#pressing my head against the wall but it just keeps going and my head is fully buries in the wall and then my shoulders have gone through u

[pucksandpower]

Your Love Is My Drug

Oscar Piastri x Norris!Reader

Summary: Lando’s teammate is behaving strangely, so of course the logical assumption is that Oscar must be on drugs (the truth ends up being so much worse … for Lando)

The McLaren garage buzzes with activity as mechanics scurry about, preparing for the upcoming race weekend. Lando leans against the wall, his brow furrowed in concentration as he observes his teammate from across the room.

Something’s off about Oscar today. Actually, if Lando’s being honest with himself, something’s been off about Oscar for weeks now. The usually composed Aussie seems ... different.

Fidgety.

Distracted.

As if on cue, Oscar lets out another of those odd little giggles he’s been prone to lately. Lando’s eyes narrow.

“Oi, Piastri!” He calls out, striding over to where Oscar is hunched over his phone. “What’s so funny, mate?”

Oscar’s head snaps up, his cheeks flushed a deep pink. “Oh, uh, nothing,” he stammers, hastily shoving his phone into his pocket. “Just ... just a meme.”

Lando raises an eyebrow. “A meme? Since when are you so into memes?”

“I’ve always liked memes,” Oscar protests weakly.

“Right,” Lando drawls, unconvinced. He watches as Oscar shifts uncomfortably, tugging at the waistband of his jeans.

A sudden, horrifying thought strikes Lando. No ... it couldn’t be. Could it?

“Hey, Oscar,” he says slowly, trying to keep his tone casual. “You feeling alright? You’ve seemed a bit ... off lately.”

Oscar’s eyes widen slightly. “Off? What do you mean?”

Lando shrugs, aiming for nonchalance. “I dunno, just ... different. Distracted. You keep laughing at nothing and your face is all red.”

“Oh, that’s ... that’s nothing,” Oscar says, waving a hand dismissively. “Just, uh, excited about the race, I guess.”

Lando’s not buying it. “Excited, huh? Is that why you keep fidgeting with your pants, too?”

Oscar freezes, his hand stilling where it had been absently adjusting his waistband. “I ... what?”

“Your jeans,” Lando repeats, gesturing towards Oscar’s lower half. “You keep messing with them. What’s that about?”

“Nothing!” Oscar yelps, a bit too quickly. “They’re just ... new. Still breaking them in.”

Lando’s eyes narrow further. He remembers something, vaguely, from one of the few health lessons he’d managed to stay awake for back in school. Something about drug users and fidgeting ...

No. Surely not. Not Oscar.

But the more Lando thinks about it, the more it starts to make a twisted kind of sense. The secrecy, the mood swings, the constant flush on Oscar’s cheeks ...

“Oscar,” Lando says, his voice low and serious. “I need you to be honest with me. Are you ... are you on something?”

Oscar’s jaw drops. “What? No! Of course not!”

“Because if you are,” Lando presses on, ignoring Oscar’s protests, “I need to know. As your teammate. As your friend. This isn’t just about you, mate. It’s about the whole team.”

“Lando, I swear, I’m not on anything,” Oscar insists, his voice taking on a pleading edge. “I don’t know where you’re getting this idea from, but-”

“Then explain the giggling!” Lando demands, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “And the blushing! And the fidgeting! Something’s clearly going on with you, and if you’re not gonna be straight with me-”

“I can’t!” Oscar bursts out, then immediately claps a hand over his mouth, looking stricken.

Lando’s eyes widen. “Can’t what?”

Oscar shakes his head, looking miserable. “I can’t ... I can’t tell you. I’m sorry, Lando. I know I’ve been acting weird, but I promise it’s nothing bad. I’m not on drugs or anything like that. I just ... I can’t explain right now.”

Lando stares at his teammate, torn between frustration and concern. “Oscar, come on. We’re supposed to be friends. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

Oscar’s phone chimes, and he jumps, fumbling to pull it out of his pocket. His eyes widen as he reads whatever message has just come through, and a small, dopey smile spreads across his face.

“Sorry,” he says distractedly, already typing out a response. “I’ve gotta go. We’ll talk later, yeah?”

Before Lando can protest, Oscar is hurrying out of the garage, leaving Lando staring after him in bewilderment.

“What the hell was that about?” Lando mutters to himself.

He’s still pondering Oscar’s strange behavior when his own phone buzzes. It’s a message from you.

Hey! Surprise — I’m at the track! Want to grab dinner?

Lando grins, momentarily distracted from his worries about Oscar. Absolutely, he types back. Meet you at the hotel in a few hours?

Later that evening, Lando’s sitting in the hotel restaurant, drumming his fingers impatiently on the table as he waits for you to arrive. His mind keeps drifting back to Oscar’s odd behavior, and he’s half-tempted to text you and ask if you’ve noticed anything strange about his teammate lately.

Before he can act on the impulse, you breeze into the restaurant, a bright smile on your face. “Lando!” You exclaim, rushing over to give him a hug.

“Hey, trouble,” Lando says fondly, returning the embrace. “What brings you to the race? I thought you were busy with work.”

You shrug, sliding into the seat across from him. “Oh, you know, just missed my second favorite brother. Thought I’d surprise you.”

Lando narrows his eyes playfully. “I finally won a race and I’m still not your favorite?”

“You can’t win everything,” you say with a grin. “Wouldn’t want your head getting any bigger than it already is.”

As you settle in and start perusing the menu, Lando can’t help but notice that you seem ... different. There’s a certain glow about you, a sparkle in your eye that he hasn’t seen before.

“You look happy,” he observes. “Something good happen at work?”

You bite your lip, looking suddenly nervous. “Oh, um, not really. Just ... life in general, I guess.”

Lando’s about to press further when his phone buzzes. He glances down to see a message from Oscar.

Hey, mate. Sorry about earlier. Can we talk?

Lando frowns, torn between his curiosity about Oscar’s situation and his desire to spend time with you.

“Everything okay?” You ask, noticing his expression.

Lando sighs. “I don’t know. It’s Oscar. He’s been acting really weird lately, and I’m worried about him.”

Your eyes widen almost imperceptibly. “Weird how?”

“Just ... off,” Lando says, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “He’s all giggly and distracted, his face is constantly red, and he keeps fidgeting with his clothes. I’m worried he might be ... you know ...”

You lean forward, your brow furrowed in concern. “Might be what?”

Lando lowers his voice, glancing around to make sure no one’s listening. “On drugs,” he whispers.

To his surprise, you burst out laughing. “Oscar? On drugs? Are you serious?”

“It’s not funny!” Lando hisses, feeling defensive. “I’m really worried about him. He won’t tell me what’s going on, but something clearly is.”

You sober quickly, reaching across the table to pat his hand. “I’m sorry, you’re right. It’s not funny. But Lando, I really don’t think Oscar’s on drugs. Maybe there’s another explanation?”

“Like what?” Lando demands.

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can say anything, Lando’s phone buzzes again. Another message from Oscar.

I’m in the lobby. Can we talk now? It’s important.

Lando looks up at you apologetically. “It’s Oscar again. He says he needs to talk. Do you mind if I ...”

You wave a hand, looking strangely nervous. “No, no, go ahead. I’ll wait here.”

Lando nods gratefully and heads for the lobby, his mind racing. What could be so important that Oscar needs to talk right now?

He spots his teammate pacing near the elevators, looking agitated. “Oscar?” He calls out.

Oscar’s head snaps up, and Lando is struck again by the flush on his cheeks. “Lando! Thanks for coming. I ... I need to tell you something.”

Lando crosses his arms, trying to look stern despite his worry. “Yeah, I’d say you do. What’s going on with you, mate? And don’t try to tell me it’s nothing, because-”

“I’m dating your sister!” Oscar blurts out.

Lando blinks, certain he must have misheard. “I’m sorry, what?”

Oscar takes a deep breath, steeling himself. “I’m dating your sister,” he repeats, more slowly this time. “Y/N. We’ve been seeing each other for a few months now.”

Lando’s mind goes blank. He opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again. No sound comes out.

“I know it’s a shock,” Oscar continues, words tumbling out in a rush. “And I’m sorry we didn’t tell you sooner. We wanted to make sure it was serious before we said anything. But I really care about her, Lando. And I hope ... I hope you can be okay with this.”

Lando’s brain is still struggling to process this information. “But ... but the giggling,” he manages to stammer out. “And the blushing. And the fidgeting.”

Oscar’s blush deepens. “Ah, yeah. That’s ... that’s because of Y/N. She’s been sending me these ... messages. And pictures. Really cute ones!” He adds hastily, seeing Lando’s eyes widen in horror. “Nothing inappropriate! Just ... you know. Flirty.”

Lando holds up a hand, feeling slightly nauseous. “Please, I really don’t need details.”

“Right, sorry,” Oscar says sheepishly. “Anyway, that’s why I’ve been acting weird. I was trying to keep it a secret, but I guess I’m not very good at hiding how I feel.”

Lando’s head is spinning. His teammate and his little sister. Dating. It’s too much to process.

“Lando?” Oscar’s voice sounds concerned. “Are you okay? You look a bit pale.”

Lando opens his mouth to respond, but the world suddenly tilts sideways. The last thing he hears before everything goes black is Oscar’s panicked voice calling his name.

When Lando comes to, he’s lying on a couch in the hotel lobby, with you and Oscar hovering anxiously over him.

“Oh thank god,” you breathe as his eyes flutter open. “Lando, are you okay?”

Lando groans, pushing himself into a sitting position. “What happened?”

“You fainted,” Oscar supplies helpfully. “Right after I told you about ... you know.”

The memory comes flooding back, and Lando groans again, this time for an entirely different reason. “So it wasn’t a dream, then? You two are really ...”

You nod, looking nervous but determined. “We are. I’m sorry we didn’t tell you sooner. We wanted to make sure it was, you know, real first.”

Lando looks between the two of you, taking in Oscar’s anxious expression and the way your hand is clasped tightly in his. Despite his shock, he can’t deny the genuine affection he sees there.

“Well,” he says finally, his voice rough. “I suppose this is better than you being on drugs.”

Oscar lets out a startled laugh. “You really thought I was on drugs?”

Lando shrugs defensively. “What was I supposed to think? You were acting so weird!”

“That’s just because he’s head over heels for me,” you say teasingly, bumping Oscar’s shoulder with your own.

Oscar grins dopily, and Lando has to resist the urge to roll his eyes. “Clearly,” he mutters.

There’s a moment of awkward silence before you speak up again. “So ... are you okay with this? Us being together?”

Lando looks at you, his beloved little sister, then at Oscar, his teammate and friend. He sees the happiness radiating from both of you, the way you lean into each other unconsciously.

He sighs dramatically. “I suppose I’ll have to be,” he says, unable to keep a small smile from tugging at his lips. “But I swear, Piastri, if you hurt her-”

“I won’t,” Oscar interrupts, his voice firm and sincere. “I promise, Lando. I’ll take good care of her.”

Lando nods, satisfied for now. “Good. And for the love of all that is holy, please keep the flirting to a minimum around me. I really don’t need to see that.”

You and Oscar laugh, the tension finally breaking. As Lando watches the two of you together, he can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this might not be such a bad thing after all.

But he’s definitely going to need some time to get used to it. And possibly some therapy.

[shouyuus]

very 18+, vi-shaped, modern underground fighter!au tw: in which vi uses a vibrating strap d1ldo and also fucks ur throat

popular underground fighter vi! x reader in which vi "soft launches" your relationship with this photo posted on instagram with clear red nail marks down her back and just the caption "post fight ritual 💋" and it's obvious that her knuckles are still bruised, but someone else made those marks on her back and they're definitely not from any fight she's ever been in.

and it's not like she's a stranger to people thirsting over her posts -- she kinda knows she's hot. or at least, she's been told enough times to know it empirically, but it still stuns her a little when she catches you staring, or when she sees the way your pupils literally dilate in her presence; it's not something that she grew up hearing, always being told that she's too tomboy or that she's not feminine enough, even though her own family never cared, and they've always supported her no matter how she wanted to dress or what she wanted to do.

you, though. she doesn't know how she got so lucky with you.

she might call it a chance meeting, but later on, you'd admit that you'd had your eye on her for weeks, thought she was so, so pretty, even with all her black eyeliner and her choppily cut hair (she does it herself; oh, you could tell? why? what gave it away? the weirdly uneven buzz or the fact that she totally missed a patch at the back of her head?), and you'd put yourself squarely in the line of her sight and hoped (prayed, really) that she'd notice you.

and notice you she did.

wearing that pretty little sundress of yours, leaning up against the bar of her favorite lesbian haunt, the one she goes to nine times outta ten after her fights, the adrenaline's still high, eating through her veins, the tattoo of her pulse pressing against her ribcage.

she'd pushed off the far wall and caged you in against the dark wood of the bar, turning her charm up to eleven and hoping against hope that she wasn't just imagining things when she saw your gaze run up and down the length of her body (she wasn't).

"hey pretty. thought you might wanna take a closer look."

you'd grinned then, caught someplace between bashful and triumphant.

"but... it's so dark and so... loud," you say, letting your hand linger on her shoulder even as you put up the very convincing front of uncertainty, the blatant tease of your words the only thing cueing her off that you were picking up what she was putting down.

"yeah? then... wanna go somewhere quiet where you can... take a better look in peace?"

vi's apartment, despite all the winnings from her fights, was a modest place, a small studio in the heart of the city, though the floor the ceiling windows are really what caught your eye that first time she brought you over.

that, and the giant mirror that covered the length of an entire wall opposite the windows.

"so i can check my form," vi says when you ask, running a tall glass under the tap water, holding it out to you afterwards.

and she'd be lying if she said she hadn't been expecting a hookup. and honestly, so had you. but somehow, the pair of you had just ended up curled on the couch, sitting face to face, sharing stories and laughing. the next you looked up, the pink of dawn was teasing across the far skyline and vi was frowning at the dying phone in her hand, her eyebrows hitched.

"holy shit... it's 6am."

you bury your face in the cushions of the couch, your hands still wrapped around a half-empty cup of spiked apple cider (a bottle of martinelli's at the back of her fridge, along with a half-empty thing of grey goose she'd found, tugging the cap out with her teeth), feeling the tiredness drag at your eyelids.

"oops... sorry," you grin sheepishly at her, "usually, when i keep people up all night, it's not like this."

vi laughs at your tired little innuendo, but her eyes soften when she catches you watching her. and for some stupid, unfathomable reason, she feels her cheeks heating up.

"yeah peaches. i figured. but... i don't mind being kept up like this."

your brows furrow even as a grin threatens your lips as she nudges you with her hand. you shift back, making room for her as she sits down in front of you, close enough for you to feel the heat rolling off her skin.

beyond the windows, a brilliant sunrise is peering out over the city, and the sharp, shard-drawn light of it pierces vi's studio as she reaches out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, her thumb and forefinger trailing the line of your cheek till she's coaxing your chin up towards her.

"peaches?" you ask, your breath a bit short.

"yeah," her eyes flicker towards the tiny little stud earrings you'd put in, truly miniscule peach-emojis that you'd picked to match the shade of your dress. and you laugh, the tiredness making the air around you both effervescent.

and that was the first of many nights you'd proceed to spend at vi's, though eventually, she does drag you forward to kiss you, her lips insistent against yours, with you pulling back to gasp -- "took you long enough --" against her only for her to sink her teeth into the bared skin of your neck, letting her fingers curl around the delicate pulse-point nestled there as she says --

"they say good things come to those who wait."

neither of you can truly pinpoint the moment where this... thing became something more. something that neither of you had the words or will to deny any longer.

it might've come up the first time vi pressed three fingers into your sopping cunt, her eyes fixed on the way your expression goes slack, how your hips kicked up at every curl of her expert fingers. or perhaps the first time you'd pushed her back and kissed a line down her front, lavished her body with your lips, teasing and nipping at her tits before making your slow, arduous way down to her clenching cunt, licking up the wet slit before latching your mouth around her clit and sucking hard enough for her eyes to roll out of her eye-sockets.

or maybe the first time she'd pulled out her bright pink strap, the base equipped with a vibrating function and an opposing dildo that hooked into vi's pussy as she rucked her hips into yours, fucking into you so hard that tears had creased in your lashes after she was done with you.

"fuck peaches -- you just look so good cumming on my cock, don't you?"

and that's all it takes these days, a smirk, a slap on the ass, and her voice saying peaches for you to feel your body clench over nothing, for your stomach to curl with heat, even if she's just coming over to press a kiss to your cheek or murmur against your skin, asking how your day went, though sometimes, you'd get shy and your voice would get a bit too quiet.

"c'mon, speak up, doll. and look at me when i'm talking to you, yeah?"

her fingers squeezing your jaw, just tight enough to make you gasp.

and no one questions it; bc why would they? her coach is ecstatic -- not like vi's ever been an unfocused fighter, but these days, she's in such tip-top form that he's not got much feedback for her after her long training sessions.

"whoever she is," vander says, grinning even as vi flushes and sighs (she knows it's useless to lie, vander's known her for way, way too long), "she's good for you."

he presses a hand to her shoulder, shaking her slightly, "and my advice? when you find a girl like that -- you grab on with both hands and you don't let go."

so that's what she does, and what she's still doing now. it's been months -- almost a full year since you've made it all "official", though neither of you have posted much about it online (her fans have been speculating for a while though, specially the hardcore ones, the ones who have been with her long enough to know her, to spot how she scans the crowd before and after every right, how her smile's just a bit different these days, how there seems to be one particular girl she's always winking at, always hidden in the shadows but she's always swiveling around the first thing after a fight, win or lose).

"f-fuck -- that's a good girl --" vi groans, her hips jerking against yours as she fucks you through your third orgasm of the night (she'd wone her fight that night -- as she does most nights -- and you'd come over to celebrate), your nails biting into the skin of her back, dragging down the expansive tattoo there.

she feels the burn in her own thighs, her arms flexing, the veins popping blue as she drags you down the length of the bed by your hips, fucking into you, her eyes trained on the sticky white ring at the base of her pink strap, the sight in and of itself enough to send her over the edge.

"c'mere -- open your mouth, peaches," she says, guiding you towards her even as she pulls out of you, a thick string of cum slicking off the head of her strap as she inches up the bed to position herself over your chest and shoulders.

you let your jaw fall slack, moaning thick as she presses the tip of her strap to your tongue. you blink up at her, lashes fluttering as she sinks her fingers into your hair, hissing out a long breath as you swallow around her length.

"sweet fuck that's hot..."

she pulls you over her cock in shallow thrusts, her breath growing quick as she watches the way you eagerly clean your own cum off of her with your tongue, the completely fucked out, blissed out look in your eyes as you look up at her, so utterly besotted and at her mercy.

her feels the coils twist in her gut seconds before she shoves you down over her, the combined sound of your gagging and the pinpoint vibrations of the dildo sending her right over the edge.

"shit, shit -- shit oh -- fuck... mm..."

her fingers fist in your hair as she jerks around the dildo end of the strap, tugging out of your mouth with a lazy, lopsided smile.

