#it just gets the gears in my brain to turn more and more

[st4rgiirll]

first kiss

s1!stiles stilinski x gf!reader

creds: roseraris for dividers!

you were perched on stiles’ bed, watching him pace back and forth across his room, his hand moving animatedly as he talked about the latest werewolf drama involving scott.

the police radio scanner on his desk crackled with static, and his wall was covered in red string and newspaper clippings - his latest attempt to piece together all the supernatural happenings in beacon hills.

“and then scott practically wolfed out in the middle of practice!” stiles exclaimed, running a hand through his short hair.

“like dude, we talked about this! control! but no, apparently catching greenberg’s crossbody was worth risking exposure to the entire lacrosse team!”

you couldnt help but smile at his sarcasm. this was classic stiles - all nervous energy and rapid-fire words, trying to keep his best friend alove while maintaining some semblance of normalcy in their increasingly bizarre lives.

“stiles,” you said, trying to interrupt his rambling to no avail. “stiles!”

he stopped mid-gesture, turning to look at you with those warm brown eyes that never failed to make your heart skip a beat. “yeah?”

“come sit down before you wear a hole in your floor.” he glanced down at the path he’d been treading, then shuffled over to sit beside you, his knee bouncing with restless energy.

“sorry, i just… there’s so much happening, y’know? between scott’s furry little problem and trying to figure out who the alpha is, and my dad’s cases, and-“

“and you’re carrying all the weight of it.” you finished softly, placing your hand over his fidgeting ones.

stiles fell quiet, a rare occurrence that made you look at him more closely. his eyes were fixed on where your hands touched, and you could practically see the gears turning in his head.

“how do you do that?” he asked suddenly.

“do what?”

“just… know exactly what to say? how to calm me down?” he turned his hend over to lace his fingers with yours.

“you’re like my personal adderall, except, y’know, prettier and less medical.” you laughed, feeling your cheeks warm.

“did you just compare me to you ADHD medication?”

“i did, didnt i?” stiles groaned, his free hand coming up to cover his face.

“that was supposed to be romantic. in my head, it was definitely more romantic. can we pretend i said something smooth instead? like, i dunno, ‘you’re the moon to my werewolf’ — wait no, that’s worse, that’s definitely worse—“

you cut off his rambling the only way you could think of – by leaning forward and pressing your lips to his. for a moment, stiles froze, and you could practically hear his brain short-circuiting.

then his hand came up to cup your cheek, and he was kissing you back with all the pent-up energy he usually put into solving supernatural mysteries.

when you pulled away, stiles blinked at you several times, his mouth opening and closing without sound – another rare occurrence.

"did you just—" he started.

"kiss you? Yeah."

"and I—"

"kissed me back? also yeah." a grin slowly spread across his face, the kind that made his eyes crinkle at the corners.

"that was... wow. that was awesome. can we do that again? we should definitely do that again. like, right now. or whenever you want. im free for the next, like, forever—"

this time when you kissed him, you were both smiling too much for it to be perfect, but somehow that made it even better.

the police scanner crackled again in the background, and somewhere in beacon hills, scott was probably getting into more werewolf-related trouble, but for now, none of that mattered.

stiles pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against yours. "just so we're clear," he whispered, "this means you like me, right? because i really like you, and it would be super awkward if—"

"stiles?"

"yeah?"

"we’ve been dating for 6 months."

"oh yeah… cool," he breathed, then immediately cringed.

"i mean, not cool like 'whatever' cool, but cool like 'this is the best thing ever' cool, and im going to stop talking now because im pretty sure im ruining the moment, and—"

you silenced him with another quick kiss, and felt him smile against your lips.

"you know," he said when you separated, "i think i just found my new favorite way to be shut up."

the police scanner suddenly burst to life with his dad's voice reporting a disturbance downtown, and stiles' eyes lit up with that familiar mix of curiosity and excitement.

"want to go investigate a potentially supernatural crime scene with me?" he asked, already reaching for his keys.

you laughed, standing up and pulling him with you. "only you would think that's a romantic second kiss location."

"hey, i contain multitudes," he protested, but his grin was infectious as he led you toward his jeep.

and just like that, life in beacon hills continued – only now with the added bonus of being able to kiss your adorably sarcastic boyfriend whenever he started rambling about werewolves.

[jungkoode]

死 KKANGPAE | #04 死

† forest rendezvous †

"They say the most dangerous predators are the ones that make you feel safe before they strike. But watching him calculate each shot with deadly precision, you realize there might be something even more dangerous - the ones who warn you exactly what they are, and still make you want to stay."

next | index

⚔ chapter details ⚔

word count: 6k

rating: mature

content: forced proximity, piggyback, sniping, ominous threats, badmouthing, hinting at deeper wounds

☠ author's note ☠

A/N: Oh wow, apparently I even had author's notes saved in my drafts when I started writing this back in 2020? Past!me had *thoughts* and present!me is just here like (╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻

So I'm basically taking those written thoughts and rechanneling them through my 2025 brain. And let me tell you, the cognitive dissonance is REAL. Like past!me was all "but it's a slow burn!" and current!me is just cackling in the corner because honey... you have no idea what's coming ｡･ﾟﾟ*(>д

I really debated on whether to include the piggyback scene or not. Had the whole thing pictured out a LONG time ago (we're talking pre-pandemic long, yes I am ancient, no I don't want to talk about it), but wasn't sure if I should add it here... you know, being a slow burn and all that jazz. But I think it works? They're both so against it that it's basically negative development at this point lmao.

Also, FORCED PROXIMITY MY BELOVEDS. If you think I'm not going to milk every single trope in existence, you clearly don't know me well enough yet. Just wait until we get to- *gets tackled by the spoiler police*

As always, thank you for reading! Your comments give me life and serotonin, which I desperately need because my caffeine addiction can only do so much. Stay tuned! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧​​​​​​​

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tumblr/twitter: @jungkoode

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

"Shit—"

The word slips out as you struggle to your feet, using Jeon's hand like some kind of reluctant lifeline.

That's when your ankle decides to remind you exactly how badly you messed up trying to ambush him earlier. The adrenaline's wearing off, leaving behind nothing but raw, throbbing pain that makes you want to scream. Or cry. Maybe both.

"I think I twisted my ankle."

Jeon drops your hand like it's burning him, his expression morphing into pure exasperation. 

"You must be kidding me." 

"Yeah, because I love pretending to be injured during paintball." The pain makes your words sharper than intended. "It's my favorite hobby, actually."

He presses his hand against his face and you can practically hear the gears turning in his head. His expression shifts from annoyed to something more complex—like a storm trying to decide which direction to blow.

The silence stretches between you, thick and uncomfortable. You lean against the rock, trying to take weight off your ankle, but it just keeps t̶h̶r̶o̶b̶b̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶l̶i̶k̶e̶ ̶a̶ ̶b̶i̶t̶c̶h̶ hurting worse with each passing second.

Finally, Jeon clicks his tongue and strides over to you. Then he just... turns around. Stands there. Like you're supposed to know what that means.

When you don't move, he adds, "Hop on," in a voice that somehow manages to sound both annoyed and urgent at the same time. 

Like he's throwing commands to a dog.

You stare at his back, brain struggling to process what's happening. This is Jeon—Mr. Ice Prince himself—offering you a piggyback ride. The same guy who can barely stand being in the same room as you most days.

He glances over his shoulder, dark eyes meeting yours. "I said, hop on. We don't have all day."

"No way." Pride makes you lift your chin despite the pain. "I'm not getting a piggyback from you. I'll just... wait here."

His patience visibly snaps. He turns to face you fully. "You can't walk, and you'll be a liability." The words come out sharp and cold. "If someone from his team finds you, you're out. And now, you're on my team."

"What do you mean I'm on your team?"

"You ask too many questions." He bites the inside of his cheek, clearly t̶h̶i̶n̶k̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶'̶r̶e̶ ̶a̶n̶n̶o̶y̶i̶n̶g̶ done with your attitude. "Were you or were you not with my team when shit went down?"

"What does that have to do with—"

"It's an improvisation game. It's V's thing, stealth. Remember?" His voice cuts through yours like a knife. "Whoever's with me when V strikes is on my team. Same goes for him. It's really not that complicated."

He takes a deep breath, face muscles shifting to something more controlled. When he looks at you again, he seems determined. 

"I'm not losing to V, especially not because of you. So either hop on," the gentleness in his voice has an edge that makes you tense, "or I'll pull rank and make it an order."

Your blood boils at that. The audacity of this man, threatening to pull rank just because you don't want to get a piggyback ride like some kid. But he's right, and that just pisses you off more. Your ankle's screaming, and you're basically a sitting duck out here.

Fuck. 

You hobble closer, swallowing your pride along with a string of curses. The warmth oozing off his body envelops you swiftly, making your heart do weird things in your chest.

Getting on his back is awkward and t̶h̶o̶r̶o̶u̶g̶h̶l̶y̶ ̶h̶u̶m̶i̶l̶i̶a̶t̶i̶n̶g̶ uncomfortable, but he lifts you like you weigh nothing. His body is all lean muscle under your hands, which is just... t̶h̶o̶t̶ ̶t̶h̶o̶u̶g̶h̶t̶s̶ ̶b̶e̶g̶o̶n̶e̶ not something you need to think about right now. You kind of want to knee him in the ribs, just because you can.

You don't, though. Your ankle's already betrayed you once tonight—no need to make things worse.

He starts moving with careful, measured steps. Neither of you speaks. If he's as annoyed as you are about this whole situation, he doesn't show it anymore. His focus is entirely on the game now, eyes scanning the darkness, body tense and ready. Like a storm gathering strength.

And that just pisses you off more. Here you are, swallowing your pride with every step he takes, while he acts like carrying you is just another mission parameter to execute. The quiet forest floor suddenly seems way more appealing than being trapped in his personal weather system.

His breathing is steady, a rhythm that somehow makes the tension worse. Because yeah, he's helping you, but it feels like being rescued by a particularly moody thundercloud. The fact that you need him right now doesn't make you like him any better—it just makes everything more complicated.

Your eyes are dragged to the edges of his tattoos where they disappear under his shirt. Each one probably has a story, but good luck getting those out of Mr. Storm-and-Silence here. 

Still, you're curious. 

Are they about pain? Strength? Or maybe he just likes sitting through hours of needles because he's t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶k̶i̶n̶d̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶m̶a̶s̶o̶c̶h̶i̶s̶t̶ that dedicated to his aesthetic.

The silence starts to feel heavy, pressing down like gathering clouds. All you can see is his back, and the closeness makes your skin buzz like it's charged with static.

"So where exactly are we going?" You break the silence because honestly, anything's better than drowning in his suffocating presence.

"Paintball weapon cache."

"Wait, what?" You can't keep the disbelief out of your voice. "I thought we were getting my ankle checked out—"

"This is a simulation." He cuts off. "V's games are unpredictable, but they mirror real scenarios. We adapt. We deal."

There's something under that icy tone—a competitiveness that makes you think this is more than just training to him. Your fingers twitch against his shoulders, and you try not to think about the muscle shifting under your hands.

"You do this often?" You find yourself asking, curiosity winning over irritation.

"Unfortunately." The word carries a gust of dry humor. "V likes his... creative training methods. Paintball, surprise drills, mock raids. He's impulsive, but effective."

"Sounds... fun?" The word tastes weird in your mouth.

"If you enjoy being perpetually ambushed." His dry tone makes your lips twitch despite yourself.

You fall quiet, thinking about these two forces of nature—Jeon's storms and V's thorny garden. Different kinds of dangerous, but both leaving destruction in their wake (duh, they're assassins?). One's all calculated precision, the other pure chaos—yet somehow they both keep the gang's deadliest division running. 

"So what's the plan now?" You try to keep your voice neutral. If you're stuck being his human backpack, might as well try to be useful.

"We arm ourselves." His voice gains a strategizing color. "It's not about having the most firepower. Real situations never go according to plan."

Something about his tone piques your curiosity even further. "Has he always been like this? V? With the whole paintball ambush thing?"

Jeon lets out a sound that's caught between amusement and irritation. "Yeah. You never know what to expect with that psycho. There was this one time when he—"

He cuts himself off abruptly. You can feel how his muscles tense against your legs, probably kicking himself for almost sharing something personal.

"When he what?" You can't help pushing. The rare glimpse behind his walls is too tempting to ignore.

"Never mind." His voice goes flat, that familiar coldness sliding back into place.

The silence stretches again, pregnant with all the things he won't say. It's strange, catching these tiny cracks in his perfect ice-prince facade. Makes you wonder what other stories he's keeping locked away.

As you move deeper into the forest, his competitive side starts showing through. He explains the rules like he's briefing for a real mission, all strategy and tactics.

"...And the objective?" You ask, trying to piece it all together.

"Last team standing wins." His voice rumbles through his back against your chest. "Or take out the opposing leader—me or V."

"Makes sense." You nod, hyper-aware of how his voice ricochets through you. "But why so intense? It's just paintball, right?"

The question slips out before you can stop it. But really—all this drama over some colored paint?

"It's never just a game." The edge in his voice could cut glass. "In our world, everything's a test. A challenge. We're constantly proving ourselves. You should know that by now."

His words sink in slowly. You do know—every day in this place feels like walking a tightrope, being watched, measured, judged. Even something as simple as paintball becomes another arena to prove your worth.

"This is exhausting," you mutter, and you actually mean it. The weight of constant training, constant proving yourself—it gets old fast.

"It is." Something in Jeon's voice makes you wish you could see his face. There's a pause, then: "But it's necessary. Keeps us sharp. Survival of the fittest and all that shit."

The bitterness in those last words catches you off guard. It's weird hearing him talk like this—like maybe he's not totally sold on the whole 'constant competition' thing either. The thought of Jeon having doubts about anything feels like finding a dent in what you thought was solid concrete.

He continues moving through the forest like he was born here, feet finding paths you can barely see in the dark. The trees loom overhead, their leaves whispering secrets you can't quite catch. Soon, you are opening your mouth again before your brain can stop you.

"How'd you end up here?"

His stride breaks—just for a second, but you feel it. The air grows heavy again, pressing down on your shoulders. 

"Circumstances. Choices." The words come out clipped, that familiar wall slamming back into place. "Same as anyone else."

You can practically taste the story he's not telling. Something dark and messy that turned him into this walking hurricane of a person. But pushing would be stupid, and contrary to popular belief, you're not that dumb.

"Right." You let it drop, focusing instead on how the moonlight catches on his silver chain when he moves.

Jeon picks up speed, and the trees seem to close in around you both. It seems to be a sign you are approaching your destination.

"So once we get the guns, what's the plan?" You try to break the weird tension that's settled between you.

"Find high ground," he says, voice low and focused. "Somewhere we can see everything but stay hidden. Sniping's all about patience and precision."

"And you think there's actually a spot like that around here?" You can't keep the skepticism from your voice. You've done your fair share of surveillance—good vantage points are rare as hell in this forest.

He just grunts, confident as ever. "I know this place like the back of my hand." He actually lifts one hand to prove his point, the moonlight catching on his rings. 

It shouldn't be as hot as it is. 

Silence falls again and the trees grow closer together, moonlight filtering through in weird patterns that make everything look kind of surreal. The darkness feels heavy, like it's trying to remind you both that you're not exactly on a fun camping trip here.

You watch him scan the forest ahead, all focus and precision. It hits you that this is his element—the quiet, the calculation, the waiting game.

"You really think this'll work against V's team?" The doubt slips into your voice before you can stop it.

"It's not about what works against them." He sounds almost philosophical, which is... different. "It's about playing to our strengths."

He pauses to lick his lip ring—a habit you're starting to notice—before adding: "Plus, I'm Chief of Tactical Assassinations for a reason. Best sniper in Kkangpae. Best in South Korea."

"Best in the whole country? For real?" You hate how interested you sound.

"Probably." His shoulders lift in a small shrug that makes you bounce slightly.

"Right." You roll your eyes. "Got any proof of that?"

"I do." The response comes quick, matter-of-fact. "They're all dead though."

A snort escapes before you can stop it. 

Shit. 

Okay. That may have been actually funny. But you're definitely not laughing at his jokes. He might have a sense of humor hiding under all that ice, but he's still an ass.

Jeon slows down as you reach what looks like the world's most underwhelming hideout—just a tiny hut tucked between the trees. His muscles go tense against your legs, like he's preparing for trouble. The way he lowers you to the ground is weirdly gentle for someone who usually acts like basic human contact might give him hives.

