#is it weird that I find it really endearing

[fgumi]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ LOSER IN A HOT MAN'S BODY

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 { PAIRING; non-idol!heeseung x reader, GENRE; fluff, school!au, headcanon, WC; 2.8k, A/N; i love losers that love that girlfriends entirely too much but, at the same time, not enough. TAGS; @en-dream @heeheesang @httpenhoon @r1kification @seungheartyou, @starfallia @sugarikiz @hoondolls @bamguetismee @jnysaln @cixrosie @wensurr @heartheejake @m1kkso }

(˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ part two is up!

loser!heeseung was never the first one to get chosen for anything. well, he did get chosen first for musicals and solos! he had a beautiful voice and there was no denying that. but, for anything else? nope. it wasn't until you transferred over to his high school that he got picked willingly (and not because you guys were the only two left). you approached him in gym class after your teacher said to partner up for conditioning. "hey! i'm y/n. do you think we could be partners today?"

heeseung just blinked at you and then turned to see if someone was behind him. when he verified you were talking to him, he turned back to see you with a bemused look, a slight crease forming right between your brows. "you are talking to me, right?" he asked nervously.

a wry smile formed on your lips as you nodded. "there’s no one else around."

heeseung couldn't believe it. someone who wasn't a part of the theatre department was talking to him! so, he agreed with only a moment's hesitation. by the time sit-ups came around, heeseung knew about your basic interests and one secret: you were big on anime. you explained to him, during his sad attempts at pushups, that you loved anime but remained closeted because the boys at your last school made it weird. heeseung was careful not to let his excitement show; he didn't wanna scare you off before he really got to know you. eventually, after all the hellish exercises your teacher put you through, heeseung shyly asked you why you wanted to be partners.

"you looked like the type that doesn't judge people for struggling," you replied after drinking your water. you wiped the droplets of water that trickled down your neck and then offered heeseung some. "i don't have cooties. promise."

he gave you a faint, unsure smile, his hand reaching out slowly, half expecting you to pull it back and say psych! but you didn’t. you just patiently waited for him to take it. honestly, he just looked like a spooked deer to you, and you couldn’t help but find it endearing. after class was over and it was time for lunch, heeseung deflated. it was nice talking to you while it lasted.

“heeseung! wait up!”

he turned to you with round eyes, watching you rush over, a backpack draped over your right shoulder. you were freshly showered, water still dripping off the ends of your hair. you looked... happy? you slowed to a stop right in front of him.

“do you mind if we eat together?”

you wanted to eat with him? a cool girl like you wants to eat with a certified loser like him?

“it’s okay if you already have plans! i think i can find somewhere else to sit.”

no! you jumped a little. heeseung retracted into himself, rubbing the back of his neck. he’s never had someone ask to eat with him. he just sort of sat with his theatre classmates—not even friends. they all thought he was weird. you gave him a puzzled look.

“are you sure? you don’t have to pity me just because i’m new,” you pouted. gosh, was it just him or did everyone find you adorable?

“i’m sure. i was just hesitant since i’m not known for being, you know, popular.”

rolling your eyes, you clapped a hand on his shoulder. “as if that actually matters.” you tugged him along, linking your arm with his. thank goodness you were busy looking for the cafeteria because heeseung was struggling to keep the blush off of his face. as much as heeseung didn’t want to get his hopes up, he hoped that you guys would become real friends.

loser!heeseung loved his hobbies. he could talk about them for hours; they were his passion. he loved playing maple story, league of legends, team fight tactics, going to the renaissance fair, studying the metrics of trot (this one was a little too niche to really talk about though). none of these passions were greater than his passion for you. this man was dedicated to learning everything there was to know about you now that you were friends. you teased him about how stalkerish he sounded. almost immediately, he apologized.

the way his shoulders shrunk and eyes drooped down, you were definitely the asshole. when he stopped talking, you panicked. so, you didn’t think. you kissed his cheek. you blinked. he blinked. you blinked at each other. you know that ouran high school host club scene where tamaki realized haruhi is a girl and she complimented him? you’d bet your whole house that’s how red you were because you could feel the heat radiating off your face.

heeseung’s mind was still white noise. any sounds that were supposed to reach his ears were muffled, like he was underwater. was he underwater? was he dragged down into the depths of the styx river only to be lost forever? was he dreaming to cope with the harsh reality of his death? was he—

“heeseung?” you meekly called. “i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have done that without your consent. that was—”

he must’ve called upon achilles’s guidance and invincibility because he didn’t know where he got this courage otherwise. what courage you may ask? well, the courage that planted heeseung’s lips on yours.

your lips were so soft. they tasted like strawberries. he wondered if strawberries were your favorite fruit. he could kiss you forever. oh crap, he was kissing you.

anxiety crept up his spine, invading his every nerve; it was telling him he had to pull away or else you’d leave him forever. except, when he started moving away, he noticed you followed, reluctant to end the kiss. your eyes were closed too. he could’ve sworn they were open from shock.

heeseung could feel his back creaking in protest at the odd angle; he would’ve fallen over if it weren’t for you clutching the front of his shirt. huh? oh! maybe, you liked the kiss! you liked the kiss, like he did! oh, but now he couldn’t breathe. what should he do? he didn’t want the kiss to end.

he pressed back, holding out until the last possible moment. but you pulled away first, gasping for air. a blush dusted your cheeks and heeseung could guess that he was red too—probably not as pretty of a shade as yours though.

“s-sorry,” he stammered as you caught your breath. “i don’t know why i—”

you shut him up with another kiss (but this one was too short for heeseung’s newfound thirst for kissing you). when you pulled away, his big eyes tugged at your heart. they looked so sad that you moved away. it made you giggle—this whole situation. for someone that was trying to learn everything about you, he sure did miss your huge crush on him.

loser!heeseung didn’t know how he got so fortunate. was he a luck domain cleric in real life? he felt like he was rolling nat 20s continuously. he managed to ask you out (though, he was stuttering the whole time and nearly tripped on top of you—it was a whole affair that he’d rather forget) and be dating you 3 years later? he was one lucky man. and, some might say even luckier as time went on.

you got more confident once you guys got to college and, thus, you got hotter. you found your sense of self and your fashion reflected it. heeseung wasn’t doing so bad either. he found people that he got along with and could proudly (read: shyly) call friends. he found beomgyu in the league discord server that the university had and jeongin in d&d club! he’d meet up with them every once in awhile whenever they all felt like they needed to touch grass. of course, his friends knew you came first. you were heeseung’s everything. what they couldn’t wrap around their heads was how heeseung was your everything.

“you’ve been dating for 3 years!? no way, man.” “are you secretly rich? the son of some big conglomerate?” “all offense, she’s hot and you’re… not.”

heeseung didn’t let that bother him. his friends were idiots that had never felt the touch of a woman. plus, you trained him better (you told him to stop talking about himself like he was your pet, but he refused). you loved him so much without any strings attached. you were patient with him and listened to him ramble about how league kept nerfing his favorite character with every update. you never tried to change him and you told him it’s because you fell in love with him for how he was. but, there came a day when he wished you did. he happened to overhear a conversation between you and your friends.

“girl, there’s no way you’ve been with heeseung for 3 years and he hasn’t picked up a single thing about fashion from you.” “the face cards are mismatched, ma. you’re up here and he’s not even on this plane.” “don’t you ever get embarrassed whenever you guys go out? i mean, he dresses like he’s stuck in his mom’s basement.” “i hope he compensates in other ways because he’s not doing it where i can see.” “how are you okay with someone that much skinnier than you? doesn’t your body dysmorphia get triggered?”

you stopped talking to those girls after that. however, it didn’t stop heeseung from getting hurt by it. it was true, in heeseung’s eyes. you deserved much better than what he was giving you. how is it that you loved him even though he looked the exact same as he did 3 years ago? there were so many hot guys around and you never so much as turned your head to glance. there was nothing to support his insecurity about being hot enough or being enough in general. nonetheless, that horrid conversation sparked something in heeseung.

“baby, i’m heading to the gym. i’ll be back later to cook us dinner, okay?” if your brows raised any further, they’d merge into your hairline. “the gym?” heeseung nodded firmly. “gotta start working out to combat all the ramen i eat.”

“hee, you haven’t gained weight since we started dating, despite you eating my leftovers and your food. you don’t need to combat anything,” you laughed. when you saw heeseung was still tying the laces on his shoes, you let it go, thinking nothing of it. you kissed him and reminded him to stay hydrated.

thus began heeseung’s gym journey. it was difficult. muscle barely stuck even though he was eating well over 3000 calories. but, he could see his body getting toned, more cut, so he was happy. maybe people would stop looking at the two of you like you were wrong.

his wishful thinking remained at that. despite getting noticeably more fit, people still talked. they talked about his fashion, his haircut, and his hygiene (he thought this one was unfair considering he always did skincare with you and loved doing your nightly routines).

so, on the day you told him you were going thrifting, he asked to tag along. you were taken aback. heeseung never came with you; he didn’t see the point when he had perfectly good clothes at home. but you let him come along. you thought he’d just peruse with you or be there to make sure you paid with the card he gave you (he made a lot of money from his internship and begged you to use it for anything you wanted), but he didn’t. he asked a lot of questions.

“do you think this would look good on me?” “do these go together?” “are these good quality?”

you were excited. going thrifting was one of your favorite hobbies and to see heeseung taking such an interest in it was thrilling. you gave your opinions, always with a disclaimer that fashion is up to preference. he nodded along, processing your words. by the end of your thrifting trip, heeseung went home with a bundle of clothes to wear. the next day, he’d wake up earlier than normal to try and piece his new clothes together. he knew he wasn’t good at it. his friends let him know without reservations. hell, your friends let him know with their skeptical looks. it wasn’t until he talked to sunghoon in the gym that he got some actual constructive criticism.

“you’re taking an interest in fashion?”

“nothing crazy,” heeseung muttered, kicking the dust on the floor. “i just hate the comments y/n gets whenever her friends think i’m not listening.”

sunghoon looked at his gym buddy in pity. “look, man. if everything you’ve told me about your relationship is true, i don’t think y/n cares what you wear. she hasn’t in 3 years. what makes you think it’ll change all of a sudden?”

nothing. he didn’t doubt you. he just got sick at the thought of you having to listen to all those criticisms. so, sunghoon helped him. he showed him his pinterest moodboard and made heeseung swear to never tell anyone that’s how he chooses what to wear. after that informative session, heeseung got to work. he used your instagram feed as a reference, wanting to match your aesthetic, and created a moodboard inspired by it. using his pinterest board, he went thrifting by himself. he recalled the countless videos he watched while sorting through the clothes. cotton, not polyester. depending on the stain, you can get it out. tailoring is always an option when you find something that is a little too big!

he was very serious about his transformation. he even digitally scrapbooked the pictures of him in different clothes so he could be like cher in clueless. since then, his fashion started improving. your morning routines together changed ever so slightly with you telling him to spin for you. his heart warmed with every compliment you gave him.

“who is this diva?” “i feel very underdressed. i’m changing.” “are you getting dressed by law roach?” “you’ve been taking dress to impress a little seriously these days.”

heeseung’s confidence soared. now, he wasn’t ashamed to go out with you. your friends weren’t ashamed to be seen with him either. they even went as far as to compliment him! score! he’d gotten brownie points with your friends.

“finally, he’s dressing like a boyfriend fit to be with you, y/n.”

oh, that made you pull the brakes real fast. it completely escaped your mind how much your friends dissed your boyfriend (because you brushed them off as stupid comments). come to think of it, heeseung always did manage to miss the moments where they talked about him, but only by a minute or two. what if… what if he did hear those comments?

curious and worried, you asked him during your nightly routines. “hee, did… did you start dressing up for any particular reason?”

uh oh. heeseung hated lying to you; it physically pained him. so, he confessed. “i heard what your friends think of me and i didn’t want you to have to keep hearing them say things like that.”

“oh, baby, i’m so sorry you heard that,” you cooed. “i didn’t tell you because not even an atom of me agrees with them. i love you as you are, uni tees, basketball shorts and all.”

heeseung put down the moisturizer and looked down. “i know… i just wanted people to stop thinking we’re wrong for each other.”

you frowned and pulled him into a hug. “well, we know we’re perfect for each other. i’ve known it from the moment you started talking about the metrics of trot. i remember just nodding along and thinking how beautiful you were.”

heeseung blushed at your words. you always knew how to make him feel better.

“you don’t have to dress up for anyone but yourself, okay?”

he shook his head with a small smile. “i like matching with you. it’s fun.”

“well, i guess we really gotta dress to impress then,” you grinned, kissing his cheek.

with that, heeseung was reassured. no more pressure. he could just dress however he wanted (which was however you were dressing). but, his glow up didn’t stop there. no, he thought about a haircut. he wanted something that would shut your friends up forever. so, after scrolling forever on tiktok, he found that he liked a mullet with some face-framing pieces. he went and got it done at sunghoon’s trusted barbershop and came out a new man. he immediately sent you a picture, to which you responded, “don’t go anywhere. no errands. no grabbing food. come home. now.”

safe to say, you loved his new haircut. he loved his new haircut. he loved it even more when his friends and your friends couldn’t manage words. good. stay that way.

loser!heeseung was still a loser but, at least, he was in a hot man’s body with his very very attractive girlfriend. he still played league. he still larped. he still took the renaissance fair very seriously. he still loved you more than anything in the world. he was still your loser.

disclaimer: this, in no way, reflects the idol. this is purely fiction. ✧ comments and reblogs are appreciated! ✧ give my other works a read too!

[kesujo]

Chapter 14: Miss Not-So-Innocent - Part 1

Previous chapter here. 8.4k words

“Hey, by the way, how’s it going with Tiffany?”

“Hm?”

