#reach out to me! talk to me about anything

[mattscoquette]

reader going through perv!matt’s journal

“i’ll be back in a sec, i just need to run downstairs and help chris with something really quick.”

that’s what matt told you over ten minutes ago, and he’s still gone. you were over at the triplets place hanging out with nick, when matt insisted he show you both his new pc set up. it only took nick five minutes to be over it, but you felt bad when you saw matt’s defeatist expression after nick went back to his room. you decided to stay, but soon after matt abandoned you to go do something with chris.

you could’ve gone back upstairs with nick, but you let your curiosity get the best of you, and somehow you were going through matt’s bedside drawers, seeing what he had in there.

you knew matt had a thing for you, he made it very, very clear. although those feelings weren’t really reciprocated, it was fun to tease him. like, really fun.

before you could stop yourself, the leather binding of matt’s journal was in your hands, itching to be opened and read. you thumbed through the pages, reading matt’s chicken scratch handwriting while he wrote about whatever. you didn’t want to be too invasive, but his journal piqued your interest a lot. you wondered if he ever wrote about you, or if he only kept those thoughts in his head.

your eyes skimmed up and down the pages, nothing really standing out to you until you saw your name.

today y/n came over to see nick. she had on this rly short skirt, i think they were going out to a bar or something later. i don’t really care. i overhear her talking to nick about the guys she gets with. i could be so much better than them. i would make her feel so good, where she’d be begging me for more. god her moans are probably so fucking pretty.

your cheeks got hot as they blushed a deep red, fingers flipping to the next entry.

it’s been a few days since i saw y/n, i miss her so much. i’ve probably touched myself to her more times than i can count in the last day or two. i don’t know what it is with her, but she just gets me so worked up. she doesn’t even have to do anything and i’ll literally get hard from her. a couple weeks ago we were at her place and i heard her in the shower. it turned me on so much i couldn’t handle it. i want her so bad.

there’s gotta be something seriously deranged about me. every time that y/n sleeps over here, i always sneak up to nicks room and take a pair of her panties. she has to have noticed by now. i can’t help it though. i use them to get myself off. sometimes she has really pretty lace ones, other ones are really really skimpy. i don’t care though. i wonder what they’d look like on her. she’d probably think im a fucking creep if she ever really found out. i wonder what she’d do.

at this point, your stomach was doing somersaults, and your thighs were pressed together, trying to relieve the ache that had grown in your cunt. maybe it was weird what he was doing, but the level of obsession was turning you on. bad.

you were quick to find a pen somewhere in the bedside drawer, popping the cap off and scribbling underneath the entry in your loopy handwriting.

you naughty boy. you didn’t learn that stealing was wrong? i would probably punish you and not let you cum. i would tease you, get you all wound up and make you hold it. id use my pretty pink panties around your cock to get you off and let you cum in them after edging you for so long. maybe i’ll use my hands too, or my mouth if you’re really good for me.

you grinned to yourself as you shut the journal, drawing your bottom lip in between your teeth before returning the notebook to its rightful place, exactly how you found it.

you knew that matt wouldn’t do anything about it, either. he would see the note, and probably get off to it a million times, but never actually reach out to you. until then, he’d just have to learn how to keep pleasuring himself alone.

© mattscoquette | taglist

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬. ⋆˚꩜｡ inspired by this fic from my girl @st7rnioioss ♡︎♡︎ perv!matt is soooo back i miss that freak

[minttea07]

Just went through this a few months ago. After days of REPEATEDLY telling this man to keep his hands to himself and not touch me, he approached me on the final day, and I just knew what he was about to do. I forewarned him (loudly) to keep his f*cking hands to himself, turned back to my computer, and he promptly reached out and grabbed onto the back of my upper arm; not letting go. I lost it on him ya'll. I snapped off and read that man for filth. He slunk his skinny ass off, and didn't say another word for the rest of the day.

Apparently I "mortified him" and he was more infuriated about the fact that one of his friends nearby witnessed this, and it embarrassed him, than anything else. Nothing about the fact that I'd loudly told him umpteen amount of times, all week, to keep his damned hands to himself. That meant nothing. He immediately made himself out to be the victim, and began doing anything he could to be obnoxious, cause me grief, trash talk me within earshot, throwing shit, etc. I just pretended he didn't exist. Once you are lamed, you cannot be UNlamed, mf. I hold a funeral for you in my head, and you cease to exist. This went on for months and he apparently lost a lot of friends over it, while they watched what he was doing.

I changed shifts for better hours, so I stopped seeing him; an added bonus! Recently though, he began coming in early, so I continued to ignore him as I had been. Guess who has gone person to person saying he wants to talk to me? Guess who wants to apologize now? Guess who wants to explain how it was just a "simple misunderstanding"? (So how are we qualifying all that trash-ass behaviour afterwards?) Who wants to chat now? Hangout? Asked me to celebrate his birthday with him?! 🙄 🤔 Istg, they have nothing if not the bloody audacity. I finally responded to him and asked if this recent change of tune had anything to do with the fact that no one will speak to him anymore. "Oh... you heard about that, did you?"

We are TIRED, ya'll. We are so tired.

You should be able to say “don’t touch me” to anyone ever in any context and not have it be considered in the realm of surprising or insulting imho if we ever needed to normalize something it’s this

[undiagnosedcruelty]

“You Talk in Your Sleep”

Pairing: Bf!HanJisung x GenderNeutral!Reader

Summary: Jisung has always known you had weird habits, but nothing prepared him for the absolute nonsense you muttered in your sleep. Tonight, however, your sleepy confessions give him some unexpected entertainment.

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Genre: Fluff | Comedy | Slight Romance

Content warning: teasing, domestic, Jisung being a menace

Word Count: 781

A/N: I just knew that I needed to write something crack related to jisung🙏

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EVERYTHING WRITTEN IS PURELY FICTION───NOTHING DIRECTLY RELATES TO ANY REAL LIFE EVENTS.

Jisung never considered himself a light sleeper. If anything, he could pass out in the middle of an earthquake if he was tired enough.

But lately, you had been keeping him awake at night.

It wasn’t intentional, of course. It’s not like you were kicking him in your sleep (at least, not tonight), or stealing all the blankets (which, okay, was a recurring problem, but he’d long accepted his fate). No, the real issue?

You talked in your sleep.

The first time it happened, he thought he imagined it. He had been drifting off when you suddenly rolled over and muttered, “The ducks are planning something…” before nuzzling into his shoulder like you hadn’t just said the most suspicious thing ever.

Jisung, half-asleep, had blinked at the ceiling and whispered, “What.”

You didn’t respond, obviously, because you were asleep.

He had to physically hold himself back from shaking you awake and demanding an explanation.

After that, it became a pattern. Sometimes, it was just soft murmurs that he couldn’t quite catch, but other times, it was crystal clear nonsense.

“Why do giraffes have such judgmental eyes?”

“If I had a superpower, I’d want unlimited pancakes.”

“You ever think about how weird elbows are?”

Each time, Jisung desperately wanted to know what you were dreaming about. And each time, he resisted the urge to wake you—though it was really difficult.

But tonight? Tonight was different.

Tonight, he was casually scrolling through his phone in bed when he heard you shift beside him. He barely glanced up, used to your restless movements.

Then, clear as day, you sighed in your sleep and whispered:

“Han Jisung is so hot.”

Jisung’s phone slipped out of his hand and smacked him right in the face.

He froze. Blinked. Processed.

Did you just—?

He whipped his head toward you, but you were completely knocked out, breathing softly, oblivious to the earth-shattering revelation you had just bestowed upon him.

A slow, mischievous grin spread across his lips.

“Oh?” he whispered, voice dripping with amusement. “Is that so?”

He turned onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow. His gaze flickered to his phone, a brilliant idea forming.

Carefully—stealthily—he reached for it and opened the voice recorder. He hit record, holding it close to you.

“Go on, my love,” he murmured dramatically, fighting back laughter. “Tell me more about this incredibly handsome and talented Han Jisung.”

For a moment, you were silent. Jisung pouted. Maybe it was a one-time thing—maybe he wouldn’t get any more gold.

Then, in the softest voice, you mumbled:

“…ugh, I love him so much.”

Jisung’s soul left his body.

His heart combusted into a thousand tiny, happy pieces. His brain? Malfunctioning. His entire existence? Changed forever.

“Oh my god.” His voice came out in a hushed wheeze. “Did I win in life? Is this my reward for all my suffering?”

He grinned down at you like an idiot, barely able to contain himself. His heart felt so full, like it might actually burst.

But then—

“…but he’s kind of a loser.”

Jisung gasped, physically clutched his chest, and rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling in pure betrayal.

“What the—EXCUSE ME?!” he whisper-shouted, shaking your shoulder lightly. “Wake up right now and explain yourself!”

You groaned in response, shifting slightly but not fully waking.

Jisung huffed dramatically. “No, no, no, you don’t get to just roast me in your sleep after confessing your love. That’s illegal.”

You cracked one eye open, squinting at him blearily. “Huh?”

Jisung wasted no time, shoving his phone in front of your face. “I have receipts.”

You blinked at the screen, still half-asleep. “What?”

“I caught you red-handed,” he said, waving the phone. “You called me hot, admitted you love me, and then immediately disrespected me.”

You frowned. “I… what?”

“I recorded it.” He tapped the screen. “So don’t even try to deny it.”

Your brain, still booting up, took a solid five seconds to process the situation. Then, realization dawned on your face, and your entire body tensed.

“…Oh my god.”

Jisung cackled. “Oh, now you’re awake.”

You groaned, flopping back onto your pillow and covering your face with your hands. “I hate myself.”

“Well, I love you,” Jisung said cheerfully, flopping down beside you and wrapping his arms around you. “Even if you slander me in your sleep.”

You peeked out at him through your fingers. “…Can I bribe you to delete that recording?”

He gasped dramatically. “Bribe? Do you think my love is for sale?”

“Yes.”

“…Okay, yeah, fair,” he admitted. “But! This is too valuable. I have to keep it.”

You groaned again, rolling onto your side to bury your face in his chest. “I regret everything.”

Jisung just laughed, holding you closer. “Nah, don’t regret it. You just confirmed what I already knew��deep down, you’re absolutely smitten with me.”

You sighed. “You’re still a loser, though.”

Jisung kissed the top of your head, grinning. “Yeah, but I’m your loser.”

And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

[okwonyo]

HIGH HEELS SHOES ✶ when you wear heels 𓈒

𝗔𝗟𝗢𝗥𝗦或 ❜ 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝖺𝗅𝗅. 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗂 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽.

【 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 】 𝑙’ enhypen & female!reader 14OO established relationship ⠀ ｡ ｡ skinship kissing

骚人 ܃ i have .. no idea of what this is ㅠㅠ

reblogs⠀⠀ꢾ꣒⠀ feedbacks please

HEESEUNG

“baby,” he calls from the bathroom upon finishing to get ready. he gets out of to go to the room where you are getting ready. “we have to leave soon, are you—”

his mouth gets dry when he is hit by the heaven-like vision of you standing in front of the mirror. he stops in his movements, unable to say anything for a while.

it gives you enough seconds to turn around and look at him. your giggles echoes in the room when you see his face.

your body grows hot as your boyfriend checks you out with barely controlled lust written all over his face.

you can tell by the expression on he his wearing the the red dress you are wearing is driving him into a spiral— but, you see him crumble when his eyes fall on your heels and lingers on your legs.

he groans as he walks to you, “you can’t do this to me, baby,” his hand comes settle themselves on your waist before he pulls you close. he kisses you first, yet he is the one that says, “we really need to leave soon.”

JAY

“they are so beautiful,” you breathe out, holding the beautiful heels you just got gifted by your boyfriend. you barely remember mentioning this brand and specific shoes but he does, vividly.

he smiles, relieved as if you could ever dislike anything he gives you. his hand holds the back of your neck gently as he gives you a forehead kiss, “i’m glad you like them, princess.”

you let yourself get kissed— as you are still in a dreamlike state, you don’t even realize that you are giggling when his lips connect with your skin. and you are too busy staring at the beautiful gift to realize that the man is getting on one knee.

he delicately takes the box out of your hands, “let me help you,” he tells you, putting the box on the floor.

he takes one of the heels in the box and under your adoring gaze, as if you were a princess, he lifts your legs up ever so gently, high enough to slide the shoe on your foot. your love for him grows, although you thought that was impossible, as you watch him do the same for your other foot.

“perfect,” he says when he is done. he gets up, and kisses you again— on your mouth this time. “you are perfect, angel.”

JAKE

as soon as you arrive home, you reach for the bedroom— closely followed by your boyfriend— to lay on the mattress. back resting against the soft mattress, a soft sigh leaves the barrier of your lips as you stare at the ceiling.

“let me help you, m’love,” his sweet voice declares. for a moment, you are confused about what he could be possibly talking about then you feel his hand wrapping around your ankle.

he holds one of your high heel, sliding the louboutin shoe off your feet— with such care that it almost makes you dizzy.

“you didn’t have to,” you chuckle when he takes off the other half of the pair of heels. you shamelessly watch him take off his suit’s vest from the front side of the bed.

shortly, he finds himself crawling on top of you, “you are so pretty,” he whispers. he doesn’t think that adding ‘tonight’ would be truthful. he thinks you are always gorgeous. “i thought i wouldn’t be able to control myself everytime i looked at you.”

you wrap your fingers around his tie, slowly pulling you closer to your lips. he sighs when you finally kiss— as if he was waiting for it all day long. honestly, he was.

SUNGHOON

there is nothing about you that goes unnoticed by him. because he spends most of his time staring at you, he notices every bit of your expression. even if you are smiling, he catches the wince when you think no one is looking.

however, he waits until you are in the intimacy of the back of the car, drove by your chauffeur, to do something about it. your legs are already over his laps when the car starts to move.

“are they hurting?” his question reaches you after a long silence. you raise a brow, silently asking him what he is talking about. you nod when he asks again, “your feet. are they hurting?”

the man gets out of the car quickly when it stops, just to rush and open the door for you. upon your feet gets in contact with ground, as you steadily stands on the floor, he steps closer.

you let out a surprised noise when your body gets almost turned upside down. his strong arms hold you, carry you like a newly married woman going ro spend time with her husband.

you will always be amazed about how he can pick you up with no efforts needed, as if you weighed nothing. it’s so attractive, you want to kiss him.

SUNOO

he gladly accepts to help you choose what pair of heels you are going to wear tonight. he is the one who encouraged you to wear them, and he is always more than happy to help you out.

but the truth is, your lover is way too distracted by you to think straight. his opinion is clearly biased because he thinks that everything you wear is beautiful.

“what about those ones?” your voice pulls him out of his contemplation of you. standing between his legs as he sits on the couch, you stare at the heels as he stares at you.

he doesn’t even try to look at the shoes on your feet. he only holds your hand to make you sit on his lap instead before breathing out; “gorgeous.”

you chuckle, shyness takes over you when he kisses your cheek gently and rubs your thigh with his thumb. “you didn’t even look at them, sun.”

his lips peck your cheek once again, then another time, clearly waiting for you to turn your head and kiss him— you do it and against your lips he murmurs, “everything you wear is beautiful, baby.”

JUNGWON

he loves it. he loves when you wear heels, he loves how it makes your legs look so alluring— more alluring than the already are— he loves how hypotonic it looks as well as it sounds when you walk.

put on heels and the man can’t think about anything else, he can’t do anything else other than stare at you, he doesn’t want to do anything else but touch you.

his large hand holds your hip and rests on your lower back as you walk. his hands holds on your waist as you talk to your friends, he pulls you closer to his body every time he feels like you are too far.

from behind you, he leans in to reach your ear as your friends discuss. his lips brush against your neck, kisses your skin before he whispers, “you look so good, doll.”

you laugh quietly, it is barely audible for anyone that isn’t as close to you as he is. in a teasing tone, you warn him. “jungwon, you are going to strangle me.”

the ongoing conversation fades out, for the both of you as he kisses your neck again. his mouth trails from your exposed shoulder to behind you ear and you elbow him when he tries to bite your earlobe.

RIKI

he is deeply in love. his heart starts to beat as soon as he gets a glimpse of you face through your house’s door. he stands correctly as soon as he sees you— so lovesick.

his mouth falls agape while you approach him, his eyes scans your entire being with nothing but pure awe. it’s the first time you wear this kind of shoes and he prays it’s not the last.

he doesn’t realize that his hand moved to his chest. feeling his heartbeat beneath his palms, he breathes out as you are finally to him, “you didn’t used to be that tall.”

he feels like he is going crazy when you tilt your head to the side, he mirrors your movement hopelessly as well as the smile you wear as you answer, “is that all you have to say?”

he can’t help but laugh at your cute fake pout. then he comes closer to your face, “of course not,” he gives you a sweet kiss before continuing; “you’re beautiful, sweetheart.”

he is satisfied when you smile widely at him, as the saying says ‘happy wife, happy life’ even if you are not married. yet.

taglist open + net— @sgz-net

[pedge-page]

does joel take care of wifeys bush for her while she’s pregnant? I have a feeling he would appreciate hers very much

18+ ONLY

You would absolutely insist on having it shaved, and you'd shave it yourself as much as possible while pregnant. But when you get to that point that you can't see or reach over your belly, you call upon your doting, obedient, loyal husband who would do anything you ask of hi-

"No."

You blink at him. With a razor blade in one hand and shaving cream in the other, you're naked as your soon-to-be-baby will be on the day of her birth.

"What."

He shrugs. "Said no."

"But... its..."

"It's beautiful."

You scoff. "C'mon Joel." Holding out the razor and cream, you smile with pleading eyes.

He only shakes his head again. "I'm not doing it. I wanna enjoy the bush."

"The what?"

He chuckles. "Heard me." He paces forward, your belly bumping his as you are forced to step backwards. "I said--" he reaches behind you to knead your ass-- "I want--" You find yourself pinned in front of the sink-- "the bush."

"I dont-- what does that even mean?"

But he's already kissing down your belly button.

"Leg," he commands.

You give him a sideways look from above, barely seeing his lidded eyes over the swell of your tummy.

You whimper but lift your thigh, enabling him to hook it over his shoulder. His hand finds its way to cup against your lower back so the countertop doesn't uncomfortably cut into your spine.

"Joel..." you whine. "Its just....so..." you cover your face with your hands, though you can't even see his expression down there in the great beyond anyway.

"S'magical," he replies, nose nuzzling your newly grown hair. "Ooo baby. It's like my beard rubbed off on ya down here."

"How is THAT sexy?"

"You like my beard don't you?"

Fair point. "But not on me. Not down there."

He chuckles, inhaling your scent with a kiss to your pelvis.

"Let's get explorin," he grumbles with a sly smile, before spreading you expertly apart with his fingers. His lips attached to your clit, and he starts sucking with such precision, youre not sure what "exploring" hes talking about. The man has chartered every millimeter of area down there. Playing you like a piccolo, Joel eats you out and nudges your g spot until you're crying and grasping the sink behind you.

Once you've cum three times on his tongue, you're exhausted. "J-joel," you plea.

"Mmm?" He pulls away, showcasing his soaking mustache and lopsided drunk grin. "S-wrong, Momma?" He rubs along your belly with his slick hand, soothing your twiching body.

You feel dizzy, unable to argue with him. "M'not...asking you... take care... of-of... it...'gain."

He giggles into your belly. "Honey," he tuts. "Wasn't gonna ask your permission. I'm gonna enjoy this for as many nights as I can get it. Now how about I take ya to bed so we can continue preserving these forests?"

- - - -

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop @himboelover @callsignwidow @wintersquirrel @fluffygoffpanda @picketniffler @bbyanarchist @94namkooksworld

[ylangelegy]

a lesson in begging 🚇 soonyoung x reader x jihoon.

jihoon learns the art of saying 'please', courtesy of his best friend and his best friend's girlfriend.

★ word count: 3.7k ★ genre/warnings: 18+ content. smut with 🤏 pinch of plot; jihoon-centric after the intro. established relationship (soonyoung x reader), mentions of female anatomy, pet names (s: ‘baby’, ‘goddess’, ‘good boy’). exhibitionism, voyeurism, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, so much begging, both soonyoung and jihoon are kind of pathetic [lovingly] in this one.  ★ footnotes: once again, when your biases release a song single album, you write the goddamn smut (2). shoutout to urbano latino & reggaeton music for getting me through this, and to @gyubakeries, @gotta-winwin & @diamonddaze01 for the hand-holding.

