#she wants me to look over the edited part of this scene to make sure it reads alright

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 36: To The Sea

Summary: It's time to move on. You're not sure where you're going exactly, but anywhere is better than Texas

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 7,811 words

Warnings: ANGST, injuries, medical stuff, descriptions of pain and injuries, brief discussion about strangulation, mentions of PTSD and nightmares, so much crying, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, angst, a very little sprinkle of comfort, language, mentions of medications, still very heavy emotionally

A/N: Not actually a lot of warnings for this one. It's a lot of dialogue and inner monologues. Not a lot happens, just mostly setting the scene for the next chunk of the story. Bring tissues though, the last part of the chapter emotionally wrecked me but also might be the best thing I've ever written.

11/30/24: **This Chapter has been edited and rewritten from its original version**

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It’s warm outside. 

Not even the shade from the building can completely shield you from the dome of heat that seems to surround the base. It seeps into the concrete and asphalt that lock it into place, trapping everyone in a bubble that may as well be an oven. It’s always hot in Texas, though. You hate it. You’ve been spoiled by the cold, rainy seasons in England. You’d gladly take that over Texas. 

You’d take anything over Texas. 

The heat prickles at your skin, your arm starting to get sweaty in the sling. It had been Dr. Keller’s idea to keep your shoulder as still as possible so you don’t continue to cause yourself pain when you move. It still hurts, but at least you won’t instinctively try to use your left arm now.

Despite the warmth, there’s still a chill deep in your bones. The warmth of the pain medicine has worn off and you’ve been left with the perpetual ice that has seemed to coat your insides. Dr. Keller says it's the stress giving you a fever. Every nightmare, every flashback sends your body temperature spiking, your heart beating right out of your chest. You’re not out of the woods yet. It can take a long time to recover from that level of distress and the omega taking over. You almost regret it, but there was no guarantee you would have lived either way at that time. You did what you had to do, and it did work out in the end. 

But at what cost? 

Dr. Keller’s phone buzzes in her pocket and she pulls it out, staring down at the screen for a moment. “Kyle wants to come by.” 

You don’t want to see him. You don’t want to see any of them. 

“I think you should see him. Even if it’s just for a moment.” She squeezes your hand. “I’ll be right here.” 

It’s a predicament. Dr. Keller supports your decision to keep them away, putting some distance between all of you for the time being. Yet, she also says being close to your pack will help your healing. Having your pack around will help your omega settle once again. She needs that safety, that security before she finally lets go completely. 

You don’t want to be close to them, but you may not have any other choice. 

You sit there in silence, picking at the fabric of your sweatpants as you wait for Kyle’s arrival. Sweat has started to bead on your back, the day only getting warmer and warmer as the sun moves higher in the sky. You want to go back inside, back into the cool air conditioned building. You want to crawl back onto the hospital bed and lay there for the next few hours. 

You can’t. 

Footsteps approach, but you don’t look up. You know who it is. You don’t want to see him. 

“Kyle.” Dr. Keller greets. 

“Christine.” He says back. It still throws you off, hearing Dr. Keller's first name. She'll always be Dr. Keller to you. Kyle turns his attention to you, still standing a few steps from the bench you're perched on. “Hi, love.” He says. The affectionate nickname almost makes you wince. You don't look up at him. You don’t want to see his face. “I wanted to stop by and see how you’re doing.” 

You don't move, don't give an answer. You don't have an answer to give anyway. You shouldn't have to give an answer. 

He lowers himself onto the bench, sitting as far away from you as he can. “It’s hot today.” He says, adjusting his hat. Always wearing a hat. Maybe that's why he and Price work so well together. 

He stares at you for a long moment but you don't bother moving, your gaze still on your sweatpants. They're starting to get a bit warm, even with your perpetual chill. 

“I’m not here to apologize.” He says, breaking the silence. “You’ve probably heard enough apologies to last you a lifetime.” He shakes his head. “Words can’t fix what we did. Nothing can fix what we did. All we can do is give you what you need, try and make you as comfortable as possible.” 

Tears burn your eyes as you listen to him. He's not wrong, an apology won't fix what happened. No words will ever be able to fix what they put you through. You're not sure there's anything they could do that would make up for it. An apology still would have been nice, despite the fact you know how guilty he is. Their avoidance of you, their willingness to give you such space in an unknown place just proves how guilty they all are. 

That doesn't make things hurt any less. 

You slowly turn away from Kyle, angling yourself towards Dr. Keller. 

He doesn't say anything further in that regard, taking your movement as an answer to his non-apology. He leans forward instead, resting his elbows on his knees. “I just wanted to let you know that we’re getting ready to leave soon. We’ll be heading somewhere safe, somewhere quiet and secluded. I think you’ll like it.” 

Dr. Keller had informed you of that earlier after she went to speak to them. They've decided what to do, what's best for the pack again. You might have protested, except for the fact it meant you were getting to leave Texas. Where exactly they're taking you, you're not sure. You just know it's not Texas. 

“I want you to know that we’re here if you need us.” He stares at you for a moment longer before pushing himself up to stand. 

If, not when. 

Maybe they're finally getting the message. 

Dr. Keller stands, touching your right shoulder gently before she steps away with Kyle, speaking quietly with him, but you can still hear every word in the nearly silent space around you. 

“In an attempt to remain a neutral, professional party in this situation, I feel it would be appropriate for me to tell you not to beat yourself up too much about this.” Dr. Keller says. “The unprofessional side of me has many words I’d like to say to all of you.” She clears her throat. “That being said, on a positive note I can say you’re all doing the right thing for once, prioritizing your omega and fulfilling her needs, even if her needs require you to leave her alone for now. I know it’s hard, I know every instinct is screaming at you to help her, but just take comfort in knowing you are helping her. You’re doing the best thing you can do for her at this time.” Dr. Keller puts a hand on his arm, squeezing it gently. “Even if it is tearing you up inside.” 

“Thanks, Doc.” He says. 

“I’ll see you soon.” She says, patting his arm before she heads back towards your bench. 

You turn your head just slightly, not missing the way Gaz lingers for a brief moment before he turns his back on you, walking back down the sidewalk. 

It hurts. 

You want to cry with every swallow. No matter how much you chew, it doesn’t ease the pain of trying to swallow solid food. Even the worst sore throat you’ve ever had pales in comparison to this pain. Tears burn in your eyes as you eat, unable to refuse this time in favor of choking down some liquid nutrients. Even liquids make your throat ache, but they are easy to chug to get it over with at once. 

This feels like torture. 

Dr. Keller looks guilty as she spoon-feeds you the soup. Chicken noodle, something simple and easy but still something with some substance. It makes you think back to when you were sick as a child, your mother dutifully feeding you homemade chicken noodle soup until you reached the age you could feed yourself. 

You do feel like a child again, unable to even hold the spoon. Well, you could hold it, but it would have come at the expense of some burns from how badly your hand was shaking. 

So instead you sit here, being spoon-fed soup you can barely stand eating. 

“I know.” She says as a tear finally falls, your inhale shaky from the ache in your throat. “You need something in your system for the sedative. It’s a long flight and you’ll be sick when you wake up if you don’t have anything in your stomach. That’s going to hurt a lot worse than eating now.” 

Yeah. You’ve already figured that out. 

“Strangulation is a tough thing to survive.” She says, dragging the bottom of the spoon against the edge of the bowl to wipe off any soup that might drip on you. “Then again, so is getting shot, and distressing to the point of your omega taking over.” She holds the spoon up to your lips, and you’re tempted to refuse. “You’ve survived a lot, more than most could. And to look this good after...” 

You blink up at her, teary eyed and sickly looking, exhausted and bruised. Your left eye is still almost swollen shut, and your hair is tangled perhaps beyond saving, tied up in a bun at the top of your head. All just reminders of what you survived, all reminders of what happened to you. Of what was allowed to happen to you. 

You’re not quite sure when the last time you had a real shower was either. 

“I know.” She says, spooning more soup into your mouth. “You might not feel like it, right now.” 

“I want a shower.” You say, your voice still hoarse and cracking through your throat. A real shower might solve a lot of problems for you right now. It won’t fix much, but being truly clean would make a lot of things feel better. 

“I wholeheartedly agree.” Dr. Keller says. 

You give her a look. You don't smell that bad. She should know, she’s the one that cleaned the blood off of you and the one who gave you the sponge bath this morning. 

She gives you a look back. “I meant it would be nice to take a real shower. Once we get where we’re going, we can work on the logistics of a shower.” 

Right. You can’t exactly stand for a long time on your own, not to mention the problem of only being able to use one arm without bringing blinding pain upon yourself. That’s where the pack would come in handy. 

The thought of one of them seeing you vulnerable like that, putting their hands on you right now makes your skin crawl. 

A shiver runs down your spine, your body shuddering uncontrollably. You grunt as your shoulder screams in pain, another electric jolt burning straight through your nerves and down through your feet. Fuck. You mouth the word, squeezing your eyes shut. It makes your stomach churn, the soup starting to burn a path back up through your esophagus.

��Breathe for me.” Dr. Keller says, putting a gentle hand on your right shoulder. 

In and out. You focus on your breath, the only thing you can do without feeling like you’re going to go insane from the pain. It’s all you can do in this situation. It’s the only thing you can do at all. Breathe. Just keep breathing. 

Sometimes you don’t want to. 

The pain passes as it always does, leaving behind a subtle ache that will linger until the next flare of pain. It’s a constant, never-ending cycle that you can’t escape from. Weeks, Dr. Keller had said. It can take weeks to heal. You’ll be stuck in this cycle for weeks and weeks. What if it never heals? That is a possibility. It’s always a risk with any injury. 

What if the rest of your life is like this? 

You’re crying again, hot tears blazing a path down your cheeks. They won’t stop, they never stop. There’s a constant stream down your face, even in your sleep. You’ve woken to find your face and neck damp from the never ceasing flood of tears. 

How you can’t wait for the time to come when you have none left.

You’d welcome the numbness at this point, greet it like an old friend and invite it in for tea. Anything over the pain and tears that won’t stop. The depression-fueled numbness that had filled you when Price and Gaz left, then Soap and Ghost would be a welcome relief at this point. Anything would be better than the pain. 

You almost wish you were in a coma right now. Then you wouldn’t feel anything at all. 

Dr. Keller puts the spoon back into the soup bowl before rolling the table to the side. She puts a hand on your head, gently stroking your hair as you cry. The room is silent aside from your sniffles, Dr. Keller not having to say a single word. The silence is almost a blessing. You’re tired of hearing words, of hearing people speak. There’s nothing anyone can say that will do anything to help you, to comfort you, to make it better. 

There’s nothing anyone can do to make it better. 

You’re so tired of being like this. 

The sedative is kicking in before you even reach the airfield. She can see the way your head is drooping further and further forward in the car, your body jostling without any complaint. It had started kicking in before you even got into the car, as you offered very little resistance when Kyle helped her mauver you into the front seat. She chose Kyle out of everyone to help her in hopes it would be easiest on you. Your claimed alpha’s beta is a good place to start in rebuilding the bonds within the pack, and his calm demeanor certainly helps. He is a caretaker through and through, that beta trait prominent above the others in him. He would have made a good medic, had he gone that route. 

Your chin drops to your chest as the car comes to a stop in front of the plane, your body slumping to the side against the door. 

“She’s out.” Christine says, unbuckling her seatbelt. 

“Makes this easier.” Kyle says, getting out of the car. 

They maneuver you into the wheelchair, Christine easing your head onto your right shoulder to avoid aggravating the left. The less pain you’re in when you come out of it, the better, though pain will be unavoidable. Kyle pushes the wheelchair up the ramp of the plane, Christine following close behind. She’s glad she gave you the sedative before you left the med center to avoid as much pain as possible. She almost wishes she had given it to you earlier, as getting you into a sweatshirt had been a battle of its own. Though, the longer it stays in your system, the longer you’ll sleep through the flight. The longer you sleep through the flight, the longer they can delay the inevitable emotional storm of being enclosed in a tight space with your pack. 

If you’re lucky, you’ll be out of it long enough for them to reach the cottage without incident. 

John is waiting near the front of the aircraft, his eyes watching carefully as Kyle helps maneuver you into a seat. Even with the turmoil in the pack bonds, an alpha will always feel protective over their omega. There’s some things that can’t be undone, even in such a fragile state. Some instincts can’t be unlearned, no matter what. 

“I gave her a sedative.” Christine explains as she gets you as comfortable as possible in the seat. “It won’t last the whole flight, but it’ll take a while to wear off regardless.” 

“Is that more for her or for us?” John asks. 

“Both.” Christine says. “Mostly for her. It helps with the pain of moving around, but it will also keep her calm in close quarters like this.” 

“Here.” John says, handing her something. It’s a blanket, brand new by the feel of it. “Johnny made a store run this morning. It’s going to get cold in here, so he got the warmest one he could find.” 

Christine takes the blanket, the fabric thick and soft in her hands. It’s a touching gesture, speaking volumes of their desire to still care for you despite everything, their willingness to do what they have to, to keep the pack together. “Perfect.” She says, carefully draping it over you and tucking it around you before John gets you secured in the seat. 

“It’s going to be a long flight.” John says, taking a step back. 

“It is.” Christine says, pulling out her thermometer. She takes your temperature, letting out a hum at the number that pops up on screen. “I need to monitor her temperature.” She explains as John gives her a look. “It’s been spiking when she gets stressed.” 

“She's not quite out of it yet, is she?” John asks.

“Not quite.” She says, putting the thermometer back in her bag. “I’ve only seen two omegas successfully come back from that point, and I know the number across the board isn’t very high. It takes a long time for the body and the brain to get back to normal.” 

“And on top of everything that happened...” 

She stares up at him for a long moment. “She’s very strong. I knew she was a fighter, but to come out the other side even where she is now...” Christine shakes her head. “I didn’t want to say this at the time, but I was expecting the worst. When that call came in about what state she was in...” She bites her lip, holding the emotions back. “Her resilience and fortitude is what kept her alive. That and Simon’s courage to do what needed to be done.” 

“I know.” John says, looking past her. “We all owe a lot to him.” 

Christine puts a gentle hand on his arm. “You’re doing what’s best for her. No matter how much it hurts, no matter how much it goes against every instinct you have, it’s what she needs.” 

“That’s all that matters to us right now.” John says, staring down at her hand for a moment. “There’s nothing else we can do, so it’s time we start putting our priorities where they should have been the whole time.” 

Christine gives him a small smile. “I’m proud of you for that. It takes a lot to unlearn the things you’ve been told since the beginning.” 

The corner of John’s lips twitch before his face falls into the emotionless mask he’s been wearing for the last few days. “It’s about time we get our heads out of our arses.” 

“I can’t blame you totally.” She shrugs. “We were all just doing what the initiative was telling us to do. We couldn’t have known. There wasn’t any room to question it.” 

“I wish we would have figured it out sooner.” He sighs. 

“Things might have been worse if the truth did come out sooner. If you started digging into the initiative too soon, Shepherd might have gotten antsy and taken more drastic measures to stop the truth from coming out entirely.” She glances down at you. “I think this was all inevitable.” She turns her gaze back to John. “What happened, happened. None of us can change that. All we can do is keep moving forward with what we have right now.” 

He stares at her for a long moment. “The more time passes, the more I’ve come to realize why Kate chose you for this position.” 

The corner of her lips turns up in a smile. “Well, I am rather good at my job, which, among other things, involves advocating on behalf of omegas.” 

John huffs. “Wish we would have listened sooner.” 

“You can’t change the past.” She repeats, looking down at you again. “But you can change the future.” 

You woke from your sedation about four hours from Helston. 

Well, ’woke’ might have been too strong of a word for it. Your eyes opened, but you were still hazy, movements sluggish and entirely unaware of the world around you. You floated between sleep and awareness for an hour before finally gaining consciousness completely. Awareness took quite a while to return, though. Not until they were moving you to the car from the plane. 

Even still you’re groggy, slumped against the door in the back seat of the car. You blink slowly, eyes unfocused as you stare out the window at the blur of green passing by. 

“How is she?” John asks from the driver's seat, glancing up at the rearview mirror. 

“Cow.” You say, blinking slowly as the car passes a field of cows. 

“Still out of it.” Christine answers from the back seat where she's sitting next to you. Your response might have been enough to answer that. “Better than being in pain, though.” 

“How long will it take for her to get out of it?” Kyle asks. 

“Hopefully she’ll be more lucid by the time we get there, but it could take a few hours for it to completely wear off.” Christine says, wiping a bit of drool from your chin. “Probably not a bad thing. This is a big change, and with everything that’s happened, it’s going to take some time to settle in.” 

“Things are going to be rough.” Kyle says. 

“Yes.” She agrees. “Being enclosed in a small space with the people you want to see the least in the world isn’t an ideal situation. It’ll be an adjustment for everyone. I trust all of your abilities to adapt, though. Just don't go in expecting things to be the way they were.”

John's hands tighten around the steering wheel, his knuckles going white. Kyle cracks his window open, prepared for the thickening of John's scent in the air. Christine knows she hit a nerve, but it needed to be said. Even if you were open to forgiveness right now, even if they had chosen to go after you right away, things still wouldn't be the same. Things won't ever be the same. It is their fault deep at the root of it. Those cameras were put up because of them, you were taken because of them. You were chosen for the “initiative” because of them, because Kate thought you'd fit in well with them. Their decisions shaped your life, and will continue to shape your life. 

Can you ever come to forgive them? Christine likes to think so. She has the hope that they can put in the work and regain your trust and earn eventual forgiveness. She knows you'll allow them to try once the initial hurt and emotions begin to fade, once the two of you put in enough work to start processing the trauma around the events that happened. It will take time. Probably a long time. 

She'll be there every step of the way. 

“Ashley did some shopping for us, picked up some stuff to get us until we can get into town.” Kyle says, looking at his phone. 

“Good.” John says, his shoulders starting to relax. “Should wait a couple days before going. Get settled in.”

“She's still working on cleaning up. Probably still be there when we get there.” Kyle says, putting his phone back in his pocket. 

“That's fine. We’ll probably have to utilize her a bit.” 

“Doubt she'll complain.” Kyle says, looking out the window. “Be thrilled to have something to do besides work.” 

You let out a quiet groan, shifting against the door. “Hurts.” 

“I know, honey.” Christine says, carefully adjusting your left arm. “I’ll give you more pain meds once we get to the cottage.” 

“We’ll be there in half an hour.” John says, glancing up at the rearview mirror again before turning his eyes back to the road. 

The half hour seems to take the longest as you continue to become more and more lucid and aware. The pain sets in first, your brain picking up on those signals before anything else. John’s knuckles are white around the steering wheel as you begin to whine and whimper around every bend in the road and turn he has to make, every jostle of the car. Every instinct in his body tells him to pull over and comfort you, but he can’t. It’s more important to get to the cottage, and there’s no guarantee you’d even let him. It might make things worse. 

The last thing you need right now is for things to get worse. 

Christine breathes a sigh of relief as they pull up to the cottage, glad she can finally get you somewhere more comfortable. You’ve been in far too many uncomfortable positions today, moved around too much. She would have liked to keep you in Texas a couple more days, but she knew as soon as you were able to travel, the better. The sooner they could get off the grid, the better. 

The sooner they could get out of Texas, the better. 

Kyle is getting the wheelchair out of the trunk when Johnny and Simon pull up, not having been far behind. They likely took a turn around the back roads to ensure no one was following and to keep things from looking too suspicious. 

Christine keeps you from slumping out of the car as she carefully opens the door on your side. You’re more awake than you were, blinking up at her with almost startlingly aware eyes.

“Crutch.” You pout when she pulls the wheelchair closer. 

She gives you a look. “Honey I'm not sure you could even stand right now.” You may be more aware, but that doesn’t mean your body is working as it should.

You let out a defiant noise as you attempt to get your legs out of the car, trying to hide your grunts of pain and discomfort. 

She's tempted to stand there and let you try, but she knows all hell will break loose if she lets you fall. She's not willing to take that risk, not to mention it will cause you more pain to get you up off the ground. 

“Come on,” She says, stopping you before you can get your feet under you. “Nice and slow.” 

You let out a quiet growl of indignation but you allow her to help you, your legs trembling as she eases you up. Kyle is there with the wheelchair, getting it as close to you as possible so she can sit you down quickly. 

“Ow.” You breathe, eyes pinched closed as you breathe through the pain. 

“I know.” She says, patting your good shoulder lightly. She's glad she put you in the sweatshirt before you left Texas. It's chilly outside, chillier than it was further inland a few days ago. 

It's hard to believe it's only been a few days since you were taken. Barely even a week. So much happened in such a short period of time. It feels like it’s been weeks since everything started, but then again, it had been weeks since John and Kyle first left. It had been weeks since you had been around your whole pack together by the time you were taken. The deep depression you sunk into before the events of the last week had been draining you slowly for weeks before this. It had started before John and Kyle were deployed, back to that day when you revealed the cameras and the secret you had been hiding from them. 

How long you’ve gone in such turmoil. 

How far you still have to go. 

The path up to the door is rocky and uneven, the wheelchair jostling as she pushes it up towards the door. She can picture your face, the way it has to be screwed up in pain. You're silent though, holding it all in. She almost wishes you weren't being silent about it. 

The door is already open, light shining from inside as she approaches. Kyle is in the house already, having gone ahead to greet his sister. John is right behind the two of you as Christine turns to wheel you up the steps into the house. His eyes are on you, focused and ready should you fall.  

Christine would never let you fall, and from the way your hand is gripping the arm of the chair for dear life, you probably couldn't anyway. 

She wheels you through the entryway, the inside warmer thanks to a fire that's burning. It's a nice cottage, far nicer than she had been expecting judging from the outside. 

Johnny lets out a low whistle as he enters behind John, looking around. “Yer parents own this?” 

“It was given to our mum by our grandparents. They did some...renovations before they passed it on.” Kyle says. 

“Yer tellin’ me.” Johnny says. 

It looks new inside. New wood floors, freshly painted walls. The furniture looks like she would expect to find in an English seaside cottage, though. Kyle’s parents went to France for summer vacation instead of utilizing the cottage, and none of his siblings had wanted to use it, he told them. It looks almost perfect, like it came right out of a home renovation show. Kyle’s sister must have worked some sort of magic to get it this clean. 

It is a very nice cottage. It’s small, the door opening right to the main area. There’s two couches and a chair in the middle of the room around a coffee table. To the left of the couches is a fireplace, the fire already lit and crackling. It looks original, likely having been untouched in the renovations. There’s a door to the left of the fireplace closer to the main entryway. A bedroom maybe? To the right of the front door are two doors, one on the far wall and one facing the front door. 

The stairs are in the middle of the house, leading up to the second floor where there’s likely more bedrooms. On the far side of the main area is the dining area and beyond that is a sliding glass door. Around the corner on the far side of the stairs is likely the kitchen. She can see the fridge from where she’s standing. It’s new. Very new. Makes her wonder just how long ago it had been renovated. 

“Everyone, this is my sister Ashley.” Kyle says, introducing the other woman in the room. 

“Hello,” she says, giving everyone a wave and a dazzling smile. 

She’s dressed simply in jeans and a t-shirt, her medium box braids pulled up into a bun on top of her head. They look a lot alike, her and Kyle. Tall and slender and stunning. They have the same smile and the same soft brown eyes. She's wearing scent blockers, but Christine can imagine her having a soft scent like lavender or something fresh like mint. 

“There's two rooms down here, and two upstairs.” Kyle says. “The main bedroom is through there.” He points towards a door to their left. “I figure we'll give that to our omega. The bathroom in there has a walk-in shower.” 

“Perfect.” Christine says. That will make getting you in and out of the shower easier at least, and you won’t have to go far to use the bathroom.

“You should take the other room down here.” John says, looking at Christine. “So you can be close in case of an emergency.”

And so you don't have to be too close to them, so you won’t feel like they’re hovering.

He doesn't have to say that part out loud. 

“I put new sheets on all the beds.” Ashley says. “I also picked up everything Kyle sent on the list. Food, some clothes, some other necessities.”

You let out a quiet groan, Christine patting your head gently. You have to be exhausted and sore after the day. She should give you another dose of pain medicine like she said she would. You’re going to need it tonight. 

“Let's get you laying down for a bit.” She says, wheeling you towards the door. 

Kyle opens it for her, revealing a spacious room with a big window looking out towards the sea. You're going to spend a lot of time in front of that window, she thinks. The bed is in the middle of the room, and there’s two chairs facing the window. She’s almost tempted to sit you in one of the chairs, but laying down will be more comfortable for you right now. 

You're still too out of it now to care much as she wheels you to the double bed. With Kyle's help they get you horizontal, Christine draping the blanket at the end of the bed over you. It’s not very soft, but it will do for now. She’ll have to get the guys to pick up some soft blankets for you when they go to town. She has a whole list of things starting in her head she needs them to pick up.

She leans your crutch against the end of the bed just in case you might need it for an emergency. She hopes you’ll yell first, but you always have been stubborn. Being mostly bed-bound has only made that worse. 

“I’m going to go look through the things Ashley picked up.” She says, patting your leg gently. “Get some rest.” 

Christine leaves the door open a crack as she exits, wanting to give you a little privacy as you nap, or at least she hopes you’ll nap. It’s going to be a rough adjustment, and you’re going to need as much rest as you can get. 

“I’m assuming you’re Christine.” Ashley says, walking up to her. 

“I am.” She says, giving Ashley a smile. 

She can’t help but get lost in Ashley’s soft gaze for a moment. The Garrick siblings seem to share the same magnetic energy. There’s something almost ethereal about them. She could easily imagine them with glowing halos and angel wings. It’s almost like she’s being blessed with the opportunity to look upon her. She could spend an hour staring at Ashley’s face and not grow tired of looking at her.

“I picked up the items Kyle said you needed.” She says, motioning to the bags on the coffee table, pulling Christine out of her daze. “I couldn’t find the exact nutrient powder you asked for, so I got one that was as close as I could find.” 

Christine glances through the bags. She was thorough, getting at least two of everything. 

“I got warmer clothes for her too, since it can get chilly out here this time of year. Just some simple things for now until you guys get into town.” Ashley says. “I did some research too and I read that omegas like comforting things so I picked up some extra blankets and pillows” Ashley says, motioning to a couple bags sitting on the couch. “I also picked up this,” She pulls a stuffed dog from one of the bags, holding it up. “It was the softest one I could find. I thought it might help.” 

A small smile forms on Christine’s face, her heart fluttering in her chest from the sweet, thoughtful gesture. Ashley doesn’t even know you, nor did she know exactly what happened to you, and yet she went so far as to pick up some comfort items for you. You have nothing right now, only the borrowed clothes on your back. All of your belongings are still on base, all of the things that you had built to make your perfect nest. Would you want any of them still? Or have they been tainted by the events of the last few weeks? 

That Ashley thought to do this has warmth flooding Christine’s body. You can have some comfort now without having to wait for their trip to town. She almost feels the urge to cry. She wants to hug Ashley, thank her over and over for her kindness. Ashley has no idea how much her small act of kindness means, how much it's going to mean. 

A smile forms on Christine’s face as she stares at the stuffed dog. “It’s perfect.” 

You can hear it. 

In the distance, the quiet roar reaches your ears as you’re dragged from the sweet arms of sleep. It must be a dream, or perhaps the sedative is still clinging to your mind, making you imagine things. 

No. 

You’d know that sound anywhere. 

The effort to push yourself up to sit is a momentous one, every cell in your body protesting after a day of being moved and jostled. The last thing you want is to move right now, but you have to. 

The pain meds have done little to help.

The crutch at the end of your bed must be a thousand miles away as you sit there and stare at it. The ache in your body only increases as you become more and more aware of the pain, almost as if it can tell what it is your mind is planning. 

The door is cracked open, letting in a slit of light from outside. It’s dark in the room, the curtains pulled over the window. It’s a blessing compared to the bright yellow light outside the door. You welcome the darkness as your head begins to throb. You could call for assistance. You’d get more help than you needed. More help than you want. 

No. 

You need to do this. 

The effort it takes to get standing nearly sends you back onto the bed. The pain nearly blinds you as your feet touch the floor, your body leaning against the side of the mattress out of desperation. If you fall, you’ll never be alone again. You can’t afford that. You don’t want that. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

The breaths out of your nose are short and sharp as you reach for the crutch, fingers trembling in the effort to fight the pain threatening to blind you. You’re trembling like a leaf in a storm as your fingers finally wrap around the cool metal. The rubber bottom drags across the floor as you tug it over to you, holding it against your chest for a moment. 

Breathe. That’s what you need to do. Breathe. 

In and out. 

Nice and slow. 

The pain is only a memory. The pain is nothing. The memories forming at the edges of your mind will take over and wipe out the pain and the misery. You just have to be sure. You just have to be certain.

You push yourself upright using the crutch, tucking it under your arm. You should go back to bed. You should rest. 

No. 

You need to know. 

You need to be certain.

The first step you take nearly makes you sick. 

It’s like watching a baby deer walk for the first time, knees wobbling, feet shaking. You lean heavily on the crutch, your determination the only thing keeping you from tumbling to the floor in a heap. That might almost hurt worse than forcing yourself to stand upright. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

Inch by inch you move across the floor, silently grateful for the socks on your feet. They allow you to slide across the hardwood, but they also pose a threat. Slide too far and you’ll lose your feet. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

The determination and your desire for certainty is what keeps you sliding inch by inch across the floor towards that strip of blinding light in front of you. It’s hovering before you, threatening you. How do you know there’s not one of them standing guard, waiting for you to try and leave? You can’t know. You don’t have a clue what’s waiting on the other side of that door. It could be nothing. It could be your entire pack. 

Breathe. 

In and out. 

You take a moment at the door, resting your aching feet. Your body is throbbing from the effort to keep yourself upright, the sedative still numbing your brain and your movements. It’s like treading through honey, everything twice as hard as it should be. You can walk. You’ve done it before. You did it in the medical center. 

You can do it here. 

You use the crutch to push the door open more, your free arm still tucked in a sling to keep you from moving it. Reaching for it with that arm would have put you on the floor, would have caused more pain than you needed, would have made you fall. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

Breathe. 

The light burns. Explosions of yellows and whites erupt behind your eyelids as you screw them tight against the sudden onslaught. The sun is in the room, shining its rays directly into your sensitive eyes. Your stomach churns, your fingers tightening around the crutch so tight your knuckles begin to ache. The oppressive light makes you want to recede back into the darkness of the room behind you like a vampire shying away from the light of day. 

No. 

You won’t be defeated by the harsh artificial lighting. You need to know. 

You need to be certain.

The others are moving around. You can hear voices around the corner, voices upstairs with thudding footsteps. The air is thick with a mesh of scents, cleaning chemicals, and the burn of scent blocker. Your nose wrinkles at the sudden onslaught against your senses, your sedated brain making it all seem so much worse. 

You need to know. 

The hardwood floors continue and you use them to your advantage as you shuffle your way across the main area. The fire crackles as you pass, the popping of a log making you startle. Your feet slide again, your body pushing up against the crutch to hold yourself steady. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

Your target is dead ahead, a mile away but so close you can almost taste it. Just past the dining table and straight on till morning. 

Despite your snail’s pace, no one seems to notice you shuffling your way across the house. It should make you upset, the fact that none of them notice you moving around, but instead it makes you glad. They’d try to stop you if they noticed you, turn you around and shuffle you back to bed. Or worse, they’d carry you. 

How easily you could slip away, though. 

Well...in theory. 

Perhaps that’s why they ‘re not paying you any mind. How far could you really go in your current state? 

Why would you want to stray from the only safe space you have? 

The world outside is more dangerous with the state you’re in. Not just because of your injuries and your status, but also because you know Shepherd is still out there, and for all you know Graves is as well. 

He could be waiting right outside the door. 

No. 

They’d know. 

They’d protect you. 

They failed. 

You push past the fear in favor of certainty as you push forward, passing the dining table in your slow crawl towards the sliding glass door. 

It poses an entirely new threat as you stand before it, staring out the darkened glass. You have to get it open. Getting it open takes strength and you’re down to one hand that’s trying to keep you upright. 

You have to know. 

You have to be certain. 

You lean your weight on the crutch, ignoring the way it digs into your armpit as you reach for the handle. You click the lock, wrapping your fingers around the plastic before pulling. Your body screams with pain as you tug, the door sliding in the track as slowly as you had moved across the small living area. It’s almost as if it's mocking you. 

It’s open only as wide as you need to crutch your way through, doing your best not to knock your left shoulder against the frame. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

Breathe. 

You can smell it. 

The salty sea air invades your senses, slipping up through your nose and straight into your brain. Memories come flooding back of childhood vacations back when things were simpler. Back when nothing mattered but the sand and the water and avoiding getting chased by your brothers carrying the piece of seaweed they found. 

Polkadot bathing suits, bright red to be seen easily. Toes in the water, sand everywhere. The nap in the silent car home. 

How simple life was back then. How easy life was. 

Your heart aches for those days again. The days when you could exist without a care in the world, trusting your pack would keep you safe, trusting your family would care for you. Your mind yearns for that sense of safety and security again. 

The world is grey as you hobble across the porch, the grey seeming to go on forever. You missed it, the chill in the air, the gloomy grey overhead. How you yearned for the gloom of England while stuck in the heat of Texas. 

Anything is better than Texas. 

Your forward shuffle pauses at the edge of the deck, your eyes looking out into the grey. Your breath catches in your throat as you stare out into the distance, the ache in your chest intensifying. It blocks out the pain in your body, numbing you to everything else as you stand there, legs trembling from the effort of going the short distance from your room to the end of the porch. 

You can see it. 

Emotions swirl inside of you like a hurricane as you stare out where the grey water meets the grey sky in the line of the horizon. Those emotions threaten to choke you as you stand there trembling at the edge of the porch. There’s a breeze, a cold one that bites through the fabric of your sweatshirt and into the skin below, but you don’t care. 

You can’t care. 

Your legs shake from the exertion, the neverending exhaustion that’s settled deep into your bones. It’s not just a physical exhaustion, but a mental one as well. It’s been a long week. 

Only a week. 

So much has happened in a week. 

You want to sit. You want to sink down onto the porch and rest. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

There’s a pain in your chest as your breath catches in your throat. The emotions are whirling, tightening around your chest, squeezing your lungs until they feel like they might pop. 

Breathe. 

In and out. 

You needed certainty. You needed to know. 

You can hear it. You can smell it. You can see it. 

A single tear rolls down your cheek as you stare out at the sea. 

NEXT ->

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[bloodstainedsapphic]

lyss. lyssbug. i am on my hands and knees begging for you to write reader HARDCORE teasing ellie and getting poor baby so worked up...only to not give her what she wants. the greedy little hip thrust when she chases r's hand..her wetness seeping through her boxers OH I AM UNQELLLSLSLSLSLKWKWN please and thank you i owe you my life 💚

omg hiii plubug. i can feel the feralism pls 🫡 my take on flustering extreme!nerdy perv ellie.. hardly edited. you're welcome!

"can.. can you repeat that question? sorry-"

she wasn't quite getting it.

you had re-explained the same section for the millionth time to ellie williams, the nerdy, socially-stilted girl who'd come into your apartment this afternoon to try and make sense of the coursework from your upper-level sociology seminar.

for a girl so bright, it was like she'd short-circuited the second she stepped through your doorway. you had no clue what caused it.

not that she was much of a smooth talker any other time. in class or when you passed her in the common areas, she was all stammered, bashful greetings and dropped pens, making constant blunders by knocking over her water bottles or running straight into inanimate objects—you'd caught her apologizing to them like they had feelings. ellie’s usual stuttering had escalated into full-on, barely coherent blabbering the second the two of you sat down on your couch—shoulders brushing—going through the reading line by line. something about the set scene, the proximity, the way your voice dropped an octave when reading... had launched her into an entirely unprecedented level of fluster.

her thick-rimmed glasses slipped to the tip of her button nose, her rosy lips slightly parted. ellie's deep green eyes were unsubtly directed at your lips instead of the page, clearly entranced by something other than sociological intersections.

it wasn't the first time you caught her zoning out like that. you weren't oblivious. ellie was trying so hard to suppress whatever little crush had wormed its way into her chest, but she was terrible at hiding it.

and she was absolutely adorable, sat there in her cinematically dorkish spectacles. 

some of this fell on you, so keen to her antics to begin with. the loserishness definitely had its appeal… but there was more to her than meets the eye. you’d snuck a peek of a tatted arm under her rolled-up hoodie, her fit figure, a cute, firm butt. you could take a bite out of her.

you figured it wasn't entirely fair to let it slide without teasing her a little.

"what… would you say it means when these two groups culturally intersect?" you asked, voice soft, coaxing her back to the present.

ellie blinked, slow and dazed. she hadn't heard a word.

"ellie, are you listening?" you asked, though the answer was obvious. "you're off in space…"

that snapped her out of it. like a whip crack. she straightened her posture, eyes darting to yours with a flicker of panic like she was trying to figure out just how much you'd noticed of her wandering attention. 

without thinking, you reached up and gently pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose.

"there. that might help your sight," you said with a pleased little hmph.

ellie shifted on the couch, muttering, "right… erm, thanks…"

"alright, now, eyes on the book," you instructed, mock-stern, pointing to her face and guiding it back toward the page.

for a while, things went peacefully. ellie seemed to settle, at least for a stretch, finally receptive to your guidance. this subject came easily to you, and she kept reminding you of that.

"you're so good at this. i really appreciate you helping me," she'd said earlier. and then again. and again.

"thank you, els," you'd replied each time, the nonstop doting giving you a slightly inflated ego.

but eventually, the silence stretched on once more. no questions. no reaction. you leaned forward to point out a new concept—

—and sure enough, she wasn't looking at the book.

you sighed and looked up, catching her once again mid-stare. she really couldn’t help her urges, could she? this time, however, it was with a heavy focus on your top, the curves of your cleavage visible with how the scoop neck dipped slightly. 

how lewd of her, you thought. was the ellie williams actually a closeted horn-dog? the idea of it..didn't actually surprise you at all. it tended to be the shyest ones who harbored the raunchiest, ineffable perversions. 

"…ellie," you drawled, voice half-teasing, half-warning. "do you need something?"

she jolted upright, clearly trying to play it off, shaking her head profusely and turning to face you a bit more.

"s-sorry, i really don't mean to—"

you brought your finger to her lips before she could spiral into apologies.

"shush," you said, gentle. "ellie… i know what you're doing."

ellie’s amber freckles stood out sharply as her face flushed crimson, naturally full brows raised in anxious anticipation. she didn't want to assume what you meant, but her guilty expression gave her away.

