#project in hoodi circle

[herearedragons]

Dragon Age jacket progress! REALLY happy that I found a way to fit that quote in. Still need to clean up some edges and do a few more layers on the symbols, but it already looks really cool.

(again, this is a Hawke-and-Amell-themed design)

[bookwyrminspiration]

you absolutely should draw all the keeper characters in your clothes

I want to! I've been thinking about it for months it would be so fun and so silly! The main thing that's held me back is that I modify my clothes and so many of them are in project mode for so long.

So every time I'm like hmm I could put this character in this article of clothing I go hmm but wait! I'm planning on doing [thing] to that and haven't had time yet, so I should wait to do it before I draw it! And then I take forever to do [thing], but at this point I'm getting impatient I think my outfits are so so fun and I want! to put the kotlcrew in them! I'm busy atm but like...I want to do it!

[bahablastplz]

Canvas: Hyunjin x Reader

Content: A late night with your boyfriend turns into something more as you both try something you had only talked about before; smut and fluff Warnings: p in v sex, unprotected sex, cockwarming, heavy heavy praise WC: 2500 Happy birthday Hyunjin <3

Hyunjin was painting again. 

As you roll out of bed in the middle of the night, this fact is apparent. The smell of paint wafts from the living room where he has his work space set up. A large tarp on the floor, a small easel propped up and a lamp set to illuminate his latest work. Paints lay haphazardly around him, a blend of colors and shades of hues mushed across the palette. The rest of the room was dimly lit, moonlight shimmering through the curtains and shining on your boyfriend’s face. God, he was breathtaking. One paintbrush is in his mouth and the other in his hand, gliding across the canvas. The sight makes you let out a breathy laugh. 

“Love?” He looks up at you now, watching your frame as you admire him from the wall. The lamp light reflects onto his dark-framed glasses when his gaze meets yours, and you smile at how the yellow and orange lights glow across his features. He smiles back. It’s a small gesture, and even though you’ve seen him smile hundreds of times the gesture warms your heart. 

You cross the room in your nightgown, the cold breeze from the air-conditioning causing you to curl into yourself slightly. Hyunjin beckons to the spot on the floor beside him and you take it eagerly, body curling around him and head resting on his lap. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” you ask him. He has the habit of sneaking away in the night, so as to not wake you, and painting until the sun starts to creep through the windows. It’s cathartic for him, a way for him to get away from his thoughts that trouble him in the night. In moments like this you love to watch him, how his brows furrow in concentration and his lips get caught between his teeth. Hyunjin was the most in his element when he had a canvas in front of him. 

“Mm,” he confirms. He checks his hand to make sure no paint dirties it before he rests it on your hip, drawing soothing circles on top of your nightgown. Your head nuzzles deeper into him and you breathe in his scent, letting out a content hum. 

“Did I wake you?” He asks a moment later. His hand moves effortlessly across canvas, dappling acrylic paint across a vision of flowers that was already the picture of perfection to you–but would probably take him at least a few more hours to complete. He was a perfectionist like that; he could point out every absence of color, needed highlight or small imperfection of his work that was near imperceivable to you. 

“No, the bed was just cold. I wanted to see where you were,” you hum against his skin. Your words were true, of course; because you get so hot when you sleep next to your boyfriend, the house usually stays a bit chillier but you notice his absence sometimes when he leaves the bed late at night. He now wears a dark colored hoodie that swallows his features, meant for his comfort when lounging around the house like this. His pants are also meant for lounging, the gray sweatpants soft but covered in remnants of previous art projects known lovingly as his ‘painting pants.’ 

“Do you want me to warm you up?” You nod and crawl into his lap, nuzzling your face right into the crook of his neck. He lets out a breathy laugh underneath you, arms wrapping around your frame to bring you closer as he continues to work. After a few minutes your boyfriend leans closer to the canvas, examining a piece of his work that must have not looked right to him. This action shifts your position, however, your core now pressed right against his clothed length. You tense against him and your breath hitches slightly, and you know that he’s caught on to your arousal. 

“How much longer?” You whine against him. He lets out a laugh and uses his free hand to stroke your back, long fingers moving languidly across your spine. The action is meant to soothe you but has the opposite effect, sending an electrical shock down your body and causing you to let out a small breath. 

“Why, love? Are you feeling needy for me?” You nod almost embarrassingly fast. While you love watching Hyunjin paint and could for hours, you can’t help the want that settles deep in your gut that begs for his touch, his attention, and his desire to be released toward you. 

“I was hoping to paint for a while more,” he confesses. You try not to let your disappointment show, but you let out a moan as the man’s hand finds your hips, pushing you harder against him. The friction that meets your core has you feeling more desperate and you buck into him and he’s smiling, and it infuriates you to know he’s intentionally trying to work you up. He has always loved seeing you pliant, needy and desperate for him, and you were unfortunately already in that state somehow. “Do you want to sit on my cock baby?” Your head reels back to look at him with wide eyes. “You can sit on my cock while I paint but you have to be good and promise not to move, okay?” 

You had talked with him about cock-warming before but it was never something you had actually done. Now, it must be just past 3 a.m., and you were finally turning the hypothetical into reality–it felt unreal. You let out an affirmative sound and nod your head, and he’s maneuvering your bodies to get you set up. He repositions you so that you’re on your knees above him, slightly towering over him where he sits on the floor. He’s lifting his hips up and pushing his pants down just past his thighs, releasing his cock and pumping it one, two times. He’s hard already, and you watch him in awe as he works to pleasure himself in front of you. It’s just for a second, but enough for him to have your breath come to a stop, which is exactly what he was waiting for. 

His hands find place on your waist. He’s hitching your nightgown up above your hips, leaving you bare for him. It’s no secret that sometimes you sleep without underwear on, but he smirks at you and stares in a way that leaves you feeling utterly exposed despite him having seen you like this hundreds of times. His fingers come up to your core, rubbing it and gathering your wetness to spread it around your folds. You let out a moan at the action, thankful for the contact before he’s dragging you down and placing his cock at your entrance. 

He leans back on his hands and looks up at you, waiting for you to do the rest. And so you do, piercing yourself onto him and sliding down his length, inch by inch. Hyunjin was well-endowed, so to speak, so it was never an easy fit to take him but it felt pleasurable nonetheless. Finally he is fully inside you, and your breathing and each moan is completely synced with one another. A hand comes up to bring a loose strand of hair behind your ear, and the movement is so domestic and loving that it makes your heart pang in your chest. 

“Beautiful,” is all he says. 

He brings your nightgown back down so that it covers you up, remembering your recent complaint about being cold. Your head finds its place back on his shoulder, in the crook of his neck like it’s your home. 

And, he continues painting. 

You’re not sure why you’re surprised–that’s exactly what he said he was going to do. Your boyfriend has a lot of self-control and restraint that you did not, and it was especially evident when you were intimate. While you often become wrecked from the start, he would let his pleasure build up and would reel from the delayed gratification of it all. 

Your knees find the ground and before you can help yourself, you put your weight on them. You’re propping yourself up, sliding up his length about halfway, before crashing back down. Your clit drags deliciously across his abdomen in the process, causing you to let out a heavy sigh of pleasure. You rock against him only one more time before strong hands find your shoulders, pushing you down hard. You try to bounce up again and find that you’re unable, his grip keeping you in place so firmly that you cannot budge despite your attempts. 

“Don’t,” he scolds. His words are sharp, not laced with venom but to remind you of his earlier demands. 

At this angle, his hands pushing you down causes his cock to be seated deeper inside you than before and you let out an embarrassing squeak. You feel so full, and you tell him so. 

He has an idea; he grabs you and leans forward, grabbing your legs and wrapping them around his torso. When he sits back down, you are now unable to give yourself the momentum needed to move your hips or rock against his length. You are fully seated on him and he is fully inside you, his arms wrapping around you and holding you flush against him as he continues his work. 

It’s silent, now, with the exception of your shallow and uneven breathing. You find yourself clenching against him over and over again, reeling in the sensation of him inside you. And it’s just that–you can really feel him like this, every ridge and vein, every pulse of him inside you, and it has you feeling lightheaded. 

“God, baby, you’re gushing around me,” he whispers into your hair. “Taking me so good.” His praise makes you smile and squeeze tighter around him and he groans. You feel smug to finally get him to lose his composure, but he starts spouting more praise that makes all thoughts vanish in an instant.

“So good for me, baby, you know that? Such a good pussy. You’re the love of my life, God, you were made just for me. You were made for me to love you, to hold you like this… So pretty for me. You’re all mine, meant to take my cock, yeah?” You whimper against him, the mixture of sweet nothings and sexual praise whispered to you making you feel dizzy. 

It’s several more minutes before you say something, finally coming to the conclusion that you would have to be the one to initiate it further, if he would even let you. 

“Please…” It’s all you can say at first. 

“What, love?” He teases. He knows exactly what you want. 

“Need you to move, please, Hyune… It’s too much. Need to cum,” You beg. You’re sure you sound pathetic but you can’t find it in you to care. If there’s anyone who’s not only willing but wanting to see you in your most pathetic and vulnerable states, it’s Hyunjin. 

“Poor thing, does it feel that good?” His voice asks with a small lilt in it. You’re sniffling now, embarrassed about the tears starting to spill down your cheeks but so overcome in pleasure and sensitivity; you can both feel it in the ways that you clench around him unabashedly. He brings his head back to see your face, to examine your tears. He’s seen you on the verge of tears a few times while having sex from being overwhelmed by pleasure, and though it always makes his heart tighten because he’s the one that’s doing that to you, he’s the one making you feel that good,  he knows it’s about time you’ve reached your limit. He wipes a stray tear away and you don’t even realize that he has dropped his paintbrush until he’s picking you up and bringing you over to the couch. 

He leans back, enraptured by you, and brings you in for a sweet but messy kiss. It’s open-mouthed and hot, and it feels like you’re breathing into him and filling up his lungs. Your tongues meet and you’re covered in spit, a mixture of yours and his, and suddenly his hands are on your hips and his feet are planted strongly on the ground. He doesn’t disconnect his mouth from yours as he thrusts up into you long and hard, but any coherence is long since gone and you’re not sure you’re even kissing back anymore, instead giving loud, high-pitched moans into his mouth. 

His hands move to the undersides of your thighs and he uses his strength to piston into you. In this way, you can only take what he gives but it’s more than enough, as he knows your body better than you do. 

“I’m close, love,” he confesses. He lets his head fall back onto the couch but his eyes never leave yours, drinking up your scrunched up face and open-mouthed pants. It’s no surprise that you’re both close to your arrival so soon, after sitting on him for so long your pleasure feels like it’s increased tenfold. 

“Me too,” you say, struggling to get the words out. You didn’t have to tell him, though. He could tell by the way you were starting to tighten around him. 

“Go ahead and touch your pretty clit for me, make yourself come.” You follow his command, hand snaking down to where your bodies meet. He was right, you were absolutely soaked, and you use this wetness to shakily circle around your clit. His thrusts get harder, deeper, the way they do right before he cums. Unsurprisingly, you beat him to it, clenching all over his length and throwing your head back as you release. 

He follows suit, thrusting into you a few more times before he finds his release, spilling deep inside of you. He holds you close, rutting into you now slowly and working you both through your intense orgasms. When he stills, you collapse into his arms and he holds you tight, embracing you and running a hand through your hair as he praises you. When he finally pulls you off of him you feel empty and this makes you whine. Hyunjin pulls up his sweatpants and carries you to your shared bathroom, placing you onto the sink as he runs the bath. It’s late, but you feel grimy and covered in sweat so the bath is more than welcomed. 

When you look into the mirror, you can’t help but laugh. Your nightgown is covered in paint at your hips and your waist. Though he had tried to be so careful, you suppose it was the risk that came with the reward. When Hyunjin sees the target of your laughter, he joins you and apologizes sheepishly, promising to buy you another. 

“It’s okay, this can just be my paint nightgown,” you joke. “I’ll wear it the next time we have sex while you’re painting.” He smiles at you affectionately, and when you finally get back to sleep it’s in his arms and your bed is warm again.

*** Masterlist Recs

[fourmoony]

heyyy read you're looking for requests so here's one! james coming from hockey practice (i love hockey player james) and you tell him that a guy from uni has been hitting on you and stuf. he doesn't get mad just queasy, but then he needs reassurance too!

thanks for requesting, angel!

cw: insecurities, language, unwanted advances

1.4k, modern au, ice hockey James

The tell-tale sound of James' bag being abandoned haphazardly by the door alerts you to his presence. The door clicks shut soon after, followed by a heavy sigh. He's likely exhausted - always is after practice, especially if he and Sirius get caught mouthing off and are punished with bag skating.

James rounds the corner into the living room at the same time you pause your show and sit up to greet him. He doesn't acknowledge your abandoned plate from dinner or the pile of unfolded washing on the arm chair to his left. Instead, he gives you a tired smile and collapses into a heap beside you on the sofa. "Hi, bug." He mumbles, chin tucked into the neckline of his hoodie. Exhaustion seeps from his voice.

"Hi, handsome." You soothe, hand reaching out to toy with the curls at the nape of your boyfriend's neck. They're still damp from his post-practice shower, the smell of his body wash sweet and heady in your nose. "How was practice?"

He lets out a long suffering sigh, leans into your touch, "Stressful. The team isn't where we need to be for the playoffs. Coach made sure to let us know how angry he is about it."

You hum softly, scoot closer to James on the sofa until you're practically in his lap. James likes touch, he likes the connection, the intimacy, the weight of your body on top of his. You're happy to indulge him, the flowers that your boyfriend brings about your rib cage blossoming as his arm wraps around your middle, hoists you fully onto his lap. "What does he expect, you know? Half of his team graduated out, last year. He only has a couple of you guys left and the rest are freshmen." You try to justify James, but it seems the reminder only further sours his mood.

"Yeah, try telling him that. He thinks everyone is just born to be in the NHL, that these guys should already be up to standard, that they don't need the same exact training and coaching that we got." James' voice is thick with coiling tension, even if his muscles seem to be relaxing under you.

You smooth the baby hairs under your fingers, tilting your head until his eyes meet yours, "You're their captain, baby," You smile, "I bet they'd listen to it a lot better coming from you. They like you, look up to you. You be their coach if coach isn't going to step up."

Your boyfriend smiles, the sun peeking through storm clouds. A glimpse of your Jamie. He leans forwards, lips soft and gentle as he presses them to yours. He hums into the kiss, hands squeezing your hips. "Thanks."

"Anytime, handsome."

"How was your day?" James asks, feet stretching out to sit atop the coffee table.

You'd scold him if you weren't so busy quelling the beating of your heart. Any kiss from James sends you reeling, has done since the first time in freshman year. You don't think you'll ever get over the fact that he's your boyfriend. That he loves you as you love him, that you'll grow old and grey together. It never quite feels real.

"Good. Productive. We have a project due for McGonagall's class on Wednesday so I just worked on that most of the day." You don't feel the need to mention that you pointedly worked alone on your half of the project, but James frowns at your words and you know he's going to ask.

"You worked alone?"

"Yeah." You should probably say more, but James has a shorter fuse than Sirius does in general when it comes to you and you don't feel like unleashing all two hundred pounds of ice-hockey muscle onto the arrogant asshole who won't leave you alone.

James' thumb rubs steady circles into the fat of your thigh, his brows hooked upward in the middle a blatant sign of his confusion, "Your group have left you to do all the work?"

"No," You shake your head, "It was just easier to do my part on my own."

James doesn't say anything, but it's clear that he's waiting for you to go on. You sigh through your nose, head falling to rest on your boyfriend's shoulder, "One of the guys in my group has been hitting on me pretty regularly."

"What?" James asks around a swallow, voice hoarse. His muscles tense under you, his thumb pausing it's soothing measures on your thigh.

You shrug, "He keeps saying how he'd treat me right, how a 'pretty girl like me' deserves better. It's all bullshit, so I chose to work myself and just send the rest of the group my sections."

"Right."

It's odd, the way your body reacts to a single word as though it were a slap in the face. Your stomach sinks because you realise James isn't angry. He isn't itching to pound the guy's face into the ground and he isn't insisting you allow him to fix the problem, himself. You remove your head from James' shoulder, find him pale faced and distant. He looks lost, nauseous. "Jamie?"

James shrugs, eyes cold, "What?"

"'Right.'? That's all you have to say to that? What's wrong?" You ask, drawing further away the colder the look in James' eyes gets.

"What would you like me to say? That he might be right?" There's a clipped edge to your boyfriend's voice that you've never heard before, that jolts your body into fight or flight mode quicker than you'd care to admit.

You remove yourself from James' lap, confusion evident on your face as you settle to face him on the coffee table. His feet meet the ground with a thud as he moves to stand. Your hand flies out, a firm grip on his knee that begs him not to move. James gives you a sad look as he complies, fidgets with the draw strings on his jogging bottoms. "You think he has a point?" You ask.

James nods, lips pursed, eyes avoiding yours so evidently it angers you.

"Why?"

Your boyfriend shrugs again, tips his head back and lets out a groan, "You know at the end of this year I'm going to be drafted, right? I'm going to have to move across the country, probably, I won't have a choice in the matter and neither will you."

"We've had this argument before, James. I'm going wherever you go. I don't care where it is! It could be fucking Antartica and I'd still go." Your voice sounds less stern than you'd intended, but James softens slightly at your words.

"But you shouldn't have to just pick up your life and move because of me. You deserve someone who can give you stability and all of their time. I can't." James leans forwards until his elbows are resting on his knees, his face so close to yours you can feel his breaths.

It's an age-old argument, one you and James used to have often in the beginning. Before you knew that you wanted James in your life forever, back when he was trying to push you away with everything he had because he didn't want to risk falling in love with you and having to leave you, one day. The argument lessened the longer you were together, decisions made. You'd made up your mind the day James told you he loved you that you'd follow him anywhere, that you'd give up anything and everything to just be with him.

"I don't want anyone else. I don't care where we are in this world, James. I want you. That's all." You reach for him, thumbs swiping under his eyes in steady motions.

He takes a breath, closes his eyes under your touch. "I can't help but feel I'm asking you to sacrifice more than I'm worth."

And that just won't do. You clamber back onto his lap, legs on either side of his hips and chase his eyes. They're dark in the dim light of the living room, a deep brown filled with fear. "You're worth everything, Jamie. Everything." You tell him. And you mean it.

James swallows, nods. His arms wrap around you, pull you to him until he's falling back into the softness of the couch. "I love you." He tells you, vulnerable as you've ever heard him.

Flowers bloom all along the crevices of your rib cage, pull taught until you're so overflowing with love and happiness that all you can think to do is kiss him. He chases your lips when you pull back, a smile toying at the corner of his mouth. "I love you too, Jamie."

"So you're not gonna leave me for that guy in your Psych class?" He asks, a twinkle in his eye that lets you know he's kidding.

You laugh, loud and obnoxious and your boyfriend swallows it with a world-ending kiss.

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

SKZ DRABBLE-OT8

The one where the fire department is called. And Nirvana might not just be a word on a hoodie. or The twenty-sixth installment of the Skz!Pack Prequel series.

Tags: SKZ, Stray Kids, Stay, SKZ!Pack, Pack!prequel, ot8, bang chan, lee minho, seo changbin, hwang hyunjin, lee felix, han jisung, kim seungmin, yang jeongin, skz smut, skz fluff, skz angst, skz imagines, skz reactions, skz scenarios, abo, a/b/o, skz abo, alpha beta omega, femreader, poly!skz

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Light Smut

Title: Emergency Stop

12 Hours Earlier

Chan sighs heavily and leans back in his chair, spinning a few aimless circles as he lets his gaze wander across the tiled ceiling of the student studio. 

He listens to the sound of fingers clicking across keyboards, the quiet hum of equipment, and then announces finally, to no one in particular, just to get it off his chest, “I think she’s avoiding me.” Hongjoong pulls his headphones off his ears, letting them drop down around his neck, as he turns from his current project to stare at Chan in exasperation, one dark brow arched. 

“I think that’s a little dramatic, mate.” 

“Wellllllll-” Changbin hems from the other side of the room, a grimace going across his features, as he swivels in his chair to face them, not quite meeting Chan’s gaze. 

Chan bolts upright, his voice loud with triumph. “Ah ha! I knew it!” 

“Oh my goood.” Hongjoong groans, scrubbing at his face with his hands, before he must decide that they’re not worth the trouble, turning back to his computer and pulling his headphones back up- on both ears this time. 

Changbin’s lips twist to the side in an obvious guilt ridden expression, his dark eyes finally meeting Chan’s. 

Chan feels his stomach drop as he regards his best friend and packmate’s worry. 

“What?” He asks, suddenly breathless, leaning forward in the office chair, his alpha suddenly on high alert. “What did I do? How did I fuck it up? You gotta tell me how to fix it, Bin, it’s fucking with my head.” 

Changbin reaches up to rub at the back of his neck, Chan recognizes the nervous gesture, and clears his throat, his eyes darting around the room, as if trying to focus on anything except the man in front of him. 

“You didn’t do anything, hyung. I swear to god, but I can’t tell you anything else, because (Y/N) will fucking eat me alive.” 

“She is pretty fucking scary.” Hongjoong chimes in once more, glancing over his shoulder at Chan, his fingers paused on the mouse. “Almost in Seonghwa’s league. Almost.” 

Chan glances back to Changbin, who is nodding avidly along in agreement with what the other alpha is saying. 

Chan’s alpha is growling at his mate’s resistance, at the way he’s holding back, even if he knows how to fix this whole mess, but he takes in a deep, steadying breath, and clamps his hands in his lap, willing the angry wolf back down. 

“Bin.” He tries again, glancing back to the other man, his voice steady, calm, imploring. “You gotta tell me something. If I don’t know what’s wrong, I can’t fix it, and I’m going crazy over here.” Changbin’s chest heaves with a sigh, and then he swallows, Chan watches the way his Adam's apple bobs, as he looks up to the ceiling, as if for some form of silent approval. 

Finally, he sighs again, audibly this time, and rakes a hand agitatedly through his dark hair. 

“Fine.” 

Chan feels his entire body tense, waiting on what comes next. 

He can sense a headache starting to pound to life behind his left eye. 

He doesn’t know if it’s because of the current situation, or because he hasn’t really seen you much over the last week, and his alpha is taking direct note of the loss of contact. 

Changbin shakes his head slightly to himself, as if he can’t believe what he’s going to say, going to reveal, and then he grits out, “She’s worried about something she said.” 

Chan’s mind races, going over every tiny interaction the two of you have had in the last week and a half. 

Nothing significant comes to mind. 

“What?” He asks, puzzled, as if Changbin can reveal the clues to him. 

Instead, the other alpha gives a half hearted shrug. 

“I dunno, hyung. She wouldn’t tell me anything besides that. I’m sorry, man.” 

Chan shakes his head, still analyzing every time you’ve spoken, or interacted, since he saw you during Jeongin’s heat. 

Honestly, it wasn’t much, considering you’d been avoiding him at all costs. 

He manages a weak grin, and stands, walking over to pat Changbin on the back. 

“Nah, it’s fine, mate. Thanks for telling me that much. I’ll figure it out.” 

Changbin glances up at him, expression unreadable, and gives a curt nod, already reaching for his headphones again. 

“She feels things really fucking deeply. Deeper than the rest of us. Sometimes she just needs a little space to figure it out. But she cares about you, hyung. A lot. She wouldn’t be this fucking worried if she didn’t.” 

Chan grips his shoulder a little tighter, a silent sign of acknowledgement, and goes back to his own work station. 

He knows Changbin’s right. Knows he speaks from experience. 

So why is his stomach still in knots? 

*******

Fuck. 

Your eyes dart around the small kitchen, helplessly looking for an escape route, before they settle on the two men sitting at the table, staring you down. 

You clear your throat, and try to work up an easy smile. 

“You were talking about me? I’m flattered Min.” 

Minho’s smirk widens, growing sharp and dangerous, as if he knows exactly what you’re trying to do. 

You’re sure he does. 

He pats the chair beside him, in the middle of he and Chan. 

“Have a seat.” 

You can’t think of literally anything worse in this moment, your skin already hot underneath Chan’s stare, your fingers itching at your side, your alpha begging you to please get the fuck out of here already.

You take a step backward, back toward the safety of the hallway. 

“That’s okay, I actually was just leaving to go on a run.” 

Minho’s brow arches a little higher. 

“At eleven PM?” 

There is amusement in his tone, as if he knows he’s caught you in an outright lie. 

You give a little shrug, and take another step toward the door. 

“I do my best running at night. Must be the wolf in me.” 

You don’t dare look at Chan, not when he’s right here, staring at you, expression unreadable. He hasn’t said one word since you entered the room, and you can practically feel your body withering from the shame of his heavy gaze. 

It’s like he can see right through you, and you need to get out of here, right now. 

“Anyway-” You’re halfway into the hallway now, the front door, your shining savior, within sight. You give the men a little wave and another unconvincing, weak smile. “-gotta go. Have fun.” 

You dart for the front door, nearly bowling an emerging Jisung over, sending his popcorn flying. 

“Hey!” He protests with a glare in your direction, but you don’t stop, tugging on your sneakers with record speed, before you barrel out the door of the apartment. 

“Sorry, Jisungie!” You call over your shoulder, because you are, but honestly, in times of crisis-

You can breathe easier out here, in the quiet darkness of the dorm hallway, even though you’re still practically jogging, headed directly for the elevator. 

You’re making a beeline for your dorm a few floors down, and you’re staying locked up in there until Chan decides to leave. 

Well, not leave, because he lives here too, but at least until he decides to go back to his own kitchen and stop talking to Minho about whatever the hell they were discussing. 

You slide through the gap of the doors in the elevator before they’re fully open, and pound the second floor button a few more times than necessary, catching your breath as you wait for the doors to close. 

They’re almost down to a sliver, and you think you’ve gotten away with your hasty escape, when an arm shoots through, bouncing them back open, and Chan steps into view. 

Immediately, the breath you’ve just regained leaves your body, as he joins you in the elevator, the doors hissing shut quietly behind him. 

There’s silence, the space suddenly feeling smaller than normal, as you stare him down warily from your corner. 

“What-” You start to say, in an attempt at least to fill the uncomfortable quiet, but Chan beats you to it.

“Why are you avoiding me?” He demands, dark eyes flashing, as the elevator jolts into motion. 

You brace yourself against the wall, your mouth dropping open at his serious, commanding tone. 

“I’m not avoiding you-” You start to protest weakly, the lie sounding unconvincing to even your own ears. 

“Bullshit” Chan cuts you off once more with a growl, taking a menacing step toward you, and suddenly, you know, you’re not dealing with Christopher Bang any longer, you’re dealing with his alpha.

His irrational, incredibly pissed off and slighted alpha. 

Fuck. 

The elevator feels tiny now, saturated with the scent of thunder, and you swallow hard, your own alpha flattening its ears in response. 

The sound of a ding signals the arrival of the next floor, and before you can make a move to do something, anything, Chan reaches behind him without a glance, and slams his palm down over the emergency stop button. 

The elevator grinds to a sudden halt with an eerie shriek of gears, and then there is silence, all movement ceased. 

Your mouth falls open once more, but you feel your own anger flare to life in the pit of your stomach, rising to meet his. 

“Chan, what the fuck do you think you’re doing-” 

He stalks toward you, and you shrink back into the corner, the cool metal of the hand bar digging into your back. 

“Exactly what I should’ve done when this whole nonsense started.” He growls, caging you in as he puts his hands on either side of your head, fingers digging into the slick, cool brushed metal of the elevator’s walls as he glares down at you. 

You’re choking on the storm now, your heart pounding against the wall of your ribs. 

But you hold your ground regardless, lifting your head as defiance flashes across your gaze, and frost starts to crackle outward from you, freezing the storm. 

“Oh? And what’s that? Emergency stop an elevator in a little temper tantrum?” 

His dark eyes flash, and a muscle ticks in his jaw, but his voice is steady when he responds. 

“If I have to trap you in a room with me to get you to talk over things like an adult, like my mate, then yes.” 

You scoff, looking away from his burning gaze. 

“There’s nothing to talk about.” 

“That’s not what Changbin said.” 

Your head jerks up, your angry gaze meeting his. 

“Fuck Changbin.” 

“I do, and I enjoy it.” Chan fires right back without missing a beat, crowding you into the corner further, his scowl deepening. “But that’s not what we’re here to talk about, is it?” 

“I’m not. Avoiding you.” You grind out through gritted teeth, your jaw clicking with the immense pressure of keeping your rage back. 

It’s a blatant lie, and you both know it. 

Chan’s eyes darken, dripping golden around the pupils now, and when he parts his lips, his teeth flash in what’s almost a snarl, dangerous and threatening. 

You can practically feel his alpha’s teeth poised warningly over your exposed throat. 

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him this angry before. 

“You think-” He begins, and his voice has dropped dangerously, a menacing growl in the back of his throat, a rumble in his chest. “-that even if I was stupid enough not to notice, he wouldn’t?” 

Your lips part, ready to spit something back, but something about his words ring true in the hollow pit of your stomach. 

He’s right. You could avoid him all you wanted, but your alpha, and his, would know. They were the ones who were suffering because of the distance, keening for their mates. 

Fuck, if it was hell for the two of you, it was fucking torture for them. 

Chan’s gaze hasn’t wavered from your own, not once, and when he speaks again, his words are just above a murmur, and you don’t miss the way his breath trembles on his next inhale. 

“I can’t fucking sleep, (Y/N.) I can’t eat, I can’t study, I can’t produce, I can’t do anything, because every single waking moment is spent trying to figure out what I did wrong and how to fix it.” 

You feel guilt drop like a hot pound of lead into the pit of your stomach. 

You lean your head back on the wall behind you, and meet his gaze head on, your voice quiet, but steady, when you reply back, “It wasn’t anything you did.” 

Confusion starts to pool into his expression, easing some of the anger, and you feel your own fury start to melt away like sand with the tide, leaving your body tired and heavy. 

“Then why?” He questions back, gaze boring into your own. 

You sigh, and glance behind him to the still blinking emergency stop button, wondering how much time you have before someone notices the elevator hasn’t moved and calls the fire department to rescue the two of you. 

That’s all you need right now. Better hurry this up. 

“I said something.” You announce without preamble, shifting your gaze to meet his own once more, sudden fear rising like bile in your throat. You force through the feeling, and swallow hard. “The day you asked me for help during Jeongin’s presentation.” Chan watches you closely, silently, and you give a little shrug and half a laugh-it’s awkward, and fleeting, and leaves the space in between you feeling heavier than before. 

“And I wasn’t sure if what I’d said-what I’d admitted-made you feel weird. I was scared I’d messed shit up, and I wanted to give you space to deal, if that was the case.” 

Chan cocks his head-the motion is endearing, like a puppy-and you resist the urge to reach up and push some of the curls back off his forehead with your fingers. 

Confusion is clear on every inch of his features now. 

“What did you-” He starts to ask, and then something clicks behind his expression, his eyes going wide and his jaw going slack. “Oh, you mean the love thing.” “Oh my god.” You groan, covering your face with your hands, already feeling your cheeks heat up. “Do we have to call it that?” 

When you peek back through your fingers, Chan is smiling, his lips pulled crookedly to one side, the gold fading slowly from his gaze. 

“That’s why you were avoiding me? You were worried about that?” 

“Yes!” You shriek,a little bit louder than necessary, and Chan’s grin widens even more. “I mean, that’s a fuck of a thing to announce to someone out of the blue, when they’re already dealing with a ton of shit and I didn’t know how you’d take it.” 

Chan tilts his head, regarding you. “But you’ve already told me you love me. Once before. Remember?” 

You stare at him like he’s just grown another head, and then it clicks. 

“That didn’t count!” You cough out, choking on your own spit, waving your hands wildly as you try to regain your breath. “That was like a post fuck thing, I was feeling sappy,  I just threw it out there to everyone in general, you guys had just saved me and given me the best orgasm of my life and it wasn’t-” “True?” Chan finishes for you, though there’s no hurt on his face, only slight amusement. 

“No!” You protest, growing angry again as you grow more flustered by the second. “It was true, it just wasn’t so-”

“Direct?” Chan tries once again, watching you closely. 

“Yeah.” You finish helplessly, your shoulders slumping. 

Chan gives a little laugh, and slides one of his large hands down the elevator wall to grip your chin in his fingers, raising your embarrassed gaze to his once more. 

His expression softens, the corners of his mouth settling into an affectionate smile, as you struggle a little and try to resist his gaze. 

“Baby. Look at me.” 

You finally do as he says, reluctantly meeting his eyes, and he arches a brow at you. 

The air between you is heavy with ice and storm, but it doesn’t feel so oppressive now. 

In fact, the headache you’ve been battling all week seems to be miraculously gone. 

Chan’s lips twitch, and you huff at him a little, folding your arms across your chest at his obvious amusement in your sheepishness. 

“Listen. If it hasn’t been incredibly fucking clear since the first time I met you that I’m head over heels for you, then I must not be doing enough to prove it to you.” 

Your own lips twitch into the hint of a smile then, and you begrudgingly uncross your arms from your chest. 

“No, you’re doing enough. Trust me. Following me around like a little lost puppy when I openly hated your guts for the first couple of weeks definitely sold it.”

Chan laughs, and the sound sends warmth cascading down your body. 