Soonyoung likes to think he’s a pretty generous guy. 

He’s never selfish about what he has. He shares when he can to anyone who asks. You, in particular, never have time to want anything; your darling boyfriend is attune to anything your heart might ever desire.

And if that just so happens to be his best friend Jihoon? Well, like we’ve established: Soonyoung is always going to give. 

You hadn’t really been discreet about it. You’d been guilty, maybe, but you were a language that Soonyoung was fluent in. He saw the way you’d watch Jihoon while the latter worked out, saw the way your face would light up when you’d hear the other man was coming over for one reason or another. 

A normal boyfriend would have been alarmed, might have thrown a fit. But Soonyoung was never normal to begin with. 

And— he never admitted this to you, did he?— he’d rather it be Jihoon than anyone else, anyway. 

You’re mortified when Soonyoung first brings it up. You’re ready to apologize for thinking Jihoon is sex on legs, but then Soonyoung makes his proposition. 

“I promised I’d give you everything, baby.” His voice is sweet and earnest. There’s no hint of maliciousness in it; he’s not using this as leverage. “Let me get you this, too.” 

That’s another thing about Soonyoung: It’s always been so hard to say ‘no’ to him. 

Jihoon is convinced this is some form of elaborate prank.

The words that just came out of Soonyoung’s mouth have yet to register to him. After ‘not a threesome’ a couple of sentences ago, Jihoon just kind of blanked out. 

You’re sitting on the edge of the bed you share with Soonyoung. You look pretty, Jihoon thinks, but then he corrects himself. You’re always pretty. 

Crap. That’s what got him in this situation, isn’t it? 

Jihoon takes a steadying breath when he realizes that you and Soonyoung are waiting for a response. “I’m sorry,” says Jihoon, keeping his voice as even as possible, “but what the actual fuck?” 

Soonyoung snickers. You look a little less amused. You elbow your boyfriend, a look of mild horror crossing your expression. 

“You didn’t warn him before inviting him over?” you seethe.

Soonyoung rubs the side you’d hit.  “I thought we could all talk about it together,” he shoots back. “You know, like a proper discussion.” 

“A discussion,” Jihoon echoes. He’s not sure if it’s you or him that’s going to throttle Soonyoung first. 

Jihoon’s mental list of how he intends to physically harm Soonyoung comes to a temporary pause. You’re looking at Jihoon, now, with an expression that’s almost apologetic. It makes something seize up in the man’s chest. 

“I didn’t mean to put you in an uncomfortable situation,” you say. “I just thought…” 

You trail off, and it’s the cruelest cliffhanger Jihoon has ever witnessed. “Thought what?” he prompts, shoving his hands in his pockets. That way, you wouldn’t have to see how he’s started shaking. 

Soonyoung finishes what you started. “We thought you wanted this.”

As if to explain what this was, Soonyoung reaches over from behind you and places his hand on your thigh. Jihoon’s eyes flick to the movement, but he looks away just as quickly. 

Soonyoung gives your thigh a light, reassuring squeeze. His eyes never leave Jihoon’s face. There’s a bit of a challenge, a hint of something serious. Like Soonyoung is daring Jihoon to deny his wants, deny this, deny you.

You— looking criminally lovely, watching Jihoon with caution and concern. There’s an undercurrent of distress in your expression, mixing with the annoyance at Soonyoung’s lack of tact. 

Jihoon swallows around the lump in his throat. He says something. It’s barely above a whisper. 

“Pardon?” you call out.

To hell with it, Jihoon thinks. To hell with it all.

He tries again, pitching his voice a little louder. “I do,” he says, wavering a bit on the words, “want this.” 

Want you, he had meant to say, but he chickened out at the last moment. It doesn’t matter. You and Soonyoung hear it anyway, and both your expressions shift into something more pleasant. Soonyoung looks smug. You, reassured. 

The room suddenly feels a lot warmer. There’s still considerable distance between Jihoon and the two of you. It’s the only thing keeping him sane, really. 

“That’s good.” The sheer relief in your tone could drive Jihoon crazy. You go on, “I would have hated to misread.” 

Misread which part, Jihoon wonders. The way his eyes always lingered a little too long on the hems of your shorts and skirts? The way all his sharp edges would soften when it came to you? 

Jihoon wants you, has wanted you for months. He had convinced himself that he was The World’s Worst Best Friend Ever, even. But Soonyoung is now looking at Jihoon like the latter is the opposite of that. The World’s Best Best Friend Ever— for agreeing to please you.

This arrangement would undoubtedly have consequences, even if it were a one-time thing. Jihoon can’t bring himself to care, though. He’s not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

He closes the distance, reveling in the tension that crackles with each step. You tilt your head back ever so slightly in a bid to never break eye contact with Jihoon. 

“You didn’t misread,” Jihoon says quietly. “I— you’re pretty.” 

He had hoped to soften the blow with I think, but why deny himself of the plain and simple truth? You’re so soft as you look up at Jihoon, the gratitude written all over your face. The tender moment is short-lived, though, because Soonyoung inevitably butts in. 

“Just pretty?” Your boyfriend sounds offended on your behalf. “Is that all you’ve got, Jihoon?” 

“Soonyoung,” you chide, but the older man barrels on. 

“Pretty isn’t enough,” Soonyoung insists. His hand slides up your thigh, tugging your dress up a little higher. This time, Jihoon lets himself watch, lets himself appreciate your skin as it’s revealed to him. “Do better, Jihoon.” 

“What might you suggest?” Jihoon asks, unable to look away from the hint of red lace underneath your dress. 

Soonyoung hums lowly. He leans forward, his teeth catching at your earlobe as he keeps your back pressed firmly against his chest. 

“Ethereal,” Soonyoung whispers reverently. “Gorgeous.” 

There wasn’t a doubt in Jihoon’s mind that Soonyoung adored you, practically worshipped the ground you worked on. This made the whole situation even more surreal, but Jihoon can’t look away— at how your eyes flutter close, how your breath hitches ever so slightly.

You’re so damn responsive. Jihoon’s heart thunders in his chest. He can’t imagine how this will end, and it hasn’t even begun. 

“Baby,” you say, and Soonyoung quits his teasing. 

He rests his chin on your shoulder and fixes his gaze on Jihoon. “If you want something,” Soonyoung drawls, “you’re going to have to beg for it.” 

For the first time that night, Jihoon’s facade of calculated calmness crumples. Beg for it? Jihoon wasn’t about to beg Soonyoung for a thing. Soonyoung was the one calling in for a favor, technically. As badly as Jihoon wants you, he can’t imagine himself ever being on his knees for Soonyoung. For anything. 

Soonyoung notices Jihoon’s agitation. The blonde’s face breaks out into a shit-eating grin, the kind that promises trouble for days. 

“Like this,” Soonyoung chirps, and then he pulls the rug underneath Jihoon’s feet. 

Soonyoung shifts on the bed, moving around until he’s at your side instead of cradling you from behind. He presses his knees into the mattress and he wrings his hands together, his face tilted towards yours. 

“Please,” Soonyoung tells you sweetly. “Please, please, baby?”

Jihoon’s brain short-circuits. He barely has time to think holy shit before Soonyoung ups his act, showering you with compliments about how perfect you are, about how badly he needs— needs, not wants— you.

You smile a bit before putting Soonyoung out of his misery. It’s not the first time Jihoon has seen the two of you make out, but it’s the first time that you open your eyes mid-kiss to glance at Jihoon, as if checking to see if he’s still watching. 

Soonyoung isn’t dealing the cards tonight. You are. 

Noted, Jihoon thinks, as he watches you lick into Soonyoung’s mouth. Your boyfriend lets out a sound between a guttural moan and a happy hum. He pulls away a moment later, his grin dopey and his gaze unfocused. 

“Good boys get rewarded,” Soonyoung tells Jihoon matter-of-factly.  

Jihoon winces. God, he’d rather die than be called a ‘good boy’ by Kwon Soonyoung, of all people. Jihoon is mentally weighing the pros and cons of this whole situation when Soonyoung shuffles backward, leaning against the headboard. Now, it’s just you and Jihoon at the foot of the bed. 

He doesn’t know what he should do. Sit? Kiss you senseless? Soonyoung answers for him— 

“Beg, Jihoon.” Soonyoung’s tone brooks no argument. “Tell my girlfriend what you want from her.” 

You look expectant. Jihoon hadn’t noticed that earlier. So much of you was unassuming, from your perceived shyness to your sundress hiding the red lingerie that was undoubtedly hugging all your curves right. The thought of it makes the front of Jihoon’s jeans feel a lot tighter. 

He clears his throat. He got this far; he might as well. And nobody outside this room would have to know, right? 

“Please,” Jihoon mumbles. 

He expects Soonyoung to speak up, so he’s a bit thrown when you’re the one who goes for the jab. “What was that?” you ask, and it would be innocent if it weren’t for the hint of a smirk on your lips. 

Jihoon inwardly prays for the ground to swallow him whole. When that doesn’t happen, he instead grits out his next words. 

“Please,” he says through his teeth. “May I kiss you?” 

It’s a piss poor attempt, but you’re nothing if not benevolent. Your fingers close around the front of Jihoon’s shirt and you tug him downward. 

He nearly stumbles when he feels your mouth against him. Jihoon isn’t sure if he can touch, whether he can even manage, so he ends up grabbing fistfuls of the sheets beneath you as you give him what he asked for. 

You kiss him so sweetly. It’s a dangerous thing, one that Jihoon fears he could grow addicted to if he wasn’t careful. Your tongue traces Jihoon’s bottom lip as if testing the waters, and he fights the urge to grab you by the waist and show you exactly how that makes him feel. 

The kiss breaks with the two of you gasping for air. Jihoon doesn’t know when he leaned further into your personal space, but he can feel your heaving chest against his own and it’s maddening. 

Jihoon had been so lost in the moment he’d forgotten Soonyoung was there, even. The latter pipes up, acutely aware that the kiss hadn’t been enough. That you’d pulled away too soon, leaving Jihoon in absolute shambles. 

“If you want more,” Soonyoung says, “you’re going to have to beg harder, Jihoon.”

This is either the best or the worst thing that has ever happened to Jihoon. He’ll decide later, he thinks to himself, as his hands finally find purchase at your hips.

Miraculously, Jihoon finds his voice. “Let me taste you.” Every moment in this room is chipping away at his pride, if the way he whines out the next word is any indication. 

“Please,” Jihoon says desperately, despairingly. 

It was the very first thing Jihoon remembered learning as a child. Say please, he had been taught. It’s the polite thing to do. It shows you have good manners. 

There’s nothing polite about the way Jihoon finds himself in between your thighs. There’s nothing good-mannered about the moans he tears out of you, about the way your fingers tug at his hair in a way that’s almost painful. 

You’re on your back, your head in Soonyoung’s lap as Jihoon works on you like a man starved. Your dress is pushed up your chest; Soonyoung could take the opportunity to play with your breasts. Instead, he keeps your hair out of your face and lovingly gazes at you as you thrash underneath Jihoon’s assault. 

“Enjoying yourself, baby?” Soonyoung coos.

Your response— something between yes and fuck you— breaks off into a keening whine when Jihoon doubles his efforts. He diligently laps up the slick of your sopping cunt before introducing his fingers; the two digits slide in with little to no resistance, and he rewards you by sucking on your clit. 

“Jihoon,” you cry out, your back arching off the bed. “Oh my God, Ji— hng— where did you—?” 

“Learn all that?” Soonyoung interjects. You’re too preoccupied to care about your boyfriend interrupting, too focused on Jihoon who has started crooking his fingers. “You know what they say, baby. It’s always the quiet ones you have to look out for.” 

Jihoon isn’t about to try and contest Soonyoung, not when you’re writhing so beautifully underneath his mouth. It’s borderline painful, the way Jihoon is grasping your hip like his life depends on it. 

An obscene slurp and the tease of another finger is all it takes to have you falling over the edge. Jihoon slows his ministrations, enjoying the feel of you tightening around his fingers. 

He pulls away as you come back down to earth. The entire lower half of his face glistens with your slick. Jihoon is obnoxious enough to dart his tongue around his mouth and smack his lips, as if trying to taste as much of you as possible. 

Soonyoung cackles. He’s enjoying this far more than he probably should. You can tell, though; there’s a tent in your boyfriend’s sweatpants, his clothed hardness pressing against your cheek. 

You nuzzle closer to it, a wordless whine escaping you. Soonyoung gets the message.

“Come on, baby,” he coaxes, guiding you further up the mattress. As he helps you out of your dress, Jihoon situates himself a bit better at the foot of the bed. 

He’s in desperate need of friction himself. Absent-mindedly, he palms himself over his jeans, watching as Soonyoung guides you to get on all fours. 

Soonyoung’s clothes join yours on the floor. It isn’t the first time that Jihoon has seen Soonyoung’s cock— a story for another time— but there’s still a moment where the younger man is jolted. Having experienced, now, just how tight you are, Jihoon can’t even fathom how Soonyoung can fit inside you. 

If either of you notice Jihoon’s attempts to relieve himself, you’re both graceful enough to not comment on it. Soonyoung focuses on bracing himself behind you, one hand resting at your waist while the other gives his cock a couple of leisurely pumps. 

You’re already primed to be fucked, but Soonyoung is taking his time. No, Jihoon realizes. 

Soonyoung is putting on a show. 

There’s a lazy smirk on Soonyoung’s face when he locks eyes with Jihoon. For a moment, Jihoon is tempted to stop touching himself, but it’s like he physically can’t stop himself. Meanwhile, Soonyoung is busying himself with rubbing the length of his cock against the curve of your ass— giving you time to recover from your orgasm while also making Jihoon suffer. 

“Wanna fuck my girlfriend, Jihoon?” Soonyoung taunts. “Want her greedy cunt around your cock, hm?” 

You let out a low hiss of warning as Jihoon bites back a moan. Soonyoung reels in his bravado, sliding his hand up to entangle his fingers in your hair. 

“Sorry, baby,” he says soothingly. “Didn’t mean to talk about you like that.” 

Soonyoung pushes your hair over your shoulder so he has better access to your back. He places a couple of kisses across your shoulder blades before glancing back up at Jihoon, the earlier mischievousness considerably dialed down now. 

“You know what you have to do,” Soonyoung tells Jihoon. “She’s in charge. Ask.” 

The remnants of Jihoon’s shredded pride hold him back. To ask for a kiss, to ask to eat you out— what the hell, sure. To ask if he can fuck you into next week? 

Jihoon squeezes himself through his pants, his gaze fixated on the way you’re looking up at him with dazed anticipation. He almost salivates at the thought of your soft, warm walls trying to accommodate him. 

Alas, his blasted pride. Jihoon opens his mouth then promptly clamps it close, unable to bring himself for this. 

Soonyoung lets out a low ‘tch’ of disapproval. “Suit yourself,” he huffs. 

Like a switch that had been flipped, Soonyoung now focuses all his attention on you. “Goddess,” your boyfriend says against your skin, his tone so loving that Jihoon feels like he’s intruding. “Can I make you feel good? Make you finish a second time tonight?”

You give a jerky nod, canting your hips backward until Soonyoung is lined up with you. “Yes, baby,” you whimper, keeping your eyes on Jihoon despite the fact you’re seeking out Soonyoung. “Want you inside me right now.” 

“I know, I know,” Soonyoung groans like your words have brought him pain, like it physically hurts him to hear you plead for anything. “I’ll give, baby. I’ll give.” 

Soonyoung slides home, benefiting from the slickness of your first orgasm. The two of you let out twin moans. It takes everything in Jihoon not to come on the spot. 

Jihoon never thought he’d been into this. He’s frozen, incapable of moving or looking away, as Soonyoung plows into you with practiced thrusts. Your fingers twist into the sheets below you and you struggle to keep your head up, your eyes open. 

Your gaze is half-lidded as you watch Jihoon’s slack-jawed expression. It has you fluttering around Soonyoung, who squeezes the flesh of your ass in retaliation. 

“Shit.” Your boyfriend picks up his relentless pace, his free hand carefully pressing between your shoulder blades. You sink a little further into the mattress and Soonyoung takes advantage of it, driving himself deeper into you. 

“You like having an audience, baby?” Soonyoung breathes.

Somehow, you manage to nod. Jihoon’s fingers close a little tighter around the outline of his jeans and, slowly, tentatively, he goes back to rubbing himself through the rough material. It’s equal parts painful and pleasurable but he figures it’s what he deserves for getting off to his best friend’s girlfriend. 

“Tell me what he looks like,” Soonyoung urges, his hands tangling into your hair again. He clutches at your roots and pulls your head back enough so that you have a better view of Jihoon. “Describe it for me, please.” 

Soonyoung is always so polite and tender when it comes to you. Jihoon gets you, now; he really does. That doesn’t help the way his dick twitches when he sees the blissed out look on your face, like being stuffed with Soonyoung’s cock had somehow fucked all the thoughts out of your head.

Jihoon must not be looking any better than you, because there’s a ghost of a smile on your face as you fulfill your boyfriend’s request. “He looks desperate,” you mewl, your fingers flexing around the crumpled sheets underneath you. “Looks like he needs something, baby.” 

Soonyoung chuckles. “And what does he need?” 

“Dunno.” You roll your hips to meet one of Soonyoung’s thrusts, drawing a heated cuss from the man. “He isn’t asking.” 

A muscle in Jihoon’s jaw ticks. Oh, this was a different kind of torture. He has half the mind to pull his pants down and shove his dick in your mouth to shut—

“Be nice, baby,” Soonyoung warns, “or else I won’t let you finish.” 

It’s an empty threat. Even Jihoon knows that much. You have Soonyoung wrapped around your little finger, and your boyfriend will go to the ends of the world to please you. 

Still, you play along. You attempt to apologize, but the word breaks off when Soonyoung slides his fingers over to your clit. His thrusts are uncoordinated with the circles he draws over the sensitive nub, but you don’t seem to mind. 

Your eyes are watery from the onslaught of sensations, your legs are shaky, and your lips are parted in a perpetual gasp. Jihoon thinks it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

A sound finally escapes him. It’s a quiet thing— barely a moan— but Soonyoung catches it anyway. 

“You’re already on your knees,” Soonyoung tells you quietly, conspiratorially. “How about you show Jihoon how we ask in this relationship, hm?” 

It’s so quick, so sudden. Jihoon barely has time to catch on and prepare himself before you’re surging forward, your fingers wrapping around his wrist. You replace his hand with your lips, mouthing his hardness over his jeans. 

You’re just as sloppy as Soonyoung. There’s no method to the way you clamp your lips over Jihoon’s clothed cock. It’s all drool, a hint of teeth. A crude imitation of what it’d be like if you actually took him in your mouth. 

And Jihoon— he’s surprised he’s still breathing, actually. His hands find purchase at your shoulders, torn between pushing you off and keeping you in place. He settles for the latter, his eyes blown wide as he watches you give him this perverse blowjob.

“Fuck,” Jihoon rasps. “Fuck, fuck, fuuuck—” 

You look up at him then. It’s not your eyes that does him over. Not your sweat-slicked forehead or your flushed cheeks. No, it’s the way you pull away ever so briefly, your entire body rocking as Soonyoung continues to pummel into you. 

Your breath is warm over Jihoon’s crotch as you whine a single word. 

“Please?” 

He doesn’t even know what you’re asking for. Regardless, he busts his load with a pained grunt. It’s uncomfortable to come undone in his boxers, with his pants still on, but he can’t help himself.

Soonyoung follows not long after, emptying his load into you. He hisses as he finishes, his own climax bringing you to your second high.

You slump forward, your mouth instinctively latching back onto Jihoon’s waning hardness. He’s so sensitive, but he makes no effort to pull you away from his front. Soonyoung doesn’t seem keen on moving yet either, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles into the skin of your hips.

“See?” Soonyoung says, his voice wrecked but his grin as annoyingly smug as ever. “Good boy, Jihoon.” 

[coldfanbou]

Toying Around

Here we go back to this storyline with Chaeyoung! And we get some story bits. I just wanted to add a little more to Chaeyoung

Length 3.2K

Chaeyoung X Mreader

Previous Part

Sitting around the bar, Chaeyoung happily explains her adventure with you. “This big! " she nearly shouts, moving her hands apart. She smiles and shuts her eyes as she remembers that night. “Ah, I want to see him again. I hope he calls me,” she giggles before opening her eyes to see her friends shaking their heads. 

