#some part of me still wants to tell stories but no one wants to hear them

[bbyg4rl]

frenemies jj and kook!reader (reader was brought to the group by kie) finally sleep together after months of teasing banter between them. could also be like maybe after a party where reader is introduced to a hot touron that spends the whole time flirting with her and trying to kiss her, jj gets super jealous and spends the whole time making nasty comments about the guy and at the end, reader goes to check on him, tells him she wants him, she's had for months now and they kiss and etc

take me home, maybank

cw: jj x kook!reader, slight angst but mostly fluff, jealous!jj, lil pining, allusion to sex, tension, happy ending! 1.8k words !

summary: inspired by request !

a/n: hope you like this anon ! i was gonna make it a smut but it was getting too long so i decided against it.. ty to the lovely @jjslvt for proofreading this for me <3 also the name reminds me of COUNTRY ROOOOAAAADS TAKE ME HOMEEEEE

JJ Maybank was insufferable.

That was the first thing you realized when Kie introduced you to the Pogues months ago. He was cocky, reckless and had a habit of pushing your buttons like it was a hobby. But that was fine because you pushed his right back.

What wasn't fine was the glare he was shooting you from across the boneyard, jaw tight and hand clenched around a beer bottle as if it had personally offended him.

You weren’t doing anything wrong— He had no right to be this pissed. You weren’t his. Hell, half the time, you two barely got along.

But watching some touron— Jace or James or whatever the hell his name was putting his hands all over you, whispering in your ear, trying to kiss you? It was enough to make his blood boil.

The worst part? You hadn’t even stopped him. You laughed at his stupid jokes, listened to his stupid stories, let him pull you closer, let him try.

You weren’t taking him seriously, but JJ didn’t know that. Or maybe he did and just didn’t care. Because either way, he spent the whole night making sure you knew exactly what he thought about it.

The biting remarks, the scoffs, the not so subtle glares— all weapons he used to deter Jace. What else was he supposed to do? Sit back and act like it didn’t drive him insane?

The party was dying down, but he was still brooding, sitting on an overturned cooler near a stray log, picking at the label of his beer. He was clearly in a mood. He knew he was being an asshole. He just didn’t know how to not be one when it came to you.

And then, because the universe apparently hated him, he heard your voice.

"You're not subtle, you know that?" You say stopping in front of him.

JJ finally looked up at you, raising a brow. "Really? Subtle's my middle name." He threw his arms out dramatically. "JJ subtle Maybank. Has a nice ring to it, no?"

You let a giggle slip out of your mouth, his ears perked up like a dog's upon hearing the soft sound you let out.

"Yeah, sure. And I'm the queen of england" You say jokingly.

"What an honour to meet you, your majesty" he says, bowing down with a hand pressed to his chest. His usual toothy grin plastered to his face, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You sighed, shaking your head. "What are you doing JJ?"

JJ tensed, "I'm bowing to my queen. What does it look like?"

You rolled your eyes. "JJ."

He let out a short laugh, but there was something off about it—something strained. "What's up princess?" He shoots you a wink, desperately trying to diffuse the situation.

"Why do you do whatever this is?" You say waving your hands back and forth in the space between you both. You knew even JJ Maybank, probably the most stubborn person you've ever known, couldnt deny what you two had. Right?

JJ clenched his jaw. "You have fun tonight?" He tries to change the subject. His voice was tight, barely masking the bitterness beneath it.

You tilted your head, studying him. "I don’t know" you said slowly. "Did you?"

JJ scoffed. "Oh yeah. Had a great time watching Captain underpants all over you."

"You were watching real close huh?"

JJ let out a dry laugh. "Hard not to when he was two seconds away from drooling on you."

"Jealousy doesn’t look good on you, Maybank." You chuckle at him.

JJ’s head snapped up, eyes flashing. "I’m not jealous." Then, with a smirk, he added, "I just have a deep, passionate hatred for that guy. Totally different thing."

You rolled your eyes, but your lips twitched like you were fighting a smile. "Right."

JJ leaned back, tapping his beer bottle against his knee. "Swear on my life. If I was jealous, I’d probably be, I don’t know, brooding in the corner and making dumb jokes to cover it up." He took a sip of his beer, then gestured to himself. "See? Totally fine."

You stared at him, amused. "You’re so full of shit."

JJ exhaled sharply, his humor fading just a little. "Yeah, well." He glanced away. "Guess that makes two of us."

Your face quickly fell as the words left his mouth. Silence settled between you both, Silence that was thicker than before. The tension had always been there, buzzing underneath every remark, every teasing smirk but tonight, it was different. Heavier.

JJ hadn't even realized he’d moved until he was kissing you.

It wasn't soft or sweet. Not like you ever imagined kissing him would feel like. No, this was desperate. Pent up frustration of stolen glances and sharp words that meant too much releasing all at once. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer, and for a second, just a second, you kissed him back.

Then you pulled back, eyes wide and breathless, your palms fix themselves firm on his chest, holding him back. "What the hell was that?"

JJ swallowed thickly, running a hand through his messy blonde hair. "Shit." He shook his head, stepping back. "I don’t know. I'm sorry—"

But then you grabbed his shirt. Pulling him back in like he was your lifeline. Crashing your lips against his like you needed him. He groaned against your mouth, his hands finding your hips, holding you against him like he's afraid you'd change your mind.

When you finally pulled back, your forehead pressed against his, he let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head. "You’re gonna be the death of me, princess."

Your breath hitched. "Yeah?"

He nodded, biting his lip. "Yeah."

The second your lips met his again, JJ knew he was in trouble. Everything about you was making him lose his mind.

JJ barely gave you a second to breathe before he was tugging you by the wrist, weaving through the dwindling crowd of the Boneyard. He needed to get you away—somewhere no one could interrupt, no one could see.

"Jay—" you laughed breathlessly, stumbling a little as he pulled you along. "Where the hell are we going?"

JJ didn’t stop, just glanced back at you with a smirk. "Away."

"Yeah, no shit—"

Before you could protest anymore, he ducked behind a tree, dragging you down with him. It was hidden from the bonfire, completely out of view but still close enough that you could still hear the party in the background. But right now, The only thing JJ was focused on was you.