"such a good girl for me, hm?" she says, tugging you up for an open-mouthed kiss. you mewl against her lips, so soft, absolutely melting into her arms as she shifts the both of you into the center of the bed.

it's not till she goes to shower later, with you sound asleep in her mussed up blankets, that she sees the marks -- red and raised on her back, scratched over her tattoo. a soft smile lifts her lips as she stares at her own reflection in the mirror, her neck twisting over her shoulder to get a good look.

and before she knows it, she's grabbing her phone and turning around to snap a pic, with the full intent of keeping it just to show you in the morning but... well, she thinks as she stares down at the photo with a dopey sort of grin, her heart thudding dangerously close to her mouth.

maybe the best gift she could give you on your one-year anniversary is this -- telling the world that she's yours.

[crushmeeren]

master list link touya art by birf.

༝ ᭝ ༝ this was written to be the counter part of bodyguard! katsuki by @with-my-calamitous-love ! ༝ ᭝ ༝

Bodyguard! Touya, who was a sketchy hire at best. Who your mafia boss of a Father discovered on a Craigslist ad. Who has a rap sheet a mile long, which is why he was chosen. It includes, but is not limited to; arson, grand theft auto, breaking and entering, assault, etc. Whose scars and piercings scare off any lingering, unwanted leering.

Bodyguard! Touya, who is so stupidly hot that it just pisses you off. Who’s aware you have a crush on him, even when you threaten to shove your hand down his throat to shut him up. Who jokes “don’t think I’d be too fond of your hand down my throat doll, but I’m all for you sittin’ on my face if you really wanna keep me quiet.” It absolutely does not make your belly flutter with a sweet, rich heat.

Bodyguard! Touya, who stays glued to your side once he’s “welcomed” into the family. Who follows you to the grocery store, to work. Who waits patiently outside in his car until you’re off shift. Who does not give you a damn inch of space when you go bar hopping, hovering like an overprotective Doberman, snapping at anyone who dares to venture too close.

Bodyguard! Touya, who wears a perpetual catlike grin, eyes full of amusement each time you bitch at him for being overbearing. Who secretly loves it when you’re mean to him, blood rushing south when your lip curls and you cuss him out. Who takes it in stride, teasing you relentlessly until your cheeks are flushed and you’re on the verge of slapping him across the face.

Bodyguard! Touya, who gets antsy and fidgety out of nowhere. Who, when he deems you safe with friends, will disappear for ten minutes, tops. When he returns it’s with bloody, busted knuckles and white hair sticking to sweaty temples. Who always pokes fun at you when your concern shows plainly on your features, reassuring you that “it’s nothing I can’t handle, doll. Don’t worry your pretty little head.”

Bodyguard! Touya, who, despite getting on your last nerve, never crosses a line. Who maintains a respectful distance between you, never touching you unless it’s dire. Who grows on you as you learn about his past. Who you catch smiling at you with soft eyes when you animatedly explain something to your friends. Who drives you insane when he tugs on a lock of your hair where it’s fallen loose, lids lowering, grinning lazily as the tension notches up between you.

Bodyguard! Touya, who one day goes to retrieve the car for you while you wait outside the entrance of a bar. Who appears out of thin air when a guy crowds in your personal space and grabs your ass. Who fists the guys collar from behind and throws him around the corner into an alley, beating him until he’s unconscious.

Bodyguard! Touya, who you shove up against that same alleyway wall and kiss until your lungs burn. Whose kisses are hot and slick, chasing you and sneaking his soft tongue into your mouth when you try to break apart and swallow some air. Who you make out with until you’re dizzy, until Touya pushes you in the direction of his car. Who can’t help himself and smacks your ass when you walk in front of him.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

Bodyguard! Touya, who commands you to get into the back seat of his car. Who drives you to the first abandoned parking lot he can find before he joins you. Who manhandles you into straddling his thighs, cupping the back of your neck and coaxing you into another blistering kiss.

Bodyguard! Touya, who moans low in his throat when you grind down onto his stiff cock. Who reaches into his pants and readjusts himself until slick tip peaks out of his waistband. Who places his palms on your lower back, pressing his fingers into the muscle there and helps guide the slow roll of your hips.

Bodyguard! Touya, who surges up and sinks his blunt teeth into the side of your neck. Who leaves dark hickies in a chain along your throat, ignoring your breathy warning not to leave visible marks. Who murmurs in your ear “I don’t give a shit what your Father says, I want everyone to see you’re fuckin’ mine now.” Who roughly shoves his overly warm hands up the front of your shirt, under your bra, and squeezes handfuls of your tits.

Bodyguard! Touya, who doesn’t protest when you instruct him to recline against the door. Who lifts his hips, cooing at you in a patronizing tone when you yank his pants and briefs to mid thigh. Who pets your head as you settle between his thighs, laughing at your affronted expression. Who gasps in delight when you swallow his cock in one go, securing you in place with a hand to back of your head until your throat constricts around him.

Bodyguard! Touya, who gets impatient and pulls you off his cock, shaft shiny with your spit and twitching. Who sits up and, with slender fingers, helps free one leg from your pants, letting the rest dangle on your other ankle. Who shifts you both until you’re hovering on your knees over his lap, tugging off your shirt and bra. You complain about being entirely naked when he’s not even close, but he argues that he just needs to see your tits bouncing while you ride him.

Bodyguard! Touya, who grips your ass when you reach down to circle your fingers around his shaft, steadying him, and sink down onto his cock with ease. Who lets you rest your forehead on his, fisting the shirt covering his shoulders as you adjust to the new blood buzzing ache in your pussy.

Bodyguard! Touya, who lacks self control. Who urges you to move with a sharp smack to the ass. You get the message, hastily rising and sitting down until you find a decent rhythm that allows you to bounce. Who, after awhile, sinks lower into the seat, forcing you to sit up straight, and braces his feet. Who meets you thrust for thrust after that, moaning through his teeth when you cry out.

Bodyguard! Touya, who can’t shut up when your pussy starts to squeeze him. Who babbles “ah fuck, that’s it babygirl. You’re about to cum, yeah? Fuckin’ cum for me, I know that sweet pussy loves me.” Who fucks you through your first orgasm, having to bite down harshly on the knuckle of his pointer finger to last through the second one.

Bodyguard! Touya, who inhales sharply after the second time you cum, gritting his teeth and yanking you down with both hands on your waist as his own pleasure swells and bursts. Whose head thumps back onto the seat, his sweet moan of your name making your pussy tighten once more.

Bodyguard! Touya, who manages to get you redressed and into the passenger seat, still intent on bringing you home by your curfew. Who, before he puts the car in drive, takes hold of your jaw and leans across the console, leaving but an inch of space between you. Who smirks playfully and promises “next time I get you alone, I’m tastin’ that pussy. You’re gonna sit on my face, doll.” Who then winks and acts as if nothing happened, whistling as he begins the long journey back to your home.

Bodyguard! Touya, who leaves you dumbfounded and with a furious blush. Who annoys the ever loving shit out of you, but leaves you a bit too close to falling in love for your comfort.

[haveihitanerve]

writing-

Dick sighed as he made his way along the familiar, well worn, path to the back of the Wayne Manor grounds.

Jason Wayne had had a large funeral, and was buried in the public graveyard, by his mother. Jason Todd-Wayne, Bruce Wayne's second son, Dick's little brother and the second Robin, was buried in the back of the Wayne grounds, in the Wayne family plot.

Dick picked up little stones as he walked, gently picking up the same tune as always as he selected pretty rocks from in between leaves and dirt.

"Down by the bay," He began quietly, voice harmonizing with the wind, wrapping around the stone at the head of the too small plot.

"Where the watermelons rot..." Dick knelt, placing one rock on the headstone, next to the previous five. A stone for every month he had been taken from them.

"If you go home," Dick swallowed, brushing away stray bits of dirt and leaves that had fallen on the grave, setting new flowers into the hole.

"Just don't get caught.." His voice grew quieter as he sat, crossing his legs, hands digging into the earth.

"But if you do.. my father will say..." Tears slid down his cheeks, watering the dirt below.

"Don't you ever trust a man, cowering in the sand, down by the bay." Dirt dropped from his fingers as Dick stood, striding away.

It was almost too easy. Dick didn't stand a chance. The hero was down in seconds, cloth pressed against his nose to keep him quiet and compliant, as Jason loaded him into his truck and headed to the secure warehouse he had picked specially for the occasion.

It wasn't Dick's fault, not really. Jason had been working him hard, making his goons stir up as much trouble as possible, getting Dick burnt out and sleep deprived and stressed. And it wasn't Dick's fault that Jason had an intimate knowledge of his schedule. Of everything he did. Of all his moves.

He rolled up to the warehouse right on time, securing Dick to the chair and tying the last knot right as he blinked awake.

"Hello Birdie." He cooed, patting his big brothers face condescendingly.

Dick jerked away, a snarl ripping from his throat. "Hood."

A smile spread across Jason's face. "Oh, so you do know who I am. I'm pleased." Dick sneered at him, glancing around.

"Where are we? What do you want?" Jason hummed, walking to the sink to fill up a glass of water.

"You know, usually I'm the one asking the questions, but I'm feeling generous today, so I supposed you might as well know." He gestured to the room they were in. "A warehouse, off the borders of Gotham." He waited a beat, and, predictably, Dick's skin turned a little lighter.

"And what I want, truly, Golden Boy, is your Daddy. You're just the bait."

It took a shorter time than Jason expected for Bruce to find them. Not that he actually showed up, but Jason got the message from one of his goons that Batman was sniffing around. "Keep him distracted. I'll send word when to tell him." He pinged off quickly, turning to the vigilante still tied up in the corner.

Dick was doing a remarkable job of staying relaxed, acting as though nothing was wrong. But Jason could see the tension thrumming through his body, the disguised concern. He was worried. For Bruce, of course, not himself. Never himself.

Jason sighed, leaning against the wall, and pretended not to notice Nightwing's shift of attention to him. It was subtle, and very well done, but Jason had also been trained by the Bat, and knew all the tricks. Not that he believed Dick hadn't been looking at him the whole time.

"Down by the bay," He mumbled quietly, fiddling with his now empty glass. "Where the watermelon rot." He huffed, a small smile curling his lips. "If you go home-"

The chair clattered against the wall and Jason looked up in surprise just in time to make eye contact as Nightwing pinned him against the wall, forearm pressed against his neck, the other hand disarming him with ease.

Jason cursed quietly. He should've known Dick would wrangle out of his bindings. Or.. have enough strength to break them. He realized, as he spotted the mangled chair.

"How do you know that song?" Nightwing snarled, teeth bared, pure fury vibrating every single cell in his body. Jason blinked in surprise. That was not what he had expected the question to be.

"My... my brother used to sing it to me." He answered, truthfully, to both of their surprises. Maybe because he was caught off guard. Maybe because he didn't see a point to lie. Maybe because he hadn't been aware it was the truth until he said it. "While I- while I slept."

Jason let out a breath of air as he was dropped to the floor, as Nightwing took a step back. His face was guarded, wary, and Jason rubbed his neck, eyeing the vigilante with his own mix of curiosity and wariness.

Then Nightwing did something he never expected. "Jason?" Jason stumbled back, eyes wide in surprise. Dick inhaled sharply. "It is you." Jason fumbled for something, anything, but Dick had taken everything.

"Ho-How- did you- no I'm not-" But Dick crossed the room, arms enveloping him, uncaring of Jason's bulky jacket and mask and uncaring that he had killed and he had kidnapped Dick and-

And then Jason was crying, great, heaving, ugly sobs that shook his body, and Dick was holding him and humming and whispering sweet nothings and somehow they ended up on the floor, and Jason was clawing at his brothers back, hugging him back.

Dick shushed him gently, rocking, and Jason heard the audible click of something as Dick ground his back teeth together. "Its him B. Its him." Jason reared back, but Dick held up a placating hand, tears in his eyes and hope and pleading, so Jason stayed, wary, next to him, as Dick talked to Bruce. Of course they had new, unidentifiable tech, that allowed them to speak. That's how Bruce knew where he was. That's why he hadn't come. Jason waited until Dick signed off, clicking his comm tech back onto his teeth with a jerk of his jaw.

"How did you know?" He asked quietly. Dick shrugged, sagging against the wall.

"You're identifiable. No one... no one is that good unless they're bat trained." There was a simple truth to it, no bragging, not boastful. "And well... we had- we have the Batcomputer."

The dots were beginning to connect in Jason's head. "You let me catch you."

Dick nodded slowly. "Yes." He agreed simply. "We needed to know for certain, and since you seemed more eager to interact with me than directly with Bruce- which I get." he added quieter. "I was the one. And then... I didn't believe it." He admitted.

"I wanted to, so badly. So I could get you back. So that I could have another chance to be a big brother. A good one, this time." He shook his head ruefully. "I'm sorry about that, by the way."

The words stunned Jason, so quick, so genuine, not a second thought besides that he had been wrong, and was apologizing for it.

"But I didn't believe it. Not until.." Now he hesitated.

"The song." Jason realized. Dick nodded.

"I invented that song. And I only ever sang it for you. When I... when I visited you. There was... there could be no other explanation."

Jason sighed. "Well.. That ends my rather dramatic plans doesn't it?" He grumbled, but he wasn't upset. Not truly. Dick smiled faintly.

"I suppose so." He glanced over sideways, eyes analytical. "Do you want to see him?" The words were loaded, and Jason breathed, trying to think.

"No. I mean- not- not yet." It felt stupid and selfish and cowardly, but he wasn't ready. Not yet. Dick nodded though, and didn't push. They sat in silence for a bit when Dick started to hum.

"Down by the bay"

Jason smiled.

"Down by the bay,"

"Where the watermelon rot."

"Where the watermelon rot."

"If you go home,"

"If you go home,"

"Just don't get caught"

"Just don't get caught"

"But if you do..."

"But if you do..."

"My father will sayy,"

"My father will sayy,"

"Never trust the man, hiding in the sand, down by the bay."

@anonyunknownonearth @tigerliliesandcherryblossoms @writingpoorly @cece-alex @panp7 @amnmich @faeriegodpwn @ko-neko-san @kittykate23 @some-macaroni-and-geese @koraesrambles @spirit-fingers22 @nkc71 @discordzero

sry if you didnt wanna be tagged but i tried to get everyone who reblogged/had a reaction or asked for a fic :)

Dick hums the same little tune every time he visits Jason’s grave. When Jason returns as Red Hood his first play is to capture Nightwing, Batman’s star pupil, his golden boy. While he’s waiting for Bruce to react, Jason hums it to himself. Nightwing goes still, a moment before he breaks free of his bindings and pins Jason to the wall, snarling “how do you know that song?” Jason blinks at him a few times before responding, surprisingly, both because he’s caught off guard by Dicks reaction and because, well… it’s the truth. “My big brother used to sing it to me. While I slept.” 

[moonlitwitchdaisy]

baby, ride me to the darkness of the night

“F-Fuck—Ughh—can you feel it, baby? Can you feel my big cock pounding into your pussy to the rhythm of the music?”

Of course you could feel it. Oh, you felt it all too well.

Falling for Gojo Satoru’s charm wasn’t exactly a challenge. One glance from him was enough to have you slipping your panties down, wet and ready, waiting for him. And once he was inside you? The sensations he’d bring were like nothing you’d ever felt before.

You hadn’t even wanted to go to the club tonight, but your best friend had insisted you needed to celebrate finishing your midterms with something fun. Begrudgingly, you’d let yourself be dragged along, realizing that the night’s control was no longer yours.

At first, you’d rolled your eyes and sighed. But after a few shots, you felt bold enough to dance. On the dance floor, grinding against your best friend, collecting every wandering gaze, you had no idea the most dangerous one of all had already undressed you with his eyes and was fucking you senseless in his mind. Not until your friend leaned in, whispering about the blue-eyed devil watching you from upstairs.

People had given him many names: “The Strongest,” “Blue-Eyed King,” “Perfect Face.” But to you, the only one that truly fit was “Devil.”

Devil always got what he wanted. Sometimes, he lured people into his games with wicked tricks. Other times, he simply waited, his prey crawling to him willingly.

When you glanced in the direction your friend indicated, it became clear the Devil had already chosen you for his game. And without a word of protest, you chose to be his willing sacrifice.

You had no idea when exactly his hand gripped your waist and pulled you away while you were dancing with your friend. You could feel the hardness pressing against your ass. In fact, it was impossible not to feel it. And you couldn’t stop yourself from wondering just how much harder he could get.

Well, testing it wouldn’t hurt, would it?

Turns out, the results were conclusive. So much so that the Devil himself—Gojo Satoru—couldn’t hold back anymore. He’d dragged you into the women’s restroom, pinning you to the wall, his lips devouring yours the moment you were alone.

And now? Now your legs were wrapped around his waist, your already too-short dress pushed up to your hips, while his thick cock plunged in and out of you.

Each thrust hit that perfect spot, leaving you delirious as the beat of “São Paulo” synced with the rhythm of his hips. Your back slammed against the wall with every stroke, driving you closer and closer to madness.

You were letting the club owner fuck you senseless in the women’s restroom—something you never would’ve imagined yourself doing.

“S-Satoru—sl-slow-slow down, it’s too much,” you whimpered, your voice barely audible over the pounding music outside.

“Fuck no, baby. Haaah—I know you don’t want me to slow down. You just want more, you filthy little slut. F-Fuck, yeah—” he growled, his masculine rumble sending a shiver down your spine as he thrust into you harder and faster.

The sound of your bodies colliding echoed through the bathroom, but not a single soul dared to interrupt. It was as if, even through the blaring music, your shared moans were enough to warn everyone off. Nobody wanted to interfere with the Devil’s play.

And they had no right to.

“Mmmfp—I’m—I’m gonna—OH GOD, Satoru, I’m coming! Keep going!” you cried out, your voice trembling with the orgasm building inside you.

With one hand braced against the wall and the other gripping your hip, Satoru quickly moved his hand from the wall to your hip, using both to bounce you harder on his cock. It felt so good that you weren’t sure anyone else could ever fuck you this perfectly again.

“Shit—I’m coming too… You’re going to take all my cum like a good girl. Like *smack* a *smack* good *smack* fucking *smack* girl,” he hissed, accentuating each word with a deliberate thrust.

With a guttural groan, he spilled inside you, his head dropping to rest against the curve of your neck as his hot breath fanned across your skin. You could feel his semen dripping down your thighs as your legs trembled around him.

You closed your eyes, trying to process what had just happened.

You’d let the Devil ride you to the darkness. And it turned out, people were right—devil wasn’t a little red man with horns and a tail.

Sometimes, he had striking blue eyes and a massive cock.

a little note: i was listening to "são paulo" on the metro, and this idea came to my mind. this song definitely gives off Gojo vibes.

all rights belong to the @moonlitwitchdaisy do not copy, reproduce, or translate my work.

[heldbykento]

⋆˳ . ⋆ — “LIKE IT’S ALL MINE. . . !”

part 1 | part 2

wrd count: 2136

warnings: pure smut, breeding kink if you squint, fem!reader, pet names used, big dick josh!!!!!, p in v sex, 18+ content, hard teasing

a/n: finally a part 2!!! yay!! enjoy babies :3 not proofread, per usual >_<

“you’re already so worked up just from humping my leg?” josh breathed out a laugh, hands grabbing at your hips, firmly enough to leave bruises.

all you could do was grow small in embarrassment under him, causing your hips to slow and eventually come to a halt.

his words made you realize what you were actually doing and reality snapped back at you.

josh had a fat grin on his face and he shook his head in disapproval. “don’t stop now, keep going. maybe i’ll let you cum on my dick if you’re obedient.”

your head was spinning, by now you could hardly make out anything he was saying, mind haunted with disgustingly sexual thoughts.

but he wouldn’t just make a huge mess out of you for fun.

josh liked you.

he liked your face, body, and how bright you were; how much you stood out from everybody else. he found it so attractive and he was ready to pour all of those feelings inside of you.

along with something else.

the exposed skin on your warm back started to melt into the cold plaster of the wall, reminding him that he was still completely clothed.

that had to be out the way. now.

josh met his lips with yours again, mouth wet from how harsh he was sucking on your tits. a dream come true.

while kissing you, nice and slow, he started pulling his layers of clothing off, only breaking the kiss for a moment to take his shirt off.

you broke the kiss entirely though, hands still holding onto him just because if you let go, your weak knees would buck and you’d be a puddle on the floor.

