#like a “please hold my hand” kind of way

[kashverse]

Please nanami hurt/comfort I'm on my knees🙇‍♀️

the high priestess of the kashverse is incapable of writing angst, you must understand. i still hope you like this though :)

sometimes, you didn’t like how nanami worked himself to the bone. it wasn’t that he resented it—on the contrary, he did it so effortlessly, like it was just part of his existence. cleaning, cooking, making sure yuuji was entertained, doing all the little things that made a house a home. it was admirable, but also exhausting to witness. and whenever you tried to help, he hesitated.

just a split-second pause before he handed you a knife, before he let you fold the laundry, before he let you take something off his plate. it was like he had to fight some deeply ingrained instinct that told him he had to do it all alone. which made you wonder—what were you here for, then? to come home, play with yuuji, and sleep beside him every night? to be a guest in your own marriage? you hated feeling that way. hated the way it simmered inside you, quiet and bitter, whenever you reached for a chore and he gently but firmly redirected you away.

so tonight, you didn’t ask. you just sat down beside him at the kitchen table, took a pod from the basket, and started peeling peas. for a moment, nanami didn’t say anything. he only glanced at you from the corner of his eye, watching as you carefully split open the shell and thumbed out the little green pearls.

"you don’t have to," he murmured after a beat, fingers still working rhythmically, effortlessly. "i know," you said, plucking another pod from the pile. "but i want to."

he sighed—not in annoyance, but something closer to surrender. it was quiet work, the kind that slowed the world down, the kind that didn’t require thinking. and yet, his brows were furrowed, his mouth pressed into that familiar, pensive line.

then, without looking at you—"i’m sorry."

you glanced up, fingers still absently working the peas. "for what?"

"for not letting you help." he exhaled softly, shaking his head. “i don’t—it's not that i don’t think you’re capable. it’s just… easier, sometimes, to do things myself. to have them done a certain way.” you smiled a little. “you mean the right way.” nanami huffed a quiet, amused breath through his nose. "maybe."

"you’re kind of a control freak, you know that?"

"i do."

and yet, despite his usual insistence on perfection, his pace slowed just a little, like he was finally allowing himself to share the weight of the work. silence stretched between you again, but this time, it was comfortable.

and then—"yuuji tried to eat a rock today."

you blinked. "what."

nanami nodded gravely. “he was very confident about it. told me it looked like one of my cookies.” you snorted, shoulders shaking with barely-contained laughter. "which ones?"

"the oatmeal ones."

that did it—you burst into laughter, head tipping back, and nanami tried to hold back his own smile but failed spectacularly, shaking his head in exasperation.

"i swear, he’s going to give me a heart attack before i turn forty."

you giggled, nudging your knee against his under the table. "but he’s cute."

"debatable."

you both fell into an easy rhythm again, peeling peas in quiet companionship, the weight in your chest finally easing. because nanami wasn’t perfect. he messed up. he held on too tight sometimes, carried too much, forgot how to share the load. but he was learning, and that was enough.

[russellbee]

YOU'D THINK THEY'D KNOW BY NOW (OP81)

oscar piastri x fewtrell!golfer!reader (she/her) summary. you and oscar have both started your professional careers, so it's the perfect time to share your relationship with the world. pr makes you wait a bit and chaos ensues. (mainly smau, a little bit of writing) (2.7k) warnings. for sexual implications (but no actual sex) and nosy fans. andi's note!! so this is kind of a condensed version of a series i might write (though i'm not sure). anyway i hope you all enjoy bc i had a lot of fun making this!

nav+masterlist

september, 2022 ->

Lando Norris why does my new teammate follow u

and why do u follow him

whats goin on there 🤨🤨

You lan please tell me ur joking

Lando Norris wait.

HES UR BF?? Ur Bf OScAR?

You …yes???

Lando Norris HES THE GUY WITH THE BITING THING??? 😨😨

You i am blocking you

never bring that up again oh my god

Lando Norris …is it the teeth? he looks like a bunny 🐰

YOU HAVE BLOCKED LANDO NORRIS.

january 2023 ->

yourusername

[caption 1: some fun b4 i go pro...] [caption 2: 📍orlando, florida] [caption 3: @.maxfewtrell @.landonorris]

story replies:

oscarpiastri i think i might have to stick with mini golf 😅

yourusername but i like teaching you golf ☹️☹️ oscarpiastri you just like holding my hands yourusername well duh

maxfewtrell i don't think we can play golf with oscar again

yourusername DONT BE MEAN yourusername he's my bf who cares if he can't swing maxfewtrell i do! i've got a golf ball-sized bruise on my thigh if you want proof yourusername stop crying, there's an ice machine in the hallway 😒

landonorris i am banning you from races idk if i can deal with you and oscar together

yourusername well ur not the fia...so i will now be attending every race i possibly can. just to terrorize you landonorris at least stay in his garage pls. yourusername ...did i tell you what pr said landonorris NO PLS I CANT yourusername it's just till belgium! landonorris brb planning my retirement

yourusername first pro tournament 😁 very happy to have this opportunity (and to be in florida again!)!! thank you @.hiltongrandvacations!

liked by oscarpiastri and others

gatorswgolf We miss you!

yourusername miss you all more!!! 🐊

logansargeant florida golf is always good 😌 (liked by yourusername)

user LOGAN??? user he's shooting his shot ↳ user let him live 😭😭

user that's my golfer ��

user like wydm she's pro now??? 😭☹️

user i think we need another quadrant video of her destroying lando and max in golf 😁 (liked by yourusername)

maxfewtrell swoosh!

landonorris swoosh!! yourusername alright why are you making fun of me... ↳ maxfewtrell we're reminding you of your humble origins ↳ yourusername 😒😒

landonorris your cat looks like he's crying...

yourusername leave him alone 💀 user her cat...?

february 2023 ->

"It's only a four hour difference." Oscar murmurs and you groan into his neck. "Don't remind me." Oscar's hands, warm and comforting, hold you against him. Your suitcase packed for Thailand and Oscar's packed for Bahrain sit near the couch you're lying on.

"We've had worse." He continues, his hand on your lower back squeezing your side in reassurance. You shift your head so you can see Oscar, his recently cut hair and soft smile. "I don't wanna share you, can you just be my trophy boyfriend?" His nose scrunches up when he tilts his head back as he laughs.

"I'd have to work on my golf knowledge before I can do that."

"I don't mind you being a little clueless. ‘Cause then I get to play teacher." You position your knees on either side of Oscar's hips, grinning down at him as you speak. A bright red flush builds on his neck and face. "I think everyone knows that's just your excuse to touch me on a public golf course."

"Obviously," You roll your eyes, face a little warm. Oscar grins, teeth and all. "It's not the worst way to learn when it's from you."

"Yeah?" Oscar sits up more so he's level with you. "Makes it more fun. Since...it's golf."

"Oscar!"

yourusername close friends story

[caption: i want my bf back. but thailand here i come 😭✈️🇹🇭]

story replies:

oscarpiastri we'll see eachother soon ❤️

yourusername ITS NOT SOON ENOUGH oscarpiastri miss you too! yourusername i love u and i miss you already 😭 (oscarpiastri reacted with ❤️)

maxfewtrell it's been like one day.

yourusername ur one strike from being kicked off my close friends maxfewtrell i actually might enjoy that. no more photos of you and oscar kissing yourusername ...ykw just for that i'm keeping you on it forever

logansargeant i'll treat him right while you're gone👍

yourusername YOU BETTER

march 2023 ->

sentosa golf club, singapore

yourusername a very good weekend! 🏆 thanks for having me, @.hsbcwomensgolf! see you soon @.f1 😁🇸🇦

liked by oscarpiastri and others

maxfewtrell alright we're never playing golf again

yourusername this is you admitting you're bad btw. 😁😁 maxfewtrell i was gonna congratulate you but i think i've changed my mind

landonorris share some champagne please? 😌🥂

yourusername it's gonna be flat by the time i see you again landonorris it's okay you can just buy another bottle yourusername nuh uh. you've got the money to buy it yourself! user my otp...i need them together now ↳ user i don't think max would ever let that happen ↳ user LET ME DREAM

user oscar in the likes? i see you op 👀

user he's BEEN here. he is never not here tbh...

user OMG YOU'RE GONNA BE AT JEDDAH???? (liked by yourusername)

Mclaren • MclarenF1

Lando & Oscar take a quiz on golf terms with @.yourusername! [Video attached]

Lando Norris Get destroyed @.OscarPiastri ↳ Oscar Piastri You've got the upperhand. I wasn't going to win anyway 🤷‍♂️

Y/N Fewtrell @.OscarPiastri you'll win next time 😉 ↳ Lando Norris I'm gonna put in all my effort so you don't rig it

yourusername jeddah things 🌺 (tagged landonorris)

liked by oscarpiastri and others

landonorris is there any trophy for golf quiz winner?

yourusername nope :) landonorris damn. all that and i get nothing yourusername cry about it

user soft launch and lando on the same post...hmmmm

user 🤔🤔 user building up an essay on why they're dating user you guys are insane 🙄 they're not even that close ↳ user she's literally only been seen with lando this week. who else would she be dating?? ↳ user i think you're forgetting the fact she was also seen with oscar... ↳ user they just met. don't be ridiculous

oscarpiastri it was nice seeing you!

yourusername you too!! 😊😊😊😊 maxfewtrell are you going insane user MAX??? user crazy behavior from the fewtrell siblings... ↳ user LITERALLY!! the emojis?? max's deleted comment?? what's going on 👀👀

april 2023 ->

yourusername close friends story

[caption: BIRTHDAY BOYYYYYY 🎂🎉!!!!! my amazing bf has turned 22 everyone go tell him happy birthday 😠]

story replies:

oscarpiastri i love you so much ❤️

yourusername if you actually loved me you'd come back to the flat early oscarpiastri On My Way! (you reacted with 😭)

maxfewtrell tell oscar i said happy birthday 🎊

yourusername 👍 maxfewtrell why did it take you 2 days to respond to this

may 2023 ->

yourusername public story

[caption: wasn't my best performance, but either way, thank you @.jmeaglelachamp for having me! time to go coast to coast ✈️ (📍 los angeles, california)]

story replies:

oscarpiastri can't wait to see you ❤️ you look great in orange 😍

yourusername i miss you!!!! yourusername the orange was for you i hate that color so much (oscarpiastri has reacted with ❤️)

oscarpiastri btw you did so well, don't beat yourself down

yourusername i love you so much yourusername now go do your pr lando is messaging me (oscarpiastri has reacted with 👎)

user the orange??? 👀👀👀

user • user

max f's sister wearing papaya at her tournament in la...interesting

user put some respect on her name 😭 she's literally a professional golfer not just max's sister ↳ user lmao literally. also the constant dating rumors in HER insta comments is crazy. keep that to yourself, you don't need to go telling her

user the 'time to go coast to coast' on her story...is she gonna be in miami?? ↳ user there's a tournament in new jersey next week, which is also on the east coast. she might just be flying there. ↳ user idk the papaya outfit seems like a hint. i have a feeling she's gonna be in miami ↳ user the delusions are crazy

Formula 1 • F1

@.yourusername is in the paddock, with Mclaren of course 😉 #F1 @.MclarenF1

user F1 ADMIN WHAT DO YOU KNOW

user where's the person who called me delusional. are you seeing this

user LANDO IN THE BACK you're kidding me like this can't be real

messages with logan sargeant 🦅

logan sargeant 🦅 oscar's snap says you're in a mcdonald's parking lot

can you get me an oreo mcflurry (00:19)

logan sargeant 🦅 how are you still in the parking lot WHAT ARE YOU DOING

logan sargeant 🦅 actually don't answer that (1:47)

you srry my phone died we got you the mcflurry

logan (3:28)

logan sargeant it's been 3 hours...

p sure oscar has my extra keycard btw

you alright he's dropping it off

sleep well 🤗

june 2023 ->

springfield, new jersey

yourusername OHHHH YEAHHH!!! a great weekend in new jersey, thank you @.kpmgwomenspga for having me!!!!!! 🏆🏆🏆🏆

liked by oscarpiastri and others

yourusername also smth coming soon...stay tuned 🤭

user can you just tell me now, my dms are open i swear i won't tell anyone user please. im not patient. please 😭���

oscarpiastri congrats! 👏🏆

yourusername thanks!!!! 😆

user alright...where is lando

user you cannot be serious. she's celebrating a win and you're speculating on her relationship?? ↳ user it's not that serious 🙄

maxfewtrell legend in the making 👑

yourusername why are you being nice... yourusername THANK YOU!!

user WHY HASNT LANDO COMMENTED

user lando hasn't even liked...WHERE ARE YOU LANDO

comments have been limited

sportsmag @.yourusername, a rookie in the LPGA discusses golf, relationships, f1, and her new found fame in our June edition. the full interview can found at our website sportsmag.com!

liked by yourusername and others

comments have been turned off

Y/N FEWTRELL TALKS GOLF, F1, FAME, AND ROMANCE WITH SPORTSMAG

June 30th, 2023 • Lola Lyon

In May earlier this year, I had the pleasure to meet with Y/n Fewtrell at a golf course (a personal favorite of hers) in Florida. She acts the same way she does on social media; energetic, snarky, yet kind. However, I noticed a shyer part of her personality when discussing the people and things she holds dear.

I seemed to be the first person to ask her about her relationship status — as an interviewer. The young golfer's comments have been full of relationship spec....

SUBSCRIBE TO READ THE REST OF THE ARTICLE

user • user

alright i paid for the y/n fewtrell article, will be posting some very important quotes below 🧵

user "Before she told me about her boyfriend, she told me about her feelings on the speculation. 'I never expected my relationship to be a big deal to so many people...it's a lot sometimes to see people assuming I'm dating a close friend or just a stranger. It can be funny though to see how many jumps people have to make to associate me with someone else. So far, not many people have been right."

user "I then asked her what her favorite rumor was. Her reply is something I'm sure not a lot of people could guess. "My favorite?...I mean— the ones including Lando are always so weird. He's my brother's best friend, and he's a close friend of mine. But I'm not dating him. I don't know if I could live an entire week with him as my boyfriend [laughter]. He's a great guy but, yeah. Not dating him."

user "Golf, according to her, has always been a staple in her life. 'I first played golf in Singapore, and I didn't love it at first. But, Max had played before so he was better than me, naturally. [laughter] It made me so mad. So I just kept playing, I started practicing and watching tournaments on TV. The first time I ever beat Max, I thought: What am I supposed to do now? I kept playing after that, obviously [laughter] and I still beat him, so."

user on her mindset going into a tournament: "I mean, I try to stay positive. I've— I know how sports, especially those in the public eye, can damage your self-esteem. I dealt with it myself a couple times when I was still at the collegiate level. Hearing people be so rude about you and your skills, it hurts. So, sophomore year I think it was, I started logging out of all my social media accounts a couple days before a game or a tournament. The only criticism I needed was my coach's, and now I feel like I'm at a point in my career where I can judge my own skills."

user "For my final question, I asked her about her opinion of the current F1 season. '[laughter] Well, I'm supporting Mclaren obviously. I know Red Bull's been doing really well. I've heard— seen people's complaints on Twitter, it's something. But honestly, good job on Red Bull for making a rocket ship [laughter]."

view 702 replies

july 2023 ->

Mclaren • MclarenF1

A message from Lando and Oscar before summer break!

[Lando and Oscar are standing in front of a barren wall, both wearing their team polo's. "Hi everyone, Oscar —and Lando— here." Oscar glances at Lando who starts speaking. "It's been a decent start to the season, but we're gonna go rest and come back better than ever." He gives a tired smile to the camera, and then Oscar starts speaking. "I, personally, will be vacationing with my girlfriend. So, I'm excited. What about you, Lando?" Lando's smile has changed, he's clearly trying to stop himself from laughing. Oscar raises a brow. "Um— I've got a nice vacation planned, gonna visit family too." Oscar nods along. "We'll see you all in Zandvoort." Lando waves to the camera, and a second before the video ends he can be seen falling forward, laughing hysterically. Oscar has his head tipped back, laughing as well.]

user mclaren admin i think you uploaded the wrong cut...

Mclaren Nothing wrong here 😉 ↳ user OMG ↳ user they posted this...on purpose...hmm... ↳ user i swear this means oscar's gonna hard launch his gf i know itttt

august 2023 ->

yourusername and oscarpiastri how did no one assume this. where were you all at. Hi, everyone ��💗 (edited 3hrs ago.)

logansargeant FINALLY i no longer have to cover for you guys omg

logansargeant congrats tho! ↳ oscarpiastri thanks mate! ↳ yourusername you were our strongest soldier. we will get you a reward dw ↳ oscarpiastri we did not agree abt that ↳ yourusername do i have to remind you about the mcdonalds situation from miami ↳ oscarpiastri logansargeant i'll send some money your way as a reward user alright. whats going on here guys ↳ user i'm getting the feeling they somehow traumatized logan in a mcdonalds

user I'VE BEEN HERE (liked by yourusername)

user i knew it. oscar had been in her likes for so long user i think i manifested this tbh

maxfewtrell i feel that i'm owed a thank you

yourusername thank you for driving in the formula renault eurocup in 2018, max. i would've found him anyway but i'll let you take credit ↳ maxfewtrell i knew something was wrong from your formality. but i'll take it. ↳ user it's giving "i'd find you in every universe" ↳ user user WHAT IF I DIED oscarpiastri thank you both for being obnoxiously loud talkers ↳ yourusername OSCAR 😢

user THE CAPTION CHANGE 😭😭

landonorris oh thank god. yourusername please stay in oscar's garage, and oscar's garage only from here on out.

yourusername that won't stop me. i will make you increasingly annoyed every single race i attend until you explode oscarpiastri should i remind you that this is a public comment section and you're also talking to my teammate? ↳ landonorris yourusername LISTEN TO YOUR BF ↳ yourusername check your text messages ↳ landonorris why are you like this ↳ oscarpiastri landonorris i think you deserved that mate user oscary/n casually traumatizing every member of the grid. love this

mclaren 🧡🧡 our favorite couple

yourusername admin you are my favorite mclaren employee ↳ oscarpiastri what about me? ↳ yourusername favorite person on earth. obviously. (liked by oscarpiastri)

user • user

so it seems that i am actually delusional. anyway #oscary/n

THIS IS SO LONG I'M SORRY

[sugarplum217]

The Fire We Make (Part One)

Pairing: Terry Richmond X Black Female/Plus Size/Curvy Reader, MDNI

Authors Note: Hi guys, please be kind this is my first story on here and I hope you all enjoy it . Comment and tell me your thoughts.

Warnings: very heavy smut, unprotected sex, nasty & dirty talk, mention’s of abuse, triggering topics, not suitable for anyone under 18+, oral sex, sort of a slow burn, casual sex, fluff, use of the N word, AAVE, somewhat age gap relationship, mentions of verbal abuse, use of abusive lanuage. Do not copy or steal my work.

Summary: You came back to Elizabeth, South Carolina, to handle Nana Rosalyn’s land and tie up some loose ends, sign a few papers, and be on the next flight back to her real life. Simple. Or at least, that’s what she thought. Enter Terry Richmond: ex-Marine, built like a damn problem, and apparently living in your grandmother’s house like it’s his own. He’s quiet, unreadable, and way too fine for your peace of mind. Between the thick summer heat, old memories creeping in, and the way Terry keeps looking at you like he sees straight through you, one thing is clear…..This trip might not be so simple after all.

They say there’s no place like home, and maybe once upon a time, you would’ve agreed. Back when summers here meant running barefoot through the grass, shelling peas with Nana on the front porch, and falling asleep to the sound of crickets and old gospel humming through the walls. But that was a long time ago. Before life had a chance to show you just how cruel it could be. Now, sitting in front of your grandmother’s house, all you feel is the weight of everything you tried to outrun. The air is thick, heavy with that signature South Carolina heat, clinging to your skin like a second layer. Even the damn trees look the same—tall, unmoving, watching you like they know you don’t belong here anymore.

This place holds secrets. Buried in the dirt, woven into the foundation of this house, settled deep in your bones no matter how much distance you put between you and it. You swore you’d never come back. Swore you left this town and everything in it behind the moment your father died and your mother made it clear she wanted nothing to do with his side of the family. And yet, here you are. Staring at the same porch you once sat on as a little girl, knees scraped up from playing too rough, hands sticky from fresh peaches Nana sliced up just for you. Except now, Nana is gone. And her house—this land—is yours. The air inside the rental car was thick, heavy with the kind of heat that made it hard to breathe. The A/C worked overtime, but it was barely spitting out enough cool air to do anything besides tease your skin. The heat still clung to you like an unwanted memory, curling around your neck, sticking to the crease of your thighs, making your tank top feel like a second skin.

You gripped the steering wheel, staring straight ahead at the house that used to feel like a second home—but now? Now, it just felt like a reminder of everything you tried to outrun. Your stomach twisted, nerves tangling themselves into something tight and uncomfortable. You hadn’t stepped foot in this place in years. Hadn’t even had a reason to. Not since—You inhaled sharply, cutting the thought off before it could sink its teeth in.It wasn’t like you had much of a choice being here now. Your grandmother’s passing made sure of that. And as much as you wanted to sit here, let the A/C struggle against the heat, and pretend you weren’t parked in front of the very place you swore you’d never come back to… you knew you couldn’t avoid it forever.

But damn, if you didn’t want to try. The loud buzz of your phone rattling against the cup holder snapped you out of your thoughts. The sudden sound made you flinch, your heart kicking up like you’d just been caught doing something you had no business doing. You blinked, shaking off the moment before grabbing your phone and swiping the screen without even checking the caller ID.

“Girl,” you groaned, already knowing who it was.

“I know that ain’t attitude I hear,” Tasha’s voice came through clear, dragging her words like she already knew what time it was.

“Of course it’s a damn attitude, I’m hot, sticky and do you know I had to drive a whole 4 hours from the damn airport?!” you grumbled, shifting in your seat.

“This ain’t my scene, Tasha. I’m sweating, my thighs sticking together, and the air out here smells like—” You paused, inhaling deeply. “Like grass, hot stank wood, and somebody’s granddaddy’s chewing tobacco. I ain’t cut out for this country-ass shit.”

Tasha cackled on the other end. “Now girl, your ass been there for all of five minutes and already ready to run back to the city?”

You sighed dramatically, wiping at the light sheen of sweat on your chest. “Girl, I ain’t even turned the damn car off yet.”

“The way your Nana used to talk about that place, you’d think it was paradise.” She snickered.

You snorted, side-eyeing the house. “Meanwhile, I pull up, and it’s giving—”

“Ghetto woods.” Tasha cut in, taking the thought right from your brain as if she was looking through it.

“Exactly.” You rolled your eyes, glancing at the property that inspite of it being ages since you had been there, things looked pretty decent.

Tasha hummed knowingly. “And yet, here you are.”

“Not because I wanna be here Tasha.. You know that,” you shook your head, inhaling deep againing as a exasperated sigh left your sticky gloss filled lips, “If it were up to me, I would have let my uncle’s and drunk fool of an aunt fight over this place.” You added, with a nonchalant shrug.

“Didn’t you tell me that none of your daddy’s siblings were her kids? So how in the hell would that even have worked?” Tasha questioned, and rightfully so.

None of your father’s siblings belonged to your sweet Nana Rosalyn. They were products of her late husband’s constant infidelities during their entire relationship and even part of their marriage. She had been young when she married him, head over heels for a man who sold her dreams but only ever delivered nightmares. And when the truth of his betrayals became undeniable, she made one thing clear—she wasn’t having no damn kids by a man who couldn’t keep his vows. But then life played its own hand.

Your father came later, unexpectedly, and he was her one and only, her redemption after years of being shackled to a man who never deserved her. And because he was born from love and not betrayal, Nana cherished him more than anything in this world. That alone was enough to breed resentment.

The siblings never could stay on one page. Too much history, too much pain, too much deep-rooted hate for the way your father had been the baby and the favorite. Your grandfather’s other children—some older than your father by decades—never let him forget that he was the only one born into real love, not just obligation. They carried that bitterness, wielded it like a knife, slicing through any chance of peace in the family.

And Nana? She may have loved them in her own way, but she wasn’t blind. She saw how they moved, how they made her son’s life hell, how they took every opportunity to remind him that, in their eyes, he was an outsider in his own bloodline. So, she made a decision. She wrote them out of her will. All of them.

Every last one of your grandfather’s children got nothing but the memories they made and the grudges they refused to let go of. Instead, she left everything to your father. And when he passed, she made sure that her estate—her house, her land, every last piece of what she worked her whole life for—would go to you. Because she knew they would never do right by her legacy. And truth be told? You didn’t blame her one bit.

Still, you never could understand how she stayed. How she spent years, decades, by the side of a man who disrespected her with every child he brought home. How she smiled and cooked and raised kids that weren’t even hers. How she carried the weight of a marriage that gave her nothing but heartache. If it had been you? That man would’ve met his damn maker on some railroad tracks.

“It wouldn’t have worked because she didn’t leave their asses a damn thing, not one fucking dime or penny. I can’t really say I blame her though because she took good care of them and when she needed somebody, those greedy motherfuckas weren't there.” You huffed, tone bitter and cold at the thought of how none of your father’s siblings even showed up for him, once he got sick.

Tasha let out a low whistle on the other end. “Damn. So Nana just cut them off completely?”

“Completely.” You adjusted in your seat, the leather burning the back of your thighs. “She ain’t leave them a damn thing. No land, no money, not even a ‘God bless you’ in that will. Just my daddy, and when he passed, it all came to me.”

Tasha hummed, her tone knowing. “And that’s why they got all that hate in their hearts.”

“Like I give a damn.” You rolled your eyes, reaching for your water bottle. The condensation dripped onto your fingers as you took a swig, but the lukewarm liquid didn’t do much against the heat. “I just need to handle this shit and get the fuck back to New York. I ain’t got time for all this country backwoods drama. This place suffocates me.”

“Girl, you've been there ten minutes… And you already sound like you are fighting for your life. ” She giggled, making you roll your eyes again.

“Because I am,” you stressed, flipping the sun visor down and fanning yourself with the nearest piece of mail you found in the passenger seat. “I step outside, and I swear the air is thick like molasses. The trees leaning in too damn close, like they trying to hear my business. I can’t even breathe right.”

Tasha cackled, fully enjoying your suffering. “You sound so damn dramatic.”

“Ain’t shit dramatic about the truth, Tasha,” you shot back. “I need to get in here, get this property situation squared away, and then I’m ghost. I’m going back to where the streets don’t smell like wet grass, and the heat don’t feel like it got hands.”

Tasha smacked her lips. “Mmhmm. Keep talking that ‘I’m leaving soon’ shit. Something tell me you gon’ be there longer than you think.”

You sucked your teeth, flipping her off even

though she couldn’t see it. “Yeah, alright. Let me get off this phone before I melt in this damn car.”

Tasha laughed again. “Hit me later. And don’t get your thick ass into any mess.”

You snorted. “Me? Never.”

With that, you ended the call, tossing the phone back into the cup holder. Taking one last deep breath, you reached for the door handle, already bracing yourself for the suffocating heat waiting outside. The sooner you handled this, the sooner you could leave. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself. Immediately, the heat wraps around you like a thick-ass quilt fresh out the dryer.