Jessica showed up an hour or so after Parker had finished dinner. Seeing that she arrived in her pajamas, Parker was about to turn her away when she said she just wanted to hang out and was feeling a little lonely. He knew Hunter had to leave the state for an emergency for one of the hotels he was responsible for—a safety threat of some kind—leaving Jessica by herself for a few days now, so he shrugged and let her in. Fortunately, Jessica stayed true to her word, joining him in watching a volleyball match in the living room and doing nothing more.

In fact, with how much Parker’s been interacting with Jessica recently due to work, casual conversations in the office in which the subject of sex didn’t come up even in subtle, teasing jest were becoming more and more frequent. It was nice, even if Jessica had called him into her office the other day to coat his penis with some weird stuff while she kept it erect for a few minutes and refused to elaborate further afterwards. Otherwise, however, their conversations were … exceedingly normal. It’s only been a week, but having normal interactions with Jessica was a nice breath of fresh air. When she wasn’t dragging him to film pornos or dragging him into her office to be railed with her tits hanging out the windows, Jessica was a very charming, very likeable person. So, Parker’s guard slowly but surely dropped, to the point that he had pretty much forgotten that Jessica was sitting next to him on the couch until she posed the question.

“Pretty…” Parker racked his brain for any possible way he might’ve wronged Tiffany that would thus elicit the question from Jessica. Was it that kiss? But she didn’t seem to mind that much … was there anything else? Did he find some other way to mess up? “…good?”

Seeing Parker’s hesitation, Jessica laughed. “Relax, I’ve heard from Tiffany but want to hear from you too.”

Hearing that, Parker let out a sigh. “Yeah. Pretty good. I took her mini-golfing and then had seafood for dinner. It was a ton of fun, at least for me, but…”

“Hm?”

With how socially aware Jessica was, Parker was really hoping he wouldn’t have to spell it out for her. “Well … you know, how—what’d you hear about it from her?”

When Jessica stayed silent for a few seconds, Parker’s heart plummeted. Was it that bad?

“Do you want to know how Tiffany reacted to watching that porno we shot?”

Parker didn’t know what he thought Jessica said at first. He had to do a triple-take to fully understand it, and when he did, “Ti—” actually, was he hearing correctly? “—Tiffany?!”

“Hm?”

“You showed that to her?!”

Jessica met Parker’s bewilderment with a nonchalant smile. “Yeah. Don’t worry though, she loved it. You should’ve seen how red her face was.” In the back of Parker’s mind, he had to admit that the sight would’ve been really endearing. “But, I mean, it’s not like she doesn’t know we fuck on a regular basis.”

Parker groaned. Was that a good sign? What did Jessica’s answer even mean? “But … ah, but that’s … and she knows it was us?”

“Mhm.”

Parker’s mind was beginning to short circuit. The fact that Jessica was so jovial about this was a good thing, right? “And she knew it was us when she asked to see it?”

“Mmhm.”

“And … she really watched it, all the way through?”

“Yep.”

“And she … she liked it?”

Jessica laughed. “Yeah! Why are you asking me so many questions?”

“I mean … are you sure it was ok to show Tiffany something like that?”

“Well yeah, considering she was the one who insisted on watching it.”

Parker’s jaw dropped. “She—” if it wasn’t Jessica who was telling him this, he never in a million years would’ve believed it. Heck, even though it was Jessica, Parker was still unsure if he believed that. “—she wanted to watch it?”

“Yep. I know, I was surprised too.”

The adorable, wide-eyed Tiffany, who could barely say the words ‘sex’ or ‘fuck’ without turning beet red, who was hesitant to even ask for a goodbye kiss after their last date … that Tiffany asked to see a porno her best friend and said date featured in?

“I can see that you don’t believe me.”

“I mean, you can understand why, though.”

“Yeah. I teased Tiff about it for days.” There was laughter in Jessica’s voice, and a little bit within Parker himself, he couldn’t help but feel bad for her. “You know, you two are so darn cute together!” Unable to contain the excited schoolgirl inside her any longer, she let out a squeal so loud that Parker jumped. “I knew you’d be perfect for each other! You should’ve heard her squealing to me about how perfect you are after every single one of your dates!”

Hearing that put Parker a bit more at ease. “Well, glad to hear it. Just, go easy on her, alright?”

“Aw, worried about your girl?”

“She’s not—” Parker stopped, realizing Jessica wasn’t going to listen no matter how firmly he denied it.

“I mean, she pretty much is, right?”

“What?”

Jessica’s grin grew wider. “Come on, you don’t think Tiff didn’t fill me in on all the deets about your dates? How you got a discount at that restaurant for being a ‘really cute couple’, how you kissed her goodnight in front of her parents after that one date, and how that turned into an impromptu first meeting with them, and how they ended up adoring you?” Parker groaned. He could feel the tips of his ears turning redder by the second: he just wanted to smash his head into the couch’s armrest, but the rally going on in the volleyball match was too intense to turn his eyes away from.

“Jess—”

“Oh, and of course, on your most recent date, where you gave her a pad when she forgot to put extras in her purse?!” Parker was now convinced: the reason why Jessica was so giddy about Tiffany getting together with him was so that she could tease both of them relentlessly. Never mind what he thought before, about Jessica being incredibly likeable: she was the Devil herself. “I’ve heard from Tiff’s parents about male friends of hers they disapprove of. But to think you managed to charm them after kissing their daughter goodnight?! That’s almost unheard of! No, scratch that, that is absolutely unheard of!”

“Can you please stop?”

Jessica let out a giggle. “You and Tiff both, the way your voices get so quiet and your ears turn so red, are just too adorable.”

After a brief pause, Parker spoke back up. “So, you know how I only asked you twenty-two questions about Tiffany?” Jessica nodded. “I’m going to use one of them now.” Sensing the seriousness in his voice, the smile faded from her face. “Are you one-hundred-percent sure Tiffany is willing to have an open relationship?” This was the one hangup that was preventing Parker from asking Tiffany to be his girlfriend. Going out with Tiffany while fucking her best friend just felt wrong. Spending time with Tiffany, talking to her, just being around her made Parker feel like he was on cloud nine, but that thought lingering in the back of his mind prevented him from fully enjoying it. He wouldn’t put it past Tiffany to simply be too nice to acquiesce with an open relationship when she, in reality, wasn’t. Or maybe she even gaslit herself into believing that she was. “I mean, maybe you’re not the right person to ask, but…”

“Yeah … I know, right? A sweet, innocent, traditionalist girl like Tiffany? Especially after what she went through?” Parker didn’t respond, continuing to watch the match. Parker figured Jessica was talking about the troublesome experience Tiffany had with an ex, but seeing as how she kept her wording vague, he didn’t pry. “I’ve talked to her a lot about it, reassuring her I’d be willing to give up on my competition with Hunter in a heartbeat for her, but every time, she said that she’s sure about it.”

“I … I see.”

It set Parker’s mind at ease somewhat, but still didn’t fully clear up the muddiness in his mind about the topic. He would just have to talk to Tiffany about it.

“Have you two fucked since the first time?”

Parker snorted. “What—what are you asking all of the sudden?!”

Jessica just smiled. “So, that’s a no?”

“No! For your information, it’s already not normal to have had sex with someone before starting to date them.”

“That’s such a waste though, with how hot Tiff is and how much of a blast you two were having last time.” Parker’s face flushed a little at that memory. It was true that having sex with Tiffany was great, and he would be lying if he said that he never thought about it, but Parker prioritized taking the proper steps in their relationship first. He was thankful for Jessica for introducing them, but he didn’t need her to influence it with her salacious tendencies.

“It’ll happen when it happens.”

“That might be sooner than you think. I’m pretty sure Tiffany is—” the notification sound of a phone interrupted her, and when Jessica whipped hers out to check it, she got up. “—sorry, my friend just got here, she’s in the lobby. We were supposed to hang out, but do you mind if she comes here?”

No. No, no no no. He wasn’t going to get roped into this again. He didn’t care how unlikely it seemed that this friend of Jessica’s would want to have sex with him, he had gotten caught off guard too many times with thoughts like surely not or but this is too far-fetched or Jessica isn’t this insane to disregard that possibility.

“I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“Oh, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”

“But she came to hang out with you, right?”

“I’m sure she’d love to meet you.”

What was Jessica doing here? Did this friend know about him for some reason? Sure, if Parker was visiting a friend, he wouldn’t mind meeting a friend of his friend’s, but saying he’d love to was stretching it a bit. Maybe this friend just liked meeting new people … otherwise, Parker couldn’t shake off the paranoid feeling that this was going where he feared it might be going. “I’m nothing special.”

“I beg to differ, you’re my husband’s best friend. Such a man is not ‘nothing special’.”

Parker sighed. He knew where this was going: they would go back and forth until Jessica made him feel guilty for refusing to accommodate this friend of hers. In fact, they didn’t even need to go back-and-forth much more, he was already starting to feel that guilt, but trying to disregard it to fend off his paranoia felt a moot task. “If she really wants to come over, then yeah, she can.”

“Great! I’ll be right back!”

In the few minutes Jessica took to retrieve her friend, Parker weighed the possibility that he would be roped into more shenanigans. If she was even able to rope Tiffany in, then what about her friends who were more like her? Parker didn’t really know many of Jessica’s friends, but from what little he heard about them from Tiffany, she was more so the odd-one-out than the normal one. Given, in that context, it seemed like Tiffany was joking, so all Parker could hope was that Tiffany was exaggerating a bit for comedic effect.

When a knock came at the door, Parker jumped out of his seat. “Coming!” Opening the door, he was greeted with the smiling visage of Jessica and one other, slightly shorter but truly breathtakingly beautiful woman. If Parker was tasked with the objective to sculpt the most aesthetically pleasing face he could imagine, this woman would’ve easily beaten the product of his imagination. Parker didn’t know what it was with Jessica and having the most attractive friends, but she was an almost mystical, ethereal beauty that he almost couldn’t believe existed in the real world. Her skin was fair, unblemished, and porcelain white; her hair jet black, silky smooth, stopping at her chest; the only thing that could be said about her was that her slim figure didn’t make way for many curves, but even that seemed to suit her pure, innocent visuals well. Above all else, though, was how well her facial features fit on her face: her eyes were large, her eyelashes long, her eyebrows perfectly trimmed, her nose slim and long, her lips full, her cheekbones protruding and her perfectly aligned teeth shining white against his apartment’s lights.

“Parker, this is Irene, a childhood f—…”

Jessica abruptly cut herself off, looking over at the other woman, who gave her an encouraging nod, emphatically interjecting, “Friend!”

“—friend of mine.”

“Hi!” The luminescent woman stepped in and embraced the significantly taller man in a hug, a gesture which momentarily caught him off guard. “Oh wow, you’re pretty tall.”

“Uh—” He had never met Irene before, so being introduced with such a friendly gesture stunned him for a brief second. “—yeah, sorry.”

“Oh, no need to apologize! It would probably be easy to tackle you, I would just have to duck a little and your arms would go right over my head!”

Parker let out an utterly bewildered chuckle. “Wh-What?”

“See?” Irene demonstrated by doing exactly what she said, ducking a little and wrapping her arms around his torso, planting her face against the bottom of his sternum. “It goes right over,” she said, tilting her head upwards to see Parker’s arms swiping at open air.

“Yeah … I guess it does…” Parker looked over at Jessica who was just looking at the two with a bemused smile. He shot her a confused glance, to which she replied with a shrug.

Irene released Parker, squatting down to pick up a package she had dropped to hug him. It was only then that Parker noticed it. “What’s that?”

“Oh, it’s just something Jessica asked me to pick up for her.”

“…Right, gotcha.” The vague answer reminded Parker of the hesitation with this entire ordeal, something that Irene’s effervescent introduction had caused him to forget. Did he really want to know what that package contained? Did he even care? Why didn’t they drop it off at Jessica’s place, which was right next door, first? None of these were questions he was going to get answers to anyway, so Parker just kept them to himself.

“Were you watching volleyball?”

“Yeah. Do you watch?”

“Nope!”

The answer, again, caught Parker off guard. With the amount of enthusiasm Irene asked the question, Parker figured she recognized the teams or at least had some degree of interest in the sport. “Oh.” Usually, Parker was able to carry a conversation better and more naturally. With Irene, he couldn’t even formulate a proper response in his mind.

“Oh—oh my gosh, they’re hitting that ball so fast! I can’t imagine intentionally letting that hit my own arms.”

Well, that was something to work with at least. “Yeah, those spikes can get up to sixty miles-per-hour.”

“Don’t you need to be tall to play volleyball?” Irene turned to face Parker. “You’re pretty tall, right? Have you ever played it?”

“Me? No, I just like to watch. I’m probably on the shorter side for volleyball players, honestly.”

Hearing that made Irene’s eyes bulge out of their sockets. “Really?! Wow … I probably wouldn’t even have to duck to tackle them.”

Another chuckle escaped Parker’s lips. “Why would you want to tackle them?”

“I don’t know. Isn’t it fun to tackle people sometimes?”

“I don’t…” Parker trailed off, completely unable to formulate a response. “…Jessica, how do you keep up with her?”

Jessica smiled. “I don’t. I just let her say whatever she wants.”

“Hm…”

Irene didn’t seem to mind, plopping down on the sofa and setting the package down next to her. “Oh wait, number nine is pretty hot, isn’t he?”

“Hm?” Jessica turned towards the TV screen, finding the player with the corresponding jersey. “Yeah, he is.”

“How tall is he? Do you know?”

Irene turned towards Parker, who could only shrug. “My guess is somewhere between six-two and six-five.”

“Holy … that’s a bit too tall, isn’t it? I mean, if someone’s that tall, would I even have to kneel to give him a blowjob?”

Parker let out a hacking cough. “Wha-What?”

“I mean, you’d probably have to bend down a little. Like, for Parker, I can still kneel and be level with his dick, but I need to pull it down a little while straining my neck up a little to compensate.”