Your tired muscles feel a little more manageable now. 

 Chan leans in, and rests his forehead against yours. 

You take a moment to breathe him in, and then he murmurs, breath warm on your face, “Now, say it again, but don’t run away this time.” 

You smirk, keeping your eyes closed as you whisper back, “There’s not really anywhere for me to go. You saw to that.” 

He chuckles, breath fanning across your skin, but doesn’t move to pull away. 

You take in a deep breath, and let your hands skim up the warm length of his arms, letting your fingers take him in for a moment, before you breathe out, “I love you, Christopher Bang. Even though I hated your guts, and fucked up a couple of huge things, and you trapped me in an elevator with you-twice, I might add, against my will-I love you, and I don’t think that’s ever not been true.” 

Chan opens his eyes, and you stare into the golden flecks of his irises, before he pulls back, and his lips curve into the start of a smirk. 

“Now, was that so hard?” 

You swing an arm out and hit him lightly in the chest, giving him a fake glare. 

“Say it back.” 

He grins, and leans in, caging you with his forearms once more against the cool metal behind your head, his nose brushing your own. 

“I fucking love you, (Y/N), I always have. Even when you hated my guts. In fact, in retrospect, I think that made me love you even more.” 

You giggle, and Chan covers your mouth with his without warning, swallowing the sound. 

You let your hands trace up his back and into his hair, fingers tangling in his curls, as he flicks his tongue between the seam of your lips and into your waiting mouth. 

The sharp points of his canines graze and tug at your bottom lip, and you moan, breaking the kiss as you let your head fall back to the wall behind you, breathing heavily, as Chan presses kisses down your jaw, the column of your throat, tickling and teasing your skin as he nibbles your collarbone, traces your scent gland with his tongue. 

“They’re gonna send the fire department after us, you know.” You gasp out, gaze flicking beyond him once more to the flashing button on the wall, as he drops to his knees in front of you, fingers finding your hip bones. 

Chan looks up at you, lips red and kiss bitten, a grin stretching the pink skin over white teeth. 

He arches a brow. 

“Lucky for you, baby, they’re not incredibly known for their fast response time, and I’m a fairly quick worker.” 

You reach out a hand to stop him as he reaches for the closure of your pants, and when he looks up at you in confusion, your lips lift into a smirk. 

“What if I told you I wanted to take my time?” 

His lips slowly lift into a wicked grin of his own. 

“I think we can make that happen.” 

********

Your apartment is closer than Chan’s (by one floor, but hey, a floor is a floor), so after apologizing to some severely annoyed alphas who were waiting on the stalled elevator, you push through your front door and Chan doesn’t wait a second before he pounces. 

He backs you against the wall of the hallway, his hands dropping to your waist once more, his mouth already on yours. 

His tongue swipes around the inside of your mouth, and you groan into him. “About that taking our time thing-” 

Chan chuckles huskily, the sound going right to your core, and if you weren’t already incredibly wet before, you sure as hell are now. 

There’s a quiet sound behind the two of you and you freeze, leaning up to glance over Chan’s shoulder, suddenly on full alert. 

“Jeongin?” 

Chan follows your gaze, your mouth open in shock, to the omega standing beside the front door, waving sheepishly to the two of you, his cheeks almost as red as his hair. 

“Hey, noona.” 

You slip out beneath Chan’s arm and approach him, surprise clearly etched across your face. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“I was waiting for you.” Jeongin gives a little shrug, but he won’t meet your eyes, embarrassment clear on his pretty features. “You said later earlier and I thought-” 

Oh. Fuck. 

You let out a sigh, suddenly feeling more than a little remorseful. “Sorry, Innie. I was hanging out at Minho’s and then Chan was there-” 

Jeongin glances down, scuffing his shoe into the worn carpet. “No, it’s fine, noona. I was just gonna sneak out when I heard the two of you, but I should’ve known I had no chance when up against a wolf’s hearing.” 

His hand reaches for the doorknob, and without thinking, you reach out and stop him. 

“Wait-” You swallow, his large, dark eyes flicking to you in surprise. “I mean. You can join us? If you want?” 

Jeongin stares at you, his pupils huge. 

“What?” Chan approaches, his hand going on your shoulder as he addresses Jeongin. “Yeah, Innie. It’s up to you, but we don’t mind-” 

You notice the way Chan reaches up to rub his neck as he speaks, as if he’s just as nervous over this as Jeongin is. 

“Don’t feel any pressure.” You hurry to reassure the omega standing in front of you. “I know you don’t have much experience, and one alpha on a good day is a lot, so if this is too overwhelming-”

Jeongin bites his lip and glances between the two of you. Finally, he says hesitantly, voice barely above a whisper, “I think I’d like that. But-” He takes in a nervous breath. “Can I just watch for a little bit first? Would that be okay?” 

You smirk. “Oh, so you’re one of those?” 

Jeongin instantly flushes, and you rush to reassure him you were only teasing, looping an arm around his shoulders as you lead him back toward your room, Chan following on your heels. 

“I’m just kidding, baby. There’s nothing wrong with a little voyeurism. Minho loves to watch.” 

“He also loves to boss.” Chan says with a slight smirk, as he steps ahead of you and pushes open the closed door, allowing you both to pass first into the room. 

“That he does.” You laugh a little, and then turn to Jeongin. “Okay, pup. Pick your poison.”

Jeongin glances around, clearly still a little shy given the circumstances, and then he settles into the desk chair in the corner of your room, opposite the bed. He pulls his knees up to his chest and nods. “Okay. Just pretend I’m not here.”

Chan has come to stand against your back, tickling his fingers up and down your spine, brushing his nose across the juncture of your throat, and at Jeongin’s words, he groans, and you feel him press into you from behind. He’s still clearly worked up from before, the momentary pause hasn’t even phased him. 

“That’s gonna be pretty hard to do when you smell so fucking good, pup.” 

Jeongin looks wide eyed at Chan’s throaty admission, and leans over to not so subtly sniff his own shirt. “I don’t smell anything crazy.” 

Chan growls in his throat, and you smirk, reaching back to palm him through his jeans. He bucks his hips up into your hand, his fingers digging into your shoulders. 

“That’s because you’re used to how you smell, but you’re kinda blooming, Innie. It means your omega has sensed the presence of alphas-pack alphas-and is desperately trying to get our attention.” 

“Oh.” Jeongin murmurs, looking suddenly small. “I’m sorry, I can leave-” He makes a move to get up. 

“Sit down.” You command, and his pupils dilate at the sound of your timber, but he does as he’s told. You soften your tone a little. “You’re fine, Innie. You’re not going to distract from anything. If anything, your scent is going to make this all the more enjoyable.” 

Chan’s teeth graze over your scent gland, and you glance back at him, arching your brow. “Eager, are we?” 

Chan growls again, the sound a low rumble against your back, and snakes his hand around your waist, letting his fingers find the inside of your thighs. He applies pressure with the palm of his hand, and you arch your back in response, letting out a quick hitch of breath. 

“Very.” He replies, licking a stripe up the side of your neck with his tongue, tasting you. 

You turn to face him, your eyes flashing gold to match his own, but before you fully lose yourself in him, you glance once more at the omega over your shoulder, saying in a soft, serious tone, “Innie, if you want us to stop at any point, say something, and we will. Without hesitation.” 

He nods. “Yes, noona.” His eyes are wide, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips as he watches Chan pull you toward the bed. 

“Sit down.” Chan orders you, much like you had commanded Jeongin earlier, and you do so, but not without a slight smirk in his direction. 

“I’m not going to make this easy.” You warn, settling onto the edge of the bed, your expression wicked. 

Chan knocks apart your knees and stands between your legs, a look of annoyance on his features. One hand tangles into your hair and he yanks your head back, forcing you to look at him, as the other hand comes to loosely wrap around the front of your throat. 

You feel your pulse quicken under his hold.

“Don’t play that game, pet. Not right now. You already made me wait far too fucking long already.” Chan lifts his lips into the hint of a snarl, and the flash of his sharp canines has your inner thighs slick with want. 

He slides his hand slowly up the column of your throat, finally letting his fingers find purchase beneath your chin, tilting your head back even further. 

“But you know that already, don’t you?” He murmurs, staring down at you with something akin to a hungry predator in his dark gaze. 

You swallow beneath the hold he has on your throat, and arch a brow pettily in response. “Care to remind me?” 

Chan’s lips curl, and another animalistic growl slips through the barrier of his teeth. 

You hear Jeongin let out a sharp exhale from the corner, but you don’t look over.

Your entire body is electrified, waiting for Chan’s next move. 

“I could remind you who you belong to-” Chan muses, eyes flashing golden as he stares at you. “-but I don’t think that’s necessary, do you?” 

He leans down, and without warning, slips a hand down underneath the band of your pants. 

His fingers immediately touch your heat, and just by the look of satisfaction that flickers across his features, you can tell he feels just how wet you are already. 

He pulls back, and holds up his slick, glistening fingers for you to see with a cock of his head. 

“I think you already know.” He repeats in a low tone, advancing toward you now, backing you onto the bed, until he’s straddling you, leaning over your prone form. “Don’t you?” 

“Yes.” You breathe out, tired of playing already, tired of staying away from him. 

“Yes what?” He prods, lips curling up into the hint of a dangerous smirk, as he moves to strip you of your clothes. 

“Yes, daddy.” 

Chan freezes, his pupils blowing at the nickname, and a muscle in his jaw ticks, as if he’s silently fighting himself for control, his hands curling into fists beside you on the bed. 

You openly smirk up at him. “Oh, I knew you’d like that one. You know, given your certain proclivities.” 

His irises are completely drowning in gold now, his lips parted slightly as he stares down at you, his breath coming in harsh pants, his chest heaving. 

Still smirking, you roll your head to the side and find Jeongin in your line of sight, arching a brow in the omega’s direction. 

“Did you catch that, Innie? When he was fucking you through your presentation?” Your voice is smooth like butter, dripping with taunting. You’re playing with the alpha on top of you now, and you all know it. 

Jeongin stares at you, his stare moving slowly to Chan and then back again. “Catch what, noona?” His voice is hoarse, like he’s been holding his breath. 

You shift so you’re staring back up at Chan, looming over you, and your lips tick upward into a dangerous expression meant to goad. 

“Our Channie here has a little obsession-a fantasy, if you will-with breeding. He probably went easy on you the first time he knotted you, because you’re inexperienced, but he just loves to fill you up when he fucks you, loves the idea of stretching you with his seed and then his pups, hm, Channie?” 

A low growl rolls from Chan’s chest, and you hear Jeongin’s breath catch. 

The smell of cinnamon is overpowering. 

Chan pins your hands above your head in one smooth, quick motion, and leans over to bite down-hard-on your scent gland in the curvature of your shoulder. 

Not hard enough to mark or draw blood, but damn near close. 

Your body goes limp beneath him, your mind going blank, your jaw slack, and suddenly, any of the teasing from before is long gone, and the only thought is-alpha, alpha, alpha. 

He pulls back, licking his lips with a wicked smirk, and fuck it, he knows he’s won already. 

“I should punish you for teasing me, pet, but lucky for you, I’m far to eager to feel you squeezing every last drop out of me to make myself wait any longer.”

And without warning, he leans over and sinks his teeth into your muscle once again, sheathing himself fully inside of you in the same frantic motion. 

You cry out, the sensations hitting you all at once, and arch your body up into his hold. 

He hadn’t prepped you, but honestly, you were wet enough that he slid in without much resistance, and the friction was honestly close to pushing you over the edge already. 

Chan growls, the sound sending goosebumps over your skin, muffled by his hold on your shoulder, and thrusts wildly a few times, like an animal gone mad with desire. 

You let him, your fingers scrabbling at his skin, and letting your head roll to the side to give him more access to your neck, you catch sight of Jeongin, watching the two of you with something clearly hot, but tentative, on his features. 

Reaching a hand out, you splay it across Chan’s bare chest, stopping his movements, and he releases his teeth’s hold on you, as you say quietly to get his attention, “Chan.” 

He’s panting, but he stills, and the feeling of him filling you without moving is enough to drive you crazy, but you keep your focus on Jeongin as you hold out your free hand. 

“Done watching, Innie? Wanna join in?” 

The omega swallows, you see the way his throat bobs, and then he stands, looking suddenly nervous, but you can tell he’s intrigued and more than a little hot and bothered at this point if the tent in his pants is any indication. 

He approaches the bed, and swallows again. 

“You don’t have to.” You say softly, taking his hand in yours and rubbing his fingers. “I know this can be overwhelming, but if you want to-” 

He nods, glancing down at you, his eyes trailing down the length of Chan’s body atop yours, before he meets your gaze once more with a look of determination. 

“No, I want to.” 

“Good boy.” You praise, before you tug him forward and onto the bed beside you and Chan. You jerk your head at his clothes. “Take those off.” 

He does so quickly, and then sits back down beside the two of you once more, looking unsure. “Now what?” 

You give him an encouraging smile. “Now, you’re gonna kneel above me and slide yourself into my mouth.” You open your lips and lean your head back to show him, careful not to jostle Chan. 

Jeongin’s eyes go wide. “What? But what if I hurt you-?” 

A raspy chuckle leaves Chan’s lips, and he gives the omega a soft look. “You’re not gonna hurt her, pup. I promise.”

“You’re not.” You reiterate, as Jeongin finally takes a breath and moves to kneel above your head. You glance up at him, as you wrap your hands around the back of his thighs. “And besides, now is as good a time as any to talk about safe words and safety gestures. I won’t be able to talk, obviously, but if I need you to stop at any time, I’ll tap you twice, like this, okay?”

 I tap the back of his thigh with two fingers hard, twice. 

Jeongin nods, staring down at my head between his knees. “Okay.” 

“Okay.” You repeat back, parting your lips once more. “Whenever you’re ready.” Jeongin hesitates briefly, glancing to Chan, who gives him a little nod, and then he leans forward and places the tip of himself into your mouth. 

You adjust slightly to allow easier access as he slowly slides between your lips. 

You see the way his body tenses as he feels your tongue on him, but he still gives you a worried sort of glance. “Okay?” 

You nod slightly, and hum a sound of affirmation, before you let yourself suck, creating suction with your tongue. 

Jeongin instantly groans, his head falling back and his hands scrabbling to tangle in your hair. 

Chan takes that as his cue to move again as well, and he resumes his thrusting from before, his hips moving more rhythmically now. 

You feel Jeongin hit the back of your throat, and oh god, he tastes just like he smells, and fuck, with Chan moving like that-

You can feel the muscles in your body tensing, readying for release, as you keep working Jeongin with your mouth and Chan shunts your body over and over with his. 

“Fuck, noona, I-” Jeongin starts to say, and then he’s shuddering, and you feel him release, tasting the sweetness on your tongue. 

“Fuck.” Chan swears, watching Jeongin come for you, and then he leans forward, his sweaty skin sticking to yours as he rests his forehead on your chest, fingers digging into your wrists, and roars through his own release. 

Everything whites out for a moment as your own body uncoils, and you have to remind yourself to breathe, as Jeongin slowly pulls himself from your mouth and Chan lies on top of you, catching his breath. 

“Fuck.” Jeongin repeats, staring down at you, his eyes full of awe. “Fuck.” 

You give a weak little laugh and reach out to brush Chan’s sweaty hair back from his forehead. He glances up at you, his chin on your chest, and releases his hold on your wrists, one of his hands moving to your jaw and pinching your mouth open so he can look inside. 

A small smirk quirks the corner of his mouth as he says hoarsely, “A shame to waste all that perfectly good come on your mouth, baby.” You grin down at him, wincing slightly as he pulls himself out of you with a long, low groan. 

He flops down beside you on the bed, covering his face with his arm as his chest still heaves. 

On your other side, Jeongin collapses down as well, his hand finding yours, even though his eyes are closed. 

After a few moments of silence, Chan pushes himself up with effort, and scoots to the edge of the bed. He waves a finger between you and Jeongin’s prone forms. 

“Don’t move. I’ll be right back.” 

You give a sound of assent, but don’t open your eyes. 

Soon though, you hear the sound of his footsteps padding back, and he nudges you with his hand. 

“Drink this, baby.” You crack open your eyes, and take the bottle of water he offers you, passing the other one to Jeongin, who guzzles it down immediately. 

Chan slides back onto the bed between your legs, and begins to wipe down the sticky skin of the inside of your thighs with the warm rag, cleaning up all the residual juices that were left behind. 

You relax into his gentle motions, and when he’s finished, he turns to Jeongin, arching a brow at the younger boy. 

“Can I?” He asks, and Jeongin hesitates, before he nods slightly, spreading his legs for Chan to clean him up as well. 

You watch them-how gentle Chan is, how trusting Jeongin is-and you feel warm from head to toe. 

Warm and content. 

When he’s finished with Jeongin, you finally sit up and reach for the rag, motioning for Chan to lay back on the bed. 

“Okay, now you.” 

He opens his mouth, as if to protest, but Jeongin pushes him down gently with a hand to his chest and a small smile. 

“C’mon, hyung. It’s only fair.” 

Chan rolls his eyes, but lets you wash him over with the warm rag anyway, and you can tell, by the slight hint of pink on his cheeks, that he enjoys the tender touches just as much as you do. 

When everyone is cleaned up, you motion for Jeongin to snuggle down between the two of you, your arm looped comfortably across him, your fingers making nonsensical patterns on the warm, bare skin of Chan’s chest. 

Leaning over to press a kiss to the tip of Jeongin’s nose, you say softly, “I love you.” Jeongin glances up at you with large eyes, and his lips curve into a smile. 

“I love you too, noona. And you, hyung.” 

You grin and press another kiss to the top of his soft, red hair, before he glance across to Chan, who is watching you affectionately, a small smile on his lips. 

He arches a brow at you and whispers over the top of Jeongin’s head, “I’m proud of you. You’re getting better.” 

You grin back at him, and reach up with your free hand to cup his jaw, before you squish Jeongin between you as you lean forward to press a kiss to his lips. 

“I love you, Bang Chan.” 

He tugs you forward for another kiss, and Jeongin whines slightly at being squished. 

“I love you too.” ********************************

“So, I’m guessing the two of you made up?” Changbin remarks offhandedly, leaning against the desk as he eyes you with an arch of his brow and a smirk on his lips. 

You give a little shrug, sifting through Chan’s papers to find the one you’re looking for. “I guess. How can you tell?” You stop, glancing back at him with a narrowing of your eyes. 

Changbin grins, his eyes dropping pointedly to the large black hoodie you wear. “That’s his favorite hoodie.” 

You hold out the heavy fabric so you can see the Nirvana logo printed across the front of it, staring at it skeptically. “Really? This old thing? I just stole this the last time we went over to his dorm after hide and seek.” 

Changbin laughs and shakes his head, leaning around you now to pluck up a piece of paper and present it to you. 

It’s the one you’ve been looking for. 

You snatch it from him with a teasing glare. 

“Really.” He nods, tugging at the hood of the hoodie teasingly. “This fucking thing is his favorite fucking thing on the whole planet, so the fact that he let you take it and wear it-” He shakes his head in slight disbelief, and smirks down at you. “-well maybe that just means that he has a new favorite fucking thing on the whole planet.” 

You grin at that. 

“I kind of like the sound of that.” Changbin grins back and tackles you onto the futon in the corner of the studio, tickling you as you shriek and struggle to get away from him.

“I knew you would.” 

[smileysuh]

Sunday Sinner

🌙 staring. Mark & Donghyuck x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “Everything is wrong,” Mark sighs. “Doing this with you two is wrong. Wanting you this badly is wrong. Getting hard in Church is wrong. What I want to do to you is wrong. But… as crazy as it sounds, it also feels right.”

tw/cw. threesomes, inexperienced!Mark, fingering, blow jobs, deep throating, pussy eating, spit roasting, voyeurism, lots of masturbation (especially in the shower), Hyuck has a dirty mouth, sin sin sin, unprotected sex, creampies, cum play, kink for being 'full', religious contention, Mark gets hard during Sunday Service, Mark getting outed as low key virgin, proposition, Mark uses a cross necklace in sinful ways, praise, slight degradation, inklings of corruption kink, squirting, etc… I pet names: (hers) angel. (Mark's) church boy.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 12.6k

🍭 aus.frat/uni au, soccer player au, church/inexperienced!Mark, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. I've wanted to do a fic about Mark being Christain for a while, but I wanted to make one that was still respectful. This idea popped into my head, and I think it turned out really well :) it's only slight blasphemy.

There’s nothing like a frat party after a big win for the university soccer team. Even though Mark doesn’t really drink, and he’s never smoked a joint in his entire life, it’s nice to be surrounded by happy energy. 

His team always laughs at him when he notes how celebrations can feel almost church-like, but the indescribable buzz that fills the entire frat is familiar to the man who’s been going to Sunday Services his entire life. 

Mark likes seeing familiar faces, and if he hadn’t been raised in a very big family type of system, he’s not so sure he’d be this okay with crowds, or the number of people who reach out to pat him on the shoulder and shake his hand in congratulations for scoring the winning goal.

It had been a great game, and when Mark’s ball had sunk into the top left corner of the net, he’d run to the side lines to fall to his knees and make the sign of the cross, grabbing at the religious pendant around his neck to kiss it. People have always made fun of him for this tradition of his, but nothing will ever stop him from thanking God - his God - for the fortune life has brought him.

Even now, the necklace is securely around his throat, the cross resting just below his shirt. The cool metal brushes by his skin when he moves through the frat house, a constant reminder of his faith. 

Something is drawing him outside, and Mark has always been someone who leans into the feelings he can’t put his finger on. It’s something like divine guidance, and Mark exits the frat to step onto the back patio, where his friends are in a circle around a fire. 

It smells like weed, something Mark hadn’t liked at first, but it’s now a scent he’s used to, and he heads over to stand next to his roommate. 

Lee Donghyuck and Mark have been friends since high school, where a few ‘less woke’ teachers had assumed - because of their shared last name - that two were cousins, or something of the sort. They’d always been put in group projects together. At first, Hyuck had been too much for Mark to handle, but over the years, he’s come to like the chaotic energy of his closest friend, despite all their differences, mainly, their disagreements on religion.

“Look what the cat dragged in!” Hyuck bellows, throwing his arm around Mark to pull him tight to his hoodie covered side, which reeks of marijuana. 

“Church boy Mark!” Yuta grins from across the circle, raising his beer in a mock toast to the man who had won them their soccer game. 

“Can he even be here?” a bitchy foreign exchange student from Thailand asks, earning a shove from Mark’s frat ‘big’ Johnny.

“Of course he can be here,” the man from Chicago laughs.

“I just mean-” Ten is quick to correct himself, “we’re playing Never Have I Ever. Are we sure this is suitable for him?”

“Mark plays games,” Hyuck insists, but Mark’s not so sure about this one. 

“He doesn’t even have a drink,” Ten notes, looking Mark up and down.

“Someone get him something,” Hyuck says, snapping his fingers at one of their pledges. “One of the iced tea mixes, the low percent ones-”

“Hyuck-” Mark sighs.

“Trust me,” Hyuck assures him, “you hardly do anything with your life, it’s not like you’ll have to drink that much.”

Mark still doesn’t feel too enthused about joining the game, but he supposes his heart led him out here for one reason or another, so he accepts the hard iced tea can Jisung hands him. His eyes immediately scan it for the alcohol content, and he sighs. “This is the same as beer.”

“Come on, church boy,” Hyuck groans. “You’ll only have like three sips, max. Watch-” without waiting for Mark to agree, Hyuck is addressing the circle again. “Never have I ever sucked cock.” 

The girls in the vicinity all make sounds of annoyance, raising their drinks to their lips. In the periphery, Yuta also sips his beer, and after a moment and a groan, so does Ten. 

“See!?” Hyuck squeezes Mark’s shoulder. “You’re already zero for one.”

“That was a low blow, Hyuck,” your voice draws Mark’s attention. You’re standing on the other side of his best friend, which shouldn’t be that big of a surprise, seeing as you’re Hyuck’s fuck buddy. 

Mark takes a moment to assess you while Hyuck rolls his eyes and defends himself. The church goer has always thought you were pretty, and you’re smart too, much too smart for the crazy gemini he has as a roommate. 

“Two can play that game,” you warn, raising your voice to announce, “Never have I ever eaten pussy.”

Mark’s skin prickles, panic washing over him as every man around the fire - and even a few girls - drink. The church boy can feel his grip on his can shaking slightly, and for a brief moment he considers having a swig of the hard iced tea just to protect himself, but, well… it would be a lie. And if there’s one thing Mark Lee doesn’t do, it’s lie. 

Mark can feel eyes on him as he downcasts his gaze to the ground. His skin is heating with embarrassment, and he just prays to God no one makes a big deal out of this-

“You’ve never eaten pussy?” Jeno yells, and Mark just knows the question is directed at him. 

He looks up, lips parting at the shock of being put on the spot. 

“Wait, you guys haven’t heard the church camp story?” Hyuck asks, and now Mark’s really panicking. But it’s too late to stop his loose lipped roomie, who is already diving into Mark’s past for the whole circle to hear. “This one time, he fucked a girl at church camp, and a Jesus picture fell off the wall, so he hasn’t even touched a girl since then.” 

A few people laugh, and while Mark can understand that - objectively - they’re not laughing at him, but at the story, he can’t help but get defensive.

“It fell off the wall, Hyuck,” Mark insists, voice shaking. “How else do you explain that?”

“I’ve always thought you were just banging that girl too hard,” Hyuck suggests, earning a few sounds of agreement from other frat boys. 

But Hyuck wasn’t there when it had happened, and Mark knows for a fact there was no true bed rocking going on. He’d been taking things slow, and the only possible explanation for the picture falling - in his mind at least - is that he’d disappointed God. 

He’d done a hundred Hail Mary’s as repentance, and now that his secret has been put out where everyone can hear, he thinks maybe he should do fifty more for good measure.

“I’ve gotta go,” Mark mumbles, handing Hyuck his drink.

Mark’s roommate tries to stop him from scurrying away, but the damage has been done, and the man who scored the winning goal at the soccer game rushes back into the frat house with red ears that betray his shame.

“You can’t still be mad at me,” Hyuck whines, chasing after you as you exit the frat bathroom.

“Why do you assume I’m mad at you?”

“Because I followed you to the toilet and you didn’t wanna smash?” Your fuck buddy manages to pin you to the wall, hands on either side of your head while he looks at you with serious eyes, a contrast to the sentence that’s just come out of his mouth.

“Sometimes a girl’s just gotta pee, Hyuck,” you laugh.

“Don’t play games, angel,” he insists. “You’re mad about the Mark thing.”

“So you admit I have something to be mad about.”

Hyuck lets out a sigh. “Fine, yes.” He pulls away from you, throwing up a hand in defeat. “I shouldn’t have told everyone his stupid Jesus picture story. There, I said I’m sorry, are you happy now?”

“You said what?”

He groans, and in one motion, he’s pinning you to the wall again, his lips just millimeters away from yours. When he speaks, his voice is low, and his eyes drill into your own, “I’m sorry.”

After a moment, you say softly, “I don’t think I’m the one you should be apologizing to.”

“You want me to apologize to Mark?!” 

“Among other things.”

Hyuck pulls away, looking you up and down. “You better not be suggesting what I think your horny ass is suggesting.”

“I don’t know,” you smirk. “What do you think I’m thinking?”

“It looks like you’re thinking about going upstairs to offer Mark help with getting over his Jesus sex fear.”

“And that would upset you?” You cock your head to the side, assessing your fuck buddy.

“Angel,” he groans, “you’re mine.” 

“Am I though?” you counter. “Am I really?”

When you’d started sleeping with Hyuck, he’d made it clear that he’s not the kind of guy who likes to be tied down to one person. While he can be somewhat possessive, part of your arrangement is that you can both do what you want, and right now, you’re seriously considering fucking the sweet church boy you’ve had a slight infatuation with since year one.

“Fuck the fact that you’re not my girlfriend,” Hyuck says finally. “There are bigger reasons you shouldn’t do this.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“Well for one,” your fuck buddy leans in, his lips ghosting by your ear as he whispers, “Mark has a massive crush on you.”

For some reason, you find yourself laughing. Leave it to Hyuck to spill two of Mark’s biggest secrets in the span of one hour. 

“If Mark has a crush on me, then I have to do this. You can either join us, or go cry about it.”

Hyuck sighs. “For an angel, you can be a bit of a fucking demon sometimes.”

“And you love it.” 

You and Hyuck are standing outside his bedroom. The door is locked when you try to open it, and Hyuck watches you let out a deep sigh before knocking. “Mark? You in there?”

“Of course he’s in there,” Hyuck whispers, rolling his eyes.

“Shh! Be nice!” you chastise him, playfully smacking his arm. Your voice is soft when you call out again, knocking gently a few more times. “Mark? Please let me in.”

The music from downstairs is too loud for Hyuck to hear movement in his room, but after a few moments, the door opens and Mark peers out.

“Oh, it’s both of you.”

“Don’t sound so disappointed, Mark,” Hyuck nearly laughs, placing his palm on the wood so he can force it open before his friend tries to shut the door again. “I live here too, you know.”

“How could I forget,” Mark sighs, heading over to flop onto his bed.

You and Hyuck enter the room, and he clicks the lock back into place behind him. He watches you approach his friend, sitting on the foot of the mattress. 

When you reach out, ghosting your hand over Mark’s shin, Hyuck leans back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. He wouldn’t define himself as a jealous type of guy, but watching you be gentle with Mark is definitely bringing up some suppressed emotions, and Hyuck’s not sure what to make of it.

“Mark,” you stroke his leg. “Hyuck has something to say to you.”

“Huh?!” Hyuck’s eyes widen, and he looks between you and his roommate. 

You’re going to make him proposition his friend for you? 

“Yeah, didn’t you tell me you wanted to apologize?” There’s a warning tone in your voice, and when you look over your shoulder at Hyuck, you give him an expression filled with expectation.

“Right,” Hyuck coughs. “I uh… I’m sorry for what happened at the fire.”

He can tell by your small eye roll that you’re not fully satisfied with his apology, but Mark doesn’t seem to mind. The church boy sighs, running a hand over his face. “It’s okay,” he mumbles.

“It’s not okay,” you insist, turning your gaze back to Mark. “I’m also sorry for saying never have I ever eaten pussy. I was trying to attack Hyuck and make him drink, but you got caught in the crossfire.” 

“You didn’t mean to, though,” Mark says. “I shouldn’t have joined the game. This is a lesson for me, I guess.”

“Aw, Mark,” Hyuck can’t see your face, but he knows you’re frowning. “We wanted you to join the game. We like it when you do things with us.” 

It’s interesting for Hyuck to hear you saying the royal ‘we,’ as if you’re a couple, a unit. 

“I’m sure the incident with the Jesus picture was very traumatizing for you,” you continue, sounding as genuine as ever while your hand continues to smooth up and down Mark’s leg. “I can understand why you’d be… apprehensive about doing anything sexual after that.”

Mark groans, covering his face with his hands. Hyuck can’t help but smile when he sees his friend’s ears flaring red with embarrassment, it’s always so easy to get the church boy riled up.

“I just want you to know…” you shift a little where you’re seated, moving closer to Hyuck’s roommate, “this is a safe space. If you ever wanted to… try something like that again, there aren’t any Jesus pictures here to knock down.”

“What?” Mark’s lips part with shock, and he looks between you and Hyuck. “Are you two…”

“Propositioning you?” Hyuck suggests. “Yeah, she is.” 

“I’m not-” Mark swallows thickly. “I don’t want your pity.”

“It’s not pity,” you assure him. 

“She wants to fuck you, Mark,” Hyuck says, trying to be helpful. “It will be good for you.”

“Good for me?” Mark squeaks.

“You’re a frat boy who’s practically a virgin, dude,” Hyuck nearly laughs. “You’ve gotta dip your dick in the sinful water sometime. What’s life without eating a little pussy?”

“Oh my god,” Mark groans, covering his face with his hands. 

“It’s not that bad, Jesus won’t mind, you don’t even have to put your dick in her!” Hyuck can’t believe he’s the one backing this now, but he also can’t really believe his roommate is a near-virgin. 

“This can’t be happening-” Mark is still hiding his face, his ears as scarlet as ever.

“Listen, “ Hyuck sighs, “we usually fuck while you’re at church on Sundays. But if you wanted, we could wait a little and let you join after your service tomorrow.”

Mark’s eyes widen. “After my service? Are you two crazy?” 

“You don’t have to decide right now,” you assure him. “I’m sure this is a lot to take in, especially after the day you had. I don’t think I’ve congratulated you on your goal in the game today yet-”

Hyuck scoffs at how you could be bringing that up right now.

“Just think about it,” you continue, giving Mark’s thigh a gentle squeeze. “I’m going to go home now, but, tomorrow, if you want to try eating pussy, Hyuck and I will be here.”

Hyuck wonders what would happen if it was just you propositioning Mark. If he’d be more willing to agree. It’s definitely an added level of sin to have Hyuck in the room while Mark rips his virgin bandaid off, but it’s not like Hyuck’s going to leave Mark alone with you.

You’re his angel, even if you’re looking to save Mark.

Mark can’t pay attention to the sermon. His palms are sweaty, no matter how many times he rubs them against his pants. He feels like - at any moment - a big Jesus statue could just fall over and everyone in the church would turn to him, knowing he was the cause due to his sinful thoughts.