"what?" she played dense. "it's just hard for me to get all of this. you're so patient, thank you—"

"no, no," you cut her off again. your hand slid up her arm, resting on her bicep, fingers curling slightly. a tender pressure. tacit reassurance.

ellie gulped.

"do you need something else, maybe?" you added, eyes not once leaving her. "a… motivator?"

you let the question hang there, teasing, open-ended—flirting with the girl who was clearly, hopelessly pining.

and yeah, you were picking up what she was putting down. you just knew she'd never be the one to say it first. 

you weren't even this bold typically. finding a girl far more timid than you seemed to embolden you in a way you'd never imagined for yourself. 

"ellie..can you lay back for me?" you continued, voice lowering into dulcet danger. your aura dripped with a flirtatious, syrupy, tempestuous sweetness, yet still giving her an out if she so needed.

but ellie, of course, obliged. there was no way in hell she’d say no to anything you asked of her. you said to jump? she’d ask how high. so she shuffled backward—pressing against the ragged cushions, back to the rickety armrest. she looked at you, silently questioning your intent.

you found yourself slowly tracing your fingertips against her jeans, studying how the old, relaxed denim hugged her body. the fit was slightly loose, which worked in your favor. 

"i've noticed your focus.. isn't where it should be," your pointer fingers mimicking a walk up her leg. "if we're going to get you a passing grade, i need your 110% effort."

in ellie’s mind, she could hardly comprehend what was happening—or what was about to go down. she’d been yearning for this moment, crushing on you for longer than anyone would regard as normal. really, the chance to come over and study had in itself felt like hitting the jackpot. getting to be this close to you, regardless of the reason, surpassed her wildest dreams. but now, your hand was working its way up her leg, and ellie found herself utterly awestruck at the fact. all she could do now was ditsily nod that she wanted you to keep going, more than anything, and so you did.

and then- fuck, she remembered one detail that could potentially derail your whole plan—she was wearing fucking dinosaur-printed boxers. 

oh, she was so embarrassed. her hand shot up to try and intercept your movements, a feeble attempt to stop what now felt like an impending disaster, but you swatted her fingers away with ease. a silent reprimand.  

you reached the buttons of her pants, pausing on them to look up with one more tentative check for consent. you caught a glimpse of trepidation in ellie’s eyes- a pitifully needy expression that gave you the confidence to pop the button open with a swift, single tug.

with the newfound freedom, you slid her jeans down, lifting her hips slightly. you couldn't help but notice the unmistakable pattern on her boxers. a teensy smirk came over your lips, but you kept your mouth shut. ellie saw your reaction, momentarily dying inside, but ultimately resigned to let this be the price to pay for having your hands on her. she’d simply accept that she’d be haunted by this moment for the next twenty years.

you trailed your fingers along the fabric first, glissading down her hips, pelvis, finally grazing her mound over her boxers. a wet patch had already formed, much to ellie's chagrin but to your delight. 

"needy, huh? i see why you need my help, can't let you go on like this huh.." you teased, ever so slightly caressing. ellie could feel her pussy throbbing through her boxers, just aching for direct contact before she flooded through to your fingers. you were more in tune than she gave you credit for; you found it almost precious, her sheer desperation for your titillations and sudden lavished attention. you were her aphrodisiac.

you, admittedly, got a bit worked up, feeling your own pussy pulse with every breathless whimper escaping ellie's lips, the moistness you felt through her fabric-covered cunt. you, worked up to the edge of her boxers again, tantalizingly dragging your fingers along the hem, feeling the tickle of her happy trail. you softly exhaled when ellie bucked up, so preemptive. poor girl. the situation was clearly dire, the way her mouth kept parting and her eyes teared up with such frenzied lust and you hadn't even made it down yet. this was way too fun. your coy smirk grew ear to ear as you finally snaked your hand inside her boxers, descending her trimmed auburn bush. 

ellie let out quivered fluxes of breath when your palmed her sopping heat, finally teasing her silken folds, middle and index fingers spreading her slippery lips to feel how aroused she was. ellie’s stomach was already fluttering, waves of excitement building. 

you didn’t let on that you were actively resisting the urge to fingerfuck her into oblivion. you oh-so-wished you could break this dorky girl, teach her things about your body and you learn every button to press on hers to melt her underneath you. but for now, you simply wanted to relish in her bucking hips and how she was trying to greedily get herself off on your hand. your wetted thumb pressed on her twitchy clit, moving in small, gentle circles around the clothed area, eliciting the most pitiful wail from ellie yet, a full body squirm paired with it. 

"fuck..this is what you really needed wasn't it, ellie?" you ask her, a slight mocking laugh following your words. "you didn’t want to study..came over here just to stare at my tits, hmm?" you taunt, the humiliated-yet-lustful look in ellie's eyes and the tide of wetness on your fingers answer enough. 

"oh god…" she choked in a gasp, eyes squeezing shut as you kept trailing her slit, not quite dipping inside her aching center. 

ellie truly was a sight for sore eyes like this, toned legs spread wide like a whore across your couch, splayed as much as she possibly could in her only half-shrugged-off jeans. her glasses had slid down to the tip of her nose again from how her head bobbled with each of your teasing strokes. face roseated and glowing, auburnish strands tugged from her already-messed-up bun. the nerd had become your personal porn star, and you couldn’t get enough of it.

with a surge of confidence, your other hand grips ellie's chin, hoisting her face to meet yours as you sultrily mutter your next instruction. 

“answer me. you wanna be my pretty little slut?" you asked, invoking a sly smile to ease her into the idea. 

"yes, yes, please," she begs without hesitation, stumbling over her own words. you comfortingly pat her cheek, then lowering your hand to firmly cup and fondle her clothed breast.

finally giving ellie what she so needed, you pushed your fingers into her cunt, the wet tightness of it pulling an involuntary moan from you that came in sync with hers.

"you feel so fucking good, baby… all worked up for me…are you even gonna last?" ellie, in a blissful haze, overwrought with pleasure, couldn’t even sense your words. she just kept doing what a neglected, horndog ellie knew best, trying to rhythmically grind herself into your hand as you sunk your digits further inside, curling deep within to hear her mewls of pleasure. 

“s’all for me..god, you’re gorgeous-“ you adopted a steady pace, spreading your fingers inside her spasming walls, to get her whole body trembling and roaring towards an impending release.

”ahh, aahh, fuck," she rambled dumbly, glasses clouded against her face thanks to hot breaths. her head was fully thrown back, a fist white-knuckling a cushion for dear life. what fucking luck. this perfect moment would fuel her fantasies for years to come. 

maybe perfect, but still incomplete. perhaps she’d gotten her hopes up too soon. 

listening to her jumbled words and sensing her getting close, a most wicked idea entered your mind. 

“so easy.. gonna cum on my fingers so fast yeah? just needed to be treated like a whore, yeah? oh…fuck-” you sucked air through your teeth while continually pumping your fingers in her at a languid, torturous pace. your condescension made ellie’s cunt flood, coating your hand and dribbling down her thigh. you salivated over how her walls clenched around your digits with every tease.  the deliciously obscene squelching sounds of ellie’s pussy getting wrecked on your fingers filled the room, mingling with your breathy moans in torrid harmony.

"so close aren't you, pretty girl?" you ask, increasing the vigor and depth of your pumps, causing ellie's back to arch up into your knuckles, angling as far as she could, trying to suck your fingers in. 

"yes- yes- yes-" she spewed, climax coiling tight, ready to unfurl. 

but you felt mean. 

your wrinkled fingers eased up, pulling from her soaked cunt, followed by a trail of dripping, creamy beads. ellie humped the air, not instantly registering the loss of your fingers. the building pressure inside her started to wane, glossy eyes gradually fluttering back open. ellie whinged as she realized what you had done, the extent of your cruelty settling in. ellie responded by lurching forward, head slumped against your shoulder without shame, whimpering in protest off your actions. she was hopelessly pliant, completely lost in her desire to finish on your fingers. you tittered, rubbing a tender hand on her back. “tsk, tsk… so mean of me, i know..” you kissed her hair. it was all too much. you wanted to coo reassurances, leave her hanging, but her restless, fucked-out state caused a twist in your stomach. to be desired so fervidly made your own thirst insatiable. 

betraying your own willpower, your hand gradually reached her dripped-through boxers again, pressing a feather-light swirl on her swollen bud triggering ellie to mindlessly rut, straining herself to roll against your hand.

you giggled in how sensitive she was to your attention. “you just look so gorgeous on edge like that.. how could i possibly let you cum?”

it was so beautifully pathetic. the captivating way the sheepish, nerdy ellie you knew had fallen from grace and crumbled under your every whim.. you could keep toying with her forever. but you were capable of bargaining, a charitable vixen.

“how about this..” gingerly dragging your hand away once more, settling purchased on ellie’s waist to keep her upright and ensure she heard you.

“convince you me you understood a lick of your coursework, i’ll let you cum.. you help me cum... sound good sweetheart?”

you’d never seen such a quick learner as after you motivated ellie with a prize such as that. maybe you’d hold up your end of the deal. maybe. 

[holyblonded]

return of media day | stargirl

pairings: alexia putellas x teen!reader

summary: you are about to drop your first signature cleats with nike and they decide to do a joint shoot with alexia

warnings: rfef mentioned 😐

notes: this was extremely cute y’all. it’s a bit short but i couldn’t think of anything else to add. tell me what else yall want to see with this series!!

You were already half-asleep in the car on the way to the shoot, having just landed back in Spain after international break. Nike hadn’t given you too many details about today, just that it was important and you had to be there.

So naturally, you showed up in a hoodie, sweatpants, and slides, looking like you had just crawled out of hibernation. You walked onto set, rubbing your eyes, only to freeze in place.

“There’s no way,” you muttered, blinking rapidly.

You turned away, rubbed your eyes again, then looked back to confirm you weren’t hallucinating.

“ALE!”

Alexia barely had time to react before you full-speed sprinted at her and jumped, forcing her to catch you mid-air. Alexia let out a surprised grunt as you crashed into her, legs wrapping around her waist like some kind of overly excited koala.

Her first instinct was to scold you, but an involuntary smile spread across her face as she held you. “You’re so dramatic.” She huffed, adjusting her grip to keep you from sliding to the floor. “You do realize I’m not a crash pad, right?”

You ignored her, squeezing tighter. “I knew I wasn’t hallucinating.”

“You thought you were hallucinating?” Alexia chuckled, finally setting you down.

“I’ve been awake since five a.m., Ale. I didn’t even know where I was going today. Nike just shoved me into a car and told me to smile.” You pulled back slightly, holding her shoulders as if to make sure she was actually real. “And then I see you? My brain short-circuited.”

Alexia smirked. “Understandable. Seeing me is a life-changing experience.”

You lightly smacked her arm. “Don’t make me regret missing you.”

By now, everyone on set had stopped what they were doing, watching your reunion with varying degrees of amusement. A cameraman filming the behind-the-scenes content caught the whole thing, likely already thinking about how to turn it into a dramatic slow-motion edit.

“Wait—” Alexia suddenly furrowed her brows, looking around the studio. “Why are you here?”

“Why am I here?” you repeated, blinking. “Why are you here?”

Alexia gave you a deadpan look. “I work with Nike.”

“Well, so do I,” you shot back, placing your hands on your hips.

A pause. Then, ever so slowly, the realization dawned on both of you.

“Oh my god,” Alexia exhaled, eyes widening.

“No way,” you whispered dramatically.

“You’re the shoot?” Alexia asked, pointing at you.

“And you’re part of it?” you gasped, pointing right back.

“Did neither of you read your emails?” one of the Nike reps finally interjected, rubbing their temples.

You and Alexia turned to them, completely unapologetic.

“Absolutely not,” you said in unison.

Alexia shook her head with a fond smile, draping an arm over your shoulders. “Well, I guess this just got a lot more interesting.”

You grinned. “And a lot more chaotic.”

The Nike rep sighed, muttering something about “athletes and their aversion to reading”, before motioning for the crew to resume setting up.

Meanwhile, you leaned into Alexia, still grinning like an idiot. “Hey, Ale?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you miss me?”

Alexia rolled her eyes, pulling you closer. “Unfortunately.”

The interview started off smooth. Professional. Standard media day questions.

The crew had set up the cameras, the lights were bright, and the atmosphere was lighthearted. You and Alexia sat side by side, answering questions about the new cleats, the upcoming season, and your goals.

Then, someone asked, “How would you describe each other’s playing styles?”

Alexia hummed, tilting her head thoughtfully. You turned to look at her, fully expecting a compliment, maybe even some poetic analysis of your skills.

Instead, she casually dropped, “Estrella is… chaotic.”

Your mouth dropped open. “Excuse me?”

“But effective,” she added, holding up her hands like that softened the blow. “You never know what she’s going to do next. It’s terrifying.”

You scoffed. “Wow. That’s crazy. You know, I was gonna be nice, but now?” You turned to the camera, shaking your head in mock disappointment. “Alexia is a control freak.”

Alexia gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to her chest like you had personally insulted her entire family. “I am not a control freak.”

“Oh, you so are.”

“I just like order,” she defended, crossing her arms.

“You demand order,” you corrected, smirking. “Everything has to go exactly how you see it in your mind, and if someone does something unpredictable, you short-circuit for a second before trying to control the chaos.”

Alexia opened her mouth, then closed it, then sighed. “Okay, maybe. But that’s a good thing.”

You snorted. “Yeah, yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night, Capitana.”

Alexia narrowed her eyes playfully before turning back to the camera. “Well, since we’re being honest, I stand by what I said, chaotic, unpredictable, borderline reckless—”

“Hey!”

“—but effective,” she repeated, laughing.

You turned to the interviewer, pointing at Alexia. “This is why she stresses me out.”

Alexia raised an eyebrow. “You stress me out.”

The media crew was loving it. The interviewer barely held in their laughter.

“Alright, so if you had to pick one word to describe each other’s playing style?” they prompted.

Alexia didn’t even hesitate. “Unhinged.”

You let out a dramatic gasp. “That is so rude!”

“You’ve literally nutmegged someone while tying your shoe,” Alexia shot back. “I rest my case.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “Fine. If I’m unhinged, then you’re bossy.”

Alexia smirked. “I am your captain, you know.”

“And I am your problem,” you teased back.

The media crew burst out laughing as Alexia groaned, throwing her head back.

“You are a menace.”

“And you love me.”

Alexia sighed, shaking her head with a smile. “Unfortunately.”

The interview wrapped up, but the banter continued as you walked off set.

“Chaotic?” you muttered. “That’s crazy. I bring excitement.”

“You bring stress,” Alexia corrected.

“Same thing.”

“Absolutely not.”

You smirked. “Admit it, though. You love playing with me.”

Alexia gave you a side glance, shaking her head. “I tolerate it.”

You grinned, throwing an arm around her shoulder. “I’ll take it.”

Everything was going smoothly—well, as smoothly as anything involving you ever could—until it was time to officially start the photoshoot for your signature cleats.

You stood in the center of the set, cleats laced up, lights shining, the Nike crew prepped and ready to go. Just as they were about to start, you clapped your hands together.

“Wait, hold on,” you said, making everyone pause. “Before we do this, we need to discuss the name of my cleats.”

Alexia, sitting off to the side watching, sighed deeply, already sensing disaster.

The Nike reps exchanged nervous glances.

“Alright, so,” you began confidently, “I was thinking we call them The Menace Ones.”

A heavy silence settled over the room.

“No,” Alexia said immediately.

“Okay, okay,” you continued, undeterred. “The Chaos Touch?”

“No.”

“The Ankle Breakers?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Nutmeg 3000?”

“Please stop talking,” Alexia groaned.

You turned to the Nike crew, hoping for support, but they all seemed too afraid to challenge Alexia’s authority.

“Fine, fine,” you huffed dramatically. “I’ll be normal about it.”

Alexia narrowed her eyes, clearly unconvinced.

For the next twenty minutes, you behaved. You posed, dribbled, and shot dramatic looks at the camera like a professional. Everything was going perfectly.

Then came the first break and you disappeared.

Five minutes later, you returned, dressed head to toe in an Adidas tracksuit. The entire room fell into stunned silence.

Alexia’s eyes widened in pure disbelief as she stared at you. “No.”

“What?” you said innocently, adjusting the collar of the jacket. “We’re on break.”

“TAKE THAT OFF,” Alexia demanded, already storming toward you.

“I just thought I’d switch things up—”

Before you could finish, she grabbed your arm and started dragging you toward the changing room.

“You are going to get us both killed,” she muttered through gritted teeth.

“You have to admit it’s a little funny,” you said, barely suppressing your grin.

Alexia shot you a glare. “You are lucky Nike likes you.”

“And you are lucky I love you enough to go change.”

Alexia sighed heavily, releasing you with one final warning look. “If you come out in Puma next, I’m leaving.”

The camera zooms in on your cleats as you spin them in your hands, running your fingers over the details. The black leather shimmers slightly under the studio lights, gold speckles running along the sides like stars scattered across the night sky. The laces are a deep navy, and the sole glows with a metallic silver finish. A rich purple fades into the black near the heel, blending seamlessly like the sky at dusk.

You smile softly, tilting the shoe toward the camera.

“These are the Estrella 001s—my first signature boots with Nike,” you say, voice filled with quiet pride. “The name comes from my nickname, Estrella, which means ‘star’ in Spanish. But it’s more than that.”

You turn the boot over, showing the gold lettering on the back heel tab, where Estrella 001 is printed vertically in a clean script.

“For me, stars have always meant guidance. I used to look up at them when I felt lost, like they were the only things that stayed constant. They remind me of my past, my struggles… everything that made me me.”

The camera pans over the subtle red and yellow stitching near the tongue of the cleat.

“This is for where I come from. Barcelona, Spain,” you continue. “I might not play for Spain anymore, but it’s still my home. It’s where I fell in love with football. Where I met the people who shaped me. I’ll never forget that.”

You flip the boot back over, running your thumb over the inside, where a tiny phrase is stitched in white.

“It says, ‘Siempre pa’lante.’ Always forward. That’s something Ale taught me when I was going through a tough time. I didn’t always believe it, but she did. And now? Now I do too.”

You set the cleat down and glance toward the camera, a small smile playing on your lips.

“But I wouldn’t be here without my family. My real family.”

Your eyes flick over to Alexia, standing off-camera.

“When Ale took me in, she gave me something I didn’t think I’d ever have again. A home. A place to belong. Someone who loved me without conditions.” You pause, voice thick with emotion. “She didn’t have to, but she did. And I’ll never be able to thank her enough for that.”

The camera smoothly shifts toward Alexia, who is very obviously blinking back tears, her lips pressed together tightly as she tries (and fails) to hold it together.

You grin. “Are you crying?”

She sniffs, shaking her head. “No.”

You smirk, standing up and walking over. “She’s crying.”

“I’m not—”

Before she can finish, you wrap your arms around her waist, pulling her into a tight hug. She exhales sharply, but her arms immediately come up to hold you close.

The camera catches the soft, warm moment between you two.

“You took me in,” you murmured. “You didn’t have to. But you did.”

Alexia’s arms tightened around you. “You were mine the second I saw you.”

You squeezed her tighter, voice thick. “Thank you for loving me, Ale.”

She kissed your forehead, whispering softly. “Siempre pa’lante, mi niña.”

[rabid-invertibrate]

Um actually Vander isn't fully gone (the complete proof) (HEAVY SPOILERS)

spoilers for the entirety of arcane s2 obviously watch it if you haven't or don't if you care about your mental health

Although we see his memories/emotions get acetoned away in s2e7s final scene, and the following battle with his kids has him attacking them pretty rabidly.

But wait...

Tumblr compressed this image to hell, so you'll just have to trust me.

If you look closely as he lunges at Vi and Jinx, a tear appears in his right eye (not previously seen)

We can see it better after Jinx hits him with her rocket.

After Vik gets Jayced we see these tears on full display. The size of the tears is significantly larger, so we can assume they were spilled as Warwick corrupted the girls with void magic, indicating some amount of awareness.

Of course immediately after the screencap above Warwick attacks Vi, Jinx does a side slam and the father daughter duo barely get caught by Vi's gauntlet

Jinx and Vander plummet to their presumed deaths (they are both alive, but for drama’s sake, let's pretend). Vander/Warwick doesn't attack Jinx despite her being entirely in his grasp.

He could shred her right then and there. A mindless beast would, he doesn't.

Vander holds Jinx gently, he doesn't dig into her flesh, he just holds her and lets Jinx cup his face.

We see a flashback of Vander watching the girls sleep. Since he is the only conscious one in this situation this implies is that it is not Vi's or Jinxes memory, only Vanders.

Reader, you might think, well how the hell does he remember anything didn't he get mind wiped an episode ago. To that I respond I don't fucking know, but arcane is VERY intentional with its details and nothing else makes sense.

Jinx escapes, this isn't even subtle. She does so BEFORE the bomb blows. In no universe would Jinx break Warwicks grip, hell, she's toast if any stronger character grabs her (fe. Ambessas bodyguard). Do you know what that implies??

Since Warwick wasn't incapacitated at that point, HE WILLINGLY LET HER GO. He used the last shreds of humanity to give his daughter a second chance at life.....

I AM NOT OK

Below there's the more speculative part I'm not sure of.

Warwick, unlike Jinx, didn't escape into the air ducts. But we've seen him survive significant explosions in the very same episode, moreover he survived Isha blowing him up with the force of 3 magic orbs, and yet he lived.

This can only imply that Warwick/Vander survived. Of course the previously mentioned flashback shows Vander blowing a candle out which can symbolize his life ending, but I'd say it's more likely a subtle way of showing the destruction of their family unit as it was.

Edit: some people are calling this theory copium I'd agree at first but now that I thought about it more Vanders fate is objectivelly worse than death so i dont know if me being potentially right is a good thing.

(COMPLETE COPIUM BELOW)

I am aware this is complete copium yet maybe Jinx took him wherever the fuck she went on that airship to heal him up while sparing Vi from fighting their unkillable werewolf dad over and over again. Vander is still in there are proved by this long ass post, and I think Jinx knows that. I don't think she could give up on Vander like she wanted Ekko and Vi to give up on her.

□

Cool additional fact pointed out by commenter:

[fillinforlater]

On her jeans (Part 2 of 3)

Male Reader x Kim Minji, Pham Hanni (ft. Jisoo, Seungyeon, Seolhyun)

Length: 8018 words

Tags: You know what? How about no tags. Yes, really. This is very similar to the rest of the On her series, especially cuz it's a Part 2. Go have fun, I know you will have it ;)

TW: rushed editing, a terrible friend, nothing but sex matters

Inspiration: @sooyadelicacies

Credit: @sooyadelicacies for being a fantastic co-writer!

-Part 1- -Part 2- -Part3-

(A/N: This fic has it all: from three cameos to rapid fire scene changes to betrayal to an all-time threesome combo. Have fun with these grown-ass women!)

"What the fuck, Unnie?" 

"What?" Kazuha says, not even bothering to turn her attention to the young girl. 

"He… I—" 

The ballerina then turns around to see tears forming in Minji's eyes. This is how so many of them must have looked when the realization came crashing over them like a merciless tsunami. Did I really just do this? Is it worth it? Will he ever have enough?

"As he should." Kazuha's expression turns cold, uncaring.  "I did exactly what you asked me to. I sent you to him. It looks like you weren't good enough for him. That's on you. If you can't stick it out, maybe you aren't cut out for all of this." 

"What—do you really feel that way? Is that why you do it?" Minji sobs.

"At the start sure, but now I know: he is my whole world, all that I could need or want. 

“I love him," Kazuha says with unflinching conviction.

"Really?" Minji shouts and Kazuha quickly shuts her up with a palm on her sore lips.

"Yes, really, and if you screw this up, I swear, I'll make your life a living hell." Kazuha looks around the long corridors of the Hybe building. She then removes her hand from Minji's lips and unexpectedly dives straight to the younger’s ear. "You can be a good girl for him, call him Master or Daddy and get your brains fucked out—but don't ever get in between us. When the time is right, I'll be the only one for him.

"Is that clear?"

"Y-yes, Zuha-unnie."

"Good. Now, what did he say you need to do?"

#

A seemingly never ending, vicious cycle starts for Minji. She works her butt off, dances the entire day, goes through hours of meetings, recordings—and instead of going to bed every day, she takes every conceivable measure to go straight to your office. 

She walks in, lays on the table and waits for you to finish a call. At first, it's a mystery who you are talking to, but she finds out that it's all kinds of producers, managers, executives and most importantly—idols.

"So how is everything going?" Jisoo dreamily asks from the other end of the line.

"Well, I almost fucked up,” you respond in all honesty and drop your pants. “I almost slipped and told one of the new prospects they reminded me of you." 

Jisoo's face softens and smiles. It’s like you can hear every movement of her facial bones. "Oh? Care to tell me who? Is she prettier than I was back then?" 

"Impossible," You say sincerely. 

"You're sweet, but don't think you're off the hook for that little quick tryst you had with Jennie. Rosie's sad about it. You need to make it up to her. And you need to make it up to me too." Jisoo says the last part a bit forcefully and you imagine scrunches on her face to show you her seriousness.

"I know,” you sigh and rub a finger along Minji’s throat and cheeks without thinking about her or the incredible sensation of her skin. “I will, I will. I miss you." 

"I know you do. You tell me every time we talk. I miss you too, Daddy.” That’s always how Jisoo finishes a long distance conversation. She wishes you were there, with a hand in her panties. She wants to moan your name into your ear, your actual name, and not scream it out when rubbing one out under some hotel bed sheets. But Jisoo will have to wait.

The moment you finish the call, you start to pull out your hard cock and press it into Minji’s wide open mouth. She makes sure to keep her lips moisturized at all times, but she can never be ready for the strong impact of your hips hitting her head and rocking her back and forth on the desk.

With every single one of those meetings, Minji's clothes become more revealing, to the point she gasps whenever she sees herself in a public mirror. People on the train start to watch her round ass bounce in short shorts, then in very short shorts, then in a miniskirt.

Minji wonders how she is able to push through this. Her sleep gets shorter, the training rougher, the meetings more intense—worst of all, you become more violent too. It all reaches a peak when Minji is unable to shower because otherwise she would be too late. 

In her dirty, sweaty state, she sprints to your office and bursts through the door, just to be greeted by the sight of you roughly fucking—destroying—the huge ass of a familiar idol.

"You are fuck-ing late!" you growl and slam the bendover idol against the desk a final time. Minji hurries around the wooden monstrosity to get into her, by now well-known position. It is then that she realizes who you are fucking: Seungyeon, the former dancer of CLC.

"What are you?" you shout at Seungyeon and smack her ass hard.

"Your stupid, bubble-butt bitch, Master," she wails in a weird mix of pain and euphoria. She gets a tap on said bubble-butt with your cock.

"How do you want it, bitch?"

"Harder, Master."

"What are you going to get?"

"What Master wants."

"Exactly."

Minji lets her head hang off the edge, only a few inches away from where you annihilate Seungyeon's dignity and her asshole with your inches. Both you and the idol grunt like animals in heat, but for her it sounds blissful, for you more like work.

And so Minji lays there, drenched in sweat, and the weirdness of being forced to watch other people fuck never really fading. It's stranger the more she has seen or admired an idol. No matter who, everyone she saw has folded to you, and Seungyeon might be the most submissive. How she degrades herself and begs for you to ruin and spit on her—

"Good bitch, keep your ass gaping!"

Suddenly, the cock is on Minji's face and she looks past it in shock. Your expression, though a bit exhausted, remains stern.

"Open fucking wide, Minji," you command and Minji gulps. This cock has just been in Seungyeon's ass, maybe for hours, and though it looks spotless, she can't bring herself to—

Minji gasps and that is enough. You push against her lips, into her mouth and start to use it to 'clean' yourself—really, it is just training for Minji to trust you and accept your commands.

Though her first reaction was a gag of disgust, Minji has to admit to herself quickly that Seungyeon's ass on your cock tastes great. It's an embarrassing secret which she will never tell anyone.

You switch between the holes a couple more times before creaming Seungyeon. While Minji has her final cleaning session, you order the older idol to clean Minji's feet and calves off sweat.

No hesitation, Minji realizes, as Seungyeon does not leave out an inch of her skin.

Seungyeon isn't the only one showing complete devotion to you and your every order. You've had a few other idols over before or after Minji's throat-stretching. The young soon-to-be idol knew them, but they weren't the stars yet she saw in your profile list. The thought that you might have been bluffing with controlling the likes of Blackpink, aespa or Red Velvet crossed her mind, but they faded whenever she thought of Kazuha's success.

She wants that too, no, Minji wants to pass Kazuha and so she comes back to you, no matter how hard the companies’ training is fucking her. Then finally comes the day—actually, the day before the day. 

The not-yet NewJeans member lays on your table. She returned from the final pre-debut meeting and was ready for you to quickly walk in and fuck her face, but you never came. For endless hours, the entire fucking night, Minji had to lay there and wait. She could've left at any time, but the gravity of this situation, this presumed test, pulled her down to the flat, wooden surface. 

No matter how uncomfortable it got, she did not stand up. You could be around the corner at any second. The thought of her giving up right as you walk in gave Minji a weird mixture of fear and arousal, further amplified when she had to keep herself from falling asleep. A hand in her soaked panties, Minji played the fantasy out in her head:

You would walk in and find her asleep. Angry by her inability to follow orders and service her Master, you decide to punish her. When you find her panties wet, the desk covered in girl juice, you wouldn't hesitate to plunge into Minji's tight, virgin cunt and fuck her awake. It would hurt, but Minji wouldn't stop cumming!

She can't stop cumming, her fingers rub her clit to completion and now real juice runs down your desk. Minji is wide awake, but an hour later, she does it again, again, again, until you finally enter the room. Casually, as if Minji isn't completely spent and almost fully naked on your work desk.

The sparkle in her eyes is priceless. Out of all the crazy shit you pulled on this formerly innocent virgin, this was the task that broke her. You don't know the exact moment, but you will never forget this moment where you see her orbs and know that she is past her prostitute stage.

"This is actually impressive," you say with a coy smile while gently caressing Minji's forehead. "I see you... had fun last night?"

"Sorry, Master," Minji carefully apologizes and kisses your hand. "I made a mess."

"Don't worry, I'll call someone to clean it later. Now, get on your knees and show me what you have learned."

She is dizzy, barely able to stand, but luckily, Minji's place is at your feet, hands wrapped around your length. Her strokes are soft, careful, and she does not wait to use her tongue on you. After a minute, she sees the impatience in your look and uses her mouth. Quickly it’s wrapped around your tip and for the first time ever, Minji fucks her face on your cock.

"Oh, fuck!" you exclaim. There is some actual joy in that, especially when you can lazily put Minji's hair in a makeshift ponytail and watch her go down on your crotch in surprisingly quick succession. "This is good, this is fucking—great!

"Hold still."

Your heart pumps like crazy, but it's nothing compared to your hips which start to obliterate Minji's throat. Your cock bulges her visibly and she starts to shake. Usually, she'd have her teeth at spots where they don't belong, but at long last, she has learned. 

She takes it well, like a slut should. Not yet one of your perfect sluts however. It's all a bit rushed; her debut, the training, the stretching. Considering this, she is definitely good and her gags sound delicious. 

You pull out of her mouth. Minji triest to catch her breath, instead catches three of your fingers which you also use to fuck her mouth while locking eyes. The salty tears that stream from hers look so delicious and you love how, no matter how many chokes you force out of her, there is no fight or flight response. She takes it.

"Become sloppy, slut, get your drool out. I want to see you become a mess for your Master!"

Minji twitches. She is dazed, your fingers become glazed; then an avalanche spurts forth, of more tears and drool that starts to cover her chin and stain your floor. You want more, so you replace your fingers with your cock and fuck her throat again, never slowly, only hard and fast. At this point, the poor girl beneath you is dehydrated and the pool on her thighs and the tiles excessive. You stop.

"Fuck, this is what I mean. This is how you suck cock, Minji."

"G-glad you l-like it—Master."

"Go clean up your mess."

"Yes, Master."

When Minji goes down to lick and suck her saliva from the floor, you rest your shiny, polished shoe on her cheek and bask in the faint sun, dawning right before your office window.

"You will go home and sleep," you order firmly. "The only contact we will have is when you send me a video of you masturbating in your debut panties. Send me those panties in the mail, and you'll soon lift your first music show trophy."

Lean down after Minji has collected all the slick and press an unmistakable love bite right under her right breast. Minji mewls as you do so.

"The-they'll probably try to hide the mark, Master."

"Good." Pat her head. "No one can know what happened here."

"Of course, Master."

"You've been a good girl, Minji. Now go out there and become a bigger star than you could've ever dreamed of."

"Thank you, Master."

#

Months go by where Minji is mostly a concept for you, some asset to be discussed in meeting with your connections in HYBE. Rarely did she send a direct message to you—except for the video you asked for. It's nice that she didn't totally forget about you. After a busy day that calls for vacation and a nice, warm pussy on your cock, you turn on the TV to watch the most important year-end award show. 

A quick scroll down your contact list, you pick someone you know is nearby, obedient and definitely warm. The calls with Seolhyun are never longer than ten seconds, because she knows she's got to be there for her Daddy.

"You ever miss this?" you ask her when she sits down on your cock, panties still around her ankles, jacket still hanging from her shoulders.

"The awards? Sometimes, but—oh fuck!” Seolhyun is interrupted by you thrusting upwards while you care more for the TV than her. “Yes, more Daddy. They are nothing compared to your cock, your touch, your love!" 

Seolhyun tightens when she moans these words and you give her more of your touch, your thrusts, your cock. Soon she is bouncing in rhythm with it and begs for you to rub her clit. You won’t do so yet, would be boring if she’d get all the things that make her cum so easily.

"What do you think of her, Seolhyun?” You nod towards the screen as it captures Minji in all her beauty and on stage charisma. “Think she can capture the nation's heart like you once did?" 

"Minji, right? I think so."

That is the first time Minji has been in your sight since when her face was pressed to the floor. She looks like a proper star, close to being a super star (their next song will guarantee it) and her attitude reflects that. Don't touch me, I'm better than you, get out of my way, who even are you? - you imagine how she feels towards these other, lesser known people around her. 

Minji's dream came true and you were the pixy dust. Now you deem it the right time to get a hold of her. In between comebacks, right after all the award shows, she will have no excuses. Time to pay up, you text her, with a location, time and date while your finger disappears in Seolhyun’s asshole.

#

The day comes and you've checked into your favorite spa-hotel with excitement. The security and privacy here are top notch, or at least they are for you. See, it’s all about connections and here you have the best connections and can make sure that no rumors spread and that all information comes to you in no time. Minji will be here shortly and you've already painted the pictures of her naked body in your head, scenes where she undresses, spreads her legs and folds, begs for you to part her—

You hear the door open. From your seated position on the bed, you look expectantly at the entrance to the bedroom which Minji finds shortly after, her fluffy, thick jacket already falling from her shoulders.

"Hello, Master," she sultrily says with a smile. You reciprocate it.

"I see you've been doing great," you skip the greeting and walk over to her. A gentle push and the jacket fully falls off. Minji's outfit underneath is surprisingly thin for this season; there could be snowfall outside any day now and she runs around in a white crop and skinny denim.

"Those jeans look good on you." Stare down at her eyes while you check the quality of those mentioned jeans by fondling her butt, then her thighs and lastly her crotch. "Very expensive, HYBE is already paying you?"

"It's all the ads we do," Minji quickly responds, her breath halted while she does the unthinkable and moves your hand away from her crotch. "I... I never thought it would work so quickly."

"Yeah, it feels surreal, almost too quickly," you say with careful annoyance, unsure how to judge Minji's hand on your wrist holding you back from getting to feel more of her body.

"I couldn't have done it without you, Master, thank you very much~"

"You see, Minji..."

Her shoulders in your firm grasp, you move Minji to the next wall and position her in such a way that she is trapped and your knee is able to gradually push up against her covered pussy. The young girl tries to resist, she is suddenly flustered, oh how this should remind her of her success.

"... no one was ever this successful without a big commitment. Your commitments until now were nothing."

"Tha-that's why I'm here. Master, I'll suck your cock as much as you want, I'll let you deepthroat me hard, even for the entire night!"

You scoff and give Minji's cheek a quick, small slap. Your knee has now become the only pillar that keeps her upright. She has to balance and rub her slightly moistened folds on them so as to not to fall over.

"Sucking? Deep throating? Oh you're still so naive. No. You, Minji… belong to me. All of you, which means any hole. You are mine to use however I want."

"Wha—no!" She puts a hand on her cheek and looks at you with puppy eyes that beg so pathetically, like the thought that you took this deal seriously is a shocking reveal. You roll your eyes at her and find the top button of her jeans, but Minji starts to fight back with a loud, whiny voice.

"No, Master, you don't understand! Un-unlike all those other idols, I'm... I'm still a virgin. I don't want to lose it now, not here, not—"

"That is not up to you!"

Your shout halts time and space, only Minji's facial expression matters. She looks honest, absolutely in dread that it might happen at not the moment she wants it to. She cannot fathom giving you or anyone that control, she wants it special and precious and all those nonsense illusions. It's gut wrenchingly annoying but you will not go too far to break her now; you're too fond of her for that. 

Call it your weakness and curse you for that.

"We had a deal."

"I-I know."

"And you don't want to fulfill it?"

"I'm sorry, Ma-Master, please don't—"

"Then offer me something equally valuable." Minji looks at you in confusion. You drop her from the wall and hand her your phone. "Put in the number of someone whose virginity I can take. They have to be your sacrifice, your warrantor, and they have to agree to the same contract.

"You will then come with her to me and will watch how I take her virginity. You will watch every fucking pump I put into her pussy. She will testify, she will call me Master and she will love it. That's your only way, you better bring me someone."

Minji clutches the cell phone, her life-line, her lever to the trolley problem, except the train that was about to hit her can only be directed at another girl.

"And Minji,” you add in controlled yet uncontrollable rage. “I want her here, now. I want someone worthy of my time and touch. Or else. You will call them and then you will be on your knees sucking my cock while we wait."

Sweat comes pouring down Minji's forehead. You can hear the inner workings of her brain scramble, trying to find someone she can push in between you and her. There is no submission to you and there is no urge to flee and break your deal. 

Minji genuinely tries to sell you someone. Despicable, everything for success.

"D-do you know Hanni?" she suddenly stutters, quietly, ashamed but her fingers are already dialing up her friends number.

"I have never met her." You laugh in disbelief and turn your back to Minji. "You're really going to sell your bandmate? Are you not friends?"

"I—she's the only one I know who is a virgin but not... not... not unwilling."

You cock your eyebrow and listen to Minji's call which is surprisingly short. No mention of you or your arrangement, just the location and some details. Definitely no one is allowed to know of this and yes, Hanni has to be swift.

