#she’s kind of playing at this boxing is everything when to her it’s really not | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wonusite · 1 year ago

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Endless Adoration

❝ Mingyu has been irrevocably in love with you since he was in high school. He decides to keep this a secret until he can move on since you’ve only ever seen him as your best friend’s brother. However, his plan goes awry when you ask him to take your virginity and teach you about sex—as a friend, of course. ❞

PAIRING: kim mingyu x female reader

GENRE: best friends brother au, friends with benefits au, fluff, smut

WORD COUNT: 7.2k

WARNINGS: bestie’s brother!mingyu, virgin!reader, secret pining, suppressed feelings, discourse of how to pronounce caramel, mingyu is the textbook definition of down bad, loss of virginity, oral sex (m & f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, mirror sex, riding, squirting, multiple creampies, cum eating

A/N: this fic is my contribution to the fall season and part of the fall-ing for you collab! hope you all enjoy! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

It’s no secret that Mingyu is an affectionate man.

Acts of service and giving out his affection is his love language, and everyone knows it. Which is why no one really questions his behavior toward you. If he laughs a little too hard at something you said or always comes to your defense even when you’re wrong, it’s not really suspicious because he’s just a kind and gentle guy.

His little sister, however, does not see it that way.

Minseo knows her brother, and while he may be a walking green flag and a gentleman among beasts, he’s not that nice. Vernon argues that it’s only because you two are best friends that Mingyu treats you just a bit better than anyone else. It’s a viable argument, yet the little telltale signs point to Mingyu’s actions being more than common curtesy.

Like now as you’re arguing with Seungkwan during game night about the correct pronunciation of your favorite candy.

“It’s caramel.”

You scoff, eyebrows furrowed defiantly as you glare at Seungkwan. “No. It’s caramel.”

Vernon and Seokmin watch the exchange with amused smiles while Minseo watches her brother. He wears a similar expression, except there’s a subtle emotion in his eyes as he’s looking at you. It’s been there since you slapped down your last two Uno cards in repulsed shock when Seungkwan mispronounced caramel.

Ten minutes later, neither of you are willing to concede to the other and Mingyu still looks like a lovesick puppy.

“In what world is it caramel?” Seungkwan screeches, rising up from his spot on the couch.

“Mingyu.” You call suddenly. “Is it caramel or caramel?”

Two pair of heated eyes look over to him pointedly. The room goes silent as everyone waits for the answer that will possibly get you two to stop arguing. Minseo watches her brother carefully as he puts down his nearly empty beer bottle. The move seems casual, but she knows he does it to distract himself from the fact that you’re practically saying take my side.

“It’s caramel.”

“Ha!” You yell in victory, pointing a smug finger at a sulking Seungkwan. “I told you!”

Your friend’s pout is bitter. “That’s not fair! You only asked Mingyu because you know he’s going to agree with you no matter what!”

It’s true, and the rest of your giggling friends know it. Minseo doesn’t miss her brother’s bashful smile, and it makes her realize that there might actually be something deeper than just a crush. So she waits until all the guests leave to confront her brother about his not-so-subtle behavior.

“Is there something going on with you and Y/N?”

Now, her brother is naturally clumsy and pretty terrible at hiding his feelings, but Minseo didn’t expect him to drop all the board games he was carrying. He scrambles to pick up all the scattered pieces, pointedly looking at the ground and not up at her with a pout like he would’ve usually done.

“I—” He coughs awkwardly as he haphazardly shoves random pieces into the wrong boxes. “What are you talking about?”

It’s almost insulting that he thinks he can hide the truth from her. “I mean that I already know everything. So quit playing, and tell me how long this has been going on.”

Mingyu’s broad shoulders slump in defeat. He should’ve known that Minseo would find out (she had a knack for finding out everything), but he honestly didn’t expect her to find out this soon.

“Fine.” His tone is resigned as he puts the precariously stacked board games on the coffee table. “It’s true that I took Y/N’s virginity, but I swear that I only did it because she asked—”

“You what?”

His sister’s sharp tone makes him pause. Minseo’s mouth is dropped open and her eyes are almost popping out of her head. Belatedly, Mingyu realizes that his little sister is not referring to the favor you had asked him to do weeks ago. An uncomfortable chill goes down his spine.

Fuck.

You were going to kill him.

It’s not Mingyu’s fault.

When you came to him and asked him to teach you how to have sex, he was rendered powerless to your pretty eyes that shined with so much trust. He knows it’s wrong for him to take his little sister’s best friend’s virginity, but ever since you were kids, he’s never been able to tell you no. Years later, nothing has changed.

“Spread them wider, baby.” His voice rasps as his hands go to pry your thighs apart until he’s left with the sight of your glistening cunt.

Mingyu’s cock twitches at the sight of your pretty pussy. Fuck. You’re dripping in your own arousal, and all he’s done is kiss you and mark up a few places on your body. And yet, there’s already a messy web of arousal covering your puffy lips. His groan is deep and almost animalistic when he sees your pretty cunt clenching with need.

Minseo be damned, he was going to absolutely ruin you.

You mewl softly when Mingyu presses his middle and index fingers against your cunt to spread your lips apart. The heat from his fingers feels different from when you touch yourself. It feels so much better, and you have to bite your lip to stop the moans and whimpers from escaping like they want.

Your best friend’s brother has always been unfairly attractive, but he’s never looked hotter to you than he does now, licking his pink lips while looking at your pussy.

Mingyu glances up at you with a raised eyebrow. “You’ve really never done this before?”

The beefy puppy between your legs thinks he might actually come untouched when you pout at him. That exact look is what got him into this situation in the first place. Your adorable pout always brought him to his knees.

“Gyu.” You whine, feeling your face heat up in embarrassment. “You said you wouldn’t tease me.”

He loves when you call him that, and it takes everything in him to hold himself back from shoving his cock inside you and fucking you roughly like he wants. That would have to be for another time.

“I’m not, baby.” He assures you before he presses a gentle kiss to your inner thigh. “I just need to know how far I should take this.”

The frown you give him is oddly determined. “You said you’d teach me everything.”

Fuck.

Mingyu wonders if you actually know what you’re asking for, but then he has to remind himself that you’re only inexperienced, not stupid. You came to him because you trust him, and he wouldn’t ever betray that trust. If you happened to be uncomfortable with anything, he would stop right away. Though, it seems like you have no intentions of telling him to stop.

The soft moan you let out when Mingyu starts to gently toy with your dripping slit is like music to his ears. He thinks you can’t get any hotter, but then you buck your aching cunt into his hand as if to say get on with it. Ever powerless to your desires, Mingyu slips two fingers past your folds. He curls them experimentally, feeling your warm, wet cunt stretch around his long fingers. Just as he thought. Virgin tight.

“Fuck.” His growl is deep and has you clenching down on his fingers. “I need to taste you.”

Arousal is clouding your mind and making you feel drunk. The way Mingyu is looking at you like you’re the thing he’s wanted the most in the world has you gushing all over his fingers. His hot mouth latches on to your clit, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud. You cry out loudly as his fingers slowly start to fuck your hole, stretching you out to prepare you for his cock.

“Gyu!” You cry out as you arch you back, grinding your cunt into his face in search of release.

Your moans become broken when he forces his tongue into the tightness of your pussy. The groans he lets out makes you release more juices into his awaiting mouth. It’s almost embarrassing the way his room is suddenly full of the wet squelching sounds coming from your cunt, but you feel too good to actually care.

“Fuck, Y/N.” Mingyu groans into your sopping cunt. “You have the sweetest little cunt.”

All you can focus on is the way his tongue is fucking into you with a force that has you seeing stars. He runs his soft tongue along your aching folds skillfully until all you can do is cry out for him. Mingyu smirks into your folds, fingers slowly massaging deep inside you. The wanton cries you’re letting out make him scissor his fingers so you’ll be prepped enough to take his cock.

When you look down and see Mingyu’s pretty eyes looking up at you with unadulterated desire, the coil building in your stomach abruptly snaps. Mingyu moans along with you as you come all over his face. His cock twitches against the sheets when you keep rocking your hips to grind your cunt into his mouth. With a low groan, he keeps going, using his tongue to fuck you through your orgasm.

You’re a panting mess by the time he pulls away. His chin is covered in your release, and you briefly wonder how someone can be so fucking attractive. Mingyu licks his lips before he smashes them on yours. The taste of your own release makes you moan into his mouth, loving how his lips feel against yours.

You chase his lips when he suddenly pulls away. It’s almost cruel of him to laugh when you whine petulantly after he doesn’t give you what you want. But you can’t truly be mad. Not when it concerns Mingyu.

“Are you ready?”

Your attention is quickly drawn to his throbbing cock. He can’t deny the pleasure it gives him to see you gaping at it. It makes Mingyu think about the face you’ll make when he’s splitting you open.

“It’s...” Huge. You swallow nervously. “Will it fit?”

You can’t take your eyes off his monstrous dick. He’s stroking himself slowly, smearing the precum dribbling from his fat tip all over his veiny length. You can only watch in fascination like you’re in a trance, pussy clenching in desire. The only dicks you’ve ever seen are the ones from porn, but even those don’t compare to how thick and pretty Mingyu’s looks.

“Don’t worry, pretty girl.” Mingyu licks his lips, mind clouded with a lustful haze. “I’ll make it fit.”

The face you make when he uses your arousal to get his dick wet nearly makes him come right then and there. After years of fucking his fist to the thought of you, he finally has you underneath him looking more irresistible than ever.

“Ready, baby?” The pet name continues to fall from his lips so easily, and it’s making you unreasonably more horny than you already are. “Remember you can tell me to stop anytime.”

“Okay.” You breathe out in anticipation. Instead of being nervous, you’re just eager, and you know it’s because you’re doing this with Mingyu who actually cares about you.

Mingyu shudders in pleasure as he slowly sinks his leaking tip into your tight pussy. Your warm and wet and already gripping him so tightly that he wonders if he’ll come once he gets the rest of cock inside you. The choked gasp of pleasure you let out makes him throb with pride and arousal. Your pretty mouth is dropped open in a silent moan, and he has to swoop down to give you a sweet kiss.

You whimper into his mouth, starting to feel the stretch burn as he continues to slide in deeper. Mingyu pulls away to place tender kisses along your jaw, whispering into your heated skin about how good you’re taking him. A soft moan is pulled from your throat when he rubs gentle circles on your clit. It eases the sting, and soon enough pleasure cancels out the pain.

“G-Gyu.” You mewl as he finally bottoms out, heavy balls resting against your ass. “Fuck. Your cock is so big.”

Your fucked out whine makes his dick throb. Mingyu only offers you a shy chuckle, thumb still working your sensitive clit. Your hot cunt is pulsing and gripping him so tightly that he knows the slightest movement will have him busting inside you. And while that’s one thing he’s dreamed of for a long time, this was about your pleasure not his.

“Like it?” His voice is seductive and not teasing at all which just turns you on more. “Tell me, pretty girl. Let me hear you.”

His hips shift, and it makes his cock curve into your sweet spot that makes you arch your back. The moan you let out is louder this time, hips bucking in need. Your arousal is drenching his cock and spilling down to coat his heavy sack.

“Feels so fucking good, Gyu! Please move!” You whimper desperately as you wrap your legs around his waist.

Mingyu moans into your skin, hips moving upon your command. He starts to thrust in and out of your hot cunt with precise yet slow movements. His hands trail up to your bouncing tits, gently caressing and rubbing your hardened nipples. You moan again, turned on by how tenderly he’s touching you.

“Told you we’d make it fit, pretty.” His grin is so attractive that it makes you tighten impossibly and stain his cock with more cream.

Mingyu’s hips start to snap a little more desperately now. His cock seems to swell when he looks down to see how tightly you’re gripping him. Strings of arousal cling to your skin and his as he continues to stretch out your tight little cunt. His heavy balls slap against your ass as you continue to moan in pleasure.

“You’re dripping all over me, babe.” He grunts, feeling like he’s in heaven. “Am I making you feel that good?”

Just like outside the bedroom, Mingyu likes to be praised. Your heart swells with fondness, unable to believe how cute he can be even as he’s splitting you open on his cock. It makes you want to oblige him all the more.

“So fucking good, Gyu.” You moan wantonly as his cock continues to spear into you.

You’re sensitive, mewling and whining in pleasure as he snaps his hips at the perfect speed and intensity. Mingyu lets out a deep groan when your thighs start to quiver. Your eyes are rolling back as his cock keeps slamming against your sweet spot, and he’s enjoying every second of it.

“God, you’re pretty.” Mingyu moans as you squeeze his cock tighter. “Prettiest little thing ever.”

Your entire body heats up, and you can’t help but pull him down for a passionate kiss. Mingyu moans into your mouth. His soft lips move against yours with a need that makes you ravenous. You start to meet his thrusts, eager for more of him.

The sound of wet skin slapping fills the room, and you don’t ever want it to end. Mingyu’s mouth, hands, and cock are too addicting for you to ever want anything else. With the way his throbbing dick keeps fucking into you desperately, you’re pretty sure the feeling is mutual.

When he reluctantly pulls away from your sweet lips, he trails wet kisses down to your neck. You moan out his name when you feel him start to mark you up. The ache in his cock grows when he feels your nails dig into his shoulders. Your sensual moans of his name sounds like music to his ears, and he knows he’ll be fucking his hand to the memory often.

Your orgasm is close, the coil in the pit on your stomach on the verge of snapping. All it takes is for his long fingers to smooth over your wet clit, rubbing fast circles on the sensitive bud for you to come undone. Your back arches off the mattress as you gush all over his cock with a loud cry of Mingyu’s name.

The erotic and breathtaking sight of you coming on his cock is something that leaves him breathless. It’s all Mingyu needs for his own orgasm to rip through him. He stills with a low groan of your name. You can feel his cock pulsate inside you as he shoots thick ropes of cum into your pussy. The two of you are moaning and whimpering as your walls spasm around his aching cock.

“That’s it, baby.” Mingyu moans as he rolls his hips to fuck you through both your highs.

You’re whimpering in pleasure, milking him for every last drop of cum he has. The way he fucks it back into you makes you feel delirious with pleasure, and your cunt gets tighter with need at the thought of doing it all over again.

Mingyu holds you close as you both pant—spent and satisfied. He gently coos at you, sweetly caressing your face as he keeps his cum plugged inside you with his still-throbbing cock.

“How was it, baby?” He wonders, big puppy dog eyes searching your face for any signs of discomfort. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You wrap your arms around his muscular back, bringing a hand up to gently play with his hair. The gentle hum you let out eases his worries. “You were amazing.”

The smile he gives you is bright and makes your chest jerk with affection. Mingyu gently caresses your body, telling you how good you were for him. It makes you burn for him all over again.

Before you can convince him to fuck you again, he gets up and goes into the bathroom. You watch curiously as he brings back a wet towel. It’s warm against your skin as he starts to clean you up. The act is somehow more intimate than him stuffing you full of cum, but you don’t hate it.

Once he’s done, he gets back into bed with you. It takes you by surprise when he pulls you on top of him. Mingyu caresses your naked back, basking in the feeling of your weight on him. His heart jumps when he feels you start to trace small patterns on his chest.

“Can we do that again?” Your voice is coy, and he really fucking loves it.

“Yes.” He promises. “I’ll order some takeout for us first then we can do it again. Unless you want to do it now.”

You stay silent for a moment before nuzzling your face his sculpted chest. With your eyes closed, you let out a content sigh. “Let’s just stay like this for a little while.”

Mingyu caresses your head with a love stricken smile you can’t see. “Okay.”

In retrospect, Minseo should’ve realized it sooner.

The signs were there—have always been there, apparently. It’s almost embarrassing that it took her so long to realize something was going on. Especially when she thinks back to the annual camping trip that took place a week ago.

It started off like all the other trips, except Mingyu insisted that you drive with him since he wouldn’t subject you to being a third wheel to his sister and Vernon. This was only the start of Mingyu’s unwarranted clinginess toward you. Minseo didn’t think too much of it because no one liked being the third wheel, and her brother always has a way of guilt tripping like no one’s business.

The campground looks beautiful covered in hues of red and yellow. Mingyu has brought along his camera and is already taking pictures and candids of everyone setting up their space. He especially captures some of you taking in the beautiful autumn scenery. You always looked so pretty when you had a look of awe and wonder on your face.

“I didn’t see you taking that many pictures of me.” Seungcheol teases as he peeks at the camera screen Mingyu is smiling fondly at.

His friend’s neck burns, and before he can think to say anything back, your voice grabs his attention. Seungcheol snickers quietly. It’s this simple action that Minseo’s attention again.

“Gyu.” You whine, holding up the tent you brought in frustration. “Help me.”

Her helpful brother goes over to you immediately like a puppy being called by its owner. Minseo should’ve thought more about the way he hands over his prized possession to Seungcheol like it’s nothing. The smitten smile he directs at you doesn’t seem that way to her in the moment, but again—hindsight.

Mingyu’s tone is playful as he asks you what you need. You don’t answer him because in the next second he tells you to follow the instructions in spite of the fact that he’s already starting to put the sticks together to actually lift the tent off the ground. Mingyu goes on to say that you should’ve gotten a smaller, one-person tent instead of a large dome tent big enough to fit five people inside.

“The guy at the store told me it would be easy to set up!” You whine with a frown. “And it’s not my fault the instructions are impossible to understand.”

Mingyu’s laughter is full of affection and adoration. He shakes his head fondly as he continues to build your tent for you. “You need to learn how to do these sorts of things.”

“Why? That’s why I have you.”

Once again, she should’ve thought more about the bashful look on Mingyu’s face and the way his ears and neck turned red. Instead, she chose to make sure that Vernon was setting up their own tent correctly because she had also bought one very similar to yours.

By the time everyone has their tents set up, the sun is starting to set. Mingyu helps Seungcheol start the fire while everyone else helps prepare the snacks and drinks.

The vibe is peaceful as you all settle around the fire. Mingyu claims the spot next to you, and you’re all too happy to have him by your side. It goes unnoticed, but now the image is clear in Minseo’s memories.

“Here.”

You look over to see Mingyu handing you a stick with a perfectly roasted marshmallow at the end of it. Maybe it’s the way the setting sun hits face or maybe it’s the fact that he was careful not to burn the marshmallow since you didn't like that. Either way your chest throbs with something you’re sure is not appropriate to feel for your best friend’s brother.

“Thanks, Gyu.” You smile at him before you start making your s’mores.

The night progresses like this, with Mingyu roasting your marshmallows and you happily making the s’mores. Vaguely, you wonder if it’s right to keep doing this with him. He’s so sweet and attentive that sometimes this line you’ve drawn gets blurry. The worst part is that you don’t mind if that line isn’t clear because being with Mingyu is like having a cup of hot cocoa when it’s cold—comforting and appealing.

For now, you decide to enjoy the moment. Evaluating feelings and this deep affection you feel would have to wait.

Fall has always been a special time for Mingyu. The leaves always change to beautiful red and golden colors, the weather turns the kind of crisp that’s invigorating, and it’s a time when family gets together. And possibly the most important reason: it’s the season when he met you.

He was only nine years old when you two met. It was a random autumn day meant to uphold the lifetime tradition of his parents taking him and Minseo to the pumpkin patch. Picking out pumpkins was something he looked forward to all year because it was a time where his entire family was together.

Mingyu vividly remembers being caught by surprise when his sister brought along an unexpected guest. She was holding the hand of a girl with a solemn expression that was a great contrast to her own bright one. Minseo cheerfully introduced the unknown girl as her best friend. You had offered him a barley-there wave that had him wondering how his sunshine of a sister could possibly like someone so closed off.

It was a misconception on his part because on the car ride to the pumpkin patch, he realizes his sister couldn’t have found a better friend. Minseo talks possibly more than he does, but you listened to every word attentively, like actually listen. Also, you offered her (and Mingyu after some shy contemplation) the snacks in your bag.

Your overly cautious attitude reminded Mingyu of his cousin’s unfriendly cat. Trying to get you to open up was a challenge, but you slowly started to warm up to him as the evening went on. He truly won you over after he offered to carry the heavy pumpkin you chose. The unsure pout you directed at him was adorable, and his heart just soared when you quietly thanked him.

“Here.” You huffed out, feeling embarrassingly shy as you stuck out your small hand.

Mingyu’s grin soothed the bashfulness. He thanked you for the candy you gave him, claiming that the caramel you put in his hand is his favorite.

Looking back on it, that was the first time you tugged on his heartstrings.

Of course, it was completely innocent back then. There was no way you could’ve known that Mingyu held on to that piece of candy for as long as he could until he forgot it in a pair of pants that his mom threw in the washer. Nor could you have known that as you two got older, it killed him just a little bit every time you referred to him as Minseo’s older brother.

These feelings don’t make sense in his mind, but it all becomes clear to him the fall of his junior year.

Just like all those years ago, you found yourself at the pumpkin patch. Except this time you don’t have either of the Kim siblings by your side. Minseo was hanging out with her almost-boyfriend and of course Mingyu hadn��t joined you two at the pumpkin patch for years now. You weren’t uncomfortable being alone, but it did feel odd picking out a pumpkin without Minseo inspecting it to make sure you picked one suited for carving.

In your lonely search, you meet Lee Chan. He too had been left alone after his friends went off with their respective partners. What you don’t realize is that your resident puppy boy is watching this kindred meeting from afar. Unbeknownst to you, Minseo had texted her older brother asking him to keep you company because she still felt sorry for leaving you alone.

At the time, Mingyu can’t explain why his chest feels strangely heavy. It feels like he can’t approach you despite knowing you wouldn’t be unhappy to see him. So he doesn’t even though it’s arguably one of the hardest things he’s ever had to do. Later that night, his mom helps him come to the conclusion that this icky feeling is none other than petty jealousy.

As a teenage boy who loved his little sister more than anything, this realization was devastating. It was very likely that Minseo would be upset if she ever found out her brother had a crush on her best friend. The fear of what would happen if his feelings ever came to light was the reason Mingyu decided to keep it a secret.

After all, it was just a small, harmless crush.

Unfortunately for Mingyu, this teeny tiny crush soon blossomed into something more intense that he’s not ready to acknowledge. Time goes by, and yet his feelings haven’t gone away even when he starts to date. It makes him feel icky, and most likely the reason why none of his relationships ever last.

When it’s time for him to leave for college, he thinks that maybe he can move on. Only, you never give him that chance.

“Why don’t you ever bring enough clothes?”

It might seem like Mingyu is scolding you, but he’s actually only worried that you seem to value fashion over practicality. Your heart jumps when he takes off the scarf he’s wearing to put it around you, making sure it covers your neck and looks pretty with the outfit you’ve chosen. He doesn’t seem to notice that your eyes shine with endearment as he adjusts it to cover your mouth.

“Come on.” He absentmindedly grabs your hand, not realizing his touch is making your heart pound. “The cafe is only open for another hour.”

Mingyu had insisted that this new cafe had drinks to die for. So he waited until you got off work to go with you together. You’re glad his scarf covers the lower half of your face because you’re sure every single emotion you feel for him would be very obvious as he hands you a warm cup.

Walking in silence with Mingyu isn’t ever uncomfortable, but it does leave you to contemplate how you’re going to confess to him. He’s been nothing but sweet to you, and you hope he won’t be upset at your sudden feelings since you’re the one who insisted the sex between you two would be strictly platonic.

“What are you thinking so hard about?”

It kills you that Mingyu can look so pretty while he’s tilting his head at you curiously. You let out a nervous breath. It was now or never.

“You told Minseo you took my virginity.”

The air goes still, and you feel like smacking yourself because that’s not at all what you were planning to say—not like that, anyway. Mingyu’s eyes practically pop out of his head as he feels a blush crawl up his neck and suffuse throughout his face. You don’t seem angry, but he can’t really tell with his scarf covering your face.

“I’m sorry!” He rushes. “I didn’t mean to, but—”

“I’m not mad.” You assure him with a laugh.

“You’re not?”

“No.” You let out a fond laugh. “And Minseo isn’t either.”

Before Mingyu can fully process your words, you crush him with a hug. His eyes widen slightly, but he doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you and press himself closer to you.

“I like you, Mingyu.” You confess, feeling like your heart is on the verge of exploding. “I like you so much.”

He stills in your arms. Slowly, he pulls away to look at your face. His expression is one of pure shock, and before you can brace yourself for any kind of rejection, Mingyu is kissing you.

The movements of his soft lips are needy and full of undeniable want. You moan into his mouth, returning his kiss with just as much vigor. It all feels like a wonderful dream, especially when you whisper against his lips that you want to go back to your place.

If this is a dream, Mingyu wishes it could go on forever.

Having you kneeled between his parted thighs, worshipping his cock in the exact way he’s shown you how has him coming apart quickly. You’re slobbering all over him, saliva slipping down the sides of his dick to lubricate him.

“Fuck, Gyu. You have the prettiest cock ever.” You gush, entire body hot with arousal and want.

The way he actually blushes as you praise him has your cunt dripping with more juices. You can’t wait to wreck him and have him writhing in pleasure. His cock is throbbing as you continue to lick and stroke him with your mouth. Your tongue swirls around his leaking tip, licking into the slit which causes him to let out a guttural groan. The moans you let out run through the length of his dick in the most pleasurable way.

Mingyu feels completely fucked out at this point. He can’t believe how good you’ve gotten at sucking his cock. And now, he’s going to be the only man to experience what that pretty little mouth can do.

“Y/N, fuck.” He cries out as his orgasm abruptly hits.

As always, Mingyu looks absolutely breathtaking when he comes. His mouth is dropped open as a pretty blush covers his entire face. Dark eyes are unfocused and dazed as he keeps releasing thick ropes of cum into your mouth. The way you keep pumping and sucking him to squeeze more cum out of him is starting to make him tremble.

You pull off his cock with a satisfied grin. Mingyu’s chest is heaving as you go to straddle him.

“Wait!” He pants out, slowly coming out of his euphoric bliss. “It’s your turn—”

“I want you to fuck me now.”

Mingyu groans when he feels your creamy folds slide over his twitching cock. “But I really want to taste you.”

He’s so cute, you think as your cunt leaks with arousal. You hum in pleasure as you rub your aching cunt over the length of his dick. His fat tip is enveloped between your warm lips every time you grind forward while his heavy sack is slowly getting soaked with your arousal.

“Tell you what, puppy. After you fill me up with your cum I’ll let you eat it out of me, okay?”

You feel his cock throb at your words as your cream covers him entirely. Mingyu nods cutely, and that’s all you need to grab his pulsing cock. He’s hot and heavy in your hand as you tease him by circling his tip against your slick entrance.

Mingyu moans loudly when you sink down. A choked whimper is forced out of him as you take him entirely, puffy lips brushing against his pelvis. His thick veins drag against your hot walls deliciously until his heavy balls are flush against your ass. It’s like all the air is being shoved out of your body to make room for his cock.

“God, Y/N. I need you to move. Please.”

You slowly grind on his cock, juices dripping down to his big balls and making a mess all over him. It’s probably really hard for him not to fuck his cock up into you, and it really turns you on that he’s trying so hard. You can tell he’s on the verge of breaking. Literally you can feel it. His cock keeps throbbing inside you like it’s on the verge of exploding.

“Show me what I’ve taught you, baby.” His voice is sultry and tempting—something you can’t say no to.

Immediately, you start to gyrate your hips. You two moan in sync as your pussy clenches tightly on his cock. Mingyu sucks on his bottom lip, completely beginning to lose his composure. His hands go to your waist, slowly guiding you as his imploring eyes gaze up at you with unmatched desire.

“Fuck, Gyu!” You cry out. “You’re so deep!”

The sound of your pleased cry, Mingyu starts to move his hips to thrust up into you. He groans lowly because it feels like his aching cock is hitting the hilt of your sopping pussy. Your soft hands smooth over his naked torso, crying out his name as you feel every inch of his muscular chest.

“Mmmh, pretty girl.” Mingyu hums in pleasure as his big hands smooth down your body to grab your ass. “Fucking my cock just right. Feels so fucking good.”

When he starts to kiss and suck on your neck as his cock spears into you, the coil in your stomach snaps. You moan his name loudly as you come all over his dick. Loud squelching fills the room as he continues to bounce you on his lap. His thickness is stretching you deliciously, the unmistakable sound of his heavy balls smacking against your ass mixing in with your moans of pleasure.

Mingyu fucks into you a few more times before you feel his hot, thick cum spurt inside you. His euphoric moan is as pretty as ever, and you can’t help but move your hips to fuck him through his high.

You sag against him, and it’s silent for a moment until you bring your lips to his ear. “I want more of your cum, puppy.”

That’s how you find yourself on your side with Mingyu behind you. Your back is pressed against his beefy chest as he lifts your leg up to expose your soiled cunt to the cool air. He nuzzled his nose into your neck before he trails it up to your cheek. Your body shivers as his arm breath fans against your ear.

“Watch how your pretty pussy stretches open for me.”

You wonder what he means until his other hand lifts up your chin delicately to look at the full body mirror he bought for you a week ago after you told Minseo you wanted it. His fat cock is teasing your entrance, and the filthy sight makes your cunt flutter in need.

Without a word of warning, Mingyu thrusts his thick dick inside you, heavy sack flush against your creamy cunt. You whine out in pleasure, feeling completely full and stuffed to the brim. It’s impossible to look away from the mirror because you can see how tightly your pussy is gripping him.

Mingyu’s cock throbs inside you as his skin tingles with desire. He starts to thrust slowly. The lewd wet sound coming from your cunt is erotic as it fills your room. You moan again when the hand that isn’t spreading you open comes up to play with one of your tits. The sensations of his cock hitting your sweet spot while his fingers pinch and pull on your erect nipple have you close again.

If you weren’t so drunk on the pleasure Mingyu’s throbbing cock is providing you with, you’d tell him to let you record because the sight of him doing you like this is one you want to remember forever. His thrusts start to pick up as your moans get louder. He’s groaning into your ear as his fat tip slams against your cervix.

Mingyu pounding into you while in this positions feels like he’s tearing your pretty little pussy apart. He messily kisses your jaw as start to tremble in his hold, grunting when you tighten around him once again like you’re trying to milk him.

“You look so pretty like this, baby.” Mingyu’s moan is low, but you hear it perfectly. “Sweet little pussy was made to take my cock.”

Your eyes roll back as you whimper out a nearly incoherent agreement. So lost in pleasure, you don’t realize your second orgasm is one thrust away.

“Mingyu!” You moan as your orgasm hits.

Juices spurt out obscenely and cover his entire cock and the sheets bellow you. Mingyu groans as he holds your legs wide open. He keeps fucking your messy cunt as you squirt all over him. All you can make out in your euphoric haze is Mingyu calling you pretty while his twitching cock keeps ramming deep into you.

“Fill me up.” You manage to mewl out as you turn your head to give him a sloppy kiss.

Mingyu moans into your mouth, thrusting into you deeply before he stills. He forces his tongue into your mouth as he floods your sloppy cunt with his cum. You swallow each others moans as he stuffs you full to the point where you can feel it leak out of you. The feeling of his cock pulsing inside you is one of your favorite feelings which is why you’re eager to feel it at least one more time.

It’s why Mingyu is quick to put you into a different position, your legs pressed into your chest as he rams his aching cock inside you once again. Your fucked out eyes are the prettiest, and he knows that he’ll never get tired of that stare. He loves how your gaze never loses the affection you feel for him. It makes him feel like you’ll never leave him.

“You feel so good, Gyu.” You whimper as his big cock spears into you.

Mingyu roughly pounds into your ruined cunt, not holding back since he’s determined to fill you up one last time. His cock throbs as your mouth drops open in a silent scream. Your pretty mewls and whines mix in perfectly with the sound of skin slapping. It only makes him fuck you harder.

His dick forces out an obscene amount of juices from your fluttering pussy. Mingyu is so deep that it almost feels like he’s in your guts. You always feel so full when he fucks you like this, and all you can feel is bolts of euphoria dancing across your skin.

“Come for me, pretty.” Mingyu urges sweetly as he hooks your legs over his shoulders. “Come all over my cock and cover me with your sweet cream.”

Somehow he feel just as deep from this angle. He keeps railing your tight cunt, splitting you open to fully claim you as his. Your senses go into overdrive when he slips his fingers down to your puffy clit to rub gentle circles. At this point you’re trembling beneath him, all thoughts gone as he thrust harder and deeper inside you.

Mingyu’s eyes are locked on the way your tight pussy swallows his thick cock. The way your cream covers him completely make him more ravenous. He’s hitting your spongy spot with mastered precision, and it only takes a few more thrusts for the coil in your stomach to snap.

Your moan is pornographic as your walls contract and your juices squirt out everywhere. Mingyu’s pace doesn’t falter as you cover him with your orgasm. He groans loudly, loving how you can only seem to chant his name.

“God, you look pretty when you come on my cock. So pretty. Every. Fucking. Time.” His words break off into a guttural groan that bounces off of the walls.

Hot streams of his seed flood your insides, stuffing you full until the white pours out from around the thickness of his cock. Mingyu slowly releases your legs and goes to give you a passionate kiss. His hips move slowly as he fucks his cum back into you. With one last peck he pulls away and slowly eases his cock out of your messy pussy.

You moan again when he suddenly starts to lap up the mess between your legs. You’re too fucked out to stop him. That, and you did say he could eat his cum out of your pussy after you were done (plus it just feels so fucking good). He licks and sucks on your clit until there’s nothing left to lap up.

When he crawls back up your body, your insides clench at the erotic sight of him licking his lips. “So fucking sweet.”

You pull him down for another kiss. The taste of you two mixed together is so filthy yet so addicting that you have to lick every inch of his mouth. Mingyu pulls you flush against him as he continues to kiss you like he never wants to breath again.

Minutes later, you two are still in your bed, cuddling and unwilling to separate from each other.

“This feels like a dream.” Mingyu sighs into your hair.

You hum, running your finger tips along his biceps. “It’s not a dream. I really do adore you, Kim Mingyu.”

He buries his face in your neck, mumbling into your heated skin that the adoration he has for you is endless.

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bayjaruchel · 1 year ago

Text

Underneath The Strobe Light

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Pairing: Mike Schmidt (2023)/AFAB Reader

Rating: Explicit

Summary: You're aware of your feelings for Mike, but you're unsure if he feels the same. A single late-night conversation changes everything. (4.2k | originally posted on ao3 | Masterlist )

Extra Notes: Posted October 29, 2023

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You know Mike, sometimes. Mainly in bits and pieces.

You know he has that poster of Nebraska above his bed; you know he's got a soft spot for terrible eighties cartoons. You know he likes his steak well done. Maybe it's generally useless information — but you've tucked it all away in a dear corner of your brain, in a well-worn cardboard box with his name scrawled fondly on the side in Sharpie.

He's been busy nowadays, especially with his awful new job at that abandoned restaurant. You've always been there if he needs someone to watch over Abby. It's a strange juxtaposition— spending more and more time at his house, but spending less and less time actually talking to him. But you know he's exhausted, both mentally and physically.

You don't expect much. You don't need much. Even though Mike's always offered to actually pay you for babysitting Abby, you've always declined.

However— needing and wanting are two very different things.

And you want. So, so much.

Sitting here, on the couch in his living room, your mind always wanders back to him. Abby's a really nice kid, even if she's a little on the eccentric side. Whenever you're sitting with her, watching her draw or watching the television, you can't really focus on Mike. But now, with her safely put to bed … There's nothing to stop you. Nothing to distract you from the empty spot next to you on the couch.

You blink, already bleary-eyed from the hour. There's some mediocre sitcom playing on the television. It's practically white noise, and you can feel yourself slowly but surely being lulled to sleep. The stubborn part of you wants to fight it. The tired part of you wants to just let it happen. You fumble for the remote instead, switching the channel.

World News Now?

Not bad, you think wryly, slumping back into the pillows. You liked the guy playing the accordion and singing about the news, polka-style. Hopefully they'll bring that back. Maybe large broadcasting networks actually do know their audiences.

Yeah, no.

You stifle a yawn, tugging your blanket a little tighter. The room's dark, so the only real sources of light are coming from the kitchen and the bluish glow of the television. The only sounds besides that of the T.V. are the occasional car passing by, joined by the gentle chorus of crickets. It's quiet, but not in a discomforting way.

It's kind of perfect. Like your own little bubble in the world. Untouchable. Not until the sun rises, anyway.

Your bubble suddenly pops when a car pulls into the driveway, tires crunching on the pavement, and your heart skips.

It couldn't be anyone else.

About a minute later, there's the sound of keys turning in the lock. The door swings open and then shuts behind him. Softly. He knows Abby would wake up if he slammed it. Then there's the thump of him setting down his stuff— carelessly.

The couch cushions squeak a little when Mike sits down next to you. Silently. He's gotten rid of that stupid security vest.

"Hey," you offer.

"Hi," he obliges.

You're sure he's not really paying attention to the T.V. "How was work?"

It's bland small talk at best, and brutally annoying at worst. But it's the only way to move into interesting conversation territory. And he didn't just trudge past you to go flop down on his bed, so you're assuming he does want to talk. You might pretend not to know, but you're well aware of his social life— or lack thereof. Everyone needs to talk, sometimes.

"Pretty dull." Rolling his probably stiff shoulders, he lets out a small sound of discomfort. Sheepishly, he murmurs: "I kind of … I kind of just napped, to be honest."

"Aren't you supposed to be a security guard?" You tease. "That's a really important job, you know. You have to stop all the dangerous teenagers from breaking in and spray-painting dicks on the walls."

He huffs out something reminiscent of a laugh. "Honestly, the pay's too low to take it seriously."

"And yet … "

"There weren't any kids, okay?" Mike shakes his head. When you turn to look at him, though, he's smiling. It's faint, but it's there. "No dangerous teenagers that I had to fight off. It was fine."

"Fine?"

"Fine."

You don't want to let the silence set in.

"Oh, yeah, we finished the leftover spaghetti earlier. For dinner. I hope that's okay."

"No, it's terrible," he deadpans. "I hate you."

"Asshole."

"Whatever." Mike snickers, and you bask in its gloriousness. "Yeah, it's okay. I know that I probably wouldn't have eaten it anyway. Did you, uh … " He pauses for a split second. "… Did you like it?"

His tone makes you wonder, but you hastily brush it off. "Yeah, I did," you clarify, "the sauce was pretty great. Was it store-bought, or?" Because if it was, then where can I get it?

"Yup," he replies, popping the 'p'. "Great stuff, for something that's canned. But I always add a little more garlic powder, too."

"Oh, really?"

Mike hums an affirmation. "It's like magic, I'm telling you. Doesn't even take a lot to add flavor."

"That's cool." You rustle with your blanket again, adjusting it more out of habit than anything else. That, and it's kind of cold. "I'll try and remember it for later."

He's almost cheeky when he speaks.

"It's life-changing."

You can't help but snort. "You sound like an addict."

Incredulously, he glances at you. "To what? Garlic powder?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"I can't believe that you'd say that." He slowly shakes his head, for the second time in the span of roughly a minute. "Especially as someone who's experienced it firsthand—"

"—you're the one talking about how life-changing it is—"

"—you can't possibly ignore the irresistible savoriness of garlic powder."

You look at one another for a moment. The sheer absurdity of the situation sets in all at once. And, well. He starts giggling, and you can't hold it in, either. How could you? Even though he looks at least part zombie, his eyes are still very much alive. Despite the blatant awkwardness and lingering shyness that always follows him around, he's still got a very contagious laugh.

After you both calm down, he lets out a long sigh.

"It's getting really late."

You cling to what little stubbornness remains. "Yeah?"

"Are you gonna head home?"

Again, there's something there. Despite his nonchalant attitude, it's almost like—

—but you're probably overthinking. Wouldn't be anything new. He has to get some rest, and so do you. The drowsiness repeatedly threatening to tug your eyelids closed is a testament to that. Normally, you'd just pass out on the couch or something, and take off early in the morning; before Mike and Abby wake up. But now, it's different. Now, you actually have to make a choice before your sleepy body makes it for you.

"Um." You rub your eyes again. "I mean. I could, if it's bothering you—"

"It's not."

He interrupts you so quickly that it catches you off-guard. It seemingly catches him off-guard, too, judging by the way he promptly averts his gaze and pretends to care about the guy on the television going on about some sort of plumber strike in the city.

"Oh." You need a second to process. "Oh, okay. Well, in that case … I don't really think that it'd be safe for me to drive right now." You laugh, a little too airily for it to be completely genuine. "I'd probably fall asleep at the wheel or something." At least that's the truth. "I'll just take the couch. As usual."

"Okay," he says. He's back to murmuring.

"And I'll be gone before you eat breakfast." Subconsciously, you're fiddling with the slightly frayed edges of the blanket. It's well-loved. "As usual."

You think you hear him suck in a breath, seconds before:

"Why don't you stay?"

Your own breath stutters in your chest.

"... what?" Is all you can manage, without horrifically humiliating yourself.

"I mean," he rushes to correct himself, "you come by sometimes because you want to spend time with Abby— she likes you a lot, you know, sometimes I think she likes you more than she likes me . I think—" He's properly nervous now, his knee bouncing up and down. But he's already continuing before you can get a word in. "I think she'd like you to be here in the morning. And you don't accept pay, anyway. You just— won't."