You cocked a brow, crossing your arms as you looked around. "Okay, so you’ve kidnapped me. Now what?"

"I, uh—" The realisation he had no idea what he was doing suddenly dawned on him. He just knew he needed you alone. He let out a laugh, rubbing his hand over your jaw. "Shit, I don’t know."

You smirked. "Wow. smooth."

"Hey, I just dragged you behind a tree like some kinda psycho. Cut me some slack" he shot back. His hands cupped his chest as if you'd just offended him. But his voice was softer now, teasing almost.

He pulled you closer, his expression softened further, breath uneven, eyes bright with something you weren’t sure you even deserved.

The glow from the fire barely reached you, but the moonlight was enough. Enough to catch the way his lips were slightly swollen from the way he kissed you back there. Enough to catch the look on his face that he had when the gears in his head were turning. Enough to make your pulse hammer.

He leaned down to meet your lips again, slowly lowering you both down to the ground. His back rested against the tree as you situated yourself on his lap. His hands reached under your dress, palming your thighs subtly.

"I need you baby" He whispered against your lips. You can't help but moan as his tongue swipes against your lips. You let him in, let him explore your mouth with his tongue. He kisses you like he wants to etch the way you taste into his memory. Like this was what he had been missing his whole life.

You pulled back slightly, a bright smile on your face as you look up at him through your lashes. JJ shot you a look, eyes narrowing. "What?"

"You're pretty" You giggle at him.

JJ huffed out a laugh, pulling you further up his lap to make sure you knew how much of an affect you had on him. "And you’re not?"

You gasp as you feel the tent in his crotch. The smile leaving your face as you pull your bottom lip between your teeth. The damp feel of your panties becoming too much for you to ignore anymore.

"You wanna get outta here?"

It was so unlike him, the way he said it. No cocky smirk, no playful jab. Just quiet, soft.

You blinked, thrown off by the sudden softness in his voice. He notices the sudden change in your expression.

"What, you think I’m gonna ruin the moment with some dumb joke?"

You gave him an expectant stare.

He sighed dramatically. "Fine. Subtle’s my middle name. Happy?"

You laughed, shaking your head as you got up from your seat on his lap. "Come on" You say heartily, tugging at his arm as he got up after you.

He let out a breath, shaking his head with a crooked grin. "You’re really dragging me around now, huh?"

You smirked. "I learned from the best."

JJ let you pull him along, his hand still tangled with yours, something unfamiliar bubbling in his chest.

A strange nervousness settled over you as you reached his bike, the weight of the moment hitting you all at once. You were leaving with JJ Maybank. After months of teasing, tension, and stolen glances, it was finally leading somewhere.

You look back at him with a smile, he's almost dazed as he follows you. So caught up in the feel of you that the world around him had melted away.

He finally steps forward when you lean against his bike. Reaching for his helmet that he carefully places over your head. His fingers brush against your skin as he adjusts the strap under your chin.

"You wanna ride with me, princess, or should I call your Touron friend to pick you up?"

You rolled your eyes, stepping closer. "You gonna keep bringing him up all night?"

JJ shrugged, smirking. "Depends. You gonna pretend you didn’t like seeing me jealous?"

Your lips parted slightly, but before you could take the bait, he lifted his hand and flicked the visor down, sealing you inside. Then, before you could react, he leaned in and pressed a slow, deliberate kiss against the glass—his lips a mere blur through the visor, but the heat of it still made your stomach flip.

"Good to go princess" He says as he swung a leg over his bike, hands gripping the handlebars as he glanced at you. JJ swallowed hard as you climb onto the vehicle behind him, arms tightly wrapping around his waist.

"Hold on tight" He smirks back at you over his shoulder.

You shift closer, pressing yourself into him as your chin rests on his shoulder. "Take me home, Maybank" You whisper into his ear.

He didnt need to be told twice. He turns on the ignition and speeds down the way to the chateau. You could see the smirk on his face and the flicker in his eyes through the side mirror. You knew you were in for a long night.

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[winniethewife]

Winnie! I come to you humbly requesting a fic.

So imagine: Reader gets sent into the woods as sacrifice for the local cryptid. Cue Cryptid!Vessel looking at the terrified reader like 'fuck did they send in another virgin as sacrifice? urgh'

He tries to calm reader down and explain that whatever the townsfolk said is not accurate. 'I'm sure you're lovely but I don't really need a sacrifice. So let me tell you how this is gonna work'

Meanwhile idk reader is getting kinda into the idea of being sacrificed to Vessel because you know 👀

Ignite our dreams of starry skies

(Creature!Vessel x Gn!Reader)

A/N: Thank you Fran for the ask that inspired this endeavor and for Beta reading this whole creature feature (Featuring the creature)! This has been a labor of love and I hope you all enjoy it!!

As Always if you want to hear me shout into the void about this band (And others) Please follow me over at @lyricallymelodic  

CW: Vessel is so sad, Wet cat/creature Vessel, Slight monster body horror, Angst

Disclaimer: All fan fic written by me for this fandom is based on a fictional depiction of the personas of the band members, no real people were perceived in the making of this fiction.  

Ao3 link

Part 1: Summer: True beauty lies on the blue horizon

Next Chapter

Words:1607

They stood at the edge of the forest, dressed in the simple garb of the Sacrifice, a tradition going back hundreds of years in their village. In front of them was the forest, to the side the sea. No one was sure where the creature had come from. Some said that he had always dwelled in the forest, others said he had originally been an angel who betrayed his god and been cast down upon the earth cursed to remain in the forest forever. They had always guessed it was something in between, or something entirely different, but they hadn’t given it much thought. Now they stood in the clearing next to the cliffs and the sand dunes where they had once played as a child, never getting too close to the forest as their parents had warned.

But none of that mattered now. They were chosen as the Sacrifice by the Oracle to appease the creature of the forest. They took a deep breath, glancing one last time at the village behind them, the place they had grown up in, the place they had called home, where they will likely never return. Blinking away the tears in their eyes they began down the path into the forest. As the forest grew denser and the path less easy to navigate they knew they were likely reaching the meeting point. The late summer breeze blew by them, bringing the scents of the sea into the forest. Their gaze never left the way in front of them even as they felt the gaze of something entirely inhuman on them. They didn’t want to seem afraid, even though their heart was racing and tears flowed freely from their eyes. A twig snapped behind them and they froze as they heard a deep voice mutter something in a language unknown to them. The creature. It had to be. But why was the voice so…human?