“Oh, I see. But what if their penis isn’t as big? Then wouldn’t it be slightly harder to pull it down to the level of your face while kneeling?”

“Oh, that may be true…” What the hell kind of a conversation were they having? And why were they speaking about it so casually? And especially in front of someone else? “So I guess you’d have to squat or something.”

“Hmm … wouldn’t it be pretty hot to be riding one of their dicks while another one of them stuffed your mouth from above?” Jessica pondered it, not seeming to be very convinced of the idea. Parker, on the other hand, was still recovering from the whiplash from the stream of vulgar words coming out of the mouth of the woman with contrastingly angelic, pure visuals. “Or maybe they could spitroast you with your feet off the ground, or maybe even suspend you in midair while fucking you in both your pussy and your ass.”

“Hm … I’m pretty sure Hunter’s a little shorter than Parker, but the suspended spitroast idea sounds so hot…” Parker, no longer feeling comfortable with the conversation, slowly got up and off the couch, but before he could escape, Jessica grabbed ahold of his arm. “Where are you going?”

“Uh … bathroom?”

“Right there,” Jessica motioned towards Irene, who simply shot Parker a smile.

“What?”

“There’s your urinal,” she repeated, Irene opening her mouth in tandem.

Parker scoffed. “Wha-What are you even saying?”

“What she’s saying is that you’re free to use me like a toilet.”

Oh god, now there were two of them. He knew it—he knew it was a bad idea to let Jessica invite her friend into his apartment. Why was he so soft on her? “I’m not—” hearing Parker sigh caused the two to burst into a fit of giggles. “—you tw—what’s wrong with you, Jessica?”

“Huh? Were you about to ask Irene what’s wrong with her?”

“What?” Irene’s face took on an exaggerated look of offense. “How could you? All I did was offer my mouth as your urinal.”

“Like—” Even when there was one Jessica, Parker often found himself overwhelmed with how sexually and kinkily she spoke. “—I, like, I mean, you realize why that’s a really—” But now that there was a second one just as sexual and kinky, if not more so … how was he supposed to react? “—that’s, like, you know, not … normal … not a normal thing to say?”

Irene shrugged. “Normal’s boring.”

Oh. Was this where Jessica got that idea from?

“Right…”

“Well?”

“Hm?”

“You need to go to the bathroom, right?”

“No, and even if I did, I wouldn’t use Irene’s mouth. I mean, I just met her, you know.”

“Oh, but she knows all about you.”

That couldn’t be good. How could he escape? But this was his apartment. Where could he even run to?

“I really don’t want to know—”

“She watched our porno.”

“God damn it, is there anyone you didn’t show that to?”

Jessica giggled. “Just like one or two more friends, don’t worry.” That was not the answer Parker was hoping Jessica would give him, but he figured he should be thankful it was only one or two more of her friends.

“Can I see it?” Irene couldn’t be talking about what he thought she might be talking about. There was no way. A woman he met just minutes ago for the first time … surely, she wasn’t asking to see his—“I want to see your dick for myself.”

Parker could only laugh. Ordinarily, having such a beautiful woman request such a thing would’ve been at least somewhat humbling, but given the situation, Parker couldn’t feel anything less than absolutely and utterly bewildered. Not only was it difficult to keep up with another Jessica, but the implication that something about the porno made Irene want to see his penis in person made Parker’s mind spin. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know why that was, but now he had to grapple with that fact with the eager-eyed woman sitting on the other side of the couch from him. “Jessica, what…?”

“Oh, I forgot, you probably didn’t watch. There were some shots that made your penis look amazing, so I’d say Irene’s reaction is understandable.”

That wasn’t what Parker was trying to ask Jessica in the slightest, nor did he really understand Jessica’s explanation of Irene’s reaction, so he ended up just saying, “No, I—I’m, I’m not—I mean, I literally just met you, why would you want to go there already?”

Irene furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. “Do I need to know someone for a while to see their dick?” Was she being serious? Either Irene was the best actress in the world, or she actually didn’t see an issue with her proposal. “I mean, people have one-night stands all the time, don’t they?”

“I mean—” Parker had to admit Irene had a point. But still … his brain was starting to hurt. It really was too much, trying to keep up with two Jessicas at the same time. “—no, I guess, but…”

“…But what? Did you want to see my tits first? I mean, they aren’t anything too impressive, especially compared to Jessica, but—” Parker stopped Irene as she moved to throw her short off.

“No! That wasn’t what I was trying to say. It’s just … I thought you came here to hang out with Jessica?”

“Um … I thought she invited me over to introduce me to you.” It was only then that Parker remembered Jessica mentioning introducing a childhood friend to him a week ago.

“Ah, right…” Thinking back on it, Jessica’s description of her at the time matched Irene pretty well: her figure wasn’t the best, but she was insanely beautiful. Parker just wished Jessica had given him a better heads up as to what kind of a person she was. Then again, she was Jessica’s friend. “…but that wasn’t the impression I got from Jessica.”

“…whoops, forgot to tell you?”

Parker rolled his eyes and sighed. “Well, now that you’ve introduced us…”

A brief silence followed in which the two ladies exchanged glances. Whatever telepathy that transpired between the two, the result was Irene saying, “I guess Jessica didn’t tell you much about me.”

Parker shook his head. “Sorry, not really.”

“Well, basically, all you need to know is that I have a breeding kink.” Again, Parker was caught off guard, letting out a hacking cough. “I came here because I want you to pump me so full of cum, my womb will have no choice but to give me a baby.”

That was a hell of a proposal, but what was Parker even supposed to do with it? Sure, Irene was definitely attractive enough to elicit a positive desire to acquiesce with that demand, but first off, why him, specifically? Was it because of that porno? The way she worded it … ‘my womb will have no choice but to give me a baby’ … Parker didn’t want to pry, but it almost sounded like Irene had tried multiple times before and had failed just as many times. But why would he have any better of a shot than all the other presumed guys she’s had in the past?

He felt like Irene was burdening him with a task, and the expectant way she was looking at him reinforced that.

“Ordinarily, I would want proof that you were tested recently for STIs, but since Jessica vouched for you, that’s not necessary. I have my own STI test report from last week in case you wanted to see it for yourself.” Irene handed him a bundle of papers that Parker briefly looked at—not that he was that interested in them, more so because he was so perplexed that looking at the bundle of papers placed in his hand was a reflexive action to being handed them. “Also, if you do manage to impregnate me, I promise to not burden you with child support. I can sign a contract if you’d like. I have one here,” she said, procuring another bundle of papers from her purse.

“Um…” Parker was overwhelmed, and this time, it wasn’t because of her eccentricity. It was almost like a business transaction, except it was one of those too-good-to-be-true proposals that had to be a scam. But if it was, where was the detriment to himself? This was Jessica’s friend, after all: would she try to scam a friend of her friend?

All this preparation reinforced his theory that Irene had done this with multiple other men, but aside from that, Parker didn’t know what else to think. Irene certainly seemed determined, even if she had said everything with the same jovial expression on her face. Thinking about the amount of times Irene must’ve tried and failed to become impregnated made him feel bad for her, even if he didn’t know why it was that Irene so badly wanted a child. But the question remained: why did he have to be the next one to try to knock her up?

“Come on, Parker—Irene’s giving you a free pass to fuck her until you’ve emptied your balls inside her. When’s the next opportunity to fuck someone like Irene without worrying about any consequences going to come up?”

Parker didn’t want to admit that Jessica had a point, but first… “Just to make sure—you aren’t in a relationship, right?” Irene shook her head. There was one concern gone, but with that, another arose. “Then … I’m sorry if this is insensitive, but do you mind telling me why you want a baby so badly?”

“Well, they’re so cute, aren’t they? Ever since I was little, I’ve loved kids, but guys don’t really like me, so I decided I’ll just raise one myself.” Parker didn’t believe Irene in the slightest when she said that guys didn’t like her, but there had to be a basis for that. What that was wasn’t Parker’s business to determine. In the corner of his eyes, he could also see Jessica shift uncomfortably a little, but he didn’t want to try to read into things. “Having sex with a bunch of different kinds of people is just a bonus. I don’t think I’ve ever had sex with someone as huge as you, though.”

Parker almost felt like he had to accept Irene’s proposal, which was weird because no man in his right mind would reject a chance to have sex with her. If they had met at a bar and Irene proposed to go back to his place, they might’ve had a one-night stand even if he didn’t know her ultimate goal with the sex. But… “So … you brought Irene over to have sex with me?”

“…Yeah?”

Sometimes, Parker wished he could dive into Jessica’s head to figure out why she didn’t find it weird that she did this. If Parker had a nickel every time Jessica brought over a friend with the explicit purpose of getting the two of them to have sex, Parker would have two nickels, which wasn’t that many nickels but it was weird it happened twice. Or maybe it wasn’t weird, considering this was Jessica. Did this mean he could anticipate Jessica doing this more in the future? If he and Tiffany became a couple, what would that say about him as a boyfriend, even if Tiffany stated she was fine with being in an open relationship? At least right now, he and Tiffany weren’t an item, but if they ever did, could he, in good conscience, do this?

“You gotta stop pimping me out.”

“Well, think about it like this: you get to fuck a bunch of hot women, and my friends get to experience your cock. It’s a win-win!”

“So, is that a no then?”

At the point they were in, needing to talk about being exclusive to each other was implied, but with what Jessica said … of all people, Jessica, the best friend of the woman he was seeing, who so woefully begged Parker to take care of Tiffany well, telling him Tiffany said that it was fine for him to have sex with other women … and to top it all off, as much as Parker tried to stave off the feeling, he could feel himself getting turned on ever so slightly. Was he bad for feeling this way? It felt wrong in so many ways, but when such an amazingly attractive woman was pushing herself onto him like this, wasn’t feeling turned on natural? No, a man with principles would be able to turn her away. But, then again, a man of principles might also claim that it was a man’s duty to acquiesce to the demands of a woman in need, and Irene was presenting herself to him as exactly that. “Well, first of all, let’s move.”

Just as he moved to stand up, Irene pushed him back down onto the couch. “Nope. I’m way too horny now. Do you mind?” Irene asked, her fingers looping around his pants.

“Wha—um—” Not that he wasn’t used to very forward women, but the eagerness with which Irene situated herself between his legs stunned him for a second. “—n-no, I guess?”

Off came his pants and boxers, and out came his mostly-limp dick. “Ooh, wow…” Irene’s dainty fingers brushed against his member. Parker felt his lower half tense up, his dick twitching at the soft sensations of her fingers wrapping around his shaft. “You’re not even hard yet, huh?”

Shit. Parker wasn’t mentally prepared yet, so, scrambling to answer, he stammered out a, “not really.”

“Hmm…” Irene’s fingers wrapped more tightly around him. With each firm tug and jerk, the soft reproductive organ grew more and more erect. “It’s so beautiful, too…”

Parker blinked, then let out a chuckle. “What?”

“Isn’t it?”

Irene turned to Jessica, who nodded in response. “It is!”

“What…” the question died in his throat. Not that he’s seen many other penises, but Parker figured his was pretty average, appearance-wise. What about it was aesthetically pleasing? He knew he probably wasn’t going to get a very good answer though, so he let the question die in his throat.

“Wow, and it’s still getting bigger.”

Figuring it was pointless to continue ponder about the morality of the situation, Parker shifted his mind towards Irene. The slightly deeper breaths Parker was taking gradually turned into gasps and hisses, his erection hardening and growing with every stroke. “Mmm…”

The fact that Jessica was very avidly watching didn’t help at all. Parker shot her a glare, but she just responded with a confused expression, her drawn-together eyebrows asking him ‘what?’. He didn’t have high hopes that would drive Jessica away, but Irene didn’t even seem to mind. She continued stroking him, egging it on further by planting chaste kisses along its hardening length.

“You said it was … seven inches?”

“Yea—”

“Seven point five,” Jessica interjected.

Parker had felt it irrelevant to correct such a minute difference, but of course Jessica would know the precise measurement, and of course she would be the one to correct Irene.

“Oh, god … so this is what seven-point-five looks like, huh?” Irene said in marvel, staring at his now fully-erect penis.

“Yeah. How do you feel, finally seeing it in person now?”

Parker tried not to think about the implications of Jessica’s use of the word ‘finally’. He, for a brief moment, wondered if women talked about the porn they watched and if they used it, but knowing it was Jessica and a slightly smaller and less curvy Jessica, he realized it was pointless to even wonder about it. “It’s … amazing. I thought they must’ve spent some serious budget to make his cock look so mouth-wateringly appealing, but now I realize the camera didn’t do it justice.”

“This is so weird.”

“Hm? What is?”

Parker could only gape at the clueless Irene. “Wha-What? What isn’t?”

“Oh, I guess you would want me to at least do this shirtless, huh?”

“That’s not—” Parker’s interjection fell upon deaf ears, Irene proceeding to throw off her shirt and revealing her breasts. The loose top she wore hid how well-developed they actually were, but they still probably couldn’t fill Parker’s palm. That didn’t mean he didn’t appreciate them, though: with its even paler, milky white color tightly stretching across her chest, each mound decorated with a golf-ball sized, light-brown areola with two equally squeezable-looking nubs sitting in the center, they were as pleasant a sight to look at as the rest of her. “—what I meant in the slightest, but ok.”

“Hm? What did you mean, then?”

“I mean, Jessica’s right there.”

“So?”

Parker shook his head. He should know better than to try to appeal to common sense with a Jessica. “Never mind.”

Irene gave him a smile, giving his shaft a few more firm pumps before saying, “You’re funny,” then swallowing his tip whole in one swift motion.