“I’m not sure anyone would want to spend a second night with you,” Tzuyu teases, sticking her tongue out. Chaeyoung’s mouth hangs open, shocked that Tzuyu was bold enough to say that to her face. 

Hearing the other woman laugh, Chaeyoung turns her head to Mina. “Don’t laugh!” She yells, shaking the older woman’s shoulders. “I can totally sleep with him again.”

“Oh yeah? Why don’t you call him?” Tzuyu asks, amused by the tantrum she managed to get out of Chaeyoung.

“I will!” Chaeyoung roars, pulling out her phone. She scrolls through her contacts, reaching the bottom and not finding you. She looked through her contacts again before realizing she had put her number on your phone, but she didn’t have yours. Chaeyoung’s breathing quickens, and she gulps, knowing she’s about to get a tongue-lashing for not having your number. 

“She doesn’t have his number!” Tzuyu shouts, pointing and laughing at her friend. 

“I do!” Chaeyoung shouts, her tone more whining than anything else. Mina couldn’t help but laugh at the situation; Chaeyoung was flustered, blabbering whatever she could think of to explain why she didn’t have your number. 

“Maybe I’ll give you his number so you can have someone to see again,” Mina giggles, handing out your number to Chaeyoung.

“Not you, too,” Chaeyoung whimpers; the teasing she was getting from her friends was unending. Pitifully, she accepts the number, typing it into her phone.

“Go ahead and call him. I want to see this.” Chaeyoung huffs at the request, but already beaten down, she presses the call button and puts the phone to her ear. She listens to the soft beeps of the dialing tone.

“It’s ringing,” she tells the others as she waits. Chaeyoung feels a sense of shame as she calls you in front of her friends. While they were close, it was embarrassing for her to be asking for sex while they were right in front of her. 

“Hello? Chaeyoung?”

“Hi,” Chaeyoung said weakly, pursing her lips as her friends tried to keep their laughing to a minimum. “I was wondering if you wanted to meet again. I’m-I’ve been thinking about you a lot.” Chaeyoung balled her fist, wanting nothing more than to beat her friends who were moving away from her, their laughing becoming increasingly loud. 

“I’m a little busy at the moment,” You reply, thinking about what to do. “But if you wanted to come by my place tonight, that would be fine.” 

“Yeah, that’s great. I’ll call you later.” Chaeyoung blurts out, wanting to end the call as quickly as possible. “Thanks, bye.” She says before pressing the button. Chaeyoung presses her head against the bar counter. Mina and Tzuyu continue laughing, their stomachs starting to hurt as they try to catch their breath. 

“So-so what did he say,” Tzuyu manages to get out between laughs. 

“I’ll see him tonight,” Chaeyoung huffs, keeping her head against the counter.

“Cheer up; you're going to have a good time tonight,” Mina says, patting the short woman’s head. 

“I guess.” Chaeyoung was not happy about how this situation had happened, but she took a deep breath. 

You put your phone down and get back to work. Jeongyeon sits down a moment later, sitting on your right. She smiles at you, “Hey, there’s something I want to talk to you about.” She says, moving her hair behind her ear as she readies herself. 

Just then, Dahyun sat on your other side. “Hey, you two. Guess who just got put onto your team?” 

“You?” 

“Yep! Not just me, though, Nayeon too. We’re all going to be right next to each other.” 

“O-oh, that’s so nice.” Jeongyeon gulped; the last thing she wanted was to have everyone so close. Before, it wouldn’t have been a problem, but now that it was known they all wanted to be with you, it would be. Jeongyeon curses her luck; it would happen just when she was going to ask you out.

“Why don’t we all go out to karaoke to celebrate?” Dahyun pushes the idea, purposely wanting to keep solo dates from happening. “We can do it at the end of the week.”

“Oh, I don’t know about-”

“Did someone say karaoke?” Nayeon interrupts. She places a hand on Jeongyeon and Dahyun’s shoulder as she pokes her head forward. “Karaoke would be so much fun. Let’s go!” Nayeon stomps her feet, clearly excited to go out with friends. 

“A-alright then, this Friday.” Jeongyeon stammers. She tries to hide her disappointment with a small smile. Nayeon shakes her friend's shoulder before taking a seat next to her. 

“It’s been a long time since I heard you sing. You guys are in for a real treat.” Nayeon says, leaning forward to look at you and Dahyun. “She’s a great singer.” 

“Oh, I can’t wait to hear her sing then.” You reply. “Let’s get back to work, though.” You say, trying to refocus you all. The three of you work through the day with each of the women, blocking each other from having a moment alone with you. The mountain of work you had was slowly whittled away; by the end of the day, you had gotten through a little over half of it. The four of you were tired, frustrated, and annoyed by your bosses piling on more just before you left. It would mean more work for you tomorrow. 

You drive the girls home in silence, without the radio on. Each of you just wanted some peace and quiet. You drop them off at their homes. They wave to you as you leave, and you get home quickly. You walk to the door slowly when you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. Pulling it out, you see Chaeyoung’s name. “Hey, Chaeyoung, what’s up?” You answer.

“Are we still meeting…Master?”

You chuckle at the mention of being her master. “Come on over.” You reply, “I’ll be waiting. I have a lot of stress to get out, so be ready.”

“Yes, sir,” Chaeyoung says before hanging up. You head into your home and lay down on the couch after changing into your regular clothes. You hang your head back and try to relax as you wait for Chaeyoung. Your mind thinks back to the busy day; having Jeongyeon, Dahyun, and Nayeon working with you made the work you were doing a little more bearable, but you were still frustrated about getting more work dumped on you at the last second. Your phone buzzes with a message from Chaeyoung telling you she’s here. You tell her to come in, and a moment later, the door to your home opens. You watch the young woman walk into your home wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt. “Hi, Master,” She says quietly, gripping the hem of her shirt as she stands in front of you. You flick a switch inside yourself, ready to release all your stress.

“Come here, sit, " you tell her, patting your lap. Chaeyoung nods and quickly shuffles over, sitting on your lap and wrapping her arms around you. You place one hand on her soft thighs and gently squeeze them. “So, what did my little toy want?” You ask, moving your hand under her shirt. You find that she wasn’t wearing a bra and pinch her soft nipple, making Chaeyoung moan. 

“I-I wanted my Master to fuck me. I’ve been thinking about your cock all day.” She answers, leaning her body against yours. “My pussy misses you,” Chaeyoung whispers into your ear. Chaeyoung couldn’t believe what she was saying; she blamed Mina and Tzuyu for telling her to say those things, even if they were the truth. Chaeyoung grabbed the hand under her shirt and dragged it down to her panties. She was already wet. Chaeyoung gives you a slight smile as you look back at her. 

“We’ll get there,” you tell her as you slip your hand under her panties and run your fingers along her slit. Chaeyoung’s breath hitches as she feels your hand touching her directly. Your other hand moves to the front, grabbing Chaeyoung's small breasts. You massage her body, making Chaeyoung moan. “You know I had a really tough day at work. I could really use those pretty lips of yours on my cock.” You push two fingers into Chaeyoung’s cunt, making her raise her voice.

“Y-yes, Master. Whatever you want.”

“That’s a good girl.” You whisper as you pull your hands away from Chaeyoung’s body. The petite woman quickly places herself between your legs, kneeling before you. Chaeyoung tugs at your sweatpants; with your help, she’s able to get them off quickly. As soon as she sees your cock Chaeyoung smiles. She opens her mouth and drags her tongue along the shaft, flicking the head as she reaches the top. Her hand grabs the base of the shaft, and she gives you slow and short strokes while she wraps her lips around the head. Chaeyoung’s tongue moves around the tip as she sucks on it like it is a lollipop. You tilt your head back and groan, enjoying the feeling of her soft lips wrapped around your cock. Chaeyoung bobs her head slowly, keeping her tongue moving at all times. It moves from side to side along the underside as she slowly takes in more of you. Soon, you’re hitting the back of her throat. 

Chaeyoung keeps you inside as if trying to memorize where every vein on your shaft is. She pulls back slowly, keeping her lips tightly wrapped around the shaft. The petite woman keeps her hands around your shaft, stroking the base as she spits on your cock. “I missed it so much, Master.” She tells you, her eyes watery from her earlier actions. Chaeyoung drags her tongue along the shaft, “It’s so good. You can cum whenever you want, Master.”

“I know,” You reply, touching her head. Chaeyoung understands your wants and leans back down, taking your cock into her throat. You fill her tiny mouth as you push her down, making her take every inch she can. Chaeyoung missed this feeling. As you push her down, Chaeyoung can feel her body crying out for more. She reaches between her legs, about to touch herself when you let her go. “No touching yourself, Chaeyoung.”

“But,”

“No buts.” Chaeyoung nods and goes back to servicing you. Her desires grow stronger as time passes, more when she gets a taste of your precum. She can feel her thighs becoming wet with her juices as she bobs her head. Despite her increasing desires, Chaeyoung holds off on touching herself. She places her hands on your thighs just so you know she isn’t defying you. You smirk at her subservience and push her head down to the base of your cock, choking her as you fill her throat. “I’m cumming, Chaeyoung; I want you to drink it all.” 

The petite woman tries her best to drink the waves of cum pouring into the back of her throat. It becomes too much, though; it spills from the corners of her mouth, rubbing down her cheeks. You were more than satisfied with her work. As you look at Chaeyoung, you see her bloodshot eyes. She had nearly passed out. Still, though, she wanted more. Chaeyoung licked the cum on her cheeks, cherishing every drop of the salty liquid. You pat Chaeyoung’s head. “Come on, let’s go to the bedroom.” Chaeyoung rises and waits for you to lead her to the bedroom. 

You take her arm and get her in front of you. You stare at Chaeyoung for a moment, remembering how you woke up with her the other day. You grab her ass and lift the young woman, kissing her as you lay her on the bed. Moving your hands from her soft cheeks, you pull her shirt off her, leaving Chaeyoung in a pair of red panties. You pull away the soaked garment and rub your cock against her slit. She whimpers, her body craving your cock.

“Tell me what you want, Chaeyoung,”

“Please fuck me. I want you to fuck me until I can’t walk anymore.” Chaeyoung begs, holding her legs apart for you. You smile and push your cock inside the young woman, giving her a little more than half before you begin to pull out. Chaeyoung moans, resting her head against the bed as she feels your cock stretching her tiny cunt. It almost hurts, but the pleasure she feels covers it all. 

Leaving the head inside, you wait for a second before ramming your length inside Chaeyoung. Her soft moan becomes a shrill scream as she feels your cock hit her womb. This was the feeling she remembered. Chaeyoung’s toes curl as the pleasure hits her like a truck.  You grab Chaeyoung’s legs, placing them close to your chest as you thrust into her cunt. 

Chaeyoung’s tightness was nice; it held you tightly as you slid in. Considering she was wet before you had started, you were able to slide in and out quickly. You drive yourself deep into Chaeyoung, smashing yourself against her womb. Chaeyoung moans your name as you fuck her senseless, your pace becoming quicker as time goes on. The petite woman was already on the verge of cumming. Now that you were feeding her desires, her core was tightening, her muscles flexing. “I’m gonna cum,” she moans softly, biting her lip as the pressure in her body builds up. 

“You’re going to cum already? I’m not even close.” You reach down and pinch Chaeyoung’s nipples, making her whine. “Well, I’m not going to stop even if you do. Cum for me, Chae.” You pull on her nipples, stretching them. Chaeyoung cries out, the mixture of pain and pleasure becoming too much for her. 

“I’m cumming!” She screams, her walls tightening around you, trying to get your cum. You continue thrusting into Chaeyoung, the waves of pleasure crashing over her, only getting stronger as you overstimulate her. “Fuck!” Chaeyoung cries out as you continue to thrust into her. You slow down, letting Chaeyoung get a small break. You didn’t want to break her yet. You steal a kiss from the young woman, groping her breasts as you wait for her body to relax. “Thank you, Master,” she mumbles. 

You smirk. “Don’t thank me yet, Chaeyoung.” You pull away and look over the young woman; her chest rises and falls quickly, and she already looks like she’s in heaven.

You grab onto her waist. Tongue hanging out of her mouth and eyes nearly shut, you begin thrusting into the petite woman again. She wraps her legs around your waist as you fuck her like a toy. Chaeyoung grips your wrists, biting her lip as she feels your cock slam into her womb. “Oh fuck, harder, fuck me harder,” Chaeyoung moans. You lean in and kiss her, keeping her quiet while you move in and out. You dig your nails into her skin, making the young woman moan louder. She felt herself melting away, accepting your ownership like the night you met. Chaeyoung’s walls began to tighten around your cock; you grunt in response, the pleasure becoming too much. Your cock began to throb, telling Chaeyoung what was coming next. “I want it inside; please cum inside me, Master,” Chaeyoung begged you, tightening the grip she had on you. You didn’t care where she wanted it; you just needed to get all your energy out. 

You continue to thrust into the young woman, speeding up as you get closer to your climax. Chaeyoung’s moans grew louder. She shut her eyes and yelled. “I’m cumming!” Her hips shot up as she came, and her walls began milking you, squeezing down on your cock. You drove your cock deep inside Chaeyoung, pouring your seed into her needy womb.  Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as she felt your hot cum fill her body. “It’s here,” she murmured. Chaeyoung moved a hand down to her slit; her fingers slowly circled her clit. “You’re the best Master.” 

Chaeyoung turns onto her stomach, laying her head down on the bed. She was tired, her body tingling all over from her previous orgasms. You watched her small ass shake as she turned over, and you still had the energy to get out. You weren’t considering Chaeyoung’s feeling as you raised her ass into the air. You slapped one of the full cheeks, making her yelp. Looking over her shoulder, Chaeyoung watched as you got behind her and slammed your cock back into her dirty cunt. Weak moans flowed from her lips as you settled down deep inside her. She groaned as you snaked your arms around her legs. “Master?” she mumbled, wondering what you were doing. You move your hands around Chaeyoung’s arms and place them on the back of her head before gathering your strength and lifting her off the bed. You began your thrusts against going deeper than before as you gave her every inch. “Oh shit, you’re so deep.” You forced Chaeyoung’s head down; as she looked toward you from her position, she watched your cock disappear into her tiny cunt with every thrust. The sight, along with the lack of mobility, turned Chaeyoung on. 

She couldn’t do anything else but watch as you used her. She watched as your cum became creamy as you stirred it inside her. Chaeyoung could hardly contain herself; her body was already sensitive, and now that you had given her an entirely new feeling, she was losing it. Every thrust you gave her was like another orgasm coming over her. The petite woman was a toy to use at will, and you were going to spend all your energy on her. You came inside her again, dumping another load inside her sore cunt, but Chaeyoung was grateful. She mumbled a thank you as you continued slamming yourself inside. At some point, Chaeyoung began to drool on the floor, her mind completely gone.

As you began to run out of strength, you moved her over the bed, letting Chaeyoung go and dropping her onto it. It wasn’t the end just yet, though; you want to get one last use out of her. You continued your thrust until you came again. Thoroughly spent, you pull out of Chaeyoung and collapse next to her. The young woman was covered in sweat, her hair messy and matted to her forehead. Cum was running down her legs, dripping from her red cunt. You lean over and kiss the top of her head, “My little toy did a good job,” you tell her. The edges of Chaeyoung’s lips curl up at your praise. Dragging her full body onto the bed, Chaeyoung gives in, falling asleep instantly, more than satisfied even if her body aches when she wakes up in the morning.

[rafes-slut]

You send your best friend nudes on aciddent

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader (Best Friends)

Summary: you wanted ro send nudes to guy you were talking to and without even realizing you sended them to rafe. He shows up at your house and he fucks you pretty

Warnings:(Explicit sexual content (18+), Rough, raw, and unprotected sex, Best friends-to-lovers tension, Possessiveness/jealousy, Strong language, Slight dominance themes, Mentions of nudes/sexting, Brief edging/denial)

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

Your house was too quiet. Too empty. The kind of silence that made you restless, forcing you to find something—anything—to keep yourself occupied.

You had already scrolled through every possible social media feed, tried binge-watching a show, and even considered taking a nap, but nothing seemed to cure the boredom eating at you. The guy you’d been talking to—the one you had a… thing with—hadn't texted you all day, and for some reason, that only annoyed you more.

With a sigh, you plopped onto your bed, staring at the ceiling before an idea popped into your head. A reckless, stupid idea. But an exciting one.

Grabbing your phone, you opened the camera app, biting your lip as you hesitated. Then, without thinking too hard about it, you started posing, taking pictures of yourself—fully naked.

The longer you did it, the more confident you became, experimenting with angles, capturing the way the dim lighting cast shadows over your skin. By the time you finished, you were beyond pleased with how good you looked.

Your finger hovered over the screen as you scrolled through the pictures, feeling the rush of power that came with it. Maybe if you sent them to him—the guy you’d been talking to—he’d finally give you the attention you deserved.

Without another thought, you selected a few of your best shots and hit send.

The moment was thrilling. You smirked to yourself, placing your phone aside as you basked in the satisfaction of it all. You left your phone unattended for a while, assuming he’d take his time responding, so you didn’t bother checking right away.

It wasn’t until an hour later, when you absentmindedly picked up your phone to see if he had replied, that your stomach dropped.

36 new messages.

But they weren’t from him.

They were from Rafe.

Your heart stopped. Your entire body froze as dread crept up your spine. Confusion clouded your mind until you clicked on his name, your blood running cold as you read the first message.

Rafe: Tell me you didn’t just send that to me.

Your breath hitched. Your pulse pounded in your ears as you scrolled.

Rafe: Are you serious right now?

Rafe: Fucking answer me.

Rafe: Jesus Christ, what the fuck?

Rafe: Are you out of your mind?

Panic overtook your senses as you finally understood what had happened. Your fingers shook as you scrolled up, only to confirm your worst nightmare.

You hadn’t sent those pictures to the guy you’d been talking to.

You had sent them to Rafe.

Your best friend.

The same Rafe who had seen you at your worst, who had been there through everything, who—until now—had never seen you like that.

You felt sick.

Rafe: I swear to fucking God, tell me that was a mistake.

Rafe: Are you ignoring me on purpose?

Rafe: Do you even realize what you just did?

You stared at the messages, paralyzed with horror, your mind racing with what to do. There was no taking it back. No pretending it never happened.

Your phone buzzed again, and another text popped up.

Rafe: I’m coming over.

Your stomach flipped.

Oh. Fuck.

You barely had time to process the messages before loud, impatient knocking shook your front door. Your heart jumped into your throat.

Shit.

Rafe was already here.

Panic surged through you as you scrambled off your bed. You weren’t even dressed—still completely bare from your little photoshoot. With no time to properly throw on clothes, you grabbed the first thing within reach—an oversized shirt that smelled faintly of cologne. Rafe’s cologne. It was probably his shirt, one he had left behind on one of the countless nights he crashed at your place.

You barely managed to pull it over your head, the hem brushing mid-thigh, before the knocking got louder.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

"Open the damn door."

His voice was sharp, edged with something you couldn’t quite place—urgency, frustration… something more.

Taking a deep breath, you smoothed out the shirt, schooling your expression into something nonchalant. Like you didn’t just send your best friend a full spread of naked pictures. Like you weren’t freaking the fuck out inside.

You swung the door open, greeting him with a bright, innocent smile. "Hey, Rafe."

His eyes flickered over you immediately, scanning your barely covered frame. His jaw clenched, nostrils flaring. "You’re fucking joking."

You tilted your head, feigning confusion. "About what?"

Rafe ran a hand through his hair, exhaling a sharp breath before stepping inside, shutting the door behind him with more force than necessary. "Don't do that. Don't act like you didn't just—" He stopped himself, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek as his eyes dragged down your body again, lingering on your bare legs.

You crossed your arms, biting back a smirk. "Didn't just what?"

His jaw ticked. "Send me those pictures."

You shrugged. "It was an accident."

His blue eyes snapped to yours, dark and dangerous. "An accident?" He took a step closer, forcing you back slightly. "Tell me, how exactly do you 'accidentally' send someone half a dozen nude pictures?"