“Damn,” you mutter, shifting your shorts as you grab your bag from the backseat. The old house stands in front of you, still the same shade of off-white, still with that wrap-around porch your Nana used to sit on every evening with her sweet tea. The screen door creaks when you walk up the steps, but you aren’t worried. You already know where the key is. Just like when you were little, it sits right under the worn-out mat. You bend down, grab it, and unlock the door, stepping into the house. The air smells like lemons, cedarwood, and something else you can’t quite place. Your fingers brush over the familiar wooden banister as you walk through the hallway, a strange mix of comfort and melancholy settling in your chest. Just as you were about to sit your purse to the side, the sound of sudden footsteps alerted you. You paused your movements as you listened closely to the steps nearing closer, coming from the end of the hall. Immediately the unfamiliar scent you had picked up on earlier, became stronger as the heavy steps came towards the living area. Soon the footsteps halted and you

You froze and your breath caught in your throat as your eyes snapped toward the hallway. And then, stepping around the corner, a man appeared. A very fine, very built, very wet man. Fresh out the shower, droplets still clung to his deep caramel skin, highlighting every hard-cut muscle like he was sculpted straight out of bronze. A white towel sat dangerously low on his hips, barely hanging on, and his broad, glistening chest rose and fell in slow, even breaths. His shoulders were massive, arms thick with veins that ran down to strong, capable hands. But his face? Strong jaw. Full lips. A nose that screamed royalty. And his eyes—God, his eyes—a stormy mix of hazel and gray that shifted with the light, catching hints of ocean blue, hell maybe even green when the sun hit them just right. For a second, neither of you moved but then—

“Who the hell are you?” His voice was deep, rough, carrying an authority that made your stomach flip.

“NO! Who in the hell are you?” you shrieked back, stepping further into the house but keeping a tight grip on your car keys—because you might just have to stab this man.

His brows furrowed slightly, gaze flicking over you like he was assessing whether you were a threat. “I live here. What the hell you doin’ breaking in?”

You damn near choked. “Breaking in?! I live here!”

His nostrils flared slightly before something in his expression shifted. His shoulders eased, his jaw relaxed just a fraction, and then he exhaled like something just clicked.

“Wait…” He dragged a hand down his face, water trailing along his fingers. “You—You Rosalyn’s granddaughter?”

Your chest still rose and fell from the adrenaline rush. “Yeah. Who’s asking?”

“Terry, Terry Richmond..” He said like that was supposed to mean something to you. When you just stared, he nodded toward the mantle, where an old framed photo of your Nana and you sat beside a dusty Bible. “She used to talk about you all the time. Should’ve recognized you.”

You blinked. Once. Twice. “You mean to tell me my grandmother didn’t just leave me this house, she left me a roommate? Just great…” Your voice trailed off, annoyance seeping from your tone. Terry smirked at you, slow and knowing, and somehow, that tiny expression made him look even finer. He leaned against the doorway like he had all the time in the world, eyes dragging over you now like he was trying to figure you out. You instantly felt uncomfortable under his gaze as crossed your arms, shifting your weight to one hip.

“So, you’re telling me you were my Nana’s caretaker?” You suspiciously questioned.

“That’s exactly what I’m tellin’ you.”

You narrowed your eyes. “If that’s true, how come I ain’t see you at her funeral?” You tilted your head, watching him closely. “You supposed to have been close to her, right? Where were you?”

His jaw tightened slightly, but his expression stayed unreadable. “I was there.”

Your lips parted, but he cut you off before you could press him.

“I sat in the back.” His voice was even, calm. “Ain’t family, so I kept my distance.” His stormy eyes flickered with something unreadable as he added, “Ain’t too fond of church anyway.”

You almost called his bluff, ready to argue, but then—

A memory flashed in your mind.

Most of that day was a blur, but… there was someone sitting alone at the back of the church. A man, broad and still, his head dipped low, hands clasped together like he was deep in thought—or prayer. He never moved, never spoke, just sat there, solid as stone, while grief and sorrow swirled around the room.

It could’ve been him. But then again… your memory of that day was shaky at best.

You had gotten high out of your mind just to get through it. Hit a blunt in your car before even stepping foot in that church. And then there was the tequila—more than a few shots—because there was no way in hell you were about to face your father’s side of the family sober. The whole funeral was a blur. You barely remembered the service, barely remembered speaking. Even now, when you tried to pull up details, they slipped through your fingers like water. Still… you felt like you should remember someone as fine as him. Your eyes flickered over him again—the sharp cut of his jaw, the way his towel clung just low enough to test your focus, those ocean-storm eyes watching you with quiet patience.

Yeah. There was no way you wouldn’t have noticed him.

“…Hmph.” You didn’t realize you made the sound out loud until his lips twitched.

“That a problem?” he asked, voice edged with amusement.

You rolled your eyes. “No. Just making sure you ain’t lying.”

He huffed a quiet chuckle, shaking his head as he continued to lean his body on the doorframe, still way too at ease for your liking. Something about him told you he was telling the truth. Despite the weirdness of finding out you suddenly had a damn roommate, you had to admit—it was kind of a relief. At least you wouldn’t have to struggle dragging your suitcases inside by yourself. But asking him for help? Yeah. That was the real challenge.

You cleared your throat, plastering on your sweetest smile as you tilted your head slightly. “Umm… so Terry, is it?”

“Mmhmm.” He raised an eyebrow, his full lips twitching like he already knew where this was going.

You hesitated, shifting on your feet. “You mind helping me with my luggage?”

Terry let out a low chuckle, deep and rich, before shaking his head. “After you just basically called me a liar?” He sucked his teeth. “Your Nana wasn’t lying when she said you was a piece of work. Said your little ass always needed a good spanking.”

For some damn reason, that sent a tingle straight to your pussy, making you shift uncomfortably. You quickly cleared your throat, rolling your eyes to cover your reaction. “Whatever. You helping or not?”

His smirk deepened, eyes darkening just a little as he let the moment linger. Then, after a beat, he pushed off the doorframe. “Yeah, yeah. Just let me get some clothes on first.” He gave you a lazy once-over before adding, “Can’t have the helpless princess out here struggling, now can I?”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “I ain’t helpless.”

“Uh-huh.” Terry just laughed under his breath and shook his head as he turned toward the hallway. You rolled your eyes again but couldn’t stop yourself from glancing down as he walked away. And damn. His back was all muscle, broad and defined, tapering into a tight waist. And that ass? Whew. Tight, round, sitting just right in that towel. You didn’t even realize you were staring until he suddenly glanced over his shoulder.

Busted.

You quickly averted your gaze, looking anywhere but at him. But you weren’t the only one caught slipping. Because as you quickly moved past him to head upstairs to your old room, you felt his eyes trailing down, and lingering on the curve of your thick thighs before he snapped his gaze back up, clearing his throat. As Terry disappeared down the hall to throw on some clothes, you made your way up the stairs, your feet moving on autopilot toward your old bedroom. The door creaked as you pushed it open, and the moment you stepped inside, nostalgia wrapped around you like a thick, heavy blanket.

Everything was still in place. The same twin bed with the floral comforter Nana Rosalyn had bought you when you were ten. The same wooden dresser, still covered in stickers you had no business putting on there. Even the faint scent of lavender and brown sugar lingered in the air, like Nana had just been in here yesterday and not… Your throat tightened as you swallowed against the thought. You hadn’t really let yourself think about it—her being gone. You’d done everything you could to avoid feeling it, pushing it down so deep you could almost pretend it wasn’t real. But standing here, surrounded by all these pieces of your childhood, it hit you like a gut punch. She was actually gone and now you were here, back in this house that held more love than you’d ever felt anywhere else, but she wasn’t.

Your vision blurred as you ran your fingers over the old wooden vanity, tracing the edges where the paint had started to chip. A lump formed in your throat, but before you could get too lost in your feelings—

Your phone buzzed loud as hell from your pocket.

With a sharp inhale, you wiped at your eyes and pulled it out, already groaning when you saw the name on the screen. It was your darling mother dearest, the last person you wanted to speak to at the moment. You debated letting it go to voicemail, but you already knew she’d just keep calling. So, with a deep sigh, you answered.

“Hello?” You took a seat on the edge of your old bed.

“Took you long enough.” Her voice was dry, clipped. No hey baby, no how was your trip? Just straight to the point, like always. “Did you make it?”

You clenched your jaw. “Yeah, I’m here..”

“Hmph.” A pause. Then, “Well, please hurry up and sell that damn place. I told your daddy when he was alive to put that woman in a home and get rid of it.”

Your grip on the phone tightened, anger bubbling up fast. “That woman was my grandmother… and your mother in law–”

“And your father’s biggest mistake,” she shot back, voice sharp as glass. “He let that old country woman manipulate him his whole life. Should’ve cut the cord a long time ago instead of running behind her like a lost puppy.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, inhaling deeply through your nose. “You know what, Ma? I don’t wanna do this with you right now.”

She let out a dramatic sigh, the kind she always did when she was about to make you feel like you were the problem. “Oh, please. I’m just trying to get you to do the smart thing for once. That house ain’t nothing but a money pit. Sell it and move on.”

You bit down on your tongue so hard you swore you tasted blood. Before you could say anything else, she switched gears, her tone suddenly shifting into something damn near sweet. “By the way, did you get that link I sent you?”

Your stomach dropped.

You knew exactly what she was talking about, but you played dumb anyway. “What link?”

“The link to the doctor,” she said, like it should’ve been obvious. “The one I told you about for the weight loss surgery. Dr. Reynolds. He’s the best in Atlanta. Books up fast, so you need to get on it. His prices are fairly reasonable and I think he accepts most major insurances.”

“Wow. Not even ten minutes into this conversation, and you already back on that shit.” You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head.

“Oh, don’t start,” she huffed. “I’m helping you. You’d actually be able to keep a man if you lost some of that weight.”

There it was. That same damn wound she’d been digging into your whole life. You could still hear her voice from when you were a kid, standing in front of the mirror in some dress she’d picked out, sucking in your stomach while she pinched at your waist.

“No man wants a fat wife, baby. You don’t wanna end up like those big, miserable women who can’t even get a date.”

And then your daddy, always stepping in, always fighting for you.

“Leave her alone, Monique. She’s perfect just the way she is.”

But your mama never listened. Not then, and definitely not now.

You exhaled slowly, forcing yourself to stay calm. “I’m not having this conversation with you.”

“Oh, so you like struggling to find clothes in your size? You like being the biggest one in the room?” she snapped. “I don’t know why you’re so damn stubborn. I’m trying to help you, and you act like I’m the enemy.”

You let out a humorless chuckle. “Maybe because you are…”

She gasped like you’d just slapped her. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” you said, voice flat. “And I’m done talking about this.”

Silence stretched between you for a moment before she scoffed. “Fine. Be fat and alone for the rest of your life. See if I care.” And with that, the line went dead. You pulled the phone away from your ear, staring at the screen until it blurred. You shouldn’t have been surprised. This was classic Monique Walker. Still, it hurt like hell. Tears slipped down your cheeks before you even realized they’d fallen. Your hand tightened around your phone as you gritted your teeth, voice barely above a whisper but thick with emotion.

“I swear, I fucking hate her.” You seethed. The words felt heavy leaving your mouth, but damn if they weren’t true in that moment. You swiped at your face roughly, sniffling, before your eyes drifted over to the small wooden dresser in the corner. Your breath caught as your gaze landed on a framed photo of Nana Rosalyn, her warm brown eyes staring back at you, lips curved into that soft smile she always had whenever she looked at you. She had loved you, no conditions, no judgments, no backhanded comments about your weight or your worth. Just pure, unshakable love.

You exhaled, blinking back more tears as you whispered, “I miss you, Nana. I wish you were here.”

The air in the room felt heavier, like she was listening. Like she was there in some way. You let yourself sit with the feeling for a moment, let yourself pretend you weren’t completely alone. Then the sound of footsteps and the scrape of something heavy against the floor made you snap back to reality. You turned just as Terry strolled in, carrying both of your heavy-ass suitcases like they weighed nothing. His arms flexed with each effortless step, muscles glistening with a light sheen of sweat, the white ribbed wife beater he had on stretching tight across his chest. His cargo shorts hung low on his hips, showcasing strong, toned thighs, and with every movement, the fabric shifted just enough to make your thoughts derail.

Damn….

Toni Braxton’s You’re Makin’ Me High played faintly in the back of your mind, slow and sultry, like the universe was tryna set you up. Your thighs clenched involuntarily as heat licked up your spine. This nigga was too damn fine, and he knew it. You barely heard whatever the hell he was saying because your brain had short-circuited the second he stepped into the room, muscles on display like some damn fantasy come to life. It wasn’t until his deep voice cut through the fog in your head, low and laced with something you couldn’t quite place, that you realized you were staring.

“You good?”

Your breath hitched abruptly. “H-Huh?”

His hazel-gray eyes flickered over your face, studying you. “You was cryin’?”

You blinked fast, quickly wiping at your damp cheeks, trying to play it off. “Uh… yeah. But I’m fine. Just… thinking about my grandma. It’s been a while since I’ve been here.”

Terry didn’t say anything right away. He just set your suitcases down near the foot of the bed, then leaned back against the wall, arms crossing over his broad chest. His eyes never left your face, unreadable and steady, like he was taking in more than just your words.

“Yeah,” he said after a beat, voice softer now. “I know how that feel.”

You swallowed, suddenly feeling a little too exposed under his gaze. “You ever lost somebody close?”

His jaw twitched slightly. “Yeah.”

The way he said it—short, clipped, like he wasn’t ready to unpack that—made you nod and let it go. Silence stretched between you, but it wasn’t exactly uncomfortable. Just… thick.

Heavy.

Charged.

Terry’s eyes lingered on you a second longer before he exhaled through his nose, pushing off the wall. “Aight, well, if you need help with anything else, just let me know.” He turned to leave, and you should’ve let him go. Should’ve just said thanks and let him walk out. But instead, before you even knew what you were doing, the words tumbled out.

“Terry.”

He stopped, looking at you over his shoulder, brow raised slightly. “What’s up?”

You hesitated, lips parting, then closing again as you tried to figure out what the hell you were even about to say. You just… didn’t want to be alone. Not right now.

“…Never mind,” you murmured, shaking your head. “It’s nothing.”

Terry didn’t press. He just gave you a long, lingering look before nodding once.

“Aight, then.” And with that, he walked out, leaving you alone with your thoughts—and the lingering heat he’d left in the room.

“Heavenly father give me the strength.” You sighed, flopping backwards on the old childhood bed. You had no idea how you were not only going to survive cleaning out your grandmother’s home of history, and memories. But now you had to figure out how you were going to do all of that with an extremely sexy and fine added edition to the puzzle. Your nana always had a way of being funny, even in the afterlife it seemed.

The heat had been relentless all day, and after everything—the long drive, the tension with your mother, the weight of being back in this house—you needed to wash it all away. Stepping into the shower, you let the cool water run over your skin, sighing as it soothed you, easing the sticky film of sweat and stress clinging to your body. The scent of your Dove vanilla & shea body wash filled the air, mixing with the lingering humidity as you lathered yourself, fingers gliding over curves that you tried not to think too much about. But the moment you stepped out and reached for your towel, reality smacked you in the face. It barely fit. You huffed, tugging at the edges, trying to cover as much as possible, but no matter how you adjusted, something was exposed. Your thighs, thick and soft. The curve of your ass peeking from the bottom. Your cleavage straining against the top. Your mother’s voice slithered into your head, uninvited.

You need to do something about that weight. A man isn’t going to want all that.

You swallowed, turning toward the mirror, your fingers instinctively gripping the towel tighter as you stared at your reflection. Your stomach wasn’t flat. Your thighs touched. Your arms weren’t slim. Maybe she was right. Maybe— A sharp knock at the door startled you, making you jump. Before you could even react, the door swung open.

Terry stepped inside like he owned the place, holding an envelope, his mouth already moving. “Your Nana left you a letter, figured you’d—” His words stopped short. His entire body stilled. Your breath caught in your throat.

You didn’t know if it was the shock of him barging in unannounced or the way his stormy gray, hazel-green eyes flicked down—slow and deliberate, like a man taking in a sight he knew he wasn’t supposed to see but couldn’t help himself. His gaze dragged over you, over the bare curve of your thighs, the deep dip of your cleavage, the towel that did little to hide any of it. And for a split second—just a split second—you saw sensual lust. Something dark and unreadable flashing in his eyes before he blinked it away, locking his expression into something neutral. Like he hadn’t just been openly devouring you with his eyes.

“Terry, what the hell?! Ever heard of knocking?” You yanked the towel tighter, heat rushing to your face. His gaze lifted to yours, slow and unbothered, as he leaned casually against the doorframe, his biceps flexing just enough to make you want to scream.

“Didn’t know you’d be indecent,” he said smoothly, though his voice was just the slightest bit rougher than before.

“I just got out the shower!” you hissed, shifting your weight, hyper-aware of how exposed you were. “What do you want?”

Terry, still infuriatingly relaxed, held up the envelope. “Your Nana left you a letter. I was instructed that soon as you arrive to give it to you.”

You glared. “And you couldn’t wait until I wasn’t half-naked before busting up in here?”

He shrugged, eyes glinting with something too smug for your liking. “Wasn’t expecting a show.”

Your mouth fell open. “Boy, if you don’t—”

“You gon’ take this letter or keep fussin’?” he interrupted, stepping closer, holding the envelope just out of reach like he wanted to make you work for it.

You snatched it from his hand, still scowling. “Get out.”

But he didn’t move right away.

Instead, his gaze lingered, just for a second too long. Just enough to make your thighs press together, to make your skin prickle with awareness. Then, finally, he turned to leave. But right before stepping out, he glanced back over his shoulder, his smirk damn near lethal.

“Nice towel, by the way.” And just like that, he was gone.

You stood there, heart pounding, body still tingling from the heat of his stare.

This man was gonna be a problem, you thought to yourself. You flopped down on the bed, still clutching the towel like it was the only thing keeping you from completely losing your mind.

“That nigga done lost his damn mind,” you muttered, shaking your head. “Barging in here like he payin’ rent.” Your body was still humming from the intensity of his stare, the way he’d looked at you like he saw everything and had the nerve to act like it ain’t affect him. Like he wasn’t phased, but you knew he was. And now, here you were, sitting on your old bed, legs still damp from the shower, wrapped up in this raggedy-ass towel, heart still racing. You sighed, finally turning your attention to the envelope in your lap. Your childhood nickname was written in familiar, neat cursive across the front.

Your heart clenched as a lump formed in your throat. Your fingers trembled slightly as you opened it, pulling out a piece of aged, cream-colored paper. You could almost smell her as you unfolded it—cocoa butter, vanilla, and something soft, like the scent of home. Then you began to read.

My Sweet Sunshine,

If you’re reading this, that means the Good Lord finally saw fit to call me home. Now, don’t you go sittin’ there cryin’, ‘cause you know I lived a full life, and I ain’t scared of no Heaven. I done raised my babies, spoiled my grandbabies, and loved with my whole heart. That’s more than some folks ever get to do.

Sunshine, I know you didn’t want to come back here. I know that city’s got its hooks in you, and I ain’t mad at it—never was. You always had big dreams, always wanted more than this little town could offer. But baby, don’t you ever let nobody make you feel like you ain’t enough just as you are. Not your mama, not them folks whisperin’ behind your back, nobody.

You always was my bright star, even when you ain’t see it yourself. Even when you was a little thing, sittin’ on my porch, talkin’ ‘bout how you didn’t feel pretty enough, or small enough, or good enough. I used to tell you then, and I’ll tell you now—you are enough. God made you just the way you s’posed to be. Don’t let the world tell you otherwise.

Now, about this house—I know it might not mean much to you right now, but baby, this ain’t just wood and nails. This is our history. This is where I loved your granddaddy, where I raised your daddy, where I held you in my arms and rocked you to sleep when life got too big for you. It ain’t just a house—it’s home.

I don’t expect you to stay forever, but I do expect you to sit with it for a little while. Let the memories wrap around you. Let yourself feel whatever you been runnin’ from. And don’t you let nobody make you do nothin’ you don’t wanna do. Not even your mama.

Take your time, baby. I love you bigger than the sky.

Always, Nana

Tears blurred your vision before you even finished. You pressed the letter to your chest, inhaling shakily…She knew… She always knew. And just like that, all the emotions you’d been pushing down, all the grief, all the anger, all the damn confusion, came bubbling up to the surface. You curled your legs up onto the bed, hugging the letter like it was the last piece of her you had left. And for the first time since you got here… you let yourself cry.

As you wiped the last of your tears away, you pulled yourself together, slipping into a simple oversized ‘90s-themed graphic T-shirt that stopped just below your ass, paired with black boy shorts that hugged your curves. Your fur slides slid easily onto your feet, accentuating the shimmer of your two delicate anklets against your smooth brown skin. Your toes, freshly done in a clean French acrylic set, peeked out perfectly, proof that even on your worst days, you refused to neglect the little things that made you feel like you. Your damp curls were drying into their natural coils, wild and free, and for the first time since stepping into this house, you felt somewhat like yourself again. Then, just as you were about to head downstairs, voices floated up from the front door. A woman’s voice. Sweet, a little too breathy, laced with the kind of forced shyness that women used when they were trying to be cute. You paused, leaning slightly against the railing as you listened.

“Terry, you really ain’t have to do all that. I swear, you a lifesaver.”

“Mmhmm,” came Terry’s deep, unbothered reply.

You stepped forward just enough to peek over the banister, instantly rolling your eyes at the sight in front of you. A woman—slim, with long curly hair cascading down her back, a high round booty sitting just right, and a rack that was damn near spilling out of her little sundress—was standing way too close to Terry, handing him a plate wrapped in foil. And the way she was looking at him? Yeah. She was on that.

“Oh, and here’s the money I promised you.” She slipped a few bills into his hand, her fingers lingering a little too long against his palm. “And I made you a little something as a thank you… some smothered pork chops, greens, mac and cheese, and cornbread.”

You smirked slightly. Cornbread looking a little dry.

Terry took the plate with a nod, glancing down at it. “Appreciate it, Celeste.”

Celeste. Figures.

She bit her lip, her eyes scanning over him like he was a damn menu. “And I made a little pound cake too. My mama’s recipe. But I guess you’ll just have to tell me how it tastes next time I see you.”

You sucked your teeth. Girl, be for real.

Terry, still unreadable as ever, just smirked slightly, shifting the plate to one hand. “I’ll let you know.”

Celeste giggled, reaching up to play with a stray curl like she knew she was the baddest thing standing in that doorway. “You know, Terry… you should really stop by sometime. I got plenty of food, and my son’s at his grandma’s for the summer, so…” She trailed off, her meaning clear. You folded your arms, arching a brow as you waited to see how he was gonna play it.

Terry, ever cool, leaned one broad shoulder against the doorframe, looking down at her with a knowing expression. “That right?”

She nodded, batting her lashes. “Mmhmm. You know, a man like you shouldn’t have to eat alone.”

Terry exhaled, shaking his head slightly. “Celeste.”

“Hmm?” She replied breathily, trying to act innocent.

“I ain’t interested.” The words landed so casually, so smoothly, that for a second, she didn’t even process them.

But then her lips parted slightly, her cheeks darkening in embarrassment. “Oh… um, well…”

“But I do appreciate the food,” he added, nodding toward the plate. “Your little boy needed that room fixed up, so it wasn’t no big deal.”

Celeste recovered quickly, forcing a laugh. “Right, right. Well, um… enjoy, Terry.”

He gave her a simple nod before closing the door, shaking his head as he turned toward the kitchen. You, still standing at the top of the stairs, watched the whole thing unfold, biting back a smirk. Celeste was pretty, no doubt. Probably more his type. But the way he had shut her down so smoothly? Interesting…. Very interesting. You padded down the stairs, moving casually into the kitchen, acting like you hadn’t just been eavesdropping on that whole embarrassing exchange. Terry was standing at the counter, peeling back the foil on the plate, and the expression on his face had you fighting back a laugh. He looked… disturbed. You leaned against the fridge, arms folded as you watched him poke at the smothered pork chops with his fork. The sauce looked a little too gray for comfort, the mac and cheese had a strange, gluey texture, and the cornbread? Yeah… dry as hell. He let out a slow breath, tilting the plate slightly as if inspecting it under better lighting was gonna change the fact that it looked like a crime scene.

“Damn, she really put her whole heart into that, huh?” You smirked.

Terry cut his eyes at you, his expression flat. “Don’t start.”

You laughed, moving toward the cabinets. “I’m just sayin’. If you value your life, you might wanna pass on that.”

He set the plate down, shaking his head. “Damn shame. I did all that work and got paid in food poisoning.”

You chuckled, pulling out a pan and setting it on the stove. “Lucky for you, I actually know how to cook.”

Terry leaned against the counter, arms crossing over his chest as he watched you. “Oh yeah?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, boy. I can throw down. What you want?”

He smirked slightly. “Something that won’t require me to get my stomach pumped.”

“Keep talkin’ shit, and I’ma lace your food with extra salt.” You shot him a playful glare, going towards the fridge to see if there was even anything cookable for you to whip up a quick meal. Terry chuckled, watching you move around the kitchen with an ease that he could appreciate.

“Aight, then little mama. Let’s see what’chu workin with.” He joked, licking his plump bottom lip. You fought the surge of butterflies in your tummy as your french acrylic nails gripped the counter, to steady yourself. Turning toward the fridge, you pull it open and blink in surprise at the contents—fresh meats, crisp produce, eggs, dairy. Whoever stocked this place before you arrived really knew what they were doing.

“You did all this?” You softly ask, glancing over your shoulder at Terry.

He leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his broad chest. “Had groceries delivered before you got here. Figured you’d want a stocked fridge.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying not to let that small, thoughtful gesture soften you. Instead, you hum and start pulling out the ingredients.

“Alright,” you say, setting things down on the counter. “I’m making honey-glazed salmon, garlic butter asparagus, and jasmine rice.”

Terry raises an eyebrow. “Hony glazed?”

You smirk, not letting him off the hook. “What? You thought I was only good for frying chicken and making cornbread?”

His lips twitch like he’s trying not to smile. “Didn’t say that.”

“Mm-hmm.” You grab a cutting board and get to work, dicing, seasoning, and moving around the kitchen like it’s second nature. The wine Nana he had ordered as well was surprisingly good, and after a few sips, the tension from the day starts to slipped off your shoulders.

Terry watches you, quiet at first, before finally speaking up. “So… what kept you away?”

You pause for only a second before continuing to chop the asparagus. “What do you mean?”

“From your Nana. You used to visit all the time, then you just stopped.” His eyes don’t waver. The question hits harder than you expect.

You swallow and focus on the cutting board. “My mom.”

Terry stays quiet, just waiting, giving you the space to continue.

You sigh, stirring the honey glaze in a small saucepan. “Nana was my dad’s mother. When he died, my mom didn’t see the point in us coming down here anymore. She never liked my Nana anyway.”

“Why?” His eyebrow perked up.

You let out a humorless laugh and shake your head. “Because she’s an elitist. My mom grew up privileged, went to the best schools, rubbed elbows with all the right people. She married my dad because he was successful, but she never respected where he came from. And when he passed, she made it clear that his side of the family didn’t fit into her world.”