“Are you lost? Or were you sent?” The voice asked, surprisingly softly, and even more shockingly in the native language of the village folk.

“I-I was sent.” They stuttered, still afraid to turn and look. The voice said something softly in that same odd language.

“I’m…Sorry, I don’t know why He keeps doing this.” The voice was remorseful, the tone of his words a mix of annoyance and sadness. The creature hesitated, almost like it was waiting for them to make the next move, which was unlike the tales that were told in the village, the stories of the manipulative and seductive creature of darkness that would leap at the opportunity for a sacrifice. The chance to dine on the flesh of a human was said to drive it wild. However that seemed far from the case.

“Who is doing what?” They asked carefully, taking a step to the side, considering their options: Turn and face the creature or run for their life. They wanted to know more before they decided what to do.

“Sleep, an ancient deity who I serve. He is the one who sends your Oracle visions.” The voice explained, slightly closer now. They felt an irresistible urge to look at the creature now, unsure if it was a feeling from within themselves or the silent call of the forest creature itself. They took a breath and looked upon the creature; their eyes widened in awe.

It was tall. He was tall? Six glowing eyes stared back at them, bright red irises in the center set of dark sclera, reminding them of drops of blood on the slate floor of their family home. The two vestigial eyes lacked a true iris but glowed eerily, like a lantern light shining through a curtain. His skin, as dark as the night, was covered in scars and dark red markings. Their eyes were particularly drawn to the scarring on his neck; each side had a set of three ridges, like that of the gills of an aquatic creature. He wore a hooded cloak and some trousers. Both seemed to be handmade, tattered and old. He tilted his head to the side as they examined him closely, trying to analyze their expression.

“You seem less afraid, now that you see me. That’s… atypical. ” The creature took a step closer, exposing more of himself to them: What they had thought to be branches of the tree above him were actually very large and beautiful antlers. A sun beam shone down on him, illuminating his face, and bringing into focus his features; intricate red markings over his cheeks and down his jaw. They recognized the bind rune drawn over his forehead and eyes. It was the same rune they had seen many times throughout their life, the symbol the Oracle used to reference the creature, whenever they made a sacrifice and completed a ritual in the name of the gods. They felt like they should be afraid, but the fear wasn’t there, they only felt a magnetic pull and a desire to understand.

“Were the others afraid?” they asked softly. The creature nodded.

“Terrified, they became increasingly so the longer they were in my presence.” He spoke softly, his voice was melodic and his accent unlike anything they had heard. They wanted to hear more.

“I see. Do you have a name?” They asked the first question that came to mind, something they wanted to know but felt ill-timed. Was there an order to the last conversation you ever expected to have?

“You… you want to know my name?” He looked surprised, had he ever been asked for his name? He couldn’t remember a time this had happened.

“My life is in your hands, it feels only right to know your name.” They spoke softly, but their words stung his ears. Despite their lack of fear they still assumed that he was going to hurt them. 

“I…my name is Vessel. Or at least that is what I have been called for a long time.” He hesitated. “Your life isn’t in danger, at least not by my hand. As I said before, I don’t understand why Sleep keeps telling your seer that I require a sacrifice of this or any nature. I have not desired such a thing.” He sounded annoyed, but his eyes were filled with immeasurable sorrow, his gaze leaving them for the first time since they had turned to look at him.

“Oh…what happened to the others then? They never returned to the village.” They asked with hesitant curiosity.

“The forest is treacherous and confusing to those who don’t know its secrets. I have never hurt anyone who entered the forest, but that doesn’t mean they didn’t die here.” His voice was tinged with regret. “I wanted to help them, maybe guide them home, but… it’s been a long time since any human has taken the time to speak with me.”

“How long is a long time?” they asked, unconsciously moving closer to him.

“Half a century at least.” Vessel guessed. It could have been longer; time wasn’t exactly something he thought about a lot. It felt irrelevant when you’ve been cursed to spend eternity unable to sleep, unable to die, unable to keep those who mean most to you. Vessel tried to shake the thoughts from his mind. It didn’t do any good to dwell on the past, or those he had left behind. “Do you wish for me to help you return to your home?”

“Wouldn’t that mean you’d be alone again?” They asked, showing an amount of concern that Vessel was not used to. Did they want to stay? Why would they want to stay?

“Yes, but I’m used to being alone.” He replied. He watched their face in fascination, the way they showed their emotions so plainly on their face. He wondered if his face still showed emotion, or had the mask he donned so long ago solidified his expression for life. They looked sad and concerned by what he said.

“But do you like being alone?’ They asked, tilting their head to the side slightly as they observed him, examining his face in the light, subtly moving closer to him, drawn to his presence in an unexplainable way. They wanted to stay closer, like an instinctual need to be near him. Vessel felt a familiar sense of dread in his chest. He couldn’t get attached again, he couldn’t deal with the loss again.

“You shouldn’t stay. It’s too dangerous.” He muttered looking away from them and focusing on something in the distance. He was sure that's all it would take to make them turn back. He had made it this long without a constant companion, surely he does not need someone now. He had long decided that he was meant to spend this lifetime alone. He focused on the treeline for a moment longer, giving them ample time to leave as they inevitably would. When he looked back he was genuinely surprised to see they had remained exactly where they had been before. They hadn’t run away, they hadn’t given up.

“You didn’t answer my question.” They stated simply. Vessel wondered if they meant the question that they had spoken out loud or the question they were really asking: Can I stay with you?  He sighed and mulled over the possibilities for a moment.

“A year…for one year you can stay. When next summer comes to an end I will show you how to return to your village and we will make a choice then.” He spoke in a low tone. He usually wasn’t one for making deals of any kind but he had to admit: He didn’t really like being alone.