“t-take… take off your pants.” a soft order came from your lips, he couldn’t help the chuckle that left his.

he tilted his head at you, like a confused dog. “why don’t you do it for me? hm, pretty girl?” he whispered to you, the words making you feel things deep in your stomach.

there was no need to ask twice.

you were already on your knees, the warmth of your tights battling against the cold floor.

by the time you could take in a deep breath, he was already teasing you.

“c’mon. i love the view but i have needs too, y’know?” josh said from above you as he ran a hand over the top of your head, giving you a gentle push towards his crotch.

it was evident in his tone now that he was just as needy and ready as you. maybe not as much as you but he was getting there.

your hand reached to unbuckle his belt, being gentle because it felt expensive. the noises of metal clanking and pants hitting the ground filled the room.

silence.

stunned is one word to explain the feeling of the sight in front of you.

joshua washington was big, big and tightly pressed against his navy blue calvin klein boxers, pre-cum leaking through the cloth and it was staring right at you.

this was a sight women die for.

the cold breeze of the room was hitting him because his entire demeanor had changed.

josh was flushed, grabbing at the hair on your head with more vice than before, breathing in staggered patterns.

you tugged at the waistband with delicacy, swallowing dryly as the thick seven inches in front of you bounced slowly.

with a hand, you grabbed at the base while your lips made their way around the pulsing tip.

the new contact wired a low groan out of josh’s mouth, knuckles now wrapping themselves into your hair.

you started off slow.

bobbing your head only enough to take less than a few inches in as your hands twisted and tugged on the parts that weren’t in your mouth.

his mouth was wide open, spurring out words of praise while his hands tried to push your head closer, simultaneously pushing his cock farther into your mouth.

“fuck…holy shit thats good, s’good…” his head fell back and a grin fell on his face at the sounds of you gagging all on him.

tears pricked your eyes like thorns, and taunting you for thinking you could handle something so big.

the quicker you sucked on it, the louder the noises of your choking were. it made your cheeks burn hot in embarrassment.

the closer he was to finishing, the quicker he ripped your head from him.

right when you were in the zone. what an asshole.

“h-huh? wha— what? was it bad?” you asked in pure confusion, eyes big and full of tears as you stared up at him.

josh shook his head, his chest heaving and breath hot. “the complete opposite. i just want to finish while fucking your pussy. not your mouth.”

every time he spoke like that, you were just left with your mouth half-open and brows raised, looking dumb founded.

all he could do was laugh.

he grabbed you from the floor, picking you up with ease and hooking your legs around his hips.

hands on the prize, he palmed your ass to hold you up as he started chewing up your neck, loving the taste and all the mewls you cried out.

he was rock hard. dick twitching and ready to burst just from feeling your bare tits on his skin.

but he had to stay strong, had to maintain himself so he could blow a mean load into your guts and clean up the mess.

like a respectful gentleman.

thought there was nothing gentle about the things he was about to do to you.

before you knew it, your back was slammed against the mattress and your shorts were being stripped off your body, all in one swift movement.

he carefully placed one of your feet on his shoulders, holding it there with his left hand.

the view was something straight out of some cheap porno.

his biceps tightening as he ripped open your tights right where your cunt was, his fingers of his free hand slowly sliding your panties to the side.

you twitched from under him, knees bucking as you felt a thick digit rubbing between your lips, teasing your clit.

a whine left your mouth, noises almost pornographic. so embarrassing how quick he could get you like this just from one finger.

and he wasnt even thrusting it yet.

“so wet ‘n pretty. didn’t even have to wet it before putting it inside.” he tutted, sucking in his bottom lip between his teeth to hold himself back from saying something that was almost disrespectful.

your eyes rolled into your skull, biting down on the tip of your acrylic nail to hold back a dramatic moan that was inching out of you.

“josh, just fuck me already. please”

he wanted it as bad as you did. but he was an asshole about shit so, of course he had to take the high road.

“not just yet, gotta get you ready for me.” his tone was cocky as hell. he knew how big he was and how dramatic you were. so if he tore you up, he wouldn’t hear the end of it.

after a short moment, he sucked in a breath and scoffed. “fuck it.” he muttered almost to himself and quickly after, he grabbed at your hips, flipping you completely onto your stomach.

as if you’d run away, he forcefully pulled your hips up, leaving a sharp slap on the full skin of your ass through the tights.

you still felt every little thing, jumping and flinching at the burning pain; that still felt so fucking good.

once he realized he couldn’t get the full effect, he was ripping that section of the flimsy material too.

all in a few seconds, he was sliding your panties back to the side and grabbing himself, positioning his length right at your entrance.

a dazed chuckle left josh’s mouth and he’s practically drooling at the sight. “shit, baby. if only you could see how good this looks.”

your back was arched, leaving a sexy arc that made him dizzy to look at.

he never imagined actually having you like this. and it made him so eager to fill you up.

with a guttural moan at your tight walls soaking him in, he tried to slowly push in every inch.

which made everything feel ten times better.

he sucked in a sharp breath, biting on his bottom lip and making a writhed up expression at how good it felt.

you on the other hand, let out a harsh gasp when his tip was touching areas you never thought could be reached.

it made your head perk up from being stuffed in the bed, eyes wide and chest heaving.

“g’nna start— f-fuck— moving… now…” he could barely speak, groans interrupting his words as he started bucking his hips forward.

his hands grabbed at the fat on your hips, holding you in place.

your mouth was stuck in an ‘o’ shape, brows furrowed up and eyes shut as you felt every. damn. thing.

noises you didn’t even know you could make were being let out. and he was barely even fucking you the way he wanted to yet…

how embarrassing.

his dick was so good. you had goosebumps on every part of your body and you could hear your juices squelching every time he thrusted into you.

when he started to get used to the tight and wet feeling, a hand reached for the hair that rested over your neck, grabbing up a handful of it.

with this, all he could do was fuck into you harder, skin slapping as he bit on his bottom lip.

his dark green eyes were full of lust due to the way you just consumed every inch so well.

you were loud. telling him you couldn’t take it and babbling out a whole lot of nonsense.

it just felt too good.

“what’s wrong, baby? never had anyone fuck you this good? hm?… yeah i bet no one’s been appreciating this pretty pussy like they should be.” he groaned, looking at your body as if it was a renaissance painting, his free hand grabbing at the plush skin of your ass with every fiber in him.

safe to say the skin was tinted red with his hand print all over it.

the mix of pleasure and pain of being stretched out made you weak.

your brain was absolute mush and you were so cock drunk, his dick replacing the feeling of all the alcohol from earlier.

“j—! oh my— fuck…!” was all you could blabber out. you tried to respond but he was pulling your hair so harshly, causing your back to arch more than you physically could.

meaning he was hitting a whole new spot, with harsher movements and a faster pace. the new feeling made your mind completely black out.

you were left a loud, whiny and moaning mess.

josh had promised himself to not get too caught up in one thing on this trip.

but the alcohol and ways you were talking to him earlier into the night made his dick twitch in his pants for any kind of attention from just you.

the both of you were close.

he could feel your walls tightening around his cock so nicely, making him want to empty all the cum he could hold into you.

“shit— shit, y/n. ‘m gonna cum inside this pussy, yeah? gonna make you all mine, fill you up so nice.” he was spewing half-minded bullshit in between deep breaths, grabbing at your hair and your hip while his thrusts became more aggressive.

you were drooling everywhere, his words made you want to cum right then and there.

the sounds of wet skin slapping and the feeling of his balls slapping against your clit consumed all of your thoughts.

“c— cum..! g’nna cum.. fuck—!” your legs were trembling, voice shaky while you reached for your orgasm by fucking yourself on his dick, rutting your hips; gripping the bed sheets for stability.

could’ve sworn you were seeing stars. your vision started to enhance white sparks and your eyes were open as wide as they could go, a loud moan of his name slipped out of your mouth.

a few more pumps in and he was cumming deep inside of you, holding his dick as deep as it could go.

he finished with a baritone and low groan, biting at his bottom lip as he watched the cum overflow, slipping out of you and down your thighs.

the both of you lied there in sweat and with limp

limbs, one of his hands was still stuck to your ass, holding it as he rested on his back while you were on your stomach.

“you awake?” josh muttered to you in a bit of concern, breaking the silence.

when he heard soft breathing in replace of your voice, he figured that was his answer and got up to find something he could clean you up with.

tags: @someobsessionrequired @lanadelreyscokewhor3

[nobodyknowsimalesbian777]

Anderson pt. 2 - Abby (Tlou2)

NSFW tags- pure filth, sub!abby, needy!abby, thigh-riding (a!receiving), finger-sucking (r!receiving), kind of public, i think thats it, 18+

authors note: short follow up for my previous abby fic!! gang i want to write for sevika again, lmk what we want to see and i'll make it happen 😼

----------------------------------------------------------

abby had been eyeing you all patrol,

her gaze was burning into your back while you joked with manny and checked for infected

you knew abby was still worked up, every time you spoke to her you saw her cheeks flash pink

and you absolutely loved it

you loved having her blubbering, knowing you had more power then her elated you

"no jokes today, abby?" you asked innocently, smirking over at manny

"shut up." her tone was intense, you for sure struck a nerve, and you definitely wanted to keep pushing it

"that's too bad, normally you're so loud"

suddenly, you felt her big hand wrap around your arm, pulling you into the closest room

mannys chuckles could be heard outside the door, and you heard his steps depart up the stairs, probably to keep watch

not that you cared, it was hard to care about anything except abbys hands desperately roaming your body,

her lips met yours, and her tounge aggressively explored your mouth,

normally, you would urge her to slow down, but you knew she needed it today considering how badly you'd denied her

that's why you weren't at all surprised with how needy she was being

abbys hands trailed down your arms, wrapping around yours, and bringing one of your hands down to her cunt

your fingers landed directly on a wet spot soaking through her jeans, much to your surprise

"jesus, anderson." you teased, wrapping your arm around her waist

"shut up, just fix it" she whined, sending a jolt straight to your own pussy

"that's not how we ask nicely, is it?" the condescension in your voice drove abby crazy, but she was too smart to deny you

"fix it..." she sighed, clamping her eyes shut "please."

the smirk plastered on your face would've pissed abby off if she wasn't so horny.

her back hit the wall as you pressed her up against it, slotting your thigh in-between hers

pleasure coarsed through her as your thigh rubbed perfectly on her clit,

the friction was just enough to pull needy mewls from the muscular woman

you felt your whole body shiver as she rested her forehead on your shoulder, bringing her lewd sounds that much closer

pawing hands landed on every inch of your body as abby tried to find purchase on you

eventually, her hands ended up in your hair, pulling it every time you moved your thigh

she took it upon herself to grind her hips down, desperately trying to increase the friction on her clothed cunt

abby was already close to her climax, her moans increasing in pitch as she moved her hips faster

"gonna cum for me, anderson?" you spoke into her ear, eliciting a particularly loud moan that you had to stiffle with your hand

her grip on your hair tightened as she pulled you back, choosing to smash your lips together aggressively

her hand traveled from your hair to your jaw, gripping it tight and pulling you back

she watched with furrowed brows as she moved her free hand up to your mouth, curiously placing her middle finger on your tounge

your eyes met hers as you wrapped your lips around her digit, starting to suck it into your mouth

abby swore she was going to cum right there, watching you suck her off while she rode your thigh

her finger moved in and out of your mouth, practically fucking your face,

so you made sure to put on a show, sloppily taking it all in your mouth and swirling your tounge

abbys eyes practically rolled to the back of her head at the sight, and you watched as she unraveled on you,

her pretty face twisted up as she came, feverishly grinding down on your thigh to get herself through it

her finger pulled out of your mouth with a pop, and abby made sure to maintain eye contact while she put her digit in her own mouth

"oh my god.." you whispered, too turned on at the sight to try and maintain the dynamic you had earlier reveled in

she smirked as a heavy hand landed on your ass, staying as she guided you out of the room

her lips tickled your ear as she whispered "im gonna need you to meet me in my room tonight"

----------------------------------------------------------

guys this was 3 am filth that i just now finished, i hope you love it. need a buff woman's fingers in my mouth while i fuck her whattt who said that

made a pt 2 for my gang : @ghgygd and @honeygiii123

[bokutos-babyowl]

Sleepy Bliss Sebastian Vettel X Reader!Verstappen 

Sometimes it is the arms of a “rival” to make everything fade into bliss. 

Sebastian Vettel X Reader! Verstappen

Content includes 18+ MDNI, age gap, somnophilia if you squint, and maybe some other things. 

Word count: 1012

You asked, and you shall receive. Here is the Seb fic, and there is more in the works for next week's picks.

Masterlist

Summery: Being Max's sister has not only had its ups but when you are tired in the day and the man that Max would kill slips into your bed. Your loyalty wavers in the sweet sweet bliss that is Sebs' arms. 

After a long day at the track hiding in the shadows hoping that the press would not know who you are, you snuggled in your warm blanket. Earlier in the day, when you were hiding away with your brother y, you did not feel your second keycard leave your pocket. Yet, the slow opening of the door said otherwise. Slowing walking in as you are on the brink of blissful sleep, you groggily look to see what the movement was in your bed. To no surprise, it was Seb, the one your brother said to stay away from, the one whose eyes are always glued to you in the paddock, the one who winks at you when he has a podium finish. 

He lays down on your bed and instinctively you snuggle up to his chest. “Meine kleine maus,” he whispers as you rub up against him.” Shhh Max, is in a room over”. Max’s biggest issue with all of this is his sister in bed with a rival and an older one at that. Looking down at you he can tell that the day has worn you out. With your brother's win, he was sure he was out partying and that he could give you all the destressing that you needed. 

“Mouse… trust me he is not here, and you need to let out the stress” he whispers in your ear as his hand runs down your body and to your core. On the edge of sleep, you slowly wake back up grinding into his hand. “Seb” you say with a whine in your voice. “I got you, Mouse don’t worry. I’ll take good care of you… just lay there,” he says as he disappears under the covers kissing down your body and nipping at your thighs, Causing you to open them just enough to fit his head between them. 

Grabbing onto his hair, pulling him closer as he blows air on your clit, mesmerized by how wet he already got you with just his fingers. Bringing his mouth down to your soaked pussy, you arc, pushing against him as he tastes you, eating you out like it was the last chance he would ever get to see you. Pulling on his hair he moans into you, you start shaking and he knows you are close. Adding his fingers and circling your clit, he pulls you over the edge.” Neuken Seb Please,” you moan so loud, that covering it does nothing to dampen the noise.  Cumming on his face as he continues to lap it up like the last meal on earth. 

Coming up from the covers he kisses you as you taste your release mixed in with him. “Feel better, Mouse?” he mumbles as he kisses down your neck. Moaning as he takes your nipple into his mouth. Slowly your hands try to undo his pants, to give him the release you can feel built up. Just as you get there he pulls your hands up and pins them above your head. “Nein maus, I told you this is for you not me,” he says looking into your eyes. Holding your arms in place with one hand, the other goes back to your core to rip one more orgasm out of you, Whimpering you start to feel the overstimulation as his thumb plays with your clit. Trying to wiggle out of his grasp you can feel yourself becoming undone. “That’s it, Mouse just one more. You can give me one more, right?” he says in your ear while your walls tighten in on his fingers as he keeps going through your orgasm. Winning, you fall over the edge once again, your limbs too heavy to move. Slowly he removes himself from you, walking to the bathroom to clean you up. When he gets, back you are sound asleep. “You did so well my little mouse” he whispers after cleaning you up, tossing the towel, and climbing back into bed with you. He kisses your forehead, holding you and falling asleep himself.  *** Waking up you feel a heaviness on you, opening your eyes to be buried in Sebs' chest. Moving, you can still feel him and you gently rub against him. Knowing it was a hard day from him coming in p4 yesterday, looking at the clock you have time to return the favor. As you slowly start to move down you can feel the soreness of your legs. Opting to slowly get him free with just slight movements you take him into your mouth, swirling around the tip before fulling taking him all in. You feel him twitch knowing he is starting to wake up, thinking you have time you add in a hand knowing that if you keep up deep thoating you will cough and wake him up. Finally, you get into a good rhythm and when you least expect it, you feel his hands on your hair before he pushes you all the way down causing you to choke. “Scheiße maus”. Coming back up to breath he pulls you to his mouth. Tasting himself on you he moves you to hover over his cock. Moving to suck your neck as he thrusts into you. Screaming his name, you hold onto him tightly, moving with him up and down. He takes your nipple into his mouth and bites down causing your cunt to grip tighter around his cock. ”you like that mouse don't you, don't be shy come for me mouse” he says as his mouth and hand wonder giving you more hickeys and bruises. He fucks you though your orgasm as well as slowly approaching his own.  When you feel him slow down you know he is close. Wiggling out if he grasps to slowly remove yourself from him much to his dismay. Only to slam down again this time taking control fucking him through his orgasm and giving you another. Falling from his high he grabs you close, whispering “My little mouse fuck I love you.” looking up into his eyes you kiss him one more time, your lips lingering on his “ich liebe dich Seb”

[topazy]

Tomorrow’s promise

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x reader

Warnings: Swearing

Chapter: 4.07

The more you got to know the people who saved you, the more you understood why they saved you. Abraham explained that he and Rosita are on a mission to get their companion doctor Eugene Porter to Washington, DC, safely because Eugene knew how to stop the virus and Abraham wanted you to join them. What they were doing was courageous, but you needed to find your family.

You look over at Glenn who was carrying Jace and nod appreciatively. You, him, and Tara were taking turns holding him to try and keep the strain off your shoulder.

The atmosphere is awkward as you walk in almost complete silence. Abraham and Glenn got into a physical fight because Abraham made a comment saying Maggie was most likely already dead, and the noise from the fight attracted a horde of walkers. While five of you fought, the walkers off Eugene tried to help, but the accident ended up shooting the army rank several times, causing it to stop working, which meant the only option now was to travel by foot.

Abraham slows his pace to walk beside you; he nods his head in the direction of Glenn. “He’s a persistent son of a bitch, I get while you’re following him.”

“I’m not following him just to help find Maggie. Our people were more than just someone to survive with; we are a family. My brother, nephew, and Daryl are still out there, along with the rest of our friends. Me and Glenn can’t stop looking for them.”

“Do you really think you’ll find them?”

You don’t answer his question. The last few days have been hectic, and you couldn’t allow yourself to think that you won’t ever find them.

Abraham changes the subject. “I didn’t have you down as a hunter, but damn those squirrels you caught last night went down a treat. Your father taught you to hunt?”