What makes it worse, is the way he can feel blood rushing to his cock. He’s half hard at the Sunday service, and he’s never felt like a worse Christain. 

This experience definitely trumps the losing of his virginity, if that’s even possible, and he hasn’t even done anything with you yet.

But in the dark, back corners of his mind, Mark knows that will change. He knows he won’t be able to resist you, you’re just too tempting. He doesn’t have that kind of control over himself, no matter how much he wishes he did.

When the service is over, Mark stands on shaky legs, grabbing a Bible to hold in front of his crotch while he exits the place of worship to head back to the frat. 

The fresh air does little to calm his nerves. If anything, the closer he gets to his home, the more sinful he feels. He knows each step is one step closer to you, one step closer to religious paraphenia being miraculously moved by the hand of God- 

Yet, he can’t stop. He can’t even alter his course, and when he reaches the frat, he doesn’t say one word to the boys kicking around in the kitchen, he heads straight up to his room. 

When he gets to his door, Mark pauses. His hands are shaky as he reaches for the knob, and for a second, he wonders if he should knock. Taking a deep breath, Mark decides to ignore his manners, pushing into the room.

He’s almost relieved to find you and Hyuck sitting in his bed, fully clothed, watching something on Netflix. 

“Hiya, Mark,” Hyuck waves, as if their relationship isn’t about to be completely altered.

“How was Sunday service?” you ask.

“How was it?” Mark shuts the door behind himself, giving his head a little shake as he hurries over to the closet to discard his jacket. “You know, good.”

“Why are you carrying a Bible?” Hyuck asks, looking him up and down. “Did you steal that from your church?”

Panic shoots through Mark. He had most definitely accidentally stolen it from his church, wihtout giving it a second thought. His mind had been so focused on you and covering his boner- 

“I can give it back,” Mark insists, palms sweating again as he places the book gently on top of his backpack. 

“You look spooked, dude. Did some pastor try to touch you?” 

“Hyuck!” you practically scream, slapping your hand over your fuck buddy’s mouth. “You can’t say things like that!”

Hyuck mumbles something against your hand that sounds like ‘historically accurate,’ and Mark wants to strangle him. 

“You want to know why I look stressed?” Mark sighs. “Because you two are sinners who propositioned me last night!”

Hyuck moves your hand from his mouth, smirking. “Come on, Mark, be sinners with us!”

“This is not helping,” you whisper to your fuck buddy, gently pushing his shoulder before you stand from the bed, approaching Mark with an empathetic expression. “I’m sorry about last night, we shouldn’t have pushed that on you.”

“It’s okay,” Mark shakes his head, refusing to meet your gaze.

“It’s not, we’re horrible, dirty, sinful people,” you reach out, linking your pinkie with Mark’s. It’s a small gesture, but it speaks volumes. “Forget we ever said anything.”

“I can’t forget,” Mark states, finally looking at you. He licks his lips, thinking of something else to say, but all that comes out is “I can’t forget,” and it’s the truth. 

You open your mouth, and Mark hangs on what your next words will be-

Hyuck interrupts the moment. “So are you gonna eat pussy or what?”

“Hyuck!” you yell, turning to flash a warning glare at the man who’s giggling to himself on his bed. 

Mark doesn’t even want to focus on his friend right now. Instead, he reaches out, taking your other hand gently. He gazes down at your fingers, too scared to look at your face. 

“I think…” Mark swallows the lump in his throat. “I think we should do this.”

“Really?” you ask while Hyuck lets out a loud “What?!”

“You’re both right… maybe it will be good for me.” Mark can’t believe the words coming out of his own mouth. “But- I’m not sure what I’m even ready for.”

“We can go slow,” you assure him, squeezing his hand. “Anything you’re comfortable with.”

Mark looks up at you. “Can I… can I kiss you?”

Hyuck scoffs loudly, but it’s an afterthought in Mark’s mind when you nod, reaching up to cup his face. “You can kiss me,” you tell him softly. 

Mark’s free hand reaches out to grab your waist, and he moves closer. He can feel your breath on his face. He’s never been this up close and personal with you, and you’ve never been prettier. There’s a softness in your expression, an acceptance, and it makes Mark feel confident enough to press his lips to yours.

It’s a gentle kiss - a perfect kiss - and Mark can feel the tension releasing in his shoulders. 

You step even closer, and your breasts press against his chest, your arms wrapping around the back of his neck. Your tongue smooths over his bottom lip and Mark stifles a groan, opening his mouth just enough for his own tongue to meet yours. 

He can count the number of girls he’s kissed during his life on one hand, including you, but none of them have happened like this. Mark had never imagined he’d end up in this situation before, and despite the calming effect you have on him, he still finds himself pulling away and struggling to catch his breath.

“I want to touch you,” he admits, in fact, he’s been thinking about it all day. 

“Yeah?” There’s a sparkle in your eye and you smile at him. “Where?”

Mark can’t bring himself to say it.

You gently take his hand, bringing it to your throat. “Here?” you ask, and Mark traces his thumb over your jugular, surprised to find your heart is racing just as fast as his own. “Or…” you move his hand down, his palm cupping at your breast, “Here?” 

Mark lets out a low groan at the feeling of you. He’s touched even less boobs than he’s kissed girls in his life, and yours are absolutely perfect in his hand. 

“Mark,” you whimper, and he brushes his fingers over your pebbled nipple, peaking through your shirt. He can feel his cock throbbing in his pants, and he shifts uncomfortably. 

“Or maybe…” you move his hand lower, dragging it across your stomach until it reaches your pussy through your sweatpants, “were you thinking of touching me here?” 

He nods, still unable to speak as you guide him to apply more pressure to your core. You feel so warm, and a sinful voice in the back of his mind tells him you’re probably wet too. Or at least, he hopes you’re wet, hopes he has the same effect on you that you have on him.

You let out a soft moan, and it’s like music to his ears. You grind down slightly on his hand, wiggling your hips in a motion that’s hypnotizing. “Do you want to…” you bite at your lip, toying with the waistband of your sweats. “Do you want to put your hand inside?”

“God, yes,” Mark groans, finally finding his voice.

You pull the waistband away from your skin, giving Mark access to slip his hand below it. Then your lips find his again, your arms wrapping around his shoulders while he teases his fingers along your panty clad core.

You’re as wet as he’d hoped you would be, and Mark moans at the realization. 

He’s only watched porn a handful of times in his life, and always felt bad about it after, but he knows where the clit is, and he gently circles his fingers around the spot.

You gasp into his mouth, and Mark eats up the sound, applying more pressure.

“Fuck, Mark, just like that-” you tell him, threading your fingers through his hair as you deepen the kiss.

You rut your hips, grinding down on his hand, and it drives Mark wild. He wants to touch you, really touch you, without any fabric in the way, and when he opens his mouth to ask, “Can I-” you’re agreeing without even hearing the end of the sentence.

He takes a breath, and then he moves your panties to the side. 

The first swipe of his fingers through your pussy lips feels like nothing he’s ever felt before, and the wetness he collects against his skin makes his cock throb again.

He teases your opening, earning more gasps from you as your lips move to his neck. When your mouth makes contact on a spot just below his ear, a shiver runs through Mark’s entire body. He’s heard about sweet spots, but no one has ever kissed his, and the feeling has his eyes closing with pleasure.

Without a second though, Mark slides a finger into your pussy, and you mewl in his ear, holding him tighter. “So good,” you whisper as he slowly thrusts the digit in and out of you, building the confidence to add another. 

You're grinding down against him still, and his palm works your clit while his two fingers curl inside of you. The sounds you’re making are increasing in pitch and frequency, and you’re gently pulling on his hair, licking at the spot on his neck that has his body tingling. 

He’s never made a girl cum before, but he can tell by the way you’re reacting, that he’s going to get you there. He wants to get you there, more than he’s wanted any goal he’s ever scored in a soccer game. 

The cool weight of the cross around his neck has Mark wondering if he’s going to go to hell for this. But can he really go to hell for something that feels this good? This right?

“I’m close,” you tell him. “Don’t stop.” 

Mark works his fingers into you even faster, eager to have you coming undone on his hand-

A clinking sound in the periphery makes Mark’s eyes open, and when he looks over at Hyuck’s bed, he sees his friend wiggling out of his pants.

“Dude, what the Hell-” Mark freezes, making an attempt to pull his hand from your pants, but you latch onto his wrist, shaking your head.

“No, Mark, please, I’m so close, please-” There’s a look of desperation in your eye, and it has him swallowing thickly, focusing on you while he picks up his motions again.

“I’ll wait,” Hyuck says in the background, and there’s some comfort in that at least.

“Mark, it feels so good, you’re so good at this-” you praise him, whispering in his ear while you work your hips faster against his hand.

“Oh God-” Mark groans, watching your face contort with pleasure. 

“There’s no God here, dude,” comes Hyuck’s snarky voice.

Mark’s eyes begin to shift to his friend, but you cup his face, forcing him to look at you. “Focus on me,” you tell him. “Like I’m focused on you.” 

He swallows thickly, breathing deeply as he fingers you harder, earning all sorts of sinful moans that drown out anything Hyuck could ever bring to the situation.

“Yes, Mark, yes- I’m gonna-” You’re gasping now, and you can’t even finish your sentence. Your pussy clenches around Mark’s fingers, your lips finding his as you cum. 

He continues his motions, wanting to draw out every second of pleasure that he can-

Mark has heard all sorts of ideas about what Heaven could look like, but he’s never heard that Heaven could be standing in your frat house room, hand down your best friend’s fuck buddy’s pants, with her pussy throbbing around your fingers. 

You begin to shake, reaching down to grab at his forearm, and Mark knows you’re finished. He doesn’t want to hurt you, and he pulls his hand away, marveling at the slick that’s covering his digits.

“Here,” you say gently, grabbing his wrist to guide his fingers to your mouth, licking them clean. Then you reach for him, bringing your mouth close to his own. “Taste me.”

Mark’s never kissed a girl so fast in his life, and he groans at the flavour of your tongue. If this is what your pussy tastes like, Mark had missed out by passing up the opportunity to eat you out, but at the same time, he’s really not sure if he’s ready for that yet.

“Okay, you two,” Hyuck’s voice makes Mark draw back from you. “This is enough teasing, I’ve gotta fuck something now or I’m gonna explode. Mark, are you staying?”

The church boy swallows thickly and then he shakes his head. If he’s not ready to eat you out, he’s definitely not ready to watch his best friend fuck you. “I’ve gotta…” he stumbles for an excuse. “I’m gonna go shower.”

“Right, shower,” Hyuck rolls his eyes. “Have fun with that.”

You go in for one last kiss before Hyuck is pulling you away from Mark, and he watches for just a moment while Hyuck presses his own mouth against yours-

Mark tears his eyes away, reaching for a towel in his closet before escaping the room.

The towel covers his boner while he runs down the hallway to the bathroom, and he strips himself naked in record time, stepping into a shower stall.

His hand is around his throbbing cock not two seconds later, and Mark throws his head back, closing his eyes while his brain struggles to process everything that’s just transpired. 

It doesn’t take long for him to work himself to the edge. His toes curl against the vinyl floor, and his vision goes practically black as he cums. 

There’s no time to aim, and Mark feels sticky warm fluid coat his chest, but his hand doesn’t stop. He jacks himself off until he’s a nearly overstimulated, gasping mess, and he thanks God for the water cleaning his body of the sinful filth.

He’s never cum this hard in his entire life.

You’re at your usual Wednesday lunch with the girls before class when you notice one of your friend’s looking at something over your shoulder. She’s done this a few times now, but when you turn in your seat to assess the room, you don’t see anything out of the ordinary.

“Are you looking at someone?” you question.

“It’s just…” Hyuna leans forward. “Did you do something to Mark?”

“What?” you look behind you again, thoroughly confused.

“Every time you turn, he pulls his baseball cap down,” she explains. “He’s over there, by the window. Green cap.”

When you scan the area again, you do notice a pair of cute red ears sticking out from a baseball cap, the guy’s head downcast as if he’s just staring at his french fries.

“How many times has he looked over here?” you ask, grinning.

“Like, a lot.” Hyuna cocks her head. “You did do something to Mark.”

You stand up, leaning forward. “Actually, he did something to me.” With a wink to your girls, you turn to head off toward Mark’s table.

He looks up once during your approach, and you see him scrambling with his bag. It would be very entertaining to watch him run away from you again, but he doesn’t have the chance, as you arrive before he’s done shoving papers into his binder. 

“Hey, you.” You take the seat across from him. “How’s it going?”

“Good.” His voice is shaky, and you find it adorable. 

“You know…” you reach your foot out under the table, grazing it by his calf. “I can’t get you out of my head either.”

Mark coughs, adjusting the cap on his head. “What?” 

“I said, I can’t get you out of my head either.” You’re enjoying the effect you have on him, and you’re very aware of how public the space is. You don’t think Mark’s going to confirm that he’s been thinking about you, so instead, you ask, “Are you planning to go to church on Sunday?”

“Yeah, of course,” he swallows thickly. 

“Do you think you’ll be able to pay attention while you’re there?” 

“I uh, I-” Mark stutters over his words. “I think so?”

You study the pretty virginal frat boy. As soft as you’ve been with him so far, you feel like teasing him, just to see how he reacts. “Just so you know, if, while you’re at Sunday service, a Jesus picture falls down, it’s because Jesus knows what you did.”

Mark lets out a groan, and you see his neck has turned red now too. “I-” Mark’s gaze dips down to your breasts, which are pushed together in your low neckline shirt as you lean forward. “I have to go-” he grabs his things, fumbling with all of them while he stands abruptly. 

The loud sound of his chair scraping across the ground draws a few eyes, and the pool boy nearly knocks the table over in his haste. You notice the way he immediately holds his binder over his crotch, and you lick your lips while looking up at him.

“See you later,” he mumbles, running away.

You watch him enter the men’s bathroom, and you think you can imagine what he’s going in there to do. Last time he’d run away from you, Hyuck had mentioned he was probably going to jack off in the showers.

The frat bathroom is one thing for a quick wank, but a public restroom is another.

You shake your head, walking back to your girls table, Mark’s tray of fries in your hand. They’re all gawking at you. 

“Damn,” Hyuna whistles. “I know you just said he did things to you, but girl, you definitely did a number on that church boy.” 

There’s nothing Hyuck loves more in the world than making you cum on his cock. He loves the noises you make, gripping at his bed sheets as your orgasm overtakes you. He loves being the source of your high.

What he doesn’t love however, is the way that today, you immediately ask, “How’s Mark doing?” as Hyuck pulls out of you.

He can’t help but laugh slightly, shaking his head at you. “Been acting weird all week.” 

“Do you think he’s going to join us tomorrow after church? I’m kind of shocked he wasn’t here today, if I’m being honest.”

“Is that why you came over? Wanted to see your precious little Mark?” Hyuck lands a smack to your inner thigh that has you giggling. “And yeah. He’ll probably join tomorrow. Jeno says he’s walked in on Mark jacking off in the shower like, four times this week. It’s actually starting to be a bit of a problem.”

“Is frat boys jacking off in the shower not a common occurrence around here?”

“It is, but not when it’s Mark,” Hyuck laughs. “That guy needs to get fucked.”

“I’m not sure he’s ready for that yet.” 

Hyuck studies you. “What makes you say that?”

“Just a feeling.”

“Well, maybe he just needs to cum properly.”

You sit up, teasing your hands over Hyuck’s thighs. “Tell me, how does a guy ‘cum properly.’”

“Buried inside something nice, and wet, and warm,” Hyuck reaches out to grasp your chin. “Your mouth would work.”

You laugh at the idea, “Maybe if he lets me,” and Hyuck grins, getting off the bed to pull on his pants. 

“I’m gonna head to the kitchen for water, need anything?”

“Just you,” you tease. “Hurry back.”

“You got it, angel,” Hyuck winks at you before heading to the door. He pulls on his shirt as he exits the room, but just when he gets his head through the neck hole, he catches a quick glimpse of one mister Mark Lee rushing into the bathroom at the end of the hall.

Had Mark been listening this whole time? Had he been outside of the door, listening to Hyuck fuck you? 

The thought makes Hyuck laugh again, and his ego triples in size. There’s something very… intriguing about this whole situation with the frat’s ‘designated’ virginal church boy, even if this experience is making Hyuck rethink his ideas of commitment. 

If the last Sunday service had been torture, today might just be Hell for Mark. 

He’s sweating, shaking even, his knee bobbing up and down anxiously while he sits in the back row. 

He’d returned the Bible he’d stolen last time, but he fears that he might end up taking it again. Every time he thinks about you, thinks about what it felt like to have his hand down your pants while you sucked on his neck- 

No, he can’t think about it. He can’t-

But it’s too late, he feels his cock growing in his pants, and shame washes over him. He runs a hand through his hair, fanning himself and taking deep breaths. 

It’s not ten minutes into the hour long service, and already, he’s at his breaking point. 

Mark battles with himself for another two minutes, and he finally gives up. When everyone stands to sing, he quietly excuses himself from the back row, ducking out of the church without looking back. 

“Mark?” you sit up hastily from Hyuck’s embrace, blinking at the boy who’s just entered the room. “You’re back from church early!”

“Yeah, I couldn’t sit through it,” Mark mumbles, throwing his jacket in the closet before collapsing on his bed, running a hand through his hair.

“That’s unlike you,” Hyuck sits up next to you. “Are you sick or something?”

“Definitely sick in the head,” Mark groans. 

“Enjoying sex doesn’t make you bad,” you tell him. “Besides, we haven’t even fucked yet.”

Mark sighs. “Yet.”

“So you were thinking about her fucking you while you were in church,” Hyuck grins next to you. “That’s sinful, Mark.”

“I know!” Mark flops onto his stomach, shoving his face against his pillow.

You look at Hyuck, and he makes a face, motioning to his friend. ‘Say something’ he mouths.

‘No, you say something!’ you mouth back.  

Instead, Hyuck simply pushes you out of his bed, and you stumble onto your feet. 

“Mark…” you approach the sulking churchboy. “I know a few things that could cheer you up.” 

Mark groans, but he sits up all the same, looking at you with eyes that tell you he wants you to elaborate.

“I was thinking…” you swallow, choosing your words. “Based on your history, it sounds like maybe you’ve never had someone go down on you before-”

“Fuck, she’s so good with her mouth,” Hyuck quips. 

“I know this whole thing started with you not eating pussy, but, seeing as you made me cum last week with your fingers, I thought I could return the favour somehow.” 

Mark’s lips part, and he allows you to take his hands, pulling him to be standing in front of you. 

“What do you say Mark?” You lean forward, your lips almost touching. “Can I suck you off? Pretty please?”

Instead of answering, he kisses you, cupping the back of your neck. 

Your first kiss with Mark had been slow and gentle, but there’s a new fire in him now, and it’s only a moment before his tongue is gliding past your lower lip, begging for entrance. You release a groan, reaching down to loop your fingers in the waistband of his pants, pulling him tighter to your body.

You can feel that he’s already hard, and you love how easy it is to turn him on. You love the way he’s already becoming more explorative in the way he interacts with you, his hand steady on the back of your neck, insistent that you stay lip locked. 

For a guy who doesn’t kiss girls much, he’s a phenomenal kisser. There’s emotion in it, and he tastes like spearmint. 

You get lost in the feeling of him, but after only a little while, you’re aching to touch him properly. Your hand slips down, cupping him through his pants. The church boy shivers at the contact, and you squeeze him. It’s the first time you’ve really touched his cock, and you bet he’s already aching-

He releases the back of your neck, and you take it as a sign to begin kissing down his body. You start at his throat, licking the sensitive spot that has him grabbing your hips and releasing a moan. He makes such pretty sounds-

You continue rubbing his cock, but when your mouth gets to his collarbone, you grab at his shirt. “Can this come off?”

“Yeah,” Mark mumbles, releasing you so he can unbutton the nice church shirt he’s wearing. 

When he discards the fabric, revealing his body to you, you simply enjoy it for a moment. 

Mark and Hyuck both have such wonderful bodies. Sure, some of your friends make good arguments about the muscled forms of Jaehyun, Johnny and Jeno, but you prefer Mark’s understated physique. 

He’s a soccer player, and his body is perfectly athletic without being too much to handle.

Your kisses begin to descend, and you find yourself pausing at the cross necklace. You lean forward and press your lips to it softly. Mark lets out a shaky breath. 

You know he’s watching you, and this is your way of showing him you still respect his religion, despite persuading him to partake in the more ‘sinful’ side of life.

“Wait,” Mark says, and he lets go of you to reach behind his neck, fumbling with the clasp. You watch him with curiosity as he removes the cross, holding it gently and placing it onto his bedside table.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him without the gold chain around his throat, and you wonder what the removal of it could mean, but you try not to think too hard about it.

You sink to your knees on the floor, undoing his belt and looking up at Mark. If he doesn’t want this, he can stop you, and you give him more than enough time to make that decision. But Mark only watches you, breathing heavily as you undo the button, then the zipper-

“You want this?” you ask, hooking your fingers in his pants and briefs.

He nods. “I want you.”

You smile, tugging the fabrics down so they pool at his feet. 

“You have such a pretty cock,” you whisper, grabbing the base and swiping your thumb across the leaking tip. You notice the way Mark’s chest and neck flush pink, as if he’s embarrassed by your words, but you know that praise is good for Mark. 

You press a kiss to the head of his cock, suckling a little while Mark moans above you. 

It looks like he’s not sure where to place his hands, so you reach for one, placing it on your cheek while you take more of him into your mouth. 

“God-” Mark whispers.

“She feels good, right?” Hyuck asks.

“Yeah,” Mark nods. “Really good.”

Having them both give you praise has your pussy throbbing, and it encourages you to sink further down onto his cock, sucking harder-

“Shit-” Mark nearly whimpers, and you think this might be the first time you’ve heard him swear. 

You know it’s wrong, and bad, and dirty, and sinful- but there’s something about corrupting Mark that has you going insane. You bob up and down on his cock, stroking the base that you can’t reach with your mouth. 

“This is too hot,” Hyuck says. “I’ve gotta join.”

“How-” Mark begins to ask, but a second later, hands are pulling you off of Mark’s cock.

“Both of you, on the bed,” Hyuck instructs. “You’ve heard of spit roasting, right, Mark?”

“I-” the church boy’s skin is flushed again, and when you hop up on the bed, he follows, clamoring after you. 

“Look, you’ll have her mouth,” Hyuck gets on the mattress behind you, and you hear him undoing his belt, “and I’ll have her perfect pussy. It’s a win, win.”

Mark doesn’t argue, his eyes moving down to meet yours as you take his dick back into your mouth, picking up where you’d left off.

Hyuck, meanwhile, tears your pants down, and a moment later his fingers are gliding through your pussy. “Fuck, angel, you’re soaked. Sucking Mark’s cock really turns you on, huh?”

You groan a sound of affirmation around Mark, and his hand is quick to grab your head again, fingers flexing in your hair. 

“You can fuck her face if you want,” Hyuck suggests, working two fingers into you easily. “She loves getter her throat fucked-”

Mark’s hips twitch at the words, but he doesn’t follow through. You think maybe he doesn’t want to hurt you, and it’s an endearing idea.

Hyuck pulls his digits from your core, and they’re replaced with the head of his cock, which he rubs the length of your pussy, teasing your clit before pushing into you.

Your fuck buddy lets out a loud groan, his hands finding your hips as he sinks his length fully into your core. 

“Dude,” Hyuck breathes, “her pussy is literally Heaven-”

His first thrust sends you further onto Mark’s cock, and the man above you gasps when he hits the back of your throat. 

“Is fucking pussy going against God?” Hyuck asks, in an almost rhetoric manner. “Isn’t there some weird church loophole where anal doesn’t count? Her ass is great too, scout’s honor.”

At this point, you’re pretty sure Mark’s not even listening to Hyuck. He’s much too focused on your lips wrapped around him, and the sounds slipping out of him make you think maybe he’s close to the edge.

All things considered - for a guy who’s never been blown - Mark’s lasting remarkably well, but you don’t want him to last. You want him to cum, like he deserves to cum. 

When you suck harder, you feel Mark’s cock twitch, and he lets out a groan. “Shit, I’m gonna-”

“Cum in her mouth,” Hyuck states, pace getting rougher inside of you. “Do it. She’s a good girl. She’ll swallow. Fuck, it’s so hot when she swallows.” 

Mark moans, and he pushes his hips forward, sending his cock into the back of your throat. Your gag reflex is the thing that makes him cum, and an “Oh my God!” leaves his lips as he explodes down your throat.

Hyuck’s right, you are a good girl, and you swallow every drop, working Mark through his orgasm until he’s gasping. He pulls out of your mouth, and Hyuck takes the opportunity to fuck you even harder.

Now that you can moan freely, you fill the room with sounds of your own pleasure. When Mark gets off the bed, you fall onto your face, turning to press your cheek to the mattress while you watch Mark find his pants on the floor. 

His eyes meet yours, and you can see his pupils are blown. It’s so incredibly sexy to have Hyuck fucking you on Mark’s bed while Mark watches, and your pussy throbs around Hyuck’s cock. 

“Fuck, you just got so tight, angel,” Hyuck groans, fingers digging into your waist while his hips buck wildly. “Shit, I’m not going to last like this-”

You reach a shaky hand under your body, finding your clit, and it only makes your pussy clamp down harder on your fuck buddy, who releases another loud moan. 

“You close, angel? Sucking off Mark must have really got you going-” 

“I’m close,” you confirm, grabbing at the bedsheet with your free hand while your fingers continue on your clit. 

“Yeah, you are,” Hyuck growls. “That’s my good girl, my perfect angel. I want you to cum so bad, it’ll tip me over the edge- Fuck! I’m gonna fill you up so good, so fucking good-”

You love it when Hyuck talks dirty like this, and you gasp as you get closer and closer to your high-

“Come on,” Hyuck lands a smack to your ass, and the pained pleasure has you crying out, rubbing your clit harder. “Cum for me,” he commands.

It’s all you need to reach the edge, and you fall over it with a loud moan, forcing your eyes to stay open while you stare at Mark, who watches you with parted lips and a dazed expression.

“That’s it, that’s it-” Hyuck grunts, pace faltering as he cums too, fulfilling his promise of filling you up just the way you like it. He fucks you through your highs, and your hand falls from your clit to the bed, body on the cusp of overstimulation as Hyuck’s motions begin to slow.

As things come to a stop, Hyuck lets out a deep breath. “Mark, come over here, you’ve gotta see this.”

“I don’t want to look at your dick,” comes Mark’s quick retort.

“Then don’t look at my dick, look at her pussy with my cum dripping out of it. Trust me, it’s so fucking hot-” Hyuck pulls out of you, and you whine at the loss.

You watch Mark go around the side of the bed, and you can feel both of their eyes on your hole, which is already beginning to drip Hyuck’s cum-

You place a hand under your core, not wanting to get any of this on Mark’s bed, and Hyuck laughs loudly. 

“Aren’t you two worried about pregnancy?” Mark asks.

“That’s what birth control is for,” Hyuck says. “Cumming inside feels like nothing else in the whole world.”

“What about STI’s?”

“Well, I mean…” Hyuck gets off the bed, and you watch him grab a tissue from his desk, “we’re only really fucking each other and we’re both clean so…”

“Wait, you two only sleep with each other?” Mark sounds justifiably confused. “So… why aren’t you two… why aren’t you two dating?”

It’s a very good question, and from the way Hyuck brushes it off with a ‘you know’ and a topic change, it feels as if neither of you really have a good answer. “Anyways, you have to try this sometime,” Hyuck says again. “Next Sunday.” 

Mark sighs. “Can’t we do this on any day but Sunday?”

“Where would be the fun in that, church bitch?”

You let out a groan of annoyance, but you think you’re starting to understand this is just the way their relationship is. 

Getting through a full week while being on the same campus as you is starting to feel like Mark’s own personal Hell. Every time he so much as catches a glimpse of you running between classes, blood rushes to his cock. 

Hell, even at soccer practice with Hyuck, every time Mark looks at his forward position roommate, all he can think about is the visual of Hyuck fucking you from behind on his own bed. 

By Friday, he’s too pent up to even attend his last class, and he rushes back to the frat to get some shower time.

He’s becoming much too used to jacking off in the shower, but he really can’t help himself. 

Mark feels like an absolute sinner, especially with the cross necklace around his neck. Today, something comes over him, and he takes it off, wrapping the gold chain around his right hand. He looks at it for a moment, and there’s almost something like curiosity-

He wraps his hand around his cock, flinching a little at the cold metal on his heated skin. As he begins to move his fist up and down his aching length, the bite of the necklace feels like repentance, like something he deserves. 

Mark takes a deep breath, closing his eyes as he thinks about you. 

He thinks about the sounds you make, the expression on your face as you cum- how your mouth had felt on his throbbing cock- 

He can’t believe how easy it is to get himself to the edge, especially with the added pain of the necklace around his hand. Does this make him even worse? It shouldn’t be this easy to cum- it shouldn’t be, but it is.

When he reaches the edge, it’s not God’s name on Mark’s lips, it’s yours.

He gasps, body tingling as he pumps his way through it, the necklace biting into his skin-

“Jesus Christ Mark! Get a fucking room!” comes Jeno’s voice. “Some of us are just trying to fucking shower!”

The outburst makes shame flood through his body, but it also only adds to the powerful sensation in his cock, his cum shooting across his chest. 

Mark’s decides he’s definitely going to Hell for this.

Another Saturday win for the soccer team means another frat party, and Hyuck loves the attention you give him on days when he gets a goal. You’re even touchier than usual, praising him for his skills-

Yet, Hyuck finds it hard to focus on you with Mark blatantly staring from across the room. 

Hyuck has enjoyed sharing you with his roommate, more than he ever thought he would, but tonight, he wants you for himself, and when you begin kissing his neck, pushing him against the wall, Hyuck’s had enough of this public bullshit.

“My room, now,” he commands. 

With a giggle, you turn, darting off towards the stairs, and Hyuck follows you with a smile. As he climbs the steps in twos, he gets a feeling he’s being followed, and he stops on the first landing to turn and look at Mark.

“What are you doing?”

“Huh?” Mark blinks. “I’m uh… coming with you?”

“It’s Saturday.”

“So?”

“So,” Hyuck sighs, “you only get access to angels on Sundays, all good Christians should know that.”

“But-” Mark opens his mouth to argue but Hyuck’s not in the mood for it tonight.

“No joining,” he says firmly. But as he looks at Mark’s defeated expression, Hyuck feels something like pity. “I guess you can stand outside the door and listen, you perv.”

Mark’s skin flares with embarrassment, but as Hyuck continues up the stairs, he gets the suspicion that Mark’s going to do exactly what he’d just suggested.

When you arrive at the frat house on Sunday afternoon, Hyuck is waiting for you in the living room. He pulls you into a kiss, and his lips linger against your own, his fingers digging into your hips. “Are you ready for today, my little demon?”

You laugh. “I’m always ready. But we have to wait till Mark gets back from church.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hyuck rolls his eyes. “We could always start without him.”

“That wouldn’t be very nice,” you note, grinning at your fuck buddy.

“Making me wait isn’t very nice,” Hyuck counters.

“It’s important to learn how to be patient,” you tell him, pressing another peck to his lips. “Come on, I’m sure we can find an episode of something to watch on Netflix.”

When you get to Hyuck’s room, the last thing you expect is to find Mark waiting for you. He’s sitting on his bed, staring at the floor, and his head snaps up as you enter.

“Mark?” You can’t hide your confusion. “Shouldn’t you be at church?”

“I’m not going today,” he states, standing and placing his cross necklace on the bedside table.

“Is something wrong?” you ask, walking over to grab his hands, assessing him for head injury.

“Everything is wrong,” Mark sighs. “Doing this with you two is wrong. Wanting you this badly is wrong. Getting hard in church is wrong. What I want to do to you is wrong. But… as crazy as it sounds, it also feels right.”

Hyuck lets out a whistle behind you, and you hear him locking the door. “Damn, Mark, I’m actually kind of impressed.”

“So…” you look into Mark’s eyes, “does this mean you’re ready?”

He nods. “Yeah… I’m ready.”

“Are you sure about that, church boy?” your fuck buddy asks. “Do you want us to put up a cross and see if it falls down as a sign that God thinks you’re a sinner?”

Mark takes a deep breath, and his eyes shift to Hyuck over your shoulder. “Fuck God, and fuck the cross.”

Your lips part in shock, and Mark takes that moment to grab your face and kiss you. It’s the hungriest kiss you’ve had from him so far, and you melt into his embrace, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck and pressing your chest to his own. 

His tongue explores yours, as confident as ever, and his hands move down to your hips, needy and rough. When his palm slips down to grab your ass, your moan loudly, all consumed by this new Mark. 

“Shit, dude,” Hyuck whispers from behind you. “Guess I should stop calling you church boy.” 

Mark lets out a groan, and then he’s tossing you onto his bed. A squeal of delight escapes you at the roughness of it all. 

“I wanna taste you,” Mark states, breathing heavily as he looks down at you with dark eyes.

“Then taste me,” you say simply, already grabbing at your pants to push them down.

Mark helps you tug them off, and then his own fingers are hooking in the waistband of your panties, tearing them down your legs with one rough motion.