~

Masterlist

Taglist: @silvernight-m @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @stellasplendens @ierofrnkk

[count-on-mi]

Twice Interactive Story Part 21 Queen (Sana, Tzuyu, Feat. Momo)

'Just remember you are going to fuck me, not Dahyun tomorrow, ok?' Sana gets up from your lap.

'Would you mind help me to dress up, boss?' Sana put her panties on the ground in your pocket.

'And I suggest you should talk with Mina too, maybe apologize? I don't know. She is really down today.'

"Yeah, I'll talk to her." I say as I help Sana.

Sana's face turns red as you playing her body while help her dressing. 'Can't you wait for tomorrow, huh?' Sana winks at you.

There's someone knocking on the door and she comes in before you answer, it's Tzuyu again.

'Seems I always come at the wrong time, is it part of my responsibility to serve you after I join the team?' Tzuyu sits on the sofa and watch your hands running through Sana's body.

"Only if you want it to be otherwise I'll keep my hands off you." I spank Sana as a sign for her to leave. "Was there something you wanted to talk about Tzuyu?"

Sana does not leave, instead she sits on your lap again and watch the conversation of you and Tzuyu.

'Really, but so far I see both of your subordinates are having relationships with you, is this the reason why you not get me in your team?' Tzuyu smirks

'I come for the deal, I wanna know when you will get me in, the deal should be honored.'

"I know and I'm working on something. The only problem is that your boss wants someone in return and I'm not willing to hand over Mina. So I'm trying to think of something else."

'Not willing to hand over Mina, cause she can only fucked by you huh?' Tzuyu keeps her unemotional face.

'Would you mind telling me what you are working tho? I need some guarantees.'

"That’s understandable. Sana here had mentioned previously she would be willing to be traded so that might be the only option. I doubt your boss would be willing to take any other team member."

'So you are not giving up Mina, but you will let Sana go? Is it mean Mina is more important?' Tzuyu smiles playfully.

Sana turns her head around, pretending she doesn't care. 'It's ok, I would like to try different men's cock, so...'

"I treasure both of them, the difference is I know Sana can take care of herself. She's a strong and beautiful woman. Mina would be put in more danger." I respond

'Boss...' Sana is touched by your response, she grabs you for a kiss.

'Tzuyu is watching, Sana.' You break the kiss and try to stop her.

'She already knows, what are you afraid of?' Sana ignores you and kisses you again.

'Umm.' You two end the kiss only after hearing Tzuyu makes some noise to let you know she is still here.

'Don't miss me, boss. I believe that old man's cock wouldn't be good as you.' Sana smirks

'Yes, his cock is just useless...' Tzuyu finds she is talking something inappropriate 'Sorry, I am not meaning that.'

I let out a laugh, "You're free to speak your mind Tzuyu, but yes that is the plan. I'll go and speak to your boss early next week."

'If that old man is useless, I bet Y/N must can satisfy you then.' Sana looks at Tzuyu playfully.

'No, I am not meaning that. I did not let him fuck me...' Tzuyu blushes and whispers

'I guess Tzuyu can replace me to serve boss while I am not here, right?' Sana stands up and walking to Tzuyu.

'Why don't you show us how you would serve the old man at usual.' Sana grabs her jaw and force Tzuyu to look at her.

"Sana, let her go. We're not going to force her into anything."

'Did anyone forced you, Tzuyu?' Sana asks.

'No, no one forced me, even that old man, is me seduced him in the interview.' Tzuyu's face is still red.

"Haha, good job using your skills Tzuyu. Is that all you came for, though? To make sure I held up my part?"

'Yes, I guess that's all I am coming for. But do you need me to show how can I work for you?' Tzuyu smirks and assault Sana's tits suddenly.

'Ah!' Sana moans as Tzuyu catches her tits.

"That's completely up to you Tzuyu. If you choose to, do it quickly." I respond while watching Sana and Tzuyu.

'Why we should go quick, you can enjoy it slowly.' Tzuyu releases Sana and start walking to you.

'So beautiful.' You talk to yourself, Tzuyu seems to be another person when she is seducing other man, you finally understand why that old man would fall into Tzuyu's temptation so easily, she is really a Helen of Troy. You already throw Dahyun out of your mind.

The sound of her high heels knocking on your heart, you like a wood that could not react until she is sitting on your lap, she grabs your hands and puts on her exposed thigh, slowly rubbing it. 'Welcome to Thighwan.' Tzuyu whispers in your ear.

I can't help but laugh, "I'm sorry but that's just too funny." I squeeze her thighs gently, "you have great thighs but that pun was just so unnecessary."

Tzuyu ignores you and keeps guiding your hands to rub her thigh. Your cock is erecting without her touch, the mood is so horny around Tzuyu. You start to breathe heavier as she continue to tease you.

You are surprised that how good is Tzuyu in seducing men, your lust slowly taking over you, you can feel pain from your cock as it is fully erected. You kiss Tzuyu's neck fiercely, smelling her scent, your hand is still rubbing her thigh even she stop guiding you. You turn into a breast that want to swallow Tzuyu.

I glance at Sana and then move my eyes back to Tzuyu multiple times hoping she understands that she should join in. At the same time I spread Tzuyu's legs open and rub my hand against her panties. "Would you like to continue?"

'If you want to continue, remove your hand, my body is free for use, except for holes in bottom.' Tzuyu moves your hands back to her thigh, pretending nothing has happened.

Sana comes around and grabs Tzuyu's head for kiss, while you still kissing her neck, one of your hands is still rubbing Tzuyu's thigh, and your other hand is teasing Sana's clit. While Tzuyu is focusing on Sana's tits, she didn't forget you, she adjusts her ass so her ass cheek is gripped and starts rubbing you.

Tzuyu is just like a living aphrodisiac, keep triggering the lust of you and Sana.

I strip Tzuyu of her top and start playing with her breasts with one hand, the other spanks her lightly.

Sana is the first one to reach orgasm, she can't contain anymore as you and Tzuyu are playing her at the same time.

'Ah....' Sana's legs are shaking as Tzuyu even increases her pace after Sana peaks.

Seeing this horny scene, you feel you are reaching your peak soon. Tzuyu feels your cock throbbing, and she grinds you harder. You close your eye and kiss her neck hardly, while your hands are grabbing her tits harder.