Terry’s gaze feels heavy, and the weight of it makes your throat tighten.

You flip the salmon in the pan, watching the glaze caramelize. “I wanted to come back,” you admit softly. “I always told myself I would. I promised Nana I’d visit.” You exhale shakily. “But life kept getting in the way… and now, I’ll never get that time back.”

The silence that follows is thick—understanding without pity, heavy without pressure.

You wipe the corner of your eye before turning to face him fully. “But, um… I don’t really wanna keep digging into that.” You force a small smile. “What about you? How the hell did you end up here, taking care of my grandma and her land?”

Terry is quiet for a long time, his jaw shifting slightly. Then, finally, he speaks.

“I got out the Marines a few years ago,” he says, his voice steady. “Came back home, trying to get my life right, but shit has a way of following me...”

Something about the way he says it makes your stomach twist.

“What do you mean? Shit like what?” You cautiously questioned, not wanting to get all up in this man’s business, but at the same time you felt you had the slightest right. Terry stayed quiet for a long time, his jaw shifting slightly. Then, finally, he spoke.

“My cousin got into some trouble with the law a few years back,” he said, voice steady. “I went down to bail him out, but I ended up getting into some shit myself. Crooked-ass cops—racist bastards—decided they ain’t like me asking too many questions. Things got ugly real fast.”

Something about the way he says it made your stomach twist. “How bad did it get?”

Terry’s hazel-green eyes darken, something distant flickering in them. “Damn near died over it,” he says, voice calm but heavy.

“Oh, I’m um.. sorry to hear that.” You felt bad for even asking. Terry only hummed in response as a somewhat comfortable silence fell over the kitchen. You decided to drop the 21 questions all together and focus on finishing up the meal you were in the midst of preparing as he just quietly watched every move you made. The air inside the house was cooler than the sticky, suffocating heat outside, but it wasn’t enough to stop the slow trickle of sweat at the nape of your neck. Or maybe… just maybe… it wasn’t the weather making me feel like you were burning up. You could feel Terry watching you intently. It wasn’t obvious at first—he was too smooth for that. But after a while, you noticed the weight of his gaze, the way his stormy eyes followed every move you made as you prepped the food. His attention was heavy, unreadable, but not in a way that made you uncomfortable. No, it was the opposite. It made you hot. You shifted my weight from one foot to the other, clearing your throat as you reached for the bottle of wine, pouring yourself another sip just to have something to do. Everything about this man was turning you on and you loved it and despised it. It wasn’t just the fact that he was tall—though he was definitely tall, standing at least 6’3 with a solid frame that made it clear he was no stranger to manual labor. It wasn’t just the broadness of his shoulders or the way his arms stretched the fabric of his white tank, hinting at thick, corded muscle beneath. And it wasn’t just his face, though damn—that strong jawline, full lips, and a nose that looked like it belonged on a king? Yeah, he was definitely blessed in the looks department. But it was his presence that caught you off guard. Terry Richmond wasn’t the type of man you could read at a glance. His face was unreadable, expression calm yet watchful, like he was always two steps ahead of everyone else in the room. His stormy hazel-gray eyes, rimmed with thick lashes, carried something unreadable—something sharp, calculating. And depending on how the light hit them, they almost looked ocean blue, like a hurricane was brewing behind them, waiting to be unleashed. But right now, that intensity was locked onto you. And that shit made your stomach flip.

You turned back to the stove, pretending like the weight of his gaze wasn’t burning a hole straight through your back. The kitchen was already hot as hell, but somehow, his presence made the air feel even thicker. The pot on the stove let out a soft simmer, the scent of garlic, onions, and seasoning filling the air, but you barely noticed it because Terry was still watching you. And you felt all of it. His gaze wasn’t casual. It wasn’t some absentminded glance or a passing curiosity. No, he was studying you, eyes moving slow over every dip and curve like he had all the time in the world. You weren’t new to male attention, but the way he did it? This wasn’t some hungry, obvious ogling. This was different. Intentional. Like he was learning you. Like he was figuring out what made you tick, what made you fidget, what made you heat up. And Lord, were you heating up. You adjusted your stance, shifting your weight from one leg to the other, but that only made things worse because you didn’t know he was the type of man who appreciated a body like yours. The type that saw thick thighs, wide hips, and soft curves and lingered—the kind that recognized a woman built to carry healthy babies and be just as healthy herself. And sure enough, when you glanced over your shoulder, you caught him licking his lips, eyes still locked on you like you were a full-course meal, and he was starving.

“Damn, you gon’ cook everything in the kitchen?” His voice rumbled from behind you, smooth and deep, with that natural Southern drawl that could make a woman’s knees buckle if she wasn’t careful.

You smirked, turning back to the pot. “You got a problem with a woman feeding you?”

He let out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating through the air. “Nah, just surprised. Didn’t peg you for the domestic type.”

You scoffed, stirring the food. “Just ‘cause I can cook don’t mean I’m tryna play house with you, sir.”

That chuckle turned into a full-blown laugh, deep and rich, sending a shiver down your spine. You were too aware of him now, of the space between you and the way it was closing, little by little. The heat of his body was at your back before you even realized he had moved, and suddenly, his voice was right at your ear.

“You need any help?” His deep voice reverberated.

You sucked in a sharp breath, your fingers tightening around the spoon as his presence seemed to take up all the air in the kitchen. His body was close—too close, his heat pressing against your back, his sheer size making you feel small, even though you weren’t a small woman. The scent of his cologne—dark, musky, and clean—wrapped around you, making your head swim for a brief second. For just a moment, the energy in the room shifted. A slow, charged moment where neither of you moved, where the only sounds were the bubbling of the food on the stove and the quiet, measured breaths between you. It was subtle but impossible to ignore—the low hum of something heavy, something thick and unspoken. Then, just as quickly as it came, it passed. You cleared your throat, forcing yourself to focus, though you swore you felt him smirk behind you.

“I got it,” you murmured, trying to keep your voice even. Terry didn’t move at first, letting the moment sit before he finally stepped back, his absence somehow just as noticeable as his presence.

“Aight then,” he murmured, his voice amused.

But even as he walked away, you could feel his gaze still on you. And something told you that this slow-burn tension between you? It was just getting started. After about twenty minutes, the food is finally done, the kitchen filled with the warm, savory aroma of glazed salmon and buttered asparagus. You take your time plating everything carefully, making sure it looks just as good as it smells. Since Terry is your guest, you serve his plate first, sliding it across the counter toward him before pouring yourself another small glass of wine.

“You tryna impress me or somethin’?” he teases, eyeing the plate like he don’t quite trust it yet.

You roll your eyes, lifting your glass. “Boy, please. If I wanted to impress you, I would’ve pulled out the big guns.”

His brows lift slightly. “This ain’t the big guns?”

“Not even close.”You smirk. Terry hums like he’s considering that, then finally picks up his fork and takes a bite. He chews slowly, his face unreadable, and you find yourself leaning in slightly, waiting for his reaction.

After a few beats, he nods. “Alright, I’ll give it to you. This is good.”

You wink cutely, sipping your wine. “Told you I wouldn’t let you die in my care.”

He chuckles, deep and smooth, before digging into his plate with more enthusiasm. You pretend not to notice the way his biceps flex when he moves, how his jaw tenses up when he chews. You felt your clit pulse at the way his lips became glazed over from the moistness of the salmon.

“Told you I know what I’m doing,” you added with a nervous giggle, watching him enjoy the meal as you tried to push the naughty thoughts back and out of your mental crevices.

Terry smirks, setting his fork down just long enough to meet your gaze. “I don’t know yet. You cookin’ good, but that don’t mean you can really throw down. Anybody can follow a recipe.”

“Excuse me?” Your mouth dropped open slightly.

He shrugs, eyes dancing with amusement. “I mean, this is cute and all, but I don’t see no mac and cheese, no smothered chicken, no collard greens. Where the food that’ll have a man ready to sign over his life?”

You narrow your eyes, setting down your glass. “Oh nigga, you really talkin’ reckless now.”

He leans in slightly, grin widening. “I’m just sayin’—”

“You just saying what, exactly? That I gotta cook like somebody’s Big Mama before you give me my flowers?” You scoffed, fighting your smile.

Terry’s eyes flickered towards you with something unreadable, something dark and playful all at once. “I’m just saying… if you wanna prove you really got skills, you might have to cook for me again.”

You shake your head, laughing under your breath. “Oh, I see what this is. You tryna finesse another plate outta me.”

He smirks, grabbing his fork again. “Maybe.”

You fold your arms, eyeing him. “What do I get outta this arrangement?”

Terry lifts a brow, chewing another bite of salmon before answering. “What you want?” His voice dropping down to an even lower, sleek register. The sudden change shot an electric current straight to your pussy, making it moist and slippery. Although your lips below quivered and ached to be touched, you kept a pokerface.

“Hmm. Let’s see… If I’m cooking, then you’re cleaning.” You tapped a finger against your chin, pretending to think.

“Nah. Try again.” He scoffed.

“Uh-uh. I think that’s fair. You eat, you clean.” You playfully pouted, making him crack a small smirk at you.

“I fixed your grandma’s whole damn house. Ain’t that enough?” He countered, tone heavily amused.

You smirk, enjoying this way too much. “Oh, so now you keeping score?”

Terry leans in a little, his stormy ocean eyes glinting with something dangerous, something that makes the air between you tighten. “Nah, sweetheart. Just making sure I know what the stakes are.”

Your stomach flipped, causing heat to crawl slowly up your spine. This man was absolute trouble, and not the good kind. This man was the type to have you outside of his job, throwing bricks through his car window because he ain’t answer quick enough for your liking. This wasn’t no young nigga you were used to , this was big dawg.

You picked up your wine glass again, taking a slow sip. “Well, you let me know when you’re ready for that real meal. But just so you know… once I really start cooking for you?” You lean in slightly, voice dropping to something softer, silkier.. Almost wet and seducing. “Ain’t no going back.”

Terry’s smirk deepens, his gaze dropping—just for a second—to your lips before dragging back up to your eyes.

“That right?” he murmurs.

You swallow hard, feeling your pulse kicking up. You knew you had to get out of this here kitchen before you did something stupid.

Pushing off the counter, you grab your own plate. “Eat your food, Terry.”

He chuckles, shaking his head as he digs back in. “Yeah, alright. But don’t think I’m forgetting this conversation.”

You roll your eyes, turning away—but not before catching the way he watches you, heat flickering behind that cool, unreadable expression.

Yeah, this is nigga here was definitely trouble. As you take your plate and head toward the table, you can still feel Terry’s eyes on you, the weight of his gaze heavy against your skin. You tell yourself you’re imagining it, that the warmth curling low in your belly is just the wine and not the way his voice dipped when he said that right. But then, just as you sit down, he speaks again—low, teasing, but laced with something else. Something thicker.

“Hope you know what you just started.”

You pause, your fork hovering over your plate, your pulse skipping before quickening. When you finally look up, Terry’s already focused on his food like he ain’t just sent a shiver down your spine. And just like that, the game had officially begun. You might’ve thought you were just cooking a meal, just having a little harmless banter over dinner—but Terry? He had other plans. The way he said it, the way his voice dipped into something slow and rich like molasses, told you plain as day that this was just the start. And whether you were ready for it or not…

Things were about to get real interesting.

[navybrat817]

Just.... Bucky getting on his knees and begging "honey, open your legs please" like he's a man that's been starving for months, him breathing and tasting through the panties because he's that impatient.

I love this so much, nonnie.

Sweet Like Honey

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky begs to have a taste when he gets home.

Word Count: Over 1.2k

Warnings: Oral sex (f. receiving), implied sex, possessive behavior, established relationship, slight feels, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: This feels like Feral Bucky. Hope you lovelies enjoy. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You sat on the couch fifteen minutes ago. You closed your eyes five minutes ago. It amazed you that you hadn't fallen asleep with how tired you were from your long day, but Bucky would be home shortly and you wanted to curl up with him before you dozed off. He’d find it sweet, and so would you.

You should've known he’d have other ideas.

“Hey, Bucky,” you mumbled when you heard his deliberate footsteps. When he didn't answer you cracked an eye open. “Bucky?” you asked, watching him toss his jacket away and flex his hands. He had a familiar look in his blue eyes. Not quite feral, but close.

Oh, he was hungry.

He pushed the coffee table out of the way with his foot and bent down to kiss your lips. Soft, but desperate, so it didn't surprise you when he dropped to his knees in front of you. “Honey, open your legs,” he demanded in a dark, deep voice once he pushed your dress up. One that made you grip the cushions when he rested his hands on your knees. “Please.”

“Well, hello to you, too.” You rolled your eyes, but your smile was affectionate. What had him so wound up? “At least you said please.”

“I did, now please open your legs,” he demanded again, but it wasn't as forceful. You heard a hint of desperation, the same kind you tasted on his lips when he kissed you. “I’m already on my knees.”

“You are,” you agreed and you loved how badly he wanted you. “But why should I open my legs for you? I’m pretty tired.”

His mouth fell open. You never passed up an opportunity for him to pleasure you, and you’d let him eat as much as his heart desired. But you wanted to hear him beg a little for it for no reason at all.

“Because I'm horny and hungry and your pussy is the only thing that’ll satisfy me,” he answered, looking at where your legs were still together. “C’mon. Pussy’s so good. I need it. I crave it. Soft as silk, sweet like honey.”

You moaned. They were good reasons. “Tempting, tempting, but you just ate my pussy yesterday,” you reminded him, which earned you an offended look from the love of your life.

“Yesterday. An entire day ago. Your pussy needs me,” he snarled, his fingers sliding to your thighs and digging in. “Or should I say my pussy?”

“Easy, tiger. We both know it’s yours,” you teased, burying a hand in his hair and making him groan when you tugged on the strands. His words could turn you into molten lava, and you were wet the second he dropped to his knees. “But opening my legs doesn't address the fact that I'm tired. You understand that.”

He smirked when your legs opened an inch. “I’m sorry you're tired, but making you feel good is the perfect way to get you to sleep. I’ll get you off on my tongue and fingers… Make you pass out when I get my cock in you.” He sounded wrecked as your thighs parted more, your core . “And I’ll carry you to bed and wrap you in a warm blanket.”

“And you’ll cuddle with me, too? If you’re demanding that I open up, I demand some cuddles,” you said. He’d cuddle with you even if you didn't demand it.

“Cuddle, snuggle, curl up with you, spoon you, can even keep me cock warm while I hold you,” he rattled off, smirking when you bit your lip. “Just let me eat, please.”

You hummed. It was tempting. And how many people could say a super soldier begged for just a taste of them? To fuck them? “Just how hungry are you and for what reason?”

Bucky licked his lips when you completely opened your legs and showed him your clothed cunt. “Fucking hungry and for no reason at all except your existence,” he growled.

You made a small noise when he dove in and inhaled, your face nearly burning from how hot it felt when he licked and tugged impatiently at the wet fabric with his teeth. “Bucky!”

“Told you. ‘m fucking hungry.” He licked the fabric again with a growl and nudged your clit with his nose. “God, you’re so wet for me. Need it on my tongue. Need it on my cock.”

“Fuck…” you whimpered. He wanted your pussy so badly he couldn't even wait for a proper taste. “Okay, you can eat.” He had begged enough in your eyes.

“Fucking finally.”

You scoffed. “Finally? You just-”

He ripped your underwear off and left you bare, drawing another breathless sound from you at the first touch of his mouth on your damp folds. He brought his hands to your hips and pulled you closer so he could open you up with his tongue, his broad shoulders keeping your legs apart. You nearly lost it when he plunged it deep inside and licked around your walls, his throaty moan making you shudder. Every lick and caress made you feel like you’d melt into the couch. The sensations were overwhelming, especially since your senses went from dull to heightened.

“Beautiful,” he rumbled.

“We both are,” you smiled. He made you feel beautiful, and he sure as fuck looked beautiful between your thighs.

“And I’m so…” His thumb on your clit had you pulling his hair. “Fucking…” You tightened around the finger that slipped inside your tight channel. “Hungry.”

There was no getting between Bucky and his meal. No stopping him once he had a taste, his fingers and mouth tender even as he devoured you. It almost didn't seem fair some days. All you had to do was flash your tits or spread your legs and the ex-assassin was lost to the world. Even after a long day you got to lay back while he pleasured you simply because he wanted you. You reaped all the benefits, came every time.

You’d make sure he came, too, before the night was over.

“You… really are hungry,” you moaned, your back arching when another finger. Bucky wasn't just an enthusiastic lover. He was attentive. He knew what made you tick and how to make you let go. “Fuck! There! Please!”

“Music to my ears, and you really do taste like fucking honey.” He gazed up at you with a smirk on his wet lips as his fingers curled. You tasted yourself on his lips before and it tasted nothing like honey, but who were you to argue when he enjoyed it so much? “Melt for me and I’ll carry you to bed on my cock.”

It didn't take you long to reach your peak of pleasure once his mouth was back on you, your thighs shaking and his name leaving your lips in a cry. He hummed and groaned as he tasted your release like it was the most delicious treat he ever had. You were aware that he called you a good girl as your vision blurred, and he also said he loved you as you rode out your orgasm. He may have even apologized for the “lack of foreplay”.

But as he carried you to bed with a kiss to your forehead and his cock buried inside you as promised, you knew he’d more than make that up to you.

The man needs you, okay? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[hy6erion]

Viktor being jealous??!!?!??!

𝐔𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦 - 𝐕𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

⇢ 𝐧𝐨 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲/𝐧, 𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲/ 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞

𝐕𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐦𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠. ૮₍⇀ ‸ ↼‶₎ა

Viktor isn’t the type to throw a fit. He won’t storm out or pick a fight—no, he’ll sit there, watching, cataloging every detail. The way someone leans too close, the way they laugh just a little too easily at your jokes. His jaw tightens, his fingers twitch against his cane, but he waits. He studies.

He won’t cause a scene, but he will dismantle his opponent with terrifying precision. A casual, cutting remark that leaves the poor fool questioning their existence? A pointed comment that makes them realize they’re utterly beneath him? He delivers it with a polite smile, an arch of his brow, and then turns his attention back to you like they never existed.

Viktor doesn’t need grand gestures. A hand on the small of your back, a thumb grazing your wrist as he guides you away, a lingering press of fingers against your hip. He is tactile when it counts, his touch burning with intent.

His voice drops, low and velvety, when he leans in close. “You are enjoying yourself, yes? I hope so. Because I would hate for you to feel… unattended.” It’s not a threat, not exactly. But his fingers at your waist tighten just slightly, just enough to let you know he’s very aware.

There’s a moment where he decides he’s done entertaining the nonsense. He doesn’t yank you away, doesn’t make a scene. He simply steps in, a warm body at your back, his breath at your ear. “Come with me.” And there’s no argument.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The room is warm, the air thick with conversation and the occasional clink of glasses. You hadn’t expected the night to stretch this long, but here you were, laughing at some story being told by a man whose name you had already forgotten.

You could feel Viktor before you saw him.

That particular kind of weight in the air, the prickle at the back of your neck that told you he was watching. It wasn’t overt, not yet. But you knew him well enough to recognize the signs—his patience had an expiration date.

“That’s fascinating,” you hum, just to be polite. You shift your glass in your hand, casting a glance over your shoulder.

There he is. Seated just far enough away that he could pretend he wasn’t paying attention. His fingers tap idly against the head of his cane, his mouth a neutral line. But his gaze? Heavy. Unwavering.

You can feel it trailing over you, catching at your neck, your collarbone, the curve of your waist. He is not pleased.

“Am I boring you?” The man in front of you tilts his head, misreading your distraction entirely.

You smile, but it’s not meant for him. “Not at all.”

You take a slow sip from your glass, deliberately holding Viktor’s gaze over the rim. There’s a flicker of something in his expression, something dark and considering.

He moves.

It’s not rushed, not dramatic. Just the smooth, purposeful way he unfolds himself from his chair, the slow click of his cane against the floor as he makes his way toward you.

You straighten instinctively as he stops at your side, his body close enough that you feel the heat of him.

Viktor doesn’t immediately acknowledge you. His attention is on the man in front of you, studying him with a polite, distant kind of amusement. “You are very entertaining, I see.”

The man laughs awkwardly. “I do my best.”

“Mmm.” Viktor hums, unimpressed. His fingers brush lightly against the curve of your hip, as if it’s an idle thing. But the touch lingers.

Your breath catches.

Viktor shifts, angling himself ever so slightly toward you, his lips close enough to ghost against the shell of your ear.

“Come with me.”

A whisper, nothing more. But his voice is low, edged with something dangerous.

You shiver.

“Excuse us,” Viktor says absently, already guiding you away. He doesn’t look back. He doesn’t need to.

The hallway is quieter, dimly lit, far from the eyes of the party. Viktor doesn’t stop until your back is against the wall, his body a breath away from yours.

“You are playing with me,” he murmurs, eyes gleaming.

You tilt your chin up, feigning innocence. “Am I?”

His lips curve, but there’s no real humor in it. He steps closer, his thigh brushing against yours. “Careful, love.” His fingers find your wrist, tracing the delicate skin there, feeling the way your pulse betrays you. “You might not like where this game ends.”

The air between you is electric, your breath caught somewhere between anticipation and challenge.

You don’t back down. “Maybe I would.”

Viktor inhales slowly, his thumb sweeping up to brush over your lower lip, his gaze dropping.

“You test my patience.” His voice is a rasp now, thick with something unspoken. “And yet—” He leans in, just barely, his mouth a whisper away. “I find I do not mind.”

Your heart is a traitor, hammering against your ribs. His presence is suffocating in the best way, his attention a brand against your skin.

“Viktor—”

The moment shatters as a voice calls from the main room.

“Viktor! There you are! We were just about to—”

Viktor exhales sharply, his forehead brushing yours for half a second before he pulls away, irritation flickering in his gaze. He closes his eyes, composing himself.

“You are lucky,” he murmurs, shaking his head. But his grip on your wrist tightens, just enough to remind you—this wasn’t over.

You swallow, your skin still burning where he touched you.

Lucky? No.

You weren’t sure luck had anything to do with it.

[megapteraurelia]

iwaizumi hajime (27) athletic trainer.

summary | you pulled a muscle during practice, and conventiently, iwazumi hajime was around to help get off. warnings | it's smut and a lil fluff! word count | 2976. a/n | uhmmmmmmmm, it's iwaizumi hajime. there you have my reasoning. >_> i have NOT checked over grammar, so super sorry if you find mistakes. you're free to keep 'em, though. also!! this was only supposed to be like a 400 words drabble....ehm heh :3 please let me know what you think! -` ♡ ´-

“iwaizumi-san!”

“stop it!” you hissed quietly, panic bubbling up within you, but she ignored you as she called out to the athletic trainer, currently supervising your volleyball team on this monday, sharing him with several other volleyball teams of all kinds of leagues on the other days. 

her voice sounded so innocent, so worried, so fake when in actuality she was bursting at the seams with delight to set you up with the trainer, so you tried again before she was too far for her to hear your whispers full of hysteria, “get back here, immediately, i’m gonna ki— oh shit, shit.”

in tow with your teammate, jogging like only a greek god could do, was iwaizumi hajime. his dark hair was pushed back and tousled up, courtesy of his hand running through it a bunch of times as he stood observing all of you, quietly speaking to your coach. iwaizumi’s eyebrows were drawn over his eyes, and oh, those intense eyes, trained on you. you thought you might as well hyperventilate when he looked at you like that. like he wasn’t just the on-site expert for sport injuries. like he had a reason for his eyes to linger on your form when you played. like his attention was solely on you, drinking in your entire form. 

he was kneeled beside you before you could even swallow the saliva that gathered in your mouth to realise it. steadfast hands hovered over your leg, careful not to touch without having your explicit permission, though the warmth radiating from his hands heated up the slight slit of air between your skins.

“what happened?” he murmured, voice a deep rumble in his chest, warm and smooth. the green of his eyes searched yours for an answer to his asked question escaping his lips and the unasked one in the form of his clean nails and gentle fingertips ready to palpate your flesh.

you nodded at him, “i think i moved too suddenly. i didn’t… “ before trailing off, promptly inhaling when his fingers descended and touched your leg, bare skin spouting goosebumps almost immediately at the contact. his hands were warm, pleasant touches yet with enough pressure that you had to suppress a shiver running marathons down your back.

“...warm up properly,” you finished your sentence, gaze wandering over his face: the look of concentration, dark eyebrows framing his light eyes, the striking jaw as he kneed the muscle, gently prodding to find the tender spot. 

“mhmm,” he pressed down lightly onto your thigh above your knee, “here?”

“no. higher.”

his fingers were obedient to your voice as they glided up, hands exploring your flesh, and once again, he asked, “closer?”

“no,” you breathed out, teeth finding your lower lip to bite down as your cheeks heated up, “higher still, and more towards the inside.”

iwaizumi hajime’s eyes found yours, and they were strong the way they captured you so easily, the way you could get lost in them. the intensity and presence of his body crouched around you like he could smother you if he wanted, if you wanted, and his eyes pleaded for honesty as he silently asked whether it was alright to touch higher up. you nodded, because it was.

“alright, if you would excuse me,” he said, yet you could swear there was a slight rasp in his voice that wasn’t there before. one that slithered in and took a hold of you, only for you to instinctually lean forward a bit, feeling his chest near your shoulder as the air warmed up.

like a string of butterflies, his hands moved up your thigh, almost at the juncture of your legs, and they slid down, searching your heated flesh for the tender spot, fingertips pressing, his breaths even yet deep, your heart pitter-pattering clumsily, and— 

“ah! holy— fuck, that there, it hurts.”

he watched your face contort in pain carefully, his fingers easing up the pressure, yet keeping a hold of your thighs to measure the extent of your muscle strain.

“calm, calm, deep breaths,” he murmured lowly, voice almost like a purr yet the pain at his hands shooting up, “you’re doing well, good girl.”

“good, breathe in,” tears pricked in your eyes at another wave of pain swapping over you and you inhaled deeply, “and out now. i know it hurts, but you’re fantastic. doing a good job, you brave doll, you.”

 maybe you were delirious, maybe it was his scent, maybe his touch, maybe the heat pooling in your stomach, but his praising words, praising you, accompanying the pain ignited a deep desire in you, made your legs twitch for something other than agony, and then there were his eyes — making you feel like he liked having his hands on you, like he liked saying those things to you, like he could devour you right then and there. intense, piercing, seeing all of you. 

the tip of his rosy tongue poking out quickly to wet his lips as his hands stilled and he softly let go of your leg.

“you should make sure to get proper rest. no overworking yourself, and — “ he fixed you with a long look, one that had your toes curling, that made feelings stir in your chest, that told you there was scolding awaiting you if you didn’t listen; an underlying threat, a warning, a promise,“ — you better not forget to warm up next time. extensively.”

your cheeks reddened in shame, because you knew you should have, “yes, i will, iwaizumi-san.”

he nodded, though hovered right next to you for a moment still as he breathed out, and then he stood up, his shirt stretched wide over his shoulders. he looked down at you, eyes darting all over your form, lingering on your leg with your pulled muscle, over to your face, to your lips. 

his hand went through his hair again, the other clenched to a fist “do you have a way to get home?”

innocently, you shook your head.

it surely was a sign of control, the way his fingertips pressed into your knuckles ever so slightly, as he helped you through the door of your apartment. his scent was so close to you, and when you opened your mouth, you could taste his fragrance. 