You swallowed hard, nerves creeping up your spine, but you refused to back down. You weren’t about to let him see how flustered you were. "I meant to send them to someone else."

His expression darkened, something flickering behind his eyes at your words. His voice dropped, lower, rougher. "Yeah? Who?"

Your lips parted, but no words came out. You weren’t sure why, but suddenly, saying his name—the guy you’d been talking to—felt wrong. The way Rafe was looking at you, staring through you like he was barely holding himself together, made your stomach twist in a way you weren’t prepared for.

His fingers twitched at his side. "Who were they meant for?"

You hesitated. "It doesn’t matter."

"Like hell it doesn’t," Rafe snapped, stepping in again, this time leaving no space between you. Your breath hitched. You could feel the heat radiating off him, his chest barely brushing yours. His gaze flicked to your lips for a fraction of a second before locking onto your eyes again. "You were really about to send those to some other guy?"

Your mouth felt dry. You blinked up at him, struggling to find your voice. "It’s not a big deal—"

His laugh was humorless. "Not a big deal?" His fingers curled at his sides like he was physically restraining himself. "You seriously don’t get it, do you?"

"Get what?" You whispered.

Rafe exhaled sharply, his jaw clenched so tightly you swore he might break his teeth. Then, in one swift motion, he grabbed your chin between his fingers, tilting your head up to look at him. Your breath caught in your throat.

"Don’t ever send shit like that to another guy." His voice was low, dangerously soft. "Not when you have me."

Your heart stuttered. "Rafe—"

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head slightly like he was at war with himself. His grip on your chin tightened just enough to make you dizzy. "Do you have any idea what you just did to me?"

You swallowed, your skin buzzing under his touch. "I—"

"You think I didn’t like it?" He scoffed, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip. "You think I’m mad because I didn’t want to see you like that?"

Your stomach flipped.

He leaned in, his lips just barely grazing the shell of your ear as he whispered, "I’m mad because now I can't stop fucking thinking about it."

A sharp breath left your lungs.

His other hand trailed down, gripping the hem of your—his—shirt. His fingers brushed against your bare thigh, sending shivers up your spine.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured.

But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

The second you didn’t tell him to stop, Rafe took that as a green light.

Before you could process it, his hands gripped your waist, and in one swift motion, he lifted you off the floor. A startled gasp left your lips as he placed you on the nearest surface—the hallway counter—knocking over a few things in the process.

Your legs instinctively spread, your oversized shirt riding up your thighs, exposing just how bare you were beneath it.

Rafe wasn’t blind. He saw everything.

And fuck, he wasn’t about to pretend he didn’t notice how worked up you already were.

A dark smirk tugged at his lips as his hands slid up your thighs, fingers tracing your soft skin. "You didn’t even think about putting something on, huh?" His voice was low, teasing. "Almost like you wanted me to see you like this."

Heat crawled up your neck, but before you could snap back, his fingers were already moving.

Without hesitation, he slipped between your thighs, brushing against your slick heat. A breathy moan slipped past your lips as he ran two fingers through your folds, feeling just how wet you were for him.

"Shit," Rafe groaned under his breath. "Look at you."

Your head tilted back slightly, hands gripping the edge of the counter as he teased you, his fingers barely dipping into you before pulling away again. Your hips bucked slightly, chasing the friction, and he chuckled.

"Needy, huh?"

"Rafe—" Your voice was a quiet plea, but he wasn’t feeling merciful tonight.

He pushed two fingers inside you with ease, the stretch making you gasp. He wasted no time, his fingers curling just right, pressing against that spot that made your entire body shudder.

"That’s it, baby," he murmured, his free hand gripping your thigh, keeping you spread for him. "Fuck, you’re already squeezing me."

Your legs twitched, the pleasure overwhelming as he pumped his fingers inside you, slow but deliberate. His thumb found your clit, rubbing small, calculated circles that made you whimper.

"Bet you weren’t even thinking about that guy when you took those pictures," he taunted, his pace never faltering. "Bet you were thinking about me."

You didn’t answer, but your body betrayed you—the way you clenched around his fingers, the way your thighs trembled.

He leaned in, his lips ghosting over yours, but never closing the distance. "Say it," he murmured. "Tell me who you really wanted to send them to."

Your pride held on, but your body was already giving him the answer.

You didn’t answer his question. You couldn’t. Saying it out loud would mean admitting it—to him, to yourself. That you never meant for those pictures to go to anyone but him. That the only person you wanted to see you like this, touch you like this, was Rafe.

But your silence didn’t matter. Your body told him everything he needed to know.

You gasped, yanking his wrist, pulling his fingers out of you before you could tumble over the edge. Rafe’s brows furrowed, his fingers glistening in the dim light, but before he could question it, your hands found his waistband, tugging at his jeans.

He let out a low chuckle, but it was rough, almost breathless. "That desperate, huh?"

You ignored him, too focused on shoving his jeans down. The second they pooled around his ankles, you took a moment—your breath hitching as you took him in.

Fuck.

You already knew he was big, but seeing it—thick, hard, already leaking at the tip—had you swallowing hard.

Rafe didn’t give you time to think. He grabbed your hips, dragging you to the edge of the counter, spreading you wider. He didn’t bother with teasing or stretching you any further—he knew you could take it.

And you did.

The moment he pushed inside, a strangled moan left your lips, your hands flying to grip his shoulders.

"Shit," Rafe gritted, his fingers digging into your skin as he bottomed out in one sharp thrust.

It was rough. Raw. Deep.

He didn’t give you time to adjust—he pulled back just enough before slamming into you again, knocking the breath from your lungs. The counter rattled beneath you with every thrust, his grip bruising, his pace relentless.

"Look at you," he groaned, watching the way your body took him, how you clenched around him with every movement. "This is what you wanted, huh? Not him—me."

Your nails scraped down his back, a broken moan escaping as he angled his hips just right, hitting that spot that had you seeing stars.

"You feel that?" Rafe panted, his forehead pressing against yours. "This is mine. You're mine."

You couldn’t even argue.

Not when you were falling apart around him, your body trembling as you came, his name spilling from your lips like it was the only thing you knew.

And Rafe? He followed right after, burying himself deep, groaning your name as he spilled inside you, claiming you in every way possible.

[moody-alcoholic]

Inspired by: Service Dog Johnny by the amazing void-my-warranty. I had the idea of; what if the roles were slightly different. What if Johnny invited Simon to come and fuck his girl to get over his fears.

Anyway. I'm super nervous about this because I really don't think I can do SDJ justice but enjoy none the less. Also void if you're seeing this you're awesome thank you for gifting the world SDJ.❤️

Part 1

Summary: John MacTavish x reader x Simon Riley (kinda), WC: 3.2k

CW: +18 content MDNI, Voyeurism, exhibitionism, fingering, angst, implied past abuse.

Enjoy <3

---

It’s Friday when Johnny springs the news his friend is coming round that evening. He didn’t give you much time to prepare, or get the house clean but you do the best you can. Johnny does go to the store for you and picks up some beer for them both. 

“You don’t need to do anything special.” Johnny says opening a beer. 

“I don’t mind, it's not that big of a deal, I like cooking.” You say, he comes over and wraps his arm round your waist kissing your neck.

“What exactly does he need help with?” You asks stirring the food. 

“Well, it’s.” He sighs, taking another sip of the beer. You turn to look at him, he seems nervous. 

“Would you ever be up for a threesome?” He asks suddenly. The question shocks you a little, you reach over and pick up your glass of wine. You weren’t expecting that, not the most unusual thing Johnny has asked you about when it comes to sex though.

“I mean, would you?” You ask taking a sip to quell the nerves. 

“Depends on who the other person is.” He says, running his hand through his hair. You take another sip and put the glass down. 

“What has this got to do with Simon? Is he the person you would want to have a threesome with?” You ask frowning. He takes another swing of his beer. 

“It’s not that simple.” Johnny says, you shake your head, now you’re even more confused. 

“I want to help him have sex.” Johnny says, holding his hands out. 

“Help him have sex by having a threesome?” You ask. 

“There’s more to it than that. It’s not just a threesome.” Johnny says. “He’s, he’s been through alot. Being intimate, it’s something he’s not very used to.” 

“Okay. Is he shy?” You’re not sure what to say, you've never even met him. 

“Shy? No, not Simon, well-” Johnny’s sentence gets cut off by the ringing of the door. 

“Just trust me, okay?” He says coming over to you and resting his free hand on your shoulder. You nod, you trust him. Now all of a sudden you feel nervous, you weren’t nervous before now, Johnny leaves the room to answer the door. So he’s invited Simon round for sex? Did Simon ask for this or is this one of Johnny’s master plans?

Or well, maybe he’s not here for sex because Simon has intimacy issues apparently. He should be talking to a therapist, what does Johnny expect to do? You have to keep a straight face though, you don’t want to make him more uncomfortable then he probably already is.

You turn off the stove hearing Johnny laugh as he comes in with Simon. You turn and smile at him, you put your hand out to shake it as Johnny introduces you. He’s not what you expect and he doesn’t seem shy. 

He’s massive, bigger and taller than Johnny, he’s definitely good looking, fit, brown eyes and blonde hair. With the way he holds himself you can tell he’s a soldier, Johnny does the same when he’s nervous, he probably doesn’t even realise it. 

“Thank you for cooking, you didn’t have to.” Simon says as you all walk over to the dining table. 

“I told her the same,” Johnny says, nudging him.  

“I don’t mind, besides when was the last time you had a home cooked meal?” You say going back into the kitchen while Johnny and Simon sit down. You finish your glass of wine swallowing the nerves, it’s going to be fine. What's the worst that could happen, you all have sex? 

That wouldn’t be the worst thing. 

…

Johnny and Simon seem to get on great, after a beer they both relax. You just enjoy listening to them talk about their last deployment. You don’t mind letting your second glass of wine mull you out. After everyone is finished and your stomach’s have settled Johnny insists on moving to the living room.

You all end up on the sofa, you find yourself relaxing against Johnny as he wraps his arms around you. Maybe Johnny won’t bring it up or maybe he’s waiting for Simon to bring it up. It’s not your job surly, you look up at Johnny, blinking at him, maybe he’ll get the idea. 

He smiles and kisses your forehead. Maybe not. You sigh looking back over at the bottle of wine and unopened beer cans on the table. 

“When was the last time you got laid LT?” Johnny asks suddenly. You snap your head back up to look at him. He’s got a cheeky grin on his face looking over at Simon. You hear him clear his throat, now you feel bad. Fucking epitome of subtle as always Johnny.

“Why do you want to know?” Simon replies, you look over at him. He’s resting the beer on his knee, he doesn’t seem nervous. More irritated that Johnny asked him. 

“Just looking out for you Si. Need you to blow off some steam before we’re back to work and you’re busting my balls again.” Johnny chuckles, at least that makes Simon smile. 

“Do you have a girlfriend?” You ask him trying to steer the conversion away from the awkwardness hanging in the air. 

“No.” You swallow the lump forming in your throat. You let out a breath sitting up. Johnny frowns at you. 

“I’m going to the bathroom.” You say, Johnny smiles his hand resting on your hip for as long as can. 

When you make your way back down you hear Johnny talking. You hang back for a second and eavesdrop. 

“I wanna help you Simon.” Johnny says.

“You don’t have to.” Simon replies.

“Well of course I don’t have to. I want to.” Johnny replies, Simon sighs and you hear a can open. “I think it would be good for you, if you want. We’ll take it slow, promise.” 

You feel a lump rise in your throat at Johnny’s words, you always knew he was close with his unit but you didn’t know he was this close. You let out a breath and slowly walk back into the room. You see Johnny move his hand off Simon’s thigh and you go over to pick the empty cans off the table. 

“Need anything?” You ask, trying to keep your voice level. Johnny and Simon both shake their heads. You go into the kitchen anyway to throw out the cans. You hear Johnny coming in, his hands slip round your waist. You smile at his touch and turn to face him. 

“Do you mind doing this?” Johnny asks, his thumb comes up to brush your cheek. 

“Do you?” You ask. He smiles, nodding his head. You smile back, reaching up and kissing him. 

“We’ll take it slow. You want to stop at any time we will.” Johnny says his hand rubbing your arm. 

“I don’t think it’s me you need to be worrying about.” You say. 

“Sorry I sort of sprung this on you, I didn’t know if he would agree.” He says, you frown. 

“Did you speak to him about this before tonight?” 

“I hinted at the idea.” 

“Hinted?” You scoff. “John MacTavish, you're the least subtle person I have ever met.” You wrap your arm around his waist pulling him against you. He hums with that cheeky grin on his face. 

“What happened to the bra?” He asks. You smile. 

“One less obstacle.” He kisses your forehead. You follow him back into the living room, Simon has moved onto the recliner. This time when you sit back on the sofa you don’t lean against Johnny. 

Simon seems to be suddenly extremely interested in what’s going on on the news. Johnny’s hand lands on your thigh and rubs it. He turns and leans in to kiss you, he takes his time mapping your mouth out, you relax into the kiss forgetting Simon’s there for a second.

Johnny’s hand slips up your shirt groping your breast. You hum in his mouth and he pulls away from the kiss. He removes it, gripping the hem of your shirt. You raise an eyebrow at him, what you’re just going to fuck while he watches or maybe joins in.

Johnny tips his head to the side smiling. You swallow the nerves and hold your hands up so he can slip your top off. A satisfied noise leaves Johnny and before you can start to feel really embarrassed about anything he’s already locked his mouth round one of your nipples.

You can’t help moaning and running your hand through his hair. He had it cut while he was away, you want him to grow it out again so you have something to grip onto. Johnny’s tongue flicks your nipple and he gently nibbles it before he pulls his mouth off with an audible pop. 

“What do you think, Si?” Johnny asks, looking over at him. You look over to see Simon press his lips together. “Pretty ain’t she?”

You feel heat rush to your cheeks as he nods, it doesn’t last long though. Johnny pulls you closer to him, planting his lips on yours and pressing his tongue in your mouth while his thumb rubs circles on your nipple still wet from his mouth.

He breaks from the kiss pressing his forehead on yours. “How ‘bout you go show Simon how good you are?” He says, it’s almost a whisper. You nod and he gives you one last quick kiss before you stand up. 

Johnny's hand lingers on the small of your back for as long as he can as you step over to stand in front of Simon. He doesn’t look that nervous, you know he is though, the way his lips are pressed together avoiding your eye line. His hands gripping the chair arms. You’re not sure what to do, make sure you don’t freak him out is probably a good start. 

“I’m not a virgin.” He says, you clench your jaw feeling awkward. “It’s just been a while, I'm out of practice.” 

“How long?” You ask.

You bring his hand up and place it on your breast. “I like having my nipples played with.” You say letting go of his hand, encouraging him to squeeze. You smile at him, you need to keep yourself open and calm. 

“Couple of years,” he says, like it's the most embarrassing fact in the world. Now you just feel bad for him, again. You reach down for the hand resting on the chair arm and pick it up. You can see the bulge in his pants, that's good, one less obstacle you need to worry about. 

His hands are rougher than Johnny’s, his grip is tighter, you’re not sure if it’s out of nerves or not. If he relaxes it will be easier, you don’t think that's going to be happening any time soon. His thumb brushes over your nipple and you reward it with a hum, trying to make your body relax even more. 

His other hand comes up to your other beast and before you know it he has both his thumbs running over your nipples. It feels good, if this were any other situation-or Johnny you might be able to cum just like this. 

You feel Johnny step up behind you, his hands land on your waist as he pulls you back against him. 

“Wanna see what else she likes?” He asks, resting his chin on your shoulder. Simon looks up at him and nods. Johnny leaves you and Simon drops his hand as you both watch Johnny move the coffee table out the way. When he’s done he goes over to the sofa and pulls the throw down on the floor, sitting down with his back against the sofa. 

“Come.” He says gesturing at you, you raise an eyebrow and walk over anyway, he spreads his legs and pats on the floor between them.

“Pants off, back on my chest.” He says, you nod pulling them off. This time you don’t get embarrassed thinking about Simon seeing you. You sit down between his legs and rest up against his back. You look over at Simon who’s face has turned a light red. Maybe this is too much, too fast. 

He hasn’t said stop though. Johnny reaches over and pulls your knees up so Simon has a perfect view of you spread out against him. You can feel his own cock pressing against your lower back, his hands run down your thighs eventually pressing on your clit. 

You try not to squirm, keeping yourself still. You let out a breath as Johnny moves his fingers round soaking them in your juices before pressing them back on your clit. You moan this time at the new sensation, his fingers pressing little circles with ease. 

That’s good though right? You should be looking like you’re enjoying yourself. This is a fun activity not something to be afraid off. 

“She likes this too, Si. Wanna feel?” Johnny says then presses a kiss into your neck. You watch as he shifts in the chair, for a second he looks like he doesn’t know what to say. He lets out a sigh and stands up out of the chair, he steps over then kneels down in front of you. He watches for a second as Johnny changes his strokes. 

You see Simon swallow before he reaches out. Johnny’s fingers are replaced with his. It’s a whole different sensation. His movements are slower, more unsure but the pressure is there and from having them both play with your nipples your body is slowly building up to that sweet release. 

“Put your fingers in her.” Johnny says after a few seconds. Simon looks up at him then quickly to you, you smile and nod at him. He shuffles on his knees again taking his fingers off your clit almost like he’s unsure. 

You watch his adam's apple bob then he presses a finger into you. You can’t help moaning, his finger stops, you smile at him and he continues to press it in until he can’t anymore. You feel Johnny’s cock twitch behind you. He’s enjoying this, he moves his fingers back to your clit. 

“Feel good love?” Johnny asks in your ear, you nod. “Use your words darlin’ tell him how good you feel.” 

“Your finger feels good Simon, you can use more if you want.” You say looking up at him. You think you see the faintest smile creep onto his lips. The next time he pulls his finger out he adds another. The new stretch makes you part your legs further, scooting your position slightly so his fingers rub against your g-spot with each thrust. You moan again, this time tipping your head slightly. You want to come but not until Simon’s ready, you don’t want to scare him. 

“See not so scary after all.” Johnny says, you can hear the smile in his voice. You look up at Simon who seems like he’s in a world of his own, maybe that's where he needs to be to get through this. You wonder what happened to him, you didn’t bother asking Johnny. It must have been something horrible. 

You let out a moan trying not to clench down on Simon’s fingers, you don’t want to spook him. Johnny hums in your neck, you know he’ll know you’re close, sometimes it feels like he can read your body better than you. 

“What to make her cum?” Johnny asks, you almost want to nod and scream yes. Simon looks up again, he hesitates for a second, his fingers stopping in you. He nods and you smile at him. 

“Just don’t take your fingers out okay?” Johnny asks, you swallow, you don’t want either of them to take their fingers off you. Simon nods again, his fingers start moving again, he makes sure to press in all the way. He speeds up too, you’re not in control anymore, maybe it’s for the best. 

Johnny’s fingers on your clit are relentless, you’re focusing on not spooking Simon or clenching around his fingers until you cum. Johnny hums in your ear and it sends shivers down your spine. He can tell your close cock twitches behind you. You’re not sure if you need to give an audible warning to Simon though. 

Your breathing increases as does your moaning, you’re close and you need to make your mind up. 

“Johnny.” You call his name, it’s almost like you need to wait for his permission, you’re not sure what to do.

“Yeah baby, come for us.” His voice low in your ear. Christ, that's all the permission you need, you tip your head back and close your eyes moaning as you clench down on Simon’s fingers. He stops moving but you don’t care. Johnny rides you through the orgasm as Simon’s fingers leave you. 

“See, not so bad.” You hear Johnny say. You open your eyes as you feel Simon get up to his feet. 

“Si?” Johnny asks as he moves to leave the room. You sit up.

“Bathroom.” Is all he says as he leaves the living room.

“Is he okay?” You ask leaning forward between Johnny’s legs. You turn to look at him watching out the door. You both hear the downstairs toilet door close. Johnny looks back over at you and smiles, you can see the concern in his eyes though, he’s not as slick as he thinks he is. 

“You did great.” He smiles, leaning forward to kiss you. You can’t help feeling like you’ve done something wrong though. Maybe it was all too much for him. 