I pinch and pull on her nipples as I feel myself get closer to my orgasm.

Tzuyu knows exactly what you need, she starts moaning to make you even more excited. 'Cum for me.'

When you think you are going to enjoy another orgasm of the day, Tzuyu stops and brings Sana to the sofa, hanging you out at the seat, not allowed to cum.

You could already feel your cum reach your tip and ready to splash all over Tzuyu's back, but you were denied. Tzuyu points at the clock, it's just within 2 minutes since you start dry fucking her, you have never tried to cum so fast, Tzuyu is just a woman that is made for sex and no man could resist.

I stand up and go to Sana, flipping her over and pulling out her butt plug. After that I immediately ram my cock into her ass until I fill her with cum again. I put the plug back afterwards.

Sana just lays on the sofa and let you fuck you fuck her. You cum immediately when you put in, 'Oh....' Sana's body shivers as you deliver your cum in her ass, you pull out and insert the plug again, let your seed remain in her ass.

Tzuyu walks behind you and start jerking you off again, 'Enter her ass without lubrication? How horny you are? I thought you are going to enjoy my service.'

Maybe because it's Tzuyu, your cock is back to full hardness when she touches your cock, her hand feels like heaven, and you feel like you could cum at any time.

"Sana's ass is already lubricated." I respond.

'Oh, I don't expect you prefer ass more.' Tzuyu whispers in your ear, her hand is still stroking you.

Feeling your cock starts to throb again, Tzuyu asks' Do you wanna cum now, or you want to have more fun first?'

"It’s not that I prefer ass, Sana here wanted it there." I lightly smack her thighs, "let's have a little more fun."

'So, maybe you should finish it on my ass first.' Tzuyu kneels on Sana, and aligns your cock into her ass cheek, starts rubbing you again just like before.

Meanwhile, Tzuyu bites Sana's nipples and makes her moan again. Seeing two girls playing with each other makes you go wild, and you move your hips faster for more pleasure.

I grab onto Tzuyu's hips and start thrusting between her cheeks faster until I spill my load onto her back

Tzuyu arcs her back so you can shoot on her more easily, waves of cum you are shooting on her, some of them even lands on her hair. You grab her ass and use it as the platform for your shooting.

Tzuyu turns around when she feels you are finished, she fixed her cummed hair into a tail, you see the mess caused by you, and you feel horny again. You don't understand why, but your body has responded for you, and your cock start to harden again.

Tzuyu grabs it and stroking it again without hesitate, 'Seems you are enjoying my service, don't you? Guess I am a qualified team member now.'

"Not completely, but I won't push you any further."

'Why still further? I can make you happy without letting you enter me. You can't even hold on for 3 minutes when I rub you.' Tzuyu smirks and keeps stroking you, you moan her name from the sensation, and you can feel you are ready for orgasm again.

'See? Men could always have fun without entering me. Even My dad.' Tzuyu playfully squeezes and your cock pulse.

"Part of the fun is making the other person feel good too. It's not just meant to be me feeling good."

'Every man I met want to fuck me, from my classmates, teachers, and even my dad, I guess you are not different with them.' Tzuyu starts rubbing your tips as she feels you are reaching the orgasm.

'Oh Tzuyu... I am going to cum.' Your legs shake as she continues to rub your sensitive spots. You grab her meaty thigh harder.

'But I think it's more fun for me to see Men desperately want to fuck me, but they would just beg me to let them cum at the end. I guess I want to hear it now.' Tzuyu stops stroking you and instead teases you when you are one step from the orgasm.

"That maybe fun to you but I only feel it's right that you feel the same type of pleasure I'm feeling. If that’s all then you can go." I say as I resist Tzuyu.

'It's all excuse that you want to fuck me, leave it to your secretary. You are not gonna cum if you keep doing that. Say the word.' Tzuyu's hands move so quickly but keep giving you enough pleasure to maintain at the edge of orgasm, you cock can't catch her, and you seems just thrusting in the air. Sana can't stop to smirk as she never see you are so frustrated.

"Of course, I want to fuck you, but you made it quite clear you don't want that. You even seem to feel superior about it, quite trashy if I do say so. You can leave now." I say as I pull away from her and dress myself.

'How do you know I won't let you fuck me if you beg for it.' Tzuyu said as she removes the last piece of clothes, she is fully naked now, and your eye scanned her body, from her mid-size tits, her abs, her great hips, her meaty thighs, and her long legs. You back to the head and see her seductive face. Your bulge in your pants becomes even bigger. The existence of Tzuyu is already a temptation, you now understand what she said, every man she met will definitely want to fuck her.

Tzuyu walks to you and slowly caresses your bulge, 'Are you sure you going to leave now? You are not going to have a second chance.'

"You're the type that'll make me beg and then not give it to me. I know that for certain." I respond. "Don't try to tell me otherwise."

'If you beg, you could at least cum, right?' Tzuyu squeeze your bulge before stepping away and start dressing.'

'I am glad that you can hold on, you are the first one who can do it. No one can resist me in the past, that's why I am still a virgin.'

'I guess you should leave with your bulge maybe. Don't help him, Sana. Let him suffer the pain of allowing to cum, let him know girls are not belong to men.' Tzuyu says when she approaches the door.

"She is going to be annoying," I say to myself. "You're free to go if you'd like Sana"

'She is fun, isn't she? She is so beautiful and skillful, I am turned on immediately after she touched me. I see you are too? You cum 2 times in 5 minutes! I never see you cum that quickly. She is just born for sex, no matter whether male or female would fall to her. I am looking forward to playing with her again.'

'It's a shame I can't see Tzuyu showcasing her skill more, do you need me to help you before I off work? Or you want to leave it for tomorrow' Sana points at your bulge, it is not as big as you are playing with Tzuyu, it's still obvious that your cock need to be free.

"If you wouldn't mind Sana. This time I want to cum in your pussy though."

'Sure, boss. Just do it in the way you like.' Sana sits on your desk and uncover her skirt, you can see her pussy is wet already.

I slide my cock between her pussy lips a few times before thrusting into Sana. I pull Sana into a kiss. "I'll miss you, Sana. Tomorrow we'll spend the entire day fucking."

