on his face.

“Don’t give me that look.”

“What look?” He tries to act innocent, but the smug expression is still there.

She yanks at his ear again, and his grin turns into a pout. He buries his face back in her neck.

“Fine,” he grumbles and calms down.

Y/N has a habit of teasing Sunghoon into getting boners, especially when he’s still hesitant about initiating anything with her out of fear of making her uncomfortable. Poor Sunghoon would be fighting for his life.

A hand up his shirt and gently rubbing his belly? Hard. A playful bite on his bicep? Hard. A little tug on his hair as he lays his head in her lap? Hard.

At first he’s so embarrassed about it and apologizes, but once he finds out she’s doing it on purpose, he starts to get a little more comfortable.

He’s cooking one evening, and she comes up behind him in the kitchen and gives him a back hug. She presses her body against his back and purposely wraps her arms a little too low on his waist than normal. It really doesn’t take too long before his sweatpants tent up.

“Whatcha making?” She asks innocently, but he knows what game she’s playing now.

“Just ramen.”

“Mm.”

He plays along with it for a bit, grabbing her hands and pulling them up higher around his torso, but they always find their way back down around his hips. He turns around which makes her stop hugging him, and she looks at him as if she’s doing nothing wrong. He shakes his head and grabs her by the waist and sits her on the counter.

“Stay,” he points at her, and a smile breaks out on her lips.

He knows damn well she isn’t gonna stay.

“I’m not a dog,” she grunts playfully, swinging her leg out to poke the side of his thigh with her foot.

“I’m cooking,” he says, swatting her leg away.

She scoots closer to him, still sitting on the counter. He gives her a side eye which only makes her scoot even closer. He stirs around the ramen then turns off the stove top. He grabs her by the shoulders and pulls her back to the place on the counter she was supposed to stay at. She groans and swings her legs slightly in protest.

He cups both of his hands on her cheeks, making her go still. He looks at her briefly before pulling her face toward him and kissing her. It turns into a makeout session real quick, and she tries to wrap her legs around his waist. His hands grab her by the thighs and push them, holding them back.

“I said stay,” he whispers against the kiss, making her go crazy.

Even then he's too scared to take things too far. He presses his body a little closer to her, but other than that, he keeps things PG-13.

She gets super frustrated. She tries to give him hints by running her hands all over his body. His breathing becomes shakier, but they have never actually gone all the way before, and he’s kind of scared.

His hands are still gripping her thighs away from him, and she’s getting more desperate. She can tell he’s clearly hard and enjoying this. She grabs his waist and pulls him flush against her so he’s nuzzled between her legs, and he short circuits.

He stops kissing her and buries his face in her neck, his breath shaking and his hands on her thighs trembling slightly.

“Why are you hesitating?” She whispers softly. She runs her fingers through his hair soothingly.

He stays silent for a while, his face still in her neck as he tries to calm down.

“I’m nervous,” he whispers back.

“About what?”

“I don’t want to mess things up.”

She pulls back slightly, making him stop hiding and look at her. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes scan across her face. She smiles, trying to ease him a little.

“How would you mess things up?”

He shrugs. “A lot of ways. I don’t know what I’m doing.” He looks away shyly. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable and ruin everything.”

He was clearly talking about more than just what was unfolding at the moment. She brings him into a comforting hug, resting her chin on his shoulder.

“I’m scared you’ll think this was a mistake. I’ve loved you for so long…” he trails off.

“Do you not think I feel the same way?” She asks softly, her nose burying into his neck. “Every time you hesitate it makes me think you’re regretting this.”

His breath hitches, and he pulls back slightly from the hug to look at her.

“I love you, Sunghoon,” she says. “And I want you. All of you.”

His heart practically beats out his chest, his cheeks turning a bright red. He swallows nervously.

“I love you too…” he whispers, his eyes trained onto her face.

“So…” she says, running her hand down his chest

His eyes follow her hand as it stops at his stomach. They’re both blushing messes at this point, ramen long forgotten as he grabs her hand and helps her off the kitchen counter.

Their first time is definitely clumsy but cute. They’re both shy about taking their clothes off for the first time. It really solidifies their relationship switch from being friends for so long to actually being in a romantic relationship, which is both scary and exhilarating at the same time.

They start slow, just making out and their hands roaming and exploring over their clothes. When her hands make their way up underneath his shirt he practically buckles. His breath hitches, and she can feel his stomach tighten under her fingers.

She smiles against his lips before trying to pull his shirt up and off. This part was easy enough. She’s seen him without a shirt plenty of times, so he isn’t too flustered. As they continue kissing, she can feel his finger tips hesitantly slipping under her shirt and resting at her hips. He clearly wants to take her shirt off too and her cheeks turn red.