Your ankle screams in protest when you put weight on it, making you wobble slightly. Something flickers across Jeon's face—t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶m̶i̶g̶h̶t̶ ̶b̶e̶ ̶c̶o̶n̶c̶e̶r̶n̶ probably just annoyance at having to babysit you.

"You good?" 

The question catches you off guard. Since when does the ice prince care if you're okay?

You manage a nod, not trusting yourself to speak without letting out some embarrassing noise of pain. He turns toward the hut but pauses, throwing a glance over his shoulder.

"Tell me if you see movement." His voice drops to barely above a whisper. "Any movement."

Then he's gone, slipping into the darkness of the hut. You hear him moving around inside, probably doing some super-professional sniper inventory check or whatever the hell he does.

When he emerges, he's carrying two paintball rifles like they weigh nothing. You try really hard not to notice how the moonlight catches on his arm muscles as he moves, or how smoothly he closes the door with just a flick of his wrist.

He hands you one of the rifles, dark eyes scanning the forest with the kind of focus that reminds you why he's chief of his division. Then he just... crouches down again, waiting for you to climb back on.

The sight of him effortlessly holding a rifle while offering you a piggyback makes something in your chest twist. How dare he make this look so easy? How dare he be this capable and t̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶h̶o̶t̶ this insufferable at the same time?

You sigh, swallowing your pride along with several choice words about the universe's sick sense of humor, and climb back onto his back. His body is warm against yours and you hate that you notice. You hate even more that he's not even breaking a sweat carrying both you and the gear.

Stupid attractive jerk with his stupid perfect aim and his stupid strength. The least he could do is be ugly, but no—he had to look like that while being the most irritating person you've ever met.

Jeon stands like your weight is nothing—because of course he does. He adjusts the rifle with practiced ease, and you try really hard not to notice how effortlessly he handles both you and a weapon. It's t̶h̶o̶t̶ ̶b̶r̶a̶i̶n̶ ̶a̶c̶t̶i̶v̶a̶t̶e̶d̶ annoying how good he is at literally everything.

His movements fall into a steady rhythm as he walks, and you find yourself swaying slightly with each step. It's weird being this close to someone you can barely stand. The guy who's usually a walking natural disaster is suddenly all careful precision, like the calm before a storm.

The hill stretches up ahead, moonlight painting everything in silver and shadow. Somewhere in the distance, paintball guns are still going off. Sounds like V's twisted little game is still in full swing for everyone else who isn't stuck playing piggyback with their nemesis.

You watch the forest ahead, trying to focus on anything except how warm Jeon is against the cool night air. He moves through the undergrowth like he was born for this. The higher you climb, the slower he moves, until finally he stops altogether.

Without a word—because god forbid he actually communicate like a normal person—he crouches slightly. Your cue to get off this incredibly awkward ride.

"Here." His voice is barely above a whisper as he helps you down with surprising care. 

You scan the area, taking in the elevated position and clear view of the forest below. It's perfect for sniping, which makes sense given who picked it. But something about being this exposed makes your skin crawl.

"This is way too exposed." Your instincts are screaming at you to find better cover. The entire forest floor is visible from up here, which means you're visible too. "We need something more concealed."

Jeon turns his head just enough to catch your eye in the moonlight. "Trust me."

Two simple words, but they hit different.

Trust isn't something that comes easy in this life. Especially not between you and Mr. Hurricane himself. 

Yet here he is, asking for it like it's that simple.

You weigh your options, torn between your screaming survival instincts and his calm certainty. Finally, you give him a reluctant nod. What choice do you really have?

You can't help watching as Jeon sets up his position. The way he moves is t̶o̶o̶ ̶g̶r̶a̶c̶e̶f̶u̶l̶ irritatingly efficient, precise and purposeful. His eyes scan the terrain with a focus that makes your mouth inexplicably dry. 

Because it's weird seeing him like this. The usual cold, intimidating chief is gone, replaced by someone who moves with quiet, deadly grace. Every shift of his body as he positions the rifle speaks of years of practice, of countless nights spent perfecting each tiny movement.

The hurricane that usually swirls around him has settled into something different—a gentle breeze that makes your skin tingle. It's... weird. 

Almost peaceful.

You can't help studying him while he's focused like this. The way his dark eyes track every movement below, how his brow furrows just slightly when he's thinking. His silver piercings catch the moonlight when he shifts, and you find yourself leaning closer. 

Just to see better, obviously. For tactical reasons.

Movement near the cache catches your attention. Jeon goes completely still beside you, the kind of stillness that reminds you he's literally the best sniper in South Korea. You lean in further, trying to see what he's seeing, and suddenly realize how close you are. Your shoulder brushes his, but neither of you moves away. You're both too focused on the target below, who's digging through supplies like they've got all the time in the world.

"Wait for it..." His voice is barely a whisper, warm breath ghosting past your ear. His finger hovers over the trigger with the patience of someone who knows exactly what they're doing.

The poor soul at the cache has no idea what's coming. The air feels charged, like the moment before lightning strikes.

Then—bang.

The shot is perfect because of course it is. A splash of neon paint blooms on the target's back like some abstract art piece. They jump about a foot in the air, spinning around wildly.

"Dammit, Jeon!" The shout echoes through the trees. There's only one person who could make a shot that clean from such distance.

You bite your lip to keep from laughing. Even Jeon's mouth twitches at the corner—the closest thing to a smile you've ever seen from him. For a split second, a gentle breeze wraps around you both like a shared secret.

You nearly jump out of your skin when Jeon's eyes suddenly meet yours. For a heartbeat, maybe two, neither of you moves.

It's... t̶o̶o̶ ̶m̶u̶c̶h̶ weird. The way his dark eyes seem to see right through you, how his hurricane wraps around you like you're in the eye of the storm. Too close. You're close enough to count his stupidly long eyelashes, to see the tiny scar on his cheek catch moonlight.

Then reality crashes back in. Jeon shifts away so fast you'd think you burned him, putting blessed distance between you. The barriers slam back into place—he's your superior, you're just some annoying ensign he got stuck babysitting during paintball. That's all this is.

You lean back too, trying to ignore the way your heart's still doing gymnastics in your chest. It's unsettling, this weird moment of... something. Not respect, definitely not that, but maybe a reluctant acknowledgment that there's more to him than just being an ice-cold asshole. The way he handled that shot, the focus in his eyes, the subtle pride in his posture—it's t̶h̶e̶ ̶h̶o̶t̶t̶e̶s̶t̶ annoyingly impressive.

Jeon's already back in sniper mode, all business again like nothing happened. But the air feels different now. Like the air has picked up speed, swirling with renewed intensity as if trying to blow away whatever just passed between you.

You watch him work, wondering when exactly you started noticing things like how his jaw clenches when he's concentrating, or how his fingers move with such precise grace on the trigger.

You tell yourself the shiver down your spine is just from the cold night air.

"I should leave." The words come out low, almost like he's talking to himself. He stands up, towering over you, a dark silhouette against the forest green. "Won't take long for them to tell V where I am."

"What, you scared?" The question slips out before you can stop it. 

Since when does the great Jeon run from a fight? Especially with V?

"No." It's instant, defensive. His tone is laced with something like irritation. "With V, you play his game. I just landed a shot. He'll know exactly where I am the second he gets here." A pause. "That's why you're staying."

"I see." You answer automatically. Then your brain catches up.

Wait.

"Hold up—I'm what now?" The words come out sharp. "So I'm just bait?"

"Yeah?" He says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world, like he can't fathom why you're even asking. "You'll draw him out."

"Didn't you literally just give me that whole speech about 'making do' and 'real situations'?" Your voice rises with each word. "And now you're using your teammate as bait? Real nice. Guess I was right—you are a hypocrite."

"Sometimes sacrifices are necessary." His voice is cool, professional. "Plus, between us..."

He looks at you then, really looks, and something in your chest goes tight. Those dark eyes of his catch moonlight like black ice, beautiful and deadly. His stupidly long lashes cast shadows on his cheeks, and when he blinks, it feels deliberate. Like he's giving you time to process what comes next.

"You're the expendable one. Here, and in real life."

"Fuck off." The words come out sharp and mean, exactly how you want them.

His eyebrow arches, silver beads catching moonlight like a warning. "Watch your tone."

You can feel the hurricane bearing down on you again. It sneaks through the cracks in your attire, scratching at the outer layer of your skin. It is oppressive, suffocating. Engulfs your whole being almost instantly, almost as if to blow you off balance.

"So you're really doing this?" Your voice cracks a little, caught between rage and something that feels too much like hurt. "Just leaving me here as bait?"

He doesn't even blink. Those dark eyes of his are cold and distant now, like you're just another variable in one of his calculations.

"It's strategic, not personal."

"Strategic." You let out a laugh that's more like a snarl. The thought of being nothing but a disposable piece in his game makes your blood boil. Being used by anyone would piss you off, but being used by Jeon? That's a special kind of infuriating.

He takes a step back from you now, creating physical distance as if he was uncomfortable. Maybe, somewhere under all that ice, he actually feels bad about this. But t̶h̶a̶t̶'̶s̶ ̶w̶i̶s̶h̶f̶u̶l̶ ̶t̶h̶i̶n̶k̶i̶n̶g̶ you're probably just seeing what you want to see.

"Stay low and keep quiet." His voice goes all authoritative again, his standoffish nature coming right back. "If V knows it's a trap, we lose our advantage."

You cross your arms, watching Jeon's figure fade into the shadows. Every cell in your body screams to call him out, to demand better than being left as bait, but...

What leverage do you have? The answer hits like a slap: absolutely none.

He moves like a ghost between the trees, that hurricane of his dissipating until you're left alone with nothing but forest sounds for company. His words echo in your head, each syllable of "expendable" burning like acid.

You try to shift position, searching for some way to sit that doesn't make your ankle scream or your pride hurt worse. Hard to do when you're officially demoted to bait in this stupid paintball game. 

Stupid Jeon. How can he turn even mock battles into some grand strategic play? 

Your jaw clenches. At least real bait doesn't have to deal with the indignity of knowing it's bait.

The forest is too quiet now, like it's holding its breath. You try to focus, to be the good little decoy he wants, but between your throbbing ankle and the rage simmering under your skin, concentration's a lost cause. Your thoughts spin like leaves in a storm, each one circling back to how much you want to punch that perfect face of his.

Then—something changes.

It's subtle. Just the slightest shift in the air, barely enough to stir the leaves. But every instinct you have lights up like a warning flare. You freeze, hardly daring to breathe as you strain to locate whatever's setting off your internal alarms.

That's when you feel it—thorny vines wrapping around your lungs, making each breath sharp and dangerous. V materializes from the darkness like he was born from it, moving with the kind of liquid grace that reminds you why he's chief of stealth. Before you can blink, cold metal presses against your neck—his paintball gun, a very pointed reminder of how screwed you are.

The speed of it leaves you breathless. Or maybe that's his thorny rose aura, squeezing tighter with each passing second. His mastery of stealth isn't just reputation—it's terrifying reality.

"Shh, shh, shh." His breath ghosts over your ear, playful and deadly all at once.

You hadn't planned on screaming, but the way his aura constricts around you makes you reconsider.

"Where's Jeon?" V's voice is barely above a whisper, but something in it makes your blood run cold.

You hesitate. Part of you wants to sell Jeon out—serves him right for using you as bait. But something in V's tone makes you think carefully about your next words. This might be a game to everyone else, but V... V plays different.

"He left me," you manage, voice tight. "Twisted my ankle."

The laugh that follows sounds wrong, like broken glass wrapped in velvet. His thorny vines squeeze tighter.

"Typical Jeon." The way he says it drips poison. "Once a traitor, always a traitor." There's history there, old wounds still bleeding. "Abandoning a teammate? That's cold, even for him."

The paintball gun stays pressed against your neck. Except... is it really loaded with paint? Your stomach drops as you realize you have no way of knowing. Not with V. Not when he's got that edge to his voice that makes you think maybe this stopped being a game the moment he spotted you.

Every instinct screams at you to run, but you're trapped between fight or flight, knowing either choice could end badly.

"He's not here then?" V sounds almost disappointed, like a kid whose favorite toy got taken away. "Pity. I was hoping for a proper reunion."

The gun against your neck suddenly feels a lot more real. You're not the target—you're just the bait. Again. Except this time, it's not just your pride at stake.

"Should've expected as much..." His laugh raises goosebumps on your skin. "No loyalty in that one, hmm? Makes you wonder what he'd do in a real bind. Leave you to rot, probably."

You stay quiet, letting V's poison drip. Each word feels calculated, like he's trying to infect you with his hatred for Jeon. His vines constrict tighter around your lungs with every syllable, and you can't help wondering what made these two hate each other so viciously.

"That's Jeon for you." The words drip with disgust, but V's smirking like this is all some twisted game. "Self-serving. Cold. Doesn't care who he steps on to get what he wants."

The way he's focused on his little villain monologue gives you an opening. Adrenaline floods your system as you make your move—one hard stomp on his foot. His yelp of surprise is almost satisfying.

You shove the paintball gun away from your neck, twisting out of his grip. For one glorious second, you think you might actually get away.

Then reality hits. Literally.

V moves like water, flowing around your escape attempt like he knew exactly what you'd do. Before you can blink, you're eating dirt, his weight pinning you down. The gun barrel presses cold against your forehead, and you realize just how badly you miscalculated.

"Not bad, dear." His grin makes your skin crawl. "But not good enough."

You're pinned, his weight heavy and his presence suffocating. His thorns dig deeper with each breath, and you can almost feel them cutting through your skin. 

You're trapped, completely at his mercy, but damned if you'll let him see you scared.

He leans in close. "Let me give you a piece of advice." His whisper raises goosebumps on your neck. "Watch your back around Jeon. He's more dangerous than you think."

The warning in his voice sounds too personal, too raw to be just another mind game. Like maybe he's speaking from experience.

"Oh, I'm counting on it." The words come out steadier than you feel with V's weight pinning you down. You manage to keep your voice even despite the lack of oxygen making it to your brain.

Something flickers across his face—confusion, maybe suspicion. Those stealth instincts of his finally catching up, but too late.

SPLAT.

Paint explodes across V's back in a neon burst. His whole body goes rigid against yours, muscles freezing mid-squeeze. The look of pure disbelief on his face almost makes this whole night worth it.

When he turns to look over his shoulder, you already know what he'll see. Jeon emerges from the shadows like he was born from them, rifle balanced casually in those tattooed hands. Even playing paintball in the middle of the night, he somehow manages to look t̶o̶o̶ ̶h̶o̶t̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶b̶e̶ ̶r̶e̶a̶l̶ irritatingly put-together.

He runs his fingers through dark hair, pushing it back from his face in a way that's probably supposed to look casual but comes off more like a shampoo commercial. The silver in his piercings catches moonlight, and honestly? It's just rude how he makes everything look so effortless. Like being unfairly attractive is just another one of his many talents.

V's weight disappears as he stands, and suddenly his whole demeanor shifts. The deadly predator from moments ago vanishes, replaced by that familiar chaos-loving trickster. His laugh rings through the trees as he claps, adorned with delight instead of danger.

"Bravo, Jeon!" V calls out theatrically into the forest shadows where Jeon now stands revealed. "Always hiding in the shadows like the snake you are."

Jeon's face is blank, but there's something razor-sharp in the way he moves

"Far better than always playing the fool to hide your incompetence, if you ask me." Jeon retorts sharply, ice crystallizing each syllable.

"Incompetence?" V's laugh has an ugly edge to it. "That's rich, coming from you. Can't even follow basic gang rules, but here you are, talking shit."

Something flickers across Jeon's face—too quick to catch, but his expression grows darker, more intense. Seems like V knows exactly where to stick the knife.

"A gang built on backstabbing might want to rethink its rules." Jeon's voice could freeze hell over. It's like the winds around him whip faster now.

"See, that's your problem." V tilts his head, a mischievous, lazy grin spreading all over his lips. "When I stab someone in the back, at least I don't cry about it after."

The smile he gives Jeon is pure venom—like he's referencing something that happened between them, something that left scars.

"Right." Jeon practically spits the word. "You only get emotional when you're the one getting fucked over."

They stare each other down, and you feel thorny vines trying to pierce through howling wind and rain. Finally, Jeon looks away first, shaking his head like he's trying to dislodge memories he'd rather forget.

Jeon's eyes find yours, and it's not concern you see there—more like he's doing some kind of damage assessment without having to actually ask if you're okay.

You don't give him the satisfaction of a response. He left you as bait, remember? Used you like some expendable pawn in his little game with V.