'Ah, Miss me already when you are still fucking me?' Sana returns to your kiss. ' I will be happy if you have the stamina to fuck me the whole day tomorrow, get some rest tonight, ok? Don't fuck other girls and leave the cum for me.' Sana grabs your ass and pushes you towards her.

I continue thrusting into Sana, joking "weren't you saying to fuck Dahyun just a little while ago?"

'I wouldn't mind you go to fuck her, but you can't cum. From now until the end of tomorrow, all your cum should be dedicated for me, ok?' Sana starts licking your nipple to give you more pleasure.

'You can bring Dahyun come tomorrow, let her know how bad her Oppa is.'

"I'm not doing that Sana," I pick up my pace and ram my cock deeper into Sana, "tell me when you're going to cum"

'Why huh? Afraid your image of good Oppa will collapse?' Sana increases her pace of grinding, she tenses her pussy for milking you.

'If you bring Dahyun to come tomorrow, I can create a chance for you to fuck her, but you need to come for me again, deal?'

"I'm not going to bring Dahyun, Sana." I pull on Sana's hips and hold her down while I start to piston in and out of Sana's pussy.

'You gonna fuck her in mind for the rest of your life huh?' Sana bites your nipple lightly, make you to moan.

'Dahyun is cumming, Oppa, faster!' Sana starts the role play again as she sees you refuse to admit the fact.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum. Take it all Sana!" I say I bury cock deep inside her and start to cum inside her.

'Yes, Oppa, give a kid to Dahyun! Cum in me!' Sana screams when she cums with you, you are more turned-on hearing Dahyun ask you to cum for her. The waves of cum keep splashing out from your cock, her walls presses you tightly to drain you.

'You should call me Dahyun instead of Sana, we are role-playing.' Sana rest lazily on your desk as she is recovering.

I pull out of Sana and sit down. "Yeah, sure I'll do it tomorrow if you want."

'Is you want, not I want, don't you want to fuck Dahyun huh?' Sana leaves the table and kneels to clean your cock.

The suction of Sana's mouth is really, you can feel she is sucking the remaining cum out of your cock. You pat her head and enjoy her service.

'So, how do you feel? You can fuck Sana and 'Dahyun' both tomorrow, excited?'

I force Sana down to the base of my cock. "Let's be quiet and enjoy this."

Sana has no other options as your push her deeply into your base, she now focuses on your cock and cleaning it.

You look at Sana starts to gag as your keep holding your cock in her throat.

Your phone rings and it's Momo, she should be coming for your answer. You look at the phone and think should you pick up the call.

I mute the ringtone and let Sana finish before calling Momo back when I'm alone.

Sana did not give you the chance, she strugglely grabs the phone and help you pick up the call while she is still sucking you.

The speaker is on, and there is only silence, after a while Momo finally speaks. 'Long time no see, how are you, Y/N?'

"Doing better, how are you?"

'No, no good, very bad when I am not with you.' Momo answers you on the other side of the phone.

You try to answer her but Sana is keep teasing you, you don't want Momo suspect anything as you think you will start to moan.

The call is silence again, you brain is fully functioning while you enjoy Sana's intense blow job.

'Y/N?' Momo asks again.

"I'm sorry Momo, just a bit busy with work. I also don't know what to say"

'So you don't have anything that you want to say? such as our relationship.' Momo asks again.

Sana's faces show that she is waiting for the drama, but she increases her intensity at the same time.

You are excited at this scenario which you two may get caught, your breath become heavier.

'Hey ,Y/N, are you listening to me?'

"Momo there are a lot of things I want to say but I don't know how to say them. I think that we should meet up some day next week. This weekend doesn't work for me unfortunately."

Sana seems not satisfied by your answer, she wants more drama. Sana let your cock go, and start rides you.

You try to push away Sana, but she just put a finger on her lips and tell you to be quiet, meanwhile she bite her lips to prevent let out moan.

'I want to see you now, Y/N. I just miss you so much.'

'Sorry, I need to pick up my step sister tonight, I am really not free.

'Umm... Um.....' Sana reaches orgasm first in this excited scenario, her juice splashing all over your cock, you can't hold on anymore, you push deeper and cum in her.

Momo seems noticed something as she hear your tone so strange, and she could hear some sounds from you and Sana's body when Sana rides you.

'You ok? Y/N, is there someone next to you?'

"I have a co-worker with me, I'm trying to juggle two things at once. Sorry, give me a minute to call you back." I hang up before Sana has a chance to stop me.

'Damn, it's so excited. I love it.' Sana starts to catch her breath after you end the call.

'I'm so high, she nearly caught us. Can you feel how tight I am?' Sana says while grinding you again.

'Maybe we can call Dahyun tomorrow while we are fucking.'

"Get dressed and get out Sana. We'll talk tomorrow." I say very seriously.

Sana gets up from your lap and kisses you, 'Remember get some rest tomorrow, I hope both of us can't walk on Sunday, see you tomorrow.' Sana then get dressed and leave your room.

[sexy-monster-fucker]

I Don’t Love You, I’m Just Passing the Time

Dr. Gregory House x Doctor!Reader

Story Synopsis: Reader is a Doctor alongside House. They have known each other for years, mostly been dancing around being intimate with one another. Even though it is painfully obvious to their close friend, Wilson. After finally allowing their guards to fall, the Reader receives a letter inviting her for her dream position at her dream hospital. She has to make the hard choice of staying or going. angst/smut/nsfw/new relationships/minor fluff/typical hospital talk/situationship/

Part 1/Summary: Reader is woken in the middle of the night on the pretenses that her patient’s mother is distressed over some tests being run. Little does she know, House was the one behind it all.