Minji ends the call and you immediately throw her to the ground, her head on the cushions of the nearby bed, your belt already loose, a hand on your pants.

"Pull them down and open your fucking mouth." Minji does so, the shock in her eyes is wonderful when you push past her lips and against the back of her throat in one go. Violent choking. "You are terrible, the worst friend, but at least you know how to make that mouth-pussy of yours work. Go on! Fucking use your tongue."

Minji starts to gag, trying to adjust to your cock, not realizing you weren't even fully hard yet. You never were with her. 

"Good, all the way. Use your tongue and saliva, let me fucking feel it."

You kick off your trousers and put more force in your hips so that your long shaft may fill Minji's deepest depths. It pushes out a lot of saliva, a waterfall that tumbles down her chin and covers her top. From your point of view you may not see it, but you know that Minji's aroused nipples poke through her bra and show that no matter how hard you fuck her face or belittle her, she's yours.

Minji's mind shall only be occupied with satisfying you, so even her still lacking tongue and lips do their best to suck you from tip to base—you make sure she never slacks by pistoning in and out of her.

After about 30 minutes of slowly thrusting in and out of here and replying to texts on your phone, you receive a message from the hotel staff that someone has arrived and come to see you. Minji tries to tap on your leg, indicating she wished to be freed of this position. You shake your head, no. 

"Oh, you don't want your bandmate to see you like this? That's not an option."

The sound of a door opening echoes through the hotel room and Minji panics, flailing wildly, her eyes tearing up and begging, begging so well—maybe she can finally grasp what she has gotten her friend into—

"Hello? Minji, are you here? Is everything okay?"

—but she still has so much to learn. Smack her cheek a final time, loud enough for Hanni to gasp at the front door. Before she can enter the bedroom, you pull out of Minji's mouth and push her towards the door. 

"Minji?" Hanni asks again and rushes towards her. Minji stops her, both of them shriek in shock. "Oh my Gosh, Minji, it is you! You scared me!"

"I-I'm sorry, I—"

"You look... messy. Is everything alright? I'm sorry if I took too long, you sounded so sad and terrified."

"Hanni, I," Minji stutters, hesitates, maybe even contemplates. It all makes her seem as if she has a heart and does not want to use Hanni to keep her virginity, but deep down everyone has to know that she is not a good person. No one would sell their friend for something like this. Minji is cold hearted when it comes to her career and things she believes she rightfully owns. "I have to ask something crazy of you."

"Okay? Look, you need to calm down first, maybe clean your face up and then we can talk ab—"

"Hanni, please." You hear some uncertain steps, as if someone is almost falling over and is ultimately pressed to a wall. You hear a wet sound, then a moan. Your cock is going crazy at all the possible things that might happen right around the corner and later in this bed. "Do you trust me?"

"Why did you kiss me, Minji?"

"Do you trust your leader?"

"Yes, of course. I'm a bit scared though, what have you gotten into?" Hanni's voice is full of concern and so is her face which you see for the first time when Minji guides her into the bedroom, arms around Hanni's tiny waist.

Hanni is in complete shock. 

"Minji, what is this? Who is this man?" You still have your pants down and cock out. 

Unfazed, you smile at the girl. "Minji, tell your friend what you did."

"Have you never wondered," Minji starts right away and tightens her hold on the younger band member. "Why so much changed before our debut, why the success was imminent, why it didn't stop? Have you never questioned all the blessings we received?"

"I-I... what was I supposed to think?" Hanni weakly laughs and tries to avoid the sight of your erection, but she can't because Minji is slowly inching her closer to it. "We are in a gr-great company, smart managers, pro-ducers... so who are you?"

"He is the reason, he is why we did not fail. Look, Hanni, I had to do it, okay?"

"Do what? Sell your body?" Hanni looks over her shoulder at the glassy-eyed leader of her group who gives her the tiniest nod. In those large, round orbs of the young Vietnamese woman you see the realization kick in bit by bit. At first she does not want to accept it, then she cannot believe it—but at last, she has to put it into words.

"You sold your body... and now he wants more."

"He wants something only you can give him," Minji whispers and pecks Hanni's cheek. You are astonished at how she manipulates her dongsaeng, Minji truly is ruthless; but Hanni's calmness deserves an award. She seems to surrender to this idea easily. There is no flight, there is barely any fight—she accepts her situation. 

"Will you give it to him? Your virginity?"

"Minji, I—"

"That's not the entire truth is it, Minji?" You smirk coldly. "You are a pretty thing, Hanni. She's right, I do want more. It's not something only you can give me, rather, it's something Minji refuses to give me. So instead, she offered you to me. Your precious group leader sold you out."

Put her tiny chin into your hand and for the first time, Hanni locks eyes with you. Minji's manipulation roots deeper, as there is not a hint of belief in the words you say. Rather, Hanni listens to the girl in her ear, at her ear, that licks her ear and tells her sweet lies:

"He is playing with you. He likes to play. But don't worry, he will help us.

"Don't you want to be a star, Hanni? The most successful foreign idol?" You hear Minji opening Hanni's belt as she melts in between your thumb and index finger. Her lips look so full and perfect. You'd bet your career that she is already a great sucker, maybe even better than Minji is at this point. "My sacrifice can't be for nothing, and yours won't be either."

Hanni's pants drop to the floor, while you work to get rid of her jacket. She is like a Barbie doll: pretty, clear skin, obedient, ready to be undressed and played with. No matter what you do or where you touch, she just obliges while her features become redder and hotter. Soon, she wears nothing but her undergarments.

"You have an amazing body," you compliment her. She just nods. You order Minji to put Hanni on your bed. For now, you'll not reveal the whole story, the truth: yes, you play games, but Minji clearly is lying to Hanni, trying to get away with more than questionable methods.

You respect Minji for that. Yes, in this dedication, the lies, you see devotion for you. She is willing to sacrifice herself and even her friend for your satisfaction. It wouldn't be long now until she would truly be turned into a loyal one for you. 

You have a suspicion and you would test it out here. 

"Hanni Pham, a bright star plucked out of Australia, a Viet idol with international appeal. And a lovely voice too, dare I say even prettier than Minji's..." 

You smirk, sensing the hurt from Minji without even looking.

"Will you tell me your name?" Hanni asks as you crawl on top of her. Minji placed her in a missionary position and still rubs her hand all over her exposed thighs so she would open her legs for you.

"You don't need my name, you just need to know what I can do and what I want. My deal with Minji benefits you a lot. Tell me, how does it feel to hold a music show trophy or one of those MAMA awards?"

"G-good, Sir, it's quite the," Hanni gasps when you push her legs open and place a finger on her white, innocent panties. You search for a bit until you find her clit and rub it from side to side. "Thrill."

"Drop the Sir, with me Hanni." Lean down to her pink lips, those round, moisturized and smooth lips. "Call me Daddy."

Minji's eyes widen and she almost lets out a whimper as if to object to you. A first encounter and you already let her call you, Daddy? Did you already like Hanni more than her when you haven’t even received pleasure yet? 

"Daddy?" Hanni responds unsure. 

"Yes, Hanni. You'll be a good girl for me won't you? That's all I want. Good, loyal girls. If you do that, you can have anything you desire."

"Daddy, I want to be successful and I want to give you what you need for that." She whimpers when you put more pressure on her nub. "B-but I'm a bit scared. I have never put something inside."

"I think your friend here can help you with that. After all, she got you into that situation." You glance at Minji and she gets what you mean, though the envy at Hanni's preferential treatment is clearly visible on her wrinkled forehead.

Minji leans down and gives Hanni a firm kiss while replacing your hand on the clit that has steadily hardened and is now aroused to the point Hanni's panties become stained with wet spots.

You glance at Minji in thanks. 

"Oh and Minji: no more kissing Hanni unless I command it. Her lips and your lips, belong to me only. Is that clear?" She can only meekly nod. "I hope you haven't been touching anyone else during our time together, Minji. That would really upset me." 

You already know the answer. Given how easily Minji’s and Hanni’s lips connected just this evening, you know it's something they are comfortable with. That would end now. 

Before Minji can answer you, you focus back on Hanni and the sticky sensation spreading over your fingers.

"Already wet for me? You're taking to my touch a lot better than your leader. Tell me, Hanni, you're not afraid of me, are you? Just ask me to touch you more. Tell me what you want."

Hanni is still hesitant, though there is shyness only in the way her mouth doesn't move and admit to her body's obvious reaction. She leaks onto your fingers, her chest heaves heavily, faster. You insert a finger, as well as part of those drenched panties inside her and finally, the right words slip out.

"Your fingers feel so good, fu-uck."

"That's what I wanted to hear." You smile and lean down to Hanni's face. Her lips instinctively pucker, her eyes fall shut, oh, how incredible: she is already yours. You let her wait there, finger twirling, pretending to push aside her panties and go for the real deal, but you're all teasing. Hanni mewls.

"Please, D-Daddy, kiss me."

"I will, when I put it in."

"W-will it hurt? Will you hurt me Daddy?"

"Only if you want me to, baby girl, but you want what Daddy wants, right? It might hurt to begin with, but it will feel so good for both of us." 

The chemistry between you two surprises Minji as she backs off, her hands away from the young women for the first time. Hanni nods. 

"Make me feel good, Daddy. I trust you."

Hook your fingers in Hanni's panties and at last, her soaked entrance is exposed, for your eyes only. You stroke your cock a couple of times, get the fresh girl juice all over it and gaze over the insanely well-trained body you're about to ravish.

Hanni's abdomen is to die for. The muscles on her midriff are absolutely stunning, the same goes for her navel perfectly resting in between them and then further up her subtle boobs, which Minji frees from the bra after your command. It all ends with Hanni’s chin, the sweat that runs down her throat, the faint sparkle of perfection—to sum it up, Hanni is incredibly beautiful.

You take hold of her hips and bask in the way your cock and her hole are magnetically attracted and connect. Hanni throws her head back at the impact and with every inch you stuff into her, her breathing becomes more erratic. Funnily enough, the same goes for Minji, who quietly scoots back and rests at the headboard of the bed.

As you slowly pump half of your cock in and out of the tight cavern, Minji goes for the same rhythm and rubs her clit, hand buried in her pants. She even goes and opens the first buttons. Is it really this girl that wants to keep control over her virginity? Let her have it for now, she'll be yours soon enough.

"Daddy, just focus on me!” Hanni whines out her first words after becoming a full blown woman. “You-you didn't need her, right?"

"Then make me forget, baby girl. Squeeze my cock with your pink little pussy." You go and have a taste of Hanni’s fat lips again, wishing they would suck your balls right now. Hanni could become a whore who would worship your crown jewels like no other. Better than Minji, whose eyes beg to be involved in the action. "Spread your legs more, I want to fuck you harder, Hanni.

"Oh and Minji: Go and suck my balls! That's what you're good for."

"O-okay, Master."

"Be grateful for it. But remember, no cumming."

"Thank you, Master."

"Daddy?” Hanni whimpers softly. “Why does she call you, Master? Is one better?" 

"Oh baby girl. Daddy is more affectionate. It's what you deserve. Minji still has to learn, her heart isn't in this yet."

Minji's heart might not be in the right place (rather the place you intend it to be) but her lips surely are. She gives your swinging balls a good suck and slows done the pace at which your fucking Hanni's pussy. 

It's amazing how well she adjusted to your size, even with your length and girth growing continuously at her fantastic heat and texture. Hanni handles you like a pro, and like one of your pro girls, she is already more drool than straight thoughts.

"Does it feel good, Daddy's hard cock in your virgin pussy? Get used to it because it's the only thing your hole will know. I will be the only one to use your holes, is that clear?"

"Oh Daddy, oh Daddy," Hanni moans and her body rocks violently on the bed sheets. "You-you are so much better."

"Better than what, baby girl?"

Hanni puts both her weak hands on the back of your head and pulls you down to where her lips meet your ears to tell you lewd things that Minji must not hear.

"Better than Minji's fingers."

You take this as a cue to grab Hanni's thighs and angle her in such a way that you can slam into her cunt harder. You let gravity do the work while the force of the entire bed frame shaking has Minji trembling in awe. She rubs her thighs together and tries to keep her hands busy with other spots of her heated body.

You can see that she wants to rub her clit while you make Hanni cum during her precious first time. She is probably projecting, wants you to go softly, then harder, but that is not your game.

"Hanni, no more of that, no more Minji's fingers. Only Daddy shall touch you from now on. You are mine and I'm going to go as hard as I want." You growl out slamming into her even more. "Take it all, Hanni, prove your fucking worth to me."

"Thank y-you, Daddy," Hanni begins her way down the rabbit hole of subjugation towards only you. The new life she will enter, all the changes, challenges and benefits will overwhelm her, but first you overwhelm her with your rod. "Thank you, for help-ing us, thank you for the wins, thank—ah, Daddy, I'm cumming! My pussy is cumming! Thank you for your cock, Daddy!"

You enter a nirvana drilling into Hanni's tight cunt. 

"Good girl, yes thank me, beg me, need me. This is the only cock you will ever have from now on and—" You kiss her with wanton lust, shoving your tongue in her mouth. The next whisper in Hanni's ear is out of Minji’s reach, though she might be too distracted from your delicious balls to get what you were saying either way. 

"Daddy! I understand, yes." 

Without losing focus of your hammering, you give a dismissive order to Minji, who is not worth your eyes on her.

"You can go Minji. I don't need you here. In fact, we can end our deal. You got what you needed right? Wins and fame. I won't meddle with your group in anyway. You are free to go."

"What?" Minji shrieks, completely offended that you could say such a thing.

"You heard me. Fuck. Off." Every word is empathized by a huge thrust that bulges Hanni's tummy. She stares at it in infinite bliss, then throws her head back as you knead her small tits and make the nipples hard like steel.

"B-but Master, you can't just do that."

"You did not keep your part of the bargain and still got what you wanted. Why the hell are you still here?"

"But I did!” Minji argues and climbs in front of you on the bed. “I brought you, Hanni, Master! I—" 

"Hanni, turn around and get in position, I want both of us to look at Minji. I'm going to fuck you from behind.

"What's wrong, Minji? You never truly wanted me in the first place. We both got what we needed from our deal. You don't need my help, your group will be successful. I made sure of it. I am releasing you from our contract with no punishments. Take the fucking deal, Minji."

Minji sits there, on the bed, not moving from her position. In utter shock as she watches Hanni smile and moan as you take her from behind, her pussy stretched again. God, how good she must feel, that face says it all. The pleasure, the desire, all the praises for your cock and it's only because she has her tongue sticking out like it's numb.

Suddenly, it all seems so clear to Minji, so easy to comprehend. She takes a deep breath and learns towards you, her upper body prompted up. All that just to throw her dignity away, to throw herself underneath you.

"Daddy, please! Give me your cock too! Take my virginity, don't push me away!"

You stop thrusting into Hanni right away and pull out for a moment to look at her. 

"Bullshit. I told you we were done here. You don't mean that. You just want my power and connections like everyone else."

"No, I mean it," Minji reassures, but words are nothing when it comes to her current state. She has to follow it up with more, significantly more. You doubt that she can deliver, but low and behold, she unbuttons her jeans and peels them off to show her long legs and the thoroughly drenched panties.

"Mi-Minji, what in the," Hanni moans and goes silent when you smack her ass. It's unbelievable that she is already so obedient and well-trained without training. The more she impresses you, the more Minji has to follow up. Soon she is on her back, jeans on the floor, shut legs turned towards you.

You put your hand on her thigh and though it's tough on her, Minji spreads her trembling legs wide. You poke her lips through her panties and when she squirms you give her a quick slap on her face. 

"Look at me, Minji," you order and she does. "Beg me, call me Master until I have given you, no, until I have taken what is rightfully mine."

"Please, Master," Minji cries out. "Please take my virginity, y-you own it."

"Louder," you growl and smack her covered pussy. Minji cries out, her pleas louder and louder with every new hit you give her cunt. Oh the way her eyes sparkle and body jerks is addicting, you don't realize that you have started to fuck back into Hanni who might have seen Minji naked before, who might have had sex with her—

—but this is new. Minji is a brainless mess, her pussy red from the beating, her face fully in tears. 

"Master, fuck my pussy, please! Fuck this pussy, my worthless pussy, it's yours! Make me full, make me full, I don't deserve it!"

"Now we are getting there," you viciously laugh and grab her chin to aggressively tonguefuck her wet, silly mouth. Minji is such a mess, dazed to the point Hanni's hands undressing her top after your order doesn't even faze her. Her top is gone, her bra as well. All that's left are her panties and Hanni has her fingers already hooked in them.

"Wait, Hanni, she should do it alone."

"Yes, Daddy."

"Ma-Master?"

"Lay down, Minji.

"Pull them to the side.

"Show me your pussy.

"Say it.”

Minji slowly and clumsily works on pulling and getting her wet panties off of her. There is an unfathomable amount of embarrassment in the way Minji’s eyes cannot hold your strong, charismatic gaze for long.

"Shall I feast on your pussy, Minji?" You ask with a smirk and hunger in your eyes.

They all turn eventually. It sometimes sounds so sudden and drastic, but it's all more or less the same. It builds up over time, like an orgasm. Some girls are quiet, until it bursts out of them in a heavy gush that has the entire floor wet. Some are loud the entire way through and what was once only lip service becomes reality, a reality they adore.

They all turn and they all get your cock. So does Minji, with her finger still spreading those sore, red folds and you ignoring her pleasure just to find yours in this wet, messy hole. Minji's cunt is remarkable, cute in the way it ripples and tightens and incredibly lewd in the way it sounds when you slam yourself in and out while holding onto her slim waist.

Now she is part of the loud girls, those idols that suddenly come to worship you more than the career that they fought so hard for. It will be later that they realize that this is the way they get approval from their company, their sponsors, their fans. You are success, the Queen maker for the outside world and a toy maker in your bedroom.

Minji is a great toy. She is euphoric now, the pain already gone. She makes sure to adjust to your will, lifts her hips off the ground when you need to slow down, shows you her tongue when you go for a kiss, and always says the right things. It was so hard for her not long ago, but now she is willing to do it despite Hanni laying next to her and admiring both of you fucking like animals. 

"Hanni," you groan and hammer your cock balls deep into Minji, who throws her head back in another (accidental) orgasm. "I know you want to fuck both of us so bad, but if you don't touch yourself until I'm finished with her, I'm gonna cum on your pretty face and tell you how good you are, okay?"

"O-okay, Daddy," Hanni mewls. Not that she would have touched herself, but you can't blame her for considering it. Caress her cheek softly for being so good, then fucking destroy Minji's cunt because she has been so bad.

"Master, more, pl-please, fuck!" Minji howls with pleasure. 

"You're going to be my good girl from now on, right?" 

"Yes, Master, use me however you want. I-I just want to live to fulfill your desires. Master!" 

You stare deeply at her and pause right before the next spike rattles Minji’s brain. 

"Really? With every atom in your body. Tell me again, Minji."

"Every-thing." Minji can barely talk but does so for you, despite you, despite the large dick that is reshaping her insides. "You own everything, Master. You c-can use me daily, everywhere, any-time. I-I mean it!"

You lean down to her and give her a simple, hard thrust to make sure she gets your point.

"You're a good girl?"

"Yes, Master."

"Then call me Daddy," you whisper into her ear and put a hand on her throat, ready to press down on it.

"Thank you, Daddy," Minji rasps before you choke her hard and fuck her absolutely senseless. Orgasm after orgasm shoots through her frame, her existence becomes numb, she is a fleshlight now. The vibrations of her climax become your stimulation and at the last possible second, you pull out of that twitching hole. 

"Get on your knees Hanni," you order in time. Hanni kneels before you as you somehow slide off the bed, legs a bit shaky and with her head thrown back because you could not resist pulling her raven hair, you cum all over her features. "God, you are such a pretty girl. I can't believe such beauty loves cum on her face."

"It's Daddy's cum," Hanni moans and sucks on your tip to get more on her lips. The rest has mostly covered her nose, her cheeks, her forehead. "Of course I like it!"

"That is right, baby girl, well said," you compliment her and pat her head while she instinctively cleans your cock with superb care. "Did you ever service someone else?"

"No?" Hanni asks and collects your cream off of her stupidly gorgeous face.

"You, I swear to God, you can't be that good right from the start."

Hanni pouts her lips and puts them under your cock. She truly is one in a million, the rare idol who barely hesitates and immediately knows how to do the right things. In many regards, she reminds you of Kazuha, who told you it was her kinks that made her adapt so easily. Maybe this is the case for Hanni as well. Should that make her devotion less impressive?

"Daddy?" Hanni cutely asks and waits.

"Open your mouth, I need to fuck it now."

[that-irrelevant-ricecakeaddict]

"She's a regular here..."

Drug Dealer!Seonghwa x f!reader

CW: mentions of drug dealing/usage (seonghwa smokes), drug dealers!seonghwa and hongjoong, slight fluff, !!SMUT!! (unprotected sex, pls stay safe!!!), reader n seonghwa are dating, seonghwa fucks reader in his fur coat lol , not really proofread?? Idk I tried

My first time trying to write a proper smut scene 😭😭 I hope its okay omg. Wrote this cuz @/ygswl on instagram (best ateez editor btw) brought up the concept of drug dealer! Seonghwa ARGHHHH. I wanted to write a more intense, concept-heavy smut scene but I js tried my best since I'm not familar with smut writing💔💔

Edit: Part 2 is out!!!

Part 3 is out!!!

"Fuck..." Seonghwa groaned, breathing out a puff of wispy smoke. He leaned his head back against the couch as he clocked in the sight of jumbled notes on his mahogany wood coffee table. Orders from customers. Usually, he would've been able to keep up with them, no problem. But there had recently been a huge surge of calls, requesting for the new, trending drug: ARRIBA. And as part of the most reputable dealers in the area, MATZ, he was well-expected to have the best supply. He irritably grinded his teeth together, pre-installed Grillz provided a light, screeching noise.

Taking another drag from his rolled cigarette, his ears perked up at the sound of the door opening. "Hwa, what are you doing?" Seonghwa's business partner, Kim Hongjoong, walked into the shabby makeshift office. Seonghwa didn't reply, merely staring blankly at the ceiling as he absentmindedly played with the blunt in his fingers. Meanwhile, Hongjoong's eyes lingered on the stack of order forms, and he gave a stern look to his tattooed counterpart. "I asked you a question, Park Seonghwa." "What? I'm fucking exhausted from taking calls and names. I've been at it since 11, give me a break." He jerked his head towards a wall clock behind him. A quarter past 3pm.

It had always been this way with the duo. Ever since they started their underground business as barely legal adults, Hongjoong dealt with supplies, and Seonghwa would deal with the customers and their orders. 2 young men in struggling financial situations, who were desperate to make ends meet, starting a drug-dealing business together, it worked out strangely well. This also, despite their constant bickering, formed a strong bond between the two.

Hongjoong rolled his eyes at the response. "Whatever, sure." He tilted his head, eyes settling on the faux fur coat that rested on a chair beside the couch. "Is that new?" "Yeah... I picked it up after getting the payment for that huge order earlier this week." "Ohh, the order for that college frat party?" Seonghwa nodded silently in response, his eyes beginning to glaze over. "Anyways, Yunho says we can expect restock within the next week. ARRIBA's selling out fast, but we can finish these orders right away once the new shipment arrives." Hongjoong rattled off an imaginary list, giving a reassuring pat on the shoulder to his partner. Seonghwa was unresponsive, clearly stressed out from the recent increase in workload, but Hongjoong knew he was listening. Although, that didn't stop him from doing what he was about to do. "You shouldn't keep using this, by the way. It's reaaaally bad for you." With that, he leaned forward and snatched the smoking blunt from his partner's fingers.

Seonghwa hastily whipped his head around, sighing internally at Hongjoong's classic shit-eating grin. He furrowed his eyebrows at the realisation that he had given the man the satisfaction of getting a reaction. "I'm stressed, man. Gotta relax somehow." "I don't think you'll need your weed when your favourite 'regular' is here, though." Hongjoong tilted his head towards the office door, calling out in a singsong voice. "Y/N, you can come in now~"

The mention of your name caused Seonghwa's eyes to immediately light up. He scrambled to snatch the cigarette back from Hongjoong, and quickly crushed it with his heel.

Just a quiet, veterinary student that he had met in a cafe 3 years ago, Seonghwa had adored you from the very beginning. You were the cashier taking his order, nervous on your first day, and fumbling a little with the cash register's buttons. Seonghwa had found your clumsy nature both alluring and endearing, and he had asked you out on a date right away. The two of you had hit it off, and a beautiful relationship bloomed from then on. Even when you found out Seonghwa's line of work, you understood his situation and never judged him for it. It didn't make you love him any less. He would often spoil you with gifts and spend as much time as possible with you. Your college classes and his odd working hours would clash often, but you still found time to drop by his office to visit him. After all, it was quite easy to locate your drug dealer boyfriend. He mostly stayed in his office, only occasionally going out with Hongjoong when they had a large shipment coming in or a customer that wanted to deal in-person. Thus the nickname that Hongjoong gave to you: Seonghwa's Favourite 'Regular'. Despite your support for his business, Seonghwa still hated doing or dealing drugs around you, especially cigarettes. It was part of his line of work, and he was used to it, but he would always quickly put out a blunt or stash away powdery white packets when you visited.

"Seonghwa~ I'm here to visit you! My class today was cancelled, so my afternoon is free," you hummed as you walked into the room in your red checkered pants and (Seonghwa's) oversized hoodie. You offered a smile to Hongjoong, who was already on his way out to give you two some privacy. He winked at Seonghwa just before he walked out the doorway, shutting the door behind him.

Seonghwa's gaze softened as you crashed onto his form on the couch, snuggling into his exposed collarbone. "I missed you..." "I missed you too, sweetheart... you've been so busy with classes lately, I haven't seen you for a full week. Do you even love me anymore?" He sighed dramatically, earning a muffled laugh from you. "My finals are coming up, Hwa. Been rushing my deadlines and finishing up on revision. I gotta do this to earn my veterinary certification, hm?" "Well, anytime you wanna quit your course and live with me 24/7, I'll take care of you. Nothing would make me happier to, actually. MATZ has been doing so well recently." He puffed up his chest. You found it cute whenever he was protective like this. "Okay, Hwa. I'll keep you posted." The two of you settled into comfortable silence.

The quietness and stillness in the air suddenly made him very aware of your movements. He raised his eyebrows when he realised you were being touchier than usual. Your hands were roaming his shoulders, tracing circles over his neck tattoo and gold chains that sat above his unbuttoned collar. The occasional shift of your hips didn't go unnoticed by the tattooed man, either. Seonghwa experimentally slid a veiny hand under your hoodie, blushing when he felt your bare back, marking the absence of a bra strap.

"Sweetheart, are you-"

"Mhm... needy for you, Hwa."

"Oh-- we're in my office now, though, Hongjoong could hear us..."

"Wouldn't you like that?"

Seonghwa's face heated up at the thought of his partner overhearing the two of you. The possibility someone else, especially his best friend/business partner, hearing the two of you fucking in his office turned him on. A lot.

His shy expression quickly changed to a dominant, cockier one. Quickly pinning you onto the couch, he connected his lips to yours in a passionate kiss. He tasted like smoke and the cherry lip gloss you had bought him a month ago, and you loved it. You wrapped your arms around his neck, effectively hoisting yourself up, before pulling away from his lips to kiss and lick at the tattoo scrawled across his neck. Seonghwa groaned at the feeling, his eyes glazing over and landing on his fluffy, new fur coat that was draped on the nearby chair. A devious idea popped into his head.

"Sweetheart, wait... I wanna do something." You stopped sucking at the 'A' on his neck and tilted your head curiously at him. He tugged at the hem of your hoodie, his eye contact with you searching for consent. You let him, of course. You trusted him. He lifted off your hoodie right away, sucking in a breath at the sight of your bare torso. "My pretty girl," he sighed, making you flush a bright red hue. Seonghwa leaned forward to leave a kiss on your breasts and gestured you to take off your pants, before getting off the couch, seemingly to get something. You sat confused, naked except for your dark blue panties, until you saw him grab the fur coat on the chair beside the couch.

The faux fur brushed against your skin as Seonghwa helped you put it on. It was huge, heavy and fluffy, covering everything yet nothing on your bare figure. He stepped back to take you in, a guttural moan leaving his throat at the sight of you naked form practically drowning underneath the fluffy mass of fabric. You, on the other hand, were aching for his touch. A whole week of being apart from your lover, deprived of his love, his intimacy, deprived of him. He noticed your pouty lips and squirming, and chuckled teasingly.

"Can't wait, sweetheart?"

You were about to nod in response, but was cut off when you felt a long finger being pressed against your moist folds. A whiny gasp slipped out of your mouth, and your hands scrambled to find support on Seonghwa's strong forearms. He smiled as he lightly rubbed circles on your clit through the thin fabric of your panties, your whines sounding like music to his chain-adorned ears. "Hwa...hurry, I want your dick in me already," you panted out. Seonghwa scoffed teasingly at your impatient tone. "Patience, sweetheart, I need to prep you first."

His expert fingers tugged aside the fabric covering your pussy, exposing yourself to him fully. Two fingers were pushed into your aching hole, causing you to arch your back at the feeling. Breathless moans filled the room as he curled and thrusted his fingers into you at a torturously slow pace. He knew you were sensitive, and it was driving you crazy how slow he was going.

"H-Hwa..."

"Shhh, I know."

The building knot in your tummy snapped, and you came undone on your lover's long fingers. But just as you began to catch your breath, Seonghwa leaned down to lick up your juices. The cold metal of his grillz shot through your core, drawing out a high-pitched cry from you.

Blinking back tears from the overstimulation, you glanced down at your boyfriend. He was sitting comfortably between your legs, lips and grillz teeth shiny with your arousal, mouth spread in a loving grin as if he didn't just finger-fuck you to an orgasm.

He got up and kissed a tear rolling down your cheek. "I'm sorry, baby, I just had to tease you a little. I'll give you what you want now." Seonghwa picked you up and shifted you to a more comfortable spot on the couch, the heavy coat's fur swishing quietly as he did so. You shivered as the fur brushed against your nipples, perky from being exposed to the surrounding air.

There was a light clunk of a belt buckle, followed by a zipping noise, before Seonghwa finally pressed his pretty cock against your bare stomach, earning a sigh of relief from you. You licked your lips at the sight of his flushed, hard member. "Did you miss me or did you miss my dick?" Seonghwa raised an eyebrow when you stared for a little too long. You whined back, and he sighed in defeat before pressing his cock into your entrance, already wet and lubricated from him fingering you open earlier.

"F-fuck! So warm..." Seonghwa hissed as his cock sank into you. You cried out, reaching out to bury your face into his neck when he started to thrust in and out of you. Sloppy slaps of skin, whiny moans, curses and the occasional swish of faux fur against leather filled the room as Seonghwa fucked you into the couch. The air reeked of hot sex and cigarette smoke, but neither of you minded. He gazed lovingly at you through his lashes, admiring how you looked in his fur coat, with his dick in you. The possessiveness that you two had for each other always made him hard whenever it showed.

He winced when you clenched on him particularly hard. "Oh s-shit- you like my cock? You like your drug dealer boyfriend's cock?" You nodded hastily, drool beginning to form on the side of your lips. Seonghwa smirked, but was barely keeping his composure at the sight of you so cock-drunk. He pulled you in with his free hand for a kiss, heavy metal rings on his fingers squishing your face and making your breath hitch involuntarily. The lingering taste of tobacco on his lips made you moan, eyes glazing over from pleasure as his tongue pushed past your lips to invade your mouth.

It wasn't long before both of you came undone. You sighed breathily as your second orgasm formed a ring of white liquid around Seonghwa's dick, and he quickly pulled out to cum onto your bare stomach. Still panting from his orgasm, he gathered some of his fluids onto his fingers, and stuffed your mouth with them. You hummed appreciatively in response, suckling his fingers clean as he admired your flushed, fucked-out expression.

♡♡♡

"Yah, I was only out for awhile! What did you guys do??" Hongjoong snickered an hour later as he waltzed into the room and over to the couch. He quickly clamped a hand over his mouth when Seonghwa shot a stern look at him, index finger pressed to his lips as if to say "shut the fuck up you big-mouthed minion". His other hand was wrapped around your sleeping figure, still naked but bundled up in his fur coat and shielded from Hongjoong's eyes.

Hongjoong raised his hands, exaggeratingly mouthing a "sorry!" that his best friend scoffed quietly at. Seonghwa rolled his eyes and returned his gaze back to you. His heart warmed at the peaceful look you had in your sleep, but his dick stirred at the sight of you covered by nothing but his oversized fur coat. Needless to say, he was definitely giving you a round 2 once you woke up.

If you've managed to read this far, thank you so much for reading my fanfic! 🙏 I hope you enjoyed it 😭

[scarletlizzard]

Deleted Scene #1: Is It Loaded?

Sessions Series

Pairing: stalker Wanda × female reader

Tags MINORS DNI: GUN, lots of mentions of a gun, belt usage, bit of CNC?, this is literally just smut, darker smut, fingering (R receiving), strap on use (R receiving), toxic asf

Masterlist

A/N: Hello, friends ☺️ this was a scene that didn't quite make it into the Sessions series because it was my first series, and I was a bit shy. This is a ROUGH DRAFT that I very poorly edited, so read at your own risk. At this point in the story, reader is aware that Wanda is her stalker and they have a very weird, toxic, sorta relationship. Like I said, this is just smut! Lemme know what y'all think 🔫 hehe, thanks 🫶☺️

****

Wanda peers through the darkness into the windows of your house, her figure disconcernable against the shadows.

You walk around, a prickling sensation on the back of your neck, knowing someone is watching your every move. Despite the comforting warmth in the room a shiver runs down your spine, knowing your shadow was just outside.

But instead of fear, instead of unease, you simply walk to the front of the house and stare out the window.

Wanda remains concealed, her presence a silent observer in the stillness of the night. She looks with curious eyes before realizing what you were doing, a smirk forms on her face.

Your hands move to the locks, opening them up with a 'click'. As you stare off into the shadows, a sense of vulnerability washes over you, the feeling of leaving the window unlocked. You have to lock and unlock it three more times before you're comfortable. With one more look to make sure it was unlocked, you walk away.

"Little mouse.." a whisper in the dark, a body next to yours as you stir in your sleep.

You could've sworn it was a dream as her hand traveled down your body, cupping your clothed pussy. She ran small circles over your clit, the clothing between become wetter. You felt your skin burn under the covers, aching for her as she teases you. Then her hand slides inside of your panties, rubbing against your now sensitive clit.

You awake with a start and attempt to sit up, but Wanda removes her hand from teasing you, to immediately covering your mouth. She presses you back onto the pillow roughly as your hands fly up to grip her wrist, your breathing ragged as you attempt to gain conciseness and figure out what was going on.

"Shhh, pretty girl," Wanda whispers, a low chuckle escaping her lips as you whimper into her palm. Suddenly, the feeling of cool metal slides gently across your cheek, moving along the parts of your face that wasn't covered by her hand. Wanda watches your chest begin to rise and fall rapidly, her eyes lighting up as the panic sets in behind your own eyes.

"Now, you wanted this, didn't you, Y/N?" Her tone is condescending as she leans down to your ear, the barrel of the gun pushing into your cheek. She presses a kiss to your lobe before speaking again, "You were just begging for me to sneak in," her lips attach to your neck, and the adrenaline rushes between your legs.

The moonlight shines through the curtains enough for you to get a better glimpse at the pistol pressed to your cheek, and your heart speeds at the feeling of her marking your neck. Your body begins to wiggle out of her grip, but Wanda is quick to climb on top of you, removing her lips from your skin.

"Now, now, you don't want to make me angry," her voice is low as she stares down at you. "Don't say a word, pretty girl," she whispers and brings the gun to her own lips, whispering a quiet 'Shh' against the barrel before she removes her hand from your mouth.

You want to speak, your mind is telling you to scream as loud as you can, but the desire coursing through you overpowers any of those thoughts. You're compelled to listen, your lips barely opening as you catch your breath beneath her. Wanda flashes you a crooked smile. "That's it..." She coaxes. Your eyes follow the gun in her hand as she slides it across your chest, you don't miss her finger not leaving the trigger. "You're such a good pet, little mouse. I could watch you all night ... but that's not what you want is it?"

The gun travels up and presses just under your chin as she leans down, her hair falling in waves, tickling your skin. You pause, shaking your head 'no'.

"Speak." Wanda commands.

"N-No..." You barely get out, voice trembling at the sight of her above you. She seems pleased with your answer and situates herself to settle between your legs. The end of the barrel sits under your chin as her other hand slides your panties to the side.

"No... no, you needed me to fuck you again, my pathetic little mouse. Desperate for your shadow to fill you up again, hm?" Wanda ends the sentence with a groan as she feels how wet you are, your face heating up at the embarrassment. You were soaked, practically dripping as two of her slender fingers slide up your folds, gathering your wetness. They practically slip inside of you, pumping in and out of you with ease.

"Wanda!" You gasp, feeling the barrel press harder to your skin as your jaw slacks open, moans leaving your lips as her fingers curl.

The gun suddenly starts to travel above your chin. Your lips press shut tightly when you feel the end of the barrel press against them. Wanda chuckles, once again condescendingly. She tilts her head, fingers still moving rapidly.

"Ohh, baby.. you thought you had a choice?" Before you can fight her off, the barrel slips into your mouth forcefully, past your lips. The metal brushes against your teeth, the taste making you whine as your hands move to grip onto her arm that held the gun, nails digging into her skin.

"If you want to cum tonight, you better open up," Wanda spits out, and the deep-rooted fear in your chest is enough for your jaw to loosen. The barrel slips further in, your mind and body conflicting as her fingers pull you closer to an orgasm. Your mind spirals deeper, a hazy fog overtaking your senses as you let yourself go for Wanda. Her eyes are dark, and the smile that takes over her face is frightening as she watches you begin to suck on the barrel of her gun. Your cheeks hollow and she let's out a groan that only makes you wetter.

Your walls tighten around her fingers and she knows you won't last. Your eyes begin to water and she knows in that moment, she's going to ruin you. She wants to ruin you. Needs to ruin you.

"Go ahead, pretty girl.. Cum for me. I wanna watch you fall apart with this gun in your mouth and my fingers in your pussy.. my pathetic little mouse," Wanda winces as your nails scratch down her arm and your moans muffling only slightly from the metal that filled your mouth. Your legs begin to shake and your grip wavers as you follow her commands again, letting yourself fall apart on her fingers.