“Agh—” Irene didn’t stop until she was halfway down his length, and by then, he could feel her throat tightening around his cock. “—ah, Irene—”

Irene, on the other hand, had placed hands on either side of his inner thigh to stabilize herself, unable to respond except with a few gagging noises. Tears started welling up in her eyes the further she went down, suppressing her gag reflex when it reached deep enough. It felt like it would never stop, not that Irene wanted it to; she felt like she had completely unhinged her jaw, her nose almost pressing against his shaft. Being that she could only breathe from her nostrils, with every intake of air she took in, accompanying it was the musky smell of Parker’s cock, and that invigorated Irene even more. With how much space Parker was occupying her mouth, her tongue had no choice but to be firmly pressed against the underside of his dick, haplessly drooling all over it. She tried to pay as much attention to his balls while doing so, but the truth was, at some point, both Irene’s mind and her throat had become completely occupied with Parker’s penis.

“Ah, shit.”

“Wow, look at her go…”

Irene barley registered the fighting words of her friend, taking a few moments to steel herself before beginning to bob her head against his length. Another swear flew out Parker’s mouth at the feeling of her velvety tongue expertly gliding and coiling along his length, her throat flexing and tightening against his member like it was made to house him. However, if that was indeed the case, then the housing was grossly undersized: Irene still had a third left to go before she could claim to have taken in his entire dick with her mouth.

Part of Irene began to wonder how he’d fit inside her pussy. How far would he reach, how would it feel to have him cum that deep inside her? Irene’s pussy ached, translated in the increased vigor of her deepthroating of Parker.

“Irene, holy shit—”

Parker was doing everything in his power to keep her hands off her hair. While Irene’s impressive blowjob-turned-deepthroating felt amazing, and while she sank a bit deeper with each bobbing motion, having the little bit unattended left something to be desired. Even if she talked and acted like Jessica, it didn’t mean she wanted to be treated like her, nor did it mean he even felt comfortable doing so. The fact that, in watching her and experiencing what Irene was doing to him, he felt inclined to shove her face until her nose touched his crotch made him wonder if Jessica had become too much of a negative influence on him.

Like clockwork, as soon as Parker felt sufficiently warmed up to want to reciprocate, Irene came up for air.

“Wow, you almost got all of it by the end there.”

“Really?” Irene wiped the drool coming out of the corner of her mouth, but even as she did so, she looked insanely beautiful. It wasn’t the same pure-innocent beauty as from before: this time, it was more so a femme fatale kind of beauty, one that made you realize she was dangerous but in all the ways you didn’t care about.

“Yeah, you had like an inch to go, it looked like.”

“Hm…” Irene looked up at Parker with a grin. “Maybe next time, I’ll go for all of it.”

“…Right.”

Irene giggled at Parker’s confounded reaction. “How was my throat?”

“It felt…” Was it normal to ask the question so giddily? “…uh, it was good…?”

“Why do you never tell me that?”

“Well,” Irene said, ignoring her friend and climbing onto Parker’s lap, shooting a dazzling, seductive smile at him, “wait until you feel my pussy.” It should’ve hardly been a surprise that Irene talked this way, but it still caught Parker a bit by surprise. By the time he had processed it fully, Irene was already aligning his cock with her entrance. “Ready?”

“This is … shouldn’t it normally be me who’s asking you?”

“Oh, you won’t have to ask me if I’m ready.”

The next sound to come out of Parker’s mouth was a surprised moan, the feeling of Irene’s blazing hot sex wrapping around his cock overriding his ability to speak.

“Mmm…”

Irene had her eyes closed, a mixture of a bliss and lust on her face as she lowered herself onto him at an astonishingly quick pace—quicker than Jessica their first few times, if he remembered correctly. “Ah, Irene—”

“Wow, fuck you’re big…”

More than halfway down, Irene started to slow down, electing to rotate her hips and slowly grind her way down his shaft. It felt incredible, alright: the intense tightness with which her pussy squeezed his cock, the wetness that counteracted any resistance the tightness offered, the warmth, the way her pussy walls seemed to be massaging his shaft … but the fact that Jessica was right there, and he was inside a woman he didn’t even know an hour before lingered in the back of his mind. Irene didn’t seem affected at all, but it stuck in Parker’s mind: was this normal? It couldn’t be, right?

Who was he kidding, of course it wasn’t normal. Even one-night stands, picking up chicks from bars or meeting from Tinder or the like involved getting to know someone at least somewhat before getting to the sex. For Parker, he had been made aware of Irene’s existence for only a few minutes before his cock was already two-thirds of the way inside her. How much his sense of what’s normal dulled since he started spending time around Jessica … Parker didn’t even want to think about it.

“Wa-Wait, Irene…”

He could tell Irene was going considerably slower, and if she was in pain, she was doing an immaculate job of hiding it. The intensity her pussy was squeezing his cock, however, was teetering on the line of pleasure and pain. However, perhaps it was due to some kind of pride, or maybe it didn’t feel painful to her, or maybe it even was Irene wanting to brag about being able to take his entire length in one go to Jessica, but she didn’t stop.

“Hmm … mmm…”

The low rumble of Irene’s husky voice was a nice distraction to the burgeoning pain on his cock, but Parker still had to grit his teeth to endure it.

“Irene, please…”

Parker had hardly ever begged for anything in his life. Maybe there were some times when he was a kid, begging his parents to let him finish the gym battle in the Pokémon game he was playing or begging his parents for ice cream on a hot summer day, but his parents otherwise treated him well. His first couple of sexual encounters with Jessica was what broke his streak of not needing to beg for anything, but ever since she told him about her competition with Hunter, the need to do that vanished.

At this moment, that need reemerged.

“Too … it’s too tight…”

The plea seemed to translate into a compliment to Irene’s ears, though. “Yeah? You like how tight my pussy is?”

It wasn’t that it didn’t feel good at all, but a combination of things distracted Parker from the pleasure aside from the pain—namely, self-consciousness from the knowledge that Jessica was watching them and the fact that he and Irene were essentially strangers. Asking Jessica to leave wasn’t going to actually make her leave, and addressing the fact that he met Irene only minutes before didn’t seem like it’d affect Irene, so the only thing he could point out was the thing she was bragging to him about.

“N—Irene, slower, please…”

“Hm?" Parker’s hands cupped her cheeks and pushed upwards. “Oh!” Jessica let out a giggle as Parker lifted her up enough that the pain mostly subsided.

“You’re too eager, Rene.”

“Sorry…”

Irene shared a sheepish smile with Parker, who just shook his head at it. “Just, more slowly, ok?”

Irene nodded, and it was only after that when Parker realized what he had said: or rather, how casually he said it.

Being around Jessica really was messing with his capability to withstand a level of bullshit a normal person shouldn’t. Then again, a normal person would probably be willing to withstand more bullshit for the chance to have sex with Irene.

“Righty-do.” Parker blinked a few times, a bemused smile starting to play at his lips. “But you have to control the pacing this time, ok? Because I can’t promise I won’t do the same thing if you don’t.”

“Uh, right.”

When they resumed, Irene’s eyes fluttered shut. Her lips parted again, something Parker couldn’t help but look at: of all the beautiful features perfectly placed on her face, her lips had to be the most alluring. Even when slightly parted, or perhaps even more so when they were slightly parted, they seemed to naturally form a pout.

He wasn’t dating Tiffany yet. Plus, according to her best friend, she was even fine with an open relationship. And said best friend, who seemed to be invested in the relationship between the two, introduced Irene to Parker for this exact purpose. This wasn’t cheating. He shouldn’t feel bad for wanting to lean forward and capture Irene’s perfect, kissable lips.

“Shit.”

“Ooh yeah, fuck…”

Irene, perhaps interpreting Parker’s frustrated groan as one of pleasure, responded in kind, gently biting the corner of her lower lip and throwing her head back.

Having sex with Jessica was one thing, but having sex with another woman, even if she was Jessica in another body … Parker couldn’t rid himself of the thought that he was betraying Tiffany, somehow.

“Deeper, babe…”

“���Shit.”

Tiffany didn’t seem the least bit phased when Jessica was riding him; in fact, she seemed intrigued more than anything. But then again, that was before they started seeing each other. Maybe now it would be different.

Was he thinking about this too deeply?

“Parker…?” Irene turned around, her eyes landing on the conflicted, downcast gaze of the man whose cock was inside her.

“Damn it. Jessica, are you really sure about Tiffany?”

“Oh, wait, Parker’s the guy Fany’s been seeing recently, right?” Jessica nodded. “In that case, we should probably send her some pic—” she abruptly cut herself off upon seeing Jessica hastily motioning for her to stop.

What? Was this some kind of extreme teasing? Did Irene hate Tiffany or something? Why would she propose such a thing? But, most of all, why wasn’t Jessica reprimanding Irene for suggesting them to do such a thing for what seemed to be their mutual friend?

“I was going to let Tiff tell him!”

“Oh! Oh my god, I’m so sorry—”

“Ok—” Parker lifted Irene off his lap and set her down next to him. It was definitely strange, preparing to dive into a serious topic with his erection out for all to see, but this seemed too important to pass up. “—what? What kinds of pictures were you going to send her?”

“Um, sorry Parker, I need to ask her something first.”

“Just to be clear, were you talking about pictures of … of … this?” Parker didn’t intend to raise his voice, but he felt as though he had been deceived into playing some kind of cruel prank on Tiffany. Irene seemed so nice, so likeable, and so genuine, too.

“I can tell you what Irene meant by that, but first I need Tiff’s—” Jessica’s voice trailed off a little, her eyes darting back to her phone notifying her of a text message. “—um, Tiff’s permission.”

After finally blowing up on Jessica about what they had been doing behind Hunter’s back after nearly being caught by him on his balcony, Parker figured Jessica needn’t hide much else from him. Jessica, too, seemed glad to be cleared of that misunderstanding … but where did Tiffany play a part in this?

“Give me a little…”

Irene sat idly next to Parker, a clearly guilty expression on her face. That wasn’t the face of someone who wanted to do something mean to Tiffany. Or did she just look that way because she had been caught?

“…ok, I got her permission. You know how I told you Tiffany was fine with an open relationship, but didn’t elaborate?” Parker hesitantly nodded. He didn’t want to antagonize Jessica, nor Irene, too quickly, so he made sure to reign in any kind of animosity that was starting to form within himself. “Well, I figured Tiffany wanted to be the one to tell you, but now the cat’s out of the bag, and now that I got her permission, I’ll let you know. I actually do know why Tiffany’s fine with an open relationship: it’s because she’s … how should I put this, a voyeur?” Parker didn’t even know how to interpret that. “Hm … no…” but what did that have to do with anything? “…well, the bottom line is, she finds the idea of another woman fucking her man hot.”

Parker’s first reaction was to scoff at that. “What?”

“I know! It’s always the purest, most innocent ones that are the freakiest, huh?” In Parker’s eyes, Jessica had no grounds to say such a thing, but … looking into her eyes, there didn’t seem to be a hint of deceit. Not that he knew her well enough to be able to detect it. “Why do you think she asked me to watch that porno we shot?”

Shit … well, that did explain that one thing, given it was true.

“But…”

“I can show you what I just texted her if you want proof.” It felt like a violation of privacy of the woman he was seeing, but his curiosity got the better of him. He nodded, leaning forward, Jessica turning her phone’s screen toward him. Sure enough, the text exchange was with Tiffany, and Jessica was explicitly asking permission to tell him about that aspect about herself. What probably took Jessica a bit to inform him was the little bit of hesitation Tiffany showed, but when Jessica promised some pictures and videos of him fucking Irene, Tiffany buckled.

“Do … you have a single normal friend?!”

Jessica burst into laughter. “That’s rude! Aren’t you pretty much dating her?”

Parker groaned. On the side, he could hear the faint chuckles of Irene. “I mean…” he didn’t mean it like that. It was just a guttural reaction he couldn’t contain … but wasn’t it pretty normal? Actually, he shouldn’t justify that outburst like that. Admittedly, it was pretty awful of him to say such a thing about a woman he was seeing, but … well, at the very least, this was something he did not see coming. And he wondered why Tiffany was friends with Jessica; turns out, they maybe had more in common than he initially thought. “…yeah, but … wait, are you actually gonna send pictures to her?”

“Well, I promised, so … unless you’re unwilling?”

Parker almost laughed at that. Leave it to Jessica to just assume he was on board with such a ridiculous proposal. If it was something the woman he was seeing wanted … should he deny her? It wasn’t even like the idea that Tiffany was a cuck of sorts turned him off from her; maybe it was Jessica’s influence on him, but he saw it as nothing more than a quirk, albeit a pretty extreme one.

“Irene…?”

“Um…” Irene’s downtrodden gaze alerted Parker that she still felt bad despite things having been cleared up.

“It’s—” it was only then Parker remembered his dick was out, which he began to move to cover but stopped halfway. “—uh, it’s fine.”

“So … then, are you also ok with the pictures?”

Parker sighed. When did his life become so weird? “Yeah, I guess.”

At that, Irene’s eyes lit up. “Great!” Actually, maybe Parker was the weird one. Maybe his preference for missionary, and at most, doggy, made him the odd-man-out. “Then…” Irene sprung off the couch and repositioned herself in his lap, her hands resting on his knees while her ass hovered inches over his softening erection. Parker tentatively put his hands on her plump cheeks, spreading them out to see her still-glistening pink folds, drooling at the prospect of being torn open again by his cock. “…go ahead. Make me scream with that dick.”

[acatinabox]

As an Italian, hearing Lucanis and Illario call Caterina by name and not "nonna" breaks my heart. I don't know if it's something that translates culturally to others, but it is something deeply unusual here, it almost never happens. Grandparents often end up being surrogate parental figures when our parents are at work, they do all the background labour the family needs and support their children and grandchildren. In turn the younger members of the family do the same with them. It's not always like that but this is more or less the social expectation. So it's a very strict familial bond.

It speaks of how deep their wounds are, if they call the person who supposedly nurtured them and brought them up since they were children by first name, and with no endearing terms. It speaks of a fractured relationship so calcified that nobody even mentions anymore how weird it is.