But something annoying nags at the back of your mind. 

Because he did come back. 

The moment breaks when Jeon looks away, that weird tension snapping like a rubber band. His typhoon-self settles back into its usual pattern as he stands there radiating smug victory. The paint splattered across V's back is proof enough of who won this round.

"That's it then. This round goes to me." He says it like he's commenting on the weather, not like he just outmaneuvered the most dangerous man in Kkangpae.

There's something almost boring about how he announces his win—no gloating, no pride, just checking another box on whatever mental list he keeps in that pretty head of his.

His eyes flick back to you. "Time to get you to the infirmary—"

"Let's not pretend you've suddenly gone soft, Jeon." V cuts him off, setting down his gun with this little head tilt that somehow manages to be both playful and threatening. 

"Oh, please." The disdain in Jeon's voice is too evident. "She just needs to get her ankle checked, and it's not like she can walk there."

V steps closer, moonlight painting him silver. There's something otherworldly about him now—like some fairy tale creature that lures people into trouble with a smile.

"I'll take her to medical myself." His voice drips honey-sweet mockery. "Sounds more fun than whatever boring escort you had planned."

You watch Jeon consider this, weighing something in his head. After what feels like forever, he just... shrugs. Like he couldn't care less what happens to you.

"Sure." His voice is pure ice. "She's your problem now."

Then he just... walks away. No backward glance, no hint that he gives a single shit about leaving you with someone who literally had a gun to your head five minutes ago. The winds that seem to surround him dissipate with each step he takes, leaving you feeling weirdly hollow.

V turns to you with that signature grin of his—the one that's equal parts charming and concerning. He offers his hand with exaggerated gallantry, like some twisted prince charming.

He then scoops you up, bridal style of course because that's V for you, and you can't help but notice he's stronger than he looks. The transition from ground to air is smooth despite your resistance, but what choice do you have? Crawl to the castle?

Your eyes find Jeon one last time as V starts walking. Something in your chest twists when you realize he's not even looking back. You hate that you wanted him to fight this, to show something about handing you over to V. Your twisted ankle is his fault, after all.

But his face might as well be carved from stone. If he feels anything about this situation, he's buried it so deep even his hurricane can't dig it up.

next | index

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[nerdie-faerie]

Just when I think the day's going well, I crash a golf cart

[netscapenavigator-official]

Sometimes I have these vivid moments where my brain likes to come up with conspiracy theories that I can't disprove and are kinda reality rattling, but I just kinda gotta be like "meh," and move on.

The latest is what if religious people are right about life on Earth being a test for the afterlife... but what if the test isn't existence, but religion, itself.

As in, what if the "God" that created humanity specifically made religion on Earth as toxic and dehumanizing as they could possible think, and only those who can stare their maker in the face and say "I disagree with your rules" and not follow religion, are the ones who make it into the "good" afterlife. Like, what if our "God" specifically wanted to make themselves sound like an extremely evil, snobbish being, where the one and only rule in "religion" is to trust them blindly. That way, after death, they can filter humans between those who were strong-willed enough to maintain morality, even when told it's against their entire life's purpose; and those who blindly followed immorality because they were told it was what the creator wanted. In essence, religion is the pre-afterlife test that aims to sort humans into those who will show compassion, even if it damns them; and those who will internalize fear and become nothing but a yes-man to "God."

.

.

.

Anyway, enough of that. I'm making mozzarella sticks for lunch.

[quietlyblooms]

jerks awake!! chiyo’s magic being derived from lif bc her descendants were her followers, maybe even with a sprinkling of nymphs within those ancestors…

[cuntwrap--supreme]

There are few things more entertaining than mildly inconveniencing your cat

[astriiformes]

Having a very "No write, only post" evening tonight. Words are just not happening, no matter how hard I try, but I want to finish a new chapter soon so badly.

[cobraaah]

Sebastian solace x gn reader (fem anatomy but like,, they/them pronouns if that's alr,,) smut,,, breeding kink,, or something like that,, preferably with emphasis on size dif and power imbalance,, and perhaps some degrading? PLEASE IM BEGGING SOOOOO HARD

Pairing• [Sebastian ♡ Reader]

A/N• YES!! I originally was gonna do something like this in the first place, so it worked out! I had multiple ideas on how his anatomy would work , like some 𝓕𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 ideas. But I decided to keep it tame since I don't know how 𝓕𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 you guys are. I still don't know how warnings work, LOL.

Warnings• Smut 18+, breeding, size dif, power imbalance, degrading

Word count• 1.1 K

Discount

Reaching door fifty wasn't the easiest, considering you accidently angered Eyefestation, and you managed to actually survive Pandemonium on a whim. With you being rushed multiple times by Angler and Blitz, you never had the right opportunities to check for data, leaving you with a measly one hundred intel. With a deep breath pushing open door fifty, you're met with the familiar voice of your condescending fishy friend, Sebastian. "Hey, over here." His voice rang through the vent beside you, sounding unexciting as ever. Popping open the vent and crawling through you're met with the tall hybrid, towering over you. As your eyes locked on his bored ones, his fins flared out slightly upon noticing it was you. "Oh! Hello my little minnow, what may you be looking for today? I stumbled upon this black light, it's pretty rare, four hundred Intel for it." A small smirk came on his face as a frown formed on yours. "What's the problem? Couldn't reel in that much Intel so far? Normally, you come in and buy everything, but it seems you're lacking today." A soft tsking noise can be heard from him as his tail flicked. You bit the inside of your cheek, eyeing the black light strapped to his tail. It could come in use against those annoying squiddle later on. "Could you maybe give me a . . discount?" Managing to look back up at him, his gaze still boreing in on you. Silence covered the room as he stared at you before laughing. "A. . A discount?"

His laughter quickly died down as he realized you weren't joking with him. "Awh. . oh.." He glanced off to the side with his eyes squinted, he pops his clawed fingers in a fidgeting motion as he seemed in thought. His esca flickerd for a moment before he turned back to you, "I have a proposition! How about I give you a very generous discount since you're not an annoying parasite like the rest of the little divers they send down here. ." His voice trailed off to something more luscious. "In exchange though, you give yourself up to me?" A patronizing grin formed on his face as he saw the soft blush creep onto your face. Your mouth moved, but nothing came out in protest, just soft stutterd "I. ."'s and "Wha. ."'s fell from your mouth. The embarrassment at the idea picked at your brain. "Are you stupid or something? Did you forget how to speak?" The snarkness in his voice makes your stomach flutter. "I guess. ." Timidly accepting his terms, his grin comes back, briefly flashing his sharp teeth. "Well then, shall we get started, my dear?"

Sebastian is leaned against the wall, he's already ripped off your diving gear, leaving you bare on top of him. With your back flushed against his chest, two of his lower arms hold onto your waist, covering it completely, holding you in place. "Seb. ." You softly mumble out as your head is tilted down looking at how his tentacle like cock slithers out of the slit a bit under his lower abdomen where his tail like body starts. His unoccupied hand grabs your chin rather roughly tilting it up, his hot breath pants against your neck. His long tongue emerges from his mouth licking along your neck before mumbling something incoherent you couldn't catch onto. You feel his cock rub against your stomach in a sort of rutting motion, pre slicked onto your stomach as Sebastian let out a groan. He slowly guided his cock inside you, you gasp at the unfamiliar feeling of the arrow like head pushing its way deeper into you. The stretch making you gasp as he finally lowered you all the way. He lifted you up effortlessly and pushing you back down, using you like you were nothing. You whimpered at the feeling of him biting down on your shoulder to muffle his groans. Your mouth forms a 'o' shape as the head of his cock kisses your cervix and the small bumps on the underside of his member rubbing against spots you never knew existed, making your vision haze with pleasure.

His thrusts pick up, using you effortlessly. "Fuh. . hah.. fucking take it." He groans against the nape of your neck. "Jeez. . humph.. m'gonna fuck you till you're stupid. You won't mind right?" His patronizing tone resurfacing as you respond with choked gasps and whimpers. "Aww you can't even form any words, you're so fucking dumb. My dumb little toy." He harshly groaned against your ear, feeling how you're walls clenched around him as he said that. "Such a dirty, dirty little thing." He nipped against your neck as he neared his climax, your eyes open up slighty as you hear a soft thumping noise. Glancing over you see Sebastians tail wagging against the floor. "Drive me so crazy. . m'gonna fill you up. Yeah?" His voice wavers into soft hitches as you feel him twitch inside you. The feeling of one of his hands dragging down your stomach to the clit, roughly flicking the pad of his finger back and forth, desperate for your release on him. That familiar burning feeling in your stomach quickly builds up. With a few final flicks of his finger you let out a whimper as you reach your climax and cum around his cock. He twitches inside you for a final time before roughly slamming you down all the way on him, groaning against your neck as he stuffs your tiny cunt full of his cum. He holds you down for a few more moments before his grip on you softens.

Both of your soft pants and breaths fill the room as you come down from your highs. Gently lifting you off of his retreating member, he helps you get dressed again in your gear. "And heres your promised discounted item, my sea fireflie." A sofend grin formed on his face as he picked the black light off his tail and handed it to you. "Th. . thanks.." You mumbled as you leaned against the table next to him, having a hard time standing up. "Maybe discounts for you will be more frequent. Don't cha' agree?" A snicker left him as you collected yourself. "Thanks Seb." You mumbled your goodbyes to him and crawled back through the vent. "Goodbye." He said, dragging it out longer than he should.

[totallynotashieldagent]

Kinktober 2024 - Thigh Riding

Pairing: Jason Todd/Reader

Jason wasn’t an idiot. He’d seen you look at him whenever he came home and changed into his normal clothes. He saw the way you looked at him, biting your lip, eyeing him up and down when he was in his fitted gear– 

Today, however, you were just sitting on his lap- well, on his thigh. Leaning back, as the movie played. A dumb action movie, all special effects, and barely any plot. Perfect for a lazy night. Him in his sweatpants and a vest. You in your oversized, got at a thrift-store nightshirt and cotton panties- And it was, honest to god it was a lazy night until he shifted a little and leaned over to grab a beer and you moved ever to slightly and your brain short-circuited perfectly. 

It wasn’t that you hadn’t thought about it. Of course, you had. There was a whole subreddit dedicated to Jason’s fucking thighs as the Hood. You hated how everyone salivated at your boyfriend but god how you loved all the pictures people posted on there. 

Would be a lie if you said you didn’t get yourself off to it. There was one where he-

“Baby, what are you doing?” His voice was hot against your neck.

“Nothing-” You said, pretending you were watching the movie, as if you hadn't completely tuned out everything apart from just the feeling of him. As if you weren’t slowly grinding down on his thigh. As if there wasn’t going to be a wet patch on his sweatpants soon enough.

“Don’t feel like nothing, sweetheart.” He murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your neck, his hands squeezing at your hips ever so gently. You didn’t answer, simply leaning forward to have more control on your movements, bracing your hands on his knee as you continued to grind again. But this time you weren’t hiding it anymore. 

“Sweetheart-” Jason exhaled a soft laugh that twisted into a groan, his hands clenching and unclenching at your hips, starting to guide you better. “You wanna-”

“Yes.” You swallowed before he could even ask properly. “ Yes- ” You whimpered again, “Please-” You bit your lip, eyes so focused on the screen that everything was turning into a blur. 

His thigh was so solid and muscular and felt so good but-

“Baby-” He rasped, his voice clearly showing that this was affecting him too. “Let me-” He mumbled against your neck between wet kisses. Lifting you up and pushing his sweat pants down just enough so now your clothed cunt was rubbing against his skin. 

“Jay-” You mewled and your eyes finally screwed shut.

“ Shhh- Let it feel good, sweetheart.” Jason hand was wrapped around his own aching cock as his other hand guided you move better against him. “You wanna make a mess of my thigh, don’t you?” You mumbled a yes, please- need- “A little louder, honey.” He bit your shoulder gently. Not enough to cause any pain or leave marks, just enough to get your attention. 

“Mh- Yes!” You whined, grinding yourself harder against his muscle. 

“ Good girl- Such a pretty thing-” He whispered, pumping himself, his hand under your nigthshirt, squeezing the flesh, kneading his just enough to be bruising but not painful as he moved you. 

“I- Jay- I need-” Words were slowly losing meaning. 

“What?” He licked the side of your neck, making you tilt your neck to the side with soft whimpering moans of more, please, keep going- “Tell me what you need, sweetheart.” His voice is so gentle that anyone would miss the command in it. 

“Move- Move me- I can’t-” It was getting harder to keep the momentum. The friction was starting to get just perfect and your body would twitch away when it got too much. You wanted to concentrate more. 

Jason didn’t need to be told more. His hands moved skillfully, moving the cotton of the underwear to the side, holding it taut as he held you down, grinding you harder and slowly against his thigh. You moaned and nodded, eyes closed, breath broken and nails digging into his knee because it suddenly felt that good . 

He whispered praises, the wetness on his thigh growing as he moved you. That’s my good girl. So close, aren’t you? Are you going to make a mess? Yes- So close, my good girl-  

The filthy praise always got you good. You shuddered broken gasps of breath. You were pretty sure your nails were digging hard enough to draw blood but at this point, you really didn’t care. You were just so, so , close and-

“Baby, won’t you cum for me?” He whispered against your neck, leaving wet open-mouth kisses and that finally- finally did you in. 

Jason kept grinding you down on his thigh, his movements hard and deliberate as you whined and moaned his name like a desperate prayer. Your back arched as you came, your thighs clenching to ride it out and he kept moving you until you fell back against his chest. 

“There you go, sweetheart.” He mused, his palms rubbing softly at your thighs. 

“‘S’good-” You exhaled a laugh, your eyes glassy as you looked over at him. 

Wide smirk on his face, his cock still aching next to you, precum dripping just from seeing you come undone and his thigh soaked from your cum. 

“How about round two?” He turned your face to kiss you properly. 

Kinktober 2024.

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

Eye Candy 🍬

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Jason Todd × chubby/curvy!reader

FINALLY. I've been wanting to get this out for forever but shit kinda hit the fan and I'm also sick right now lol

This is pure comedy. So much fun to write!! This is for all my thick girlies <3

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Jason wants you to meet his brother (Dick) and his best friend (Roy). As if that wasn't enough of a bomb, doubt starts to creep into your mind at the realization that your curves would make you stand out like a sore thumb in the Wayne family. Jason proves you wrong by taking you to a bar and letting Dick and Roy walk right into a trap.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

"You want me to what?"

"Hey, it's not that big of a deal-... yeah, no, it's... it's a big deal." Jason winced, brows furrowing while he flexed his hands around his mug.

Coffee- of course it was, though it was far too late in the day for even more caffeine, or so you'd scolded him once again.

You were staring at him, slack jawed, eyes widened just slightly as a brief huff of disbelief left your lips.

"Jay, you just told me you want me to meet your family. In what world is that not a big deal?!" You exclaimed, your tone a little more screeching than you'd liked.

He sighed, shoulders dropping ever so slightly, his eyes turned away as a frown etched itself onto his features.

"It's just Roy and Dick, s'not really meeting my family." He mumbled, toying with the handle of his cup, scratching his nails against the ceramic.

"Look, you don't have to, alright? I just thought-... I guess I don't really know what I thought."

Your heart ached. You've never seen him so defeated. So utterly downtrodden. His back slouched, head hung low while his gaze was focused on anything but you.

That heartbreaking glimmer in his eyes that never failed to make your own water.

Gently, you pried the mug from his grip and set it aside, taking his hands in yours.

The action made Jason avert his attention back to you, looking like a kicked puppy.

"I do want to meet them. I really, really do. Because they are your family, whether you want to admit it or not." You smiled softly, watching as he lit up immediately, a huff of relief making his chest feel lighter.

"I'm just nervous. And worried, I suppose? What they'll think, you know. I'm sure that I'm not exactly what they imagine when they think of your girlfriend." You chuckled nervously.

Jason, on the other hand, looked confused. Eyes narrowed, You-can-see-the-gears-turning-but-nothing-is-happening confused.

"What in the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

You cackled at the expression on his face and the goofy tone of his voice.

"Okay, let me put it like this. You're family is a bunch of buff, unfairly jacked and lean super geniuses. Not to mention how good the girls look. And Kori? She's a literal space princess! I just feel like I don't quite fit in. Can you imagine someone like me at one of those Galas? They would lose their minds-"

"'Someone like you? You mean a gorgeous, beautiful, stunning plump lady with a brain so big I sometimes wonder how your neck is still intact? You mean someone like that? Because we could use more of that, trust me." He chuckled dryly.