Her heart pounds in her chest as she pulls back from the kiss and looks at him. He’s like a deer in headlights, frozen, thinking he did something wrong to make her stop and pull away. He notes how flustered she looks, and it brings him a little more confidence.

He pulls her shirt up slightly then stops to look at her to see if she’s having second thoughts, but she raises her arms over her head and lets him take it off. His hands caress her bare sides, feeling the warmth of her skin. He shakily fumbles with the clasp of her bra. It takes him a bit until he’s able to get it off, but once he does, he can’t stop staring. He blushes and looks away when he catches himself staring. There’s so many thoughts going through his head. He suddenly doesn’t know what to do with his hands.

She sees the slight panic in his eyes and pulls him into another kiss. His thoughts are temporarily silenced. She presses her body against his, and the feeling of her bare chest against his makes him groan. His arms snake around her and his hands splay across her back, pulling her even closer.

He’s lost in the moment, his hands roaming across her bare back and feeling her soft skin under his fingertips. He trails kisses down her jaw and neck, feeling her pulse quicken under his lips. Her hands tug at his hair, eliciting soft grunts out of him as he trails his lips down her shoulder. He presses closer, gently laying her backwards onto the bed. His hands trace up her sides and stomach, still somehow hesitating despite being face deep into her neck.

She lets out an exasperated noise and grabs one of his wrists, leading his hand to her chest. He makes a choking sound against her neck and stops kissing for a second, his heavy breathing making the hairs on her skin stand up.

“It’s okay. Touch me,” she whispers, a slight shakiness to her voice.

She can’t suppress the soft moans that leave her lips as he begins to slowly knead her chest. His nose trails across her shoulder as he places kisses along her collarbone, her sweetly fresh scent filling his nose. His thumb circles around her nipple, playing and slightly pulling on it.

Her breathy moans make him groan with pleasure, his hips involuntarily bucking against hers. His sweatpants are practically strained around him.

“S-sorry,” he mutters, pulling his hips back slightly.

Her hands are already at his waistband. His arms brace on the bed at either side of her head, his breath shaky as he looks down at her fumbling with the drawstrings of his sweatpants. She pushes his sweatpants down his thighs, leaving him in his boxers where his arousal was even more apparent. She looks up to meet his eyes and he immediately looks away, red in the face.

She reaches up and traces his ear, the tip bright red to match his face. Her touch lingers on his earlobe before tracing down the side of his neck. She can see his adam's apple bob as he swallows nervously.

“Take mine off,” she whispers, trying to distract him from the embarrassment.

“Okay,” he whispers back.

His eyes flicker down to her bottoms which are just some pajama shorts. His fingers trace the waistband.

“Both? Or…”

It was her turn to turn beet red. He looks up at her and blushes seeing her blush.

“Unless you don’t want to—“ he immediately backtracks.

“All of it,” she cuts him off and looks away shyly, not wanting to see his face as he takes everything off and looks at her fully.

His hands are shaking as he pulls her shorts and underwear off, but once she’s lying there fully bare in front of him his breath is taken away. His hands trail up her legs, gently caressing her skin. Once they reach her thighs, he slowly kneads them and pushes them apart to look at her. She closes her eyes as if trying to hide. He notices immediately and his hands come up to grab her waist as he leans forward and places soft kisses to her face.

“What’s wrong?” He asks softly.

She shakes her head slightly, her eyes are open now but still not looking at him.

“I’m a little embarrassed…” she mumbles.

He looks at her, his gaze softening as he cups her cheek in his hand and makes her face him. He brushes strands of hair out of her face. His fingertips trace her features, running across her eyebrow bone and down her nose bridge, across her cheekbones and down her jaw until they land on her bottom lip.

“You’re so beautiful. You don’t need to be embarrassed,” he says softly. “But we can stop if you’re not comfortable.”

She looks at him as he traces her face, his eyes soft and so full of affection she wants to cry. Her bottom lip trembles slightly and he leans forward to place a tender kiss on them.

“You’re so precious to me,” he whispers against her lips.

Her arms wrap around him and into a hug, overwhelmed with emotion as he buries his face in her neck.

“I love you,” she says. Her hands run down his back, making him shiver. “I trust you.”

He hums contently into her neck but doesn’t make any moves to continue where he’d left off earlier. Instead, his hands roam her sides, caressing her curves as he gently sucks on her neck. Her grip tightens on his back, and she moves her head aside to expose more of her neck, soft whimpers leaving her lips.

The sounds she makes are making him slightly lose control. His hips press against hers, and he groans into her neck at the slight friction. He hears her breath hitch too, her hands on his back trailing down to his waist to pull at his boxers.