“I’ll go check on him.” Johnny says helping you to your feet. You smile at him and nod. Maybe he just needs a second. You feel bad all of a sudden. Johnny leaves and you shiver, the room suddenly feels cold. You’re just standing there naked, you’re not sure if things are going to continue. 

You reach over pulling the other throw off the couch and wrap yourself up. At least this way if he wants to keep going you don’t have to go through the hassle of taking all your clothes off. You want to sit down but your curiosity gets the better of you and you head over to the living room door. 

You hear the toilet door open. No one says anything, you make sure to keep out of sight of the hall, trying to focus on listening. 

You hear Johnny sigh. “You did so well mate.” There’s a sniffle in response, is he crying? Now you really feel bad for eavesdropping. 

“Wanna stay the night?” Johnny asks, there’s no response.

“Want a mask?” He asks, you frown, a mask? “Guest room, in the chest of drawers.” You hear movement and step back over to sit on the sofa. You’re still getting comfy as Johnny walks in. He smiles at you and comes over to sit next to you. His arm comes round your shoulders and he pulls you up against him. 

“Simon’s going to stay the night.” He says kissing the top of your head. You nod trying to swallow the guilt of eavesdropping on their conversation. Johnny reaches over to pick up the remote and unmute the TV. 

“Is he okay?” You ask. 

“He’s fine. He just needs a minute.” Johnny says. You nod 

“Thank you.” He says. “Really I mean it. You didn’t have to do this.” You look up at him and smile, it makes you feel all warm inside.

“I love you johnny.” You say. 

“I love you too.”

---

[jraker4]

"I concede that evidence currently shows the Bibas family was killed, and a body belonging to someone not a hostage was returned. It's a travesty. However, I can't condemn Nat Turner, and in the same token, I can't condemn Hamas." Considering the rest of your remarks prior to this, what a marvelously brazen display of chickenshit behavior. After all of your bemoaning a lack of sources-while offering exactly none of your own, mind-when you're given one, it slides off your back better than water off a duck's. Don't get me wrong, it doesn't mean you're obligated to concede your entire argument or anything, but a person of integrity would at least have the stones to admit 'I eat crow on this claim I made over and over again. I think in time more evidence will reveal I'm right, but right now that's not the case'. But you don't need integrity, because you've got The Cause, right? You don't have to be accurate, because you're Right. Like when you compare the plight of Palestinians to that of African chattel slaves in the early 19th century. Which is for starters just a buckwild stupid comparison to make, and in any event lacks any sense of nuance: it's *completely possible* to condemn specific actions of someone without insisting that they then condemn an entire movement or goal. People do it all the time, they're perfectly capable of it. You're doing it right this very moment with Palestinians...and yet, somehow, even conceptually you can't make that little reach further. And also condemn others while doing it. Let's see, what else: you don't know what carpet bombing is. If Israel were carpet bombing Palestinians, there wouldn't be Palestinians *left*. That doesn't mean the conduct of the war in Gaza is good or beyond reproach, far from it, but again we come back to your not needing to be accurate because you're Right (supposedly). Terms like 'carpet bombing' have meaning, and it's not 'prolonged air strikes'. But why be right when the term is so sexy? Ethnostates: I wonder how many ethnostates there are in the region and, indeed, the world, and what's the cause behind your total fucking silence on this relevant question? Actually I don't wonder, and if you're going to insist on using the term I'm going to have fun mocking you for it.

'Colonial'. One cannot colonize one's own indigenous land. Obviously that doesn't mean taking it is OK, there are more ethical questions to be asked and answered than 'are you indigenous or not', but *by definition* Israel isn't doing A Colonialism because you can't colonize your own native land. Now, there *are* plenty of words that already exist to describe the sorts of behavior you're trying to describe, but they're way less sexy than 'colonialism', so why trouble usin' `em, amirite? Say, I wonder how the regional nations around Israel got their start, what's their history, surely there ain't any colonizing going on there, right? What? That don't matter? Happened too long ago? Well, OK, so what's the exact expiration date then? While Israel would prefer other options, I think they'd be happy to know that the standard is 'hold out for a few centuries and then it's yours in the eyes of the world', since they're already determined to hold out for centuries anyway. What? That's a ridiculous standard that it isn't fair to make? Why? If you're going to use a term like 'colonial', we're going to talk about colonizing. That ain't limited to Israel.

What’s more likely? Hamas killed two crucial bargaining chips, then, instead of simply saying the bodies were lost under the rubble, returned the remains proving they’d murdered them.

Or

Israel killed them when they carpet bombed Gaza, like everyone warned them would happen, lied about the kids being alive for over a year, are now lying again to invoke genocidal fervour and break the ceasefire?

This is the “40 beheaded babies” debacle all over again. The truth will be acknowledged eventually but by then it will be too late.

[kawhh]

Omg that temporary tattoo thing got me thinking about how in one tree hill when Hayley gets a 23 tattoo above her ass for Nate…

oh dark!quinn wouldn’t be able to think about anything else when he sees your reach up high for something and your shirt lifts up and he gets a peek of the 43 above your his ass.

He would ask you about it and when you wouldn’t admit it right away he would bend you over and he would fuck you from behind. You don’t get to finish because you lied but he cums over your back and swipes it across the 43 tattoo to further claim you, proper tattoo care be damned. Yeah that’s hot

My ask turn around time needs to be studied. There'll be a day when I catch up with them all and it doesn't take me a month lmao.

I gotta put One Tree Hill on my watch list now? I've always seen it talked about a lot but I've never actually seen any of it.

Warnings: Quinn losing his mind, nails sinking into skin, biting, blood mention, ripping clothes, rough fucking, cum play.

You'd done it as a cute little gesture. You adore him and you're oh so proud of him, it'd been the easiest tattoo choice of your life. You'd wanted it somewhere he'd be able to see on you, wanting it more for him than for you.

You hadn't fully considered the impact of it until it was etched into your skin, until the scratching had stopped. Flushing heavily in the car coming back from the studio. Embarrassed about how he'd react when he saw it, knowing it's permanent now.

Hadn't considered how he'd feel about the fact that you were a little undressed for the artist, laying there with their hands on your skin, touching above and around your ass.

Hadn't considered that it might make him more feral, you'd been high on the feeling of wanting to show him how proud of him you are.

You'd tucked your shirt into the back of your jeans as you walked into his apartment, needing more time to think of an excuse, a reason, before he saw it. He wouldn't be able to keep his hands off you for long.

It's a shame you'd immediately forgotten the plan, distracted by him asleep on the couch. Rushing around the kitchen to make him food ready for when he wakes up, worried about how exhausted he clearly was after practice. Guilty you weren't here for him when he got home.

Hadn't heard him stirring, hadn't heard him creep towards you, fixated on the little inch of your bare skin visible to his eyes as you reach up. The emotions battling for control in his eyes - the confusion, the savage need to claim you, to fuck you. The disbelief. His pupils fully dilated, his arms shaking.

You don't hear him kneeling behind you, needing to get a better look or he feels like he'll die. Your startled gasp as he reaches out to grab your hips, the way your cute little jump exposes even more of your skin.

The way his nails dig into your skin, his eyes wild, resting his forehead above the tattoo. Tensing up when you feel his hot breath against your skin, sending shocks up your spine.

"Sweetheart.. you gonna fucking explain?"

The way his nails dig in further when you don't answer, when you don't even offer an excuse. Just whimpers coming out of your mouth. Your gasp of pain when he bites around the tattoo, making a circle. A ring of bloody possession around his mark on you. You're even more his now. You can't go back from this. You've made this choice.

His veins burn with the need to be buried in your cunt. His nails no longer still - clawing into you, dragging them down your ass. Leaving a stinging trail that makes you hiss, softly crying out his name. Pleading for something. Needing something.

Your cries pushing him over the edge, rising to his feet, throwing you over his shoulder. He needs you now. Needs you bent over his fucking couch right now. Needs his cock in you. Needs to make a mess. Needs to stare at his mark on you when he rails you.

He's not gentle about throwing you on the couch, cradling your head from the harsh impact. He's not a savage after all.

He has no care for your clothes, viewing them as a barrier to what he needs and wants. Doesn't care to gently take them off you, doesn't care if he knows they're your favourite. These fucking jeans. They might make your ass look like a buffet but they're keeping him from your cute little cunt and it's illegal.

He doesn't need them fully off, just down enough. Yanking them down your thighs, restraining your legs with them around your knees. He has room. He'll make it work. Warming you up, pushing his aching head against the wet spot on your underwear, pushing the material into you, watching as you grip the couch and tremble. Lazy little thrusts, pushing it into you further, eyes narrowing on the tattoo.

Swiping his tongue across his bottom lip as he rips your underwear, laughing as you squeak in protest at the slight burn.

Doesn't hesitate when he has a clear shot, sinking balls deep inside your cunt instantly, pushing his weight against you, forcing you to bend further over the couch, restraining you even further. Gripping your hip with one hand, resting his fingers against the tattoo, needing to physically feel it.

He's a machine fucking into you, slamming you further over the edge of the couch with every thrust, slamming you back down against him when you creep forward too far. Making you scream at the brutality.

Begging him to slow down, whining about all your adorable little choices. You're just making it worse. He wants you ruined. He wants you to make a mess, to be a mess.

Spanking your clit while he pulls out, teasing you, pretending that he's giving into your demands, before he's slamming back in even harder. Feeling your walls clench down on him, feeling your pussy sucking him back in. How it's desperate for him to be inside you, even if you're vocally protesting.

He's chanting, whispering to himself about how badly he needs to cum on every thrust, tossing his head back, losing himself in the feel of your cunt. You're his. You're marked. He can do this every day. Fuck, he can fuck you every day. He can stare at the mark and make you cum every single second of every single day.

Moaning as his speed picks up even further, no longer even focused on your reactions, just needing to cum. Needing to cum. He's gotta cum. Fuck, he's gotta cum. He's so close.

Forcing his head back up so he can watch the tattoo bounce on every thrust, feeling like it's taunting him, violently pulling you back and thrusting, giving it every single percentage of energy he has, shocks going down his spine, his thighs cramping with the strain.

He can't resist pulling out as he cums, drowning your back in his seed. Panting as it drips down your back, aided by gravity. How it covers the tattoo, his hips jerking like he's cum again, the sight making his brain break.

He's collapsing against your back fully, the hand on your hip spreading it over the tattoo, trying to rub it into your skin. To mark you further. Running his hands through the rest of the cum, reaching up to force it into your mouth.

He'll keep you both here for a while, too exhausted to lift off you.

[seongwars]

strangers by nature | viii

Pairing: heir!Song Mingi x heir!Reader AU: non-idol | arranged marriage | enemies to lovers Genre: angst, humor, fluff in future chapters Rating: NC-17 Summary: After a life-altering car accident, Mingi is given one final shot at redemption—reborn as a fuzzy little puppy. To earn a second chance at life, he must complete three tasks or risk being doomed to the afterlife forever. Word Count: 5.5K Warnings: fluff, mentions of infidelity

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“You’ll need extensive physical therapy,” Dr. Jang said, flipping through his chart the day Mingi was to be discharged. 

“Walking will be difficult at first. You’ll experience weakness, dizziness, and possibly some coordination issues.”

Mrs. Song let out a sharp breath, bringing a hand up to her mouth as if to stifle a gasp. Beside her, Mr. Song reached over and placed a firm, reassuring hand on her arm. They had known this was coming, yet hearing it aloud made it all the more real.

“We’ll have to make arrangements,” his mother replied. “Oh, if he’s going to struggle, we can have the physical therapist come to the house.”

“There’s no need,” Mingi rasped, glancing over at you. “Y/N can help me.”

The entire room fell silent.

Dr. Jang stopped mid-page, his eyes flickering up over his glasses. The nurse who had been taking discharge notes blinked so fast it was almost comical. Even Mr. Song, ever composed, arched an eyebrow in surprise.

“W-What? Me?” you stammered, pointing to yourself as if there had been some mistake.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like your help,” Mingi repeated, his voice steadier now, as if the decision had already been made in his mind. There was something almost… gentle in the way he looked at you.

You stared at him in disbelief. Mingi, the man who never wanted anything to do with you, was asking for your help? 

“Mingi, are you sure?”

Mrs. Song was still staring at him like he had grown a second head. “But you always—” She hesitated, searching for the right words. 

“You’ve never liked being…helped. You always insist on doing things yourself.”

Mingi exhaled, leaning back against the pillows, his fingers twitching slightly against the blanket. “I know,” he admitted. His voice was quiet, almost contemplative. 

“But things are different now.”

And for some reason, the way he said it made it feel like he wasn’t just talking about his injury.

You pulled up to the entrance, cutting the engine before stepping out to grab Mingi’s crutches from the backseat. By now, the visits were becoming routine, but each time, it still struck you as surreal.

You turned to him, holding out the crutches. “Do you need anything else? I can grab a wheelchair if you want.”

Mingi shook his head. “No thanks, I’ve got it.”

Then, to your complete and utter bewilderment, he smiled—small, unguarded, but warm in a way you’d never quite seen before. The sight of it sent a strange flutter through your chest, something unfamiliar yet not entirely unwelcome.

Before you could process it, his hand brushed against your arm, a brief touch that sent a gentle warmth trailing in its wake. His fingers lingered just long enough to make you wonder if it was intentional before he gave your arm a light squeeze—as if he were telling you he’d see you soon.

It was fleeting, gone too soon, but the feeling remained, leaving you gripping the car door handle as if it were the only thing keeping you steady.

Mingi had never smiled at you before. 

The whole drive home, you were lost in thought, your hands gripping the steering wheel a little tighter than necessary. Confused didn’t even begin to cover it. Lately, everything about Mingi had been confusing.

At first, you thought you were imagining it. But then it became impossible to ignore.

It wasn’t just the way he looked at you now—like he was seeing you for the first time, rather than through you. It was how he acted. How he hovered. 

He followed you around the penthouse like a puppy. If you turned around too quickly, he was there, standing just a few feet away. If you rounded a corner, you nearly crashed into him. It was like he was always waiting for something. 

Waiting for you.

You could almost see it—the imaginary puppy ears perking up, the wagging tail swishing behind him, hoping you’d notice that he was there. 

And as if that weren’t strange enough, he’d also become…talkative. Well, in his own way. Mingi had started initiating conversations with you through animal facts, seemingly random tidbits of knowledge he’d been holding in until they just slipped out. 

“Did you know that vampire bats share their food with other vampire bats?”

“What?” You blinked at him, holding your fork mid bite. 

“They, um…they regurgitate blood for bats that didn’t eat.” His voice was quiet and uncertain, like he wasn’t sure if this was something you’d want to hear but hoped you might find it interesting.

You blinked at him, trying to decide if this was some kind of weird joke. But there was no teasing in his expression—just an earnest kind of hopefulness, like he wanted you to acknowledge his effort.

Like he wanted you to know he was trying.

“Oh…” You let out a small laugh, tilting your head at him. “Are you telling me I don’t eat enough?”

Mingi’s ears tinged pink as he gave a small, sheepish nod. 

“Kind of…” he admitted, shifting awkwardly. 

“I noticed that sometimes you skip meals when you’re busy or stressed.” His voice dropped slightly, almost as if he was embarrassed to say it aloud. 

“It’s not good for you.”

Another instance, you were humming to yourself as you sorted through the laundry, tossing a few shirts into the washing machine. The penthouse was quiet, save for the whir of the dryer running in the background. You reached for the basket when—

“Did you know that wombats poop in cubes?”

You yelped, throwing your laundry into the air as you spun around. Mingi stood just a few feet away, wide-eyed, his hands hovering awkwardly in front of him like he wasn’t sure whether to help or apologize.

“Mingi!” you gasped, pressing a hand to your chest. “You scared me!”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he mumbled, shifting on his feet. “The sugar cubes you put in your tea reminded me of wombat poop for some reason.”

You shook your head as you stepped into the lift back to the penthouse. You weren’t sure how you felt about your husband’s newfound attitude. It wasn’t that you were ungrateful—Mingi had finally woken up, and that should have been enough. 

The moment you kicked off your shoes in the foyer, Mrs. Ha, the chef, scurried over, her eyes darting between you and the hallway like she was still in the habit of speaking cautiously.  

“Oh, Ms. Y/N!” she whispered urgently, clutching her apron. “How was he?”

You let out a sharp exhale, still trying to make sense of it yourself. “Weird,” you hissed, picking up your pace to match hers as you both hurried toward the kitchen.

“He smiled at me. And—” You hesitated for a second before lowering your voice. “He squeezed my arm.”

Mrs. Ha gasped so dramatically you thought she might faint. “No.” She shook her head as if refusing to believe it.

“I know,” you muttered, half-joking, but not really. “He used to pretend I didn't exist. Now he’s…” You trailed off, struggling to find the right word.

Warm? Inviting? Considerate?

It felt strange to say out loud, but stranger still that it might actually be true.

Mrs. Ha grabbed your wrist as if trying to steady herself, or maybe you. “Ms. Y/N,” she said gravely, “do you think he hit his head too hard?”

You swallowed, the thought lingering in your mind longer than it should. Mingi’s accident had been severe. He’d been unconscious for months and it was a miracle he woke up at all. 

And yet, this wasn’t just waking up. This was different. The Mingi you knew had been cold, distant, cruel even. He never touched you unless absolutely necessary, never smiled at you unless it was laced with sarcasm or condescension. But today?

Today, he’d looked at you like he actually saw you.

Could head trauma really alter someone’s personality that drastically? Had the accident shaken something loose inside him?

“Can you believe he asked me about plants?” Yohan scoffed, handing you a cup of tea as you stepped into the kitchen.

“Mingi and plants.” He shook his head in disbelief, leaning against the counter. “I can’t believe he’s actually considering keeping something alive besides himself.”

You snorted, though the humor was short-lived. The shift in Mingi’s behavior was too drastic, too unnatural. You took a sip of your tea, the warmth doing little to ease the uncertainty. This new Mingi was too good to be true, and you were just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Mingi’s kindness, his warmth—it didn’t make sense. Not when he had spent so long resenting you.

“This morning, he casually mentioned that zebras can’t sleep alone,” you murmured, tapping your fingers against the cup. 

“Well he said he’s looking forward to dinner!” Mrs. Ha interjected. 

“Three months ago, he barely spoke to anyone, including Y/N and now he’s making conversation?” Yohan shook his head, placing a hand on his hip. 

“This is suspicious.”

No one wanted to say it out loud, but you all felt the same way. Mingi’s recovery wasn’t just physical. He was changing, bit by bit. And for the first time in a long while, it wasn’t for the worse.

⋆

“Your grip strength is starting to improve, as well as the mobility on your left side. Soon, you won’t need the crutches anymore,” Dr. Lim noted encouragingly.

Mingi exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders as he steadied himself. The session had been brutal, as they always were, but hearing that he was making progress gave him a small sense of victory.

“That’s it for today. We’ll see you next week.” The physical therapist gave him a nod of approval before turning away, already moving on to his next patient.

Mingi nodded, gripping his crutches tightly as he made his way toward the exit. Every movement still felt like an uphill battle. He had spent the last two months relearning how to move, how to function without feeling like his own body was working against him. The physical therapy sessions were grueling, pushing him to his limits, but he refused to back down.

The accident had nearly killed him. Three broken ribs, a fractured femur, and nerve damage. Though it wasn’t extensive, it was enough to remind him that no matter how much he pushed, there were still limits. 

And he hated that.

He hated the way his body trembled when he overexerted himself, the way his right arm sometimes felt too weak to grip things properly. He hated that he still struggled to get up without support, that simple tasks took twice the effort they used to. 

But he didn’t hate the way you anticipated his struggles before he could voice them. The way you reached for his arm before he could stumble, or placed things in a way that made it easier for him to access. And he didn’t hate how easily you entertained his ramblings, even when they were about the most mundane things.

For an hour and a half each week, he hated being away from you.

Because no matter how frustrating the setbacks were, no matter how exhausting the battle of recovery became, seeing you at the end of each session reminded him of his purpose and his promise to Hongjoong and Wooyoung. 

The thought of going home had him biting back a grin as he adjusted his crutches and made his way out of the rehabilitation center. He was already looking forward to sliding into the passenger seat beside you, exaggerating the difficulty of his new balance exercises and guessing what Mrs. Ha had whipped up today.

The anticipation carried him forward until it came to a screeching halt.