The idea that two children were brought up in such an emotional waste zone is devastating. They were children, they were scared, they lost everything but each other, and found themselves in the vast empty and cold halls of a huge mansion, left to fend for themselves and for each other while their grandmother who was supposed to care for them subjected them to more abuse, thinking it would make them stronger.

It breaks my heart for adult Lucanis and Illario too. They seem to love each other but are incapable of expressing it in a healthy way and end up trying to destroy each other for the affections of what should be their parental figure but is incapable of filling those shoes and of nurturing them how they'd need. Illario seems incapable to form any meaningful relationship in spite of his adventurous sexual/romantic life, Lucanis is incapable of allowing himself to be loved or to allow himself some of the simplest comforts that were denied to him when he was a child (the wyvern dagger). They live in a constant and self inflicted state of emotional deprivation.

And the worst part is I can totally see Caterina encouraging it, be the one who started it, really. There is no nonna, only Caterina Dellamorte, your house leader. You will find no hugs in her harms, nobody will ask you if you had enough to eat (on the contrary, she starved them), nobody will dry your tears or pat your back.

It breaks my heart but it doesn't surprise that they don't call Caterina nonna, because they never had one, or if they did, she died with their parents.

[the-boring-distopia]

Can't stop thinking about Alecto. Like, how will people react to her? Will Noodle recognise her instantly from pure vibes or will Alecto be heartbroken when he does not? Does Alecto have a crush on Pash like Nona did? What will be her reaction to everyday things she probably never experienced (like a hairdryer or cars)? We were already told that Alecto has inhuman strenght (when she put the sword trough John's chest - that stuff needs more effort than people would think for example) and if she gets scared of something or decides to attack, who will stop her and how? What if she needs a person to watch over her 24-7 or she will wander away and start some shit? What kind of morals does she have?

Alecto is probably equally terrifying and endearing because she does not really want to harm anyone who exist around her (except for John) but if she would decide to do so anyway -- What could you even do? Some guy vs. a seven foot tall murder barbie with magical healing, a sword and probably some other stuff we don't know about yet. You are becoming a red spot on the concrete. If Nona's uncoordinated tantrums were scary to the Blood of Eden, imagine Alecto annihilating someone with purpose. Those edenites will never be able to sleep soundly again.

On the other hand she will probably adore Harrow and we will see some canon-tipically weird displays of affection. Based on Nona, Alecto has some weird ideas, so I can easily imagine Alecto giving random stuff she finds cool to Harrow as gifts or something. Or she will just walk in Harrow's shadow, silently, menacingly.

[durrtydawg]

The Sadir Inheritance

{Sam Drake x F!Reader} Chapter 9 | 'Scotty's Archival Finds'

i would like him to put his [redacted] in my [redacted]

masterlist ✨

Other chapters : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

Things had to ramp up sooner or later.

Word count: 5.3k-ish x

Sam wakes with a start, unsure at first what’s roused him until the faint sound of someone jumping into the pool outside filters through the window. His body feels stiff, his head heavy, and for a moment, he wonders why he didn’t wake up in his own bed. Then he glances down.

She’s still asleep, curled into his side, her head resting on his shoulder. Her hand - scrunched, and clinging to the edge of his vest - holds him in place as much as her weight does. He tries not to move too much, to keep the moment intact, but his chest tightens, his breathing shallow.

He looks at her for a moment. There’s a faint crease across her cheek, probably from her bracelet, and a strand of hair sticks awkwardly to her lip - but somehow that makes it worse. The imperfection.

This feels weird, doesn’t it? Inappropriate? He shifts slightly, testing how much freedom he has without waking her. Not much. But he doesn’t mind, really. That’s the problem.

His eyes drift down to her hand, resting against his chest. There’s a faint smudge of green ink near her knuckles, and it takes him a second to place it: the chewed-up pen she insists on using, despite all evidence that it’s a disaster waiting to happen. A soft huff escapes him, barely audible.

Without thinking, his fingers twitch, almost moving toward the mark, as if to brush it away or trace it. He stops himself just in time. What the hell is he doing?

A series of horrendously loud knocks distracts Sam instantly. He jolts upright, violently shunting her off of him, the ledger sliding off his lap and hitting the floor with a muted thud. His brain scrambles to catch up, heart already pounding like a starter pistol’s gone off.

“What happened?” she blurts, sitting up next to him. Her hair’s a mess, sticking out at odd angles, and the crease on her cheek is more pronounced now that the light hits it. There’s something faintly dazed in her expression, and for some reason, it guts him in a way he can’t explain. It’s stupidly endearing.

He twists, grabbing his phone off the nightstand, screen lighting up as if on cue. “Ah, shit.”

“Scott?” she whispers, scrambling for her own phone that’s gotten lost somewhere in the sheets.

Sure enough, there it is - missed calls. Plural. He glances sideways at her screen. Same thing. “Guy’s persistent,” he mutters, rubbing his neck. God, they were out for almost three hours.

The knock comes again, harder this time. The kind that practically demands the door be ripped off its hinges. They both look at the door, then at each other.

“Hang on,” she calls groggily after a tut, already pushing herself upright.

Sam scrubs a hand over his face, groaning as the last remnants of sleep vanish. His eyes drop to the ledger, now sprawled open on the floor, pages creased. Three hours. He checks the time on his phone. They’d burned three hours chasing connections that still didn’t quite fit, only to end up here. He should be grateful. This is probably the longest consecutive string of hours he’s spent knocked out in… decades, perhaps.

She stumbles toward the door, running a hand through her hair, tugging at the hem of her shorts. Sam doesn’t mean to look, but his eyes catch anyway - her messy hair, the sleep-soft slump of her shoulders, the way the late afternoon light frames her.

She glances back at him, one eyebrow raised, and her lips curve into something faintly teasing. “You gonna get up too, or are you planning to sit there all day?”

Sam snorts, leaning back into the headboard. “Nah, you’ve got it covered, sweetheart. You’re very intimidating for someone half-asleep.”

The laugh she lets out is soft and fleeting, but it punches straight through him. He clenches his jaw, forcing himself to look away, to shove the feeling back down where it belongs.

Jesus.

He takes a swig from his water bottle, hoping the cold will wake him up properly, or at least distract him. It doesn’t work. Not entirely. There’s something about seeing her like this - unguarded, maybe - that lodges itself somewhere rather uncomfortably.

She opens the door. The moment’s gone, perhaps not a second too soon.

Scott. Rejoice! Sam watches him barrel in like he owns the place, flushed and wild-eyed, sweat slicking his brow.

“Finally,” he snaps, brushing past her without so much as a hello, leaving her frowning and slightly startled. “Christ almighty, you have no idea the hoops I just jumped through to get back here, then Sam wouldn’t answer his-” He freezes, his eyes flicking between them as he clocks she’s not alone.

She glances back at him as he gets off of the bed, her expression tight - a little coy, perhaps - before pushing the door shut. Right. Focus.

Sam’s leaning casually against the bathroom door now, arms crossed, looking just disheveled enough to give the younger man ideas. He can see the flicker of something in Scott’s expression - perhaps accusatory - but it’s gone almost as quickly as it comes.

Sam raises a brow, lips twitching. “Somethin’ happen?”

“Yeah, something happened,” Scott bites, pacing the room like a caged animal. “I was followed.”

The words drop like a brick. Sam straightens, all the humour draining from his face. He flicks a glance at her. Eyes wide, the sleepiness gone in an instant.

“Followed? Like… chased?” she echoes, stepping toward Scott. “By who?”

“I don’t know!” Scott rakes a hand through his hair, his movements jerky - the most unhinged Sam’s ever seen him. “It wasn’t some… high speed chase or anything, but he was definitely following me. Tall guy. Caucasian, I think. Dark clothes. Baseball cap. Real generic, Joe Goldberg type shit - but he was on me from the archive all the way to the rental. I had to ditch the car and take a cab just to make sure I lost him.”

Sam exhales through his nose, jaw tightening despite his desire to question who on earth Joe Goldberg is. “That’s the second one.”

Scott stops mid-pace, blinking. “Second?”

Sam nods slowly, his brows drawn stiffly together. “That guy I was speakin’ to this morning? Same deal - blending in, but not really. Too interested in what we were doing. Loitering around too many times for it to be a coincidence, you know? Balcony out there, then back in Petra, and at the cafe earlier.”

“Same guy?” she asks, glancing between them.

“Doubt it,” Sam mutters, scratching his chin. “Why tail Scott but leave me alone?”

She folds her arms, frowning. “So what? We’ve got two people watching us all of a sudden?”

Scott shrugs, helpless and visibly rattled. "Maybe? Or… maybe this has nothing to do with us. Could just be bad luck, right? Wrong place, wrong time." His eyes snap to Sam, brows pinched, practically begging for reassurance.

Sam blinks, straightening his posture on instinct. He feels the corners of his mouth twitch - amused despite himself. Scott looking to him for answers? Now that’s rich.

His jaw tightens as he leans casually against the desk, tapping a finger against the edge. Stay cool. Don’t gloat. But God, is this… a little satisfying. The guy who always has the answers, cracking just a little. Sam has to bite his lip just to hide the faint smirk pulling at them.

He glances sideways, just enough to catch her in his peripheral. Is she noticing this? Impressed, maybe?

But then the smugness dulls, replaced by a quiet unease coiling low in his gut. Panic, faint but - yep - most certainly present. Wrong place, wrong time? Yeah, right. This feels like a storm brewing.

“Makes no sense,” he mutters. “Nobody knows about the inheritance, not really. And even if they did, it’s hardly like we’ve been broadcasting our every move. So how the hell do they know to follow us?”

Scott’s pacing again, practically wearing a trench into the carpet. “Maybe they’re just covering their bases. Long game. We don’t even know what we’re looking for, so how can they?”

Sam grits his teeth, his thoughts racing. He doesn’t like this - not the timing, not the fact that they’ve potentially been spotted, and definitely not the creeping paranoia tightening in his chest. If they were dealing with professionals, it’d only be a matter of time before someone made a move.

“Doesn’t track,” he mutters, barely realising he’s spoken aloud.

“What doesn’t?” she presses, her voice sharper now.

“All of it,” he says, gesturing vaguely. “Whoever these people are, they’re not amateurs. And yet, here we are. No threats. No demands. Just... watchers. What are they waiting for?”

The room falls quiet. Sam doesn’t have the answers and the air feels thick.

Scott sighs, dragging a hand down his face. “Well… whatever’s going on, at least we’ve got nothing worth stealing yet.” His tone’s laced with frustration, but there’s a sideways glance - like he’s still trying to convince himself they’re still fine.

Sam stiffens, the words hitting him wrong. Nothing worth stealing. Whoops. His sight flicks over to where she’s sat herself on the edge of the bed, catching her eyes. It’s brief. Just enough time for a little flash of recognition passing between them. They’re very much on the same page. Whatever he’s feeling - guilt, maybe - it must’ve flashed across his face, because Scott’s suddenly on it like a hawk.

“Wait a second,” Scott says slowly, his head tilting, eyes narrowing like he’s just spotted a tell in a poker game. Fitting. “What was that? You two just did a thing. Don’t tell me you’re holding out on me.”

He leans forward slightly, pacing like he’s warming up for an argument. Sam straightens but doesn’t respond right away, letting them mull in the silence. She shifts uneasily, and there’s this flicker of hesitation before she moves, almost like she’s asking him permission. It’s subtle - a glance, nothing more - but he clocks it anyway.

Gets another weird kick out of it, too.

She bends to grab the ledger off the floor, the movement snapping him out of his head. Straightens up and holds it out toward Scott, her grip tight.

“Found this,” she says, voice reluctant.

Scott takes the book without a word, his expression unreadable as he flips through the pages, flopping himself onto the chair by the vanity. Sam watches his eyes dart across the handwriting - scrawled notes, messy numbers, dates - and catches her biting her thumb again.

Scott’s hand drags across his forehead as the cogs turn.

“It’s a gambling log,” she says, voice softer this time, like the words might be weaselled out by the wrong ears if spoken too loudly. Scott exhales sharply, closing the ledger and leaning back in the chair.

"Where’d you get it?" Scott’s eyes shift up to Sam, eyes narrowed.

He shakes his head, jerking a thumb toward her. "I didn’t. It was her."

Scott’s eyebrows lift. "Oh. Where’d you find it? Market?"

Her shoulders stiffen, and she crosses her arms, already bracing for what’s coming. "I… found it in Umm ar-Rasas the other night."

Scott freezes mid-breath, incredulous. "Hang on - two days ago? And neither of you thought to tell me?!"

Sam shrugs. "Hey, she only just showed me, too."

Scott exhales sharply, his tone dropping. "Shit. Why’d you hide it?"

She huffs, rubbing at her face, the weariness of the past few days etched into her movements. "I was going to show you - both of you - as soon as I found something concrete."

Sam clocks the quick flick of Scott’s eyes toward him, and he shrugs again, palms up. Not my circus, not my monkeys.

Scott leans forward slightly, his voice laced with a mix of exasperation and something just shy of condescension. "What, is an old book you found in the middle of nowhere, still intact, not concrete enough for you, darl’?"

Her arms tighten across her chest. "Oh, for-“ She rolls her eyes, a sarcastic laugh practically dripping out of her mouth. "Another instalment of What Would Saint Scott Do? Lucky us."

Sam presses his lips together, hiding a smirk. It’s kind of funny, seeing her give as good as she gets, but he knows where this is heading.

Scott’s jaw tightens, his face darkening. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

She doesn’t even flinch. "You’ve got opinions about everything, don’t you? Like you’ve never kept anything back for a second."

And there it is. Sam straightens up slightly, bracing for impact. He’d seen enough spats in his life to know when one was about to hit full throttle.

Scott’s voice sharpens, cutting through the room like a blade. "Don’t be ridiculous. If it were me, I’d’ve been eager to share. This isn’t just your damn treasure hunt, you know."