His nervousness is spreading to you. "Hey, I—"

"Why are you here, anyway?"

The question sounds like it's been a long time coming. He's demanding you now, brow furrowed and eyes sparking with emotion. "Is it out of pity? Do you feel sorry for me? Do you feel sorry for Abby? Because if you do, then— then you can just—"

"It's not!" You exclaim.

Immediately, you realize that there's a sleeping girl not too far away, and shamefully lower your voice.

"... It's not, I promise. I just—" It takes a little while for you to gather the right words, and when you do, you don't drop your gaze from him. All of his previous frustration is all but gone, replaced by a slightly wide-eyed expression that's making your heart ache a little. "I genuinely really like spending time with Abby, okay? She's really sweet, and creative, and just a really great kid. And I—"

You stop yourself.

"And you what?" Mike asks, gently.

Might as well, huh?

"And I really like spending time with you, too," you admit, finally unable to meet his eyes and focusing on your lap instead.

There's an incredibly tense beat, in which you swear your life flashes before your eyes.

Then:

He's barely audible when he speaks. His knee has stopped bouncing, but he's playing with his thumbs. Clearly, your confession— vague as it was— resonated with him, in some way. You hope he understands what you meant, because you couldn't possibly put it all into words in a way that would make sense.

"Feeling's mutual," he mutters.

Your head almost snaps up at that. Maybe you had expected it, deep down— you're not oblivious, duh— but it's one thing to have a hunch, and another to have that hunch proven. And out loud, no less.

"Yeah?" You dare to ask.

Slowly, he looks up. He meets your eyes.

"Yeah," he repeats breathlessly, like the wind's been knocked out of him.

You let your blanket fall from your shoulders, and it slides all the way onto the floor.

You reach out.

He lets you lace your fingers through his.

Mike's palm is sort of clammy— and he's shaking a little— but he still squeezes your hand. On instinct, you guess. It still makes you smile. He doesn't return it, but his lips are parted a little, and you really, really like that. More than you probably should. You like a lot of things about him more than you probably should.

You scooch a little closer, and he doesn't move away. You let your gaze drop back down to his lips again, making your intentions clear. Still, you don't know if it's clear enough. You lean in, just barely.

"... Can I?"

His reply is almost instantaneous.

"Please."

You swallow all of the witty quips you could make, and kiss him instead.

He's very tentative at first. Like he hasn't done this for a while. But you ease him into it— and before long, he's got one hand on the back of your neck, the other somewhere near your waist. He tastes like coffee and something else you can't really put your finger on. It doesn't really matter, though. Because you are kissing him, damnit!

His eyes are still shut when you part— with a soft smack — but they flutter open after a second. You're not sure if you're supposed to say something meaningful. Luckily, he leans in instead, and your thoughts are immediately transported elsewhere.

You kiss like this for a while. It's really nice, and you know he needs it. So do you.

However— when you start losing track of time, lost in the moment, he makes a noise.

It's quiet, definitely. But it's nothing like the little hums and sighs he's been making so far. It makes you shift closer, pressing more insistently into him. And he responds, enthusiastically wrapping his arms around you, closing the little distance between your bodies that there was. You can practically feel his heart jackrabbiting in his chest when you slip your tongue past his already kiss-swollen lips.

He moans.

You indulge yourself. For a little longer. And Mike chases you when you part.

"We shouldn't do this in the living room," you whisper, nearly panting. "The couch is a little—"

"Okay," he whispers back, already sounding wrecked. "Okay."

You've been in his room before. You've sat on his bed— you've even laid on it before. But you've never straddled him on it before. It's a position that makes your head spin a little, and you occupy yourself with kissing him again. His hands fit perfectly on your hips, but they don't stay there for long, tragically— they trail upwards, up your waist, to your back. To your shoulders, and then back down again. It's as if he just can't get enough. You can't either. You need more.

So, you tug at his shirt. He gets the message right away— hands scrambling to pull it up and over his head. He's still rather slim, but with a slight softness, mostly located in his midsection. There's a light dusting of dark hair on his chest, as well as the provocative happy trail leading down from his navel. You drag your eyes downward, admiring him, and then decide that you're wearing too much clothing. Your top comes off, dropped onto the floor near his.

Mike takes more time to admire you when your torso is completely bare. His hands are warm on your bare skin, and slightly rough. Like before, he's hesitant at first, but when you encourage him— either literally or with physical indications— he grows bolder. His stubble scratches gently against you when his lips find your collarbone.

You squirm a little, not even realizing it— and you feel him. Simultaneously, you both gasp. He's not fully there, but he's at least half-hard— and it can't be comfortable in those jeans.

"Should I—"

"Yeah—"

With steady fingers, you unbutton his fly, and then unzip him. It's a little awkward when he shimmies out of the jeans, and when you wriggle out of your bottoms— you both snicker a little, but he's back to comfortably breathless when you settle back onto his lap. Under normal circumstances, you would tease him again. And yet, you can't bring yourself to. Not right now, at least.

All you want to do is keep going.

You roll your hips, testing the waters. His breath audibly hitches, and his hands fly up to settle back on your hips. He looks up at you, eyes already half-lidded— and they close when you grind down again. And again. His lips are clumsier this time when you kiss him, but he still reciprocates all the same. The sensation of him directly underneath you like this is intoxicating. You can feel every little twitch and every little jolt.

"Fuck," he breathes, long and drawn-out, " God, I can— I can see the spot on your—"

"Yeah?" You encourage, grinding down again, drinking in his answering groan. "You like that?"

�� "Yes —"

"You want me to take 'em off?"

Mike's pupils are blown wide, even though his eyes are already dark as is in the dimness of the room. He nods, once, then twice. "Yes," he murmurs. "Please," he adds, for good measure.

He stares openly when you get off him, just enough to peel off your last remaining layer of clothing. And when you sit back down, well. It's obvious that you'll have to give him a second. "Can I," he says, finally, "can I touch you?" The way he's looking up at you again is just so sweet, so needy, that you consider saying no. Your throbbing core quickly shuts that idea down.

"Go on," you encourage.

He helps you move so he has easier access, and—

His fingertips find your slit, already wet for him.

"Look what you did to me," you murmur.

He visibly flushes— and then carefully works one finger into your slick heat. The feeling, combined with his thumb brushing against your clit— it's relief that you've needed this entire time, and you can't help but let a quiet sound escape your lips. It's apparently enough incentive for him to quicken his pace a little. Deliberately, he continues massaging your sensitive nub in a firm but easy pattern as he gently pushes a second finger inside you.

Mike may be out of practice, but evidently, he still knows what he's doing. He peppers kisses up and down your neck, some more open-mouthed than others. Crooking his fingers, he maintains his diligent rhythm. A thought floats through your mind, unbidden— he must have strong hands, if he's been able to keep up like this—

Two becomes three, and you're spreading your thighs a little wider for him. He's still transfixed, but speeds up at your urging, breath hot against the divot between your neck and shoulder. You chance a glance down, and you can see the visible outline of him through his boxers. You did that to him. He's desperate— for you.

"Mike," you gasp, "nnh—"

"Yeah, c'mon," he mouths, against your neck, "c'mon—" He's not letting up in the slightest, and when you tell him to, he speeds up again. He needs to see you cum just as much as you need to feel it. Your needs and wants are rapidly blending into one. You squeeze your eyes shut, but open them to look at him. His dark curls are a mess, his hand working tirelessly between your legs.

"Mike —"

He says your name in return, like he's the one in the vulnerable position.

"Mike , 'm gonna— 'm gonna—"

"Please," his breaths are ragged, debauched, "cum, please, c'mon, lemme see it—"

"Oh —"

The tension snaps, and you spasm around his fingers. Your hips twitch, and you moan, your mouth falling open as you ride out your orgasm. You're rising— falling — molten honey pooling in your core, before flowing throughout your body. And Mike keeps going throughout it all, letting you enjoy the sensations until you're fully satisfied.

Nearly boneless, you sag backward. His fingers, soaked with your glistening release, slip out of your cunt with a wet noise. He doesn't waste any time in bringing them up into his mouth, cleaning them off with his tongue— at the taste of you, he groans, even though it's muffled. Your mind takes a moment to catch up again with the world, but another thought manifests itself— how would he react, if you let him use his mouth on you? How would his head look between your thighs? He would be noisy, wouldn't he? Enthusiastic, pliant, and—

Your desire, although it waned for a short minute, comes back tenfold. But you take one look down again and— you can do that later. Right now, you want him inside you.

Mike lets you tug him down for another kiss. He lets you feel the worn fabric on his thighs, almost playfully. When you palm him through them— he hisses through his teeth, hypersensitive even though you've barely touched him yet. You're going to fix that, though. Hooking your thumbs into the waistband of his boxers, you tug them down.

You were right. He's desperate. As soon as his overheated skin meets the cool air, he lets out another quiet hiss. And when you take him in hand—

"Mmh —" A firm stroke from base to tip, and you've already got him. He's average in length, but a little girthy. You know he'll be perfect. There's a little drop at the head of his cock, and you resist the urge to lick it off, focusing instead on warming him up a little. He whispers your name, once, when you pump up and down, twisting your wrist.

"Got a condom?" You ask, stilling for a second. His eyes snap to you.

"Oh my God, " he quickly mutters under his breath, before raising his volume, "uh, yeah, I think so. Lemme—" And he's already scrambling off the bed, opening the drawers of his nightstand with speed, but somehow simultaneously managing not to make much noise. He rifles through them, but soon emerges victoriously with what he was looking for. It's a little funny, how he doesn't waste any time in ripping it open and tossing the garbage into the mostly-overfull pail near his bed. Hastily, he rolls on the condom. You think he's expecting you to lay back or get up on your hands and knees so he can fuck you like that— you wouldn't be entirely opposed to it— but that's not what you want right now.

You place your hands on his chest and push him back down so he's sitting against the headboard. He goes without complaint, even shifting when he understands what you want to do. He's flushed almost down to his neck.

When you sink down on him in a smooth slide, still slick from earlier, you both moan. He sounds strained— he's biting his lower lip, squirming until he finally bottoms out. You have to take a moment to catch your breath, too; the fullness is just how you imagined, but it's so, so much, especially because of your lingering sensitivity.

"I'm not—" He audibly swallows, hands tightening on your waist when you move just a little, "oh, fuck, I'm not gonna— I'm not gonna last long." He's babbling a little. "You're tight, fuck."

You rock back and forth, once, and it's enough to force a choked noise from his throat. You watch his face, observing every little twitch, the clenching of his jaw. You can't hesitate for much longer, though— so you begin lifting yourself and dropping yourself down on his cock. Just in little movements at first, so you can get used to the feeling. His eyes squeeze shut—

"Look at me," you demand, and he does. He doesn't try and thrust up into you when you really start to move. Up and down, up and down, with lewd plaps that accompany your sounds; his grunts— you swear you hear him whimper . His eyelashes flutter open and closed, as he struggles to follow your command, wanting to be good. For you. Even though you can see his thighs flexing as he holds everything back. You ride him for all you're worth.

True to his words, you can tell when he gets close. Maybe he's been on edge this entire time. You thread your fingers through his hair— he buries his face into the crook of your neck, maybe out of embarrassment. You can feel how flushed he is, a thin sheen of sweat covering both of your bodies. Your muscles are aching, but you're determined to make him cum. You're determined to do this for him.

He says your name, but it's more of a whine. "Please — I'm gonna— I can't — "

"Go on," you pant, "you can. Don't hold back." Your arms are wrapped around his neck, now, holding him tight; just like his arms around your waist. The contact is almost too much, but somehow it's still not enough, despite him being inside you. "Go on," you repeat, after he whines again, the sound sending white-hot heat straight to your core. "Cum."

Mike twitches, and you can feel him pulse— the sound he lets out is high-pitched, muffled into your skin. You slow your movements— the aftershocks of his orgasm last longer than yours. It might've been a little while for you, but it had definitely been longer for him.

He doesn't let go, even after his breathing's slowed down.

Gently, you pull his head back so you can look at him. He looks up at you with slightly wet eyes. The kisses you press to his cheeks and forehead make him scrunch up his face.

"Hey," he rasps, "I gotta throw out the condom. Hang on."

"Yeah, okay."

When he slips out of you, you both sigh a little. With unsteady fingers, he ties up the condom before chucking it into the pail.

The sheets are cool on your skin when he pulls them over you both. The room reeks of sex, but both of you are too exhausted to care. When you turn to lay on your side, he's behind you, throwing an arm over your waist. Tugging you closer. Almost absentmindedly, there's a kiss pressed to the back of your head.

"Thank you," he mumbles.

You stare at the far wall, unable to close your eyes just yet.

"For what?"

"For—" A pause. "For everything, I guess."

The awkwardness is back. But you let it in. You smile.

"You're welcome."

He doesn't respond, but shuffles nearer, chest pressed up against your back. It's not long before you're both fast asleep.

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt smut

3K notes · View notes

gothcsz · 1 month ago

Note

imagine moving into your new apartment and finding out that javier peña is your next door neighbour 🤭

tags: f!reader, friends to lovers i think, sprinkle of angst, mutual pining, alcohol consumption, throwing up/vomiting mentioned (if you're squeamish to that kind of thing), javi being javi, untranslated spanish, smut, p in v sex, overstimulation, there are feelings involved, unbeta'd, no use of y/n, if i missed any other tags pls let me know ok thx.

~ 4.2k w/c - gif found on pinterest - masterlist

a/n: i just want javier peña to look at me... is that too much to ask for?! this is tropey asf and not what i was initially thinking of writing when i got this ask—but i like how this lil one shot turned out. i hope you do too, bestie! 🖤

You’re in the middle of unpacking boxes in your new apartment, surrounded by a mess of your own doing, when a sharp knock on the door startles you. You weren’t expecting anyone.

Wiping your hands on your jeans, you head to the door and swing it open to reveal a striking woman. Auburn hair, sharp eyes—she’s undeniably beautiful, but her expression is less than friendly.

Her eyes narrow as she sizes you up. “¿Y tu quien putas eres?” she demands.

Before you can get a word out, she’s already pushing past you into your apartment, not waiting for an invitation. “¿Donde esta Javier? Malparido tramposo. ¡No te escondas de mí!” she continues, storming through your space like she owns it.

You stand there, dumbfounded at the absurdity, watching her move, her fury palpable. Your Spanish is still novice, at best, so you don’t really understand what she’s saying.

“Uh, I think you have the wrong—” you start, but she cuts you off again.

“Wrong, my ass.” She replies, her Colombian accent thick. “I know he lives here. All the Americans do—”

Your brain finally catches up and puts two and two together. She’s looking for Javier Peña. Your colleague and now, apparently, neighbor.

You’ve been quietly, hopelessly crushing on the agent since you started working at the embassy. And now you’re standing in the middle of your half-unpacked apartment while some furious woman is ranting about him.

You’re about to speak again when, as if summoned by the chaos, Javier himself strolls past your open door in the hallway. The woman halts, her eyes following him like a predator tracking its prey.

You see her face shift from righteous fury to utter confusion. It hits her finally—she’s in the wrong apartment, like you tried to tell her.

She mutters something you can’t understand, barely meeting your eyes before storming out, slamming the door behind her.

You stand there, blinking, still processing what just happened. If that was any indication on how things around here will go, at least you know you won’t be bored.

It’s later in the evening when there’s another knock at the door. You’re almost hesitant to answer, unsure if you’ll be met by another beautiful woman scorned, so this time you make sure to look through the peephole before blindly opening it.

It’s Javier.

You glance down at your clothes, suddenly self-conscious. You’re not exactly at your best, sweaty and disheveled from moving all day. Definitely not how you pictured running into him outside of work.

You take a deep breath, trying to pull yourself together, then open the door, “Hey.” You greet him, a little shy.

He leans casually against your doorframe, that signature smirk playing on his lips. “Sorry about earlier,” his deep voice sends a shiver down your spine. “Not the best way to be welcomed into the neighborhood.”

He glances past you, noticing the half-unpacked boxes scattered around your apartment, and you’re mortified for a second, wondering how messy everything must look through his eyes.

You laugh, though it’s a little shaky. “I, uh… didn’t know you lived next door.”

Javier grins, giving you a devastatingly handsome smile that you’ve only seen when he tries to bribe his way through some of the other girls at the office. “Yeah, been here since I moved to Bogotá,” his eyes linger on you, but you don’t notice with how you’re focused on not making a fool out of yourself.

“Well I hope you and your… friend worked things out.”

He exhales through his nose in an amused laugh. “Somethin’ like that,” he says, sounding almost entertained by the whole thing. “I owe you for that inconvenience.”

Your heart stutters and you hope, no—pray, that your eyes haven’t morphed into hearts with the charming way he’s looking at you.

“It’s fine, really—“

“No, no. I insist. It was rude. The least I can do is make it up to you.”

Knowing he wasn’t going to back down, a stubborn man through and through, you give him a slight nod, trying to play it cool even though your nerves are buzzing. “Okay… sure, fine. You owe me.”

His smirk softens into a half-smile, a little less cocky. He pushes himself off your doorframe, straightening up. “Alright, cariño. I’ll see you around.” The word rolls off his tongue as if he’s said it a thousand times to you, but it lands right between your legs, sending warmth to your cheeks.

“Have a good night,” he adds with that enamoring gravelly voice of his.

You manage to mumble a goodbye, watching as he walks down the hall, his presence making the air feel electric. You’re left standing there, alone with the heavy realization that your harmless work crush just became a lot more dangerous.

Living next door to him is going to be torture.

Months go by, and torture would be an understatement.

You’ve developed an odd, friendly relationship with him. It’s not exactly what you imagined when you first laid eyes on him at the embassy, all brooding intensity and effortless charm, but it works.

You exchange casual greetings in the hallway, little snippets of small talk when you bump into each other at work.

It’s... normal. Comfortable, in its own way. But every time he says your name, with that gravelly edge to his voice, something flutters in your chest.

He’s even taken it upon himself to help you with your Spanish, which is as endearing as it is embarrassing. On the days when you can steal a few moments to talk, he’ll have you practicing phrases, repeating them until he’s satisfied with your pronunciation. Sometimes, when he’s feeling particularly amused, he’ll leave a sticky note on your door with a new phrase scribbled on it for you to learn.

It’s become part of your routine. Him giving you little bits of language, you trying to impress him with how quickly you can pick it up. You tell yourself it’s just a… fun thing, nothing more.

Then there are the nights when you’ve made too much dinner. You know that man doesn’t eat. Not properly, anyway. So you bring over a plate, standing awkwardly at his door until he opens it, shirt half-buttoned and hair tousled, like he just rolled out of bed.

“Brought you something,” you say, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickens as his eyes flicker to yours, a mix of surprise and amusement.

“Thanks, cariño,” he takes the food from you with that half-smile that makes you feel like a damn schoolgirl.

But it’s not always like that. There are times when he’s away for days at a time. Out doing who knows what—your level of work doesn’t intersect with his at all.

His return comes with whispers around the office or in the form of news broadcasts that seem to be reporting nothing but atrocities as of late.

In the dead of night, you’ll hear the sound of his boots echoing through the enclosed hallway, a sure sign he’s finally back. You wonder what he’s seen, what he’s done while he was gone. The thought keeps you restless sometimes, but you never ask. He doesn’t offer, either.

And then there are the women.

You hear them through the thin walls—his low voice, their laughter, the unmistakable sounds of them fucking. The rhythm of their pleasure reverberates through your apartment, impossible to ignore.

Every time it happens, you’re reminded of the rumors you’ve heard around the office. The whispers about Javier Peña, about how good he is in bed, about how women fall over themselves to spend a night with him. Now, you know firsthand that they’re true.

It stings more than you’d like to admit, considering how you feel about him but knowing that he doesn’t see you as anything but a friend.

You’ve caught glimpses of him after his flings, too. You kind of wish you could wipe from your memory, if only to keep your sanity.

It’s during different times of the day, really, when he’s leaning casually against his doorframe like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He’s shirtless, skin still damp from a shower or maybe from the sweat he’s worked up, and his jeans hang sinfully low on his hips. The soft light from the hallway casts shadows over his golden chest, highlighting the faint beauty marks that map his body.

You do your best to keep your eyes averted, pretending you’re not affected, pretending you don’t notice the way his muscles flex as he stretches, or how his dark hair is tousled in that perfectly messy way. But your throat tightens every time, your stomach flipping at how effortlessly good he looks. It’s not fair how someone can make post-coital exhaustion look so damn attractive.

He’s usually saying goodbye to one of the lucky girls, tossing a wink their way, or brushing his fingers through their hair as they share a final kiss.

You tell yourself it’s just Javier being Javier, but it’s impossible to ignore the way jealousy twists in your chest when you see them, all blissed-out and satisfied, practically floating down the hallway after a night with him.

You turn your head, pretend you didn’t just catch a glimpse of him looking like some kind of god, and hurriedly unlock your door before he notices you staring.

And sometimes, when you least expect it, he catches you.

You’re fumbling with your keys, doing your best to mind your own business, when his voice cuts through the silence. “Hey,” he calls out, casual as ever, and you freeze. Your hand stills on the doorknob, and you force yourself to look up.

Javier is standing there, half naked, leaning against his door as if he has all the time in the world.

You try to swallow the lump in your throat, “Hey.”

“You alright there, cariño?” he asks, voice low and rough, like he’s barely holding back a laugh after watching you struggle with your keys.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just had a long day.”

He hums, his stare lingering on you, and your heart pounds in a way you can’t quite control. But then, as if nothing’s changed, he shifts back into that familiar, teasing grin.

“Okay, don’t work too hard. Can’t have you burnin’ out before me.”

It all comes to a head one night at the bar near your place. You’re out with a secretary from a different department, downing margaritas like they’re water. You’re tipsy—no, you’re drunk, and the world is spinning just a little too fast.

That’s when you see him. He walks in like he owns the place, scanning the crowded space until his eyes land on you. He acknowledges you with a jut of his chin and you smile drunkenly at him, waving, before you’re brought back to the conversation with your friend.

He’s here for work, meeting one of his informants—a very pretty, very obvious, working girl. You hate how seeing him with her swirls the green in your drunken heart.

Maybe it’s the tequila talking, maybe it’s the months of pent-up frustration, but when Javier approaches as your coworker excuses herself to the bathroom, checking to see if you’re alright, your mouth runs faster than your brain.

“Don’t worry about me,” you slur, waving him off. “I’m sure you’d have more fun with her,” you add, nodding toward the woman with a sharp, sarcastic edge. “Probably more your type anyway.”

Javier raises an eyebrow, his expression shifting into a playful uncertainty, head tilting slightly. “What?”

You don’t know how to respond. Honestly, you’re not even sure you can form a coherent thought right now. All you know is that you’re in way over your head, and he is standing way too close.

But that liquid courage surges through your veins and the words are tumbling out of your mouth.

“It’s obvious, Javier,” your frustration is crystal clear, despite the way your words run into each other. “The kind of company you keep. They’re more fun,” You gesture vaguely toward his booth. “I’m just… here. A bore that’s drunk on a Wednesday night. It’s why you came to check on me. Why you’ve been overly nice.” Your words sting, even as they leave your lips.

The alcohol amplifies every insecurity you’ve kept buried.

The playful look on his face vanishes, replaced by hardened disbelief. His brows furrow, and for a moment, he just stares at you, like he’s trying to figure out how you could possibly think so little of yourself.

Instead of giving you an answer, he just reaches for his wallet in the back pocket of his jeans. “Come on,” he mutters, “I’m taking you home.”

You snort, shaking your head, another wave of dizziness washing over you. “See? Taking pity on me. Again.”

He rolls his eyes, unfazed by your drunken resistance. “That’s not what this is,” he pulls out a wad of cash and drops it on the bar top to settle your tab.

He makes sure your friend is taken care of, telling the bartender to call a cab for her. Then he goes to dismiss his informant—a woman he definitely had plans to sleep with. She seems surprised, but Javier brushes her off and hands her some money.

Your drunken mind can’t quite comprehend that he’s choosing to deal with you instead. As he guides you outside, you make it difficult, stumbling and resisting as he tries to steer you toward his car.

“I can walk, Peña,” you grumble, though your legs aren’t exactly cooperating.

“Sure you can,” he says dryly, his arm wrapped around your waist to keep you upright. “You’re making this real easy.” He comments sarcastically.

You’re so going to regret this tomorrow when you’re fighting a hangover at your desk, thinking of how you just fucked up this friendship.

But right now, you can’t focus on anything but how warm his large hand feels against your side as he helps you into the passenger seat.

Your head lolls against the window, and you groan softly. “You didn’t have to do this, you know. You could’ve stayed with her.”

Javier slides into the driver’s seat, glancing at you as he starts the engine. “Everything you said back there was bullshit,” he says bluntly, pulling out of the parking lot. “You think I pity you? That I only talk to you because I feel bad? You really don’t know me at all.”

His words are cutting, but not in a cruel way. He sounds… disappointed. “I like spending time with you,” he continues, quieter now, more serious. “It’s not some charity case. You make me feel normal. When I’m with you, it’s like the rest of the shit I deal with doesn’t exist.” The faint hum of the radio fills the sudden silence.

“You… you’ve got this smile that makes me feel a little better about myself.”

The sincerity in his voice sobers you up just a little, enough for your foggy brain to process what he’s saying. You turn to look at him, eyes wide, but before you can fully grasp it, your stomach lurches.

“Oh no,” you groan, clutching your middle. “I’m gonna be sick.”

He glances at you, and in an instant, he’s speeding up, making it to your complex faster than you would’ve thought possible. He parks hastily, helps you out, and practically carries you to your apartment. The second the door swings open, you make a beeline for the bathroom, barely making it in time to empty your stomach into the toilet.

You hear him lingering by the door, then the sound of running water as he fills a glass in the kitchen. You hate that he’s seeing you like this—pathetic, drunk, and embarrassed.

When you finally sit back, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, Javier is there, handing you the glass of water. His expression is soft, more concerned than anything.

“Drink,” he orders gently, crouching next to you. His voice is soothing, and for a moment, the embarrassment fades under the warmth of his presence.

You sip the water, avoiding his gaze, but he’s not letting this go. “You okay?”

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak.

He sighs, settling beside you on the bathroom floor. “You’re not a bore. Don’t say that shit.” His voice is firm, but there’s an undercurrent tenderness beneath it.

Your head is swimming—not just from the alcohol, but from everything that’s happened in the last hour.

You lean your head back against the wall, the glass of water in your hand almost empty. With a soft sigh, you begin to speak, your tone hesitant.

“Sometimes… I just feel average, you know?” you admit, glancing at Javier from the corner of your eye. He’s sitting quietly beside you, his long legs stretched out in front of him, gaze focused on some point on the floor. “Like there’s nothing more to me than this mediocre job, answering phones, filing papers. I mean, I didn’t move all the way to South America just for that.”

You pause, trying to organize your thoughts. “That’s why I transferred here. I thought maybe… maybe I’d find something more. Maybe I’d find me.” You laugh bitterly, shaking your head. “But ever since I got here, it’s been nothing but monotony and homesickness. I don’t even know if this is where I’m meant to be.”

The words hang between you. You’ve never said this out loud to anyone, never let yourself be so transparent.

Javier doesn’t say anything right away, and it makes you think that maybe you’ve said too much. But then, you hear him sigh softly, his shoulders slumping as if your rambling has hit something deep within him.

He’s silent as he digests your confession, and you’re about to apologize for oversharing when he finally speaks.

“I get it,” he replies, low and rough around the edges. He shifts beside you, resting his arms on his now bent knees while he stares at the floor. “You’re not the only one feeling that way.”

You blink, slightly taken aback by his agreement. You hadn’t expected him to relate—the sharp, confident DEA agent who always seems so sure of himself. He glances at you, offering a wry smile. “You’re not average,” his voice is firmer now, like he’s trying to make you believe it. “It takes time to figure out who you are, what you want. And if it feels like you haven’t found that yet, that doesn’t make you less than.”

There’s an irony in his words, and he lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “I should probably take my own advice,” he admits.

Your heart flutters at his reassurance, but you can see it in his eyes—there’s more. Something heavier sits in his chest, pulling him down.

“What about you? What’s weighing on you?”

Javier sighs again, leaning his head back against the wall like you. “This job,” he says simply, but you can hear the exhaustion in his voice. “It’s… confusing. Difficult. Half the time, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing anymore. I thought I’d come here, do some good, but it’s just…” He trails off, his jaw tightening. “I’ve lost myself in all of it. The work. The women. Because I don’t know what else to do.”

Your chest tightens as he speaks, hearing the vulnerability in his words. He’s always seemed so unshakeable, but now you can see the cracks in his armor, all that he’s been carrying. And then he turns to look at you, his expression softening.

“But you,” he says quietly, “you’re the one thing that keeps me grounded in all this shit.”

You look down, not believing that he’s actually saying this to you. You have to be dreaming.

“Your smile, the way your eyes light up when you’re happy. Shit, even the way you butcher half your Spanish words with that accent of yours.” He chuckles, and despite the heaviness of the moment, you can’t help but laugh with him.

The tension breaks for just a second, and when you finally meet his gaze again, your breath snags. He’s already staring at you, his beautiful brown eyes gleaming.

You quickly look away out of habit, your heart hammering in your chest, but then he calls your name softly. “Mírame, cariño,” he says, all gentle and insistent.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to do so.

“I’m not just telling you this to score. I mean it.”

And you don’t doubt it for a second. However, the moment is too heavy, too intense for your tequila-soaked brain to handle. You can taste the lingering bitterness of the alcohol, your throat feels raw, and your head is already starting to pound. You’re too disoriented to fully process this moment that’s happening.

“I know,” you nod, picking at your cuticles, “I just don’t think right now is the best time to have this conversation.” Your words are punctuated by a hiccup and you bring your hand up to cover your mouth in fear of accidentally throwing up again.

Javier’s lips twitch with amusement, but he works his jaw, nodding in agreement. “You’re right. Not the best time,” he concedes, though the way he says it tells you he wanted this conversation to happen—needed it to.

“I just had to tell you. And if you genuinely feel like you don’t belong here then go home.” He tells you softly, though his cadence and the softening expression on his face say otherwise.

You glance at him, your lips curving into a weak smile. “While I do feel lost, I think half of all this is the margaritas’ doing,” you admit, your voice a little hoarse.

“Tequila’s dangerous like that,” he agrees with a small laugh, shaking his head.

You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to push through the embarrassment still swirling around inside of you. “I’m sorry about what happened at the bar,” you say quietly. “I didn’t mean to be so self deprecating.”

He waves off your apology, his expression relaxed. “It’s no problem.”

“Thank you for bringing me home, and for… opening up like that… I know it wasn’t easy.” Your voice softens as you say it.

He gives you a small smile, but his eyes linger on you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. “You make it easy,” he says finally, the words leaving his mouth like a confession.

You sit there on the cool bathroom floor, your heart stumbling all over the place. Leaving isn’t an option anymore. Not when Javier Peña looks at you like this. Not after realizing that you mean so much more to him than you could have ever thought possible.

Javier hovers above you, his gaze locked with yours, filled with desire and adoration. Your legs are tightly wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper, feeling every inch of him as his hips move suavely while he fucks you.

His breath is hot against your neck, biting and licking at your skin. You can barely keep your thoughts straight, your mind clouded with the pleasure he’s stirring in you, the rhythm of his body guiding you to that edge again and again.

He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, his voice a low growl, “You feel so good, baby. I can feel how close you are... all for me.”

Your body clenches around him in response, a soft whimper escaping your lips as the pleasure tightens inside you, building and building. It’s the fifth time tonight he’s coaxed this out of you, and you don’t know how you’re still holding on.

His weight presses against you and your nails dig into the broad expanse of his broad shoulders, pulling him impossibly close. His chest, warm and slick with sweat, crushes against yours, and the hairs at the base of his cock graze your swollen clit with every thrust, sending shockwaves through you.

You gasp, your voice trembling with each word. “Javier... I can’t... it’s too much.”

But he doesn’t stop, doesn’t relent, instead he grins down at you, a wicked spark in his eyes, pressing his lips against your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth—kissing you everywhere he can reach while his other hand keeps your jaw locked in place, fingers denting into your skin.

His lips finally find yours in a messy, urgent kiss, swallowing your moans as your body tightens around him again. You’re lost in what he’s giving you, your world spinning as your orgasm tears through you, leaving you a trembling mess beneath him.

His hips stutter as he groans your name, his cock twitching inside you while he comes. He stays there, still buried inside, his body heavy and comforting as the world fades back into focus.

When he finally pulls away, his touch softens. He’s gentle as he plants tender kisses on your forehead, your nose, your lips. His hand caresses your naked side, soothing you as your breathing slows. He shifts then, pulling you close into the safety of his arms, his body wrapped around yours.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart. Just relax.”

He stays with you, his hand tracing lazy circles on your back, murmuring soft reassurances until you’re completely at ease, your body melting into his.

started a tag list for my works here, so if you're interested— pls check it out 🖤

🏷️ : @almostempty . @persephone-girl . @magneticecstasy . @miss-oranje-disco-dancer . @pepperstories . @greenwitchfromthewoods . @maiyart . @pedrohoe04 . @natalieispunk . @thewisesalmon . @bitchesuntitled . @puddles221b . @swankyorange . @bbyanarchist . @thottiewinemom . @heyhihello-4771 . @danaehldy . @sunflowerfive . @libre-sol . @harriedandharassed . @untamedheart81 . @sunshinefive . @dinanabuu . @angiewatson .

#javier pena smut #javier peña smut #pedro pascal #javier pena fic #javier peña fanfic #javier peña narcos #javier pena narcos #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena fanfic #javier peña x reader #javier peña fanfiction #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier peña x you #💌 you’ve got mail!

722 notes · View notes

coldfanbou · 8 days ago

Text

Fair is Fair

We get to learn a little bit about Mina in this fic. Turns out she's a little needy.

Length 2.3K

Mina X Mreader

Previous Part

Once Chaeyoung had left your home, you lay on the couch, wanting nothing more than to relax when your phone began vibrating. It was a series of messages. “Why did Momo get a turn?” was the first one that got your attention. You wonder who would know about your night with Momo and Jihyo. Curiosity gets the best of you, and you open your messages. You scroll to the top and realize it’s Mina messaging you. The rest of her messages were her complaints about being left out.

“I’m not the one that decided that,” you reply.

“Well, I want a turn; it’s been so long since I’ve been with someone.” She texts back before she begins calling your phone. You pick up the phone and instantly hear Mina's voice come through, “It’s not fair that Momo gets to have fun with you. We share everything, and she shouldn’t be able to have fun with you alone.” she repeats, her voice high. Mina’s whines were odd to you. From the small amount of time you had spent together, she had acted much more like a lady, so her complaining like a bratty child was weird, for lack of a better word.

“Mina, things just happened. What do you want me to do about it.”

“Tonight, you and I are going out, no ifs, ands, or buts.”

“Mina,”

“No, we’re going out.” Mina whines, the soft pounding of something heard in the background. On the other side of the phone, Mina kicked her feet against her bed, cheeks full of air as she pouted. “I want to go out tonight, and then we can spend the night at your place. Chaeyoung got to fuck you last night, why can’t I?” You question the last part, your mind working slowly until you figure out that the friend Chaeyoung had been talking about was, in fact, Mina. “Chaeyoung was showing us pictures last night, and I couldn��t believe it was you. I want my turn now!” She whined, kicking her feet again.

You reluctantly agree, too tired to put up a fight. “Alright, fine, but you plan the date.”

“Really?” Mina almost shouts, the glee in her voice ringing out.

“Yes, give me the details, and I’ll meet you there.” You were already tired of the situation. You place your phone on the coffee table before shutting your eyes.

When you wake up from your short nap you have several messages on your phone from Mina, including the time and place for your date. You check the clock and realize there isn’t much time left. You get yourself ready, already regretting giving in to Mina so easily. You head to the address Mina had sent you. Arriving at the address, you double-check to make sure it’s the right place. You question Mina’s choice of a Lego cafe, but soon enough, you see her arrive, standing outside the cafe and typing something out on her phone. Your phone buzzes a second later, “Where are you?”

“Okay, guess this is the right place.” You say to yourself before getting out of the car. You walk up to Mina, who smiles when she sees you. She’s dressed casually, wearing oversized jeans and a hoodie.

“Let’s go!” Mina says, taking your hand and heading inside, grabbing a table for the two of you.

“What kind of place is this Mina?”

“It’s a Lego cafe,” Mina says, stating the obvious.

“I know that, but why here? Why have the date here?”

“It’s fun,” Mina says, pulling out a set of legos from under her sweater. You feel like you’re in another world as Mina begins playing with the set. Looking at the box, you see it’s a car she’s building. You’re more confused than anything else; you never would have thought Mina would be interested in something like this. Seeing her pull a box set from under her sweater was another can of worms in and out of itself. You watch the young woman smile to herself as she puts the pieces together. It was cute, almost innocent. You feel out of place as she continues to build the car. “We’ll get you a set,” Mina says without looking up at you.

As the waiter comes around, Mina takes charge, ordering coffee for both of you and a Lego set for you to work on. You sighed briefly, “I didn’t expect this would be our date. I thought you’d want to do something else.” You pick at the set Mina had chosen for you; it was a set of flowers, something simple.

You build your set while watching Mina work on hers, “Do you do this often?”

She nods, focusing intently on the tiny stickers she had to place on the Lego pieces. “Yeah, I think it’s fun building these sets. Most guys don’t really like it, though; they think it’s childish.”

“It kind of is, but if you enjoy it, you should be able to share that.” You reply as you look through the instructions. “If they don’t like it and don’t want to date you because of it, that’s their problem.” Mina glances up from her set, looking at you before continuing to build it.

“Thanks,” she murmurs. “It’s peaceful building these,” Mina pauses as the coffee arrives, taking her time to sip from the hot cup before returning to her build.

“I thought you would just want to get straight to business. Not go on a date first.”

“I-well, I thought it would be rude to go to your house and do it.” Mina stammers, “I thought this would be better; besides, I wanted to build this set. I’ve had it for a month.” Mina says, trying to give another reason for the date. She hoped you wouldn’t see the price tag on the box. She had bought the Lego set before coming here. After your call with her had ended, she got flustered and went out to buy it.

“So what else do you like?”

“Games, video games,” Mina says, drawing out another question from you. “I like Minecraft; it’s a lot like Legos. I like building things more than going on adventures.” You nod along and continue asking Mina questions about herself. She slowly grows more comfortable as the date goes on, and once she finishes her build and you finish yours, the two of you decide to leave.

Mina places her little car in the back seat, with your plant, staring at them as you drive home, hoping nothing happens to them.

As you arrive in the parking lot, Mina slips a pill into her mouth and swallows it, preparing herself for a long evening. The effects are immediate as she feels her body begin to heat up. Walking to the door, Mina grows anxious, her body growing needy.

Reaching the door, Mina throws herself at you, wrapping her arms around your neck as she presses her lips against yours. “Let’s get started,” You struggle to open the door but eventually manage it, moving inside with Mina. She grabs your hands, moving them under her sweater. You feel her toned stomach as she drags your arms up her body until you reach her modest chest. Mina cranes her neck, letting you mark her body with hickeys as you lead her to the bedroom. Mina’s nipples rub against the palm of your hand, and she lets out a light moan as you squeeze her breasts. You push the door open and place Mina on the bed. You pull the hoodie off her before continuing to mark her body, her moans growing louder as you tease her nipples. Mina holds you against her chest, wanting to keep you there forever as you begin tugging at her jeans.

Mina grabs your hands, stopping your advance. When you look up at her, her eyes are already on yours. “Before we keep going, I want to tell you something, but you have to promise not to tell anyone else.”

“Okay, I promise,” You state to her, staring into her eyes and creating a sense of trust.

“Momo doesn’t know about this, but…” Mina’s face becomes flushed as she struggles to finish her sentence. “Can I call you Daddy? I like it better this way; please take the lead.”

For the second time today, Mina stunned you. “Uhm, sure, that’s fine.” This version of Mina was a lot different from the woman you had sex with a couple of weeks ago. Whereas when she was drunk, she degraded herself, Mina seemed more soft when she was sober. Mina giggles as she unbuttons her jeans and lets you pull them off. You become distracted, thinking to yourself how Mina has been the opposite of what you expected of her as she reaches down and rubs your bulge.

“You’re so big,” Mina whispers, “Can I see it, Daddy?” You nod and lay back on the bed, letting Mina pull your pants off you; she slowly moves her head over your crotch, her long fingers pulling at your underwear. A smile creeps onto Mina as she tugs at your underwear, and your cock flops out. She grasps it gently, her hand moving along it slowly.

“Keep going, Mina, that feels good.” You groan.

The young woman drips her saliva onto your cock, spreading it out as she runs her hand along her shaft. “I want you, Daddy, in here.” She says, placing her other hand on her stomach. Mina stares into your eyes as she strokes your cock, her body growing hotter as she becomes more eager to move on. Mina flashes her gummy smile as she uses both hands to stroke your cock, rubbing the tip with the palm of one as the other runs along your shaft. You groan Mina’s name, the pleasure flowing through you as she leans down and kisses the tip. Mina smiles after, feeling shy.