“thank you.”

iwaizumi gingerly let you down on the couch and helped you elevate your leg on the table in front of you, eyes lingering on your shoes that you still wore. with a glance at you, he started untying your laces to pull your shoes off. 

the act was intimate; his hands were as warm as his voice was dark, “you should really take it easy.”

“but then i wouldn’t have you taking care of me,” you finally allowed a smile to grace your lips, your hand opening up toward him, and he came closer to you. his chest was firm against your fingers as they slid up to touch his shoulders, his neck, pulling him down to you slightly.

“you don’t have to get injured for that to happen, silly,” he mumbled, distracted, his hands settling on your healthy leg, fingers pressing into the pillow of your flesh, though this time with an underlying heat he hadn’t shown during your practice.

“i didn’t do it on purpose!”

his eyes narrowed and he regarded you professionally, in the way it always turned you on when he did; his voice a snarl as he got into your face, “how often have i told you to not just dive into gameplay without making sure your muscles are all ready to go, huh? you’re asking for—”

you sank your teeth into his lower lip.

his eyes seemingly darkened with desire, and he abandoned holding you at arm’s length within the second your mouth met his. tongues laced together, intertwined in a maze of delight, the rough pink muscle pushing down on yours, dominating the whole of your mouth; only a matter of time until you were nothing but a puddle of nothingness at his feet, ready to do everything he wanted.

he growled your name into your mouth, gasping for air, pulling you in again, because how could he ever get enough of you? 

the way you tasted, your carelessness igniting an anger in him that spurred him on to teach you a lesson, fire pooling in his stomach, in his loin; your tongue hot against his.

you mewled at him overpowering you, and a quirk of his lips were the only thing responding to your rosy cheeks. his nose found its way to the spot where your neck and your ear met, the spot he always buried his face in to take in your scent, to kiss you silly. his teeth grazed your flesh, breath hot as the desire blazed up in your stomach at his touch.

“say my name.”

“h—hajime.”

another pinch, another bruise you would have to cover up in the morning, “again. i don’t like when you call me iwaizumi.”

“hajime,” you repeated just as low, hand gripping his hair tight to pull it. in response, his tongue caressed your flesh, his fingers crawling up your leg to your stomach, and you remembered the times his dick drilled into you, deep and hard, pushing you over the edge, his fingers pressed into your stomach just like that. 

his face pulled up again, swiftly dipping you into a dark maze again, tongues already touching before your mouth could connect, “fuck, i shouldn’t. you’re injured.”

“hajime,” you pleaded against his lips, one hand slipping down to the waistband of his pants, “please. it was hard enough to…”

you trailed off when his fingers wandered too; a mild frenzy surrounding you, stuffy, restricting your breathing at how broad he loomed over you, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. you loved the arousal swapping through your body, and you couldn’t wait to have him touch your hip to support his weight, ram his cock into you so hard until you saw stars, and even then he wouldn’t stop, would continue sinking deep into you. 

“go on. finish your sentences,” he drawled; his intense gaze burning you up, lips shining with saliva, cheeks flushed in a rosé. just as you, he was caged in lust. 

“it was— ah,” your voice turned scratchy and traitorous when his rough fingers slipped down your panties, “h—hard…fuck, I— pretending like, ngh-ahh, we’re not…a th—thing..”

“what’s that? i don’t think i can properly hear you over your stutter.”

“bas—bastaa-hah-hard.”

your thighs opened up for him, even though one of your legs screamed for you to stop moving, but you couldn’t help it, your hips rubbing against his fingers, grinding down on him slowly, roughly; pants falling from your mouth like leaves in october. his body pushed yours against the back of the couch, hard, his mouth biting your skin as his lips found that specific spot on your neck easily again.

“yeah? you really want to call me names now, doll?” iwaizumi hajime could not fool you so easily, his breath leaving his mouth in chopped pieces; the words escaping his needy mouth a breeze against your skin once you had shoved your hands down the pants to grip him. his desire was matching the same inferno roaring in you, and he felt heavy in your hand, thick and warm.

a groan escaped him, low; and your hips leaned forward to kiss his hands again and again, rolling, breasts pressed against his chest as your mouth left hard kisses all over his neck, leaving marks, claiming him as yours the way you wanted to shout to the world.

hajime could only watch you through half-lidded eyes, feel your fingers drag his entire length, pulling at him deliciously slow, thumb catching the eager drops to rub them in, and god, you looked so fucking beautiful, your cheeks all red, eyes glazed over, shiny lips open, alluring sounds coming out of your mouth, drilling through the hot air to him.

“i wish i could just— fuck, dick you down so good, you pretty thing,” he gritted out, his teeth biting into your lips now too then licked over them as an apology and a whine escaped you, “y—yeees, please-ah.”

“but you don’t want to listen,” his fingers plunging deep inside, thumb working your clit, building up your orgasm quick and dirty, fingers skilled at drawing out every inch of lust within you, and when your legs started trembling, when your nose twitched like you were about to sneeze, he pulled away.

your hand slipped out of his pants against your will, and he looked at you, breathing heavily, repeating, “you don’t want to listen.”

“w—wait, hajime, wh—what?”

iwaizumi hajime towered over you; an almost mean glint in his hazed eyes, fingers clenching and unclenching before grabbing the base of your hair, gripping tightly. dull pain bloomed on the back of your head and your neck as he forced you to look up at him.

“i’ve told you to take care so many times. warm up well, rest up well, yet you pretty little brat have to go overboard, huh?”

his fingers tightened, and your mouth opened up slightly, only for his thumb to sneak past your lips to press down on your tongue heavily. you tasted your own self from where he had pleasured you, and you couldn’t even respond because he held your jaw the way he wanted to.

“did i or did i not say that?” hajime asked, “hm, doll?”

using your head, he nodded with his hand holding your mouth, but you found yourself nodding alongside him out of your own volition, too. you wanted him to fuck you, wanted him to claim you, use you, own you. but here he was, still standing there in front of you, his raging hard-on so very inviting. you let out a pitiful sound, but he glared at you in warning.

his thumb slipped out of your mouth, rubbing your lower lip instead, pulling it down to expose your teeth, “mhmm, let me think for a bit on whether you deserve it, yeah?”

“don’t be so mean, hajime.”

“my darling, you haven’t seen me mean yet.”

your mouth curled into a pout, “please, i will be more careful. i’ll do my warm ups, i promise,” and then, because you knew how much he liked hearing you breathe out his name in that sinful tone of yours: “hajime.”

“fuck.”

it was like a dam broke, the way he let go of your hair and face so easily, the way his eyes devoured you, the crash of his mouth on yours, the clashing of teeth, meeting of tongues. hajime stumbled into you, felt how hot you were, sweat already adhering to your body like a second layer of skin as his fingers tugged on your clothing, clearing access, careless because all he could just do right now was have you.

his body pressed all over you, hot breath fanning over you, his hard dick rubbing between the folds, driven by need, eyes meeting yours for a split second before he drove into you. your injured leg hoisted up on his side, in the least possible way of irritating the already strained muscle, making sure to keep it level.

“i’m sorry, baby, i’ll— ah, f-fuuck, i’ll take care of it later,” hajime’s words were so kind, but the way he was groaning, the colour of his voice, the way it rumbled in his chest was dark, floating in the air like gas, suffocating you slowly.

his hips slammed against your skin, and the sound echoed in the room, in your head, the tremor felt throughout your body. 

you were sure your eyes turned upwards in pleasure, whining out his name, clenching on his rapidly moving cock, had you rocking back and forth against the back of the couch, chasing a high you yearned so much. his face was buried in your neck, biting your skin, tasting your lust for him, never stopping. 

feeling arousal swirl in your stomach, you felt the way your core tried to get a hold of him but the pace he set was too fast, too much of a challenge, like all the pent up frustration needed to get out, like his annoyance and his concern over you hurting yourself needed to be fucked out of him and into you.

“haji—hajime.”

his voice was muffled, but you felt the low purr of it against your skin, “m’darling girl, you feel so good, you’re so pre—ah, pretty, nghh, fuck. don’t you— don’t you worry me like that anymore, hear me?”

“yea—h, yeah, yes, yeahh,” baseless affirmations passing your lips, no sense in your words. he could ask you for anything and you would have said yes. gasping for breath, raising your hips, meeting him, pressing messy kisses everywhere, god, you were whipped for iwaizumi hajime. ultimately and completely wrapped around his fingers.

when you came, it was at his command, at the bite of his teeth, at the press of his hands on your stomach, at the same time that he released and filled you up, hips stuttering, lazily plunging into warmth over and over. claiming you with his cum painted all over your skin, pushed back between your folds again.

you wrapped your healthy leg around him to keep him near, to keep him inside and close to you, not ready to part just yet. hajime had never been softer and gentler in setting down your other leg, expert fingers caressing your flesh, tenderly prodding to reassess the injury until he was satisfied.

sighing, he lifted his head, kissing your jaw, the corner of your mouth, capturing your lips into a meek, warm show of affection.

“i’ll clean you up, love, you just sit here and look pretty for me.”

despite that, he took a while to move.

[pinksugarberries]

Hey, do you write for min su? Just him being a bit of a pervert

pervert min-su x fem!reader

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﹒　૮꒰◞ ◟ ꒱ა　⸝　new upload!　❜

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　⸝⸝　　◦　　tags: pervertness, suggestive staring/language, min-su acting clueless and dumb to get his way, reader is more clueless, game au, mentions of jerking off, i wouldn’t call this smut but some people may so idk, min-su overshares with the wrong people and they fuck him over, female reader intended (sorry fellas…), ooc? (most likely)

　⸝⸝　　◦　　a/n: how late am i to this…? shut up. also im sorry if this isn’t what you wanteddd people being perverted isn’t my favorite thing to write about but i had no other ideas and decided to do my request so i hope this is good for you!! i also just don’t like writing about me unless it’s like nam-gyu hehehehehhe also sorry if this isn’t short it is currently 1:33AM while i’m writing this sentence…

BLUE: MIN-SU

GREEN: NAM-GYU

PURPLE: THANOS (his english is in italics)

PINK: READER

masterlist • rules

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min-su is a perv, but not on purpose… his eyes just wander and happen to land on you…!

…right?

yes, min-su is naturally shy and a people pleaser, who is usually timid and gets under pressure extremely easy, but why wouldn’t he use that advantage of him being ‘clueless’ or shy all the time to ogle at the girl that’s also in the group with him?

ever since you, se-mi, min-su, nam-gyu, thanos, and gyeong-su have been hanging out, he’s found himself staring more and more at your lips, or at your chest while your talking. enjoying the way your lips move and fantasize on how they would feel against bist, and how your chest would feel if he’s holding them in his hands. wait, is he drooling? fuck.

it’s not his fault you just are the definition of eye candy.

past that, he would always want to attempt to protect you or become someone you could lean on, but he’s to shy to really do anything about it.

when you two are alone, he gets really scared, as if he wasn’t already before, while you talk to him you can’t help but he his eyes ‘innocently’ graze your figure. you didn’t think anything of it, he didn’t mean any harm!

after a game, or talking to you alone, he feels all this pent up emotion that he just goes to the bathroom and relieves some stress.

by imagining you sucking or jerking him off in the stall.

he can’t help it!

cutting to lights out, he finds himself admitting his feelings to nam-gyu and thanos out of peer pressure

(during this section if you didn’t read the cor coded text names before this started, please go back! it’ll make sense!)

“i—i mean she’s cute.. i—i don’t really know..”

”dude—“

thanos put a hand out and looked up at the both of them from where he was sitting “nam-su i got this, bro”

“dude, we’ve seen the way you look at her tits, it’s okay man.”

min-su attempted to save himself, but let out a shaky sigh, putting his head down as he spoke.

“…yeah well, i’ve liked her since she’s joined the team. i mean, she’s kind, funny, endearing, very… very beautiful… and… um… very beautiful…yeah…” he rambled to them, not on purpose, but everything just flowed perfectly.

“min-su, when you had to go to the bathroom as soon as we got back from grabbing our lunches, why’d you immediately have to go to the bathroom?” “oh! i know!”

“we all heard you by the way, bro”

min-sus heart sank as he listened to the boys, shrugging them off.

(to cut this short, nam-gyu and thanos told you and you eventually started avoiding his slightly more since you were creeped out)

ok scenario over!!!

while he was sitting next you, he accidentally gripped your waist,

as you felt the grip of his hand on your waist, you turned to him with a concerned and scared looked on your face.

“min-su?” “are you okay?”

he looked completely shaken up as he let go quickly, turning the other way from you.

“yes— i’m so— so so sorry.. i’m sorry.. that was an accident.”

“it’s okay, just give me a warning next time..!”

[bonnie-the-butcher]

Rip Tide | Chapter VI

[ MDNI ] [ word count: 8.928 ] [ Masterlist ] 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: Canonverse/Canon-Divergent; Dark! Content; NSFW (p in v, unprotected, implied m!masturbation); Strong Language; Cheating; Drug Use; Mentions of overdose; Some shades of Munchausen syndrome from dear old Rafe; Manipulation; Toxic, obsessive behaviour; Stalking; Violence; DUBCON/NONCON; My writing is really pretentious and English is not my first language, so please feel free to call me out in whichever grammar mistakes you might find find.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | You and JJ have always been in each other's orbit. He's your brother’s best friend, the guy you've known your entire life. He was kind, protective, familiar. You never meant for the two of you to start hooking up. And you never meant for it to last so long. But when this boy you thought you'd come to know like the back of your hand turns out to be no better than the men he'd warned you about, you find yourself in the sights of the guy he hates most, regardless of wether you want that or not.

OMG Bonnie what is that? A JJ chapter? Yeah, maybe I went insane. Likes, asks, reblogs, and comments are always greatly appreciated! Thank you in advance for reading <3

JJ takes a slow step forward, his shoulders rolling back, his fingers still coiled tight around the handlebars of his bike. There’s a heat rolling off of him, a barely contained energy that makes your stomach twist.

His gaze drifts over to you. The rage burning through his eyes as he climbs down, drifting through Rafe’ arms, how they wrap around you, how close he’s holding you to him. – What’s going on, huh? – His voice is taught, barely restrained. You think of the hiss a rattlesnake makes before pouncing, the barely restrained violence simmering under each sound. – What are you doing here?

– I could ask you the same thing, Maybank. – Rafe hums. You call his name, trying to reel him back before it gets dangerous, but he seems entertained more than anything. – We’re a little far from the salvation army. Not much for you to do around here.

– Rafe!

The kook holds your hand to his chest when you push him, smiling down at you like it’s the funniest thing in the world. – I’m just having a little fun with him, that’s all.

– Get off of her, Rafe.

He’s looking at you with a focus that’s never a good sign, but don’t miss the way his eyes flick to where Rafe’s hand still lingers at your waist. The moment stretches, thick with the weight of his anger, but you can’t bring yourself to move first.

Rafe doesn’t bother hiding his grin. If anything, it grows, slow and deliberate, like this is the most fun he’s had all night. – Why? You scared she won’t come back when she realizes there’s more to life than being leeched off of by her brother’s friends?

– Rafe, this isn’t funny.

– JJ must think it is, it’s the only thing he does well. – Rafe drawls, tilting his head as he finally steps back from you—but not without dragging his fingers along your side, a pointed reminder. – Right, JJ?

JJ’s lips press into a thin line. His fingers flex around the handlebars, his nostrils flaring as he exhales hard through his nose. His gaze cuts to you now, sharp and demanding. – What the hell are you doing with this asshole?

His voice grates you. Every word echoing in your head like nails on a chalkboard.

– This is none of your business, JJ.

He doesn’t even pretend to hear you. – Kie told me what happened at work. We were all worried about you.

You open your mouth, but Rafe hums before you can speak, stepping in again, loose and easy, barely putting in effort but still commanding all the space between you. – Worried? Were you worried that you’re finally gonna have to get a job and deal with your own shit?!

– You don’t know what you’re talking about, okay?! Shut the fuck up!

– Or what? Are you gonna freeload off of me too?

JJ moves before you can stop him. His bike crashes to the pavement as he lunges, fists already clenched, fury twisting his face. Rafe barely shifts, like he’s been expecting this all along, like he’s been waiting for the moment he can finally push JJ over the edge.

– THIS SHIT ISN’T ABOUT YOU RAFE!

You step in fast, hands catching JJ’s arm before he can swing, your pulse hammering. – JJ, don’t. Fuck off. Don’t fucking do this right now.

– He’s the one who needs to fuck off! We’re talking right now, it’s none of his fucking business! – His breath is ragged, his muscles stiff under your grip. But Rafe just grins, smug and taunting, eyes alight with something dark. – Tell him to go away.

– You can’t tell me that yourself? Is that how much of a bitch you are, JJ?

JJ lunges, nearly pushing you into the asphalt by mistake. Rafe’s the one that catches you, his hand steadying you as you hold JJ back. – LET GO OF ME!

– JJ step the fuck back, I’m not even kidding you.

– He started it!

Rafe whistles lowly, laughing just under his breath as his arm wraps around you again. – Your brother really knows how to pick them, doesn’t he?

– Not helping, Rafe.

– I’m just trying to enjoy myself while you talk him down from his tantrum. I’m great.

– Stop fucking talking to her like that!

– Or what? You gonna hit me? – He muses, tilting his head, like the thought actually amuses him. – Go ahead, man. Take your shot. I bet it’ll feel real good.

JJ’s jaw tightens, his arm twitching under your hold. You can feel the war inside him, the barely restrained urge to throw that punch, to finally give Rafe the fight he’s clearly asking for.

But you don’t let go.

And JJ doesn’t swing.

For a second, the only sound is the thick silence between you.

Then Rafe sighs, exaggerated and disappointed. – Shame, – He mutters, stepping back, shaking his head like JJ’s let him down. – I was really hoping you’d play along, JJ. It’s been what? A week since you last got arrested? Has it ever been so long? I bet they’re missing you down at the station.

He flashes a grin at you, sharp and knowing, before brushing past, hands moving over your back like he owns you. – Y’know what, baby? We should really get going. I’m getting kinda bored.

– You’re out of your fucking mind if you think she’s going anywhere with you.

– JJ. – You warn, but he doesn’t seem to hear you.

– She came here with me, buddy. Maybe you wanna look around you. – He glances at you, blue eyes gleaming as he takes you by the arm. – C’mon. It’s getting late, right? Your brother’s probably struggling to figure out the oven right now.

– You don’t know what the fuck your talking about. – JJ growls.

– You’re gonna go home with this pogue? –The question comes out in a hum, almost condescendingly. His laughter thrills up your spine like a shiver of fear. – You’re gonna let him strongarm you like this?

You swallow, breathing in deep.

Rafe’s grip on your arm tightens, fingers warm against your skin, but you don’t move. His smirk twitches—just barely—before he tilts his head, watching you with curiosity, even if the smile he’s giving you doesn’t seem too pleased.

JJ notices too. He exhales sharply, barely holding himself together. – You’re not leaving with him.

His voice is low, coarse. And he’s clinging, moving his arms within your hold like a whiny kid. But it’s not a plea. It’s a demand.

Rafe hums under his breath, low and pleased, like this is all going exactly how he wanted. – She’s not staying for you, JJ. – He flicks his gaze over, like he’s looking at something stuck to the bottom of his shoe. – You have John B’s useless ass to thank for her not leaving with me right now.

JJ clenches his jaw so tight you swear you hear his molars crack. – Shut the fuck up, Rafe.

Rafe grins, slow and knowing. – I will if she makes me. Right, baby? Maybe you can give me a goodnight kiss before I go.

JJ takes a step forward, but you press a hand to his chest, stopping him. He seethes, nostrils flaring, but you shake your head. – Just go, Rafe. Please. – Your voice isn’t sharp—it’s tired, annoyed.

And that’s exactly why Rafe thrives on it.

He tsks, squeezing your waist in his hold on you before pulling his keys from his pocket. – That’s okay. We’ll have plenty of time for that tomorrow, right? – He leans in, voice dipping lower. – You can make it up to me.

You sigh, rubbing your temple. – Rafe—

– You’re cute when you get all flustered. – He laughs, tapping your chin with his knuckle. – I’ll call you later.

JJ lunges, and it takes everything in you to shove him back.

Rafe just whistles, all relaxed amusement, stepping back with an easy grin. – Damn, Maybank, you’re really gonna let her hold you back like that?

JJ is shaking in anger, chest heaving.

Rafe doesn’t wait for an answer. He shoots you a wink and a lazy salute before finally turning away, tossing over his shoulder, – Don’t miss me too much, baby.

JJ exhales sharply, shaking off your hold. His head drops for a second, his hands clenching at his sides before he looks at you, eyes blazing. – What the hell was that?

You swallow hard, the weight in your chest pressing down heavy. – JJ—

But he shakes his head. – Nah. No way. You don’t get to brush this off. – His voice is rough, disbelief coating every syllable. – Tell me you’re not— He stops himself, exhaling sharply again before taking a step back, shaking his head like he’s trying to make sense of it. – Tell me you’re not seriously falling for this shit.

You don’t know what to say.

Because maybe you don’t have an answer he wants to hear.

– Oh my God. – You don’t know what exactly in his face shifts, but you feel the air around you thicken. – You are, aren’t you?!

– Spare me the outrage, JJ. I’m not in the mood for your lectures.

– The guy is a fucking psychopath! There’s no fucking way you do’t see that! He’s insane!

You roll your eyes, a sigh falling from your lips before you can think of it. – You say that like you’re some sort of model of normalcy.

– I can’t fucking believe you!

– I don’t fucking need you to believe me, JJ. Clearly you fucking don’t. It doesn’t matter what I say, you already have your pitchfork ready! So what exactly am I supposed to be getting out of this?! Huh? Tell me. – A beat of silence lingers between you, as you turn your back on him. It’s long past 6 PM. The sky is pitch-black. – Can we just go? I don’t wanna do this.

You can see the gears turn in his head when you speak. His eyes soften, jaw unclentching. – I’m trying to look out for you. – You scoff. – Look, I know you’re stressed and all, but you don’t need to be taking it out on me, okay?! Chill out.

– Thanks, Mother Teresa. I feel much calmer now.

– Can we just put down the boxing gloves, right now?!

– I don’t know JJ, can we? I can’t put my guard down with you for a moment. Because that’s what you do. You tell me I should calm down, and when I do, you come up with some insane shit to piss me off all over again!

JJ watches you, chest still rising and falling like he’s trying to catch a breath that won’t come. Then his expression shifts—like something clicks into place, like he’s realizing something he doesn’t like.

His lips curl, his tongue running over the inside of his cheek. – Are you serious? – His voice is quieter now, almost disbelieving. – This is where we’re at?

You shake your head, swallowing back the lump in your throat. – I don’t want to do this right now, JJ.

– Oh, that’s rich. You don’t wanna do this right now? – He lets out a sharp, humorless laugh. – You wanna pick a better time? Should I make an appointment? Because it’s like you never have time for me these days! You’ll speak your mind, talk all the game you fucking want, but when it’s time to talk about my feelings, suddenly you’re too tired to deal!

Your stomach twists.

JJ scoffs. – You know, I keep trying. I keep trying to get through to you, and you just— He stops, shakes his head again, shoving a hand through his hair like that’ll help get rid of some of the frustration bleeding off of him.

– Trying to what, JJ? What is it that you’re trying to get through to me so much? That I can’t even talk to people while you go around fucking whatever girl you want? – The words come out before you can stop them.

– That’s funny, I don’t remember leaving with your mortal enemy!

– And I don’t remember kissing your best friend after leaving your bed, JJ. But here we are!

JJ goes still.

For a second, neither of you speak.

Then he exhales sharply through his nose, shaking his head like you’ve just confirmed something he was trying not to believe. – There you go again, – He mutters, half in laughter, half in scorn. – You’re insane. Like. You’re actually sick in the fucking head. You and Rafe are perfect for each other. Maybe that’s why you’re here right? I was too normal, so you got bored. And that’s why you’re here in the Country Club, fucking that psychopath!

You stare at him, heart still pounding, but there’s something else gnawing at the edges of your mind now—something off. Something you didn’t notice in the heat of it all.

The country club.

You’re not at your job.

You’re not at home.

You’re not even on your side of the island.

Your stomach twists again.

– JJ, – you start, voice quieter now.

But he doesn’t hear it, or he doesn’t care. He scoffs again, throwing his hands in the air as he turns away, pacing. – I should’ve known. I should’ve listened to John B. He always said you were fucking twisted! But leave it to me! It’s my fault or thinking you could act like a person for once!

Your pulse stutters.

You don’t even register his words.

You don’t remember telling him where you were.

Your job isn't anywhere near the Country Club. You didn’t text him. You didn’t call him.

So how did he find you?

Your skin prickles as you stare at him, the words barely coming out. – JJ... how did you know I was here?

– What?! – He laughs, like you’ve just said something stupid, but you’re not gonna let him do this. Keeping your face neutral, even while your blood runs cold, you repeat:

– How did you know where I was? – He looks at you for a moment, frozen in place. You don’t even see him breathe. But the thoughts run wild behind his eyes, his mouth hanging open, unable to keep up with the speed at which his mind is running. – Answer me. How did you know I was here, JJ?

– I— He swallows, looking between each of your eyes frantically. – I was gonna pick you up at work,

– At a quarter to seven PM? You know I get the bus. It leaves at 5:20. You know that.

– Why are you making a big deal out of this?! I was driving to the wreck and I saw you here—

– No you weren’t. The wreck is East. To get here, you need to be going West.

He’s quiet again.

– Are you following me? How did you even— Realization dawns on you. JJ and John had your phone all day after you left. The notification you saw when you finally got it back, was from your maps app, which you’ve never opened in your life. You pull your phone out of your pocket. The location is on, but you don’t remember activating it. You open your messages. The latest contact is JJ. But you haven’t texted him in days. The chat is empty. – You sent my phone location to yourself, didn’t you? You and John are fucki— Your voice dies within your throat. The hair at the back of your neck standing. – John doesn’t have my password, though.

– You’re acting insane.

– How the fuck did you figure out my password, JJ? It’s a thousand characters long. I expect that shit from Pope, but— You stop again, opening your settings. A second fingerprint is set there, next to yours. – What the fuck is wrong with you?

– Don’t turn this around right now!

– That’s rich, JJ! And I’m the one who’s insane?! You’re a fucking stalker!

JJ scoffs, but it’s different now—less angry, more… wounded. Like you just slapped him in the face instead of uncovering something deeply fucked up. He shakes his head, stepping back like he needs distance from you.

– Are you serious right now? – His voice is quieter, rougher. – After everything?

You stare at him, blood still thrumming in your ears. – After everything? JJ, you just—

– No, you don’t get it. You don’t fucking get it. – He lets out a breathless laugh, dragging his hand down his face. – I knew something was off. I knew you were pulling away. I knew you were sneaking around, lying to me—

– I’m pulling away because you’re messing around with Kie!