"Also, you're hot as fuck." He deadpanned, blankly staring at you.

You playfully rolled your eyes, tracing the space between his knuckles.

"A. I know, B. you're biased. I mean, they all probably expect you to date some super model." You explained, sighing.

You knew your worth. You knew that you were beautiful and perfect just they way you are, even beginning to love yourself.

But when challenged with a family full of hotties like the Wayne's plus Gotham's elite, it was hard not to feel just a little out of place with all your curves, bumps and pudge.

Jason's lips were pressed together in a thin line before he inhaled sharply and pinned you down with his gaze.

"Alright, first of all, they have no expectation of who I'd date because I was fuckin' dead, and when I came back my only interest was revenge and smashing peoples heads in. If anything they thought I would die alone."

The bluntness of his words and the expecting raise in his brows had you shell shocked, and pleasantly surprised.

"You're making problems for yourself that don't exist, ladybird." His tone turned soft as did his eyes, enveloping your heart in a blanket of warmth.

"So, respectfully, you don't have a point." He concluded for you, leaning back against the couch with a satisfied noise.

"Huh, I guess I don't." You breathed out, a smile spreading on your face while Jason already sported a wicked grin.

"There ya go. Now, can I brag about my hot, smart and curvaceous girlfriend to my dickhead brother and loser best friend? Because, sweetheart, you're one hell of a woman." He smirked, leaning in to get you all hot and bothered by his proximity.

You bit your lip, trying to act unaffected by his antics.

"Okay, fine," You groaned, feigning annoyance, "But only because I love you." You finished, failing to hide the smile on your face.

In one swift motion, Jason grabbed you and pulled you into his lap, your back pressed firmly to his chest. You let out a startled noise that morphed into a laugh.

"See? Just had to butter you up a bit, pretty girl." He nosed at your neck, a grin showing off his pearly whites while his arms were snaked around your middle.

"What can I say? You have a way with words." You smirked, looking back at him over your shoulder.

Jason chuckled and turned you in his lap, making you face him.

"I do have a very skilled tongue, as you know." He winked at you, kneading the fat of your hips in his hands.

You groaned and rolled your eyes before grinning and pinching his cheek.

"So, you up for tomorrow? It'll just be at a shitty bar somewhere. They won't judge you, I promise. And if they do, they can take it up with Fuck-" Jason raised one arm and flexed his bicep, "and You." With a wide smile, he lifted his other arm, and you watched as his muscles practically inflated.

You giggled, squeezing his arm with an approving nod of your head.

"I'll be there. I just have some errands to run, so I'll meet you at the place, yeah?" You replied sweetly, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose.

Jason's face scrunched up at your kiss, making him look like an adorable little bunny.

"Sounds good, ladybird." He replied, smiling.

There was something hiding beneath that smile, though. Something sinister. Mischievous. You squinted your eyes at him.

"... What are you up to?" You asked suspiciously, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Who? Me? I'm not up to anything." He replied sweetly, batting his lashes at you.

"Mhm." You hummed, searching for a hint in his teal eyes.

You could see his resolve cracking, his gaze breaking from your for just a split second. You continued to stare at him. Jason cleared his throat and gave you a tight smile before striking.

Quickly, he pushed you off his lap, making you stumble to the floor of your living room on shaky legs before he lowered himself to the ground, hooking one arm around your knees and hoisting you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

You screeched, digging your hands into his hoodie so you wouldn't fall.

"What the fuck! What are you doing?!" You screamed, cracking into a smile when you heard Jason cackle mischievously.

He moved quickly, rounding the couch and any obstacles with ease.

"Well, you see, I've been stumblin' over my words all day. Care to help me loosen up my tongue at bit, doll?" He grinned, hurrying to your bedroom.

"Jason!-"

Your voice burst with a laugh before you were interrupted by a loud crack when his hand met the back of your thigh.

You gasped, quickly followed by a slap against his clothed back.

"Remember that name, angel. I have a feeling you'll be using it a lot tonight."

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

"So, she coming?" Roy asked curiously, settling back into the deep-set lounge with his drink.

The redhead was seated in the middle, between the brothers, earning a shove and an annoyed eyeroll from Jason.

Dick snickered, taking a sip of his beverage.

"Why are you so obsessed with my girl, dude?"

"We just wanna make sure she's real. I'd hate to break you out of Arkham again, little wing." Dick grinned from behind the rim of his glass.

"Wow." Roy clicked his tongue, nodding along to the diabolical comment.

Jason only stared at his brother blankly, blinking once, then twice.

"Too far?" Dick asked, wincing slightly.

"Whaddya think, dickhead?" Roy sighed sharply.

"You should be so glad that I'm in therapy. Otherwise I woulda wiped the floor with you right now." Jason mumbled, taking a swig of his drink.

"It's the Piña Coladas talking." His brother chuckled awkwardly.

Jason just snorted, leaning against the soft cushions.

"To answer your question, yes, she's coming." Roy lit up, excitedly setting his beer down on the table.

"Really? So we get to meet the fabled ladybird, huh?" The redhead grinned, bumping his shoulder with Jason's.

He only shook his head and playfully rolled his eyes at Roy.

"Why didn't she come with you, then?" Dick asked, brows furrowed.

"Had to stop by the craft store." Jason replied simply, finishing his drink.

"Oh, so it's like that? You really did get yourself a pretty little thing, didn't you?" Dick smirked, watching as Jason chuckled in response.

"Dickhead's right. They not only make pieces of art, they are ones." Roy agreed.

Dick scoffed at the nickname.

"She's pretty alright. Looks like she belongs in the Louvre." Jason responded with a smile, then immediately regretting that decision when Roy and Dick began to look like the cheshire cat.

"Ooooo, Jay's in looooove." Roy teased with a chuckle.

"Did little wing find an even littler wing? That's adorable." Duck sniffled, wiping a faux tear from his lashline.

Jason grumbled in response, flipping them off.

"At least I didn't cheat on my girl." He mumbled sharply, hiding behind his second -or third?- glass of the night.

Dick's smile fell and he was reduced to a muttering mess, pouting like a child.

"God, you guys are actual children. Can I have one night-"

they both glanced at Roy when he stopped speaking, his lips parted as he stared at the entrance of the bar.

"You're lettin' flies in, carrot top." Jason said blankly.

Roy let out a low whistle, loosely gesturing to the bar before a smirk cracked on his face.

"Look at that piece of Eye Candy over there."

Dick followed his line of sight.

"Fuck me." He cursed, eyes wide.

"Look at those hips, jesus-"

"Now that's a woman."

Jason was mid sip, uninterested in this mystery woman ordering a drink at the bar. But, he glanced up anyway, only to choke on his drink when his eyes landed on you.

He sputtered, coughing as he felt the alcohol go up his nose.

"Woah, she got you good, didn't she?" Roy teased with a laugh, patting his back.

"Yep.." Jason croaked out, holding back a laugh.

"I'm telling ladybird." Dick said quickly.

Snitch.

"When will she be here anyway? It's been a while." He questioned, pulling up his sleeve to take a look at his watch.

"Soon, soon.." Jason replied, clearing his throat.

"Man, she could sit on me, and I'd thank her. And that rack-"

Roy continued letting his eyes trail over your body.

As amusing as Jason found this little misunderstanding, he couldn't help but grind his teeth and clench his fists.

Meanwhile, Dick delivered a slap to the back of Roy's head.

"Pervert! You don't talk about women like that." He scolded the redhead.

"Says you! As if you don't wanna be suffocated by those thighs or-or knock out on that tummy, I know you do!" Roy said sharply, pointing an accusing finger at Dick.

"Of course I do, but I didn't say it out loud, now did I?" He replied in a condescending tone.

"You fucking-"

"Oh, look, she's approaching us." Jason said nonchalantly, leaning back into the cushions with a grin, watching as the petty bickering between his brother and best friend stopped immediately.

"I call dibs! I saw her first." Roy said quickly, straightening his posture and trying to look unbothered while you approached.

"God fucking dammit." Dick cursed, being left to grumble with his Piña Colada.

He looked at Jason, who was comfortably leaned back with a smirk.

"How are you so chill about this?!" Dick asked irritated.

"You'll see." Jason grinned.

You walked towards them with a smile, the drink you'd just ordered at the bar in your hand. Roy put up his most charming face and quickly cleared his throat.

"Hello there, sweethea-"

his entire face dropped when you placed a hand on Jason's shoulder and pressed a kiss to his lips. His hands instinctively went to rest on your hips, giving them a gentle squeeze.

"Hi, baby." You greeted sweetly.

"Hey there, ladybird." Jason grinned, glancing at Roy and Dick.

The redheads jaw was on the floor, speechless while his gaze flitted between you and his best friend. Dick was just as shocked, but quickly broke out of it.

"THAT’S LADYBIRD?!" He yelled, earning harsh stares from other guests.

Dick quieted down with an apologetic smile and leaned closer to Jason.

"You fucking asshole! Why didn't you do anything? You let us say all those things-" at the realization Dick went pale.

"He's gonna beat our asses." Roy mumbled, still staring at you and Jason.

"... Fuck."

You just stood there dumbfounded while Jason had a grin on his face that made a shiver run down Roy's spine.

"What things?" You asked, you brows furrowed in confusion.

Jason pulled you into his lap, resting one of his hands on your thigh.

"Don't worry about it, angel." He said softly, pecking your cheek.

"How the hell did you end with such a charity case as Jason?" Roy asked bluntly, slumped in his seat, defeated.

"Excuse me?" You sputtered with a scoff.

"That's a lot of nerve coming from someone looking like an affair baby." You shot back.

Dick burst out laughing, Jason cackling along side him while Roy only stared at you.

"And she's feisty? Fuuuuuuck.." He whined.

"Nice to meet you, ladybird." Dick gave you a friendly smile and nod, still wiping the tears from his eyes.

You returned the smile before leaning in to whisper into Jason's ear.

"Is the rest of your family also like this?"

"Like what?"

"Loudmouth assholes." You replied, staring straight at Roy who looked like you just slapped his mother.

Jason laughed, throwing his head back when he saw Roy's face.

"Ah, no. Some of them are quiet assholes."

Dick scoffed, immediately defending himself and his siblings with big hand gestures.

You chuckled as you watched.

"Don't be sad, carrot top," Jason began, giving Roy's shoulder a squeeze, "You couldn't handle her if you tried."

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Jason loves fat girls. Argue with the wall <3

Let me know what you think! 😚🩷

More of Jason and others -> 💫

《DC Taglist》: @allysunny @arkhamknightscxnt @gaozorous-rex-blog @hellonhells-x

Comment to be added 🐝🫧

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

[bumpscosity]

Maybe ropedropping disneyland and then staying until it closed, thus only getting about 7 hours of sleep after walking 10+ miles a day for 3 days in a row wasnt such a good idea

[pucksandpower]

Burn, Baby! Burn!

Lando Norris x firefighter!Reader

Summary: Lando almost burns down his house (twice) and meets the throughly exasperated love of his life in the process

The shrill screech of the alarm pierces through the calm of the fire station. You jolt upright in your chair, coffee spilling across the table. Another firefighter bursts into the room.

“We’ve got a call! Some bloke has managed to set his kitchen on fire boiling pasta!”

You shake your head in disbelief as you follow your colleague out to the truck. Who in their right mind manages to burn water?

The sirens wail as you weave expertly through the London streets. You’ve lived here your whole life and know every nook and cranny. As you near the address, plumes of smoke curl up in the distance. Sure enough, you pull up to a posh townhouse billowing with black smoke.

You hurry to unravel the hose, pulling on your heavy fire gear with practiced ease. As you blast water at the licking flames, they hiss and retreat. Within minutes, the fire is out.

Your captain does a sweep of the place to check for any remaining embers. You start to inspect the damage. The kitchen is completely demolished — cabinets charred and counters blackened. And there, in the middle, stands a lanky man with a mop of brown hair. His eyes are wide as saucers as he takes in the ruin.

You stride over. “What in blazes happened here?”

“I, uh, was just trying to make some pasta,” he stammers.

You spot a scorched pot in the sink. “Pasta? All you need for that is water, salt, and noodles. How did you manage to incinerate the whole bloody kitchen?”

“Honestly, I’m not really sure,” he says, raking a hand through his hair. “I filled the pot with water, turned on the stove, went to get my phone and next thing I knew, the place was up in flames!”

You rub your temples, frustration simmering. This overgrown child clearly can’t be trusted alone.

“What’s your name?” You ask.

“Lando. Lando Norris.”

Lando Norris … why does that sound familiar? You rack your brain trying to place it.

“Well Lando, unless you fancy burning down the rest of London, I suggest you leave the cooking to the takeaway. Or hire a personal chef or something, sure looks like you can afford it.”

Lando chuckles at that. There’s a twinkle in his eye that irks you.

“Will do, firefighter ...”

“Y/N,” you supply.

“Beautiful name for a beautiful firefighter,” he says with a wink.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. The last thing you need right now is an incompetent flirt.

Your radio crackles to life. “Y/L/N, need you to hang back with the resident until a building inspector can come assess the safety.”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath before responding. “Copy that.”

You turn back to Lando. “Looks like you’re stuck with me till the inspector shows up.”

“Well I certainly won’t complain about that,” Lando says with a dimpled grin.

You plop down on his couch, which by some miracle remains unscathed. Lando sits down next to you, angling his body in your direction.

“So, do you rescue fiery damsels in distress often?”

You snort. “Wouldn’t exactly call you a damsel. But putting out idiots’ fires? More often than you’d think.”

Lando clutches his chest in faux offense. “Idiot? I’m wounded!”

Despite yourself, you feel your lips quirking upwards. There’s something endearing about him, even if he is concerningly incompetent.

“Gotta admit, this is a new one,” you gesture around. “Never been called for someone catching water on fire before.”

“Ah well, I like to keep things interesting,” Lando says with a wink.

You’re about to respond when your radio crackles again. “The inspector’s been held up across town. Gonna be another 30 minutes.”

You lean your head back and groan. Lando perks up beside you.

“Well, lucky me! More time with the lovely firefighter.”

You toss a decorative pillow at him. “You’re incorrigible.”

Lando just laughs, dodging the pillow with ease. “So tell me, Y/N, what made you become a firefighter?”

You debate shutting him down, but something about the open curiosity on his face makes you open up.

“My dad was a firefighter,” you explain. “Some of my earliest memories are of playing at the fire station with the other firefighters’ kids while our dads were on calls. I was maybe 5 or 6 when my dad let me slide down the fire pole for the first time.”

You smile at the memory. “I knew then that I wanted to be just like my dad. I thought firefighters were the coolest people in the world.”

Lando is watching you intently as you speak.

“What about you?” You ask. “What is it you do, besides wreak havoc in the kitchen?”

Lando smirks. “I’m a Formula 1 driver.”

Your eyes widen — no wonder his name is so familiar.

Lando looks pleased at your recognition. “So you’ve heard of me then?”

You nod. “Guess that explains how you can afford a posh place like this. Though I’d think a racing driver would have a bit more common sense in the kitchen.”

Lando shrugs sheepishly. “Never really had to fend for myself until now. I’m a bit hopeless at all things domestic.”

You shake your head in exasperation. “Been living off takeout, have you?”

“You know it,” Lando says with a wink.

You’re about to retort when the building inspector arrives. You greet him as Lando shows him around the thoroughly singed kitchen. After an extensive examination, the inspector deems the place safe, reminding Lando to get repairs done immediately.

With that settled, you make your way outside, Lando following at your heels.

“Don’t suppose I could get your number?” Lando asks as you reach the fire truck. “You know, in case I have any other domestic mishaps that require rescuing.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “How about I just pray we don’t meet again? Since that would likely mean you almost burned your place down … again.”

Lando clutches his chest in mock offence. “You wound me! And here I thought we were really hitting it off!”

Despite yourself, you let out a laugh. “You’re ridiculous.” You pause, considering him for a moment. “But seriously … try not to burn the place down again, yeah? I’d rather not have to peel you off the floor next time.”

Lando grins. “I’ll do my best to keep the place flame-free. Though I can’t promise I won’t still need rescuing from time to time.”

You roll your eyes, but can’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Take care of yourself, Lando Norris.”

As you hop into the fire truck and speed away, sirens blaring, you catch Lando waving out of the corner of your eye. You let out a small laugh, shaking your head.

What an absolute disaster of a man.