“Mina, I want you.” The young woman’s heart skips a beat after hearing your order. She straddles you, rubbing her lips along your cock and moaning as she prepares herself. The heat coming from your cock, makes Mina want more. She doesn’t wait long before lifting herself and rubbing the tip between her folds. Light moans escape Mina’s lips as she slowly sinks onto your cock, her walls squeezing your shaft as she slips more into her cunt. Mina places her hands on your chest as she begins to feel full.

Mina rides you, her hips rocking back and forth as she leans back. “You’re so big,” she groans. The young woman bites her lip as she moves up and down your shaft, slowly putting more force into her bounce as she takes every inch inside her. “Mmm, Daddy,” Mina moans, her strength slowly leaving her body, leaving you to thrust into her. You roll Mina onto her back and lift her lower half, continuing to thrust into her. Mina’s moans only get louder; she grips the bedsheets, getting closer to cumming. She wraps her arms around you, holding you tightly as you ram more of your length inside her. “D-daddy, you’re so deep,” she whines, her legs wrapping around you. You kiss Mina’s neck and listen to her whimpers. Your hands grip the back of her thighs; they quiver as you push Mina closer to her climax.

“Cum for me, baby. Cum for Daddy,” you growl in a low voice. Mina’s body tenses, and she cries out as she cums. You continue thrusting into her tightening cunt, driving Mina mad. She continues to moan, “Daddy, wait!” She whines, her body becoming overrun by the pleasure.

“I’m going to cum, Mina,” you groan.

“I want Daddy’s cum. I want it inside me,” Mina moans, the pleasure breaking her as she feels your cock throbbing inside her. As you're about to cum you bury yourself inside Mina, your cum pouring into her cunt. “Oh, Daddy, more,” Mina moans. You kiss the young woman, shutting her up for a moment as you enjoy her body, her cunt milking you.

“Does my baby want more?” You ask, running your finger between Mina’s tits.

“Yes, Daddy. Please give me more,” Mina says, biting her fingertip as she uses her other hand to spread her lips. “Please fuck me again, Daddy.” The sight of your seed leaking out of her cunt gets you hard again, and you slide back into Mina, gripping her ass as you begin thrusting again.

As you fuck her to another climax, you feel something rub against your finger. Moving your hand just a little, you feel a plug. “Does my baby have a plug in her?” You whisper into Mina’s ear.

“Yes, Daddy.” Mina says with a pout, “I want to save that for later.” she says softly. You leave it alone for now and continue fucking the young woman until you’re both exhausted. As you lay beside Mina, your chest heaving, you comment on her other side.

“This is a lot different from our first time together. So you have Sharon, and this is Mina?”

Mina looks away from you, covering her face. “It’s only when I’m drunk. I say a lot of things when I’m drunk.” She admits.

You laugh at Mina, “Oh yeah? Like ‘cum inside my slutty pussy’ or ‘fuck me like a whore’” Mina’s mind flashes back to the first time you had sex, and she grows more embarrassed. “So, which do you like more?” You lean in closely to Mina’s ear and run your hand along her body, pushing two fingers inside her cum-filled cunt. “Or is it both?” You ask her, “Are you my slutty baby?” Mina gasps, and her body shivers. She bites her lip and nods.

“I like both,”

#kpop smut #male reader #m reader #twice smut #mina smut

628 notes · View notes

ham1lton · 4 days ago

Text

SIMPLE !

pairings: jude bellingham x lewis hamilton’s assistant!reader

summary: after your first few dates with jude, everything seems to be going smoothly. however, there’s just one problem: your boss seems to hate your new boyfriend.

warnings: judeyn being dumbasses.

author’s note: part of my dream girl universe. for best enjoyment, read after the first instalment. assistant2 also makes her first official appearance!!

────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ──────

📍 berlin, germany.

tagged: judebellingham

liked by ham1ltonshaderoom, jobebellingham and 2,837,918 others.

yourinstagram: the photos he takes of me vs the one i take of him. i think you all can see the better photographer.

view all 1,108,928 comments

user1: LOVE seeing hot people date each other.

-> user11: i love seeing two hot people be BESTIES.

user2: JUDE IS TAKEN ???!!!! NOOOOOOO

-> user3: babe… you didn’t have a chance at all. like please be serious.

-> user13: thank god they aren’t actually dating tho.

user4: my gf <3

-> judebellingham: who even are you.

-> user4: we can share <3 i can keep her satisfied thru the weekend u have the weekdays king.

jobebellingham: love this yn. he looks so depressed and ugly.

-> judebellingham: U JEALOUS ASF 😹

-> jobebellingham: yn i’ll paypal you £50 rn if you post more ugly pictures. which is all his pictures really.

-> yourinstagram: challenge accepted 🫡

lewishamilton: you look good yn!

-> user5: and what about jude??

-> lewishamilton: what about him?

-> user6: NOT YN’S HUSBAND HAVIN BEEF W/ HER BFF 😭

user7: lip combo?!!??

-> yourinstagram: i’m not a gatekeeper. it’s on my tiktok!! my most recent one <3

user8: you did my king so dirty with that one pic…. LMFAO DO IT AGAIN

-> yourinstagram: 🫡🫡

user10: their friendship is so cute!!

user12: yn is moving up in the world!!! from bts delulu to besties with JUDE BELLINGHAM

-> yourinstagram: blocking you! 😃

-> user12: you can block me but you can’t erase ‘hobisbabymama’

-> yourinstagram: HELLO?2&/9£/

user9: WHERE IS LANDO?!

-> user10: she blocked his main and his ten other side accounts because she’s secretly in love with him and wants to leave loser jude for him.

-> user9: hi lando 😁

user10: no roscoe pic?

-> yourinstagram: sorry babe :(( he’s at home with his dad and i’m on holiday. assistant2 has some highlights of him on her page!! <3

judebellingham: why do i look so depressed

-> yourinstagram: idk <3 want to get ice cream?

-> judebellingham: .. yeah

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title: my girlfriend’s boss (l,39) hates me and it’s ruining my relationship. help?

hi all, i don’t really post on here, but i’m at my wit’s end and need advice. i (j, m21) have been dating my girlfriend (y, f24) for a couple of months now, and it’s been brilliant. she’s smart, funny, beautiful, and honestly the kindest person i’ve ever met. here’s the catch: her boss (l, m39), who also happens to be an insanely famous athlete and very wealthy, clearly hates me.

y works as his personal assistant, and from what she’s told me, l has always been good to her. she’s known him for years, and he’s helped her out a lot in her career. she always says he’s like family, but ever since she introduced me to him, he’s been awful.

it started small, like him calling me “mate” in that condescending way that makes you feel about two feet tall. but last week, i went to pick y up from work, and he gave me this look—you know the type, the kind that says, “you’re not good enough to breathe the same air as her.” i tried to play it off, but it’s eating at me.

another time, we ran into him at a café, and he made this offhand comment about how “footballers aren’t known for their brains.” y tried to laugh it off, but i felt like an absolute idiot.

then there was the incident with the tickets. y mentioned she’d been offered two box seats for a big match, courtesy of l, and we were both so excited to go. but when she told him i was going with her, he suddenly “remembered” he’d promised them to someone else. i know it sounds paranoid, but it feels deliberate.

to make matters worse, y thinks i’m overreacting. she says l is just protective of her because they work closely together, but i can’t help but feel like there’s more to it. she brushes off his weird behaviour, but come on—this is the same man who asked her to taste-test a box of chocolate truffles because he couldn’t decide which to order for himself. (weird, right?)

it’s not just the comments, though. y told me l doesn’t usually care who his staff date, but she mentioned he’s suddenly started asking loads of questions about me, like whether i’ve been in trouble before or if i’m serious about her. it’s like he’s looking for a reason to disapprove. y thinks he’s being protective, but i swear he just doesn’t like me. here’s the problem: i’m pretty sure he hates me. actually, scratch that—i know he hates me.

i’m spiralling here. what if l starts sabotaging our relationship? y says she’s not going anywhere, but i can’t shake the feeling he’s got some weird power over her. am i just being insecure, or is there something seriously wrong here? what do i do?

top comments:

soggy_pigeon: nah, this is classic alpha behaviour. he’s marking his territory. he probably sees her as more than just an assistant, if you know what i mean. tread carefully.

fluffybananas: footballers aren’t known for their brains. maybe he has a point.

spicy_gravy: dude, he’s probably jealous you’ve got abs and a girl who loves you. chill.

randomuser_123: sounds like you’re dating your boss’s work spouse.

tofu_throwaway: i think l’s just jealous because y spends more time with you now. he’s like a toddler upset that someone’s playing with his favourite toy.

ladybantheboys: ok but what if it’s the opposite? like, what if l approves of you but is being mean on purpose to test if you’re good enough for her?

football4ever: j, mate, you’re overthinking. l’s just a famous bloke who doesn’t want to lose his assistant to some random guy. show him you’re not random. take him out for a pint or something.

memequeen420: this reminds me of when i had a cat and got a new dog. the cat hated the dog at first but now they’re best friends. just give it time.

plshelpme1998: have you tried googling “how to win over your girlfriend’s boss”? there’s bound to be a wikiHow.

bananabreadbae: mate, if he wanted her, he’d have made a move by now. maybe he just doesn’t like footballers. not everyone does, you know.

user2847: honestly, the truffle thing makes me think he’s the weird one. does he do this with everyone or just y? if it’s just her, he’s probably got some weird older-brother complex going on.

ultimategoblin69: maybe he wants to adopt you. famous people do weird shit like that.

yogurtbutter: ok but what if you’re the problem? maybe you’re just a bit annoying and he senses it. famous people have great instincts.

iamnotanon: have you considered sabotaging him back? like, nothing serious, but maybe show up in a better suit than him one day. alpha vibes only.

opinionatedowl: this is a power thing. l’s rich and famous, and he’s used to being in charge. stand your ground, but don’t disrespect him. he’s probably testing you.

thecheeseman: it sounds like a bad rom-com where l secretly approves of you but can’t admit it because he’s emotionally constipated. if i were you, i’d play the long game.

spicywaterlover: wait… what if l is secretly in love with y and you’re the obstacle? plot twist.

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edit: wow, ok. this has been a ride. thanks for all the comments, even the wild ones. i think i’ll try the “pint” suggestion, but i draw the line at sabotage. will update if anything changes (or if i get adopted).

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liked by messyassuser, lando11priv and 1,938,882 others.

ham1ltonshaderoom: football star jude bellingham seen cuddling and being affectionate with his new girl! she has been identified as yn yln, she is the personal assistant of f1 icon lewis hamilton. they were spotted outside a restaurant in las vegas after the grand prix all boo’d up! according to sources, they were all loved up at the after party. they ‘didn’t leave each other’s space’. what do we think about this new couple ham1ltons?

view all comments

user1: who tf even is she

-> user2: a baddie. she’s seriously so funny and sweet. you guys should see her tiktok or insta pages. jude is punching above his weight.

user3: oh!

user4: HOTTIES!!!

user5: why they doing the most in public???

-> user6: they’re in love? girl lmao.

-> user7: she’s his beard or he’s hers. idk yet. i need to consult the stars.

-> user8: ^ me when i’m off my meds.

user9: am i the only one who thinks they’re cute? good for them!!

user10: um i think she’d be happier with lando.

-> user11: lando please how are you still making new accounts.

-> user10: i’m totally not the handsome and gorgeous lando. i’m actually… pando. hi.

user12: my gf and my bf are dating??? i’m gonna be sick.

-> user13: they got two hands.

user14: they’re rlly dating???

-> user15: no bitch. they’re just coworkers 🙄

-> user14: oh! thank you :D

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UPDATE: my girlfriend’s boss (l,39) hates me and it’s ruining my relationship. help?

hi all, it’s j again. thanks for the advice on my last post—it was a mix of helpful, hilarious, and… well, a bit unsettling. but it gave me the push i needed to talk to l. here’s what happened:

i decided to man up and ask him out for a pint to clear the air. i figured it was the most normal thing to do. well, turns out l’s teetotal (thanks, y, for not warning me properly). when i suggested a pint, he just looked at me for a second and went, “i don’t drink, mate,” in that calm, terrifying way he has. i panicked, said something about tea, and left feeling like an absolute idiot.

but two days later, he called y at work and told her to invite me round to his place for tea. TEA. this man lives in a house that looks like it’s straight out of a Bond film, so you can imagine how intimidating it was to rock up with a packet of biscuits like some budget offering.

long story short, we had tea, and he cleared the air. he admitted he’d been giving me a hard time because he wanted to make sure i was serious about y. he said she’s like family to him (didn’t say “work spouse,” thank god), and he needed to know i’d treat her right. honestly, it was a bit awkward, but also kind of sweet.

so yeah, we’re good now. he even said he’d save me a seat for the next big race. i don’t know if that was a peace offering or a power move, but i’ll take it.

thanks for the push, reddit. you lot are mad, but in a good way. most of the time.

comments:

ladybantheboys: told you he was testing you! this is literally every rom-com ever. next step: you accidentally bond over an inside joke, and he becomes your biggest fan.

bananabreadbae: this is so british it hurts. “sorry i was mean, let’s have tea.” mate, at least you passed the test!

football4ever: called it! blokes like him just want to make sure you’re solid. now you’re in his good books, you’re set for life. congrats, mate.

memequeen420: so… what kind of biscuits did you bring? was it something boring like digestives, or did you go all out with hobnobs? we NEED to know.

randomuser_123: this is like when my dog hated my boyfriend at first but then they bonded over cheese. sometimes it just takes time.

tofu_throwaway: glad it worked out, but honestly, i’m still a bit scared of l. even through your post, he sounds like he could crush a man with a single stare.

iamnotanon: congrats on passing the test. now don’t mess it up, or i guarantee he’ll make you disappear. rich people have connections.

ultimategoblin69: you went to his house?! are you sure it wasn’t a trap? like, did he subtly scan your fingerprints for future blackmail material?

plshelpme1998: like, this whole thing is giving weirdly protective father vibes. good luck, mate.

user2847: what does his house smell like? no, seriously. i feel like rich people’s houses have that “old money” smell, like leather and expensive wood polish. was it intimidating?

(deleted): send feet pics.

opinionatedowl: so… when’s the wedding? i’m assuming l will walk her down the aisle now that you’ve been knighted into his inner circle.

thecheeseman: this is the most British solution ever. “i made you feel terrible, but here, have some earl grey, and now we’re mates.” glad it worked out though!

memequeen420 (again): STILL no answer on the biscuits. j, you’re avoiding the REAL questions here. were they branded or store-brand? did he eat one? this is important.

weirdcookieperson: did he sniff you when you walked in? like, does he have a heightened sense of smell? rich people are weird, man.

alphamale_uk: mate, you handled this all wrong. never apologise, never offer tea, and NEVER back down to another alpha. you should’ve walked in, sat in his chair, and asserted dominance. that’s how you gain respect. next time, bring steak, not biscuits. real men bond over meat, not tea.

j (op): l’s vegan, mate. bringing a steak would’ve been like waving a red flag at a bull. also, this isn’t Planet of the Apes, it’s just tea. chill.

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j (op): wow, i forgot how weird reddit is. for the record: branded hobnobs. because i’m not a monster. no sniffing, no fingertip scanning and i’ll get someone to update you if i go missing. cheers for the laughs.

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— all works taglist: @luvsforme @yelenasloverrrrr @donttouchthegnote @chelle1306 @bloodyymaryy @aliciaablueprint @km-23mr @stinkyjax @f1kenzzz @ctrlyomomma @theblueblub @23victoria @namgification @tallrock35 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @ariellovelynn @shhhchriss @lifeless-firefly @xylinasdiary @evie-119 @itseightbeats @landososcar @yongi-lee @velentine @m1892 @blushmimi @evans-dejong @nixisracing @lethalvenus @sainzluvrr @santanasaintmendes @idontknowlmaoo @sainzluvrr @tetetoni @ssprayberrythings @heavy-vettel @tashisgf @daniskywalkersolo @c-losur3 @lestappenslover @linoscrly (see yourself tagged when you don’t wanna be? or you want to be and don’t see yourself? send me an ask!)

────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ──────

#dream girl universe シ #jayde’s works ☆#lewis hamilton social media au #lewis hamilton x reader #jude bellingham x black reader #jude bellingham smau #jude bellingham x y/n #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham fanfic #f1 smau #football smau #formula one smau #formula one imagine

407 notes · View notes

lxvsiick · 2 months ago

Text

CUTE PIZZA DELIVERY BOY | KIM LEEHAN X READER

PAIRING: pizza delivery boy! kim leehan x fem! reader

SUMMARY: To thank her friends for helping her move in, Y/n orders them a pizza, not expecting the pizza delivery boy to be super cute -- or in which Leehan fights with his coworker to deliver pizza to Y/n.

GENRE: imagine, fluff

WORDCOUNT: 2.3k

A/N: honestly this isn't my best work :( i wanted to write more but my head is kinda killing me right now and i have to study for 2 midterms :/ anyways, i know nothing about RIIZE but i like anton so is this a sign to get into RIIZE ??

Boxes scattered across the floor, bubble wrap littering every surface, and the scent of new beginnings filled the air in Y/n’s brand-new apartment. Her friends bustled about, helping her organize and unpack her things. Laughter echoed through the space as they joked about where things should go and reminisced about their last get-together. To thank them for their help, she had ordered pizza—a classic move when no one had the energy left to cook.

“Should be here soon,” she said, checking the time on her phone. “Thirty minutes, they said.”

As time ticked closer, the doorbell rang, startling her from where she was stacking dishes in the cupboard. She glanced at her friends. "I'll get it!"

She hurried to the door, wiping her hands on her jeans before opening it. The moment the door swung open, her breath caught. Standing there was the delivery boy—blonde hair tousled perfectly, big brown doe eyes, and a casual, friendly smile playing on his lips. He wore the typical pizza uniform, but something about him felt... different. He was absolutely beautiful.

For a moment, she just stood there, staring at him, her mind drawing a blank. Was this real? Was a guy this cute really delivering her pizza?

“Uh… the total comes to $25.50,” the delivery boy said, his voice snapping her back to reality.

“Oh! Right. Sorry!” she stammered, fumbling into her pocket to grab the money. Her fingers shook slightly as she counted the bills, still thrown off by how utterly gorgeous he was. After what felt like an eternity, she handed him the money.

He smiled warmly, clearly amused by her nervousness but in a sweet, nonjudgmental way. “Thanks for ordering with us! Hope you enjoy it,” he said, his voice kind and light. His smile widened just a bit, giving her a cute, almost shy wave as he turned to leave.

She couldn’t help but watch as he walked away, disappearing around the corner of the hallway. It was only once the door clicked shut behind her that she realized she had been holding her breath. She stood there for a second, pizza in hand, feeling her heart beat just a little faster.

“Everything okay?” Yoon called from the living room.

With a shake of her head, she snapped out of it and walked back to the group, setting the pizza boxes down on the coffee table.

“So…” she started, her voice still a little flustered. “The delivery guy was really cute.”

Her friends immediately perked up, eyes widening. “Wait, what? Cute how? Like, movie star cute or cute cute?” J asked.

“Like, blonde-haired, brown doe eyes, I-thought-I-was-dreaming cute,” she replied, her cheeks flushing slightly as she thought back to his smile.

They burst out laughing, teasing her as they grabbed slices of pizza. “You should’ve gotten his number,” Wonyoung teased.

She shrugged, but the blush on her face gave away that the thought had crossed her mind. Maybe next time, if she was lucky, the same delivery boy would show up.

For now, she tried to focus on her friends and their excitement over the pizza, but her mind kept wandering back to the way the boy had smiled at her—like maybe he had noticed her staring but hadn’t minded at all.

✧˖°ʚ🍓ɞ♡

The soft hum of her phone filled the cozy living room as Y/n scrolled aimlessly through social media. The low lighting from the nearby lamp cast a warm glow on the walls, and the sound of faint music played in the background, but her mind wasn’t really on any of it.

Instead, she kept thinking about him. The cute pizza delivery guy from a few days ago. His tousled blonde hair, the way he’d smiled at her—it kept replaying in her mind. It was silly, really. She had only seen him for a few minutes, but there was something about that moment that stuck with her. Maybe it was the way he had caught her off guard with his unexpected charm. Or maybe it was just the fact that he seemed so sweet.

Her stomach suddenly growled, breaking through her thoughts. With a sigh, she glanced at the time. It was getting late, and she had no energy to cook. A smirk crossed her face as an idea popped into her head. Pizza. Again. And maybe, just maybe, she’d get lucky.

Without hesitating, she picked up her phone and ordered a pizza from the same place as last time. She felt a small rush of excitement—though she wouldn’t admit it—as she tapped ‘confirm order’ and set the phone aside.

Time passed slowly as she lounged on the couch, trying not to get her hopes up. He probably won’t be the one delivering it, she thought, trying to keep herself grounded. It could be anyone.

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. Her heart skipped a beat, and she jumped off the couch, quickly making her way to the door. She paused for a second, taking a deep breath before swinging it open.

There he was. Leehan, the blonde pizza delivery guy, stood there, holding the pizza box with the same charming smile that had left her flustered last time.

“Hey,” he said, his voice light and familiar. “Good to see you again.”

Her heart fluttered. She suddenly felt shy, her cheeks heating up as she met his gaze. Why am I acting like this? she thought, trying to compose herself. “H-hi,” she stammered, trying to smile back. “It’s good to see you too.”

He handed her the pizza, and she handed him the money. Their fingers brushed slightly, and she couldn’t help but feel a little spark. She quickly pulled her hand away, pretending to look at the pizza box so she wouldn’t have to meet his eyes.

“So, ordering pizza again, huh?” he teased lightly, his tone playful.

She laughed nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah… I guess I’m just too lazy to cook.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” he said with a grin. “Pizza’s always a good choice.”

They stood there for a moment, the silence between them stretching, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. She wanted to say more, ask him something, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, she just smiled, feeling her heart race in her chest.

“Well,” he said, breaking the silence, “I better get going. Enjoy your pizza.” He hesitated for a second, his eyes lingering on her before he turned to leave. “Maybe I’ll see you again sometime.”

“Yeah, maybe,” she replied softly, watching him as he walked down the hallway.

As the door closed behind her, she leaned against it, letting out a deep breath. She couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face as she headed back to the couch, pizza in hand. Something told her this wasn’t the last time they’d cross paths.

✧˖°ʚ🍓ɞ♡

It had been a few days since Y/n had ordered pizza, and once again, her laziness got the best of her. She scrolled through her phone, contemplating what to eat, and in the end, her craving won. She ordered pizza from the same place, as she secretly hoped Leehan would be the one delivering it again.

As she waited, her mind wandered back to their last interaction. The way he smiled at her, how casual but sweet their conversation was. Her heart fluttered just thinking about it. Could he really be interested in me? she wondered, though she didn’t want to get ahead of herself.

A knock on the door jolted her out of her thoughts. Her heart raced with excitement, and she practically jumped off the couch. But as she approached the door, she noticed something odd—there were multiple hushed voices behind it. She raised an eyebrow in confusion, curiosity piqued. What’s going on?

She opened the door, and to her surprise, there stood Leehan holding a pizza box with a nervous smile on his face. Behind him, five of his coworkers—who clearly weren’t trying hard to hide their grins—stood bunched together like they were witnessing the most exciting thing to ever happen. The whole scene was unexpected, to say the least.

"Uh… hey," he said, laughing nervously. "So... this is a bit awkward."

Her eyes widened in surprise, still taking in the sight of him and his grinning entourage. "What's... going on?"

With a sheepish chuckle, Leehan lifted the pizza box and slowly opened it, revealing a pizza in the shape of a rose. The crust curled up in delicate petals, and she couldn’t help but smile at the creativity. It was adorable, and it was then that she realized this wasn’t just any pizza delivery.

"I, uh... I thought you were cute the first time I delivered to your place," he admitted, looking more and more embarrassed as he went on. "I was planning to ask you out tonight, but while I was making the pizza, these five idiots," he gestured toward his coworkers, "got nosy and insisted on coming along. So, here we are."

His friends gave an encouraging thumbs-up from behind him, clearly enjoying the whole situation.

She laughed, the tension in the air dissolving. "Are you serious? You made a pizza rose?" She couldn't stop the grin spreading across her face. "And brought your entire fan club with you?"

Leehan rubbed the back of his neck, his smile growing. "Yeah... I guess I did. But, uh, if you think it's too weird, you can just pretend this never happened."

Still smiling, she glanced at the pizza and then back at him, warmth spreading through her chest. "No, I don’t think it’s weird at all. In fact, it’s kind of cute."

He exhaled, clearly relieved by her response. "So... does that mean you'll accept my pizza rose and, uh, maybe my confession too?"

She giggled, the sweetness of the moment overwhelming her. "How could I say no to a pizza rose?"

His friends erupted into quiet cheers behind him, and he gave her a genuine smile, stepping closer to hand over the pizza box.

“Then... maybe we can go out sometime? Without the peanut gallery?” he asked, shooting a playful glare at his friends, who were still buzzing with excitement.

"I’d love that," she said, taking the pizza rose from him. "But seriously, next time, lose the backup dancers."

They both laughed, and as she stood there with the pizza in her hands and a flutter in her heart, she couldn’t help but feel like this was the start of something wonderful.

✧˖°ʚ🍓ɞ♡

FLASHBACK

The pizza place was bustling, as usual, with orders coming in left and right. Leehan was wiping down the counter when one of his friends and coworkers, Taesan, glanced at the screen and smirked.

"Yo, another order from Y/n’s place," Taesan said, casually pointing to the order ticket.

Immediately, Leehan’s head snapped up, his heart skipping a beat at the sound of her name. He’d been waiting for this. It was the same excitement he felt every time she ordered pizza, knowing he might get the chance to see her again. Before he could react, though, Jaehyun chimed in.

"I’ll take this one," Jaehyun said, stepping forward as if he was already claiming the delivery. "Might as well give her a little variety, y'know?"

Leehan immediately stood up from the counter, frowning. "Whoa, hold on. What do you mean you’ll take it?"

Jaehyun grinned, enjoying this far too much. "She sees your face all the time, Leehannie. Maybe she needs a break from the usual."

Leehan shot him a glare, stepping closer. "No way. I’m delivering this one."

Taesan leaned against the counter, clearly entertained. "What’s the big deal? It’s just a delivery."

Leehan felt the heat rising in his cheeks but kept his cool. "Yeah, but—"

Jaehyun cut him off with a smirk. "Oh, come on. Admit it, man. You just want to see that cute girl again. What’s her name? Y/n, right?"

The rest of their coworkers nearby started to perk up, sensing the brewing argument. Riwoo let out a low whistle, fully aware of the crush Leehan had developed on the pizza-loving girl.

Leehan crossed his arms. "And what if I do?"

Jaehyun’s smirk widened. "Then maybe I should deliver it and, y'know, ask her out for you. Save you the trouble."

"Oh, no way." Leehan narrowed his eyes. "You wouldn’t."

"Try me." Jaehyun grabbed the delivery bag, making a move toward the door.

Without thinking, Leehan lunged forward, blocking him. "Over my dead body."

Taesan, now thoroughly enjoying the show, chuckled. "Wow, this is really happening, huh? Fighting over a pizza delivery. I’ve seen it all now."

At this point, half the staff was watching, holding back laughter as the two friends faced off like it was the battle of the century.

"Seriously, man. I got this," Leehan insisted, his voice rising in intensity. "I’ve been delivering to her every time. She knows me. I can't break the streak."

Jaehyun folded his arms, tilting his head. "Or maybe you’re just chicken."

That did it.

"Chicken?!" Leehan exclaimed. "You know what? Fine. Let’s settle this." He motioned dramatically to the pizza oven. "Rock, paper, scissors. Best two out of three."

Jaehyun raised an eyebrow but couldn’t help grinning. "You’re on."

The crowd of employees grew, forming a loose circle around them, eager to witness the showdown.

"On three," Leehan said, both of them raising their fists.

"One, two, three—" they called out in unison.

The first round went to Leehan with rock over scissors. The second round went to Jaehyun with paper over rock. By the third round, the tension was palpable, coworkers holding their breath.

"One, two, three—"

Leehan threw scissors.

Jaehyun threw paper.

The room erupted in cheers and groans as Leehan pumped his fist in the air, triumphant. "Yes!"

Jaehyun let out a defeated sigh but couldn’t help laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. "Fine, fine. The pizza’s yours, Romeo."

Leehan grabbed the delivery bag with a grin, already imagining seeing Y/n again. "You bet it is."

As he headed toward the door, he heard Taesan call after him, "Good luck, man. Don’t screw it up!"

With a final glance over his shoulder, Leehan smirked. "I got this."

And with that, he walked out the door, ready for his next chance with the girl who unknowingly had him wrapped around her finger.

✧˖°ʚ🍓ɞ♡

MASTERLIST

#lxvsiick </3 #kpop #boynextdoor #boynextdoor x reader #kim donghyun #leehan #kim leehan #leehan bnd #leehan x reader #leehan boynextdoor #leehan imagines #bnd imagines #bnd x reader #bnd fluff #leehan fluff #kim leehan x reader

443 notes · View notes

sparklingblu · 6 months ago

Text

Eroverse

Pt.4 - O, Death

Lisa & Shuhua x Male Reader (ft. Kazuha)

You can't stop screaming.

Even when you were a kid, you have never been a big fan of slides. They make you want to puke. Seems like it still haven't changed because as you spiral down this endless glowing tunnel of light, you can feel your lunch trying to escape from your stomach. Further worse, the tunnel twists and turns at every few seconds so your body get tossed around like a volley ball. Thankfully, the walls aren't solid. They feel more like trampolines, catching and tossing you each time you make contact.

Kazuha is a completely different case though. She has her eyes closed and looks almost peaceful, like this is just a regular occurence to her. She has her arms wrap around her knees, her hair floating upward from the fall.

You have no idea where you are headed to. Sure, Kazuha has saved you from the ruins of the city but who can say she doesn't want to kill you either? Maybe she has just let Yeji suffer so that she can take her time killing you. What if she's leading you to an even worse place?

And the mysterious 'He' all these idols keep talking about. The one who has given you the strength to defeat Eunbi. The one Yeji hates so much. From what Kazuha had said, they seem to serve him. Is he also an idol replica? The leader of all those clones?

Your thoughts are cut short when the tunnel turns steeper and your body rolls a three-sixty degree. A few more seconds of this and you are gonna be rolling in your own vomit. If it's even possible, the tunnel is glowing brighter. Perhaps, a sign of nearing the journey's end. You close your eyes because you don't want to see black spots for the rest of your life.

The last thought enters your mind. The upside down pentagram that has filled you with strength. The mark, Kazuha and Yeji had called it. And your cock that can now be used as a subsitute flashlight. Not really a good idea.

The lust you have felt is almost inhuman, like you can just use any female in your sight for your pleasure. It has been the only thing in your mind until the mark has disappeared. It makes you feel special yet afraid. You nearly lost your dick because Yeji wants the mark gone. There can be more people (or creatures) like her out there with the same intention. Is it a price worth paying?

Suddenly, your mind goes blank as the tunnel empties out into a wide opening.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

For once, you are not lying on a flat surface or tied up in a chair. The material beneath you feels soft almost cottony. You can just sink into it forever. You take a few deep breath to calm your churning stomach and when your heatbeat becomes normal, you sit up, opening your eyes.

You are not in the midst of an apocalypse or a boxing ring. A good sign. However, that doesn't make the scene around you any less unusual. You are in a penthouse suite, the kind of place only the richest of the rich could afford.

At your back, a smart TV playing the 1968 version of Romeo and Juliet takes up most of the wall which curves into a corridor that leads further in. On the pedestal near the tv sits a bust of a young girl with a laurel wreath on her head, the kind you see in museums. Facing the pedestal on the other side of the room is an island kitchen, painted pastel pink. Everything on the counter screams diabetes which includes jars of chocolates, sweets and lollipops. The air smell sickly sweet like decaying flowers. You won't be surprised if Willy Wonka walks in right now.

The walls are made entirely of glass, giving you the perfect view of New York city skyline. Then you blink and the scene shifts into the sandy dunes of Egypt with the pyramids. Another blink and you are staring at the lush green trees of the Amazon. Not the craziest thing after all the crazies you went through.

"Not on my couch, Kazuha! How many times do I have to tell you?"

Looking down, you find yourself seated in a couch that looks suspiciously like it's made of some sort of fur. Instinctively, you stand up. Whoever the owner is, they don't seem too happy with your arrival. Turning back, you see Kazuha emerge from the corridor, followed by the owner of the voice.

"Oh, you can just buy another one. It's not like this is your first"

"This is a limited edition!"

The guy behind Kazuha gives you a forced smile like he's trying so hard not to get mad. He looks no older than 25 with wavy blonde hair and a drowsy expression on his face. He also has a bathrobe wrapped around his body so it looks like he has fallen asleep in the bath tub. Walking to the kitchen counter, he plops a candy into his mouth from one of the jars.

"Welcome, Michael" He bites down on the candy with a loud crunch. "Or should I say chosen one? "

For some reason, his voice sounds strangely familiar.

"You summon me here?" You ask.

"You can say that. It wasn't my initial plan though. But well, I can't complain" He shrugs.

"Who are you?" Not the most important question but the first one that comes to your mind.

"Questions immediately huh? Can't blame you though I have kept you in the dark for so long" He unwraps a chocolate bar and takes a bite. You don't want to be this dude's teeth.

"Wait, are you the one...?" You suddenly realize why he sounds so familiar. It's the voice that has appeared in your first two quests.

"Eh eh eh" He raises a hand to cut off your words. "I like to introduce myself in a bit of a mysterious way"

"Why can't you just tell me your name? And I still have a lot of questions left"

"Patience, Michael" He chomps down another large piece of chocolate. "I will explain everything to you, trust me"

"Ok, go on?"

"Well, I'm quite the famous one. You see me at least once a year. Actually, all you humans have some kind of connection to me"

If he's a celebrity, you are pretty sure you haven't seen him before. And all you humans? To you, he looks very human so it would be quite hard to believe if he's something else.

"No idea"

"Oh, come on" The guy scowls, wiping off the chocolate around his mouth. "Think again. There's even a song about me"

You think as hard as you could but nothing comes to your mind.

"Still no idea"

"Dude, I expect you to be smarter than this. Look around you, this room is already giving me away"

He's definitely not Willy Wonka but there's nothing else you can associate with this fancy expensive room.

"Can't you just tell me the answer already?"

"Listen to me" He clears his throat and starts singing. "I gave a second chance to Cupid. But now I'm left here feelin' stupid"

You quickly cut him off because if you hear one more second of his god awful voice, your ears are gonna start bleeding.

"Cupid? You are Cupid?"

The guy grins contentedly. "The greeks called me that but I prefer my roman name 'Eros' "

When you hear the word Cupid, all it comes to your mind is the image of a winged baby in a diaper holding a bow and an arrow that you see in Valentines day decorations. Certainly not some sweet toothed blonde.

"You don't look like him"

"Like a baby in a diaper? Oh, please" He grimaces. "If I meet the guy who starts that idea, I'm gonna strangle him with my bare hands"

You still have a hard time believing this dude is the god of love but you decides to go with the flow.

"The one who sends me on all those quests, that's you?"

"Absolutely. It takes quite a while but finally, here you are"

"I don't understand"

Eros pours water into his mouth from a jar. You feel bad for his dates.

"For a long time, I have been searching for the owner of the mark"

"That mark on my-?"

"Yes, the one on your pelvis. You possess the mark of Asmodeus"

"Ass what?"

"Asmodeus" He corrects. "Only a single person is chosen by the mark every few millenniums. Today, it made its first appearance"

"So I'm special or something?"

"You are far beyond special, Michael. You have the power to....what do you humans call it again? fuck any being in this whole universe"

"In english please?"

"Let me ask you something, do you believe in gods?"

His question leaves you baffled. You are not a regular church member or the type who prays before sleeping. The only times you remember god are the times you scream 'Oh my god' when you slip and fall.

"I have never given much thought to the subject"

"Let me ask you a different question then, what do you think gods look like?"

"I don't know. In white robes and long moustaches?"

Eros chuckles. "Ehh they still depict us like that. Actually, no. Look at me, I'm a god. What do I look like?"

"A human?" An obvious answer yet it sounds stupid.

"Correct" Eros snaps his fingers. "Gods take on the form of humans. Well, our branch of gods at least"

"Hold on" You stop him before your hair is set ablaze from all the new questions that have filled your brain. "Gods are real?"

"I'm here, aren't I?" Ero asks. "I know it's hard for you to believe but we are very much real"

You are still not convinced. For all you know, this guy could be some mentally ill millionaire who likes to cosplay gods.

"Oh, you need some proof, I see"

Eros snaps his fingers and suddenly, you are hovering above the ground. You want to scream but you can't. It's like someone have stolen your voice.

"Is it enough proof?"

You nod desperately and Eros snaps his fingers again, sending you sprawling on the hard floor. Trying not to groan from the pain, you stand up slowly.

"Ok, so you are a god. And I have the mark of Ass whatever. What about all those idols? They aren't real, are they?"

"Oh, far from it" Eros answer. "But they are the perfect replicas"

"You created them?"

"Oh, no. That's their own choice. And that takes us back to the old topic. What kind of human forms do you think gods take? Not everyone can be as handsome as me, right?"

You are not sure if he can be called handsome with his choice of fashion but you keep your mouth shut.

"Just....humans?"

Eros shakes his head. "You are not wrong but let me elaborate. Since the dawn of time, the gods have changed into many forms. Those bearded drawings you saw of us? They are our oldest forms. But as times change, we change too"

He chugs down more water from the jar, sending some spilling across his robe.

"We takes on the forms of the most famous figures through history. Cosplaying, like you humans say. It makes us feel perfect. Then when the 21st century comes, a great change happens"

Eros pauses for a moment just to raise your curiosity. Then he continues.

"The idols. No one have ever been as close to perfection as them. Sure, there are some remarkable ones like Helen and Cleopatra but they are nowhere near as perfect. All the goddesses went crazy, taking on the form of the ones they think are the most perfect"

"All the goddesses? What about the gods then?"

"Us males aren't much of a fan. We still like being Alexander or Tom Hanks, or just a random handsome guy like me"

"Then all those idols I met, they are goddesses?"

"Well, no" Eros contrasts. "Let's just say the others follow the trend. They wanted to cosplay too"

"The others?"

"The gods aren't the only beings that exist along with humans. Monsters, sorcerers, you name it. For the idols you met, they are cherubims, my servants"

"Cherubims? Like angels?"

"Sort of. Yes"

You don't know if you should be glad you have been fucking angels all those time. You hope it doesn't have any side effects.

"They don't seem too fond of me"

"Why do you think I created the 'Ero' app in the first place? It's a test. I send quests to all the possible candidates of the mark through the app. Most don't wake up after the jump, the rest face a worse fate. But you, you survive all of them"

"Thanks. I nearly get my dick cut off"

"That's not my fault. You see, for the quests, I create small dimensions and put a cherubim in each of them. I call those dimensions the 'Eroverses'. Pretty cool, right?"

You don't know how naming everything after your first three initials is cool but you are not gonna argue with a god.

"Most of my servants don't complain. But well, some rebels and Yeji, she gets mad at me. She destroyed one of the Eroverses and kidnaps you there. But it's all for the better because it awakens the mark"

"One last question, you lent me strength when I was with Eunbi. Why?"

"Let's just say you are very promising. I don't want you out of the game early"

Most of the questions you have had on your mind has been answered. However, it doesn't make you any less confused. You feel like a restricted area of a brain has been unlocked. An area that should have never been opened.

"So, the gods are real and they are idols and I have the mark of Ass whatever. Now what?"

"I have a proposal for you" Eros's tone has the slightest hint of slyness. "Be my apostle"

"Come again?"

Eros sighs. "You are pretty dumb for a writer"

"Hey, being a writer doesn't mean I know everything"

"Anyway, what I want to say is, work for me"

"No thanks, I don't want any more idols trying to kill me"

"Listen till the end. I can give you anything you have ever want. Sex? Money? Luxury? In return, you only need to vow your loyalty to me"

"And what exactly I need to do for you?"

"You have the mark. I want you to utilize it to do my biddings"

"I don't get it"

"Just consider it as more quests. Not as easy as the last ones though"

Is this guy joking? You were playing with your life all this time and he thinks it's easy. If he considers those quests easy, the next ones might be a thousand times worse.

"There's one condition though" Eros continues. "You have to stay here with me. You can no longer go back to your old life"

"And where exactly is here?"

Eros gestures towards the glass wall, beyond which now lies Venice with its canals and boats.

"Everywhere and nowhere" He explains. "Consider it an alive building, constantly shifting from one place to another. You know, I don't like beauty being confined in one form"

His explanation doesn't exactly answer your question but you focus on the more important matter. Eros's proposal sounds intriguing. You can stay here, work for him and acquire everything you have ever dream of. The downside is that you will always be on the brink of death. The reward is high and so is the risk.

Or you can say no and go back to being an ordinary unsuccessful writer. There's no downside here but no upside either. And you are not even sure he will send you back if you turn him down. That guy is looking at you like an exotic animal. So, you make the obvious choice.