– I’m not! Baby, I— He’s slapping himself, pulling out his hair. – I was trying to make you jealous, okay?! I just want you to pay attention to me! But you’re either glued to your phone talking to Barry, or you’re around John B, doing everything for him, everything I want you to do for me!

– What the fuck are you talking about?! He’s my fucking brother, JJ!

– BUT HE DOESN’T DESERVE IT! – He screams, the vitriol burning against his lips like acid. – He was always horrible to you, and I was there! I was there! I wanted you!

– What are you talking about?! You’ve hated me since we were kids!

– NO! I— I wanted you to look at me. I just wanted you to—Please. Just look at me, okay? I don’t want you sneaking around with Barry or with Rafe, or whatever! I want you here! With me!

– Sneaking around—JJ, you broke into my fucking phone—

– Because you wouldn’t fucking talk to me! – His voice cracks on the last word, and it throws you for a second—because the anger is still there, but there’s something else now, something desperate. His hands are in his hair, gripping like he’s holding himself together. – Do you even hear yourself? Do you even care? Or are you just gonna act like I’m some fucking psycho and not the guy who’s been there for you? The guy who—who has wanted you since I was kid?!

Your breath catches.

JJ exhales sharply, jaw clenching like he hates himself for saying it, for letting it slip out in the middle of this.

– You were there for me. – He continues. – When your brother couldn’t be. When my dad started— When he drank. You remember that, don’t you? You took care of me. You always took care of me. John B couldn’t get that! Even if he tried, y’know, who knows, maybe he did! But he was always this golden boy! Your dad, he— He treated him like he could do no wrong— He’d never get it. But you did! You always got me!

You’re quiet. Because you remember.

You remember taking a beating for JJ the day John sent you there to give him his surfboard. You remember laying there on the floor, his dad pulling you by the hair, because you stood there while JJ ran. You remember the face he made when his dad threw you out.

How he fell apart in your arms.

How you remained there, holding him, as he bled through your clothes.

And it tears you apart.

Because the way he spoke to you before, is exactly the way his father used to speak to him.

– But yeah. Sure. I’m the stalker. I’m the crazy one. – He laughs bitterly, shaking his head. – You’re so fucking worried about me following you, but you don’t care that you’re running straight to him! – His eyes flash with something sharp, something dark. – You think he gives a shit about you? You think Rafe fucking Cameron isn’t watching your every move, waiting for you to fuck up so he can sink his claws in? Like Barry did? – He steps forward, voice lowering like he’s telling you some ugly secret.

Your heart jumps in your chest at the mention. JJ knows this is a low blow. – You don’t know anything about Barry and me.

– I know he hurt you. – He’s almost pleading. – He hurt you because you were with him, when you should’ve been with me.

– JJ—

– I did this to protect you. Let me protect you. Like you protected me.

There it is. The flip.

You feel like you might faint.

JJ exhales shakily, his fingers flexing like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands anymore. The anger is fizzling out, but what’s left is somehow worse—smaller. He looks at you, really looks at you, and suddenly it’s like all the fight drains out of him.

– I can’t keep doing this. – His voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper. He shakes his head, eyes flickering away like he’s embarrassed, like you’ve just torn him down completely. – I don’t—I don’t know how else to prove it to you. How else to make you see that I just wanted to keep you safe.

His shoulders drop. He looks exhausted.

– But you don’t believe me. You won’t ever fucking believe me, will you? – He laughs, but it’s hollow, broken. – It doesn’t matter what I do. Doesn’t matter that I would literally die for you—Jesus Christ, I would, and you don’t even fucking see it. I’d do anything for you, and you’re just standing there, looking at me like I’m a fucking monster.

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out.

– I mean—fuck, what am I supposed to do? Huh? – His voice cracks. His eyes are glassy now, but he swipes a hand over his face before anything can fall. – You want me to apologize? I will. You want me to beg? Fine. – He laughs breathlessly, shoulders shaking as he sinks down onto the curb like his body just gave up. – I’ll fucking beg.

Your stomach twists.

– Just— he exhales, hands clinging to your hips. – Can we go home? – His voice is so quiet now, so defeated. – Please. I don’t wanna fight anymore. I don’t wanna—fuck, I don’t even care. Just let me take you home. That’s all I want.

He looks up at you, and for the first time tonight, he looks fragile. Worn down. Like he’s carrying something too heavy for him, and the only thing keeping him from collapsing is you.

And God help you, part of you wants to believe him.

– JJ. – Your voice is sharp, but your hands are shaking. – This isn’t about that—this isn’t about you wanting to take me home. This is about what you did—

– I know! – he cuts in, his breath coming too fast, too uneven. His hands fist in his hair, like he’s trying to hold himself together by sheer force. – I know, okay? I fucked up, I fucking know— He stumbles over his own words, gasping, like the weight of it is physically pressing down on him. – But I can’t—

His voice breaks.

– I can’t lose you over this. Over Rafe fucking Cameron and his bullshit.

The air between you shifts. Something inside him just collapses.

– Please. – His chest is heaving, his eyes wet, his whole body trembling like he’s about to snap. – I don’t—I don’t know how to make you stay. I don’t know how to fix this. – His voice cracks again, and this time, his knees buckle.

You barely have time to react before he’s falling into you, grabbing fistfuls of your clothes, his breath hitching against your belly. His whole body is shaking.

– I’m sorry. – His words spill out in a frantic, broken rush. – I’m so fucking sorry. Please—please don’t go. Just—just let me take you home, baby, please—

His arms tighten around you, like if he holds on hard enough, he can force you to stay. And God, you shouldn’t. You should push him away, make him listen, make him answer for this.

But he’s crying.

JJ Maybank—loud, reckless, impossible JJ—is sobbing into you like a little kid, like he’s breaking apart right in front of you.

You inhale shakily, your hands hovering before you finally give in, falling before him on the ground, wrapping your arms around him, pressing your cheek against his hair.

– It’s okay, – you whisper, even though it isn’t. Even though nothing is.

But it’s all he wants to hear.

JJ exhales sharply, his whole body collapsing into yours with something like relief. – Don’t leave me.

– I won’t.

And maybe you mean it.

Maybe that’s the scariest part.

You let him fall apart against you, his body wracked with silent tremors as he clings to you like a lifeline. His breath is uneven, ragged, hot against your skin, and his fingers fist into your top, desperate, like letting go isn’t an option. He presses closer, his whole body sinking into yours, like he’s trying to disappear inside you, like that’s the only place he might be safe.

And you let him. You hold him as his shoulders shake, as he fights to keep from outright sobbing, as the weight of whatever broke him presses down so hard you swear you can feel it, too. He’s unraveling in your arms, piece by piece, like he’s been holding himself together for so long that the second you touched him, he lost the strength to keep pretending.

So you kiss the top of his head, soft but steady, and something in him shifts.

JJ exhales, a long, shuddering breath against your skin, like you’ve reached inside him and pulled all that tension from his chest. His body, wound so tightly, begins to loosen—his grip on you eases, but only enough for his hands to smooth over your back instead of clutching desperately. He leans into you now not just from pain, but from something quieter, something softer.

You feel it in the way his breathing slows, in the way the tremors start to fade as your fingers trace slow circles over his back. His arms tighten around you again, but it’s different this time—not frantic, not desperate. Just… needing you. Needing to be here, against you, in your warmth, in this small, quiet moment where he can finally let go.

His face stays buried in the crook of your neck, and when he speaks, his voice is hoarse but steady.

– I’m sorry, – He murmurs, again and again, lips moving against your skin.

You shake your head slightly, your fingers still stroking his back. – It’s okay.

And maybe for him, it actually is. Maybe just for a moment, with your hands in his hair and his body wrapped around yours, he feels something like peace. He doesn’t let go—not yet. He holds on, reveling in the comfort you offer, pressing into you like he never wants to leave. Like you’re the first real breath of air he’s had in a long time.

You stay like that, until the silence grows too heavy and you sigh. – We should go.

JJ doesn’t argue. He pulls back slowly, blinking, his eyes still red-rimmed but calmer, softer. His fingers linger at your waist before he finally steps up, exhaling like he’s reluctant to leave the space you created for him.

The drive is quiet, with him pulling your arms tighter around him everytime he gets the chance. You don’t protest. For a moment it's almost comforting, sitting on the back of his bike, without a word being spoken between you. But the feeling sits there, in your chest, that shiver you got when you realized he’s been following you.

It's not just caution.

It's not strangeness.

It's fear. A real, tangible fear of what he did, of what he can still do. Of what he might have continued doing had you not realized it. —It curls up around your throat, that fear. Pressing against your windpipe. You almost struggle to breathe.— You remain there, arms fastened around him as he slows down, pulling the brakes just before your house, even when he finally stops.

JJ leans back into you, breathing deep, clutching your hand to his chest, his body completely relaxed against yours. You’re still wondering. Mind still running.

How long had he followed you for?

Had he been trailing you? Close behind, just out of reach, or had he stared at your location, waiting, watching you without seeing you?

You don’t know which is worse.

– John B’s with Sarah tonight. – JJ mumbles, his head thrown back against your shoulder, the ends of his hair tickling your face. – I saw him sneak out. He’s probably gonna sleep there. – You hum, not really sure of what to say. – Pope and Kie are gone too. – His thumb brushes over the back of your hand slowly, his voice growing deeper, lower. – It’s just the two of us now.

You don’t say anything.

You don’t know what to say.

JJ looks back as you throw your leg over the other side of the bike, and climb down. He still clings to your hand like he’s got you on a leash: you have to remain there as he pulls the key from the ignition, as he sets his things in the top-box, as he leans back against the seat, pulling you in for a kiss.

You meet his mouth briefly, close-lipped, his fingers interlocking with yours as he pulls you in for another, and another, and one more. – I missed this. – He whispers, eyes barely open, already leaning in again.

– It’s been two days. – You remind him, but JJ only laughs.

– Two too many.

You don’t resist when he pulls you closer. His hands find your hips, sliding beneath the waistband of your jeans, calloused fingers pressing into the small of your back like he’s trying to mold you against him. He kisses you again—deeper, messier, his breath warm and tinged with something desperate.

JJ doesn’t just want this. He needs it.

That's what you like about him. He takes like he can’t get enough. He begs, and he grasps and he clings and he needs you like he needs air to breathe.

His hands are restless, traveling up your ribs, down your waist, over your thighs, like he’s trying to make up for lost time, like touching you might steady him, might ground him. But it doesn’t. The more he touches you, the more insatiable he gets. He’s humming against your lips, sighing into your touch, a little frantic, a little unsteady.

You pull him inside, but JJ can’t seem to break the kiss. He takes your hands to the hem of his shirt, tugging impatiently, his lips dragging from your mouth to your jaw to your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your skin between whispered pleas.

– Touch me, – he breathes, his voice cracking like the weight of everything is still right there, lingering beneath the surface.

Your fingers slip into his hair, threading through the strands, and JJ shudders. He melts against you, knees almost buckling as he exhales a sharp, shaky breath.

– Fuck, – he mumbles, almost laughing, giddy and drunk on your touch. He’s clinging to you now, pressing his body into yours, murmuring against your lips, deeper, please, until you give in, kissing him the way he wants. The way he needs.

He moans softly, hands gripping your waist, pushing your top up just to feel your skin against his palms. He’s lost in this, lost in you, smiling against your mouth in that dazed, breathless way, like nothing else exists beyond the way your body fits against his.

Like everything is fine.

Even it isn’t, not really.

You lead him to your room, kicking the door behind you as he falls back on the bed, tearing his shirt off of him as if it were burning. He doesn’t even give you the time to think before he’s pulling you on top of him.

You try to guide him through the motions, letting his hands explore, letting him pull you closer, letting him bury his face in your neck, all while your mind is somewhere else. Detached. Floating.

Because underneath it all—beneath the heat of his mouth and the weight of his body and the way he pleads for you like you’re the only thing keeping him from falling apart—there’s that feeling.

That cold, creeping thing at the back of your mind.

That fear.

It wraps around your throat, pressing tight, squeezing, reminding you of what he did. Of how long he must have followed you, watching, waiting, just out of reach.

Of how much worse it could’ve been if you hadn’t noticed.

JJ doesn’t see it. He doesn’t feel it. He only sees you, only feels your hands, your lips, the comfort he’s so desperate to take from you.

– I missed this, – he murmurs again, voice slurring slightly, hands still moving, still searching. – Fuck, baby I missed this so much.

You swallow hard, exhaling slowly, before finally answering.

– I know.

And you let him keep touching you, let him revel in this, let him have this, because maybe if he does, he’ll calm down. Maybe if he does, you’ll feel safe again.

JJ exhales against your skin, his body completely unwound, pliant beneath your hands. – Take it off. – He groans, hands shaking against his breeches. – Take it off of me, baby. Please. I just want you to be on me. I need it. Please.

You don’t need to be told twice.

He watches, almost breathless while you strip him bare, moaning at every touch, hips bucking every time you brush against him.

That doesn’t last long though.

It isn’t enough that just your hands are on him. So he drags you onto his dick, still clothed, and he grinds himself into you, eyes rolling back.

There’s something raw about the way he touches you—like he’s savoring every inch, like he’ll be going through withdrawal unless he doesn’t hold on tight enough. His fingers dig into your sides as he pulls your hips into his, his laugh breathy, almost delirious.

– God, I fucking love this, – he mutters against your shoulder, his hands slipping beneath your top, his thumbs brushing lazy circles over your skin.

This.

Not you—this.

The warmth. The closeness. The way you let him touch you, take what he needs. – You love this too, right baby? Your hips— He moans, head thrown back when you roll your hips against his cock, the fabric of your jeans giving just the friction he needs to work himself up. – You're so fucking good at this.

You squeeze your eyes shut as he kisses up your throat, his lips tracing familiar paths, his breath hot and unsteady. He hums when you card your fingers through his hair again, pressing into your touch like he’s melting from the inside out.

He's getting wilder, humping you with this reckless abandon he never seems to shake off. But you can see him unraveling. Just the friction isn't scratching the itch.

He needs more.

– Take it off, baby. Please. Please. – he sighs, voice catching, eyes blown out. – Fuck, give it to me. Just ride me.

You hesitate. Your fingers still against the nape of his neck. The sounds he makes, strangled, anguished. Like he’s going mad.

You actually hear him whine when you lift your hips, and his hand flies down to palm himself while he watches you pull the jeans down.

He tilts his head up, catching your mouth again, dragging you deeper into him. His hands slide down, gripping the backs of your thighs, pulling you closer until he's practically in you.

But you don’t let him sink in just yet.

It's more fun when you drag it out.

When you move against him, teasing him, watching him twitch and moan and plead with nothing but the wetness, the softness, the warmth.

There’s a slow, creeping sickness curling in your stomach.

Because you’re leading this. Because you know what he needs, and you’re not quite giving it to him. Because you’re letting him press closer, letting him unravel, letting him forget—for just a little while—that anything is wrong at all.

And a part of you wants to forget too.

It feels good.

It doesn’t matter what he did, what he would do, because he needs you. He can’t get enough of you. He won't leave.

– Please. Please. – He repeats it like a mantra, writhing beneath you, clutching you so fucking tight. His hips go rogue, bucking wildly. – Please let me fuck you. I need to fuck you. Please. Fuck, I can't take this anymore!

The laughter that falls from your lips almost seems to stoke the flames.

He groans out loud when tip pushes into you, and for a second, his entire body just collapses against yours, heavy, needy.

Then his hands slip under your bra again, tugging at the fabric, his breath hot and desperate against your skin.

– Let me see you, – he murmurs, voice thick, rough. – G-Go ahead, baby. I need you to move. Please.

You pull back slightly, meeting his gaze. His pupils are blown wide, his lips kiss-swollen, his expression open in a way that makes you ache.

JJ wants you. That much is obvious.

But more than that—he wants to disappear into you.

To sink into your warmth, your touch, your body, and let it drown out whatever’s eating him alive from the inside.

Your stomach twists.

His fingers have long stopped tracing slow patterns against your ribs, now he's bruising you, nails digging in, shaking, waiting. Pleading.

You could give him what he wants. It would be easy. So, so easy.

But for the first time since this started, you wonder if you should. – And who said you deserve that, JJ?

– Huh?

– Because with the way you talked to me before, I don’t think you do. – You move, just slightly, and he folds, back arching. – I think you’re gonna have to convince me.

– Please. Baby, please.

– You think I'm pathetic. – You tsk, your hips rolling so slow his eyes flutter when they roll back. – I'm not the one who’s begging, though.

– Please! – He's screaming now, and you’re moving faster. The bed creaking beneath you. – I need it! Faster, baby. Faster!

He's splayed out, a puppet with the strings cut loose, yet he's anything but relaxed. You can feel him tensing, hands fisting the sheets so tight his knuckles have gone white.

He screams.

Almost yelping when you start going at the pace you know he likes. And it still isn't enough. He still grabs your hips, pulling you closer, and closer, again and again, banging against that soft spot within you like it's the only thing that can relieve him from this torture.

And you let him.

You ride him like a bronco, as if he’s trying to fuck you off instead of closer. As if he isn't begging for it. Screaming for it. – MORE, BABY, PLEASE!

You want more too.

At some point you lost yourself in trying to punish him, and it started to feel good. You're biting him, teeth dragging against the skin at the crook of his neck, the spot that always makes him shudder, that always makes him writhe.

Your nails have mapped half his body over.

He's red. —His face, his eyes, his lips, his scratches.— He’s gasping. Shaking. His whole body trembling, his eyes rolling back. You can’t even make sense of what he's saying anymore.

The only thing that leaves his mouth are these incoherent pleas, these oohs and aahs that make you laugh, humming to yourself as you ride into your orgasm, feeling him fall apart.

– F-uck, fuck! Don’t stop! Feels so fucking good baby, so fucking good! – He pushes it in faster, but it's still not enough. He needs more, he was going mad! Grabs you by the waist, tosses you on the bed, rutting like a wild dog, head thrown back, eyes rolling upwards. – Fuck! Fuck! Feel s-feel so fucking good!

All that was heard was your laughter, the pleased little gasps that escape your mouth as he fills you up over and over and over again, animalistic and heaving, laughing as well, but out of his mind, completely overwhelmed by the pleasure, by the building release. He crashes against you, once, twice, getting careless. But by then he couldn’t hold it in. More! More! is all you heard from him.

And then you felt it.

His body shudders all over again, still rutting like his life would end. – God. God! I need to cum— fuck! I need— I need— Keep going! Don’t fucking stop baby, don— FUCK! FUCK!

You felt him coat your walls, white, hot, and endless. By then, you were shaking as well, the waves of your own climax washing over you as you arch against him.

He collapses over you, trembling and crying as he smiles, moaning your name in that shaky, adoring voice, eyes clinging to you in utter joy as he pumped lazily, through your climax and his, he still needed more of you. – It won-won’t stop. Fuck, there’s so m-much of it. – Laughter. Yours, his.

Your mind is blank.

He's heavy, heaving, still inside you.

JJ's breathing is ragged, each exhale a shaky whisper as he remains, still there, still trembling with the aftershocks. His hands wander aimlessly across the sheets, his body warm and heavy, as though he's been consumed entirely. His eyes are half-lidded, unfocused, and a soft whimper escapes him as he reaches for your hand.

– Baby... can you...? – His voice is slurred, broken, as if he’s still caught between the pleasure and the exhaustion of it all. His hand gently tugs at your wrist, his fingers brushing against your skin. – Just... touch me. Please... softly.

There was that, too.

He was always sweeter when he was done.

You give a soft, reassuring smile, your fingers gently grazing his messy hair, pushing the strands out of his face, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, lingering for a moment before you speak in the same soft, soothing tone. – I’m here, JJ. I got you.

He hums in response, his eyes fluttering closed, a content sigh escaping his lips as you run your fingers through his hair, the action slow and comforting. – I’m... Fuck— Laughter buzzes against your skin as he presses his lips on you again. – I'm never getting used to this... I’m not used to this, – he mumbles between shaky breaths, his hand coming to rest on your arm, the weight of his touch grounding him. – Feels... too good. I need you to... keep me close. Just... just a little longer.

You hate the way your heart skips.

But you love the way he says it.

The way his voice brushes against your skin when he pleads, so softly, so sweetly. Like he could never do you harm.

You shift slightly, pulling him into your chest, the warmth of his body a constant reassurance. His hand rests over your heart, the frantic pace of his pulse now slowing, but his face is still pinched with that lingering tension, a mix of exhaustion and need for reassurance. He lets out a soft groan as you press your lips to his temple, whispering, – I’m right here. You’re okay.

His breath evens out, and as the minutes pass, you keep stroking his hair and kissing his head, each kiss lighter than the last, until his body relaxes fully, his grip on you loosens. – Love you.

You feel yourself tense up.

It’s not the first time he says it.

But it might be the first time you know he doesn’t mean it.

Still you smile down at him anyway, pressing another gentle kiss to his forehead before whispering back, – Sure you do, baby. Go to sleep, okay?

He doesn’t need much encouragement.

JJ's never been easy to tire out, but when he does, it's immediate. His ear is pressed to your chest, to your heart, and you wonder what kind of dreams he’ll be having with that soundtrack, but it doesn't take long for his breath to even out.

The house is quiet.

Completely so.

And though you're glad John wasn't there to hear it, laying there, without his snoring to lull you into even halfway into reality only means that it crashes against you like a bucket of cold water a soon as JJ is out.

The day dawns on you, as it has done several times, but still the loathing blooms in your chest and spreads through your body faster than your mind can process.

You're broke.

You're jobless.

The girl you thought was your best friend is a snake.

The boy that's sleeping on you is a stalker.

Your best prospect right now is famously the most spoiled and volatile person on the island. That, because your best friend, the person that could actually get you out of this, has faded away after abandoning you, and you have no idea if he’ll even come back.

What's funny is that this is the thought that hurts you most —Not that you're unemployed, that your now previous boss could ruin you forever, that your relationship with only family member is as unstable as your financial situation, or that the people you thought you could trust don’t care about you— that Barry is gone.

Something he has been plenty of times before.

You lie there in the stillness, the weight of JJ's body pressing against yours. The sheets feel too warm, too much, a world you can’t find a way into. JJ’s steady breathing is a lullaby of sorts, pulling you toward the edge of exhaustion, but it’s not enough to quiet the thoughts tumbling relentlessly in your head.

Barry's absence gnaws at you —You know he’s not gone forever, not really. Or at least you hope so. He’s done this before, pulled away just long enough for you to convince yourself it doesn’t matter. And yet, it hurts like it does. Like it’s different this time.

You turn your head to glance at him—JJ, still sleeping soundly, unaware. His face is soft, the usual edge to his features dulled by exhaustion, but even now, with him so vulnerable in your arms, you feel the invisible distance between you grow. He’s a comfort, but only in the way a warm blanket can make you feel safe when the storm is too loud. And it is too loud. So loud you can barely breathe through it.

Your fingers trace patterns along his skin, but it’s absent, mechanical—the world outside the room, the boy in your arms, the life that’s slipping from your fingers, and the ghost that won’t stop haunting you, and you don't even know why.

Barry.

You know, deep down, that it’s not about him being gone. It’s about the fact that, despite what JJ has just tried to convince you of, Barry actually is the one person that was there for you.

When your father went away, he celebrated with you. When he was declared missing, he comforted you, even if you said you didn't care. Even if you didn't even know you needed it.

And maybe that's the problem: He saw you better than you saw yourself. He knows you. Really knows you.

But does he now?

So much has changed in two days.

You can’t even tell yourself it was real anymore because everything you thought you knew about him, about you, is shifting—becoming something else you can’t identify.

There’s no way to put a name to it, though, is there? That dull ache you’ve learned to live with. Not quite loneliness, but not contentment, either. Just an empty space where hope used to live, and you're so used to it now that you don’t know what it would feel like to fill it.

You let your gaze fall to JJ again, watching the way his back rises and falls with the easy rhythm of sleep. Maybe this is it—this is what you have now. A boy who doesn’t even know what he’s asking for when he whispers his need into the quiet night. And you, too tired to push him away, too lost to turn to anything else. You can almost convince yourself it’s enough, and for a second, you do.

But then, Barry’s face flickers in your mind again, like a ghost.

You wonder, just for a moment, if you would’ve been able to say anything if he were here. If you would’ve told him how much you needed him to help you, how much you needed him to be here, not just physically, but with you in the way that only he ever did.

But he’s not here.

And you’re not sure when he will be again.

The buzz of your phone slices through the silence. You freeze. What's the likelihood that he would call you right then, when you needed him most?

You slide from under JJ, and he grumbles, hands reaching for you even deep into sleep, but you don’t see it. All you see is the unknown number flashing on your screen amidst the darkness, and your heart races as you bring the phone to your ear. – Bee? – The word falls from your lips almost fearfully. You don’t want to know where he's been, what he's doing, or how much of what he had to take to call you like this, in the middle of the night. But you’re impatient to hear his voice, you just want to know if he's okay. – Bee, is that you?

The line scratches softly, the familiar sound of skin whispering against the microphone echoing in-between the two phones. Your pulse thrums against your ear. – Not bee. – You finally hear. – Are, actually.

– “Are”? Barry, what are you talking about? What did you take?

– It’s not Barry, baby. – The edge of his words resounded even through the distance. Pleased, but not quite satisfied. – It’s Rafe.

You let go of a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding.

– Oh, “R”. Okay I got it.

He chuckles, a long, breathy noise. His breathing is heavy. – Did you put the cry-baby to sleep or is he still up whining?

JJ turns in his sleep. His arm, still lying, lax, over your lap shifts, and he pulls himself closer, brow brushing against your thigh. – JJ is… gone.

– Good. Thought I was gonna have to call CPS or some shit. – He scoffs, turning, in bed, you gather, since you hear the squeak of furniture.

– How considerate.

– Well, baby, I'm nothing if not considerate. – He hums. – What are you doing awake?

Regretting your life decisions, pondering the benefits of suicide. – Thinking of you. – It was meant to be a joke, but it didn’t sound like one as it slipped from your lips.

There's half a second of silence from him before you hear that laugh again, like you shocked him.

Rafe Cameron was shocked.

That's definitely a headline.

You can almost hear the smirk on his face. – I was thinking about you too, baby. What are you wearing?

You scoff, almost rolling your eyes. – Rafe.

He laughs again, even breathier. – Sorry. Was that too soon? – His bed creaks again. – You don’t seem like the kind of girl who needs a lot of foreplay.

– Hilarious.

– I was really hoping you'd give me a taste of what you’re wearing tomorrow, though.

You look down almost unconsciously. The only thing covering your skin is sweat. – Definitely not what I'm wearing right now. Unless you're hiring for a job other than personal chef.

Rafe’s quiet again. He moves around. You can hear him breathing. – Maybe I am. What kind of job are you thinking?

– Well, aren’t you the little hiring agency? Should've met you before. There’s some things on my resume I'm definitely not proud of. – He laughs with you now, though there's something strange in his tone. – Did you talk to your governess, or that other guy you said you didn't know the name of?

– Did. We'll be waiting for you.

– Well, you call and I come. – He laughs at the double-entendre, another noise escaping his lips. – What time should I be there?

– How's 10 AM sound?

– Perfect, Rafe. Thank you. Again, really. I can’t thank you enough.