***

It’s been nearly two weeks since the incident at Lando’s place. You’ve replayed that day in your mind more times than you’d care to admit. There was just something about that hapless yet charming Lando Norris.

Speak of the devil — the fire alarm at the station suddenly blares to life.

“Never a dull day, eh?” Your captain jokes.

You hustle to gear up, a sense of deja vu washing over you. As you near the now familiar posh townhouse, plumes of smoke once again curl into the sky. Your disbelief grows when you see a very sheepish looking Lando standing outside.

He grimaces as your truck pulls up. “Before you ask, yes, it was me again.”

You leap out of the truck, pulling the hose as your team gets to work quelling the flames.

“What the hell happened this time?” You shout over the roar of water.

“I, uh, may have tried to microwave some leftovers,” Lando says, rubbing the back of his neck.

It only takes a few minutes to extinguish the fire and assess the damage. Thankfully, it seems contained to mostly the microwave this time. Lando leads you inside, where smoke still lingers in the air. Your eyes immediately zone in on the microwave, or rather, what’s left of it. The interior is completely blackened and melted.

You whirl on Lando. “Please tell me you didn’t put something metal in there.”

Lando winces. “Right, so, funny story. I may have left a fork in the takeaway box.”

You drag a hand down your face in exasperation. “Lando, are you actually incapable of functioning like a normal adult?”

He has the decency to look ashamed. “I know, I’m a disaster, truly. But in my defense, the microwave came with the place already. I didn’t even think to check for a manual or proper usage instructions.”

You snort. “I’m pretty sure not putting metal in the microwave is common sense.”

Lando shoves his hands in his pockets. “Suppose I don’t have much of that.”

You sigh, suddenly feeling a bit bad for berating him. He really is just hopeless, not malicious.

“Look, maybe it’s best you just avoid the kitchen altogether,” you suggest gently. “At least until you get some proper instruction.”

Lando nods enthusiastically. “You’re absolutely right. In fact, why don’t I just take you out for dinner? Be a lot safer than me bumbling about the kitchen.”

You cross your arms, biting back a smile. “Are you asking me out while I’m on duty?”

Lando’s eyes widen. “No no, of course not! I would never compromise your professionalism.”

You can’t help but grin. “I’m just teasing you.”

Lando looks relieved. “Right, sorry. But truly, I’d love to take you to dinner, if you’re open to it.” He smiles sheepishly. “I could certainly use the company of someone responsible in the kitchen.”

You consider him for a moment. There are about a million reasons you shouldn’t agree to this. But despite the situation, you find yourself charmed by Lando.

“Tell you what, why don’t you swing by the station once my shift is over in ...” You check your watch. “Four hours. You can ask me again then.”

Lando’s face lights up. “It’s a date! Well, hopefully, if you say yes.”

You chuckle and turn to leave, but Lando calls out your name. You glance back and he smiles warmly.

“Thank you again for rescuing me … in more ways than one.”

Four hours later, you’re wiping down the fire truck when an expensive sports car pulls up outside the station. Lando hops out, beaming when he spots you.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he calls out cheekily.

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “Don’t you know this is a strictly no-playboys zone?”

Lando clutches his heart. “You wound me, Y/N! I’m much more than just extraordinarily good looks.”

“What good looks?” You challenge.

Lando strolls over and holds open the passenger door. “Have dinner with me and see for yourself.”

You pretend to consider it, then shrug. “Eh, why not. Beats more takeout on my couch.”

You hop into Lando’s flashy car and he zooms off towards the restaurant. Lando insists on opening every door for you and pulling out your chair. You poke fun at his over-the-top chivalry, but find it endearing nonetheless.

Over dinner, you learn there’s much more to Lando than his hapless antics. He’s unexpectedly clever, with a sharp wit to match. He’s passionate about racing, his eyes lighting up as he tells you about life on the circuit. And despite his lavish lifestyle, he’s remained remarkably down-to-earth.

Conversation flows easily between you two. You’re amazed at how you manage to lose track of time, the restaurant emptying out around you.

When Lando finally drives you home, you linger in the parking lot, neither of you wanting the night to end.

“I had a really nice time tonight,” you say softly.

Lando smiles. “Me too. Think it’s safe to say there were definitely some sparks between us.”

You groan at the terrible fire pun, shoving Lando playfully. His eyes gleam with mirth.

“In all seriousness, I’d love to see you again,” Lando says. “If you’re willing to take another chance on this walking fire hazard.”

You pretend to consider it. “Well, seeing as I’m trained to deal with hazards ...”

Lando perks up hopefully. You grin and lean over to press a quick kiss to his cheek.

“I would love to see you again. And until then … just please stay away from anything flammable.”

***

A few months have passed since your unusual first encounters with Lando. To your surprise and delight, you’ve settled into an easy relationship that feels almost like second nature. Lando has been actively planning creative dates, seemingly determined to take you on adventures across London.

It’s been a whirlwind of posh restaurants, West End shows, helicopter rides, and more. Lando delights in lavishing you with exclusive experiences. While you appreciate the gestures, your favorite nights are spent cuddled on the couch playing video games.

You’ve helped Lando gain basic competency in the kitchen. He can now make scrambled eggs and pasta unsupervised. Progress.

In turn, Lando has taken an interest in your life as a firefighter, asking for crazy stories and even visiting you at the station with treats for those on shift. He greets you after work with hearty meals — takeaway warmed up in the oven without any explosions — a welcome respite from having to worry that you would come home to find his house burnt to a crisp.

You’re touched by how you’ve each become such a fixture in the other’s unusual life so quickly.

One morning, the two of you are lounging on Lando’s couch during a rare shared day off when he suddenly perks up.

“The British Grand Prix is in a few months! I know it might be tough for you to get the weekend off but I would love it if you could come,” Lando suggests excitedly.

Your eyes widen. “Seriously? I would love to see your world up close.”

Lando grins and pulls you in for a kiss. “It’s a date then! Fair warning though, the garage can get a bit chaotic. But I can’t wait to show you off to my team.”

You laugh. “Well in my line of work, chaotic is the norm. I think I can handle it.”

On race day, Lando picks you up in a sleek McLaren emblazoned with his number. You take in the organized chaos of the paddock, amazed by the scale of it all.

Lando guides you through the sea of team members prepping for the big day. He greets his mechanics warmly, introducing you with a hand on the small of your back.

“Lads, meet my girl Y/N,” Lando announces proudly.

The mechanics appraise you curiously. One whistles under his breath. “Nice catch, Lando. She’s clearly out of your league.”

You laugh as Lando flips him off good-naturedly.

Another mechanic, Dan, gestures to your athletic frame. “So what is it you do, Y/N? Personal trainer? Athlete? Fitness influencer?”

You smile wryly. “I’m a firefighter, actually.”

Dan gapes in disbelief. “A firefighter? No way! But you’re so ...” He vaguely gestures at you.

You quirk an eyebrow. “So what? Girls can’t be firefighters?”

Dan holds up his hands quickly. “No no, course not! Just didn’t expect it, is all.”

Lando grins and squeezes your shoulder. “She’s saved my arse more times than I can count.”

You laugh. “He’s not wrong. Man’s a walking fire hazard.”

Lando’s team ribs him fondly about his cooking mishaps. But you can tell they’re impressed, regarding you with newfound admiration.

“Go on then, show us what you can do!” Dan cajoles.

You grin mischievously. “If you insist.”

Before Dan can react, you swoop down and lift him effortlessly into a fireman’s carry. The other mechanics whoop and holler as Dan flails comically over your shoulder.

After a few seconds, you gently set a very flustered Dan back down.

Lando lets out a low whistle. “Have I mentioned how hot it is when you go all firefighter on me?”

You smirk. “Never gets old seeing you boys underestimate me.”

Dan rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah, fair play. Reckon I earned that.”

You laugh good-naturedly and pat Dan on the back, assuring him no harm done. As you all chat, you notice Lando’s gaze lingering on you admiringly.

As race time nears, Lando has to start prepping with his team. But he keeps glancing over at you with a newfound awe. Your little display of strength clearly left an impression.

Soon it’s time for him to get in the car. You wish Lando luck with a quick kiss, giggling at the mechanics’ dramatic groans.

Once the race gets underway, you stand behind the monitors with Lando’s performance coach, cheering him on with every overtake. You join the crew in jumping to your feet when Lando crosses the chequered flag for an exhilarating podium finish. The garage explodes into celebration, and Lando sweeps you up into a spinning hug when he arrives.

“My good luck charm,” he proclaims, keeping you close as champagne sprays wildly.

Later at an afterparty for the drivers and teams, you sip cocktails under strings of lights. Lando proudly spins you around the dancefloor, making sure everyone can see you on his arm.

“Have I told you how amazing you are?” Lando murmurs into your hair.

You grin. “Might’ve mentioned it once or twice.”

“Well I’m saying it again. You’re incredible, Y/N. Today was so much better getting to share it with you.”

Your heart swells at the sincerity in Lando’s eyes. You cup his face gently.

“Couldn’t imagine a better first Grand Prix. Thank you for inviting me into this part of your world.”

Lando smiles softly. “You’re the best part of my world now.”

Over the following weeks, you start to notice Lando looking at you with a new hunger in his eyes. The easy affection between you has shifted into something more wanton and primal.

One night, as you’re cooking a simple pasta dish together, Lando comes up behind you, hands encircling your waist. He plants a trail of kisses down your neck as his grip tightens possessively.

You lean back into him with a pleased hum. “Well hello there.”

“Mmm, ever since I saw you lift that mechanic, I just keep thinking about all the ways you could put that sexy strength to use,” Lando murmurs against your skin.

You grin and turn in his arms. “Oh yeah? Why don’t you tell me more about that?” You purr teasingly.

Lando crashes his lips to yours, backing you against the counter hungrily. You just barely remember to turn off the burner before completely losing yourself in the feel of him around you — one burnt pot of boiling water is more than enough for your relationship, thank you very much.

Later, lying spent and sated in Lando’s bed, he nuzzles against you. “Have to say, your skills in the bedroom rival your skills as a firefighter,” he jokes.

You swat his chest playfully. “Careful or I may have to break out some new moves on you.”

Lando’s eyes gleam. “Promise?”

You grin and roll on top of him, ready to stoke the flames between you once more. Though your relationship started unconventionally, it seems things with Lando will never stop burning hot.

[daeniradraconis]

Age Is Just a Number…Right? - Luke Hughes

Summary: Luke. Age gap. Jack being a menace as usual, making sure you're not getting away that easy. Warning: Implied sexual situations, mature language, flirtation, age gap (6 years)

Note: Hey, lovelies! So, originally, this fic was all about Macklin Celebrini and Will Smith, but then I realized—Will is 19, and honestly, he’s just a baby to me. Even if he said he loves older woman. Boy go back to kinder garden. (Sorry Will, love you, I promise!) So, I decided to swap in the Hughes boys instead. I’ve gotta be honest, it gave me a bit of a headache. Now, this started as a quick, short fic. I swear, I had every intention of keeping it short. But, well… 7048 words later, here we are. I got hit with a ton of ideas and feelings, and the story just kind of... grew on me. You’ll probably notice the tone/style shifts halfway through, and I’m definitely sorry for that!

But hey, I hope you all enjoy it despite the wild ride! ❤️ For more fun: masterlist

The first thing you notice is warmth.

A heavy arm draped over your waist. The steady rise and fall of breath against the back of your neck. The scent of clean laundry, cologne, and something distinctly him clinging to the pillow beside you.

The second thing you notice—you are not in your own bed.

Your stomach flips as your brain reboots, sluggishly piecing together fragments of last night.

The blind date.

Luke.

His charming smile. The way his chestnut curls fell into his eyes when he laughed. The way he leaned in when you spoke, like you were the only person in the room. The teasing brush of his fingers against yours when he reached for his drink. The electricity that crackled between you when you finally caved—when he kissed you outside the bar, his hands firm at your waist, his body pressing into yours like he couldn’t help himself.

And then… more.

Your face burns as memory after memory floods in. His hands, his mouth, the way he whispered your name like it meant something.

Nope. Not thinking about that.

Carefully, you shift beneath the covers, untangling yourself from his hold. Luke stirs but doesn’t wake, his arm slipping away as you ease yourself upright.

That’s when it really hits you.

He looks so young.

His chestnut curls are a mess, his lips slightly parted, his entire face softened in sleep. He looks… peaceful. Innocent, almost.

A strange unease settles in your stomach.

Your gaze flickers around the unfamiliar room. It’s nice but lived-in—hockey gear shoved into the corner, a few discarded clothes on a chair. Your eyes land on the nightstand, where his wallet sits slightly open.

You don’t mean to snoop. You really don’t.

But something about last night nags at you.

Just a quick peek. Just to make sure.

Fingers trembling, you reach for it, flip it open.

And your heart stops.

Luke Hughes. Age: 21.

Twenty fucking one.

As in, young enough to still pull all-nighters for fun. As in, could still be in college.

And you? You are twenty-seven.

Oh. My. God.

Your hands fly to your phone as you furiously type out a message to your friend.

"WHAT THE HELL?! YOU SET ME UP WITH A 21-YEAR-OLD. I AM A GROWN WOMAN. I PAY FOR MY OWN HEALTH INSURANCE."

No response.

Coward.

Panic thrums in your veins as you stare at Luke—still peacefully asleep, completely unaware that you are having a full-blown identity crisis in his bed.

You need to leave. Now.

Right?

But for some reason, you hesitate.

Because Luke… Luke is the first guy in a long time who actually made you interested. Who made you laugh so hard you snorted into your drink. Who listened—really listened—when you talked, instead of just waiting for his turn to speak. And, well. The man or more like a boy, had managed to get you to orgasm. Twice!

Which, considering your track record, felt almost miraculous.

Your past partners had barely managed to get you there once—if at all.

And now you’re just supposed to sneak out of here like it never happened? Like he was just another bad decision?

Your stomach twists.

But then you glance at the wallet again. Twenty-one.

Yeah. You need to go.

Sliding out of bed as silently as possible, you scan the room for your clothes. Your shirt is on the floor, your jeans halfway under the bed. You grab them quickly, yanking them on with the precision of someone defusing a bomb. Bra? Found. Socks? One is missing, but you’ll live.

Once fully dressed, you tiptoe to the door. Your shoes. They’re outside the room. You remember kicking them off in the hallway.

One deep breath.

You ease the door open, peeking into the dimly lit living room.

Empty.

Good.

You take two careful steps out, eyes locked on your shoes near the front door. Almost there. Just a few more—

“Busted.”

You scream.

Not a blood-curdling horror movie scream, but a very real, very startled yelp that absolutely does not help you maintain any dignity in this situation.

Your body jolts like you’ve just been electrocuted, arms flailing wildly as you spin toward the voice.

There, sprawled across the couch, is a guy watching you like this is the best morning of his life.

Tall. Ridiculously handsome. Light brown hair, messy in a way that suggests he just woke up. Sharp cheekbones. Blue eyes filled with pure mischief.

And a smirk so unbearably smug that you immediately want to punch it off his face.

You clutch your chest, heart racing. “Jesus Christ, who the hell are you?!”

The guy grins wider. “Damn. Didn’t even recognize me? That hurts.”

“Am I supposed to?”You blink, still catching your breath.

His smirk falters for half a second before returning full force. “Oh, that’s good. That’s really good.” He tilts his head, studying you like you’re some kind of rare specimen. “You actually have no idea who I am, do you?”

“Why the hell would I?” Your frown deepens.

He lets out a dramatic sigh, like this is somehow the greatest tragedy to ever befall him.

“You’re telling me,” he starts, sitting up slightly, resting his arms on his knees, fully entertained, “that you came home with my brother, slept with him, and have no idea who we are?”

Your stomach drops.

Brother?

You knew Luke had brothers—he mentioned it—but you had no idea they were famous.

Your eyes flick toward the bedroom, then back to him. “You’re—wait, you’re one of Luke’s brothers?”

He snorts. “Wow. No recognition at all. That is humbling.”

“Should I recognize you?” You narrow your eyes at him.

“Oh, I don’t know.” He shrugs, mock-offended, but there’s a glint of amusement in his eyes. “I guess I’m only one of the most famous people in this city.”

You blink, a little thrown off. “…You’re a local weatherman?”

He chokes, eyes widening. “A what?!”

“You’re acting like I should know you,” you say, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t keep up with the news, but you definitely have the vibe of a guy who points at maps for a living.”

He definitely doesn’t. If anything, he looks more like a kooky stripper with an annoyingly fit body. But there’s no way you’re feeding his ego—this idiot would probably take it as a compliment.