She raises her eyebrows, letting out a sharp laugh. "Oh, is that right? Well, since we’re in a sharing mood-“ Her eyes lock onto him, the shift in tone catching Sam off guard. "Why don’t you tell me why you had my wrist gripped so tight after I passed out the other day, huh?"

Scott blinks, caught mid-step. This buys Sam’s attention almost instantly. "What the hell are you on about?" he asks, glancing between her and Sam.

She leans forward slightly, jabbing a finger in his direction. "You heard me. When I woke up, your hand was clamped around me like a vice. Bruise has only just gone. Care to explain that?"

He swallows, his jaw working like he’s chewing through words he can’t quite spit out.

Sam watches with intrigue as Scott exhales sharply, throwing his hands up. "Seriously? You smack your head on the ground, conk yourself out, and bleed all over the place, and now you’re pissed I was checking your bloody pulse? Next time, I’ll just leave you there, shall I?"

Sam sighs, stepping forward before this thing spirals any further. "All right, enough. Both of you. I’m too tired for this shit."

The room falls quiet, Scott backing off first, though his expression stays hard. "I’m sorry. I’m on edge. Getting followed through alleyways doesn’t exactly leave you in a good mood."

She exhales through her nose, still tense, but her voice softens slightly. "Fine." Then, as if on autopilot, she adds, "Sorry for snapping."

Sam watches her for a second longer, his gut twisting uncomfortably. The way she’d brought up Scott holding her wrist - she’d been sitting on that one for a while. And Scott… well, he wasn’t sure if that defensiveness was guilt or chase-fuelled exasperation. Either way, it’s kinda nice to see him rattled for a change.

"Right," Sam says finally, a clap cutting the awkward air in two. "Now that we’re all friends again, Scott - why don’t we get you up to speed, huh?”

“I’m all ears.” He says with a tight smile, like he’s trying to pretend the last minute didn’t happen.

She nods at Sam, walking over to Scott, reopening the book, chewing at her lip. She clears her throat.

“Emaan was hosting games in the crypt. Right where Sam found those cards.”

“Mhm,” he hums, thumbing the fragile pages.

Sam crosses his arms, his voice cutting in. “And the stakes weren’t just cash.”

Scott’s head snaps up, his grip tightening on the book. “What kind of stakes?”

“Things of value,” she replies, her arms crossing over her chest again as she leans back against the wall. “Huge sums of money, land… Some of it I can’t even make out. Toward the end, it gets messy. A page or two ripped out, even.”

Scott’s face hardens, his thumb brushing over the spine like he’s trying to squeeze answers out of the damn thing. “You think this is what they’re after? Those guys? This... book?”

Sam shrugs one shoulder, but there’s a knot in his gut that won’t loosen. “It’s a start,” he says, his tone flat. “If they know about it, they’re already ahead of us. But it’s not exactly a big bag full’a gold, is it?”

His words settle over the room all foggy. Sam glances at her again - arms hugging herself now, gaze fixed on Scott. She’s tense. He can feel it, even across the room.

“So,” he says, voice low, measured. “Not worth stealing, huh?”

Sam doesn’t answer. Doesn’t need to. The tension in his shoulders speaks loud enough. Instead, he watches Scott stare at the book like it might open a black hole right there in the room.

“Looks like we’ve got more to worry about than we thought.” Scott mutters.

Sam flicks back to her, and for a split second, their unease mirrors each other’s. The same question’s tugging at all three of them: What the hell kind of game are they playing? And more importantly - who else is holding the damn cards?

They’ve been sitting stagnant for too long - they need something good, and soon.

“Does any of this match up with what you found?” He asks, folding his arms over his chest, squeezing a little anxiously at his bicep.

Scott slumps back in his chair, looking like everything that’s transpired today has finally pinned him down. “I think so.” He rubs his temples, a heavy sigh dragging out of him. "Hey, look, why don’t we step out?  Go over all this somewhere a little more relaxed. I could use a stiff drink and a proper meal.” He looks between the two of them with a hopeful smile.

Sam raises an eyebrow but keeps his tone casual. “You think that, given the fact you’ve just been chased down several miles, playing detective in public is a good idea?”

Scott shrugs, “You said your guy was loitering around here, too right?”

Sam sighs. Then nods. Fair play.

“Right, and she’s got cabin fever, so-”

“She is fine,” Sam has to bite back a smirk as she cuts Scott off, leaving him putting up his palms in mock defence. “But if a stiff drink is involved, count me in.”

Scott’s already pushing out of his chair. The boy’s restless. “There’s a decent spot just a block over. Quiet. Give me ten to shower, then I’ll meet you out front.”

After a quick nod, he up and leaves.

Sam stays leant against the wall, fingers tapping against his forearm as his eyes flick over to the ledger Scott's dumped on the dressing table. Then to her. And her damn thumbnail back between her teeth yet again.

The room feels like it’s been doused in a cocktail of sweaty, stale tension. He frowns.

“You all right?”

She startles, blinking up at him like he’s yanked her out of a deep spiral. “How could I not be?” Her smile flickers to life, quick and bright, and his stomach twists because it’s very much false. “Got my knight in shining Hawaiian shirt here, haven’t I?”

It’s almost convincing - the quip, the smile - but something about her feels… dulled, still. Her usual fire is there, just buried under too much. She’s good at hiding it, sure. Just not from him.

He doesn’t push. There’s been enough drama for one afternoon.

Sam huffs a laugh, shaking his head as he adjusts his collar. “Yeah, screams 'chivalrous', doesn't it?” He smirks, trying to sell the joke, but inside, her words cloy enough to make eye contact a slight challenge.

Instead, he stands, stretching out his back and forcing a grin onto his face. But his mind’s already racing. If Scott’s holding something back - and Sam’s gut says he is - then maybe a drink or two will crack him open.

If there really are people hot on their trail, they don’t have the luxury of patience, and he hopes that whatever information Scott was able to dig up is enough of a catalyst for this old book to mean something.

“Gonna head back next door,” he says after a beat. “Wake myself up.”

She nods, dragging herself off the edge of the bed. “Yeah. I’ve got ‘sleep mouth’.”

Sam’s lips twitch - of course she’d call it that. He watches as she rubs her eyes and heads to the bathroom, muttering about toothpaste. His eyes hold for a second too long, clocking the tenseness of her shoulders.

He can't let her worry any more than she has to.

Before he leaves, he pauses in the doorway. “Hey,” he says, waiting until she glances up. His eyes narrow as if to hold her attention tight. “We’re good.”

His tone is steady, grounded, and for a moment, he sees the shadow of a real smile flicker back to life. She nods. That’ll have to do for now.

//

The restaurant is dimly lit. Rustic. Traditional, with the type of charm that, if it were back in London, would’ve made it an influencer hotspot - a sharp contrast to the sterile monotony of your hotel room.

You slide into a rounded booth, the soft hum of conversation and clinking glasses filling the space, making you feel oddly at ease. Sam scoots in beside you, his knee brushing yours as he adjusts the collar again. It’s an absentminded gesture, but regardless, it sends a warm prickle up your spine. You remind yourself that you must get your shit together.

Scott takes the opposite side, already scanning the drink menu as if it’s a new lead. His fingers drum lightly against the table’s edge, restless, like his mind’s running three steps ahead.

He leans back, gesturing toward the waiter. He asks for something in Arabic - smooth and confident as usual - then turns to you with a faint smile. “Are you good with whiskey?”

You nod, managing a small smile back. It feels stiff, the earlier spat between the two of you still clinging.

Sam chuckles, breaking the awkwardness. “Didn’t peg you for a whiskey guy.”

Scott smirks, leaning back against the booth. “Necessary when you’ve had a day like today. Think we all have a few anxieties to drown out, ey?” He raises a brow at you. The words sound friendly, but there’s an edge to them - a pointedness that makes your stomach twist. So he's still not over it - picking at the scab. Fine.

The drinks arrive quickly, the waiter setting down three glasses. Scott takes a long sip, exhaling sharply as he sets his glass down with a thunk.

“I won’t keep you in suspense any longer. Let’s get to it. Scotty's archival finds.”

“Lay it on us.” Sam leans forward, resting his forearms on the table, hands clasped together.

You nod, clutching your glass, the cool condensation a welcome distraction against your fingertips.

Scott pulls a notebook from his bag, flipping it open. “So, so far we’ve got,” he starts, glancing at you, then over your shoulder to Sam before returning to his notes, “Emaan’s letter. Gambling. Winning or losing big - potentially losing the entire inheritance. Yes?”

You exchange a look with Sam, who shrugs and nods. “Sounds about right,” he says, leaning back against the booth, dragging his glass with him.

"And our ongoing questions include…" he peruses his notes again, "One: what actually is the Sadir Inheritance,"

“Mhm.” You hum, taking a sip. It's vile. People drink this for fun? Masochists.

You make an odd hiss-cough hybrid sound that draws a snort out of Sam, who takes it upon himself to pull you back by the shoulder to give himself the pleasure of seeing your screwed up face.

Scott continues speaking as you silently slide your glass over to Sam, grimacing as he pours your share into his own glass. You mouth a 'disgusting' at him, to which he responds by jabbing his elbow into your arm.

"and two: seeing as Petra was a bust, where can we find it?”

You wish away the aftertaste and focus. Nods all round.

“Well, I’ve got potential routes to explore for the latter right…” Scott fans his notes out in front of the three of you. “...Here. Emaan's connection to British aristocrats and… a lady called Layla.”

The name hits you like a slap to the back of the head. Your breath hitches, a dull thrumming beginning at the base of your skull. Again. Brilliant. Could we not?

Suffice to say, the returning feeling is both concerning and really starting to piss you off.

Scott notices your reaction and pauses, brow furrowing. “You okay?”

You nod quickly, waving it off even as the tightness lingers in your chest. “Yeah. Sorry, just… go on. Layla.” Your mouth feels tight when you say the name - the dreadful sensation you get right as your body is preparing to throw up.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Sam frowning, his eyes sharp and searching. You pretend not to notice, forcing your attention onto Scott’s notes.

“Layla Bashar was Emaan’s… partner? Girlfriend? Lover, whatever you want to call it.” Scott leans forward, his voice dropping like he’s letting you both in on a secret. “They couldn’t marry. Lower class, a scandal waiting to happen, etcetera, etcetera, so they kept it a secret.”

The waiter returns, setting down a plate of warm flatbread between the three of you. You barely glance at him when you nod in thanks, your thoughts snagged on Scott’s revelation. Without thinking, you grab a piece, tearing off a corner and chewing rapidly.

Sam’s frown deepens, scepticism etched deeply. “So you think she got her hands on it?”

Scott shrugs, his expression oddly nonchalant. “Well, she died, so-”

“She died?” you cut in sharply, leaning forward with your mouth half full, hand curling round the nape of your neck to subtly attempt to massage the persistent ache away. “So is that a yes or a no?”

Scott lifts a hand to temper your interruption. That action alone makes you grit your teeth. “She died in childbirth. About twenty-two years or so before Emaan’s death. So… no.”

Sam straightens, his brow furrowed. “Woah, hold on. Childbirth? Emaan had a kid with her?”

Your pulse spikes as you snort in disbelief, fingertips digging into your scalp as you wave the bread around. “He - he didn’t have any kids. Nothing came up in our research. He was the last of the Sadir bloodline.”

“It’s… blurry, sure. No record explicitly says it was his, but-” Scott pauses, flipping a page in his notebook. “-illegitimate children sometimes went undocumented. That’s what the archivist said, anyway. And given that they were supposedly childhood sweethearts… it’d make sense for it to be his.”

“Fuck!” You take another, rather feral bite. “How on earth are we supposed to follow up on that, then?”

Sam blinks, still processing, grimacing as he flicks off a bit of bread you’ve accidentally spat on his forearm. “Did the kid survive?”

Scott shakes his head. “Like I said, Sam, undocumented. Don't even know its gender.”

Blood rushes to your head, drowning out whatever choice expletives Sam mutters. Bite, chew, swallow. Your thoughts fragment, melting into a bubbling cauldron of stress. Sam and Scott’s voices fade into the background, your focus narrowing to the notebook on the table and the tidal wave of implications battering your brain as you go for another flatbread. Bite, chew, have a crisis, swallow.

“Okay, so - Christ, you animal, save some for us-” Sam mutters with a smirk, swiping the basket toward himself and grabbing a piece before turning back to Scott. “-you said something about the British… somethin’ or other. Is that gonna help us out?”

You snap out of it, narrowing your eyes at Sam. With deliberate precision, you reach across the table, pluck the bread from his hand, and take an exaggerated bite, crumbs tumbling onto your t-shirt.

“Really mature,” he deadpans, leaning back and folding his arms. Then, quick as a flash, he ducks forward, snatching the bread right out of your hand and biting it, his eyes daring you to try him. Cute.

Scott, entirely unfazed, leans casually over your shoulder to snag a piece too, flashing a grin. “Stress eating’s contagious - anyway, yes,” he says, waving his half-eaten bread for emphasis. “British aristocrats. They were…” He glances back to his notes, chewing. “Funding parts of the Hejaz railway's construction, alongside donors from Transjordanian high society. This included Emaan, surprise surprise. Started out as contractual stuff, then evolved into more friendly meet-ups, which included…” He trails off, raising his eyebrows meaningfully and gesturing for one of you to finish his sentence.

Sam leans back, exhaling. “Private poker games, by any chance?”

Scott points at him, snapping his fingers. “Bingo.”

Your pulse quickens, the conversation suddenly feeling like it’s moving faster than your brain can keep up. You grip the edge of the table, the wood pressing into your palms as your thoughts churn.

Oof.

Even thinking that name is making your head spin.

You don’t dare say his name out loud. Keep your elbows and sudden minor aneurysms off the table, please.