– You're welcome, baby. You really are. – He groans, the bed creaking. JJ moves around again, his head on your lap, hands around your knees, and he mumbles something unintelligible. – What was that?

– Sorry, uhm. Just… thinking out loud.

You swallow, but Rafe doesn’t miss a beat. – And what are you thinking about?

– About… What I'm gonna wear. – Improvising was never really your forte.

Rafe hums, a long stretch of the M, then something smaller, a sound you can't quite catch. – That skirt. – He sighs. – The blue pleated one.

You pause.

– What?

– It's pretty. – Is all he says, then a groan, or a purr. The phone falls on his pillow, you can hear it scratch against his skin as he moves. But the way he says it, as if he’s seen it a thousand times in the two days you've known each other, as if he can picture you wearing it right in front of him. – Fuck, baby. You’re so pretty.

The compliment grates at your ears.

How does he know your clothes?

You think of the skirt. Your blue pleated skirt. It's been ages since you've worn it. It's way too short. You’ve outgrown it a while ago. – What else, baby?

– Hm?

– What else are you wearing for me?

His bed creaks again, over and over, and he doesn’t say anything for a minute, he just sighs.

– I, uhm. I don’t know. – What even is this conversation?

– Far as I'm concerned you don't need to wear anything. You can come— He laughs, low and unsteady, a strangled “yeah” cutting through the word. – Come as you are.

You feel a trickle of repulse run down your back. You don’t wanna talk to him anymore. You don’t want to talk at all.

– Talk to me, baby. – He groans, again.

– I, uhm. – You kick the nightstand, the noise echoing loudly around your room. – Shit, uhm. Sorry, that's my brother. I'll see you tomorrow.

You kill the line before he can say anything else.

@chatgtfo @bitterdotcom @sassyvillaintrophy @xmayankax @bluethperson @coralblue35 @munsoncultedits @the-bitch-who-binges @im-julessssss

[sxdisteez]

☸ Dorm Series: Part-Four | 강여상

| series masterlist | previous | next |

✦ summery: after waking up from a very vivid wet dream, yeosang finds it harder to contain his urges with your sleeping figure next to his. ✦ pairings: idol! boyfriend yeosang x fem! reader ✦ genre: smut!, idol boyfriend au ✦ word count: 1.6k ✦ warnings: smut!, needy yeosang, wet dreams, yeosang touches reader while sleep (cnc established in relationship), breast play, nipple! play (slight), dry humping, biting, daddy kink (I know), unprotected! sex (please use protection), creampie (be safe!), rough sex, squirting, yeosang is whipped for you, ✦ a/n: all of hyung line is complete! pls don't hesitate to comment and share your thoughts! there's four more stories left in this series I've enjoyed writing each one so far. thank you for the love and support it means a lot! <3

this is a work of fiction and is not meant to be a realistic representation of any of the real people mentioned.

nsfw content below. 18+ - mdni

“Go faster! Fuck me faster!” y/n screamed as I pounded into her sopping wet cunt. Her pleas energized me to give everything I had. Bringing one leg to my shoulder deepening my stroke, I relished in the way y/n eyes rolled back, her moans caught in her throat at the new sensation. “You like that baby?” I growl wanting to hear her sweet moans. “Yes oh f-fuck.” she groans, clawing at the sheets tightly. I bring my hands to her core rubbing her clit swiftly, y/n begins to clench around my cock signaling her orgasm was near. “I’m so close daddy.” she moans sensually, her hooded eyes peering up at me. Y/n gyrates her hips to meet my strokes, taking me even deeper. Her hands reach out, moving mine to stroke her own clit rapidly closing in on her release. Captivated by the lewd sight, wishing I could capture this moment in my mind forever. “Daddy I’m- gonna cu-.”

-

Jumping up, breathing heavily Yeosang looks around only to be met with the sun illuminating his room. Releasing a sigh he lays back down realizing the very vivid seemingly real image was only a wet dream. Peering over at your sleeping frame, he couldn’t help but get flashbacks of your sultry actions. His cock jumped up at the image, now desiring attention. Wanting to suppress his lust filled thoughts, Yeosang attempts to get up from the bed to deal with his “problem” only to be pulled back down by you. 

“Don’t go.” You mumble holding onto his arm.

Sighing, Yeosang lays back down allowing you to snuggle up to him savoring the warmth of your body. Your light breaths soon resumed signaling you were fully sleeping again. Laying with only his thoughts, Yeosang’s eyes skated over your figure again, admiring the outline of your curves accented by the thin sheets that covered you. Temptation nagged at his brain urging him to kiss and touch over your body. Visuals of the dream flashed through his brain, your moans, and screams deafening in his ear. Completely taken over by the need to feel you in any kind of way, Yeosang hands reached out caressing your breast before he could even register what he was doing. Kneading at your soft flesh, squeezing lightly occasionally he groans imagining his face between them as he fucks into you.

Leaning over to pepper your face and neck with small kisses, Yeosang mindlessly began rutting his hips against your ass with need. Finally getting some friction to stimulate the raging erection in his pants. 

“Fuck-” he mutters in your neck, nipping at the supple skin alternating from small kisses to slight bites. You began to stir, releasing a moan at the sensation. Slowly waking up, you rub the sleep from your eyes, just as Yeosang gently bites on your neck again. 

“Yeosang.” you whine shuddering with pleasure.

He knew all of the places that turned you on and made it his mission to stimulate at least one while being intimate, and your neck was your favorite and most sensitive spot. His hips stilled, but he continued assaulting your neck, his grip on your breast tightening, fingers flicking over your peaked nipples.

“I want you.” He muffled into your neck, words laced with desperation.

“Is daddy needy for me?” You tease, knowing the newfound nickname was a direct trigger for him.  You felt his cock twitch on your ass at the name smiling to yourself. “I take that as a yes.”

Reaching your hand back, you make contact with his longing cock lightly stroking him through his pants earning a muffled moan from Yeosang. Playing with his length you grind your ass over his tip, hissing in shock when he bites down harshly on your neck.

“I can’t wait anymore.” he whines; hands hastily finding it way to the waistband of your underwear yanking them halfway down your legs. Yeosang scrambles to get his pants off, before he’s rubbing the head of his cock at your entrance collecting your essence. Pushing into your cunt slowly, you moan in unison at the shared feeling. Placing gentle kisses on your neck, Yeosang eases his cock inch by inch inside of you until he’s fully bottomed out, his chest flush against your back. You push your hips back against Yeosang signaling for him to finally move after awhile. He draws his hips back steadily before plunging back into your hole quickly and mercilessly. Crying out from the sudden movements your hands claw at the sheets squeezing tightly. The feeling of Yeosang’s cock pounding into your cunt has you frozen, a mixture of moans and Yeosang’s name spilling past your lips like a waterfall. 

“You make me feel s-so good daddy.” You wail out any form of coherent thoughts left behind in pleasure. 

“Keep it down baby.” He shushes you lightly concentrating on his ruthless thrust. Biting down on the pillow you attempt to muffle your moans, knowing that trying to silence yourself was impossible with how good you were being fucked. Slowing down his thrust Yeosang wraps his hand loosely around your throat turning your face towards his. He captures your lips in a deprived kiss, thrusts reaching the depths of your pussy hitting your sweet spot precisely.  Swiveling his hips, you both release a moan into each other's mouths, your pussy clenching the exact moment his cock twitches inside of you. 

Lost in each other, neither you nor Yeosang hear the subtle knock at Yeosang’s door or the moment the door opened and someone walked in. Hearing a throat clear you let out a shriek turning to stare at the man staring back, eyes shifting from you and Yeosang. Luckily you both were covered, but there was no guessing what was going on between you and Yeosang.

“Yeosang I know you’re in the middle of something. I was just-.”

“San. Do you wanna die?” Yeosang growls, cutting him off, eyes narrowing in a deadly glare.

“No hyung it’s just I needed your help with this.” He turns his phone towards Yeosang, the screen showing some kind of form. You stare at him in shock at his persistence thinking he’d get the hint seeing that you and Yeosang were in the middle of…something.

“I’ll help you later, San.” Yeosang sighs, shaking his head at the younger one.

“But-.”

 “Get out, San!” Yeosang cuts him off, throwing a pillow at him, irritation evident with each word.

Exhaling deeply, San walks out of the room sulking,  muttering his displeasure with Yeosang’s attitude towards him.

Unable to contain yourself you giggle at the exchange more bewildered than anything at what just happened. ‘San is definitely a character,’ you thought to yourself, finding it hard to get mad at him.

Yeosang lays his head back, staring at the ceiling not knowing what to do next. He wanted to keep fucking you but the entire exchange threw him for a loop. He hears your giggles erupt, sitting up to look at you he couldn’t help but laugh with you. You both get lost in a fit of laughter easing the tension of the awkward exchange.

Calming down you turn towards Yeosang again, closing the gap between your faces. Ghosting your lips over his you whisper, “Fuck me again. Please.” You place a peck on his lips gazing up into his eyes. He raises his eyebrows in surprise at your actions but doesn’t question your words. Moving his hips leisurely, he thrust into you wanting to ease back into the moment again. Releasing breathy moans you move your hips back matching his thrust, the friction of each movement sending waves of ecstasy through your body.

Yeosang reaches for your underwear pulling them the rest of the way off of you before hooking his hand underneath your knee, lifting your leg up. Shifting his hips a bit, angling himself below you he thrusts up, his cock inching deeper inside of you. You groan out at the unfamiliar angle, his cock skating closer to your cervix. Pulling you flush against his chest, Yeosang leans over capturing your lips in a passionate kiss, his thrust growing more erratic. You bring your hands down eagerly rubbing your clit with desperation, chasing after your orgasm.

“God you’re so tight.” Yeosang groans out, resting his forehead on yours, his strokes turning long and sloppy. “You’re so wet.” his hips jerk, you moan from the sudden impact. “You’re so beautiful.” He jerks his hips up again with more intention. “You’re all mine. Right?” His hips jerks into you again, you nod high off his words. “Say it baby.” He jerks again and knocks the air from your mouth.

“I’m all yours daddy!” You cry out as he begins to pound mercilessly into you again at your response. “That’s right.” He growls. Heat rises in your core rapidly, an unfamiliar feeling approaching as your orgasm crashes into you; juices gushing from your pussy. Turned on by the sight Yeosang cock twitches inside of you his release spurting out coating your walls white. 

“Holy shit.” You say, shock evident on your face as your eyes shift from the wet bed sheets and Yeosang’s astonished face.

“That was so sexy.” He chuckles loudly, easing out of you. He encompasses you in his arms and places a lazy kiss on your lips. You both gaze lovingly into each other's eyes. A sudden knock interrupts your moment. 

“Hyung, are you done yet?” San questions on the other side of the door. 

Rolling his eyes, Yeosang releases you, placing a quick peck to your lips before scooting to get out of the bed. You laugh at the two knowing this was a normal occurrence every other day in their dorm, minus of course you and Yeosang having sex at this time of day.

“I’m coming now, San!” Yeosang shouts back putting on his underwear before walking out of the room. You lay there exhausted knowing that this was only the start of the day. There would be much more to occur in ATEEZ dorms for sure.

—taglist: @spicxbnny @dawn-iscozy @levisforgottentea @nopension @ateezswonderland @jiminssluttyminx

be on the look out for part-five with san coming soon!

thank you for reading! if you enjoyed it like, reblog with tags, comment, and follow!

[writeriguess]

I KNEW YOU'D BE BACK SOMEDAY I'M SO HAPPY!

Can I please request Reader and Kiri being the sweetest couple in public but being depraved and extra kinky behind closed doors - bonus points if Bakugo accidentally hears them once and is scarred for life

author's note: I’m really happy to be back! <3 It’s such a shame that the plagiarism incident forced me to wipe my queue. I had already written and scheduled this piece, and I was really proud of it… I just hope this version does it justice.

Sinful Secrets

Eijiro Kirishima was the absolute picture of a perfect boyfriend. The kind that held doors open, pressed sweet kisses to your forehead, and always called you “babe” with the softest, most adoring tone. In public, you were that couple—sickeningly sweet, always holding hands, always smiling at each other like you were the only two people in the world. Even Bakugo, who wasn’t one to praise, admitted—begrudgingly—that Kiri was probably the best boyfriend ever.

But what nobody knew—what nobody could ever suspect—was just how depraved the two of you were behind closed doors.

And unfortunately for Bakugo, he was about to find out.

Kirishima had you pressed against the mattress, your wrists bound to the headboard with his belt, your legs spread wide around his waist. His eyes were dark, pupils blown out as he ran a hand along your stomach, fingers teasing the soaked heat between your thighs.

“You’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” he murmured, his voice dripping with sinful praise. “Always taking me so well.”

You whimpered as his fingers traced slow circles around your clit before dipping inside, curling against that spot that made you arch and gasp his name. He grinned, sharp teeth catching the dim bedroom light.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he groaned, pulling his fingers out to spread your slick along his aching cock. He lined himself up, rubbing the thick, flushed head along your slit, making you whine. “Beg for it, baby. Tell me how bad you want it.”

You writhed beneath him, tugging against the restraints. “Please, Kiri,” you moaned, voice trembling. “I need you—need you to fill me up, fuck me like you own me.”

His breath hitched at that, and then he was pushing inside, stretching you inch by delicious inch. The burn was exquisite, and you gasped as he bottomed out, his cock throbbing deep inside you.

“Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight,” he groaned, dropping his head to your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin there. “So fucking good for me.”

He pulled out slowly, almost all the way, before slamming back in, forcing a cry from your lips. He set a brutal pace, hips snapping forward as the headboard rattled against the wall.

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with your broken moans and Kirishima’s deep grunts. He reached down, grabbing your thighs and pushing your legs higher, angling deeper into you.

“Fuck, baby, look at you,” he groaned, watching the way your body arched and trembled under him. “Taking me so well, letting me use you like this.”

You were a mess beneath him, bound and helpless, moaning with each thrust as he claimed you completely. Your fingers curled into fists against the restraints, back arching off the bed.

And that was when Bakugo made the mistake of walking past your door.

“What the—”

He froze, eyes widening as he heard the unmistakable sound of your desperate moans, Kirishima’s deep, filthy praises, and the rhythmic banging of the headboard.

“Oh fuck, baby, you’re taking me so good. Such a tight little pussy, made just for me.”

Bakugo’s face burned. “Oh, fuck no—”

He turned on his heel, making a beeline for the kitchen, determined to bleach his ears. But even from there, he could still hear you moaning, still hear Kiri groaning, still hear the obscene sounds of your bodies moving together.

He grabbed his phone and immediately texted Denki.

Bakugo: I NEED TO MOVE OUT. IMMEDIATELY.

But that wasn’t the worst part. No, the worst part was that once Bakugo heard it, he could not un-hear it.

Even in training the next day, he was haunted. Every time Kirishima so much as smiled, Bakugo felt like throwing a punch. Every time you touched Kirishima’s arm, giggling, all Bakugo could think about was the noises he’d heard through that damn door.

By the end of the week, he was ready to commit homicide.

The final straw was when Denki and Sero decided to tease him about how “adorable” you and Kirishima were together.

“Aren’t they just the cutest?” Sero grinned.

Bakugo snapped.

“YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT I KNOW,” he roared, slamming his hands onto the table hard enough to shake the plates.

Silence.

Denki blinked. “Dude. You okay?”

Bakugo turned on his heel and stormed away, mumbling something about needing therapy.

Meanwhile, you and Kirishima sat innocently across the cafeteria, sharing a milkshake like the picture-perfect couple you were.

Little did they know, last night had been even filthier.

[farfromstrange]

@fairydust022 (Tumblr won’t let me tag you for some reason) thank you so much for your request! I’m sorry it took so long, but you gave me a lot of leeway with this, so I wasn’t sure what to write that you might enjoy until I ultimately settled on just very ‘I love you so much my heart bleeds for you’ morning sex. That’s my favorite kind of daisies and roses bouquet. I hope this is at least a little like what you were hoping for!

Over a Cliff

Event Masterlist | Matt Murdock Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x AFAB!Reader

Request: A bouquet of… peonies, daisies and roses

Warnings: Smut (18+), unprotected p in v, morning sex, neck-holding (not choking), lots of tooth-ache inducing talk about love, fluff (but the deep, emotional kind)

WC: ~740

The air you breathe is heavy and tainted with the scent of sex. Blood rushes through your veins at hypersonic speed, so thick it sticks to your insides like super glue. His heart hammers against your back, syncing with the erratic rhythm of your own, and with every thrust of his hips, he melts into you like hot iron.

Matt reaches for your hand, his calloused fingers so gentle against your sensitive skin. Your fingers disappear underneath his, intertwined fingers tangling in the silk sheets.

You could write sonnets about how the morning sun caresses the thirteen freckles on his nose, or how his hazel eyes sparkle with just the slightest hint of forest green. You’re no poet, not even a writer, but he makes you want to put all of your feelings into an anthology. How he feels, how he sees you in a way that exceeds his lost vision, how he puts his palm against your chest—right there—to hold your heart in his hand when he makes love to you, how he kisses you with those plump lips you once could only dream about as if you are the only source of air that sustains him; he loves you so deeply, so wholeheartedly and unconditionally it is beyond scary, and yet it consumes you. From your head to your toes, his love consumes you.

Teeth scrape the nape of your neck, over your pulse point to your earlobe, and you let out an almost desperate moan. He used to fuck you harder than that. He used to bend you over and force an indentation of your naked body into the mattress. And he’d do it, probably, if it weren’t eight in the morning—if you weren’t still half asleep and so fucking needy for each other that he couldn’t help himself but have a taste of his favorite angel. Because that’s what you must be, an angel of the lord. There is no other way someone as good as you would ever choose him, someone he often claims is a lost cause, even if that’s not what you see.

“There is no me without you,” you once said to him. He was bloody and bruised then, head tilted up at you like he couldn’t fathom why you stayed, why you were still staying. “Let me love you,” you begged, “because you deserve to be loved, and I am right here. So, please...”

And against all odds, he did.

When you look at him, you see a man who’s been broken. A man you’ve had the pleasure of putting back together. And a man who knows better than anyone to destroy you in a way that leaves you aching for his cock for days because that’s how he loves you.

Matt loves you with fleeting touches, when he puts his head on your chest, when he hugs you, and with your fingers intertwined, but he also loves you just like this, with his cock so deep inside you that you’re sure you won’t be able to walk the next day.

He moves at a pace that’s almost too agonizingly slow, his cock nestled comfortably inside your wet cunt. He pulls his hips back, about halfway, then thrusts back in. It’s like you were molded to accommodate him. His thick, veiny cock, the very object of your pleasure whenever he takes you like this, fills every inch of you like he was born to do it. “I love you,” he whispers.

You squeeze his hand, once for every word you utter, “I love you.”

His thrusts falter. “Don’t leave me.”

The vulnerability in his voice makes you crane your tired neck to look at him. His unfocused eyes are squeezed shut, and he damn near shudders when you reach back to tangle your free hand in his tousled locks. “Never,” you whisper.

You made this promise before, and you intend to keep it.

You’d die for him. You’d live for him. You’d go to the ends of the earth for and with him, and you would follow him over a cliff if that is where the road leads him.

As if reading your thoughts, he drives the point home by thrusting back in. The breath dies in your throat where his hand now comes to rest. He feels your pulse, the vibration of your vocal cords as you moan for him, and he continues to hold you like the unwavering pillar of strength he is as you fall apart, writhing—crying—on his cock.

[sailorsoons]

Giving Season (c.sc & l.c)

Pairing: Chan x Reader x Seungcheol

Summary: You always enjoy the office holiday party each year, especially when you get to do secret santa. This year, you enlist Seungcheol’s help to give Chan the perfect gift. 

Word Count: 5,632

Genre: PWP, Polyamorous, Established Relationship (Cheol x reader)

Type:  Smut

Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

Warnings: Just pure filth honestly. Fucking in an office when they totally should not be, mention of power dynamics in the sense that Seungcheol is both Chan and reader’s boss but they kind of skip around that even though Cheol explicitly makes sure to let Chan know it’s okay to reject, semi-public sex if you count the fact they’re in an office, implied but not explicit dom/sub dynamics with Seungcheol as the dominant and reader/Chan as the more submissives, oral (f. receiving) and vaginal fingering, pussy drunk Chan, spitting, multiple orgasms, a little bit of overstimulation, some hair pulling, biting, a lot of heavy kissing and making out, it is a light threesome - this is mostly reader and Chan with Seuncheol very involved in instruction/kissing/touching them. 

A/N: This was originally posted as a request fill for @daechwitatamic and as a belated birthday gift back in December. I love you Mojo Jojo Dojo Siwa Casa House

A/N 2: THIS IS UNEDITED BECAUSE I’M THE GRINCH AND I DON’T WANNA BETA READ MY OWN STUFF. SPELL CHECK WILL HAVE TO DO FOR RIGHT NOW. 

Main Masterlist | Permanent Tag List | Ask 

Nervousness creeps up as you watch Chan open up his gift, eyes zeroed in on the way his deft fingers peel back the wrapping paper carefully. Chan is always so careful, his touch delicate and precise, sliding his fingers under the seam of the paper to pry it open without ripping anything. 

Holiday music plays loudly over the speakers on someone’s desk. Everyone talks and sips on drinks, gathered around the conference room table as Chan finishes opening his git, shedding the wrapping paper. He’s already grinning, lower lip tucked between his teeth as he shakes his head, red creeping up the side of his neck. 

You try not to react, pleased to see that he likes the stack of limited edition books you’ve gifted him. He runs his fingers over the decorated edges, just as careful not to damage them as he was with the wrapping paper. You squirm in your seat, sipping more champagne to quell the dryness in your throat and give you more liquid courage. 

Someone places a hand on your shoulder and you spare a glance upward, though by the scent of the heady cologne you already know it’s Seungcheol. He’s watching Chan with a smirk, his dark hair pushed out of his face and his glasses sliding a little down his nose as he watches Chan look around the table, flushed and pleased. 

“This is way over the purchase limit,” he laughs, scratching the back of his neck and shaking his head. Mingyu lets out an impressed noise, leaning over to see the books and ask what they are. “They’re a limited edition and signed copy of my favorite fantasy series.” 

“Damn, someone likes you,” Mingyu mutters, sipping his beer. “Time to guess.” 

Chan’s eyes flicker to you. You hold your breath, your pulse thumping in your throat as you try not to avert your eyes. Chan’s eyes drift upward to Seungcheol, who you can feel is equally amused. There’s indecision on Chan’s face, his fingers drumming atop the stack of books. 

“Come on,” Mingyu urges. “Guess.”

Chan’s eyes return to you. Back to Seungcheol. Then to you again. You grin, watching as he tries to work out which one of you bought them. You’re the only person in the office who would know how much he valued that specific book series, but Seungcheol is the only one in the office who makes overspending and spoiling his employees a habit. 

Especially Chan. 

“Fuck, it’s hard,” he admits, gaze settling on Seungcheol, finally. “You, boss?” 

Seungcheol chuckles, the motion of it shaking the back of your chair. You can feel his thumb brushing back and forth on your shoulder, soothing and warm. It feels nice, the champagne turning his touch molten. 

“Nope,” Seungcheol answers, popping the ‘p’ sharply at the end. “Sorry, Channie.” 

Chan’s blush intensifies as he drops his gaze, shaking his head. He cradles the books close to him, possessive. He spares you a glance when he says, “Whoever bought these is far too nice of a santa. I don’t deserve this.” 

He does deserve it. Chan is the youngest member of your company and by far the hardest working and the sweetest. Over the last two years, you’ve watched him grow from the shy, nervous junior employee to a full time member of the staff who is… still shy, but a little more confident in his work with an incredible mindset. 

Sure, your opinion of him is a little bit biased. Chan is your work husband, the person you’re closest to and who you can always go to when you need to vent about Mingyu fucking up your spreadsheets or for help when you have a last minute firedrill to solve. 

Despite, of course, your actual boyfriend being a few yards away in his executive office. 

Seungcheol doesn’t mind that Chan is your work husband. In fact, he adores it, teasing you when you get shy after vehemently praising Chan during a meeting or nominating him to take more responsibility to prove himself. He likes that Chan has you to take care of him, to lead him through the corporate world when Seungcheol is too buried underneath meetings and paperwork to do so. 

Someone else starts opening a gift, but your eyes are reserved for Chan. You lean into Seungcheol’s touch, eyes fluttering when his hand moves from your shoulder to the back of your neck. His grip is firm, kneading the muscles along the back of your neck until you’re melting. Your grip tightens on the flute of champagne a little, the plastic nearly cracking under your grip. 

When secret santa has finished, you stand up to help gather the leftover wrapping paper. Coworkers filter out into the main office, turning up the music and dancing around the cubicles as another bottle is popped. You help shove wrapping paper into a trash bag with Joshua, feeling a little dizzy and warm from the bubbles. 

A hand on your lower back makes you straighten. Seungcheol leans down, mouth brushing against your ear when he murmurs, “Go wait in my office. I’ll bring Chan in for his real gift.” 

Your stomach flips at that. You glance at Joshua to see if he notices, but there is nothing to notice. Everyone knows that you and Seungcheol are together - you’ve been dating for five years. He limits his affection in the office, but it's not uncommon for him to press a quick kiss to your head or leave his hand lingering on you for too long. 

Clearing your throat, you nod and let Seungcheol take over balling up the wrapping paper. You’re not drunk but you feel the buzz of champagne and excitement as you hurry toward Seungcheol’s office at the far end, away from where everyone has gathered around Soonyoung’s cubicle to take shots. 

Inside of Seungcheol’s office is dark. The blinds are shuttered so no one can see from the main bullpen inward. Lights glitter beyond the floor to ceiling windows, the city awash in color underneath the light sky, giving the illusion that the world is blanketed in Christmas lights. 

A heavy desk sits in the far side of the room with towering bookshelves behind it. Seungcheol’s monitor is off and his leather chair is pushed into the desk. In front of the desk is a sitting area, equipped with a full leather sofa, glass coffee table, and two arm chairs. 

You go for the sofa, hands shaking as you sit down, pressing the hem of your skirt down your thighs. Swallowing thickly, your eyes dart toward the door when you hear the volume of singing suddenly increase out in the main office. You grin, shaking your head when you realize it’s because Seungkwan has figured out how to use his portable karaoke machine gifted to him by Jeonghan. 

Shadows pass by the window. You stiffen, leaning forward and placing your hands in your lap when Seungcheol opens the door, letting Chan enter first before he slips in after, flipping the lock. Chan immediately stops in his tracks, looking at you before his eyes dart back to Seungcheol. 

Your heart races, watching carefully as Seungcheol starts to undo his tie, slipping a finger underneath the knot to pull it, walking toward you. The action hypnotizes you, your attention solely on him as he finishes undoing it, tossing it onto an armchair before his fingers work the topmost button of his shirt loose.

He sees the nervous look on your face and he wings, his grin lopsided as he rounds the couch to stand behind you. 

“Take a seat,” Seungcheol tells Chan, his hand landing on your shoulder. You react instantly, leaning into the warmth of his hand, nuzzling his forearm a bit. Chan follows Seungcheol’s instructions, his steps slow and full of trepidation. “We don’t bite, Channie.” 

You huff and Seungcheol chuckles darkly in response, amending, “Usually.” 