"There you go, thats it... God, your cunt is just soaking my hand... need to fuck you, now." She practically growls. Her fingers slip out of you, too quickly for your liking. "Need to fill up my pretty little mouse, stuff you full," Wanda hums and smiles down at you, her fingers glisten with your juices in the small light before she brings them up to her lips and licks them clean, moaning at the taste of your arousal.

The gun finally leaves your mouth and you let out the breath you had been holding in. You lie there panting, dizzy, confused, desperate for more.

"W-Wanda please..." You manage out, eyes searching for the gun as she unbuckles her belt, removing it slowly from the belt loops around her jeans. "Is it loaded?" You ask, voice weak and eyes tearful as your mind scrambles for some type of logic.

She laughs, and you want to scream and hit her chest for how condescending it was, but before your thoughts could even process, Wanda was flipping you over on the mattress. Your hands were quickly bound together behind your back, legs kicking as she tied the leather belt tightly around your wrists.

Wanda shuffles around behind you, your face pressing into the pillow as you feel her weight on top of you. You can feel the rough material of her jeans sliding down enough to remove her thick strap, the tip sliding between your sticky thighs.

"Ask again," she says from behind you, her strap sliding inside of you just an inch. You can't help the moan that slips out, bitting the pillowcase. You don't want to ask again, because you realize in that moment, you don't want to know the answer.

In a quick motion, she roughly pulls you up, by the back of your neck, forcing you on your knees and pulling your back flush to her front with your arms bound between you. The thick strap easily disappears further inside of you, your wetness coating it with every movement. You had never needed her more. Her arm moves to wrap around your chest, holding you tightly, trapped in her strong grip.

"Ask me again, baby,"

"Is it loaded, Wanda?"

The gun reappears with the use of her other arm, pressing once again underneath your chin. You let out a whimper as her hips slap up once harshly, burying herself completely inside of you. You hear a 'click' as she cocks the gun and can only imagine her finger on the trigger. You moan.

"You better not cum until I tell you to," is all Wanda answers, and the way her hips begin to move is enough to let the tears fall, knowing it won't be easy. She fucks you at an unforgiving pace, her strap drilling into you at the perfect angle. "Let me hear those pretty moans," she grunts against your neck, letting her hand that held your chest grope your boobs over your sleep shirt.

You oblige, wrists burning as they rub against the leather that was pressed between your bodies, and you let the moans pour out of your mouth. With every sound that leaves your parted lips, the gun digs deeper into your jaw.

"Oh fuck, fuck! Wanda!" A string of curses mixed with moans and whimpers of her name sound from you as she fucks herself into you, her hot breath fanning over your damp skin as she groans herself with every thrust. Wanda had never felt so feral, her finger twitches on the trigger.

"Fucking -Ohh God- take it, that's it just like that, Y/N. My pathetic little mouse, mine to use, mine to ruin. Tell me you need me, baby. That's why you unlocked the window, isn't it? " Wanda moans and bites down hard on your neck. Your body fails you, but Wanda holds you up tight in her grasp.

"I-I need you!" You cry out, clenching around her strap. Wanda groans at the sudden resistance, her mouth moving up your jaw to your cheek, licking away your tears.

"Yes, you do. You need me. I won't let you forget it, little mouse," she kisses your cheek and removes the gun, pushing you forward against the mattress. Your face hits the pillow again, and her hands grip onto your hips.

Yes, you needed Wanda, but you were starting to think she needed you more.

Something takes over in Wanda at the new position, and she pounds you into the mattress relentlessly. Your wrists continue to struggle in its confines.

"Wanda, I-I can't! I can't take anymore, I need to cum!" You turn your face to the side, cheek on the pillow as you yell out to her. Your eyes were practically rolling in the back of your head, the pleasure becoming too much for you.

"You can take everything I give you, you will take everything I give you... fuck, you're lucky I'm close," Wanda groans and her thrusts begin to lose their steady pace, but still harsh enough to have your mind spinning and pussy drenching her strap.

"Please, please let me cum! I-I need to-" You're cut off by the feeling of metal pressing against your cheek. Wanda smiles as your body tenses underneath her.

"Go ahead, pretty girl. Cum with me, soak my cock, baby. But you're going to do it just like this... Look at you, so pretty when you cry," she pants out.

"Oh god I-"

The barrel digs deeper.

"Cum for me, now!" Wanda moans.

You once again follow her command, your orgasm ripping through your body. You scream out Wandas name like a prayer, chanting it as she thrusts into you, chasing her own high.

She slows her pace finally and removes the gun. You hear another 'click' but don't have it in you to open your eyes, your body and mind couldn't take anymore, the heavy haze creeping into sleep territory. Wanda eases the strap out of you, a whine escapes you at the empty feeling. Your wrists go free and your arms fall to your sides, a warmth spreading over you as a blanket covers your body.

"Well done, baby. My perfect little mouse," a whisper in your ear. You can only hum in response, sleep fighting to take over.

Wanda stands from the bed and walks to your dresser, setting the empty gun down and pulling out clothes she would change you into after you had fallen asleep.

[whateverloomis]

"Scream" (1996) meets "X" || Billy Loomis x Stu Macher x GN!AFAB reader 🔪🔞

PART 3

Warnings: Voyeurism, asphyxiation (use of a belt around neck,) CNC, making out, p in v, oral (male receiving,) roughness, mention of reader and Tatum making out (just girlies stuff :P) AFAB reader (no use of pronouns,) implied size difference, poly!Ghostface, reader has pre-determined interests and outfits, stalking, Sidney is not in the story (sorry not sorry,) || Not edited

Word count: 2.5k

-

You thought about how your scene with Billy would be like. The rush of excitement ran over your body and you started to swing your hips while playing with your tits out in the open.

You chuckled to yourself and were spinning slowly until you were met with Billy's gaze. He was standing on the other edge of the small boardwalk, enjoying the view.

"Mind if I join you?" He said teasingly while walking towards you. You bit your lip and looked at his bulge shamelessly.

"Not at all." You answered and he placed his hands over your waist, squeezing the flesh. "You look so fucking good all alone out here. Naked. Vulnerable." Billy whispered and you couldn't help but release a little whimper.

"I'm gonna fuck you so good for the camera tomorrow."

You had your arms around his neck and legs around his waist. Billy and you were both naked in the lake, lost in each other's mouths. You could feel his hard cock pressed against your lower belly and were slowly getting tempted to slip it inside you, but not yet. You wanted to work yourself up to do your best performance for the movie.

"Fuck... Mm Billy," you moaned between kisses. He wasn't answering, his hands were on your ass squeezing the flesh and rocking you against him, your pussy now rubbing against his cock.

Your tongues teased each other and it was driving both of you crazy.

You moved to his neck and started to kiss it slowly, your fingers between his hair pulling the strands softly.

As you were moving your way down to his collar bone your eyes fluttered open. To your surprise an old lady was standing next to a tree at a distance. You gasped in fear and pulled away from Billy's neck abruptly.

"What's wrong?" He asked and noticed you were looking behind him. He turned around and didn't see anything.

"There was an old lady standing right there looking at us!" You said, scared out of your mind.

Billy didn't want to dismiss your words, but he didn't see anyone and he couldn't help but doubt a little bit; "Are you sure it wasn't a tree that moved or-" - "Billy no, I saw her! She looked straight at me!" you explained, breathing quicker with each word.

"Hey, c'mere baby," Billy said and you moved towards him. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into a comforting hug. "It's okay, I believe you." He said. "Let's go inside so you can eat and take a breather ok?" He continued and you nodded quickly, swimming to the shore with him.

-

"And I saw an old lady looking at me!" You explained to everyone back at the cabin. You were eating sandwiches that Randy made with the few ingredients you guys had brought, drinking and smoking pot around the small coffee table in the living room area.

"An old lady? I didn't see an old lady with pops yesterday." Stu said and Tatum glared at him; "It doesn't mean he doesn't have a wife or something." She said, validating your words.

You sighed and leaned against Billy, his arm around your shoulders.

Randy looked at you with slight judgement written over his face and you caught him red handed.

"What?" You asked him and he visibly panicked.

"Nothing, I didn't say anyth-" - "You were staring. Is there anything you'd like to say?" you countered. All eyes were on him now and he tried to hide the fact that he was anxious.

"I just... I can't stop thinking about Sidney and how you guys..." He trailed off and Billy glared at him. "Yeah? Spit it out." he said and Randy swallowed nervously; "The scene tomorrow with you guys... That's how she'll find out and it's not... It's not okay, in my opinion..." - "It was gonna happen one way or another, who cares at this point?" Stu said and took a swing of his beer. "Plus you can have her afterwar-" - "Stu what the fuck?!" Tatum practically shouted; "She's still our friend, you can't just throw her around like that!" - "Hey, it's a fact!" Stu answered and you rolled your eyes.

"It seems like you don't think our scene is a good idea, but Billy and Tatum fucking is okay?" you told Randy and he looked away. "Are you jealous?" you straight up asked him, mock in your tone.

"No! Why would I be..." He answered and Stu chuckled; "Sounds like Randy wants a little taste of YN." - "Oh shut up! You don't know anything..." Randy said and you smirked; "Is that it, babe?" You asked teasingly, and Billy sighed; "Sorry, off limits." Billy said, breaking the tension. You bit your lip at his words. Billy could be possessive from time to time and it was a turn on.

"Oh but Tatum can make out with YN?" - "It's not serious, it's just friend stuff." - "How does that make sense?!" Randy asked, shocked. You giggled at the whole exchange. It was cute how Randy was jealous about you getting it on with everyone else, yet Billy didn't want him to lay a finger on you.

"Listen, I'll consider it since we need an extra at a point." Stu said and looked at Billy for any sign of approval. He had a serious expression, unamused with the whole situation but not exactly opposed.

"Let's just focus on tomorrow's scene guys, we'll think about this later." You said and everyone agreed.

-

The moment was finally here. Your scene with Billy.

You were wearing jean overalls that hiked up your ass cheeks. No underwear on which allowed the perfect amount of side boob to show. You were looking delicious and ready to be devoured.

As you walked in the barn everyone complimented you and whistled. You blushed and bit your lip in excitement. Billy smirked at you and grabbed your hips, pulling you towards him and kissing you slowly. Stu chuckled at the sight and eyed you from head to toe before positioning the camera towards the stall you were going to be in.

"You ready, babe?" He asked and you nodded.

Action.

You bent down to pick up a bucket of water from the stall. As you were standing up and turned around you were faced with Billy. Crashing into him, you dropped the bucket, water spilling all over you guys. Billy's white shirt got wet and you scrambled around the place to find a towel to help him dry up.

"Oh my Gosh, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to..." You trailed off. Billy was taking his shirt off and you raked your eyes over his upper body. You walked towards him and ran your hand up his exposed chest.

"I can dry your shirt for you... If you'd like." You said, faking innocence.

"If it's not too much trouble." Billy answered softly and took a step forward, towering over you; "You should also dry this while you're at it..." He said and slid the straps of your overalls down your upper body, revealing your tits. The cool air made your nipples harden immediately and Billy brushed his fingers over them. You bit your bottom lip and whimpered quietly.

You looked up at him with the cutest stare and he crashed his lips against yours, pushing you against the wall. His hands explored your body and grabbed every inch of you. You moaned against his mouth and ran your hands through his hair.

You guys devoured each others mouths for what seemed like forever before Billy pulled your overalls all the way down and ran two fingers between your folds, feeling how wet you already were. He hummed at the feeling and drew slow circles over your clit before dipping his middle and ring finger inside you. He didn't push them all the way inside you just yet. Billy collected your wetness and spread it over your sensitive bud before dipping his fingers in once again and repeating the actions far too many times for you to control your moans.

"Mm fuck... Please..." You whispered and moved your hips forward against his fingers, needing them to go inside you deeper, and that's exactly what Billy did. He inserted them all the way inside your cunt and you released a long moan of relief and pleasure.

Billy finger fucked you almost passionately. With his other hand he grabbed your neck and held you in place, kissing you once again. You both moaned inside each others mouths and played with each others tongues.

Desperate, you started to unbuckle his belt and unbutton his pants, releasing his cock. Before stroking his length Billy pulled his fingers out of your sopping cunt and ran the slick over his shaft. You jerked him a few times before kneeling down and sticking your tongue out for him.

Billy smirked and placed his hand on your cheek; "Aren't you a cutie?" he teased and moved his hand to your jaw, opening your mouth a bit more before resting his heavy cock on your tongue and slowly thrusting it inside of you.

You moaned around him and started to bob your head, following his rhythm. As you sucked on his cock slowly you grabbed his thigh with your left hand and scratched the flesh just enough to elicit pain with your long nails. Billy hissed at the sensation and his cock twitched inside your mouth. You hummed around him and took more of his length inside, brushing your tongue under his shaft.

"Fuck, you're so good at that..." Billy whispered and grabbed a fist full of your hair, keeping you steady.

You could feel him getting close but you had a feeling he was going to play with you some more, and that he did.

Pulling out of your mouth, Billy pulled his pants up and removed the belt from the loops. He grabbed your arm with enough force to make you stand up and wrapped the belt around your neck, making sure it wasn't too tight; "Is this okay?" he asked, loud enough for you to hear and you nodded.

"Walk." Billy commanded and you did as he said. Suddenly he pushed you against a big wooden table and made you bend down. You grunted, exaggerating it for the camera.

He spread your thighs with one of his legs and sneaked his right hand between your legs once again, holding the belt to keep you in place with his left. You whimpered at the feel of his fingers rubbing your clit once more. You were soaked and Billy couldn't help but chuckle at the fact that it was all for him, thanks to him.

"Fuck, you're more than ready for me." He said, his voice low. You bit your lip and moaned at his words, cock hungry and desperate.

"Mm fuck me, pleaseee," you moaned, desperation evident in your tone.

Billy pulled his cock out and moved between your legs, rubbing his length between your folds further stimulating your clit. You rubbed yourself against him, the sound of your juices mixed with his making obscene sounds. You panted and moaned pornographically, the pleasure so intense you could cum just from that action only but Billy wanted to give you more. Needed to give you more.

The feel of his cock finally sliding inside you smoothly and filling you up deliciously made you practically scream.

Billy thrust like there was no tomorrow, the sound of skin to skin contact echoed inside the barn and Stu was biting his lip, trying to contain a laugh of satisfaction at the scene taking place in front of him.

You rolled your eyes and stuck your tongue out while Billy railed you. He pulled the belt around your neck slightly to keep you in place and choke you just enough to elicit pleasure. You were getting fucked like a dirty little slut and you loved every second of it.

Billy's cock felt incredible. The way it grazed your walls made the wave of pleasure be felt all over your body. It was almost a tingly sensation that consumed you. That, combined with his fingers now rubbing your sensitive bud slowly? It was over for you.

"Fuck! I'm gonna cum! Don't stop!" You moaned loudly and Billy pulled the belt once more before you came around his length. Not much after he came inside you, filling you to the brim. The feel of him emptying himself inside you made you have yet another orgasm for the camera and Billy bit his lip, trying to suppress a satisfied laugh from escaping.

Once he pulled out, his juices dripped out of your cunt beautifully and Stu closed up on your hole much like he did with Tatum to get the perfect shot of your glistening cunt.

Turning around and facing Stu, he had the widest grin and satisfaction written all over his face, "That was fucking amazing! You look so fucking hot YN, wait until you see yourself!" he said excitedly and you blushed at his praise.

You brushed the sweat of your forehead with the back of your hand and bit your lip while smiling at Billy who was walking towards you.

"You did so good for us baby'" he said and kissed you slowly, "Mm, you weren't so bad yourself," you said teasingly while Billy took his belt off from around your neck; "Yeah yeah, now you need to rest." He said and you rolled your eyes; "More like take a shower." You answered.

"Oh! I'll join you, this heat is disgusting." Tatum added and walked away, a paper fan in her hand. You kissed Billy one more time before following her.

The way Randy looked at you didn't go unnoticed. He had "this isn't fair," written all over his face and you almost felt bad for him. Almost.

•

In the shower, you and Tatum made out a bit before sharing the only bar of soap available. Once you were done, you looked outside from the shower window, hot water soothing your body.

"Hey, have you seen that creepy old lady again?" Tatum asked while she washed her hair. You continued looking outside in thought and sighed; "No. I'm starting to think I imagined her or something," - "Didn't Billy see her too?" she asked, stepping under the water stream and rinsing her hair. "No, he didn't," you replied and sighed. "Well, maybe he just didn't turn around quick en-" the blonde stopped mid sentence and focused her gaze outside the window... and there she was. The old lady. Standing there, a few feet away, staring.

You both looked at her and gasped in fear; "What the fuck..." Tatum whispered and you looked at each other at the same time, shocked. When you turned your heads to look out the window again, she was gone.

"Oh, oh hell no." Tatum said and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around her figure. You followed behind, doing the same before exiting the door after her.

Once you walked outside you crashed into Stu's lean figure; "You guys had fun in there?" he asked, sticking his tongue out at you and you sighed; "Not now Stu, Tatum saw the creepy old lady too. She was standing outside the window, staring at us!" You nearly shouted and Billy walked towards you quickly; "Hey, what's going on baby?" he asked, concerned; "Tatum and I saw..." You trailed off, tears escaping your eyes.

Something didn't feel right since the moment you set foot in that cabin and Billy quickly caught on to your concern. "C'mon, let's go'" Billy whispered and glared at Stu before walking you into the bedroom.

"What did I do?!" Stu shouted and scoffed, walking into his own room.

-

AN: We love a creepy old lady moment, lol. Let me know what you guys thought about part 2! And thank you for the love on the first part babes ;) <33

[shadowkoo]

Just Dance It Off

→ Summary: You're over the moon when you land the female lead in the end-of-semester show. It feels like your hard work has finally paid off, everything is going great. Well, until you learn who your partner is…

↠ jimin x f.reader | 9.5k words | 18+ ↠ genre: smut, angst, fluff, ballet dancers au, enemies to lovers, performing arts college au

→ Warnings: explicit and unprotected sex, jealousy, masturbation, alcohol consumption, underage drinking, use of fake ID, mild exhibitionism, creampie, hair pulling, angry sex, nipple play, degradation, dirty talk, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, multiple smut scenes, heavy teasing & banter, edging, orgasm denial, light choking

→ Moodboard: view here!

→ Author Note: This is a rewrite of an old 2019 fic of mine, so I hope you enjoy the newest version! If you’d like to read this on ao3 instead it’s been crossposted here! Also a biiiiiiig thank you so Sarah @caelesjjk for beta editing this for me. Go show her some love if you aren't already following her! As always, all likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated <3

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“Oh, no,” you hear one of the dancers behind you whisper to another, “Look who’s walking in.”

Your curiosity gets the best of you as you casually stretch, your eyes betraying you by glancing over your shoulder toward the door, dying to see who they’re talking about. You recognize him almost immediately and the whispers continue to grow about the slender male who is walking across the room to set his stuff down.

Park Jimin.

Of course, he would be auditioning for this show. It’s his final semester, and you really should have seen this coming. Especially since you knew he was bound to get whatever position he was auditioning for. That’s a given.

Park Jimin always gets whatever he wants in life; whether that be a specific role in a performance, who his performance partners are both on the stage…and in the bedroom, that sort of thing. He’s the most pretentious person you’ve ever met, seeing as he acts like he is God’s gift to the dance world, and you’re already dreading any interaction you’ll have with him.

Rumor has it that his daddy, former dancer and sponsor, paid his way into Juilliard, but as much as you hate to admit it, he (unfortunately) happens to be very talented and you doubt the school didn’t already have something lined up for him, regardless of who his family is. Unlike you, who was on the waitlist for two months and had to take out a loan worth more than your life to attend this school.

Your eyes meet his and Jimin does a once-over before moving onto the people to your left. What a prick.

“Y/N!” a voice yells from the entryway. Your familiar, freckled, redheaded best friend is quickly prancing towards you.

“I’m so happy to see you here,” Catalina squeals before hugging you tightly. “What part are you auditioning for? Please tell me it’s lead. God, I miss you. It sucks that we don’t have any classes together this semester. How are you?”

You hug your petite friend back, “I miss you too! Please tell me that you’re not also auditioning for lead, I don’t want to be judged against you. Your pirouettes are perfect compared to my lousy ones.”

Her laugh echoes through the room. “Apparently you didn’t hear about my recent tumble,” she jokes, bumping her shoulder into yours. “I’ll gladly be in the background after my solo-gone-wrong.”

“Alright, everyone!” One of the male judges calls out, walking past the lineup of dancers to collect everyone’s entry form. “We’ll start with the routine you were required to memorize as a group, and then it will be individual evaluations after. Make sure your numbers are secured and let’s line up outside the door.”

After taking your place and getting into position with the rest of the packed room, you wait for the cue to begin. The routine is short and simple, and years of practice have made some of the required moves second nature.

Before you know it, the judges are escorting people out the door for the individual sessions.

You're about twentieth in line, right behind Cat. That makes you a bit nervous because, even though she’s not auditioning for the lead role, her impressive skills might land her a more prominent part than the one she’s aiming for.

Everyone else is quietly chatting in line while you do your best to relax, working through your routine in your mind. This is one of your pre-audition rituals. It always helps with easing your nerves.

By the time you finish running through a couple of full-outs in your head, you’re second in line. You wish Cat good luck as she’s ushered into the dance studio. Her five minutes go by almost too quickly, but she exits with a happy smile.

“Hey, good luck! Kill it, okay?”

You nod, quickly following after the woman who calls your name next.

“Miss Y/N, it says here that you’re auditioning for the female lead. As a sophomore?” Mr. Jenson, one of your dance professors and judge, questions. You prepared for this. It’s very uncommon for an underclassman to try out for such a prestigious role.

“Yes, sir. That’s correct.” You hold your head high.

“Well, I have to say I’m quite impressed with your confidence. Whenever you’re ready.”

You wait for the familiar beginning notes of Tchaikovsky’s Waltz Of The Flowers to play before flying effortlessly through your well-practiced routine. You’re banking on the emotional state of your dancing along with the technical moves you’ve included to impress the judges, and based on their faces when you finish, you figure you did just that. You can’t help but grin widely as you watch the four of them scribble furiously onto the sheets of paper. That’s a really good sign.

“I have to say, I was a little thrown off in the beginning by your song choice since it’s so, hmm, how do I say this, so amateur. But I was very surprised by what you chose to express and the level at which you dance,” the first judge says.

“Yes, the lines you created with your body were very exquisite,” another praises.

You nodded, taking in their advice and criticism.

“Thank you, Miss Y/N, you may exit.” Mr. Jenson says with a smile.

As soon as you step out the door and exhale, you feel a sense of relief. The excitement of your successful audition courses through you, filling you with good energy.

You find Cat stretching in the warm-up room next door.

“Oh my god, you got it. Didn’t you?” She squeals the second she sees your face.

“I don’t know…” You have a pretty good idea based on their responses and comments but aren’t positive.

“Oh, please,” she rolls her eyes, “That’s your ’I just nailed my audition’ face. You totally got it.”

“I hope so. God, wouldn’t that be so insane? When was the last time an underclassman got the lead?”

Someone behind you scoffs; you look over your shoulder and see that it’s Jimin. Your eyes narrow at him, but Cat turns you back before you go off on him. “Not worth it, the rest of us seniors think it’s great that you’re trying for a top spot. How about we go get a drink from the vending machine while we wait?”

You nod before grabbing your warm-up bag and follow her out. “I can’t believe him. He’s so stuck up,” You grumble once you’re far enough away that no one but Cat can hear you.

“He’s always like that, just be thankful that you don’t share any classes with him.”

You’ve heard that Jimin is usually the center of attention in class, whether it’s his choice or not, so you can’t imagine being stuck in one with him. It sounds like it would be impossible to get good feedback if the teachers only care about him.

After you both buy the drinks that you want, you head back. The line is smaller but it will still be at least a half-hour until everyone has had their turn. You sigh impatiently and head back into the warm-up room.

Deciding to sit along the mirrored wall, you rummage through your bag to find a pair of headphones and put your favorite playlist on shuffle while you wait. Even though it feels like half the day goes by while you’re sitting there waiting, it’s really only been about an hour.

Everyone’s attention lands on Madam Jamie, one of the contemporary dance professors, when she asks everyone to re-enter the audition room.

“Okay,” she starts once everyone gets in line, “Those whose numbers I am about to call, please step forward. Dancers eleven, one fifty-three, one forty-seven, seventeen, thirty-eight, twenty-two, and one ten.”

Cat gives you a concerned look as she steps forward without you.

“Seventy-two, fifteen, sixty-eight, thirty, thirty-four, eighty-two, one twenty-one–” you step forward and sigh in relief once she spoke your number. Tuning out the rest of the numbers called, you smile at Cat as she reaches for your hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze.

“Everyone else, I’m sorry to inform you that you have not been selected. Thank you for your time,” She finishes, resting her clipboard against her chest.

Those who didn’t make the cut are escorted out as Mr. Jenson stands up to make an announcement.

“I have everyone’s part listed here,” He shakes the paper in his hand. “It’ll be left on this table for you all to look over. However, I want to first congratulate you all. We are excited to have this much talent for the semester’s exhibition show. We have some great things planned and cannot wait to get started with you all. Please take note of our rehearsal schedule. Monday, Wednesday, Friday. Eight to noon. Most of you should not have conflicting schedules as all dance classes are held in the afternoon anyway, although if you do have a problem just stay after and we can work it out. Madam Jamie and I will see you back here Monday morning. Dismissed.”

You and Cat both wait until more people clear out of the room before you have the guts to read the paper.

Catalina Wilde - Corps de ballet

Your eyes wander across the page as you search for your name.

Y/N - Lead Female Soloist

Turning towards each other, you squeal “Oh my god,” at the same time.

“I can’t believe it. We both got what we wanted,” you excitedly rush out.

“I know, this never happens. Oh, I’m so excited!” She reaches for your hand and squeezes it again, picking up the paper with her other hand.

“Oh, no.” She turns the paper towards you, “Look who your partner is.”

Park Jimin - Lead Male Soloist

You huff, “Of course, I’m not surprised.” You turn your head and search the mostly-empty room for him. You have a feeling he’s still here, it’s like you can sense his presence.

“Cat! You coming?” the group of dancers near the door asks.

“Shoot, I’ve got to head to my next session. I’ll see you later, okay?” Cat says, giving you a quick hug as she runs out the door.

Leaving just you and Jimin.

Deciding to let go of your prejudice against Jimin, you figure the best move would be to congratulate him on getting the part he auditioned for.

He watches blankly from the mirrored wall as you walk towards him.

Once in front of him, you stick your hand out. “Hey congrats, I’m looking forward to–” you begin before he rudely cuts you off by holding up his hand.

“Yeah, whatever,” he sneers, “We need to take this extremely seriously so I expect you to be at our rehearsals an hour early so we can get in extra time,” he looks you over again, “From what I can tell you’re gonna need it.”

“Also,” apparently he isn’t finished, “I expect that you’ll be taking care of your diet from here on out since I’m going to be lifting you and I don’t want my arms to give out, or worse, snap.”

“Well, you can always go to the gym and work on that yourself,” you say defensively. What a jerk.

“So can you, sweetheart.”

“Uh, wow. Okay…” Here you are trying to congratulate him and here he is treating you like dirt. “Guess the rumors are true,” you mutter as you shift your duffel strap further up your shoulder, turning to leave.

“Excuse me?” Well, shit. He wasn’t supposed to hear that part. You look him in the eyes without showing any regret for your previous statement.

His eyes narrow at you, clearly not liking your RBF, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Sorry.” However, you aren’t.

“You know,” he remarks, “I don’t care about what you’ve heard about me or what you think about me. I care if you’re going to be too immature for this role and if that’s the case I’ll have no trouble replacing you.” He follows you out the audition room.

Oh boy, you’re pissed now. You turn around and get right in his face.

“What the fuck? In case you haven’t noticed, you aren’t in charge here. Just because you’re a senior and I’m a sophomore doesn’t make you any better than me,” you bark while shoving a finger in his chest.

“Secondly, I don’t need to believe the rumors because you’ve just proven them to be true. You’re an ass to all of your partners to the point that they don’t want to dance with you so you can,” you lift up your hands to finger quote this next part, “Pick who you think is good enough.”

You scoff, “Well, here’s a fun fact dickwad. I’m not going anywhere. The judges chose me and I fully intend on dancing as the female lead in the show. So get the fuck over yourself ‘cause you’re about to be seeing a lot of me in these next few months. Got it?“

"Fine,” he huffs, pushing past you.

“Fine!” you snap, turning away from him and heading towards your next class. Now that you're thoroughly annoyed and not in the mood for your next class, which happens to be a two-hour lecture on the history of interpretive dance, you sigh and get moving before you’re late.

The first two weeks of ‘rehearsals’ are spent training, just at a higher level than you’re used to. However, you hide it well. You’ve been making sure to keep up with the upperclassmen because you know that you are, unfortunately, replaceable if Madam Jamie or Mr. Jenson deems it necessary.

It doesn’t matter that your thighs feel like they are on fire, or that your calves might be ripping at every bend and arch you make. You’re going to complete the one hundred pliés just like everyone else without a single complaint.

Jimin must have taken your last conversation to heart, or he’s exceptionally good at masking his feelings if your words bothered him, because he’s been an excellent partner all week. Although, you know you aren’t going to grow a typical relationship with him as you did with all of the other partners you have had over the years. You’ve been friends, good friends, even, with your previous partners, something you know is never going to happen with Jimin.

He doesn’t do small talk. He really doesn’t have much to say at all other than pointing out when you are making a mistake. No good comments, nor praise–not that you’re expecting any–but it would have been nice to hear him say that he is impressed with how well you’re keeping up with him.

It’s Friday of the second week, which means that it’s the last day of the training period aka hell week, thankfully. You’re dying to get started on learning the actual program. You aren’t looking forward to Jimin’s request of showing up an hour earlier than everyone else this next week, but even though you hate to admit it, the extra time will end up benefiting you.

Today also happens to be the day the choreographer is coming in. You’ve heard the whispers throughout the school this week, everyone trying to guess who it’s going to be.

And after seeing who Madam Jamie walks into the studio with, you’re so happy to see that they were all wrong.

“O-oh my–ohmygod,” you bumble and did a double-take. It couldn’t be, could it?

The brown curls hung gorgeously on the tall man’s head and you internally drool at how much better looking he is in person. He’s so tan, so fit, so delicious–

“Can you concentrate?” Jimin grumbles in annoyance, pulling you out of your slightly inappropriate thoughts. You’re doing partner stretches, which does require some level of focus, but not enough that you have to look away from the literal Italian God who stood a mere six feet away. “What’s your deal anyway? We’re supposed to be preparing our muscles for the toughest training session yet and you’re over there stuttering like a fool.”

You scoff at him and lower your voice, “Don’t you know who that is?”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “Does it look like I care?” He mutters, pushing the backside of your thigh towards your torso.

“You can’t be serious,” you exasperate. “That’s Luca Black! You know, one of the most famous choreographers in the dance world right now. I can’t believe you don’t see how big of a deal this is.”

“The only thing I care about right now is making sure your hamstrings are loose so you don’t kick me in the face when we’re dancing.”

Now there’s an idea…

“Alright, everyone! Front and center please,” Mr. Jenson announces as he walks in the door, right on time as usual.

“Dancers, I would like you to meet Mr. Black, your choreographer. I expect you all to treat him with the same level of respect that you give me and Madam Jamie.”

“Oh please,” Mr. Black says, stepping forward, “You can all call me Luca.” His smile hits the heart of every girl in the class, and even a few of the guys. “I am looking forward to working with you all to make this performance one to remember. Can we get into a lineup to start?”

Everyone moves into the typical sequence based on each person’s position of where they belong. Which meant that you and Jimin were dead center with Luca’s eyes right on you.

You swallow slowly when he walks towards the two of you. “You must be Y/N. Mr. Jenson has told me quite a lot about you. I have to say, I am most excited to work with a dancer like you.”

Jimin is perplexed that Luca went straight to you. If anything, he’s the better dancer here and he doesn’t quite understand why a sophomore is getting so much attention. He’s nearly sick to his stomach listening to the nauseating conversation that you two are having.

“It’s an honor to have you working with us Mr. Black,” you say in awe as you shake his hand.

“Luca,” he corrects before lifting your hand to kiss it, “And the pleasure is most definitely all mine.”

“Sorry,” you pant, rushing through the door. “I know I’m a couple of minutes late. I couldn’t find parking. Why is it so freaking busy? It’s barely seven.”

“Don’t let it happen again,” Jimin says ignoring your question. You bite your tongue and get straight into your morning stretches.

“What do you want to work on today?” you ask, knowing what he is going to say after you’re warmed up. For the past three weeks, you and Jimin have been dedicating extra time to perfecting scene two's Pas De Deux.

It’s the only section of this scene where you’re both completely alone on stage and Jimin is dead-set on making it nothing less than perfect. He reasons that just because you are the only two people on stage doesn’t mean that the audience’s attention is a given, you need to earn it.

Which is a very on-brand thing for Jimin to say.

“Do you really need to ask?” He snickers with a playful smile plastered to his face.

“Nevermind then,” you banter back, joining him as he finishes stretching.

You’ve surprisingly gotten pretty comfortable with Jimin after spending more time with him. Dancing with him is mostly fun, besides when he calls you out on your mistakes…repeatedly. But even then, you know he tries to mean well. You both have to be the best or the other will end up looking like a fool–which (you assume) neither of you want to happen.

Knowing that you’re almost halfway through the semester is a little terrifying. All the dancers have been making great progress and everything is coming together seamlessly, but you can’t help but feel the nervousness set in.

You take a deep breath and clear your thoughts, getting nervous right now will do you no good. Thankfully, when you start dancing your mind settles and you’re able to concentrate on your performance. 

Well, that is, until Jimin drops you during the lift. You might have understood the mistake if he hadn’t done it three times prior.

“Get up.” He holds his hand out for you, pulling you to your feet. “We need to get this number down, you know how important it is.”

“I’m aware of that,” you hiss. “But it would be nice if you weren’t letting me fall every two seconds.” You rub your aching side and stretch to see if that helps ease the pain.

“Just dance it off, you’ll be fine.” Jimin walks over to his stuff along the wall, before bending down to grab his water bottle.

You scowl. “Stop being ridiculous and hold me properly. I don’t have teeth anywhere down there,” you say motioning to the space between your legs. “You can put your hand where it belongs without worry, you know.”

Jimin blushes as soon as he hears your words, he turns away quickly before you notice. Yes, it’s technically his fault that you keep falling. It isn’t intentional, but he can’t help it. Especially when he can feel the warmth of your center from where his hand is resting when he goes in for the lift.

The thought of other parts of him being this close to your heat is driving him crazy and yeah, he may have faltered, which yeah, may have caused you to crash down once…twice. Okay, maybe three times. Or four?

It doesn’t matter. He’s so hyper-focused on why he’s thinking about you like this at all. You’re attractive, he already knew that. But this new-found thought of wanting to take you hard and fast, right here in the studio is something else. It comes from deep within, and he can’t decide if he wants to squash the idea completely or let it lead to something wild.

Jimin shakes his head, trying to get rid of those thoughts just long enough for you to both get through these next ten minutes before the rest of the crew arrives for rehearsal. “Alright, let’s go again.”

You get into position, Jimin falling behind you. You try to hold still but his breath tickles your neck while you wait for the music cue.

The motions are practically natural to you at this point, and you take a deep breath, preparing yourself in case you fall again.

You rapidly suck in air when you feel Jimin’s fingers press deep into your inner thigh this time as he lifts you. They are incredibly close, much closer than they were last time.

You won’t ever admit to it, but your mind is overflowing with dirty thoughts of Jimin’s fingers somewhere else. Particularly somewhere that would have you writhing within seconds.

Those thoughts are distracting, and you’re late for your cue to jump down. And somehow instead of jumping, your body twists around in a weird way as your head dives down toward the ground below you. Tensing, you brace for the impact that doesn’t come.

Unexpectedly, Jimin manages to catch you before any damage happens, and he quickly pulls you up, as if you were never upside down to begin with. His arms are wrapped right below your butt, causing your head to be directly above his. How on earth it got there, you have no idea.

But you aren’t questioning it. Adrenaline runs wild through your body, and you cling to him as if your life depends on it. Your arms are wrapped tightly around his neck, scared that you still might fall somehow.

Your faces are only a few inches apart in this position, which allows you to see how soft and smooth Jimin’s lips look. You slowly lick yours as he lowers you down to the ground, keeping the same amount of distance, or lack thereof, between you two. The realization that it would be so easy to kiss him right now has set in and you swear Jimin has the same mad thoughts; especially when he’s gripping your hips this tightly.

What you both don’t realize is that outside of the main doors, the rest of the dancers are watching with wide eyes and shocked faces. If it weren't for the unmistakable red hair you see in the mirror's reflection, who knows what might have happened? You don’t think about it, instead, you pull away and play it off before heading toward your bag to grab a drink.

“Morning everyone! What are we all waiting for?” Luca says from behind the dancers, “Let’s go in and get warmed up.”

He opens the door and sees you and Jimin at opposite ends of the room, each taking big gulps from your water bottles. Interesting…

Cat walks in and sets her stuff down next to Jimin’s and silently watches him. His face is flushed but she can’t tell if it was because of the intense moment you two just shared, or from the strain of the lifting sequence. She was the first to notice the look you two shared before the crowd outside the door, and she has a weird feeling about it.

Last she knew you were still fighting with Jimin during your pre-practices, although she’s very aware of the saying ’there’s a fine line between love and hate’. Cat makes a mental note to ask you about this morning’s situation later.

The first half of practice is weird, to say the least. Jimin is treating you like nothing happened. And while technically nothing happened, something almost did and you don’t know how you felt about the something.

Needless to say, you aren’t on top of your dance game today. It’s hard to concentrate with your head filled with empty-answered questions and even more confusion.

“Okay, everyone,” Luca echoes, stealing every dancer’s attention, “Let’s take five. When we reconvene we’ll do a recap of Scenes One through Three with no breaks. If we can get it down we’ll move onto the beginning of Scene Four today.”

You and Jimin happily turn in opposite directions, grateful for some space.

“Y/N, can you stay back? There’s something I want to go over with you,” Luca calls out, stopping you from heading in the direction of Cat and some of the other girls.

Oh no. That’s never a good sign.

“Don’t worry, you’re not doing anything wrong,” he says after seeing your smile falter. “I just see a little room for improvement with the last sequence before the song changes in scene three.”

He gestures for you to get into position in front of him, which you do without hesitation.

Luca moves closer to you and rests a hand on your lower back, “Tighten here and stretch.” He shows you how to position your body to make it look more elegant and elongated. “See how much longer you look now?” His eyes meet yours in the mirror. “Hold yourself like this through the rest of the dance. Trust me when I say you’ll notice a difference. So will everyone else.”