A small smile pulls on your lips. You found hunting extremely difficult morally, but when Daryl had his arms wrapped around you to show you what to do... It was the safest you’ve felt in a king town. “No, Daryl taught me to hunt skin and gut animals, so you can thank him when we find him. I used to be vegan before the world went to shit.”

He laughs, “Well, those days are long now.”

Abraham was right; you ate whatever was possible now.

You make polite small talk and learn more about the mission until Tara starts laughing. “I can’t believe I still have this,” she pulls a wallet out of her jacket pocket. She chuckles to herself while opening it up, “Three dollars and an expired voucher for grocery shopping.”

“Never know, it could go up on a museum wall one day.”

Her smile fades when she pulls a Polaroid photo out of one of the slips. Tara goes to say something, but her breathing becomes shaky. “I never saw her after... I kept thinking she might have ended up like my sister, or she’s alone and hurt, or…”

Glenn gives her a sympathetic look. “Who is she?”

“My girlfriend Alisha... I think I saw her body at the prison, but the more I think about it, the more I’m unsure if it was her.”

You understood how awful not knowing where everyone was felt. With the attention of somehow trying to comfort her, you walk closer but come to an abrupt halt when you see the picture she’s holding. You feel warm, a painful knot forming in your stomach. Tara’s girlfriend was the woman who put Hershel on his knees; she was the woman you shot and killed at the prison.

—

When night falls, you take turns keeping watch, and right now it was currently your turn. Abraham picked a spot that was surrounded by thick trees and bushes, keeping you out of view of anyone who may walk by the train tracks. You had bundled Jace up in a T-shirt and your jacket to keep him warm. Your back was pressed against a tree so you could securely place him between your legs.

You let out a deep sigh. Rosita, Eugene, and Abraham had all fallen asleep while Tara and Glenn spoke quietly. Finding the picture earlier had really upset the brunette, and you felt so guilty that she was continuing to torture herself by imagining all the different things that could have happened to Alisha. If it was someone you cared about, you’d want to know the truth.

“Tara, I need to tell you something. I... I, Alisha, she's gone. She’s dead.”

The look in her eyes, she knew. She knew it was you before you'd even told her. “How would you know that?”

“I killed her.”

Tara blinks away her tears, then shoots you a death glare. “You killed my girlfriend?”

“I didn’t know who she was, not until I saw the photo earlier.”

“So you just killed someone and didn’t think about them again?” Tara scoffs; she shakes her head and looks away from you. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Hershel was a good man. He was a stranger who saved my nephew's life. He let us into his home. Your girlfriend dragged Hershel, an old man with one fucking leg, from the back of a car and forced him to kneel on the ground to be slaughtered by that sociopath in front of his own daughters!” Your vision becomes blurry with tears. “When I came face to face with her, I didn’t think twice about killing her, and no, I didn’t think about her again, not until I knew who she was. I’ve only told you so that you wouldn’t spend the rest of your life wondering what happened to her.”

She takes a moment to process everything you’ve just said. “If you could, would you have done things differently?”

“I found my baby alive next to the body of a boy who had been shot in the chest. Some asshole who attacked us in our own home put a goddamn bullet in a child and then continued to attack my people.” Using the sleeve of your jacket, you wipe at your eyes and nose. “I don’t know who killed him, but I don’t regret doing everything I could to stop my son from being one of those kids.”

Silence falls over the camp; nobody dares say anything. Tara walks off, and Glenn follows her. Feeling eyes on you, you turn your head to see Rosita, Abraham, and Eugene staring at you.

—

The next morning, everyone remains quiet as a mouse as you continue to follow the trail tracks. The only real noise was Jace babbling while you tried to get him to say mom or mommy. You decided it was best if you hanged back from the others, just close enough that you wouldn’t fall behind.

Glenn looks and observes you for a moment before slowing his pace to match yours. “Can I ask you something? It’s about Jace.”

“Sure.”

“Did Hershel ever check his ears out?”

“He did," you didn’t like thinking about it. “Hershel thought Jace’s eardrums got damaged from being exposed to so many gunshots and explosions when he was first born, but it’s hard to know for sure. He thinks his right side is more damaged than the left.”

Glenn’s brows pull together with confusion. “How’s that possible?”

“Maybe a gun went off on his right side... I should have done more to—“

“Don’t,” Glenn cuts you off. “Everything you do is for him.”

—

You can’t help but smile proudly at Jace; hearing him say mom filled your heart with so much warmth. You kiss his cheeks multiple times and say, “I’m so proud of you, little man.”

Daryl and Rick would be so proud.

You look from Jace to see what was in front of you, and you gasp in surprise. There was a wooden post with a map pinned to it, leading the way to a location called Terminus.

“Holy shit,” the map had a message written on mud left on it. “Glenn, Glenn. It’s a message from Maggie. Her, Bob and Sasha are alive.”

“Oh my god!” He comes up to look for himself and notices you are crying; he kisses you on the cheek. “If they are alive, then so will the rest of our people.”

Tears of happiness brim in your eyes; all you needed to do now was make it to Terminus.

[madangel19]

Phantom whimpered; being pressed up against the wall like this, held aloft in Swiss’ rugged arms, made the Quint’s entire body tremble with need.

He had been an easy catch and he knew it; but how could he resist when the Multi-Ghoul looked so good? Swiss was as enticing as any Incubus and the pull that he had elicited just to lure Phantom over the threshold of his room had been as easy as breathing.

It came natural to the Multi-Ghoul, this silken seduction, and just like that the little Quint was sex-drunk and begging for as much as Swiss could give him. His charmer was happy to oblige.

Oh lord this is real nice and real fun to write about. Enjoy ^-^

Content: Tail job, slightly dubious quintessence use, Swiss being a lil weirdo about blood, aphrodisiac use, Swiss with a pierced dick, just a lot of foreplay going on up in here

“Phantom.”

The ghoul groaned softly in his sleep, the strange disturbance slowly rousing him from a nice dream he was having. 

“Wake up, Buggy. Come to me.” 

Phantom tried to push the voice away, but a sudden wave of sweet arousal washed over him. He gasped, opening his eyes and finding himself already out of bed and walking to the door. Was this a dream? It certainly didn’t feel like a dream when his tail knocked over a nearby chair.

He opened the door, chirping softly at that strange presence as it took a hold of him once he stepped into the hallway. He giggled drunkenly, swaying to and fro before walking forward as if being led on a chain around his neck. There was nothing there, but he felt it. It was strange, but something about it was familiar. He had felt this before, but where?

“Come to my room, Buggy.”

Phantom obeyed that voice that whispered so sweetly in his ears as if it were right behind him. He glanced behind him just in case it was there and saw that he was alone. 

“Now, Buggy. Don’t keep us waiting.”

His focus was back on the voice. It sounded so rich and strong in his head. The way it vibrated through him made him squirm in place and whine as he felt himself grow hard and needy. 

He blinked and saw a purple haze surrounding him. He gazed at it in wonder as it moved, creating a trail that led right to Swiss’s room. He had to follow it. 

Phantom stepped forward and the more he got closer to Swiss’s room, the more intense his arousal grew as rich caramel and vanilla flooded his senses. One of Swiss’s signature scents that he absolutely adored. 

“I’m right in here, Buggy. Open the door.”

Phantom rushed forward, opening the door. He was greeted by darkness that quickly grabbed him and dragged him in with terrifying ease. He let out a yelp before he was slammed against the wall, held up by that strange shadow that slowly took form until Swiss smiled down at him. The darkness subsided, revealing a purple fog that enveloped Swiss’s room. The multi ghoul chuckled darkly, purple tendrils of that sweet smelling smoke trickling from his mouth and nose. 

“I got you, Buggy,” he purred, wrapping his tail around his waist and pulling Phantom’s pants down, freeing his cock. 

Phantom could only stare at Swiss in awe. His naked body was adorned in beautiful gold and silver jewelry. From the gold in his locks and then to silver in his pierced cock, he was beautiful. 

“S…Swiss,” Phantom whimpered, blushing as the bigger ghoul licked his cheek, his tongue piercing tickling his skin just the right way. 

“Yeah? What do you want, Buggy?” Swiss asked, his voice low as his clawed fingers lightly caressed his sides. 

“I…I need…,” his voice trailed off when the multi ghoul’s gold-tipped tail slowly wrapped around the base of his cock, slowly jerking him off. Phantom bit down on his lip with a hiss, drawing blood. This brought a rumbling growl from Swiss who immediately tilted his chin up with a single claw, forcing him to make eye contact with him. 

Phantom gazed into his eyes and saw the growing hunger in his deep purple eyes before he pulled him into a ravenous kiss. Swiss’s aphrodisiac filled Phantom’s lungs, making him gasp softly as the multi ghoul pushed his long tongue into his mouth, exploring every inch of him. Swiss’s tail continued jerking him off as his own thick cock pressed against Phantom’s belly. 

“So good,” Swiss moaned into the kiss before pulling away and sucking on Phantom’s bloodied lip. It stung, but Swiss’s saliva was already working its magic on him. 

“So good,” Phantom repeated, giggling drunkenly before a moan escaped his lips when Swiss began teasing the tip of his cock with his tail. 

“Yeah, you like that, Buggy?” Swiss asked, pecking him on the cheek. 

“Fuck…I do,” Phantom moaned back, leaning forward and kissing along Swiss’s neck. He even tasted sweet. He had no idea what the fuck was going on, but he wasn’t complaining. 

“Such a sweet little thing. You want me to fuck you stupid?” Swiss asked, reaching around and squeezing Phantom’s ass while teasing his tip even more. 

Phantom nodded his head, tears of pleasure welling up in his eyes as he felt hot precum leaking from his cock. The multi ghoul clucked his tongue in disapproval, petting the top of Phantom’s head and tousling his already messy hair. 

“You can do better than that. Use your words, Bug.” 

Phantom took a deep breath and pulled his head away from Swiss’s neck, finding the words he so badly needed to use. 

“I…I need you to fuck me ‘till I can’t walk,” he murmured, his voice ragged. 

He hiccuped, a small puff of purple smoke curling from his lips. The smile that came from Swiss radiated warmth as he leaned in and nuzzled his cheek with a loving purr. Phantom was in complete bliss for a moment before Swiss’s tail pushed on his cock the right way and he came with a soft cry, spilling himself on Swiss’s tail and his stomach.

“Aw, poor thing. Let me fuck you better,” Swiss cooed, scooping him up into his arms and carrying Phantom to his bed. 

“Yes…Yes please,” Phantom whispered, breathing in the smoke that surrounded him and going dumb from pleasure as he was placed amongst silky soft blankets that smelled like Swiss. 

“Sweet Bug.”

[estellan0vella]

Absolutely Fucking Perfectly Imperfect: L.F Lee Felix x fem!reader (College AU)

WC: 10.9K

CW: Guns, robbery, Felix uses the word cunt, inappropriate reactions in the face of danger

General Masterlist SKZ Masterlist Part I

The room is steeped in the low thrum of Felix's game. A constant, chaotic melody of clacks, pings, and loud swearing. His three monitors shift between shades of brilliant neon, painting the walls with flickers of pink, green, and blue. Felix is leaning forward in his chair, elbows braced on his desk, the hood of his oversized sweatshirt falling halfway off his head. His messy blonde hair sticks out at odd angles and his jaw tightens as he glares at the screen.

"You absolute blind fuckwit," he growls into his headset, his Australian accent sharp with irritation. "I pinged the gank five fucking times! What do you cunts even do when you play? Draw fucking pictures?"

The venom in his words makes you snort softly, but you quickly press a hand over your mouth to stifle the sound. You're sprawled across his bed, one leg hooked under you while the other bounces idly in time with the lo-fi beats playing softly from your phone. Your paramedic science textbook is open in front of you, drowning in sticky notes and highlights, and yet you've barely absorbed a single sentence in the past fifteen minutes.

Felix slams his mouse against the pad, his free hand running through his hair as he mutters to himself. "Goddamn trolls. How the fuck am I still stuck with people like this?"

You bite your lip, trying desperately to keep your focus on the diagram in your book. But when Felix groans, loud, dramatic, and utterly exasperated, it's impossible to hold back the laugh bubbling in your chest.

"You're not fucking slick, sweetheart," Felix says, his voice cutting through the space without warning. He doesn't even glance your way, still hammering keys with laser-sharp precision. "I can hear you giggling."

You glance up from your textbook, feigning innocence. "Me? Laughing? At you losing? Never."

"Bullshit," he shoots back, finally pulling one ear of his headset off and swivelling in his chair to look at you. The glow from his monitors casts soft shadows across his freckled face, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw and the mischievous tilt of his grin. "You live for my fuck-ups. Admit it."

You raise an eyebrow, sitting up straighter. "I live for many things, Felix, but your decade-long inability to climb out of bronze isn't one of them."

Felix's eyes narrow, his grin widening. "Oh, you're fucking bold tonight, aren't you?" He spins back to his screen as another ping echoes from the game. "Just remember, sweetheart, payback's a fucking bitch."

You snicker, flipping a page in your book with deliberate slowness. "I'm not worried. You're too busy getting carried by your teammates to ever come up with anything clever."

"That's rich," he fires back immediately. "Coming from someone who cried over her med math assignment last week."

Your mouth drops open in mock offence, a highlighter frozen mid-air. "I did not cry. I had a moment of academic distress."

Felix laughs at that, the sound loud and warm, cutting through the tense clicks of his keyboard. "Right, sure. You were so distressed you fucking threw your pen across the room and yelled, 'Fuck it, I'll just die.' Real professional of you, future paramedic."

You chuck a pillow at him without thinking, laughing when it bounces harmlessly off his back. "Eat shit, Lix."

"Gladly," he shoots back, not missing a beat. "But only if you're cooking."

"Oh, fuck off," you retort, biting back a grin. "I wouldn't trust you to boil an egg without setting the kitchen on fire."

"I'm insulted," Felix says, slouching back in his chair as the death screen flashes across his monitors. He peeks at you over his shoulder, an exaggerated pout on his face. "You've eaten my fucking food, Y/N. Tell me it's not amazing. Go on."

"It's okay," you say, shrugging nonchalantly as you highlight another passage in your textbook. "Like, solid six out of ten. Very edible."

Felix gasps, spinning his chair around to fully face you, his hands flying to his chest in mock betrayal. "Six out of fucking ten? Are you kidding me? You fucking licked the plate last time I made pasta!"

"You're delusional," you say, fighting a laugh as you flip another page. "Maybe I was just really hungry."

Felix leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his grin sharp and unrelenting. "You talk so much shit for someone who can't even scramble eggs without making them look like roadkill."

Your jaw drops again, this time with genuine indignation. "Okay, fuck you, those eggs were fine. Rustic, even."

"Rustic?" Felix repeats, his laughter spilling out before he can stop it. "They were burnt. I had to scrape them off the pan with a fucking chisel."

"Fuck off," you mutter, but you're smiling, the textbook in front of you momentarily forgotten. "At least I can make coffee without putting half a kilo of sugar in it."

"First of all," Felix says, holding up a finger, "I put exactly the right amount of sugar. Second, that's fucking rich coming from someone who adds four sugars to hers and then drinks it like it's a health tonic."

You open your mouth to argue, but he cuts you off with a smug grin. "Yeah, sweetheart, I fucking count."

You glare at him. "You're the fucking worst."

"You love it," Felix says smoothly, leaning back in his chair and spinning slightly, his grin turning softer as he watches you pick up your highlighter again.

"Debatable," you mutter.

For a moment, the room falls into a comfortable silence, broken only by the faint hum of Felix's PC and the soft rustling of pages as you flip through your textbook. Felix glances over at you occasionally, a small smile tugging at his lips as he watches you scribble notes in the margins.

"You know," he says eventually, his voice quieter now, almost tentative, "you look kinda cute when you're all focused like that."

You glance up, surprised, and find him watching you with an expression that's softer than usual, his teasing grin replaced with something more genuine. The glow from his monitors cast warm shadows across his freckled cheeks, and you feel your heart stutter at the sight.

"Don't be fucking mushy," you mumble, burying your face back in your book.

Felix laughs, soft and low, his chair creaking as he leans back lazily. "Fine. I'll save it for when you're crying over your next quiz."

"Fuck off, Felix."

"You're so fucking cute when you're mad."

You're elbow-deep in your notes, eyes scanning a particularly dense passage about hemorrhagic shock, when Felix lets out a groan loud enough to rattle the walls. His voice is full of pure, unfiltered frustration as he slams a hand onto his desk.

You glance up and it's almost comical how over-the-top his expression is. Head tilted back, eyes shut, like the world has personally wronged him.

"For fuck's sake," he mutters, dragging a hand down his face. The League of Legends screen vanishes from his screen with a decisive click, the rage-quit both swift and inevitable. He swivels his chair slightly, his freckled face twisted in a mix of defeat and irritation.

"Done with your self-imposed torture?" you ask, leaning back against the wall behind Felix's bed.

Stretching your arms overhead, you feel the hem of your black lace-trimmed camisole ride up slightly, and you tug it down absentmindedly. Felix's gaze flickers toward you at the movement, but he quickly turns back to his screen, pulling up another game launcher.

"Fuck League," he huffs, opening Call of Duty with a few sharp clicks. The new interface floods the room with aggressive reds and blacks. "Let's play something where I can actually ruin other people's days."

You smirk, tapping your pen idly against your notebook. "You mean something where you let other people ruin yours?"

"Oi," he snaps, spinning his chair to point an accusatory finger at you, but the grin tugging at the corner of his lips betrays him. "Shut the fuck up. You don't get to talk when you're the one who cried over a fucking dosage calculation last week."

"I didn't cry," you shoot back, glaring at him. "I had a moment. And don't deflect, we're talking about your fragile gamer ego right now, not my future as a paramedic."

"Fragile?" Felix snorts as he throws on his headset, the mic resting against his cheek. "Sweetheart, I'm about to emotionally destroy some poor cunt in a CoD lobby. You're about to see mental fortitude at its finest."

"Oh, this I have to see." You close your textbook with a snap, crawling to the edge of the bed to get a better view. Felix raises an eyebrow at your movement, his grin widening.

"Come here," he says, patting his thigh with one hand while the other adjusts his mouse sensitivity. "Sit in my lap and listen to me eviscerate these dickless pricks."

You roll your eyes, but the grin you try to suppress betrays you. "You're a fucking idiot," you mutter, standing up and crossing the short distance to his chair. "You know that, right?"

"Yup," he says cheerfully, grabbing your waist as you climb into his lap and his arm wraps around you like it belongs there, securing you against him. "But I'm your idiot."

"Unfortunately," you mutter, but you're smiling as you settle into him, your legs dangling off one side of the chair. Felix's fingers fly over the keyboard as he queues into a match, his in-game mic already unmuted.

The game loads, and almost immediately, Felix's shit-talking begins. "Oi, you camping piece of shit!" he shouts gleefully as he sprints across the map, his character firing wildly. "You gonna spend the whole fucking match in that corner, or are you gonna grow a pair and actually play the fucking game?"

You laugh before you can stop yourself, the sound light and genuine. Felix's grip on your waist tightens slightly as he leans back, turning his head just enough to smirk at you. "What's so funny?"

"You're deranged," you say, shaking your head. "It's just a game."

"It's not just a game," he retorts, spinning back to face his screen. His tone is dramatic, dripping with mock sincerity. "It's about principle. I will not let this dipshit out-insult me. Watch and fucking learn."