But Sam’s head snaps toward you, his knee knocking into yours under the table again. The touch is fleeting, but it sends a jolt through you, steadying the swirl of thoughts in your head, just for a few glorious seconds. He’s reading into you, and you know immediately he’s already made the same connection.

“William Campbell.”

The name hits like someone’s struck a gong right beside your ears, and the sharp pain behind your eyes flares into something molten. You force yourself to nod, your throat tightening as you push the feeling down.

You nod, your throat working as you force the uneasy feeling down along with your last mouthful of bread. “Makes sense. Name’s… British enough, and the timing tracks. If he was gambling big then-”

The pressure in your temple spikes, your breath hitching for just a second. You press your tongue against your teeth, willing yourself not to wince. Not here.

“-whatever he won could’ve driven Emaan to madness.” Scott cuts in, though you’re grateful for the quick removal of attention from you. His fingers drum against the table, a rhythmic counterpoint to the chaos in your head. You tune in to it as best you can. “Thus, inheritance. No?”

“So, what now? We’re suggesting that he either lost it all to Campbell in one of these backroom poker games, or passed it down to this mystery child?” Your voice wavers despite your effort to keep it steady.

“Both are possibilities,” Scott says, watching you closely. “If William was as ambitious as his investments in that ledger suggest, he wouldn’t have just walked away after winning himself a few bucks.”

You feel horrendous. And now Scott’s looking at you, waiting for a response.

Sam taps a finger on the table as he chews on his lip in thought. “Campbell’s a name we can dig into now. The kid? That’s a needle in a haystack. Undocumented - Dead? Lived after Emaan? Decades removed from anything solid. Feels like a waste of time that we might not have the luxury of any more.”

Scott nods reluctantly. His eyes stay locked on you, and for a second, you wonder if he’s caught the way you’re gripping the table or the faint tremor in your hands. The thrum at your temples fucking kills, and you feel like chucking up every crumb of the bread you’ve wolfed down. 

“So, Campbell first. But if anything about that kid pops up - anything - we follow it. Agreed?”

Scott nods again, finally turning back to Sam, more sure this time. “Agreed.”

It takes you a beat too long to respond, and when you do, your voice comes out thin. You’re too focused on the dull tingling in the bridge of your nose. “Mm. Agreed.”

You shift in your seat, slipping your napkin up to your face with what you hope passes as casual nonchalance.

It’s fine. Just a headache. Just stress. Just another imminent nosebleed and pounding headache in the midst of another very Sadir-heavy conversation.

Scott leans back, satisfied, flipping his notebook shut with a snap, exchanging it for the menu. Sam reaches for his glass, his movements on edge, and slightly distracted.

Neither of them notices the blood staining your napkin as you pull it away a little.

You press it harder against your nose and swallow the creeping dread signalling that something’s very, very off with you. And now, this whole bloody thing has become three times more convoluted.

look, when i said slow burn i meant slow.

[lokisasylum]

"omg, is it just me or do you guys find it weird the way Jimin treats to other soldiers (men) in the military---"

Only if you're a HYPOCRITE and a HOMOPHOBIC BITCH.

No, Karen. Because you know what I REALLY find weird?

The fact that you have no issues with publicly fantasizing 24/7 about Jimin (or any of the members) getting fucked raw in the ass by one of his bandmates. But him treating fellow soldiers and companion/colleagues, who are part of his squad, who are younger than him and therefore putting him automatically in the "hypothetical big brother role" or "Hyung", with respect and/or words of endearment as something "weird" because IN YOUR EMPTY, PERVERTED HEAD, it will upset the "love-interest-bandmate" who you constantly fantasize about in lewd situations.

THAT shit IS weird.

THAT shit I DO find fucked up.

Because that makes YOU a fetishizer.

And YOU need Professional Help.

[thegooblet]

you know how cats will leave dead mice and birds on your doorstep as gifts? lifesteal mapicc totally does that shit

[serenhob]

Sanzang and Yarn chicken

Idk what it is about him but I feel like Sanzang would always underestimate how much yarn he needs for a project leading to his disciples looking like patchwork dolls.

[valeress]

rambling again

[countlessrealities]

Send a 💋 for a short drabble on a time our muses kissed || Selectively accepting !

@mcltiples sent: 💋 { To Evil Rick from My Weird Rick ! }

There were many things Rick didn't understand of the shows his partner had him sitting through whenever he didn't feel like watching them on his own. Almost everything relating to relationships, romantic ones especially, puzzled him, because he could never relate to the dynamics. No matter how much researching he did, no matter how deeply he dissected them. They never fully made sense.

And, as a consequence, copying the motions felt unpleasantly unnatural to him.

Yet, that hadn't stopped him from trying over and over. The moment he had understood how much his alternate enjoyed that nonsense, he had directed a decent amount of time and effort in providing the other with at least some of it. At times, forcing himself wasn't easy because of how tedious or foolish it all was in his eyes, but he had quickly come up with a way to make it all less obnoxious for him: he had started to put his own spin in the scenarios, adding the sort of flavour he could enjoy despite the absurdity of the situation.

Of course, seeing that his partner enjoyed his adaptation had spurred him on getting creative with them.

Lately, he had noticed one particular recurring scene in many of the movies his alternate so assiduously consumed. Yet another thing that made no sense to Rick, but that seemed worth the trouble...if done how he was picturing it. Besides, there was a new prototype of nano-explosive he wanted to test.

It was the perfect chance to catch two birds with one stone.

The plan was easily set in motion while his partner was occupied in another room of the bunker, busy enough for Rick to be sure that he wouldn't come out before he was done.

The text subject he had procused for that particular occasion was appropriate for what he had in mind: an alien belonging to a species whose members were mostly made of fluids and gelatinous tissues.

Strapping it on the ceiling after having paralysed it so that it wouldn't make a sound was easy. Calculating the right amount of explosive to inject inside it, instead, was a little trickier and Rick checked his calculations thrice before proceeding. The smallest mistake could have ruined the whole set-up.

When his alternate joined him, just as he knew the other would have, everything was ready. Rick had come to stand underneath his chosen guinea pig and, once his partner was within arm's reach, he didn't hesitate a split second to grab him by the front of his jacket and yank him forward.

His other hand hit the button of the small remote control he was holding and the moment thick blood and cold pieces of organic matter started to rain down on them, he pulled the other into a kiss.

The gesture was as sloppy as the mess the exploding creature had made, with all too much biting and too little kissing, the taste of his alternate's blood mixing with the alien fluids on his tongue. His grip on the other's clothes was too tight, forcing them too stiffly close for them to achieve the right angle, but that didn't stop him from holding them there until the last drop had fallen.

By the end of it, they were both soaked from head to toes in blood and gore, which was the result Rick had been aiming to achieve. After all, the characters in the movies always got soggy wet during those scenes, so he had assumed that this was how it was supposed to go.

"K-Kiss in the rain," he announced taking a step back, in a flat tone that certainly didn't convey the right sort of sentiment. "C-Carry on."

And with that, he turned on his heels and headed back to the workbench were a bunch of unfinished toxins were waiting for him. One task achieved, onto the next.

[bhaalsdeepbat]

i literally walked into this space knowing NO ONE, sat off to the side and told them, "I'm sorry, I'm like a cat. I have to just watch for a second, then I'll socialize more." and like. the entire group was just like YEAH MAKES SENSE. no one took it wrong. they just let me observe until i was ready to mesh in more. and now almost two years later I am now burrowed so deeply into this troupe that i wouldn't have the friends or opportunities i have without it.

[petals-and-all]

hey you!! i just wanted to say thank you for all that you do. thank you for the moodboards, and everything else. you're super endearing and friendly, and i just want to thank you for that. it's really soothing for anxiety and otherwise... i hope this doesn't come off as weird! i wish you have a good day/night/otherwise, and a good valentines day if you celebrate it. thank you again.

Ah- this is so sweet, thank you so much dear anon [:

I’m really glad !! I always worry I seem way too energetic, ahah ! I hope you have a wonderful day/ evening and Valentine’s Day as well . <33 /p

[sepostscreencaps]

Romantic panel from Soul Eater post chapter 11

[bumblediary]

finding myself in a conundrum where I am consistently baffled by an acquaintance and always confused by his behavior but, unfortunately, extremely attracted to him

[missdynamighttt]

watching porn with bf! katsuki bakugo will somehow turn into a bet to see who will give in first.

when you ask him if you could watch porn together, how could he say no to you, his girl? more so when you basically riled him up to convince him.

"bub, can we watch porn together?" you look at him, your legs resting in his lap as the both of you lounged on the couch.

katsuki's eyes widen at your directness, his jaw slightly dropping at your question. he scoffs out of disbelief, looking at you with a raised eyebrow.

"you're real damn blunt, pervert," he grins at your pout, stroking your thighs with firm, gentle squeezes.

"i'm not doing it for weird reasons! just.." you shrugged. "curious to see what happens, i guess? i dunno how to explain.."

he sighs, shaking his head. his hand reaches out to ruffle your hair with a grin. "you're lucky you're adorable. fuck it, why not?"

you grin, leaning closer to him, giving his cheek a kiss. "knew you'd come around. come to think of it, i bet you will jerk off to it first."

his eyes narrow at you and he scoffs. "that confident, huh?"

"with how hot you think i am and all? totally."

"like you don't think i'm hot too. wanna bet, sweets?"

"definitely. ground rules: don't touch yourself. and no touching each other. and i mean holding hands, hugs, and kisses. not just feeling each other up."

"tch, fine," katsuki scoffs. "no looking away to calm down. only when we talk. winner gets braggin' rights and loser lives with the eternal knowledge that the winner is better."

"fine," you scoff back. "you're gonna give in first, 'nyway. since you can’t go a single morning without pulling me into bed again."

katsuki's eyes narrow at you again, this time pouting at you with his cheeks flushed. "says the brat clingier than a damn koala after sex."

"oh, you're so on."

but little did you know, this would be harder than you thought.

you've set up your laptop on the coffee table across the couch, scrolling through the mediocre home page porn in incognito as you sit next to your boyfriend.

you were almost reluctant to continue but knowing him, he would definitely egg you on about being a coward. because one thing about your boyfriend, katsuki, was that he really wanted to win at everything.

"wanna watch?" you look at katsuki with a grin, the video on display captioned: "I hope the NEIGHBOURS were pleased with WHAT THEY SAW!", the preview of the video showing a couple standing by the window, fucking. it wasn't really your thing but you wanted to see how he'd react.

katsuki glances at the laptop before giving you a skeptical look, his tone firm. "fuck no."

"why not? whats wrong with it?"

"just.. no," he shakes his head, a sly grin slowly creeping onto his face as he looks at you. "one second. technically haven't started yet, yeah?"

he leans in, his lips meeting your cheek in a soft, quick kiss before pulling back. his fingers linger, stroking your cheek in a gentle, affectionate gesture. "just pick somethin' else, sweets."

you roll your eyes while wearing a fond grin. you're almost tempted to call him out on how affectionate he was but you didn't want him to stop. you couldn't help but find it endearing and cute.

but after awhile, you and katsuki realize pornhub's terrible acting and weird angles wasn't really working.

"no, too weird. it looks awkward. and fake."

"no, the guy is givin' me the ick. looks homeless."

"no, it looks.. painful. why is it so stretched?"

"no. wait, you're into that? i'm not opposed to it, i just think it looks weird when they do it. just sayin', if you wanna try it.."

so, you go on twitter, looking for porn accounts and already finding better alternatives.

finally, your eyes settle on a compilation of video captioned: "breeding selection 🖤" , the previews of the videos showing various faceless girls getting fucked sloppily and creampied by their partner.

this was it. it wasn't exactly your best plan but you were depedent on him getting turned on by the video and your mere presence to win the bet. and if anything turned him on, it would be the thought of breeding his pretty little girlfriend.

you glance at him from the side, taking in his relaxed demeanor as he leans back with his arms crossed, eyes fixed on the laptop as if there wasn't porn on the screen.

"this good with you, boyfie?"

he looks at you and fuck, you can practically feel the heat radiating from his gaze. his eyes rake over you, taking in every curve and contour of your body with a hungry look, like he's undressing you with his eyes, imagining what he'd do to you.

"mhm, 'ts fine."

you nod, going back to the laptop to play the video, stupidly thinking: there was no way he'd be able to play dirty, especially when he can't touch you. but no.

the video plays, only a few seconds showing the girl's rear. the guy squeezes her ass, the cum dripping out of her pussy and in between her swollen folds, down to her thighs as he plays with her ass.

and you know what katsuki does? this man talks you through it, saying the most filthy, lewd shit with a cheeky grin. this man plays dirty by talking dirty.

"goddamn. see the cum, just drippin' out of her? bet you want me fill you up real bad now, don't you? wanna recreate that with me, sweets?"

your thighs clench involuntarily, your body betraying your inner desire. you stare back at him with a glare, feeling a familiar ache settle between your legs. "we do that on a daily basis, katsuki."

"'m just sayin'," katsuki grins, thinking: perfect. you're getting horny. "the idea of pumpin' you full, watchin' my cum drip out of you.."

he was just so desperate to see you rub your clit silly so that he can do it too without admitting defeat. his dick was huge but his pride could compete.

you clear your throat, glaring at his cheeky grin before quickly playing the next video. it's longer, around 8 minutes. it has a better angle, showing the guy's dick disappearing in and out of the girl's pussy, her doughy ass hitting his abdomen. he slams into her as she moans softly around his cock, sticky from their shared slick.

you feel hot and tight in your own skin, your throat going dry. you felt your sore nipples harden as you painfully clench down on nothing, tempted to just subtly grind against the couch for a second. fuck. it hasn't even been 5 minutes yet you were so, so wet.

your boyfriend noticed. and he certainly wasn't of any help.

"shit," katsuki leans down close enough to whisper in your ear, his breath hitting your skin, but far away enough so that he wasn't touching you. "you wet already, sweets?"