A blush creeps up your neck when his hand slides across your hip before he steps away from you, “Thank you for the tip.”

His eyes burn into yours, and you feel the heat growing in your lower stomach. “Anytime, Y/N.” His lips turned into a small smile, which you returned.

Jimin stalks silently as Luca touches you, his anger bubbling deep down inside him. Fuck, he doesn’t exactly want you, but he definitely doesn’t want anyone else to have you either. And he sure as hell doesn’t want Luca touching you like that or giving you those looks; looks that have disguised intentions with ulterior motives behind them.

He wants to tell Luca where to go and how to get there, but he knows better. Not only would it be unprofessional as hell, but Jimin would probably be screwed out of a lot of future events if he tells one of the best choreographers to fuck off.

He forces himself to look away and takes another deep breath, calming down a little before part two of rehearsals starts.

The second half of rehearsals ends sooner than expected, and Jimin storms off before you even have the chance to talk to him about this morning. You sigh, your eyes trailing his fast exit.

“Y/N! I’m heading to the vending machine for a granola bar, want to come with me?” Cat asks. You’re sure that her question has a hidden agenda too, but you go along with it anyway since you’re starving and need to eat something small before your next class.

“Sure, just give me a second to switch out of my pointe shoes.” You don’t like to wear yours for walking since they’re new and still stiff.

“So,” Catalina begins, watching you put the money into the machine. “What was that this morning? And don’t you dare try to say it was just dancing, because I’ve seen 'just dancing’ with Jimin and that was not at all what I saw earlier.”

You groan internally, not wanting to deal with her interrogation. Cat isn’t the type to judge you if you told her that you would’ve fucked Jimin right then if it wasn’t for the fact that you noticed her (and the rest of the dancers). But you don’t want to admit it to yourself.

Saying it and thinking it are two very different things, and you aren’t sure you can come to terms with saying that you want to fuck Jimin. Hell, you have no idea if you will feel the same way in an hour. So you choose to keep it to yourself for now.

“Did something happen between you two?” she asks bluntly.

“No, nothing happened between us.”

“And is that a good or bad thing?” she questions next.

“Good,” you huff, “I think…”

It’s been another busy few weeks, and things have been going great…until today. To be honest, this is probably the worst dance day you’ve had in years.

“I’m sorry guys, let’s start from the top,” you apologize again for messing up. The scene you’re going over today isn’t complicated by any means, it’s only a transition scene. But your head is elsewhere which, in turn, makes you mess up every couple of seconds.

You're not getting many approving looks from the room. Luca is a little worried, Madam Jamie has pursed lips, and the dancers are severely annoyed with you.

“No, Miss Y/N.  Stop before you hurt yourself.” Mr. Jenson lets out a frustrated sigh. “Kyra, would you stand in for Y/N and show her how it’s properly done?”

You’re embarrassed that it’s gotten to this point. What is with you? You’ve done this sequence perfectly with Jimin this past week, hundreds of times at least. Now with the extra dancers on the floor, you seem to be forgetting it all.

Taking soft, shallow breaths is the only thing keeping you from crying in front of everyone. But they wouldn’t notice. All eyes are glued to Kyra, a senior who had also auditioned for the same role as you, as she dances with Jimin.

They dance beautifully, you can’t deny it, even if you want to. You can’t help but wonder if she would’ve been the better choice for the female lead.

“Thank you, Kyra. Everyone back into position now.”

Kyra walks past you and smirks. You know she’s thinking the same thing that you are. She probably also thinks that she’s capable of sweeping in and stealing your position. Like hell if you’re going to let that happen.

Even so, it’s not your decision to make and you know if you keep screwing this up it’s more than likely to happen.

“Hey, are you okay? What’s your deal?” Jimin whispers once he lines up with you again. The last thing you need is for him to make you feel worse for fucking up.

“I don’t know, it’s not a good day for me,” you whisper back as your eyes fill with tears. You’re completely exhausted, defeated, and disappointed.

“Just dance it off, we all get days like this. Follow my lead, okay? I promise I won’t let you mess up again.”

You nod, blinking back your tears. This is a different side of Jimin than you’re used to. He’s caring and knows exactly what to say to make you feel better.

After shaking off the earlier mishaps, you get yourself together and push through practice, making sure that the first official run-through of the program is a total success. It makes you feel a hell of a lot better than two hours earlier. You can tell that the rest of the group is just as ecstatic as you and Jimin are.

“That was great, Y/N!” he says, pulling you into a comforting hug. “See, all you needed was a little reassurance.”

You’re slightly sad when he pulls back, the warmth of his body is no longer felt. “Thank you for today. I would’ve completely fallen apart without you.”

“Hey don’t worry about it, make sure you get some rest this weekend. See you Monday!” He smiles softly and waves bye. Who knew Jimin had more to him than what everyone else saw?

“Hey, Y/N!”

You turn your head and see Madison, one of the upperclassmen who’s also in the show, walking toward you.

“What are you doing tonight? Some of the girls and I are planning on going out to celebrate our first successful run-through of the show. We’re wondering if you’d like to come?” She leans in a little closer, “We have a fake you can use to get into our favorite club, Wander. We’d love for you to let loose with us.”

Usually, you would turn down any interaction that involves alcohol, especially since you’re underage, but you don’t want to disappoint your potential new friends. Plus it does sound like a lot of fun, and after the practice you just had, you deserve to let loose and relax.

“Yeah, totally! I’d love to come.” Madison smiles and you both trade numbers.

“Okay cool, I’ll text you my address later. We’re gonna get ready at mine before we head out. See you later!” She gives you a quick hug before heading out the door.

You’re secretly excited to hang out with the older girls since you don’t have many other friends in your year. Especially not now with all your free time taken up by rehearsals.

Jimin stands outside the dance studio’s side door, slyly eavesdropping. He makes a mental note to accidentally run into you later. He isn’t sure what’s gotten into him, but he doesn’t want to go without seeing you for two days.

You intrigue him, and after your almost-kiss, Jimin wants to know what your lips feel like for real this time, not just what he has been imagining.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asks over the pounding music. You have no idea what to ask for; you obviously don’t drink and ordering something from the bar is a little out of your comfort zone since you don’t know what you’re doing.

Madison catches on and takes over. “Five shots of tequila for our group!” she yells while leaning over the bartop so he can hear her.

Oh boy, you don’t know much but you know enough to feel safe assuming tonight will be wild if you’re starting with shots, of all things.

With about a month left until the show, deciding to let loose with the girls is exactly the kind of break you need. Dancing, drinks, and good friends. Looking around, you’re happy to see that you have all three. It’s all a part of tonight’s plan.

What you don’t plan for, however, is seeing Jimin in the middle of the dance floor with Kyra all over him. After practice today, this is a total slap in the face.

You aren’t sure if the progress you’ve been making with Jimin is just one-sided, or if you had been imagining it this whole time. It feels like you’re both taking two steps forward in the right direction and then something like this will happen, sending you ten steps back.

Your eyes are glued to Kyra’s body as she dances with him, her hips moving at the perfect speed. You can’t help but be jealous of her. Not only is she gorgeous and a great dancer, but she also has a way of demanding everyone’s attention in any room she graces. Although, there’s only one person’s attention you want right now, and from what it looks like, you doubt you’ll be getting his anytime soon.

“Oh my god, is that Luca?” Catalina asks with a surprised tone, pointing towards the opposite end of the bar, “No way, it can’t be.”

“It is,” you laugh nervously before looking away. You’re a little worried that he might remember that you’re under the legal drinking age, only by a year, but still. How embarrassing would it be for him to get you kicked out…

“That’ll be $42,” the bartender drones, pushing the over-spilling shot glasses toward your group and happily taking whichever girls’ fifty-dollar bill in return.

You lift your glass along with the others, “Here’s to letting go and having fun!”

The tequila burns the back of your throat but that doesn’t stop you from hollering, “Let’s go dance!”

You pull Madison and Catalina onto the dance floor, coming to an abrupt stop when your back collides with someone., “Oh my gosh, I am so sor–” You pause and stare at the dark-haired man, “Oh. Hi.”

“Hi ladies, I hope you’re not getting into too much trouble tonight,” Luca jokes with a wide smile displayed across his face. He looks gorgeous dressed in all black, the leather jacket tops off his outfit.

“Oh of course not, Mr. Black,” Catalina giggles playfully, “We’re all good girls here.”

He raises his eyebrow which makes each of you giggle, “I’m not so sure about that. Can I buy you all a drink? Or is that a little weird?”

You look around at the girls; they do the same.

“Uh, sure? Madison finally says, breaking up the awkward silence.

Cat and one of her friends entertain Luca’s conversation while they wait at the bar. You slyly peek over your shoulder while dancing, looking for you-know-who. You can’t find him, but you’re happy to see that Kyra has moved on to her next man of the night.

"Hey,” Luca says, walking towards you with an extra drink in hand. “Here you go. Shhh, it’s our little secret,” he says humorously.

You thank him for the drink, nervously swirling the ice with the slim black straw in your cup.

“I’m happy I ran into you,” he begins, “Can I talk to you for a second, alone?”

“Oh, uh, sure!” You nod to Cat, silently saying that you’ll catch up with her later. He smiles and pulls you aside from your friends.

“What’s up?” You ask tensely while Luca grins, running a hand through his hair.

“I just want to tell you how impressed I’ve been with your progress so far, I haven’t been able to take my eyes off of you at rehearsals.”

Oh my god.

“Really?” You gape.

“Absolutely,” he reaches for your hand, bringing you closer to him before bending down to plant his lips on yours. You freeze as he kisses you gently, entirely unsure of what to do in that situation.

He quickly pulls back after reading your body language, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Luca,” you say curtly, taking a step back, “I appreciate your tips in class and kind comments, but I think we should keep things professional here. You’re the choreographer and I’m a student...”

“Of course, I apologize again. How about I walk you back to your friends and we forget this happened?”

“That would be perfect.” You’re thankful that things don’t seem too awkward, and you only hope things will stay that way when you see each other Monday morning.

Jimin’s fingernails dig into the flesh of his palms as he clenches his fists. Fucking Luca Black. He was heading your way to say hi, but Luca led you in a different direction than the one your friends are heading to. He should have known better, but he follows behind slowly. And what he sees when he finally turns the corner doesn’t sit right with him.

Luca’s hand on your cheek as the two of you kiss. Jimin isn’t exactly sure who initiated it. And even though it’s eating him alive, he doesn’t want to know because it pains him either way.

He watches as Luca pulls away, and takes note of your stunned face. Jimin wants to believe that was because you didn’t enjoy it. He can’t hear what you’re talking about, and he truly wants to believe that Luca is making you uncomfortable based on your reaction to the kiss. But that hopeful thought is squashed as soon as you smile and take Luca’s hand, allowing him to lead you to the dance floor.

Jimin is still trying to process what he just witnessed even though you’re both long gone. He steps out of the shadows and throws his drink at the wall, ignoring the sound of the glass breaking behind him. Grumbling under his breath, Jimin takes the closest exit and slams the club door behind him.

He heads home with the hopes that a cold shower will ease his rage, but the cool water running down his back isn’t doing much for his boiling blood, nor is it getting rid of the image of Luca’s lips on yours. And inevitably, he can’t get you out of his head either which in turn results in him masturbating to those thoughts of you … which is anything but calming.

Jimin closes his eyes and imagines that it’s him kissing you, not Luca, and that he’s the one who has you pushed up against the wall. He can practically hear your soft whimpers, the ones you make when you’re doing partner stretches that always have him close to losing it right there in front of everyone at rehearsals.

But it isn’t him who’s stretching with you. His length quivers in his hand as he speeds up, trying to change his thoughts to you aroused in the club bathroom, his hand sliding underneath your dress and slipping into your panties. Jimin throws his head back at the image of you getting all worked up, but once again, it isn’t him that’s driving you wild. It’s Luca.

After the fifth attempt and still failing to picture himself with you, Jimin gives up. He groans, looking down at his length’s angry red tip that’s aching for release. And there’s only one thing that will give him that. You.

But not an imaginary you. The real you. The real you wanting him just as much as he wants you. He doubts that you ever will, not when you can have Luca instead.

Meaning that Jimin is basically screwed.

Monday is a killer. Jimin has been hateful to you all morning, and you genuinely have no idea why. He seems to be fuming now at the end of rehearsals, compared to the quiet angry vibe he was giving off earlier this morning.

“Hey, great job today Y/n. You’re doing phenomenal. I can’t wait to see this all come to life next week. See you tomorrow!”

“Thanks! Yes, see you tomorrow Luca.” You wave bye while he rushes out of the room, leaving just you and Jimin behind.

Jimin waits until Luca is out of earshot before saying anything. He’s been annoyed all day by your and Luca’s behavior after witnessing the two of you making out in the hallway of Wander.

He’s disgusted, even more so by the afterthoughts of Luca bringing you back to his place and taking advantage of you. Needless to say, he didn’t sleep much this weekend.

“God, you’re such a suck-up,” he criticizes, failing to hold back his evil words. “How special do you think you’re going to feel when the paid help you’re boning doesn’t remember your name the second he moves on to the next school and finds a new student to seduce?”

“Excuse me?”

“You can pretend all you want but I saw you Friday night. With him.”

Oh god…

You shake your head, “Jimin, I can explain–”

“Whatever, waitlist. I don’t want to hear your excuses.” He turns around and internally grimaces, upsetting you isn’t what he was going for. He’s pissed and unfortunately, you’re the only person he can take it out on. It’s a dick move to say things like that, especially since you deserve to be here just as much as everyone else.

Jimin knows he should just let it go, but he can’t help it. It’s been eating him alive all day. He’s pissed that you’re acting like a damn fool because of Luca’s attention. Luca’s eyes hadn’t left your body the entire day.

Fucking perv.

Jimin is more pissed that it’s bothering him so much. He shouldn’t care, he doesn’t–or at least, that’s what he keeps telling himself.

Jimin’s words stung, and you’re shaking out of pure anger. “What the fuck is your problem? I can handle the normal stick-up-your-ass behavior but it’s on a whole new level today. Chill out, okay? It isn’t what you think. Nothing happened after he kissed me. Not that it’s any of your goddamn business, but it actually made me, like, super uncomfortable and he apologized directly after. We both agreed it wasn’t professional, so piss off Jimin. And even if I did decide to take it further with Luca, it wouldn’t concern you. So stay out of it.” You’re near him when you finish, with crossed arms and eyes glaring.

It’s unbelievable Jimin would make such a comment; the last thing you need is for him to start telling people what he saw.

You know you would be harshly reprimanded for using a fake ID to get into a club, but also for accepting a drink from someone who is a teacher, and especially for kissing that same teacher.

Jimin is just as heated as you are. So his intuition was right that night. His anger only grows, wanting to punch Luca over and over again for making you uncomfortable like that. How could Luca not tell that you weren’t actually into him, but rather idolized him for his contributions to the dance world? How dare he use that against you to pull a move like that?

“Fine,” he growls in your face, totally furious at the situation, and furious with himself for caring this much about it–about you. You’re driving him crazy, even now when you’re pissed with him. It turns him on how strong and defensive you always are, and fuck, he wants to do something about it.

“Fine,” you snap back, taking another step forward as your eyes subconsciously lower to his parted mouth.

In a matter of milliseconds, your lips collide and your hands are all over each other’s bodies. He lifts you into his arms and slams your back into the mirrors. It’s a miracle that they don’t shatter from his force.

You gasp at the contact and Jimin takes the opportunity to shove his tongue further into your mouth. Your legs lock around his waist while you continue to explore each other’s mouths and bodies ravenously.

Jimin pulls away and tugs your leotard down your arms, freeing your breasts from the tight compression.

“You’re so fucking annoying, do you know that?” He snarls before leaving a line of rough kisses along your neck and down your chest. You whimper at the sensation and run your fingers through his hair.

“You’re so fucking loud, do you always have to say so much?” You moan in response.

Jimin is starved for your taste and can’t wait any longer. His hands travel down your side while his lips close over one of your soft peaks, sucking it in between his teeth.

You mewl, crashing your head back against the glass from the sheer amount of pleasure.

Jimin abruptly pulls away and brings his face back in front of yours. “What? Do you have something to say?” he asks with fire in his eyes. But with his lips replaced by his fingers, twisting and tugging, you’re helplessly tongue-tied.

He moves one hand lower and another soft moan escapes your lips, his middle finger dancing dangerously above your panties before dipping into your slickened folds.

Jimin knows exactly where and how to touch you, causing your head to spin. He feels himself hardening watching your face contort in pleasure, and nearly coming in his pants when you slowly lick your bottom lip, pulling it in between your teeth and letting out a long moan in the process.

“Mmm, Jimin,” you cry, feeling yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. Jimin notices this and instantly pulls away. You don’t get to come that easily. Even though it makes him super fucking excited to see what his touch does to you. God, this is so much better than what he imagined.

You whimper at the loss of his touch, “What the fuck?”

“Turn around,” he demands, his eyes flooding with lust and a dash of something dark. He undresses you rather quickly, leaving your tights and leotard wrapped around your legs.

You decide you aren’t going to let him have all the fun, sneaking a hand back behind you. Jimin grits his teeth in pleasure as your hand slips into his pants. His length twitches in anticipation of feeling you wrapped around him. You pull his member out and lead him between your damp folds, moaning deliciously at the contact.

The scent of your arousal has now filled the room and Jimin can’t hold back any longer. He wants to fulfill his fantasy of taking you hard and fast, right here in front of the mirror. Without a warning he slams himself into you, causing you to lose your breath.

Your back is against him as he relentlessly pounds you from behind. The force of his thrusts are hard and you use your hands as leverage against the mirror to avoid being crushed by him, even though it would certainly be worth it.

Jimin brings a hand up around your neck and holds your head straight so he can watch when you come. You’re close and he knows just what to do.

“Say my name,” he demands, using his other hand to pinch your clit. “Look at me and say the name of the man who’s making you come like you never have before.”

“Jimin, oh my-” The waves of pleasure wash over your entire body, every inch of your skin tingles. You pulsate around him, but he’s not done with you yet.

“That’s damn right.” Jimin twists you around again, lifting you against the reflective glass. He keeps his fast pace, with a fistful of your hair held between his tightening fingers.

“You’re such a fucking slut. Look at you losing it over my cock,” he snarls with a clenched jaw, “I’m gonna fuck you like this until the rest of the class comes in.”

Jimin rams into you with twice the amount of force as before. “I’d make that fucking Italian bastard watch as I take you hard and make you feel this good.” He brings his lips up to your ear and whispers, “He could never,” before harshly biting your ear, sending you completely over the edge for a second time. 

Jimin watches you unfold, your beauty completely mesmerizes him. Your entire body is on fire from oversensitivity while Jimin’s fingers rub your throbbing nub. You watch, completely hypnotized, as he brings his soaked fingers up to his mouth and sucks them clean.

“Oh, don’t think we’re anywhere near done yet,” he smirks devilishly, moving his thumb back to your clit and rubbing in crude circles. Your eyes squeeze shut at the sensation, and you can’t catch your breath. It’s too much.

Jimin hisses when your fingernails dig into his shoulders. “Fuck, Y/N. You’re so tight right now.” It isn’t long after those words leave his lips that he’s shuddering inside of you, his release shooting into the depths of your heat.

Your insides coil as you reach the peak of your third and final orgasm. Jimin holds your legs steady as you come hard over his cock, and swallows your moans with his mouth.

He slowly retreats out of you and presses his flushed cheek against yours. You can feel his heartbeat thumping out of control while you both catch your breath.

After a moment, he draws back and lowers you to the ground. You both chuckle at the state of your appearance. “I think I have a towel in my bag, one sec.” He says while tucking himself back into his pants as you readjust your hair, trying to make the whole ’i just had sex’ look a little less obvious.

You’re still breathing heavily when he returns to wipe you clean.

“Mmm,” you hum in total satisfaction, and still a little out of it - if you had to be honest. “I should piss you off more often.”

He gives you a look, “Hurry up and get dressed before anyone sees you.”

You’re the one to smirk this time, “I thought you wanted people to see me?”

“Haha, very funny.”

“Hurry up, you’re taking too long,” you whine while Jimin attempts to undo his stage pants as fast as he can.

“I’m trying,” he mutters, silently praying when his zipper finally works, “There we go.”

He lines himself up to you and pushes into your center.

You bite your lip to avoid making any noises as he stretches you out. The two of you are in the small storage closet behind the stage; there’s only about an hour or two until the opening night show starts.

Jimin thought you had to be joking at first when you whispered how badly you needed him after you both were dressed and ready to warm up with the rest of the dancers. But much to his delight, you weren’t kidding.

Hopefully, they won’t notice your absence. Who are you kidding, they probably know that you two are fucking. Plus, it’s kind of obvious when both lead roles go 'missing’ at the same time.

At first, he was torn between following you into the tight space–wanting to be in another tight space–and doing what he normally would call the right thing, which was preparing for tonight. But after seeing the look on your face, Jimin was quick to follow you into the closet.

“Shhh, you need to stay quiet,” Jimin grunts quietly with a hand over your mouth, silencing your moans.

You grip his shoulders as he quickens his pace, bringing you both over the edge.

“Holy fuck,” he quietly whines, the sensation of your inner walls clenching his length is addicting. It isn’t long after your sweet release that he’s quivering. He pulls out, knowing you can’t dance with his release filling you. He shudders one last time, his come shoots out and onto the wooden floor below.

You giggle, “Good thing we’re in a place that can clean that up.” you say referencing his load.

He rolls his eyes at your joke and leans in to give you a quick kiss, “You think you’re so funny, don’t you?”

“Yes, typically.”

You flatten out your costume and zip each other up, leaving the closet one at a time. You first of course, since you needed to touch up your makeup now. Leaving Jimin behind to clean up his mess.

About fifteen minutes later you meet Jimin backstage to practice, stretch, and chat along with everyone else. The jitters are bouncing off of everyone and you can’t stand still from excitement, a little nervousness too. But mostly excitement.

“Jimin, are you feeling okay? You look a little stiff and tired if I must say…” Madam Jamie mentions after watching him practice a few scenes.

“Nothing to worry about Madam, had a tiring warm-up is all. Not to worry though, I am more than ready for tonight.”

Madam Jamie reminds him how important rest and lots of water are when practicing hard before moving along to the next student.

“Hmmm, what is it that you usually tell me?” You begin, giving him a coy look, “Oh right. 'Just dance it off.’ That should fix your issue, correct?” You look down at his crotch, and back up at him with a twinkle in your eyes.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he says, daring you to go on.

“After our vigorous warmup, I’m sure you do. But we’re going on stage soon. So suck it up, sweetie.”

He can’t wait to make you regret that statement when he teases you later tonight. He had big plans to celebrate. And knowing you, you would love them.

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[compress1repress]

I'll stay ready for you to take me

Pegging Fic Part 2: Throuple Edition - 14k words

Art x Tashi x Patrick

[Part One] [AO3 VERSION]

finally the part 2, it's two sex scenes, one as a dream sequence :) they are all sweet here and also toxic and also fun and silly, yayyy!! patashi first, then throuple <3

CW: NSFW, MDNI, pegging, strap-ons, anal, fingering, cucking (it's for Art's own good), illogical car sex, nipple play (guess who), jealousy, hotels, sex shops, etc (i could go on)

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Tashi didn't often remember her dreams but when she did they were vivid. She sometimes felt they blended with daydreams, where she had full control over them.

2018 was tough. Art was recovering from his injury, he was recovering really well. She had felt this deep nauseating fear when it first happened, that he might never play again. Now that he had recovered, the feeling sometimes shifted into resentment. 

Of course he gets to get better.

Of course Art gets what he wants, even though he doesn't even want it enough. That's what gets her the most, the fact that he's clearly giving up. That he doesn't know how lucky he is.

What do you want me to do? I'll do whatever you want. You can fuck me if you want to.

You want.

Never I want. 

She likes that he has this need to please her, but it used to feel like he at least wanted that. Even if he was doing stuff for her, it was because he wanted to please her. Now she's not sure. Maybe he just doesn't know how else to be.

Tashi loved Art. Not even just out of duty or a loyalty to all the years they share between them. She loves him outside of that. But it's so hard to be around him with the injury. 

The injury sets alight this curled up ball of resentment that's tucked away in her rib cage. Each time he won't tell her what he wants, each time he asks her for directions, each time he sits there so passively, barely even upset about his shoulder, the ball gets closer to unfurling.

It's probably all tied up in that. In the fact that he never wants anything anymore. That she feels stuck a little, existing as attachments to other people. Wife, mother, daughter, coach. It doesn't feel very her. Or at least it doesn’t feel like a version of her she wants to be right now.

Even if it's only in her dreams, she deserves to let her hair down a little.

Whatever it is, maybe it's nothing. Maybe she's just horny. Maybe dreams don't mean anything at all. 

Either way, when she went to sleep she found herself in a bar, or no, a club. Her friend or cousin had taken her out, said she needed to relax and have some fun for once. She couldn't remember but she was drunk, the exact right amount to have fun and make bad decisions.

Bad decisions, it was like as soon as she thought it, he popped up. Across the dance floor, sandwiched between two people. Of course he is. He's got tight jeans on that she can't stop staring at.

To be fair he's drawing all the attention there, his hips grinding to the music, two pairs of hands meeting at his hips. A girl is pressed up to his front and he's got one arm at her face, obscuring it. They make out with her tits pressed against him, and his hips thrusting up on her. No fucking decorum. His other arm reaches behind, his hand grabbing at the guy pressed up against his back. 

This guy is grinding at his ass and Tashi's jaw clenches. She has never been a jealous or possessive person, or maybe she's just never had the chance to be. Either way, right now she feels it flaming up inside her watching them all dance. Well, dance is a loose term but she guesses that's what they're going for. 

Of course she would find Patrick like this.

He's got this grin plastered on his face even while he makes out with the girl, and Tashi swears she can hear him laugh when the guy squeezes his thigh. He looks so in his element pressed up between them. God, he's such a fucking stereotype.

She laughs to herself but it's like he hears her too. He's turning to face her and the two figures vanish into the crowd, just his single silhouette there. The club lights bouncing off his toothy grin, and she's not sure who moves first but suddenly they're face to face.

Tashi looks him up and down, eyes finally catching his t-shirt, "are you seriously still wearing that?" 

The grey top looks as new as it did in 2007 or 2011, with the block 'I TOLD YA' lettering standing out. Why was he always wearing that stupid shirt when she saw him?

"Yeah, it's one of my finest pieces," he seems so unaffected that she's here, like he knew she would be. 

"It's mine actually," she reminds him.

"Are you saying you want it back? Don't you think he'd notice it?" He gets closer somehow.

She ignores his question, instead sipping at the drink she hadn't even realized she was holding. It's orange flavored.

He pushes on, "is he here tonight?"

Something flits over his face then, quickly, but she notices it. Like he can't decide what he wants her answer to be.

"No," she tells him, and his face stays carefully neutral.

"Where is he?" He asks.

"I don't want to talk about him," she puts her drink down at the bar.

"What should we talk about then? The weather?" He says, like there are only so many topics of conversation once Art is ruled out.

"I don't want to talk about anything," she can't, she was supposed to be having fun tonight, and if they start actually talking about anything that really matters, she's not sure she could stop.

"Perfect, because I came here to party and since you scared off my original dance partners," he grabs her hand, "I want you to dance with me."

She just lets him drag her further into the dance floor, the music getting louder and the lighting getting darker. Indeterminate people thrum around them both, a song is playing that sounds like a mixture between Hot in Herre and something she can't recognize. 

She gets a proper look at him and realizes how young he looks, young like he did when she saw him in Atlanta. Tashi feels young too, like her bones are all brand new. Reaching up to her hair it feels longer than she thought it was.

He twirls her, the blue of her dress fanning out as she spins. Had she been wearing this the whole time? 

She's facing away from him now and he presses up behind her. Tashi lets him for a moment, grinding against him to the music but that's not what she wants. 

It's like he reads her mind, or maybe they just want the same thing, but he spins her back around to face him. 

"Were you trying to make me jealous?" She asks him.

"You're married, and you're mad that I'm dancing with other people," he raises an eyebrow at her.

"I didn't say I was mad, I just wanted to know if that's what you were trying to do," she tilts her head in question.

"No, I wasn't trying to do anything, how was I meant to know you'd turn up?" He puts his hands at her hips.

Same way you knew to wear that shirt, she wants to say.

He squeezes her waist, continuing "I'm flattered that I made you jealous, wanted it to be you I was kissing?"

"I wasn't jealous of her," Tashi cuts in quickly "wasn't even jealous at all, possessive might be a better word." 

"Oh yeah?" his smirk grows and his grip loosens.

"Yeah, wanted to go up to him and tell him that your ass belongs to me," she doesn't know why she's saying it but she gets the sense that nothing matters here.

"Since when?" He squints at her but she can feel the bulge in his jeans growing.

"I was there first, finders keepers rules," she shrugs at him, like it's obvious.

"I'm not sure that's how it works," he protests but he doesn't seem that passionate.

"Hmm," Tashi reaches her hand round to slip her hands into the back pocket of his jeans, "you want it to work like that don't you? For your ass to be mine?"

She uses her hands to push his hips into hers, the bulge is undeniable now and he makes a muffled noise.

"Thought you didn't want to talk," he avoids her question but he's burning up at her touch.  

"Okay, let's go somewhere else and not talk," she removes her hands and starts to walk off.

Patrick grabs her hand stopping her, "if we go somewhere else I won't be able to hold back." 

"I'm not asking you to," she gives him steady eye contact, knowing that he'll understand, "c'mon."

As she's leading him out of the club, it's like time blurs and speeds past because they're in an empty parking lot now. Her back pushed up against Patrick's beat up Honda CRV.

"You still have this piece of shit?" She asks, surprised it's held out all these years, it's the same car he's always had.

First the shirt and now this, she hadn't known Patrick had the commitment to hold on to anything this long.

"It's good quality, why would I get rid of it," he knocks at the roof then adds, "everything was better in 2006, don't you think?"

He's acting like there's a chance he's talking about car manufacturing but the veiled reference is so flimsy it just comes out sad.

"What do you want?" Is all she can say, and it's enough because he's surging forwards.

He presses up against her, grabbing at her face, smashing their mouths together. She just revels in his passion for a bit.

Then he's taking her hands and bringing them down to his ass. She gets the idea, grabbing at him while they continue to make out against the car.

Then she's pulling away and speaking into his mouth, "I know what you want."

Patrick can't even reply because she's spinning him around so he's the one against the car. 

She's shoving herself against him, attaching their mouth again. 

This time he pulls away to speak, "I want you to fuck me." 

She just grins at him because she knew that, but it feels nice to hear him say it.

"Properly?" She clarifies, watching him nod, "I do too but I don't think-"

"I have stuff," he interrupts, "anything you'd need."

Jesus Christ.

"What are you? A professional slut?" She laughs in disbelief.

He just shrugs at her, actually having the nerve to look bashful.

"Turn around," she orders, watching him follow immediately.

She pushes him forward so he braces himself with his hands on the hood of the car. She presses up against him once more, her crotch against his ass. 

"Fucking hell, Tashi," he looks back at her joyfully shocked.

"It's what you were doing with those people in the club isn't it," she grabs at his hips, grinding herself against him, "so shameless, for anyone to see."

"At least that was a club. You're the one bending me over the hood of my own car, in a fucking parking lot wh-" he complains, while clearly grinding his dick against the metal.

She stops his rant by shoving her fingers in his mouth, "suck," she directs, unnecessarily, because Patrick starts devouring them the second the fingertips touch his tongue.

"Get them nice and wet for me," she drapes herself over him to whisper in his ear, "want to open you up with your own spit."

He gasps in a breath of air as his hips involuntarily thrust forwards, "you don't have to."

"We've been over this," she remembers his insistence the first time she fucked him. 

"I just mean I already prepared before coming out tonight, so it won't take much," he explains and she has to pause a little because, fuck, the idea of him doing that is a lot.

"I don't know how many more ways I can come up with to call you a whore," Tashi laughs, weirdly affectionately, "you were really going to let that guy fuck you, huh?"

"Maybe I was waiting for you," he looks back at her, a charming grin on his face. 

"So you put on my shirt, keep a strap-on in your car, and finger yourself before you go out at night, just in case you'll bump into me?" She arches her eyebrow at him.

"It's a nice idea isn't it?" He says all sweet and all she can do is roll her eyes and shove her fingers back in his mouth.

She uses her other hand to reach around to the front of his jeans, he's already so hard, unbuttoning them. He bites at her fingers making her pull them out.

"What?" She thrusts her hips forward in retaliation.

"Here?" He looks back at her, genuinely taken aback which makes her smile.

She shouldn't do this, wouldn't do this normally. But, again, she gets the sense that nothing matters here. 

She guesses Patrick has to ask because there's no one here to protest, nobody here to say 'this isn't a good idea' before ultimately joining in anyway. 

Art's not here.

"Problem?" She tests him and he just shakes his head, "good, now put your hands behind your back."

"You arresting me?" He laughs.

"Just shut up and do it," she urges.

He does, now pressed flat against the hood with his face turned on its side and his hands at his back in imaginary handcuffs.

With his jeans unbuttoned she can pull them off now, it takes some effort because they are tight, "might as well not even wear any pants if they're this tiny, leaves nothing to the imagination."

"And I bet you're imagining, huh," he remarks, a stupid grin on his face.

She just pulls the jeans down the rest of the way, his underwear coming down with them until he's fully exposed. Patrick takes a sharp inhale of breath. 

"Jesus Christ, Tashi," he says all shaky, again a mix of shock and delight.

She reaches her hand to his mouth, "spit," she directs and he does, making eye contact as he does.

Tashi rubs at his ass with one hand while bringing the other to his hole, her fingers dripping in spit. 

"Start with two," he tells her, his eyes already hooded.

"Don't tell me what to do," Tashi squeezes at his ass, her fingers at his rim but not pushing in. 

"I'm not," he basically whines, trying to push himself back on her fingers, "I'm just telling you what I want."

She feels herself throb at that, so turned on now that she doesn't have the patience to tease or hold back anymore. She slips the two fingers in, and they slide in so easy. He really had prepped already.

"Fuck, you could probably take me already," she scissors her fingers just to watch him stretch.

"Do it," his eyes flutter almost shut as he says it and now she knows he's not giving an order, he's just asking for what he wants.

She laughs, "I would but I'm not getting naked in the parking lot, want to fuck you in the car."

"Oh but it's fine for me to be naked?" He complains.

"You love it," she adds a third finger so he can't reply except to groan, "think you get off on the idea of getting caught like this, bent over with your pants around your ankles, moaning around my fingers."

He whines again, trying to thrust forward for friction at the same time as pushing himself back on her fingers. 

"Would he let you do this to him?" He regains enough composure to ask, a smirk at his lips.

"He'd let me," she pauses for a second, adding, "but he'd never ask for it like you do." 

It used to annoy her that Patrick wouldn't do what he was told, that he knew what he wanted and wasn't asking for advice. She liked it too, sometimes, she enjoyed the push backs and arguments but mostly it pissed her off. Aggravated her that he couldn't admit she knew best. 

Now she's just enthralled by his drive, his excessive greed and want. So hungry for things still. Even if his career is off the deep end he's fighting tooth and nail to stay above water. Even if she's married to his ex best friend he's in a parking lot, bare and exposed in his wanting. 

And she's going to give him what he wants.

"Where do you keep it?" She leans further over him to ask.

"Glove box with the lube," he answers knowing what she's asking about, "I'm ready."

"I know, that's why I asked," she pulls out of him, "how do you want to do this?"

He gets up and turns to face her, his jeans pooling around his feet, his dick hard and flushed pink while still wearing the stupid I TOLD YA shirt. It's as much ridiculous as it is ridiculously hot. 

She tells him the first half, "you look fucking ridiculous."

He ignores the comment, just looking at her "I want to ride you."

"Fuck, alright, let me get ready," she heads for the passenger door, opening the glove box.

The strap-on is a little bigger than the one she used on him all those years ago but it's the same shade of purple, she looks back at him, "really?"

He just shrugs at her, grinning. Then it's a blur of unzipping her dress and strapping on the toy. She's sat in the passenger seat, purple dick stood at attention as she looks up at Patrick and taps her lap, "c'mon."

He straddles her lap, closing the car door behind him and hovering above the toy.

"Get ready for the ride of your life, and I suggest you hold on tight for this one," he smirks, bracing himself with his hands on the car headrest. 

"Alright cowboy, don't get too big for your boots," she moves her hands to his waist, "I'm sure I'll be just fine." 

"I don't know, I'd be careful, I'm not that blushing virgin you once knew," he smiles at her and she snorts. 

She just uses the hands at his waist to urge him down, and he gets the idea immediately. She wraps a hand around the dildo, steadying it as Patrick sinks down.

She watches the toy disappear inside him before bringing her gaze back up to his face. His eyes are fully closed, a pink twinge to his cheeks and he's biting at his lip. It reminds her of the first time. 

"Feel good?" She's aiming for smooth or teasing but she's so worked up her voice is breathy.

"Yeah, I've just, yeah," he gets out, pushing all the way down now and Tashi's hands clench at his side.

His eyes open and he's reaching for her face, pulling her in to kiss, softer than before but more intense. 

"Do you remember when I told you about when I got my ear pierced?" He speaks into her mouth.

"Sure, and you said it closed up," she goes along with it, not sure where Patrick's going with this. 

"I got another piercing, well two actually," he's not moving up and down, but his hips are rocking back-and-forth lightly. 

She looks at him, scanning for any earrings she missed, "I don't see any."

"I didn't say it was my ears this time," he smiles at her, his eyes flicking down. 

No way.

She fumbles for his shirt, pulling it up to reveal his chest.

"God, this is fucking stupid," she stares at the metal piercing his nipples, "surely that gets in the way when you're playing?"

"It's hot though," he says, bearing his teeth at her in a smile and she can't look away from his chest.

"It's stupid," she tries again, still fixated on the metal.

"Tashi, you're staring," he says, overjoyed at the effect he's having, "you think it's hot too."

"It's slutty," is the closest she can get to a compliment.

"Everything I do is slutty according to-" he cuts himself off with a moan as Tashi brings a finger up to one of his nipples.

Tashi's certain that Patrick could see the way her eyes light up at the noise.

She looks up at him, eyes wide and expecting so he tells her, "they're more sensitive now."

"Yeah no shit," she breathes out and then, "weren't you meant to be giving me the ride of my life? Right now it seems like you're just sitting here."