You nestle closer, resting your chin on his shoulder as the match kicks into full gear. Felix's hands are a blur on the keyboard and mouse, his voice rising above the chaos of explosions and gunfire. "Oi, you fucking rat bastard! How about you aim for once in your goddamn life, you useless cunt?"

The other player doesn't miss a beat, his crackly voice shooting back through Felix's headset. "Says the guy who sounds like he's 12 and still jerks off to hentai."

Felix barks a laugh, sharp and incredulous, his arm tightening around you. "Hentai? Bro, how about you crawl out of your mom's basement and maybe speak to a woman for once, you dickless clown?"

You burst out laughing, burying your face in Felix's shoulder to muffle the sound. His shit-eating grin only grows wider as he continues. "Yeah, you hear that? That's the sound of a woman's laugh, mate. I know you wouldn't recognize it, but that's what it fucking sounds like."

The other player falters, and Felix pounces on the silence like a predator. "What, got nothing to say now? That's what I fucking thought. Bitchless loser."

You're practically crying at this point, clutching at Felix's hoodie as your laughter spills out uncontrollably. "Oh my fucking God," you manage between gasps. "You're insane."

Felix chuckles, clearly pleased with himself. "And you fucking love it."

"I do not," you shoot back, though the warmth in your tone betrays you. "You're a menace."

"Yeah," Felix says, leaning back slightly as his character reloads. "But I'm your menace."

The other player finally speaks again, his voice wavering with frustration. "Whatever, man. You're fucking dogshit at this game."

Felix snorts, aiming down sights and taking the guy out with a single headshot. "Dogshit, huh? That's funny, coming from someone I just fucking clapped, you silly cunt."

You shake your head, still laughing as Felix adjusts his grip on you, his cheek brushing against yours. "You're the worst."

"And yet," he says, his voice dropping to a teasing murmur, "you're still here."

You glance at him, and for a brief moment, the chaos of the game fades into the background. His dark eyes meet yours, full of mischief and something softer, and your heart stumbles over itself.

"Shut the fuck up," you mutter, looking away quickly, but the smile tugging at your lips is impossible to hide.

Felix laughs, low and warm, and you feel the vibrations of it through his chest. "Whatever you say, sweetheart. Now, let me go ruin someone else's day."

A familiar voice cuts through the channel. "Felix, you absolute cockwaffle, why the fuck are you yelling at strangers again? I can hear you down the fucking hallway."

Felix groans audibly, leaning his head back against the chair in a dramatic display of exasperation. "Jisung, what the fuck do you want?"

Jisung's laugh crackles through the headset, bright and unrelenting. "Just wanted to check in on my favourite blond bitch and remind you that you're dogshit at this game. Like, the kind of dogshit covered in flies and left to bake on hot pavement."

Felix's entire body stiffens, his character spinning wildly on the screen as he slams his fingers against the keyboard. "You silver-haired dick, I will walk down the hall and fight you right fucking now."

Jisung doesn't miss a beat. "Do it. You won't, you spineless sack of kangaroo shit."

"I fucking will," Felix growls, his free hand tightening slightly on your waist. The motion makes you glance up at him, amused. "Or better yet, I'll send Y/N to fight you."

"No fucking way," you chime in, leaning your cheek against Felix's shoulder as you observe the escalating chaos. "I already spend too much time patching up Jisung. Why the fuck would I make more work for myself?"

"That's valid," Jisung says immediately. "See? Y/N's on my side."

Felix turns his head slightly, just enough to send you a mock glare. "She's not on shit, mate. She's just smarter than to waste her energy on a little gremlin like you."

"You blond fuck," Jisung snaps, his voice rising in indignation. "You're the gremlin here! I swear to God, if you call me that again-"

"What?" Felix interrupts, his tone full of fake concern. "What are you gonna do, huh? Cry about it? Piss your pants, maybe? Shit and cum? I'll send you a fucking diaper, Jisung. Express delivery to your room."

"Oh, you absolute wanker," Jisung fires back. "When's the last time you even fucking did laundry, Felix? Your room probably smells like a mix of week-old pizza, gamer sweat, and poor life choices."

"Oh, fuck all the way off," Felix snaps, though he's grinning widely. His hand flies to the mouse as he takes another shot on screen. "At least I don't dress like I raided the wardrobe of a discount backup dancer from fucking Step Up."

"Big talk coming from someone whose entire wardrobe is just oversized hoodies and sweatpants," Jisung shoots back with a laugh so loud it nearly crackles in the headset. "If it weren't for Y/N, you'd look like a fucking hermit."

Felix huffs, his fingers smashing against the keyboard as his character goes down again. "Eat my entire fucking ass, Jisung. I swear to God, if you weren't such a liability, I'd uninstall this game just so you'd be forced to suffer alone."

Jisung cackles, his voice full of smug glee. "Do it, you coward. But remember, when I kick your ass, Y/N's not saving you."

"Oh, I'm not saving either of you," you chime in, giggling as Felix mutters something under his breath about teammates being actual horse shit. His hand slides against your waist again, almost as if grounding himself, while he waits to respawn.

Jisung picks up immediately, his tone back to chaotic energy. "See, Felix? Y/N doesn't even like you."

"Shut the fuck up, Jisung. At least I don't break my toe every other month running into fucking doors."

"You blond fucker," Jisung yells back, his indignation almost comical. "You're never gonna let me live that down, are you?"

"Nope," Felix fires back, leaning forward slightly to hammer out a kill in the game. "You're a fucking hazard to yourself and everyone around you. If Darwinism were real, you'd have died out years ago. Society would have culled you for the betterment of the world"

You can't hold back your laughter anymore, leaning into Felix's shoulder as the insults continue to fly. The absurdity of their exchange, Jisung calling Felix "a gutter-dwelling kangaroo-shagger" and Felix responding with "a fucking mosquito with an inferiority complex", leaves your stomach aching from the sheer ridiculousness of it all.

By the time Felix wraps up the match, somehow pulling a win out of his ass despite the nonstop shit-talking, you're practically breathless with laughter. He yanks off his headset, tossing it onto the desk with a loud sigh of satisfaction, and leans back in his chair, pulling you back against him.

"See that?" he says, grinning smugly as he glances down at you. "Told you I could emotionally destroy those bitches."

"You're ridiculous," you reply, shaking your head even as you fight to suppress your smile. His hand rests warm and steady against your waist, his hoodie soft against your skin.

"And you fucking love it," Felix counters smoothly, his grin widening as he presses a quick, teasing kiss to your temple.

You roll your eyes but let the moment linger, warmth blooming in your chest as Jisung's voice cuts through again, indignant as ever. "Oi, Felix, you absolute fuckstain. I heard that kiss. Save the mushy shit for later, yeah?"

Felix laughs, his chest vibrating against you as he glances toward the door. "Shut the fuck up, Jisung. You're just jealous."

"Damn right, I'm jealous," Jisung shoots back. "Jealous that you're still dogshit at Call of Duty."

"Eat shit and die," Felix says, laughing as he rests his head against yours. "Fucking gremlin."

The soft hum of Felix's gaming rig dims further as his monitors finally shut off, plunging the room into a calm, muted glow from his LED strips. The clock ticks over to 4:00 AM, the hour dragging its weight into the air.

It's quieter now, the kind of silence that clings to the dead of night, thick and unrelenting. You're still perched in Felix's lap, scrolling idly through social media on your phone while his hand rests warm against your thigh. The stillness is comfortable until your stomach betrays you with a loud, unapologetic growl.

"Fucking hell," Felix mutters, breaking the silence with a groan as he nudges you off his lap. "Your stomach sounds like it's trying to summon a goddamn demon."

You shoot him a flat look as you stand, stretching your arms over your head. The hem of your black lace-trimmed camisole rides up slightly, and you catch Felix's eyes flicking down for half a second before he smirks. "It's called hunger, you dick. You wouldn't know since you've been surviving on Doritos and Monster like a fucking raccoon all night."

"That's a perfectly balanced diet, thank you very much," he retorts, leaning back in his chair and spinning lazily to face you. His hoodie is skewed from hours of sitting, the hem riding up just enough to reveal the faint lines of his abs. 

"I need food," you declare dramatically, hands on your hips like you're about to stage a protest. "Real food. Not this gamer bullshit you keep calling a balanced diet."

Felix snorts, pushing himself to his feet and grabbing his phone from the desk. "Good luck finding 'real food' at four in the fucking morning. What do you think this is, MasterChef?" He stretches his arms overhead, his hoodie lifting enough to give you another fleeting glimpse of his toned stomach. His voice pulls you back before your gaze lingers. "How about instant ramen? The convenience store is open, and ramen's practically fucking gourmet at this hour."

You don't hesitate, already grabbing your shoes. "Say less."

Felix chuckles, grabbing his sneakers from under the desk. He doesn't bother tying them, as always, the frayed laces dragging behind him like an afterthought. As he slips them on, you unlatch his window to test the air outside. A sharp gust of cold rushes in, making you shiver.

"It's fucking freezing," you mutter, pulling your arm back inside. Felix, now rummaging through his wardrobe, glances up with an amused smirk.

"No shit," He tosses a black cardigan at you, the fabric hitting you square in the face. "Here. Can't have my sweetheart freezing her ass off and bitching about it the whole way."

You roll your eyes at the nickname, but you slip the cardigan on without complaint. It's oversized, the sleeves swallowing your hands and the hem brushing the tops of your thighs, and it smells faintly of his cologne, a warm, woodsy scent that lingers comfortingly around you. "Thanks, Lix. I'd say you're a gentleman, but we both know that's a fucking lie."

"Oi," he shoots back, grabbing his keys and holding the door open for you with an exaggerated bow. "You wound me."

The hallway of the Alpha Phi house is eerily quiet, the usual chaos replaced by the occasional creak of the floorboards and the faint hum of the fridge down the hall.

Felix pulls the door shut behind him as you both tiptoe past the other guys' rooms, careful not to wake anyone. When you reach the front door, he holds it open for you as the cold night air hits you like a slap.

The walk to the convenience store is short, but the chill bites at your skin, making you huddle closer to Felix. The streets are deserted, bathed in the soft glow of streetlights, and the only sounds are the shuffle of your footsteps and the occasional rustle of leaves caught in the wind.

Felix's hand finds yours without ceremony, his fingers threading through yours with a warmth that contrasts sharply against the cold. "So," he starts, his voice casual but tinged with that mischievous lilt you know so well, "what's the game plan? Ramen? Energy drinks? Or are we going all out like the unhinged fucks we are and getting both?"

"Both, obviously," you reply, squeezing his hand for emphasis. "And chips. And chocolate. Maybe some of those prepackaged muffins too."

He snickers, pulling you closer as another gust of wind whips past. "You're gonna eat all that, feel like shit, and then somehow blame me."

"First of all," you retort, grinning up at him, "I'll feel fine. Second, I'm buying you snacks too, so maybe don't be such an ass about it."

Felix hums thoughtfully, his lips quirking up at the corner. "Alright, fair. You're forgiven."

"Oh, I'm forgiven?" you say, feigning disbelief. "Thanks so much, your majesty. Truly blessed to have your mercy."

"You're welcome, peasant," he replies smoothly, then, without warning, he spins you in a circle, his grip on your hand firm as he twirls you like a dancer mid-performance.

You let out a startled laugh, stumbling slightly as he catches you with both hands. "What the fuck, Felix?"

"Couldn't resist," he says, his grin wide and unapologetic as he tugs you back beside him. "You looked like you needed a little excitement."

"At four in the morning?" you ask, still laughing. "You're fucking insane."

"And yet," he replies, his tone smug as his hand squeezes yours again, "you're still here."

The two of you continue down the street, Felix twirling you every few steps just to hear you giggle. By the time the neon glow of the convenience store sign comes into view, your cheeks hurt from smiling, and you've threatened to shove him into a bush at least three times.

The fluorescent lights of the convenience store buzz faintly, casting a sterile glow over the shelves stocked with instant noodles, candy, and cheap energy drinks. The air smells faintly of burnt coffee and plastic, a strange but familiar comfort to you and Felix.

 It's the unspoken backdrop of your late-night snack runs, the kind of ritual that feels absurdly sacred at this hour. The automatic doors shut behind you with a quiet whoosh, and you grab one of the red plastic baskets stacked near the door.

"Alright," Felix says, clapping his hands together like a man on a mission. "Let's stock the fuck up, sweetheart. We've got a long night of doing absolutely nothing ahead of us."

You smirk, shoving the basket into his chest. "You're in charge of drinks, chef boy."

Felix salutes you mockingly before strolling to the refrigerators, his sneakers scuffing against the tiles. He doesn't even hesitate before yanking open one of the glass doors and grabbing cans of energy drinks like he's on a game show and every second counts. Red Bull, Monster, Rockstar, the classics, pile into the basket with abandon.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Lix," you mutter as he lugs the basket back toward you, the drinks rattling ominously. "You planning to die of caffeine overdose or what?"

Felix grins, his freckles dancing as he shrugs. "Fuck it. If I die, I die. At least I'll be wide fucking awake when it happens."

You roll your eyes, but your lips twitch in amusement as you grab a handful of chocolate bars and throw them into the basket. Felix matches you tit for tat, grabbing sour gummy worms, chips, and a suspiciously large bag of candy-coated chocolates. By the time you reach the ramen aisle, the basket is teetering on the brink of disaster.

"We're going spicy," Felix declares, grabbing a red-and-black packet of ramen and holding it up like a trophy. "You game?"

"Always," you reply, grabbing your own packet. The two of you quickly stock up on more, just in case the apocalypse hits and ramen is the only thing that will save you, and Felix carefully balances the new additions on top of the precarious pile in the basket.

You're halfway through debating the merits of sea salt chips versus barbecue when the automatic doors behind you whoosh open again. A loud, frantic voice booms through the store, tearing through the quiet like a gunshot.

"Everyone on the fucking floor!"

You whip around, and sure enough, there's a man standing in the doorway, a gun clenched in his shaky hands. He's wearing a black ski mask that's slightly crooked, revealing part of his sweaty face, and his body language screams desperation. The store clerk lets out a strangled yelp before diving behind the counter, leaving you and Felix standing frozen in the snack aisle.

Felix meets your gaze, his expression calm but incredulous, like he's just been inconvenienced by the universe itself. "You've got to be fucking kidding me," he mutters under his breath.

You can't help it, a disbelieving snort escapes you as you glance at the gunman, then back at Felix. "Of course this happens while we're here."

Felix sighs dramatically, setting the basket down on the floor with a deliberate thud. "Fucking typical. Can't even get some fucking ramen without some prick trying to play GTA in real life."

The gunman notices you and Felix standing there, clearly unimpressed by the gravity of the situation and waves the gun in your direction. "I said get on the fucking floor!"

You exchange a look with Felix, then slowly lower yourselves to the ground. Felix lies down with all the enthusiasm of someone forced to participate in a group project they didn't sign up for, folding his arms under his head like he's on a beach. "Of all the fucking convenience stores," he mutters under his breath, "he had to walk into this one."

You shoot him a look, biting back a laugh as you settle onto the dirty tiles. "Shut the fuck up, Felix."

"I'm just saying," he whispers, propping his chin on his hand like he's bored. "This guy couldn't pick a different store? A bank, maybe? Literally anywhere else?"

The gunman slams his fist on the counter, yelling at the clerk. "Hurry the fuck up and open the register!"

You glance toward the counter, then back at Felix, who has now rolled onto his side like he's posing for a calendar. "Do you think it's real?" he murmurs, tilting his head toward the gun.

You stifle a laugh, clamping your hand over your mouth. "Felix, shut the fuck up."

He grins, his voice dropping to a low, amused whisper. "I'm just saying, what if it's, like, a water gun? Or some shitty BB gun he got off eBay?"

You shake your head, trying to suppress the absurd giggle bubbling in your chest, but it escapes anyway. Felix shoots you a triumphant look, clearly pleased with himself.

"Oi, you two!" the gunman barks, his voice cracking with frustration. "Shut the fuck up back there!"

Felix doesn't even flinch. "Sure thing, Mr. Criminal Mastermind," he mutters under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear.

"Felix!" you hiss, your voice a mix of a scold and a laugh. "You're gonna get us killed."

He shrugs, his grin unrelenting. "Doubt it. He's all talk."

To prove Felix wrong, the guy fires a shot into the air. The deafening crack makes you flinch instinctively, your hand flying to Felix's arm. He stays completely unfazed, his expression almost bored as he mutters, "See? Terrible fucking aim."

You choke on a laugh, burying your face in your arms to muffle the sound. Felix, ever the shit-stirrer, grins like a Cheshire cat.

"Shut the fuck up back there!" the guy yells again, his voice higher now, tinged with panic.

Felix leans his head closer to yours, his voice still low and dripping with amusement. "Think he's ever been laid?"

"Felix," you whisper, biting your lip to stop another laugh. "For fuck's sake-"

"What?" he says, feigning innocence. "It's a valid question. He's got serious incel energy."

The gunman stomps toward the back of the store, still yelling at the clerk, and Felix lets out another exaggerated sigh. "Fucking rookie," he mutters, shaking his head like he's genuinely disappointed.

You glance at him, half-laughing, half-mortified. "I can't take you fucking anywhere, Lee Felix."

"And you fucking love it," he replies, his grin widening. "Now, let's see how this plays out."

The guy spins back toward you and Felix, his gun raised and pointed directly at the two of you. His posture screams tension, shoulders hunched, chest heaving, hands shaking slightly.

But you and Felix? You're fucking useless. The absurdity of the whole situation has a death grip on both of you, and neither of you can stop laughing.

"You think this is fucking funny?" the guy barks, his voice vibrating with equal parts rage and disbelief.

You're clutching Felix's hoodie sleeve as your shoulders shake. The laughter bubbles uncontrollably out of your chest, your face pressed into Felix's arm in a desperate attempt to muffle the sound. Felix isn't helping. He's snickering like a teenager in church, his lips twitching upward every time he glances at the guy.

"Funniest shit I've seen all week," Felix mutters, wiping at his eyes like he's genuinely emotional about the comedy of it all.

"Stand the fuck up!" The guy waves his gun wildly at you, his voice cracking as he shouts.

Felix lets out a long-suffering sigh, tilting his head back as though this is the greatest inconvenience of his life. "Alright, alright, keep your fucking panties on," he mutters, nudging you gently with his shoulder. "C'mon, sweetheart. We wouldn't wanna upset Mr. Very Serious Crime Guy."

You both get to your feet, but the laughter doesn't stop. It's fucking ridiculous, and neither of you can find it in yourselves to take this seriously. not when Felix's mouth is twitching like he's fighting back the punchline to a bad joke.

The guy points his gun directly at Felix now, his knuckles white against the grip. "You wanna get shot, pretty boy?"

Felix blinks at him, utterly unfazed. "Not particularly, but thanks for the offer. Generous of you."

The sound that escapes you is half-snort, half-laugh, and you slap a hand over your mouth immediately. The guy's eyes snap to you, his glare sharp enough to cut glass, but you can't stop the way the giggles keep bubbling out of your throat.

"You're really leaning into this whole 'angry criminal' vibe, huh?" Felix says, tilting his head at the guy. His tone is light, conversational, like they're discussing the weather. "Bit cliché, though, don't you think?"

"What the fuck are you on about?" The guy's voice is rising now, his frustration palpable.