"I'm in"

Eros looks like he's going to pass out with joy. "I know you would accept it. See, Kazuha? I told you"

Kazuha, who has been silent all this time simply shrugs.

"Glad you are happy"

Eros rub his hands, an ugly grin plastered on his face.

"Well, we will discuss about your quest tomorrow. For now, I want you to rest. Lisa?"

From the corridor, another idol emerges. Lisa, the member of blackpink. After seeing the way she's dressed, you instantly start to get hard again despite fucking Yeji's brains out just a while ago. Lisa's perky tits are covered by a metallic bra and her skirt isn't doing its work properly because it consists entirely of metallic beads that expose almost all of her round ass.

"Yes, my lord?" Lisa asks, walking towards eros. You caught a glimpse of her trimmed pussy as the beads sway and dance.

"Take Michael to room 3" Eros orders. The jar of candy on the counter is nearly empty now. He should have been the god of diabetes, not love.

"Of course" Lisa gestures you to follow her and you oblige. However, your eyes are glued to her bare ass. If she has not been worldwide famous, you would have thought she's a stripper. Maybe this version of her is. You just want to reach out and grope that thai ass. It tempts and tempts you with each step she takes. But after finding out those idols are actually angels, you have become more thoughtful.

Lisa leads you through the corridor which soon opens up into a large circular hall with an enormous marble statue of Eros in the middle, a young man with two large wings sprouting from his back and the iconic grin on his face. You are starting to hate this guy even more.

"This way" Lisa walks towards one of the many doors that that line the walls of the hall. The number 3 is carved onto its wooden frame. She simply touches the door and arcs of light spread in all directions. The next moment, it's unlocked.

"This is the room you are gonna be staying in. If you need anything, there's a telephone on the desk. Just call 001"

"Alright"

Lisa bows and leaves, giving you one last view of her toned ass beneath the beaded skirt.

Your room is nothing less luxurious than the rest of the building, a suite with a seperate living room and a bedroom. It contains every possible items that can entertain the human's mind. It's oil and water compared to your old apartment.

As you enter the bedroom, your eyes are blessed by the view of the Victoria Falls beneath the dying sunlight through the glass walls. Why travel the world when you can do the same thing here?

The queen size bed is already beckoning you to crash out but you decide to take a shower first. You start reflecting on everything that have happened today as the cold droplets of water run down your body. In a day, you have went from a broke writer to an apostle of a god. You wonder if anyone will miss you after you disappear without a trace. Maybe Russell would. But he might just be the only one. You have always been a loner and it would be no surprise if no one notices your disappearance.

The important thing is you will be living the life you have always wanted. Just with a few catches. You instinctively touch your pelvis, remembering the mark. For now, it doesn't have any weird burning symbol. 'You have the ability to fuck any being in this whole universe' Eros has said. Now, you are not sure if it's a really useful ability. On second thought, invisibility or even flying would have been better.

However, you are too tired to be wrestling with your own incompetence because the exhaustion is starting to creep up your body slowly. As soon as you have changed, you throw yourself on the huge bed and fall asleep.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

Your dreams aren't as comforting as your bed.

You are back in the ruins of the greek city, tied up to the chair and your pants pulled down. Both Eunbi and Yeji have surrounded you, a gladius in each of their hands. A smile creep up from the corner of Yeji's lips as she raises the sword.

"This time no one's gonna save you"

Eunbi follows suit, raising her sword and bringing it down to your mamba. No burning symobls appear. No Kazuha to save you. You are done for real this time. As the sharp edges land, you scream.

"What's wrong?"

A voice snaps you out of the nightmare. You gasp and open your eyes. Your whole body is drenched in sweat from the aftermath of the dream. As your heartbeat returns to normal, you start feeling a warm sensation in your lower body.

Looking down, you find your pants pulled down but not to cut your dick off this time. Lisa's face hover just a few inches from your morning wood, a string of drool connecting her lips and the head.

"Did I scare you?" she asks.

You shake your head. "No, just having a nightmare"

"Shall I get back to work then?"

"Sure"

Lisa immediately dive back on your cock, taking half of your length into her mouth in one swift motion. While she's bobbing up and down, her tongue assists by twirling around your leaking slit, collecting your precum.

She's still wearing the same outfit as last night and she has raised her ass, giving you the view of her toned buttocks beneath those beads. You still can't fulfill your goal to grope her ass but the way she blows you is enough to diverge your attention.

There's no doubt she has experince. It's evident from every single move that consist in this mind blowing work of hers. She makes sure that her lips trace every single throbbing vein, swallowing more of your cock with each bob. The gagging sound that accompany her movements do nothing except fuel the lust inside you. She would look up from time to time, her eyes asking you if she's doing a good job and you reply with moans and groans.

Just as you are thinking about closing your eyes, Lisa devours your whole length, taking it down her throat. Another groan escape your lips. There's no way you are going to miss the view of her nose pressed against your pelvis now. The idea of closing your eyes have been thrown out ofthe window.

She holds the position for a few more seconds before releasing your cock from her warm cavern with a loud 'pop'. With drool seeping down her lips, she looks like a vixen rather than an angel, a naughty one at that.

"Are you feeling good, daddy?"

Your cock twitches at the mention of your new name. You are amazed at the wonders a simple word could do to your body. Or either you are just being a hopeless pervert.

"Yes, very"

Lisa smiles at your compliment and reward you by taking you into her mouth again. This time, she makes sure your tip hit the back of her throat with each bob. Her saliva spills like a waterfall onto your bedsheet but that's the last thing you care about right now. Eros can pay for the housekeeping.

Just to get a change of sight, you turn your head to the window. The snow covered mountains and the cozy little houses of Greenland glitter under the rising sun. But they can't capture your attention for too long because glaciers aren't as captivating as the scene unfolding between your legs.

Lisa's pace remains unwavered, solely focused on using her oral hole as a tool for your release. She hold on to your thighs for support as she gobbles up your cock like a popsicle far more tastier than all those sweets Eros have. Her tonguework remains as impressive, licking up any part she could whenever your length exit her throat.

This might just be heaven, you thought. Getting head while you travel the world in a skyscrapper. You could put up with all those bullshits Eros is up to if you can stay like this forever. Even death starts to seem like a worthy risk.

Even with all the effort you are putting in to hold back, Lisa's blowjob is sending you to the point of no return with each passing second. The sight of your cock covered in her saliva and that raised ass of hers proven to be lethal as you stary feeling the tug in your stomach. As your cock throbs harder, you warn Lisa.

"Lisa, I'm gonna cum"

Lisa pulls you out of her mouth to speak, momentarily denying your release.

"Where do you want to cum, daddy? Into my mouth or on my pretty little face?" she asks as she strokes your cock just slow enough to hold back your flood gates from breaking open.

"Let me paint your face"

"Of course, daddy"

Lisa starts stroking your cock with both her hands, twisting and turning every single inch. Her drool acts as the perfect lube, smoothing out her movements. The coil inside you unravel and soon you are emptying your balls onto Lisa's face, jets after jets of cum landing on her face. Most of it make their way onto her nose. Some spread our across her cheeks and a few drops landing on her eyelids.

Lisa collect the genetic fluid with her fingers, sucking on each of them while her eyes bore into yours.

"Mhmm, it's so tasty" Lisa says as she licks up the last of your cum. "Thanks for the meal, daddy"

"Yeah, no problem"

Lisa stands up and stretches. It's hard to believe you just cummed because her stripper outfit is filling up your balls again with a new supply of semen.

"Daddy, you should clean up. Lord Eros is waiting for you"

"Sure. I will come"

Lisa bows and leaves, her hips swaying from side to side. You make a mental note to grope that ass at some point. You get out of the bed, heading to the bathroom to freshen up. You should use that jacuzzi when you don't have an appointment with the god of love. The wardrobe contains every luxury brand one can think of and they fits you perfectly. You decide to go simple with slim jeans and a shirt (Gucci, by the way) and head to the living room where Eros is waiting.

The music is the first thing to greet you. "My heart will go on" blasting at full volume. It's as if Eros can't help proving he is indeed the god of love. It's overkill in your opinion.

The song stops as soon as you enter and Eros turns to you, smiling over the straw of the juice cup he's drinking from. This morning, he's dressed in a toga which is too big for him that it's drapping and pooling around his legs. Seriously, this guy needs a fashion advisor.

"Morning, Michael!" Eros greets as he finishes up his morning dose of diabetes. "Did you sleep well?"

You remember the nightmare but you decide not to tell him. "Yeah, I'm fine"

"You must be hungry. Kazuha, bring him breakfast"

Kazuha walks from the kitchen counter, holding a tray. She's still wearing the same dress. Do angels even change?

"This is Eros's idea" Kazuha says as she hands you the tray and as soon as you take a look you understand what she means. A cup of coffee and a slice of chocolate cake which looks overbaked lies in the tray. Your name is spelled in whipped cream on the plate of watermelon slices. You instantly lost your appetite.

"Hey, it's cool, right?" Eros asks.

You have to hold back the urge to comment on his definition of cool. "Yeah, very cool"

"See, Kazuha? You should start appreciating my ideas more" Kazuha, who seems already used to this just remain silent at Eros's words.

"I will explain you about your quest while you eat" Eros gestures at the tray of food.

You takes a sip of the coffee, which seems like the best option. Surprisingly, it tastes just like normal coffee. Thank god Eros doesn't make it cool.

"I need you to steal an object" Eros unfolds his palms and a hologram of a corinthian helmet pops off, the kind the greeks wore in wars. It seems to be made of obsidian, cracks spreading across its black surface.

"This is the helm of Hades" Eros explains. "And I need you to retrieve it from the underworld"

Suddenly, the coffe tastes like lead.

"Underworld?" you ask. "Like hell?"

"Not entirely but yes" The hologram in Eros's palm grow larger, the helmet now the same size as the real one. "This helmet has the ability to turn its wearer invisible and possesed by Hades, the god of the underworld. Your task is simple. Enter his realm, get the helmet and get out"

The quest is anything but simple. Your last three quests have been based entierly on sex and even then, you have near death encounters. You survive this far because luck has been on your side. But stealing something a god owns is a totally different case. You don't even know how the mark can helps you here. You are sure flashing your cock at a male god wouldn't do the job. Even if it does, you want to throw up at the idea.

"Oh, not to worry. You won't meet him" Eros answers your thoughts. "He's away for business"

That's a relief. There's no way a mere mortal like you can go up against a god.

"But there's someone else you will meet" Eros tone turns malicious. He looks almost happy. "You have to go through his wife, Persephone"

"Pussy what?"

"Michael, can you not misehear things with certain body parts for once?" Eros sighs. "Persephone, the goddess of vegetation. The queen of the underworld"

The goddess of vegetation sounds a lot less scary than god of the underworld. But still,a god is a god.

"So, what do I do?"

Eros unclasps his palm and the hologram disappears. "Hades keep his helm in a safe, which can only be unlocked by a spoken password. Apart from him, only his wife knows it"

"I doubt I can charm her into telling me"

"Then fuck the answer out of her!" Eros says it like its something so obvious. "Use the mark!"

"How? I don't even know how to activate it. It takes someone trying to end my bloodline to activate it the last time"

"That's a matter you have to figure out"

"Even if I do, the underworld isn't a tourist spot. How do I even go there?"

"Excuses, huh? Good thing I have it all planned out" Eros pulls out a flask from beneath his toga. "Easy, you have to die"

You almost spit out the coffee. "You are kidding, right?"

"No?" Eros tilts his head like you just speak in a language he doesn't understand.

"Come on..."

"Only dead people go to the underworld so you have to die"

"Can't you just transport me there? Or you are a god, you can just go in and grab the helmet"

"It's not that simple. I can go to the underworld, yes. But there's no way Persephone will tell me the password and Hades will find out. And if I just send you there, you will be alive and they will quickly sense your presence. Trust me, you don't wan to be alive there"

"Isn't there any other way?"

"Sadly, no. But I have a way to bring you back after you complete the task" Eros pulls out a small vial from his toga again. He shakes the vial to show you the yellow liquid inside. "Drink this and you will be back to life"

"It sounds easier said than done"

"Kazuha will explain you the rest of the details"

Kazuha waves her hand and a map replaces part of the glass wall.

"This is the underworld" Kazuha starts explaining the regions of the place you will soon be going to and you have never focused more in your life. As Kazuha finishes, whatever hope that remains in you has been lost.

"It's impossible" you groan.

"It is. But that's what you do Michael. You remove the 'im' in impossible" Eros's encouragements sounds more like a joke.

"What if I don't make it?"

"You will. I trust you. So are you ready?"

You are totally not but you nod.

"Excellent! Lies on the couch"

"Isn't it a limited edition or something?"

"This is a special ocassion"

You sink into the soft material, heart already racing with fear and excitement. Eros removes the cork from the flask, offering it to you and then he suddenly puts it down.

"God! I nearly forget" Eros fishes into his toga and bring out a silver coin. You wouldn't be surprised if he pulls out a car next.

"Put this under your tongue. Your ferry fees"

You put the cold piece of metal into your mouth. It tastes sour somehow. Eros put the vial in your pocket. Can the object even follow you to the afterlife? You have no choice but to trust him.

"And we are all set! Now.." Eros bring the flask to your lips. "Drink"

You takes a sip of the liquid, which tastes like a combination of ketchup and sewer water. You expect your insides to start burning but there's no pain. Eros shuts your eyes with a wave of his hand. "Goodnight"

A drowsy feeling overwhelms you. It can almost be mistaken for sleepiness except that you can no longer move your body. If this is death, it's not so bad. No more thoughts form in your mind as your consciousness drift away bits by bits.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

Dark. Inky. Murky.

All of these words are perfect for describing the underworld.

As you wake up slowly on the shore of black sand, the first thing you notice is the gloom. It's hovering over the place, giving it a permanent dreadful atmosphere. But that's just the start of things that suck the joy out of your heart.

All around you, humanoid shapes litter the shore. Then you realize they are actually humans, or what used to be humans. Most of them wear a solemn expression on their faces, wandering around aimlessly. Their bodies are see through, like those spirits you see in movies. Their outfits range from the Victorian era to modern day designer suits. The majority of them are adults but you spot a few children. In short, it's a crowd of hopeless souls.

Looking down, you find yourself in the same condition: see through. Beyond the shore, on the bank of an inky black river, a cloaked figure sits on a boat. Charon, the ferryman of the dead; Kazuha had explained.

You walk to the boat and Charon looks up. He's a scraggly old man with wrinkles all over his face. "Payment?" he demands.

The coin Eros has given you is no longer under your tongue but you found it in your jeans pocket and hand it to the ferryman. Charon takes the payment with his gnarled fingers and grab the oar. "Get in"

As the boat drifts slowly away from the shore, something unexpected happens. Some of the souls on the shore start to run towards the boat, their lifeless eyes glimming with enthusiasm. You start to panic but Charon simply swaths away the hitch hikers swimming across the black liquid with the oar. He doesn't seem fazed in the slightest bit.

As boat makes it way to the other side with the speed a snail could outrun, you think about suggesting Hades to buy a faster vehicle. A motorboat wouldn't be impossible with all those riches he has underground.

After an eternity, you finally make it to the other shore where the harder part of your quest starts. As soon as you get off, Charon rows back to the opposite side, leaving you on the beach of the same black sand.

Before you rise a towering wall of obsidian which stretch off as far as your eyes can see. A path leads to the opening in the middle of the wall but it isn't left unguarded either. Hovering over the queue of souls that pass under its belly is the largest hound you have ever seen. If the sheer size of the monster isn't intimidating enough, its three heads do the job; their mouths opened to reveal fangs that can snap a plane in half. For the finishing touch, its black fur fits perfectly with the surroundings. This dog literally screams 'underworld'.

You reluctantly get behind the line of souls, pouring into the inside of the wall. According to Kazuha, beyond it would lies the judgement pavilion, where the death will be judged and sent to a suitable place depending on how they have lived their lives. Your quest requires you to take a different path after getting inside the walls. And even if you are judged right now, the result wouldn't be pretty.

As the queue gets shorter and you approach the walls, your kneels start to buckle. You have been able to hold back your fear till now but after hearing the agonizing screams that ring out from the fields of punishment, you start doubting yourself.

To start, you only have the slightest idea of where you are heading to and even if you do get there, you have to interrogate a goddess with your dick. Part of you also wonder why Eros needs the helmet. If it's for decoration, the thing radiates pure darkness and isn't exactly to his taste. Nevertheless, you have come this far and the only way is onward.

A horrible stench tickle your nostrils and that's when you look up and find yourself under the belly of the beast. It would have crushed anything alive to pieces which you luckily aren't. The souls disappear into the wall one after another and soon, you are at the front of the line. Two skeletal guards in combat armor have barricaded the entrance by crossing their spears and you have to look away from their hollow eye sockets before you get the urge to turn and run.

"Elysium!" A judgement is passed from inside the walls and the guards uncross their spears, allowing you entry. A pebble path lies the way to the tall marble pavilion. Another path curves to the right, leading deeper into the underworld. The path to Hades's palace. The path you have to take.

But the task proves harder than you thought with the skeletal guards lining both sides of the way. There's no way you can try to sneak or run away. Luckily, you have one last trick up your sleeve. A gift from Kazuha.

You pull out the pocket watch from your jeans and turns the winder. As soon as it turns a 90 degree, the clock shatters to pieces. For a moment, nothing happens. The guards watch you with quizzical expressions. Then they freeze. Everything is still. Time has stopped.

Kazuha has said it will last about 10 seconds but you are not taking any chances. You push through the guards and run down the path to Hades's palace. Fortunately, there aren't any guards this way. Maybe Hades like to have some privacy. Nevertheless, your speed does not waver, trying to get as far as possible before those guards can find out what have happened.

At your right lies a dusty plane filled with dead trees, their branches crooked and leafless. The fields of Asphodel, where the souls who deserve neither paradise nor punishment are sent to. Souls similar to the ones you have seen at the other side wander the place aimlessly. However, they look...dimmer, fading in and out of place. To you, this endless roaming doesn't sound any better than the fields of punishment.

The place at your left is a completely different story. Crystal clear water encircle an enormous island with sandy shores and palm trees. Architecture from different eras occupy the inland. You can hear the faint sound of music and the smell of spices. Elysium, the paradise for only the most worthy souls. You spot a few souls, who are glowing unlike the others you have seen, dancing on the beach. This seems to be the only place free from the gloom of the underworld.

You have no time to envy though, as you move forward, the obsidian palace of Hades starts to come into view. This building is something out of a gothic nightmare. With its numerous towers and the huge sets of iron doors, it seems to absorb any light that dare comes near.

You stop to catch your breath from all the running you have been doing. Luckily, the guards still haven't found you. But it's nothing to celebrate because there's one last obstacle in your way. Guarding the palace's door are the two biggest skeletal warriors you have ever seen, each weilding an axe. You wish the pocket watch haven't shattered to pieces. If it have just one more use, you might be able to get pass those giants.

You try to come up with a plan. It's impossible to charge head on. You don't have anything that can be used as a weapon and you will be sliced to pieces. And even if there's a weapon, you doubt you can do much against those huge guards. Maybe you can try distracting? But how?

You are too distract drawing up something to infiltrate the palace you make the mistake of leaving your back turned for too long. The next thing you know, a blunt object have landed on your neck with so much force that you fall to your knees. Before passing out, the last thing you see is the permanent grin of a skeleton.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

At this point, you are already the epitome of passing out.

It can't leave you alone even when you are death like seriously? Here you are, making your way all through the underworld just to be knocked out at the last possible moment. That's partly your fault for being reckless but still, it annoys you.

Luckily, the headaches and the pain that usually follow those black outs isn't there this time. Maybe the dead can't be hurt. That doesn't make it appealing though. You would be perfectly fine with being a normal mortal.

"I know you are awake. Stop acting" A shrill voice forces you to open your eyes, finding your hands and legs tied to bed posts by green curly vines. The dim lanterns that line the walls illuminate the circular room made of the same materials as most of the structure in the underworld; obsidian. The thing that stands out the most, however, is the fresco of people getting tortured in various methods painted on the ceiling. If you want to have nightmares every single night, this room would be perfect.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" You locate the owner of the voice to your left. Shuhua, the member of (g)i-dle, stands propping to a bedpost. Her pearly white skin contrasts the black silky dress she's wearing, with a thigh slit to showcase her voluptous legs. She might look exactly like the idol but you know better.

"Persephone?" you ask.

"Oh, I'm flattered. Most people only know my husband. But drop the formalties. It's Shuhua"

You thought humans are obsessed enough with kpop but it seems like the gods are the biggest fans.

"A runner, huh?" Shuhua'a sharp fake nails trace across your chest and that's when you realize your clothes are gone. Speaking from experience, it's not really fun to see the bedsheets through your body. "I can tell you are not ordinary. That little trick you did to those guards. Tell me. Who are you?"

She doesn't seem to be aware of your real plan, which is good news. If you can just stall long enough and get your mark to activate somehow, you might have a chance.

"Michael" you answer.

"You know that's not what I mean" Shuhua's nails travel down to your stomach, drawing circles lazily. "Why do you come here?"

"I die. Would there be any other reason?"

"True. You are dead. But you wouldn't run all the way to my palace if you are just 'dead', will you?"

You fry your brain trying to come up with a logical answer without revealing the truth. But as usual, it fails you at the most vital moments.

"Trying to be silent?" A nail digs in to your pelvis, making you groan at the sudden burst of pain. Then another follows suit and you groan again. Seems like your theory about the dead being immune to pain is wrong. You don't bleed but the pain is ver much real. After all her five nails are planted in you, you are nearly shaking from the torment. Yet, you keep your mouth shut.

"Hmm, not bad" Shuhua extract her nails from your pelvis and you exhale in relief. "There's still plenty of other ways to break you though"

You start imagining the worst torture methods throughout history. If the gods have been around since the beginning, Shuhua would definitely have some knowledge. However, what she does next surprise you.

Shuhua lets a strap of her dress fall from her shoulder then the other, exposing her upper body. You have to avert your gaze from her tits not to get hard but fail as you can feel the blood starting to rush to your dick. The last time you are hard and tied up, the consequences haven't been so pretty. And now you are in the same position again.

Shuhua undo the rest of her dress, revealing her skin inch by inch as she slowly pulls down her dress. Being the pervert you are, your gaze land again on her cleanly shaved pussy and that gets your mamba springing right up.

Shuhua doesn't summon any blade to cut off your dick though. Instead, she gets on the bed, landing her feet on either sides of your head. "Let's see if you can still stay silent" Shuhua gives you a cold smile before lowering her ass right on your face.

You instantly lost your breath(not that way) as her hips comes crushing down on you and her legs straddle your head, giving you no room to escape. Your nose is squeeze between her buttocks, depriving you of of oxygen. Instead of strangling you, she's choking you with her ass. And another discovery. You can still choke if you are dead.

At first, you panic, shaking your body to find a way to escape despite the vines holding you down. Then you remember. There's only one thing to do if a girl sits on your face.

You starts to explore between her legs with your tongue though it's hard with her ass obscuring your view. After a few tries of licking her supple flesh, you finally find your target. As soon as your tongue comes in contact with the moist velvety slit, you dives in, tongue fucking her pussy. Shuhua lets out a moan and shift her hips a little from your sudden ambush, giving you a breath of air. As her ass presses down on your face again, you start licking frantically, tasting every inch of her goddess pussy. Either from pleasure or the urge to interrogate you farther, Shuhua's legs squeeze your head harder.

The pressure leaves your ears ringing but your task at hand is too important to care. Your tongue travels upwards,landing on her clit. Shuhua writhes as you give her sensitive bud a few licks before going back to her slit, which is now so wet you can literally glide on it. The lack of oxygen becomes less and less of a problem as Shuhua sway her hips the longer you take in everything her goddess pussy deliver. And her legs that once squeeze your head are now shaking so much they forget their initial job.

Shuhua isn't even hiding it anymore. Her moans reasonate around the room with every slurp and lick. To be honest, she acts like she does this to draw information from you when all she wanted was for someone to eat her out. This goddess is just one big slut. Your fear starts to drain from your body as you gain the upperhand in this game of ass and tongue. And you decide to make it an impossible one for her to win.

You abruptly stop the movement of your tongue and Shuhua's moans are left half formed. It's risky, yes. She could have just crash yout face with her ass again and choke you. Or......?

"Why....why did you stop?" Shuhua's voice is hoarse from all the moaning. The edgy tone replaced by one of lust.

"I thought you are interrogating me" You mock.

"Yes, yes I am"

"Then why did yoy ask me why I stop? Aren't you supposed to choke me?"

You have her cornered. Now, she can either admit she's a slut or give up on the pleasure she so desperately craves.

"I'm going to. If you don't continue" she threatens and you have to admit it scares you a bit but you pushes on. It's now or never.

"Really, though? You are the one who's on cloud nine after I tongue fuck your hole. Tell me, Shuhua. How long has it been since someone makes you cum?"

"Nonsense! I have plenty of ways to...relief myself. Now get back or else-"

"Or else what?" You cut her off. "You are just a slut who have no one to satisfy the urge of your slutty holes. Or is Hades not fucking you enough?"

"My husband is very busy.." She answers. "He doesn't have time for such luxuries..."

And that confirms your thoughts. The queen of the underworld is just one horny whore.

"You take me here just to fulfill your fantasies, didn't you? You are desperate enough to let a dead stranger in your room"

"No, that's not.." Shuhua protests but her lips betray her, letting out pants and moans as you swipe at her clit one single time with your tongue.

"Now, I'm going to make an offer. Admit you are a slut and I will give you what you need. Or you can deny it and be a horny bitch for eternity"

Shuhua is silent for a moment. Then her voice returns.

"Fine....I'm a....slut" Her words drops to a whisper.

"Can't hear you down here"

"I'm a slut" she finally admits and the deal is sealed. You have revealed the true face of this seemingly cold goddess. But being a man of your words, you would keep your promise.

Shuhua lets out an earth shattering moan as you feast on her pussy once again. The only difference this time is that she's no longer blocking your airway with her huge ass. Not that you mind though. Nevertheless, you tackle her most vunerable spots with each swipe of your tongue and Shuhua can do nothing except writhes and moans.

You really wish your hands haven't been tied up. That way, you would have been able to feel those silky thighs and allowed to take in more of her taste. But you gotta work with what you have and put in every effort to make this goddess cum.

You turn you attention solely on her clit, rapidly circling and teasing the spot with your tongue.

"Yes, just like that. Fuck my pussy with your tongue. Don't stop"

Shuhua thanks you with more carnal groans and moans. And from the way her legs are trembling non stop, you realize her end is near. The knowledge leads you to devour her pussy like there's no tomorrow and Shuhua's pleas to you not to stop are unnecessary because you don't plan to. Not with how sweet this goddess taste.

"Fuck. I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna cum...fuckkkk"

A waterfall erupts from Shuhua's hole, showering your face with her squirt. You keep on licking her moist hole, trying to prolong the orgasm as long as possible. Shuhua lets out a few more jets of her nectar into your mouth then she goes limp, her moans now replaced by pants.

Her pussy is still hovering over your face and you have to fight the urge not to dive in again. You don't want to break her completely just yet. You still need something from her.

Shuhua finally gets off the bed, stuggering to a chair with her shaking legs and plop herself down. She lets out a few more pants then look up at you with the cold expression earlier.

"You are an idiot" Shuhua says. "I have used you. Now you are mine to do whatever I like"

The only thought on your mind? You are very very fucked. Sure, she has admit she's a whore and succumbed to pleasure. But there's one thing you miss. She'a a fucking goddess. And apparently, that's not a metaphor.

"Now, tell me who you are and who sent you. Or else..."

Shuhua twirls a finger and more vines start to creep up your hands and legs. They make their way down to your thorax and abdomen and in a moment your neck will be covered too. The goddess of vegetation seems to be as powerful as any other gods and it's your fault that you underestimate her.

"Wait!" You yell before those long curly things choke you and this time, it wouldn't be as pleasant.

"Yes?" Shuhua eyes you like a trapped animal, an amused smile on her lips.

"I will tell you.."

"Go on"

"I come to..."

You stop as the familiar tingle of adrenaline starts to emerge from your core. It gets stronger withe each passing second until the only thing on your mind is lust. No other emotions matter. The vines wrapping you turn to ashes in a second as a golden aura envelopes you. On your plevis, above your rock hard dick is the red pantegram, the mark of Asmodeus. Once again, a dead threat have activated it.

"It can't be..." Shuhua eyes widen in panic, backing off to a corner of the room.

"Oh, it is" You say with the grin of a mad man as you walk off the bed to her. "And I will show you"

Shuhua unfold her palms and more vines slither up your legs. But as soon as they touch your aura, the green things burst to flames. You are invisible.

"Back off!" Shuhua threatens. "I will kill you!"

"Oh, but I'm already dead" More vines go up to flames around your feet.

"If my husband knows-"

You close the distance between you and Shuhua, gazing into those eyes filled with terror.

"Maybe he will. But right now, there's no one to save you"

Shuhua starts to call for help but you are quicker, sealing her mouth with your palm.

"Not so fast now, hmm? I still need to teach you a lesson"

You grab Shuhua from the waist, throwing her onto the bed like a rag doll. With the strength the mark gives you, such a task is not impossible.

As you approach her, Shuhua attempts to kill you again with those vines but as usual,they disintegrate as soon as they touch the aura. Will she ever learn?

You get on the bed, looming over Shuhua who lays sprawled out. Not being able to use her vegetation abilities, she strikes you with her nails but you grab her wrist just in time.

"Seriously?" You ask as you pin her hands down. "Is that all you got?"

"You bastard!" Shuhua curses. "You will pay for this"

"You talk too much" You capture her lips with yours, restricting any more curses from coming out.

Finally, you plunge your cock into her already moist slit, enticing a moan from her which is quickly muffled by your lips. The only sounds she will be making are the slapping sound of your dick against her cervix.

You start out slow, giving her lazy thrusts to get accustomed to the size of your cock. The feeling of her walls tracing every inch of yours is phenomenal, the way a goddess should be built. However, her juice coats your pole, adding friction with each thrust until you are pistoning into her at full force.

Shuhua's juicy thighs jiggle and you wouldn't have missed the glorious view if it's not for the fact that you have to keep her mouth shut. Shuhua is still trying to resist. A vine or two try to strangle you from time to time but of course, that has little to no effect. The mark wouldn't allow anything else to stop you from fucking this goddess's brains out.

You release her lips for a moment to let her breathe. As soon as her lips are free, she curses again but her breath hitches as you pull out and bury your dick all the way to her cunt.

"What is it again?" You ask as you give her another forceful thrust that reaches her womb.

"I-" She begins but her words get cut off again as your cock hit her womb once again. "Fuck-"

"That's more like it" You praise her, putting her into a mating press position and pounding her hole with all your might.

Shuhua no longer threatens. You stare at her lust filled eyes, far gone with the way she's getting fucked thoroughly. Her tits bounce rapidly from the pace and you can't help but give each of those heavy melons a squeeze each. It's not everyday you get to fuck a goddess and you decide to make the most of it.

"Yes, pound my pussy..don't stop" Shuhua mutters dreamily, her mouth gaped open just like the way her pussy open up for your cock. Realizing she needs all her hole stuffed, you shoved four of your fingers into her mouth, which she eagerly licks and tastes.

"Fuck. You are such a whore. Who would have thought a goddess would be no different from a hooker, huh?" You ask and of course, she can't answer. Not with how her holes are full. But the way her eyes beg for more is enough answer.

"Slut, turn around" You order and she instantly gets into a doggy style position, putting her huge ass out for display. You spank her baby making hips a couple of time again before you thrust into her again. This time into a different hole.

"Fuck!" Shuhua's yelps in surprise as your cock make its way into her tight asshole. Her walls clench down on you hard but the makeshift lube of her pussy juice ease the pressure.

"Tell me Shuhua, have you ever done anal before?" You ask as you buck your hips to fit into more of her tighthole.

"No..no..fuck!" Shuhua curses again as your cock reaches a new depth. Her ass has swallowed most of your cock by now and its taking in inch by inch with each thrust.

"Oh, am I taking your ass virginity?" You ask as you bury your whole length into her ass, her skin rippling when your cervix meets her ass.

"Yes....god!" Shuhua screams as her ass give way to the invading object, molding to the shape of your cock. After a few more pumps, there's no longer any constriction and you are given free rein to mount her.

The cold vengeful goddess is no more. What lies beneath you is nothing but a mere sexdoll who have succumbed to her own animalistic urges. Her only purpose to be fucked through and through by your invading cock.

The power you feel is unrivaled. Sure, most of it comes from the mark of Asmodeus or whatever, but there's nothing better than to see a goddess who have try to take your life fall victim to your cock. She's not the first and she wouldn't be the last.

You pull out your cock to watch her gaping asshole, clenching on nothing as if begging for your cock to enter again. After this session, you are pretty sure she wouldn't be able to live without having something stuffed in her loose hole. For now, you fill it up with your cock once again and she moans in delight, fingers gripping the bedsheet.

As you start hammering into her ass again, the funniest thought enters your mind. Shuhua is no different from the people being tortured in the fresco above. You being the punisher and her sin being a horny whore. Maybr that's just your horny mind speaking.

In underworld terms, you continue to torment her, stretching her out even more that your cock now only feel the friction against her walls. No more tightness. No more clenches. She has been loosened up completely.

You are drowning in victory and rapture, you nearly forget the very reason you died for. You scan the room and spot a large metallic safe in one corner of the room. To your surprise, it looks just like a standard safe, the only difference being the way to open it. It has no keyhole or knob, just one black spehere embedded on the surface. Before the bliss of Shuhua's asshole can cloud your mind again, you ask her the question.

"What's the password to the safe?"

"Wha- what?" Shuhua answers through clenched teeth.

"The password to the safe, bitch" You give her a forceful thrust, tensing her body up.

"I...I can't-"

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No, no-" She begs immediately.

"Then tell me the password"

"It's 'password'"

"Are you kidding me?" Your palm lands on her smooth skin with a loud smack.

Shuhua groans in pain, which is just another word for 'pleasure' to her. "No, I swear. The password is 'password' "

You nearly burst out laughing. It seems the goda are no different from humans when it comes to humor.

"Good girl" You praise. "Now, I'm going to reward you"

Even the mark has its limit. The rush of energy that push you to keep going is getting weaker along with your limbs. And most of all, your balls are aching for a release. You can't stall any more even if you want to.

"I'm going to fill your asshole with my cum, slut. Take it all"

"Yes, yes! Fill me up! Give me your cum!"

After a few more hard thrust, you finally unload into Shuhua's tighthole, shooting one spurt of cum after another. If goddesses can break their vocal cords, Shuhua's going to be the example soon as she moans at the feeling of her asshole being filled up to the brim. You pull out after emptying all your seeds into Shuhua. The mark has faded and the aura is gone. Your mind and body are left exhausted.

But there's no time to rest or cuddle. You have a quest to finish. Leaving the broken goddess on the bed who's still make no other sounds except pants and groans, you rush to the safe where the helmet is kept.

You are neither a burglar nor an engineer but Eros has said it's opened by a spoken password so you try the only option. 'Password' You say the password (yeah, it's cringe) to the orb in the middle. The black ball begins to grow untilit has consumed the whole safe into its surface. Then, the orb splits into four sections, revealing the helmet inside. You must admit, this is a pretty sick way to open a safe.

As soon as you grab the helmet, hundreds of footsteps like a marching army start to echo from beyond the door. After the hearing the clink of armours and weapons, you realize the guards have probably heard the screams of Shuhua.

You go around the room frantically, searching for your clothes. Luckily, Shuhua has left them in a pile on a table and you fish around your jean pockets for the vial in panic. To make things even worse, loud bangs start to reasonate from the door and the chatter of limbs and ribs. You have at least 10 seconds before the army of skeletons crash into the room.

You finally located the vial and remove the cap, pouring the yellow liquid which taste no different from water into your mouth. And that takes up the whole 10 seconds. The door breaks open and the horde of skeleton enter the room and you are still daed, standing there butt naked, holding the helm of Hades.

The guards look confused at first then charge you. You mutter a curse at Eros and before the spear of the first skeleton make contact, every molecules in your body break apart and you dissolve into nothingness.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

Don't ask you how you feel. Because you don't know how to describe it. It would be same with asking someone to describe what nothing feels like. Well....it feels like nothing.

You find yourself on the bed, back in the room at Eros's skyscrapper. Naked but no longer see through and most importantly, alive. Beyond the glass, a light rain drizzles over the casins of Las Vegas. You don't really feel like testing your luck right now.

A chime rings from the bedside table and you turn to find your phone opened. Miraculously, it has no more cracks and looks as good as news. The top of your pink lockscreen (seriously, Eros?) is occupied by a single notification from the 'Ero' app. But this time it's not a quest. The message from Eros leaves you dazzled.

"Welcome back, Michael. Ever dreamed of taking a goddess's virginity?"

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

(Yeah, turn out we are fucking gods)

#kpop smut #male reader #girl group smut #blackpink smut #lisa smut #gidle smut #shuhua smut

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hitomisuzuya · 3 months ago

Note

Reader's broke ass leaving a tab open with pink leashes and collars that she's interested in. For herself, aaand step!scara sees it and surprises her with something a week later <3

Stepcest, DNI if it makes you uncomfortable. Scaramouche x fem!reader. Smut. Collar and leash. Thigh riding. Degradation.

😳❤️ This request. I went ahead and had some fun with it.

Scaramouche wouldn't call sneaking in his delicate little step sister's room as weird. He would call it self indulgent. He could breathe in your scent while he found a pair of your panties to jack himself off with on your bed.

His eyes immediately spied your laptop sitting open on your bed as he made his way over to your dresser. Naturally, he was going to snoop in the name of self indulgence.

He turned your laptop towards him as he sat down on your bed. You had one single tab open. One that made his cock twitch. You had been browsing the store on a BDSM site.

Collars and leashes in particular.

After a few minutes of scrolling, and making a careful choice, out came the credit card. His mind was racing picturing the collar fastened around your neck. He hastily grabbed a pair of your panties, and indulged himself in a few fantasies.

Scaramouche kept a careful eye on the mail over the next week or so, looking eagle eyed at the tracking information. You were restless, and quite frankly so was he. He'd purposely cut off any kind of sex until the collar arrived. He was out the door the second the package hit the front step of the porch.

He whisked it away to hide it in his room until the moms left for the evening. And they couldn't leave fast enough as far as he was concerned. As soon as he hears the front door close, he heard your bedroom door open.

He smirked. Like a dazed moth to a flame, you came right to him.

"I have something for you," He greeted once he opened the door. God, he couldn't wait to make you whimper and moan with the collar around your neck, "Pet," He added with a teasing smirk.

You blushed at Scaramouche's intimate choice of words. "What is it?" You asked curiously, feeling heated arousal immediately flair in you. You hadn't had his cock inside you for over a week, it was obvious that you ached for him.

"You really are careless, kitten," He continued, handing you the box. His eyes followed you as you sat on his bed to open it.

You cheeks flushed when you saw what was inside. One of pink collars and a leash you'd been looking at was inside. "You-You saw what I was looking at?!" You asked, the blush on your cheeks darkening, "You snuck into my room?"

"I never would've guessed you were one for pink," He teased, chuckling when he heard you let out a shy squeak. "May I?" He plucked the collar out of your hand, "A Master should collar their pet, am I right?"

Your breath hitched in your throat, your heart fluttering in your chest. Hearing him call you his pet made you wet. "Thank you, and please," You replied submissively, lifting your head a little.

You shivered as Scaramouche's fingers brushed over your skin. The material of the collar as he fastened it around your neck felt chilly and soft. "Such a well mannered slut," He praised you in such a degrading way. It made you want to fall your knees in front of him.

Hooking a finger through the collar, Scaramouche tugged you closer. Hungry lips devoured yours, his wandering hands working you out of everything except your panties. He lingered in the kisses, his hand dipping into your panties to play with your clit until you were moaning softly into his mouth.

Pulling away, he clipped the leash through the ring on the collar. "Come, pet," He purred, turning to sit on his bed. Smirking, he tugged on the leash, patting his thigh. "Tell me what was on your mind today," He knew very well what the answer was. He just wanted to hear it from your shy little mouth.

You blushed feeling the tug on the leash. The feeling sent an aroused jolt to your throbbing clit. Putting your arms around him, you straddled his thigh. "You, I was thinking about you," You began shakily.

"Go on," He encouraged, biting back a groan feeling your panties wet against his thigh. He rubbed his thigh against your pussy to encourage you to speak.

The fabric of your panties provided extra friction on your clit. You grinded needily on his thigh. "I was thinking about your cock, and.." Your words broke apart into a moan, your clit throbbing more as he thigh rubbed against it, "..how good it feels inside of me."

Your panties continued to soak onto his thigh. You squirmed a little from your panties clinging to and rubbing your clit. His cock strained harder in his jeans. You sounded so sweet.

Scaramouche poked the center of your forehead. "Oh yeah? And what was rattling around in your pretty head while you were looking at collars?" He forced you took at him as you tried to look away shyly. "Does my step sister want to be my pet slut?