“Oh my God, Mark-” you gasp, shocked at his sudden change in attitude.

The man who gets on the bed between your legs isn’t the same man who had whimpered while he fingered you two weeks ago. He’s not a soft church boy worried about boundaries, he’s a confident man who knows what he wants. And what he want is you. 

You can’t even take a moment to breathe before Mark’s pressing his tongue against your pussy, hands firmly grabbing at your thighs while he licks a stripe of your most sensitive area.

“Fuck,” you groan, reaching down to thread your fingers through his hair.

His response is a moan that sends shivers through your body, his lips suctioning around your clit like he’s a seasoned pro. There’s no hesitation or worry about correctness, there’s only a pussy deprived man who seems to know exactly what to do to have your toes curling as you drag them across his back.

You’ve had good oral sex before, Hyuck’s particularly skilled in this field, but as wild as your fuck buddy is, he’s never been feral like this. 

Mark’s tongue is unpredictable, lapping at you and pushing into your hole, teasing your walls as he rubs his nose against your clit. “Shit, Mark, you’re so good-”

“Better than me?” Hyuck asks.

You hate to admit it, but when a strangled “Yes!” leaves your lips, it only makes Mark go harder on you. 

You have no brain space to focus on Hyuck, your eyes closed as Mark’s tongue pleasures you like no one ever has before. 

It’s like he knows your body already, as if he’s divinely guided- 

The thought has your pussy throbbing, and as if he senses your need, Mark lets go of one of your thighs, adjusting so he can slip a finger into you while his tongue returns to your clit.

“Shit, just like that-” you gasp, legs quivering over his shoulders.

Another digits slips into your wet hole, and more moans leave you as the church boy finger fucks you even better than he did last time. 

You’re consumed by Mark, completely, and it feels like Heaven to get lost in the pleasure he’s providing you. 

You apply a bit of pressure on his head, wanting him to go harder on you, and he rewards you by sucking your clit into his mouth, tongue flicking the sensitive bud.

“Fuck-” you moan, pushing your hips up toward his face. You’re already so close to cumming that it’s almost insane, and you trust that this time, nothing Hyuck could do in your periphery would prompt Mark to let up on you.

He seems Hellbent on getting you to the edge, and as his fingers crook up to stroke your gspot, you know he’s going to accomplish his task with flying colours. 

“Sounds like she’s close, dude,” Hyuck muses, reading your reactions like the back of his hand.

When you turn your head to open your eyes, you find Hyuck has his cock out, and he’s stroking it, gaze fixed on the man between your legs. 

There’s something so… fulfilling about being watched like this. To know that Hyuck’s just as turned on as you and Mark, even though he’s taking no part in your pleasure. 

Hyuck has a nice cock, and the sight of his fist wrapped tightly around it has even more lust coursing through your body. 

To have both men worshipping you in this way- it’s unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. 

“I’m gonna-” you stutter, licking your lips as the pleasure builds between your legs.

“Cum for me,” Mark groans against your pussy. “Please, angel, I want you to cum.” 

The ‘please’ is the cherry on top, as is the petname that usually only Hyuck ever uses on you, and combined, they throw you over the edge. 

You cry out, rutting your pussy against Mark’s face while he tongue and finger fucks you through your orgasm.

The church boy lets out sinful sounds, and you can tell he’s enjoying being used like this, enjoying making you come undone on his fingers. Your pussy is throbbing around him, and his unrelenting digits continue stroking the spot that has you tinging with overwhelming pleasure.

“Mark!” you nearly scream, overtaken by the kind of ecstasy you’ve never felt before. 

“Fuck, dude,” Hyuck breathes, “you made her squirt-”

You’re almost twitching when Mark finally pulls his tongue from your clit, and his fingers slow before slipping out of you. You open your eyes to watch him lick them clean, and he lets out a deep groan, clearly enjoying the taste of you.

You need him to fuck you, like you’ve never needed anyone - even Hyuck - to fuck you in your entire life. 

“Please,” you whimper. “Mark-”

“Let me get a condom,” he states, sitting up-

“No!” you reach out to grab at him, locking eyes with him as you state, “I want you raw.” 

It’s the first time today that he looks unsure. “I don’t-”

“I’m clean,” you insist, “and so are you-” 

“Bruh, just raw dog it,” Hyuck says. “Trust us-”

With one last look between your thighs, Mark relents, and he gets back on the bed, tugging off his shirt and his pants while you work on getting yourself naked. 

As soon as you’re both bare, Mark is laying his body over yours, pressing you into the bed while his lips move feverishly against your own. You tangle your fingers in his hair, enjoying the feeling of his cock trapped between your bodies, rubbing over your clit as he rocks his hips.

“Please,” you whimper, wrapping your legs around his hips. “Inside-” 

Mark pulls away from your lips, breathing heavily as he looks into your eyes. His gaze shifts down, and he reaches a hand to grab the base of his length, teasing it against your pussy.

You moan loudly as he toys with your clit, and then he’s testing the head of his cock against your aching hole. The tip slips just inside and you whimper, only for him to pull back, then do it again-

“God, Mark-” You dig your nails into his shoulders, throwing your head back against the pillows and closing your eyes.

He pushes his cock deeper inside of you, and you both let out groans of pleasure. His mouth returns to yours while he slowly sinks into your pussy, until his hips are flush against your own. 

“Fuck,” Mark whimpers, twitching from the new sensation. 

“Told you raw was the way to go,” Hyuck says, as if he’s the most helpful person in the room.

Both you and Mark ignore your fuck buddy, and Mark takes a test thrust that has you both gasping. 

“Just like that,” you encourage him. “Fuck, you’re doing so good-” 

His lips return to yours, and the kiss takes your breath away as he begins to find a slow pace. Each thrust is deep, intentional, and in some odd way, this doesn’t feel like fucking. Fucking is hard, fast, fevered- but this is different. This is more like making love.

Mark sucks on your bottom lip, and he adjusts one of his hands so it can come up to grab at your breast, his thumb ghosting over your nipple and making you shiver. Your body reacts, pussy throbbing around Mark’s cock, and he groans into your mouth.

“Feels like Heaven,” he whispers, massaging your boob with a loving hand. 

Your skin tingles at his words. You can take the church boy out of church, but you can't take the church out of the church boy. 

His pace is getting faster, and each thrust has the pleasure building in the pit of your stomach. It’s insane how this is Mark’s first time- it sounds like he hadn’t gotten far with the last girl he’d had under him before the Jesus picture incident- 

He’s an absolute natural, and each brush of his lips against yours has you feeling closer to him than ever before. His cock fits perfectly in your pussy, and the sounds continuing to escape him tell you that he feels just as good as you do.

“I’m not-” Mark gasps, kisses moving to your throat. “I’m not going to last long-”

“That’s okay,” you assure him, gently rubbing his back. “I’m proud of you.”

He groans, sucking on your neck. Mark’s hand moves down to your hip, anchoring you to the bed while he ruts into you faster. You know you’re close, but it can be hard to cum without clit stimulation, so you sneak your own palm down your abdomen, fingers seeking out your most sensitive spot.

You both groan when you make contact with your clit, and Mark’s breath is hot against your throat. “You close?” he asks.

“Almost,” you nod, rubbing soft circles around your clit while Mark’s cock slides in and out of your pussy. 

“Ya’ll better cum quick or I might bust a nut just watching.” Hyuck’s voice makes you laugh, but the laugh quickly becomes a moan as Mark fucks you harder, fingers digging into your hip.

“I’m so close,” Mark whispers. “Please, this feels too good-” 

“Mark,” you whimper, loving how sweetly he talks to you while buried balls deep in your pussy. 

“Please, angel, I can’t hold on much longer-”

Your skin tingles at the idea that he’s working hard not to cum, that he won’t allow himself to get there until you can reach your high with him. He’s such a soft boy, the most perfectly wonderful man you’ve ever fucked-

“I’m gonna-” you bite at your lip, closing your eyes and focusing on the feeling of ecstasy that you’re so close to reaching- 

“Cum with me,” Mark begs. “Cum with me, angel, cum-”

The desperation in his voice is what finally sends you over the edge, and you gasp as your core clamps down on him. Mark echoes your sound of pleasure, groaning loudly in your ear as his fingers dig into your hip. 

You can feel him filling you up, and it makes you extra sensitive as you ride out your orgasm, clutching his shoulders like a lifeline. 

To Mark’s credit, he fucks you through it, hips only faltering slightly before the end.

When you’re both done, you pull your hand away from your clit, and Mark all but collapses on top of you, breathing heavily as he buries his face against your neck. 

You can hardly have a moment of peace with Mark before Hyuck’s pulling at his shoulder. “My turn,” your fuck buddy insists. “Come on dude, I’ve been waiting forever-”

A laugh bubbles out of you at Hyuck’s antics, and with a loud groan, Mark gets off of you. There’s a dazed look in his eyes as he rolls onto his back in the small twin bed next to you. You wonder if he’s going to just lay there-

Hyuck’s not having it, and he reaches down to scoop you up in his arms, tossing you onto his own mattress. 

“Fuck, angel,” Hyuck looks down at your body. “How do you want it?”

You consider it for a moment, and then roll onto your stomach, lifting your hips as an invitation.

Hyuck groans loudly. “God, you’re perfect.”

He’s straddling your legs not a second later, grabbing your waist to tug you up a little bit more while he glides his cock between your closed thighs, grazing your pussy. 

“Shit, this is going to be so good,” Hyuck mutters to himself, using one hand to wrap around the base of his cock and guide it to your entrance.

He moans as he slips inside. “Fuck- I’ve never banged you using another guy’s cum as lube before, but shit, angel, I could get used to this.”

His words make you feel dirty, sinful even, a little like a whore- but something inside of you actually enjoys it. 

“Hyuck-” you whimper at how good the position feels. With your legs closed and your ass in the air, things feel more snug, and the angle has Hyuck hitting a sweet spot inside of you that has your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

“I know, angel,” Hyuck assures you. “Feels fucking fantastic.”

His breath is hot against your back as he begins rutting into you, and you grab onto Hyuck’s pillow, inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne that has perfumed the material. 

“You look so good like this,” your fuck buddy says, and the slapping of his hips against your ass is making you go crazy. “I’m never going to get used to the way you look with my cock buried in your perfect fucking pussy.”

Your grip on his pillow tightens, the praise going straight to your core, which throbs around him.

“Yeah, I know you love it when I praise you. You just love being made out to be an angel while doing dirty shit an angel would never do.” 

He knows you so well it almost hurts. And when he talks to you like this, it makes you wonder why he hadn’t asked you to be his girlfriend yet. Although, if you had been his girlfriend a few weeks ago, you would have never propositioned Mark, and the idea makes you sad.

You open your eyes, looking over at the church boy you’ve come to enjoy spending time with. 

Mark’s watching you, and as Hyuck fucks you harder, you have to break the eye contact in favour of pressing your face into the pillow. Your sounds are just getting too loud, even for a frat house.

Your pussy feels like magic, to have been fucked by Mark and now Hyuck- you know you’ll be cumming again soon, whether you want to or not.

“I can feel you clenching, angel,” Hyuck laughs, as if reading your mind. “So this is as good for you as it is for me.” 

“So good,” you confirm, which only prompts him to fuck you faster, gliding in and out of your cum lubed hole easier than ever before.

“Watching Mark have you first was torture,” Hyuck tells you. “I was so close to busting multiple times- but I held out, because we both know you’re going to love being filled with us both. Dirty fucking angel.”

You whine at his words, so close to the edge you can almost taste it.

“Don’t be shy,” the man fucking you announces, “cum on this cock. I know you want to.”

Your skin tingles on the cusp of pleasure-

“Be a good little angel and cum for us.” 

There’s something about the word ‘us’ that just does it for you, and you let out a loud gasp as you fall apart. Hyuck echoes your sound, fingers digging into your hips as he reaches his own release. He fucks you even harder, groaning while your pussy clenches around his twitching cock.

“Just like that, just like that-” he pants, encouraging you while he rides you through your highs.

You’re not sure how long you cum, but when Hyuck finally slows to a stop inside of you, you think you might just pass out from all the pleasure you’ve received in such a short time.

Your fuck buddy leans over your back, pressing a kiss to your shoulder that moves up to your neck, and you tilt your head to give him better access.

“That’s our angel,” Hyuck muses softly in your ear.

You find yourself smiling. It’s the happiest you’ve been in months. 

Nothing else matters, all there is right now is safety and love and acceptance… and maybe a little bit of filth.

When Hyuck pulls out of your pussy, you feel yourself immediately begin to drip, and you do your due diligence, shifting your hand under your body to collect the fluid so it doesn’t ruin Hyuck’s bed.

Your fuck buddy grabs a few tissues, and then he’s sitting by your thighs, spreading your ass cheeks so he can get a good look at you while he groans at the sight.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he says, gently wiping your abused hole, cleaning you of his and Mark’s cum. “I don’t think you even know how hot you are.”

He’s probably right about that, but you’re sure that if you keep doing this with him and Mark, they’ll make you learn.

When Hyuck’s done with his very basic aftercare, he flops onto the bed behind you, back to the wall while he cradles you to his chest. His lips return to your shoulder, and the soft kisses make you whimper from sensitivity.

Then- something is falling on you, and you jolt, eyes snapping open-

“Shit,” Hyuck groans, and you realize the soccer poster has slipped off the wall and onto your bodies.

Your gaze immediately goes to Mark, and you see a look of shock in his expression. “Oh my God-”

“It’s not God,” Hyuck assures you both. “It’s probably just Jeno fucking some chick on the other side of the wall.” As if to prove his point, your fuck buddy bangs the wall three times, and a moment later there are three returned bang noises. “See? Totally just Jeno fucking.”

Mark doesn’t look very convinced, and he rolls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling while he runs his hands through his hair.

“I hope this fucking poster isn’t going to stop you from joining us again next Sunday,” Hyuck says as he pushes the symbol of Jeno’s sex life to the floor.

“Next Sunday?” Mark turns to look at you both.

“Yeah, next Sunday,” Hyuck repeats. “You do want to cum again, don’t you?”

The church boy lets out a deep sigh, but then he’s nodding. “Yeah.”

“Perfect, then it’s settled,” Hyuck grins against your shoulder. 

Your fuck buddy is something of an enigma, and you’re never quite sure if you’ve gotten him figured out. He’d started this whole thing being reluctant to allow Mark to join, but now, it seems as if he relishes the thought of having Sunday dick appointments with his best friend.

Although, as you stare at the pretty church boy in the bed across from yours, you really can’t say that you mind. 

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! I just love Markhyuck?

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below! 

🔮 preview. “I’m bad?” Hyuck gasps in shock. “Says the people fucking in an accesibility washroom?” He has a point there, and even Mark lets out a chuckle while he presses his lips firmly to your neck, his hips beginning to thrust so he can glide his cock in and out of your wet pussy.“I expect this from her, but from you, church boy?” Hyuck shakes his head while leaning back against the locked door, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m still shocked by how sinful you’ve become.”

cw/ tw. Exhibitionism, threesome, hand job, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, mention of fingering and pussy eating, praise, some degradation with affectionate use of ‘whore/slut’, the constant ‘sin’ mentions, slight cumplay/leaving panties on after having 2 men’s cum in you, bathroom sex, etc… I petnames. (hers) angel. (mark’s) church boy. 

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2k I teaser wc. 270

🌙 staring. Haechan & Mark x afab!reader

bonus

It’s been something like four months since you and Hyuck invited Mark into your unconventional relationship, and so much has changed since then. Having battled for a long time with perceived self-worth, it seemed that the inclusion of a friend within the relationship was all Hyuck had needed to realize his deeper feelings for you, and feel comfortable enough to share them.

Now, Hyuck’s having the best sex of his life with his two best friends in the entire world. Despite Hyuck’s growth, however, it’s clear that the person most changed by your relationship is none other than the OG church boy himself.

Hyuck had thought he’d been horny when he entered university, but it feels as if Mark’s pent-up energy has made him significantly hornier. 

Sitting in class, knowing you and Mark have a spare right now… well, Hyuck can only imagine what the two of you might be up to. As the lecture gets particularly boring, Hyuck pulls out his phone, opening snapchat maps to see if he can pinpoint you and his roommate.

Hyuck’s not shocked to find you were both active on snapchat ten minutes ago, in a building closeby. He’d never been one for maps, but since you and Mark had started fucking, Hyuck had been forced to learn all feasible sexcipade locations on campus. If he’s not mistaken, you and Mark are in one of the single occupancy accessibility bathrooms on the first floor of the arts building, and the thought makes him swallow thickly. 

With one last look at his boring teacher, Hyuck grabs his backpack and he slinks out of the lecture hall.

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[macfrog]

secrets cowboy like me chapter fourteen

one day i'll rein my chapters back in. today is not that day. thirteen thousand words of...a little bit of fucking and a lot of fighting. i love you all and i still can't believe the love you continue to show this series. you're all actually insane. i present to you: the penultimate chapter of cowboy.

pairing: dbf!joel miller x fem!reader

summary: the one where...everybody finds out.

warnings: age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), a big argument, a lot of guilt, angry disappointed dad, one mention of alcohol consumption, lil bit of sub!joel, unprotected piv, tiny bit of degradation, tiny bit of praise kink, creampie, cursing, smut, fluff, angst 

word count: 12.9k (dry heaves) 

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You haven’t slept a wink. Not one second.

You and Joel were awake until one in the morning on the phone; you – panicking, spilling words into the receiver, watching different cuts of your dad realizing everything as though projected across your blank ceiling, and Joel – monotone as fucking ever, batting every single theory away.

He doesn’t know a damn thing, he’d said. You didn’t miss the way his words hung over the edge of the sentence, trembling almost.

You scoffed and hissed back down the line. You don’t fucking know that! How can you know that?

You think he just found out about us and thought, Hey, better get some shut-eye before I deal with this? Really, baby?

I think he doesn’t know what he found out. I think he’s probably tryna convince himself that he’s wrong.

So, let him. He’s wrong. We go with that.

Joel knew he wasn’t doing anything to calm you down. Wasn’t offering anything you could seriously take on. You know he wasn’t trying to.

He was as worried as you were – he was just pretending not to be, because what fucking good would it do to have the two of you bouncing off one another with panic?

Still, he stayed on the phone the entire night. When he fell asleep, you lay in bed and tossed everything over in your head like tearing back the pages of a diary. Last night, then Frank’s, then the weekend before that, then the Hillcrest – all the way back to that first ride home. The pissing rain, the boxes of nails rattling in the glove compartment with each sway of the truck. Recalling every word spoken, every move made, every expression pulled and glance stolen and fucking breath taken.

Any sound from beyond your door shot a bullet of adrenaline through your veins, coursing through your body like ice. As if it was your dad, barreling in at 3AM to have it out with you.

You reckon you’d be ready if he did. Wide-eyed, fists clenched, heart hammering.

Joel groans back to life at eight. You hear the ruffling of bedsheets, the crackle down the line as he drags the phone across his mattress and pins it to his ear. You lift your own. Joel and 08:43:36, 37, 38 underneath it on the screen.

His voice drums low and groggy from the speaker. “You are gonna have my phone bill through the damn roof. I’m exhausted, darlin’.”

“I can’t think of anything else. He knows, Joel.”

He sighs. You can see his head falling into his hand, see his thumb rubbing circles into his temple. “Let’s just see what happens, alright? There ain’t any chance you left your phone in the living room ‘n he came across it, thought he’d keep it for you comin’ home?”

“I’ve barely left my room all week. Why would it be down there?”

Joel’s quiet. He just breathes down the line. After a minute, he clears his throat.

“Come over, would ya?”

“Huh?”

“Come over. I wanna see you. I wanna make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine, Joel, I’m –”

“Hey. Don’t make me ask again, alright? C’mon, now. I got some errands to run; you’re coming with me.”

He doesn’t have to say much else to convince you; you’re already pulling your bedsheets back and hanging up. Your hoodie and shorts are still hooked over the foot of your bed. The sun filters through the drapes, edges you nearer the door. Your chest fills with something calling itself bravery, and slowly, quietly – you click the door open.

The hallway is silent. A blushing gold in the morning light. The house is still – eerily still. Your dad’s room door is open, bed made, sheets tucked neatly under the mattress. Like he had time to spend on it. Stuff to mull over as he made it.

The carpet softens your footsteps when you finally move for the stairs. The birds are singing outside. The wallpaper canvases your shadow, a little monster creeping along one step behind you, passing picture frames which dazzle with sunrays and mirror a half-lit reflection back to you. One side you – the other, missing.

You lean over the last step, craning your head and shoulders into the hallway. The clock on the wall opposite ticks to no one. Tick tick tick tick. And aside from it, from its taunting tutting, there are no other signs of life. His jacket hangs from the peg. His boots lying below, laces tangled.

The sun separates into brittle shards through the window, illuminating the way to the kitchen. You’re not fucking prepared to follow it.

Shoulders hunched, like it might make a difference, you step forward and lower your thumb and index finger over your keys, aiming for them like a shaky arcade claw machine. Tick tick tick. They jingle as you hook your fingertip through them. Your nose wrinkles.

“Hey.”

He appears around the corner like an apparition. The keys drop back to the unit with a violent clatter.

“Jesus!”

“Woah, woah.” Your dad holds a palm up, laughing nervously. “Sorry. Where you headed?”

“Uh, J– Sarah’s. Some errands she wants some help with.”

He nods. “Yeah? You don’t want breakfast first?”

You drag your eyes to meet his for the first time. He looks drawn, skin like webbing, as though it’s just draped over his skull. As though you could put your finger through it like parchment, just push straight through. He looks like he’s had about as much sleep as you have.

“No, thanks,” you say, the sunken, sullen sight of him crumbling your voice to dust. Your lips move wordlessly, waiting for another lie from your tongue to offer over. But between the way he looks, weary and forlorn, and the thin veil of truth left between you – nothing materializes.

“Why don’t you – why don’t you hold back a second?” Dad beckons you forward, folding his fingers to his palm. “Got somethin’ I wanna talk to you about.”

“Dad, I really gotta go, I –”

“Just – come on. I’m sure Sarah won’t mind.”

He disappears without waiting for a response. Shifts back into the living room, shadow following him like a cloak across the door. You hear the creak of his chair as he settles down into it, the unsettling squeal of leather and spring.

Your feet are planted to the hall floor. To move in either direction feels like a trap. To follow after him – sit opposite and swallow back what you think you know is coming. All of his suspicions stuck in your throat like a bitter, powdery pill. Or to turn away – leave him in an empty house, nothing but the sound of his own breathing and that tick tick tick affirming your guilt.

No more excuses filter through – none of Joel’s ideas, none of his explanations. You let your shoulders drop and your eyes close. The only image behind them is that six-foot, graying, droning idiot who’s probably sat waiting for you to pull up so he can take you to fucking Trader Joe’s or whatever.

And his shirt, which he’d probably drape over your shoulders before he’s even said hello. And his smile, which would draw you onto your tiptoes, draw your lips to his. And his hands, and his waist, and his pulse in step with yours as you follow him around the quiet store, the Saturday morning air daring you to hook your fingers around two of his every now and then. The longing a gnawing in your chest, burrowing deep beneath the cage of your ribs.

He's not here, though. It’s just you. And if you call him now, if he shows up unannounced – it’s only going to confirm what your dad thinks. Fuck it – what he knows.

So you unstick your sneakers and haul yourself through to the living room.

He’s rocking in the chair when you sink back into the couch. Balls of his feet pushing him back and forth. His fingers to his lips, like keeping the words at bay for now. Like feeling the jagged shape of them through his skin.

You throw a pillow over your legs, shaggy ivory fringe tickling your bare thighs. Your dad doesn’t speak. When you lift your head, his eyes flit from yours down to your restless fingers knitting the tassels of his pillow.

“What is it?” you croak.

“Mind if I ask you somethin’?”

You shrug. “Go for it.”

He waits a beat. A hesitation. Like he doesn’t want to ask the first question. He’s at the edge of a cliff. One more step and he’s plummeting down the rocky side, into a fog of cloud. Nothing will ever be the same. Only – you’ve already pushed him. He’s already falling. He just hasn’t realized it yet.

Maybe he feels the drop in his stomach, right now. Maybe the wind screams in his ears. He finally asks, “When were you gonna tell me about y’all gettin’ into a barfight on Friday night?”

Unexpected. But keep your fucking cool.

Your fingertip whitens, blood halted by the knot of the cushion fringe. You chew on a torn leaf of skin from your lips. “What?”

“You ‘n Joel. When he picked you up. What the hell happened?”

Your eyes slide from his to the patio door behind him, garden lighting up with the sun scaling higher in the sky. You stare there until it burns, until it’s all just a blur of color in your vision, and then pull a half-blinded gaze back in his direction.

You’re frozen, as if he has you at gunpoint. Shoulders tense, eyes wide. Dontshootdontshootdontshoot. “Who –? Who said that?”

“Hank. Was on the phone to ‘im last night. Anna said Joel was squarin’ up to some kid in Frank’s. You wanna tell me exactly what happened?”

“Nothing.” Liar. “Nothing happened. It was just some asshole. Joel was just lookin’ out for me. For us. Me ‘n Anna.”

“She told Hank he knocked the kid out. That Sam had to stop it from gettin’ outta control.”

He stares at you, and there’s no mask on his face. No cover, no disguise. He’s suspicious. And he doesn’t care that you know it. He’s not just asking about the barfight.

“Are you gonna say it or am I, hon?”

“Say what?”

Your last thread of insane hope that he’s innocently wondering about Frank’s is snapped in two by the words that tear out of his mouth, so quick they rip into your skin like shards of glass.

“What the hell’s goin’ on between you two?”

Your body suddenly drops further into the couch, the weight of your blood freezing to ice in your veins. Your joints seize, your jaw locks. Air passes across your open lips with no intention of carrying words back out the way it came. You forget any ability you had previously to come up with excuses, to cover up, to lie. Hell, you’re not sure you’d remember your own fucking name if he asked that next.

You say nothing. And he cocks his head, drums his fingers on the arm of his chair.

Say something.

“Nothing.”

Say something more convincing.

“Nothing?” you repeat, a shrill pitch in your voice like it’s a question. Like he’s dumb for even thinking there might be something weird going on. Like he’s the idiot.

The clock in the hall ticks to itself, amused. Fifteen little snaps. Each one sounds like a plate of glass beneath your feet, cracking a little more, a little deeper, a little wider. The abyss opening its wide, dark jaws beneath you.

Your dad’s expression doesn’t change. He crosses his arms, head leaning back a little. He almost looks sad. Almost looks like he might give in. Send you on your way, on your errands with Sarah.

But something recharges him, something must flicker behind his eyes, because he sits forward again and watches your reaction intently as he says –

“Then explain the text messages you been sendin’ each other.”

Another blow hits your stomach, rippling waves of white heat through you. You feel hot, a scorching panic right beneath the surface of your skin so hot that it mistakes itself for ice cold. A panic which radiates from your heart, pulsating through your entire body, every limb beginning to shudder involuntarily. Your silence is answer enough.

He sighs. Sits forward with his elbows on his knees. “I knew y’all were close, knew you cared about each other. You sure always talked to ‘im more ‘n you ever talked to me, even before you went off to college. But I’ve been noticing things lately…Something’s different. Something’s changed.”

Your eyes trace his form as he talks. It’s fucking dizzying. He’s animated, like a character from some eighties cop show who finally solved the mystery. He knows. He knows everything. Your jaw won’t move to answer.

“Seeing you two together – talking, laughing. The way you look at each other these days. ‘n you’re always near each other, ain’t you? Always hoverin’. It ain’t anything like before. That day the three of us went to Costco, that – I –” His anger seems to boil over, cascading from his lips in an angry burst of hot breath. “I felt like a spare tire in the back of the truck that day.”

“We’re…We’re just…f-friends…I don’t –”

He holds a finger up. Doesn’t want to hear it. Not until his speech is done. The sun moves behind a cloud; the living room suddenly drains of light. “That day you said you were spending the night at Anna’s. Said you were havin’ a pool day, right?”

“Right,” you whisper, eyes closing over. They feel heavy. Tired and teary.

“Right. Except,” he brings his finger down, aims it straight at you, “Hank says you weren’t never there. Anna was at Sal’s all day Sunday.”

Fuck.

“Dad…”

You’re pleading with him now. Enough, I’ve heard enough. I know you know. As if you might still be able to stop the train, dig your heels in and hold on tight to derail it. Derail his thoughts. Salvage the situation, string it back together with shame and atonement.

But he doesn’t listen. He doesn’t even hear you.

“’n that’s when I got to thinkin’ – last Monday, at Joel’s. I went over to fix his sink – you remember I told you about his sink?” He doesn’t wait for a response. “I went over there, and he’s cookin’ this great big breakfast – pancakes, all of it – and there ain’t no one else in his house. Just him. Sarah was in Nashville, you remember?”

You take a deep breath. This is it. The ship’s beginning to disappear beneath the black waves.

“I thought maybe he had someone over, maybe expectin’ that girl from the plant hire…Anyway,” he bats his hand, bats the hopeful glint in Lois’s eye from his mind, “I’m walking downstairs, on my way out, and I notice somethin’ on the floor by the door.”

His chair squeaks timidly as he moves, his right arm lowering, scooping for something you can’t see yet. But when he shakily lifts it, your eyes fall to your knees. It hangs before you, apologetic and ashamed.

Joel was right. He knew it. You palmed him off. You told him your dad wouldn’t – couldn’t – put two and two together. And here he is, sat feet from you, holding the final piece to the puzzle in a quivering fist. Proof that, when he was in the house that day, you were only feet from him. Wrapped in his best friend’s shirt, dripping wet from his shower.

“This bag,” he hisses, and the tears finally drop onto your cheeks. They scurry to your chin, gathering and throwing themselves to your chest. Your shoulders drop, your eyes still low. You can’t look at him.

He speaks slowly. Speaks through his teeth. Every word like its own poisonous jab.

“Now you tell me: what in God’s name is your bag doin’ in Joel Miller’s hallway, at ten in the mornin’, when you’re supposed to be at Anna’s?”

Your fingers touch your forehead, a burning pain beginning to sting through your skull. You can feel your pulse in your temples. You’ve never wanted Joel to be stood in front of you so badly in all your life; just to deflect some of the interrogation off of you, just to give you breathing space. Just to protect you from the onslaught of questioning from your dad.

“No,” he mutters, shaking his head. The bag hits the carpet with a thud. “No, there ain’t no way. You were at Anna’s, right? You ain’t with Joel Miller, no way. I’m thinkin’, Please, God, don’t let that have been my daughter’s bag that day. But I’m right, ain’t I? You were there, weren’t you?”

You blink rapidly. The tears multiply quicker. The room is glossed in a protective film of salt and adrenaline. Give me something to say back. Give me something to say back.

“Where were you, hon? Musta been hidin’ somewhere, right?”

Give me something please think of something please come over please walk through that door please tell me what to say.

And then it comes to you. You blink the mist from your eyes. He said…he knew about texts you’d been sending Joel. How did he…?

“How did you know about the texts?”

“Pardon me?”

You straighten up and look him dead in the eye. Your voice feels hoarse. It sounds nothing like you. “How – did you know – about – the texts?”

“That’s your concern right now?”

“How – did you know?”

He begins to sputter, like the heat turned up under a pan on the hob. “Look, hon, you had me worried sick. Disappearin’ and I got no clue where you are. Always having an excuse to go off somewhere alone, no explanation. Don’t even get me started on those marks on your neck.”

Your hand immediately clamps around your throat, hot skin stained pink hissing into your palm. Joel’s teeth on you last night. His words cushioning the sharp bite. I love you. The heat hurts, now, when it felt so comforting just a few hours ago. It burns. It throbs. It feels like shame.

Your dad’s voice brings you back into the room.

“There’s another thing – last night,” he flings a laugh to you, “you were so quiet. So damn quiet. Didn’t say a word the entire time, and then I leave for all of ten minutes, and suddenly the two of you are headin’ over to his for – what was it? UCLA pamphlets?”

There’s a break between his words, a gap which makes you think that he wants you to answer. Like he’s giving you a chance, extending his arm. But he fills the space with a jeering laugh, and keeps talking.

“Where are they, huh? These pamphlets? ‘s why you were at Joel’s, right? Go on, go get ‘em. Show them to me.”

Your face solidifies. Lips tremble. There’s a scowl pulling your brows together. You’ve no right for it to be there. “Stop it,” you seethe. “Tell me what you did.”

“He’s the only one. The only one who could get you to talk. I had to check, kiddo. I had to know.”

Your stare doesn’t let up. Your lips bolt shut, refusing to say another word until he confesses. Which he does. Almost breezily.

“I looked through your phone. While you were gone. I – I went upstairs, ‘n I took it.”

He says it casually, as though he’s simply checked the newspaper. As though he’s just relaying the columns to you. Someone’s had a baby. Someone else won three grand on a scratch card. By the way, I know you’ve been messing around with Joel.

So it takes a minute for what he’s said to hit you. But when it does, the wave crashes over your shoulders so violently that it throws you to your feet, tasseled pillow whipped to the other side of the couch.

There are tears searing across your eyes. A twisted grimace of a smile on your face, a laugh breaking roughly from your throat. Some crazed, disbelieving, ugly little laugh.