Chan is the picture of anxiety, wringing his hands in his lap and looking up at Seungcheol through his glasses with wide eyes. His gaze darts to you only for a second before he licks his lips and looks back up at Seungcheol, shifting back and forth in the armchair as he watches the elder. 

“Relax,” Seungcheol laughs. “You’re not in trouble. I told you she had a second part to her gift.”

“The first one is too much,” Chan drops his gaze to you. He picks at his cuticles, showing he’s as nervous as you feel. “You shouldn’t have. The rules were no more than fifty dollars.”

“It was too good not to.” He softens. “I wanted you to have it.”

“You deserve it,” Seungcheol agrees. His hand massages your shoulder, fingers brushing across your skin. You shiver under his touch, watching Chan as his eyes zero in on where Seungcheol’s hand is on your neck. He licks his lips, shifting. “That’s not the only thing she wanted to give you, though.” 

Chan chews his bottom lip. You feel skittish, twisting your fingers in the hem of your dress. You and Seungcheol had broached this subject several times before, though this is the first time you’re committing to voicing your thoughts to Chan. 

Suddenly faced with having to give him your proposition, you’re terrified. What if he says no? Worse, what if you upset him or make him uncomfortable? It’s a huge risk, what you’re asking, especially with the position that Seungcheol is in as your boss. 

The weight of how bad of an idea this is hits you fully. You open and close your mouth, unable to voice your offer to him, the question dying on your tongue.

Seungcheol’s fingers are still on your shoulder. He leans down, tilting forward to catch your gaze with his. His eyes are dark and calm, a cool lake undisturbed by anything, a constant you can always look to when you’re afraid to do something. You root yourself in his gaze, letting his proximity wash over you, comforting. 

Taking a deep breath, you remind yourself this question isn’t coming out of nowhere. Neither you nor Seungcheol would bring Chan here to the office in the dark, away from everyone else if you weren’t borderline positive what his answer would be. 

“I wanted to um…” Your voice is hoarse, cracking with nervousness. You swallow, dropping your eyes into your lap, feeling both of their gazes. “Jeonghan said you kind of had a crush on us.” 

You peek up at Chan to find him white in the face. His mouth parts in horror and you realize this isn’t going the way you planned, your nervousness driving you to the wrong path. 

Seungcheol sees it too, giving you a gentle squeeze and telling Chan, “What she means, but is very bad at saying because she’s nervous, is that she wanted to give you a taste.” 

Silence hangs heavy in the air. Outside of Seungcheol’s office, you hear Mingyu singing All I Want for Christmas Is You. It feels apt, both you and Seungcheol staring at Chan as he looks back at both of you, mouth parted in surprise, chest rising and falling with how heavy he’s breathing now.

“I don’t… understand,” he says finally, addressing Seungcheol. 

“I think you do.” Chan starts to shake his head and Seungcheol tsks, sending a lick of heat down to your core. You know that voice better than anything, and the sound of it turns the air heady. “You can say no. This is the worst place possible for us to be offering this to you and I understand the implications of it coming from… well me. You’re under no obligation and we can go on pretending it didn’t happen.” 

“Jeonghan didn’t mean to tell me.” you tell Chan. “But when he did… I wasn’t mad. I told Cheol and he was pleased to.” You look up at Seungcheol, who smiles at you affectionately. His hand drifts to the back of your head, cradling it carefully. “He likes you too. And me - I like you.” 

“You like me?” 

You nod eagerly as Seungcheol grips your head and faces you back toward Chan. “So I was thinking… you could have an extra gift. If you wanted it. To see if you liked it.” 

“And what does… a taste involve?” Chan asks the question softly, his eyes flickering between you and Seungcheol. “Help me understand better.” 

“Her,” Seungcheol answers. “Whatever you want.” He pauses and smirks, adding, “You’re not ready for me. So just her… for now, if you want.”

Multiple emotions flit past Chan’s face. Confusion. Fear. Indecision. Anxiety. Desire. 

You see the desire there, the way he settles his eyes on you, dark and swimming with want. He doesn’t move, the silence filling the room as Seungcheol let’s Chan choose. You feel your own desire welling up inside of you, a shy and skittish thing that is perhaps too breakable to be offering this way. 

Chan is your mirror. You can see yourself in him, the want that lurks beneath a shallow surface, a fragile thing that he wants to handle but is too afraid that it’ll shatter. You lift a hand from your lap, reaching forward, palm up. Reaching for Chan, reaching for the thread that connected you since the first day he started. 

Your hand wavers there for a second, an invitation, a moment of vulnerability. Just when you think he’s going to reject you, Chan surges forward slowly, extending his hand toward yours. A smile lights up your face, growing even wider when his fingers tentatively skate over yours, rough and unsure. 

Tugging on him gently, you urge Chan from the armchair toward the couch. He’s like a frightened animal, eyes darting toward Seungcheol like he might intervene when he sits next to you, close enough to smell his juniper cologne but farther than you want him to be. 

Seungcheol lets go of your shoulder, walking around the opposite side of the couch. Chan looks at Seungcheol, alarm on his face. The elder chuckles roughly, sitting on your other side a little ways away and murmuring, “Relax, Channie. I’m just sitting down.” 

To further ease his anxiety, you pull Chan’s hand into your lap, lacing your fingers and squeezing. He looks at your linked fingers, marveling at them. It takes him a moment, but he squeezes your hand in return. 

“Can you look at me?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper. 

He does. Chan finally looks at you, gaze raw and burning. Your toes curl when you see the amount of want there, the way his need is right on the surface, simmering. His eyes trace your features, scanning your face to the curve of your neck, dipping lower, lips parted as he drinks you in full. 

“What… What now?” He asks, dragging his eyes back up to yours. 

“Try kissing her.” Seungcheol leans back behind you, supervising. His voice is gentle and coaxing. “She likes kissing.” 

Chan looks at you, asking for permission. You smile, nodding eagerly as you tug on his hand. He obeys, sliding closer to you, thigh pressed against yours. Even through the fabric of his pants, you can feel the heat of his leg wash through you, intoxicating. 

He leans in slowly, his eyes darting toward your mouth as he does. You meet him halfway, breath shaking as you softly press your lips against his. His lips are soft and tentative, nose brushing yours gently. You sigh, leaning into the kiss, making it a little firmer. 

It’s innocent, but you feel the way his fingers tighten in yours, a gentle sound stuck in the back of his throat. You pull away slightly, lashes fluttering open to peer at him. You see your half-lidded eyes in the reflection of his glasses until he opens his eyes.

The urge to have him grows tenfold. Chan’s pupils are blown, the hungry look in his eye raw and real. It makes you surge forward, kissing him for real, letting the hunger for him channel through your mouth. He makes a sound low in the back of his throat, desperate and whiny as you school closer, leg looping over his to keep him in place. 

Letting go of his hand, you bring it up to his face, threading your fingers through his hair. His mouth is warm and wet as he kisses you slowly, tasting of champagne and the frosting of the cupcake he had earlier - sweet, just like him. 

Kissing Chan is unlike kissing Seungcheol. Chan is sweet and slow, running his tongue against the seam of your mouth tentatively while his hands go to your thighs, barely giving you a squeeze. Seungcheol’s kisses are demanding and all consuming, bruising your lips as he swallows you whole. 

Parting, Chan kisses the corner of your mouth, hesitating and glancing over your shoulder where he can no doubt see Seungcheol. Seungcheol must reassure him, because Chan smirks and leans forward, pressing open-mouthed kisses on your jaw. 

Your head falls back, lips parted. His tongue is rough against your skin as he tastes you, a mix of tongue and teeth working toward your neck. Your fingers twist in his hair, blunt nails scraping at his scalp and making him groan quietly. 

“She likes when you bite her a little,” Seungcheol supplies from behind you. You feel the couch shift as he moves closer, his warmth radiating toward you as he settles directly behind you. His voice makes you shiver when he says, “Right under her ear - yeah like that.” 

Chan’s teeth nip at the soft flesh under your ear and you keen, melting at his touch. He grows more confident at the sound, his hands drifting to your waist, squeezing and holding you tight. You lean backward into the heat of Seungcheol, trapped between the two of them. 

It makes you dizzy. Seungcheol is firm behind you, keeping you pressed toward Chan, who is kissing his way to your shoulder, eager for more of you. One of his hands runs up your side, sliding up your arm until it settles on the side of your neck, his fingers gently pulling you to give more access. 

You keen and Seungcheol laughs behind you, muttering, “Hear the little sounds she makes? She loves when you touch her neck.” 

“Mmmm.” Chan presses kisses to the tops of your shoulders, looking up at you through his glasses. “What else does she like?” 

“If you want to see her come apart, eat her out.” Chan moans, burying his face in your neck. You shiver, feeling his hot breath against your spit-slick skin. “Yeah?” Seungcheol laughs. “Dying to taste her, huh?” 

“Fuck,” Chan whispers. He lifts his head from your neck, breathing ragged as he looks at you, cradling your face in his hands. 

You look up at him through your lashes, dazed. He looks so good in the dim light of Seungcheol’s office, his hair a little disheveled, glasses a little eskew. 

“Do you want that?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper. His thumb brushes back and forth across your jaw, pausing to brush along the corner of your lip. You nod eagerly, unable to find the words and tell him that is exactly what you want. “Fuck. Yeah. Okay.” 

Chan sinks to the ground. Seungcheol plants his foot against the coffee table, pushing it back slowly to give Chan room. The younger looks up at you reverently and you feel your breath catch, watching as Chan settles on his knees, hands reaching to brush gently up your calves.

His touch is like fire. It feels too hot in Seungcheol’s office, sweat collecting on the back of your neck and along your hairline. You squeeze your thighs together at Chan’s gentle touch and he grins up at you, keeping his fingers feather light and teasing as he skims them up your thighs toward your dress. 

Seungcheol leans you against him, pressing his lips to the side of your temple. Chan leans forward, placing an open mouth kiss on your knee. You twitch, knee nearly knocking him in the face. Seungcheol admonishes you softly, reaching down to pry your right leg open and drape it over his, resting his arm over your knee to keep you pried open.

Chan’s hands continue to caress your skin, the drag of his fingers driving you wild. You stare down at him, panting slightly as he looks up at you. He maintains eye contact as he drags his mouth to kiss your inner thigh, watching as you react with a sigh. 

He moves his mouth upward slowly, each kiss firm but gentle, his lips blazing a trail upward. You feel your core ache for him, a hot, throbbing need that makes you whine a little bit, shifting in Seungcheol’s grip. 

Chan pauses but Seungcheol promises, “She’s fine. She’s very needy.” 

A grin splits Chan’s face as he presses another kiss to the softness of your thigh, followed by biting gently. That gets a reaction out of you, your hips twitching upward and your hands shooting to grip the couch with one hand and Seungcheol’s forearm with the other. 

“She loves when you start slow,” Seungcheol murmurs. Chan nods, taking his elder’s guidance in step. His hands creep toward the hem of your dress, hesitating. “Go ahead.” 

Your breath gets stuck in your throat when Chan pushes the hem of your dress upward. The newly exposed skin feels cold in Seungcheol’s darkened office. Chan bunches the fabric at your hips and Seungcheol reaches around the back of your waist to hold it in place. 

With one hand on your spread knee and the other locked around your waist, Seungcheol has you pinned. The thought makes your eyes flutter, head tilting back as you watch Chan drink you in, his eyes dropping to the lacy underwear.

His mouth resumes its curious travel, kissing the tops of your thighs as his fingers brush the edges of your underwear. You let out a breathy whine and he smiles but doesn’t stop this time, teasing the crease of your thighs with his devilish finger while he gives a harsh suck to your skin. 

Chan rests his chin atop your thigh, eyes focusing on the wet patch of your under. He dips a hand between your legs, pressing the flat of his thumb against the dark spot on the fabric. You give a high pitched whine, fidgeting in Seungcheol’s grip. Chan grins, wiggling his thumb back and forth a little to apply pressure to your clit.

It is heaven. It is hell. Chan’s eyes drift back and forth from where he teases you to your face, unable to decide which he likes watching more. Seungcheol watches him with a smirk, his hold on you like iron, hot breath fanning your ear as he whispers for you to behave for Chan. 

You want to. You want to more than anything else right now, completely forgetting about the party going on outside the office, forgetting the way you’d been afraid to ask Chan if he wants this, forgetting anything else but the look in Chan’s eyes as he hooks his fingers in your underwear and pulls them down.

Lacy fabric scrapes down your skin slow-soft. It is delicious torture. Chan handles you like you’re something precious, something to be loved and treated with care. Your thoughts turn to static, totally hypnotized by the way he peels your underwear from your legs and tosses them somewhere else. His eyes are half-lidded as he stares at your glistening cunt, groaning low in the back of his throat at what he sees. 

Chan slides his hands under your thighs, dragging you toward him a little. Seungcheol helps, peppering your face with butterfly-soft kisses as he slides you down the couch. You’re nearly folded in half as Seungcheol adjusts himself so that he’s sitting behind you with you between his legs. He grabs your thighs, hooking them on the outer edges of his knees to keep you open for Chan, who slides closer, licking his lips. 

“Look how wet she is for you,” Seungcheol purrs. You glance up at him. His dark eyes are focused on Chan, mouth twitching in a smirk. “Start slow. She likes you to build up to it.” 

Chan glances at Seungcheol and nods before his eyes fall to you. Dark. Hungry. Wanting. To see your deepest desire reflected in Chan’s eyes makes you insane. You’d only guessed at his affection for you and Seungcheol, but the fierceness of it drives you wild. 

So does his mouth. Chan drags his mouth up your thighs, kissing delicately. You hold your breath, fixated on him as he audibly plants another kiss before he moves to your center, hesitating. You try not to squirm and move closer, try not to force yourself on his mouth.

He can tell. He gives you a cock grin, letting out a huff before dipping forward, running his tongue up your center and oh oh oh. Your head falls back against Seungcheol’s shoulder, breath locked in your chest. Chan’s tongue is warm and wet, sliding up and down your pussy at a leisurely pace.

Then he moans. Your fingers dig into Seungcheol’s thighs, making him hiss. He hooks his chin on your shoulder, watching as Chan’s tongue circles your aching clit slowly before dipping back down. 

You’re burning, melting, disintegrating. Pleasure ripples through you when Chan dips his tongue tentatively into your clenching hole. That earns a loud moan from you. Seungcheol quickly hushes you, reminding you that you can’t be loud with a harsh whisper. 

A whimper falls from your lips. Chan grunts, closing his eyes as he fastens his mouth to your cunt, suckling gently. You throb under his mouth. He looks up at you, eyes misty as he flicks his tongue back and forth over your clit. 

“Like that,” Seungcheol encourages when you thrash. “She likes it kind of messy too - spit on it.” 

Chan is obedient. He dips his tongue into your cunt, gathering arousal before he lifts his mouth, smeared in your slick, and spits directly on your pussy. You let out a loud sound that is cut off by Seungcheol’s mouth on yours, stealing you in a devouring kiss. 

One hand shoots to Seungcheol’s forearm to cling to him, the other to Chan’s hair when he reattaches his mouth. He moans audibly against you, the sound buzzing right through you to the pit of your stomach. He redoubles his effort, licking and sucking at you vigorously now to match the pace of Seungcheol’s tongue. 

They both swallow you whole. It’s overwhelming the best way, Seungcheol pressing you into his chest as he steals the breath from your lungs, Chan pressing your legs further apart as he buries his face between your legs, little sounds of pleasure dripping from his mouth as he loses himself in you. 

Seungcheol parts with you for a moment, lips swollen and pink as he looks down at Chan and grins. He reaches down, running his fingers through Chan’s hair gently, making the younger groan. 

“Look at him,” Seungcheol coos. “He’s been dying to taste you, huh Chan?” 

“Mhmm.” Chan licks a hard stripe from top to bottom. “So fucking good.”

“Tell him how good he’s doing baby,” Seungcheol whispers, pressing his mouth to your ear. “He’s working so hard for you.” 

“Feels so good,” you gasp as Chan sucks your clit hard. You thrash in Seungcheol’s lap but he holds you still. Chan pins you down too, fingers gripping your thighs as he gets greedier, flattening his tongue and whipping his head back and forth. “Fuck fuck fuck - Chan.” 

“Just like that, Chan.” Seungcheol keeps running his fingers through Chan’s hair affectionately. “She’s gonna come for you, right baby?” 

All you can manage is a nod. You’re beyond the capacity for words, feeling your orgasm twist low in your stomach as Chan works your toward its peak. It feels like he drags you there screaming, the pressure building as he keeps going and going and going-

You break. Seungcheol’s hand clamps over your mouth and you cry through his palm, hips twitching and legs straining against both of their hands as you cum hard. Chan doesn’t care, pressing even further, drinking you in as your clit pulses in his mouth. 

When you quiet down, Seungcheol lets go of your mouth, hushing you with soft kisses as you whimper. Chan’s tongue busies itself as he leisurely licks your thighs, catching stray drops of arousal. You sag against your boyfriend, panting. He rubs his hands up and down your aching thighs. 

“More,” Chan murmurs, words a little slurred as he presses a sloppy kiss to your thigh. He inches closer to your messy folds, hesitating. “Can you take more? Please tell me you can.”

You nod and Seungcheol hums, pleased. “She can.” 

Looking between your legs, you watch as Chan grabs his glasses and rips them off his face, tossing them somewhere behind him. Your stomach flips at the site, lips parted and gasping when he dives back in, fucking you with his tongue. 

“Shit,” you squeak, hands flying to his hair, wrapping your fingers in his locks and twisting. He doesn’t mind the sting, too focused on you. “Oh my god.”

Seungcheol chuckles darkly. “Fuck, he’s hot. Use your fingers, Channie.” 

Nodding eagerly, Chan complies. He’s eager to comply, bringing a hand up between your legs. You hiss when he slides a finger in, the glide easy from your first orgasm. He removes his mouth from you, panting and lips swollen as his eyes focus on where he gently fucks you with his finger. 

“Another,” Seungcheol recommends. 

Chan does. He slides another finger in, tilting his wrist so that they brush just right. You moan his name, throaty and worn. Chan hums happily, kissing his way back up to your clit where he wraps his lips, sucking gently as he sets a slow pace with his fingers. 

It only lasts for a few moments before his pace increases, feeling the way you squeeze tight around him, hearing the way your breath turns shaky and uneven, watching the way you continue to grow slick with sweat. 

He fixates on your face, sucking at you hungrily in time with his fingers, driving you toward another release. Seungcheol’s mouth finds your jaw, teeth nipping and tongue soothing. Again you’re pulled between the two of them, feeling stretched thin and overwhelmed by their mouths.

“I’m gonna,” You gasp, shaking in their grip. They both can tell. Seungcheol bites your neck a little harder, sucking the soft skin between his teeth. Chan turns ravenous, nearly folding you in half as he pushes into you, the wet sounds from his mouth bracketed by your heavy breathing. “Fuck fuck fuck.”

Every muscle in your body squeezes with the force of your orgasm. You can’t breathe, stars exploding behind squeezed-shut lids, breath stuck in squeezed-tight lungs. You’re barely able to hear Seungcheol murmuring in your ear, only able to hear the high-pitched ringing as you hit the top of your high, suspended for a moment before you start to come down.

You go boneless against Seungcheol. You feel spent, sucking in breaths of air while Seungcheol rubs his hands up and down your arms and Chan presses butterfly-soft kisses to your inner thighs, his hands rubbing your calves. 

The three of you stay there like that for a bit, quiet in the dark of Seungcheol’s office with the distant singing of your coworkers. You feel a bit floaty and dreamy, stuck somewhere between nearly asleep and happily present. 

Chan shifts and you drop your eyes to him, seeing him looking around, a little unsure what to do. You and Seungcheol notice at the same time, both of you extending a hand to him. Chan’s smile is shy and tentative, taking both of your hands and letting you pull him to his feet to collapse on the couch next to you.

Immediately you squirm toward him, half falling out of Seungcheol��s lap to fall against Chan’s shoulder. He laughs, lifting his arms and hesitating for a second before he wraps them around you. His lips are pink and swollen, still covered in your arousal. 

“That,” you sigh. “Was better than I imagined.”

“You imagined it, though?” he asks, glancing at Seungcheol. “Both of you?”

“Mhmm.” Seungcheol leans forward and presses a kiss to the corner of Chan’s mouth, pink tongue darting out playfully. “Mmm. She tastes good.” 

Pink creeps up Chan’s neck and flushes his face. Seungcheol grins and you can tell he’s just as smitten as you, leaning his head against the back of the couch to watch Chan settle down. He drags his fingers in patterns on your arm, eyes losing focus. 

“Was this just for tonight?” Chan asks. There’s a note in his voice that makes you look up at him. You can tell he’s unsure, a little nervous. “Just for giving season or whatever?” 

Your voice is raspy with disuse. “Not if you don’t want it to be. Cheolie and I like you.” 

“Really?”

You lift a hand, brushing strands of hair back into his damp hairline. “Mhm. We want to keep you, if you’ll have us.” 

Chan chews on his bottom lip, contemplating. Seungcheol watches in silence, but you can tell by the way his fingers drum on your thigh that he’s nervous. He might exude calm and confident most of the time, but you know he hopes Chan will say yes - that he’s desperate for it. 

“I think I like that,” Chan says slowly, looking at you both. “I would like that, yeah.” 

Seungcheol grins, closing his eyes as he reaches over and runs a hand through Chan’s hair. “Good. Also - it’s always giving season at our house. So buckle up, Channie.” 

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[creeksandsocks]

Splash

Hi! Okay, so, this is my first time ever writing smut - please feel free to leave me constructive criticism, or requests! 

Paring: inexperienced!Eddie Munson x inexperienced!f!Reader, established relationship

Tags/warnings: 18+ Mature, Minors do not interact, 1980s, ST4!AU,  smut, first handjobs, tit sucking and groping, grinding, kiss, graphic description of sexual acts, bad writing, misuse of italics, author is a virgin  😅😮‍💨

[4.5k words]

Author's Note: First ever smut! This fic is placed in an AU where the events of ST4 haven't happened, a lot of the “accurate lore” about his character is from the Flight of Icarus book, and while i'm still debating if I consider it cannon - I did use it for some some period-accurate stories and interests :)

When Eddie came to visit you during your shift at Family Video, you pushed a VHS of Splash into his chest.

“We have to watch this tonight, it’s my guilty pleasure movie and I need you to see it” you inform him as he inspects the tape that was just jutted into his chest.

He agrees without any argument. It’s not the kind of movie he’d pick out to watch for himself, normally opting towards Star Wars or Fire Escape from New York, but he’s not against rom-coms. He likes Tom Hanks enough, and thinks that mermaids are cool. But, really, he would watch anything for you.

You’re both so new into your relationship that you’re still figuring things out about each other. You're glad to learn that he’s modern in a way, for not condemning things for being “chick flicks” or whatever, at least for a small midwestern town like Hawkins.

The real reason you picked Splash isn’t actually because you’re dying to have your new boyfriend watch it, it's really because the familiarity of the film will hopefully provide a crutch in calming your nerves as you try and make a move on your guy tonight. Deep down, you know he won’t reject your advances. He really likes you and finds you hot, too. Both times when you’ve been left alone you’ve acted predictably. Jumping onto each other and making out.

The first time you made out with Eddie was the second time you kissed him. He was dropping you off at your house after a very successful first date. He kills the ignition to his van and his cassette stops playing. He turns to look at you, “I really had fun” he stammers, “I was wondering, if you wanted to go out again sometime? And… maybe be my girlfriend?”

He’s nervous, blushing and unblinking as he confesses to you. He takes his arm and rubs the back of his neck with it. You reply shortly after, but to Eddie, with his heart out on the line, it seemed to take eons. “Yes!” you try not to sound too eager, but youre ecstatic, “Yes to both I mean, being your girlfriend and a second date…”

You both stare at each other with soft accomplished smiles before instinctually meeting in the middle as you lean over his middle console and start feverishly kissing. You're practically earned it after all the pining going between the two of you. Your hands are in his hair, cupping his head and pulling him closer to you by the collar of his shirt. He's holding your head with one boyish palm and gently pulling you closer by the waist with the other. 

Eventually, you get fed up with his center console keeping you separated and decide to be fearless. You clamber over it, barely disconnecting your lips as you do and fumble yourself into his lap. He seems very happy with your new position and wraps the hand around your waist even tighter, hugging you into him. You’re both switching the tilt of your heads constantly. You want to get at him from every angle possible. He eventually kisses your jowl, chin and jawline as he kisses down your neck. He mouths at your lats and leaves bruising love bites there. He's quick to move back to your mouth though, desperate to get a taste of all you. You feel him stiff in his pants the more you kiss him, you are very proud of yourself for being able to get him so worked up. He parts your lips to breathe and he tenderly cradles your face. 

You admire each other's spit-covered mouths before you run your tongue down his jawline and suckle a hickey onto the angle of his mandible. He moans at your tongue lathing over his skin and he swallows the drool out of his mouth. Once you've decided he’s got enough of a mark you kiss him more, slowly winding each other down. 

You eventually part for the final time. Before you separate, you leave one last sweet kiss on his cheek. You pry his left arm off you and angle it to see his watch. He lets you, he’s gone slack at the weight of you on his lap, feeling the pressure of you against his hard-on. You see you're 15 minutes past curfew. “Shit shit shit!” you panic, scanning the passenger seat to grab your bag.

“What?” he questions, scared he’d done something wrong and hurt you. You inform him “I’m fifteen past curfew, if i'm not home like now i'll be forbidden from ever seeing you again”. Eddie doesn’t want to leave you, but he wants to never see you again even less. You have one last soothing kiss before you clamber out of the driver's side door. You run up to your front door as fast as your legs will carry you and scramble through your bag for your keys. You shove them into the lock as you turn over your shoulder and sweetly wave at the boy who you just rocked the world of.

The second time you guys made out you started both laid out on your bed. A mixtape Robin gave you fills the silence as you lounge. You were sprawled out on your back, knees bent and arms folded over your ribs. He's on his back too, just next to you, and you’re both stealing glances at each other. Admiring the look of each other's side profiles. He’s telling you about how one time he found drugs in the principal's desk and used them to (for lack of a better word) blackmail him into supporting the hellfire club. 

You laugh and turn your head towards his smiling face. “No fucking way?!” you say, more shocked than in disbelief. He turns his body onto his side now and props his head up on his arm.

“I was pretty nervous, actually, I would have made a huge fool out of myself if it was just aspirin or something,” he confessed, “but I knew that bottle, and by the dumb look on his face I knew I'd caught him, too!”.

He mimics the dumb face the principal made which makes you laugh even harder. He chuckles too, proud of himself for making you laugh and he smiles as he admires your beautiful scrunched face. You both take a deep breath to recover from all your laughing. He moves a small face-framing strand of hair that has been tousled into covering your lips and decides that he should make a move.