For a split second, he just stares at you, his mouth hanging slightly open.

Then, as if the tension snaps, he howls—full-body laughter, throwing his head back and wiping a fake tear from his eye.

“Oh my God,” he wheezes, clutching his stomach. “This is the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

You cross your arms, trying to mask the irritation bubbling up. “Glad I could contribute to your morning entertainment.”

“No, you don’t get it,” he says between gasps for air, leaning forward with an infectious grin. “This is amazing. Incredible. I live for moments like this.”

You raise an eyebrow, your patience wearing thin. “Moments like what?” you snap, unable to hide the rising edge in your voice. Honestly, you’re just relieved Luke didn’t inherit Jack’s over-the-top, obnoxious personality. If he had, you probably would’ve bailed on this blind date five minutes in.

“Moments where I get to witness something so spectacularly awkward, so painfully embarrassing, that it will sustain me for weeks.”

You glare at him with pure annoyance. “I hate you already.”

He clutches his chest dramatically. “Ouch. That wounds me.”

“You’ll survive.”

“Oh, no doubt.” He smirks, and for a moment, it almost reminds you of Luke—though the two brothers couldn’t look more different. But that same confidante smile? It’s unmistakable. “Especially since I now have the upper hand in every conversation we ever have from here on out.”

“We’re never having another conversation after this!” You try to sound firm, but your voice cracks, betraying you.

He just grins wider, shaking his head like he’s heard that before. “That’s what you think.”

You exhale sharply, fed up with the entire exchange. “Look, I’m leaving. Forget you ever saw me.”

“Not a chance.” He leans back against the couch, thoroughly amused. “You’re trying to sneak out of my baby brother’s room like a damn criminal. This is gold.”

You scowl again. “I’m not sneaking out.” You fumble with your shoes, trying to get them on while defending yourself. Luckily, the hallway and living room are one open space, making your escape a bit less awkward.

“You literally just tiptoed past me like you’re starring in Mission Impossible.”

You groan. "I was trying not to wake him up." Rolling your eyes, you keep wrestling with your damn laces—of all times to betray you, it had to be now. Frustration bubbles up as you huff, "I need to go."

Jack cocks an eyebrow. "Why?"

You freeze mid-motion, exhaling hard through your nose. "...Just because."

"That's not an answer." His arms fold across his chest, his gaze pressing into you like he’s daring you to crack.

Your stomach twists. Heat rises to your face. You don’t want to say it, don’t want to give him the satisfaction—but the words rip out anyway.

“Because I just found out I slept with a 21-year-old, okay?! I’m 27. That’s a six-year difference! That’s a whole presidential term and a little extra! That’s a—”

You stop, realizing how ridiculous it sounds now that you're saying it.

Jack stares at you, blinking. There’s a long silence before you speak again, but his expression shows no understanding of the mental chaos you’re in.

You sigh and tug at your hair in frustration. “I wasn’t expecting this. I thought maybe he was older, and now… I just don’t know how to feel.”

Jack, for the first time, softens his teasing expression. But it’s clear he doesn’t quite get what you’re saying.

“Well,” he shrugs casually, “you’re still not leaving. You’re stuck here until Luke wakes up.”

“No, I’m not.” You shake your head, stubborn.

“Yes, you are!”

Before you can argue, you hear movement from the bedroom.

“Jack, why are you yelling?”

Shit.

You freeze.

Jack just grins wider.

You turn, and there he is—Luke, standing in the hallway, shirtless, hair an absolute mess, looking at you with adorable confusion.

Jack smirks. “Oh, you know. Just chatting with your date about how she was totally about to dip.”

“Wait. You’re leaving?” Luke’s voice is a mix of confusion and hurt, and suddenly, you feel a wave of guilt wash over you.

You shift awkwardly, caught in the middle of it all. “I just… didn’t want to wake you.”

Jack snickers. “Translation: she found out you’re barely legal and panicked.”

Luke’s eyes flick to his nightstand, where his wallet still sits open.

“…Wait. Is this about my age?" He sounds confused—adorably so. Too adorably.

You open your mouth, but Jack is already cackling.

“Oh, it absolutely is,” Jack says, shaking his head. “She took one look at that ID and nearly had a full-blown existential crisis.”

Your face flushes deep red. Jesus, you really can’t stand that blue-eyed bastard.

Luke blinks, then sighs, clearly frustrated a little bit. “So, last night was… amazing, but now it’s a problem because I’m 21?”

You shift uneasily. “It’s not a problem, exactly. It’s just…”

Jack grins mischievously. “Hilarious?”

You glare at him, a mix of embarrassment and irritation burning through you. “Not the word I was going for.”

Luke tilts his head, watching you closely. “Did it feel weird last night?”

Your face instantly flames. “LUKE.”

Jack cackles. “Ohhh my God, this is so good.”

Luke shrugs nonchalantly. “I’m just saying. You didn’t seem to mind my age when you were begging for—”

You lunge at him, quickly slapping a hand over his mouth. “Don’t. You. Dare.”

Jack, leaning in with barely contained joy, grins wider. “Oh, no, let’s hear it! This is the best! I live for this shit.”

You whip around, shooting daggers. “Do you really have to be here?”

Jack places a hand over his chest, feigning innocence. "Of course I do. I’m just the clueless bystander, watching your meltdown. It’s my duty as a brother. How else am I supposed to tease Lukey later?"

Luke licks his lips, glancing between you and Jack. “Wait… so you’re really freaking out over this?”

You sigh, your frustration starting to boil over. "I just… didn’t realize you were so young."

Jack snickers from the side, clearly enjoying himself. “Oh, no, I think she’s just overthinking it. But hey, it’s cute.”

Luke shoots him a glare. “Jack.”

Jack raises his hands, completely unbothered. “I’m just here to state the obvious.”

You groan, feeling a headache start to form at the base of your skull. "Can I just… go? Please?" The words come out sharper than you mean, but you’re too tired to care.

Luke looks at you, his gaze softening with that same sleepy affection from last night. You almost hate how it makes your chest ache. "You really want to leave?"

You pause for a long moment, considering.

And truthfully?

No.

You don’t.

Last night wasn’t just a fling—it was Luke.

Luke, who had you laughing through dinner, making you feel like you were the only person in the world. He treated you like you were someone worth admiring, someone worth cherishing. And when he kissed you, it felt like the first rainstorm after a drought, washing away everything but the two of you.

And now he’s standing there, messy-haired and sleepy-eyed, looking at you like he’s trying to figure out what’s going through your mind.

Jack, sensing the shift, leans back dramatically. “Ohhh, she’s thinking about it.”

You glare. “Shut up, Jack.”

Jack smirks like a little kid in the candy shop. “Nope.”

Luke lets out a heavy sigh, rubbing his face with both hands, his puppy like eyes softening as he looks at you. "Alright," he mutters, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "Let me make you breakfast before you decide I’m too young to function."

Jack perks up from the couch. “Oh, hell yeah. Stay. Luke makes a mean omelet.”

Luke shoots Jack a teasing glare, his eyes rolling in exasperation as he half-smirks. "Why are you even involved in this?" he says, clearly annoyed but with a playful edge, like he can’t decide if he should laugh or strangle his brother.

Jack shrugs dramatically. “Because I live for chaos.”

You hesitate for a moment, staring at Luke as you battle the urge to stay or run.

“…Fine. One omelet.”

Jack fist-pumps the air. “YES.”

Luke grins like he’s already won. “Good. Because I was going to make you stay anyway.”

—

You don’t know how you ended up here.

One second, you were committed to sneaking out like a thief in the night. The next?

You’re standing in Luke Hughes’ kitchen, watching him move around with annoying ease, pulling eggs and cheese out of the fridge like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Jack, of course, is sitting at the kitchen island, grinning like the mischievous idiot he is.

“You look tense,” he observes, propping his chin in his hand and resting his elbows on his knees. “Regretting staying already?”

You shoot him a withering look. “I regret a lot of things. Letting you talk this morning is at the top of the list.”

Jack gasps dramatically, clutching his chest. “Ouch. And here I was, being such a warm and welcoming host.”

You roll your eyes. “You ambushed me.”

Jack shrugs casually, sipping his coffee. “Semantics.”

Luke, bless him, doesn’t engage. He simply smirks to himself as he cracks an egg into a pan, clearly used to Jack’s shenanigans. “Jack, are you actually gonna eat, or are you just here to be annoying?”

“Oh, I ate already. I’m just here for the show.”

You narrow your eyes at him, a smirk playing at the corner of your mouth. “Seriously, what’s your deal? You get some kind of thrill out of torturing me?”

He’s an asshole, but damn, he’s the kind of asshole that almost makes you laugh.

Jack flashes a devilish grin, clearly enjoying the chaos he's creating. "You're sharp. I like that. Smart women are way more fun to mess with." He leans back, arms crossed, his eyes twinkling with mischief as if he's already plotting his next move.

Luke huffs a laugh, the sound full of fond exasperation. He rolls his eyes, his messy hair falling into his face as he nudges Jack with his shoulder. “Just ignore him. He thrives on being a menace,” he says, shaking his head, but you can tell he's not actually mad.

Jack grins even wider, clearly proud of himself. “Yep. It’s what I do best,” he says, puffing out his chest like he’s just announced some kind of grand achievement.

You rest your elbows on the table, watching as Luke flips an omelet with impressive skill. “Okay, I’ll bite—how did you get so good at this?”

“Gotta learn some life skills when you live with Jack. Otherwise, you starve." He shoots his brother a pointed look, one that’s half annoyance, half fondness.

Jack scoffs, dramatically pressing a hand to his chest like he’s been wronged. "That’s unfair. I provide entertainment." His voice is teasing, but there’s a clear twinkle in his eye.

Luke snorts, barely stifling a laugh. "Entertainment doesn’t make up for the fact that you once tried to microwave a frozen pizza."

Your head snaps up at that, eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. "I’m sorry, what?"

Jack groans, cheeks flushing with a rare hint of embarrassment. "It was one time, and the oven took too long!" he mutters defensively, but you can see the red creeping up his neck.

Luke smirks, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he gestures vaguely toward the stove. "You almost burned the apartment down," he points out, no trace of sympathy in his voice.

Jack waves a dismissive hand. "That’s an exaggeration," he says, clearly attempting to downplay the incident, but his voice betrays the tiniest hint of guilt.

Luke shoots you a sly look, his eyes dancing with amusement as he leans in, like he’s about to let you in on a secret. “The microwave was smoking,” he adds, his voice dropping low, the tone almost playful—like he’s about to drop some juicy gossip.

Your jaw drops in disbelief. "Oh my God."

Luke, clearly pleased with the chaos he’s caused, gestures at Jack with the spatula like he’s just won some kind of victory. "See? This is why I learned how to cook."

Jack grins wide, unbothered. "And I get to reap the benefits, so really, we both win," he says with a cheeky shrug, as if his utter lack of skill somehow balances out Luke’s culinary expertise.

You laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. "I don’t know how you put up with him."

Luke smirks,"It’s a daily struggle," he says, voice deadpan, but the small curve of his lips gives away the amusement he’s trying to hide.

Jack grins, shaking his head slightly. “Oh, the betrayal. I’m crushed,” he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm, though the smirk gives him away.

Luke just rolls his eyes and slides the finished omelet onto a plate before setting it down in front of you.

You look down at it, genuinely impressed by how perfect it looks. Then, you glance back at Luke, a little taken aback. "Not gonna lie… this looks really good."

Luke’s grin widens, his eyes briefly locking with yours, the kind of connection that makes the moment feel charged. "Told you."

You pick up your fork, still a little skeptical, and take a bite. Holy hell.

Your eyes go wide in surprise. "Oh my God. This is actually amazing."

Jack leans in, looking smug...again. "See? I wasn’t lying." He gives you a little wink, clearly basking in the moment like he’s somehow been proven right.

Luke smirks, pleased by the compliment. “I take my breakfast very seriously.”

“Clearly. This might be the best decision I’ve made today.” You shake your head, chewing.

Jack gasps dramatically. “Wow. So staying was a better decision than leaving?”

You pause, realizing what you just admitted.

Jack grins like he’s just scored a win, and for a second, you seriously consider wiping that smug look off his face.

Luke’s smile, however, is filled with pure happiness, as if this moment is exactly what he’s been waiting for.

You sigh, stabbing your omelet. “I’m never gonna live this down, am I?”

Jack beams. “Absolutely not.”

Luke leans closer, his voice suddenly lower, more intimate. “I mean, I’m glad you stayed. It’s not every day I get a pretty girl in my kitchen, making my morning way more interesting.”

You freeze, fork halfway to your mouth. His words hang in the air, electric.

“Oh, so now I’m ‘pretty,’ huh?” you tease, trying to maintain your composure, though your heart skips a beat.

Luke raises an eyebrow, a slow, confident smile curling on his lips. “Oh, I thought that was obvious.” His gaze flickers down to your lips, his voice dropping even lower. “You’ve been keeping me on my toes since I woke up.”

Your cheeks warm, but you force yourself to look away, focusing on your omelet. “Flattery won’t make me forget about you being 21.”

Luke’s grin widens, and he leans in a little closer, lowering his voice just enough that only you can hear. “Maybe not. But I think it’s a pretty good start.”

Jack, completely oblivious to the flirtation unfolding right under his nose, leans back on the kitchen island with a self-satisfied grin. “God, I can’t believe I’m witnessing this. I thought I was supposed to be the one who charmed the ladies.”

Luke snorts, rolling his eyes at his brother but keeping his focus on you. “Jack’s the type to talk about it. I’m the type to show it.”

Your breath catches in your throat. That was smooth. Really smooth.

You take another bite of your omelet, trying to hide the smile spreading across your face. “You sure you don’t just want me to stay for the food?”

Luke leans back, his gaze softening as he gently takes your left hand in his, his thumb slowly tracing circles over your knuckles. “I mean… if that’s your only reason for sticking around, I won’t complain,” he murmurs, a playful yet tender smile curving his lips. “But I like to think I’ve got more to offer than just my cooking skills.”

His words, along with the warmth in his eyes, wash over you like a wave, pulling you in deeper. You lock eyes with him, your breath catching as your pulse quickens. There’s something in the way he’s looking at you, something that makes it impossible to think straight.

Then Jack clears his throat loudly, and you break the spell, feeling a little embarrassed.

“Alright, alright,” Jack says, clearly enjoying the discomfort he’s just caused. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone so you can finish your breakfast in peace. No need to make me a third wheel.”

You roll your eyes, but Luke doesn’t seem to mind. He just shrugs, unfazed.

“Good idea. Go entertain yourself, Jack.”

Jack winks. “Don’t mind if I do.” He stands up and heads for the door, adding, “You two just make sure to keep it PG—some of us don’t need to see that much chemistry before our coffee kicks in.”

You watch as Jack exits, still grinning like the mischievous brat he is.

As the door clicks behind Jack, the quiet of the kitchen settles in, leaving just you and Luke alone, the lingering tension between you two impossible to ignore. Luke shifts, his hands still resting on your hands as he pulls you gently into his lap. Your heart beats a little faster at the sudden closeness, but you refuse to let the thrill of it distract you from the conversation you know needs to happen.

You take a deep breath, looking up into his eyes—eyes that are soft but hold that familiar spark of mischief, the kind that makes it hard to think straight. He tilts his head slightly, a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he runs his thumb over your hand, tracing slow circles. The warmth of his touch makes your breath hitch, but you bite your lip, determined to have this talk.

“Luke,” you start, your voice softer than you intended, “We need to talk about last night. About... us.”

Luke's expression changes, the playful gleam fading into something more intense. He doesn’t pull away, though. Instead, he tightens his grip on your waist, pulling you just a little closer, and his voice drops an octave. “I thought we were past talking. I thought we were just... enjoying each other.”

His words make your pulse quicken, but you hold firm. You need to address this.

“I’m serious,” you say, your voice steady, though your chest betrays you with its nervous flutter. “I need to know where this is going, Luke. You’re 21, I’m 27. That’s a six-year difference. I’ve been through more in my life. I want a family soon. I want stability. Not... something fleeting.”

Luke’s gaze darkens, and his thumb continues its slow, soothing motion over your skin, but there’s a new intensity in his eyes. He’s quiet for a moment, absorbing your words. The air feels thick with unspoken thoughts, the weight of what you’ve just said hanging between you.