“You – you checked my…my fuckin’ phone. You – you fucking –”

His head jerks back, offended. “Hey, now, listen to me –”

“I’m not listenin’ to another word! Am I twelve?”

You stalk over to the kitchen. The rattle of your dad’s chair tells you he follows.

“Well – you tell me, hon, ‘cause right now, you’re making a lot of real stupid decisions.”

That same ugly laugh echoes around the house. You grip onto the kitchen island. The room starts to wheel.

“Who the hell are you to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do?” you pant, eyes tight shut. Your thumbs begin to slip, sweat gliding between your skin and the counter.

“I’m your father! I’m lookin’ out for you, damnit! You think I wanna be havin’ this conversation with you right now?”

The granite countertop blurs in and out of focus when you open your eyes. You hook onto it, using it to haul yourself around the island until there’s distance between your wobbly figure and his. And you remember one week ago, when the same counter separated you and Joel, and you think of Joel, and think of his fingers around your wrist, and his fist against Knox’s jaw, and his teeth in your neck.

“Look,” your dad’s voice floats somewhere over the image of Joel’s eyes, “let’s just – let’s calm down. You ‘n me – we’re gonna talk this out. We’re gonna have a calm, mature discussion about all of this. You’re gonna tell me exactly what’s been goin’ on, and then I’m gonna head over to Joel’s – alone – and talk to him.”

But his voice doesn’t sound calm. There’s a tremble to it – a tremor as fragile as glass, as thin as ice. It’s crackling as he speaks. He can hardly keep a hold on it himself.

If he goes over to Joel’s – this you know – there ain’t anything calm or mature that will come of it. Suddenly the images in your head warp, and it’s your fingers around Joel’s wrist, someone else’s fist against his cheek, someone else’s teeth and the venom spat between them.

“Dad,” you pant, “it’s over. He ended it. It’s been done for, like, two weeks now. It was nothing.”

“Oh, nothing, was it?” He steps closer. You retreat. Edge further around the counter, further from him. His head tilts, eyebrows curl. He looks like a vulture, eyeing its prey. “Then what were the two of you up to last night?”

“We – we went for ice cream, that’s all. He wanted to make sure I was alright.”

He’s not convinced. And he shouldn’t be, either. He coughs a laugh. “For three hours? You were eatin’ ice cream for three Goddamn hours?” His cheeks wobble as he shakes his head. Then, in a softer voice, like he’s arming himself with a chisel to prick at the weakest parts of the sculpture, “What’d he do to you, girl?”

The marble cracks and snaps wide open. Anger floods out in hot waves. Any composure you’d managed to scrape together flushes clean out of your body.

“Nothing I didn’t want him to fuckin’ do. Stop treating me like I’m some kid who’s – who’s been tricked, or something. I’m twenty-three, Dad, I’m an adult.”

His silence sends another misdirected shot of panic through you.

“I was in on it just as much as he was,” you weep, fingers searching for a scratch of beard or kiss of flannel.

Your dad scoffs then, hands slapping against his thighs, and turns away. “There ain’t no gettin’ through to you,” he announces to the timid living room.

Still bracing yourself against the island, you take the break in his tirade to catch your breath. The only thought running through your head, losing velocity with each circuit, is Joel walking through that door. His face when he notices you with your flushed cheeks and wide eyes. His hands reaching for yours, through all the lies and hurt. Your dad, stood opposite, tight as an arrow and ready to fucking fly for him. Fists balled, teeth bared.

“He doesn’t even know,” you realize, staring at the glow on the floor cast by the front door. “You haven’t told him you know, have you?”

“’course I ain’t told him. I wanted to talk to you first. Not that it’s gotten us anywhere, huh?”

“I’m gonna text him.”

“Hon, don’t you d–”

“I am not having this conversation on my own. There are two people involved here.”

You pull your phone from your pocket and scrawl some messy message to Joel. Three messy messages. Something like he knows everything, can you come over? I need you. Some needy, dramatic, helpless message.

The typing bubble appears for a fraction of a second. So fleeting that you almost miss it through your tears, before it drops back to nothing. He doesn’t reply.

Doesn’t pick up, either, when you call him. Three times in a row. Three missed calls; three Hey, it’s Joel, sorry I missed yous.

The phone rattles off the counter when you drop it, your head falling into your hands. Your dad wanders back over to his armchair and collapses into it with a sigh, his fingers massaging his temples. The two of you mirrored, the same storm circling between you, only ice in his veins and fire in yours.

Fear keeps your feet planted to the kitchen floor; adrenaline alone keeps you upright. Your fingers push hard into your forehead, an ache sat directly behind that dizzies you. Blood thudding its fists against your eyes, screaming in your ears.

How the fuck did this happen? It feels ridiculous to ask, but it’s all you got. When did the two of you get so lazy? Start forgetting to cover your tracks? Or – maybe worse – stop caring enough to even try?

Of course, saying you were with Anna was a dumb fucking move. Her dad is one of your dad’s buddies. One of Joel’s, too. That was always going to fuck it all up. And you were too caught up, too hellbent on seeing Joel, too fucking horny to stop for five seconds and keep your damn story straight.

There’s nothing to say, nothing that might fix this. There’s no winding your way out of it. The trap has you by the throat. Your jaw aches from trying to free yourself.

Your dad sways side to side in his chair, staring silently at the wall ahead of him. Your face burns with shame, with anger, with embarrassment. Your heart stings from the hurt, from wanting Joel here, from his ignoring your pleas for help. And, most annoying of all – from letting your dad down.

It doesn’t matter what you tell yourself. How you spin it. Sure, you’re twenty-three. You can make your own decisions. That much is fucking clear now. Doesn’t mean they’re always good. Even when they make you laugh until your cheeks hurt, make your stomach flip with excitement, make you scream from pleasure.

Make your heart do things you’ve never felt it do before. Things you never knew that it could do.

You let your dad down. He can barely look at you for it. You know damn well that it was worth every second, and yet, right now, nothing but thick, awkward, unbreathable air between the two of you – it feels like it should never have happened.

You’re bent over the counter, head resting on your folded arms, breathing still staggered – when you hear it. The squeal of brakes outside. An engine cutting. A door slamming.

Two knocks on the door, and Joel pushes it open. You’re already in the hallway, watching his heavy head and loose shirt cross the threshold.

He looks up and your eyes meet. His hair’s a mess, he’s in the same tee from last night. He’s gotten straight out of bed and into his truck, and he’s braced, like he doesn’t know what’s coming. Which direction to expect the first punch from.

Your knees weaken at the sight of him. The safe haven of his arms, the home of his chest. The beating pulse behind it whose language you’ve become fluent in. Even now, when everything’s fallen apart, his being here washes relief over you like cool water dousing an inferno. Your body relaxes, your breathing quietens.

Joel nods towards you. You okay?

You shake your head lightly, and he flicks his fingers. You’re in his arms before your brain tells your limbs to move.

“’s okay,” he breathes, lips lined with your ear. His chest is soft, warm; you take fistfuls of his shirt. He strokes your hair, mumbling, “Told you we’ll be alright, yeah? It’s goin’ to be alright.”

You weep into him, lips dripping with salty tears. They part to reply, when a low growl rips between your bodies. Joel loosens his grip and you step back, turning around to face the ghost of your father at the end of the hall.

“Get the hell away from him.”

He advances, takes a few steps forward. You meet him halfway, gripping onto his shirt, planting yourself firmly between him and Joel.

“Woah, woah,” you say, pushing on his small chest, “let’s all just calm down. Dad.”

He’s smaller, scrawnier, older, and weaker than Joel. He’s never going to lift a fucking hand to him. Not if he wants to keep it intact. He wouldn’t square up to a fly, never mind an actual worthy opponent – but your gut tells you to make damn sure he doesn’t even try.

“Get out of the way, hon.”

“No. No way. And let you –? No.”

He’s not even looking at you. You’re nothing but an obstacle. He’s staring a few feet behind.

“Baby,” Joel says, voice weary and surrendered. “It’s alright, now. C’mon, outta the way.”

“Baby?” your dad seethes. “You just call my daughter baby?”

“Called me it as long as he’s known me, Dad.”

“’s different now,” he spits. “What the f–? I mean, what the fuck, Joel? What were you even thinkin’? Putting your Goddamn hands on my daughter?”

You don’t usually hear your dad curse. All through growing up, even when you left home – you could count on one hand the number of times you’ve heard it. It sends a bolt of fear through you as if you’re five years old again, and he can’t do much worse than say bad words in front of you.

You don’t usually see your dad do any of this stuff. Raise his voice, ball his fists. Lean forward, feet planted on the ground, like daring Joel to make the first move. Joel – his best friend. The guy he was supposed to be able to trust more than anyone in the world.

Angry. Furious. And you think: if there were a time he had a right to feel this way, to act like this and throw threats around as though they’re light as air, if ever there were a moment – this would be it. A betrayal. A secret this big.

Joel takes a step forward. He doesn’t seem scared. More – placating. Letting the tantrum run its course. He holds his hands out. “Let’s just – let’s just talk.”

“Talk,” your dad repeats, spitting the word like it’s rotten in his mouth. “You wanna talk? Let’s talk. What the hell have you been doin’ to her? Hm?”

Joel shakes his head, shoulders lifting. “I ain’t been doin’ nothin’ to her. That’s not what this is.”

“Hell,” your dad scoffs, “not what it is. Why don’t you explain to me exactly what it is, then, Joel? If it ain’t you takin’ advantage of a young girl? Takin’ advantage of my kid?”

Your head whips back to face Joel, hand lifting in a bracing motion. He sees it – sees the way your head shakes, imperceptible to your dad. Please don’t tell him. Not yet.

It’s bad enough that he knows you’ve been messing around. It hurts enough that he knows you’ve been lying for the entire summer. Telling him the full story – the conversation in the truck, the words exchanged over ice cream and the quiet tick of traffic lights across the street – would only hurt more. Would only sharpen his anger. He’d ask more questions; he’d drive his dagger deeper.

Joel pleads with you. His eyes do his bargaining. You don’t relent. Please.

“You know what I keep thinkin’ about,” your dad interrupts, “you know what’s runnin’ through my mind? That damn garden party. Those cupcakes. You puttin’ your thumb on her lip. I should’ve known the second you touched her what was happening. You arrogant, shameless son of a bitch, Joel, you got no idea what you –”

“Dad. Enough.”

Sure, you’re trying to calm him down, palms outstretched and motioning like he’s a wild horse, rearing frantically and threatening to crush you. But it also stings to hear him talking about Joel like that. Talking to him like that.

The same Joel he’d sling an arm around, knocking their beers together when the Rangers won. The same Joel you know he’d spent hours sat out back with, talking into the night and sharing stories and secrets with the stars.

The same Joel who covered your legs with his jacket last night, who held you when you were hurting, who reminded you what it was like to feel your heart again, beating rapidly in your chest.

He’s not talking about the same Joel. Not the Joel you know. Yours.

He’s still rambling. “…’n all this time, you pair have been closer ‘n you were lettin’ on.”

“You don’t understand,” you plead, “you don’t know him like I do.”

Your dad scoffs, twisted smirk on his face. “Oh, I know ‘im. I’ve known him a hell of a lot longer and a hell of a lot better ‘n you have, hon. Known him since he was fifteen, askin’ me ‘n my buddies to buy ‘im a case of beer from the liquor store. His little brother in ‘n outta jail like God only knows what. I know exactly what he’s like.”

“What he’s like?” you huff, exasperated. You spin on your heel, arms coming down on your sides with a slap. “Joel, help me.”

“Don’t you dare look at ‘im! Listen, kiddo, I know him. Know what he’s like at Frank’s, takin’ women home left ‘n right, then forgetting their damn names. Know he sure as hell can’t remember that schoolteacher’s name, can you, Joel? You remember her?”

“Quit it,” you tell him over your shoulder, still facing Joel.

Your dad laughs from behind you. It turns your stomach. “I’ll bet he never told you about that one, did he? That’d turn you off ‘im in a heartbeat, wouldn’t it?”

“Nah, he told me about Jess.”

Your dad’s voice cuts. Joel’s head finally lifts, his eyes ungluing from the floor to look at you.

You shrug back. “I figured it out. Sister’s name is Mia – she’s a year younger ‘n me.”

You swear he almost fucking smiles. Almost. It’s funny, or at least, it would be if you weren’t both in the middle of tearing your entire dynamic apart. Any other time, he’d nudge you, or tousle your hair, and say you were too clever for him, or something about being old again.

When you turn back to face your dad, he looks like he’s run out of words. So, he repeats ones he’s already said.

“I…Well, I know him, honey. And he ain’t someone you oughta be with.”

“How’d you figure that?”

He sighs. “I just told you my reasons.”

“’cause he wanted beer when he was a kid and he’s slept with people before? ‘cause Tommy gets himself into trouble – trouble that Joel then gets him out of?”

“No, I –”

“You don’t know a damn thing about any of this. You won’t listen to me. If you’d hear me out – hear us out, then you’d –”

“Don’t you dare tell me I’d change my damn mind. Don’t – you – dare.” Your dad’s voice is quiet and slow. Dangerous. Laced with something you’ve never heard in it before. It’s not worth finding out what.

Your head shakes, knee jerking with nerves. “I don’t…I don’t know what else to say.”

The fire flickers, loses light for a second. His voice softens. “Honey…This –” he waggles his finger between your body and Joel’s, “this thing y’all have been…It ain’t right. It is not right, what y’all have been doin’. You are far too young for him. He should know better, and the fact that he doesn’t – well.”

Your brows tighten, eyes pinching around painful tears. “I know why you’re mad. I get it. I’m sorry. But I can’t –” You sigh. “You are suffocatin’ me, living here.”

His façade drops instantly. He pushes his fingers into his eyes, groaning. “Hon, you’re not hearin’ me.”

“I hear you loud and clear, I –”

He cuts you off, throwing his arms up into the air with another loud yell. The words melt into one long drone, a mountainous ramble which peaks and falls in pitch; one minute low and angry and the next high and frantic.

You sigh, shoving by him for the living room. Joel reaches for your hand, your fingers brushing against his.

“Baby,” he says.

“Ah!” Your dad blocks his advance, shaky finger held to his chest. “You dare, son.”

You’re swipe the bag from the floor by your dad’s chair, your change of clothes still in a crumpled heap at the bottom. Slinging it over your shoulder, you whip past your father and lock your hand with Joel’s.

“Hey,” Joel says, slowing you down. “Darlin’, where are you –?”

“I wanna leave.”

“Huh?” he asks, brows raised.

“I want to go,” you whisper.

He glances over to your dad, dumbfounded by the stairs. “Where d’you wanna go?”

Your shoulders roll. Anywhere. Just take me away.

He doesn’t hesitate; barely thinks it over. He tightens his grip on your hand and pulls you toward him. Your feet stumble over the carpet.

“Where in the hell –?” Your dad’s snarling picks up again, his final chance. “I don’t think so –”

Joel’s backing up towards the front door, led by the pull of your hand. “Emotions are pretty high,” he announces, “why don’t we have this conversation once everybody’s calmed down?”

“Joel, if you take her, I’ll–”

“I ain’t takin’ her anywhere. She’s an adult.”

Liar. His hand wouldn’t let go of yours if you tried to pry it from his clutches.

“I’m leavin’,” he says, “she’s just coming with me.”

Your dad barks your name, and you freeze. Joel stops, too, allows you the time to turn. Like a deer in the headlights.

“I’m going, Dad,” you shakily tell him.

“I swear to God,” he says, “if y’all walk outta that door…”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I didn’t mean for any of this.”

He shakes his head. “Stay, hon. Let’s talk.”

“You’re not talkin’, though. All you wanna do is argue. I wanna go with Joel.”

“You ain’t goin’ nowhere with no one! ‘specially not him!”

You shrug, give your head a solemn shake. “Stop me.”

Joel hears the exhaustion in your voice, the scratch of your throat. The way the words melt into one another. He tugs on your hand, leading you through the front door. Your dad doesn’t speak again, and you don’t turn back to check on him.

The neighborhood is silent in the early morning. Yards empty, curtains still closed. No one, not even the sun, tucked behind a thin veil of cloud, sees when you pile into the front seat of Joel’s truck.

“Baby,” he says, pulling your seatbelt over your body.

Your eyes fix on the asphalt ahead. “Just drive.”

“Hey. Look at me.”

When you turn to him, he takes your jaw in both hands. “I love you,” he says.

“Still?” you squeak, eyes heavy with sleeplessness and tears.

“More.”

“This is fucking insane, Joel.”

He nods. “Yeah. ‘n you’re worth all of it.”

“Hey,” Sarah calls when the two of you spill in through the front door. She’s on the couch, Switch console in hand. “What’s up?”

“We have a – a lodger, for the next…little while,” Joel grumbles, tossing his keys onto the sideboard. He kicks off his boots and slides them to the wall, straightens up and looks to you.

You follow suit wordlessly, slipping out of your sneakers. Joel places them by his.

“Cool,” Sarah says, standing up. “How come?”

“Just – dad trouble,” you whisper, deflated. She’s wandering around the couch. A defeated sound rings from the console hanging from her thumb.

Her head tilts. “I…I got plenty room for you,” she flashes you a warm grin, “it can be like a big-ass sleepover.”

You return her smile, a slow, grateful breath filling your lungs. Joel’s arm wraps over your shoulder as your mouth opens to answer.

“No, uh…” He clears his throat. “She’ll be in my room. With me.”

Sarah’s expression is blank. She blinks between the two of you, arms limp either side of her hips. Your eyes flit from Joel to her and back again, wide, waiting. Waiting for someone to move, or speak, or yell.

Joel looks indifferent. Unbothered. As if he just told her it’s sunny outside.

She takes a step forward, and by instinct, you draw back. “Sarah…” you mutter, and she swings around the newel post. She dodges your outstretched hand, whether accidental or deliberate – you’re not sure.

“No, it’s…Okay. Yeah. I’ll – I gotta…Yeah.”

You watch as she climbs the stairs backwards, still looking from your pleading face to her dad’s stoic. She shrugs, wiggles the Switch and mumbles something about it needing charged, before she’s spinning and taking the last few steps two at a time.

When her bedroom door closes, you slump back. Joel doesn’t let go of your shoulder, catching you and pulling you into his chest.

“Fuck,” you whisper, lips pressed against his tee. He smells like pine, like mint, like you.

“’s okay,” he says into your hair, hand curving the shape of your skull. “She’ll come around. You know Sarah.”

You turn, ear against his chest, listening for his heartbeat. It doesn’t tell you anything new. You miss the days you used to listen for secret messages in the soft rhythm.

Joel’s chin rests on the crown of your head. “I’m sorry, baby,” he says. “None of this is your fault, you hear? None of it.”

“Now you’re just lyin’ to me. You know that ain’t true.”

A hum rumbles against your cheek like the earth readjusting, rearranging beneath your feet. You lift your head, loosen your grip around his waist.

“You need sleep,” he tells you, thumb swiping gently beneath your heavy eyes.

You don’t protest.

Joel takes your hand, leads you mutely upstairs and into his room. His bed’s not made. The shades aren’t even open. He lifts the sea of sheets, tosses them twice in the air and then pulls the corner back, letting you sit on the edge of the mattress.

He undresses you carefully, like your limbs might crack and burst at the slightest touch. He replaces your hoodie with a fresh tee of his own, one that still smells like the world before its end, and you lay back into bed slowly.

It’s shaped like you – the divot in the mattress. You slot back into it like you never left. The curl of your back and the fold of your knees. You’ve left little pieces of evidence all over the place – all over Joel.

He runs a delicate hand across your head, the repetitive movement lulling you off to sleep. Pushing the boat out.

“You need anythin’?” he asks.

You shake your head, arms wrapping tight underneath your pillow. “I’m good,” you whisper, and the waves pull you under.

His bedside lamp is on when you stir, the left half of the room a glowing honey color. His bare leg slotted between yours, your hands intertwined on his chest. His finger drifts back and forth against your palm, the strokes matching your breathing.

You’re still tired, eyes still rolling beneath heavy lids, but when some commentator screams at the game playing on the TV screen, you snap awake.

Joel curses under his breath, begins tearing the bed apart for the remote – but by the time he turns the volume down, your head is propped against his pillow, knuckles rubbing your eyes.

“Sorry, baby,” he sighs, kissing your forehead as he sits on the edge of the bed.

“’s okay.” You flash him a lazy smile. “What time is it?”

“Almost five thirty.”

“Damn,” you mutter. “Slept all fucking day.”

“You needed it,” he says, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “You want some dinner? Or – breakfast?”

You nod. “Sounds good.”

He disappears downstairs. The echoing of pots and pans and the hum of the extraction fan follow in his wake. You groan, stretching out like a starfish across the messy bed, forgetting for just a moment why you’re here, and what’s happened, and how different everything is.

It feels the same, even after eight hours sleep. Same guilt, and shame. Same anger and resentment towards your dad. Same punch to your gut anytime you picture his face, the wrinkled frown. The trembling fist holding your bag in midair.

The blow is soothed only by the swelling of warmth across your chest, looking around the room. The safety you feel here, as though you’re cut off from the rest of the world. Your father on pause the second you left the house; Joel’s room and his bed giving you time to catch your breath and recalibrate.

You’re not thinking about when you’ll have to go back home. You’re just not.

You knot your shorts back around your waist, take one huge swig of the water Joel left for you, and open his bedroom door, your head throbbing with each movement.

There’s a figure at the end of the hall, frozen in space like a phantom.

“Morning,” she says. Her hair is tied back, oversized hoodie over her shoulders.

“Hi.”

“You sleep good?”

“Must’ve. Missed half the day.”

Sarah smiles.

“Are you gonna kill me?”

“Hm,” her head tips back and forth, “not today. Don’t have the energy. Watch your back tomorrow, though.”

For the first time in almost twenty-four hours, a genuine laugh pushes its way past your lips. The knot in your stomach loosens, even if only a little.

“You wanna come help with dinner?” she asks, nodding to the stairs.

You smile. “Please.”

The three of you settle on pasta with some tomato sauce from a jar mixed through. You sit opposite Sarah as Joel sets the plates down, sliding into the seat next to yours with a gentle squeeze on your knee under the table.

The three of you talk. About nothing in particular – college, Rita and her cross stitch, some client of Joel’s whose wife got caught having an affair – but it soothes the ache in your heart. It feels like a blanket over your shoulders, a spot by the fire, a voice in your ear promising you that things are still okay. That they can still be this way: light, alive. The earth is still moving, the stars are still pinned up in the sky. Tomorrow will always come, and the day after that.

Sarah asks about LA. You tell her you didn’t know she knew. She grins and says, “Well, now that I do – you better put an application in.”

You hum around the fork between you lips. “Maybe.”

“Come on. The two of us out there together? For six whole months? You gotta do it. Tell me you don’t wanna do it. Are you gonna do it?”

Joel casts her a glower, his stony expression pushing her back in her chair.

Your eyes shift from hers over to his. He runs a slice of garlic bread around the curve of his plate, coating it in sauce, before he notices you staring. His face breaks into a tiny smirk.

“I don’t know,” you decide, turning back to Sarah. “I still gotta think it through.”

She nods earnestly. “Yeah, you should sleep on it. And then, first thing tomorrow, we’re doing it.”

The two of you let her have the final say, falling quiet until some new conversation is shifted onto the table, and then another, and then another. When you’re done eating, Sarah takes your hand and drags you back upstairs.

Sarah Miller’s bedroom has been baby pink for as long as you can remember. Joel painted it one summer while she was at camp, eliciting help from your dad to shift all the furniture. As she grew up, she covered the walls in posters, changed the sheets, changed the curtains, strung fairy lights to distract from what she saw as a kiddish color.

But she never asked to change it. Always wanted the same blushing pink her dad had picked out when she was ten – even if secretly.

Her blinds are tilted, golden light from the slowly lowering sun filtering through onto her carpet, stained with tiny dabs of nail polish. She throws herself down onto the bed, her curls igniting brown in the summer light, and you slowly sink down beside her.

“Nice Zayn poster,” you note, pointing to the straight-browed, dark-haired figure painted in a moody grayscale on her ceiling. “Interesting placement.”

“Was so I could dream about him every night.”

“You didn’t wanna take him to California?”

“Didn’t have to,” Sarah smiles, tapping her temple, “he’s all up here, baby.”

You snort. Your eyes flutter closed; hands clasped on your stomach. She sighs contentedly by your side, listening to the chatter of birds out front.

“I miss this,” she says eventually, her voice smooth and soothing. She elbows you lightly.

“Me too,” you reply. And then, with a deep breath: “Sarah…are you okay?”

When she turns back, the sunlight catches in her eyes. They twinkle, like she’s some doe-eyed Disney character. Someone who might be able to wiggle her fingers and make the last day disappear.

“Am I okay?”

“Yeah. With…everything.”

She shrugs, mumbles an I dunno. “What can I do about it? It’s weird, but…it’s none of my business. I guess…I guess if y’all are happy, then – you know. I’m gone half the time, anyways.”

“It is your business, too, though,” you tell her. “I don’t wanna make you feel weird.”

“I think you got bigger things to worry about right now. Sounds like your dad’s pretty mad.”

You sigh, looking back up to the boyband poster. “Yeah. He’s pretty mad.”

“My dad told me what happened. Well, parts. I can kinda guess the rest. Can’t really blame him, I guess.”

You shrug. “Guess not, but then…I am twenty-three, y’know? I’m not a kid. I can make my own mind up.”

She’s still staring at you, but you don’t return her glance. Something tells you that you already know what it says. Still, she verbalizes it.

“Would you be okay if I slept with your dad?”

That is so not what I thought you were gonna fuckin’ say.

You shoot her a look. “What?”

“’m askin’. Would you be okay with it, if I –”

You lift your hand to shut her up. “That is…so totally different.”

“How is that different?” she scoffs.

“Because…because…my dad’s not hot.”

Sarah gags.

“And – and also you’re not friends with him. It’s just different, alright?”

“You were friends with my dad?”

You’re laughing with her now. You can hear how pathetic your justification sounds. “Kinda, yeah. I was close to ‘im.”

“Yeah, that much is obvious, now, babe.”

You smack her arm and she giggles.

“I think he’ll come around. Your dad.”

“I don’t. Not ever.”

“Why wouldn’t he? His best friend would become his son-in-law, I would become his granddaughter-in-law –” She gasps and props herself up on her elbow, staring you down. “Does this make you, like, my stepmom?”

You spit out a laugh, and Sarah throws her head back against her pillow, clutching her belly.

“You’re my fuckin’ mom, dude!”

“Don’t you fucking dare!” you reply, covering your face with your hands. “Aw, fuck,” you breathe, giggling.

You settle back into the bed, your heads leaning against one another as you stare up at Zayn and his audience of glow-in-the-dark stars. Sarah hums something softly to herself, her ankle rocking, her fingers tapping.

The two of you were raised together. Sisters, when neither of you knew what that word really meant. You figure she’s as close as you could find – someone who reflects all of your favorite parts of yourself and who calls out the uglier ones without hesitation. Someone who comforts you with a punch to the arm, a mocking quip about your hair or the something in your teeth. A safe little secret keeper, for all of your wildest dreams and biggest fears.

“I guess this is all why you were so down in the dumps last night, right? Your dad knew then?”

You shake your head. “Not at that point. He found out after we all left. Realized it all on his own. It’s all just…so fucking stupid…”

She sighs. “My dad – if he…if he makes you happy, then I don’t even know. As long as I don’t have to see it – we’re cool.”

One cinderblock of weight lifts from your chest, allowing a rugged breath to escape. “Wish my dad would take a leaf outta your book,” you mumble.

“He’s just mad,” Sarah says. “He’s just mad, and he’ll eventually calm down.”

“Doesn’t matter even if he does calm down,” you reply. “My dad has more of a…restrictive parenting approach.”

“Can you really parent a twenty-three-year-old?”

“He finds a way to try.”

She scoffs, saying, “I get it. My dad’s more, try it ‘n see. Your dad is, like, try it ‘n see…what your punishment is.”

You both erupt into laughter, and Sarah reaches for the TV remote.

“Exactly,” you tell her, tugging on the hem of Joel’s shirt. “Although, if your dad found out you were with my dad, I don’t think he’d be cool with it, either.”

“Yeah,” she smirks, flicking through Netflix titles, “y’all got what you deserved.”

The sound of Sarah’s bedroom door closing over stirs you. Her room is the color of rust; the stream of amber sunlight on the carpet replaced by that of the streetlights. Beneath the door, the sliver of light is shifted by the sway of a silhouette walking off down the hall.

Sarah’s snoring quietly beside you, still in her jeans. Keeping an eye on her, you roll off the bed and creep towards the door, a slow groan coming from the handle as you twist it. Joel’s at the opposite end of the hall, disappearing into his room as you shut Sarah back into her warm slumber.

“Thought you were sleepin’,” he whispers when you slip into his room. He’s already sat in bed, leant against the headboard. The room a thick darkness, a black cloud of dusk spiraling around you and cutting you off from the rest of the world.

“Heard you come in.” You wander over, pausing at the side of the bed. “Wanna stay with you.”

“C’mere,” he says, holding a hand out. You take it, pulling yourself into his lap. He slips his hands under the hem of your shorts, fingertips brushing the crests of your hipbones. “You okay?” he asks, thumbs swiping gently on the seam of your thigh.

“Never better. You?”

He sighs in response and looks off to the window, the light catching his eye. You tilt your head and bend forward, kissing below his ear. He smells like whiskey. You breathe it in, inhaling like the sharp scent might fold you under a numb blanket of inebriation, too.

Joel takes a fistful of your hair and pulls you from his neck, watching the shift in your expression before he kisses you – steady, bracing. The first time since everything went so wrong.

For a few minutes you pretend nothing has changed – you’re still sneaking around, shushing one another; someone’s in the next room, there are still secrets to be kept. You slip your shorts down your legs, kicking them over the side of the bed; Joel’s sweatpants follow soon after. His hands surrender and you push up on his chest, dragging your core against his stubborn crotch, lips never losing contact. Tongues rolling against one another, noses bumping; a tangle of breath between you until you’ve no idea which is yours and which is his.

It’s all you know how to do, after all. It’s how this started, it’s how it got out of control. The two of you taking out your needs on one another. Right now is no different. You need to feel something other than the dread in the pit of your stomach, the ache in your heart anytime you look at him and know he feels it, too.

You come up for air and suddenly the feeling dissipates; doubt sets back in and fear washes over you like ice water. Your hips cease, Joel’s hands lift from your body. He pushes the hair from your face to find his own expression mirrored in yours.

Everything has changed.

You watch his movements, the light trace of his finger on your bare skin, the pinch of fabric as he adjusts his boxers. The careful movements of his own hips, trying not to incite anything more.

“I love you,” you offer, when he doesn’t say anything. Whispered, like it’s a question, like something to dangle in front of him to make him bite.

At the very least, it unsticks his gaze from the cotton print over your chest and back up to your face – where he softens and says, “Oh, darlin’. I love you, too.”

He gives you a squeeze and pulls you by the shoulders closer, letting you feel his lips on yours again and again, until you’re out of breath. You nuzzle your head under his jaw, the rise and fall of his chest and the steady beat of his heart at your ear.

Joel trails his hands up and down your spine. He breaks the silence first – stammers his way through a question you’re not sure how to answer.

“Was I – was I hurtin’ you? All this time?”

You lift your head, looking blankly at him. “What –?”

“Was I hurting you?”

“Hurting me?”

He nods. “Everythin’ we were doin’. Everything we’ve done. You wanted me to be doing it, right?”

He looks…scared, as though forty years have been shaved from him over the course of one day. Eyes glassy like he might burst into tears; bottom lip almost trembling with uncertainty.

You sit up and cup his face; he breathes a sigh of relief when you look him dead in the eye and say, “I wanted you to be doing all of it.”

“All of it?” he repeats.

“Yes,” you nod, “nothing you ever did ever hurt me.”

He lowers his gaze. “’cept when I left.”

“You came back.”

His thumb curves beneath the slip of fabric on your hips, toying with the elastic. There’s more in his question, you know it. He’s not convinced by a word you say.

“It’s just…all such a fuckin’ mess,” he groans, fingertips massaging his forehead.

You hesitate, unwilling to agree and unable to disagree. It is a fucking mess – that much is true. But if that’s all it is, then why does your heart pause for breath whenever you see him? Why does the mere thought of his presence, the tiniest glimpse of him – why does it all send your stomach somersaulting?

How can something supposed to be so bad, make you feel so fucking good?

“It was wrong of me,” Joel says, “to flirt with you that night I first saw you again. To put you in that position. But I did, and we ended up here. And I’m glad we did, baby, you know I am, but…it’s on me. This thing with you ‘n your dad.”

“You don’t think he should back off a little? Don’t think he’s oversteppin’ a mark, even a tiny bit?”

He shakes his head. “I’d do the damn same, ‘n you know it. I shoulda known better. Shouldn’ta let it happen. You mean more to me than the world, and I – I caused all this hurt for you.”

Sure, it’s real noble of him to take all of the blame, but it wasn’t just him. You had a part in it, too: your batting eyelashes, your hands where they shouldn’t have been. Your jaw tightens when he says it, holding back from telling him you want as much responsibility in this as he’s taking, even if he won’t allow it.