The moment he stepped into the rotunda, his fingers instinctively tightened around the crutches, his body going rigid. The hospital lobby was a blur of white coats and murmured conversations, but all he could focus on was the figure standing in front of him.

Ahri.

Her arms were crossed, her manicured nails tapping impatiently against her sleeve. She looked annoyed with her lips pressed into a thin line as her sharp gaze raked over him. 

The sight of her made something curdle in his stomach—something sharp, bitter, and unwelcome.

“What are you doing here?” Mingi asked flatly.

Ahri scoffed, stepping closer. “Are you seriously asking me that? You’ve been avoiding me ever since you woke up.”

“Maybe that should tell you something,” he muttered, but he already knew Ahri wouldn’t take the hint.

Ahri rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, Mingi. Don’t act like this. We need to talk.”

“No,” he said simply, his grip tightening around the crutches until his knuckles turned white. 

“We really don’t.”

“You’re being dramatic. I was worried about you—”

“Don’t,” he cut in, his voice low, firm. 

Ahri’s mouth opened, then closed. For the first time, she looked uncertain, like she hadn’t expected him to be this direct. Her expression faltered for a split second, But then, just as quickly, she recovered, her lips curling into a sneer.

“So that’s how it is?” she scoffed. “You wake up and suddenly forget about us? Is it because you want to play house with her?”

Mingi’s jaw tensed but his silence spoke volumes.

“What’s wrong with that?” he replied quietly. 

That made her pause. Just for a second. But then she shook her head, scoffing again like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. 

“Oh, give me a break,” she snapped. “You spent so long telling me how miserable you were, how you were trapped with her.” She let out a bitter laugh. 

“But now what? You wake up from a coma and suddenly, she’s the one you want? You told me you wished you’d never married her, that you never loved her.” 

She took a step closer, her voice dropping to something softer, something almost pleading as if she could still reach him. 

“Mingi, you told me I was the only thing that made you happy.”

And maybe, once, he had believed that.

Maybe, once, he had convinced himself that Ahri was the answer, the escape he craved, the proof that he was still alive, still capable of feeling something. But standing here now, after dying and coming back, after losing everything and being given a second chance, he saw it for what it truly was.

A mistake. A desperate attempt to outrun his own self-destruction.

But you—you had always been real. And this time, he wasn’t going to run.

This time, he was going to love you the way he should have all along.

“You weren’t,” he said steadily. “You never were.”

Ahri’s face twisted, something wounded flickering across her features before it morphed into anger. 

“Bullshit! If that were true, then why did you keep coming back to me?”

"You were there when it was easy, Ahri. When it was fun. But when I was lying in that hospital bed, barely clinging to life, you were nowhere to be found."

Ahri’s lips parted, but no words came out.

“And you know what? I don’t blame you,” Mingi said, tilting his head. 

“Because we were never real, were we? We were just two selfish people feeding off each other’s worst impulses.” He exhaled sharply, as if the weight of it all was finally lifting off his chest. 

“I don’t owe you anything.”

People turned, pausing in their tracks, stealing glances at the commotion, but Mingi could care less. Instead, he stepped past her without another glance, heading toward the one person who mattered—

You.

"You think you can just walk away from me?" Ahri's voice rose, sharp and unhinged. 

Mingi didn’t flinch. He didn’t react at all. 

And that set her off. 

"Do you really think she’ll love you after everything you put her through?!"

Her lips curled, a smirk. "You think a self-respecting woman like Choi Y/N would want you?" She let out a breathless, almost manic laugh, her eyes glinting with something unhinged. 

"Especially when you fucked me on your wedding night!"

A murmur rippled through the gathering crowd. Gasps. A sharp intake of breath. Someone muttering under their breath. But Ahri was past caring. Her hands trembled at her sides, whether from rage or something deeper, something uglier, even she wasn’t sure.

“You threw her away like she was nothing. And now, you think you can just have her?”

Ahri let out a broken laugh, something desperate and wild. 

"She’s stronger than you ever gave her credit for." Ahri’s voice turned quiet, almost pitying.

“She doesn’t need you."

Mingi’s breath hitched, and for the first time since this entire confrontation began, doubt slithered in, coiling tight around his chest.

Because what if Ahri was right?

What if you never forgave him? What if everything he had done, all the cruel words, all the neglect, had built a wall so high between you that he’d never be able to climb over it?

He remembered the way you had looked at him when he was just a clumsy, oversized puppy, tail wagging, tongue lolling, no words to defend himself—only his actions. And still, still, you had cared for him. Fed him. Sheltered him. Loved him, even when you hadn’t known it was him.

Mingi clenched his jaw. He could fix this.

Because if he had been capable of love then, stripped of his pride and his excuses, then he was capable of love now. And he would prove it to you. No matter what it took.

He would not lose you.

"Ms. Jeong," a voice said smoothly, "I suggest you leave before you embarrass yourself any further."

Mingi tensed. He didn’t need to turn to know what he’d see—that infuriatingly calm expression, always so composed, so sure with his stupid face and stupid hair.

Seonghwa.

The hospital director's voice was calm, but the authority behind it was unmistakable. He stepped into Ahri’s path, yet the weight of his presence alone was enough to send a chill through the air.

Ahri whirled on him. "Stay out of this, Park Seonghwa!" she snapped. "This has nothing to do with you!"

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow. "You’re causing a disturbance in my hospital. That makes it my problem."

Her chest rose and fell with sharp, angry breaths, but Seonghwa remained unfazed.

"You’re humiliating yourself. If you don’t leave, I’ll have security escort you out."

Ahri’s lips parted, her eyes darting between Seonghwa and Mingi, as if searching for an opening—one last attempt to regain control of the situation. But Mingi had already turned his back, walking toward the exit. Toward you.

And you—you had just barely managed to keep your knees from buckling.

You had been standing just around the corner, heart in your throat, ears ringing with every word that had left Mingi’s mouth.

"Do you really think she’ll love you after everything you put her through?!"

You didn’t have an answer for that. Not yet.

But Mingi, your husband, the same man who once treated your marriage like a prison sentence—was choosing you.

Your phone chimed, interrupting your conversation with Yohan and Mrs. Ha.

Pick up Mingi.

“Has it already been an hour and a half?” Yohan sighed, leaning back in his chair.

Mrs. Ha chuckled as she wiped her hands on her apron, already turning back to the half-prepped vegetables on the counter. 

“Time flies when you’re talking shit, I guess,” you murmured, more to yourself than anyone.

Conversations like these had once been a source of relief, a safe space where you, Yohan, and Mrs. Ha could freely air out your frustrations about Mingi and his insufferable attitude. It had been cathartic, a necessary way to bond over shared grievances, particularly in the way he ignored Yohan’s presence, dismissed Mrs. Ha’s kindness, and, worst of all, the way he had treated you.

The usual satisfaction of venting was absent, replaced instead by something heavier. 

Guilt.

You weren’t sure why.

Maybe it was the way his eyes lingered now, softer, searching, as if trying to memorize every flicker of emotion that crossed your face. Like he was looking for something—hoping for something.

Or maybe it was the way he hesitated before speaking, as if he wanted to be understood but didn’t know how. As if he was afraid that one wrong step would send him tumbling right back into the version of himself you had every reason to despise.

And that’s what made your chest ache.

You sighed, grabbing your keys from the counter and with a quick farewell to Yohan and Mrs. Ha, you made your way down to the garage. The drive to the hospital was quiet, the high rises casting fleeting shadows as you navigated the city streets.

Your mind wandered. Mingi was still a mess of contradictions—still the person who had hurt you more than anyone else ever had. And yet, in the past two months, something had shifted. He’d been different.

You weren’t sure what that meant for you, if it meant anything at all.

Pulling into the hospital lot, you glanced at the time. You were early. With minutes to spare, you found yourself hesitating, fingers tapping against the steering wheel. You could just wait here, let Mingi find his way out like always. 

But today, something in you wavered.

Maybe, just this once, you’d meet him halfway.

Sighing, you turned off the engine and walked into the hospital. The automatic doors parted soundlessly as you entered, the sterile scent of antiseptic and faint traces of coffee from the café wrapping around you. 

You weaved through the familiar hallways toward the rehabilitation center, past patients in wheelchairs and staff exchanging clipped instructions.

And then—

"You think you can just walk away from me?"

You stopped.

Ahri.

Her voice carried through the clinic, too loud, too reckless for a public space, but she didn’t seem to care.

A few steps ahead, just past a row of columns, Mingi stood—partially obscured, his broad shoulders stiff with tension. Ahri stood in front of him, heaving with anger, her expression twisted into something between fury and despair.

Your instincts told you to walk away before you were pulled into something you weren’t meant to witness. But your feet wouldn’t move. Instead, you ducked behind the corner, pressing yourself against the wall, your heartbeat hammering in your ears.

"Do you really think she’ll love you after everything you put her through?!"

You sucked in a breath. That stopped Mingi and Ahri knew it. You peeked out just enough to catch the smirk curling at the edges of her lips and the cruel glint in her eyes.

"You think a self-respecting woman like Choi Y/N would want you? You fucked me on your wedding night!"

The words slammed into you, knocking the air from your lungs. You had known what you were getting into when your parents arranged your marriage to Mingi. You had no illusions about love or loyalty, not when his heart had already belonged to someone else. You had told yourself his affair with Ahri didn’t matter, that you weren’t some naive child clinging to false hope.

But hearing the words now, so bluntly and irrevocably, felt different. It was like an old wound you thought had scarred over, threatening to tear open all over again.

A murmur of voices rippled through the onlookers—gasps, hushed whispers, stolen glances exchanged in uneasy silence. Mingi remained frozen, his jaw clenched so tight it looked painful, his fists curling and uncurling around his crutches.

Your fingers curled into your sleeves, nails pressing crescent marks into your skin. The way Mingi stood there, facing Ahri’s wrath without backing down, without crumbling the way you might have expected, made your chest tighten.

For the first time in your marriage, Mingi was choosing you.

The realization sent a flutter through you, foreign and unwelcome and you had to keep your knees from buckling beneath you. 

This wasn’t forgiveness.

But it was something.

Swallowing hard, you spun on your heel and hurried back to your car. By the time you reached the door, your hands fumbled slightly, a little shaky as you slid inside and shut yourself away from the world.  

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing the strange, fluttery feeling in your chest to go away. But it lingered, stubborn and insistent, curling around the edges of your thoughts. Ahri’s words still echoed in your mind, but even louder—more impossible to ignore—was the quiet whisper of, What if?

What if Mingi really was choosing you?

Not out of obligation. Not because there was no one else left. But because he wanted to.

A breathy laugh escaped you, more out of disbelief than amusement. 

“What do you think, Maro?”

The name slipped out before you could stop it, but it felt natural, like Maro was still here, curled up beside you, tail wagging, waiting for you to spill your heart out. 

You swallowed, gripping the steering wheel as if it could ground you. 

“It’s stupid, right?” Your voice was tentative as you leaned your head against the headrest. 

“It doesn’t change anything. Just because he—” You stopped, shook your head, trying to chase away the warmth threatening to creep in.

“It doesn’t mean I should believe in something that’s never been real.”

You could imagine Maro pressing his head into your palm like he understood everything you couldn’t say. Like he was telling you that you didn’t have to figure it all out alone.

“God, I don’t even know what's happening anymore.”

A sudden, sharp knock against the window jolted you upright. Your heart lurched into your throat as you turned, only to find Mingi standing just outside, giving you a small wave. Your face burned. Huffing, you fumbled for the lock with clumsy fingers before scrambling out of the car. 

“I got it,” Mingi said with a chuckle, adjusting his grip on his crutches. His voice was light, but his gaze lingered on you, studying you with an expression softer than you were used to.

“You okay?”

You forced a small smile, brushing imaginary dust off your sleeves in an attempt to steady yourself. “Yeah, just tired.”

Mingi didn’t look convinced. He lingered for a second longer, his eyes searching yours as if debating whether to press further. But he didn’t. Instead, he exhaled through his nose, nodded, and slid into the passenger seat.

The drive home passed in a blur. The streetlights stretched long across the pavement, casting soft, flickering patterns against the windshield, but you were lost in the whirlwind of thoughts brewing in your mind.

Did he really love you?

⋆

"Y/N…can you call my phone? I can’t seem to find it."

Mingi had been more flustered than usual lately—not that he wanted to admit. The accident had left him disoriented, but it was unlike him to be clumsy. But lately, he kept doing things that frustrated him to no end like pushing against a pull door and standing there and now, misplacing his phone for the third time this week. 

He was also never one to ask for help—especially from you.

Before the accident, he had gone out of his way to keep his distance. He had made it clear he wanted nothing from you, and you had gotten the message. Eventually, you stopped offering. And for a while, that’s what he thought he wanted.

Now, he couldn’t stand the thought of it.

If you were in the kitchen, he was suddenly rummaging through the cabinets for a snack he didn’t actually want. If you were on the couch, he was sitting on the opposite end, scrolling through his phone but not really paying attention to it. 

And if you got up to leave the room? Well…so did he.

Because he wasn’t afraid of being clingy. Not with you. Not when the thought of you leaving, of not having you here, was far scarier than anything else.

You nodded, pressing the call button as Mingi shuffled past you, disappearing into his room. Your gaze lingered on the doorway long after he was gone.

For the duration of your marriage, you had never once stepped foot inside this room. The door had always remained shut, a silent boundary he had drawn long before he ever knew you. A reminder that no matter what legal document bound you together, there would always be parts of him you would never reach.

But as you took a step forward, following the faint sound of his phone vibrating somewhere in the great beyond, you couldn’t help but wonder if he’d let you glimpse into the parts of himself he had kept locked away.  

You stood hesitantly by the threshold watching your husband rifling through his laundry, digging through pockets, and muttering to himself under his breath. The Mingi you had married would’ve cursed under his breath, thrown something, or blamed someone else for his misplaced phone. 

But this version of him? He simply kept looking, patient and persistent.

His room was dimly lit with the faint scent of paint and cologne filling the space. Canvases leaned against the walls, some vibrant and abstract, others more detailed and unfinished sketches scattered across his desk.  

Your gaze landed on a small canvas resting on the edge of his desk. The soft eyes and the cheeky glint, the little nose, and that signature smile. It wasn’t finished, but there was no mistaking it.

Maro.

“There it is,” Mingi muttered, plucking his phone from the ground next to his bed.

As he swiped the screen to end the call, his gaze flickered toward you, then followed yours to the canvas on his desk. He watched you carefully, half-expecting sadness, maybe even confusion. But instead there was something unexpectedly tender. 

And then you looked at him, and Mingi felt it.

Why did you have to look at him like that? Like he had done something right for once. Like you saw him in a way that made his heart squeeze. His ears burned. He cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I… picked up painting,” he admitted. “My physical therapist said it’d help with motor skills and strengthening my hands and fingers.” 

He swallowed. “I hope you don’t mind that I painted Maro. I… I wasn’t sure if I got the eyes right,” he admitted, almost shyly. 

You stepped closer, drawn in by the familiar shape on the canvas. “It looks just like him,” you murmured, reaching out to trace the dried brushstrokes with your fingertips. The texture of the paint, the careful detail—Mingi had poured himself into this.

Mingi let out a sigh of relief but then, as if realizing something, tensed again a second later. “I—uh, it was supposed to be a surprise,” he blurted out, his eyes widening slightly, as if he’d just realized his mistake.

You blinked up at him. “A surprise?”

“For you,” he admitted, shifting awkwardly. His fingers toyed with the hem of his shirt like he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands. 

“I wanted to give it to you when I felt like it was perfect. But, um… I guess I kind of ruined that, huh?” He let out a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his head.

“You painted this for me?”

He peeked at you through his lashes, leaving something softer and more vulnerable in its place as he gave you a small nod.

“I just… I know how much you loved—love Maro, and I thought maybe… you’d want something to keep. Something I made for you.”

Something only for you.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Oh. Your heart squeezed at the sincerity in his voice and the way he’d poured so much of himself into a piece just for you was overwhelming. 

“Oh, Mingi…” you breathed.

Emotion swelled in your chest, thick and impossible to name. You wanted to say something, anything, but all you could do was stare at him—the quiet hope in his eyes, the way he watched you like he wasn’t sure what you’d do next.

“I love it,” you said, and you meant it. Not just the painting, but the thought behind it. It was just a painting. But it wasn’t. It was a piece of him—his effort, his sincerity, his quiet way of saying what he couldn’t put into words.

“Thank you.”

The words felt small, insufficient for the weight of what he had given you. But then he smiled—a slow, relieved, utterly radiant smile that knocked the breath from your lungs.

And suddenly, the moment stretched—too long, too precarious.

Your eyes flickered around the room, a sharp awareness settling over you. Mingi’s room. When did he get so close? When did you even come in here?

“I should…” You cleared your throat, glancing toward the door. “I should let you get back to painting.”

Before he could say anything, you turned, slipping out of the room, closing the door gently behind you. For a moment, you leaned against it, trying to steady the sudden pounding in your chest. But before you could make sense of anything—

The door creaked open.

“Wait.”

You turned, as Mingi poked his head out. There was a hint of bashfulness in the way his fingers gripped the doorframe, but his eyes held no hesitation.

“…You can leave it open.”

<< vii | ix >>

taglist: @syubseokie @koyagifs @sunnysidesins @thedistractedwriter @notevenheretbh1

@molberto @litolmochi @intowxnderland @yn-reincarnate @lemonkait00

@corgilover20 @randomgworlypop @taegi1016 @almondtofu006 @ateezaddict24

@desi2go @beabatiny @sangilov-r @roomsofangel @symmieangela

@dumplingsyum @etaerealboy @fairylover68 @foxinnie8

@yoonrixx @jean-swolo @silent-potato @jiwoongsblondehair @sanriomilk

@sanniesbum @tyudearyous @kang-ulzzang @scary-thingz @painted-hills

@kyomiingi @tournesol155 @bee-gremlin @sutskyu @fleuresjay

@http-gyu @ishz @park-simphwa @moonsanshine @drinkingrumandcocacola

@innocygnet @jaeyunlvrs @shanabtsarmy @soso59love-blog @plum-stxr

@vcutparis @kaituyyn @blvckarabixnvoid @amazaynaastha

[prettygirl-gabi]

A Day in the Life: Dating Azzi Fudd

Paring: Azzi Fudd x !content creator Reader

Fandom: UConn’s women’s basketball

Summary: who doesn’t love a good day in the life.

I wake up to the sound of my phone alarm blaring, vibrating aggressively on my nightstand like it’s mad at me for something. With a groan, I reach out blindly, slapping around until I finally manage to turn it off.

Before I can roll over and go back to sleep, I feel a strong arm tighten around my waist.

“Mm-mm, don’t move,” Azzi mumbles against my neck, her voice raspy with sleep.

I huff out a laugh, attempting to wiggle free. “Azzi, I gotta get up. You know my mornings are busy.”

She just hums, nuzzling closer like she’s trying to merge with me. “Five more minutes.”

“You said that yesterday, and we were late to breakfast,” I remind her, but my voice has already softened.

Azzi lets out a dramatic sigh before finally letting go. “Fine,” she mutters, rolling onto her back. “But I better see you before practice.”

“You will,” I promise, leaning down to kiss her forehead. She smiles, eyes still closed, and I take a moment to admire her before slipping out of bed.

Morning Routine + Content Creation

The first thing I do after brushing my teeth is set up my camera. My fans—my Pookies—need their daily dose of content. I prop my phone up on my tripod and hit record.

“Good morning, Pookies!” I say, flashing a bright smile. “Another day, another grind. Your favorite content creator, cheerleader, and Azzi Fudd’s personal headache is here to give y’all the vibes.”

I turn the camera toward my vanity, showing off my morning setup. “Today, we got a game, so you already know the routine—hair, makeup, and a whole lotta setting spray because I’m not trying to sweat this off during cheers.”

As I chat with my Pookies, I go through my routine, answering some of the questions in the chat from my live stream.

“How’s Azzi?” one comment asks.

I grin. “She’s good! Clingy as ever, but y’all know I love that about her.”

“Is she playing tonight?”

“Of course. Y’all already know my girl doesn’t miss a game.” I glance toward the door. “Matter of fact, if she don’t hurry up and get outta bed, she might miss breakfast, though.”

As if on cue, Azzi peeks her head into the frame, her hair wild from sleep. “Who’s talking about me?”