"Oh, you know," Felix says, gesturing vaguely toward the gun with a casual flick of his wrist. "Big scary man with a weapon compensating for some deeply-rooted insecurities. Classic projection."

"What the fuck did you just say?" the guy spits, his stance bristling with barely-contained rage.

"You heard me," Felix smirks, his voice laced with mockery. "Screams small dick energy."

Your laugh bursts out of you before you can stop it, loud and breathless, and you double over slightly, gripping Felix's arm to steady yourself. Felix looks down at you, grinning like the cat that caught the canary. The guy's face, what little of it is visible beneath the ski mask, flushes an angry red.

"You little shits," the guy growls, his voice trembling with rage. "Keep running your mouths, see what happens."

"Oh no," Felix deadpans, leaning closer to you like he's letting you in on a joke. "He's threatening us, sweetheart. Whatever will we do?"

"I don't know. Maybe if we laugh hard enough, he'll rethink his life choices."

"You're fucking insane!" the guy shouts, taking a menacing step forward. His hands shake harder now, the barrel of the gun wobbling slightly as he points it between the two of you.

Felix raises an eyebrow, his grin widening. "Us? You're the one waving a gun around at four in the fucking morning. You might wanna reevaluate some things."

Before the guy can reply, there's a sudden, sharp crack from behind him. The sound echoes through the store, followed by a guttural thud as the guy stumbles forward and crashes face-first onto the dirty tile. The gun clatters to the floor, and behind him stands the cashier, gripping a battered wooden baseball bat like it's his lifeline.

The cashier's eyes are wide, his chest heaving as he stares down at the unconscious man. For a moment, no one moves. Then Felix lets out a slow clap, each exaggerated smack of his hands ringing out in the silent store.

"Fucking hell," Felix says, his tone downright cheerful. "Didn't think you had it in you. That was beautiful. Poetry in motion."

The cashier glares at him, his grip on the bat still tight. "Nice job distracting him with your dumb fucking jokes and fake giggling," he mutters. "Really helped."

"Oh no, that wasn't a distraction," Felix replies, shaking his head with a shit-eating grin. "That was one hundred percent real. Funniest fucking thing I've ever been part of."

"You're kidding," the cashier deadpans, his face a mix of exhaustion and disbelief.

"Not even a little," Felix says, grinning wider. "You're a goddamn hero, though. Iconic. Sweetheart, wasn't that iconic?"

You nod, still laughing as you lean against Felix for support. "To be fair," you say, your voice breathless, "who even robs a convenience store at four in the fucking morning? Deserved it."

The cashier stares at you both like you're clinically insane, but his shoulders sag as he lets out a heavy sigh. "You're both fucking crazy," he mutters. "Anyway, whatever you want? It's on the house. Just take it and get the fuck out of here before I have to call the cops."

Felix's eyes light up like a kid on Christmas morning. "Oh, sweetheart, you heard the man. Free shit. Quick, grab more ramen. And vodka. Lots of vodka."

"Lix," you groan, though you can't keep the laughter out of your voice. "We don't need-"

"Sweetheart," Felix interrupts, grabbing another basket with one hand and slinging his free arm around your shoulders. "This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. You don't say no to free snacks."

You roll your eyes but let him lead the way, watching as he raids the shelves like a man on a mission. Chips, candy, booze, more energy drinks, instant ramen, it all goes into the basket with reckless abandon.

You grab a few more chocolate bars and a pack of cookies for good measure, and by the time you're done, the two of you are weighed down with enough junk food to survive a nuclear apocalypse.

"Thanks, legend," Felix says as he carries the overloaded basket to the door. "You've earned that Employee of the Month title."

The cashier doesn't even respond, too busy dialling the cops as you and Felix step out into the chilly night air. The faint wail of sirens carries in the distance, and Felix glances down at you, his grin softening slightly as he balances the bags in his hands.

"You alright, sweetheart?" he asks, his voice quieter now.

You nod, leaning into his side as you start the walk back. "Yeah. You?"

He hums thoughtfully, then smirks. "Honestly? Best fucking night of my life."

The streets are eerily silent, save for the occasional rustle of leaves in the faint breeze as you and Felix stumble your way back to the Alpha Phi frat house. The neon-lit chaos of the convenience store feels like a fever dream now, the vodka in your systems the only tangible evidence it even happened.

Both of you are giggling like fucking lunatics, swigging from your bottles with zero regard for the fact that it's nearing five in the morning. The night air bites at your exposed skin, but the vodka burns hot in your veins, a liquid fire keeping you both upright. Barely.

Felix pauses mid-step, his sneakers scraping against the pavement as he takes another long drink from his bottle. His cheeks are flushed a warm pink, and his eyes gleam with sloppy amusement as he holds up the now-almost-empty bottle like it's the fucking Holy Grail. "Fuck me, this is some good shit. Tastes better 'cause it's free."

You laugh, tipping your own bottle up for another swig. The sharp sweetness burns your throat, but it's the good kind of burn, the kind that makes everything seem a little funnier. "Cherry vodka might actually be the love of my life," you say with a contented sigh, lowering the bottle. "Sorry, Lix."

Felix gasps in mock offense, clutching his chest like you've just personally betrayed him. "Sweetheart, how could you? I thought we had something special. Something real."

"Not as real as this vodka," you tease, stumbling a little as your foot catches on a crack in the sidewalk. Felix reacts instantly, one arm looping around your waist to steady you.

"You're fucking hopeless," he mutters, grinning as he tugs you closer to his side. "You fall for vodka faster than you fall for me. What the fuck is that about?"

"It's vodka," you reply, deadpan. "What do you expect?"

By the time you reach the corner leading to the frat house, both of your bottles are empty. Felix stares at his in mild disappointment, tipping it upside down and watching the last drop cling stubbornly to the glass before giving up with a huff. "We're not even fucking home yet, and we're already out," he mutters. "What's the plan? Drink more when we get back?"

"Obviously," you say, leaning into his shoulder. "We've got enough booze to kill an entire marching band."

Felix throws his head back and laughs, the sound echoing into the empty streets. "Alright, operation 'drink until we don't remember shit' is a go."

The sight of the frat house looming ahead sends another wave of laughter through you both. By the time you reach the front steps, you're practically doubled over, clutching Felix's arm as you try to keep your balance. He's no better, leaning heavily on the railing with the bags of stolen snacks and booze swinging precariously from one hand.

The front door creaks open just as you're about to fall inside, the sound startling enough to cut your laughter short. Heavy footsteps echo from the stairs, and you both look up to see Chan and Changbin at the top landing, their faces an unholy mix of confusion and irritation.

Chan's hair sticks up like he's been electrocuted, and his hoodie is lopsided. Changbin leans against the railing, squinting at you like you're a cryptid that wandered into their territory.

"What the fuck are you two doing?" Chan asks, his voice hoarse from sleep. "It's almost five in the fucking morning."

Felix, unbothered, beams up at him like he's just spotted his long-lost soulmate. "Cahn," he says, waving a hand dramatically. "You wouldn't believe the night we've had. We almost got shot."

Your nod is enthusiastic, but your balance is shit, and you clutch at Felix's sleeve to keep from toppling over. "Yeah! Gun! Right in our fucking faces."

"A real one," Felix adds helpfully, his grin spreading wider. "With bullets."

"Pew pew bang bang!" you chime in, mimicking finger guns to drive the point home.

Felix, clearly inspired, joins in with his own finger guns. "Yeah, pew pew bang bang! Dude fired into the ceiling, real bullets and everything."

Chan's jaw drops. He looks from you to Felix and back again, his eyebrows knitting together in sheer disbelief. "I beg your fucking pardon?" he finally says, his voice rising an octave.

You wave your hands like you're trying to explain quantum physics to a toddler. "So, we were at the store, and this guy walks in with a gun, and-"

"And we started laughing," Felix interrupts, his tone as casual as if he's explaining what he had for breakfast.

Changbin throws up his hands, his voice thick with exasperation. "Why the fuck would you laugh?"

"Because it was hilarious," Felix says, slinging an arm around your shoulders like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Chan's expression darkens, his voice low and deadly as he points a finger at you both. "I'm telling my mother."

Your gasp is immediate and full of melodrama. "Noooooo! Jess will lecture me for hours! I don't have parents! I'm supposed to be allowed to make dumb fucking decisions!"

Chan crosses his arms, his face blank but his tone sharp as a knife. "Tough shit. You're getting a lecture."

"I'll be good!" you plead, clasping your hands together like you're in front of a judge. "I swear, I'll be so fucking good."

Chan raises an eyebrow. "You've never been good a day in your life."

You let out a loud, mock-serious sigh. "It all started when my mom left me as a safe haven baby."

"Nice fucking try," Chan says. "That shit stopped working on me years ago"

Felix, still grinning, leans into you conspiratorially. "You're really playing the abandonment card?"

"It's my trump card," you say, throwing your hands in the air. "But apparently it doesn't work on Chan! What's the point of being parentally abandoned as an infant if I can't use it to get out of shit?"

Another voice slices through the quiet, low and laced with irritation. "It's five in the fucking morning. What the hell is going on down here?"

Everyone turns to see Minho standing at the top of the stairs, his red hair sticking up in every direction, a messy halo around his head like he's some pissed-off, sleep-deprived god of chaos. He leans heavily on the railing, his hoodie half-zipped and sliding off one shoulder.

His eyes narrow as he surveys the scene. the bags of snacks and booze, you half-drunk and clinging to Felix for balance, Chan and Changbin looking like disapproving parents. It's a tableau of absolute fucking nonsense.

Felix takes one look at Minho's dishevelled figure and immediately bursts out laughing, doubling over and clutching his stomach. "Oh god," he wheezes between giggles, his voice echoing down the hall. "It's all three dads. We're so fucked."

Minho raises an unimpressed eyebrow, his tone flat but deadly as he crosses his arms. "Alright, my dear children, tell Daddy Minho why you disturbed his very precious fucking rest before I drag you both into the front yard and bury you alive."

"We almost died!" you announce, pointing a dramatic finger in his direction like you're presenting damning evidence. "Gun! Right to the face!"

Minho doesn't flinch. His expression doesn't even flicker. "Yeah, okay. What did we tell you about going to the convenience store at stupid o'clock?"

Felix grimaces, scratching the back of his neck like a guilty kid caught sneaking snacks. "Uh... don't?"

"Exactly," Minho snaps, his voice sharp as a whip. He gestures vaguely toward the bags and the bottles in Felix's hands. "And yet, here we are. Grounded. Both of you."

"Nooooo!" you and Felix groan in perfect unison, your voices overlapping like two toddlers being told to go to bed early.

"Wait, wait, wait!" you blurt, holding up a finger like you've just had the best idea ever. "Vodka! We got vodka for free! The cashier gave it to us!"

Felix nods enthusiastically and hoists one of the bags up as proof. "Yeah, we've got vodka, tequila, energy drinks, snacks—everything you could ever fucking want. We're heroes, Minho."

Minho's eyes narrow further, but there's the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth. "Tequila?"

Felix gasps, looking genuinely insulted. "What do you take us for, fucking amateurs? Of course, we grabbed tequila."

For a moment, Minho stares down at you both, his silence heavy, his expression unreadable. Then his arms drop, and he lets out a low, resigned sigh before a sly grin creeps across his face. "No longer grounded," he declares, his voice light with amusement. "Let's get pissed."

"Minho!" Chan yells, his tone sharp enough to cut glass. He storms down the stairs, his face a mixture of exasperation and disbelief. "It's five in the fucking morning! They're already half-drunk! You're supposed to be the responsible one!"

Minho shrugs, stepping off the last stair with the calm, unshakable determination of a man who has long since stopped giving a fuck. "It's cocktail hour somewhere."

Felix throws his hands in the air like he's just scored the winning goal in overtime. "That's the fucking spirit! Come on, sweetheart," he says, grabbing your hand and dragging you toward the living room. "We've got three pseudo-dads, a liquor stash, and zero self-control. Let's make some fucking memories!"

Changbin, still leaning on the railing, shakes his head with a groan. "I'm not babysitting these drunk fucks," he mutters, gesturing vaguely toward you and Felix.

You, Felix, and Minho collapse onto the massive couch. Felix pulls you onto his lap without hesitation, his arms circling your waist in a loose, easy hold as you lean back against his chest. The bags of snacks and booze are scattered across the floor, casualties of your impromptu raid on the convenience store.

Minho lounges on the other side of the couch, unscrewing the cap of the tequila bottle with the kind of dramatic flourish that makes it clear he's ready to wreak havoc.

"Straight from the bottle," Minho declares, holding the tequila aloft like it's the fucking crown jewels. "Let's go, my child. Make Daddy proud."

You laugh, reaching for the bottle of vodka Felix just cracked open. "Honestly, Minho, you and Chan are the closest things I've ever had to father figures. You've been promoted."

Minho immediately slams his free hand over his chest, his face crumpling into a mask of mock emotion. "You are my child. I birthed you."

Felix chokes on his drink, shaking with laughter as his chin digs into your shoulder. "Birthed? Minho, what the actual fuck are you on about?"

"I did!" Minho insists, his voice rising in indignation as he takes a long swig from the tequila bottle. "Chan impregnated me, and I carried her for nine long, beautiful months. I sacrificed my body."

You nod solemnly, raising your vodka bottle in agreement. "That tracks. Explains the trauma."

Minho gives you a look of absolute reverence like you've just said something profound. "I will give you away at your wedding. You are my legacy. Always."

"Okay," Chan cuts in, his voice sharp and disbelieving as he hovers by the arm of the couch with his hands on his hips. "What the fuck is happening right now?"

Minho points at him with the tequila bottle, his expression stone-cold serious. "Our child is seeking validation, Christopher. As her other father, you should be supporting this."

"How many times have we had this conversation?" Chan demands, his tone flat but laced with exasperation. "You pull this shit every time you drink."

"Denial is a river in Egypt, my friend," Minho replies smoothly, taking another swig of tequila. "And it doesn't look good on you. Accept that you have a daughter."

"I mean, can I have, like, a trust fund or something? That'd be nice."

Chan's glare turns to you, his voice dripping with judgment. "I'm not giving you a trust fund. But, if we're doing this whole 'parent' thing, can we at least ban her from having boyfriends?"

Felix's arms tighten around your waist, his laughter cutting through the air as he jerks his head toward Chan. "Oi, what the fuck, Chan? You can't just ban her from dating!"

"Yeah, Chan," you add, your voice teasing as you twist in Felix's lap to face him. "What are you, the fucking dating police?"

Minho shakes his head, waving the tequila bottle in the air like a judge passing a decree. "It's fine. My daughter is a virgin anyway, right?"

You nod seriously, lifting your vodka bottle in toast. "Absolutely. Pure as snow. As virginal as Mary"

Felix lets out a snort so loud it's almost a honk, his lips pressed to your shoulder as he tries to suppress the full-on laugh threatening to escape. "Oh yeah," he says, his voice trembling with barely contained laughter. "Virgin. Totally. 100%."

Chan raises an eyebrow, his tone dry as a fucking desert. "Yeah, sure. Do you know how many times I've had to pick her up so she doesn't have to do the walk of shame?"

Minho gasps so dramatically you're surprised he doesn't pass out. "My baby! My sweet, innocent child! Grounded. For life."

"Still drinking vodka, though, right?" you ask, already taking another swig.

Minho waves a dismissive hand, sighing like a man resigned to his fate. "Yeah, fine. But get off that man's lap. Disgusting. My daughter will not date a man. It's unnatural. Foul."

Felix nearly spits out his drink, laughing so hard he doubles over, his face buried in the crook of your neck. You just raise an eyebrow at Minho, unimpressed. "You're gonna let me drink straight vodka at five in the fucking morning but not sit on my boyfriend's lap?"

"Correct," Minho says without hesitation. "I have standards."

Changbin, perched in the armchair across from the couch, has been quietly watching the entire exchange with wide-eyed amusement. Finally, he snorts, shaking his head. "You're all fucking insane."

Before anyone can respond, a loud, rapid thud thud thud comes from the stairs, and Jisung bounds into the living room like an overexcited puppy. His silver hair is a mess, his hoodie half hanging off one shoulder, and his eyes immediately lock onto the chaos on the floor.

"Ooh! You woke up Daddy One, Daddy Two, and Daddy Three. Naughty, naughty. Ooh, tequila! Vodka! Energy drinks! Gimme, Gimme, Gimme-"

Felix raises his vodka bottle like it's an offering to the gods. "A man after midnight!"

Jisung cackles, flopping onto the arm of the couch next to Minho and swiping the tequila. "So what's the occasion?"

"We almost got shot," Felix says casually, taking another swig of vodka.

"Cool, cool, cool," Jisung replies, nodding along. Then his eyes widen, his hand freezing mid-air. "Wait, WHAT?"

You and Felix burst into laughter so hard you're practically wheezing. Jisung stares at you both like you've grown a second head. "Shot? As in bang bang, bullet-in-the-head shot?"

"Yep," Felix says, popping the "p" as he grins at you. "Sweetheart and I were just chilling at the convenience store, and this guy walks in with a fucking gun."

"And we got the giggles," you add, waving your vodka bottle like it's a fucking magic wand.

Jisung turns to Chan, Changbin and Minho, his expression pleading for sanity. "Are they serious?"

Changbin pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering, "Oh, they're serious. They think almost dying is fucking hilarious."

"It was hilarious!" Felix insists, his grin widening. "The guy told us to get on the floor, and we just couldn't stop laughing."

"I hate both of you," Chan says flatly.

"And I love them," Minho announces, clinking his tequila bottle against your vodka. "Idiots, the lot of you, but you're my idiots."

Jisung, still processing, raises the tequila bottle. "Alright. To not dying, I guess."

"To not fucking dying!" Felix and you cheer, clinking bottles with him as the chaos spirals deeper into drunken absurdity.

Two hours later and the living room looks like a warzone. Empty bottles are scattered across the floor like casualties of a battle waged entirely with booze. Crushed chip bags and forgotten ramen cups lie abandoned among the chaos, the salty smell mingling with the faint tang of spilt tequila. 

You're sprawled on the couch with Jisung, the two of you draped over each other like a pair of drunk koalas clinging to the last branch of sanity.

Between you sits a half-empty bottle of vodka and a pot of ramen Chan reluctantly made because, as he so eloquently put it, "There's no fucking way I'm letting you absolute morons near a kettle."

Felix is next to you, his legs spread wide as he lounges back comfortably. He's working his way through a family-sized bag of Doritos with the lazy satisfaction of a man who knows he's witnessing peak entertainment.

Minho is perched precariously on the arm of the couch, swaying slightly as he holds a bottle of tequila. His hands gesture wildly as he launches into yet another drunken tirade, his words slurred but his enthusiasm unrelenting.

"You see," Minho begins, pointing dramatically between you and Felix, "Y/N is my child. Chan's child. Our love child. I birthed her myself. With pain. Like a hero."

You snort, nudging Jisung with your elbow. "See, Ji? I told you. Minho's my real dad."

Jisung clutches his chest with mock emotion, lifting the vodka bottle in a toast. "To Dad Minho, the strongest mother we know."

Minho beams like a drunk king accepting his coronation. "Exactly. And you, Jisung, you're the sad little bastard we found under a bridge and decided to keep out of the goodness of our hearts."