But an argument with Joel, right off the back of one with your father, isn’t really something you need. It wouldn’t help anything. So, you swallow your words and whisper new ones.

“You shouldn’t have flirted with me?”

His eyebrows flick, concern knotting them together. He sits up, scooping you in his arms. “I meant I should’ve never let it get to this point.”

“’n what about the first time you touched me?”

The memory plays between you: the weight of him on your body, the sound of the stereo system firing up downstairs. One hand between your legs and the other pinching your heart.

The light in your eyes starts to bleed through your body into Joel’s, distorting the projected image of that scene in your bedroom. It ignites somewhere low, travelling upwards until his stare locks with yours: an understanding weaving between you both.

You lean back from him, drinking in the sight. “Nothin’ but trouble, right? That’s what you said, that first night. You knew damn well where it might go. ‘n you still wanted it, just as bad.”

“Darlin’, I’m not sayin’ I didn’t, I –”

“No, no, I get it. I get it.”

You push his shoulders to the mattress. Fire in your belly, some kind of twisted energy pumping through your veins, you grind down on him again.

That thing, about this being all you know how to do? About taking your needs out on each other?

Right now, you need distraction. You need something to tire you out, to drain you of energy, to stop your thoughts for five minutes. You need someone to hold you, and love you, and make you feel good. Joel’s the perfect distraction.

He’s still hard. You’re still wet. It’s easy.

You drag your hips lazily over his, cotton riding against lace. He’s growing harder, bigger; he’s pushing up into you. You respond by pushing down, and Joel groans.

“Hey,” he takes hold of your thighs, “baby, we don’t have to –”

“Then, let’s stop.”

He says nothing.

You reach down past the band of his boxers and take him in your hand. He bites back a moan, his head falling into the pillow. You’re stroking him: long, hard strokes, fist tightening around him, fingers dipping between your folds to apply your slick to his length.

“Say the word, Joel. We’ll stop,” you pant, unsure if even you buy the words you’re saying. “You said it: none of this should’ve ever happened. You should’ve never laid a finger on me.”

His arms lift, throbbing biceps curving around his pillow and crumpling it against his skull. He doesn’t tell you to stop, because he doesn’t fucking want you to. He needs this – needs you as much as you need him, needs you more than he needs the air in his lungs.

And you’re right: it is different now. Now, it’s out in the open. The whole world could know, for all the two of you care. And maybe that’s the kick to it, now. No more hiding. No more fleeing from shadow to shadow.

You tug his underwear down and lower yourself, dragging your folds up and down the width of him while sticky precome gathers at his tip, dappling the trail of hair from his navel. And when you can’t do it anymore, when the mere sight of him drenched in your arousal threatens to send you over the edge, you line him up to your entrance and sink down, slow.

He moans into the pillow, fabric muffling your favorite sound in the world. And he doesn’t stop, his chest doesn’t stop rumbling until you reach his hilt, where he gasps.

“Darlin’,” he whimpers, hands coming back down to hold you in place.

You bat them away. “Uh-uh,” you tut, pinning his wrists above his head. “Not a – fuckin’ – finger.”

Joel grits his teeth, eyes locking onto yours, directly above him as you slide up off his cock, hips circling as you do, and then back down. Your free hand curves around his ribcage, the solid flesh of his torso stabilizing you.

“Poor baby,” you coo, pouting your lip. “Can’t even touch me. Can’t put a hand on your girl when you need to most.”

“Fuckin’ – whore,” he grunts, and your hips grind to a halt. You release his wrists.

“That what you think of me?” you ask, sitting upright on his lap. Joel’s still buried deep inside you.

“No,” he’s breathing, lips curling, “no, baby. Keep goin’.”

“I’m not the one goin’ back on my word here.”

He flashes a thick, filthy smile. “I know, I know. Go on. Make me proud.”

You lean forward again and he sighs, the feel of your wet cunt wrapping like satin around him.

“You think he’d trust you, anyway, after everythin’?” you mewl. “Think he thinks I’m in a different room right now? Tucked up in bed, safe ‘n sound? Nah, baby, he knows. He knows what you’re doin’ right now. Keep your hands off me? You can’t keep your cock outta me.”

Joel moans in agreement, hands gripping into the sheets to ground himself, hips bucking up against yours. You place your hands either side of him on the mattress and start to bounce, skin slapping, bed shaking.

“You like that, huh?” you moan, feeling the sharp kiss of his head at your cervix. Nudging, nudging, nudging. Blunt pain, blissful pleasure. “Like me riding it. Takin’ what I – oh, fuck – what I need.”

He lets out a guttural moan, writhing around underneath you. It’s like he’s forgotten where he is, forgotten you guys aren’t alone in the house; drunk on the sight, smell, sound, and feel of you on him, not even trying to stifle his sounds anymore.

You close your eyes and hope Sarah doesn’t wake anytime soon.

You’re keeping the façade up for Joel, but on the inside, you feel the exact same. His words echo in your ears, shouldn’ta let it happen, and how quickly that melted into make me proud. Your head starts to swim, your eyes heavy, your body trembling.

The thatch of hair at the bottom of his cock brushes against your clit, a gasp drawing between your teeth. Pain begins to rip upwards on the inside of your thighs, forcing you forward.

“Joel,” you pant, leaning over him. “Fuck.”

“Gotta let me touch you, baby,” he whispers, hands lifting beneath the fabric of your shirt. His fingers ghost across the curve of your shoulders. “You need it, don’t you?”

You whimper in response and Joel slips past the moment of weakness, taking a strong grip of both shoulders and pulling himself upright on the mattress. The tee slips from your body in one breath, and his hands follow the incline of your neck to your jaw, holding you steady as he fucks up into you.

“You want me to fill you up?” he asks, leaning back with a palm flat on the bed behind to watch himself disappear between your legs.

You’re nodding desperately. “Mhm.”

“Gotta ask nicely, remember? Be a good girl for me?”

“Dick,” you hiss, draping your arms over his shoulders.

He pouts. Sweat gleams on his upper lip. His voice cracks, weakens like stone beginning to crumble. “’s not v-very n-ice, baby.”

“Comeinme,” you beg, your fingers swirling around the dark hair at the bottom of his skull. “Please, come in me.”

“Atta-girl,” he groans, and his hands instantly lock on your hips. You don’t stop him this time, letting him push you down as hard as he can onto his cock, coming as deep inside you as he can.

And then – that familiar feeling of being his. Filled with him, your eyes and your nose and your mouth and your cunt spilling with the sight, smell, taste and feel of him. He coats your walls, throbs deep inside you as he claims every tiny corner of your body.

He growls as his cock twitches, and you watch his expression go from determined, to blissful, to fucking exhausted when he stills and his head rolls forward into your chest. His breath hot and staggered between your breasts; light kisses peppered onto damp skin.

You watch him through a post-sex haze, the air between you thick and blurry, as he presses his lips into your chest. He sucks along the cushion of your breast until he reaches the nipple, lips cupping around it, tongue flicking with all the effort he has left in him.

When he lifts his head again, one final kiss to your sensitive flesh, you balance his chin under your thumbs.

“You come?” he asks, the words propelled by a heavy exhale.

You shake your head slowly. “I’m tired, anyway.”

“Alright,” Joel groans, flipping you over. He pushes your thighs apart, his spend leaking from your slit and running southwards.

“Joel,” you giggle, “c’mon, I’m tired. You don’t have to –”

He’s already pushing himself lower, whipping the dark cotton tee from his shoulders and brushing his naked chest over your stomach. You lower your arms to hook under his.

“Hey. Come here a sec.”

Joel blinks up at you. “What’s up?”

“Just – come here.”

He kneels back up to you, hovering over you with his hands under your shoulders. His limp cock lies against the inside of your thigh as he lowers his weight onto your hips. You tilt your head, mapping his face.

Your knuckle runs across his cheek, the jagged bristle of his beard on your warm skin. Like running your hand under water, unable to tell whether it’s scalding hot or freezing cold – there is no saying whether you’re so used to him now that the feel of him is unaffecting, or entirely all-consuming. There’s no middle ground. Not anymore.

“I know –” You sigh, your voice swollen with a soft cry. There’s no stopping the tears anymore. They just come. “I know you think you should’ve known better. But I am so fucking glad that you didn’t.”

It’s done nothing but pour all day. You woke up this morning to the rain battering against Joel’s window, your body hooked against his by his arm.

Day four. Still no call, no text, no nothing from your dad. You haven’t exactly returned the favor – the closest you dared was having Sarah drive you to your house while he was at work so you could dip into the hallway, grab your car keys, and drive straight back to Joel’s. You pulled up in his driveway alongside each other and she rolled her window down, checking your expression before snorting.

It’s like a damn Mission: Impossible film, she jested.

The pain feels blunter, more distant than it did on Saturday. Like your father has bowed his head, faded some into the dark background of upstage. You realize, a few days in – the movie nights and the meals homecooked by three chefs; the way Joel’s scent starts to become yours, his T-shirts hanging loose over your shoulders and his boxers snug against your hips – that you forget to check on the shadow of your dad. Forget the spot he once stood in, the thunderous cloud cast over his head. The same one that so regularly used to pour rain over you.

Sarah went out with her friends a few hours ago. She called to say she’d miss dinner, so you and Joel ordered Chinese. You’re sat with your legs in his lap picking away at some noodles, scrolling mindlessly on your phone while he catches up on some baseball highlights show.

“Fuckin’ – idiots,” he mumbles, fork angrily picking at rice.

Your eyes don’t lift from the Instagram caption you’re reading. “Fuckin’ idiots,” you flatly agree.

Joel’s head turns. “Alright, Miss Big Rangers Fan. I remember a time you pretended to be into ‘em to get my attention.” He attempts to grab your phone, and you swipe it from his grasp.

“Shut up,” you giggle, grabbing hold of your takeout box. “Joel – be careful!”

He snorts, settling back into the couch, changing the TV channel. You give his thigh a little kick, tugging your blanket up. As the TV switches from one showing to the next, your phone buzzes.

You glance down, chopsticks halfway to your mouth, and freeze.

Dear Candidate…

“Joel.”

“Hm?” he asks, eyes glued to the flickering screen.

“Joel.”

“Yes, darlin’?”

You unstick your stare from the phone, looking up to meet his perplexed expression. “They got back to me.”

He squints for a second before the remote is dropped to the cushion. “And?”

“I don’t know, I just saw the first line.”

“Open it, baby. C’mon. Whatever it is, you gotta know.”

“You know what,” you shrug, “I’m good. I don’t need to know. It’s all good.”

“Hey.” Joel snaps his fingers scooping your gaze from the floral, bohemian name on the header of the email and up to his own. “Open it, or I’m kickin’ you out.”

You mock gasp. “You’d put me out on the streets?”

“Worse. Put you back to your dad’s. Now open the email.”

Your thumb trembles as it hovers over the screen, one tap away from the biggest change in your life since you left for New York. Like it’s five years ago, and you’re sat in front of your laptop, psyching yourself up to open the response to your college application.

“Okay,” you breathe, slamming your thumb down. Joel leans in, staring at the screen from upside down.

It swipes across and your eyes flit down, focusing hard on the sentence beneath the opening line. You blink rapidly, waiting for the wash of tears to clear and dissolve it to Unfortunately, or After careful consideration, or We appreciate your interest.

But it never does.

Invite to interview stares back up at you, waiting for your face to break. Expectant, a little nervous. Jittering inside your shaking fist. Joel breaks first, when he spots it.

He almost throws his food onto the coffee table, taking your container from your hands and bundling you up in his. He pulls you into his body, presses heavy kisses to the crook of your neck as you laugh, your entire body quaking with joy and terror and relief and anxiety.

“What’d I tell you?” he says, kissing you roughly. “I knew it, babygirl. I knew you would – Fuck, I am so fucking proud of you.”

“It’s just –” sniff, “– it’s just an interview, remember. I might not get it, in the end.”

Joel shakes his head. “I don’t care. You’re a damn sight closer to gettin’ it than you were three days ago.”

You sit for probably twenty minutes, laughing and then weeping and then laughing again – until the food is cold, there’s a new episode of South Park rolling on TV, and Joel’s T-shirt is soaked with your tears.

“I gotta call Sarah,” you whisper, finger sifting through his hair. Your head buried in his neck, your knees either side of his hips.

“She’s going to lose her fuckin’ mind,” he mumbles into your shoulder, laughing to himself. “She’ll sit off-camera in the corner of the room, so they can’t see her, ‘n hold up cue cards.”

You giggle, letting it dissipate into something weaker, something unconvinced. In a small voice, you say, “We just got one step closer to being four states apart.”

He looks up at you, curving a hand around your jaw, and pulls your lips against his. It’s slow, tender – his every thought and feeling translated into physical movement, transformed into a spin of butterflies in your chest.

When you pull away from him, smiling dumbly, he clips your cheek. “That scare you?”

You hesitate, afraid to tell him the truth. But it’s Joel. He knows every thought that passes through your head. You nod, eyes filling with a salty sting.

“Why?” he asks.

You glance out to the street. “’cause I love you. I don’t wanna leave you.”

Joel nods. Considers it. Then says, “You know why it doesn’t scare me?”

You lift your eyebrows in response. Why?

“Because I love you. And we are gonna be just fine.”

And you believe him.

[sassyjoy]

unplanned sleepover

genre: smut

word count: 1.4k

⋆｡˚ ⋆ ☾

"You can sit on my bed," Sooyoung told you upon entering her dorm room. It was quite spacious, you thought. The two beds certainly caught your attention, their neatness contrasting against the cozy disarray of the rest of the room. Posters of romcom films adorned one wall, while a whiteboard covered in colorful sketches and project ideas took up another. On the study desk, a jumble of art supplies mingled with a laptop displaying a digital design in progress. The room felt like a creative hub where the worlds of multimedia arts collided in a harmonious chaos curated by two distinct personalities.

"Do you want anything? Coffee? Juice? Water?" Sooyoung asked as she placed back her roommate's gaming chair near where it belongs.

"No, I'm good,” you replied, casting your eyes around the room, taking in the unique blend of multimedia arts influences in the shared space. You noticed a film camera on the desk and asked Sooyoung if that was hers.

"It's Wonwoo's," Sooyoung responded with a smile, gesturing towards the camera with a hint of admiration.

"Wonwoo? Oh, the guy you've been crushing about?" 

Sooyoung snorted. "That's Jaehyun, dumbass. You never really listen to my stories, don't you?" You laughed when she threw a hoodie at you in which you caught. You knew it was Jaehyun, you were just messing with her.

"Wonwoo's my roommate."

"Oh, I didn't know men and women can share the same dorm room," you said in disbelief, as you knew it was not allowed in most dormitories.

Sooyoung shrugged, unfazed. "My landlord is cool with it and besides, I don't really mind sharing the same room with the opposite sex. As long as they're clean and mindful in their space, I won't have a problem with them. And Wonwoo's really nice. He's neat. We also share the same course so we really get along with each other!" As she spoke, Sooyoung picked her pajamas from her cabinet, preparing to change into sleepwear for the night.

"Why isn't he here though?" You asked as you lay on her bed, getting comfy. The bed felt nice and soft. You noticed some polaroid pictures of Sooyoung with friends near her bedside table. It was cute to see familiar faces from your shared circle of friends since high school.

"Org duties, I guess. He said he'll be home late," she shrugged.

"I'll go get changed," Sooyoung said before heading to the bathroom. You found yourself scrolling and watching tiktok videos on your phone on her bed. It was kind of funny that despite being friends for years, it was the first time being alone together. You usually never had this chance due to various reasons.

Your stay in her dorm wasn't planned. Your car broke down, and with heavy rain outside, the mechanic couldn't come fix it. Luckily, Sooyoung's dorm was nearby. It became your refuge from the storm. Without her help, you'd be out in the cold.

~

You were sleeping in one bed with Sooyoung. It wasn't supposed to be like that but you've had sleepovers with your circle of friends before. Sleeping in one bed shouldn't be a bad thing. 

What's bad is that you're lusting over her. It shouldn't be like this. You know that yourself. 

You wished you didn't enter the bathroom earlier. If you hadn't, you wouldn't see her dirty laundry. It wasn't your fault that you saw her undies lying there. It wasn't your fault that you had the urge to pick it up and smell it. But you did pick it up and smell it. The thought of Sooyoung wearing it just turned you even more and caused tenting on your sweatpants. 

Here you are, lying on your side with your back to her. You're trying your best to fall asleep, but it seems impossible. Sooyoung, on the other side of the bed, keeps shifting and turning, making it even harder for you to find rest. You just want to get off this feeling. 

'Should I just jerk off in the bathroom?' You've been asking yourself this question for the past 30 minutes now. But the bathroom's kinda far from the bed. 

The room was dark. The only sound you could hear was the rain outside. The gentle tap-tap-tap against the window filled the room, creating a peaceful atmosphere. You're finally getting off that idea in your mind until you heard small soft whimpers. 

You changed your position, now you're facing Sooyoung. You waited for that sound again, because you thought that your mind is just messing around. Was it Sooyoung? Or maybe that was Wonwoo? Her roommate, who's sleeping soundly on the other side of the room. Nah, it won't be him. It sounded like a girl's, you thought. 

You were about to sleep when you heard something again, and this time, you were sure that it was Sooyoung. 

The room was dimly lit, but when you adjusted to the darkness you saw Sooyoung rubbing herself. The hem of her dark blue night gown lifted up to her thigh. Your heart beat went crazy, not knowing what to do.

"Ohh," she moaned quietly. You can't stop watching pleasuring herself. It's a new sight for you. You've known her for years and you never knew she has this side of hers. You were always bickering with each other but you always thought that she was all this innocent. 

You felt hot, wishing Sooyoung won't notice. 

You slightly moved, turning yourself more towards her, to watch more clearly. Sooyoung stopped for a second, scanning your face before going back to rubbing again. 

You can't help it anymore, and moved again, this time your arm flinging over to her side making sure to lightly brush her thigh before resting your arm on her stomach.

"Shit," she whispered to herself, not being able to continue anymore. You felt her try to pull your arm away but you just changed your position, your leg now brushing up to her thigh. You can feel her body heat and heaving, getting turned on even more. 

You felt her stop for a few minutes. 

She then finally rested her hand on top of yours. 

You found it cute not until she lifted your hand and put it over her wet pussy. Your eyes instantly opened, obviously shocked at what she did. Damn, she's not wearing an underwear. 

"I knew it, you're awake." She whispered, you tried to pull your hand away but she gripped it tighter. 

"Can you help me with this one? Please?" She begged as she bit her lip as she guided your hand to her cunt. You gulped. With shaky hands, you found yourself messing with the hem of her sleepwear.

'Why are you nervous? She literally asked you for this.' You thought. Sooyoung squeezed her clothed breast as she waits for your next move. You were contemplating for a second before whispering "fuck it" under your breath and placed your hand over her shaved pussy. 

You traced her vagina with your middle finger. You pressed it between her folds, finding her clit with ease. 

"Oh- fuck... this is way better than using my own fingers- god!" You watched her covering her mouth with her own hands, feeling the sensation you've been giving her. For some reason, you liked how's this going. 

You circled her clit. You can feel how warm and wet she have had become. Sooyoung was trying so hard not to make a noise when you added another finger inside her. Her breathing became heavy and a little unsteady. You placed your other arm underneath her to pull her body closer to you. 

"Does it feel good, Sooyoung?" You whispered in her ear that earned you a grip on your forearm. 

"Feels so good," she croaked. The rain was too loud. Wonwoo won't probably hear what's happening between you two, right?

You placed soft kisses on the side of her neck as you increased the pace of your fingers. You can feel her body wriggle from the pleasure. You loved how every time you went deeper, her grip on you got tighter. 

"Just like that," she whispered. You kept hitting the spot she could barely reach with her own fingers. Sooyoung arched her back, palming her tits as she grinds against your fingers, trying to reach that delicious high she's been aching to have. Her breath quickens as you hit the spot inside her, your fingers scissoring her tight hole. 

"Ohhh," then she exploded. Sooyoung's cum wets your fingers. It took her a minute to calm down. You caressed her thighs as you wait for her to calm down from how she fell apart from the build-up you managed to give her.

"You owe me one," you told her, whispering in her ear while still stroking her soft skin. 

[babysun412]

Naps with Nct Dream!

Mark

Mark is the type of person who needs to be forced to sleep. He's always preoccupied with something whether it's for work or it's his own personal projects. But once you do finally wrestle him down for a nap. He will be out like a light for HOURS.

He will wrap his arms tight around you from behind and his face will bury itself in your neck. He won't even care if your hair is in his face. The feeling of your warm back pressed against him allows him to feel safe and comfortable. He will absolutely whine if you try to pull away when he's not ready to wake up though.

Renjun

Renjun honestly seems like someone who is always down for a nap. With the irritated looks he gives the dreamies I would not be surprised if he's the first one to suggest it.

He would love to take naps during the slower times of the day. The perfect time being the small slump before dinner. He would love waking up to your soft and relaxed face as he can smell warm food cooking (hopefully not by a member who will lit the kitchen on fire) downstairs.

Jeno

Clingy! He is super duper clingy when he is tired and napping is not an exception! However, just like Mark, it does take a little bit for you to convince him to come nap with you. Jeno likes having things to do and he likes relaxing once all his activities are done. So a nap with Jeno is very short, 30 minutes at best.

But once he's wrapped you up against his chest he doesn't let you go the whole time. You gotta pee, too bad. Someone's knocking on the door, oh well. His arms would be tight around you and his nose would instantly bury itself in your hair.

However, there are those small moments where Jeno falls asleep for hours and those are the naps you cherish. You love waking up to his soft sleepy face and the feeling of not needing to be somewhere or doing something.

Haechan (Donghyuck)

Donghyuck doesn't like naps. Not a single bit and while whine over and over again if you try to make him take one. You won't even be able to really nap with the amount of complaining and rolling over he will do.

But if you are reaallllyyyy lucky, he will actually fall asleep. He would have a loose arm thrown over you and his face would be smushed against his pillow with his mouth slightly open. It's funny how the one time he actually naps he's whining for you to stay and keep napping with him.

Jaemin

First of all, Jaemin loves you to pieces. He would do anything for you. If you want a nap, this boy has already dug all of your fluffy blankets out of the closet and is turning off the lights before you even finish asking.

He would pull you into the biggest and tightly bear hug you can imagine. His heartbeat would lull you to sleep and the fact the love of his life is in his arms would put him to sleep too. There is no doubt that his heart only beats for you.

Chenle

Another complainer! But he doesn't do it because he hates naps, in fact he loves them. He complains because he loves to see you get annoyed. He loves watching you shake his arm and the cute frown on your face when he says no. The second you sigh and give up is the second he pulls you towards the bed.

Chenle becomes so soft and gentle with you when you take naps together. He loves when you place your head on his chest and his heart does a flip when your hands clutch onto his hoodie. He'll slowly rub circles on your hip with his fingers until he falls asleep.

If he wakes up before you he loves to just trace your features with his eyes. He refuses to get out of the bed until you wake up. You turn our bad bitch chenle into a big ol' softy.

Jisung

Jisung was absolutely already laying down before you walked into the room. Naps are definitely apart of his everyday routine. He doesn't mind waking up to you in his arms though.

He would be a little surprised to find another person sleeping in his bed when he wakes up. But once he sees that it's you, he instantly fills with happiness. He would sneak as close as he could get without waking you up and press his red smiling face into your shoulder. Seeing you so vulnerable and cute would literally cause his heart to explode.

[mattscoquette]

𝑰𝑻'𝑺 𝑨 𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬/𝑯𝑨𝑻𝑬 𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑵𝑮 - 𝑻𝑾𝑶 | 𝑴𝑨𝑻𝑻 𝑺𝑻𝑼𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑶𝑳𝑶

𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉.. a quiet introverted girl attempts to befriend her popular neighbor

cursing

2.2k words

introduction 1 3 4 5 6 7

matthew sturniolo,

woke up the following morning in a frenzy. being one of four boys, his mom implemented a strict morning routine when the triplets started kindergarten, that they have been following right up until now, their senior year of high school. this morning however, matt was awoken about five minutes before he had to leave to the sound of chris and nick’s yelling to hurry his ass up. matt scrambled to pick out whatever clothes he could find, a pair of grey nike sweats and a fuzzy brown hoodie, and hurried downstairs to brush his teeth at record breaking speed before he was out the door heading the the mini van.

as he was throwing his and his brothers hockey bags into the trunk, he caught a glimpse of addilyn leaving her house and starting to walk down the block to the bus stop. as if his thoughts were being read, chris out loud wondered “what senior is still taking the bus?”

before matt could even open his mouth to make a rude comment, nick was already calling her over to offer a ride.

“dude what the fuck,” matt muttered under his breath to nick as addilyn approached the van, “i don’t wanna drive her.”

addilyn’s appearance totally switched from what she was wearing when matt saw her last night. her slim fitting dress was swapped out for a pair of mom jeans and an oversized sweater, her curly brown hair held back by a clip. “are you sure?” she breathed, looking at nick, “i’m okay with taking the bus, really.”

“we don’t mind at all, do we matt?” nick smiled through gritted teeth, nudging his brother in the arm.

“we don’t have time to mind,” chris interrupted them, climbing into the passenger seat, “we’re gonna be late.”

matt huffed, telling addilyn she could sit in the back seat with nick. he quickly plugged his phone into the aux cord, playing circles by mac miller as he backed out of the driveway and made his way to school.

*₊˚ 𓂃✧

it was only fourth period, and matt was already pissed off. the start to his day had been thrown off by waking up so late, and addilyn richardson being in his van this morning did not help one bit. he wasn’t sure what it was about that girl that bothered him so much. maybe it was the way she shut out the world by indulging herself in a book or in a drawing she was working on. or maybe it was the way her curls would stick up and fly away from the rest of her hair sometimes making her look like a mad scientist. or maybe it was the way she was the only girl who didn’t pay one ounce of attention to him. being the school’s best hockey player alongside his two other triplet brothers definitely made matt one of the most popular guys in school. he never had any trouble when it came to girls, because all of them already wanted him. except addilyn.

get yourself together man, she’s weird matt thought to himself as he entered his physics class, sitting next to his best friend nate. as he plopped his backpack down beside his friend, matt looked up at the white board and read in all big letters:

PARTNER PROJECT ON ENERGY OF MOTION - DUE IN TWO WEEKS

matt and nate grinned at each other, beginning making plans to pair up. the bell rang, and the teacher began to lecture. matt pulled out his notebook, already struggling to follow along with his teacher’s presentation. he had never been a straight a student, but he needed to keep his grades decent to stay on all his teams. however, physics was bringing his overall average down, and he needed to do well on this project to be able to start in his upcoming hockey games.

as the class made its way to an end and the students began to pack up, the teacher started to explain the project. “it’s quite simple really,” he began as he was erasing his notes from the board, “you and a partner will pick your own type of demonstration to show how kinetic energy is used in everyday objects.”

“this project will be worth a quarter of this semester’s overall grade, for both you and your partner, so it is crucial you all do well on this.” he explained, looking directly at matt. “before i let you all leave, i will be assigning your partners.” the entire class groaned.

he pulled out his class roster and began reading off names paired together.

“alexa and william… michelle and quincy… peter and xaiver… isabelle and ryan…”

please let me be with nate, matt thought. please let me be with nate. please let me be with nate.

“matthew and addilyn… louise and theresa… nathan and catie…”

no fucking way. of course addilyn was matt’s partner. he didn’t even know she was in his class. he looked around, annoyance written all over his face and he locked eyes with the curly headed girl sitting in the back of the room. she didn’t look too pleased either.

“this is an out of class project, so i suggest you start working on this asap.” the teacher announced just as the bell was ringing.

matt headed straight for the door when he felt a small tap on his shoulder. “what?” he snapped, looking down at the girl who tapped him.

“sorry,” addilyn said in a hushed voice, “its just- do you want to work on the project after school? we can go to my house, or i can come to yours or-”

“yeah, thats fine.” matt cut her off, walking out of the classroom, trying to shake her and walk with nate.

“which one?” she called out to him, her voice barely above a whisper.

“my house, but don’t expect anymore free rides from me. take the bus home.” matt told her angrily. she simply nodded and let him walk away from her, watching as he laughed with his friends in the hallway.

*₊˚ 𓂃✧

it was currently 3:30p.m., and matt was sitting at his kitchen table waiting for addilyn to come over. he had his laptop and textbook open, with messily written notes scattered all across the table. he found out later on in the school day that if he failed physics this semester, not only would be not be starting in his games, he would be benched for the rest of his hockey season. so to say he was stressed about this project was an understatement. he was broken out of his thoughts when he heard a tiny knock at the door, yelling for one of his brothers let addilyn in.

she wasn’t too excited about this project either, to be quite frank. but not for the same reasons as matt. addilyn simply hated working with others. she felt her quiet and introverted nature caused her to not work well when came to partner projects, so she typically opted to do these assignments alone. she even tried emailing her physics teacher after class, begging for him to let her work alone. he insisted that this was a two-person project for a reason, and told addilyn to stick it out. so here she was, at 3:30 on a monday, in matt sturniolo’s kitchen.

addilyn wasn’t sure why matt didn’t like her very much, but she wasn’t exactly is number one fan either. all the girls in the school loved matt. star hockey player, good looking, what wasn’t there to like about him? addilyn never looked at people surface level, though. she was a hardcore people watcher, mainly due to the fact she was almost always alone. she saw right through matt’s act and knew he was mean. she wasn’t sure how on earth he was related to nick and chris. they had only started talking a day ago, and she was greeted with smiles and waves every time she passed one of them that day. nick had even gone as far as switching his seat in art to sit next to addilyn. “i never liked sitting by the window, he had told her, “it’s always too drafty.”

addilyn quietly put her belongings down at the chair opposite from matts things, trying her best to be careful and not do anything to piss off matt even more. she was already on edge having to work one on one with him in his own house. matt didn’t even bother to look up at her. he mumbled a small “hi” as be started to type away on his laptop. addilyn pulled her belongings out, a stark contrast to matt’s. her notes were all written perfectly, with all the t’s crossed and i’s dotted, in a small cursive font that looked identical to if it were typed. matt took slight note of this.

“how do you write so neatly?” he genuinely asked, then realized he sounded nice, following up with “you probably so much free time on your hands because you have no friends” after addilyn told him quietly she re-writes her notes during lunch.

addilyn simply rolled her eyes. “i came here to work on the project, matt, not to take shit from you.”

“besides,” she started “we both get the same grade on this, and i am not letting you fuck up my gpa just because you want to be a dick to me.”

“it’s not like i can afford a bad grade on this either, sweetheart.” matt shot back at her.

sweetheart. why did her stomach suddenly feel weird?

stop it addy, she told herself, it’s matt, for crying out loud.

addilyn scoffed and began to look through her notes. “what were you thinking we do the project about?”

“i was hoping you could just do all the work.” matt had replied, blunt and matter-of-factly.

“what?” addilyn said in shock, dumfounded.

“what do you mean, what?, i don’t know shit about physics, you do. plus, i know you hate to work on these kinds of things with other people, so why don’t you do it alone?” matt told her.

she was in shock. had he really noticed i always work alone? she thought.

stop addy. he knows you work alone because you’re always doing things alone. it isn’t rocket science to connect the two.

before she could open her mouth to reply, chris came downstairs into the kitchen, grabbing a pepsi from the fridge. a smile grew on addilyn’s face as she said hi to him.

“no way, you and addy got paired together for this project?” chris gawked at matt, looking between him and addilyn.

“you’re so lucky, dude,” he continued, taking a swig of the soda, “justin told me he did this project when he was a senior, and everyone did so bad. thank god your partner is like, one of the top ten students in our class, or your senior season would have been shot.”

matt simply looked at chris. he was right, this shit was hard. he looked between the paper and addilyn a few times, before asking “where do we start?”

‎*₊˚ 𓂃✧

addilyn and matt ended up working until about 7:30 that night. his mom even insisted she stayed for dinner too.

“really sweetie, i don’t mind. i’m already feeding four kid’s, what’s one more?” she laughed.

“yeah addy, stay with us for dinner, please?” nick somewhat whined, dragging out the “e” sound.

addilyn gave in, and joined the sturniolo’s for dinner the second day in a row. like the previous night, dinner was filled with chatter from nick and chris, and radio silence coming from matt’s end. instead of giving her mean looks like he did at the previous dinner they shared, he just started at his plate the whole night and picked at his food.

“sorry about matt again,” chris apologized as he and nick began walking addilyn back next door to her house, “i don’t know whats been up with him lately.”

“it’s fine, really.” addilyn said. people being mean to her, or making rude remarks, was not out of the ordinary for her. she heard small whispers in passing everywhere she went. she was just used to it. “i’m glad you and nick are nice at least.”

chris just smiled at her and nick gave her a quick side hug. “we’re glad you’re nice, too, addy.”

the trio got to the front door, and addilyn gave them a small wave goodnight before she turned on her heel to walk into her home and upstairs. the boys walked back over to their house, noticing matt had already gone upstairs and disappeared to his room. he was sat at his desk, writing in his journal, when he noticed the light in the window across from his turned on. he saw addilyn set her book bag down, and sit at her mirror undoing her hair. he couldn’t help but to think how pretty she looked.

she’s weird, matt, he reminded himself, and you don’t even like her.

he sighed, closing his journal, and getting up to pull his blinds down to try to clear his head from the girl. out of sight out of mind. he saw her give a small smile, and he returned it by giving her a death stare, yanking the blinds down.

he got into bed, tossing and turning all night about this project with addilyn. he didn’t want to work on it with her, let alone even be nice to her, but he had to for chris and nick’s sake. they only started talking to her yesterday for god’s sake, and were already acting like they’ve been best friends since birth. matt knew these next two weeks of working on the project with addilyn everyday were going to be long.