I laugh. “Pookies wanna know if you’re playing tonight.”

Azzi squints at the screen before waving. “Tell them to pull up. I’m dropping buckets tonight.”

I turn back to the camera. “You heard the lady. Now, let me finish my routine before I end up running late for cheer practice.”

Cheer Practice + Lunch Date

By the time I get to the gym, the rest of the cheer squad is already stretching. I quickly join in, adjusting my UConn cheer uniform as I settle into position.

Practice is the usual mix of high-energy routines, stunts, and nonstop movement. I love it, but by the time we wrap up, my legs are already begging for a break.

As I’m gathering my things, I feel a familiar presence behind me before I even turn around.

“Did I miss anything?” Azzi asks, her hands casually slipping around my waist.

I lean into her. “Just me looking cute as hell in this uniform.”

Azzi chuckles, pressing a kiss to my cheek. “You always do.”

We head to lunch together, grabbing seats at our usual table. I prop my phone up again, going live to let my Pookies in on the chaos.

“Guess who finally decided to wake up on time,” I tease, turning the camera toward Azzi.

She playfully rolls her eyes. “I always wake up on time.”

I give the camera a deadpan look. “Y’all, should I expose her?”

The chat immediately blows up with YES comments.

“Wow,” Azzi mutters, shaking her head. “Y’all just love drama.”

I grin before turning the camera off, deciding to focus on enjoying our lunch. Azzi nudges my plate toward me when she notices me picking at my food.

“You need to eat more,” she says.

I sigh but obey, knowing she won’t let it go. “Yes, ma’am.”

Azzi smirks. “That’s what I thought.”

Game Day Prep + Halftime Show

Back in my dorm, I set up another live. “Alright, Pookies, it’s game day! Y’all already know the drill—outfit check, hair check, and a whole lot of screaming for my girlfriend on the court.”

I show off my cheer fit and do a quick GRWM while hyping up the game. The chat is full of Pookies saying they’ll be watching, which makes me grin.

“Azzi better not make me look bad,” I joke. “I be hyping her up like she’s the GOAT, so she better perform.”

Right before heading out, I get a text from Azzi.

Azzi: You better cheer extra loud for me tonight.

Me: You better give me something to cheer for.

Her response is just a bunch of side-eye emojis.

The game is electric. The crowd is hype, the team is locked in, and from the sideline, I cheer my heart out. Every time Azzi makes a shot, I scream her name louder than anyone else.

At halftime, the squad performs, and I make sure to put my all into the routine. When I glance toward the bench, I catch Azzi watching me, a smirk playing on her lips.

After the game—which UConn wins, obviously—I rush onto the court, dodging people left and right until I reach her.

She wraps an arm around me, pulling me close. “Did I give you something to cheer for?”

I grin. “Barely.”

Azzi gasps, shoving me playfully. “You’re such a hater.”

I laugh, looping my arms around her neck. “You love it, though.”

She shakes her head, but she’s smiling. “Unfortunately.”

Late-Night Wind Down

Back at my dorm, I prop my phone up one last time for a late-night live.

“Pookies, today was a success! UConn won, I didn’t trip during halftime, and my girlfriend decided to show out for y’all.”

Azzi, already in my bed in one of my hoodies, peeks over my shoulder. “Are you still talking about me?”

I smirk. “They love you, girl. You should just start your own channel.”

Azzi shakes her head. “Nah, I’ll stick to basketball. You’re the content queen.”

I blow a kiss to the camera. “And on that note, goodnight, Pookies! Love y’all!”

As soon as I end the live, Azzi tugs me into bed.

“You talk to them more than me,” she teases.

I snuggle into her. “You jealous?”

Azzi rolls her eyes but holds me tighter. “Just a little.”

I grin, pressing a kiss to her jaw. “Lucky for you, you’re my favorite person to bother.”

She hums. “Good. Now go to sleep before I start charging you for cuddles.”

I gasp. “You would never.”

Azzi smirks. “Try me.”

I shake my head, smiling as I close my eyes. Another busy day, another W.

And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

---

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

                 -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[djarindroid]

hi! I don’t know if you’re comfortable writing this (I didn’t see you say anything about it in your rules), but could I request a pregnant!reader x Thanos? Kinda like Jun-hee and Myung-Gi. I totally understand if this makes you uncomfortable, and feel free to decline if so! Thank you! <3

tysm for this request! 💕 Loved writing this, I hope you enjoy it!

Stay Behind Me

Pairing: Thanos (Choi Su-Bong) x Pregnant!Reader

Summary: After walking out on Thanos, you never expected to see him again. But when he spots you in the games how will he react to the secret you’ve been hiding?

Warnings: Pregnancy. Usual Squid Game stuff - death, shooting.

Word Count: 1,162

The argument had been building for weeks, small drops of annoyance that had finally bubbled over.

‘You lost everything?!’ You shouted, voice raw. ‘What made you think you could just take my money and put it all into that stupid crypto thing!?’

He ran a hand through his hair, pacing like a caged animal. ‘FUCK, you think I wanted to lose it?! I did it for us!’ He pointed at you as he yelled back. 

‘Well good job, you lost all of our money and now we have nothing,’ your chest heaved. ‘How are we gonna pay the bills?’ Your nostrils flared as you watched him reach for his necklace, taking out one of his pills. ‘Oh, this is fucking great! I can’t believe you're just gonna get high rather than talking this out.’

He scoffed, ‘what do you want me to say? That I ruined everything? You already know that!’

‘I want you to take responsibility, at least say sorry!’ You threw your hands in the air in frustration. ‘Don’t numb yourself with that shit. Talk to me. Please.’

His jaw clenched, for a moment he looked away, avoiding your eyes. ‘You just don’t get it,’ he muttered before popping the pill in his mouth.

Your stomach twisted, ‘no, I get it. I understand perfectly.’ You could feel your heart breaking as you watched the man you loved turn into a stranger before you. ‘I can’t do this anymore.’

Silence stretched between you both, for a moment you thought he might reach out for you but in the blink of an eye his expression hardened. ‘Fine. Get out then.’

Tears began to slip from your eyes, this was it, it was over just like that. You didn’t look back, you couldn’t. Not as you grabbed your bag, not as the door slammed shut behind you and not when, days later, you realised you were pregnant with his child.

Months later you found yourself in a numbered green tracksuit. After you’d left Thanos, life had been hard. You’d struggled to make ends meet, until you’d met a suited man on the subway who offered you an opportunity to make enough money to solve all your problems.

You were currently stood in a giant arena, listening to the first game being announced. Red light green light, sounds simple enough. A shout from the front of the crowd made you flinch. A player, number 456, had run to the front and was shouting about how the game was dangerous, that if you lost you’d be killed. He had to be crazy right? 

Murmurs rippled around you, some people shouting out that he was just trying to scare them. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself despite the tremor in your hands. Your attention turned to the large mechanical doll at the other end of the arena as it whirred around, facing its back to you. 

‘GREEN LIGHT.’

You began walking forward, going with the crowd. 

‘RED LIGHT.’ 

Everyone froze as the giant doll turned back to you with a soft whirring noise. It seemed that everyone was doing well as the first few rounds went by without incident.

Then, a scream split through the air. Your eyes flickered across the crowd to see a girl swatting at something near her face. You held your breath, waiting. Maybe player 456 was just paranoid..

Your thoughts were interrupted as a crack pierced through the air and the girl hit the ground.

Screams erupted as people realised what happened. Panic ensued and more gunshots rang out. You clenched your eyes shut and focused on staying still. The life growing inside of you had to be your main priority, nothing else mattered.

‘GREEN LIGHT!’ 

You couldn’t move, locked into place by terror. You weren’t alone, everyone around you was frozen with fear. A prickling sensation crept up your spine, followed by the uneasy feeling you were being watched. Shakily, you took the opportunity to turn your head.

Thanos.

All the air left your lungs. He was here. His eyes widened as yours met his. 

‘RED LIGHT!’

You watched as his gaze lowered to your belly. Taking in the undeniable swell that definitely hadn’t been there when you last saw him. 

It was his child, he had no doubt.

You hadn’t made any attempt to reach out to him, you don’t know why. You’d made excuses, telling yourself he wouldn’t be interested, that he’d have turned you away at the door. But now, with him looking at you all of those excuses felt weak. It could just be your emotional state, or the situation you found yourself in but you wanted nothing more than to close the distance between you.

It seemed that he had the same thought because the second the doll turned away again, he moved. Not forwards to the finish line, but towards you. He hurried, stepping over bodies, until he stood in front of you, blocking you from view. He didn’t hesitate before placing a shaky hand on your belly. His touch was soft, gentle - everything that you’d missed.

There was so much you wanted to say but before you could the doll whirled back around and you froze. You stared into his eyes, desperate to read his expression. He looked determined. The moment green light was called again he grabbed your hand, ‘stay behind me.’ 

You didn’t argue. As the game continued he guided you carefully, always making sure to shield you with his broad frame. Other gunshots rang out but his grip was unyielding, never letting you go. Despite everything, being close to him again felt right. A part of you had been aching for it, even if you never wanted to admit it.

As the finish line drew nearer you felt the weight of everything pressing down on you. The stress of the game, disbelief that Thanos was here, guilt that you hadn’t told him, fear for your unborn baby - it was almost overwhelming. Tears welled at the corner of your eyes but you forced yourself to keep moving.

Finally you crossed the line, a shuddering breath escaping your lips as relief washed over you. Thanos turned to you, his dark eyes searched yours but before you could say anything he pulled you into him. You melted into his warmth, his arms familiar and steady - home. 

‘Stay with me,’ he spoke quietly as he held you. ‘I won’t let anything happen to you,’ he pulled away slightly and glanced down at your bump. ‘I won’t let anything happen to either of you.’

Your tears brimmed over as you replied, ‘Thanos I-I’m sorry I didn’t tell–’

‘No need,’ he interrupted gently. ‘I fucked up, I get it now,’ he cupped your cheeks and wiped away the tears. His voice dropped to a low whisper. ‘I’m so sorry. I’m not gonna let you go again.’

For the first time since walking out on him, despite the horror surrounding you, you felt hope.

[paulyenvol6]

Perfect For You

Joel Miller x female!reader / No outbreak AU

You are Joel's affair and can't keep your hands off him during a garden party at his house which ends in a heated encounter in his bedroom... This is basically just filthy smut lol. Enjoy :)

Contains: smut, p in v, unprotected sex, rough oral sex (m receiving), crying, thigh riding, orgasm denial, dirty talk, dumbification, very degrading and objectifying, mean and dom Joel, soft!dom Joel in the end, begging, spitting, age gap, reader is in her 20s and Joel is in his 50s, daddy kink, cursing, Joel cheating on his wife with you

Wordcount: ~6.37k

Masterlist

Joel should've known.

He should've known from the second his wife had come up with this stupid idea that this wouldn't end well. But of course his mind had gone blank at the sound of your name, and perhaps the fear of saying anything that might reveal the nature of his relationship with you, so he had just nodded and dropped his eyes to his breakfast. No wonder Kate had been confused.

'You don't think it's a good idea to invite her? I think she's lovely and I thought that the two of you were going along well,' she had said and Joel had wanted to smack his head against the table.

'No, no, hon, I think it's a good idea. Sorry, I'm just a l'il tired.' Kate had smiled and kissed him on his cheek and then matter was finished. For her.

Joel on the other hand hadn't been able to stop thinking about the upcoming garden party and had felt torn between regretting his approval and his desire to see you on the weekend. The last couple of weeks had been stressful and there had barely been any time to see, let alone fuck you and his body was hungry for your touch.

But at the same time it was always risky when there were more people around, especially his wife. Joel simply couldn't control himself around you; he felt like a teenage boy that only had sex on his mind and as much as he enjoyed to feel that way about somebody again, he knew how dangerous it could possibly be. Kate couldn't find out about this and although he currently spent most of his free time thinking about you, he wouldn't risk his marriage.

But that was how Joel had ended up where he was right now. Sitting on a chair in the garden beneath the warm sun, his hand resting on his wife's thigh and his thoughts with you.

He just couldn't help it. You looked too pretty in that little flower dress that definitely revealed too much skin for his liking, especially considering that you had spent a suspiciously large amount of time chatting with another of Kate's co-workers, Ian. 'At least he's her age,' Joel thought bitterly and toyed with his fork.

"Honey?" a voice suddenly cut through the air and his head quickly turned around fearing that he had stared at you too obviously.

"Yes?" Joel asked gently squeezing Kate's thigh.

"I was just asking if you could hand me the water."

He nodded a little too fast but reached out to grab the bottle and of course his eyes fell on you again while doing so. He felt the urge to curse something or someone and first and foremost you because why did you have to look so sexy and cute today? Joel wanted to crash or kick something, anything to get rid of the accumulated tension in his body as his eyes automatically ran over your curves. He would give anything to be inside of you right now and he felt his pants painfully squeezing his cock at this very thought.

'This is not good,' the panicky voice in his head reminded him and he quickly tried to think of something else. Something disgusting perhaps but he couldn't help himself. All he could see in front of his eyes was you.

A week ago when he had fucked you on the couch during Kate's business trip. Your legs spread wide, your pussy on display for him and your little hands clutching his shirt in frustration because he had teased the shit out of you.

And then he saw how you had looked on your knees for him when you had visited him at work. After the two of you had hooked up for the first time and after he had been over his regrets and doubts realizing that not seeing you again wasn't an option, Joel had set clear rules such as not meeting you at his work place. But after he had realized how difficult it was to see each other without getting caught it had been a matter of days until he had allowed you to visit him. It was a quick fuck and definitely hadn't satisfied him entirely but it was better than nothing.

"Your mind really is elsewhere today, mhm?" his thoughts were interrupted once more but this time it was Tommy.

"Sorry. Did you say something?" Joel demanded to know and swiftly turned his attention back to the food on his plate.

"No. I was just noting that you seem absent. Everything alright?"

He prayed that Kate to his left wouldn't notice the bulge in his pants because it certainly would be hard to explain while he tried to come up with an answer.

"Yes I'm fine. Just thinkin' 'bout work."

"Oh Christ, Joel. You need to grant yourself some joy, okay? You can't always make everythin' perfect, you know that, right?" Tommy determindely looked in his eyes and Joel would have almost broken into a smile.

He did grant himself enough joy and that was the core of this whole problem. He should forget you, start treating you like what you were, his wife's co-worker, and be grateful to have such a caring and kind wife. Instead there he was daydreaming about a girl almost 30 years his junior like Kate didn't even exist. He really was an awful person but the worst part was that Joel didn't intend to change anything about it.

It got even worse because the longer he spent sitting by the table, you in a dangerous 5 meter radius of him, the clearer it became that he wouldn't be able to pass the day like this. He needed you the way he needed air and soon Joel would suffocate.

"Excuse me for a moment," Joel finally pressed, and given his friends' confused reactions, it had come out at a bad time.

"Alright, sure," Kate nevertheless smiled and patted his hand. At this point he didn't care about anything anymore but just rushed to the backdoor which probably looked odd. Joel had decided that it would be best to quickly jerk off in the bathroom and then return once he was feeling fine again because the way he acted right now only drew the attention to him.

Almost blind with lust he stumbled into the house and rushed to the kitchen to splash some cold water in his face which wasn't only helpful to get a clear head but was also very comfortable considering the hot weather.

He was just drying his face, starting to feel like a normal human being again when he heard a noise behind him. Joel abruptly turned around so the person behind him jolted but quickly collected herself to smile at him.

"Joel. Are you alright?"

Of course it was you and he cursed himself for feeling this instinctive tightness in his chest hinting at the fact that you were just the person he wanted to see right now. Which was so fucking wrong.

"Yes. I'm fine. Just go back to the party," he mumbled already turning around with the intention to leave the kitchen but you were quicker and held him back by placing a hand on his arm.

"Where are you going?"

He rolled his eyes feeling the familiar tightness in his pants again and just prayed that neither you or anyone else who might come to the kitchen now would notice it.

"To the bathroom. Go now, the others are probably waiting."

"Joel," you said quietly and a cease appeared between his eyebrows.

"What?" he spitted almost feeling a little bad for being so harsh with you but what else was he supposed to do? He needed a moment alone and, frankly, you were getting on his nerves.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Jesus…," he sighed and rubbed over the lower half of his face. "Yes I am. It's just the heat."

He gently and yet firmly removed your hand from his arm but you had a determined look on your face as you stepped in his way once more.

"But maybe I'm not."

Joel frowned resting his hands on his hips as he looked you up and down. "Y'look fine to me."

A little smile formed on your lips that looked so goddamn kissable right now that he had to shake his head to remind himself of the current circumstances.

"I need you. I need you so badly, Joel and I can't go back outside now. Please."

His heart sank into his legs at your words and he felt such an indescribable anger and desire at the same time. He wanted to shake you until he had reminded you of the consequences of what you had just said but he couldn't deny the way his body reacted to you. 'I need a clear head now,' he said to himself as he closed his eyes, then grabbed your upper arms and pushed you through the kitchen door in the floor so that any guests entering the house wouldn't see you.

"Have you lost your fuckin' mind?" he gritted his teeth and watched the way you squirmed with satisfaction. But you were yet to give in and instead pleaded him with your eyes.

"I'm gonna lose my mind if you don't do anything, Joel."

"You know how risky this is? My wife is in this fucking house. Collect yourself and then go outside, for god's sake."

He placed a hand on your back to push you towards the kitchen again but you stubborn little creature clung to his arms as if life depended on it and gave him these puppy eyes that never failed to make his knees wobbly.

"I don't care. We can go upstairs and then no one will hear."

He scoffed clasping a hand around your chin as he patronisingly lifted his eyebrows.

"How about you use your brains for once in your fucking life? Do you think nobody will notice us being away for so long?"

You let out something that sounded like a little desperate whine and as angry and frustrated he was with you right now there was also a part of him that was satisfied and smug about how needy you were for him. Joel was certain you were close to begging him on your knees and the animalistic side of him enjoyed this show so much that he wished you would refuse to leave just for a little bit longer.

"I don't care… fuck… You can't make me go back, please. It's aching and I… I just need you."

His grip on your chin tightened and his eyes spat fire at you remembering how risky and precarious everything about this was.

"Shut up. Shut the fuck up and get yourself together. Stop acting like a needy slut and behave yourself."

He had expected you to be intimidated by his powerful words but something shifted in your expression and you glared at him a lot more confident now.

"I know you want it too. You can't lie to me, Joel. What's the fucking problem? We both want it and we'll feel better afterwards."

"The problem is that my wife is a few feet away from us and I think even you are smart enough to understand what's gonna happen when she finds out."

You bit your lip unaware of what it did to Joel and stomped with your feet.

"She's not gonna find out. We'll be quick."

Suddenly he felt the urge to wrap a hand around your throat and choke you until you would finally shut up and he knew he really had to get you away from him now because he didn't know what he might do otherwise.

"Go. Now. I'm not gonna repeat myself."

"Then don't," you shrugged your shoulders and suddenly pulled away from him. You leaned against the wall licked over your lips and then slightly, just about an inch, lifted the hem of your already inappropriately short dress.

"Y/n, I swear to god…"

"You can have it," you interrupted him brushing with your thumb over your soft skin while looking right into his eyes. "You just need to take it. I'll be at your mercy doing anything you want me to."

All Joel was capable of hearing was his own heavy breathing and all he could see was those perfect legs that he wanted to bite and caress so badly. And then a switch in his brain flipped and every rational thought was replaced by the need to claim you.

Without saying a word, he grabbed your arm and dragged you along, not caring if he hurt you. For some reason he was still so goddamn pissed. He probably projected the anger directed at himself on you just to have someone to be mad at.

Joel took you upstairs and then shoved you into his bedroom immediately locking the door behind him and raised his hand as you intended to speak up.

"Shut it. I don't wanna hear any noise coming out of your mouth, have I made myself clear? I'm gonna fuck you and use you 'cause that's what you asked for 'n' if I hear any complaining I'll be out of here."

You nodded with big eyes but it was clear that you were beyond satisfied with the way things were going right now. "Yes."

"Good."

He took a big step towards you, pushed you to the wall and then his rough hands started to undress you by pulling the thin straps of your dress over your shoulders. When the fabric gathered around your waist and your bare chest was revealed he let out a growl and rolled his eyes.