Your cheeks with adoration for him. "Yes, yes I do," That was exactly what you wanted. Scaramouche couldn't help it. The sight of you getting off on his thigh, collared and leashed for him was too much. Unbuttoning his jeans, his freed his cock.

Your eyes immediately went down to look at the precum leaking from the tip. You felt a rough tug on the leash. You moaned, arching your back as you glided your pussy on his thigh. "Cock hungry already, and I am not even fucking you yet. My pretty pet is a whore," His degradation made your walls clench around nothing.

Tilting his head down, Scaramouche scooped one of your nipples into his mouth. He groaned feeling it harden on his tongue. The sensation of his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub as he sucked keened whimpers from you.

Not having his cock inside of you for a week and some days made you extra sensitive. You couldn't stop the shameless moans, chasing your high until the knot of your orgasm broke apart.

Scaramouche couldn't take his eyes off of how delicate you looked, your legs shaking as cum further soaked his thigh. "Your Master has gotten you off, slut," He rubbed his thigh on your pussy once more, "Now be a good pet and tend to your Master."

The commanding dominance in his tone sent your clit pulsing again. You slid off his thigh and onto your knees. Scaramouche moaned feeling his cock slip into the warmth of your mouth. He stroked a hand through your hand, and wrapped the leash around his hand.

#genshin impact #genshin smut #fem!reader #genshin imagines #tw stepcest #scaramouche #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x you

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mattsfavoritestar · 4 months ago

Text

STAY WITH ME, matt sturniolo

synopsis… you knew you shouldn’t have fallen for matt. you couldn’t help but let your emotions get away from you. you thought matt was playing with you. turns out your his favorite.

warnings… angst, no use of y/n, fwb!matt, player!matt, mentions of kissing, matt’s lowkey in love with you, reader ends up crying in his arms, bit of miscommunication at the beginning

@bernardsbendystraws for the dividers <3

matt fucked up. he tremendously fucked up. here he was standing outside your door, head looking to the night sky waiting for some kind of miracle to happen. everything was perfectly fine this morning so how can things just crumble so fast?

the day started off with giggles and kisses, you stayed the night after a long day of going out and exploring the world for content. in his bed. laying with matt. being held by matt. you were well aware how matt was. uncommitted. you just couldn’t help yourself when his beautiful blue eyes would watch you with that daydream look as if you were the moon and he was the ocean.

maybe it was the delusions that led you to slip up. after such an eventful morning, matt drove you and his brothers to ihop for breakfast. everything was so perfect. so happy. chris practically dragged nick outside for a mini photoshoot leaving you with matt alone.

the waitress that served your table was sending flirty comments towards matt. it pissed you off. no you weren’t dating he’s ‘just a friend’. when the waitress brought the check she left a note with her number. matt didn’t even notice at first till you pointed it out.

“are you gonna call her later?” you ask in a jealous tone.

matt smirked, “don’t know yet. think i’ll try to later” he shurgged. you felt your eyes starting to burn. matt took notice, he gave you a confused look. you shook your head then looked down to your phone. you texted your friend to come pick you up. you were embarrassed.

you got up abruptly. “do you need me to send you my half?”, you asked talking about the check. “what? when have i ever let you pay for your own shit?” matt questions. you saw the waitress coming back. you didn’t notice matt staring at you. analyzing you. “i’m gonna go. your new friend is coming back” you say.

“wait-“ matt was cut off as you left in a hurry. he quickly paid for everything, scrambling to get to the door. matt saw chris and nick by the van with a concerned look on their faces. “matt what happened in there? she came out looking sad” nick asked. matt sighed, his hands rubbing his face down.

which brings him here. a lego set of your favorite flowers in hand. and whatever sense of dignity he has left. he hesitated before knocking on the door.

after what felt like a lifetime you opened it. “matt?” you question. you were wearing a sweater and random shorts. his sweater. matt’s words got caught in this throat. “did you need something or..?” you ask.

“shit- sorry i um bought you this- these it’s a bouquet- flowers i-“ matt felt him ears go warm as words flooded out of his mouth. you placed a hand on his shoulders. immediate relaxation. “okay breathe”, matt took a deep breath.

“i’m really sorry” he stated. you didn’t feel like he knew what for, you looked down and shook your head. “s’fine i don’t care anymore” you dismissed. you heard the lego box drop felt matt’s hands hold your face to lift it.

“no don’t do that. don’t dismiss whatever your feeling”

you didn’t want to cry in front of him. it was stupid. you weren’t even dating. why do you care so much that he acknowledges other girls who aren’t you? no. you refused to be one of those girls who allowed a boy to unknowingly crush a heart.

“i like it when you’re just with me” you softly spoke.

“just you?” he asked.

“and no one else”, you look him in the eyes, “but matt i can’t just wait for you to finally want to settle down. i need this now. i need you now” you cried. you felt his thumb wiping away the tears. matt pulled you into his chest. you felt his hand move to rub your back.

“i know baby, im sorry” his whispers into your head. you shake your head repeatedly, trying to pry him off you. trying to push him away. you caught a glimpse of the hurt look on his face. you knew that if you looked into his eyes you’d just let it happen.

you were stuck. matt was at your door practically on his knees begging for you not to leave. “stop it. leave me alone and go bother those other girls in your phone” you begged. matt looked at you. he looked like a kicked puppy. you step back getting ready to close the door in his face but was stopped when he grabbed both your arms.

“please stay with me” his eyes. his beautiful blue eyes. they finally trapped you in a trance. “i don’t want you to leave” he says.

#matt stuniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo angst #the sturniolo triplets #Spotify #𝓜𝐚𝐭𝐭 𝓢.#𝓜𝐚𝐭𝐭 𝓢. ♡ 𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑡𝑠 #𝓜𝐚𝐭𝐭 𝓢. ♡ 𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑠𝑡 #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo imagine

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senseofnewness · 5 months ago

Text

SILENT DEVOTION : twisted allegiance

♦ sequel to SILENT DEVOTION ♦

pairing : patrick zweig x f!reader | art donaldson x f!reader | patrick zweig x tashi duncan

rating : explicit

word count : 23.3k

contains : smut 18+, obsession, delusion, stalking, jealousy, toxic relationship, abusive relationship, manipulation, cheating, oral sex, vaginal sex, anal sex, rimming, masturbation, eating disorder

summary : Patrick Zweig had finally noticed you, but not in the way you had always dreamed of. After rekindling his relationship with Tashi only to break up soon after, he turned his attention to you, seeking revenge on both his girlfriend and his distant best friend. There started a secret relationship fueled by twisted desires and mutual manipulation.

Patrick Zweig wrote on your wall. Hey, need to talk to you. Add me on aim (zweigpat).

Your fingers trembled as you clicked on the aim icon and began typing Patrick's username. You had no idea about the matter he wanted to discuss, but specifics were irrelevant in that moment. Patrick Zweig wanted to talk to YOU and no one else. Homework could wait, and grades suddenly felt insignificant. This was far more important. As you typed the first word into the chat box, everything around you faded away, the world growing still and silent.

You: Hey Patrick: Hello! You: So what's up?

The message on your Facebook wall had vanished. Was he trying to hide the fact that he was talking to you? You didn't mind being his dirty little secret. If anything, it made the situation even more thrilling.

Patrick: Nothing much, I was just wondering how are you all doing? You: Sounds like bullshit, what are you scheming Zweig? Patrick: Alright, I want to get back with Tashi… And I don’t know if she would be open to the idea. I know you guys are friends and I thought maybe you could help me with that.

Friends? Hardly. The thought of helping him get back with Tashi made your stomach turn. Patrick was yours, and you knew you could never compete with Tashi. Yet, the temptation was undeniable. You longed to see him back on campus, to have him close, to watch him play tennis with Art, to see him devour lunch. You even missed overhearing him and Tashi through the door.

You: Have you talked to her? She's been quite down since you left..

You couldn't reveal that Patrick was actually the least of her concerns. Her recovery had been long and difficult. As the weeks passed, her prospects of regaining her status as a tennis prodigy grew more and more uncertain.

Patrick: Did she mention me?

She hadn't, but to keep the conversation going, you had to lie.

You: Sure.. Patrick: What did she say? You: Can’t tell you, she’d kill me! Patrick: Come on! You: I can only tell you that she feels lonely.

Considering how much time she was spending with your boyfriend, she was anything but lonely.

Patrick: Noted, thanks <3. How's Art, by the way? He's not really responding to my texts.

The sight of the heart icon on the screen stole your breath away. Butterflies swarmed within you until there was little of you left. Was it genuine? Or was it out of habit? Was this the kind of message he was used to sending to Tashi?

You: We haven’t been talking that much either… Patrick: Did you guys break up? You: Not that I know of, he’s just very busy. Patrick: Busy with what?

You were hesitant to tell him the truth.

You: Guess… Patrick Zweg is typing. Patrick: Oh, so they played us both? B-) You: Don’t worry he will be back when he’s horny. Patrick: Don’t say that. Art’s not that type of guy. He’s a good one.

Patrick held Art in high regard. And Art played that role perfectly. He was charming, endearing, the kind of man destined for marriage and fatherhood, fully devoted to his family. But you didn't desire that with him, and he didn't desire it with you.

After offering reassurances about your relationship with Art, Patrick signed off for tennis practice, leaving you staring at the screen. Finally, you had a means to contact him at any time, day or night.

●

It didn’t take long for Patrick to be back on campus. It appeared that Tashi lacked as much self-restraint as you did when it came to him.

Spotting him in the main quad under one of the colossal arches, despite being fifty feet away, you immediately recognized him by his unique aura. The man-of-your-dreams-you-want-to-ride-to-ruins aura. He leaned against a wall, cigarette in hand, observing some students playing footbag, a grin on his face.

He now sported a short, tousled beard with hints of red highlights. One of your high school girlfriends had once told you that her older boyfriend’s beard had been bleached by her pussy’s juices. You wondered if the same applied to Patrick. If so, who were the lucky girls and how many of them were there? It hadn’t been long since he had returned, yet you found yourself consumed with jealousy. Making yourself sick over a mere speculation, not even a fact.

You also wondered if his cock shared the same fiery hue? In your recollection, dark curls adorned his lower abdomen, though it had been quite some time since you last saw him bare-chested.

As soon as he caught sight of you, he dashed over and enveloped you in a hug, his cigarette dangling from his lips. He appeared before you in a simple ensemble of a sweatshirt and jeans, the fabric obscuring the contours of his arms and thighs that you once found fascination in observing. “Hey you!” Unsure how to respond, you shakingly wrapped your arms around him, returning the embrace. Inhaling deeply, you took in his scent, feeling a closeness you had never experienced before, yet paradoxically distant due to the barrier of his thick clothing. The blend of his cologne and sweat stirred a sense of homesickness within you, as if Patrick had always been where you belonged, your home.

He pulled away from the hug, a huge beam on his face. You were confused by his action. He had never so much as touched you before, so hugging you was a whole new level. Was the sudden intimacy due to the fact that it was only the both of you? Free from the presence of Tashi and Art?

“What brings you here?” You inquired politely. "Tashi." He replied, a sly grin forming on his lips. Your eyebrows arched in surprise. "Oh? Congrats!" You mustered a semblance of happiness, though it was a challenge. What a fucking cunt. You were glad she had brought him back here, but you couldn’t shake the thought of Patrick being all over her later tonight and fucking her like never before. "I should get back. She’s waiting for me. Didn’t want me to smoke inside." He said, extinguishing his cigarette with a stomp. How could she? Watching Patrick smoke was the most enticing thing ever.

“I guess I will see you tomorrow for lunch?” You asked, hopeful. Tashi couldn’t monopolize your man like this. She should at least let you have him for lunch and dinner. Watching Patrick eat was one of your small joys. He was a messy eater and devoured his food as if his strict athlete's diet didn't exist. He often ended up with food all over himself and stains on his shirt, but you found it endearing. Every time, you had to resist the urge to lean over the table and lick his face clean. “Sure, see you.”

●

The day had been dragging on slowly. Classes were boring, and being back at your dorm wasn’t any better. You laid on your bed, staring at the ceiling and waiting for the hours to pass. A knock pulled you out of your reverie. When you opened the door, you found Art standing there with a huge grin on his face. Of course, he was here now that Tashi was busy. “Hey babe.” He enveloped you in a hug and planted a kiss on your jaw. Babe? You had never been the type to use pet names before. "I missed you so much." He mumbled, his mouth all over your neck, covering it with kisses. You knew he was lying, you hadn't crossed his mind a single second before Patrick's return.

You tilted your head, allowing more of his attention, feeling the warmth of his breath against your skin. "It’s been so long, I thought I was single." You teased, a playful edge to your voice. Art whined softly at your comment, his pout making him look even more guilty. "You know phones exist, right?" He avoided the question with a nuzzle against your neck, his lips brushing your skin in a way that sent shivers down your spine. "You think I’m just going to take you back because you’re acting all cute and affectionate?" He nodded eagerly, his eyes wide and hopeful. "You will have to work for it." Your hand moved to the waistband of his shorts, pulling it back just enough to peek at his growing arousal. "Work very hard." You added, your voice dropping to a husky whisper. Truth was, you didn't really want him back in your life, but horniness was making you take unwise decisions. The logical part of your brain screamed caution, but the way he looked at you, the sight of his beautiful cock, and the familiar scent of him clouded your judgment. Plus, at this exact moment, Patrick was likely balls deep into Tashi and you couldn’t do anything about it.

He flashed a triumphant smile at you, clearly pleased with your response. Without breaking eye contact, he grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head, revealing the toned muscles beneath. Taking your hand, he guided you towards the bed, his touch gentle but insistent. Art’s intentions were clear. He was ready to show just how hard he was willing to work to win you back. The night was young.

●

You: Guess who came back sucking on my tits the second you came back. Patrick As expected? You do have really nice tits.

Had Patrick been paying attention to your body? His words kept replaying in your mind, each repetition making your core grow hotter. You had never considered your breasts as an asset until now. Sure, you knew you had decent-looking boobs, Art had been crazy about them, but realizing that Patrick looked at them with such appreciation changed everything. At that moment, you decided that bras were now out of your life.

You: Did you take a look at Tashi’s tits between two sessions of eyeing mine? How are things going between you two? Patrick: We talked. Kinda. Fucked too.

The news, although very predictable, hit like a sucker punch, knocking the breath from your lungs. You wanted to cry.

You: So that’s why I have Art back. He can’t do anymore ass kissing with Tashi if your tongue’s already there. Patrick: Why are you so mean to him? You: Don’t you think it was unkind to leave me alone for weeks?

Patrick did not respond to the message, leaving your question hanging in the air. Patrick was capable of doing anything except accept the fact that Art was a flawed human being.

●

Lunch in the cafeteria did little to alleviate the tension among all of you. While things seemed fine between you and Art, your relationship with Tashi remained strained. As for Patrick, you didn’t know. One second he was complimenting you and the other giving you the cold shoulder, so it felt. Aside from a few insignificant remarks, everyone was mainly silent. “Let’s go practice.” Art said, nodding toward Tashi. Tashi gave Patrick a gentle kiss on the cheek. You half-expected Art to do the same out of courtesy, but your cheek remained untouched. You didn’t exist when Tashi was around. They gathered their trays and headed to the counter, leaving you and Patrick alone.

“Art is pissed at me, I don’t get it. It’s not like I tripped Tashi.” Patrick blurted out. “Even Tashi forgave me!” He sighed, leaning back in his seat before switching to another. “To be honest with you I never understood why they were mad at you to begin with.” You shrugged. It had all happened so suddenly that you had no time to analyze the situation. Art’s unkindness was still a mystery. “Oh thank god, I thought I was going crazy.” He said, sitting down next to you and grabbing a slice of bread from your tray, taking a bite. There was something oddly captivating about his chewing and the crumbs scattered across his lips. You found yourself wanting to lick them off. “I can try to find out what’s bothering him, if you want.” You offered, your gaze still fixed on his lips. “You’re a saint.” He said, puckering his lips and blowing a kiss at you.

Was this how Patrick Zweig behaved when he saw you as a friend? His overly flirtatious manner was making it difficult for you to think clearly. “Oh, far from it.” You replied absentmindedly, your mind filled with unholy thoughts of laying him on the table, straddling him and tearing his clothes off. “You’re right, I’ve heard things.” He said with a playful grin. You rolled your eyes and stole the slice back from him, taking a bite. “If you want my best guess, he’s just being an ass. That’s his thing lately.”

●

The routine was back on : Art would clandestinely enter your room at night whenever the urge struck him. Without so much as a word or invitation, he'd launch into a monologue about his day. After a few minutes of venting, he'd typically undress you and fuck you until dawn. While the encounters were generally pleasant, not always culminating in climax. Art knew well enough how your body worked to make it worthwhile.

Art was sitting on your bed while you occupied the desk chair, both of you facing each other. "Patrick seems to be worried you're mad at him." You mentioned, uncertain of what response to anticipate. You were already convinced that Art was pissed off at his friend and deep down, you knew why. Would Art lie to you or be brave enough to assume his conflicting feelings toward his friend. As Art unbuttoned his pants, he glanced up at you, his expression almost incredulous. Was the idea of you conversing with Patrick really so unbelievable? "How do you know that? Do you two talk?" He questioned, a nib of jealousy detectable in his voice. "Sometimes. He used to ask a lot about Tashi and you while he was on tour. He wanted to ensure both of you were doing well. He missed you guys tremendously." Art snorted loudly, his tone tinged with amusement at your sudden interest in Patrick. "Typical of him. Chatting with everyone except the ones who matter." He remarked, pulling off his shirt. "He just wanted assurance that you'd be open to hearing from him. Can’t you understand that and be nice?" He tossed the shirt in your direction. "Are you joining the Patrick Zweig fanclub now? Should I call him up so you can give him a warm welcome?" He mimicked a fellatio, his fist thrusting towards his face as his tongue pressed against his cheek. Yes, please, do it. The idea was enticing, you couldn't deny. “You’re insane.” You sighed, standing up and throwing back the shirt with force. "I hate how effortlessly everything falls into place for him. He believes he can simply return, and everything will be back to how it was." You rolled your eyes as you sat beside him and gave his thigh a comforting pat. "He's your closest friend. He came back for you, and yet, you're treating him like shit. At the very least, you should have a conversation with him." You urged, pressing your lips against his in an attempt to soothe him. "He came back for Tashi." He corrected with a hint of frustration. Tashi again. You liked the girl, most of the time, especially when she would get Art out of your hair, but she was beginning to hit on your nerves. "And what if he did? You're always with Tashi too. Would you blame him?"

With a playful shove, you pushed him onto the bed and straddled him, firmly pinning his hands above his head. "Now, be a good boy and make up with your best friend before I really call him and give him a warm welcome." You teased. He laughed, swiftly rolling you over so that he was now on top, his hands gripping your thighs. You appreciated these rare moments when he would take control. "Give me a warm welcome instead." He murmured, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You had to admit, it felt surprisingly good having Art back in your life. He was scratching an itch you couldn’t quite reach on your own. But you weren't naive, you understood why he was there. It irked you that he was playing the same manipulative game you were. If you didn't outwit him quickly, you would end up being the punchline of this twisted joke. You knew it was time to have a serious talk with Tashi.

●

After your passionate moment with Art, he decided to take your advice and talk to Patrick over a game of tennis. With the boys out, you found yourself standing in front of Tashi's door. When she opened it, her surprised expression spoke volumes. "Can I talk to you?" you asked softly. She hesitated only for a moment before widening the door to let you in. The room was filled with Patrick's belongings, his distinctive scent lingering in the air. You sat on her bed and patted the spot next to you, inviting her to join.

"I need to have this conversation with you because I consider you my friend and I trust you." The words felt hollow, a facade masking your true intentions. Initially, your approach was far from genuine, but over time, you'd grown to appreciate and even admire her. Yet her recent distance had revealed how little she valued your friendship and you simply stopped giving a fuck about her. "Even if I felt abandoned by you." You continued, a hint of vulnerability seeping into your voice. She nibbled on her lips, anxiety evident, and nodded. "I know, and I'm sorry about that." She murmured. "I know your injury isn't easy to handle, and I could have been there to help you through it. But you chose Art over me." Here came the guilt-tripping. If you wanted to regain the upper hand, they needed to see how poorly they had treated you. Perhaps realizing how much time they'd spent together lately would open their eyes and finally bring them together, leaving you to be Patrick's shoulder to cry on. "I didn't..." She began to explain, but her words faltered, lacking conviction. "I didn't see either of you for weeks. But then suddenly, yesterday, Art remembered I existed. And I know why. Because last night, you chose Patrick over him." You revealed, trying to play the part of the wronged woman. Lowering your head, you pretended to struggle with voicing your concerns. "You're being ridiculous, we're just friends. I swear." She protested. Whether she truly believed it or was simply an incredible actor, she sounded convincingly sincere.

“I don’t know what is going on between you two…” You played with your nails in an attempt to act hesitant. “Nothing!” She assured you once more. “But please, stop playing with us, it’s unfair. I don’t want to be the girl he uses to jerk off in when you’re not giving attention to him. And I’m sure Patrick doesn't want to be just a dick to you.” The words were crude but necessary.

“Things like this happen all the time. I can understand, I won’t make a scene. But please, stop lying to yourselves. And if I’m wrong and there’s nothing, please make things clear with Art so he finally stops hoping you will notice him.” If she didn't grasp your point now, Tashi Duncan truly was the dumbest girl you knew. "Alright. I will get going. Goodnight, Tashi. I hope I will see you around." She nodded and muttered a small ‘goodnight’ to you.

You closed the door behind you, unable to suppress the smile forming on your lips. Tashi was feeling like shit. Good. You hoped she would question everything in her life. You knew your plan would work better on Tashi than on Art. More than being called a cheater, Tashi dreaded being called a manipulator and a bad friend.

●

You sat on the floor of your room, a magazine in your hands, tensely flipping through the pages but the words and images couldn't hold your attention. You were anxiously waiting for Art to arrive. You were supposed to go out tonight, and part of you wondered if he was trying to make amends for the distance he had put between you over the past few weeks. But he wasn't there. He was more than an hour late, and you had no message from him. Where the hell was he? More than the date itself, you were impatient to find out if Tashi had mentioned your little encounter to him.

Finally, a knock sounded on your door. "Come in!" You called out eagerly. When Patrick entered your room, your voice wavered. How unexpected. “Tashi just broke up with me.” He revealed, prompting you to roll your eyes in response. Your scheming had paid off. Tashi had made her choice, likely explaining Art's absence. A surge of triumph swept over you. However, Patrick appeared devastated so you held it in. Fortunately for him, you would be there to cheer him up.

"Grab a beer from the fridge.” You gestured, hoping to ease him into opening up to you. Gaining his trust was crucial, it could lead to anything. "What was the reason?" You inquired casually, masking your enthusiasm. "She said she realized what we had was going nowhere." He replied, bending over to retrieve a bottle from the fridge. Your gaze lingered on the curve of his backside. What a firm tasty looking ass.

"So I guess that's why Art's not answering." You questioned, though you already knew the answer. Flipping a page, you pretended to be deeply engrossed in your reading. "We were supposed to see each other, but I guess I'm nothing next to Tashi Duncan." You muttered, reflecting on how your perception of her had changed in just just a few minutes. You used to think Tashi Duncan was the shit, the girl who had everything you wanted. She had Patrick, a promising future, passion, and beauty. Now, she was just a single girl with a shattered future and a useless passion.

"What's his deal?" Patrick asked as he uncapped the bottle and settled down in front of you, his long, muscular legs crossed. Even the simplest gestures from Patrick ignited a fire within you, leaving your body warm and your mouth dry. You found yourself mesmerized by the curl pattern of his leg hairs and how his shorts barely grazed his thighs, revealing faint tan lines. "I'm not sure he's into me." You confessed, feeling vulnerable in Patrick's presence for the first time. Everything before had been calculated to sneak yourself into his life, but now you spoke the truth. No matter how much you had manipulated Art, it seemed he was playing you back. "Who wouldn't be into you?" Patrick's words echoed in your mind. Who indeed? Then why, Patrick, aren't you? You knew he was merely being kind, yet his comment caused your heart to skip a beat. You lifted your gaze to meet his, offering a grateful smile.

"I think his heart is elsewhere." You stated, locking eyes with him. "I'm sure there isn't anything between him and Tashi." He attempted to reassure you, though you sensed his own growing doubts. "I don't mean just Tashi." You interjected, raising your eyebrows, silently urging him to catch on. It took him a minute. "Oh. I don't think Art swings that way." He chuckled nervously, taking a sip of his beer to deflect the tension. "Do you?" You asked, curious to discover more about the man you had loved for so many years.

He gazed into the void, quiet for a few moments before sighing and shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know. Maybe?” His eyes absentmindedly fixed on your magazine. So it seemed boys were in fact also in the competition for Patrick’s heart. You fought the urge to sigh in frustration, not wanting to appear judgmental about his sexuality. “I actually had a crush on Art back when we were teenagers. Did he tell you about the jerking off?” His eagerness to share the story was palpable. “He did. We had a pretty wild night after that.” You replied, recalling the intense masturbation competition you both had after the story.

"You're welcome." He chuckled, flattered by the revelation. You had never truly noticed the timbre of his laughter before, finding it almost heavenly. If you weren't already deeply in love with him, you might have fallen again right then. In that fleeting moment, you found yourself fixating on his teeth, marveling at their straightness and whiteness despite his smoking habit. When he grinned, it was like he had more teeth than seemed humanly possible, each one perfect in their own way. The desire to feel them sink into you surged through you, an urgent need that couldn't be ignored. You needed him. Tonight, you decided, would be the night you fucked Patrick Zweig. But for that, you had to make a move. "You know, my first time humping a pillow sort of involved you too.” You confessed, finally revealing one of your deepest secrets to someone else.

"Me?" You nodded, then continued with the story. "I was a young, impressionable girl, and what's more impressive than sweaty, shirtless tennis players? You just happened to be there." You lied. He was the sole focus of those fantasies. There was no one else present, just Patrick and his ridiculously tight shorts. Like tonight, just you and him and those damn shorts. "You're welcome, once more." He teased, bowing as if he were an actor on the stage of your imagination. "You should have approached me back then. I would have gladly helped you make those fantasies more vivid, maybe by showing you a ball or something." He remarked with a playful smile, to which you managed to respond, though inwardly you felt like crumbling. Years spent trying to capture his attention had led to nothing. And now, he was casually admitting to being open to anyone back then? Did that mean you weren't good enough to be even just ‘anyone’? "Do you ever remember seeing me back then?" You asked him, needing to hear the truth, no matter how painful. He pondered it for a moment, long enough for you to realize he didn't recall. "I wish I could.” He replied. Why did he wish that? Did he see your presence in his life as something valuable? You remained silent, your gaze fixed on the magazine, trying to absorb the words on the page to keep tears at bay.

"What about you, by the way? Have you ever experimented with a girl?" His question broke the silence, and you silently appreciated him for that, despite the randomness of the inquiry. You could feel yourself sink into sadness before that. “Maybe?” You answered briefly. “That’s all? Tell me more!” He took a sip of his beer and leaned closer, eager to hear your story. “It was brief and innocent so don’t get excited.” You sighed, pointing your index finger at him. “Too late!” He joked, smirking at you. “Your girlfriend, well ex.” You continued, noting the sudden change in his expression. His face had dropped instantly. “Just a kiss.” You reassured him. “I’m not sure how I would label myself but that night if she had wanted to experiment more, I think I would have gone along with it.” It was true, you would have fucked Tashi, regardless of whether Patrick had been involved or not. “Believe me, Tashi has experience with girls.” He remarked, leaving you momentarily stunned. It made perfect sense, though you felt a pang of disappointment. “Oh so it was just me not being her type?” You feigned heartbreak, clutching your chest as he nonchalantly shrugged in response. In reality, that revelation really stung, another missed chance to explore what Patrick had experienced. “That’s ok, I’m still young. I have time to fulfill my fantasies.” You said with a pretended tear-wiping gesture, masking your true feelings.

"What kind?" His question felt intrusively intimate. His body so close to yours as he was delving into your kinks. This scene reminded you of the scenarios you often imagined late at night while teasing your clit. “I don’t know. There are many things I haven’t experienced. Like eating a girl out, pegging, cuckolding, choking, stuff like that.” Why did admitting your kinks in front of Patrick make you feel embarrassed? You wanted him to see you as someone open to anything, a woman comfortable with her sexuality, and the epitome of a cool girl.

"Choking? Art doesn't even do that?" He asked, confusion written all over his face. Art had probably recounted the one disastrous attempt you both had made. "Not really." You admitted with a sigh. "We tried, but he's too scared he will hurt me so he was more or so… hugging my neck, like a scarf." You grabbed the beer from his hand, took a sip, and then placed it back in front of him. "I should give him a class.” He joked, smirking at you. "Oh, so you're an expert?" You teased, feeling the conversation shift into flirtation. You had to analyze your game and play your cards right. You watched him gulp down the rest of the beer, a proud smile spreading across his face. He nodded.

"The trick is…" He began. "...to place your hand near the collarbone, not up here." He pointed to the area beneath his chin. "It's not about applying too much pressure, unless that’s what you’re into, of course. It's about holding firmly. And it's better to squeeze the sides of the neck rather than the front."

"Like this?" You placed your hand around your neck, attempting to follow his advice.

"No, wait. Stand up." He instructed. Both of you stood, and he placed his calloused used-up hand around your thin neck, gripping it firmly. In that moment, you felt like his racket between his hands. You let out a slight gasp, licking your lips as your eyes locked with his. The moment his hand closed around your neck, you realized it wasn't the sensation of being choked that enticed you. It was the feeling of surrendering control, of putting your life in someone else's hands, that made your legs tremble. Without thinking, you reached for his crotch, grabbing his dick through his shorts. He was semi-hard. He looked at you, confusion flickering across his face as he immediately released his grip on your neck. "Don't do that, or I won't be able to control myself." He warned. You had crossed the line, there was no way back now.

You surely didn’t want him to control himself. You craved for him to take you right there, right then. Continuing to stroke his length, the fabric was the only thing separating you from the object of your fantasies. He buried his face against your shoulder, a mixture of neediness and hesitation evident in his actions. You slipped your hand into his underwear and pulled out his dick. After hearing Tashi talk about it so much, you had imagined plenty of things, but the reality was beyond your expectations. While its length was a bit above average, it was the girth that was truly remarkable. You couldn’t ignore the sight of his uncircumcised head. You had only seen those in porn before, and you weren’t sure how to proceed. "Wow…” You stepped back until you reached your desk, sensing his inner conflict about whether to retreat as well. Perching on the edge of the desk, you seized the elastic of his pants and pulled him closer. You licked your palm, ensuring it was slick with saliva, then wrapped your hand around his length. Slowly, you pulled back his foreskin to reveal his head. Your eyes remained fixed on the captivating beauty of Patrick's member. Patrick’s hands, which had been resting still on your knees, slowly made their way up your legs. His touch burnt your skin. If he touched your thighs just right, you knew you could come on the spot. His hands were now under your dress, exploring the fabric of your panties. You were thankful that Patrick had found you on a date night. You were clean, shaven, and wearing your sexiest underwear. You gasped when you felt one of his hands slip inside your panties, his fingers brushing against your folds. Oh my god, Patrick Zweig was touching your pussy, and you were touching Patrick Zweig’s dick. You bit your lower lip, anticipating as he rubbed your cunt. You continued to jerk him off, reveling in the sounds you were eliciting from him.

In a swif movement, he slid the straps of your dress down, exposing your bare tits. With one hand, he fondled your breast, while his index finger delved inside you. Leaning in closer, he circled your nipple with the tip of his tongue. "Patrick..." It was the first time you had moaned his name directly to him, a name usually reserved for your private moments alone. You parted your legs, inviting him closer, still stroking him energetically with your hand. A second finger quickly joined his buried index but you wanted more, you wanted him. "Fuck me..." You pleaded, gazing at him with desperate eyes. He met your gaze and withdrew his hand from your panties, stirring a whimper from you at the loss of contact. You could sense the conflict in his expression. He knew it was wrong, but the desire was overwhelming. You knew it was for you. He closed his eyes briefly, exhaling heavily, then shifted the crotch of your underwear aside. You felt the tip of him rubbing against your entrance before he swiftly entered you. If he wrestled with his conscience, it was a fleeting battle. You wrapped one leg around his hip and gripped his buttcheeks, pulling him closer to you, seeking the intimacy and connection you had desired with him for years.

There was nothing tender or affectionate about your actions, you both moved with an animalistic urgency. Patrick was fucking you in a way that no one had before. The noises escaping your lips were uncontrollable, matched by Patrick's own passionate moans. Determined to give him an unforgettable experience, you poured all your energy into matching his thrusts with your own, both of you lost in ecstasy. While Patrick lavished attention on your nipples, your lips yearned for his touch, craving attention amidst the raw intensity of your pounding.

Both of you were so absorbed in outperforming each other, striving to make the other come the quickest, that neither of you noticed the sound coming from the door. There were insistent knocks. “It’s me, I’m sorry I’m so late.” Hours late, Art's voice finally came through the door. Patrick placed his hand over your mouth to silence you. The presence of Art outside seemed to drive him to fuck you even harder. You sank your teeth into his hand and tugged at his hair, determined to elicit delicious sounds from him. You were silenced but he wasn’t. You were willing to risk being caught just from the thrill of it. Just for the sensation it would bring you in that exact moment.

“I talked to Tashi… I understand if you’re mad…” Oh, you were the opposite of mad right now. “Text me if you’re awake.” And with that he left. Had Art been more persistent and attempted to turn the doorknob, he would have stumbled upon you, legs entwined around his closest friend, who was avidly thrusting into you with his shorts pooled around his ankles.

Patrick's hand left your mouth and returned around your neck, the other firmly gripping your ass. The lack of air made you desperate to moan his name, but all that escaped were gasps as you tightened your legs around him, drawing him nearer. Despite feeling dizzy, you continued to bounce against him eagerly.

You longed for him to meet your gaze and kiss you, but Patrick kept his head resting on your shoulder, eyes closed. The only sounds were the manifestations of his pleasure through his moans and cries. You sensed his body shudder against yours as he gripped the base of his dick, preparing to withdraw.

“No! Fill me up, please.” You begged, voice barely audible. You reached between you, grasping for his balls and squeezing one firmly. They were full, brimming just for you, and you couldn't bear to waste a drop of that precious seed. “I’m on the pill.” You assured him. Patrick only needed little persuasion to remain deep inside you. As a final effort, you tightened around him, intent on luring every last drop from him. He grunted your name as he climaxed inside you. His gaze locked on you as you welcomed his release, each slow thrust pushing you closer to the edge. It was watching Patrick reach his peak and call your name that finally pushed you over, making you explode in a breathy moan.

Patrick Zweig had come inside you. You had made Patrick Zweig come. You! Patrick Zweig! The reality of it was almost surreal, but the warm sensation inside you served as a proof.

He finally released your neck, and you let out a loud gasp, panting to catch your breath. As he slowly pulled out, you whined at the loss of contact, quickly closing your legs to keep his load inside you for as long as possible. The silence that followed made you anxious. He had not said a word yet, just looked at you, biting his lower lip nervously. Was he regretting it already? Then he started laughing. What the hell was so funny? He wrapped his arms around you, resting his head against your breast. You let yourself melt into his embrace, stroking his hair. "I wanted to do that for a while.” He confessed. Did he? Really? "Me too." You replied quickly, relief and joy flooding through you.

●

Afterwards, you had continued to fool around in your bed for hours. Mouths and fingers exploring every body part. Now it was daylight and you laid sprawled across him, your limbs entangled in an intimate embrace. Your head rested on his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat like a comforting melody. As your fingers twirled the soft curls of his chest hair, Patrick held you close, his fingertips gently caressing your hip in a soothing motion. You wanted him to fuck you once more, but something seemed to be holding him back.

You could hardly believe it had happened. The only evidence was the state of your sheets: wet and stained with various body fluids. And the ache in your cervix. Tashi had been right about that too. Patrick loved sliding himself fully inside, regardless of the pain it caused.

The delicate way he touched you felt far more intimate than when he was inside you earlier. You still craved his kiss, which he refused to give. Every single time you had tried to move closer to his face, you were met with his cheek. Weren’t you good enough for him?

“I’m going to break up with him. As soon as I regain the use of my legs.” Patrick chuckled, playfully hitting your thigh. “No, don't do that.” No? Why not? You just had sex with your boyfriend’s best friend. Wasn’t this the beginning of your life with Patrick? “If he’s going to mess around with my girlfriend, I might as well borrow you from him.” Your heart sank. Was this all it was? Revenge? You wanted forever with Patrick, not just a quickie to get back at his ex and his friend. Yet, if this was the only way to have him, you were willing to be part of his scheme. “You know I messed around with your girlfriend too.” You reminded him, hoping he would see how ridiculous his plan sounded. “Should I fuck Art to get back at you then?” He proposed. Okay, so he thought all of this was a joke. “Only if you let me watch.” You said, a smirk on your face. You were going to play his game until he would realize that you are the only one for him. You could do that. Fuck Art. Literally and figuratively. In response, he pinched one of your nipples. You whined, sinking your teeth into his in return. “Do you have any place to stay tonight?” You asked, covering his chest with gentle pecks. You were curious to know if he would accept Art’s invitation to sleep on the floor of his dorm when you had a perfectly good bed for him. All he had to do was fuck you.. "I guess Art’s room.” So you weren’t even good to sleep next to. “Art invited me to the Kappa Sigma party." Patrick mentioned casually. Ah yes, the party. You had received an invitation as well. The captain of the tennis club, a frat boy, had extended invitations to the entire club. It appeared both you and Patrick were Art's plus ones.

You weren't particularly looking forward to the event. Tennis players were so… psychotic. Except Patrick, of course.

“I’m invited too. Won’t it be awkward to be in the same room as Art?” You traced kisses up his neck, following the curve to his jaw. Gradually, you moved towards his lips, but just as you approached, he turned his head, and your lips brushed against his cheek. He still refused to kiss you. You had fantasies of becoming his little whore for years, and now those desires were becoming a reality. You were only good enough for his cock. “Why would it be? You’re his girlfriend, I’m his best friend.”

●

After a second and third round, Patrick finally left your room. Despite the hurtful words he sometimes spoke, having sex with him felt instinctive. Whether your legs were draped over his shoulders, wrapped around his waist, or spread beneath him, he always knew how to make you come.

Time had come to prepare for the party.

The most challenging part of your routine came first : taking a shower and erasing every trace of him. Unsure of whether you would be able to experience feeling Patrick so deeply inside again. The fleeting thought of stopping your pill and keeping your legs crossed for a couple days to try and baby-trap him had crossed your mind. Yet, you quickly had dismissed it. If you weren't good enough to be kissed, surely you weren't the ideal candidate to be the mother of his children. Yet. You had to convince yourself that it was only because he didn’t know you well enough yet, to prevent bursting into tears in the shower.

Once you finished cleaning yourself, you turned on the radio, filling the bathroom with music as you applied makeup in front of the mirror. You had gotten better at this. With effort, you could clean up nicely. Gray eyeshadow was a reliable choice as well that complemented any outfit, ensuring you couldn't go wrong. Adding a touch more blush than necessary, you finished with pink lipstick. Releasing your hair from its tie, you slipped into a short red dress with spaghetti straps. You paused to scrutinize your reflection in the mirror. Your stomach had flattened noticeably, yet it still lacked the tone you desired. You also noticed the creases your thong was creating against your hips. You discarded the problematic underwear and replaced it with simple black lacy panties. It wasn’t the most appealing choice when naked, but it looked much better under your dress. You doubted you would end up with Patrick tonight anyway. At best, you might lure a drunken Art into your bed, and that man didn’t care about anything other than your bare cunt.

Art and Patrick knocked on your door around 8 PM. When you opened it, they stood side by side, the tension between them seemingly dissolved. Was mutual betrayal the secret to a long lasting friendship? They looked striking together, almost like a destined pair drawn to each other despite their differences. Art, the polished one, sported blue jeans paired with a buttoned-up blue shirt, his hair styled just the way he knew you liked. Patrick, the more casual counterpart, wore a black T-shirt, that you knew was borrowed from Art, and washed denim jeans. His hair, ruffled and wild, seemed to have escaped a brush since you had viciously tugged on it earlier. Art was a sight, you knew it by the heads turning every time he walked into a room. But Patrick was the one who cut your breath away.

"Hey babe." Art greeted, planting a soft kiss on your lips. "Looking good.” He added, his eyes sweeping over you from head to toe. "You look like a slut." Patrick mouthed. You beamed at him. From that man? That was the best compliment you could get. "Thank you." You answered Art, though your gratitude was directed at Patrick. “Hello Patrick.” You greeted him. He only responded with a nod.

The frat house lay just a short ten-minute walk from your dorm, yet at that moment, you regretted choosing high heels over flats. Why did girls always have to dress sexy, enduring the cold just to catch the eye of their crush? Shivering slightly, you felt Art's arm wrap around your waist, drawing you close as you walked together. Patrick trailed behind, silent.