“You think I don’t want the same things?” he asks, his voice steady but with a sharp edge, not defensive—more... thoughtful. “I’m not some kid just looking for a fling. I’ve thought this through. I’m looking for something real. I’ve spent too much time in meaningless situations to want that anymore. I went to our date because I was looking for something serious. And my friend told me you’d be looking for the same thing.”

He lets your words settle, his eyes never leaving yours. “After spending the night talking with you, I felt like I wasn’t just talking to someone who’s interesting—I felt like I was talking to someone who gets it. Someone who’s looking for the same kind of connection. I’m not here for something that’ll fizzle out in a few weeks. I’m here because... I think you might be the person I’ve been waiting for.”

His words hit you in a way you weren’t prepared for. You’re caught off guard, unsure how to respond, but something stirs inside you. Something warm, something you didn’t expect. You can feel the truth of what he’s saying in your chest, and for the first time, you start to question the assumptions you’d made.

“Yeah, but you’re still figuring things out,” you say, your voice shaky now, a trace of worry creeping in. “You’re just starting out in life. Maybe you don’t want the same kind of commitment I do. I need someone who’s already ready to settle down.”

Luke doesn’t hesitate. His fingers slide up to your jaw, his touch firm but tender, like he’s grounding you to the moment. His gaze holds yours, no longer playful, but filled with something deeper. Something real.

“I’m ready for that,” he murmurs, his voice soft but full of conviction. “I know what I want. And I want you. If you’re worried about my age, let me show you I’m more than just a number.”

His words are almost a whisper, but there’s a quiet confidence in them that sends a thrill through you. His lips are so close now, you can feel his breath on your skin as he leans in, his forehead resting against yours. “I’m not asking for a lifetime yet, but I’m asking for the chance to prove myself. To prove that I’m capable of giving you the kind of future you want.”

You close your eyes, your breath catching in your throat. He’s not backing down, and the sincerity in his words leaves you no room to doubt him. But still, you can’t help but voice the doubts that swirl in your mind.

“I don’t want to get hurt, Luke,” you whisper, finally letting yourself admit the fear you’ve been pushing down. “I’ve been through enough heartache. And if you don’t want the same things I do, if you’re not ready for it... I don’t know if I can take that risk.”

Luke leans in just a little more, his lips brushing against your cheek before he pulls back slightly, his hands cradling your face. He’s close enough that you can feel the warmth of his skin, the steadiness of his gaze. “I’m ready for you. Ready for everything that comes with it,” he says, his voice resolute. “I wouldn’t be here, sitting with you like this, if I wasn’t.”

You search his eyes for any sign of hesitation, but there’s none. What you see instead is determination—an unspoken promise that, for all his age, he knows what he wants and is willing to fight for it.

The air between you two shifts, the quiet between you no longer heavy with doubt, but filled with something new. Something that makes your pulse race.

“Okay,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “Then show me.”

At that, his lips crash against yours, the kiss deep and slow, filled with all the unspoken things you’ve both been dancing around. His hands slide to your back, pulling you closer as the kiss deepens. Your hands find their way to his curls, tugging him in as if you can’t get close enough. The world around you fades away—there’s only the feeling of his mouth against yours, the pressure of his body against yours, the shared certainty that whatever this is, it’s more than just physical.

When you finally pull away, both breathless, Luke grins, his forehead resting against yours. 

Luke leans back a little bit, his eyes gleaming with that mischievous glint as he watches you, a teasing smile playing at the corners of his lips. "You know," he says casually, his voice thick with satisfaction, "I have to admit... I’ve never had a night quite like that. You really know how to use that beautiful mouth of yours."

You glance over at him, raising an eyebrow. "Oh? What do you mean?"

Luke shifts a little closer, his grin widening. "Well, I’ve had my fair share of nights, but... last night? You...You were next level. Honestly, I wasn’t expecting to be that blown away."

You feel your cheeks flush, a mix of embarrassment and flattery. "Really? Well, I kinda feel the same. I’ve never... finished two times in one night."

Luke’s eyes narrow in surprise. "What?! Baby, that wasn’t even that much. I think we can go for four or five next time." He winks, his tone playful, but there's a hint of challenge in his voice.

You laugh, trying to hide the blush creeping up your neck. "Is that so? You really think you can keep up?"

Luke smirks, leaning in just a little closer, his voice low and confident. "Oh, I’m definitely up for the challenge. You just wait."

You raise an eyebrow, a teasing smile forming on your lips. "Maybe this whole 'young boyfriend' thing isn’t such a bad idea after all... Good stamina and all that."

Luke grins, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Told ya!" He leans in, planting a series of quick, soft kisses across your face and neck, each one sending a delightful shiver through your skin. You can't help but laugh at his actions, brushing your nose against his cheek as your giggles mix with his gentle kisses.

Just as you're starting to recover from his playful assault, a voice slices through the moment like an ice-cold splash of water.

"Can you drop the sex talk, guys?" Jack's voice rings out from the kitchen doorway, dripping with disgust but clearly amused by the whole situation. "I didn’t need to know this much about my little brother."

You freeze, eyes wide, before you turn to Luke, who looks utterly unfazed, that smug, victorious grin plastered across his face. It’s as if he’s just won some kind of prize, and he's wearing it like a badge of honor.

Embarrassment creeps up your neck, but before you can even process the awkwardness, you find yourself laughing. The tension dissolves in the shared amusement of the moment. Luke just shrugs casually, looking way too pleased with himself.

"Relax, Jack. It’s called maturity," you reply with a wink, and Luke chuckles, pressing another kiss to your cheek.

Jack groans dramatically, rolling his eyes. "You two are gross. And seriously, for the future, we need some rules. These walls are way too thin. I do not need to hear you two in action. Thank God I wasn’t home yesterday."

You let out a horrified gasp, hiding your face in Luke’s neck. "Jesus, Jack," you mumble, half laughing, half mortified.

Luke just keeps laughing, clearly entertained by the situation. "You heard nothing. Just a couple of adults figuring things out," he teases.

Jack mutters something under his breath before calling out with a playful, exaggerated gag. "God, I need to vomit. You two are so disgusting."

"Guess this means you're sticking around, huh?" Luke whispers against your mouth, his voice low and warm, sending another wave of heat through you.

You nod, content, leaning into him with a soft smile. "Guess so," you murmur, brushing your lips against his in return.

Jack, clearly fed up with the display, huffs dramatically and walks away with an exaggerated sigh. "You two are the worst."

As he exits, you look up at Luke, feeling that warmth in your chest—the comfort, the excitement, all mixed together. You can get used to mornings like this, even if it means dealing with Jack’s teasing. Or, you think with a smirk, maybe you’ll just strangle him in his sleep. Problem solved.

Luke catches the glint in your eye and chuckles, clearly knowing exactly what you’re thinking.

“Careful,” he says with a playful smirk, “I’d hate to lose my new favourite person just because you can’t handle my brother.”

You laugh, pulling him in for one last kiss.

Part 2

[rafesangelita]

Rafe x reader x Barry threesome??

warnings: dealer!rafe, arguing, threesome, dubcon, face sitting, oral (m & f. receiving), barry is so sleazy in this

“this isn’t all my money, country club.” barry ran a hand down his face, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. rafe was quick with his response, an uneasy feeling settling over you. “look, there’s a party tomorrow night back on figure eight, if you could lend me something to flip i’ll have the rest of your paper, plus interest, alright?” barry shook his head, feeling for the gun he had in the waistband of his shorts.

rafe’s eyes traveled down to where the metal glinted under the dim light of barry’s trailer. “come on, man, i got my girl here.” your boyfriend took a seat next to you, pulling you into his side. “calm down with the gun, barry, forreal.” you glanced up, only to see rafe’s business partner already looking at you. “i got bills to pay, rafe, and i need to collect.” he sat back in his chair, a smirk forming on his lips.

“you didn’t tell me your girl was so pretty.. what is that? ‘that lace?” you looked down at your stockings that peeked out from under your skirt, nodding as rafe fixed your bottoms so barry couldn’t look at you anymore. “just let us leave from here and we won’t have any problems, i’ll bring you your money asap and we could go on with our business.” rafe wanted nothing more than to gouge barry’s eyes out of his skull for looking at any other part of you besides your face.

“m’afraid i can’t do that, country club.” rafe scoffed, getting up from the dingy couch before pulling you up with him. “fuck you, man, we’re outta here. c’mon, baby-” barry chuckled, “i wouldn’t do that if i were you, unless you want to be gunned down as soon as you open that door. ‘would be a shame if your little girlfriend was left here all by herself..” you shivered at his words, both you and rafe exchanging looks.

“do you fuckin’ hear yourself? i told you i don’t have the rest of your money, barry. what do you want?” rafe watched as barry’s eyes moved over to you, basically sizing you up as he motioned his head in your direction. “her.” rafe stared blankly at the man in front of him, the gears in his head turning. “i could kill you right now.” you swallowed nervously, eyeing rafe as his face began to redden.

“yeah? so could i.” your heart dropped when you heard the metal click of barry’s gun. “no!” you cut in, both men zeroing in on you. “there’s no need for that.. barry.” rafe looked confused as you got closer to him, “please don’t do that.” you met rafe’s gaze, your own eyes brimming with tears. “i’m not letting this fucker touch you-” he grabbed your wrist pulling you back before barry could do anything.

“he said he was going to shoot you!” you whispered, nearly losing your footing. rafe knew barry wasn’t playing, he’d do anything if money was involved, even if that meant killing his partner. “just let him, rafe..” your voice broke rafe’s heart in two, the look on your face forever ingrained in his brain. “no.” he shook his head. you turned towards barry anyways. “i’ll do it, but only under one condition.”

both men waited with uneven breaths. “rafe has to join us.” at yours words, barry glanced at your boyfriend behind you. “fuck no.” he got up, about to reach for you before rafe got in the way. “i can’t do it without him.” you shook your head, hiding behind rafe. barry huffed, shooting daggers in rafe’s direction. “fine.” you clung to rafe’s arm, a chill running down your spine as barry motioned both of you towards the hallway.

“after you.”

if someone told you, you’d be sitting on barry’s face while rafe shoved his cock down your throat as a solution for missing payment, you wouldn’t believe them. “son of a bitch, you’re one lucky bastard, country club. she’s so fucking sweet.” both you and rafe ignored barry’s words, a groan rumbling from rafe’s chest when he felt you swallow around him. your hips moved languidly against barry’s mouth, the tip of his nose nudging your clit.

in a way this wasn’t so bad. with barry underneath you, and your view only being rafe’s pleasure filled face, it was easy to pretend like the man wasn’t even there. since you didn’t let barry take you the way he wanted to, he settled for fucking his fist while eating you like a man starved. you couldn’t deny the way barry’s tongue worked skillfully on your soaked cunt, but it was nowhere near as good as the way of your boyfriend’s.

you looked down when you felt barry’s bruising grip on your thigh, a whimper leaving your lips at the pain. rafe swore to himself he was going to punch barry when he least expected it as pay back for hurting you. softly tugging on the roots of your hair, rafe mumbled a ‘keep your eyes on me, baby’ as he felt himself nearing his climax. “fuck..” barry grunted, spilling his load in his hand while working to make you cum on his tongue.

you cried out when barry sucked your clit, your hips stuttering as your orgasm hit you in waves of ecstasy. rafe followed suit, his jaw going slack as he painted the inside of your mouth with his cum, his fingertips threading themselves in your hair to keep you in place. swallowing rafe’s load was second nature to you and it drove him crazy. you sighed through your nose, rafe moving your mouth off of his cock.

he quickly pulled up his jeans, adjusting his belt before pulling you off of barry’s face. “there, asshole. you don’t get to relish in it afterwards.” your legs were still shaking from the aftershocks of your orgasm, your boyfriend dressing you as barry laid there on his bed. he looked like he was coming down from the best high he ever had, even licking the remnants of you from his lips. “you okay?” rafe cupped your face, stroking your chin. “mhmm.” you hummed, ready to get out of barry’s trailer already.

“consider yourself debt free.” barry sat up, “but next time you’re short, i’m fucking her.”

[ignoringmyexams]

jason is in the kitchen after patrol the night before halloween, wondering if he should get some takeaway, when his phone rings.

"who the hell calls this late at night? its 4am.."

its your name. he picks up at once.

"hey, you awake? can i come over?" , by the tone in your voice, it seems like you wont take no for an answer.

"it doesnt matter" you continue, "im already standing outside of your door"

this is the only safehouses you know about, and jason has been careful to make you think that he lives there all the time. usually he wouldnt risk you seeing his red hood gear, but at 4am, he thought it was safe to head here, as it was his nearest and largest apartment. he really didnt want to run 10 minutes through the cold and rainy october night to get to the next safehouse, and so now he finds himself rushing to hide his gear someplace you wont find it.

"uh, sure, just wait and ill let you in" he manages to stammer out, feeling nervous not only because he didnt want you to find out his secret identity. he never thought he would end up in this situation that night he met you at that dive bar on the outskirts of crime alley. you were so obviously out of place there, hanging out with your friends, anybody could see that you were students from gotham university, on the hunt for a cheap beer. he and roy had quickly stepped in under the guise of being friendly drunks, to protect you from the leer of some of gothams underbelly.

since then, youd kept coming to the dive bar, and jason kept coming to look out for you. after a while he just accepted that youd managed to work your way into his life, and now hed drive halfway across the city to meet you for lunch after your lectures. at some point, he noticed that his gaze seemed to linger longer that it had used to, and by now he had realized that he was mad about you. something he hoped you still were oblivious to.

"i promise you, you wont regret it. ive brought takeaway!" you chirped back at him.

jason lets you in, and hungrily takes the bag from you. by now youve learned that dumplings are a quick way to get him to do your bidding.

"shouldnt you be sleeping right now? i remember you saying that you have an early lecture tomorrow, or, today i guess." jason asked you. in fact he knew you had an early lecture, because he had your schedule memorized by now, to be able to suprise you with lunch. at this point his brain blocked out other dates and appointments to be able to remember more about you, someting that got him in trouble with bruce every time he forgot training sessions, or family meetings.

you were sat on the sofa, taking up as much space as you possibly could, something you did every time you came over. jason watched as your face turned deadly serious.

"jason, what im about to tell you cant leave this room. you have to promise me."

"of course" he reassured, worried now, "you can tell me everything",

"you sure?" you shot back, "i dont want this to change our relationship, or the way you view me, ok? im still the same person ive always been."

now he was really worried.

"im batman." you said with a completely straight face. "vengeance never sleeps, and so neither can i."

he looked at you with the most deadpan expression he could manage at that point. you held out in silence for what seemed an impressive amount of time before you cracked.

"its true" you wheezed out, "my friends want me to be batman at the halloween party tomorrow, but the costume hasnt arrived yet. and so ive got to use last years costume instead."

the infamous costume of halloween last year. the one jason never got to see you in, as he didnt know you at the time. he hasnt even seen a picture, but the thought that you own it is enough to drive him crazy.

"and so i wondered", you continued, "if i, pretty pleeeasee, could borrow your leather jacket, you know, the one that maches red hoods perfectly?"

now usually, jason would have said no. no one touches that jacket. but its you. and jason was also invited to said halloween party. and if youre going to make him socialize, he might as well have something to look at while doing it. and so he throws the jacket at you.

"try it on", and you do.

although jason is taller and broader than you, you still have some muscle on you, that fills out the arms and shoulders of the jacket in a way that makes it look just oversized instead of akward.

jason almost wants you to keep it. the smile he receives when he lets you borrow it is all he can think of the rest of that night, as he eats the dumplings you left for him.

[starryhyuck]

pairing: challengers!johnjae x afab!reader

words: 3.5k+

summary: johnny suh and jeong jaehyun are determined to prove their worth to you in this year’s tennis competition. you all end up receiving more than you expected.

genre: smut

warnings: there is some mlm johnjae so please don’t read if you’re uncomfortable with that, double penetration, cunnilingus, oral sex, handjobs, talks of creampies, three way make out

thank you for 9.5k followers!!

“Your serve is fucking insane.”

You hum noncommittally, fingers tightening around your bottle to spray more water into your mouth. You wipe the sweat from your brow as Donghyuck continues to eye you with amazement.

“You do know that ball boys don’t usually get to talk to the players, right?” You comment, a little perturbed by how easy it is for the younger man to approach you.

His eyes continue to sparkle despite your demeaning remark. Unbeknownst to you, Donghyuck signed up to become the tennis team’s lackey just to be able to see you in action.