CW: mentions of STDs, house being house, makeout, house being handsy, drug mention, situationship final boss

a/n: i just started episode one of house md, so apologies in advance if this is written out of character

~~~

"Did you seriously go behind my back and run tests on my patient?"

You folded your arms over your chest as you stormed into his office. Being called in from your bed because your patient's mother was distressed that her child had been brought back for testing that you had not informed them up. Still in your t-shirt, only having time to throw on a pair of jeans that you had laying on the floor. Not exactly the image of professionalism you normally showed. Running off pure adrenaline and rage as you tapped your foot on the linoleum floor.

"Well, good morning to you too, sweetheart," Dr. Gregory House, a fellow colleague of yours, snarked with a smirk. You had known him for years. Working alongside him even through all his questionable antics. Finding a close friendship in him and Dr. James Wilson. Somehow still annoyed when he would do something questionably ethical, even though it did not surprise you anymore.

"House," you chastised with tight lips.

"What if I saved your patient's life?"

"Since when did you care about other people's patients?"

"Touché," his eyebrows bounced as blue eyes darted to the side.

Your eyes lasered into him from across his desk. Waiting for some explanation as to why he felt the need to weasel his way into another one of your cases. Anger swirling around your stomach as the seconds ticked by.

"Your tits look good in that shirt," his eyes trailed down to your chest. Earning him an elongated eyeroll from you. His inability to not comment on your body any chance he got shining through. Cocky attitude gleaming behind his eyes.

"You think I don't know that?"

"You're standing here like you do."

"I'm standing here like I am waiting to hear your excuse," you growled. Jaw clinching as your temples flexed. Boiling under the layers of composure you were keeping.

"You left all your paperwork out. The whiteboard still had writing on it. How could I not tickle my fancy and see what you weren't? You should be thanking me. Kid's got chlamydia. Give her some antibiotics and she'll be fine," House shrugged.

"I ran tests for every STD in the book," you grimaced.

"When you hear hooves, assume horses not zebras, Y/L/N," his tone was teasing as he smiled. And you would be lying if you said that it did not make you want to smile back. House was a complete ass. Full of himself, condescending, and just not the most fun guy to be around. But you had grown fond of him. There was no other man alive who you would let talk to you the way he does, let alone flirt with you so much. And you liked him. The way his hair was disheveled, the way his beard ran softly down his neck, and how his eyes were always looking at you deeply. Denying yourself the reality of any sort of relationship, seeing as he was emotionally unavailable.

But you could still have fun with him.

"You're telling me it came back positive this time?"

"Yes. That's what happens when a real doctor runs tests. Instead of making interns do it," hooded eyes looked up at you.

Your tongue came out to glaze over your teeth. Closing the distance between you as you leaned across the table. Teeth grinding together as you stared into his eyes, "You woke me up to gloat?"

"I didn't wake you up. Remember? The mother was worried," he smirked, clearly admitting the false nature of your page.

"You lied to get me here so you could brag in my face," your brows pushed together as you scanned his face. Watching his eyes stare down the v-neck of your shirt as you leaned forward. Clearly fixated on your exposed breasts.

“You sleep without a bra?”

Your face flushes at the realization. In your rush to leave you had not even taken the time to throw on a bra. Understanding why he was so awestruck by your chest. Having a clear view of every detail.

You straightened your back and cleared your throat. Lips parted in embarrassment. Unable to look in his piercing blue eyes. You could see him snickering out of the corner of your eye. Loving how flustered he had you.

“Why did you want me here?”

“I was worried about your patient, of course. Maybe I just like messing with you. Maybe I just wanted to see you,” House bullshitted you. He was the King at it. Fastest way he knew how to get under people’s skin. But you were all too familiar with his game.

You walked around his desk, causing him to straighten his back and wonder what you were about to do to him. You took your place between his spread legs and the desk. Sitting on the edge directly in front of him. Head tilting to the side as you teased, “Did you really miss me that bad?”

House chuckled, rolling his neck as he thought of a response. Scooting his chair closer so that he could be against your legs. Almost close enough to touch you, head leaned above your lap. You caressed his chin with your pointer finger, prickly facial hair danced along your digit. Causing his eyes to fall shut for a moment. Lingering in your soft touch.

“Look, I get we haven’t been working many cases together. And I know it’s so hard for you to be away from me, but you can’t just pull me out of bed in the middle of the night,” you smiled, voice soft with a hint of joking.

“I’d rather be in bed with you,” House grinned. Earning himself another eye roll from you. You flicked his forehead. His brows furrowed together as an over exaggerated ‘OW’ came from him. You laughed as his hand came up to cup where you had hit him. Lines of his forehead thicker than before.

Now this is as the side of your relationship that had your feelings mixed all around. Yes, he was a womanizer to everyone. Of course he made non-stop remarks about your body and your looks and how you were “acting like a woman.” But this? This was something entirely different. A side of him that was genuine and enamored. His smile not riddled with self gratification and narcissism. Instead it was like he was actually enjoying being around you.

“You know I could sue you,” House smugly started, “It’s a hate crime to attack cripples.”

“Not when they deserve it,” you leaned forward as you spoke, closing the gap between your faces. Feeling your stomach flip when his smile softened as he looked in your eyes. Close enough to be breathing the same air. Both of you fighting to not breathe too loudly. Silence loomed over the room. You swallowed the lump forming as you contorted your jaw with thought.

House pushed himself forward, almost connecting his lips to yours. So close you had to hold your breath. Before he could you spoke, “I’m going home since my sleep was interrupted.”

He exhaled with an awkward smile as he leaned back. Looking away from you, out the small gap in his blinds. Piercing his lips together as he nodded. Nostrils flaring as his mind raced. Teeth clicking together, “Teasing little minx, aren’t you?”

Wide eyes looked back at you again. The corner of your mouth upturned when you saw his flushed face. Eyes wandering down to see the outline of his semi-hard in his jeans. Cheeks heating up at the sight as you blew your breath out in a giggle.

“You are just a horny old man,” you led his gaze back to you with your hand on his chin. His pupils were enlarged as they looked between yours.

Neither of you were willing to admit the tension between you. Writing it off as a mutual understanding of how the other behaved. Even when Wilson would point out every obvious sign of something else. Swearing he had never seen two people as smart as you be so stupid.