𝐚/𝐧: oooo part 2! i hope u all enjoy! i'm writing a lot but part three won't get posted this weekend because i'll be out of state. but i appreciate all the love part one got and i hope u guys r just as excited to read this as i am to write it!!! lmk if any of u guys wanna be on on taglist too <333

© mattscoquette

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: @alorsxsturn @sturniolossss @cammie4298 @bussybandit1 @amorttentia

[minki-moo]

♡‧₊˚ 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 ♡‧₊˚

pairing ♡ bang chan x f!reader tags ♡ bf!chan, dom!chan, sub!reader, corruption, fingering, (f.receiving), multiple orgasms rating ♡ e for explicit w/c ♡ 1.5k

a/n ♡ soooo the drabble turned into a full fic :) and yes i was projecting again who's surprised

you and chan haven't been together for too long, only celebrating your 6 month anniversary recently. because of your inexperience in relationships (and sex), you asked chan if you could take it slow, not wanting to rush things and potentially becoming overwhelmed and ruining your relationship.

chan, being the amazing and understanding person he is, was completely fine with it; he loves you and wants to make sure you feel comfortable with him.

however, things started to change as time went on. the less than subtle stares from chan whenever you borrow his hoodies (they reach to your knees so you never felt the need to wear pants under them), and how his hands tended to linger whenever he held you.

you also realized feelings inside you whenever chan did certain things, like when he only wore sweatpants and a tank top around you or when he stretched and you caught a glimpse at his abs.

you always brushed off these feelings, feeling too embarrassed to bring them up, even though you know you shouldn't; chan was experienced and he wouldn't feel weirded out that his girlfriend has these feelings for him.

one night, chan invited you over to his place for a little pizza and movie date. you (once again to his pleasure) wore one of chan's oversized sweaters and snuggled up to him on the couch, oblivious to how you were affecting him. you constantly shifting in his lap was getting him worked up. he wondered briefly if you were doing this on purpose; knowing you, you probably had no idea what you were doing to him.

while you were entranced by the film, you felt chan's arms wrap around your waist and pull you closer to his chest, feeling his growing erection on your back.

"chan-", you whisper shyly.

"shh princess, focus on the movie."

you stiffen up a little as chan's hands find their way to your thighs, now slightly exposed. gently gripping them, chan pulls your legs apart, exposing your clothed pussy.

"do you want to feel good, princess? i can make you feel really good, ok?"

his sweet, innocent sounding whispers made you shiver. at that moment, you wanted chan to touch you, you wanted to feel good even if you didn't know what he would do to you.

you nod, giving chan your silent permission to keep going. he starts kissing your neck, occasionally sucking the soft, delicate skin. as your arousal builds up, you start desperately seeking any friction on your now wet pussy, but chan's large hands kept your thighs apart.

god, this was so embarrassing. the way chan had you like putty in his arms was almost laughable, but you couldn't help it. all the doubts you had about going further with him disappeared, only to be replaced with need.

"c-channie...."

"don't worry. i have you princess."

before you can say anything else, chan moves one of his hands closer to your pussy, moving so slowly you almost whimper in anticipation.

when his hand reaches its destination, his finger slowly rubs circles on your swollen clit, making you quietly moan and lean back into him.

chan bites your neck, forcing a yelp out of you. he had to stop himself from groaning at how cute you sounded, how helpless and needy his touch made you. it made him want to do more dirty things to you, things you never thought of doing. moving his fingers faster, he thought about how cute you would look on your knees, looking up at him with your innocent look as he guides his cock in your mouth. how fucking adorable you would look pinned down on his bed, begging to cum as he fucks your pussy, forcing orgasm after orgasm out of you.

your grip on chan's thighs tightens as something starts to build up in your core, threatening to spill over at any time. the faster chan's fingers go, the more your legs start to shake. the only things coming out of your mouth are whines, soft moans, and the occasional "channie".

"gonna cum princess?". chan's voice sounds deep yet breathy. "let go for me ok? i promise you'll feel really good."

following chan's instructions, you relax fully into his touch, slowly coming undone. your body writhes in his arms, almost screaming as your orgasm hits you.

"that's my good girl, you did so well for me princess."

the praise makes you giddy in your post-orgasm haze, but you're not able to process it as chan picks you up and takes him to his bedroom.

he places you on his bed, and takes off his clothes one by one. his hungry gaze never leaves you, making you feel small and submissive.

"now baby", he crawls so he's on top of you, his hands situated beside your head, "that was just the beginning. we're going to do a lot more ok?"

you nod.

chan runs his hands on your body, your sweater riding up to expose your stomach and now soaked panties. he moves his way down to your thighs, taking his time to admire a part of you he's fantasized about for so long; the urge to put his head in between them and ravish your sweet, dripping cunt is high.

but he has other plans, lifting up your hips and pulling your panties down. the sight in front of him could make him cum right there on the spot: you spread out on his bed, in his clothes, and your pussy on full display. he's almost sad that he's the only one who can see you like this.

almost.

chan takes his finger and runs it through your folds, another whine leaving your mouth as he brushes over your sensitive bud. without warning, he slips his finger inside of you and starts slowly thrusting, making you gasp.

"it's ok baby. i need to stretch your pussy if you're going to take my cock." he chuckles as he feels you tighten and your eyes widen at his words.

"you like that, princess? you want to feel my cock inside you?" he slips another finger inside you. "you want me to tell you how good you are for taking my cock?"

his fingers pumping inside you and his words bring you closer to the edge. "channie, please. 'm gonna cum again."

chan removes his fingers from inside you, leaving you empty to your disappointment. but its not long after that you feel his cock head enter your aching hole.

"channie, 's too big. you won't fit."

"i will princess." he rubs his thumb over your clit, your hips unconsciously grinding into his touch. "i'll make it fit"

with one quick thrust, chan's cock is half way inside your wet cunt, the feeling making him let out a groan; it was so much better then he imagined.

the sudden stretch made your back arch, your mouth open in a silent scream. the feeling was so different, and the burn made it slightly uncomfortable. but the feeling of chan's hot cock inside you made it worth it.

"ch-channie-"

"god, you feel so good princess". he hides his head in your neck, grinding his hips and forcing more and more of his cock into you.

he finally bottoms out, his pelvis flush with yours. the feeling was nothing like it was before. you can feel chan's whole cock inside you, warm and pulsing as the tip brushed against your sweet spot.

"channie, 'm so full, 's too much."

"you can take it, princess."

chan starts to move his hips, moving almost frantically as he thrusts inside you. the punched out moans you make only encourage him to move faster, your reactions making it hard to not cum.

but he refuses to. he will take his time with you. he needs to see you fall apart on his cock, until you've cum two, three, even four times.

the feeling from earlier starts to build up again, your orgasm approaching too quickly for you to handle.

"channiechanniechannie 'm gonna cum."

chan moves his hips faster, helping you chase your orgasm. "cum for me princess. show me how good you are and cum on my cock."

that was enough to make you literally explode. you see stars as your pussy clenches on chan's cock and a scream leaves your mouth, only muffled by chan's lips on yours.

"that's it, princess," he says in between kisses. "god, you did so well baby. you'll cum for me again, ok." his last statement was more of an order than a question.

still blissed out from your high, you notice chan is still very much hard inside you, slowly moving and making you gasp at the sensitivity.

"channie, please i can-"

he snaps his hips again, cries leaving your mouth as he picks up the pace again.

"c-channie please i c-can't anymo-"

"one more time, ok? you can do that for me, right princess? just until i fill you up with my cum."

a/n ♡ this is probably my fav so far i love it >-<

[belle--ofthebrawl]

Rating: E

Pairing: Swiss/Rain

Tags: Dubious Consent, Consensual Kink, Barebacking, Creampie, Sexual Coercion, Dirty Talk, Breeding Kink, they're matching each other's freak your honor, Trans Rain, Mean Swiss

Summary: Okay so basically Rain is girlfriend.

Oh, that's-” Rain whispers and winces as the character onscreen is torn into, blood and guts flying everywhere as the zombies began to feed. He hides his face in Swiss' shoulder, covering his ears as the harsh screams fade into quiet gurgles.

“Awful.” He mutters. “Disgusting.”

Swiss chuckles and tosses a piece of popcorn into his mouth, catching it neatly on his tongue. He’s got his arm wrapped around Rain as the water ghoul snuggles into him and he rubs comforting little circles into his skin. He’d done the classic yawn and stretch early on, laying the groundwork for how he hoped it would go. Rain hadn't shaken him off, which was a good sign. And the gore on screen only made the poor little thing shiver and scootch closer to Swiss.

“Cold?” He asks, like he hasn't set the AC to blast frigid air over the poor ghoul's skin, breaking it out into goosebumps that left him curling up more and more because oops the blankets are all in the wash. His eyes linger on the shape his nipples make as they stiffen up into peaks under his shirt. A far more interesting thing to watch than the shitty B-movie playing out on the screen in front of him.

“A little.” Rain says with a delicate wrinkle of his nose. Swiss chuckles and momentarily sacrifices his arm placement to shrug off his hoodie and hand it over; Rain pulls it over his thin top gratefully, taking away Swiss’ top tier view of his tits but it's a willing loss in the long game he's playing here. “Thank you.”

“Anything for my Rainy baby.” Swiss says fondly, nudging him with an elbow and Rain purrs, snuggling up close.

They fall silent as the girl on screen walks down a hallway. Rain’s tense, cringing already. Almost… Swiss thinks, shifting into position. Rain won't have to worry about the rest of the film if Swiss pulls this move off. He shifts as subtly as he can, timing it with the little jump-scare that's a creaking floorboard. The girl hesitates, sweat dripping down her temple. Her fingers skate across the peeling paint of the door. Swiss does the same along Rain's arm, ostensibly to comfort him but it puts Swiss' hand right on the water ghoul's shoulder in a predatory grip.

Rain's breath hitches as she pushes open the door with a long whine of the rusty hinges to reveal an empty room. It's so cute how his Rainy mimics her relief; a little smile, a little chuckle at their own fear.

A step in the room.

Two.

She's by the bed now, and-

The zombie underneath strikes, lashing out with withered arms to drag her screaming to her bloody fate beneath and-

At the exact same moment, Swiss moves; bringing his arm around Rain's neck in a headlock as he cackles and drags the both of them off the couch, Rain kicking and screaming in fear the whole time and-

“You jerk!” Rain spits when Swiss lets him loose. Through his laughter, Swiss feels the gentle baps of Rain's irritation wherever the water ghoul can reach.

“Rainy, baby-” he gasps, but the assault continues, Rain getting up on his knees to whack him with the long sleeves of his own sweatshirt and a cute little pout. “Sugar-pie, honey-bunch-!”

“Oh, don't you dare!”

“You know that I love you!” He croons, opening his arms wide and with the assistance of his own long legs, bullies Rain right into his embrace, peppering him with kisses. “Just can't help myself, whenever I'm around you.”

Rain receives his affection with a flat face and no reaction, crossing his arms and making unhappy little noises until Swiss manages to heave them both up back on the couch. Rain flops over on his back, still not looking at him. Swiss’ tail wags happily as he settles his body weight on top of him, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek as he brackets his arms around him.

“I said I just can't help myself…” he finishes, flicking the tip of his nose. “Whenever I'm around you.” Rain is not amused if the scowl on his face is anything to go by. Swiss kisses that unhappy curve of his lips, brushing a stray curl off Rain's cheek. “You're cute when you scream.” He says softly.

“I'm always cute.” Rain corrects acidly, purposefully avoiding eye contact. Swiss chuckles, nips at his lower lip and kisses him. Sweet and chaste at first but when Rain's mouth opens to sigh, he takes the chance and licks inside in the way he knows makes his Rainy baby's tummy swoop. Fingers tangle in his soft curls, run down his neck to feel the race of his pulse and soon he's kissing Swiss back. Loops his arms around Swiss' neck and hooks a leg around his waist.

It doesn't take much more than that to get his cock to fatten up in his sweats. He's got his pretty little water ghoul gasping and arching into his touch, wearing his sweatshirt and murmuring his name. It'd make a saint go bad and Swiss is no holy idol on a pedestal. His head tips back as he starts a slow grind, right into the meeting of Rain's thighs and the softness of his folds under his leggings. Swiss doesn't think he's wearing underwear and the thought makes him leak.

“You can't be serious.” Rain huffs in disbelief, but rocks his hips up in a heavy counter rhythm to make each crush of their bodies feel that much better. “Someone just died on the TV.”

“Ain't watchin’ the TV.” Swiss chides, gripping Rain's waist to guide him, starting a thrusting pace they're both intimately familiar with. “M watchin’ you .” He pets over the fabric, finds the shape of his labia and nudges them apart so he can rub the dark head of his cock up and down his parted lower lips as Swiss covers the protests made by the upper pair. He knows which one is telling the truth about what Rain wants. This one is drooling, soaking a little patch into his leggings already. He pushes to test the heft of his cock against the weave of the leggings, rewarded with the bump of Rain's clit and lower, the way his hole winking on the other side, trying to entice his cock in. Heedless of the barrier in place, it wants him in, bad. Rain moans, deep and pleasured as Swiss kisses his neck but as the humping grows more frantic, so does Rain. Rolling his head around, wiggling his hips. Batting at Swiss as he wheezes, looking tense.

“My Rainy gonna cum already?” Swiss asks with a teasing lilt. “Just from this? I'm not even inside you yet baby, can’t you wait til I am?”

“N- oh !” He squeaks, cheeks flushed and eyes glazed over. “Swiss, we can't!”

“We both want to.” Swiss says. He can already picture the indents in his soft skin that the elastic waistband of the leggings always leave. Thinks about how he's gonna mark Rain up worse than that with bruises that'll take ages to fade. “Lemme in beautiful, lemme make us feel good.”

“There's no…” Rain hesitates. Still so shy after how long they've been together. “Swiss, you know I can't, not without protection.”

“I'll pull out, babe. Promise.” He punctuates the statement with a sneaky hand up the sweatshirt, cupping his breast and thumbing over a nipple. Rain’s hesitation doesn’t do anything to kill his libido; if anything, his cock only flexes extra hard in his sweats.

“Yeah, right.” Rain scoffs, which is an insult to the work Swiss is trying to do here. He'll worm his way in though, of that he has no doubt. He knows how much Rain likes to fuss for special attention. It might as well be foreplay to him at this point.

“Can't you be happy with a handjob?” Rain pleads when Swiss rucks his sweatshirt up, showing off his pretty tits and tickles his tummy just above the waistband. Swiss hums a negative, shaking his head. Rain's getting wetter and wetter with each dirty slide of their bodies and Swiss isn't going to settle for a dry handy.

“My tits,” he offers next, cupping then invitingly, the soft flesh spilling over his fingers and while it's more tempting it's still not what Swiss wants. He shoves his hand down Rain's leggings, circles his slippery clit with a cruel and loving touch. Rain whimpers and arches into it. Swiss plants his face in Rain’s soft chest, purring as he rubbed back and forth over his cleavage.

“My mouth?” He drags Swiss’ head up by the horns so they can kiss and Rain can show off how clever he is with his tongue. When they pull apart, Rain looks desperate. Swiss blinks at him, slow and sleepy, wide grin spreading over his face as he shakes his head. “It’s the same thing Swiss, just let me suck you off.” Rain pleads when he realizes how screwed he is. “You can cum on my face if you want.” The thought makes his stomach curl with lust, imagining ropes of his pearly cum streaking Rain’s pretty face. He hates it; which is why Swiss loves it.

“Ah, but then I couldn't kiss you when I cum.” He says sweetly, dipping lower to slide two fingers in, nice and easy. The leggings practically come down of their own accord between Swiss trying for a better, less ache-inducing angle and Rain's struggle to try to get away. “I know that's your favorite part.” His fingers curl strategically, hitting Rain's favorite spot and making the water ghoul swear, rolling his hips down into it. He’s gotta make it good for his Rainy too, what kind of boyfriend would he be otherwise? “Plus, I know you wanna cum too. I know my princess is never happy with just fingers.”

He picks up the pace, drawing out lewd, wet noises as Swiss fingerfucks him. Rain writhes, riding his hand like a seasoned whore, body betraying his mind. This is Swiss’ favorite part. Sometimes he thinks about keeping Rain like this forever. Just aware enough to deny it, but so well-kept, well-fucked enough that Swiss could slip in anytime he wanted. Maybe loan his holes out to the others if he felt generous enough.

“I can cum like this, Swiss, just let me blow you-”

“Oh, I know you can…” Swiss tells him. “Which is why I won’t let you.”

His fingers stop. Rain hisses, grinds down as he trembles. He’s so easy but Swiss can play him like a fiddle, drawing the note out until it’s just the faintest quiver in the air and Rain’s sagging as his pleasure slowly dwindles down despite his best efforts to reach his peak.

“Just the tip?” he asks cheekily and Rain cracks an eye open to scowl at him.

“ Hate you.” he whimpers.

“Love you.” Swiss croons. What he’d really love is to get his face planted between Rain’s sleek thighs, suck his little clit until he squirted all over the couch but now that he’s so close to his goal he can’t risk any interference. Next time, he thinks as he waits for Rain’s reluctant acquiescence.

“You have to pull out before you cum.” Rain tells him quietly, frowning with the internal conflict. He’s too pretty to be thinking so hard. Swiss vows to wipe all the distress off his Rainy baby’s face.

“Whatever you want me to do.” Swiss promises, all sweet, poisonous desire. Rain doesn't catch it, too busy shuffling his leggings the rest of the way off and he spreads his pretty thighs wide, fully on display. He glares somewhere off to the side as Swiss coos in admiration, taking his fingers out to pet at the soft, vulnerable skin, smearing his slick around until it shines.

Damn, Swiss really wants to eat him out now. But his cock hurts more than his tongue ever could and Rain has his eyes screwed shut like he can't bear the sight of Swiss' smug grin.

“Aw baby,” he croons, sliding up tight to Rain’s body. “Won't you let me see the look in those gorgeous eyes when I push in?” Rain cracks one eye open, baleful and suspicious. Swiss just grins, tugs down his waist and to let his fat cock spring free, smack at his pussy with the heavy weight of it.

“Does it feel hotter?” He breathes, smushing the blood-dark tip of it over Rain’s cunt, reveling in the way the little hole kisses and suckles, desperate to get him inside. “You’re so wet with nothing the way, sweetie…”

His mouth falls open with a quiet fuck as Swiss glides smoothly inside, groaning at the new feeling of Rain's body without a seal of rubber in place.

“Ooh, that's good. ” He praises, hitching deeper and deeper, inch by inch as Rain moans. “You like it? You like the feel of my bare cock?” Rain shakes his head but his cunt flexes so tight that Swiss nearly greys out at the pleasure of it.

“Oh shit, oh fuck-” Rain whines as Swiss bottoms out, voice breaking pathetically on the last syllable. “Please Swiss, please just,”

“Yeah babe.” He grunts, dragging back to see the way Rain’s slick gleams on his skin, hole already nice and creamy. Swiss can't wait to make it worse. He gets his big hands on the slender curves of Rain's waist, a perfect handhold to keep him in place as Swiss starts at a fast pace, bucking his hips in a sharp, staccato rhythm that nails the spot Rain likes best.

“So goddamn perfect.” He praises, digging his nails in, a little hurt to enhance the pleasure. Rain sings out a pretty song as Swiss fucks him right, blushing high on his elegant cheekbones, struggling to keep his eyes open, his tongue from lolling out. He's always so scared to act the slut he truly is but Swiss knows how to bring out the best in him. “Is this why you always make me wear condoms? Knew you’d like taking it raw too much?”

“Nuh-” Rain gasps as Swiss goes for his clit, the sensitive little bud turning Rain’s higher thought processes off with just a touch, a rub over the nerves. “No, Swiss please don't talk like that, please, I’m not…”

“You are ,” Swiss counters, jabbing in and holding deep, pressed so dangerously high into his body. For anyone else it would be uncomfortable but Rain rides the waves with a heady moan, hiding his face in the crook of his arm as Swiss circles his clit with the calloused pad of his finger. “But you're so scared to admit it, aren't you? Don't you know you're safe with me? Safe to be the dirty little cumslut you know you are.”

His legs are shaking, thighs jiggling as Swiss holds the pressure on his sweet spot, works his clit without mercy.

“You want it deep and raw, you want me to squirt right into your pussy.” He breathes, enthralled with the way Rain's tits look. He leans over, gives one rosy nipple a kiss before trailing up to his mouth. Rain pants and Swiss licks in, steals the air from his lungs and replaces it with more filth.

“Fill you up hot.” He continues, letting Rain feel the heat of his balls rest against his perineum. “So you can cum again to the way it feels dripping out.”

And then. He stops. Pulls away; from his sinful mouth, his plump clit and draws out, groaning at the sight of the creamy ring at the base of his cock. Rain panics, tries to urge Swiss close again with stupid, stuttered pleas; arms going around Swiss' shoulders to keep him where he's at, keep at least the tip inside and Swiss makes another deep noise at the way Rain's body tries to lure him back home.

“What are you doing,” Rain asks frantically, peppering his face with urgent little kisses. “Don't go, I’m so close, I need to cum so bad-”

“No.” Swiss says, firm despite the strain in his voice. “No baby, so’m I and if you cum, I'm not pulling out.”

Rain wails softly in despair, scooting closer to Swiss to kiss him so hard and clumsy they clack teeth. He's vibrating with need, mins gone in his desire to feel good and so lost to the way Swiss kisses him back that he doesn't notice the curve of the wicked smile even when it's right in front of him.

“Say you want it, baby.” Swiss murmurs as Rain cups his jawline in his cool palms, laying his lips to the corner of Swiss' mouth. “Say what you want and I’ll get back inside.”

“No…” Rain says, choked. “Don't make me.”

“Don't make you cum?” Swiss asks cheekily. “You're too spoiled for denial, and I'm just too whipped to say no, you know?”

He nuzzles at sweaty skin, kissing the faint pulse going wild at his temple. Let me cum inside , he mouths against it, regardless if Rain understands it or not.

“You can't ,” Rain begs, sounding like he's about to cry. “Don't cum in me, Swiss. What if I get pregnant?”

“It's not like I'll be able to knock you up again.” Swiss murmurs. “Not right away, at least.”

“Swiss!” Rain cries, batting at him and that's about as much as Swiss wants to deal with.

“You want it.” He growls, taking Rain by the shoulders, shoving him down into the couch. He looks up at Swiss with eyes that shine with tears, even as his legs fall whorishly open. “Your body wants it, stop letting your brain ruin it for you.”

He takes the plunge. Gives Rain his full length on the first slide back in and grins wildly at the squeal it earns him. His fingers find Rain’s clit again, taking up the rhythm from before and soon Rain can't even shake his head in denial anymore, just lets it fall as he moans in tormented delight, hands flying to cover his mouth.

“You’ll learn.” Swiss pants, staring him down. “You’ll lose the fear eventually. Or you can start liking anal, that won't get you pregnant. Best of both worlds.”

He punctuates the statement with a slap on the ass and Rain whimpers, tightens up that much more.

“I do like the idea of knocking you up though.” He goes in for a soft kiss, a bit of sweetness to balance out the rough treatment this time. “And I think you do too. Go on baby, show me how much you love me. Tell me how good I make you feel, yeah?”

He lovingly pries Rain’s hands away from his mouth so he can sing pretty again; high, girlish uh-uh-uh’s, indistinguishable from sobbing that blend together to to a thin cry as Rain freezes, body going stiff and cums, long and hard. Swiss doesn't let up in his clit, watching the way he goes from right to squirmy, jolting and wriggling to get away.

“That's it.” He soothes, “Oh, you love cumming on this bare dick, don't you baby? Get ready… it's got somethin’ real special to give you.”

Rain starts shaking his head again, planting at Swiss' chest to push him off but it's too late; his balls draw up tight, his cock flexes hard and he cums pressed right up against Rain’s cervix, shooting his load right where it counted the most.

“So good.” He moans, just to hear the noise of despair Rain makes as Swiss fills him up, ignoring his denials. “Never letting you put a condom on me again, baby.”

He doesn't pull out. Wants to keep it all inside, let Rain soak it all up and swim in his shame. The poor little thing is too fucked out to even cringe as Swiss collapses on top of him, sweaty skin to sweaty skin and they both float in the afterglow.

“I love anal.” Rain announces after a few moments, sounding out of breath. “Where did that come from.”

“Uh, my dick?” Swiss offers, rubbing his face over Rain's beautiful tits again. The water ghoul exhales and runs his long fingers through Swiss' curls, scratching at his scalp. He starts purring, happy that Rain is happy.

“I’ll allow it.” He says with exaggerated grace.

“Thank you.” Swiss says meekly, and they both snicker. Something wet writhes against the skin of his waist and Swiss props himself up to see his favorite thing in the world.

“Surprised it didn't come out to play earlier.” He remarks, teasing at the bud between Rain’s folds, now ever so slightly longer.

“I’ll admit it wasn't easy.” Rain murmurs as his tentacle pushes itself out of the sheath, almost shy. Swiss coos at it and lets the appendage coil around his fingers as Rain sighs. He rubs a thumb over the width of it, careful to avoid the tip, which is always more sensitive after Rain uses it as a clit.

“Hi beautiful.” Swiss says, giving it a friendly squeeze. “Daddy missed you.”

“Call yourself Daddy around me again and you’re dry for a month.” Rain threatens. There's no real bite to it, he's just being sassy. Swiss grins, eager to needle him some more.

“ Papa missed you so much.”

“Swiss, I swear to fucking Asmodeus-!”

[void-wolfie]

You Drew Stars Around My Scars

summary: Jenna comforts you on a bad day.

pairing: Jenna Ortega x gn!Reader

tw: mentions of self harm, anxiety

words: 560

a/n: a bit short and not my best work, but i've always loved this idea and wanted to write something for it

You hated your appearance. Every time you looked in the mirror, it didn't feel like you were looking at yourself. Ironic for someone working in the acting business.

You thought you hid your insecurities well, burying yourself behind fake confidence and oversized hoodies. No one knew the pain you carried with you, that is, till you met Jenna.

Jenna saw through it all. She could look past the smiles and one-liners and see the tired mess you truly were. She could see the signs that no one else cared to. The constant long sleeves and baggy clothes, the dark circles under your eyes, the way you'd zone out in the middle of conversations or bite at your lip when met with a little too much scrutiny.

Jenna quickly became a source of comfort for you. She was always there, supporting you even when you refused to talk about what was bothering you.

It was the first day of the convention, where you and Jenna, along with a few others, were set to talk on panels and interviews about your upcoming project.

You'd forgotten your meds. You were a mess. Anxiety through the roof. All those self-deprecating thoughts you'd managed to subdue coming back at breakneck speed. How you'd survive the day was beyond you.

Jenna was watching you from the corner of her eye. Your knee was bouncing up and down rapidly, your bottom lip between your teeth as you chewed on it, twisting the pendant of your necklace between your fingers. You were a nervous wreck.

Jenna picked up the spare Sharpie sitting on the table, spinning it between her fingers as she thought of what to do, how she could help. There had to be something...

You were busy distracting yourself with your phone when an earbud came into view. You looked up to see Jenna holding out an airpod to you, the other already set in her ear. You took it, putting it in. She handed you her phone, already opened to Spotify, letting you pick the music.

You picked a song from her playlist, the soft sounds of a Taylor Swift song filling the silence.

"Can I draw on your arm?"

Your head shot up; voice caught in your throat as you tried to think of some answer.

"Sure..." The others weren't around, and you trusted Jenna with your secrets. Besides, you didn't have the heart to say no to her anyways.

You rolled up the sleeve of your jacket, setting your arm on the table. She flipped it over and your heart caught in your throat. You saw her hesitate at the sight of the faint white lines and fresh pink scars that littered your skin, clear evidence of your bad habit. But she didn't say anything. Instead, she uncapped the sharpie and got to work, drawing little stars between all the scars.

Jenna had known about the scars, about your little vice. But she'd never mentioned it and she'd never seen the scars up close before. It hurt her, to know you were hurting yourself. But she couldn't judge you for it, not when you meant so much to her.

When the others finally arrived, none of them said anything about Jenna doodling all over your arm. Nor about the way you sat next to her, head on her shoulder, fast asleep.

[spid3namy]

Miles morales × F reader with like just in general body issues like shes not curvy with an hourglass figure and she's just insecure thinking he doesn't find her body attractive

(definitely not projecting 🤡)

pairing : e!42/1610 miles x insecure!female reader

summary : you don’t feel pretty, miles decides to help show you just how beautiful you really are to him

contains : fluff, angst, insecurities, projection, kissing, somewhat body worship, they are in their late teens, probably incorrect spanish, cussing

word count : 1352

notes : okay, so like this request was really good fr cus i used to suffer from being really insecure back in the day so this was lowkey me projecting like a LOT. also, there won’t be TOO much detail about the body type just cus like i kinda want it to be inclusive to like everyone. anyways, enjoy the story! <33

Ugly. 

That’s the only thing you thought about when you stared at yourself in the mirror. 

The way your body looked made your stomach churn. The way you felt as though you were nothing was a worrying known feeling that you were pretty much used to by now. 

Shit sucked.

All the girls at school were so damn pretty. Each having beautiful traits on their bodies. Sophomore year of high school was when you noticed just how beautiful everyone but you was.

The guys were all over those girls. The ones with the beautiful long hair. Ones with those pretty eyes. Ones who had hourglass bodies. Ones who.. weren't you. 

It was almost pathetic how obsessed you had been when it came to how the other girls looked. Why couldn’t you look like them?

Why couldn’t your body be curvy?

Why couldn’t you have big boobs?

Why couldn’t you be pretty like the other girls?

Those questions rang through your head as you continued to judge yourself through the mirror. Why were you so fucking unlucky?

“Oye hermosa! You in here?”

You jump when you hear your boyfriend’s voice. He wasn’t supposed to be here until later! You let out a noise and quickly grab a hoodie from inside your dresser, throwing it over your head before you emerge from your bedroom.

“Hey, Miles..”

“Oh there you are, I’ve been calling your name for like 5 minutes now. I was worried you might’ve not been home.”

“Sorry.. I guess, I got distracted” 

Miles gives you a look before he presses a kiss onto your cheek, his arm wrapping around your waist delicately. You could feel your lips curve upwards into a smile from the affection you were given. Even if you were upset, he always knew how to cheer you up. He had always been good at that.

“How’s my beautiful girl doin’?” You try not to grimace when he speaks. 

You’re not beautiful. He’s lying to you. He just wants to make you feel better. You’re actually ugly. He doesn’t love you. He wants someone else. Someone who is better and prettier than you. 

That stupid voice in your head makes you want to scream. Why did it never shut up? Why did it always have to talk? 

But you knew it was true. The voice was just trying to help you. To show you the truth. Well.. the truth you’ve made up in your head anyway. 

“Mama, are you okay?” Miles rubbed a small circle on your waist; the feeling alone caused you to cringe.

“Don’t touch there..”

Miles stared at you in confusion, an eyebrow being raised and his hands moving up from your waist to your face. It was weird to see you being this way. One thing about being as insecure as you were, you never told anyone about it.

You preferred suffering in silence.

Besides, how was anyone really supposed to help with your body issues? With your insecurities? Sure, they can call you pretty all they want but could you really trust them? What if they were lying just to make you feel better? 

It was a never-ending cycle. 

“Mama, are you.. okay? Is somethin’ botherin’ you?”

“Leave it alone, Miles.”

“Y/N.”

“Miles.”

Miles lets out a heavy sigh and rubs his temples in annoyance. You always did this. Pushing things down was so annoying sometimes. Especially when all he wanted to do was help you! But no, you just had to refuse his help. 

He loved you, more than anything in the world, but sometimes you were a little too much for him.

“Y/N, tell me what the problem is. I wanna help you.”

“By doin’ what, Miles? It’s not like you can just magically turn me pretty.”

There it was. Before you even realized it, you had said too much. 

Miles stared at you and furrowed his eyebrows, his eyes scanning over your face before he took a step closer to you. You knew that look. That was the look he gave any boy that dared talk to you. That meant he was about to go off. And you sadly walked right into that. 

“What?”

“Nothin’, Miles. I ain’t even said nothin’.”

“Don’t play this game with me, chica. The fuck did you just say?”

“It’s nothing, just fuckin’ drop it.”

Miles gives you a look and you instantly know how stupid you were for refusing to tell him. You knew you couldn’t tell him. Couldn’t show him just how vulnerable you are. Couldn’t show him just how much you hated the way your body looked. How you didn’t look like other girls. 

He would think you’re pathetic. 

“You smokin’ again?”

“What? No!”

“Mhm. Well, you must be high out of your fuckin’ mind to think that you’re not the most gorgeous woman on this planet. Besides Megan Thee Stallion, of course.”