He pulls back from her neck to let her take them off. His eyes are fixed on her face, his cheeks flushed as he watches her gaze run down his body completely. He swallows nervously as her hands trail down his sides, stopping at his hips. His length immediately twitches at her simple touch.

“Let’s…” he swallows again. “Let’s focus on you.” He mutters.

Her eyebrows furrow as she looks up at him. Her mouth opens to say something but he quickly leans forward and kisses her. Her hands stay at his hips, slightly gripping his thighs. He feels her hands inching downward, making his head spin. He pulls back to look at her, his face flushed. His hands gently pull hers off of him, and she’s about to protest again, but he brings them up to his lips and kisses them gently.

“Let me focus on you, please,” he whispers, voice shaking. “I…if you touch me, I will probably…finish,” he looks away shyly.

This gives Y/N such a rush. Any insecurity she has about her body is completely gone seeing how worked up he is. Her hand trails down his arm and grabs his wrist. She gently guides his hand between her legs.

He says he doesn’t know what he’s doing. She guides him at first, showing him where to touch her. He’s a quick learner, though. He’s an observer. He knows he’s doing a good job by the sounds she makes and how her body responds to his touch, getting closer and wanting more. If he’s unsure, he just keeps his hand still, and her hips will move against it how she needs to.

The palm of his hand grinds on her clit as he pumps his fingers into her, making her see stars. His face is back in the crook of her neck, kissing and sucking on her skin. He can feel her tightening around his fingers, and he groans in her neck as if it’s his dick and not his fingers.

She tugs the hair on the back of his head, pulling him out from her neck to have him look at her. His eyes are glazed over. He is absolutely gone. She has to kiss him to snap him out of it, but it only works for a little while until he’s groaning and devouring her mouth.

“Sunghoon,” she pants against his lips when he even gives her time to breathe.

He responds with a sound between a hum and a grunt, but he doesn’t stop. She grabs his wrist that’s still lazily fingering her, and he immediately freezes. He pulls back and looks at her with a guilty expression. He's about to apologize, but she releases his wrist and instead wraps her hand around his length.

The facial expression he makes is so perfect, she almost thinks he finishes. She rubs the length of him along herself, coating it. He almost collapses on top of her, his breathing shaky and a raspy moan leaving his lips. She guides his tip to her entrance and his head falls forward, his hair covering his face.

“Fuck,” he gasps. “Are you sure?” He’s breathing heavily now, his eyes trained on her face.

She bites her lip and nods. His eyes flicker down to her lips as she bites them. He leans forward to kiss her again, but gently this time.

He pushes himself deeper little by little, stopping for a bit whenever he sees her face scrunch up with discomfort. He continues to kiss her until he finally bottoms out. He stays still, letting her adjust as he buries his face in her neck again. His breathing is raggedy as he tries not to cum right then and there. She runs her hands down his back soothingly as if reassuring him it’s okay. He slowly rolls his hips, thrusting shallowly, not fully trusting himself to last long.

“God, you're beautiful,” he mumbles against her jaw.

His hands are roaming up and down her body and kissing her lips. His thrusts slowly become deeper yet still gentle. Her warmth is driving him crazy. His arms wrap around her in a hug as he tries to control himself. He can feel her tighten around him, making him groan against her neck. Her fingers yank at his hair as her strangled moans brush against his ear.

“I love you. Fuck…” he pants, “you feel so good.”

He's mumbling praises into her neck as his thrusts become lazy and his hips are shuddering. That’s her undoing. He’s just so hot as he gets desperate and out of control. Her walls grip around him as she feels her orgasm, making him choke and bury himself fully into her. He groans and slightly collapses on top of her as her grip makes him finish.

He stays still for a second but then starts to thrust again. Very slowly and gently, prolonging both of their orgasms.

They’re both shaking by the end of it, bodies sweaty and heaving. She pulls him down on top of her, knowing he’s tired. He obliges, letting her wrap her arms around him. She likes the feeling of his body weight on top of her. She runs her hands down his back soothingly as both of their breathing slowly goes back to normal.

“I love you,” he whispers into her neck.

“I love you too,” she says, patting his head. “You did so good.”

He hums, his cheeks flushed. He wraps his arms around her and rolls onto his back, pulling her along with him. He smiles up at her, tucking strands of hair behind her ear. They stay in each other’s embrace for a long while. Her cheek is pressed against his chest, and he’s tracing lines onto her shoulder when her stomach growls.

“Do you think the ramen is still good?” she asks softly.

“Probably not,” he laughs. “I can make you another one, though.”

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──