One hand is still holding the t-shirt up to keep the piercings exposed, and the other is held a few tentative inches from his left nipple.

Patrick finally starts moving, his thigh muscles tightening as he lifts himself up to the tip before bringing himself down again.

She thumbs at his nipple again, and watches how he bites his lip and stops moving, "keep going," she urges. 

He starts again, still slow and struggling to keep his eyes open, his hand still using the headrest for balance. 

She continues her movements at his left nipple and he's taking in sharp breaths as she does.

He smirks at her, "you really like them, huh?" 

"I like that me touching them makes you whimper," she brushes a finger over the piercing and watches him swallow a sound.

"I'm not whimpering," he protests with a shaky voice.

"Not yet," she grins up at him.

Patrick leans down to kiss her, desperate and hungry, saying against her lips, "I'd like to see you try."

It barely qualifies as goading or teasing, coming out more just like begging. Like he might as well have just said please make me whimper.

He moans into her mouth as she breathes words back into his, "faster."

He follows the order, picking up the pace and breathing heavier as he does. He can't even kiss her anymore, focusing on bouncing up and down on her dick, his thighs flexing. He looks determined.

Now he's pulled back Tashi can get at his chest again, pushing his shirt up once more.

She switches between nipples now and Patrick is groaning. His dick hard between them rubbing at her stomach as he moves, starting to drip precum. The groaning is nice but it’s not whimpering. She gets an idea.

Tashi takes the hem of the shirt that’s in her hand and holds it up to his mouth, “bite.”

His eyes open to look at her, taking in the shirt, confusion flitting across his face.

“I wasn’t even talking,” he complains, thinking she’s just trying to gag him.

“Just do it, I’m not trying to shut you up,” she presses it to his mouth, “although it is a bonus effect.”

He takes the fabric in his mouth, his eyes watching slightly narrowed. Now she has two hands she can reach up to get both hands at his chest, a thumb at each pink nub. She nods her head, urging him to move.

He’s struggling to keep his eyes on her, and struggles even more when she rubs with both thumbs, fighting to keep a noise in his throat. She waits until he’s bouncing in earnest again to take them both between her thumb and forefinger, and start pinching.

He lets out a shocked, punched out moan, his mouth falling open and dropping the shirt, “what the fuck.”

“I didn’t tell you to drop that,” she says calmly, “was ‘bite’ too complex an order for you?”

“You surprised me,” he says indignantly.

“Can you do it or not?” Her eyebrow arches at him, taking the fabric once again and holding it to his lips, he takes it again, “great, let’s try this again.” 

She could just make him take the whole shirt off but she likes that he’s wearing it. Plus, there’s something weirdly hot about him holding it up for her with his mouth, baring his chest for her to do as she pleases. 

She pinches again and he’s ready for it this time so he doesn’t drop the shirt, but he still whines. His dick still getting the occasional amount of friction as it rubs between their bodies. He uses his thigh strength to lift himself right to the tip before sinking all the way down over and over.

The power is impressive, the speed is impressive and the stamina is impressive too. His teeth continue gripping the shirt even when she pinches harder making his eyebrows furrow in a mix between pain and pleasure.

“You’re good at this, dedicated,” she comments watching the way his eyes flick to her face, “and look, you are capable of following orders.”

He bounces faster in response, showing off, and because she’s Tashi she adds, “if only you treated tennis like this.”

His movements stutter but he keeps going, giving her a look that tells Tashi what he’s thinking. I am dedicated to tennis, I’m still here aren’t I?

It’s true. He is still here. He hasn't just given up, his passion hasn’t died. He isn't ungrateful. He’s digging his heels into the ground and refusing to be dragged away. This is all true and she respects him for it, even if she would never tell him that. It’s also fucking embarrassing.

He’s arrogant. He’s sticking around but he’s too stubborn to actually change anything. To work on himself. He’s still got that stupid serve that everyone knows doesn’t work like it should. She would’ve tried anything, changed everything if it meant carrying on. She did try everything.

He gets to have a whole extra decade on those courts than she did, and he wastes it by being fucking mediocre. 

She wasn’t supposed to be angry here. She wasn’t supposed to be a lot of things. 

Still, this isn’t about that. She takes in the sight of him again, face all scrunched up and hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. 

She calms down a little but can’t fully stop herself lashing out, “seriously, Art is dedicated. That’s why he’s a winner. That’s why I’m married to him while you’re here fucking yourself on my dick.”

She wants him to hurt, to moan, to get fired up. Instead he takes the shirt out of his mouth.

“Tashi, I don't want to talk about tennis or-” he starts and she cuts him off because he’s not supposed to do that. Be reasonable. 

“Did I say you could let go?” she asks and he’s just looking at her. Jesus, he was supposed to get jealous or something. To hear Art’s name and come alive, fuck himself harder. Not have this expression on his face that she can’t bear to look at.

The shirt is fully down, I TOLD YA glaring at her so she grabs the hem and pulls it up in a sharp motion, dragging it over his face but not all the way off. She hooks the shirt over his head so it stays there. He had stopped his movements up on his knees, his hole just around the tip and before he can say anything she’s grabbing his waist pushing him down at the same time she thrusts up as much as she can.

The toy must finally hit his prostate because he lets out a choked out moan and his thighs tremble. 

“Still think I can’t get you to whimper for me?” she asks and doesn’t give him time to recover before bringing her mouth to one of his piercings, sucking.

She brings a hand up to the right, rolling the nipple between her fingers while her mouth works on his left. She feels the metal on her tongue then takes the nipple between her teeth and lightly pulls. He’s taking these sharp intakes of breath over and over. 

“Fuck,” he whines, “fuck, Tashi let me see you.”

His bouncing picks up in pace, as if that’s going to convince her. 

“No, you’ll get rewarded for good behavior,” she insists.

He grabs at the shirt anyway, struggling but managing to pull it off.

“Patrick,” she scolds, reaching out to pinch both his nipples in retaliation.

He groans, his head falling forward as their foreheads almost touch. He looks a mess, even more than before, his hair all over the place. 

“I don’t care, I don’t care,” he babbles and she twists where she was pinching, he whines but keeps going, “needed to see you, wanted to see you.” 

He grabs at her face and pulls her in for a, very sloppy, kiss. She can’t even be mad at him for disobeying because it’s so very Patrick. It’s the fire she wanted from him, the pushing back instead of just keeling over. The tunnel vision of: want want want.

She thrusts her own hips up into him as much as she can to match his movements, her tongue shoving into his mouth. 

“Forgot how needy you get with a cock inside you,” she teases between kissing.

“Just yours,” he replies, and he’s absolutely lying but he says it with such sincerity it sends her stomach swooping in arousal.

“I shouldn’t have-” said that earlier? Been so mean to you? She doesn't really know how she intended to end that sentence so she starts another one, “you really are made for this, your thighs are like fucking machines.”

He moans again, “hold on I need to,” his head drops to her shoulder and he’s breathing heavy as he adjusts the angle before sinking down, “fuck.”

He must’ve found the right angle that sets that spot inside him on fire because his moans go up a pitch. 

“That’s it, right there Patrick, keep going,” she moans too as if she can feel it like he does.

“Touch me,” he begs, “I want you to touch me again.”

“Your nipples or your dick?” she brings her hands to lightly hover over both, not touching yet.

“Both, anything,” he pleads.

She obliges, one hand playing with his piercing and the other going to finally stroke his dick.

He’s cursing under his breath, precum dripping, “I’m close.”

“Jesus Patrick I’ve been jerking you off for five seconds, don’t think you’d even qualify as a minute man,” she smiles at him, meanly, knowing she’s being purposefully unfair.

“Give me a fucking break,” he groans, so she removes her hand and he gives her a desperate look, “I didn’t mean like that, c’mon I need to cum.”

She ignores his plea, “do you think you could get off just from riding me, and the friction of your dick against my stomach?”

“I don’t know,” he moves up and down impatiently, but doesn’t touch himself.

“I want you to try,” she urges.

“Okay, just,” he reaches for the hand that had abandoned his dick, bringing it up to join her other at his nipples, “want this.”

He leans back a little to get a good angle, and she watches his taut stomach as he fucks himself on her cock. His eyes squeezed shut, his entire body sweaty and flushed pink in exhaustion. The moans start spilling out of him like he can’t stop now, like he’s hitting his prostate on every bounce. 

She switches between rubbing, pinching, and twisting and just revels in the noises he’s making. 

“Fuck, Patrick, how close are you?” she asks.

“Very,” he manages.

“You look so good, sound so desperate,” she looks up at him, “want to make you whimper. When you cum I want you to keep bouncing until you can’t anymore.”

He whines and she surges forward to claim his lips, swallowing the noise, her arms pressed between them both still pinching. His dick is also pressed between them and the extra pressure is working.

“Tashi,” he speaks out, asking or warning, she’s not sure.

“Go on, cum for me, finish with my cock inside you,” she encourages into his mouth.

He groans, white ropes spurting out onto Tashi’s stomach but she doesn’t let up, “keep going.”

She thrusts up into him herself to get him moving, it now actually feels like the toy is connected to her, like she can feel the tightness of him around her. His entire body trembles and he’s biting his lip so hard it might bleed.

“Wish I could fuck you all the time,” she’s babbling now, “want to fuck you doggy style, want to bend you over a desk or just shove you down on a tennis court and take you.”

“Tashi,” he’s moaning again like it’s all he's capable of saying in response to this amalgamation of thoughts she’s had over the years.

If she’s revealing her fantasies then she has to mention the biggest one, “want to fuck you while Art watches.”

Patrick finally whimpers, and it makes her so horny she thrusts up. Patrick shudders, his dick somehow spurting out a few more drops, high pitched whines and whimpers leaving him. 

His head tucks into her neck, overwhelmed and overstimulated, “I can’t.”

“You’re done,” she tells him, helping him lift off her, “you can stop, you did good.”

He winces as the toy slides out, collapsing to sit on her thighs instead and she doesn’t even mind the weight. His body slumps into her, his head at her shoulder, and she wraps her arms around him.

“You okay?” she whispers into his ear.  

“Forgot how good you are at being mean,” he mumbles into her neck, “I missed it.”

She laughs, “forgot how much you liked me being mean.”

He hums contently, “and did you miss it too?”

His hand trails lazily to her crotch, finally. 

“I’m close,” she tells him, because she’s been so worked up for so long that she’s already right on the edge.

He rubs in circles at her clit underneath the toy, then asks again, “did you miss this as much as I did?” 

“I’,” she starts to say I missed you but there's a sudden loud blaring noise.  Did somebody call the police?

She blinks and then opens her eyes, waking up with a gasp and a hand down her pants. Her bedroom is bright and the alarm blares next to her. She turns it off with her free hand. Fuck. 

She finishes getting herself off anyway, watching Art’s sleeping body. She kind of hopes he’ll wake up and catch her out, ask her what she was dreaming about that got her like this. Then she’ll have to tell him, it’s only right to be honest if he’s asking so directly. She’ll give him all the details and watch him flush pink. 

Art doesn’t wake up though, he just sleeps through it all until his own alarm goes off.

********

February 2020

They've been sleeping together for over six months now, all three of them. They were taking as close to a vacation as she'd done in years. It wasn't even really supposed to be a vacation. 

They were invited for Tashi's cousin's wedding, well her and Art were invited and it felt weird leaving Patrick behind with Lily and her mom. Her cousin was marrying some British guy, ‘was’ being the key term because the whole thing got called off two days before the wedding. She didn't know the details and didn't really care to.

She'd sort of been glad because she didn't really feel up to answering any questions about who Patrick is or why he'd come to the wedding with them. They'd already been at the airport when she got the call and it had taken so long to figure out a way for them all to get a week off that they all felt they should just go. When else would they get a chance for a vacation in the near future?

When they landed at Heathrow, instead of getting a rental and driving the three hours up to the Peak District where the wedding was supposed to happen, they booked a hotel in London. Patrick insisted on a hotel in Soho, saying that Art and Tashi would love it there. They'd been to London for Wimbledon of course, but they'd never ventured outside of that. Unlike Patrick apparently had early on in his career.

He also suggested they get the tube to the hotel which had been hell, so she made him swear they would stick to Ubering the rest of the week. Tashi was sort of regretting listening to his suggestions at all. Walking from the tube to their hotel she got a sense of why Patrick had been so struck with the place. 

It was lively but she knows that’s not what he’d been thinking, “plenty of sex shops and gay bars,” she gives him an eyebrow, “I see why you loved it here so much.”

“Real classy, Patrick,” Art snorts.

“There’s also a great ice cream place,” Patrick grins at them both, “I didn’t even notice the sex shops, you guys are just perverts.”

“And the gay bars?” she asks.

“Oh, those are unforgettable,” he bumps his shoulder into her, “plenty of great memories.”

“We don’t need to hear about that,” Art rolls his eyes, his comment coming off more cold than joking.

Art’s been a little off recently, getting jealous and insecure about everything. She shares a look with Patrick, which if Art saw would only make things worse.

“You don’t have to be such a closet case about it,” Patrick pushes when he probably shouldn’t.

“He’s just jealous,” Tashi says, giving Art a pointed stare that he avoids. 

He loosens up back at the hotel a bit, they’re raiding the mini bar and getting dressed to go out for an early dinner. 

“Do people really still go to physical sex shops? I just figured everyone else does it online too,” Art muses from where he’s sat on the bed.

“I guess sometimes you want to see it in person,” Patrick replies, rooting through his suitcase for pants, “you’ve never been inside one before?”

“We’re not all as free as you are. Right, Tashi?” he looks up at her and she keeps her face neutral.

“Right,” is all she says, shrugging. Her and Patrick share another look that Art maybe notices this time but he doesn’t say anything. 

She heads to the en suite to finish getting ready, leaving the door open so she can listen into their conversation. 

“I think you’d pass out in a sex shop,” she hears Patrick comment, “you’d be so scandalised by a wall of dildos.”

“You do know I’m a fully grown adult, I can handle a few plastic dicks,” Art defends, and Tashi smiles to herself preemptively knowing what Patrick will say.

“A few, huh, impressive,” she can hear the insufferable grin on Patrick’s face, and knows Art is rolling his eyes, “I was just thinking about how you passed out when we had to watch that video about erections for sex ed.” 

She enjoys hearing about their time at the academy, even if she sometimes feels a little envious, that it’s unfair they knew each other first.

“I passed out because I hadn’t eaten, not because of the video,” Art protests, “and you were the one who freaked out. When I came to, you were kneeling over me and holding me like I’d died or something.”

“Hey, I was just concerned I’d have to get used to playing with another doubles partner,” Patrick says, she can see in the mirror that he’s walking over to the bed, “none of them were as cute as you.”

“Were you always this cheesy?” The smile in Art’s voice is obvious, “you’re a fucking sap.”

“And the cutest doubles partner you’ve ever had too, right?” She sees him straddle Art now.

“You’re the only doubles partner I’ve ever had,” Art tells him.

“You’re so loyal,” Patrick moves his head and Tashi can hear kissing sounds, “it’s very romantic.”

She shakes her head and calls out to them, “stop getting distracted, we need to leave soon.”

She hears them shuffle away from each other, both laughing softly.

Tashi likes shoving them together, working them up and watching them mesh together. Even though Art is sometimes repressed and Patrick sometimes insists on pretending he doesn’t care about anything, they can open up to each other in ways that she finds difficult.

It was less there at first but after time it's like their years of sharing a room return, and they're all over each other. This casual affection that looks so easy on them. It makes her breathe better to watch it.

When she's worked them up and they fuck it out, sometimes they'll end with this string of 'I missed you' that blends together between them. She thinks Patrick's probably one good fuck away from telling Art he loves him. Maybe even her too, but the difference is Art would say it back but she's pretty sure Patrick knows Tashi wouldn't. 

Not right away at least. Not because she doesn't. 

It's so fucking hard to even be nice to him sometimes. Even with Art she finds it hard, but it's easier because they're married, they have a kid together. It doesn't feel so massive to call out a 'love ya' occasionally because it goes without saying, it doesn't feel like an admission of something. A surrendering. And even then, she still barely says it.

With Patrick it feels impossible to even tell him that she likes him. Except when she's fucking him, which is a little stupid. It's just hard to feel weak and vulnerable when he's there moaning around her dick. Maybe that’s part of some internalised something or other, or maybe she’s complicating things. Maybe it just gets her so horny she forgets to care.

It's just part of it, complimenting him when he's like that. It's part of the game. It's easy to do when she's so clearly above, the power so obviously in her favour. Plus, sometimes he squirms more from the nice names than he does the degrading. 

He always got a little flustered in bed when she'd call him pretty or something, but since the decade spent alone he's become even more sensitive. Like he can't fucking take it. Or he's forgotten how to receive affection. She tries not to dwell on it. 

She can't help it though, she hasn't got to fuck him since they've all three been together. She’s just living off memories of her and Patrick and the weird softness of those moments. She hasn't fucked Art since they all got together either. She felt like they didn't need that, now that they've got each other to fill that hole. Literally.

Now this conversation about sex shops and dildos has brought up what she’d already been thinking about. She needs to fuck Patrick. Needs it an embarrassingly large amount. 

It's just that he's really been in good form recently, with tennis, with Lily, with their relationship. He’s been good.

He's also been opening up more, just subtly sliding in stories about the last ten years and it's making her sad. If she was a different sort of person she'd hold him in her arms like a baby, maybe kiss at his forehead. But that thought makes her a little nauseous.

Still, she's feeling all these horribly sweet things and she can't fucking do anything with it. So she needs to fuck him, needs him in a position where she can actually have an outlet for it all, and where he'll be forced to receive it.

She sprays some perfume at her pulse points, finishing up and stepping out to see Patrick looking at himself in the mirror, “does my ass look fat in these jeans?”

“Yes,” Art calls out, moving past Tashi to take her place in the en suite.

“You’re so sweet to me,” Patrick calls back, then looking at Tashi, “I guess you guys have been feeding me well.”

“Hmm, that was our plan,” she moves closer to him and his eyes sparkle seeing that she’s going along with his joking, “we’ve been fattening you up.”

Tashi moves to stand behind him, pressing herself against his back, resting her chin on his shoulder.

“I thought we weren’t meant to get distracted,” Patrick says, with very little conviction. 

“I’m just checking something,” she reaches a hand down to squeeze his ass, “yeah, definitely bigger.”

“I feel objectified,” he smiles.

“You’re welcome,” she replies, lightly thrusting against him for good measure.

Patrick’s grin widens, “thinking about anything in particular?”

“I’m sure you know,” she tries being casual, “maybe we could pick up a little something after dinner.”

“I‘m not sure anyone has ever referred to buying a strap-on as picking up a little something,” he teases, “and what would Art think about it?”

“You know him, he’ll want to, he might just need a little persuading,” she tilts her head, giving him another squeeze to the ass.

Art returns from the en suite, taking in the sight of them, “what are you two talking about?”

“Just some after dinner plans,” Tashi shrugs, giving Patrick a last tap on the ass before going to put her shoes on.

Art narrows his eyes at them but doesn’t say anything more. She knows they should reassure him but he’s been so annoying with this jealousy recently that she doesn’t have much patience left. It’s just that his jealousy isn’t even fun at the moment, it’s not like he gets all fired up and possessive. He just gets quiet and distant.

Last week her and Patrick had been sat next to each other on the couch, not even doing anything and Art had walked in, took one look at them, then sat as far away as possible. He hadn’t said a word, just pretending to look at his phone with a sour look on his face. She’d been perfectly happy to just let him stew in it but Patrick had flung himself over Art’s lap, getting in his personal space until he had to smile. 

Patrick was better at that, not getting annoyed at Art for being difficult. Although Patrick is also usually the one trying to make him jealous in the first place, so she guesses it balances out. 

Despite Art’s mood, the dinner is pretty uneventful, they’re all so hungry from travel that they spend the time scarfing down pizza and downing glasses of wine. 

Art and Tashi watch Patrick tilt back his glass, “you know I was thinking about when I had my ear pierced.”

“Oh shit, I forgot about that,” Art replies, “and your dad made you take it out because it would get in the way when you were playing tennis or something.”

Another shared look between Tashi and Patrick, “what’s that look,” Art cuts in.

“Nothing, I just heard the story a little differently,” she takes a sip from her own glass, avoiding looking at Patrick, “I didn’t think it was about tennis.”

“Patrick?” Art questions.  

“Oh, it’s not a big deal, I mean it was my dad,” Patrick looks down, a forced smile on his lips, “it was just more about him thinking people would get the wrong idea about me.”

“His dad didn’t want people thinking his son was gay,” Tashi interjects, not exactly sure what she’s trying to do.

“Yeah, I got that,” Art says to her before turning to Patrick, “why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know dude, we were like fourteen,” he shrugs, "you would've been weird about it."

“I’m not boring or prissy or whatever you guys seem to fucking think,” Art snaps, “you don’t have to whisper about salacious details behind my back, I’m fun too.”

He’s not boring. Not at all. They both know that, it’s just that sometimes he seems obsessed with pretending like he is. 

“Alright Mr. Fun, let’s go get my ear re-pierced right now,” Patrick suggests and she hadn’t expected that.

“What?” she questions.

“Well, that’s why I brought it up, I wasn’t trying to start an argument,” he looks between them both, “it’s just there’s a piercing place round the corner and I thought it would be cool.”

“Sounds fun to me,” Art crosses his arms, going for casual. 

They pay the bill, heading to the piercing place. They’re all past tipsy but not quite fully drunk, just more relaxed than usual. When they get there Patrick goes for a single piercing on his left ear, selecting a small hoop for it. 

“I might need them both to come in with me, for moral support,” Patrick says to the piercer.

“Sure, whatever,” the piercer shrugs, clearly not giving a fuck. 

He gets sat on this leather armchair as they prepare the needle, and Patrick summons Art and Tashi to stand at either side of him. 

“Can you both hold my hands, in case it hurts?” he looks up at them with this fake innocent look, and Art rolls his eyes.

Tashi snorts, “I think you’ve taken worse.”

“Maybe, but this is an emotional moment for me,” he looks to Art, fluttering his eyelashes “I’m standing up to my dad.”

“Stop guilt tripping us,” Tashi complains, but takes the hand he holds out.

“Art?” he gives him a look, holding his hand out to him.   

Art takes it reluctantly, and Patrick looks very pleased with himself. He keeps hold of them both as the needle goes through his lobe, clearly not feeling any pain at all but he pretends to.

Once it’s over he lets go and Art shakes his hand, “Jesus Patrick did you have to squeeze that hard?”

“It hurt,” he says simply.

“Asshole,” he’s still rubbing at his hand.

“Happy with it?” the piercer asks.

“What do you guys think?” he looks to them both.

Tashi looks at him, it’s exactly how she imagined it, “cute.”

“And Art, it’s sexy right?” he wiggles his eyebrows at him.

Art gets weird then for some reason, looking to the side and then saying, “yeah I think your girlfriend will love it.”

For fuck’s sake.

Patrick just nods at him, and they leave the shop without talking about it.  They don’t even talk about it as they walk back to the hotel. 

On their way, they pass by one of the many sex shops and Tashi glances over at Patrick, tilting her head in its direction. He grins at her. 

“Still, feeling fun, Art?” Patrick stops walking.

“Always,” Art gives him a fake smile.

“Well, why don’t you head in that shop and buy us something?” he points to the shop behind Art, “I dare you.”

“Dare? Are we twelve years old?” he mocks.

“Stalling? Are you chicken?” Patrick teases back.

“This is stupid,” Art looks to Tashi for support but she doesn’t give him any, “ugh, fine, what am I supposed to be getting.”

“Oh just something fun for tonight,” Patrick thrusts his hips and mimes jerking off.

Art looks around but nobody on the street even spares them a second glance, still he blushes a little, “alright, I’m going, just stop doing that.”

“Have fun,” Patrick calls out as he walks away.

Art looks back at Tashi one last time and she just nods at him. 

“They grow up so fast,” Patrick smiles at her.

“You know, when I said you’d need to persuade him I thought you’d be more subtle,” she laughs, then adds, “he likes the earring.”

“What, did he communicate that to you telepathically?” he jokes, a hint of bitterness.

“He’s just being annoying,” she sighs, looking him over, “the piercing really does suit you.”

“Oh, yeah?” he leans in to her ear, whispering, “makes you want to fuck me?”

“Yeah, it’s taking everything in me not to pounce on you right now,” she says, deadpan. Although it is doing something for her.

“You joke but if I walked in that gay bar around the corner, I’d be fighting people off,” he smirks, getting up in her face.

“I think that would tip Art over the edge, he might actually die if he saw some guy grinding on you,” Tashi snorts imagining Art stood in a dark corner just glaring, “maybe it would get him to be jealous in a way that’s actually fun.”

He honestly usually is, he’d get all fired up when Patrick would be gloating in his face. He’d get competitive, playing better, and fucking better.

She’d had one of the best orgasms she’d ever had when Art had walked in on Patrick eating her out. Patrick had given him this smug grin and Art had joined in, both of them licking and sucking at her, tongues fighting over her clit, both desperate to be the one to get her over the edge. Art had won and fucked her afterwards, sweaty and passionate, kissing her all over while Patrick watched. 

It usually makes him work harder but the last few weeks he’d just get avoidant, cold and self pitying. 

“I don’t know, he doesn’t really get jealous about me, I’m the competition not the prize,” his smile weakens a bit so he continues, “and I’m more than happy to take that role, to fight with him over you. I like seeing him like that.”

Hmmm. Her mind starts whirring with ideas.

“I don’t know about that,” now she turns to whisper in his ear, “I think I can prove it tonight.”

Before Patrick can ask what she means, Art is exiting the shop.

“What are you guys whispering about?” the insecurity flitting across his face.

“Just how much of a hit Patrick would be at a gay club with his earring,” she half lies, just to watch his face.

She thinks she sees a hint of fire in his eyes when he looks to Patrick, who nods, “they’d be all over me.”

“We don’t need you slutting it up tonight, thanks,” Art snaps, rolling his eyes. It’s not quite what Tashi is going for but at least he’s not just being silent.

“Slutting it up he says while literally exiting a sex shop,” Patrick snorts, “so where is it?”

Art reaches in his pocket and holds out a singular condom, it’s a novelty one with a cartoon of Big Ben on it.

“That’s it?” Patrick says exasperated, “dude, that’s like the most boring thing you could’ve bought.”

“You dared me to buy something,” he shrugs, “that’s what I did. I win.”

“And we’re all so proud of you,” Patrick gives a fake smile, patting him on the back, “but how’s Tashi supposed to fuck me without equipment?”

Art stares at her for clarification, “that’s Patrick’s way of saying you were supposed to buy a strap-on.”

“Exactly but you were too much of a pussy to buy a dick,” he grins at Art, and Tashi gives him a side eye.

“It’s not like Tashi would go in and buy it either, I think it’s just you that’s this chill about it,” he sneers.

Patrick laughs, “she’s done it before.”

Tashi grabs Art’s hand pulling him back towards the shop before he can answer, “we’re going back in,” and when Patrick tries to follow she points at him, “and you are staying out here.”

“Was he being serious out there?” Art asks after she drags them to the back of the store.

“Not sure it’s any of your business,” she retorts, realising she’s being a little harsh.

“Are you really that mad I didn’t buy a dildo?” he snorts but keeps his eyes trained on her for a reaction.

“What was that earlier, in the piercing shop?” she watches him give a blank look like he doesn’t know what she means, “your girlfriend will love it.”

“It just felt weird doing all that in front of a stranger,” he’s shrugging, “I don’t think it’s so odd that I’m not a fan of PDA.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to fuck him in the piercing shop, just a simple you look good would suffice,” she snarks, “seriously, what’s your problem? Was it a jealousy thing or a I-don't-want-people-to-know-I-like-dudes thing?”

“I don’t know, neither,” he looks a bit ashamed, “or both, maybe.”

“Either way it’s getting fucking boring, Art,” Tashi snaps, “you’ve been so jealous the last few weeks, and not even in a hot way.”

“I’m sorry my emotions aren’t sexy enough for you,” he turns away from her but it’s a wall of ball gags behind him so he turns back to her, “this is stupid.”

“You are being stupid,” she smiles at him.

“I’m trying not to be,” he admits, “it’s just sometimes playful competition with Patrick slips into real anger.”

“Well, maybe you need to switch it up,” she moves closer to him, “I can help you out.”

He puts his hands on her waist, “how?”

“First, you’re going to have to help me,” she spins them around, now facing an assortment of strap-ons, “choose one for me.”

He lets out a small oh, his ears turning pink at the tip.

“Patrick was right, I can’t fuck him without equipment,” she lowers her voice, “so I want you to pick which one I’m going to use tonight. Which do you think he’ll like?” 

“I don’t know,” Art doesn’t know where to look, switching between her face and the toys, “what do you think?”

“Let’s think about size first,” she acts like she’s browsing, then points to a ridiculously large green one, “what about that?”

“Jesus, Tashi, I don’t want you to kill him,” his eyes widening at it, “he likes a challenge but I think that’s a bit much.”

“Yeah I guess after all these months of you fucking him, it would be a pretty big step up,” she tests, watching his face, a complex mixture but she thinks she’s hitting the right notes so far. Obviously nobody has a dick that big, and yet somewhere in Art’s brain she’s nagging at something, somewhere between making him insecure and horny.

“Still, I think we should pick something bigger than yours,” she adds for good measure.

“Yeah, and bigger than his too,” Art offers, a smirk ghosting his lips and her skin prickles knowing she’s got him properly engaged now, he whispers to her “want to see how he reacts to you having a bigger dick than he does, want to see you stretch him.”

She has to try really hard not to get flustered because she needs to concentrate on getting Art in the right mindset. He’s already most of the way there.

“Go on then, pick one,” she urges, needing him to be the one to choose.

His eyes graze over the shelves, landing on one and pointing it out, “how about that?

It’s a translucent purple number, it’s both a little girthier and longer than Patrick is, and importantly, “ribbed,” she gives him an approving smile, “fun.”

“Good?” he checks, even though he can see the smile on her face.

“Think he’ll be able to handle it?” she asks.

“Knowing him, he’s taken more than that,” Art says, calm with an edge to it.

“Think you can handle watching it?” she pushes, “me taking your role, but bigger and better.”

“I’ll be fine,” his face still carefully neutral.

“What if he loves the size so much, you have to fuck him twice as hard just to compete with me?” she says close to his ear.

“Why are you being mean?” he’s struggling to hide the way his lip twitches.

“Why are you hard?” she retorts, letting herself smile shamelessly.

“Can we buy the damn thing and get out of here already?” his shell cracking.

“Somebody’s desperate,” she teases, “but yeah, let’s go.”

They purchase the toy, a strap for it, and some more lube. Art clearly forgetting he’s supposed to be embarrassed.

Leaving with a discreet bag they find Patrick waiting them for them, “you were fucking ages, how long does it take to pick out a sex toy?”

“We wanted to make sure it was just right,” she tells him.

“What, like Goldilocks but instead of porridge it’s strap-ons?” Patrick jokes, making Tashi snort but Art has just been staring at him the whole time, "Art, why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m not,” he says quickly, picking up the walking pace back to the hotel. 

Patrick looks to Tashi for answers, and she grins at him mouthing, “you’re welcome.”

They all head back briskly, remaining composure right until the elevator doors close on them. Art grabs Patrick’s face roughly bringing their lips together for a sloppy kiss that has Patrick grinning, wide and thoroughly amused.

Tashi enjoys watching for now, knowing that soon Art will be in her place. Although maybe she won’t have to be as mean as she thought. Then the elevator stops, doors opening and Art is desperately shoving Patrick off him, pushing so he stumbles, almost falling. Nevermind.

“Art there’s nobody there, it’s our fucking floor,” Patrick grumbles as they leave the elevator.

“There could've been, sorry I don’t want some random people to see us making out,” Art whisper yells back, letting them into their room with the key 

“Bet you wouldn’t have shoved Tashi away if you were kissing her,” Patrick snarks.

“Well obviously, she’s my wife,” Art retorts.

They were doing so well. 

“Cool.” Is all Patrick says, heading right to flop on the bed.

Tashi gives Art a glare before changing the topic, determined not to derail the night, “want to see what we got?”

Patrick sits up, “yes, duh.”

She takes the toy out of the bag, showing him, and he laughs at first, “purple, again.”

“Of course,” she smiles back, Art again noticing their shared look, “what about the size?”

“It’s big,” Patrick eyes it up and down slowly.

“Art picked it out,” Tashi lets him know, “said he wanted me to fuck you with a dick bigger than yours.”

“Tashi,” Art says, shocked, looking for Patrick’s reaction.

“Hot,” Patrick looks back at him, “nice choice.”

“I didn’t know you were such a size queen,” Art mocks but it just makes her and Patrick laugh.

“Size queen?” Patrick grins.

“Shut up,” Art’s face going pink. 

“Good idea,” Tashi interjects, “we need to stop talking and start fingering if we’re going to get this thing in him tonight.”

“You make it sound so romantic,” Patrick says all airy, and Tashi lets him pull her to straddle his lap, the toy left to the side.

Art kneels onto the bed next to them and she turns her head, “Art, go sit over there,” tilting her head to the couch next to the bed.

“What?” he questions but stands up. 

“You’ve been pushing us away, being distant and angry,” she says matter-of-factly, “you haven't been acting like you want to be near us, so you can sit out until you’ve earned it.”

“That’s not-” whether Art planned to finish that with true or fair doesn’t matter because Tashi cuts him off.

“Want to sit outside instead?” She raises a stern eyebrow and he just goes to sit at the couch, still with a stubborn look on his face.

Art sits mostly in well-behaved silence, hard in his jeans watching as Tashi opens Patrick up. She’s got him on his back, three fingers pumping in and out, occasionally expanding to stretch him. 

“Remember the first time we did this?” she asks, looking down at him, so reminiscent of all those years ago.

“How could I forget?” he smirks up at her.

“I took his virginity,” she says, looking over at Art proudly and he snorts so she clarifies, “well, his anal virginity anyway.”

“You really love saying that, don’t you?” Patrick laughs so she curls her fingers making him moan, he turns his head to Art, “does she say it to you too.”

Art doesn’t say anything so Tashi speaks up, “I can’t because I didn’t take his.”

“What?” Patrick looks between them, genuinely shocked.

“We don’t have to talk about this,” Art tries.

“Don’t worry he hasn’t fucked any other guys,” Tashi reassures, ignoring Art, “only himself.”

“I’m not sure that counts,” Patrick points out. 

“Maybe, but he lied about it,” she gives Art a sharp look, “he was fucking himself with my toys for months without telling me, and let me believe I was the first to ever open him up.”

“Only because you seemed to get off on that so much,” Art defends and Patrick nods in understanding.

“Or because you refuse to ever say what you want, and wanted to put it all on me,” she argues back, “sneaking around hiding in bathrooms because you didn’t want to admit how bad you wanted it.”

When she first fucked him, he pretended like he’d never had anything inside before, not even a finger. Sort of the opposite of Patrick, and like with him she could tell Art was lying.

“God, that’s hot,” Patrick groans.

It had been, she’d been planning on gentle but once she pulled out of him the information that he’d been riding her dildos behind her back, she made sure to fuck him extra hard, making him regret not just asking for her to do this sooner. Regret not asking for what he wants.

“So what do you want, Art?” she asks.

“I want to join you guys.”

“Too bad,” she shrugs, and it makes Patrick moan.

She looks down at him, “think you’re ready?”

“Almost,” he answers.

She leans in to kiss him before pulling back, “think you can finish preparing yourself for me, while I get ready?”

He nods at her and she pulls her fingers out, grabbing his own hand and bringing it down to his hole. He keeps eye contact with her, plunging his fingers inside himself, and she watches in appreciation. 

She hears Art shift in his seat and reminds him, “don’t move,” to which he gives a pathetic look.

Grabbing the strap-on she gets a better idea than going into the bathroom to do it, “actually you can help me out,” she moves towards him, “put this on me.”

He helps her get the harness on, slower than necessary so he can feel at her thighs while still staring at Patrick on the bed. Then she turns to Patrick, standing watching him still stretching himself, his eyes drawn to the dildo.

“Think you’re prepared enough?” she checks.

“Yeah,” he gets out all breathy. 

“Great, now you can help me,” she watches a confused look on his face, “need to make sure I’m hard before I fuck you.”

She takes a seat next to Art and he tries to reach for her, “no touching,” she beckons Patrick with her finger, “c’mere.”

He walks over slowly, “where do you want me?” 

“Knees,” and she can’t help biting her lip watching him sink down.

He takes a hold of her dick, licking a long stripe up it. Art makes a noise next to her, fumbling with his belt, finally taking his clothes off until his dick is out, standing hard and pink. She lets him, probably only makes it more torturous having his cock out but no one to touch it. 

Then Patrick is opening his mouth wide, taking in just the head at first before swallowing more and more. Patrick loves sucking dick, and his eyes flutter shut getting lost in it. It’s unbelievably hot and clearly Art agrees because he’s practically drooling at the sight.

She brings her hand to the back of Patrick’s head, guiding him, “you suit having a cock in your mouth.”

It makes Patrick push down further on her, gagging, and it makes Art moan again. 

“You agree?” she asks Art and he nods at her, “and you think he looks good like this?”

Art nods again, unable to look away from Patrick, “so tell him,” she orders.

“Fuck, Patrick, you do look so good like this,” flows out, “like you were made for it.”

She hears Patrick moan around her dick, taking her as deep as he can. Drool pools in his mouth, spilling around the toy every time he gags. He sucks desperately, like he’s trying to get her to cum.

She looks at Art, “wish he was blowing you instead?”

“Yes,” Art breathes out.

Tashi uses the grip in Patrick’s hair to pull him off her with a pop, directing him towards Art. She keeps her hand there, hovering him over Art’s tip. Art leans back against the couch, biting his lip waiting, and that’s when Tashi pulls Patrick back. Art actually whines, indignantly.

“Sorry, no time,” she grins, “I’m so hard, I’ve got to fuck him right now.”

When she lets go of Patrick he falls back, breathing heavily and wiping his mouth, looking absolutely thrilled. 

“All fours, on the bed now,” she directs and he scrambles up to follow the order.

She rubs lube over the toy, like she’s jerking off as Patrick gets into position, wiggling, “bet you’ve missed this ass.”

“Only as much as you’ve missed this dick,” she steps forward so that she’s behind him now.

“So, a lot then? Because I’ve-,” he gets cut off with a moan as Tashi starts rubbing the head of the toy at his rim.

Art watches from the couch, getting a side look of them.

“Nice view?” she calls out to him.

“Yeah,” he pauses, “but I thought you said you had to fuck him immediately, that isn’t fucking.”