Arriving there, the frat house lived up to your expectations : it was smelly and not particularly clean. You stayed close to Art and Patrick as a group of boys and girls engaged in a lively discussion about the next tennis match. Their enthusiasm for the sport amused you. In that moment, you couldn't help but think of tennis players as the nerds among jocks. As the conversation shifted to the US Open, you noticed Patrick had drifted away. Probably dreading the moment they would finally ask him how his career was doing. Spotting him leaning against a wall with a beer in hand, you couldn't suppress your grin, feeling like a lovesick schoolgirl showing all her teeth. He returned your smile. A simple gesture that filled you with warmth knowing you were the reason behind that blinding smirk.

Your moment was interrupted by Art’s hand on your back, inattentively stroking it. His fingertips ventured under the stram of your dress, lightly tickling your skin beneath the fabric. While you and Art weren’t the most affectionate couple in public, reserving touch for intimate moments, his gesture on your back was one of the few he dared to display openly. You sensed Patrick's gaze burning into your back, his stare affecting you more than Art’s touch. You watched him drink his beer, his eyes fixed on your back. When he finally looked up and met your gaze, he tilted his head, silently commanding you to follow as he left the room. Without hesitation, you stood and followed him, though you quickly lost sight of him. Suddenly, a hand grabbed you, pulling you into the bathroom. It was Patrick, leading you into a cubicle. Once inside, he locked the door behind you both.

The small cubicle barely had enough room for both of you, and the smell made you want to gag. But those details were insignificant, your heart was pounding faster than ever. Patrick had requested you. He set his empty beer on top of the toilet and stood before you. "Blow me." He commanded in a whisper, his gaze fixed intently on you.

He didn't need to ask twice. You dropped to your knees before him. There was something deeply degrading about kneeling on the piss-stained floor of a frat house bathroom, but you were more than willing to endure it for Patrick. You unbuttoned his jeans and unzipped them, then pulled his pants and underwear down his legs.

This was all you had ever wanted : to worship him like the god he was. Kneeling before him, you showed your devotion, rubbing your face against his full sack, nuzzling him like an animal in heat. You never knew a smell could make you so wet until now, the mix of sweat, soap and musk drove you wild. You tried to wrap your lips around one of his balls, eager to suck on it, wanting them in your mouth. Looking up, you saw him watching you with curiosity. Maybe you should save your freaky side for later.

Grasping the base of his cock, you trailed your tongue along his shaft, coating him with saliva. You looked up, striving to maintain eye contact with him. You wanted him to see how well you were taking him, to realize that you were made for him, that your mouth was meant to receive him. You pulled his foreskin back, licking around the crown and flicking your tongue over his slit. He whimpered, running his hands through your hair before grabbing handfuls and tugging on it. Wrapping your lips around his length, you started giving his cock big sloppy sucks, cheeks hollowed. "Look at you..." He whispered, before pushing himself deeper into your mouth. You moaned at his action, sending vibrations to the head of his cock nestled at the back of your throat. While you loved having him inside your pussy, nothing compared to the sensation of him filling your mouth. Cupping his sack, you started palming it, applying just the right amount of pressure. You bobbed your head, taking more of him with each movement. As his pubes began to tickle your nose, you knew you were close to taking him fully. Yet, you pulled away, wanting him to beg you to swallow his nut. “No, don’t stop, please…” That was fast.

In an effort to make this as pleasurable as possible, you teasingly licked your index finger, sucking on it long enough to give him the chance to stop you if he wasn’t comfortable. When he didn't, you placed the wet tip against his asshole, pushing past the barrier of flesh slowly, quarter inch by quarter inch. You weren’t sure if Patrick had ever experienced anything there before, but he didn’t seem to mind your finger seeking out his sweet spot. Your curiosity had led you to spend hours researching prostates online, so you knew exactly how to find it. You curled your finger, applying pressure to his prostate, causing him to whine. He loved it.

Your lips returned to their place, wrapped around his length and Patrick wasn’t static anymore. He was now fucking your throat like you were just a hole for him to use. Each thrust drove his tip against the back of your throat. Drool dripped uncontrollably from your mouth. You gagged once but quickly refocused, determined to keep your throat open. It felt as if your future with Patrick hinged on the quality of this blowjob. Tonight, no sore jaw or nausea would stand in the way of your goal. Your finger movements matched the rhythm of his thrusts, intensifying the sensation. After a few minutes of intense sucking, he pulled back slightly, keeping just the head of his cock in your mouth. He was throbbing. He came, mouth agape and eyes shut in ecstasy. God, he looked stunning.

You swallowed his semen and stuck your tongue out, showing him what a good girl you were. You had swallowed a lot of Art’s cum in the past, but this had been an entirely different experience. A revelation. You had tasted Patrick, and now you wanted to consume him whole, to suck him dry every hour until his balls ached and he begged you to stop. You craved only his DNA inside you, nobody else, not even yours. You wanted to disappear and become an extension of him.

Patrick rubbed the tip of his dick against your tongue, making sure he was clean. He then wiped the corner of your mouth with his thumb, fixing your smeared makeup. Your makeup was now ornamenting the base of his dick. You withdrew your finger from inside him. He started dressing up next, hiding his still semi-hard cock in his underwear, adjusting it. You helped him pull up and zip his pants before rising to your feet. It was time to leave. This was usually when he would begin to act distant, as if you somehow repulsed him in a post-nut clarity. Smiling awkwardly, unsure how to behave, you exited the cubicle.

Although a part of you had wanted to lick your finger clean and get another taste of him, you had opted to scrub your hands with soap instead, not wanting him to think of you as even more of a freak. You were bent over the sink when he placed his hand on your butt, massaging it firmly. You weren’t disgusting to him anymore? You could feel one of his fingers pressing against your asshole through your underwear trying to return the favor. “You have the most fuckable ass on earth.” He whispered into your ear, his warm breath tickling you. Was he out of his mind? You had starved and pushed yourself to your limits to get a butt like Tashi's, and you were still far from achieving it and yet he wanted to fuck yours. You looked at him, confused, in the mirror's reflection, almost in awe that the man of your dreams was drawn to you. "It sounds so tempting, but you know we can't stay here forever…" If the thrill of being caught was a motivation for him to act interested in you, you could play along. Patrick's fingers were now caressing you through the fabric, from your clit to your ass. He could feel how wet you were. You let out a gasp and quickly slapped his hand away. "Behave, and maybe I'll accidentally leave my room unlocked tonight." You left the bathroom first, trying to appear inconspicuous. No one was around to see Patrick following you out of the cramped restroom.

When you joined him, Art was engrossed in conversation with his classmates about a demanding coach and difficult training, topics that went over your head. Had he paid any attention to you, he would have seen the smeared makeup and disheveled hair, but he didn’t. You found their discussion boring and wished they would talk about something more general. Boys could be so boring. Except Patrick, there was nothing dull about Patrick. Where was he now by the way?

You scanned the room, expecting to find him alone in a corner or engaged in conversation with some guys. But that fucker had chosen to piss you off. Your attention was drawn to two girls deep in conversation with Patrick. Both were attractive, one a tall redhead and the other a petite brunette. Though they were only chatting, you sensed their interest in him. It seemed everyone wanted to fuck Patrick given the chance. One of his remarks made them both laugh. Who the hell were those whores? The only thing that reassured you in this situation was the way his eyes would occasionally meet yours while he spoke, as if he was silently watching over you.

You leaned closer to Art, resting your head on his shoulder, hoping to elicit a reaction from Patrick, but nothing. You needed to grab his attention. You trailed soft kisses from Art's shoulder to his neck and finally whispered behind his ear. "I really want to kiss you." You attempted to sound seductive, but your voice remained raspy from the aftermath of Patrick's cock forcing its way down your throat.

Art smiled at you and leaned closer, offering himself to you. You eagerly grabbed his face between your hands and passionately kissed him. His lips tasted like liquor and you could tell he had consumed a significant amount by his lack of concern regarding the presence of his peers witnessing the sloppy kiss happening before their eyes. You were practically shoving your tongue down his throat. The idea of kissing him with the very same mouth that had just taken Patrick’s load moments earlier was more thrilling than the kiss itself. Would Art taste his best friend on your tongue? Would he attribute the tangy aftertaste to the drink you had earlier? As you pulled away, you noticed Patrick watching you both with a smirk. You could tell he had thought the same exact thing as you.

You pulled away and whispered into Art's ear. "Baby, I'm really tired. I'm going to sleep. See you tomorrow." You kissed him goodnight and left the common room.

You already anticipated that Patrick would follow you to your room minutes later to finally have what he couldn't get earlier.

●

The doorknob to your bedroom turned, and you knew it was him. You were lying in your bed, on your stomach in your underwear, pretending to read a book. In reality, you had meticulously prepared yourself the first few minutes, ensuring you were immaculately clean inside. The remaining quarter of an hour was dedicated to selecting the perfect position for him to discover you in. After locking the door behind him, he stood for a moment, taking in the sight of you, before sitting on the edge of the bed. His hand roamed over your thighs and the curve of your butt.

"I can’t believe you kissed Art with that nasty mouth." He chuckled, playing with the elastic of your panties, his fingers brushing against your ass cheek. You dropped your book on the floor, rolled onto your back and looked at him with a taunting smile. “Oh I’m sure he loved the taste of it.” You teased. His hand now rested on your lower stomach, gently stroking it with light fingers. Your skin was burning under his touch. He seemed much less interested in that part of your body. “I used to spit his jizz back into his mouth and he would always swallow it like a good boy.” Patrick let out an unexpected snort, the sound echoing softly in the quiet of your bedroom, catching you off guard. Was he making fun of you? “I can’t believe you even exist.” What did that even mean? Was he repulsed by you and your actions? The fact that his hand lingered so close to your womanhood, yet he refrained from touching you to ease the fire in you, didn’t reassure you much. What if you had ruined everything?

He leaned in closer, closing the distance between your faces. It was something you had observed about Patrick before : how intimately he needed to be to communicate. He looked at you with a yearning in his eyes, a playful giggle escaping his lips. It was clear he had indulged in a few drinks as well. "What?" You asked, a smile on your lips as your eyes remained locked with his mesmerizing green gaze. "I want to taste that tongue too." He said. Oh god, it was happening, the moment you had always waited for, when everything in your life would suddenly click into place. "Then do it." You teased, sticking your tongue out playfully at him. Kissing him would mean crossing a new boundary in your relationship. It wouldn't just be about fulfilling primal desires, it would also satisfy your craving for affection.

You could feel the heat of his breath mingling with yours. You closed your eyes as his tongue brushed against yours with an hesitant lick. His light touch, more a hesitant exploration than a proper kiss, initially caught you off guard. Deciding to take charge, you closed the remaining distance and drew him into a proper kiss, imbued with urgency.

You wanted to consume him entirely, to have him whole within your mouth. Your lips pressed fervently against his, tongues dancing and exploring. Patrick tasted of beer, a sharp reminder of his earlier indulgence and the actions that followed. In that heated moment, you wondered if he could sense the lingering taste of his own flesh and Art's touch upon your tongue. The kiss was wet, a bit too eager, your mouths struggling to find harmony. Patrick was a messy kisser, and you savored every chaotic second of it. His enjoyment was evident in the sounds he made : a captivating blend of moans and gasps for air.

Saliva mixed as your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, wanting more of him, needing more of this connection. His hands found your hip, drawing you in until there was no space left between your bodies. Each movement desperate, as if trying to convey all the unspoken words and feelings you had kept hidden all at once.

When you parted to catch your breath, you kept your lips pressed against his, inhaling his oxygen as if it were your own. Wow. You thought, still trembling from the encounter. Your world would never be the same now that you had experienced such bliss. Once more, the visions washed over you, images of wedding, babies, and growing old together. But they were abruptly interrupted by Patrick's impatience. "Roll over, I want to see your ass." He demanded. He didn't need to repeat himself. You existed to fulfill his every command. If he desired you as his slave, you would oblige without hesitation. You surrendered onto your stomach, glancing sideways to observe his next move. He gently pulled down your panties, and you assisted by lifting your hips. His hand came down hard on your butt, delivering a sharp spank that silenced any further movement from you. A startled moan escaped your lips in response. It seemed like if there was one thing in this world Patrick Zweig took seriously, it was ass play. After the sting of the slap, he replaced it with warm, tender kisses on your bottom. He slid his fingers between your cheeks, circling your asshole before gliding down to your womanhood, plunging his index finger inside you. "You're so wet for me..." He murmured. You bit your lower lip, nodding eagerly. You were always wet when it came to him, as if his presence kept you in a constant state of arousal. He added a second finger, spreading them apart to widen you. "Get on all fours for me. Spread those sweet cheeks of yours." He commanded. You obeyed without hesitation, getting on your knees and reaching back to spread yourself open for him. Your chest supported your body weight as you positioned yourself, completely exposed and vulnerable, offering yourself fully to your lover, your panties hanging on your legs.

Then, his lips joined in, and you felt his tongue on your clit, softly sucking the bud. A moan of his name escaped your lips. His face was buried deeply between your legs, the tip of his nose brushing against your entrance. It was so different from when Art went down on you. Art was meticulous and slow, but Patrick was messy and eager, mirroring his kissing. You couldn't tell if you were extra wet or if Patrick was just salivating like a starving man. His tongue slid up to your asshole, and he began flicking it there, sending shivers through your entire body. His fingers had withdrawn from inside you, but they still lingered, teasing your swollen folds, roughly massaging your clit, almost abusing it. You were a moaning mess. It was the first time Patrick took the time to focus solely on your pleasure. Sure, it was likely a prelude to fucking you afterward, but for now, his own gratification wasn’t directly involved. He just wanted to make you come. He was lavishing you with long, deliberate strokes of his tongue, starting from your ass and trailing to your pussy, teasingly inserting the tip into both openings each time. As his tongue worked its magic on your pussy, you felt the waves of your first orgasm building. You gasped, pushing your hips back toward him. "Pat-..." You moaned, your legs trembling, making it difficult to stay on all fours.

His fingers neared your asshole, his index circling it before slipping the first joint inside, your juices acting as lubricant. The sensation was underwhelming, you could barely feel his touch. Why was he acting like you were a virgin? Why was he handling you so gently? You yearned for him to ravish you like a wild animal. "Fuck me already!" You whimpered, glancing back at him. He withdrew, gazing at you as if seeking confirmation, then hastily pulled off his shirt and unbuttoned his pants, kicking them off in a rush.

"Got any lube?" You nodded, opening the bedside drawer. It was filled with an assortment of accessories that made Patrick snort. "You’re well prepared." He joked, leaning over you to rummage through the drawer. When he grabbed the lube and started to pour some onto his fingers, you stopped him. "Not too much. I want to feel you stretching me…" You said, watching as he bit his lower lip, clearly affected by your words. He coated his length with a quick stroke of his hand, then positioned himself behind you, teasingly rubbing his tip against your entrance. You had always thought it was impossible to hate Patrick but in that moment, you found yourself oddly resentful of Patrick. After several agonizing strokes along your crack, he finally pushed himself into your ass. You gasped, unprepared for the sudden fullness and the way he stretched you wide. You expected him to at least take his time with his cock, that wasn’t the case.

"You've got all these toys, but deep down, you're just a cockslut." He remarked. And maybe he was right. After all, most of those toys had been used with thoughts of Patrick's cock in mind. "Look at you, swallowing me whole. So hungry." He observed as you clenched around him with all your might. It wasn't as effortless as he made it sound, but there was no need for him to know that.

He rested his hands on both your hips and began moving inside you at a deliberate pace. You instinctively pushed back against him, syncing your movements with his. The sensation of his balls slapping against your entrance sent a rush of heat through you. His balls were undeniably your favorite part of him. Was it because of their symbolic significance, representing the potential to mother his child one day? Or was it their aesthetic appeal, hanging so perfectly beneath his thick cock? You couldn't quite pinpoint the reason. Releasing your grip on your cheek, you placed your hand over his on your hip, interlacing your fingers with his as he thrust into you with increasing intensity. Oh my god, you were holding Patrick Zweig’s hand. Well, sort of.

You really were losing it. Patrick Zweig was fucking you in the ass, and all you could fixate on was the sensation of your hands touching. “Fuck, you’re so tight…” He murmured, spurring you to tighten even more for him. As enjoyable as his thrusts were, it was his voice and fervor that pulled the moans from your lips. His free hand left your hip and stealthily made its way to your clit, massaging it with the same intensity as his movements. The combination of his fingers on your sensitive bud and the rhythmic impact of his balls against you sent waves of exquisite pleasure through your body.

You glanced back at him and were struck by his breathtaking beauty. Sweat droplets clung to his hair and nose, his mouth hung half-open, and his eyes were locked on the point where your bodies met. When he caught your gaze, he placed a firm hand on your head, pressing you into the pillow. Without missing a beat, he continued to ram into you, his grip holding you down as he drove you both to the edge.

Tears streamed down your face, but there was no pain, only an overwhelming sense of euphoria. This was divine. The joy of being with him, of fulfilling his desires, consumed you entirely. It was an ecstasy you could no longer contain. "More…" You pleaded, pressing yourself closer to him, needing him with an intensity that bordered on desperation. He was pounding into you like a man possessed, your comfort an afterthought. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the room, a rhythm that matched the frantic beat of your heart. The delicious sound filled your ears, heightening your pleasure. When your second orgasm took you over, you weren’t quite ready for it. You wanted to explode at the same time as him to experience bliss by his side but your body had betrayed you. You tightened around his cock and let out a high-pitched moan, almost too quiet to hear. Patrick continued a few more thrusts before reaching his own climax and when he finally came, he collapsed onto you, pressing you into the bed. His chest heaved against your back, his breath hot on your neck, his cock still buried deep between your cheeks. You felt him more intensely than ever before, his heat consuming you from the inside out. Breathless, sweaty and tear-streaked, you buried your face in the pillow, feeling him panting above you. He brushed the hair off your face and kissed your neck tenderly. “Wow… baby…” He whispered in your ear. Baby? If he wanted to kill you, he had just found the way.

●

Patrick had stayed the night, and it had been far more intimate than the previous one. After fucking, you both had showered together, which inevitably had led to more sex. The shower had felt somewhat pointless as you had ended up lying naked together on your stained sheets. Patrick had lit a cigarette, and amidst casual conversation that covered everything and nothing, he had mentioned his concerns about the tour not going well. You did your best to reassure him, emphasizing how he was the best player you knew and only needed to regain his confidence. He had also confided in you about the pressure from his parents to pursue a more conventional career. You had always assumed being the golden child of a wealthy family would be the easiest thing in the world, but Patrick seemed to be struggling under the weight of his family's expectations. After discussing his challenges, he had turned the conversation to you, asking about your classes and showing genuine interest in your life. It had made your heart flutter, while you enjoyed hearing about him, it meant a lot that he had wanted to know about you too. The night had continued with passionate making out until your tongues were sore, and eventually, you had both drifted off to sleep in each other's arms.

Yet, your bubble was on the verge of exploding. He was officially leaving campus tonight. Determined to prolong your time together, you had skipped classes, rarely venturing out from your room except to fetch food. Clothing had become an optional inconvenience, discarded whenever possible.

You both lay naked on the bed, your head at the foot while Patrick rested at the other end, his legs extended. The room had fallen into a comfortable silence. Between the moans that had ceased and the exhaustion that lingered, words seemed unnecessary. "You've got cute toes." Patrick remarked suddenly, his finger tracing a line along the arch of your foot. "Toes?" You asked, taken aback by the unexpected attention to such a trivial body part. Was Patrick secretly a freak like you? “Yeah, mine are all fucked from the tennis shoes.” He raised his foot to your face, exposing bunions and calluses. As you examined his foot closely, memories of a particular sock hidden under your bed flashed through your mind. A sock you had savored so intensely that it had become even more pungent, forcing you to wash it reluctantly. The desire to experience that tangy taste again overwhelmed you. Fixating on his foot, you seized it and enveloped his big toe with your lips, sucking gently as you gazed into his eyes. As you continued, you pressed your own foot against his crotch, massaging it. Despite the redness and swelling from the intense attention it had received throughout the night, Patrick seemed to overlook any discomfort, lost in desperate moans of pleasure. You switched to his second toe, giving it the attention it deserved. And so on until all of his toes were covered with saliva. "Had worse in my mouth." You chuckled, your foot still working him over. Patrick bit his lower lip, curious. "Like what?" He asked. "Oh, you know, your best friend's cock." You shrugged, causing him to sigh. "No need to be a bitch about it, you sucked him plenty, no?" Was trash-talking his friend off-limits? Wasn’t what he was doing even worse than that? "I thought it was alright until I got a taste of yours." You explained, hoping to lighten the mood.

"I've never felt like this before." You confessed, inching closer to Patrick to meet his gaze. You sensed your words had stirred something within him. "I will never be the same." Cupping his face, you compelled him to look directly into your eyes. "Do you think I can go back to how I was living before you?" You didn't wait for his response, pulling him into a deep kiss. Deep down, you knew his answer wouldn't be what you wanted to hear. Kissing Patrick felt inexplicably right, it was a sensation you doubted anyone else could comprehend. His tongue entwined with yours, sending sparks through your body, his rough lips meeting yours in a perfect union. When you finally pulled away, you both lingered in a silent exchange, words seeming futile. "Let's grab lunch, he's probably waiting for us." Patrick muttered, stepping back and retrieving his clothes from the floor. If you wanted Patrick all for yourself, Art needed to get the fuck out of your lives as soon as possible.

●

"Did you make it home okay last night?" You inquired, your gaze fixed on Art. The glare you shot him betrayed your frustration. You hated him for even existing. "Yeah, I got back early." He replied calmly. The three of you were seated at a table, sharing a meal. You couldn't help but notice how effortlessly Patrick reverted to his usual self, while you struggled not to fixate on him and envision his fingers up your cunt. It infuriated you that he could act so nonchalantly, treating you almost like a stranger. "Really? Then why didn't you text this morning?" The accusatory question slipped out unintentionally. You hadn't bothered checking your phone much that morning, but the absence of any message from Art had surprised you when you finally did. You were itching for a confrontation, and any excuse would do. "Practice. Lost track of time." Art explained, sensing your displeasure. He knew he was in hot water. "I was waiting for your messages." You replied curtly. "Patrick and I had a lot to catch up on." Patrick? Your Patrick? The same guy who was fucking you all night? "Oh really? You were with Patrick?" You squinted at Art. He turned to Patrick, hoping for backup. Patrick nodded. "Yeah, we hung out." He lied. You had always sensed that he would choose his best friend over you, and now you were certain of it. "You're a terrible liar." You accused Art, raising your voice. "And you're no better." You pointed at Patrick, disappointed by his lack of support.

Pushing your barely touched tray away, you stood up. "I was with Tashi, but I didn't want to upset you... I knew you'd get mad." Art confessed finally. "I'm just mad that you're a liar." You sighed. "I talked to her, I think you’re mistaken about us." Art tried to reassure you. "So you don’t only talk to me when you're horny?" You confronted him, eyebrows raised, waiting for an explanation. "I don't do that." He claimed. What a fucking liar.

"Then why do you disappear when it's not about sex?" You demanded. "I haven't forgotten our date two days ago. Just one date, and you couldn't make it until it was too late to go out because you were with another girl. Do you think I'm stupid?"

At that point, you were grasping for reasons to end things with him. You didn't care if he had slept with the entire team on the frat house floor, or even Tashi. What mattered was that he was holding you back from your love story with Patrick. Without waiting for his response, you walked away from the table. You may have been the one labeled a cheating lying whore, but Art was the one left feeling in the wrong. Good.

●

You were hiding in your room, seething with anger at both boys. Patrick, for siding with Art, and Art, for simply breathing. A knock on the door interrupted your fuming. You walked over and opened it to find Patrick standing there. "I wasn't expecting you." You said, stepping aside to let him in. No matter how angry you were, you couldn't leave him standing at the door. You locked it behind him. "I told Art I’d talk to you after your fight." He began. You sighed, already bored with the conversation. "What was that about, anyway?" He asked, looking genuinely confused. He didn’t seem to grasp how irrationally you could act when it came to him. "I'm mad at you too." You confessed, crossing your arms in front of him. "Me? Why? I was just trying to act unsuspicious." He said, raising his hands innocently. "So no matter how sore my ass gets, Art is always going to be your favorite?" You asked, hoping he would reassure you of your importance to him. He didn't answer. "I said I would try to talk to you, but I was thinking of using my tongue in a better way." Sex, again. The only thing that really worked between you two. He wrapped his arms around you, placing a soft kiss against the side of your neck. You tilted your head, letting him nibble on the skin there.

Before you knew it, Patrick was beneath you, his hands on your breasts as you rode his face. His tongue delved deep inside you, expertly fucking you with it while his nose rubbed deliciously against your clit. You could tell by his gasps for air that it was getting harder for him to breathe, but you loved it. You had never had sex as much as you had this weekend, and the muscles in your thighs were terribly sore, your clit on fire, and your walls irritated but you couldn't stop. You didn't know if you would ever see Patrick again, and if you did, who knew if you would become his dirty little secret once more? You rolled your hips over his tongue, your fingers tangled in his hair, slightly tugging on it. No matter how much you focused on his mouth, you just couldn’t relax. Both exhausted and saddened by his impending departure. His beard was also chafing you so bad. You lifted yourself off his face and chose to straddle his hips instead. “Don’t like it?” He asked as you moved away from his mouth. “Love it, I just want to feel you.” You replied, pulling him into a sloppy kiss. His face was covered in your juices, and kissing him felt like eating your own self out. Patrick’s hands found their way to your ass, spreading your cheeks as wide as possible. You started grinding against his crotch, rubbing your swollen clit against his length. Both of you moaned into each other’s mouths. You knew you had to be quick. It would be suspicious for the two of you to spend too much time together. But you didn’t want to rush, you wanted to give him a proper goodbye. After a few more rubs, you slid your hand between your bodies and aligned his length with your entrance. As you sat down on his cock, the pain was sharp, your inner walls could barely handle the friction anymore. You weren’t wet enough. You quickly pulled away and grabbed the lube bottle, spreading some into your palm and coating his length. If your body couldn’t accommodate him naturally, you’d find another way to ensure he could move inside you. Tossing the bottle aside, you sat back onto his length. The slickness made it much easier.

Despite the pain, you were determined to make him come. You wanted to see his face in that moment of release, to feel him fill you up. Ignoring the discomfort, you bounced on him with relentless determination. He started thrusting up to match your pace, and you clung to his chest, riding him with fierce intensity. Nothing about your union was pleasurable anymore, but you continued, driven by a desperate need to connect one last time. You simulated a few moans to keep him engaged. The fact that you were having sex with Patrick Zweig and faking it was such a crazy idea. However, it seemed to work well enough for him to assist you in bouncing faster on his cock. He continued to fuck you passionately. Your thighs were in such pain that you wanted to give up, but you couldn't. You had to be enough for THE Patrick Zweig. Sweat was streaming down your forehead as you continued to rock your hips on top of him.

He was nearly there. His fingernails dug into your skin, and he closed his eyes. When you felt him pulsating inside you with little to no release, you realized that his body was as exhausted as yours. You collapsed on top of him, embracing him as tightly as you could. "I don't want you to leave." You told him, your eyes welling up with tears. "I know." He responded, pulling you into a soft and slow kiss.

“Now make up with him and go be a good girlfriend.” Is that what he wanted you to do? Sure, you would do anything for him.

●

Watching him depart was heart-wrenching, even though you knew he'd return soon, for Art's sake. Standing in the parking lot with Art, waving goodbye as the car pulled away, a knot tightened in your stomach. You wanted to cry, scream, throw a tantrum like a child, but you couldn't afford to. You had to maintain composure in front of Art.

"I'm still sorry about earlier." He said. After your intimate farewell with Patrick, you had called Art to apologize for overreacting. Blaming it on your menstrual cycle, you had claimed you forgot to take your pill yesterday, and Art had paid the price. This excuse also bought you a few days' respite from him coming near your inflamed crotch. Or so you thought.

He enveloped you in a hug from behind, nuzzling your neck. "Did you go for a run again? You smell." He remarked, catching a trace of Patrick's sweat. Despite your shower, it seemed your body was becoming intertwined with Patrick's. "Yeah, I will go take a shower." You replied, meeting his gaze. "Let me come with you, I could use one too." He suggested eagerly. Dread filled you, but if Patrick wanted you to pretend nothing had happened and fuck Art, you'd comply.

In your bedroom, you hurriedly shed your clothes, aiming to get to the shower and scrub yourself clean between your legs before Art joined. "Did you smoke in here?" He asked, making your heart race. Caught red-handed. Despite opening the window and changing the sheets, Patrick's scent lingered. "No, but Patrick was here earlier, trying to convince me not to dump your ass." You deflected, shrugging it off as you stepped into the shower and drew the curtain. Desperate, you lathered soap over your folds, trying to erase any trace of Patrick. It stung horribly. Art joined you in the shower, his hands exploring your body eagerly.

"Art... We shouldn't... My pill." You pleaded, attempting to halt his eager touch on your swollen clit, but he persisted. A gasp and a grimace of pain escaped you, mistakenly taken by him as sounds of pleasure. "I can still make you feel good." He insisted, dropping to his knees and lifting your leg onto his shoulder, burying his face in your crotch. You whimpered as his tongue teased your clit. Why was he so fixated on eating you out? Couldn't he be more like other guys who enjoyed being blown? "What if I'm bleeding?" You tried to dissuade him, but he disregarded your concern. "I don't care.” He replied. Freak. "You're so swollen, I think you might really be ovulating." He commented, his tongue still flicking over your pussy. With a sigh, you closed your eyes, praying for this to end as fast as possible.

Thank goodness, Art proved to be a gentle lover with a smooth chin. It wasn’t exactly pleasurable, but at least it didn’t exacerbate the discomfort you were already feeling. Once again, you summoned your acting skills to feign enjoyment, letting out a fabricated moan as he continued to explore your labia with his mouth. Gripping his wet hair firmly, you emitted another simulated whimper. Art delved his tongue deeper, and you silently hoped any trace of Patrick was long gone. "I'm close..." You murmured, then closed your legs around his head, simulating an orgasm. He released your leg and stood up, wrapping his arms around your neck and kissing you deeply.

For a brief moment, guilt crept in within you for manipulating the boy. However, you quickly reminded yourself that he had only ever been a conduit to Patrick, nothing beyond that.

●

It had been a few days since Patrick had come home. Although he was physically far from you, your relationship had grown stronger. You would talk online for hours, and on lucky nights, you would get to hear his voice when he called you on the phone.

That day, you had spent hours at your computer, waiting for Patrick's AIM icon to turn green. It was already too late for you, you could tell you were madly in love. Your life revolved around Patrick, and you wanted to be available whenever he needed you. You lived to serve him. You had always been a bit excessive when it came to him, but now you were a lost cause.

You: So what’s up with you? Patrick: Thinking about your tight cunt. You: Are you? Patrick: Send pics.

He wanted a picture? Of you? That was concrete proof that you were a significant part of his life. Significant enough for him to want to keep a part of you with him while he was away. You hastily kicked off your sweatpants and hurried to your desk to grab your compact camera. Setting the timer, you bent over and spread your cheeks in front of the lens. Flash. Grabbing the camera, you examined the picture closely. You looked huge. Placing the camera back on the desk, you reset the timer and sucked in your stomach this time, ensuring to spread your labias wide. Another flash. This one looked a bit better. Your crotch looked so much healthier than during his visit. You connected the camera to your laptop and dropped the picture into the conversation.

You: You sent a picture. Patrick: Fuck, I want to be inside you so badly. You: Can I get a picture too? Patrick: Patrick sent a picture.

It exceeded all your expectations. The photos revealed Patrick's lower abdomen, his hand gripping his erect penis tightly, and his large sack prominently displayed. Unfortunately, you couldn’t see his face. Was he biting his lips? Were his eyes closed? Was he looking at your picture while touching himself? It didn’t really matter, your hand was down your panties anyway, touching yourself.

Patrick: I qualified for the Sacramento Capitals. We could see each other then. I could come pick you up tomorrow. You: Really? I would love to.

Ever since Patrick had filled you and made you complete, classes seemed utterly pointless. Skipping a few days and failing them didn't concern you. It was evident you were securing your future as an athlete's wife. However, Art posed a challenge. He expected you to always be there, playing the role of the sweet, devoted girlfriend.

You: What do I tell Art? Patrick: I don’t know, find an excuse. Your family cat’s dying or something like that. You: You know my pussy’s already dying for you.

It only took a second for your cell phone to ring. “Hello?” You answered, a smile on your face. “Am I speaking to the aching pussy?” He teased. "Aching is the word. You fucked me so hard I could barely piss without it burning like hell." You whimpered, prompting a chuckle from Patrick. "I know the feeling. Is it still sore?" It had only just started to calm down after four days, the perfect amount of time to feign a painful period and keep Art's dick as far away from you as possible. "No." You replied. "Then make it sore for me again." He said, catching you off guard. Patrick wanted phone sex? "Grab one of those little toys you have.” He instructed. You opened the drawer and picked out your favorite purple vibrator. "What should I do with it?" You teased, you knew what to do but you wanted to hear him say it. "Is it a vibrator?" He asked, his voice husky. You hummed in confirmation. "Play with your clit.” He commanded. Positioning the toy against your bud, you switched it on. "It's on." You gasped, the vibrator buzzing against your clit. "Are you stroking yourself too?" Your voice was breathless with anticipation. "Like hell, I am." Patrick replied, his voice deep and filled with desire. You imagined him as he appeared in the picture he had sent you earlier, and a moan escaped your lips at his revelation. "Imagine it's my pussy milking you." You whispered, matching the rhythm of the vibrator with the pace of Patrick's heavy breathing. "I'm fucking you so good, you're so tight around me." He groaned, his voice sending shivers down your spine. You closed your eyes, picturing Patrick above you, his body pressed against yours. "Play with your tits, just for me." Patrick urged, his voice thick with arousal. With your free hand, you slid under your shirt, grasping your breast and massaging it, imagining Patrick's hands on you. "My nipples are so hard. Like my clit." You moaned, your arousal building with every word he uttered. "Patrick..." His name escaped your lips like a plea. "I'm so hard too, baby." Patrick murmured, the endearment sending a rush of heat through you. Minutes passed in a haze of pleasure and desire. You felt your pussy clench around the vibrator as it vibrated against your folds, mirroring Patrick's intensity on the other end of the phone. "Patrick!" You groaned, the sound echoing through the room. You heard him whimper on the other side of the line, confirming he was just as affected. "Good girl, I hope you'll be as good tomorrow." Patrick whispered huskily, his voice low and intimate, leaving you breathless and eager for more.

"I miss you so much. I can't wait to see you." You panted, the dildo still vibrating beside you. He had already hung up.

●

Coming up with an excuse had been easier than expected. Art was a family man, so when he heard about your sick aunt's health declining and your mom wanting you to be there, he nearly insisted you leave immediately. You mentioned that your cousin could pick you up tomorrow for the drive back home. It was the best you could come up with, knowing he would have insisted on meeting any other family member.

That night, he had decided to stay over to offer his support. Throughout the night, he had managed to remain appropriate, but now it was morning, and you were both cuddling in bed. His morning wood was pressing against your stomach. "I will miss you so much." He murmured, his hands wandering to your ass, giving it a squeeze. You could feel his desire, his need for you. Your aunt was dying, and he wanted to have sex? What a weirdo. There was no way you were going to let him spoil your body. You needed to be squeaky clean for Patrick. "I will miss you too." You lied, trying to keep your voice steady. His hands became more insistent, sliding into your pajamas, but you were determined not to give in. You pulled his hands out of your pants and shook your head. "I'm not really in the mood... Want me to blow you?"

Fellatio was the easiest way to get him to come. It only took some energetic sucking and a few tight strokes before he would make that weird sound and release himself. Today wasn't any different. After about ten minutes of bobbing your head and moaning as if it were the most appetizing treat, Art exploded in your mouth. Exactly what you didn’t want. You had hoped to trick him into coming into your hand, but he had not warned you beforehand. Now what? You had always swallowed before, you couldn’t just suddenly spit it out. So you swallowed his cum reluctantly, then hid your face in his neck, pulling him into a hug. You felt sick.

You glanced at his watch. Saved by the bell. "Don't you have to go?" He followed your gaze to his wrist and sighed. "My coach is waiting." He placed a soft kiss on your lips and began dressing in the clean clothes he had brought from his room. You watched him, feeling indifferent. "Don't forget to text me once you're there." He reminded you. You nodded. "Have fun at practice." With a wave, he exited the door, leaving you alone.

The moment he left your room, you rushed to the bathroom, kneeling in front of the toilet bowl. You shoved your fingers down your throat, forcing yourself to be sick. You needed to purge any trace of Art from your body before meeting Patrick. You wanted to be pure for him.

Staring at yourself in the mirror, you confronted your reflection. You were about to live the romance you had dreamt of for two full days with the man you loved, yet you had never felt so ugly. Apart from the few precious moments Patrick granted you, you hated your life and yourself and it was showing from the outside. You brushed your teeth hard, trying to scrub away the taste of your boyfriend.

●

With your travel bag slung over your shoulder, you made your way to the drop-off area. It was risky for Patrick to pick you up right outside the campus, but you didn’t care. Sure, Art knew many students, but not many were aware of your relationship with him. You were willing to risk it, you had missed Patrick way too much. Besides, you wouldn't be exactly heartbroken by a breakup.

When you spotted Patrick's car, you hurried toward it, your steps quickening with excitement. You opened the passenger door to find Patrick greeting you with a big smile. You jumped into the car, closed the door behind you, and threw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a deep kiss. Your tongue eagerly met his, tasting cigarettes and energy drinks. You felt like you were finally home, nestled in his embrace. It had been so long that you had almost forgotten how much you loved him. "Hey, handsome." You greeted him, your heart fluttering. "Hey, beautiful." He replied, giving you butterflies. You knew he was just mirroring your words, but you chose to ignore that fact.

Once you were buckled up and had placed your bag on the back seat, Patrick started the engine and drove off campus. The drive was only a couple of hours long, but you were excited to spend time in his company.

He offered you snacks and soda, which you declined. There was no way you wanted to feel bloated and fat in front of Patrick. The radio played some pop songs that Patrick hummed along to, making you smile. You decided to sing along, inviting him to join you. Soon, both of you were singing out loud, as if you were the only two people in the universe.

“I’m so proud of you for winning your spot there.” You suddenly said, reaching for his ear and playing with it. It was the first time you had dared to touch that part of him. Somehow, it felt like one of the most precious parts of his body, maybe because you cherished it so much. “Thank you.” Patrick replied with a smile, his eyes still focused on the road as he held the steering wheel. You continued discussing tennis and university, carefully avoiding mentioning Art.

Remembering that you hadn't texted Art, you pulled out your phone and quickly typed a message.

← [To: Art - 8:13 PM] I’m with my cousin, we’re almost there.

You tried to hide who you were texting, but Patrick noticed. He fell silent. You quickly slipped your phone back into your pocket. “Where are we staying?” You asked, trying to divert his attention from your texting. “Hotel.” He replied curtly. You couldn’t believe that Art had managed to ruin things even from miles away. “What kind of hotel?” You pressed, trying to get him to talk more. “I don’t know, a nice hotel?” He shrugged, no longer smiling. You already missed the sight of his teeth. You turned to him and placed your hand on his crotch, grabbing his dick. “Will you fuck me there?” You asked, squeezing him hard to get a reaction.

He glanced at you, biting his lower lip, and nodded. You pulled your seatbelt aside and leaned over, pulling his cock out of his shorts. “Can’t wait.” You mumbled, holding his length in front of your mouth. You wrapped your lips around the head, sucking on his foreskin. “Don’t.” He whined, leaning back against his seat. “I took the car right after practice and I’ve been on the road all day. I haven't had a chance to shower yet.” You looked up at him. “You think that will make me stop? I want to do it even more now.” You said. You loved it when he was all smelly and musky. You loved your Patrick all nasty. His scent had the power to drive you mad.

“You’re a freak.” He said, a smirk on his lips. You gripped his shaft firmly at the base, your other hand caressing his balls, while your tongue traced every inch of his length. Your mouth was all over him, intent on reminding him of what he had been missing out on. The intensity with which you pleased Art earlier paled in comparison to the energy you now put into drawing passionate moans from Patrick's lips.

Whether it was the distance or the thrill of performing the act in plain sight, Patrick came in no time, filling your mouth with his warm release. As you withdrew and tucked his member back into his shorts, his cum lingered on your tongue, a taste you adored. You yearned to savor him endlessly, wanting to hold onto him forever. Eventually, you swallowed, feeling his warmth settle in your stomach. It was probably the best spot to store it after your pussy and your ass.

When the car stopped at a red light, he grabbed your neck and pulled you into a sloppy kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth as if searching for something. You moaned softly, taken aback by his boldness, enjoying every moment of his embrace. The green light allowed you to catch your breath. “How come you never try to spit it back to me?” He asked, glancing at you. How could you explain to him that you wanted to consume all of him, not letting a single drop go to waste? That you needed to be filled by him, that it wasn’t just a want but a need? That his cum belonged to you alone? That it wasn’t even his anymore?