Jisung gasps, clutching at his hoodie dramatically. "You mean... I'm adopted?!"

"Of course you are," Minho replies, patting him on the head like a puppy. "But don't worry. We love you anyway"

Felix crunches loudly on a Dorito, raising an eyebrow at Minho. "Alright, then what the fuck does that make me?"

Minho's face twists into an exaggerated grimace, and he waves a dismissive hand in Felix's direction. "You? You're the boyfriend. The bad influence. We don't approve."

Felix gasps, pressing a hand to his heart like he's been mortally wounded. "Excuse me?! I am an amazing influence."

"Bullshit," Minho snaps, pointing an accusatory finger at him. "You're corrupting my firstborn."

Felix turns to you, his eyes wide and filled with mock sincerity. "Sweetheart, am I corrupting you?"

You shrug, slurping a mouthful of ramen before replying, "If by 'corrupting' you mean ingraining the word cunt into my vocabulary, then yes."

"Traitor," Felix mutters, stuffing another Dorito into his mouth as Minho grins triumphantly.

Across the room, Chan and Changbin sit squished together on the loveseat, sipping coffee like two parents forced to watch their kids self-destruct in real time.

"I love them," Changbin says after a moment, his voice soft but full of incredulity. "But their brains need studying. Like, properly. By professionals."

Chan groans, rubbing a hand down his face. "At this rate, I'm going to need a fucking PhD just to figure out what goes on in their heads."

Before either of them can say more, footsteps echo from the stairs, and the rest of the frat stumbles into view. Hyunjin, Seungmin, and Jeongin stop dead at the sight of the living room, their faces a mix of confusion and barely contained horror.

"What the fuck?" Hyunjin snaps, his long black hair falling into his face as he surveys the scene. "Why are you all awake at seven in the fucking morning?"

Chan points vaguely toward the couch, his voice flat. "Y/N and Felix almost got shot. Now they're doing... this." He waves his hand in a wide arc at the mess of people, booze, and crushed chips. "Minho decided to turn it into some Freudian family shit."

"Shot?" Jeongin asks, his eyes wide as he looks at you. "As in... bang bang, shot?"

"Yes!" you pipe up, raising your hand like a kid in class. "Gun! Bang bang! It was awesome."

"Jesus fucking Christ," Seungmin mutters, rubbing his temples. "What is wrong with you people?"

Minho, still perched like a drunk king on the arm of the couch, lights up at the sight of Jeongin. He spreads his arms wide, nearly toppling over as he grins. "Innie! My youngest! My pride and joy! Come here, baby boy."

Jeongin's face twists into a scowl, his voice flat. "I'm older than Y/N."

Minho waves him off. "Shush. You're my baby. Deal with it." He then swivels to Seungmin and points the tequila bottle at him. "And you, Seungminnie, you're the family dog."

Seungmin blinks, his face deadpan. "The what?"

Minho doesn't even pause. "And Hyunjin!" He turns his wild grin on the tall figure standing in the doorway. "Hyunjin is the obnoxious aunt. Definitely had plastic surgery but denies it."

"Excuse me?" Hyunjin's voice cracks. "What the fuck are you talking about?!"

"Just own it, darling," Minho says serenely, taking another swig of tequila. "Oh, and Hyunjin's married to Changbin."

Changbin nearly spits out his coffee, coughing. "What?!"

"You're married," Minho says, gesturing between them with the tequila bottle. "And you want to kill yourself because of it. Classic sitcom material." He claps his hands, grinning widely. "And that's our family!"

Chan groans, burying his face in his hands. "Why the fuck am I friends with any of you?"

"Because you love us," you chime in, poking your head up from Felix's shoulder with a grin.

"I fucking tolerate you," Chan fires back, glaring.

"That's basically love," Felix says, laughing as he pulls you closer into his lap. "Don't fight it."

Hyunjin throws his hands in the air. "I'm going back to bed. Good luck with... whatever this is."

"Coward!" Minho yells after him, raising his bottle like a battle cry.

Jeongin and Seungmin share a look of pure exhaustion before turning and trudging back toward the kitchen, muttering about the need for industrial-strength coffee. The door swings shut behind them, leaving the rest of you in the thick of the chaos.

"Still don't approve of you dating my firstborn," Minho mutters, pointing a finger at Felix.

"Still don't care," Felix replies with a grin, popping another Dorito into his mouth.

Minho groans dramatically, flopping back against the couch. "Why do my children hate me?"

"Because you're fucking insane," Changbin says dryly, his voice muffled by another sip of coffee.

"And yet," Minho says, raising his bottle for the umpteenth time, "you all love me."

"Unfortunately," Chan mutters, shaking his head. "Unfortunately, we do."

The clock ticks closer to 9 AM, and the booze has finally won the battle. The four of you are sprawled across the couch in varying stages of disarray. Minho's top is half off, Jisung's hoodie is somehow inside out, Felix's hair is sticking up at impossible angles, and you're pretty sure there's a chip stuck to your thigh. The room smells like tequila, vodka, ramen, and regret. A recipe for both a headache and a lecture from Chan later.

"Bed," Minho groans, dragging a hand down his face as he pushes himself off the couch. His steps are slow and heavy, like his body might give out at any second. "I'm fucking done with all of you."

"Noooo," Jisung whines, already crawling after him like a determined, overgrown toddler. "Your bed's huge, Minho! We're coming with you."

You and Felix exchange a glance and with zero hesitation, you stumble off the couch after them, your legs wobbly as Felix laces his fingers with yours and tugs you close. His hand is warm, steadying you as the four of you shuffle down the hallway like a drunken parade.

Minho's room, as expected, is pure chaos disguised as order. The space is spotless, the faint scent of cedarwood lingering in the air, but the bed is unnecessarily massive, a king-sized monstrosity with pristine white sheets and an unreasonable number of pillows. Jisung faceplants into it immediately, sprawling out like a starfish as Minho looms over him.

"Move, you little shit," Minho mutters, shoving Jisung's leg with his foot. "You're not hogging the whole fucking thing."

Jisung groans but shifts over just enough to make room for Minho, who flops down beside him with a dramatic sigh. You and Felix follow, collapsing onto the bed like marionettes with cut strings. Felix lands on his back, pulling you down beside him, his arm slipping around your waist as you curl into his side.

"Holy fuck," you mumble, pressing your face against Felix's chest. "This bed feels illegal. It's too soft."

"Minho's bed has diplomatic immunity," Felix replies, his voice laced with a teasing slur. He nuzzles into your hair, his breath warm against your scalp. "It's like sleeping on a goddamn cloud."

Minho grumbles something unintelligible, half-buried in a pillow. Jisung lets out a contented hum, his arm flopping lazily across Minho's stomach as his eyes flutter shut.

The room settles into a hazy quiet, the only sounds the occasional rustle of fabric and the soft rhythm of breathing. The morning light streams through the curtains, painting the room in a muted gold.

Jisung and Minho are the first to drift off, their bodies going slack as exhaustion finally wins. You're tucked snugly against Felix, your head rising and falling with the steady rhythm of his breathing.

"Sweetheart," Felix murmurs, his voice low and thick with exhaustion. "You awake?"

"Mmhm," you reply, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. His eyes are heavy-lidded, but there's a familiar warmth in them, his lips quirking into a lazy grin.

"Good," he whispers, his hand slipping up to cup your face, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek. "Because I've been wanting to do this all night."

Before you can ask what he means, he leans down, capturing your lips in a kiss that's as messy and uncoordinated as it is perfect. The taste of vodka lingers between you, sharp and heady, but you don't care. His lips are soft, warm, and slightly chapped, and his fingers tangle in your hair as he pulls you closer.

You kiss him back, your hands curling into the fabric of his shirt, anchoring yourself to him as the world narrows to just the two of you. The kiss is desperate and imperfect, all teeth and alcohol-fueled fervour, but it feels right. Time blurs as his lips move against yours, his thumb tracing slow, lazy circles against your waist.

The moment is broken by a sharp, muffled grumble from beside you. Suddenly, a pillow smashes into Felix's face with enough force to make him jerk back in surprise. You both turn to see Minho glaring at you, his expression a mix of grumpy and murderous as he wields another pillow like a weapon.

"Absolutely fucking not," Minho snaps, shoving Felix with one hand and using the other to wedge himself between you. "Not in my bed. I will not be subjected to this bullshit."

"Minho!" you protest, groaning as you roll onto your back. "We weren't even doing anything."

"Bullshit," he fires back, scowling as he claims the space between you and Felix like a petty landlord. "You can only have sex in my bed if I'm involved. House rules."

"Sweetheart," Felix says, his voice half-laugh, half-exasperation as he props himself up on his elbow. "Your pseudo-dad's cockblocking me."

You burst out laughing, turning away from Felix and burying your face in Jisung's chest to stifle the sound. Jisung stirs slightly, blinking up at you with a sleepy smile as he instinctively wraps his arms around you.

"Hey," he mumbles, his voice thick with drowsiness. "You comfy?"

"Comfy," you reply, snuggling closer to him. His chest is warm, his heartbeat a slow, steady rhythm against your cheek.

Felix, now fully displaced, groans as he flops onto his back on the other side of Minho. "Fine," he mutters, throwing an arm over his eyes. "Guess I'll just cuddle you instead, Minho."

"Don't fucking touch me," Minho snaps, though he doesn't push Felix away when the blonde drapes an arm across him with a shit-eating grin.

"You smell like tequila and bad decisions," Felix quips, his voice full of amusement.

"And you smell like vodka and desperation," Minho shoots back, though there's no real venom in his tone. "Perfect match."

Across the bed, Jisung hums softly, already half-asleep again, his arms tightening around you. The room falls into a peaceful quiet, the warmth of shared bodies and the morning sunlight creating a cocoon of comfort. Minho grumbles one last time about "fucking kids" before burying his face in a pillow and letting sleep take him.

Felix shifts slightly, resting his chin on Minho's shoulder as he murmurs, "Goodnight, sweetheart."

You smile, your eyes drifting closed as you reply softly, "Goodnight, Lix."

And finally, the chaos fades, replaced by the gentle cadence of steady breathing and the warmth of four idiots crammed into one bed. It's messy, unconventional, and absolutely fucking perfectly imperfect. 

[yougavememyopia]

Tags: Loser stalker fem reader, cocky mean dom yandere, dubcon 18+, choking, lot of force, grinding

◇◇♡~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♡◇◇

"What the fuck are you doing?"

You jumped, flinching so hard that made your spine hurt. Cursing under your breath, you hesitantly turned back to look at the familiar face.

Jun was standing there with his arms crossed, glaring at you with scolding eyes. Every day, you hid behind the corner that faced the field. It was mostly empty except for the cute artsy kid that sat there. He would lean against the tree, sketching, and you would be there watching his profile.

"Um..." Your words died down in your throat. Jun could easily tell what you were doing. Stalking a poor boy who had no idea his classmate was obsessed with him. "Hi?"

"Don't make me repeat myself." He sternly said, stepping closer to corner you against the wall. "You've been avoiding me. You're not answering any calls or texts. I wanted to have lunch with you, but you'd rather spend your time doing this."

You would feel guilty, but your brain was too busy searching for excuses or ways to explain this situation. This looked back. Really bad.

A few moments passed with you looking at the floor, feeling the cold wall behind you. Jun clicked his tongue, shifting his gaze from you to the boy in the field.

You exhaled, trying to think of a way to preserve your dignity. "I know it's wrong... It's creepy and weird. But you have to understand-"

"Oh, I understand. I get it. You're trying to find love. Isn't that right?"

"Uh... I guess that's the end goal. But-"

He interrupted you again. "You're tired of being lonely and isolated. Which is why you're pushing the person who wanted to be your friend away."

"No, that's not..." You paused. "Sorry.."

"Instead of being with me, you're choosing that clumsy, pathetic piece of-"

You interrupted him this time. "Ethan. His name is Ethan. And he's perfect. He keeps to himself most of the time, just like me. We have a lot in common..."

He went quiet for a second, uncrossing his arms and putting them in his pocket. "You completely ruined my plans, y'know... I was trying so hard to take all of this slow. I was gonna have lunch with you, eventually ask you out on a date, and go from there. While you were here doing the same thing to another boy."

You blinked. Was he confessing to you? You were suspicious when the golden boy of the school wanted to be your friend, and now this?

"Excuse me?"

"Oh yeah. I was gonna bring you to your favorite café and treat you. But you clearly don't want all that normal healthy stuff, huh?"

"Uhh.." You just looked at him, looking from his gorgeous eyes to his flawless hair. Then, to the strong looking arms that came up to the wall behind you. "You're kidding."

"But I'm afraid that my intentions weren't all that pure. I was going to give you so much that you'll completely become dependent on me. And I could have you as mine forever."

"Were you stalking me? Is that how you found me here?" You slowly said, a bit unsure.

"Such a smart girl." Jun praised, bringing a hand to cup your cheek, caressing his thumb against your skin. "I'm just as sick as you."

You gripped his wrist, stopping him. "I need to think about this first."

"What is there to think about? Forget about that shy mutt. I'm so much better than him. What else could you possibly ask for?"

You shook your head, pushing his shoulders weakly. "No. Just move away..!"

"I get it. You need more convincing."

And just as he said that, his lips crashed into yours. He forced a kiss on you and grabbed the back of your head. He guided you to kiss him back, using your hair to manipulate you like a puppet. You stood there and let it happen, your hands moving down to press against his chest.

He licked your bottom lip, which you kept closed. You were unsure of what to make of this situation.

"Just open your mouth, okay? I want to kiss you deeper." He tilted his face to the right and forced you to tilt yours the other way. "I don't like repeating myself. Don't make me force you. I'm trying to prove a point here. You're mine, whether you like it or not. You wanted something unhealthy, well here it is."

You didn't want to oblige. There was something inside you that wanted to fight him. You gasped as Jun tugged your hair harshly, catching you by surprise. His tongue invaded your mouth. You tried to pull away, but your back was against the wall. There was nowhere to go. You started to like how he forced you to this. You wanted to be kissed since a long time ago. Just hadn't expected it to be from the overly confident and arrogant jerk.

His tongue moved around skillfully. You unintentionally moaned, feeling him smirk against your lips. The weird sensation felt good. You slowly closed your eyes and kissed back, shyly moving your tongue against his. His other hand went down to rest on your waist. He pulled you closer to him. Your bodies slightly rubbed against each other.

You were out of breath. Panting, still wanting to kiss him more. He tasted so so good. Like cherries. Maybe he ate some before this.

"You still there, sweetie? You look dazed. Was it that good?" Jun chuckled. He knew the effect he had on you. "I told you. I'm the greatest choice you'll ever make."

"I can't believe this..." That was all you could mumble. Your heart still throbbed for Ethan, but it wasn't really an option anymore. This was... something else. Something you could get used to. "I can't believe it..."

"I know, you're very lucky. Not everyone has an amazing, skillful boyfriend. Soon, you'll be addicted to me and my kisses."

He stroked the back of your hair, almost apologizing for pulling it before. Before you could protest against the term, he kissed you again, rubbing his tongue against yours lewdly. You obliged, not thinking much of it. It felt too good to pass up on.

"Want me to you some of these skills?" He whispered in your ear, blowing air on it. You squeaked, and he chuckled. "Your reactions are so cute, darling. I want to see more. I want more of you. Your taste, your smell, your everything. You're mine. I can just take whatever I want, right?"

Jun clicked his tongue in impatience. He started to kiss down your neck, his fingers intertwining with yours as he pinned them against the wall. "I wanted to take things slow. Even after all this. But I feel like you need a bit more convincing, hm?"

He licked a spot of your skin before biting down on it. You hissed in pain as he continued to angrily mark you. It seemed like he was jealous of what happened earlier. He sucked the spots he bit for a moment before pushing his thigh between your legs. "I swear if you lie eyes on that guy again, I'll hurt him really badly."

You felt dizzy. All this was too much for you. Your head was spinning, and you felt really good. Small hushed moans spilled from your lips when his knee rubbed you up and down. His hands sneaked up your shirt, hands caressing whatever skin he could find. "There we go. I can tell you're enjoying it. I mean.. Naturally."

You could feel his eyes bore on you, but you barely looked at him. Drowming in ecstasy while he kissed you again and again. You felt yourself getting closer to the edge. You gripped his shirt, clenching it in your fist.

He passionately kissed you again as you came, moaning into his mouth. He slowed down before stopping. A grin on his face. He looked so hot like this.

"Good girl! Oh sweetie~ Look how hard you made me."

You look down to see the buldge forming in his jeans. He rubs it against your thigh, trying to provoke more reactions out of you.

"Aww, you're shaking... Could it be you actually want to touch it?" He teased, rubbing it higher to your still sensitive spot.

"W-what? Nngh.. No! I never even agreed to be your girlfriend." He grips one of your wrists, putting it on the front of his pants. You yelp, trying to stop him. "No! Stop. We're in public!"

You paused at the realization. You tried to think of how loud you were, but the image just sent pleasure back to your core.

"We're behind an isolated corner. No one will find us here. My darling certainly knows how to pick the right places."

You look back at the tree, the boy was gone, and the field was completely empty. You breathed a sigh of relief. As you were distracted, Jun began to unbutton his jeans, pulling it down. You turned back to see him pulling his cock out.

"What are you doing? Put it back in." You whisper-yelled. "Don't show it to me-"

He chuckled, letting go of your wrist to cup your hand. He wrapped your hand around his throbbing shaft. You gasped at the feeling. His size was impressive just like everything else about him.

"Shit..." You mumbled, watching him stroke himself with your hand.

"All you protests just died down. What, are you enjoying it?"

"Augh, I won't bother denying it." You began stroking him out of your own will, feeling the precum rolling down to your fingers. "You're gonna make a mess..."

"Why don't you clean it up for me, darling?"

"Fuck no. We shouldn't do something like this so early. It can ruin the relationship."

"So there is a relationship." He mused, his hands trailing up and down your thigh. You groaned again, stopping your movement.

"I changed my mind."

Jun hummed in amusment, he brought his face to your neck, licking at the spots he bit. "You're mine. You can't change that fact. It's taking everything in me to just not take you right here..."

He brought himself to your clothed sex, rubbing himself harshly against you. "I'll eventually have you. You can't escape from me. So unless you want to become my prisoner any time soon, you better help me calm down."

"I said no! You can't make me."

He groaned in frustration. In a quick motion, he pulled down your pants, roughly shoving everything down. You helplessly stood there, your attempts to push him away failing. You weren't trying that hard any way. Maybe because you were excited.

"Oh, I'm not putting it in."

You looked up at Jun, confused. "Huh?" Your question was answered when he began to rub his length along your slit. You bit your lip. "Seriously? Just this?"

"Yes. Seriously." Jun grunted when you squeezed your thighs around his shaft. He moved against you, picking up the speed. Your legs felt like jelly. "This is all you get for denying your boyfriend."

You whimpered, feeling your clit being stimulated. It was enough to make you come a second time when you felt him squeeze your throat. "Yeah, there you go. You're so much easier to please than I thought you'd be." He laughed, grinding a couple more times before releasing his load. You both panted, and he rubbed the spots on your neck gently.

"Mmh, let's clean up first, darling. And then we'll have some lunch." He patted your head, mumbling praises as he kissed your lips. "You're mine now. There's no room for arguments. Better behave if you don't wanna be tied up and locked away."