"i'm not. shut up and watch the damn porn."

"aww, don't be like that. look at my pants, baby, c'mon."

you bite your bottom lip before your eyes reluctantly dart down to his pants. fuck. his boner was so fucking obvious, it didn't help that he was wearing grey sweats. you were already picturing him naked, imagining how your cunny would look like taking in his dick.

"see? i'm so fuckin' hard for you, baby, it hurts," he sighs, looking at the tent in his pants before whispering in your ear. "don't you wanna take care of me, hm?"

a small sigh escapes your lips as you try to steady your breathing, your eyes darting everywhere but at katsuki. your thoughts consumed by the sight of him, despite your attempts to remain composed.

"you're mean," you huff.

"baby, c'mon. i'll take real good care of you, i promise," he grins at you. "just gotta touch me, yeah?"

you pout again before your eyes return to the screen, thinking your only solution was to ignore him.

although, it wasn't any help as you watched the cum drip out of the girl's pussy before he fucks it back into her, when you wanted nothing more than for him to do the same to you.

he put some distance, and you thought: okay. some time to calm yourself down. but just when you thought katsuki couldn't outdo himself, you hear the ruffling of pants, looking down to see him stripping himself of his clothes.

you look up at him as you feel your face get hot from embarrassment. "hey, what are yo-"

"hm?" he looks back at you, blinking innocently. he throws his clothes unceremoniously somewhere, leaving him in only his boxers as he holds his hands up in surrender. "what? it's hot, sweets. this doesn't count 'nyway, right? besides, 'm not touchin' anythin'."

you huff, pouting at him with a glare, trying not to admire his muscles. that's the game he wanted to play? you glanced down again, a clear fucking mistake. you almost felt drool down your chin as you admired his body, tempted to take his boxers off and just go wild—

you swallowed, looking back up at him. you get an idea. if you can't beat them, then... "you wanna play that game? fine."

you reach for the hem of your shirt, pulling the fabric over your head, revealing your bare skin to his eyes. tossing the shirt aside, you slowly tug down on your shorts, sliding them down your legs until you're left standing in just your bra and panties.

katsuki's jaw tightens and his muscles tense the moment you started undressing. he clenched his fists, the effort it takes him not to pounce on you was almost physically painful. he takes in the sight of your nearly naked body, his mouth going dry at the sight of you in your bra and panties.

the porn playing on the laptop is long forgotten as he stares at you. because fuck porn when he has such a gorgeous girl right in front of him. his girl.

"the hell are you doin'?" his voice is strained, getting the courage to look away with flushed cheeks. his eyes dart back to the screen, focusing with his arms crossed.

"hm?" you look up at him, blinking innocently like he did. you put your clothes away somewhere and held your hands up in surrender, like he did. "relax. its hot for me too. besides, doesn't count, right?"

"damn it. doesn't count but it's damn well torture."

"what's stopping you from fuckin' me, hm?"

"you know damn well whats stoppin' me. quit testing me or i swear to god, i'm gonna fuck you so hard after this."

you laugh, trying to ignore the ache in between your legs as a cheeky smile plays on your lips. "'m just saying. i bet it'd feel really good, y'know. having you inside of me..."

his teeth clench at your words, his hands clenching into fists to keep himself in check. "goddamn it. baby, you're killin' me here."

"bub... all you gotta do is touch me and i can make the pain go away."

"sweets... why are you torturing me?" he groans, his hands clenching onto the couch as he glares at you.

"i want you. fuck, i need you. damn it, you've seen how fuckin' hard i am. so why are you makin' me wait, hm?" his voice is low, almost whining about how much he craves you. how needy he is to be inside you.

"i wanna win too," you bite your bottom lip, almost tempted to fold.

"fuck," he grits out, his eyes closing briefly as he runs his hand through his hair. he looks at you again, his gaze filled with frustration and need. "sweetheart.. you're a pain in the ass, you know that?"

a sly smile spreads across your lips as you lean in closer to him, just close enough that your breath tickles his skin, but not touching him. you were getting there. on top of him not making eye contact, you could've sworn his boner twitched.

"i know. but... please take care of me, katsuki," you whispered, hearing his breath hitch as yours fans across his skin. "i know you wanna."

his eyes darken as he looks down at you, his resolve almost wavering. "oh, i do. i really do, sweets."

that's the last thing you hear before katsuki is finally on you, his movements quick and urgent as he slams his lips onto yours. he kisses you like he's starving, his lips hot and angry against yours, desperate to have his fill of you but take out his frustration on you too.

katsuki pulls away, glaring at you before helping you out of your soaked panties as you help him out of his boxers, his hard cock springing out and stood at his abdomen.

"wanna take care of me that badly, huh?" you grin, reaching for his cock, stroking it up as you thumb his throbbing tip leaking with pre.

his breath hitches, hissing before he reaches down your folds and rubs your swollen clit, your soft moans echoing in his ears. "shut the fuck up. you won't even be able to think, after i'm done with you."

katsuki grunts, aligning himself inside of you, gasping at the softness of your wet, velvet walls. and as he thrusts his cock into your dumb little cunny, he recreates exactly what happened in those videos.

"whats the matter?" he taunts in your ear as he folds your legs near your shoulders, fucking you into mating press. his body covers yours completely, you can feel his weight pressing down on you. "you fuckin' wanted this, right?"

"a-ah, i do..." you gasped, sore nipples feeling the skin of his pecs. "you're just.. mad i won.."

"hah? you callin' me a sore loser?"

"if— oh... if the condom... fits."

suddenly, you squealed from the sudden thrust, whimpering as he slams his cock deeper inside of you, almost kissing your cervix as you feel his balls slapping against your folds.

"won't fuckin' fit 'nyway cause i'm fuckin' you raw— shit," he gasps, desperately rutting himself into you, chasing your release and his. "feels so fuckin' tight, sweets, holy shit..."

"katsukiii," you moaned his name, rolling your eyes to the back of your head as he fucks you dumb. "i-i can't, anymore, please—"

"shhh, you can take it," he huffs before leaning down to give you an affectionate, reassuring kiss. his lips soft and gentle against yours as you wrap your arms around his neck.

he draws back from the kiss, his lips leaving yours with a soft, wet pop. "you can take it, can't you, baby?"

you whine and squirm against him, a desperate, needy sound leaving your lips. you nod, the words failing you in that moment, silently begging him to keep going, to give you more of the pleasure that you need. he smiles at you, leaning down quickly to give your cheek a kiss.

"atta girl," he murmured with pride, kissing down your jawline. his mouth is hot against your skin as he peppers your collar bones and chest with open-mouthed kisses. "that's my girl."

"k-katsuki," you pant, your hips rolling against his as your body begs for the sweet, sweet release that only he can give you. "m-m' gonna.. c-cum.."

"yeah? you gonna cum for me?" he groaned. he wants to see you lose yourself in pleasure. he craves to be the one to bring you to your high. "you wanna cum for me, pretty girl?"

"please," you whimper, your voice shaky and needy as your eyes meet his pleadingly. "please, yeah, m' gonna cum for you, please just—"

your words cut off as you let out a soft cry, your head tilting back further into the couch as your body trembles with the need to let go, to give in to the pleasure that's threatening to overwhelm you.

"cum for me, sweets," he grunts, his hips rocking against yours. "show me how much you like it when i fuck you like this, c'mon."

and that's all it takes— clenching down on him and burying himself inside of you—and you're both gone.

your body tenses, a gasp of pleasure escaping your lips as you feel him cum inside of you, bodies shaking with the force of your release and his. your hips press against his as he relaxes into you, your nails digging onto his (glorious) back.

katsuki pants, taking a moment to admire you. the way your chest rises and falls with each breath, teetering on the edge from your high as you cling to him. like a koala.

"you did so good, sweets," katsuki murmured. he steadies himself beneath you and pulls his cock out, pressing the tip against your folds, waiting for the moment of his dreams. he almost has hearts in his eyes when he watches the cum drip out of you, going down his tip as he pushes it inside you again. "so damn good."

"i asked if you wanted to recreate those videos," he grins when he hears you gasp, feeling the tip of his cock rub your folds, squirming against him as you bit your lip. "i'll make sure i get all the details right by breeding the shit out of you."

and as the night wares on, you both collapse onto the couch, panting and exhausted, a tangle of limbs wrapped around each other, cuddled up close after having the most mind-numbing sex.

"so.." you look up at him with a lazy smile, laying your head on his chest. "loser lives with the eternal knowledge the winner is better, huh?"

he groaned, closing his eyes for a minute before staring at you as he runs his fingers through your hair. "sweets... you're real fuckin' lucky i love you. otherwise, i really would've went above and beyond and made sure i knocked you up."

"i wouldn't be opposed to that."

katsuki narrows his eyes at you, his fingers flicking your forehead. "don't tempt me, brat."

you rub your forehead with a pout, sticking your tongue out at him. "so mean."

he scoffs, his hand reaching out to grab your wrist, gently but firmly pulling your hand away, hovering his lips to where he flicked earlier to give your forehead a soft kiss. "get some sleep, sweetheart."

"fine. i love you too, bub. goodnight."

"tch. love you more, dummy."

and honestly? katsuki doesn't need porn to get his dick hard. not when he has you. his personal porn star, his gorgeous girlfriend, and of course— his favorite person.

inspired by my ex 🧍🏻‍♀️ hope this was to your liking and i hope you enjoyed, i apologize if it seems too.. lewd? nyways, i'll start working on these requests and the older brother's best friend/ best friend's older brother trope with katsuki (i cannot choose), comment if you wanna be tagged 💜💜

[ladyymiisa]

PINCH ‘EM!

summary: katsuki just loves your cheeks!

tags: katsuki bakugo x fem!reader, fluff, katsuki and reader are still in high-school, katsuki is a tease

author’s note: starting the new year off strong with katsuki fluff!! i luv him sm

if there’s one thing about you that drives katsuki absolutely insane on a daily basis, it’s your cheeks.

those soft, round, ridiculously cute, rosy cheeks that make his brain glitch like an old vending machine. they give him such violent cuteness aggression that he’s genuinely considered throwing himself off a rooftop just to reset. it’s humiliating, really, how much power your dumb face has over him.

but watching you eat? that’s a whole other level of torture. the way your cheeks puff out with every bite, like you’re stockpiling food for winter, makes his eye twitch in equal parts annoyance and affection. he calls you chipmunk, because honestly, you might as well be one. it’s absurd, it’s irrational, and it’s ruining his life. but here he is, still watching, still obsessed, like the fool he is.

“kats—ow!” you whine mid food gulp, flinching as his fingers suddenly latch onto your cheeks like a crab on a mission. with zero warning, he starts squishing and pulling them, treating your face like it’s his own personal stress toy. “what the hell are you doing?”

you manage to gripe, trying to pry his hands off your poor, defenseless cheeks. your words are muffled as he stretches them in every direction, but he doesn’t bother answering. he’s far too focused on whatever weird satisfaction he’s getting from turning your face into putty in his hands.

“try that again,” he growls, giving your cheeks another firm pinch, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. “and i’ll squeeze ‘em even harder.”

you glare at him, your face still trapped in his grip. it’s hard to take him seriously when his smug smirk is stretched across his face like he just won the lottery. however, it’s clear that your discomfort is his entertainment, and it makes you want to bite back, but you can’t seem to muster the energy to do so.

meanwhile, katsuki is having the time of his life. it’s not his fault your skin is so damn malleable, like some kind of stress ball he can just squish and pull at his leisure. with every pinch, your face contorts in the most ridiculous ways, and it only makes his shit-eating smirk grow wider, as if he’s proud of the mess he’s making.

“y’look so stupid,” he mutters under his breath, loud enough for you to hear, though it sounds more like he’s speaking to himself. “stupid chipmunk,” he murmurs, his voice low, almost fond.

before you can even process what’s happening, his face is in front of yours, and with no warning, he plants a big, exaggerated smooch right on your lips. it’s awkward, considering how he’s still squishing your cheeks together, making your lips pucker out like a weird fish, but somehow, you can’t help but find it endearing.

then he does it again, this time a bit harder. and again. and again. each kiss lands wherever he can reach—your lips, your nose, your forehead, even your eyelids—like he’s trying to cover every inch of your face. you feel warmth spread across your chest from the tenderness of his gestures, even if they’re a little ridiculous. despite the absurdity of the situation, there’s something unexpectedly sweet about the way he’s so gentle with you, even when he’s teasing you relentlessly.

you’re about to tease him right back for being such a softie, ready to throw out a playful jab when, of course, he just has to ruin the moment.

“ew, katsuki!” you yelp, your voice high-pitched with surprise as he suddenly sinks his teeth into your right cheek. it’s not hard enough to hurt, more like a playful nip, but it’s wet and the way his tongue shamelessly flickers against the bite mark sends an unexpected shiver down your spine. you try to push him off, but he’s latched onto you like some feral animal.

“seriously?!” you gasp, squirming in his grip, but he remains completely unbothered. “this is disgusting! my cheek’s all wet now!” you cry, twisting and turning in his arms, trying to wipe the saliva off with your shoulder.

“serves you right for biting my shoulder earlier. y’thought i’d forget? hah.” he says with a wicked smirk, leaning back just enough to admire the mess he’s made of your face—flustered, pouty, and still glistening with the aftermath of his attack.

you groan, smacking his chest in frustration, but the bastard doesn’t even flinch. in fact, he looks proud of himself.

“you’re the absolute worst, katsuki bakugo.” you glare at him, half-exasperated, half-amused.

“yeah, i’m fuckin’ terrible,” he grins, clearly enjoying the annoyance in your voice. to emphasize his words—and to annoy you even further probably—he pinches the same cheek he just bit like an overbearing grandma checking to see if you had enough to eat.

yup, katsuki loves your cheeks, especially when they’re all flushed because of him.