“Ha ha, you’re so fuckin’ funny.” You roll your eyes at his comment, your voice filled with nothing but sarcasm from his horrible attempt at a joke. Or whatever the hell that shit was.

Miles let out a snort and took a step closer to you, cupping your face and pressing a couple of kisses onto your face. It was like he was attempting to comfort you but it was awkward to do so. At least, that’s the impression you were getting from him. You appreciated the effort but it really wasn’t work out all that well. 

“Come on, jus’ look at you, mama.. You’re fuckin’ gorgeous.”

“Miles, quit.”

“Shh.”

You pout and squirm around in his grip, moving your gaze away from him. He was so embarrassing sometimes. Miles continued to press kisses onto your face before his hands soon moved down to under your hoodie.

“Miles.”

“Don’t worry, mama.. I ain’t gonna do nothin’.”

“Watch your hands, boy.”

“Yes, ma’am..”

You roll your eyes but otherwise allow his hands to wander around your frame. You let out a gasp from the feeling of his cold hands moving up and down your stomach, stopping just under where your bra sat. He was getting a little too handsy. But you trusted him. Trusted that he wouldn’t do anything. 

“You’re so gorgeous, mama. Especially when you wear those fire ass fits.”

“Mm? Which ones?”

“All of them.”

Your cheeks heat up from his comment; your hand instinctively comes up to push at his chest in embarrassment. He didn’t move away from you though, only got closer. 

You knew he couldn’t make the insecurities go away. But he was doing a hell of a good job taking her mind off the reasons she was insecure in the first place. Sure, she’ll remember them later but that was a problem for when she got there. Right now, she just wanted to focus on him.

His lips and the way they felt on her skin. His fingers touching her body. His voice whispering sweet words to her. Everything caused her brain to just shut down and focus on him. And god, she fucking loved him for that. 

“You’re so pretty, chica.”

You merely hum in response, your shoulders relaxing as he grabs your face. Miles looks into your beautiful e/c eyes and presses a quick kiss onto your lips, only a peck though. 

“Say it, mama.”

“Say what?”

Miles looks at you like the answer to the question was just so damn obvious. And it was but still.

“Say you’re pretty.”

“Miles, I-”

“Say it.”

You let out a deep sigh and stare at him for a while. He looks at you expectedly, his eyes staying locked onto yours. There was seemingly no escape from this. 

You scoff and roll your eyes before you mumble your next sentence, “‘m pretty.”

“Louder.”

“‘M pretty.” You repeat it a little louder than before, loud enough for the both of you to hear it. 

“Good.” Miles smiled and leaned forward, pressing his lips onto yours. It was sweet; it had always been sweet whenever you two kissed. 

That voice was still in the back of your head but at least it was silenced. For now.

[atinystraynstay]

Sincerity Is Scary - Kim Mingyu

Synopsis: Everyone on campus knew Mingyu. He was the guy who all the girls wanted to get one night with, the guy all the guys wanted to be, and everything you wanted. Mingyu and you became friends after a class assignment. It's safe to say though, you have fallen for him when he seems to be interested in other girls. Or at least you think that. "What about you? What are you afraid of?" "Loving you."

Pairing: Frat boy! Kim Mingyu x fem reader

Genre: Angst! A little bit of fluff at the end. Non-idol, friends to lovers. College crush! Mingyu for sure

Warnings: PG-13 - Slight swearing, alcohol consumption, sexual activity mentioned

Word Count: 6.1k

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

It was a crisp late November evening. Campus was alive again after students had traveled home for the holidays. Now, it was crunch time on final assignments, final exams, and trying to keep sane at the end of the term.

You were patiently waiting for your study partner to arrive. You had gotten an iced Americano, gearing up to deep dive into your psychology assignment. It was a final project analyzing fear - how it affects people, what exactly it is, and how it could be conquered. Your pink backpack was resting on the chair across from you. A signal to everyone that you were expecting someone, and that the chair was taken. Campus always got overcrowded when people realized they needed to get their shit together.

You tapped on your phone screen to look at the time. 2:33pm. Where was he?

You glanced at the door to find any signal of your partner. Somehow, you guys have worked together at least on one project every term since sophomore year. While he wasn't always the most motivated academically, working with him was a joy on your end. But that might be because of the view of the guy - Kim Mingyu.

Mingyu was the guy that all the girls desired. It helped that he was well-known on campus as his fraternity always threw the best parties. He was someone who was also willing to help out those around you. For instance, he always made sure all the girls at his parties got home safely by either having a pledge walk them or ordering an Uber for them personally. He also cleaned up any mess he spotted or even just offered a gentle smile to someone who crossed his path. They see an attractive guy and then get to know the guy with a heart of gold who wants the best for himself and his friends. They got to know my friend.

Now, I wouldn't say Mingyu and I were best friends. We did have our own separate social circles with very drastically different ideas of a fun Friday night. However, he was someone I could trust. Not just when it comes to making sure an assignment gets done, but he is someone I can turn to when I need a place to vent. He was a safe space from judgment or ridicule.

The doorbell rang, indicating someone was making their presence known in the coffee shop. You peeked up to see Mingyu. His eyes were scanning the cafe, looking for you. He was wearing a grey hoodie, black sweatpants, and a navy blue beanie on his head. It wasn't too cold in November when you didn't want to be outside, but it was cold enough that you could feel the air nipping at any exposed skin. One strap of his black backpack hung over his shoulder. He looked like a model for Abercrombie & Fitch.

His eyes soon found yours and you watch his smile grow. Did I mention that this man has the personality of a golden retriever?

Eyes from other patrons followed as he maneuvered through the sea of tables and chairs. His eyes never leaving yours though. He was determined to get to you one way or another.

"Y/n!" "Mingyu! How was Thanksgiving dinner with Hansol and Joshua?"

He plopped himself in the seat across from you. He let out a puff of air, probably now feeling the contrast of the heat from inside the cafe compared to the crisp air outside. His backpack made a soft thud, landing assumedly by his feet. His right hand reached up to take down the beanie, shoving it into the front pouch of his hoodie.

"It was actually pretty good. Wonwoo made sure Hansol stayed out of the kitchen, so Joshua and I could cook." He let out an infectious laughter that made me weak in the knees. Fuck, I'm down bad for him. "Wish you could have made it though!"

And try not to drool over you in front of all your friends? Pretend I don't have feelings for you? Yeah, no thanks.

"I'm sorry! My folks said I needed to come home, trying to savor every family get-together before applying for jobs and being big scary adults." "Yeah, I get what you mean. The guys have become like family to me. Who really knows where all 13 of us are going to end up once we all graduate." "No plans to keep the fraternity life going after graduation?" I teased. He laughed at my joke, quickly shaking his head. "No, I plan to step back completely after I graduate. Think it would be too sad if I was one of the graduated guys who just stuck around the fraternity house. Or the one that has to keep drinking and constantly talking about 'the good old days.' No, I think I'm ready to be taken a bit more seriously." I couldn't help but smile wider at the thought of the man Mingyu was going to be. Of course, he was already a stellar guy. He was the guy I wanted so desperately to take home to my parents, to present him as my one and only. College was just the beginning for him. Kim Mingyu was destined for amazing things, to do amazing things for this world. I just hoped I could become a part of it.

"So, you ready to get started on this project?" I asked. "Why can't we just sit here and chat? Why is it that we have to get started on the project? It's not due for another three weeks." "Because, I know how you are, Mingyu. You'll throw ragers the next couple of weeks as a final hooray before everyone leaves for a month and then you'll forget about the project until the very last minute which makes us both stressed! If we at least brainstorm and decide what we are going to do, it means less work in the long-run." "And more time for you to come by one of my parties?" I sighed in defeat. Mingyu knew I wasn't the type of person who liked to go out to parties. I liked going to the dive bars with my friends. There was nothing appealing to me about sweaty bodies pushed up against one another in a basement. You couldn't even hear people with how loud the bass was! However, Mingyu has been trying to get me to go to a party since we met. And he's been using that this being our senior year as a perfect way to guilt trip me into going. "And I'll come by one of your parties," I promised. "What about the one tonight?" "Already having one tonight?" "What! It's a great way to welcome everyone back," he laughed. "Seriously. If we are able to decide how we are going to do the project, then you have to come by tonight." "Ok, ok. I'll come by tonight if we both do the work." "Deal!"

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

After an hour of intensive research, you and Mingyu decided on an approach for your project. You were going to interview people on campus to see if there was a common fear among college students. You had some guesses, but you were hoping to find a way to bust those fears that plague most college students.

"I think this might be our best project yet, y/n! I don't know what you think of these types of things. You're so creative."

Don't blush, y/n. Don't give yourself away.

I smiled politely in return, a laugh bubbling out of my throat. "I just like creating work for you to do. You know I'm the type to take allllll the credit for every assignment," I teased.

"Oh right. Because you know the moment I do things a certain way then you'll just jump in and try to do the project all by yourself." "Hey! That was sophomore year y/n! I think I've gotten a lot better since then when it comes to group projects," I pouted. "You have. Trust me, darling. There's a reason why I always come back to you," he winked.

Oh, there he goes again. Mingyu the Flirt. I was going to slip one of these days, let him and all of campus probably know my secret if he keeps it up. And the worst part was that it wasn't just an act. His was just naturally flirty.

Both of us were beginning to pack up our backpacks. Our laptops had slid into our backpacks before they zipped up in unison. It was getting close to 5pm, and if I was expected to be at Mingyu's tonight, I had to get home and get ready. Not that I was banking one tonight being the night things finally work out for us, but I didn't want to seem like a slob.

"So, you coming tonight, Ms. Anti-Fraternity?"

I sighed and nodded. "Yes, Mr. President, I will be there."

He smiled wide before swinging an arm around me. Oh god dammit. The universe was testing me. "That's the spirit, angel!" He began leading the two of us out of the cafe, side by side and pulled into his side. I was trying my best not to look like a deer caught in headlights by his gesture. I'm surprised my legs haven't given out at all from the series of events that are unfolding right now. Sure, Mingyu and I were close, but he's never been this bold with me. What is he up to?

I could feel eyes on us as we made our way out of the coffee shop. Some girls were whispering to one another, glancing towards us. Other guys looked at Mingyu with shock. I wanted the ground to swallow me whole to prevent me from embarrassing not only me, but also him. Keeping his arm around me, he used his free hand to push the glass door open.

"You're too kind," I said playfully. I offered a gentle smile as I detached myself from Mingyu so I could step over the threshold. I glanced behind me to see if Mingyu was following but froze when I saw he didn't. He was still standing by the door, leaving it open. Instead of just holding it open from someone coming in, I caught him at the start of a conversation. He was talking to Jennie.

Now, Jennie and I didn't have any beef. She was in our psychology class, so we ran into her often. She never joined our study sessions, thank goodness, because she often preferred to study with her sorority sisters. However, she knew Mingyu outside of class as she was always trying to set up mixers and pre-games for football season with his fraternity. Jennie had sensed that Mingyu and I were close, so oftentimes, she would approach me asking if he was still single. She was trying to gather her intel before making a move.

"Excited for the party tonight, Mingyu! Want me to come over early to help set up?" She took a step closer to him. Her hip brushed against his which caused his eyes to widen. His grip slipped from the door as he was holding the edge, closing the door on me. "Oh, I didn't really think of that. I was just going to get Seungkwan and Dino to help me, maybe some of the pledges." That was the last thing I heard before the door fully closed. I was now on the outside looking in. Time froze as I watched her take another step forward. She blocked his view of me. Her hand gently reached up to rest on his bicep, squeezing it. She wore a playful smile while Mingyu smiled, or at least tried to. I would like to think that I knew him well enough to tell his genuine smile apart from his fake one. All I could see was him nodding before she began leaning in.

Okay, that's my cue. I quickly spun on my heels to walk in the direction of my apartment.

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

"Are you sure the dress isn't too short?" I mumbled.

I was walking to the frat with my roommate. She insisted that I shouldn't go alone. Not sure if it was because of my retelling of the events that transpired outside of the coffee shop or the fact she wanted a good laugh at me attending my first frat party.

After seeing Jennie with Mingyu, I ranted to my roommate about everything. I was frustrated with the circumstances where the two of us would never work out. We are two separate people who make awesome friends. I didn't want to jeopardize that. It was also partially due to the fact I could not bring myself forward to confess to Mingyu how I was feeling.

Her solution was simple - dress to kill. "If you can't say how you feel about him, make him realize what he's missing out on. You gotta go out there and steal his attention."

The look that could kill was a rather short red dress. It was a sparkly red which would be able to be noticed even in the dimmest of spots in the hell I was about to enter. A frat basement was somewhere I thought I'd never end up, but here we are. It hugged my curves perfectly and had sleeves that were cuffed at the elbow by an elastic band. I wore a pair of beat-up sneakers, so I could be comfortable for the evening. This wasn't a formal event. This was about making Mingyu notice me.

"To be honest, I think it could be shorter. But you're not trying to sleep with him, just get him to notice you, right? It's enough to let his imagination run wild," she smirked.

I rolled my eyes at her antics yet kept a light smile on my lips. It was a good idea. I just felt so out of my element, so I was trying my hardest to warm up to the idea before stepping foot into the party. I wanted to come across as confident as ever, to catch his attention, and to make him realize that maybe I have a chance compared to the other girls he's been with or at least seen around campus with.

After 10 minutes walking, we arrived at the frat house. There were a few people loitering around outside. Most girls were wearing ripped jeans or very short black skirts. There were a few fraternity brothers gathered up at the front, a few I recognized - Joshua, Wonwoo, and Seungcheol. They were looking across the groups gathered outside of their residence, probably trying to see how they could minimize the appearance to avoid cops showing up. Yet, Wonwoo was looking directly at me with a smug girl. He was probably the closest with Mingyu so I knew him the best.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" He called out to us. Some people on the sidewalk and the two guys beside him looked our way. I groaned internally at Wonwoo's commotion before approaching the entrance of the party.

"How the hell did Mingyu convince you to come, doll?" "I lost a bet to the devil." "Well, you can go ahead inside. I'm sure Mingyu is keeping an eye out for you." "Oh come on, he probably sensed her already out here. He was basically buzzing off the walls when he was telling me we would be graced with y/n's presence tonight," Seungcheol laughed. "Be careful, y/n. I heard he likes to bite," Joshua teased.

I bit the inside of my cheek to prevent myself from blushing hard. It's not like I haven't fantasized about him like that before.

The three guys grinned at me, stepping out of the way to let me and my roommate through. Instantly, we were greeted by groups of people all drinking, mingling, and dancing. You could hear the bass from downstairs through the floor, as we were on the main floor.

My roommate pushed me through towards the kitchen. I looked at her puzzled, thinking the initial plan was to find Mingyu. "You need a drink to loosen up first, babes. Trust me. You look terrified right now, not sexy." I just nodded as we were found ourself in a somewhat crowded kitchen. Yet, there was a pathway to the collection of alcohol on display - tequila, gin, vodka, rum with a plethora of mixers. Definitely Mingyu's idea to have more mixers than alcohol, so everyone could drink to their comfort level.

We were by the kitchen island, almost in our own little world. The groups around us were quickly grabbing their refills before either moving away to a different part of the house or to the main event in the basement. Before I could even process anything, a shot glass was placed in front of me, seeing my roommate looked at me with a wicked grin. "Choose your poison, y/n."

My eyes scanned the liquor before reaching towards the tequila. My hands were about to grasp the handle but I took a quick surveillance. Where could it be? "Looking for these, princess?"

I glanced over my shoulder to see the man of the hour, Mingyu. In one hand, he was holding a container or salt, and in his other hand was a lime. Speak of the devil. He was wearing a black shirt and black pants. A gold chain was around his neck. I would love to just grab that chain and tug his lips close to mine. Okay, I do need a drink. ASAP.

"How did you know?" "Feel like I know you pretty well, but still wasn't sure if you were going to show up tonight. I figured I would still prep just in case. Welcome to my kingdom," he teased.

He crossed the room to be where were. For a moment, I could have sworn his eyes traveled my body. First at the dress before looking up and down my torso and legs. I had spun to face him more directly. It was then I could have sworn his eyes were on my chest before he made eye contact with me. He set the salt and lime to my right, in between my roommate and I. His other hand rested on the countertop to my other side, somewhat caging me.

"You're just full of surprises. First, disappearing on me at the coffee shop, but now actually showing up to my party? And now wanting to do tequila shots?" "Just scratching the surface," I smirked.

My roommate shared glances between Mingyu and I. But before I could introduce her to him, she stepped back completely. My eyes widened slightly but she wore that same smirk from before. "I think I'm gonna let you two catch up. I'm going to go talk to that one guy outside," she announced. I couldn't even argue with her to stay before she headed out of the kitchen.

"And then there were two," Mingyu announced. Seeing as my roommate had wondered off for her own adventure, Mingyu placed his hand fully beside the salt and tequila. I was fully in the lion's den now.

I mustered up the courage to look him in the eyes. It was then I noticed that the entire kitchen had cleared out. When did that happen? Did people just leave seeing Mingyu walk in? The thought of him having that type of authority made me weak in the knees.

"Wonwoo wasn't lying when he said you looked absolutely breathtaking tonight, baby," he murmured.

His hand to my right moved to rest on my side. His fingers slowly trailing up and down my side, teasing the waters. His touch was light, almost not there. It was enough though for electricity to shoot through my body, making me hyperaware this was reality and not some fantasy.

"You talking about me to others now?"

He leaned forward, enough so he just had to bow his head down to be at my ear. "You're all I talk about. You don't even know," he whispered. His lips brushed against the shell of my ear, enough to cause goosebumps to form and shivers to run down my spin. If it wasn't for the countertop pressing into my back gently, my knees would have given out.

"Come on, I have something better than just doing shots all night," Mingyu said. He reached down to grab onto my head, lacing his fingers with mine. His touch was warm and soft, sending shockwaves through my nervous system. I didn't get a chance to question him where we were going before he led me out of the kitchen. He just turned back towards me and gave me a wink. Oh god.

We made our journey through the frat house towards the split staircase. One that went down to the basement and another that went upstairs, assumedly where the guys slept. People who saw Mingyu turned to try to strike up a conversation but stopped when they saw me by his side. Some girls were throwing daggers in my directions with their harsh gaze. Jennie being one of them before she turned her back to talk to her sorority sisters. How the tables have turned. I expected that Mingyu was going to take me to the basement, but was met with surprise when we started ascending up the staircase. A few of Mingyu's brothers started whistling and howling at the sight of Mingyu with someone.

From in front of me, I heard Mingyu sigh and watched as he shook his head. "I'm sorry about them. Just ignore them. They wished they were getting some action tonight, but I think we both know the only date they'll have is with the toilet when they drink too much."

I laughed at Mingyu's joke. "No worries about it. I guess they are just showing support for their friend?" "Yeah, I guess so. I just don't want you to lump me in with them."

What was that supposed to mean? I never viewed Mingyu at the typical frat guy. I didn't hear stories about him just sleeping after a party and dumping a girl the next day. Sure, he has been linked with a few people, but he didn't seem like the type to do one-night stands. He wasn't the guy who made jungle juice with unknown liquors that could get you fucked up fast. He was meticulous in what was distributed to his party, often hoping people bring their own alcohol so they know what they re consuming. Or at least that's what he told me.

Mingyu soon led me to his bedroom. He walked in through the doorway, but I found myself froze. Was my perception of Mingyu wrong this whole time? Were we just going to fuck? Did I mean that little to him that he was willing to throw our friendship away.

He must've felt the slight tug of his hand due to me stopping my movement. He turned his head back, trying to assess what was wrong. I stood by the doorway, trying to pull my head gently out of his grip.

"Gyu, I don't think this is a good idea. We're friends. Us sleeping together-" "You think I brought you up here to just have sex? Doll, I'm hurt," he gasped. I watched as he playfully placed his hand over his heart. "You think I'm that much of a horny bastard?"

I quickly shook my head before rushing into his room, stopping short of where he stood. "Gyu, please. That's not what I meant at all. I just didn't know why else you'd bring me up here when the party is downstairs? Isn't that why frat guys bring girls upstairs? To fuck?"

He smirked seeing how flustered I got. My cover was slowly unraveling, my motive of having him chase after me being flipped where I was starting to chase after him. "Y/n, you've seen too many movies," he laughed. "Besides, I'd never do anything to jeopardize losing you."

I could feel my cheeks becoming hotter. I hoped at least that was being concealed under the darkness of his bedroom. He stepped back and headed towards his bedroom window. "Do you trust me?" He asked. I nodded my head slowly, trying not to come across as too eager. Any sort of dignity that I could preserve at the moment is of upmost importance.

"Good." Mingyu flipped the lock at the top of his window. He pushed it open all the way until there was a soft thud of the window hitting the top of the window sill. He stepped out onto the roof with ease. He then turned back towards me, a hand reached out to me.

"The things I do for you, Gyu, I swear," I huffed. I took his hand, my other hand trying the best to keep my dress from flying up.

"Watch your head, gorgeous," he called out. This time, his tone was gentle and soft. It was a stark contrast being outside where you could barely hear the music from inside the house. I stepped over the window sill carefully, one foot down before the other following. I was somewhat hunched over to avoid hitting my head. Mingyu took it upon himself to use his free hand to hover over my head in case I did end up standing up too soon.

Once I was over the window and onto the roof, I stood up straight. My eyes widened from the view. "Oh wow," I breathed out. You could see all of campus from up here! You could see the tall oak trees that lined up around campus. You could see the various academic buildings and the college town beside us.

What really took my attention was noticing that there was a blanket sprawled out on the rooftop. Luckily, the rooftop was leveled and next to the fire escape, so there was no worry of slipping or anything. The blanket was added for comfort. I also noticed that there was a bottle of my favorite white wine Moscato chilling in a bucket. There were also string lights that decorated the ledge of the rooftop. It was it's on oasis.

"Come on, angel." He squeezed my hand gently before guiding me towards the blanket. I followed him gently to the blanket where I took my seat, my legs tucking underneath me. Mingyu joined me on the right side, sitting rather close. "Wait, hold on."

He popped up from the spot on the rooftop before heading towards inside. I frowned a bit when he left me alone, but turned my attention to the scenery outside. The warmth from inside the house still radiated throughout my body, so the crisp air of the November evening didn't bother me as much. My eyes ran along with the stars, trying to see what constellations I could make out. It was peaceful out here.

I jumped a bit when I felt something brush against my legs. I looked down to see a leather jacket, but relaxed when I noticed it was Mingyu dropping his jacket over me. I tilted my head back to see him looking down at me, a fond smile on my lips. Yet, there was something in his eyes. Maybe it was the glow of the lights outside making them sparkle more than usual or something on his mind? Either way, he was breathtaking. "Quite the gentleman, Gyu," I teased. "Thank you though." "You know I'd do anything for you. That's also why I set this up for you, for us, really. I know large crowds like the one happening inside aren't your thing, so I wanted to make sure you were comfortable being here." "So you don't do this for every girl?"

Mingyu snorted a bit, chuckling lightly under his breath. He pulled out two red solo cups, handing one to me while keeping the other by him. "No, y/n. Only the best reserved for you."

Carefully, Mingyu twisted off the cap of the wine bottle. He first poured the wine into my red solo cup. I couldn't help but giggle at the notion of drinking wine out of a red solo cup, something that typically holds cheap beer or mixed drinks.

"So that's why I'm getting a red solo cup? To really get the experience of being at a frat party?" "Hey, it's the best I could do," I laughed. "You really trust me with anything breakable?" "No, you're right. If it was a wine glass, you would've dropped it by now," I laughed, taking a sip of the wine. "I told you I'd do anything for you."

I kept my wide smile hidden once from Mingyu when I took a sip of the wine. He was quite the charmer. I placed the Moscato down behind me, by the corner of the blanket to avoid spilling. Mingyu did the same as we both seemed to gaze out at the world around us. It's crazy to think that in a short few months, we'll be saying goodbye to this place. This place has become my favorite place filled with my favorite people.

"So, y/n. What happened early? Why did you just leave the coffee shop?" Mingyu asked suddenly.

My eyes widened at the question. "Oh, you noticed?" I asked softly. My head dropped to look at my lap. "I thought you were busy talking to Jennie. I didn't want to interrupt."

"If anything, she interrupted us," he sighed. He then reached for his cup and took another sip. "Is that what you're afraid of? Being rude?"

I shook my head, picking my head up slightly. No, if only you knew what I was afraid of.

"I'll tell you what I'm afraid of. I'm afraid of being alone. I love my life as it is right now, but I'm afraid of the uncertainty that comes with the next chapter," he confessed. He was leaning back on his hands now. His gaze shifting from the view of campus below to me. "I'm comfortable knowing I get to see my friends, get to see you. What am I supposed to do next?"

I frowned hearing his concern. "Gyu, whatever you do next, you're going to do great. I know it's scary about moving away from what you are familiar with. What I can say though is that knowing you, seeing you grow over the past two years, has been remarkable." My hand reached over to rest on his knee comfortingly, giving it a light squeeze. I looked at him directly in the eyes, hoping he could sense my sincerity in my words. "You're a great guy, Gyu. Don't doubt your capabilities. You can do anything you put your mind to."

His gazed looked down towards where my hand was on his. I followed suit. Oh no, did I make him uncomfortable? I was about to retreat my hand from him, but he quickly grasped it gently. "Thank you," he whispered. He lifted my hand to kiss the back of it before letting it rest in his lap. His grip on my hand was loose, in case I wanted to slip my hand away. I just couldn't bring myself to do it.

"What about you? What are you afraid of?"

I took a deep breath. Mingyu just poured his heart out to me. I would be a hypocrite if I didn't say something, especially when I told him to put his brave face on and be determined to get what he wants. I deserve to at least try, right? Or I could end up regretting it for the rest of my life? That's at least what people warn about.

His gaze on me was soft. He was patient as he waited for me to muster up my truth.

"Loving you," I confessed. "Loving me? You're afraid of that? Why?" "Gyu, let's look at what you did for me tonight alone. You went through the trouble of setting up basically a separate event just for me. This is the shit they write about in romance novels. It just doesn't happen to girls like me!" "Wait, let's back up first. Do you like me, y/n?"

Oh god, oh god. Why did I open my mouth and say something? Maybe I could spin it off that I'm afraid of commitment in general? What if I spun it that I was trying to get over an ex and I was shocked by Mingyu's kind gesture? That he already treats me better than any ex? I mean, there is some truth to that. Mingyu was better than any ex I've had.

"Y/n?"

My mind was trying to wrap around some sort of lie I could tell to save myself. Before I could finalize my lie, I felt a hand on my face. Very slowly and gently, I realized Mingyu put his hand on my face. He was turning it towards me. I also noticed that he had moved closer to me now. He was sitting up tall, his face hovering over mine. He tilted my head up so I had to look at him in the eyes.

"Y/n, do you like me?" "I might have the smallest, tiniest crush on you," I whispered. "How do you think that we could conquer that fear?"

I raised an eyebrow, about to pull back from here. He was really thinking about our final assignment right now? "Because you took the first step in confessing your feelings for me. And you said you were afraid of loving me. It seems seeing if I have the same feelings for you is the best way to conquer that fear." "Well? Do you?" "Baby girl, I've had feelings since our first group project together."

His forehead gently rested against mine. He could probably hear my rapid heartbeat at this point. "Why do you think I've always picked you as my group partner?" "Because I'm smart and can get stuff done?" I laughed, trying to ease my nerves. He chuckled at that joke. "Well, yes, because you are smart. You're also very kind, insightful, determined, and gorgeous. You are the girl that I've been trying to get to come to my party so I could finally make a move in the element I feel most comfortable in. If anything, I'm afraid of you." "Afraid of me? Mingyu, you're 6'2." How can you be afraid of someone who is barely 5'5"?" "Because you are too perfect to me. I know what people think of me. They see the frat president who sleeps with people. When they see you, they see the girl who is going to move mountains when she graduates. They will wonder why you settled for a guy like me?"

That's it. I was not going to allow him to slander himself. Feeling bold enough, I moved Mingyu's jacket off of my legs. I set it beside me before gently climbing into his lap. One hand rested on his shoulder to stabilize me as I got comfortable. My other hand moved to rest on his cheek, now being the one turning his attention towards me.

Mingyu wrapped his arms around me. He pulled me in close, tightening his arms so I wouldn't fall backwards by mistake. My heart picked up as I felt my breathing become a bit shaky. Was this actually happening? "If you saw what I see, you would see that you are everything that I want. That's why I'm afraid of loving you because you seem too good to be real," I confessed. "Well let me help you overcome your fear by proving to you this is reality."

Mingyu leaned in slightly. He stopped himself short, where his lips were brushing against mine. He looked up into my eyes to see if I felt comfortable. My heart melted at the simple act of checking for consent. See. He was one in a million.

Taking it upon myself, my lips pressed against his fully. I could feel his smile against my lips as he tilted his head ever so slightly. Just enough for our lips to be pressed together perfectly, causing the kiss to move smoothly as our lips were catching one another's. His lips were just as smooth. He tasted like wine mixed with a bit of mint chapstick. Butterflies erupted in my stomach. This was actually happening. My one hand slid from his shoulder to rest on the back of his head.

He was the one who slowly broke the kiss. I pouted playfully, as it ended far too soon for my liking. He chuckled lightly before pecking my lips.

"Don't worry, darling. There will be more kisses." "That wasn't so scary after all," I confessed. "I'll help you conquer any fear of yours if you let me."

[aro-comics]

Aros In Relationships - Update Post

Oh god, everyone, it’s been SO long. I Just wanted to say (even if the bulk of my life updates soon here), that I’ve missed you all so so much, and I’m so glad I get to finally be able to share my work on these. It’s certainly been a long time coming.

But onto my personal note for this series - I’m really grateful that I’ve had the chance to transcribe their stories. Talking to these people, hearing their stories, their words … I can’t even describe how many times I couldn’t believe what I was hearing/reading, because everything they were saying felt so similar to something I would have said. I almost felt like they were reading out the thoughts and experiences in my own head!!

And I guess that’s why they call it a community – we do have a lot in common! But obviously, our experiences haven’t been identical on the romance front, and it was really nice to get to hear from other aromantic people about what this is like.

Image Descriptions:

Title Card: Cover Image. This Comic series is titled “Aromanticism and Romantic Relationships”. A subtitle underneath says that it is a collaborative sketch comic series. Four people are illustrated on the cover. On the far left is Arrow, a person with an undercut and wavy brown hair. Standing next to them is Lucien, who is wearing a hoodie and a collar with a pentagram charm. They have short brown hair and tan skin. Further to the right is Dot; she has pale skin with light freckles, long slightly curly brown hair in a high ponytail, and a grey hairband. On the very right is May, who has long curly brown hair, tan skin, and is wearing a maroon shirt with a striped dark jacket, and a necklace with a ring on it.

Slide 1: Celia  faces the reader, hand at the back of her neck. “Hey everyone – it’s been an eon (ok, like a year or so). I’ll explain more about where I’ve been on my tumblr, but for this series I thought I’d make an intro for what it’s all about.”

Slide 2: Celia continues,  “A while back, I was asked to make a comic about being in a romantic relationship as an aro person – Which, given the nature of my comics –I can’t really do, because I’ve never dated anyone.”

Slide 3: “Thankfully, some arospec people who had been in romantic relationships reached out – and were really kind in volunteering their time and personal stories to help me record their perspectives.” 

Celia sits at a table, typing away at her laptop while interviewing May. Celia says: “Wait – you too?” in surprise as she realizes she relates to the story May is telling her. They reply: “Yeah! And when…” as they continue their story. 

Slide 4: “And they’ve had *such* incredible patience for me these past two years I chipped away at these comics –” 

A scene from the two years it took to get this comic series out the door. This was during Celia’s completion of her university thesis project. She holds a draft in her hands, reading out to the participant that she calls on her phone, “On page 9, I wasn’t sure exactly what to draw… I could show the progress of what y’all did on the date?” 

They reply: “That works! The sketch is mostly accurate…”

In the background, references to upholstering a bench like padded chair, design sketches, and a poster with a map and circled possible apartment locations is depicted. 

Slides 5-6: The scene switches to a group shot with Celia and the participants. She stands with one hand on her hip and the other outstretched, gesturing to them. 

 “So, without further ado – please welcome May, Arrow, Dot, and Lucien!”

The four are sitting at a table with nameplates set in front of them. Arrow waves a hand at the reader, while Lucien has their arms folded and resting on the table. May and Dot both smile in a friendly manner at the reader. 

Celia continues, “You’ll be hearing from them over the course of this series – which I’ve adapted as long form comics like my “What is Love” comic over on my tumblr.”

Slide 7: “My process for these comics was highly collaborative. I worked together with these people as I wrote the script and drew the storyboard, because I want to be as authentic to their voices as possible. If they read a little different from my usual work – that’s because they are! And I hope you’ll enjoy getting the chance to hear from other Arospec folks' perspectives.”

Slide 7: “I’ll share each person’s comic with their cover page on Tumblr – the whole thing!” The cover page for May’s comic is shown, decorated with doodles of stars. It has the caption: “May – They/Them * Aro Demiace”

“And in parts with a collaborative IG account opened for each person’s comic.”

Also shown is a screenshot of an account named arosinrelationships_may. The description of the account reads: “May’s comics as part of @aro_comics series posted here”

Celia signs off on the note ‘See you soon!’ and a heart.