◇◇♡~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♡◇◇

Not as good as I was hoping. I was hesitant to go full sadistic so... I think I'll stick to sub yanderes. Oh, I have an idea for Ethan's POV...

[catierambles]

Emma got out of bed the moment she was able, her husband falling to the side in post-coital bliss. For him, anyway. She wasn't even halfway to the bathroom to shower before she heard his snores and it made her roll her eyes.

As they always did, reflections of how she got here crossed over her mind as she washed her hair and body, any and all traces of him going down the drain. What happened to them? How did they go from college sweethearts who loved spending time around each other, to her being perfectly fine when he left her alone for weeks at a time when he went on "business trips"? How did they go from loving newlyweds to her turning her brain off and just waiting for it to be over when he got in the mood, not wanting to deal with his petulant whining if she turned him down?

Even when he brought her along on his business trips, they barely spent time together and he usually just left her in the hotel room by herself for hours, coming back smelling of cheap perfume. She knew he was cheating on her, and honestly, she didn't care. Let him, and let some other poor woman deal with his selfish rutting.

He was still sound asleep as she got dressed and did her makeup tastefully, and he would be until morning. She doubted he would even realize she had left. Slipping on her heels, she left the room, heading down to the bar, making sure she had her room key in her clutch bag before she left. Would she get any satisfaction from one of the men at the bar of this overpriced hellhole? Probably not, but nothing ventured, nothing gained.

She was on her second glass of wine when the bartender slid a third towards her.

"Bit soon?" She asked.

"From the gentleman down at the end." He said and she huffed a small sigh before looking towards the end of the bar where the bartender had pointed. Probably another greasy, sleezy--

Oh.

Oh no.

"Mustache?" Please say yes.

"That'd be him." The bartender said and the man gave her a small smile that softened his handsome face. On any other man, the mustache and heavy stubble would have looked ridiculous. On him, it was perfectly masculine. The dark suit he wore did nothing to conceal the width of his shoulders and she watched as he slid off the stool, grabbing his own glass, noticing how the jacket hugged around his chest and was buttoned to a tapered waist.

"I'd ask something cheesy," He started when he got to her and she saw how his blue eyes sparkled in the low lights, "Like "what's a girl like you doing in a place like this", but I have a feeling I'd be wearing that merlot if I tried."

"Good call." She said and he sat on the stool next to her, turning to face her and offering a hand.

"Jason." He said and she placed her hand in his, expecting a shake, but he turned it, bringing it to mouth to brush his lips over the back.

"Emma." She said, her skin tingling as she pulled her hand away, and not just from the whiskers that had rasped over it.

"Your husband know you're down here accepting drinks from strangers?" His tone wasn't accusatory, it was amused, and it took the edge off the words.

"What makes you think I'm married?"

"Tan line of a wedding ring." He said and she looked at her left hand, seeing the faint lines around her finger. "Either married, or recently divorced."

"Divorce is in the works." And it was, kind of, if her husband didn't keep threatening and bribing lawyers to drop the proceedings.

"My condolences." He said and gave a small laugh at the look she gave him, "Yeah, that was a lie. If you had a picturesque marriage, you wouldn't be here."

"Accepting drinks from strange men?" She asked, picking up the wine he had sent her and taking a sip.

"Exactly."

His lips were soft against hers as he backed her into the hotel room, kicking the door closed behind him. Turning, he pushed her against the wall, catching the small moan that left her as he pressed a knee between hers, his fingers pulling up the skirt of her dress so he could palm her thighs. She knew exactly what he wanted her to do and hopped as he lifted her, wrapping her legs around his waist, feeling him behind the zipper of his slacks against her lace covered center. Fuck, he was big.

"Jason." She whimpered as his lips went to her neck, mouthing along her throat as he pushed the strap to her dress aside, running his lips over her collarbone.

"Fuck, you're sweet." He whispered, his voice low and rough with desire. Tilting his head back up with her fingers in his hair, she kissed him, offering no resistance as he pushed his tongue into her mouth to slide against hers, a fire building in her core. Pulling her away from the wall, she felt his fingers pull down the zipper at the back of her dress, rough fingertips moving over her skin and deftly undoing the clasp to her bra. He carried her into the bedroom, letting her go to her feet, the dress and bra falling to the carpet before he pulled her in again, his hands smoothing over her bare back and burying in her hair as he kissed her.

"You're too dressed." She said and he nodded, shedding his coat as she unbuttoned it, his hands curling around her hips as her own pressed into his chest, kneading the muscle she found there under the dress shirt. Dropping to her knees, her palms moved over his slacks, grabbing his thighs and she saw how his pupils had blown, his lips parted as he looked down at her. She deftly undid his belt as he worked on his shirt, throwing it to the side before pulling the undershirt over his head. Emma couldn't stop the grin that curled her lips as she saw his muscular chest covered in a layer of dark hair, staring up at him as she undid the top button of his pants and pulled down the zipper, letting his pants fall to the floor.

He was hard and massive in his boxer briefs, straining against the fabric and she hooked her fingers in the waistband, pulling them down his thighs and allowing him to bounce free.

"That's a good girl." He whispered as she took him in her hand, pumping slowly. She kept eye contact with him as she dragged a flat tongue over the head, his hand going to her hair and he guided her mouth onto him. She took him as deep as she was able, pumping what she couldn't fit with her fingers. Her movements were quick and soon he was pumping into her mouth, his fingers tight in her hair. "Fuck, I want that pussy." The dirty talk only increased her arousal and she moaned around him. He yanked her to her feet, turning her and pushing her down onto the bed face down. She stretched with her arms above her, pulling her knees up. The first smack of his hand against her ass made her yelp, but he passed a soothing hand over the red mark, pulling the lace panties down her legs. "Fuck, you're wet." She mewled as he pushed two fingers into her, "Wet and tight."

"Please, Jason." She whispered, pushing back against his hand and she felt his lips touch her back as she also felt him nudge at her.

"Ready, baby?" He asked and she nodded. With his hands around her waist he pulled her back just as he surged forward, pushing inside her to the hilt with one fluid movement and making her cry out. He didn't give her time to adjust, pumping into her hard, his hips slapping against her ass. "God fucking damnit you feel good."

"Please please please." She didn't even know what she was begging for, but his hand wrapped around her throat and he pulled her up against his chest as he continued to pound into her. His other hand cupped one of her breasts, squeezing, rolling the peak between his fingers. The drag of him inside her made her eyes roll back and her mouth fall open in heavy pants.

"That's it. That's my good fucking girl." He whispered in her ear, "Take my cock. You take it so well."

"I'm gonna come."

"Fucking come." He hissed, "Come on my cock. I wanna feel you, come on." Her hand covered his at her breast but in contradiction to his command, he pulled away, pulling out of her. He flipped her over easily and leaned over her, his lips taking hers in a kiss, swallowing the sound she made as he pushed into her again, restarting his relentless pace. Her fingers wove through his hair, holding him to her as he pressed his forehead against hers, his eyes closed and his breath hot as he panted against her face. She started pressing featherlight kisses to his eyelids, his cheeks, his nose, ending with his mouth and he grabbed her hands, holding them above her head with his fingers tangled with hers.

"That's it." She whispered, "Just a little further."

"You like how I feel in you?" He asked, his eyes opening and she nodded. "Tell me."

"I like how you feel in me."

"Tell me you love it."

"I love it."

"Tell me you want more."

"I want more. Please, give me more."

"That's my good girl." He said, his hips speeding soon it became too much and it pushed her over the edge, her legs wrapping tight around his waist as her orgasm ripped through her body. "Fuck! So fucking tight." A few more savage thrusts that drove noises from her lips and he joined her, slamming into her one last time as he released inside her.

They laid there for a long moment, his hands softening in hers, squeezing her fingers.

"Jason, huh?" She asked and he chuckled.

"First name that came to mind." He said and took his face from her neck, kissing her deeply.

"He has a meeting with Hamas leaders tomorrow morning." She said and he nodded.

"When?"

"Ten, according to his cell phone. I cloned the SIM card, it's in my bag."

"Good girl." He said, "It'll be over soon, I promise."

"I'm not worried, August. I'm really not. Not about that, anyway." Emma said and his eyes opened to look at her curiously. "I'm more worried about what happens to us when it's all said and done."

"The only thing that will change with that, is that we won't have to meet in hotel bars with fake names."

"I kinda like the anonymous hookup game, though." She said with a smile and he snorted, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips as her hands slipped from his, her arms wrapping around his chest. "I love you."

"I love you more." August said and he meant it, he really did, otherwise the ring he had for her when this was all over would be for nothing.

[boszbichblitzo]

"R-right. You did say try....." Blitzo conceded, offering a weak little smile. When he saw the look Fizz leveled at him next, his anxiety spiked and he went a little rigid, the urge to run and go hide somewhere until he could get his emotions back in check nearly overwhelming. Then he felt arms around him and a soft warmth pressed against his middle and what remained of his walls came crumbling down.

"Sorry....." Blitzo's voice cracked and the word came out barely above a whisper as the dam finally burst and the tears began to flow freely. He leaned over, wrapping his arms around his friend's narrow shoulders and resting his head against that silly hat of his, between what remained of his horns. He cried, letting out the last three years of grief, loneliness, pain and heartbreak and suffering, clinging to Fizz much like he had when they were still kids and he'd come crying to the other imp over his dad scolding him for one reason or another, back before he'd had to build his walls so high just to survive. To his credit, Blitzo at least tried to keep it short, reining himself back in after only a few minutes, despite any need or desire to keep holding onto Fizz like he was his last lifeline left–– he was, but still.... "Ugh.... sorry...." Blitzo repeated as he pulled away, wiping his eyes again as he let out a shaky laugh, already trying to save face after that fucking breakdown. "It's just...... it's been a lot. I'm uh.... I mean it's probably obvious I'm not doing great, huh? I keep coming back here hoping I can convince my dad to.... y'know, be a dad and help me or at least Barbie out but.... it ends the same every time. Sometimes worse.... I just.... I dunno, I feel like I'm drowning and he's just standing there watching it happen without single care in the world. I miss the way things used to be..... at least when he was an asshole then, I still had you, Barb and mom....."

“And yet, here we are,” the soft words slipped from his lips as they came to his mind, natural and completely unfiltered. It was a horrible accident — it caused so much damage, and so much hurt. It changed things forever in a way that they would all probably spend the rest of their lives coming to terms with. However, they were both alive, and now, they were both together. That fire had taken so much, why let it take more? A small smile deepened on his lips as his pinky promise was reciprocated by Blitzo, “Uh-uh,” he light-heartedly scolded in response to the mumbled concerns of the other imp, “I already got ya covered, I wrote fuck ups into the deal - all I said is that we’d try our best,” Fizz was aware that it wasn’t going to be easy and, hey, maybe they would never get there — but trying sounded like it was worth committing to.

Fizz snorted in amusement, however, as he flickered his gaze properly back onto Blitzo any retort that had been lingering on his tongue died. Blitzo looked so broken: eyes all glassy with unshed tears, red from where some had slipped past his walls and tumbled down his cheeks. Fizz had hoped that maybe the light-hearted joking would soothe Blitzo, but he feared now that maybe it’d had the opposite effect. Ugh. If only these moments came with a set of easy to follow instructions. Instinctively, he wordlessly stretched upwards as best as he could in order to wrap his arms around the other boy. Due to his position, he was more or less hugging around the Blitzo’s upper stomach, but hey! It’s the thought that counts. “…you don’t have to put on a brave face for me, you know?” he his muffled voice came out, from where he’d squished himself against his best friend.

[waroferas]

link and tetra

[screampied]

✧ ⁺˳ cw. fem! reader. husband nanami, whiney nanami, brēeding, cowgirl, mdni. adding to this

riding nanami so good that it makes him want to propose. focusing his weight purely on his rocking chair, the continuous creaks sing as you’re rutting back and forth. “s- sweetheart,” he slurs in a dreamy tune, a baritone-like rasp falling on his words. one hand of his grips toward your waist, tracing a thumb against the pretty curvature of your torso. whining yourself, you lean in toward his neck to bury your face near the crook, but he makes you collapse back. “no, no. don’t hide from me, wanna see those eyes,” and as gentle, mahogany irises meet your own, he groans. “good girl, my good girl. jus’ keep lookin’ at me, yeah.”

“kennnn,” you whimper, the repetitive dragging of your hips scratching a bittersweet carnal itch near the insides of your brain. his body heat was scorching hot, you thought you were gonna melt. the insatiable skin slapping against skin makes you deliriously numb, you want more. with your loose jaw hanging itself open, drooping—you lean in to lick a stripe up his neck. “fuck, ‘s good. mhm,” and each time you slam back and forth against him, he kisses his teeth. nanami’s sweating profusely, he barely even notices though because his entire attention’s focused on you. his pretty girl. although, the moment you start to dip your hips in a deep circular rotation, he tosses his head back.

“fuckin’ s- shittt,” he swears, and even his curses sounded so blissful . . sinful. for the first time in forever, nanami whines. the palm of his hand then closes in on your ass to give it a good firm squeeze. with fawn strands covering his eyes, he starts to shake. with his hefty chest heaving and a needy tone pouring from his voice, his gaze meets yours once more. “marry me, m- marry me, i need you to be my wife, please.”

an eyebrow of yours quirk upward at his words as a smile pierces its way against your spit-slicked lips. you throw your arms over his broad shoulders before giving him a sweet reply.

“hm?” and your hips had him going insane—the tempo, it was just right. not too fast nor too slow. the centers of your jittery knees bury itself into the sides of the chair before you whisper into his ear. “did you forget, baby? ‘m already your wife.”

nanami moans, your voice was enough to make him spasm right then and there—you sounded so sweet but your insides felt even sweeter.

your sloppy cunt grips against him tight like a vice, simply clinging onto him for dear life. within each pull and bounce against his lap, your walls were so gummy and goopy. it was just tantalizing. you were nothing but a tease and he only craved for more as each second passes.

taking in every inch of his thick cock, you hold back a noise yourself. digging the edges of your teeth into your bottom lip to suppress an incoming squeal, you kiss his neck — it was slow, you create a soft trail of butterflies with your lips. marking his neck with your own wings that press against your mouth.

“hah, oh . . are we?” he responds, panting. with a hand still glued to your hip like it’s made of adhesive, his eyes meets his ring finger. you and him were definitely still married. he groans, feeling a lump in his throat equivalent to the size of a saucer. “ah, forgive me sweetheart. ‘m sorry, y- your hips are just so..”

he doesn’t even bother trying to finish his trembling sentence before his cock kisses up against your g-spot once more. not just an ordinary kiss though, a french kiss.

it’s sloppy, passionate, and exquisitely thorough.

tangled fingers of yours claw at his cerulean blue dress collar. with cobwebs and cobwebs of slick saliva sloshing against each mouth — he huffs, shivering from your hands to roam further down his work shirt he wore. nanami was sexily slouched back, two thighs spread open for you with a single leg bouncing up and down in anticipation.

oh, he was close. his base sags and hangs as you’re rutting against him quicker and quicker. with a nice amount of fingers scraping through his hair and toying your fingertips with his scalp, you dip your tongue further into his mouth. “m- my love,” he purrs, and you don’t think you’ve ever heard him so whiney. his voice was melodic at most, each breaking syllable making the throbbing between your legs intensify. “don’t stop, please—i love you, i love you.”

“i love you too ‘ken,” you babble, feeling the elastic stretch curve and pull through your walls.

your lips part and you moan before feeling him hold your waist tight. nanami groans against your ear and it’s so low that it was almost a mere growl. it could have easily been mistaken as a growl with the raspiness in his voice. with your knees continuing to plow deeper into the chair, bouncing back and forth, he spanks you, again, and again, and again.

nanami’s about to come, you know once his prettily blown irises roll wayyy back until he’s seeing white and his thin brows curl into a proper furrow.

each sloppy bounce against his lap punctuates so good that he’s barely able to hold his moans back by now. you had him hooked. his faint poking dimples press together as he tries to speak, but instead of words, another dragging whine escapes. leaning up against his ear, your warm breath tickles his lobe. “c’mon, kento. cum in me, ‘s okay. make a mess in me, baby.”

“f- fuck, keep talk to me just like that, sweetheart ‘n i might,” he replies back in a shaky tone, feeling a chill reside up his spine.

your cunt’s addictive warmth was preparing to milk him for all that he’s worth. as he clenches down on his jaw for the umpteenth time, his grip against your waist tightens. “ugh, ‘s gonna be so much. so much for you, my sweet l- love,” and as he’s rambling, a thick load abruptly shoots into your core, dribbling into your womb. it’s hot, and when it rains it pours. nanami swallows thickly, the same lump that lived in his throat was now forming into a ball. your hips steadily slow down and you glance down to see the lewd mess emitting deeply into you. it’s so much—it’s velvety, creamy ropes of cum that quickly fill you up to the very top. as his tip spits such sloppy amounts of seed into your starved cunt, he bites his lip. “oh, ‘s still comin’ out. forgive me, ‘m givin’ you all of me, princess.”

with a soft smile, you kiss near the crevice of his mouth where a tiny crinkle caresses and marinates against his soft features. “don’t apologize for being dirty, ken. ‘s okay.” and his face softens at your words. nanami feels his body shudder with heat from how gentle you were with him.

you’re clinging onto him dry and he’s still pumping you full of ridiculous inches—featuring his beloved, syrupy textured cum. it’s a whopping amount that he could barely process how much he’s gifted to you until he actually looks down. the moment chest deflates, the sensitive crown head of his cock gives your sweetest spot its final chaste kiss. satisfied with being filled to the very brim, you don’t get off just yet. instead, you remain there, gently brushing your hips forward.

“m- marry me,” he repeats, his voice cracking.

nanami hears the squelches and spurts your own pussy makes from the residue of cum spewing from the undersides of your legs. “ah,” and he grips your chin, attempting to kiss you but his lips instead reach toward your chin. you worn him out, he’s barely even reaching your mouth and it’s cute. nanami’s got hooded half lidded eyes and a pried open mouth. he’s almost drooling for you, that’s how whipped you had him. “be my wife, i need you.”

kissing his cheek, you smile at his current pussy drunken state. taking a mental image to savor this moment forever, a thumb brushes its way against his tender cheek. “i'm your wife already, silly,” and his eyes dramatically roll back in rapture again. nanami’s releases always last long, and he’s still getting over it. his dick twitches from the sound of your voice, and he wanted more of his sweet sweet wife. the feeling of your sopping walls squeezing him for every ounce of cum he’s got makes him grunt. it feels so good that it’s almost heavenly. it’s warm and insanely sticky — oozing in ropey wads from your hole before trickling all near his lap. “all yours, ken.”

“all m- mine,” he repeats breathlessly, gently grabbing your wrist up to his mouth.

with a sheepish exhale leaving his lips, a free hand slithers its way toward your tummy. sighing deeply, nanami makes direct eye contact. “my love,” he repeats for a final time, and you gasp once he suddenly pulls out.

pouting for a second at feeling empty, he makes you lie flat on your back. nanami’s got a feral look in his eyes, broad shoulders raising up and down and messy unkempt strands all in his face, he wants one thing tonight and it’s you.

as he spreads your quavering legs open with a single hand, he then creeps two fingers toward your stuffed cunt to smear his cum near your entrance. “since we’re already married, let me g- give you a baby, sweetheart. you’d be such a good m- mommy.”