The fact that he’s actually arguing with her amuses her greatly. They don’t get to play like this. Usually it’s Art and Patrick fighting over her, or sometimes her and Patrick tossing snide comments each other's way when they both want Art. Art doesn’t normally fight her on anything.

“Well, when the dick is this big you have to take your time,” she continues her teasing of Patrick’s hole, “guess you’ve never had to worry about that.”

She doesn’t know why she’s teasing Art so much about his dick today, he’s not even particularly insecure about it, and he’s above average himself. She guesses there’s just something about having a dick that makes her want to measure it up against everyone else’s.

Patrick starts pushing back, trying to push himself down on her dick, Art laughs, “look, he’s getting impatient.”

Tashi grabs at Patrick’s waist, giving him what he wants as the head of the toy stretches past his entrance. 

“You can make as many comments as you like Art, but I’m the one inside him right now and you’re just the one watching,” she keeps pushing in steadily.

Patrick’s hole hungrily taking every inch, until she’s all the way inside.

“Hnnng,” Patrick groans out, gasping, “so fucking full, shit.”

“You okay?” she checks in, rubbing at the small of his back.

“Yeah just give me a second,” he breathes deep, “it’s big.”

She keeps still and Art pipes up, “what, you didn’t take anything this big the last time you were here? Thought they loved you in gay bars.”

There it is, the bubbling of fun jealousy.

“Didn’t take much of anything,” Patrick replies, laughing to himself, “apart from sucking some guys dick in the club bathroom. He took my number and said he’d take me to brunch in the morning but I never heard from him again.”

It shouldn’t get to her, especially when she’s basically buried balls deep inside him, but like a lot of Patrick’s stories; it makes her sad. Also a little angry. If some dude gets on his knees for you in a grimy bathroom, the least you can do is take the poor guy to brunch.

“If I got to have that pretty mouth around my dick, I’d take you to breakfast, lunch, and dinner,” she tells him, the effects of being inside him already working. It’s just much easier to be openly nice to him like this.

“Oh yeah?” she can hear the smile in Patrick’s voice. 

“Yeah, I’ll take you to brunch tomorrow, we’ll treat you,” she doesn’t know why talking about brunch is working for her but it is.

“I don’t even really care about brunch,” he insists.

“We’re taking you,” Art joins, and Tashi gives him a grin.

“If you can still walk tomorrow, that is,” Tashi lays herself over Patrick, biting at his shoulder.

“You can move,” Patrick says to her.

“Can I touch myself?” Art asks from his seat.

“You could at least wait until I start moving,” she points out.

“But then I’d be waiting forever,” Art smiles, she forgot how good he is at being bitchy when he gets jealous. It’s not usually directed at her, she’s not usually his competition. Hot.

She starts thrusting shallowly, bringing the toy out just an inch before pushing back in, going slow still.

“You can touch yourself but don’t cum,” she tells Art.

“What, you’re actually going to let me join in at some point?” 

“Maybe,” she answers, noncommittally. Art sighs but starts slowly touching himself.

She’s pulling out further each time, the ribs on the toy dragging at Patrick’s rim, “fuck that’s intense,” he’s groaning.

“Need me to slow down?” she asks, without an edge of teasing.

“No, I want more, I can take it,” he answers quickly.

“I know, you’re so good at this,” she compliments, toy almost pulling all the way out on each thrust now.

“Stop being so nice to him,” Art comments, making her glare at him.

“He likes it,” she rubs at Patrick’s waist with her thumb, “don’t you, baby?”

There it is, the baby that only really slips out of her like this. She’s not even worked up enough yet to give her a real excuse. Patrick moans softly at the name, subconsciously pushing back on her. She guesses that is her excuse. And the fact that her calling Patrick baby pisses Art off.

“More,” he asks again.

She withdraws right to the tip, then thrusts back in, deep. Doing this over and over, still slow, but purposeful. God, the noises Patrick is making under his breath are driving her crazy.

“Have to be nice to him when he looks this pretty,” she breathes out, and it reminds her of something, “when Patrick and I first did this, we spoke about you, Art.”

Art groans, “fuck, really?”

“Yeah, said how much we wished you could see him all pretty around my cock,” it makes both boys moan again, “he came right after I brought you up.”

“Shit, dude is that true?” he’s asking Patrick.

“Yeah,” he manages all shaky, it’s enough to make Art stroke himself harder.

“What would you have done if you actually walked in on that, back then?” Tashi wonders.

Art moans again, “I think I would’ve died, honestly, just fucking died on the spot.”

She laughs. Accurate. Cause of death: walking in on my crush pegging my best friend.

“I don’t know how much longer I can last,” Art is breathless, just from watching, “fuck him faster.”

“You don’t give the orders around here,” Tashi warns and she stops moving altogether.

Patrick whines, involuntarily rocking back and forth to fuck himself now that she’s stopped. Fuck. He’s so greedy for it.

“Look, I don’t even need to move,” she grins at Art, “my dick fills him up so good he can’t even help himself.”

Art just furiously jerks at himself.

Tashi addresses Patrick, “come on, baby, show us how much you want it.”

He whines again, moving faster for her, his skin flushing. 

“Please can you-” Patrick starts to ask and he doesn’t have to finish the question because she knows what he wants. She wants it too, her clit throbbing from watching him fuck himself on her.

She grabs his hips, thrusting in again, taking back control of the movements. The base of the toy creating pressure against her that has her stomach swirling.

She makes eye contact with Art, showing off, “see how tight he is around me, how desperate he is for my cock, how fucking obsessed he is.”

“I’ve fucked him more times than you have,” Art snaps, breaking whatever guise of civility he had been hiding behind.

Tashi tries not to smile too big. This is exactly what she wanted. 

“And I fucked him first,” she brags, thrusting faster and faster. Patrick is moaning on every thrust now, unable to say a word. Just listening to them fighting over him.

“Being first doesn’t beat having that much practice,” Art argues back.

“Alright, well come back to me when your dick is this big, and ribbed,” she keeps her eyes locked on Art as she pulls all the way out, then shoves back in with a hard thrust. 

Patrick whines, “can you touch me, I’m getting close.”

“Soon, I promise, just hold on a little longer,” she soothes, rubbing a hand up his back. 

Art’s not done arguing, “you come back to me when your dick can actually cum inside him.”

Tashi moans out of shock at the same time Patrick does.

“You’ve seen how much he loves that shit,” Art adds, giving her a smug grin. 

She gets another idea.

“C’mere,” she beckons to Art, he scrambles up to join her.

“Should I take his mouth?” he asks, eagerly. Again it draws a moan out of them both.

“Fuck, we definitely need to do that sometime but no, I had something else in mind,” she leans forward over Patrick, addressing him, “Patrick, I’m going to have Art cum inside you and after that you can finish while I fuck his cum further into you, okay?”

Now it’s her turn to make them moan, Patrick swearing under his breath, “Jesus Christ, Tashi.”

“Is that a yes?” she asks just to hear him say it.

“There is honestly no world where I say no to that. Yes it’s a fucking yes,” he rambles out, and she smiles.

“Art?” she checks. 

“Ditto,” he replies, his dick looking painfully hard.

She pulls out, Patrick wincing at the loss. Art takes her position standing behind Patrick, he puts one foot up on the bed and lines his dick up with the hole. He thrusts in hard and fast, the angle must be just right because Patrick lets out a whimpering moan.

“First try,” Art says to her, gloating, “told you I knew his ass intimately.”

She just pulls him in for a sloppy kiss, shoving her tongue down his throat. Needs him to hurry up and finish so she can get back inside Patrick, prove that she can fuck as good as Art, even with less practice.

She tells him as much, “hurry up and cum, need to get back inside him.”

“Or maybe I’ll take my time,” he thrusts a little slower, “he feels so good.”

She’s got to get him to finish, it shouldn’t be too hard. She brings a hand down to herself first, needing to finally touch herself, she gasps a little. 

She stands close to Art, whispering into his ear, “look how much he stretched for me, if I had a smaller toy we could probably both fit in at the same time.”

Art lets out a sudden groan, his hips stuttering, almost collapsing onto Patrick as he cums inside him. 

He pulls out and stares at her in astonishment, “you’re evil.”

She just smiles back at him.

“Tashi,” Patrick pleads out, and she looks over at him, cum dripping from his hole.

“Put him on his back,” she tells Art and he obliges, helping Patrick flip so he’s laying back, bringing him in for a kiss as he does.

Tashi crawls up to him, sliding between his legs and lining up the toy to his rim, “ready?”

He pulls back from Art and nods up at her, face pink, hair ruffled, and eyes hazy.

She pushes in, the lube and cum making it smooth. 

“God, this is what it would be like if I could cum in you,” she muses, “I’ve got to get one of those ejaculating straps.” 

After touching herself she’s so sensitive that every thrust is bringing her closer.

“Think I could come from this, just fucking you,” she breathes out.

“Can I?” Patrick begs.

“Art, help him out,” she orders, and Art reaches a hand around Patrick’s weeping dick, just lazily stroking.

Patrick whimpers at the contact, his eyes squeezing shut.

Art leans into him whispering loud enough for Tashi to hear, "so you like us being nice to you, do you?”

Patrick squirms tilting his head away from Art, “no,” he whines.

Art grabs his face pulling it back to look at him, “then why do look so good all fucked out like this? It’s like you’re begging us to call you pretty.”

Tashi involuntarily thrusts forward, moaning, and Patrick is even louder, whimpering at the thrust and comment. 

“I’m so close, I need to come,” Patrick is trying to thrust up into Art’s fist.

“I am too, just hold on for me, you've been so good” she thrusts harder, the toy pressing against her more, “fuck now that I’ve done this again I never want to stop, just going to fuck you all the time.”

“You can,” he moans out, “I thought about it all the time, dreamed about it.”

“Me too,” she leans down to kiss him, saying into his mouth, “had a dream about you riding me in your car, you came just bouncing on my dick. I touched myself to it.”

Patrick’s head tilts back in a moan, his eyes watering with how desperate he is.

It’s all so much that suddenly her orgasm builds up, “you can cum now,” she gets out just in time as her own orgasm washes over her, she shudders into him. 

Her body collapses over further over him, fully pressed inside him at his prostate.

“I missed this,” she says in his ear, thrusting as much as she still can, “I fucking missed you.”

The pressure inside him, Art’s hand on his dick, and Tashi saying she missed him must all combine because Patrick is crying out and shooting all over them both, and Art’s hand.

Tashi pulls out as Patrick’s body shakes from an orgasm that been held back so long, his breathing so fast it almost sounds like hyperventilating. Tashi rubs at his hair, pushing it back off his forehead. 

“You okay?” she asks, and he manages a nod so she leans in to kiss him gently, “we’re just going to clean up, alright?”

Patrick hums in response, laying there boneless as Art and Tashi go to the bathroom. Art helps her out of the strap-on and she puts it on the side to clean up later, this thing is definitely coming home with them. 

As Art damps a flannel with warm water he looks at her, “you’re never that sappy when you fuck me.”

“I’ve been plenty sappy to you in our marriage,” which is truer than she’d like it to be, “I think Patrick deserves a little.”

Art grins at that, “yeah.”

“How about I let you big spoon him tonight,” she offers, “sappy enough for you?”

“You’re so kind,” he teases with a smile.

“I try my best,” she shrugs.

God it feels so nice to have this Art back.

Patrick is clearly in no state to move so they flannel him off the best they can before slipping into bed with him. 

“I think we’ll have to do room service for brunch,” Art comments, turning Patrick on his side so that he can press himself against his back. 

“Yeah, you honestly broke me,” he yawns, “going to need another vacation to recover from this vacation.”

Tashi laughs, she's at his front, hand stroking his face, “worth it though?”

“Definitely,” he nods aggressively, “I loved having you fight over me. Felt like a chew toy caught between two dogs.”

“And that’s a good thing?” Art asks, eyebrow raised.

“Very,” Patrick confirms, sincerely.

Just as they’re all dropping off, Patrick speaks up again, “there is one bad thing about both of you fucking me back to back, though.”

“What?” Tashi asks, suspicious.

“Neither of you used protection so how will I know who the father is?” he grins, stupidly proud of himself.

Art snorts, pulling Patrick in tighter, and Tashi rolls her eyes, “so dumb,” but she’s grinning too.

She gives Art a warm smile over Patrick’s shoulder which he returns, then she kisses Patrick’s forehead before closing her eyes and drifting off. All of them tangled up together.

They definitely won’t be leaving this bed tomorrow.

[thebluester2020]

[SDV] Kinktober Day 5: "Double Penetration"

Summary: A rather spicy edition of Solarian Chronicles becomes more after you suggest you want to apply what the characters are doing to real life.

Warning(s): Threesome, Spit-roasting, Deep-throating, General filth that's expected out of Kinktober tbh.

Side Note(s): At this rate, I'm gonna aim to write a damn smut book man. I'm pumping out these fics like it's nothin'. 💀

Also, this prompt is loosely followed. I mostly wanted a reason to write spit-roasting 😔

Slight Edit: Anon told me that I spelled Sebastian’s name wrong and- the amount of times I spelled his name with a DAMN O. Y’all— you saw nothing (now to check if my other fics have this case of me spelling his name with an o-)

"Why don't we make this reality~?"

Those were the words that led you to ending up in your current predicament. You, naked on the floor and currently being spit-roasted between sucking Sebastion's cock whilst Sam fucked into you as if he were afraid you were suddenly going to disappear, all the while he whispered the most heinous words into your ear with such sinful whines to add on top of it!

Should you have been more embarrassed to suggest having sex after a particularly spicy round of Solarion Chronicles? Mayyybeee. But were you?

Definitely not.

. . .

A needy whine left Sam's lips, his breath washing over your ear as his arms were currently wrapped around your torso, his hips slamming against your ass desperately. "F-Fuck man...we shoulda did this sooner," He moaned. You moaned around Sebastian's cock when Sam suddenly rubbed against a spongey spot along with your inner walls, the reverberation of your moan on his cock making Sebastion hiss in pleasure as his grip on your hair tightened.

"Yoba...fuck, keep fucking her like that...she seems to like what you were doing."

"Oh?" Sam said teasingly. "You mean...here."

Another moan left your kiss-swollen lips, a creamy white ring beginning to form around Sam's cock as he lightly bit the shell of your ear before leaning back to admire what he was doing to you. "You're right Seb, she seems to realllyyy like it." He panted. His hand then came to part your pussy lips farther apart, a gasp choking up in your throat as you could feel the blue-eyed blonde twitch inside of you.

You whined when Sam's hands then came to grip your waist, fucking harder into you as his balls slapped against your overstimulated clit from the effort. Slowly, you felt your orgasm begin to creep up on you, but...with how blurry your vision was and the combined pleasure of the two men using you. You weren't sure if you would even be able to handle such an intense orgasm.

"Fuck—" Sebastian gasped as his hand shakily released its grip upon your hair to trail down to cup the side of your cheek, an infatuated look hiding just behind his obvious lust for you. You struggled to look up at him through your tears, yet despite your rapid blinking, the sight of the obvious blush of embarrassment on his face made it all the more worth it. Behind you, Sam groaned at the scene before him. "S-So pretty..." Sebastian whispered.

"Right?" Sam agreed. "Should've fucked 'er sooner...with a pussy this tight, this needy...we gotta do this every time we come over for Solarion Chronicles, eh Sebastion?" Wordlessly, Sebastian nodded his head as he felt his orgasm begin to approach, his dick twitching inside of your throat, making you cough around him.

Concerned, Sebastian quickly pulled you off his cock much to your disappointment. "I...I'm fine..." You said with a dazed grin.

"S-Shit...you like it really rough don't you farmer?" Sam moaned as his torso came to rest against your back once more, his larger hands placing themselves on your own as he rolled his hips into you with even more urgency. You clenched at the sound of Sam's whines and pleas for you to allow him cum inside, the nastiness of it all combined with Sebastian stroking his dripping cock to the scene before you only causing that knot in the pit of your gut to tighten even more. The groan that left Sebastian's lips, his body jerking along with his movements sent a strike of electricity into your body, threatening to push you over the edge before Sam suddenly began to pleasure and flick your clit.

The scream you let out, it was sure to wake the entire house.

"D-Don't be so loud—" Sebastian couldn't even finish his own sentence, a moan tearing from his lips. Sam smirked at the sight, his ministrations increasing in frequency as pleasure-filled tears brimmed your eyeline and began to fall.

"Don't tell her to hold back her moans." He playfully scolded his friend. "N-Not until I get her to cum around my dick that is..." He placed a sloppy kiss on the side of your face. "Cum all over my cock...been fuckin' my hand to the thought of this since the day you—Fuck—got here..." Sam cooed at you, his fingers beginning to pinch and lightly tug at your aching clit in addition to rubbing it. As your orgasm came closer and closer, your slick began to squirt out of you in tune to Sam's thrusts and drip down his thighs, your whines became higher and higher in pitch before your mouth fell open in a silent scream.

"Oh fuck..." Sebastian groaned at the sight before he threw his head back with a moan, his cum hitting your tongue and painting your face.

Shudders of overstimulation racked over your body as Sam continued to fuck you like his life depended on it. "S-Sam..." You whispered. "F-Feels too good—Ah!"

"S-Sorry..." He whispered. "A-Almost—almost there—" The rest of his sentence was caught in his throat as he suddenly stilled and pressed his pelvis as close to your ass as he possibly could. Your insides warming as his cum painted your insides white, Sam's body beginning to relax and weaken before he pulled his softening cock out of your hole. A moan left his lips as he watched your combined orgasms ooze from your hole, he was tempted to lick you clean but...with the way you looked as if you were seconds away from collapsing, he figured he would wait another day for the opportunity to arise.

"Holy shit," Sebastian panted, wiping his cum-stained hand on his pants before he ran his hand through his hair, getting the stray hairs out from his vision.

"You said it..." Sam said as he pulled your body to his own. You cuddled closer to the blonde, content as you giggled to yourself.

"Do you...do you guys wanna do this again sometime next week?" You suggested, suddenly becoming shy with your request. However, the two men couldn't nod their heads fast enough. This was definitely going to become a regular thing for all of you.

[miwiheroes]

Full Airport Scene Analysis

I've seen like, a lot of people do analyses of the airport scene, but they often do it in parts when I just want to fully hone in on the whole ass scene and give it a full run-down. So, get ready for this post to be extremely long.

So, the camera pans across from Argyle and Jonathan looking super bored and tired to both Will and El, and I think this is actually very clever. Before this scene, you're not really sure who Will is in love with or who he made the painting for. The fact that the audience may remember El saying 'i think there is someone he likes' and then see how Will is holding the painting so proudly means that they subconsciously realise, oh the painting is for Mike meaning -- Will has feelings for Mike. Note how the juxtaposition between Argyle and Jonathan's demeanour and Will and El's demeanour further showcases how they feel the same way about him (supposedly).

Also this is random, but watching this scene over and over again made me realise that Will's is literally shaking so much in this scene. (WATCH HIS HAND WHEN EL IS LOOKING FOR MIKE)

Now let's talk about Mike's outfit (yes this isn't just talking about how ass it is)

So in the amazing GQ video on youtube, the costume designer talks about how Mike probably bought this outfit at the airport. He's dressing up how he thinks he should in California -- the double meaning being that he is trying to 'be more normal' as Finn Wolfhard says in another interview.

In this scene we know that Mike's trying really hard to push down his feelings about Will, he's trying to seem like he fits in, and in the GQ video, Amy Parris talks about how 'it's bright, it's not a colour Mike normally wears'. Orange and purple? Mike usually wears blue..... and yellow........... i mean what

I guess you could say that in a more surface-y way, he's trying to fit in by wearing something less edgy than he would normally wear, but if you look deeper into the colour coding of byler, he's trying to disconnect himself from Will because of him trying to deny his feelings. Will is wearing blue in this scene, but Mike's wearing orange, showing the disconnect between them in the scenes with these outfits on. I know a lot of people say he's wearing yellow, but nah, it's orange and that's actually more proof that he's trying to hide his feelings for Will.

Also this is another quote from Parris: 'he's worn teal before, so it felt like orange was the best colour that was different from his closet that felt like he was trying to make it work in california.'

And it's not like they just forgot the colour coding for byler. I mean, there's blue and yellow in this shot of Mike when we first see his outfit.

Can you spot it?

Okay moving on

In the first and last Milkvan kissing scene, it is important to note that the directors of the show are very intentional with the extras and where they move to during the scenes. During the shot of them kissing, the camera is focused on them, yes, but it is very busy. Watch the shippers try to edit this scene, the duffers really said.

Firstly, Mike is wearing a visor, he's holding a bag so he can barely hug her, he's also wearing sunglasses inside?? You can't see his facial expression, further showing this season is not in his pov. Not only that, but people are moving in front of the camera, it's very very busy. It's supposed to be a little overwhelming. I could barely take a screenshot without someone walking in front of the camera... like that is not a coincidence, they aren't filming in an actual busy airport. So so many extras walk in front of them during the whole scene, not just the kiss, but while they are speaking as well.

When El goes to hug him, as soon as she does, he makes a little noise of protest or something and is like 'careful, careful' almost like he put the flowers in front of them on purpose so there's like an excuse for them to stop hugging? They then stop hugging and he finally takes off his glasses so we can see his face.

He is wearing sunglasses only in the parts where he's being slightly intimate with his girlfriend -- eyes are windows into the soul, no? Without them being seen, you wouldn't be able to tell what he is thinking, and he needs these in these intimate moments especially, in case anyone notices something's wrong.

Okay now we go onto the flower theory thing, and there are many things to unpack here, and stuff that I personally don't believe, and some theories that I do.

What is super clear to me is that these flowers are the exact same dead flowers that El picks up at the end of season 4 to signify that her relationship with Mike is.... dead (sorry if that's kind of on the nose). However, it is also key to note that Mike says that he 'handpicked' them for her in Hawkins, which on the surface makes it seem like he made more effort, but really this actually sets up the fact that they are the same flowers that can be found on the field. If he bought them in the shop, they may not be the exact same flowers in the last scene.

So Mike says 'I know you like yellow, but now I'm realising it's too much yellow'. The writers of the show did not have to put that in, let's just think about that for a moment. What was the reason for putting this line in? And the '70-30' split line is also very very specific.

Will's colour in the byler colour coding is yellow, it has been subconsciously put into our minds ever since they started colour coding them, for example the s3 netflix icons, the shirt he wears for the majority of s4 and the lights over his head in Rink-o-mania.

Personally, I think this might be a bit of a reach, but could Mike just simply mean that he was thinking too much about Will, in his opinion? Like subconsciously he kind of added lots of yellow because he was thinking of Will when he was thinking of El.

As for the 'So I sort of did a 70-30 split thing' line, I'm not really sure what this means. It could mean that he's putting in 30% of the relationship because he also added 30% purple flowers which symbolises what he's putting into the relationship. Meanwhile, El's favourite colour of flower has a 70% weight in the bouquet, meaning she's putting more into the relationship.

It's also worthy to see that El looks at the note which has 'From, Mike' on it right as he's saying all this stuff about the yellow flowers, and the music dies down from this joyful tone to a sombre one, kind of showing how the yellow flowers are a symbol for something.

Now, before this ^^, the only problem that we think is going on in Mike and El's relationship is the fact that El's lying to him about having friends and not being bullied. But now we have a possible reason. She is insecure about their relationship and how real it is. Her face says everything, she notices it, she then tries to ignore it and tells herself everything is fine.

The audience notices this, obviously, and is like??? wait what's going on? Why does it say 'from Mike'?

They get the answer real quick.

Because right after this, is when Will bounds over.

They shot it so that he's kind of in between them, subconsciously placing a thought or idea in the audience's head about what the problem is between Mike and El, even though it's very implicit at this point. The audience should also have the slight idea in this scene that Will has feelings for Mike, and they get reminded of this fact when they see Will in the background. They're then like.... oh so that's why they having problems? Damn....

Before El even stops speaking, Mike sees Will. We can tell from the way that he literally takes his eyes off El and goes 'oh,' before doing the second 'oh!'. I bet if this was shot so you could see his face, this would be way more obvious, but they shot it so that we could see Will's initial happiness at seeing Mike instead.

Awkward bro hug... um yeah so this is one of the biggest byler proofs to me. I mean, why would you need to hug your best friend like that? When you are perfectly fine at hugging your other male friends? (He hugged Dustin in the first episode btw).

Given everything that we know so far, that Will has feelings for Mike because he made him the painting that El said is for someone he likes; that there must be problems going on in the Milkvan relationship; that Mike is hiding his face and dressing unlike normal.... yeah he's trying to repress something. He won't let himself hug his best friend. Will is acting normal, they could have made him the one not to hug Mike because he is in love with him, but they didn't.

Also, unlike the Milkvan reunion, his face and his reaction can be very easily seen here. They literally zoom in on both their reactions to seeing each other because it is more important than Mike and El's reunion. This is what the scene is about!! It's main focus is on the development of byler and the breakdown of Milkvan. There are like very little extras passing across the camera because the directors want you to focus on their reactions here and how Will and Mike are feeling.

Obviously, Will is dejected but Mike's reaction is more telling. On the right gif, he looks down. Maybe he sees Will's painting and remembers what El told him, which was that it was for someone that Will likes. In my opinion, Mike does not know that it is for him. In Finn's words: 'I don't think he knows'.

After seeing that painting, he instantly looks to other people for their reactions to the hug, maybe being like, hey guys was that normal enough? Did anyone see that? Showing how he cares about the opinions of those around him or maybe that he doesn't want to look at Will for much longer idk.

After that...

Okay so now he's ready to ask about the painting. There's a beat, then he asks 'Uh, what's that' in this kind of breathy, panicky voice. It's not a casual tone at all, it's very tense, and the audience can tell, because this makes the audience tense too. When I first watched it I was like AHHH because oh shit. He asks it like he knows something is up with it, he knows that Will made it and it's significant.

The next shot is a slide-up from the painting to Will's face. This could be in Mike's pov to show that he was looking Will up and down, and this shot is inherently kind of romantic in that way. Either that or it's simply just to focus on the painting before showing what Will's going to say so that the audience know he's talking about the painting.

You can kind of see the cogs working in Will's head in the very little time between 'um' and 'it's nothing', as he realises that he probably shouldn't show Mike the painting based on how Mike didn't hug him.

Also notice how in the gif, an extra walks by the camera as soon as Will is not entirely truthful, so why would this not be done with El and Mike's reunion scene??

Now, this further pushes the agenda that Mike didn't hug Will because of his feelings for him. The audience already knows that this painting is supposed to be a gift for someone that Will 'likes' based on El's letter to Mike at the beginning. The fact that Will no longer feels comfortable with sharing that painting means that he is more unsure of Mike's feelings now that he's seen him irl.

However, the way that Mike goes cool is supposed to be weird. It's supposed to show the audience that he's pretending. I honestly don't know whether it's bias or the directors or the writers or the actors somehow made it this way but the speed at which Mike says 'cool' kind of just implies that he was not ready for that kind of confrontation. He was not ready to confront his feelings or enter into an interaction with Will about the painting. Because it means he can't deny the fact that he's jealous of Will having a crush on some girl. So he quickly shut it down.

He doesn't want to feel the disappointment that Will just basically confirmed the painting isn't for him.

In season 3, he is very interested in knowing who Suzie is, Dustin's girlfriend, but when he knows that Will has made a painting for a girl he likes, he doesn't bother asking at all what it is or who the girl is. He doesn't want to acknowledge it.

Also, the fact he wasn't ready to feel like this and is so focused on Will is shown by how startled he is by other people breaking the moment.

Now this next part is so funny given what we have already been presented with. We already know that Mike is self-conscious about hugging his supposed best friend, and that he does not want to confront his feelings about the painting. He is trying to be someone else because he is wearing unusual clothes for him, trying to seem like a normal person in California. He didn't want to hug his best friend because he wants to seem normal. He's out of character.

"Oh no, no. It's a shitty knockoff."

Laughing my whole ass off.

This ties the whole scene together. It makes the audience go OHHH right he's just been pretending this whole time (if they have any sense). It's genius writing. Without Argyle saying this, we might never really have full confirmation on whether he is really out of character or whether this is just how he has always been. NO, he is lying to himself. He is pretending.

They did not have to make Argyle say this. Ever heard of double meanings folks?

And Mike's reaction?

This reaction has always kind of been interesting to me. How would you assume how Mike would react to someone insulting him? Usually he would scowl or look annoyed but here he doesn't, he almost looks worried. Like oh no he's just been found out lmao

After this there's an awkward moment spurred on by Argyle Mike's like 'yeah this is so awkward'.

Now, since I'm literally Mike and he is me, I know what he's doing here by saying this.

I've done it before, it's where you kind of say that it's really awkward in order to make it seem like you're not the one making it awkward, like you're blaming other people (which he always does).

But Michael, it's kind of your fault?? Like, you didn't have to do the bro tap, you also didn't have to act that way around Argyle.

BRO WE ARE HALFWAY THROUGH NOW LMAOOOO THIS IS SUCH A LONG POST

Now onto the next part, where El is talking about Rink-o-mania and she starts lying again. I have watched this scene over and over and literally Mike barely looks at her once, while he glances at Will multiple times. I feel like audience members don't catch this explicitly, but subconsciously, they can sense that there is tension between the two because of the way that Will is placed during this scene…

I counted them up in this video and Mike glances at Will..

6 Times

Just want to say before we talk about each glance, this scene is extremely telling. It tells you exactly, through subtext, what the atmosphere between Will, Mike and El is going to be like throughout the season/ the beginning of the season. It's textbook foreshadowing.

Will is standing off to the side while Mike has his arm like really tightly around El. They could have had this scene be a cute scene between Milkvan because of how close they are, but instead this scene is about Will's sadness, about how he was ignored by Mike. He's still holding the painting, so the audience are still aware of its existence and what it could imply for Mike and El's relationship.

This scene is also about El lying! Not about how 'cute' Mike and El are.

Okay so here is me talking about every single glance <3

"Wha- Really?" -- Could Mike make it clearer if he tried? I think this is the most obvious one that the audience could easily catch, if they are watching without distraction. Which is important, because it is the first one. He stutters over his words when he realises that Will is looking back at him. Sound familiar? In a much more obvious scene, he does this with the triple take in the desert... It's also kind of clear that they looked at each other because Mike and Will look down/ away straight after Mike goes 'wha-'

"Trust me" "No I trust you" -- So this one's a little more subtle and maybe to the audience it could seem like Mike's looking at El, but then the camera turns to focus directly on Will and him looking at Mike with disappointment. I don't think he's upset about Mike completely ignoring him, but he's upset about this weird little awkward dance they're doing. The reaction from Will is because of the uncertainty. The fact they focus on Will with a single shot at all instantly makes this scene about his emotions primarily. This becomes a pattern.

"Rink-o-mania..." -- This one's also super subtle. I'm not even sure why Mike looked at Will here, but it is clear that he's not looking at El, if you want to slow it down then you ig. Maybe he sensed that Will was staring at him just a few seconds prior.

"Are your friends gonna meet us there?" -- Even though he is speaking to El, he looks at Will. This kind of shows that even when he is supposedly thinking about El and what they are going to do together, subconsciously, his mind is still on Will. This can then be seen in the Rink-o-mania argument when it is revealed that he has been focusing on Will's reactions all day when the audience believes originally that he was ignoring him: "You were! You were rolling your eyes, you were moping, you were barely talking, you basically sabotaged the whole day!" Mike, Mike, Mike. Your girlfriend being bullied didn't ruin the day, Will being pissy to you did? ANYWAYS THIS ISNT ABOUT RINKOMANIA JHDGASJHDG

"Friends what friends?" -- So this fifth one is kind of ambiguous because he has his visor on, hiding his expression and where his eyes are looking. But you can see with the way his head turned, that he was looking at Will because of the way he said "Friends what friends?" This is probably just Mike being confused on what's going on, then. BUT it is another thing that makes this whole scene not about 'uwu mike and el awww' but about Will's feelings or the fact that El's lying and the unstableness of their relationship.

"Angela?" -- This one is very notable. Firstly, here is what we know: Mike knows about the fact that Will has probably done the painting for a 'girl he likes'. Mike thinks that this 'girl' isn't him because Will says 'it's nothing'. Mike maybe thinks that El's friends are also Will's friends. AND Mike does not want to ask Will about the girl he likes because he doesn't want to know about Will liking someone else/ he does not want to confront his own feelings. So, The way that Mike looks at Will with that kind of dead expression, (and he actually does a little double take) is super duper telling. You don't know what he's thinking but if you read into it, he could be thinking that Will was feeling hopeful that Angela would come and is kind of nervous for it.

Finally, El says "I want this day to be about me and you!" which is meant to be ironic. The showrunners would not have put this little line in if it wasn't supposed to be funny tbh..... like this whole scene was about how El was lying and she's suddenly saying it's just about them.

Because of what she says as well, Will rolls his eyes and crushes his painting a bit. (HEARTBREAKING)... The fact that he rolls his eyes is probably just him being annoyed about what she said, because it further makes him feel like the third wheel. The scene ends with his eye roll, emphasising how this whole scene was about how Will is feeling, not the "Main Couple Of The Show tm??" But alsoooo, he crushes the painting :(((( meaning he was also feeling heartbroken a little by the fact that they are acting very coupley and Mike doesn't seem to care about him oops, since the painting is for him.

OKAY IM DONE LMAOOOO

In conclusion, this scene is about byler in the first half, and the flaws of Milkvan and Will's feelings in the second half. This scene is meant to foreshadow the arc between Will, El and Mike which transpires in the rest of the season. The bro tap is the gayest thing I've ever seen, and did not have to be included in this scene. It could have been Will that was awkward. It shows that Mike has changed. He has changed ever since Will moved away and he had that realisation. In season 3, Mike seems confused, unaware of his feelings. But now, in this scene, in only 2 minutes, we know for sure that Mike is in denial. He knows.

Anyways

Byler Endgame.

[l-in-the-light]

Trafalgar Law and shreds of closeness part 3: Donquixote Family Edition

What can I say, I got struck with inspiration yet again, the thoughts just do not want to leave me. This time it will get dark. And it will hurt, so feel warned. I will take a closer look at Law's closeness to the Donquixote Family and also do a small case study of affection between Doffy and Cora and their dad as well, to get a fuller context. Main focus will be on physical affection, yet again.

So what do you think, did Law get support and affection from his "second family"? I would say, very little. But let's look at evidence:

We have verbal support from Doflamingo himself when Giolla and Buffalo start to fear to touch Law or to even stay in the same room after they learn he's sick. That's 1:0 for him, I'm sure Law appreciated and remembered it. In retrospection, it would have been better for him if he didn't.

Then we have Giolla and Machvise who handled him like he's an object. Giolla keeps touching Law on the head, probably not caring why he seems displeased with it. She's just reinforcing the trauma, but I think overall she means well, she just doesn't think much about it. Giolla also shows Law the most physical affection and I swear it feels like she's trying to make up for her initial reaction, she's just not going the right way about it, making it worse instead.

Meanwhile we have Doflamingo, who despite defending Law before, never touches him. And I mean, never ever. Doffy remains cold not only with Law though, which we will see in a moment.

And then we have Baby5. She feels sorry for Law and even cried for him when she heard the story of Flevance (not in Law's presence tho), but she herself is bad with affection and care, because she also never received much, it also doesn't help that she is genuinely scared of Law's angry glares. All she can do to show him she cares is to smack and scold him. And of course when she does smack him it's on the head, which only becomes a trauma trigger over and over again. Those two just completely miss each other by a mile.

That's it. No other Donquixote Family's member ever tried to show some care in front of Law. They train him of course, but would you count kicking and punching him as a positive experience? Yeah, I don't think so.

And let's not forget Corazon, who carried Law like a bag of potatoes (and threw him around) for a long time, even after he kidnapped him. The Trip to Hospitals All Around the World kinda made him become better, holding Law close, trying to make him smile, carrying him all the time and at one point he even begs Law: "please give me the chance to do things right, stay strong for 3 more weeks!". Doesn't change the fact the touches he did give Law at the beginning were brutalized forms of affection, and we can't really forget that fact: that's exactly how Law's trauma of being touched on the head even started in the first place.

He already trained for awhile, but he still failed in the confrontation, and I think it was because of the touch. Being pinned down made Law probably freeze and unable to move. But even after being saved by Doflamingo, Law doesn't even try to seek support in him, unlike Baby5. Here we can see Doflamingo is alright if someone seeks comfort in him, but he will not give it by himself. That makes Doflamingo-Law combo the worst possible match up, a person who will never give it first and a person who will never ask for it, no wonder things were always cold between them.

Thanks to the fight against Smoker in Punk Hazard we learn that Law managed to overcome his trauma of being pinned down to a significant degree, because he manages to escape on his own. This scene gets an extra focus in the manga (it takes like 5 different frames!) which further convinces me it's that siginifcant. Law probably trained himself not to get overwhelmed like that ever again. Still, I can't help but notice soon after this happened Law starts to have troubles breathing, which means it still didn't leave him unaffected. He pushes to finish the fight faster afterwards as well.

One of his trauma triggers is feeling helpless and being pinned down definitely counts for that. I don't think this started with Vergo, I would say it was already a thing after Flevance, when he had to discover more and more dead bodies of people dearest to him, unable to do anything about it.

Let's look at his symptoms thanks to which we can recognize he's going through a triggering situation. Visible shivering, heavy panting (to the point of weezing which makes me think it can even go as far as bordering on hyperventilation or the opposite - apnea). And then in the last image he just goes stiff which I interpret as him completely freezing up. Damn, that's actually a lot. It's very similar to Robin's trauma responses in Water 7.

You can also notice that Law clenches his fists and it seems to be a sign that he's struggling or forcing himself to be strong. He still does it *a lot* when he's an adult. I think it might have honestly became a habit. He does that just before a battle, in most stressful situations when he knows he can't show his emotions (or just doesn't want to), and well, if we go by the anime version, also when he leaves Wano with his own crew. Basically any time he makes a firm resolve or a hard decision, he also does that. I swear sometimes it feels like he struggles for half of the Dressrosa and Punk Hazard, which you know what, might be way too accurate.

Also bonus wholesome points for Luffy caring more to support Law and Muucy than caring for falling into water himself. I'm not sure how much that helped Law when he was dealing with a triggering situation, especially that unfortunate contact with the top of his head. I guess it's still better than similar situation but with Law completely alone.

This puts this scene into a completely new perspective, right? He's shivering here and definitely froze up, even his speech bubble looks distressed. He's not getting angry here, his trauma trigger kicked in. I did check if he ever shivers or freezes up when he tries to, for example, stop himself from feeling angry, but no, we never see that happen. I'm sorry for ruining the comedy :( tho to make it better, he's also shocked, because just moments before Strawhats feared him, and now they already don't and even laugh at him. Damn, I'm now so torn about this scene, I mean, Strawhats couldn't have known!