You were the crown jewel of the university’s tennis program, having been recruited from the early stages of your high school career. Much speculation occurred at your decision to go to college first instead of turning to a professional career. You insisted to your parents that your education was still important despite your only shining skill being the ability to hit a ball with a racket. You slaved away most of your hours on this court, practicing to become the next best tennis player South Korea has ever seen.

“I’m looking forward to your match on Saturday,” Donghyuck says, eagerly handing you another tennis ball when you outstretch your palm to him.

Your eyebrow quirks up at the mention. The Korea Open kicked off this weekend and the press was convinced you would gain another title under your belt. You normally don’t enjoy goading them on, but you have a good feeling about the tournament this year.

“Scatter, pea brain,” Suyeon hisses when she approaches you two, flicking Donghyuck’s ear. The boy grumbles before returning to his place near the wall. Once he’s out of earshot, Suyeon turns her attention back to you. She’s dressed in one of her tightest skirts, indicating she has plans set in motion for tonight. “Are you ready to go yet?”

You shake your head at her inquiry. “I’m not done. Go ahead without me.”

She whines pitifully, clutching your arm tightly. “I can’t! You know I get much more attention when I walk in with you.”

You sigh. Suyeon has been chattering nonstop to you about all of the players who have flown in for the games this week. Tonight was the first party hosted by your university to welcome them, and your roommate took that as a green light to snag one of the tennis players for herself.

“I still need to practice my backhand-“

“Do you want me to get on my knees and beg? Because I’ll do it.”

To prevent Suyeon from embarrassing herself even further, you hoist her arm and tug her away. She rejoices when you zip up your racket and bid your goodbyes to the remaining staff on the court. You do your best to ignore Donghyuck’s cheerful holler after you.

When you ask Suyeon if you can simply wear your practice gear, she throws you a disgusted look and quickly tugs you back to your shared dorm to change. You allow her to play dress up as she wants, wrapping your figure into a body hugging dress from the back of your closet. As soon as she deems you decent enough for the party, she hauls you over to the university’s lounge, where tonight’s events will be taking place.

Your first thought when you enter the party is that you would much rather be on the court. Just as Suyeon predicted, every eye turns to you when you step inside.

Whispers of tennis prodigy echo around the room and you try your best not to roll your eyes. Suyeon, on the other hand, basks in your popularity and bats her eyes towards the players that begin to approach the both of you. You decide to dodge the awkward conversation, excusing yourself to grab a refreshment.

It’s in the midst of downing a lemonade when you feel a presence linger behind you.

You turn to see none other than Johnny Suh and Jeong Jaehyun, the winners of last year’s doubles title. You heard that Jaehyun had enrolled into the same university as you while Johnny opted to go professional.

Despite the distance, the two seem closer than ever. And tonight, they stare at you like you’re their last meal.

“Hi,” you greet with an eyebrow raised.

Johnny speaks first, saying your name with a devilish grin. “We were wondering if we would see you here.”

He starts to introduce himself and Jaehyun, but you hold out a hand to stop him.

“I know who you are. I watched you two crush it at last year’s match,” you say, humming while you refill your glass. Jaehyun’s eyebrow ticks up at the revelation while Johnny’s smirk widens. “I’m guessing you’re both back to defend your title?”

“That, and to prove we’re just as good in the singles,” Johnny answers. You swallow a laugh at his unwavering confidence.

“I see you practice on the court sometimes,” Jaehyun says, diverting the topic of conversation back to you. “You’re incredible — I’ve never seen a backhand like yours.”

You smile at him, thanking him for the compliment. Jaehyun was definitely the more timid one of the pair, while you could tell Johnny led most of their conversations.

You feel like you’re in the lion’s den, with Johnny ready to pounce and Jaehyun waiting for permission to do the same.

Luckily, Suyeon rushes over and becomes your unknowing savior. Her hand wraps around your upper arm and she whines pitifully in your ear.

“SOS! SOS!”

“What is it?” You ask, eyes still remaining on the two men in front of you. Johnny’s fingers are slowly tightening around his glass and you wonder if he has the strength to break it. Jaehyun holds his a little more delicately, but you can see him clenching his fist behind his back.

You imagine one of them tangling their hands through your hair while the other wraps his around your neck.

“I don’t know anything about tennis,” Suyeon sighs, bringing you out from your lewd fantasy. “Come and help me, please?”

You smile at the two players, setting your glass down on a nearby table.

“Apologies, boys. Duty calls.”

You feel the weight of their stare follow you as you walk over to help Suyeon battle tennis talk.

You ponder if they’re desperate enough to stay behind for you.

—

You receive your answer later in the night.

As soon as Suyeon is all set for a lovely evening with a pretty player named Yuju, you start to make your way to the exit. You’ve had enough social interaction for one event, but two figures lingering by the door makes you second guess that decision.

Jaehyun adjusts his posture when he catches sight of you while Johnny leans casually against the wall, trying to make it seem as if he’s not affected by your appearance.

“You’re still here,” you hum, folding your arms across your chest. Both pairs of eyes quickly dart down to the swell of your breasts before moving upwards, acting like they weren’t just checking you out.

“Party’s too fun,” Johnny bites, sarcasm flooding his tone.

“I’m sure,” you chuckle dryly.

“Is your friend all good to go?” Jaehyun asks, and you can tell from the tone of his voice that he genuinely wants to know the answer.

You smile at him. “Yes, I was able to rescue her from the awful tennis small talk.”

Johnny kicks off from his position against the wall, approaching you with determination. Jaehyun eyes him carefully, and you realize from their body language that they have done this dance before. You think about how many other girls have fallen into their open trap.

“Well, maybe tennis talk isn’t all that bad. Especially in a quieter setting.”

Johnny reaches into his pocket, and pulls out his spare key set to one of the dorms the university is housing them in. He dangles them in front of your face, and you drink in his smug expression and Jaehyun’s anxious anticipation at your answer.

You tilt your head teasingly. “You don’t beat around the bush, do you?”

Johnny shrugs. “Nothing wrong with a few tennis players strategizing before the match, right?”

Against your better judgment, you follow the two back to their dorm. You ignore the way Johnny’s fingers brush against the back of your thigh as he walks behind you and how Jaehyun’s hand continuously knocks into yours, pinky fingers brushing by each other. They clearly have set motives for the night and you would be lying if you said your mouth isn’t foaming at the idea of taking them both at once.

Jaehyun unlocks the door for you both, and Johnny keeps a steady hand on your lower back as he guides you in. As you expected, the university set them up in a double room, with separate twin beds pressed against each wall.

Before you can comment on the size of the room, a hand snakes around your middle, pulling you against Johnny’s backside. His fingers brush your hair to the side, pressing kisses against your exposed neck. Jaehyun has fallen to his knees in front of you, pushing up the fabric of your dress so he can catch a glimpse of your panties.

You make no moves to stop either of them, hands intertwining with Johnny’s as he continues his assault on your throat. You faintly register that you’ll have to cover up his marks before your match tomorrow, but Jaehyun nipping you at your thighs brings you out of your thoughts.

“So you’ve done this before?” You confirm while Johnny’s hands harshly squeeze your hips.

“Maybe,” Johnny hums teasingly, drawing out the last syllable. “But no one as pretty as you.”

You scoff and roll your eyes at his cheesy retort. You look down to see Jaehyun staring up at you, eyes filled with unbridled lust. You stroke his cheek gently and giggle.

“Are you waiting for permission?”

Johnny chuckles from behind you. “He’s waiting for you to sit on his face, sweet girl.”

Your eyebrow quirks up in surprise. Multiple exclamation marks pop up in your head but you’re not one to hesitate if someone is willingly offering to provide you an orgasm, so you bunch up your dress to your waist and hover over Jaehyun’s mouth. Johnny helps you in the process, pulling your underwear to the side and guiding your hips until Jaehyun’s tongue brushes against your folds. You gasp at the feeling and Jaehyun wastes no time diving into you, eagerly eating your cunt like his life depends on it.

Johnny’s hands have wandered to the straps of your dress, pulling it down and fondling your breasts. His fingers roll over your nipples, hardened and peaked from the intense foreplay.

He whispers in your ear, playing the devil on your shoulder. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Jae loves it when it’s sloppy like this, loves to feel his mouth being used.” Your eyes roll to the back of your head, catching the implication in his tone that Johnny has been in your spot before. “He likes it better when you tug on his hair like this,” Johnny says as he guides your hand to Jaehyun’s head, allowing you to pull the strands. “It lets him know he’s doing a good job.”

Jaehyun’s lips swallow every drop of essence your pussy grants him. He seems to be thoroughly enjoying the experience, hands grabbing your ass and pulling you deeper onto him.

It’s not long before you’re completely riding Jaehyun’s face, desperately pushing yourself back and forth on his mouth in pursuit of your orgasm. You whimper when his tongue flicks over your clit, teasing the nub until you’re begging for him to make you cum.

“Please, please,” you whine, fingers tugging on his hair harshly. “Wanna cum, Jae, please.”

“Let the princess get what she wants,” Johnny says to Jaehyun. “Can’t have the tennis prodigy all wound up before her big match.”

Jaehyun follows Johnny’s orders, lips wrapping around your clit and sucking until your orgasm hits you. You cry and ride out your high until your thighs start shaking. Johnny’s arms hoist you up and before you know it, he’s throwing you onto one of the beds in your post-orgasm haze. You hear the clinking of belts and a hand wraps around your throat, squeezing gently.

“Sit up, pretty girl. Want to see my cock slide down your throat,” Jaehyun whispers to you. His mouth is still covered in the remnants of your orgasm, and he casually licks his lips to capture some of the taste.

Johnny slides in to your left as you sit up, feet dangling over the side of the twin bed. You pull your dress off, flinging it across the room. With Jaehyun on your right, you give him your attention first. Your hand trails down his stomach until you’re gently grasping his cock, pulling him from the confines of his briefs. Your mouth waters at the sight of him, long and pink with pre-cum gushing from the tip. You can’t believe he was this hard the entire time he ate you out.

Your head turns to Johnny, who is smirking down at you. His fingers are already wrapped around his base, pumping slowly while he watches you. He’s thicker than Jaehyun but equally as aroused. You replace his hand with yours, mimicking his previous motions.

You find a rhythm between the two, alternating between sucking one cock and stroking the other, and switching before one of them can complain about the lack of attention. Johnny’s hand possessively grips your hair while Jaehyun keeps a solid pinch at the nape of your neck, keeping you steady.

“What a nice picture this would make,” Johnny laughs sinisterly, observing as you lick him from his base to his tip. “Maybe we should commemorate this moment, Jae. They could put it up in the Hall of Fame.”

“What? Right over a plaque that says best cocksucker?” Jaehyun chuckles. “Add best pussy too while you’re at it. Never tasted a cunt so sweet.”

You ignore their degrading comments, too enraptured in taking their cocks down your throat as best as you can. Just the thought of having them both inside you is enough to make you clench your thighs, chasing friction as slick drips from your cunt.

“Hm, wonder what the little princess is thinking about,” Johnny murmurs. “Maybe what it would be like to take two cocks at once?”

You whimper around Jaehyun’s length, his tip hitting the back of your throat. Jaehyun clicks his tongue, giving two experimental thrusts that has you gagging.

“Selfish of her,” Jaehyun comments to Johnny. “Wants all the attention for herself, on and off the court.”

“Let’s not make her wait any longer then.”

You cough a little when Jaehyun pulls himself out of your mouth. Johnny tugs on your hair harshly until you’re facing him. He leans down to press his lips to yours, tongues fighting for dominance as he pushes you back down on the bed. You clutch the back of his neck, hungrily kissing him until you’re gasping for breath.

They adjust your body so Jaehyun lies underneath you, cock prodding at your waiting hole. Johnny hovers above you, spitting at your pussy and pushing two fingers into your waiting heat.

You mewl at the intrusion and Johnny grins. “Just as I predicted, Jae, still wet and ready for us.”

When he pulls his digits out, you release a croaky laugh.

“So which one of you plans on taking home the singles trophy tomorrow?”

You feel them eye each other at your question, both lining themselves up to sink into you.

“The best man will win,” Jaehyun mumbles in your ear, not sounding so confident in his answer.

You smile, sensing an open opportunity to encourage some harmless fun. You can already picture the two of them tomorrow — sweaty and desperate to prove themselves as the best. The thought of them being so competitive for the title causes more slick to gush from your pussy.

“How about this then — tonight, you both have to pull out. But tomorrow, whoever wins the title gets to cum deep inside me,” you drawl, watching as Johnny’s eyes cloud over and feeling Jaehyun’s hands tighten around your waist. “And I’ll wear your cum in my panties all day to show everyone who I belong to.”

The idea of them staking a claim on you drives them into a frenzy. You whine when they both push into your cunt, fighting for the tight space between their ridiculously large cocks. You collapse onto Jaehyun’s front, head falling against his shoulder.

“Slut,” Johnny growls at you. “That’s how it’s going to be, hm? Pretty princess wants cum dripping down her legs as she practices her backhand?”

Jaehyun groans in your ear. “Fuck, I want to see that so badly.”

Your mind is drawing a blank, heat filling your stomach as the both of them continue to press into you.

Jaehyun chuckles. “Maybe we didn’t think this through, John. Looks like her pussy can’t even fit the both of us.”

“Maybe you’re right, Jae.”

When they start to pull out, your head whips up with an unmatched fury.

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

“There she is,” Johnny smirks. “Princess wants us to break her pretty pussy, is that it?”

Your competitive nature flares up. “Trust me, I can take it.”

Johnny and Jaehyun exchange another round of looks and eyebrow raises. You feel utterly unprepared when Jaehyun plants his feet on the bed and Johnny situates his knees, his hands grabbing your thighs. They begin a furious pace, with Jaehyun roughly thrusting upwards and Johnny railing you until your head hits the wall.

You nearly scream, convinced that the neighboring dorms are going to file noise complaints by the end of the night.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you hiss at the feeling of two cocks driving into you.

You feel completely full as they stretch you out. Johnny’s hand comes down to your clit to try and ease some of the pain. You crumble when the pain ebbs into waves of pleasure, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“There you go,” Jaehyun coos in your ear. “Just let us take care of you, baby.”

Two fingers slide into your mouth and you clutch Jaehyun’s wrist, gagging on his digits.

“Can’t wait to cum inside this tight cunt tomorrow,” Johnny grunts.

You hear Jaehyun scoff and give another harsh thrust, almost knocking you against the wall again. You blubber on his fingers but he doesn’t seem to mind the drool slipping down his wrist.

“What makes you think you’ll be the sure winner?” Jaehyun asks between throaty groans.

Johnny chuckles at the question. “Come on, Jae. You can’t be serious.”

“And if I was?”

Your orgasm hits you without warning and you cry, back arching and thighs shaking from the intense pleasure. You have to blink a few times before regaining your senses, and you’re surprised by what you find when you can finally see clearly.

Johnny’s lips are locked with Jaehyun’s, their tongues fighting for dominance in a messy kiss. They’re both still pounding into you albeit at a slower pace, suddenly enraptured by one another as Johnny’s hand moves from your clit to tangle into Jaehyun’s hair. The latter moans underneath you, removing his fingers from your mouth to lazily grab a handful of your breast as you remain sandwiched between them.

You didn’t think it was possible, but you grow more aroused at the sight. Filthy squelching sounds fill the room and your body starts to overheat from the constant stimulation.

Johnny’s eyes drift over to lock with yours, and he smirks into Jaehyun’s mouth at the sight of you. He pulls away from Jaehyun, who eagerly chases after him. Johnny cups your cheek and attaches his lips to yours, tugging Jaehyun along in the process. The three of you engage in one of the sloppiest make out sessions you’ve ever experienced, combined with a mixture of tongues and breathy gasps.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” Jaehyun suddenly mumbles.

Johnny nods. “Me too. Let’s paint her body, shall we?”

You whine when they pull out of you, furiously stroking their cocks until they find release. You’re mesmerized at the sight of them climaxing, grunting harshly and coloring your stomach with ropes and ropes of their cum.

You collapse into a pile of bones and you feel them start to lick your neck, earnestly tasting the sweat dripping down from your face. You giggle at their unique form of aftercare.

“It seems like-“ you hiss when Johnny squeezes your breast again before continuing. “It seems like you two used up all of your energy. Do you think either one of you still has a chance tomorrow?”

Jaehyun laughs. “Don’t worry about us, baby.”

“Because we’re planning on cumming inside of this sweet cunt for the whole world to see, whether you like it or not,” Johnny finishes.

You swallow at their predatory gazes, shock traveling up your spine when you realize their cocks are already half-hard again.

You’re in big trouble.