“You’re too tasty.” You mumbled, looking out the window.

●

“This place is crazy.” You had not visited a lot of hotels but this one had to be one of the high end. “Courtesy of daddy.” You didn’t know much about Patrick’s parents except that they were extremely wealthy. You imagined Patrick’s dad to look similar to him but with salt and pepper hairs and lines on his face. In that moment, you wished to still be around in the future to witness Patrick grow old and gray. You pulled him into a tight embrace and grabbed his butt. “Could I get the discourtesy of daddy then?”

“I have to sort my bag before the match and then I’m all yours, babe.” He said, placing a soft peck on your lips before pulling away. He started rearranging his rackets and replacing the grip tape on one of them. You watched him work, tempted to tell him what you had done with his rackets in the past when you were desperate for his touch. But some things were better left secret for now. You could however reveal how seeing him with a racket was a true turn on.

"You know, I used to fantasize about your backhand." You confessed as you watched him inspect his racket intently. "My backhand?" He responded, taken aback by the unexpected revelation. "Yes." You continued, unabashed. "I wanted you to swing that racket at me with all your strength, just like you do with the ball." By now, he understood how violence was a turn on for you, but he had never ventured into anything that could potentially harm you. Did he have it in him to be the rough motherfucker you wanted him to be? "I wouldn't even care if it put me in a wheelchair or killed me." You added boldly. "I would gladly die that way."

He stared at you with a mixture of disbelief and intrigue, as if you had proposed the most audacious plan. Yet, beneath his initial reaction, you sensed he was intrigued by the notion. When he rose from his seat and took his racket, sitting at the edge of the bed, you knew exactly what was about to happen. He patted his lap invitingly. "Come here." He said softly. You obediently stretched out across his lap, presenting your butt to him. With a gentle touch, he lifted your skirt and slid your panties down, exposing your bare skin. The first smack of the racket against your flesh made you jump slightly. You whined like one of those porn girls but you couldn’t help it. "Hard, you said?" He asked, his voice low and teasing. You nodded, biting your lower lip, eyes closed in anticipation. He lifted his racket high above his head, poised as if preparing to serve, and then struck you with all his might. A scream escaped your lips, tears welling in your eyes from the undeniable pain. The impact reverberated through your body, the sensation lingering deep within your core. The pain was intense, but a part of you loved it. "Is this everything you dreamed of and more?" He asked, his voice tinged with amusement. You couldn't respond, the pain rendering you speechless. Instead, you nodded, burying your face in the sheets of the bed.

"I could play tic-tac-toe on your ass." He remarked playfully, setting aside the racket. Leaning in, he placed gentle kisses on the red marks, his touch tender against the lingering sting.

Things had escalated quickly. Both naked, Patrick's head was now nestled between your legs, lavishing attention on your neglected pussy. He sucked on your clit thoroughly, as if his life depended on it. Your hands tugged at his ears, now bright red and matching the color of your swollen bud. A wave of pleasure surged through you, and you moaned his name repeatedly, like a mantra.

His tongue had soon been replaced by his cock, stretching your entrance as he pounded into you with relentless force. Your legs wrapped around his waist, your hands tangled in his hair, and you struggled to keep up with his pace. The intensity of his thrusts reminded you of the first time Patrick had fucked you, but this time, his tongue was all over your mouth, filling it with his spit. You wondered if this was how he always acted when desperate for cunt. The sensation was overwhelming. You could feel yourself leaving your body, every muscle tensing up as you clenched hard around his dick. The orgasm surged through you, and you moaned into his mouth, your cries muffled by his eager kiss. Your body trembled, riding out the waves of pleasure as he continued to thrust, his own moans mixing with yours in a symphony of ecstasy.

"I'm about to come…" He gasped, swiftly withdrawing. He knelt over you, stroking himself as he hovered above. His gaze locked onto your breasts as he exploded all over your chest. Though you had fantasized about being covered in his semen countless times, you couldn't help but feel disappointed that all that cum was going to waste.

“This is so hot. Can I take a picture?” He queried, grabbing his phone on the bedside table. “You don’t need to ask, I would do anything for you.” You confessed, posing for the picture, eyes staring into the lens and legs parted.

●

That morning, you woke up nestled in Patrick's warm embrace. Despite the lingering soreness from the night before, you felt a rare sense of complete happiness. Patrick slept soundly beside you, his arms wrapped around you. With the match scheduled for the afternoon, you knew you had time to enjoy the quiet moment, watching his peaceful expression. It still amazed you that such a handsome man belonged to you, in a complex, undefined way, but still belonged to YOU. You cherished every part of him. The unruly eyebrows, the envy-inducing lashes, the delicate freckles on his prominent nose, his full lower lip, and the stubble that adorned his square chin. You gazed at him, knowing deep inside that you could never love anyone more. You remained there, lost in admiration for over half an hour until he stirred awake. As he opened his eyes, you leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss on his lips, finding charm even in his morning breath.

You sat upright in bed, the sheets draped over your naked body, feeling discomfort radiate from your sore ass. Every movement seemed to intensify the pain, so you opted to recline back against the pillows.

"What time is it?" He asked, rubbing his eyes sleepily. Glancing at the clock, you replied. "10:53 AM." His yawn was contagious, even though you had been awake for a while already. "Let's get dressed and go grab lunch." He suggested, rolling off the bed to head for the shower. You briefly considered joining him but decided to use the time to text Art, reassuring him that everything was going smoothly. When Patrick emerged from the shower, towel wrapped around his hips, you couldn't help but admire him with a sense of awe. Truly, you felt like the luckiest girl alive. "Your turn." He said, nodding toward the bathroom as he moved past you.

You felt like you had reached a new step of intimacy when Patrick casually entered the bathroom to use the toilet as you brushed your teeth a short while later. He nonchalantly pulled out his dick and pissed in front of you. It seemed odd to think so, but you found it insanely hot. Not the piss part, although if Patrick had that kind of fantasies, you wouldn’t mind, but his ease around you, making you feel like you were already his wife.

An hour later, both of you were showered, dressed, and on your way to find something to eat.

Even a trip to a burger joint with Patrick felt like a date, or at least you hoped it was. Opting for water, you mentioned feeling nauseous to justify your choice. There didn't seem to be anything remotely healthy on the menu. Meanwhile, Patrick ordered a full meal: burger, fries, and coke.

Watching him devour his food with such happiness filled you with an inexplicable sense of contentment. You couldn't suppress the smile that spread across your face as he indulged in his meal, sauce smearing his chin and nose. He looked like a child. You couldn't help but picture your future children being just as messy as he was. Perplexed by your hungry gaze, he extended a fry towards you.

"I haven't had fries in ages." You remarked as Patrick offered you one. You hesitated briefly, aware of the calorie count in just one fry. More than five. You had checked the info every single time you had craved some. The grease made you think twice, but you took a bite to please Patrick. "Don't they serve these almost every day at the cafeteria?" He asked, his mouth full. "I've been on a diet." You confessed, hoping for some praise on your efforts. Art had mentioned Patrick noticed the changes in your body. Instead, he frowned, scanning you from head to toe. "I don't think you need to diet. You're perfect as you are." Perfect? You weren’t ‘just fine’, you were perfect. The compliment shook you. "Even before? I was so chubby." You said, surprised. He fed you another fry. "I never thought you were chubby." He admitted. You knew he hadn't paid much attention to you in the past, but how had he missed that? "You hardly noticed me before. But admit it, you wouldn't have fucked me earlier this year." You said, rejecting the last fry offered. "You know why I wasn’t eyeing you before." Tashi. Or was it because of Art? "But I always thought you were hot." Did he? It was hard to believe him given his previous lack of interest. "You were always Art's hot girlfriend in my mind. Well, you are Art's hot girlfriend." He corrected himself. Why did he have to bring Art into this? You dreaded whenever his name was mentioned in the conversation, knowing it could spoil the moment. Hoping to sidestep any tension, you reached out and placed your hand on his thigh, then slid it up to his crotch, giving a gentle squeeze.

"You're insatiable, aren't you?" You shook your head playfully and kept teasing him through his shorts while sipping your water innocently. "I have to save my energy for the match." He said, removing your hand. “I would usually allow a quickie but I know that won’t be enough for the little slut that you are, so keep your hands to yourself.” He whispered into your ear. You pouted like a child at his remark. You knew the sudden name-calling, as hot as it was, was due to the mention of Art. You were starting to know Patrick by heart. He suddenly felt dirty for what he was doing to his friend so he needed to degrade you to make himself feel superior. You were the whore who seduced him. He didn’t mean to fall for it. You didn’t mind that he blamed you. What bothered you was the lack of physical touch.

If Patrick wasn't going to give you what you desired, you were determined to make his life miserable until he did.

After lunch, you chose to sunbathe on the balcony of the room. You had discarded your top to achieve an even tan. "Everyone can see you, you know." Patrick commented as he settled at the foot of your lounge chair. You shrugged. Why did he care about your breasts if they weren't going to be in his mouth? He cupped one of your tits, squeezing it. "No, save your energy for the match." You mocked, echoing his earlier remarks. "Such a whore." He pinched your nipple in reprimand for your attitude, then turned and walked back into the room.

In the hours leading up to the match, you busied yourself by dropping random objects and bending to pick them up in front of him, occasionally ‘accidentally’ brushing against his dick. You could see the frustration building in his eyes. He was fed up with you.

The drive to the court was brief, yet you couldn't resist teasing him more by slowly pulling up your skirt at every turn. You felt his gaze on your legs and chest, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. Your outfit wasn't drastically different from usual, but going commando added an element of novelty, showcasing your perky nipples and tight cunt to him. He clearly didn't fully comprehend who he was dealing with.

Once he parked the car, you hopped out and helped carry his tennis equipment. If fucking you was too much for him, then carrying his rackets should be, too. You had spent the entire morning treating him like he was incapable of anything by himself. You opened doors for him, wiped the corners of his mouth, assisted with his dressing, and even offered to wipe him when he excused himself to the bathroom, always using the excuse of conserving his energy. It was obvious he was amused by the situation and also enjoyed being treated like a princess.

Standing in front of the building, he took his bag back from you. “I don’t fuck losers, so you better win.” You warned him. In truth, you didn't care about the score, but you knew he needed the motivation. You were convinced his recent losses were due to a lack of support. He needed someone to cheer for him. “I’m just saying this for you." You teased, giving his ass a playful slap. "The guy you’re playing against is kinda cute. He will do." You shrugged and climbed up the bleachers to find your spot in the audience. As you settled in, you watched Patrick disappear into the building, a smile lingering on his face.

●

The first set had been a display of Patrick's skills, his forehand blistering the lines and his serves thundering past his opponent's defenses. Cheers from the crowd echoed around the stadium, encouragement punctuated by the occasional groan of dismay from his rival. You applauded enthusiastically. Perhaps you were biased, blinded by love, but Patrick's talent on the court was undeniable. You couldn't fathom why he hadn't already won a Grand Slam.

But as the second set unfolded, you knew why. The match took a different turn. Patrick's focus wavered, and with it, his precision. Unforced errors crept into his game, and his opponent, seizing the opportunity, began to make his way back point by point. The scoreboard tilted against him, the second set slipping away 6-4.

"Zweig, come on! I know you've got more in you than that!" You shouted at him. He glanced up at you, a smirk playing on his lips. Meeting your gaze, Patrick felt a surge of determination. This match was far from decided.

Entering the decisive third set, Patrick knew he had to regain control. The tension was high as the score grew tighter with each point. Sweat covered Patrick's forehead, his muscles tense. With every stroke, he fought to assert his dominance once more, refusing to let doubt cloud his mind.

At 5-5, the match hung in the balance. Patrick served with newfound determination, his first serves finding their mark with accuracy. He broke his opponent's serve with an impressive passing shot, seizing the opportunity with a groan of victory.

Serving for the match at 6-5, Patrick felt a surge of adrenaline. His serve was met with a return, but he anticipated it perfectly, sprinting to the net to deliver a crisp strike that left his opponent stranded. Match point.

As he walked to the baseline, he caught your eye in the stands. You subtly uncrossed your legs and parted them, revealing your lack of panties to him. You didn’t care that all the court could see your pussy right now, you wanted Patrick to fully admire his prize. You could sense his distraction at the sight of you, but he swiftly refocused himself. Winning was crucial if he wanted to claim you. The final serve was met with a powerful return, but Patrick was ready. He moved forward, anticipation guiding his racket as he unleashed a cross-court winner.

The stadium erupted in an echo of applause and cheers. Patrick dropped his racket, arms raised in triumph. He had won, not just the match, but the game you both played. Amidst the applause, he searched for your beaming face in the crowd, acknowledging the essential role you had played in his victory. He wiped his face with his towel and shook his opponent’s hand. You waited until the court's audience had dispersed and the cameras were no longer rolling before you joined your man.

Leaping into Patrick's arms, you wrapped your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. He instinctively gripped your thighs for support, his body glistening with sweat, looking more attractive than ever before. "Congratulations!" You exclaimed, drawing him into a passionate kiss. His lips tasted salty from the sweat covering his face. "Follow me." He murmured against your lips as he carried you inside the building. If he thought he could easily shake you off now, he had another thing coming.

●

Dropping you to your feet, Patrick led you to the locker rooms, which were empty for now. He pushed you into a cubicle and locked the door behind you. The scent of the room brought back memories of the frat house’s bathroom. "You've been teasing me all day. Now, you're going to pay for it." He warned. Pay for it? How? You grinned at him, sticking your tongue out playfully. He bit down on it gently, pulling you into a deep kiss, his hands roaming over your ass, groping you possessively. “Aren’t you tired after focusing so much on your tennis?” You teased, sliding your hands down his damp shorts to grasp his ass as firmly as he was gripping yours. “You’re such a cunt.” He grabbed your hands, removing them from his shorts as he flipped you over and shoved you against the way. Your nipples hardened against the cold wall. He pulled out his hard cock and plunged himself into you without any foreplay. You gasped at the sudden penetration, feigning dismay even as you loved every second of it. “People will hear us..” You whimpered as he started thrusting into you “Let them hear, I don’t care.” He retorted sharply, thrusting into you as your moans filled the room. You ensured your cries were loud enough to trick him into giving you deeper thrusts. Gripping your neck, he kept you facing the wall as you arched your back, inviting his forceful entry. Patrick exploded inside you without warning, then withdrew, leaving you frustrated. Noises beyond the door indicated you were no longer alone.

"I should punish you like that and not let you cum." He whispered in your ear, eliciting a whimper. "Please…" You pleaded, spreading yourself for him. "I will be good, I promise." You reached for his cock, but he slapped your hand away and re-entered you slowly, inch by inch. This was how he was making you pay for it : agonizingly slow thrusts that left you desperate. Moaning louder, you urged him to quicken his pace.

Laughter and whistles drifted through the walls, signaling that your little fun was no secret to others. Everyone knew someone was being fucked in there.

Finally giving in, Patrick began to ram vigorously, the wet sounds of his powerful thrusts reverberating through the room as you struggled to stifle your cries. "Patrick!" You moaned, your voice muffled by the wall you were almost kissing. Your orgasm washed over you, your legs shaking as you silently thanked the wall for supporting you. He slowly pulled out and flipped you around, capturing your lips in a sloppy kiss.

“Let’s go back to the hotel.” You giggled, pulling down your skirt. You could feel his cum running down your thighs, but you didn't care if anyone noticed. You wanted to parade your used-up cunt like a trophy. Patrick’s second trophy of the afternoon. Stepping out of the cubicle had been a challenge. As you stepped out, all the players turned to look at you, their faces adorned with wide grins. They knew what had happened in there, and it truly felt like a walk of shame. However, with Patrick standing beside you, holding your hand proudly, you felt like you could face anything.

●

Both of you had just emerged from the shower, wrapped in the hotel's luxurious bathrobes. Patrick sat on the bed while you positioned yourself behind him, legs on either side, tenderly brushing his hair. "I wish it could always be like this." You murmured, as Patrick closed his eyes in bliss. "What do you mean?" He asked. You dropped the hairbrush onto the bed and began to massage his scalp. "You and me." You replied. He sighed, already knowing where this was headed. This wasn’t the first time you had expressed your desire to be with him exclusively. A request he would simply ignore, no matter how much you would make him come to try to convince him. "I can't stand seeing their faces anymore. No one understands me quite like you."

“I don’t get you. You’re just totally freaky and I accepted it.” He said, unsure if his comment would sting. But it didn’t, it was true, and you both knew it. “Please, let me be yours.” You whispered in his ear, your breath warm against his skin. Your heart pounded as you waited for his response, hoping that this time, things might be different. Patrick leaned back into you, his body relaxing further under your touch. The silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken words and possibilities. “I won’t be demanding. I will let you do anything you want to me. I will let you use me and toss me around. And when you’re done with me, I will let you fuck every pretty thing you see and not be jealous, I promise.”

Your pleas elicited a burst of laughter from him before he fell silent, lost in his thoughts. "We can’t." He finally admitted, his voice barely audible. "I’d be the worst friend in the world."

Your hands paused in their gentle massage, and you leaned in closer, your lips brushing against his ear. "Fuck Art.. Claim me. I promise to be good." You pleaded softly, your voice a mix of desperation and longing. You eagerly began to nibble on his earlobe, craving his closeness.

Patrick turned his head slightly, his eyes meeting yours. "He’s my best friend and I already ruined things between us. This would destroy him." He replied, a sad smile tugging at his lips.

You understood that this wouldn't shatter Art. He didn't invest enough in you for it to cause any real pain. However, Patrick's betrayal would certainly sting. Yet, it would serve as the ideal pretext for Art to sever ties with Patrick, freeing himself from a friendship that held him back from Tashi.

"Plus, you probably only find this so endearing because you like chaos. You’re drawn to the secret rendez-vous, the homewrecking and the desperate fucking. I told you, you’re fucked in the head."

You sighed, resting your forehead against the back of his head. And here he was again with the agression. "You know that’s not true. I have wanted you ever since the moment I laid eyes on you. Remember the US Open Junior championship? Recall the girl waiting for Art outside the locker rooms? Did you truly believe I was waiting for Art? I simply couldn't compete with Tashi. But I promise you, I can be better than her."

He didn't respond immediately, but his hand reached up to cover yours, squeezing gently. Though he didn't speak, his subtle gesture conveyed a clear message, urging you to remain silent.

You slid off the bed and positioned yourself in front of him, loosening the belt of your bathrobe until it fell away, leaving you standing bare before him.

"Please. Tashi can’t make you come like I do.” You whispered, feeling the heat of his gaze tracing every curve of your body. You knelt before him once more, this time in a physical plea. If he sought devotion, you were prepared to demonstrate desperation.

"What about Art?" You loosened his robe and pressed your face against his crotch, nuzzling between his legs. “He can’t fuck you like I do.” You chuckled, savoring the musky scent from his balls as if it were the strongest drug. Though you had never indulged in any substances, Patrick was undeniably more addictive than anything else in the world. “I can’t do that to him…” He gazed down at you as though he were weighing the prospect of claiming you for good, even though you had been his since you were fourteen. You sensed he was on the brink of surrender. “He chose Tashi over you months ago.” You sensed his muscles tighten beneath your fingertips.

“Shut the fuck up.” His words were sharp, and so was his touch. He roughly shoved you aside, causing you to fall back onto your butt. Tears welled up in your eyes as you gazed up at him, searching for a hint of the connection you thought you shared. But it was clear : Art mattered more to him than you ever could.

"Please" You whispered, voice trembling with a mix of heartbreak and anger.

Patrick's eyes were cold, devoid of the passion that burned between you a couple of hours ago. "You’re the one who fucked up, he didn’t do anything. They didn’t do anything." He replied, his tone harsh and unyielding. Of course, you were the only one to blame. "It started as a game, but now... I can't do this."

“Now what?” The weight of his silence crushed you, the realization that this relationship had no future was cutting deeper than any physical pain.

“Tell me you don’t like me and I will leave you alone...” Without saying anything, he looked at you with conflicted eyes, then turned away abruptly, leaving you with a heavy silence that spoke volumes.

●

Patrick hadn’t uttered a single word at the hotel after that. The only time he spoke was to urge you to get dressed, as it was time to return to campus. The car ride back to the university was painfully silent, with only the radio and your muffled sobs breaking the quiet.

Once close to the campus, he pulled the car over to the side of the road, turning off the engine. The sudden silence was deafening. He turned to face you, his eyes filled with a mixture of longing and pain. The silence stretched on, and you could feel the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on you. Finally, unable to bear it any longer, you leaned over and kissed him. For a moment, he kissed you back with a desperate intensity that made your heart ache. But then he pulled away, breathless and shaken.

"I do care about you. More than I ever thought I would.” He whispered so quietly you had to strain to hear him. In that moment, it felt like there were only the two of you in the world. Those were the words you had been dying to hear, and it felt like he was only willing to admit them out loud once. Patrick Zweig cared about you. Maybe not as much as you cared about him, but it was a start. You were confident you could find a way to make him love you.

With a smile, you reached over to his crotch and slid your hand down his shorts, massaging him. That was the thing with Patrick, you didn’t know how to show your affection in any other way than through your body. Everything else felt...forbidden. Was it because you were in a relationship? Not exactly. Was it because you had idolized this man for so long that he had become some kind of god to you? Most likely. Patrick seemed unreal to you, and feeling his body was the only way to make sure he was real. He allowed himself to get lost in your touch for a moment, moaning at the sensation before abruptly stopping you. “Fuck, you’re truly mad.” He removed your hand from down his pants. “We can’t. Let’s drive you back.”

You had imagined countless ways to convince him to keep you. You could remain his side piece for the rest of your life, offering him your body before he went home to his wife and kids. Yet, you were certain he would find a way to reject you anyway. Deep down, you knew it all came down to his loyalty to Art, not your relationship with him. Now, you were parked in front of the campus.

“I love you.” You had wanted to tell him that ever since you first noticed him at fourteen. Saying it felt like the most natural thing in the world, it felt as natural as breathing. You nibbled on your lower lip, looking at him with hopeful eyes. You didn’t expect him to reciprocate because you knew he couldn’t. No, he wouldn’t. No one in the world could love as fiercely as you loved him. But you needed him to acknowledge it. He closed his eyes for a moment, as if absorbing your words. Taking a deep breath, he nodded in response to your confession. Of course, he already knew.

He unlocked the door, signaling for you to leave. Reluctantly, you opened the car door and stepped out. Patrick took a deep breath, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. "Take care of Art." Not a word for you.

"I will." You lied, your voice barely audible. You did not give two fucks about that asshole. You despised him and hated your relationship with him. Just thinking about him made you feel nauseous.

And with that, you turned and walked away, leaving behind the shattered remnants of a relationship that was never meant to be. For a fleeting moment, you considered stepping in front of the car and ending it all, hoping he might finally take you seriously and feel enough pity to let you stay even just an afterthought in his mind. But when you looked back, he was already far gone.

●

Not knowing what to do now that your life had been shattered, you wandered to Art’s dorm, hoping to find some comfort. You knocked on his door with urgency until he finally opened it. “Fuck, are you okay?” He asked, noticing your tear-streaked face and runny nose. “No…” You admitted, unable to hide the heartbreak you were experiencing. “Is she okay?” Who? Oh, right, your aunt. You remembered the lie you had concocted to slip away with Patrick. “She’s really not doing well. I think she’s going to die.” You replied, knowing deep down you were really talking about yourself.

Wrapped in Art’s bed, cocooned by the blanket, your face nestled against his neck while his hands traced gentle patterns on your back. Using him to dull the lack of Patrick had become a habit over the months, but now it felt unsettling, almost like betraying him. “I can’t keep lying to you. There’s someone else. Or there was.” You murmured against his skin, sensing his body tense beneath yours. “I already know.” He confessed. He knew? Why would he persist in perpetuating this farce of a relationship? The only rationale behind this seemed to be that the relationship held some benefit for him. Was it the intimacy? The status it afforded in Tashi’s eyes? “How did you find out?” You asked, seeking clarity on the matter.

“First of all, you never feel like doing it anymore, and you’re the horniest person I know.” He said. You barely had enough energy to fuck him, plus you couldn’t scrub yourself hard enough to remove the dirty feeling. “You have marks that I know aren’t just accid—” He poked at the bruise on your thigh, an obvious bite mark.

“And you don’t care?” You cut him off. You withdrew slightly to study his eyes, but he remained silent, offering no response. “God, you really don’t care.” You slightly raised your voice at him. You disentangled yourself from his embrace and slid out of the bed. Standing before him, hands firmly planted on your hips, you confronted him directly. “I truly wonder what I am to you. Don’t you think I went and fucked someone else because I just got tired of my boyfriend ignoring me to spend so much time with his ‘friend’ Tashi…?” You emphasized the word 'friend'. It was wrong, shifting the blame for your infidelity onto him. But you couldn't help it. You couldn't bear to be the villain in this story. Patrick was your soulmate, and Art was just there in the meantime.

“You know she needs us." Art attempted to explain, perched on the edge of his bed, his gaze fixed on you. "Us? She doesn’t need me, believe me." You reassured him. Tashi couldn't care less about you, and now that she was out of Patrick's life, you felt no obligation to keep her in yours. "Maybe because you're playing besties with her ex." He said, the way he phrased it sparking doubt about what he truly knew. Was he aware of your secret relationship with Patrick?

"Maybe someone needs to. You barely treat him like he's your best friend. And for what? Because he satisfies your little girlfriend in ways you never could?" You intended to talk about Tashi, but the parallels with your own situation felt uncomfortably apt. From the way Art glared at you, it was clear he understood the message perfectly. "You're a coward, Art. If you made a move, you could have her. But you prefer your comfort. You like having me around to keep your dick wet, but you don't love me. I'm just convenient." His eyes were red, though he wasn't shedding tears. You couldn't discern if he was sad or simply enraged. That was the perpetual challenge with Art : his reluctance to communicate. Even now, he maintained a stubborn silence. "Why her, by the way? Is it because she chose Patrick and you can't get over it? Just fuck her already. Get it out of your system. Or maybe you already have? Did she get down on her fucked-up knee and worship your talent?" You regretted mentioning Tashi's knee, but it was at the heart of the matter. The catalyst for everything.

“I fucked someone else and you won’t even react. Call me a whore, insult me, be disgusted by me. I don’t care, just say something. Grow some balls and end things with me.” You practically begged him. Patrick had no issue calling you all the names in the world. Why couldn't Art do the same?

"Let's end it." He finally muttered. You weren't sure if that was truly what he wanted, but it was definitely what you desired, and the ever-so-accommodating Art might have just said it to please you.

“Finally.” You clapped at him, more mocking than applauding his courage. "Thanks for everything." Grabbing your shoes, you left his room without looking back. Walking barefoot down the dorm hallway, a lump formed in your throat and tears streamed down your cheeks. You were crying. Who would have thought Art fucking Donaldson would ever make you cry?

You wouldn’t miss Art, but you couldn’t believe that you had let the opportunity to be with the man of your dreams slip away because of a relationship that had ended with a snap of a finger. Art had shattered your life's blueprint, the plans you had crafted since adolescence.

●

You were finally free, and you had to tell Patrick right away. At last, you could be together with the man you were meant to be with. Practically sprinting through the corridor, you hoped to reach your room before his bedtime. Grabbing your laptop, you opened AIM, hoping to see a message from him. Thank goodness he was online, but there was nothing from him. You clicked on his username and opened your chat box, scrolling through the dozens of nude pictures you had sent him.

You: I just broke up with him. Can I see you, please? Patrick: You truly love making my life insanely complicated.

You watched the "typing" indicator flash, but despite your endless waiting, nothing ever appeared on the screen. He was now offline. In a final desperate attempt, you sent him a ‘Please,’ only to be met with an automated response:

zweigpat can't receive IMs right now. Status is unavailable or offline.

●

As you lay in bed, tears staining your cheeks, you couldn't shake the feeling of rejection that hung heavy in the air. The weight of Patrick's silence felt suffocating, leaving you to wonder if he had blocked you out of his life completely.

Hours passed, the room growing darker as evening fell. Your stomach rumbled with hunger, yet you felt emotionally drained, as if life had been sucked out of you. A knock on the door shattered the silence, momentarily pulling you out of your misery. Could it be Art offering explanations? He had to be the last person you wished to see at this moment. Was it Tashi coming for a fight? She would destroy you. You had to admit, dying in her hands sounded quite sweet at the moment.

You hesitated before making your way to the door, the anticipation gnawing at your insides. With a shaky hand, you turned the doorknob, half expecting to see Art standing there with a remorseful expression. Instead, you were met with the sight of Patrick, his face etched with a mixture of uncertainty and longing. Your breath caught in your throat as you took in his presence, your mind struggling to process the sudden turn of events.

Before you could say anything, Patrick had closed the distance between you, his lips crashing against yours in a desperate, hungry kiss. It felt surreal, almost too good to be true. There he was, standing before you. Patrick Zweig. And he was yours.

He yearned for you with an intensity you had never seen before. His desperation for your touch, his craving for your lips and body, his longing for your love. All of it consumed him completely, making him a shell of himself. The roles were now reversed, and Patrick Zweig, once unattainable, now laid vulnerable at your feet. The power had shifted to your side. The longing in his eyes, the very thing you had waited for since you were fourteen, now seemed pitiful. He truly looked pathetic, and a twinge of revulsion began to creep into your thoughts. Patrick Zweig was yours and it felt disgusting.

♠♣♥♦

Tagging : @starrgurl46 @egcdeath @izzywags478 @serenadingtigers @justzluv

n/a : Here is part 2 of Silent Devotion. I'm not sure if this calls for another sequel. Is this turning into a series? I don't know, to be fair. I like writing about obssessive!reader (even though, she's not as remotely freaky as she was in part one) but it's always A LOT. I lose sleep over this. I also love that we got to see more of Patrick in this. Hope you liked it! (The amount of researches I had to do about facebook in 2006 and AIM.... I don't want to talk about it.)

See you next time!

#challengers 🎾#challengers fanfic #challengers fanfiction #challengers fic #challengers #patrick zweig #patrick zweig x reader #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #tashi duncan #challengers smut

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spidybaby · 5 months ago

Note

hi lovey ❤️ don't know if ur request are open but if they are pls do something with kyky maybe his whole family love you but his mum doesnt ❤️

Mama's Boy

Summary: Kylian convinced himself that his mother liked you, but when she openly rejects you in front of him, he has to choose which side to be.

Warnings: cursing, mommy issues, dysfunctional family.

At first, you thought it was something normal the way she behaved with you. Kylian even told you it was.

"She does like you. She just needs to get more comfortable around you."

You let it go. Thinking he was right, you were like that, too. It took you a little before being open and relaxed towards the rest of his family.

Being busy with your own things and having to work around Kylian's schedule and yours made you two not even cross paths.

Kylian asked you to help him with something related to his foundation, the same one his mother's the president of.

You were asked to pick some things and drop them off at the venue of the event. Melissa was there. She and Fayza were supervising that everything went the way they planned.

You texted Melissa that you were there, with everything Kylian asked you to bring. She went to the parking lot to help you with some things.

You walk with hands full, Fayza was talking with a man. Melissa was telling you about what activities were going to be performed at the event.

"Bonjour, Miss Lamari." You say, smiling at her.

"Hi." She says, not a single expression on her face. "Are you staying?"

"Kylian asked me to say." You say. You notice how she inhales, trying not to show her discomfort. "If that's okay with you, of course."

She nods, leaving you alone. You knew she didn't really want you there, but Kylian was the one asking you to stay and participate.

You help Melissa with some things outside of the venue, organizing some piles for the games with the kids.

Kylian arrives half hour later, when his mother sees him, she asked him to go get changed for the pictures and everything.

He has this way of making you think what his mother is doing is just not being herself around you because she doesn't know you that much, and she will eventually open to you.

The activity was fun, Kylian was playing with the kids. You love watching him interact with them. It was a glimpse of what you could archive with him.

You love how his parents. Mostly his mother, educate him to give to those in need. You love him and his acts of kindness.

"Stop daydreaming." Melissa says, laughing at your heart eyes. "Believe me, he wants the same thing as you."

"I hope he does." You smile. "Because I feel like I would die if he doesn't."

"You guys have been together for what now?"

"Two years in a month."

"Don't worry. He wouldn't play with you like that." she pats your back. "Now, can you help me with bringing the bags we put together?"

You nod, walking back to the warehouse. Fayza was putting the bags into a box to carry them outside.

"Miss Lamari, would you like some help with that?"

She didn't turn to you. She kept organizing the box. You move a little closer so you could help her. Passing her some things.

She lifts the box, you notice how I was kinda heavy due to the amount of things it has. "Let me help you."

What you didn't expect was her passing you the box. The heavy things make you almost lose control.

She left without saying a word. You walk slowly to the exit. Your back killing you from the weight you have in your hands.

Melissa noticed you were struggling with the box. Rushing to help you. "Didn't occur to make two trips?" She asks, taking one side of the box.

You nod out of breath. You two left the box in a little table you prepare. "I was thinking two trips. But Kylian's mother gave me the whole box." You sigh.

Melissa shakes her head, she was the only one who noticed that Fayza treated you in a non fairly way.

She never mentioned anything to you or to Kylian. It wasn't her place, but she didn't like the attitude towards you.

"Let's get this ready, I want a cold shower." She smiles, organizing with you.

You had a special thing about the way kids can easily be drawn to you. You loved the way kids felt so secure with you.

So seeing you interact with the kids as you hand them their bags was something that didn't surprised Kylian.

He was focused on the way you were talking to a little boy who was crying. Trying to calm him down.

"Kyks, the last thing you need to do is say the goodbye words, and we can leave." Fayza hands him the speech. When Kylian doesn't take the paper out of her hands, she turns to him. "Kylian, I'm talking to you."

"She's a natural, don't you think?" He asks her. She turns to where he is seeing. It was you with a kid on your hip while you give the others their bags. "She will be an amazing mother."

"Don't run when you can barely walk, Kylian. You are too young and too naive of what life is."

"Maybe I am, but I know that I would do everything for her."

Fayza turns back to him. Grabbing his wrist and leaving the paper in his hand. He then pays attention to his mother.

"Goodbye words, now." She says before leaving.

Kylian does what his mother asks him. Thanking everybody who helped that day and what the purpose of the activity was.

You and Melissa were eating a few treats that the kids got. Ranking them to keep yourselves occupied while waiting for Kylian and Fayza.

You feel two hands grabbing your waist. The smell of Dior Sauvage makes you smile. "What's that?"

"Hello to you too, Mister Mbappé." You joke with him. Turning your face to kiss his cheek. "Mel and I are eating this cupcakes, but this is chocolate chips, we rate it a 7."

You feed him a piece. Humming at the taste. "I'll rate it a solid 9." He says, looking at you. "What else you got here?"

"This is lemon, and this to me is a 10." You feed him again. Watching him roll his eyes at the taste of the cupcake. "And wait for the next one. It's even better."

Fayza looks from afar, picking her stuff and walking closer to the three of you. "Kylian, you shouldn't be eating those."

You stop your actions. Putting the piece of cupcake back in the little plate. "I'm sorry, it was my fault." You smile at her.

She has her shades on, but you have the feeling that she rolled her eyes. "Let's just go. Please."

You look at Melissa, she gave you a look. "Melissa and I are leaving together." You hug Kylian while Melissa went to get her things. "What you do here is so amazing, Ky." You kiss him. "I admire you so much."

He has this cocky smile, he loves being praised, especially by you. "Thank you for helping." He kisses your cheek. "I'll meet you at your place, deal?"

You nod, saying a quick goodbye to him. Melissa was waiting for you. You two chat about things that happened during the weekend.

You drop her home, wishing her a goodnight. When you were on your way home, you stopped at Kylians' favorite restaurant. Ordering his favorite dessert.

After a quick shower and some food, you hear the front door getting closed. You wait to see your boyfriend walking.

He does this funny dancing to something that was streaming on his phone. You laugh. This definitely was something tik tok girls would love to use for the "kylian core" type of thing.

"Are you pulling a show for me?" You ask, happy to see him having fun.

The season was a long one. A very tired one. Now that he announced that he was joining Madrid and that France national team won the Euros, he was able to relax.

He leaves the phone on the counter, grabbing your hands and making you stand. You dance at the rhythm of the song.

You love moments like this. Only you and him, enjoying something a simple like dancing in the middle of your kitchen.

"Okay, time out, time out." You say, hands signaling the time out. "I got something for you, open the fridge."

He smiles, guessing what that might be. When he does, he does a happy dance. Making you laugh.

"Mom is going to hate you for getting me this." He laughs.

You scuff, you know he doesn't say it with that intention, but to you is a weird feeling. "You are allowed to a sweet thing." You reply. Kissing his lips.

"Am I allowed to this sweet piece I have in front of me?" He asks, eyebrows popping up and down.

You blush. He always jokes with you like that. And even after all these years you blush like crazy.

"I think you need to rest for the Euros, baby."

"But I've been resting, and I miss you like crazy." He beggs, hugging you by the waist. "Please, amour." He kiss your hair.

"If you get tired and lose a game, I'll feel bad and guilty."

He pouts, leaving the pâtisserie in the table. He hugs you, but not the typical hug. This is more of a touch starve kind of hug.

"You are so needy." You laugh. He smiles at your laugh. "What's going on?" You ask curious. He was acting up.

"I saw you with the kids today, and God, you looked amazing." He confesses the way his smiles are shining and the way his eyes lighten up at the memory. "I can't wait for us to have our own." He kiss you.

You talked about this in the past, how you two wanted to wait a little bit, specially now with him moving to Madrid and having to find the right schedule to see who will visit who and when.

"The time will come, my love." You peck him. "Now let's go upstairs and pretend to watch a movie while you kiss me how I like it."

He makes a small happy dance again, grabbing his pâtisserie and hurrying back next to your side as you walk upstairs with him, hand in hand.

"I'm so nervous, I want them to win so bad." You say to Helena, Kounde's girlfriend.

She laughed at how cute you looked all worried. "Calm down! It's going to go well."

You nod at her, trying to relax to enjoy the game. You had this feeling, but you thought it was just the normal feelings before a big game.

The game began, you were happy and excited about Kylian as a captain. He was so passionate about this team.

Helena, you and the other wags that joined the game were all seated together. You loved them and they were so nice and kind to you.

Antoine got hurt. Thanks to a player from the other team, he ended up facing up the fence. Head and knee bleeding at the impact of it.

The whole stadium was crazy, fans from the other team yelling profanities at the French team, at Antoine, and at the referee because it was a yellow.

And the French fans were yelling too in support of Antoine and the team. It was all crazy. The medical team helping him.

We turned to Erika, Antoine's wife, she was trying to see if the situation requires her to be alarmed or if she could be calm.

When the medical team finishes with the bandage, Antoine turns to where we are, giving Erika a thumbs up.

We feel better now. He was fine, and we relaxed. It was fun how his bandage was kinda slipping and moving on top of his head.

The game was entertaining, it was 1 - 0

The first goal was scored during the first time of the match. So, the team has to prevent Austria from scoring.

"I feel anxious." You say.

"It's just the game, I feel like Austria is kinda playing dirty. I don't know."

Just a few seconds later you see how Kylian and other players go for the ball with the head. When he falls his nose hits the shoulder or the Austrian player.

The whole stadium got silent for a second, the big screen showing his bloody nose. Some of the players make the referee stop the game for him to get assistance.

You feel a headache grows. The pain he must be feeling right now. "That must hurt like hell" Erika says.

You can't even look, focusing on your phone and seeing the text from Ethan. He asked you if Kylian was okay since some sports channels cut to other things instead of him getting help from the medical team.

You snap a picture of the field where you can see kylian getting help. He looked really bad, the blood on his shirt, the tearful eyes.

After the help, he kept playing. You shake your head at him, he kept looking at the bleachers, at where you are.

You hate when he feels like superman and thinks he can overcome everything by playing. News flash, he can't.

While he was trying to get past this player, he slap him in the face, which probably didn't even hurt, what hurted was his most likely broken nose.

"He needs to go to the hospital." Helena tells you. "I think they are switching him with Olivier. If they do, you should go to the dressing room with him."

"Yes, maybe get him to go to the hospital." Erika says.

Olivier makes the cut. He's now on the field replacing your boyfriend. Kylian is taken to the medical room, they will tell if he needs urgent care or if he can wait for the match to end.

You were thankful that the pass you have allows you to be in different parts of the stadium. You needed to see him before a decision was taken about him going to the hospital right now or if he was staying till the end.

"Hey!" You say, walking into the medical room. "Hi, amour." You grab his shoulders.

He grabs your hand, not feeling like saying anything. He's breathing through his nose, the tears are still there.

"We have to take him for a check, we can't really determine if his nose is broken or just fractured."

You nod, "Can I shower?" He asks.

"Be careful, please. We will help you wash your face so you can shower freely."

They help him wash his face and around his nose, you can see his discomfort when they pass the cotton ball near his nose.

"Can you wait for me at the hotel?"

"No, kyks. I'm going with you."

"Deschamps is going with me, and you landed before the match. You must be tired." He hugs you.

You were tired, you had a horrible flight and he knows it. "It's okay, I want to be by your side."