You nervously stare at his dark eyes and he moves his head closer to yours; his eyes haven’t moved from your lips since he cleared them off. He’s giving you the chance to stop him if you don’t wanna kiss him. Given you allow him, it’ll be the third ever time you guys have kissed each other. You spare him the rest of the distance and bring your face up to meet his. You kiss once at first, soft and reassuring each other that you both want it. Knowing he has permission he gently pushes your face back into the bed with his lips as he kisses you again. He's got one arm, on the opposite side of you that he's laying on, supporting himself. He wants to be close to you but he’s scared of crushing you. His inner wrist is tightly pressed up against your waist where your shirt has risen up. You can actually feel his heartbeat through the delicate skin there, it’s beating quickly like a hummingbird and you're reassured that you’re not the only nervous one.

His other hand is nestled in the negative space between your neck and shoulder and he has a gentle fistful of your hair in it, your soft hair grounds him as he moves it though his fingers, careful not to pull on your scalp. Your kisses are getting hotter and you eventually slide the very tip of your tongue between his lips. He gratefully reciprocates with his own warm muscle and slides a good amount of it past your teeth. It's really nice, your tongues are swirling around each other and exploring the taste of eachothers mouths. You straighten your legs out on the bed and he takes it as a sign to adjust himself over you. He lets go of the handful of your hair and brackets his arm around your head. The hand that was previously supporting him is now placed under your shirt at the small of your waist. He gently squeezes you there, trying to get a feel for your soft skin and the musculature underneath while his thumb separates from the rest of his hand and is angled towards your belly button softly stroking the skin over your obliques. Your left leg is unintentionally pinned beneath his thighs, but your right one is free. You again bend it at the knee and use it to pull him closer. You both feel dreamy together, his hair has fallen around you and created a dark curtain around your faces, blocking out most of your room's light.

“You're a good kisser” he confesses in the chamber of his hair, intimately and softly he says it; he's never been vulnerable like this for a girl before.

“Thanks, you too” you respond awkwardly at his compliment. But his hazy mind only picks up on the fact that he's making you feel good.

You resume your depraved kissing and remove one of your hands from being perched on his broad shoulders to his waist. You too, take the time to massage and examine the flesh that is breached under your hand.

You continue on like that for a while before he decides to be really brave and slowly, gently, graze his denim-clad hard-on down the seam of your pants. He's in awe of how warm your core is and how good it feels to rub his most intimate parts against yours, you both amateurly moan at the friction he's created, relieving some of the boiling hot pressure between your respective legs. Your cheeks are warmed by your rapid blood flow, and the clutch between your legs feels liquid hot. You really feel the wetness in your panties as he cautiously drags his boner up the seam of your jeans for a second time. You're positive you've soaked through them but you don’t seem to care as you lift your hips to come meet the hard bulge in his jeans for a third time. You continue to gyrate your hips into each other. This novice bunny humping feels so good to you both and you continue to breathlessly whimper and moan into the protection of each other's mouths. 

Eddie’s fairly certain he's about 2 minutes from blowing his load into his boxers. He’s not complaining exactly, because, god, it feels good to dry hump onto you like this. But, he doesn’t want to disappoint you with his lack of stamina or unintentionally end the moment early. He dumbly tries to distract himself from the boiling throb between his legs by gently snaking his hand up your shirt (because feeling your tit will for sureeee hold him off. He’s just about to make anticipated contact with the very bottom of your bra before your bedroom door slams open.

It’s Hopper. Because of course it's him. The chief scrunches his face into his shoulder and turns quickly. Both you and Eddie are so embarrassed to be caught like that you both freeze and separate your mouths with a final suctioned click. Eddie (wrongly) assumes that you’d (ever) want him off you and presses up off of you. Both his arms are straight now and his cock is now hovering above where he was just grinding on you. You sit up, too, and stare scaredly at the intruder. You bend both of your legs at the knee now, and shield Eddie’s bulge from the man as Eddie works to pull your tshirt back down. Hopper's hand blindly reaches back towards your door handle and continuously misses.

He tells you both “AH JESUS- I DIDN’T SEE ANYTHING. I DIDN’T SEE ANYTHING” its silent for a second before he says smally “dinner’s ready if you guys can come down… you guys do realize you can't do that while other people are in the house, right? Jesus. I did not want to have this conversation today,” he corrects himself “ever, actually. Just be down it ten. And USE PROTECTION” he warns (mostly Eddie) before finally getting a handle on the door and slamming it.

Neither of you were able to correct him that “ugh no dude, were werent actually fucking FYI”... that it was just a depraved and needy makeout secession. Eddie and you both awkwardly laugh at each other and you both take a second to cool yourselves down. He slams his back on the bed and lays down. You can tell he's pleading to any higher power to just have his boner go softly into that goodnight. You decide your sweet man needs space and kick your legs off the edge of the bed. You both take regulating deep breaths for a few moments before sliding off the bed and creeping downstairs together. The entire gang seems to sense something off with you two as you are both especially quiet and sweaty while you eat.

But this time? This time is gonna be different. He’s invited you to his place after work, he made sure to tell you that you'll be both home alone till 3AM because his uncle is on the night shift. You will make sure there are no interruptions in your activities as you’re desperate to touch his cock. You’ve done your research, you want to make him feel good. You've snuck tapes from the ADULTS ONLY section of Family Video as you restocked, and done everything you can to prepare for this moment, watching the moves of the porn girls and they perform effortless hand jobs and you’re wearing cute undies. It seems entry level enough, jacking a guy off, but you really want to make this good for him.

Work seems to go by especially slowly today despite how busy it is, and 9PM seems like it will never come. It always seems like that when you're especially tired or looking forward to something. The second the “OPEN” sign is switched off, you're clocked out and running out the door. Telling your coworkers and closest friends, Steve and Robin, that you have to study for a killer test, thankfully, they seem to believe it. You’re driving fast to his trailer. But, the second you pull into Forest Hills your heart starts beating out of your chest and you feel less confident. Second guessing yourself, your body, your abilities, even how much Eddie even likes you. But, you're already pulling up to his plot before you're able to let the anxiety fully consume you. You take a deep breath, brace yourself and make your way to the front door.

He wantonly kisses you hello after opening the door and the warm light of the kitchen highlights his shape. For the first hour, it’s innocent, you two only giggle with each other and make popcorn. Finally situating yourselves on the couch by the time 10 rolls around. He shoves the VHS into the TV and thuds into the couch next to you. He snuggles his arm around you and you fawn into his chest and shovel the buttered popcorn into your mouth as the opening credits start. He eventually tells you he's liking the film so far, but you realize that you haven’t been paying attention and you're already twenty minutes in. Your mind wanders to if he has any plans for you later.

It's impressive, honestly, that you've both made it a whopping half-hour into the movie before your wants take over. From under his armpit you look up at him with your best bedroom eyes (if you practiced them in the mirror beforehand, is between you and god). You twist yourself up to face him, both of your knees touching the back couch cushions and your feet are pointed out. You lick your lips, but before you're able to lean in and kiss him, his mouth is already on yours. You immediately wrap wandering arms around each other and kiss feverishly. 

This time he's the first one to put his tongue into your mouth, it feels good, heavenly, even, to have him inside you like this. You can taste his recently brushed teeth and butter as it swirls around your mouth. You're both already whining by the time you straddle his lap. Your practically touching tonsils by the time he eventually uses his strength to twist you both on the couch and ease you onto your back. He’s laying above you once again, but this time there's nobody down the hall. Just him and you (and Splash). He leans down over you slowly and one again pushes his bulge against the cleft of your pussy. He goes again and you both moan as his unpracticed thrusts. 

He separates from you, barely an inch and asks you “can I take your shirt off? Please?”. You nod your head and grab the hemline of it. You ease it over your head, both tempting him expertly and delaying feeling so naked in front of him. It’s not like you don’t want him to see you naked, you want to see him naked, too. You're for the first time it’s pretty scary. He makes you feel safe, though. Held and warm, pushed into his worn couch. You throw your top onto his coffee table and allow him to take a look. He has to actively stop himself from drooling over your bra covered breasts. He’s just looking for a while, and you start to get nervous.

You interrupt his stare “is, um everything okay? Like I'm normal right?”. He looks up at you and nods.

He confesses “holy shit yeah this is actually awesome”. You warmly smile at the boyishly sweet comment and pry one of his hands off your waist. You place it on your breast and shyly nod, urging him on, telling him it's okay, I want you to touch me. He gently cups your tit and massages the flesh through the fabric of your bra. He moves his hand to the other one and gropes you there, too. More confident now that you grind yourself up into him as he touches you.

You push your chest up into him and tease “your turn”. He sits up and obediently slides his shirt off. You run your hand down the milky skin of his pec and toned stomach, you use your finger to trace the silhouettes of his chest tattoos. You glide your finger through his adonis belt before running your hand back over his soft and taught flesh. “Im likin’ what im seein’” you good-heartedly joke. He blows air out his nose and crashes back down onto you. You contine grinding and tongue-fucking eachothers mouthes, taking the time to feel your naked abdomens rub, before you breathlessly tell him to take off his pants.

What follows is a frenzy of stripping, both of you standing up from the couch and wrestling with belts, button flies and socks until you're both scantily clad in nothing but your underwear. You both finish undressing simultaneously and turn towards each other. You feel comfortable with Eddie, but definitely very exposed, you assume he feels the same way too. You each scan each other's bodies. You eye the prominent tent in the front of his blue gingham boxers and defined line of hair that leads from his belly button to under his waistband. You eventually get to his dark eyes, his pupils seem to be dilated, deep brown eyes turned near black with want. You see him scanning your body, too. Taking his time before complimenting you. “Baby, wow. Your body is perfect like, idk, like a pornstar. But better, even”. You blush and return the favor. Your horniness goes straight to your head and you cut to the chase. “You’re sexy, Eddie.” Your bluntness could actually be comical if you guys weren’t so thirsty for each other.

He pounces on you, again stroking his hands over your exposed skin, groping your ass and unconsciously pushing his hard cock into your stomach. He lays you back down on the couch and you kiss for a while. Both of you easing into the idea of how bare you each were. Eventually he rises above you again. He asks “can I?” and plucks at your bra strap. You tell him yes and he pulls both straps down your arms in tandem. Revealing your perked nipples to him. “... You’re beautiful, thank you” he says. You can't help but softly giggle at him for thanking you for letting him pull your tits out. But when he goes back to kneading your mounds of flesh between his hands you forget about anything funny. He's mouthing at your neck, collarbones and sternum before he lathes your tit in his mouth. Licking the revealed expanse of skin and sucking into the soft flesh, biting at your nipple. He provides the care to your other breast too, and uses his hand to grope at the one that is free from his suckling. “Feels good Eddie” you reassure him. He’s definitely liking this, too, pushing his throbbing cock into your thigh. And humping you like an animal. Eventually you work up enough courage and ask him for what you really want.

“Eddie?” you question, “can I uh- can I jack you off?”. His drooling mouth goes dry at that. God he wants you to, but he's never actually been touched like that before - he’s nervous but immediately responds. “God yes you can, you don’t even have to ask, baby”. You both sit up then, he tucks himself into the corner of the couch and welcomes you as you crawl over to him. Sitting with your knees jabbing into the side of his thigh. You confirm “you're sure you want me to, Eddie? It’s okay if you don’t want me to - I can stop”. “What no!” he assures you “I definitely want you to continue. I just ugh- i've never done this, " he gestures arm around his crotch and your naked body, “before, so i'm kinda nervous. I'm also totally gonna bust in like 30 seconds baby. I'm sorry but I just have to warn you-”. You kiss the nervous bumbles out of his mouth and fully unclip your own bra.

You admit to him “I’ve never done this either, so please tell me if you don't like it - or if I can do something better, okay?”. He nods again, though he thinks there's nothing you can do to him right now he wont like, and you meet him for a slow and warm kiss before you separate and get to work.

He admires your fully exposed tits as you slide your hand down his stomach. Your hands breach the elastic of his waistband and you two lock eyes once more, making sure you are both ready to commit. You peel the waistband from his hips and he lifts them from the couch. His boxers are just on his thighs now, fully revealing him to you. Your mouth is dry now, too, reveling in the look of him. From what you know, he's a little longer and thicker than average. You examine him in totality - the blushing dusky pink tip of his manhood leaking pre-cum and hairy patch at the base. He’s got some veins running down the sides of it that simply accentuate that fact that Eddies got a nice cock. Your eyes wander past the patch of his pubic hair and to his balls, they are unshockingly perfect, too.

“Eddie, it's big” you tell him, and he moans at that as his dick twitches with want.This is real, this is happening, you tell yourself as you kiss him once more for good luck before you get started.

You decide to go all in to start, wrapping your hand around the middle of his cock. You only grip him and he’s hissing and panting at the feeling of your hand. He’s already liking it, so you feel good enough to continue. Stroking your hand up and his entire abdomen flexes.

He nods and whines “feels good baby, feels really good”. You release him from your grip and swirl the palm of your hand around the head of his cock, collecting the precum that's been dripping out before you slide your hand down his entirety. He's clearly having a great time - hissing, and breathing deeply, moaning your name and lulling his head as you stroke him four more times solidly. You release him to spit on your own hand and he takes a deep breath, the separation of your pleasure how close you realize he is. “Baby, fuck-Y/N, im close, im close, im really close”. His cheeks are pinked and his eyebrows are pinched. He fills his cheeks with hair and blows it out before you kiss his bitten lips.

Though his vision is blurred, he makes eye contact with you. You candle his face in one hand and pause your stroking with the other, though you keep it on him. “Eddie, I want you to cum. It’s the point - I want you to”. Again, he shakily nods and licks his lips. 

You confidently return your hand and jack him off now, he's looking from the ceiling, to your bouncing tits, to your hand sliding down him as he tries to delay his orgasm. But, it's futile. With pathetic “ugh ugh ughs” he's cumming all over your hand and wrist. He's lost in the aftershocks of his orgasm and you kiss him again. His head is fully relaxed and he uses all his strength to kiss you back. You gently release his softening cock and you blush look at his release, splashed all over your hand. Eddie looses his mind and you lick his cum off your hand. Fuck - he could get hard at that alone.

You're back to kissing now, you cradle his face, snaking your fingers over the expanse of his flushed body. You tell him to lift his hips and you place his boxers back on his hips, (unfortunately) hiding his ruddy cock from you, again.

 He looks at you with big, wet eyes, you notice the tears glossing just under his bottom lashes, “baby, want me to do you now? Gimme five minutes and I’ve got you - I swear”. You kiss him again, grateful that your boyfriend cares so much about your own pleasure.

 You just set your sticky palm on his haunting chest tattoo and promise him, “next time, cowboy, I want you to - but tonight, just enjoy this” you cartoonishly wink at him and he nods dutifully. He’s tired and fucked out as you both snuggle under a well-loved quilt. Both excited for what next time may bring.

[scoupsakakitty]

Beautiful | idol!Hoshi x idolxReader | angst, fluff

Tw: weight loss, not feeling enough

The rain poured relentlessly, blurring the neon lights of Seoul into streaks of color as Hoshi stood outside the apartment building. His fingers clenched around the umbrella handle, though he wasn’t sure why he had bothered bringing it. He was already soaked, and something about the cold seemed fitting.

He hesitated before pressing the buzzer.

Silence.

Then, a static-laced voice: "Who is it?"

Hearing her voice after all this time nearly broke him. "It’s me."

A long pause. Too long.

"Go home, Soonyoung."

He swallowed. "I just want to see you. Please."

"Don’t you have something better to do? Like catching a flight to Japan?" she said bitterly.

"I’ll take the next flight," he replied without hesitation. "You’re more important."

More silence, then a click. The door unlocked. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and stepped inside.

Y/N was thinner than he remembered. The weight loss was noticeable even under the oversized hoodie she wore, sleeves pulled over trembling fingers. Her once-bright eyes were dull, lips slightly chapped, the kind of exhaustion that no amount of sleep could fix settled deep in her features.

Seeing her like this made his chest tighten. This wasn’t the Y/N he knew.

"You shouldn’t be here," she said, voice barely above a whisper.

Hoshi ignored the warning, stepping inside fully. "I had to see you. I had to know if you were okay."

She let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through her tangled hair. "Do I look okay to you?"

No. She looked like she had been barely holding on, like she had been drowning in something she couldn’t escape from. And the worst part? He hadn’t been there to pull her out.

"I’ve been watching you… on stage, in interviews, award shows. You’re disappearing, Y/N. You’re hurting," he admitted, voice raw. "Your friend reached out to me. She’s worried. And she thought maybe… maybe I could help."

Her eyes flashed. "And what? You think you can just come back and fix me? That your presence will magically make things better?"

"No," he whispered. "But I can be here. I can hold you up if you let me."

She scoffed. "You left, Soonyoung. And now you want to be my savior?"

"I never stopped caring," he said, his voice shaking. "I never stopped loving you."

That was the breaking point. Her lips trembled, and before she could stop herself, she collapsed into his arms.

"It’s so hard, Soonyoung," she sobbed into his chest. "No matter what I do, there’s always something wrong with me. I’m never pretty enough, never talented enough. Always too much or too little. They find every flaw, every mistake. The pressure is… it’s crushing me."

He held her tightly, rubbing soothing circles on her back. "Y/N, listen to me. You are the most beautiful person in the world. And not because of how you look. You are beautiful for the way you think, for the sparkle in your eyes when you talk about something you love, for your ability to make people smile without trying."

She clung to him, her breathing ragged.

"I am proud of you," he continued. "I am proud of you for trying, even when it hurts. I wish I could tell you when you’ll finally feel okay again, when your head will be above water, but healing isn’t something you can time. It isn’t something you can measure. But things will get lighter, little by little, as you break through the weight on your shoulders. Keep facing what you need to face. You are getting closer every single day, even if it doesn’t feel that way. And I hope you start to believe that you are worthy of everything you want in this life. You deserve to be adored and cared for in every way your mind, body, and heart long for. You are effortlessly beautiful. You are the embodiment of beauty. Don’t let anyone tell you differently."

She sniffled, pulling back slightly to look at him. "Why do you still love me? After everything?"

He smiled sadly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "The only feeling stronger than my love for you is the ache that comes with missing you. I love everything about you. Maybe too much. But how could I not love that smile, that laughter, those eyes, that passion?"

Her breath hitched, fresh tears pooling in her eyes.

"I hate you," she whispered, voice trembling.

"I know," he said softly, pressing his forehead against hers. "Hate me all you want. Just let me stay."

She let out a shuddering breath and, after what felt like an eternity, nodded against his chest.

Soonyoung held her, his arms tightening around her fragile frame, and for the first time in months, she let herself lean into the warmth she had been missing.

Outside, the rain kept falling, washing away the past, making room for something new.

[celuere]

For our dear girl Mavuika.. Fucking pregnant!Fem!Reader, or with a breeding of kink? Story is up to you, you have great imagination, you'll do a perfect job, so I trust you :3

you have no idea what a soft spot i have for tender pregnant sex anon… and with mavuika wokeksnekwnewi I KNOW SHE‘D BE SO GENTLE WITH YOU, HOLDING AND CARESSING YOUR BABY BELLY AND ALL DAT OH IM SO SICK. also this turned out shorter than expected but i still hope you like it wkrbnwnrdnke

cw: pregnant sex, mavuika is SO soft for her wife ngh, mavuika has a dick here because anon and i said so!

„shhhh… relax…“, mavuika cooed as she slowly slid you drenched panties down your legs before putting them away besides her. as if she was carefully unwrapping a birthday present. a pillow placed underneath your waist to prevent you from lying flat on your back, when you happened to be six months into your pregnancy, some things have to be handled differently after all. but the tenderness she handled you with caused your heart to race nonetheless.

„is it really okay for you…?“

„of course it is… my wife has needs that have to be fulfilled… what kind of spouse were i if i just ignored these?“, she gently squeezed the plush of your thighs before pushing them apart and you didn‘t miss out on glimmer of lust blitzing up in her eyes which she quickly blinked away.

your heart threatened to beat out of your chest as your swollen belly hindered your view on her boner when she started shedding out of her clothes.

„y-you know you don‘t have to for my sake…“

„but i want to, darling. my pregnant wife wishes for some relief, then that‘s exactly what i‘m gonna do.“, her tone was firm, she wanted this just as much as you did. keeping your legs gently parted for as she leaned forward until you felt the tip of her pressing against your needy pussy and you more or less swallowed her first two inches up accident. pregnancy did some wonders to you. but maybe it was just the fact that you watched her working out for a good three hours in front of your shared house, pretending to be awfully invested in a pregnancy guide.

the sudden intrusion caused your hand to find its way into her neck, a soft whimper escaping your lips. goodness, you almost forgot what it felt like and for the first time in months mavuika felt like she was loosing control over herself. hand coming up to get a gentle hold of your baby bulge, „my star… y-you feel so unbelievably amazing… c-can i-“

„mhm- p-please…“, urging her to push deeper into you by trying to scoot closer to her. she almost melted at the sight of her pregnant wife begging for her. immediately making sure to add inch by inch and you were so incredibly welcoming to her, so wet and ready for her and yet you were clenching around her so tightly. she might as well got accepted into heaven itself.

„atta girl… i‘m not going anywhere…“, goodness you‘re gonna come alone from her sultry tone if she continued talking to you like this.

no words needed to be spoken, your wife knew exactly what needed to be done.

she started moving slowly at first, dragging her cock out before pushing her hips back forward. your moans were practically all over the place. she was soft, so incredibly tender with you as she watched you melt over her gentle pace.

„look at you, sweetie… does it feel good enough for you…? you seem to enjoy it a lot…“, your wife reached a hand over to gently cup your cheek, stroking with her thumb over your cheekbone as she stared down at her whole world.

she never knew that she‘d one day be granted with a family of her own. that the 500 years of waiting will be paying her back in the form of a… baby. but mavuika was never one to complain. ever.

„f-feels amazing…“, you grabbed onto her other hand resting on your belly almost instinctively, interlacing your fingers, giving her a tight squeeze as if she were to slip out of your touch at any given moment. you couldn‘t handle it. her dick gently pumping in and out of you, the love in her eyes, the feeling of your wedding ring against her own. the fact that she is the mother of your child.

your orgasm was soft, so incredibly intense but you didn’t start shaking when you creamed over her in a soft moan. eyes squeezing shut before she bottomed out in a low moan and then her cum painted your insides.

it felt different than before, not in a bad way. a bit more… heavy, if that makes any sense.

„o-oh archons…. y-you’re perfect… you are so perfect, sweetheart…“, praises over praises spilling over her lips as she made sure to let you both calm down first. bending down to pepper soft kithes over your face, a strong hand running over the lower side of your swollen belly, she couldn’t keep them to herself nowadays. her hands always find their way to your baby bump, no matter where or when.

„e-exaggerating as always… n-now let me get on top…“, you patted her toned shoulders in order to signal her to get off of you.

„darling… don‘t you think you are getting a bit ahead of yourself…? you shouldn’t overdo it-”

„mavuika, let me get on top.“

and you always had the last word.

[irissfoot]

arthur morgan x fem reader

him drawing you nude… fluffy and smutty please

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Soft Lines

╰┈➤ After a few weeks away from each other, Arthur takes his beloved wife to the saloon for a night of drawing and soft love making. ♥

Word count: 890

Warnings: unprotected p in v, kissing, nudity (obvi lol), author has zero sexual experience, not proofread

A/N: This is my first ever fic ive written so please be kind lol, also sorry for the delay ive been rlly busy and everytime I sat down to write it i got scared lol.

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Soft giggles met the gentle crackle of the fire, the warm glow casting a soft shadow over her curves as she posed on the rich red chaise couch.

Dutch had sent him and Lenny on yet another wild goose chase, a habit growing annoyingly common. Because of these pointless missions, he hadn't had time to catch up with the love of his life. To correct this, Arthur took her out to dinner at the saloon in Saint Denis - promptly followed by booking a room for the night. 

And that's how you ended up laying on your side on the couch, as bare as the day you were born. You were reluctant at first, I mean, who wouldn't be? Laying naked as your husband who looks like he was sculpted by the gods, sitting there, drawing you. But with a few kisses and a promise that it wouldn't take too long, you obliged. 

“Are you almost done? I feel silly”

“Don’t worry sweetheart, you look gorgeous.” He mumbled as he continued scribbling away, a small smile crept its way onto your face.

“Do you really mean that?” you already knew what his answer would be, but you were growing tired and figured teasing him would help aid that.

He looked up, surprised almost. As if he didn’t say it enough. “Well ‘course I do!” Suddenly an idea popped into your head as he put his head back down.

“Well then show me.” You got up and started walking across the room towards him. Hips intentionally popping out, accentuating your curves.

A smirk made its way onto Arthur's face as he put his pencil and journal down, reaching out to grab onto your soft waist. Pulling you down to have your ass sit flush against his lap. Smiling at you gently as you play with the tuft of hair at his neck, looking lovely into his eyes.

“Don't know what I did to deserve you.” He continued staring into your eyes for a moment, muttering a faint beautiful before leaning in to kiss you. Soft and gentle, those are the words you’d use to describe how Arthur treats you. Holding you like you’re the most important thing in the world to him. 

The kiss became more passionate and deep, kissing down your neck before standing up with you in his arms. Walking back towards the couch, delicately laying you down. You wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him closer as you start to unbutton his black blouse - his favourite but only because you always tell him how handsome he looks in it. 

His hands start to move from your hips and up towards your soft breasts. Massaging them tenderly, making you let out a small sound of protest before breaking from the kiss.

“Arthur, take your clothes off.” Your tone was kind but he knew better than to test you. 

“Yes ma’am.” He sat back on his feet, pulling his arm out of his suspenders as you untuck his shirt pulling it down his shoulders. 

Caressing his shoulders and buff chest as he unbuckles his belt, “God I love you.” Just as he takes his pants off you pull him into a deep kiss. His hands find their way back to your breasts, teasing your nipples as you massage his growing erection.

Mumbles and groans grow louder and you just couldn't take it anymore, pulling away slightly whispering a soft, “Please Arthur.”

You don’t even need to ask a second time before Arthur takes his length in his hand, trailing the tip of his penis between your wet folds moaning at the sensation. 

“Good god women.” He rests his forehead on yours, staring oh so lovely into your eyes before entering you. You couldn't help but moan. It had been a long time since he stretched you out, his ridges rubbing perfectly against your warm velvety walls. Letting out a low groan as he bottomed out. He pulls his hands to your sides, caressing you with a desperation you absolutely adored. 

He started moving, slow, deliberate, and deep. Relishing the noises you were making, the desperate grabs at his back. You needed this just as much as he did. Speeding up a little, hitting your g-spot everytime. Reaching down to bring Arthur's hand into yours, placing a gentle kiss on the back of it. 

“Oh God Arthur.” You weren’t gonna last much longer, walls clenching around his  length. Heels digging into his back, pushing him deeper.

“I know sweetheart, I know.” His pace speeding up a little, he wasn’t gonna last much longer either. 

With a few more strokes and messy kisses, you came undone. Walls spasming on his cock with such a vigor he had never felt before. Moaning loudly, you pulled his sweaty forehead down to meet yours once again. He looked into your eyes as he came, watching the way your face contorted when you felt his warm cum filling you up. 

Panting heavily as his thrusts slowed, collapsing down onto you as you panted. Wrapping your arms around him, kissing his head tenderly. 

As you both layed there, the world around you seemed to dissipate. He looked up at you, the orange glow of the dying fire highlighting the sweat on your face and the frizziness of your tousled hair. And he swore, you never looked better.

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