Now a promised closer look at Donquixote family's approach to closeness and touch. When they were still Celestial Dragons, they barely touched each other. No small touches on the back, hand holding or anything else you usually share with kids. The closeness starts only after they're all starting to be persecuted. First time we see Doffy holding his mom's hand is when they run away from their burning house. First time we are shown Homing hugging his kids is when village people are beating them up and he is just trying to cover them with his own body, so he takes the beating instead of his kids.

The last memory Rosinante has of his father is the hug. And the first memory he has of Sengoku is also a sort of half-hug. Might be why he got so attached to him.

Little Doflamingo and Rosinante are always together, but they never touch in any way. It's clearly Doffy who takes care of his younger brother, probably also telling him to toughen up.

Weird mocking touch on the head from Trebol. And like always, no one ever touches Doflamingo, not even his own officers, and that's true ever since Doffy was a child.

He even tells Trebol he's too close. Doffy doesn't want touches anymore, because it seems in his mind he understands them as someone protecting him, and he doesn't need protection. Ever since he killed Homing, Doffy took the role of being a head of the family and protecting Rosinante, so no more hugs or hand holding for him. In other words, Doflamingo associates physical affection with protection and incoming abuse. And whenever he touches someone it's exactly for that reason: to hurt them.

An interesting parallel because this happens in exactly same chapter: Law is trying to move away because Luffy's "too close". He even lets him take the transponder away and just stands there and waits. And you might wonder: what for? Is he hoping Luffy will give it back by himself?

No, it just took some extra time for Law to brace himself to touch Luffy and shove him to the side. Even though both Doffy's and Law's first instinct here is to move away, Law is struggling but actually tries to overcome it, contrary to Doffy, who seems content in his "no touching" comfort zone.

Let's take a look at Dressrosa now. Doffy is carrying Law by his clothes, Law is unconscious, but he will not touch him directly anyway. Cora-san used to do it as well at first to Law.

But then, you might ask, they fought so much in Dressrosa, surely some kind of touch had to happen as a result? I mean, most of them were indirect touches with Doffy's strings, kicking Law or stopping him by grabbing his sword. But you are right, exactly two touches do happen. You're not gonna like it.

This is literally the first time Doflamingo ever touched Law. To stop his attack he forcefully grabbed his hand. Law is shivering, this actually triggers him, and there's just no way Doflamingo doesn't know that, he can feel it.

And then he makes the full use of the situation. Doflamingo holds Law up in the air, but we can see by the onomatopeia that he's literally holding him up by his hand alone and Law is just freely dangling there, Doffy's not using any strings to immobilize him, not even armament haki. He doesn't even need to. Finally he gave Law the touch he must have been craving when he was a child from him, but it's not a caring one, and what's the next thing Doflamingo does to that hand he just touched? He cuts it off, ripping open the psychological wounds, making them deeper, perhaps hoping Law will never recover from them. Because that's the easiest way to control him later if he wishes to do so, to make him pliant, defenseless and unable to fight back and terrified. But also to punish him for the "rebellion" against him... but also to punish Law for his need and fear of touch. This is a lesson: never want affection, closeness or touch, you're never getting any. Unless it's this: abuse. And if you don't think this is terrible enough, let me remind you: this is their first touch *ever*, Law probably waited for it when he was a kid.

And Law is just hanging there, not even trying to move, and it lasts for like three or four pages long, and I remember when I reread this a couple of times, I was a bit puzzled. Why isn't Law struggling to release himself? Why is he just letting this happen? Especially when it's becoming very clear what Doflamingo is gonna do next. So I have my answer: Law froze up, it's his body shutting off on it's own and all he can do is to just be there and wait for it to be over. It's painful, because we know Law always struggles, always fights back, and he tries here, with words, but he can't do anything else and he just watches it happen.

And this is the second time Doflamingo touches him. It's after the Gamma Knife attack, Doffy knows what he's doing here, he chooses to make contact with Law's head/face (he must have noticed Law's discomfort to it before when Giolla often did it to Law as a kid, and now he utilized this knowledge). He tries to make Law freeze up so he can't finish his move and who knows, maybe that was the final factor of why Law failed to kill off Doflamingo.

To wrap things up, I will share the interesting parallel that I think can be drawn between two rather unexpected characters: Law and Boa.

Both Law and Boa are most comfortable around Bepo (and the snake in Boa's case). Both are victims of brutalized touch and lack of loving and caring one. But while Law fearfully accepts what's given to him, Boa rejects it (even symbolically by kicking fluffy animals away or refusing any show of affection like gifts). Both are touch starved, but Boa will never even try to touch Luffy, and the only time Luffy touched her was in that stealth mission in Impel Down (they didn't have the choice) and hugging her after she gave him the key to Ace's cuffs. Boa doesn't return the gesture, she is very flustered and falls to the ground afterwards, which reminds me a little of her later scene with Rayleigh. Not even Boa's own sisters are shown to share any sort of physical affection with her, Boa shows cold and manipulative attitude to almost everyone besides them. The only other person Boa ever touched was Rayleigh (she's on the ground here again) after he helped them fight off Blackbeard's assault on Amazon Lily and it might be a traumatic response: Blackbeard tried to strangle her after all. Boa's love is passionate and platonic, she shows her affection and caring with indirect gestures (food preparation, offering support and help etc.), probably because that's what she remembers others tried doing for her before. She can't even deal with intimacy face to face and Law also tends to act cold to very open displays of affection and emotions.

Big thanks to @tae-rambles for mentioning the scene with Boa that completely slipped my mind <3 added it in the edit!

[talaok]

Okay . What about pedro × reader

Hear me out ...

They are dating for a few months but keeping it a secret the reader is also an actress and in her new movie her Co star is into her and with the interviews everyone is talking about in in social media . So pedro gets jealous and show up at her work ... maybe they fight or idk . I'm not sure about the ending

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Actress!reader

Summary: Pedro’s jealous of one of your co-stars

Warnings: a tiny bit of angst because I didn’t feel like doing a lot, and allusion to smut

A/n: why do yall like jealous Pedro so much!?

Pedro was not a jealous man, he knew you were his, just like he was yours.

He didn't mind the stares you'd attract from other men, he didn't mind the shameless flirting everyone always directed your way, and he didn't even mind having to see you kiss other men on screen... but there's a limit to everything.

He'd stumbled by accident in the comment section of your most recent post, a picture with the cast of the new movie you were shooting, and god if he wished he hadn't.

He meant to write a cute comment, because even though nobody knew about you two, nobody ever seemed to notice the borderline flirty words he'd leave under your pictures, and now he understood why.

He wasn't completely oblivious to the online conspiracies about you and Andrew, you had told him about it, about all the edits and fans and ships or whatever, however, there was a small detail you had forgotten to inform him about: the guy obviously liked you.

And who could blame him right? 

Pedro. He could fucking blame him.

It didn't take long before he was furiously stalking his own girlfriend's Instagram.

you look stunning darling

Darling? When the fuck did he start calling you that?

I think I just had a heart attack

Oh, fuck off

And that wasn't even the worst part. Fuck no. The worst part was the fucking videos. the interviews. The way his eyes never left your fucking body. The way he touched your hand and lingered just enough for him to notice. the way he didn't even try to hide his pathetic attempts at flirting even when he knew he was being fucking filmed.

By the time Pedro shut his phone, he was ready to go have a “talk” with this guy

But first, he needed to see you. Now.

__ __ __

"God please if it's Gary tell him that I don't need to practice that scene again, I got it." you rolled your eyes as you instructed your assistant to open the trailer's door after hearing a knock.

"sure thing, but I don't think he can be so easily persuad-" her voice trailed off as she took in the man in front of her.

"Hi" she smiled at Pedro "It's-it's not Gary" she shot you a look.

"what, who is it?" you asked, momentarily forgetting the lipstick in your hand as you got up.

"Pedro?"

"hi sweetheart"

"what are you doing here?" you couldn't hide your confusion.

"Just wanted to see you," he said, entering the trailer.

"Oh," you smiled, before glancing at your assistant "I'm sorry Ana, could you give us a moment?"

"no problem, but remember you need to be on set in '15"

"yes ma'am" You joked, giving her a pretend salute.

She chuckled as she closed the door behind her.

"they have you on a tight schedule huh?" Pedro murmured, wasting no time before wrapping his arms around your back, forcing you flush against him.

"they do" you nodded, standing on your toes "So you're not gonna get what you came all this way for" you taunted, leaving a quick kiss on his lips.

He grunted, unsatisfied, and pulled you back for another kiss. This one much hungrier.

"Is that what you think I only think about?"

"well you don't make much of a case for yourself" you laughed softly.

"that's your fault" he breathed "If you weren't the most stunning woman on earth maybe I wouldn't be so all over you"

"maybe" you shrugged, lazily drawing patterns on his chest "Maybe not"

"I need to talk to you," he said, suddenly more serious.

A cloud of dread dropped onto you.

"oh," you murmured, taking a step back "about what?"

He looked around the place before finding your eyes again.

"I want to tell everyone"

You frowned 

"I want to tell people we're together"

You were taken aback.

He was always the one opposed to it. He didn't want you to get caught in all the drama and gossip inevitably heading your way, no matter how many times you told him you didn't care.

"What?" you smiled "Why- I mean why now?"

"I want everyone to know you're mine. And I'm yours" he said " including Andrew"

You shot him a look "Andrew?"

"You didn't tell me he's obsessed with you"

"what? He's not"

"he is baby,"

"how would you even know?"

"I saw it"

"When? You've never met him"

"I saw the comments, and the interviews, and the videos"

"And you think just because in an interview he did what? made me laugh, he likes me?" you scoffed "That's ridiculous Pedro"

"I don't want to tell everyone we're together just because you're jealous of a guy I work with," 

"that's not why I want to tell sweetheart" he reassured you, taking a step towards you " I want everyone to know just how much I love you, that's why. And if that means that guys like Andrew will back off... even better"

"He's not into me" you insisted

A sly smile pulled at his lips "God baby, you really have no idea what you do to men, do you?"

"He's not into me."

"Sure" he mocked "and tell me, when was the last time he didn't do something you asked him?" He asked, moving some hair out of your face.

An almost comical silence spread through the room.

"That's what I thought" he nodded, using his fingers to raise your chin.

"Maybe he's just polite"

He leaned closer, his mouth ghosting yours "Or maybe he's just in love with my girl" he breathed a moment before kissing you deeply, one hand to the back of your neck and one to your ass.

"so what do you say?" he asked once you parted "You ready to tell the world?"

"Only if you are"

"oh you have no idea" he murmured, suddenly picking you up and pinning you against a wall.

A small gasp fled your lips, but he silenced it with a kiss.

"Pedro..." you warned him, tightening your legs' grip on his waist.

"they can wait" he read your mind "You're the start after all"

You couldn't help but laugh at that.

"you're a bad influence" you breathed, causing a smirk to land on his lips as he kissed your neck.

"sweetheart?" he suddenly asked

"Yeah?" you murmured, already out of breath.

"Whose trailer is next to this one?"

You paused a moment, pondering your options.

"Andrew's" you finally spoke, going for the truth “Why?”

By the look of it, that’s exactly what he wanted to hear.

“Baby,I think you know why”

[fxrmuladaydreams]

drunken bets (cs55)

carlos x mclaren social media!reader

summary: carlos makes a bet with a few other drivers, claiming that he can get you, a new (introverted) mclaren employee, to fall for him

notes: what can i say? i love writing driver x mclaren worker apparently 😂 i think it’s because she can be bffs with lando and oscar and that makes me soft. someone had to be the villian/bad influence so i’m sorry drunk pierre/lance. i hope you guys like the “she fell first, he fell harder” trope

next part

The music in the club blasts through the speakers. Drinks are thrown back as warm bodies dance, or more so grind, against each other to the beat.

Carlos feels the buzz from the alcohol coursing through him. He takes drink after drink. He deserves to relax after this race weekend, hangover be damned. He’s approached countless times by girls looking to spend some time with him, all to which he brushes off, choosing to go home alone at the end of the night.

“C’mon man, what’s up?” Lance asks as Carlos sends another breathtaking girl away. “You’re just not in the mood?”

“I don’t think he can do it. I think he needs his “smooth operator” title revoked.” Pierre drunkenly laughs.

Carlos scoffs, pushing Pierre away by his shoulder. “I could get any girl I wanted. Try me.”

Pierre grins and nods. “Alright,” he looks around the club and nods to a blonde at the bar. “How about her?”

Lance shakes his head. “No, that’s too easy. She’s been staring at him all night.”

Pierre points out a few more girls, all of whom have already expressed some kind of interest in the Spanish driver, until an idea pops into his head.

“What about that new McLaren girl?”

Carlos knew who he was talking about almost instantly. You were a newer part of McLaren’s marketing team. While most others from the team could be found creating content with the boys, you tended to keep yourself behind a computer. Lando said you were hired to do things like edit videos or photos, more behind the scenes stuff.

Others had taken an interest in you when you had shown up. A few engineers or pit crew from other teams attempted to get closer with you, all while you turned them down with a quick no. Hell, even Pierre tried to shoot his shot, but you very quickly shut him down.

You tended to stick closer to Lando and Oscar, both boys somehow able to get you to open up to them.

“You mean Y/n? She won’t date anyone.” Lance shrugs.

“Yeah, so I don’t think Mr. Smooth Operator could get her to date him.” Pierre smirks.

“I could.” Carlos is quick to defend. “Easy.”

“Alright then, let’s make this interesting. You get Y/n to have actual romantic feelings for you, and I’ll give you one hundred euros.”

Carlos reaches his hand out for Pierre to shake. “Deal.”

Carlos wakes up with a pounding headache the next morning, the sun streaming in way too bright through his hotel window. He drags himself out of bed and into the shower, attempting to feel a little more like a human before he actually has to go outside and face the world.

He eats a simple breakfast, something that doesn’t make him feel like he’s about to puke his guts all over his plate. Then he finally starts to pack his suitcase for his trip back home.

He checks his phone before pushing it into his pocket. He sees a few message notifications from Pierre and Lance.

From Lance

Insane night last night. I never want to drink again.

From Pierre

I honestly don’t remember much from last night, but I do remember a bet, and I can’t wait to be 100 euros richer

Carlos groans as he remembers the bet he made the previous night. There’s no way they’re going to let this go, they’ll make sure it hangs over his head until the end of time.

A selfish part of him wants to go on with the bet, to prove that even though he’s had some time being single for a while, he’s still a hot ticket item in the dating world. It wouldn’t hurt his image either, he thinks. If he’s seen pursuing and dating someone who isn’t a model it could make him look like he’s matured, like he’s ready to settle down instead of spending his nights in different beds wherever they travel.

From Carlos

I think you mean 100 euros poorer

The next race weekend he makes it a point to hang around the McLaren garage. No one’s surprised to see him there, given his close friendship with Lando, so the striking Ferrari red practically goes unnoticed in the sea of papaya.

He keeps an eye out for you as he sits with Lando, excusing himself when he spots you making your way towards them. You’ve got a set of headphones on over your ears, clearly enthralled by whatever you’ve got playing on the tablet you’re holding.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and starts walking in your direction, scrolling through whatever social media app he happened to quickly open. He walks until his shoulder bumps into yours, a little too rough, nearly knocking the tablet out of your hands.

Carlos wraps an arm around your waist, keeping you upright, and manages to catch the tablet with his other hand.

“Are you alright?” He asks, flashing you a smile.

You nod and take a step back from him. “I’m okay, are you?”

He swipes a hand through his hair, then holds your tablet out for you to take. “I’m good. It’s Y/n, right?”

“Yeah, I’m at McLaren.” You tilt your head towards the McLaren garage.

“Yeah, I can see that.” He laughs, glancing down at your papaya team kit.

“Right, sorry.” You laugh. “I should probably go, filming and editing to do and what not.”

Carlos gives you a smile and a nod followed by a quick goodbye. He brushes his arm against yours as he walks away. He has to keep himself from looking back at you to see your reaction, but gets a text from Lando later in the day that gives him the satisfaction he was looking for.

From Lando

What did you do to my editor?

The next time Carlos sees you, he recreates your first meeting, bumping into you just so he can wrap his arms around you again.

“We have to stop meeting like this.” He laughs, holding you.

You laugh with him and shake your head. Your hands rest against his chest from attempting to catch yourself. “We really do.”

He smiles as he lets go of you, but keeps himself planted where he’s standing, giving you his undivided attention.

“I saw the recent McLaren video, it was really good. It kind of makes me wish you worked here when I was with McLaren.” He says tilting his head up teasingly.

“It’s mostly my coworkers, I pretty much just make it look good after it’s filmed.” You tell him, you duck your head down to avoid his gaze.

“Still.” He shrugs.

He’s pulled away by Charles after that, who gives you a quick hello before dragging Carlos back to Ferrari’s garage.

You see Carlos a lot more now around McLaren. You chalk it up to his friendship with Lando, but you begin to notice his seeking you out. He shares meals with you now, even if he ends up sitting with you while you’re focus is locked on your laptop.

Carlos is surprised to find that he’s started to genuinely enjoy your company, that he actually looks forward to seeing you every race weekend. He shakes away the feeling that blossoms in his chest whenever he sees you, afraid of becoming too attached.

That all flies out the window when he’s headed back to his hotel one day though. Dark clouds covered the sky, turning it almost black as rain poured down. You could hear thunder rumbling in the distance, likely headed towards the track.

Carlos sees you standing under the awning of McLaren hospitality, looking up at the sky. You’ve got your phone in your hand and a disgruntled look on your face.

He lifts his bright red umbrella up over his head and dashes over to the McLaren building. He puts his umbrella back down once he’s standing next to you, shaking the drops of water off.

“Did you forget an umbrella?” He asks.

You turn away from your phone to look up at him. He’s got a teasing smile on his face. The humidity in the air has made his hair impossibly fluffier, but somehow still picture perfect. He’s bundled up in a Ferrari windbreaker, his backpack slung over his shoulder.

“Yeah. And I walked here from the hotel today, so I can either try to get a taxi or I can wait until the weather clears up.” Just as you finish explaining your problem thunder booms above you.

Carlos shakes his head. “Yeah, no. I’m not letting you walk out in this.” He gestures to the sky.

“Well the other option is find a taxi.”

“I’ll drive you.” He says it as if it’s an obvious solution. Before you can respond he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close to him so that you’re both under his umbrella, then starts walking towards the parking lot.

You try to keep up with his pace, occasionally bumping into him, but he makes sure to hold the umbrella over the both of you. He leads you to his car, and holds the umbrella over you as you climb into the passenger side.

You notice how water clings to his hair, drops falling down his coat on his right side, evidence of him prioritizing keeping you dry over himself.

“Carlos, you could get sick, and it’d be my fault.” You scold him.

He shrugs and gives you a smile. “Then you’ll just have to nurse me back to health.”

He parks at the entrance to the hotel McLaren had booked, and walks you into the building. When you expect him to leave, he places a hand on your lower back guiding you to the elevator. He walks you all the way to your door, and leaves you with a “goodnight” and a soft squeeze of your hand.

You get a text from him later that night.

From Carlos

Lando gave me your number. What time should I pick you up tomorrow?

From Y/n

You don’t have to, that’s okay

From Carlos

That’s not an answer cariño

You feel yourself start to smile at the message on your screen and text him what time you usually leave.

He picks you up the next morning, driving you to the track with him. You make conversation about little things like how you slept and what you had for breakfast. He’s quick to run over to your side of the car to open the door for you, and keeps himself close to you as you enter the paddock.

He meets you at the end of the day as well to drive you back to the hotel. He keeps up this new routine each race weekend following. He enjoys your company, and you seem to enjoy his. After a few weekends you could say you have a new chauffeur in the form of a Ferrari driver.

With this new closeness to Carlos comes a wave of media attention you should have expected. Photos are posted over social media of the two of you walking together, you looking up at Carlos with bright eyes, or him looking down at you with his doe eyes.

It’s easy to tell that all of the new attention makes you uncomfortable, but you don’t want to lose your friendship with Carlos so you stick it out. You’re grateful when you see a clip of an interview with Carlos where he’s asked about you, and he sets the record straight.

“There’s nothing going on, we just like to hang out together. We’re just friends.” He smiles.

Although you’re glad he’s put an end to the speculation, you can’t help but feel like your recent hangouts have been only barely platonic. After the nights you’ve claimed are “movie nights” that have turned into falling asleep in each other’s arms, it’s hard to put a platonic label on your relationship.

The first time it happens, it’s you who wakes up first. His chest is warm beneath your head, and his arms lock you against his body. You tilt your head up to look at him. His hair is unkempt, yet still looks effortlessly good. You reach up and brush a few strands away from his face. You watch him for a few minutes, wondering how you were so lucky to be spending your time with someone so beautiful. You rest your head back on his chest and let sleep wash over you again, listening to the soft beats of his heart.

Carlos wakes up not long after you’ve gone back to sleep, lifting an arm to run a hand through his hair. He can feel the little puffs of air from your breathing against his chest, his heart melts when you subconsciously nuzzle your face deeper into him to get more comfortable. You look so sweet, so soft, and a part of him hates himself for it. He let himself accept that stupid bet, and he let himself fall for you. He wishes he’d never let his friends talk him into making that bet, but he also decides he’d never trade the time he’s spent with you for anything.

He’s pulled out of his thoughts when you slowly lift yourself up off of him. He misses your warmth as soon as he can’t feel it anymore.

The two of you continue spending your evenings together, wanting nothing more than to keep falling asleep wrapped up in one another.

He finds himself searching for you in the crowd at parties and events, even those he knows you won’t be at, just so he can spend more time with you. He texts you everyday you’re apart to make sure that you’ve eaten and gotten enough sleep.

Carlos can’t bear the thought of being away from you for more than a week between races. He casually mentions that he’s going back to Spain for the small break, and asks if you want to join him.

You laugh and scoff shaking your head. “Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious, it could be fun. You could relax a little bit. I could take you on my boat. C’mon.” He persuades you.

“I wouldn’t want to intrude on your time off.”

“You’re not. I want you there, I promise. Please?” He takes your hands in his, swinging them back and forth. He gives you his best puppy dog eyes and bats his eyelashes at you.

“Alright, I’ll go with you.” You sigh, but can’t stop the smile from spreading over your face.

It’s different, sharing a space with Carlos outside of the four-walled hotel rooms you’ve stayed in for work. It feels intimate being with him in his home country. He books a private villa to stay in on the beach.

The trip quickly feels more romantic than friendly, what with him cooking your dinner for you, and your evenings in either the hot tub or curled up together on the couch.

You spend your days with Carlos on his boat. You reading a book you brought with you, and Carlos laying out in the sun to tan.

It’s hard not to stare at him, his tanned toned chest on display, while his swim trunks hang low on his hips. He has just as much trouble keeping his eyes away from you as well, he can’t help but watch you as you scamper around the boat in a different little bikini everyday.

Occasionally he convinces you to hop in the water with him, to which you reluctantly agree. You keep your arms locked around him when you feel something brush against your leg in the water. Carlos keeps a firm hold on your waist as he can’t stop laughing at your distress.

Eventually you get back on his boat and sit side by side on the edge, with your feet dangling in the water. You stare down at the crystal blue sea, looking for any creatures swimming around.

Carlos looks back out to the shore. The smile that’s been plastered on his face for the last few days falls when he sees a figure on the beach. They’re far enough away that he can’t really tell who it is, but close enough that he can see the camera in their hands.

He leans back and grabs a towel, laying it over your shoulders, covering up the skin you had on display. He wraps a protective arm around you and pulls you closer to his chest, in hopes that the photos he knows will be everywhere in a few days won’t be clear enough to reveal you in them.

That night he decides to cook on the boat, which turns out to be a little more chaotic than he’d originally planned. He struggles to keep everything straight, but finds it all worth it in the end when he gets to see you surrounded by the sunset. You look breathtaking, looking out into the sea. The soft breezes wisps your hair away from your face. The sinking sun casts a gold light to wash over you.

He wants to tell you how he feels, but he knows he needs to come clean. Maybe you’ll forgive him, he hopes you will. He needs to put this in the past so that he can love you publicly and wholeheartedly.

You quietly share your meal, then break the silence simultaneously.

“I have something I need to tell you.”

“Carlos-”

“You first.” He nods.

You take a deep breath. “Carlos, I want to thank you for bringing me here, and really for spending all this time with me. I’m glad you bumped into me at the paddock because I’ve gained a new friend from it. You’re one of the best men I know, and I really appreciate you taking care of me.”

“Thank you.” He feels his chest tighten at your words.

“The truth is, I’ve come to care about you a lot more than I thought I would. A few of the other drivers tried to ask me out when I was first hired, but I told them no. I was happy when you didn’t try to make a move on me, and instead wanted to pursue a friendship with me.” You look down at your hands, and fiddle with your fingers. “But if you did try to make a move on me now… I don’t think I’d mind it…” Your last sentence comes out quieter than the others.

“Really?” Carlos asks, a soft smile growing on his face.

You clear your throat. “What were you going to say?”

He can’t tell you now. He can’t poison this perfect moment, after you’ve confessed your feelings to him.

“I was going to say that I feel the same way.”

[lilgarbitch]

The Voice of an Angel - Two

Pairing: Matt Dierkes x PornBlog!Reader

CW: nothing much, stress with tour, sugar daddy!Matt

Word Count: 3k

Author’s Note: Sorry this took a minute to come out and isn’t longer. I don’t want to jump around time too much or add any unnecessary scenes and overwhelm myself. The next part will be more fun, I promise🖤

Tags: @theanarchymuse95 @dontwantthemoney @badomensgoodomens @enemiestolovershoe @xmads-omensx @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @thatchickwiththecamera @tosoundlessdarkistare @lacy1986 @follow-me-down-to-wonderland

Part One

Y/N | Sunday 10:32 AM

I wake myself up with a snore, groaning and rolling over. I grimace when I feel droll on my cheek, quickly lifting my head and wiping it away. Sitting up, I rub my eyes and stretch out my legs before I realize something. My eyes shoot open and stare out my window, seeing that the sun was high in the sky. 

“Fuck,” I quickly reach for my phone, repeatedly hitting the button as I try to turn it on. I never put it on the goddamn charger last night. 

I reach over the side of my bed and almost fall over as I swipe at the charger, finally grabbing it and plugging my phone in before stumbling out of bed. Running to the kitchen, I see the time on the stove and huff as I grab a glass, fill it up and chug it, needing to fix the dryness in my mouth before getting ready. 

After rushing through a shower and throwing on whatever semi- matching clothes I could find, I grab my keys, phone, and bag before high-tailing it out of my apartment, almost forgetting shoes. 

I burst through the library’s doors, giving a patron who just happened to be standing nearby an apologetic look for startling them, before speed walking to the back room. Surprisingly, the library was quite empty for a Sunday morning. Not that there was ever a rush, but weekends were usually when people had time to come in to get what they needed, usually needing assistance, and when there’s only one person in, it can get overwhelming. 

I was pinning my name tag to my shirt when I felt a presence behind me, making me hunch as I slowly turned towards them, ready to get an earful for being late to a morning weekend shift, but as my eyes reached Alex’s face, I don’t think I’ve ever let out a bigger sigh of relief.

”Where have you been?” She asked, hands on her hips like scourning mother. I gave her an apologetic pout, trying to gain sympathy. 

“My phone died so my alarms never went off. I’m so sorry. I hope it hasn’t been busy,” I explain. She gives me a deadpan look.

”Stay up late reading again?” She asks with a smirk, already knowing my obsession with fanfiction.

”Surprisingly, no. I’ve just been so exhausted lately from not getting enough sleep that I guess my body recovered by making me sleep almost 12 hours.” I answer, shocked by my own body. 

“Well, thankfully it’s been a slow morning, and I already put away most of the returns, so if you want to do the rest, I can take any customers and you can take it slow today. But you owe me.” I pout and walk over, reaching to give her a hug, that she continuously tries to dodge.

”You’re the best. And don’t worry. I have just the thing to pay you back, but it’s a surprise.”

”Uh huh, sure you do. Well, get your ass out there, because I’ve been on my feet all morning and being able to sit down is all the payment I’ll take right now.” She says as we make our way out of the back room and she heads towards the front desk, sighing as she sits down behind it. 

I hold back a laugh as I make my way to the cart full of books and start scanning the rest of them. I wasn’t going to tell her that the reason the exhaustion took over so bad was because I came so hard last night that I could barely edit and post the audio before completely crashing. 

After scanning and putting away the rest of the books, I checked with Alex to make sure there wasn't anything else I had to do before sitting down at a nearby empty table and pulling out my phone, still needing to check the responses from my other job. 

Without checking my notifications, I scrolled through the comments of everyone, liking a few sweet ones. I had to hide the smile on my face when I saw that ThotxPleaser had actually left one, helping my consistent racing thoughts the past week. I was about to tell myself that I was worrying over nothing when I finally checked my Cashapp. 

I gasped so fast that Alex sent me a wild look after I choked on my own spit. I did my best to wave her off and catch my breath as I read his message. 

ThotxPleaser- $1,000

All I want is to hear your voice more. Talk about your day, how the weather is treating you, or rant about a TV show you’re watching. I’d listen to you forever. All I ask is if you’d be willing to send me voice memos here and there to get me through my days. Name your price, sunshine. 

So I was right. He has been using my audios as some type of escape. And just sent me a thousand fucking dollars to get private ones. And from the sounds of it, he didn’t even want them to be erotic, he just wanted to hear me talk. This couldn’t be that easy, right? My mind was racing as I took this all in. 

I loved the library, and it was a job that truly made me happy, but it wasn’t great pay, especially for a girl who liked to spoil herself from time to time, so I’ve been using my donations for most of my living expenses, most coming from ThotxPleaser. Having this big of a donation, with the promise of more, meant that a weight had just been lifted off my shoulder. 

Ever since it was announced, I’ve been saving up small chunks of the donations to hopefully get a good set of tickets for Alex and I to see Bad Omens. It was one of the things we had bonded over when she started working here, and she has saved my ass so many times that I had been planning on surprising her for a while now. And now, I can actually make it happen. 

Without even responding, I immediately head to the ticket page, praying that there were any left for the date they were playing in our city. Praise the fucking gods above, there were. And there were even meet and greet passes that I added on without care, knowing I was about to make more money that I even knew what to do with. 

I sneakily slip past Alex as I made my way towards the back room again, heading straight for my bag. I pull out my wallet and input all the necessary details before clicking buy. The second that the ‘You’re Going!’ message popped up, I almost squealed as I jumped up and down with excitement. 

I hurriedly put all my things back into my bag before heading back out towards the front desk. Seeing that there were only a few patrons in the library, none near the desk, I might as well use this chance to tell her.

I slip behind her and bend down as she stares at her phone, spooking her as I gave a small “psst.”

“What?!” she asks as she turns to me with an almost angry startled look, making me bite back laughter. 

“Would you like to know your surprise?” I ask in a sing-songy voice. She raises an eyebrow, acting unimpressed already.

“You were serious about that? I thought you were just going to show up with coffee and donuts tomorrow or something.”

“Pfft. I’d never do that…” I trail off, completely lying as I have done exactly that before, which she reminds me with the look on her face, “No, I have something I think you’ll enjoy a little more than coffee and donuts.”

As she stares at me expectantly, still seeming unimpressed, I turn my phone around and show her the screen. It takes a few seconds for the image to process in her brain, but once it does, a silent shock takes over her as she repeatedly glances back and forth between my cocky smile and the proof of purchase in my hands. 

“You didn’t.”

“Oh, but I did. And…” I trail off, bringing my phone back to me to zoom in on the extra special part of said purchase before turning the phone back to her, “I got us meet and greet passes.”

She had to cover her mouth with her hands to keep quiet as she started kicking her feet, spinning the desk chair in the process, making me laugh. We instantly start discussing our plans for making sure we take off work that day and the day after, and obsessing over the boys and how insane it was that we were actually doing this.

Y/N | Sunday 5:03 PM

As I head towards my car, still riding the high of knowing I’m going to meet the boys of my favorite band in less than 3 weeks from now, I remember why all of this was even possible. Sliding into the driver's seat, I pull my phone out of my bag and look over the donation again. 

I mean, I could send him a message, discussing the details, or I could send him a recording, giving him something worth the money he already sent. Pulling up my recording app, I turn on the car and set my phone in my lap, pressing record before pulling out of the parking spot.

“I know you said that you’d listen to me talk about whatever, so I figured the best way to start these off would be talking about how you want this to go. I’ve honestly never done anything like this, so I have no clue if I should charge per minute or something, or just- Oh, fuck you!… Oops sorry. I’m driving home from work and some asshole just cut me off. Anywho, maybe we can discuss this over DM or something. I’ve honestly never talked to a follower privately so I’m not even sure how to do that. Shit, do I just send this to your DMs? I don’t know how any of this shit works.”

I pause, and sigh. I’m definitely making a complete fool of myself already, but men have bought used panties, so I doubt he’s going to care if I send him an audio of me sounding like a complete idiot. 

“I think I’ll just send this to you through DMs and then research a more formal way of doing this later, especially once we discuss more about how you’d like me to make these. Oh fuck, I can literally send these over Patreon. No, I’ll just stick to DMs for now. God, this is gonna take some getting used to. I also have no idea how to charge you for listening to me ramble, so truthfully, I trust you to just send me whatever you feel fits, since you spoil me so nicely already.”

I look down real quick and see I’ve only been talking for a little over a minute, and with $1,000, I feel he deserves a little more yapping, so I continue.

“What else? Uhhh I guess I could talk about my day. Kinda started off shit, to be honest. I crashed so hard last night after posting that audio that I never plugged in my phone, resulting in it dying and none of my alarms going off. Thankfully, my best friend was the one working with me today, so I didn’t get my ass chewed out for being late. And I did use your money to spoil the both of us to a concert as an apology gift. I would tell you who, but you’re a complete stranger and could try showing up to every show, searching for me. So let’s just say they’re a band of really hot guys who make really good music and I’m so fucking excited to see them.”

I turn down the road that leads to my apartment building, so I decide that I should probably wrap this up.

“I do want to mention that I’m extremely thankful for your support. Like, more than you think. Especially with a request like this. I always expected my first request being some freak begging me to say some weird shit or talk in a yoda voice as I play with myself. And you know what? This was actually really nice just talking about my day out loud. I don’t have anyone to do that with, so the fact you’re letting me, and paying me, is honestly a fucking wish I didn’t even know I had, come true. I’m gonna enjoy yapping to you, mysterious Thot Pleaser. Anywho, I gotta go. Message me back when you get the chance and hopefully I didn’t annoy you just yet. Byeee.”

I stop the recording as I turn off the car, instantly hoping my shitty car wasn’t making too much noise in the background of the audio, before grabbing my things and heading up towards my apartment. 

Once inside, I beeline towards my bedroom and flop down on my bed before pulling up Twitter and clicking on ThotxPleaser’s account. I click on the little message icon then send the audio file with ‘- Angel💋’ 

Matt | Monday 7:34 PM 

I’m fucking stressed. Folio lost his ID and Noah spent all day freaking out because we put his mask on the bus with his other shit and no matter how many times we told him it was there, he just kept saying ‘What if it’s not?’ or asking people, mid packing, if they would ride with him to the depot to check, despite us all seeing it there. I’ve been routinely checking over our equipment time and time again, making sure we have everything because last time, Jolly didn’t tell us he messed with it and we didn’t realize until the first show, having to borrow another band’s guitar last second because he just needed to test out his one last time. And I knew he wouldn’t make the same mistake twice, but with everyone running around like headless chickens, I wouldn’t be surprised if one of the guys moved something, thinking they were helping.

And to top it all off, Angel sent me a fucking recording that I haven’t been able to look at. My stomach absolutely dropped to my ass when I saw the notification and I feel like shit leaving her waiting for a response but the timing couldn’t have been worse. I could easily listen as we finish getting everything together, but I didn’t know how I was going to react to it and I didn’t have the mental capacity to handle the emotions listening to her would bring me. And I knew I couldn’t listen tonight because the second I get off my feet, I’m going to crash, and we’re going to have to leave early in the morning so the last thing I need is to stay up replaying it on repeat. 

But I truly needed nothing more than to hear her right now. I knew her voice could ease most of the stress and overwhelming thoughts. I just couldn’t handle a single distraction at the moment.

Matt | Tuesday 6:47 AM

I draped an arm over my eyes as I felt the bus shake beneath me as I sprawled out on the couch. I managed to get maybe four hours of sleep last night, and I was fucking exhausted, but I couldn’t fall back asleep, even though everyone else passed out within 30 minutes of the bus hitting the road.

We weren’t getting to the first venue until around 3, and I definitely had the time for a small nap, but my nerves felt like they were on fire. The beginning of tour always felt like this, especially with how fast moving it had to be, so I knew the anxiety could calm down within the next week, but right now, my mind wasn’t going to let me feel a single moment of peace. 

As I scrolled on my phone, switching between apps to occupy my time, I realized this was the perfect time to finally listen to Angel’s audio. I glance around at the closed curtains of the boy’s bunks before switching over to my alternative account on twitter and opening my DMs. I really hope she got the memo of me not needing anything sexual. I just wanted to hear her voice. 

I hit play and instantly it fills my ears like a beautiful melody. I have to hide my chuckle as I hear her stressing over rambling too much. She sounded so adorable. And something about how…domestic…this felt was just melting my brain. If I ignored the fact that she was talking about payment and how to get this to work, the sound of her car driving over suburban roads and the way she’d get distracted by the things around her almost felt like I was on a call with her as she told me about her day.

I let the audio replay one more time, actually taking in her words instead of just listening to her voice, before typing out a reply. 

ThotxPleaser - Sorry it took me so long to respond. I’m fine with whatever you want to do. I promise I’ll spoil you no matter what you decide to send. And I’m happy that you can use this as a way to talk about your day. I’ll always be here to listen to you ramble about whatever you need to get off your chest. And I’m glad you’re spoiling yourself, you deserve it. I hope when the concert comes, you’ll tell me about how much fun you had. 

ThotxPleaser - Oh that reminds me

I switch over to my Cash App and send off a little gift for her with a smirk on my face.

ThotxPleaser - $1,500

Use this to buy yourself a nice outfit and for you and your friend to get yourselves some merch and food at your show

I want to send more, the need to have a conversation with her overwhelming me, but I don't want to push too far. With a content smile, I finally relax in my seat, sleep taking over almost instantly as my mind plays on how happy I was to come to this agreement with her and how much it’s going to help me, especially knowing it’s going to make her happy.

PART THREE