He smiles, hugging you. "Thank you."

You help him with his things. Carrying his toiletry bag and his phone. You text Ethan, telling him that you will update him when you get details.

He was in pain, you can tell by the way he is gripping his cap. He's not talking with Deschamps, he's just nodding or shaking his head no.

You stayed in the waiting room at the hospital, checking the candy at the machine. Your stomach was crazy for something.

"Hey!" you heard, turning to fins him with some bandage covering his nose. He explains what is going on and what the doctors told him. "Let's go."

You text his brother, updating him on what Kylian told you. He thanked you for the updates, feeling a little less stressed.

"Merci, good night." You wave goodbye to the chauffeur and the security people.

You walk with him to the room. You weren't supposed to be there with him, since the French Federation didn't allowed the players to bring company to their rooms.

But they allowed it since Kylian requested to have you to check on him like the doctor asked.

You feel his phone vibrate in your hand, the ID called showing his mother's name. "Ky, is your mom." You knock on the bathroom door.

"Pick up, I don't want to talk. S'il te plaît, mon amour." He shouts from inside.

"Hello, Miss Lamari." You say, your voice was tired.

"Oh, it's you." She sighs. "Can I talk to my son?"

"He's tired and asked me to pick the phone for him. If you want to know how he's doing, the doctor said his nose would be fine for him to play but with a protective mask. The Federation will get him one for training and the official one for the match on match day."

You explained everything, so the call was cut short. You don't have the energy or passion to do anything.

"And I can ask him to call you tomorrow, I'm sorry he can't pick up, but he's not in the mood to deal with anything today."

"Thank you for the updates." You hear the voice of Ethan. "Tell Kylian I say hi."

You smile. "I will, E."

"Bonne nuit." He says happily.

"Miss Lamari, I'll make sure Kylian calls you tomorrow before training. I'm sorry he can't right now."

"Fine, bonne nuit." She says and hangs up.

You throw the phone on the bed. Sitting on the edge. You can't take more of today than you already did.

Kylian walks out of the bathroom. Holding a towel in this hands. You wait for him to initiate a conversation. Not wanting to intrude into his thoughts.

After about five minutes of staring at him while he searches something on his luggage. You decide to speak.

"Do you want me to give you a massage?" You ask, noticing his tense muscles. "I have a warm cream."

He nods, taking his shirt off carefully. You ask him to lay in a position where his nose wasn't compromised.

You played some low music to calm him down, something very nice like jazz. You worked on his back.

He hummed, relaxing at your touch. He knows how much you wanted for him to be relaxed and to feel better after the day he had.

He fell asleep, you washed your hands and changed into your pajamas to join him in bed. It was going to be some hard weeks for him.

But you were going to be there.

You felt tired, the moving wasn't exactly the best. With some of your belongings getting lost.

"I promise they will be here by the end of the weekend." The guy from the moving company says. "We have them located. We are just waiting for a truck to send it to our warehouse."

"Thank you, I'll appreciate you speeding things for us."

You say goodbye to him, grabbing your purse to go to the mall. You needed something for the week.

Kylian asked you to pick some things he ordered from the stores. You only had three outfits, so you decided to abuse your power of his card and to take yourself shopping.

You spend quite some time in the mall, just roaming around the stores. When you head back to your new home you find a car parked in the driveway.

"I'll get these inside, Miss." The chauffeur says, you nod, thanking him for the help.

You walk inside, noticing a luggage and a box. "Hello?"

You walk into the kitchen, finding Fayza and her assistant talking and eating something. "Oh, hi."

They both turn to you. Fayza lifts her hand, saying hi. They keep their conversation. You didn't understand much of French.

When you moved to France to work, you tried to learn the language, to speak better and more naturally.

However, your work was mostly in English and Kylian, and you talked in English, and when you were with him, he translated everything to you.

Plus, you are not the best at learning new things, and French was complicated. You know how to talk with someone in a very simple conversation, but you can't fully understand a business talk or whatever talk they are having.

You walk to the fridge, taking a juice. You feel weird with both of them just ignoring your presence.

"Excuse me, Fayza is asking if her room is ready."

"I didn't knew you were coming today, so I'll go make it right now."

You walk quick upstairs, picking the sheets and everything you need to get the room ready. You make sure the bed and everything in the room is perfect.

You don't need a reason for her to tell you that something bothers her. You already have enough of those.

"Miss Lamari, the room is ready." You call from the stairs. You grab some sheets and a towel for her assistant. When you see her and Fayza walking. "Hey, this is for the guest room." You say, handing her the things.

"Did you iron the sheets like I asked Kylian? The weather is cold and I don't like cold sheets." She says.

You know she's doing this to bother you. Who irons their sheets?

"No, but I can do it. Are you okay with waiting a few more minutes?"

She rolls her eyes. "No, leave it like this."

"Okay." You smile. "Want some coffee? I just got this French press and this new coffee that tastes amaz-"

"Peux-tu te taire? tu es tellement ennuyeux" (Can you shut up? you're so annoying) She says. She walks past you, getting inside the room.

"That means that maybe later." The assistant says. Fake smiling at you.

You go back to your room, already stressed about the interaction.

You got the last box of Kylians clothes, ironing some of the clothes. You send Kylian a picture of his now very organized closet.

You hear a knock, making you walk to the door. "Fayza wants to talk to you. Come, please."

You roll your eyes at her, walking behind to the room of the mother of your boyfriend. "Yes, Miss Lamari?"

"Kylian mentioned earlier that you will work with him, I need to know what kind of work."

You blink a few times, not prepared for her to be so straightforward. "He asked me to work for the foundation."

"Okay, understood." She wrote something on a notebook. "That will not work for me, I think you can find something else."

You stand there just looking at her write things, you don't know what to say to her. Did she just fire you?

You were about to speak again, but she interrupted you. "I would love some coffee, and maybe some milk but on the side. Thank you."

You nod, walking outside and to the kitchen. You brew some coffee and grab a wood board for her sides.

You think on what to say to re open the conversation about the job. You want to have her understanding that you will be doing that job.

"Got the coffee, everything else on the side like you asked me, I even got you some of the cookies I know you like."

"Mhm." She mumbles. Not even looking at you.

"I want to talk to you about the job topic." You say, nervous about it. "I already compromised with this job and I think it's better if you talk with Kylian about the changes you want."

"I mean, if you want it to be him to repeat what I just told you, fine by me."

You take a deep breath. You don't feel like having this conversation with her. "Miss Lamari, I quit my job and left my home to come live with Kylian in Madrid. I don't think this is up for discussion. The job is the only reason why I agree to move."

"If you ask, maybe they'll hire you again. And I'm sure you can find another apartment. My assistant can help with that."

"I'll let Kylian and you discuss this when he's here in Madrid." You say, trying not to snap. "If you need anything you can call me, I'll be in my room."

You hurry, grabbing your phone to FaceTime Kylian.

"Bonjour." He says, smiling at you. "I got you the jersey you wanted." He turns his camera to show you the jersey thrown in the hotel chair.

"Thank you, that's cool." You smile. You don't want to say anything now that you see how relaxed he is. "Hey, I called to check on you. Miss you, my love."

"I do too, but only two more, hopefully." He smiles. "Hey, you told your parents about the moving?"

You make a face. "It was meh"

"Problems in paradise." He tries to joke. You half smile. "Was is that bad?"

"My mom told me that I was making a mistake by following you, that they payed a lot for my education for me to just throw it away."

"I'm sorry." He says. You can see he understands where your parents are coming from. "I wouldn't want our daughter to follow some weirdo around." He jokes.

You laugh, loving how he takes every opportunity to not only make you feel better but you mention how he sees a future with you.

"Yeah, but I will feel weird to think out daughter in law will have her parents call our son a loser or weirdo."

"When he wins a world cup like daddy, they would love him."

You forget why you even call him in the first place. You love how talking with him is so easy.

"I'll take a shower, and then I'll go to bed. I love you. I can't wait to see the game tomorrow."

"Don't eat shampoo." He jokes again, making you laugh. "Bonne nuit, amour."

"Bonne nuit, my champion." You blow him a kiss.

"Ethan, stop that." You laugh, watching him throw his nerf shots at you and Kylian. "Attack your brother, not me."

You three were back in Paris. You were lucky to get one small break in the same days Ethan got one.

"Let's drive to moms house. She will be mad if we are late for lunch." Kylian says.

You let him get up from the couch. You didn't want to go, first because she invited Kylian only and second because you already sense the tension.

"Go pick the car you want to take." You say to Ethan.

He nods excited and runs to the garage, ready to pick the lost luxurious car his brother has.

"Out your shoes on, we have to leave." Kylian says, jokingly smacking your thigh with his hand. "We don't want to be late."

You don't want to say no, but you can't just pretend you got sick in the whole minute he went to get his shoes.

"Are you sure she invited the two of us? Maybe she just wants a family only kind of lunch."

"Amour, you are family." He laughs, kissing your lips. "Plus, I think she's finally starting to open to you. She asked about you yesterday."

You wait for him to turn to roll your eyes. She did ask, but to know if you were in the house not to see you around when she arrived.

"Okay, let me get my shoes."

You grabbed your shoes, make sure you looked presentable, add some perfume and brushed your hair real quick.

"Let's go, my passenger princess." You joke with your boyfriend. Smacking his ass on your way out.

You three drive while listening to Ethans Playlist. Kylian and him were talking about a game Ethan has.

When you arrive at their mothers home, you parked. "Go inside, say hi to your mommy." You joke with him, grabbing his cheeks and squishing them.

"Rude." He pouts. Leaving and walking inside.

You exit the car slowly. You feel two hands on your shoulders. Knowing exactly who it is. "Ethan, you can't scare me."

He laughs, hugging you. "Missed you, can't wait to spend some time with you two in Madrid."

"I can't wait either, missed my little baby brother." You kiss his hand that you were holding.

The connection between Ethan and you was something nobody could break. He trusted you with his heart, and you trusted him with yours.

You two laugh at something he says to you as you walk in. You see that Melissa and the kids were there, Fayza and her sister and Kylian.

"Bonjour." You say to them. Noticing the dirty look Fayza gave you.

The rest say hello back to you. You talk with Kylians aunt, telling her about the foundation work you are doing in Spain.

The table was an 8 set. And you notice how the husband of the aunt is there. You feel weird about having to ask for an extra chair.

"Here, take my seat. I'll just grab another." He says.

"Oh, it's okay, I can't get the extra one. Please."

"Fine, but if you want it at any point, tell me." He smiles.

You grab a small stool, sitting next to Kylian, who was talking with Lana. "Bonjour, Lana." You smile. She returns the smile to you.

You notice how Fayza is serving the plates, mad expression on her face. You feel so bad about thinking coming was a good idea.

"Everything alright, mom?" Ethan asks. Noticing her face.

"Oui, just fixing something. Got extra people I wasn't expecting."

Ethan looks around. Not understanding the comment. "But, we all are here."

She just shakes her head. "I just think it's rude to come without an invitation." She whispers to him. But not quiet enough for Kylian and you to hear.

Kylian was about to say something, but his aunt was quicker. "Wait but I thought this was a family thing, and we all are here."

"Tout le monde ici n'est pas de la famille, je le dis simplement." She says. (Not everybody here is family, just saying.) Looking at you for a second.

You understood every word she said.

Kylian got mad at the comment. You were family. You were the girl he picture himself growing a family with.

You are the girl who left her whole life just to move to a foreign country for him to follow his dreams.

"Nous sommes tous une famille ici." (We all are family here) He says, mad at the comment. You grab his hand that was on his thigh. Trying to calm him down.

"And we even invite Tchaga and my friend Bruno." Ethan says.

"They are family, she is not."

Thinking about her not seeing you as family was one thing. But her telling it to your face was another. It hurted.

"Maman, c'est-" kylian began.

"Kylian, it's okay." You interrupted. "I'm leaving. Please don't start anything. This is your mother, and she's right. I'm not invited."

You try to get up, but his hand on your arm pulls you down to your seat again.

"Maman, she's not leaving." He states. "She's family to me, to Ethan and to dad."

Fayza drops the fork she's holding. Laughing at how brave and funny her son looks. "Vous continuez à rêver de choses que vous ne pouvez pas obtenir avec elle." (You keep daydreaming about things you can't get with her.) She says, knowing you don't understand much French.

"Miss Lamari, I'm leaving. I'm sorry." You get up, quicker this time for him to catch you. "I'm sorry." You say to everyone.

"Acting like the victim." She laughs. "Maybe that's why your mother doesn't like you." She smiles, knowing she just hit a soft spot.

You got quiet, looking over at Kylian, who was in shook at her words. "I'm sorry if I intruded your lunch. I'm leaving now."

You were about to walk out of the room when you hear Kylian calling your name. Making you turn your head. He was standing.

He walks over to you, grabbing your hand. "You crossed a line that I don't think you can return to. I understand you feel like every girl that got close to me was there for the money and shit, but she's not."

"Kyl-"

"No." He says louder, he's angry. "She's the woman I'm going to marry someday. She's the person I live with and who left her entire life here just to support me in my career. She's going to be the mother of my children, you like it or not." He squish your hand a little harder.

He turns to look at you, feeling hurt at the tears in your eyes.

"And if you don't apologize, then you can get used to the idea of not seeing me. Because if you don't like her around, you don't like me either."

He turns, pulling you to the entrance of the house. He slams the door behind him. Grabbing the keys and opening the car door for you.

"Can you drive?"

You nod, whipping the tears and smiling at him. "Je t'aime." You grab his face, kissing him.

He hugs you tight, resting his forehead on yours. "Let's go home, yeah?"

You nod. Pecking him. "Let's go home."

The drive was quiet, you didn't feel like talking, and he didn't know what to say.

He felt hurt by the words. He thought it was just his mother being uptight with you, but it was more.

"I'm sorry about her." He grabs your hand.

"It hurts, but I know I have you." You hug him, enjoying being in his arms. "That's all I need."

"No matter what she thinks or what anyone thinks, you have me, always will."

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genshingorlsrevengeance · 6 months ago

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Hey, Can I make a request with a s/o teaching Shenhe, Eula, Yelan, and Arlecchino how to play video games?

(Genshin Impact) Shenhe, Eula, Yelan, Arlecchino, Furina, and Clorinde's S/O teaching them how to play video games

Game: Animal Crossing

Shenhe has tried games like Genius Invocation TCG, but that one frustrates her more than anything.

S/O, then decided to show her a game that she for sure would enjoy: Animal Crossing!

It didn't require anything other than just a will to relax. Plus, it was just a cute way to do something together!

(Shenhe) "...Your character looks cute."

Shenhe is enraptured by the charming little animals, being fondly reminded of Cloud Retainer in a strange way.

She plays it a little bit in what free time she gets, but really enjoys it in S/O's presence. Though there is one thing that annoys her about the game.

(Shenhe) "This is the fourty-seventh time I have gotten the 'Sea Bass' today. Am I doing something wrong when I am fishing, S/O?"

Her ingame avatar has long white hair and wearing something far more cutesy and casual than her usual attire.

Part of her wondered if S/O could get her these kinds of clothes from a store so she could wear it in real life.

A/N: I've gotten more Sea bass from ocean fishing in this franchise than I've eaten bread in my life.

Game: Monster Hunter

Eula decided to indulge S/O in trying to teach her how to play a game. After all, it was better than doing nothing.

It takes her a second to get used to the controls, but she quickly learns how to attack and dodge.

Only when the game truly begins did she realize what S/O had picked out.

(Eula) "Are you trying to tell me you'd like to go hunting for beasts with me, S/O?"

Teasing aside, Eula is a quick learner and becomes very skilled at hunting the many monsters of the game, getting weirdly competitive about it. Despite the fact there was no player versus player element at all in it.

(Eula) "HAH! I finally made the best Master Rank armor in the game! Everything we fight should be child's play!"

She also loves the cat companions that are in the game and spends a great deal of time dressing them up in cute/hilarious outfits.

Though she will enact vengeance if anyone calls her out on that.

A/N: Man I can't wait for Wilds.

Game: Metal Gear Solid

Yelan usually rolls dice to see what her day off becomes.

And this time, it was to have S/O show her these "Video Games".

Yelan settled for some "Tactical Espionage Action" game, the irony not being lost on her at all.

She learns the controls and plays it extremely casually, being more drawn in by the absurd story and characters.

Yelan is usually laughing at the action, but still enjoying herself.

(Yelan) "Geez, is this how your world views agents, S/O? It's not nearly as cool as this game's making it out to be."

Part of her wants to try hiding in a box to see if anyone would notice, but she'd also like to still be alive and not caught.

But the temptation is always there, everytime the dice decides for her to play this game again and again...

(Yelan) "Hm...the explosions in this game are a little much, but I guess it's also not entirely inaccurate...Sometimes, anyway."

A/N: I GIVE MY LIIIIIIIFE, NOT FOR HONOR, BUT FOR YOUUUUUU

Game: Mario Kart

Arlecchino usually passes on any offer to play a game, not because she didn't want to, but because she likes to observe.

(Arlecchino) "Let the children play first, S/O. I will join soon after."

What she usually witnesses for Mario Kart is a bloodbath.

This game brings out something in her kids that she hasn't seen before.

Even Freminent and Lynette, some of her more reserved kids, turn to something feral when playing against the others.

She's equally entertained and kind of concerned, like maybe this game wasn't healthy, but it did bring everyone closer and give the kids something fun to do.

Arlecchino decides to jump in at many kids' requests, and admittedly isn't that great at it.

But she has more satisfaction in watching the kids have fun.

That being said, there is some sadistic pleasure she has throwing the blue shell and watching whoever's in front take the brunt of it.

(Arlecchino) "Fascinating what these video games can do to children. Do you have more they can all try?"

A/N: Coconut mall is the best map, change my mind.

Game: Subnautica

Furina is at first excited to try something new.

(Furina) "Oh, a game about the beauty of the ocean? I shall beat it no problem!"

But she didn't realize that unlike Fontaine's waters, (Which to be fair, held its own terrors), this was an alien planet's ocean.

She's jumping at every little thing, screaming as she's desperately swimming away from the tiniest fish or anything that even makes a weird noise.

(Furina) "W-WHAT WAS THAT NOISE?! I'M GOING BACK TO THE LIFEPOD!"

That's not even to mention the Leviathans.

The first time she saw a Reaper, she immediately dropped the controller and buried her face into S/O's arms in terror, yelling out something sounding like a curse and crying.

Furina doesn't like video games anymore.

It takes something like Endless Ocean to calm her down about the waters again, thinking that every video game ocean has a Leviathan now.

A/N: For me, that game is horror until I get the Prawn Suit, then it becomes Pacific Rim as I hunt down every Reaper near the Aurora.

Game: Baldur's Gate 3

Clorinde was intrigued by video games, but honestly wasn't too keen on the idea of trying it. It didn't seem up her alley.

Until S/O showed her a game like Tabletop Troupe, but this time without the fears of annihilating some poor Game Master's campaign.

(Clorinde) "...Do you mind if I give this game a try, S/O?"

Her expression doesn't really change as she's playing, but that's because Clorinde is really immersed in the world.

It's just a lot of fun to truly let loose and interact with the world and NPC's, no fear of dealing with any player trying to murder-hobo their way.

SHE could be the Murder-Hobo, finally. Not that she would.

She enjoys playing it in her off time, but nothing beats living players and rolling the dice herself however.

This game did give her a few ideas for some new campaigns however.

(Clorinde) "I'd be interested in seeing you play with me, S/O. What choices would you make? And by the way, in true Tabletop Troupe fashion, we're not save-scumming. Once you roll the D20, our fate is sealed."

A/N: OS TAV RO VA VIVOLKAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact headcanons #shenhe x reader #eula x reader #yelan x reader #arlecchino x reader #furina x reader #clorinde x reader #shenhe genshin impact #eula lawrence #yelan genshin impact #arlecchino genshin #clorinde genshin impact #furina genshin impact

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total-dxmure · 9 months ago

Text

ೃ࿔ CHERRY FLAVORED →【ELLIE WILLIAMS】→ CHAPTER ONE

pairing: mega fan!ellie williams x rock star!reader

summary: your guitarist was carted off to rehab after just one month into your recent tour. fuck. there’s only one thing you can do, and that’s hire a replacement. your band thinks it’s going to be nearly impossible to find someone that is on the same level of talent as your “beloved” guitarist. you don’t have high hopes that anyone can nail the songs quite like he did either, if you’re being brutally honest. enter ellie- she’s a mega fan. the girl knows every lyric and note like the back of her hand. . . and everything about you, which isn’t creepy at all. her apparent obsession with you is something that you and your tour manager can overlook if it means carrying on with the rest of the tour. forced proximity with a stalker-level fan . . . what’s the worst thing that could happen?

warnings: smut in next chapter, talk of substance abuse, the reader is a tease and a bit of a bitch but it’s hot i promise, ellie is obsessed with reader to an unhealthy degree.

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this. DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist. PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS.

It was the kind of love that tortured poets mused over. Ribs straining against a heavy heart.

Ellie had deluded herself, as any love drunk person does, that she wouldn’t dissolve into a puddle on the floor if she were to meet you. She could keep her cool- downplay the crushing significance you held in her life. Your voice was constantly ringing in her ears. She could see your face in perfect clarity any time she closed her eyes. Pictures like snapshots played out behind her eyelids, and yet you always felt a million miles away for her. You were a perfect performer, situated on your sky-high pedestal, always out of her puny reach.

Because Ellie, as much as she despised this fact and dreamed of greatness, was a nobody. She grew up in a tiny town of no noteworthiness, her adolescent years spent dreaming about the planets and playing guitar with Joel. By all accounts Ellie was normal, while you were certainly not. Still, she liked to tell herself that she’d somehow manage to make herself worthy of your affections if she were ever to be blessed with them.

Finding herself in a situation like this seemed like an impossibility. She was partially convinced that she was daydreaming, having concocted some elaborate fantasy just to feed the insatiable ache. She was starved for you with no way to feed herself.

All it had taken was a single audition tape. One. Single. Tape. Ellie was staring, wide eyed, at Gene fuckin’ Murray.

The blood rushed from her head, hands breaking out instantaneously into a clammy sweat. She couldn’t think, couldn’t function at the realization that she was staring at one of the people that she had worshiped for years. Gene’s talent had been praised by the likes of Lars Ulrich and Danny Carey. He wasn’t popular just for his looks but for his undeniable talent.

And he was staring straight at Ellie, arms crossed over his toned chest as he waited expectantly. She felt like an idiot. Should she be playing? If so, what did they want her to play? Surely one of their songs. She’d glossed past the fact that she was a megafan, instead making it sound like she was just looking for a successful band to join. She was talented. No, Ellie was really talented.

She wasn’t just a technical player, but excelled at making her own rules. She enjoyed the creative freedom that playing the guitar granted, and felt as though the world needed more Jimi’s and Van Halen’s. Ellie excelled at thinking outside of the box.

She wasn’t very successful when it came to women, but had no problem making her guitar scream and cry for her.

So she took a deep breath and tried to steady her heart, once again stepping up to the mic. If there was one thing that all of your bandmates had in common, it was the attitude. She’d watched hundreds of interviews, had studied all of their movements and mannerisms. . .she understood you down to a science.

“So do you want me to play or what?” Ellie spoke into the mic, gripping the neck of the guitar in the hopes that it might act as an anchor. She was scared that she might float away.

The manager’s eyebrows twitched at her sudden change in attitude but he didn’t say anything, merely turned to look at Gene. For a second everyone just stared at her, like a bug under a microscope. After what felt like five minutes but was really just five seconds, Gene broke out into a grin, motioning to her with a flick of his wrist. He wasn’t confident in her, Ellie could tell.

She had a sweet face, she knew that. Big green eyes and freckles- she was unsuspecting. People were usually shocked to find out that she had wrestled competitively in high school and had no problem putting a man three times her size on his ass. People expected very little from her, and perhaps that was part of Ellie’s real charm.

“What song?” She was staring at Gene now, gripping her guitar pick between two sweat-slick fingers.

“What ‘bout ‘Sometime Soon’? Know that one?” His tone was teasing. Condescending.

The song was fast paced. It was supposed to be played loud and hard- one of your angrier songs. Ellie knew that you had been the one to write this one, meaning it was one of her favorites. The notes weren’t beginner friendly, but it wasn’t exactly hard for her.

It was more style, less technical ability- which meant that Ellie would have no problem making this song her bitch.

It was obvious that Gene was the one meant to judge her. The manager was just that- a manager. They needed an actual musician to listen in. So she took a deep breath and readied herself. . .

and then the sound of your singing voice blasted into the booth. Drums, bass- she was meant to play with you.

She almost missed her que, eyes widening in nervousness. She thought that she’d be playing all by her lonesome. She thought wrong it would seem. They’d started her off right in the middle of the song. Probably to throw her off. She jumped in, fingers sliding along the frets to shape out the correct notes. She tucked her guitar pick against the palm of her hand with her thumb, using the pads of her fingers to tap the strings. Faster. Faster. Faster. She didn’t look up from her guitar to look at the men’s reactions to her playing. Instead she just pretended she was standing in the living room of her apartment, hellbent on getting another noise complaint from the bitchy nextdoor neighbor.

Her calloused fingers pinched the strings, satisfied with the way the guitar whined over the speakers. The guitar solo in this song was meant to be impressive- and it was, she had to give it to Leon. A lot of it was just bullshitting though. He’d admitted that he came up with the solo in the actual sound booth off of the top of his head while they were recording the song.

The man was a god. He deserved “guitarist of the year” two years in a row. Ellie had the Los Angeles native beat though. Where he had grown up in the constant presence of “the greats”, Ellie had grown up in a constant state of boredom. She’d been playing the guitar since she was fourteen. Every day she’d sit down for hours and practice until her fingers bled. . . literally. She had thousands of hours on Leon, and she knew that with certainty.

Ellie moved the guitar up and down gently with her fret hand, prolonging the last note so that it cried the way she wanted it to. The muscles in her arms were sore from how hard she had been tensing during the song. She’d been a lot more mechanical about it than she was used to, but she had something to prove.

After a second she looked up from her guitar to gauge everyone’s reactions. The manager had dropped his cold and indifferent demeanor, instead flashing her a small smile. It bolstered her, gave her the strength to turn and look at Gene.

He still had his arms crossed over his chest, and for a second Ellie was sure that he would tell her that she sucked. She widened her stance, shuffling her feet so that she was in a more defensive position. His heated gaze made her feel as though she needed to protect herself from whatever mental anguish he was about to put her through.

“I thought she was kick ass,” Gene finally spoke up, giving Ellie a small thumbs up. Her face lit up into a wide smile before she could school her reaction into one of indifference. “What do you think? You’re the one that calls all the shots.” He spoke behind him, looking down at someone that had been hidden on the couch all along.

Ellie squinted her eyes, taking a step closer to the glass to see if there was another businessman she’d somehow overlooked.

She saw your hair before she saw anything else. It was freshly dyed, different than the last she’d seen you in all of the recent tabloid photos. You were clad in leather- pants so tight that they looked like a second skin. Your top was just as restrictive, breasts spilling out from the top, midriff revealed to show off the small silver piercing you had decorating your belly button.

You were Hecate in the flesh- dark, sinister, mysterious and capable of anything. Ellie didn’t think that it would be possible, but you were even prettier in person. The sight of you sent a shock through her system, and for a second she felt her knees quiver, as if she could no longer hold up the weight of her own body. Her insides turned to mush; white, hot mush.

The Stendhal syndrome: Ellie had been brought to the very precipice of existence by sight alone. She was so overcome by your mere existence that she felt her eyes begin to well up with tears. Body trembling, eyes locked on to your face and nothing else- it felt like she might faint. She remembered reading about the syndrome once before in an art history class she took in college.

“Absorbed in the contemplation of sublime beauty. . . I reached the point where one encounters celestial sensations.”

The urge to flee was just as great as the urge to get her hands on you was. She was thankful for the wide stance she was currently in, because if her legs had been any closer together then she was positive she would have lost her balance and fallen over.

You were right there in front of her. You’d been right in front of her the entire time, she’d just been so focused on Gene that she hadn’t even seen you in her panic. She stumbled forward, her sneakered foot catching the jack for the amp. She slapped her hands over her ears as a blood curdling screech began blaring over the speakers.

Ellie could have died. In fact. . . she just might. She dropped her guitar roughly on the ground as she raced over towards the amp, fingers shaking as she turned the knob to the volume.

The booth, once again, was silent. Silent enough to hear a pin drop. Slowly she turned, grimacing when she noticed the looks on everyone’s faces. She’d embarrassed herself and ruined her chance. Even worse was the fact that she’d humiliated herself in front of you.

She had somehow deluded herself into believing that the two of you were soulmates over the years. She’d compared your birth charts, life numbers- had taken multiple celebrity compatibility tests. All signs pointed to a resounding yes. The two of you were star crossed lovers, cursed to never know one another. She had told herself that if she were ever to bump into you in person that she’d be able to keep her cool. Ellie was certain that she could pretend that she didn’t know who you are- could downplay the significance that you held

Her ignorance was laughable. She’d been so overcome by your mere presence that she’d stumbled on air while standing completely still. You were standing up straight now, and even from her spot behind the thick glass she could tell how much taller you were than her. You had to be wearing heels or platforms, because according to Google you were-

“You know how many auditions we’ve listened to today?” You had grappled the mic from the tech and were now hunched over his soundboard, the lights from all of the buttons and knobs casting strange, beautiful shadows over your face. Your eyeliner was dark and smoked out around your eyes, and in that moment Ellie wondered if you were an angel or a demon. “Twelve. Twelve fuckin’ people have walked into that booth today. Every single one of them has been absolute shit. So bad, in fact, that I’ve wanted to blow my fuckin’ brains out in this buildings tiny, piss-stained bathroom.”

Ellie blanched, lips losing their pink color as the blood drained from her face. She was about to pass out. Her vision was already starting to tunnel. She grabbed onto one of the microphone stands to hold herself up, trying to keep her expression hard and unreadable. People often told her that she had “dead eyes”, and she could only pray that her face wasn’t giving her crushing grief away. It felt like someone had just died; like she had just died. Actually, she would have rather you just go ahead and stab her then tell her she sucked. You were her idol, her dream girl, her everything.

And you were telling her that you’d rather blow your fucking brains out then listen to her play. How was she supposed to recover from this? She’d heard the saying “don’t meet your heroes” a thousand times, but this? She’d rather you just be a bitch to her. Actually, Ellie would probably like that. This was the worst thing she could have ever heard. Her nose twitched as tears began pooling in her eyes. She blinked a few times, praying that you couldn’t tell in the nearly pitch black room you were standing in.

“But this?” You turned towards your manager and pointed passionately at Ellie. “This is music.”

Breath left her lungs in a loud, audible whooshing sound, like a balloon deflating. Her shoulders relaxed, the hand that was white knuckling the mic stand falling limp at her side. No, you didn’t hate her. You liked her.

You liked her.

Everyone had their vices. Leon’s had, apparently, been copious amounts of prescription drugs- often consumed simultaneously. You were used to getting what you wanted. You drank whenever you wanted to, fucked just about anyone that peaked your interest and got away with your usual rotten antics and bitchy behavior. You lived the lifestyle that you’d always dreamt of, even when you were a little kid.

You enjoyed putting on shows. You were flamboyant, loud, and weren’t afraid of expressing yourself. Teachers often described you as a “free thinker” back in your elementary school days. You dressed yourself for school each morning, each outfit louder and more daring than the next. You were an artist, and like most artists you had some inner demons that you fought against. You still fought tooth and nail, even to this day.

Finally though, after what felt like a thousand years of waiting and biding your time, you had the life you had always yearned for.

You sold out arenas, appeared on the front page of just about every magazine imaginable, and had celebrities clamoring over themselves to be your “best friend” of the week. Things were good.

But also a bit empty.

The friends that you’d made in your youth only used your name for bragging rights. Your parents had stopped showing up to concerts years ago, instead choosing to listen about your successes through their shitty television shows. Life felt a bit hollow.

Exciting. . . just different than you had always been used to.

“Come play with us.” One of the women whined from her spot on your plush hotel mattress. The bombshell blonde was already stripped down to her underwear, her eyes glazed over from whatever overpriced alcohol she’d already taken from the suite's bar, at your expense no doubt.

Your manager was used to the up-charges on the company card. He would probably be relieved in the morning when he found out that you didn’t break anything. There was still time for that, of course. It was only one in the morning, which meant you had nine more hours to get fucked up and wreck the cushy room.

“I’m not feeling up to it right now.” You said simply, already disinterested in the two women you had invited to bed with you tonight. You were holding a beer bottle loosely between two of your fingers, swishing the remainder of the room temperature alcohol absentmindedly.

You weren’t much of an “observer” when it came to sex, more of a very active participant. Still, all you could do was sit back in one of the comfortable lounge chairs, muscles tense after a long show. You weren’t exactly sure why you’d invited the women back to the hotel. They were both attractive and had come onto you at the same time. It was obvious what they had been insinuating, and who were you to deny two beautiful women? The first thing that had popped into your head being “a threesome might make me happy”.

Except now you were bored out of your skull and would much rather be sleeping right now than watch two ditzy girls clumsily fondle each other’s fake breasts.

“Please? I want you to fuck me so bad-” There was a knock at the door, causing both girls to go silent for a second.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, exhaustion threatening to swallow you up whole. If it was your manager here to yell at you for “accidentally” breaking an amp at tonight's show you were going to scream. It was too late for that bullshit. Still, you saw this excuse as a blessing.

“Hear that, ladies? Looks like we’ve gotta pack it up. Thanks for showing me a good time.” You stood up from the seat with a small groan, placing your beer bottle onto the counter clumsily. The glass clattered, almost spilling all over the shag carpet.

The two girls groaned, obviously frustrated that they hadn’t successfully gotten you into bed with them. You weren’t sure what was wrong with you lately. If this had happened a few months ago then. . . well, you would have fucked them- no questions asked. Were you maturing out of your “wild and crazy” phase? No, you didn’t think so.

You bent down, scooping up a discarded bra so that you could toss it onto the bed. Fabric rustled behind you as they began to quickly sort themselves out, hoping to beat you to the door.

“Who is it?” You called out in a sing-song voice, deciding that if your manager was already angry enough to show up in front of your door at one in the morning then you might as well have a little fun with it.

There was no reply on the other side of the door, causing you to scoff. He was giving you the silent treatment. You reached out for the door handle, only to have your shirt yanked on by one of the women. You could hear the seams ripping against the weight of her, her eyes wide with desperation.

“Please let me show you a good time. I promise I’m good- I swear.” There was a fear of rejection there, you could tell.

You felt a bit guilty and were quick to lean in to press a kiss on her cheek. “Baby, you’re gorgeous. I’m sure you would have been wonderful- but I’m tired. That’s all, okay? It’s nothing personal.”

And with that you opened the door. The air from the hallway was brisk, causing goosebumps to instantly break out on your bare arms and legs. You were expecting the balding, bespectacled Barry to be standing on the other side of the door, all in a huff about “expenses” and “damages to the venue”. Blah, blah, blah.

Instead it was Ellie. A very broken looking Ellie.

The girls were quick to straighten out their outfits, their attention now turned towards the guitarist. Groupies like this didn’t care who they slept with, just so long as they were getting it in with someone that was in the band.

“You’re Emma. . . right? The new guitarist? You were so great tonight. I mean- Leon was always a bit of a poser anyway. You’re killing it.” One of the girls started, moving to stand next to you in the doorway.

You weren’t sure why, but you felt angry. Genuinely angry. Were you jealous of Ellie? No, because you were sure they would still rather fuck you than her. You’d been their first choice, afterall. Maybe you felt the need to shelter Ellie a bit? Yeah, that had to be it. She was still learning the ropes, and the last thing she needed was to be sexually harassed in a hotel hallway.

“. . . -lie” She was mumbling under her breath, eyes locked on the expensive carpet beneath her ratty old sneakers.

She had changed out of her stage clothes and put on jeans and a t-shirt. Her hair looked wet too, meaning she’d already taken a shower. She smelled earthy- Alpine, even.

You leaned against the frame, slamming your hand against the doorway to box the two women in, hoping to keep them away from the newbie. They flinched but both seemingly weren’t off put in their newfound pursuit.

“You’re the most talented guitarist I’ve ever seen live. I mean. . . your solos were incredible.” You hadn’t managed to successfully remember the girl’s names. Just that they were friends with two guys that had worked security for the venue tonight. People often took advantage of connections like that in order to get close to you and your bandmates. It usually worked too. Tonight was different though. Tonight you had a real stick up your ass.

Ashley? Amber? Sophie? God, you were bad with names.

“. . . -is Ellie.” Your guitarist mumbled again, slowly moving back down the hall in the direction of her suite.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion over her attitude, and you were quick to stumble out of your room and down the hall after her.

“Wait! Emma, can we get an autograph!” One of the half naked girls called after the two of you, trying desperately to shrug on her shirt to follow after.

Ellie turned then, eyes narrowed and teeth bared. You’d. . . You’d never seen her like that before.

“My name is fucking Ellie! Who is Emma? Jesus fuckin’ Christ-” She dug her hand into the back pocket of her jeans, trying desperately to find her keycard.

The girls gasped at her outburst, jostled by the look of pure evil on her face. Even you were taken aback, not used to this kind of attitude from her. Still, you’d be lying if you said that you didn’t know why she was acting like this.

Ellie was what some would call a “mega fan”, though that would be putting it lightly. The word “stalker” would be more appropriate. Your manager knew that before he even messaged her for an audition. He’d checked all of her social media sites and scrubbed the internet for anything he could find on her. One thing was made very clear:

Ellie was obsessed with you.

For whatever reason she seemed to be keeping it a secret from Gene and Chris. All she fessed up to them was that she enjoyed your music, which was why she’d auditioned in the first place. She’d conveniently left out the dedicated fan blogs and the status of her cult-like following.

You didn’t mind it. Sure, it was a bit creepy. . . but she was talented and you liked her. She could hold her own against Gene and Chris’ constant asshole behavior, and had been receptive to Barry trying to teach her the ropes of the business. It was obvious that she wanted this, even if her motives weren’t exactly purely for the music. You’d let her be as close to you as she wanted if it meant that she’d continue playing the way that she does. The crowd had loved her, and it was only her second show with the band.

She was a bit shy, but that would pass eventually. You remember your early debut days vividly. You’d been just like her, maybe even a little worse.

“Hey, stop for a second.” You reached out to grab her wrist, stopping her from fleeing after her outburst. She turned to glare at you, but her eyes softened as she took in your features.

You could feel her arm trembling in your grasp, so you gently let go. No matter how many times you touched her or spent time with her, she still seemed to get overly nervous in your presence. It was endearing.

“Aren’t you a bit busy? Don’t let me ruin your fun-” She was being sarcastic.

“I was done with them by the time you knocked on the door. They aren’t exactly my type. I’m not sure why I even invited them back in the first place.” If you had to guess, you’d probably done it out of habit. You were used to inviting people back to your room or tour bus.

Ellie didn’t seem pleased by your answer. If anything it seemed to upset her even more. She bristled, reaching back into her pocket for her keycard. What did she want to hear? That you hadn’t touched them? You groaned, wiping an exhausted hand down your face.

The elevator dinged behind you, meaning the girls had finally taken the hint and were leaving with their tails tucked between their legs.

“Are you jealous or something?” You asked once the elevator doors were closed. The last thing you needed were the girls trying to sell information to some shitty gossip magazine.

She froze, eyes going wide and lips going pale. It was almost like she didn’t think that you knew all about her dirty little secret. A part of you wanted to tease her. Really make her squirm.

“Why would I be jealous? Those girls weren’t exactly my type either.” She was good at playing things off. Ellie was a good liar.

But you were good at sniffing out the bullshit. It was one of your many talents.

“Not of me,” You leaned against the wall next to her door, watching with curious eyes as she began fumbling in her pockets for her key. “Of them. Do you wish I had taken you back to my room or something?” You cooed flirtatiously, flashing her one of your most sinister smiles.

She coughed, turning around so that she could hide her face from you. This nearly had you groaning out loud in disappointment. Was she blushing? Do her freckles look even brighter when her skin gets all pink and hot?

Nah, it was dangerous to think like this. Band members were always off limits. It was a recipe for disaster. The last thing you needed was another Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham situation on your hands. Your PR team wouldn’t be able to recover. They’d just barely gotten over the “Leon” incident by the skin of their teeth.

Your old band member having to be tackled by three cops in a hotel lobby was horrible. It made you look sloppy. And sleeping with the brand new edition to the band was definitely sloppy.

“You’re acting crazy.” Ellie told you, shoving the keycard into the lock so that she could clammer into her room.

Pushing the boundaries was sort of your thing. You enjoyed being bad, fuck the consequences. Right about now you wanted to kiss Ellie. What would her reaction be? Was she a good kisser? You wanted to know. No- you needed to know.

“You’re right. I’m talking nonsense, don’t listen to me,” You called after her into the room. “Sweet dreams.”

And with that you sauntered back to your own room, practically purring in delight over the fact that it had been that easy to get to Ellie like that. You loved pushing the boundaries. . . and now you had a new toy to play with.

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