"Oh for fuck's sake, you're kiddin' me… You're tellin' me you walked around here with no bra on? Have you gone fuckin' insane?"

You slightly arched your back to press yourself closer to him offering him free access to your upper body, but Joel wasn't done yet and refused to touch you.

"You can't do stuff like that, y/n. Is it that hard to understand? I know that you don't care but I have a fuckin' wife, okay? And if you continue to walk around my house in front of her eyes dressed like a cheap little whore and throw yourself against me she's gonna find out. 'Cause she might not be as pretty as you but she's a lot smarter than you."

He didn't know what kind of answer he expected but as he didn't get one Joel just sighed and then finally took a closer look at your body and instantly felt more blood rushing to his center. He quietly cursed to himself and then roughly grabbed your left breast while rubbing with his thumb over your right nipple.

"Oh fuck me," he grunted his mouth coming down to your temple to kiss your pulse point. "That's all you're fuckin' good for. Looking pretty f'me an' doing as you're told. And you enjoy it way too much, babygirl."

He felt how you buckled against his hands and craved to just slide into you and pound into you until you were so tired and exhausted that you would stay still already. But for now he enjoyed how your breasts felt against his hands and contently listened to your little whines and whimpers that sounded like the sweetest piece of music to his ears.

Soon his jeans felt so tight around him that it felt like they were about to burst so he decided to change something about it.

"Get on your knees," he commanded you who looked like you were waking up from a delicious dream when he stopped kneading your flesh but instantly obeyed and quite literally fell to your knees in front of him.

For the first time Joel chuckled quietly and almost lovingly caressed your hair.

"What a sweet 'n obedient little toy I've gotten myself. You're just so eager to please your daddy, mhm? You think s'good enough? You think daddy will be proud of you for dropping to your knees like some filthy slut?"

Your round eyes almost questioningly stared up to him and Joel couldn't help himself and yanked your head back further.

"You're doin' this for everyone, huh? Are you also fallin' to your knees for your co-workers? For… what was his name again… Ian?"

Your bottom lip trembled looking intimidated but yet so eager to finally get to work.

"N-No. I only do it for you, daddy."

Joel grinned with delight at his view and then started to undo his belt.

"I know. 'Cause these boys wouldn't know how to handle you. They wouldn't know what to do with all of this, ain't that right?"

"Yes, daddy. Only you can do it, please. Please I need your cock so badly."

You had grabbed his thighs and Joel once again wondered how he had gotten so lucky. Not just the fact that such a lovely and pretty girl like you enjoyed getting fucked by an old man like him but you were literally begging him to let you suck him off. He couldn't highlight it too often, he was old. Way too old to have you in this position for him right now and definitely too old to be worshipped like this. Maybe he just wasn't the only one of the two of you that was fucked in the head. Maybe you actually needed him to degrade you just as much as he needed to own and ruin you.

"Stick your tongue out," Joel said, the horniness clearly showing in his voice.

You obeyed and this image of you kneeling in front of him made him realize that he wouldn't last long. He gathered some spit in his mouth and then let it fall down on your flat tongue.

"Keep it there," were his next words and he observed you precisely while finally pulling down his jeans along with his boxers so his dick was freed and Joel let out a satisfied sigh.

You clearly expected him to tell you to swallow his spit now and were narrowing his eyes when he instead reached to a drawer next to him to search for something. When he had found what he was looking for he turned to you again and pulled the hair tie on his wrist. Joel towered over you, collecting all your hair and then tying it back into a ponytail so it wouldn't distract you while you were getting fucked in the mouth. When he was done he curiously glanced in your open mouth and raised his eyebrows noticing that it seemed like you had accidentally swallowed his spit.

"M'sorry," you breathed but were cut off as Joel slammed his cock into your mouth and you almost lost your balance gripping his thighs to support yourself. He heard a muffled cry but he prevented you from pissing him off further by silencing you with his cock and observed your struggling with relish.

"There you go… So fuckin' desperate to get that slutty mouth fucked."

To say your mouth felt good around him was an understatement. It was his own personal paradise. This was the best he had felt in a while and if he hadn‘t been so close to coming already he would've stayed here forever. Your lips wrapped tightly around his shaft while your throat welcomed you so wonderfully that he knew exactly how much you savoured this as well despite all this complaining and whimpering.

The only thing that he still craved right now was to see you choke on his thick cock and perhaps even coax a few tears out of you and so he went deeper although it felt like there wasn't any space left. You wriggled and jolted away but Joel's hand was firm around your ponytail holding you in place for him.

"This is what you fuckin' asked me for so you're gonna take all of it until I'm satisfied. Just let it all out. S'alright if it's messy, don't you worry about that. It's exactly what daddy wants. I wanna see you realize what you are. A plaything… a stupid fuckin' doll."

He was so deep inside you now that it felt almost unnatural, and for a moment he was genuinely worried that he had pushed you too far, but when he slightly backed out you coughed and squirmed in his grip so he knew you were just struggling a little. Joel remained like this getting off on the way your eyes squeezed in fear every time he went a little deeper before pulling back again and perhaps he was an awful person for doing it but humiliating you and toying with your emotions just turned him on.

He wanted your powerless beneath him. Utterly surrendered to him and fully submitted to his touch. He wanted you dependent on him even if it meant fucking you during a garden party in his bedroom because he was the only one who could satisfy you.

The moment that he saw how you were getting used to his little movements inside of your mouth and stopped twitching he decided to teach you another lesson and thrusted in you with so much force that you let out a cry that was way too loud but luckily muffled by his cock.

"Shut up. I swear to god, I'll kick you out if you can't control yourself."

He fucked your mouth at a punishing pace now hitting the back of your throat every time and in any other case he might have felt bad just a little bit but today his frustration and anger at you took over and made him come to the conclusion that you deserved every last bruise and hurt after having begged him like that in his kitchen.

The noises the two of you produced were filthy and obscene and as was the picture. Your gagging and retching, the wet slapping of his balls against your face, the sound of his cock sliding past your lips and the drool and spit running down your chin and neck. Everything about it was messy and counted as one of the things that were only meant to be seen in dubious videos on the internet and most certainly wasn't supposed to be witnessed by his wife.

When Joel felt that he was close he unwillingly stopped moving and came to a stop in your mouth. Thirty years ago he would have bursted in your mouth, made you swallow every last drop, then fisted himself a couple of seconds and fucked your brains out but in his age he knew he wouldn't be able to get hard again that quickly after an orgasm. It pained him to pull back, his cock feeling like it was about to explode but the thought of splitting you open for him overshadowed the disappointment.

Joel pulled you up by your hair until you stood in front of him his eyes coldly running over the messiness that was your face.

"You know what I'm gonna do to you now?" he whispered harshly his hand coming down to wrap around your already abused throat. He watched with happiness how you almost weren't able to look in his eyes, your bratiness and cockiness gone, replaced by submissiveness and the need to please.

"No," you shook your hand grabbing his shirt when he pushed you towards the bed.

"I'll make you take every fuckin' inch of my cock no matter if you can handle it or not. I'll ruin that l'il pussy of yours until you scream for me to stop. 'Cause you're mine. You're mine to throw around and bend the way I want to and I swear to god, if you ever think about letting some of your little colleagues touch what's mine you'll pay for it."

You gulped at the intensity and filthiness of his words and doe-eyed, like there wasn't a thought in your head let him mandhandle you on your back.

"I'll break you down, babygirl. Piece by piece until I have you bawling your eyes out. How does that make you feel, huh? Bein' my fuckin' pet."

He was on top of you now pressing you into the mattress his hand still around your neck to make you stay still.

"I want it. I want it, daddy, I wanna be your toy. I want you to use me, please, do anything you want," you cried tears spilling from your eyes from how tense and needy you were for him.

"You poor little thing," Joel cooed his right thumb tracing the delicate skin on your neck while his left painfully twisted your nipple.

"I've made her all needy and weak for daddy. It's pathetic really. Think you're supposed to be laying underneath a man old enough to be your father begging him to destroy your cunt? You think that's cute?"

He pinched your nipple with more force than would have been necessary but he felt so goddamn angry at you that he just wanted to punish and hurt you. Push your boundaries and drive you further.

"Daddy," you cried out and widened your eyes when Joel placed a hand on top of your mouth instantly silencing you.

"Jesus fuckin' christ… You really are a dumb little thing. This hand's gonna stay here now."

With these words he finally drew his attention to the lower part of your body regarding your dress that was ruffled around your hips. Joel lifted the dress a little only to laugh at the lacy black panties that you certainly hadn't picked out coincidentally.

"What a shame," he mumbled to himself and before you could think about what he meant by that you heard a ripping sound and then felt cold air brushing over your labia.

Joel smirked at the way you arched, your hands reproachfully pushing at his shoulders but the big hand on your mouth prevented you from complaining about his way of undressing you.

"You wore them for me and so I get to choose what happens to them," was all he said and then while you were still narrowing your eyes at him you suddenly felt his tip at your entrance and then within a few seconds his entire length had entered you and a loud moan escaped your mouth that made Joel feel thankful that he had shut you up.

He knew that it must be a lot for you because sure, you were more than well lubricated, but he was huge and thick and even though this obviously wasn't the first time he had fucked you, you usually needed a moment to adjust to him.

But today Joel simply didn't care about the sex being comfortable for you because he pounded into you with no regards to your poor pussy being exploited like this. He took what he wanted, savoured your tight walls taking you with so much force that you were pushed up the bed with each thrust. If you wanted to complain you didn't stand a chance because his hand didn't leave your mouth for a second and so you had no choice but to take what he gave you.

Joel moaned in your ear growling whenever he thrusted back in and soon placed your legs on his shoulders pushing your knees to your chest so he could reach even deeper. The cease between your eyebrows deepened and your sweaty hands searched for his that was wrapped around your knees.

When Joel saw fresh tears escaping the corner of your eyes he slightly loosened the grip of the hand on your mouth giving you some space to greedily inhale and at the same time giving himself the chance to take pleasure in your pretty crying face.

"D-Daddy," you whimpered your whole body trembling with the need to come and at this point you were so fucked out, he knew you would do anything he asked you to do.

Joel was close, his cock beginning to throb and his view getting white. Before he could have a second thought and perhaps help you to cross the bridge as well he had exploded inside of you filling you up to the brim.

His head dropped to his chest his hands coming down next to your head to steady himself and then his thrusts in you came to a stop only little growls escaping from his mouth every now and then. Joel was at calm now, his body captured in a peaceful post-orgasm dizziness but you were obviously far away from it.

You were craving a release as well but instead of vocalizing your needs you just rocked your center against his leg that was now positioned between your thighs again.

"D-Daddy. P-Please, I-I was g-good," you stuttered nervously pulling at his shirt while Joel let out a frustrated sigh. He wasn't even able to enjoy this moment of quietude and although he had given you just what you wanted you were asking him for more.

"You think you were good? Think you deserve to come?" he spoke leaning down to you and tracing the outlines of your mouth with his thumb.

"I need to. Please daddy, I really need it."

"That's not an answer to my fuckin' question. I said do you think you deserve to come?"

You remained silent your face crumbling again but Joel was sick and tired of you crying whenever you wanted something that you didn't get so his hand closed around your chin once more and his face came close to yours.

"Drop the attitude, babygirl. Fine. You can come but you're gonna work for it so you see that you can't always get what you want by blinking with your eyes a few times and expecting daddy to do everything. You can ride my thigh and if you do it well you'll get off that way."

He instantly saw how disappointed you were with his answer because your lips formed a pout and your forrowed your brow. "But –"

"It's this or nothing and I mean it. Tell me if you wanna do it and if not I'm gonna leave right now. You can be glad I haven't already 'cause I already gave you what you wanted, you ungrateful little brat."

You were officially sulking now but Joel didn't care. He observed you waiting for an answer and then you finally swallowed loudly turning your head to escape his gaze and mumbled a quiet "Fine."

"Louder," he demanded and yet another sound of frustration left your body before repeating the word louder this time.

"Fine. I wanna do it."

Joel nodded graciously, rolled off you and then took his place with his back against the headboard of the bed his legs parted so you had some space to straddle his lap.

"Come over here," he guided you and you clumsily rose to your knees to crawl to him.

Of course Joel was aware of how affected you were by this denial, not just physically but also mentally but he wanted to teach you a lesson after all and perhaps next time you would act more responsibly and not beg him to fuck you during a garden party. He had desired you as well, sure, but he had had the decency to merely think about it and perhaps jerk off to the thought but not actually act according to it.

You were on top of him now, his right leg between your thighs but it was obvious that you had no idea what you were supposed to do.

"Christ…," he sighed resting his head against the headboard because he really hadn't planned to guide and talk you through your orgasm now but it seemed like that was exactly what he was about to do.

"Can't do it yourself?" Joel asked with raised eyebrows and the slight shake of your head while looking down told him everything he needed to know.

"Fine," he sighed and slightly moved up on the bed. "Hands on my shoulders. You're gonna need it to steady yourself."

He placed his hands on your waist pressing you down until you felt his muscular thigh against your slit.

"Now rock yourself against me. You're gonna want to stimulate your clit so you're gonna move your hips. Just do what feels good 'n then fuckin' come."

Perhaps it was the way you frowned looking all concentrated and focused on pleasuring yourself. Or how you kept pushing your hair back because it was in your face. Or how after a few minutes you let out the first little sigh almost looking off guard by how good it actually felt. Or perhaps it was just his own post-orgasm peacefulness.

Whatever it was, Joel softened up at the sight of you.

All of a sudden he felt the urge to embrace and care for you and it was now that he regretted not having done it earlier. You poor thing had to do it all by yourself after having been such a good girl for him.

Joel decided to at least help you a little and put his hands on your hips to guide your movements and according to your expression you hadn't expected him to assist you. But now that he did, his fingers softly dug into your flesh his thumb drawing little circles over your skin while he helped you rolling your hips.

"You like that, babygirl?" he whispered clearly not unaffected by the scene either and your eyelids fluttered threatening to close.

"Yes, daddy. I'm gonna come soon, I promise."

Joel sighed while moving the hair out of your face realizing that he really had pushed you far today. He lifted his leg a little higher pressing it against your center to create even more friction for your clit, feeling the slickness connecting his thigh and your pussy every time you rubbed yourself against him.

"It's alright. Just concentrate on how it feels, okay?"

Well aware that what you enjoyed just as much as being degraded was being praised, Joel softly smiled at you while drawing patterns over your thigh.

"You've been such a good girl for me, hon. The best. You know why I'm rough with you sometimes, don't ya?"

Feeling all submissive and needy, of course you nodded and held on to his shirt that for some reason hadn't left his body yet.

"I know, daddy. And I'm sorry. I know that I was bad."

"But now I want you to come for daddy 'cause you deserve it. Want you to soak my thigh and let go. I will be there to catch you, sweetheart, promise," he gently soothed you his face softening at the way you tightly gripped his shoulders as you picked up the pace.

"There you go… Doin' so well."

Joel patiently whispered sweet nothings in your ear encouraging you to chase your orgasm and when it finally happened he talked you through it his hands firmly holding on to your waist so you wouldn't fall over while his other hand once again muffled the little cries leaving your mouth.

"That's right… I know it feels good, babygirl. Such a good girl…"

At this point you were too weak to hold yourself up and collapsed on top of him, your head resting against his chest and his hands running up and down your back.

"Shh, honey," he whispered over your loud panting as he combed through your hair, which could no longer be called a ponytail as your hair stood in all directions.

"You good?" he eventually asked with the urgent realization that the two of you had been gone for way too long now.

He really didn't want to throw you out and disturb you in your exhaustion but once the others would start searching for you, things certainly wouldn't end well.

Fortunately you nodded lifting your head from his chest and in this moment Joel couldn't act all grumpy and annoyed with you. He had a soft spot for you after all and when these pretty eyes of yours looked at him as though he was the best person you had ever met he couldn't stay strong and hide his affection.

His mouth twitched as he ran a thumb over your chin and then leaned down to kiss you. Suddenly it was him who would have preferred to stay here in the bedroom a little longer but when he heard loud laughter from outside he was reminded of the risk of what the two of you were doing.

"M'really sorry, sweetheart, but we need to get back to the party."

You let out a disapproving moan and buried your face in his chest but didn't fight when Joel sat you up on the bed and adjusted your dress that was still ruffled around your waist. Only then did he remember what he had done to your panties and widened his eyes in shock.

"Oh fuck me…," he groaned rubbing over his forehead.

You couldn't walk around the house without underwear, and Joel decided this not only for your own safety, but also for his own selfish reasons. He definitely wouldn't allow you to dance and twirl around Ian, who clearly had more than friendship in mind for you.

Therefore Joel approached Kate's wardrobe and although even he felt very bad while doing it pulled out one of his wife's panties which he handed you without a word.

"Joel…," you began but he shook his head. "Just put them on."

You followed his order and then once he had also fixed his jeans he kissed your forehead.

"You good?" he asked again still a little concerned about whether he had been too hard on you but you nodded again giving him a shy smile.

"Yes. More than good."

Almost longingly he caressed your cheek and then turned to the door as if it was the final boss.

"Ready?" he asked tilting his head at you and you pursed your lips.

"No. But let's go, I guess."

Joel squeezed your hand gently pulling you with him to the door and then opened it.

[rafeysbangs]

°🂶 ༘˚↷rafe is always just out of reach

warnings ; not proofread sorta... , simply just angst, sortof almost a mention of fwb? ish?, interpret this how you will as to yours & rafe's relationship !

notes ; HI !! i'm so happy to be back. srry this is straight up angst. but i hope you enjoy. can you tell uni is strangling me lol ( this was actually sitting in the drafts.. waiting... oops )

rafe cameron is an enigma you can’t quite solve. a puzzle with missing pieces, a shoreline that recedes every time you step forward. you think you have him—hands grasping the edge of something real—only for him to slip through like sand through parted fingers.

you watch him from the passenger seat, the engine humming beneath the weight of silence. his knuckles are tight against the steering wheel, pale from pressure. he’s always holding on too hard, to everything, to nothing. a boy who doesn’t know how to let go without breaking something in the process.

"you’re quiet," you say, just to fill the space. to remind him you’re still here.

his jaw flexes, a brief movement, barely anything at all. then a chuckle, low and humourless. "that’s a first."

it’s a dance, this thing between you—if you can even call it that. he keeps his distance, but it’s not apathy. it’s something else. something tangled up in the way his hands tighten around whatever’s in his grasp, the way his gaze lingers just a second too long when he thinks you won’t notice.

you do notice. you always do.

you see it now, in the way he shifts gears with more force than necessary. in the way his hands tremble when he runs them through his hair. in the way he looks at you, like he wants to say something but won’t, like it’s locked behind his teeth, rusted shut with years of unsaid things.

and you—what are you to him? a distraction? a reminder? a tether to something softer, something he doesn’t think he deserves?

"you don’t have to do that," you say, softer this time.

he glances at you, brow furrowed. "do what?"

"pretend like you don’t care."

his lips part, but no words come out. just a sharp inhale, a slow exhale. and then he laughs again—quieter, this time. almost bitter.

"maybe i don’t."

but he does. you know he does. it’s in the way he says your name, in the way he always finds you first in a crowded room, in the way his fingers brush against yours but never stay long enough. it’s in the way he pulls away just before he gets too close, like he’s afraid of what might happen if he doesn’t.

rafe cameron is a hurricane dressed as a boy. all storm and sharp edges, all lightning that never quite touches the ground. people talk about him like he’s reckless, like he’s all impulse and violence, but you know better. you see what they don’t—the hesitation, the flicker of something softer just beneath the surface. you see the way he clenches his jaw when he’s trying not to feel. the way he swallows words before they can make it past his lips. the way his hands shake when he thinks no one’s looking.

he is not empty, not hollow like he wants the world to believe. he is full of things he will never say, full of rage and grief and longing. full of a love he will never let himself hold.

and you—maybe you are just another thing he cannot let himself have.

you could reach for him, could close the space between you, could press your palm against the warmth of his arm and wait for him to lean in instead of pull away. but you already know how this ends.

he’ll let you get close. close enough to feel the heat of him, close enough to believe that maybe, just maybe, this time will be different.

and then he’ll slip away—just like always.

( no taglist bcs its wayyy to old um i'll be redoing that too so look out for a post - sorry guys ! )