Knowing the real reason you never acknowledged it was a mutual fear. Fear of things becoming too real and you both growing attached. His dependence on the pills in his coat pocket. Your tendency to run at the first sign of vulnerability. Somethings do not work well together.

Even thought he knew more about you than anyone else. And the fact you had seen the scar that he refuses to acknowledge most of the time. Or even that you both had stayed over at the other’s apartment more than once. Finding comfort in the other’s presence. Watching him play his piano and closing your eyes to the relaxing melody. Allowing him to teach you some minor lessons when he wanted. Finding yourself shopping for food with his tastes in mind. Calling him when you just needed someone to talk to, even if he sounded annoyed the entire time.

“You’re basically dating,” Wilson had once said to you over lunch.

“Oh, God. Can’t a man and a woman just be friends?”

“No!” he had laughed with his exclamation, “Especially not you two.”

You had sneered at him in response, nose scrunched and eyes narrow. Wilson had put his hands up in a defensive position, “Okay— okay! Then explain why you got that.” He motioned to the red sucker on your tray.

“Because I knew House would… want… it..?” You realized what you were admitting as it left your lips. Cheeks igniting when he grinned at you. You brushed him off. Suppressing any and all thoughts and confusion that conversation brought about.

“It’s because I’m cripple, isn’t it?”

You rolled your neck along with your eyes. Sighing heavily with a laugh. Attention back on House when he grabbed his cane and stood between your legs. Resting the cane against the desk so both his hands could splay across your thighs. Figure towering over you now that he was at his full height.

“Not sure how that’ll go over with the P.C. Mob,” he joked as his nose traced your jawline. Heat from his breath trickling down your throat. You could not help but giggle at the sensation. Stubble tickling your skin as he examined your jugular. Feeling when his mouth would morph into a smile. One of your hands meeting his on your thigh, the other tangling in his hair.

“Greg…” your voice dropped to a sultry tone, stopping him in his tracks. Audibly swallowing as he held still. Shoulders rising and falling with each breath he took. Use of his first name was something you normally saved for when you were at home. Still interchanging it with his sir-name from time to time.

“Y/N…” he replied, lips painfully close to your skin. Your heartbeat thumped against your eardrums. Arousal pooling between your legs at the smell of his cologne. And how his fingers dug into your thighs. Stabilizing himself, but also just wanting to feel you.

“I have to go get some sleep,” you drawled, your hand running up his arm and resting on his shoulder. House hummed in response, lips finally resting against your skin with a soft kiss. Chills ran over your body. His lips grew more sloppy as your lip began to quiver. Teeth grazing the flesh as one of his hands ran up your torso. Groping at your chest. Kneading the plump meat of your breast in his large hand.

“Just sleep here,” House groaned into your neck, a hint of a whine in his tone. Lips turning greedy as they made their way to the base of your ear.

“I’m not a booty call you can make when you’re needing to get laid in the middle of the night,” you laughed. Hands coming up and cupping his face. Causing his eyes to meet yours again.

“Really? I thought you were one of the hookers,” House smirked, tilting his head with his words. Leaning back to see your face better. His teeth pulling his lip between them. Swiftly kissing your face to the corner of your mouth. Waiting for some sort of permission before planting them on yours. Big, ocean eyes looked into yours.

You turned to meet him. Lips interlocking. Electricity shot through your nervous system. His tongue split your lips as he lapped into your mouth. Groaning as he pressed his body into yours. Loving the way your legs instinctively welcomed him between them, how they softly wrapped around his waist. Stumbling back against the desk when his weight sunk against you. Arms wrapping around his neck to stabilize yourself. Eyes wide, looking into his. His breath came out shaky, “Fuck.”

His hand cupped the side of your face, lips finding their place on yours again. Open mouth kisses were shared between you for a moment. His hand hooked around the band of your shirt, pushing it up and revealing your bare breasts. Gawking at them before capturing one of your hardened nipples between his lips. You moaned at how perfectly he stimulated your body. Nails digging into his shoulders as you savored his mouth on your skin. Teeth bit marks into the tender flesh, sucking and licking the bruises after.

"I want to fuck you so bad right now," House breathed out, hands roaming your body as his lips placed themself back on yours. You giggled, kissing him back hard.

A sudden yawn escaped your mouth. The lack of sleep catching up with you all at once. You rested your head against his shoulder, eyes growing heavy. Fighting your urge to give into him. House harshly sighed, his hand petting your hair for a moment. Frustrated that your body was throwing a wrench in his plan. "You're seriously that tired?"

You nodded, blinking yourself awake, "I have to be in at six in the morning."

"That's just a few hours away. Can't we have a little fun? I'm sure your blood pumping will wake you up," House suggested. Grimacing when you doed your eyes up at him. Your need for sleep apparent by the way you blinked slowly.

"I can't come to work without a bra," you joked a soft laugh falling from you. House chuckled in response. Lips falling against the top of your head, trying his hardest to not get angry. And trying to ignore how his cock throbbed between his legs.

“I really want to stay, but I won’t be able to work tomorrow if I do,” you whined, sitting up and looking at him with hooded eyes. Sleepily pressing your lips to his again. Matured hand cupping your cheek, thumb rubbing circles into the warm skin.

“Go home, get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow,” House sighed, defeated by how sweetly sleepy you were. Sitting back in his chair once more, giving you the space to get off his desk.

You hopped off, planting one more tender kiss to his lips before heading for the door.

“Your ass looks good in those jeans, too,” House said as soon as you reached the door. Smiling when you gave him an annoyed glance over your shoulder.

~~~

[END//Part 1] -> Part 2

// Thank you so much for reading!! This is my first time writing for Dr. House, he is my current new obsession. I’ve got most of this story scripted out and I’m excited to continue it. If you are interested in being tagged in the future, or have a request of any kind, let me know! Comments and Reblogs are appreciated //

{tags}

@megangovier ~ @iwmflbb ~ @houseslollipop ~ @ooom4rie ~ @yourgirlcarol ~

[miss-vanta-likes-to-write]

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick and his fwb girl who is just a bit crazy for him. Hear me out. +18 mdni

Master list

He was home from deployment for a few weeks, and when he's home, he normally spends a good chunk of his time between your legs. He comes back to you, and you feed him well, cook his favorites, and right after his dick is down your throat or inside of you.

The way he presses you into the bed and fucks you is life changing. He grips your hair between his fingers, and the other hand is anchored to your waist. Each thrust of his hips is angled so that the softest parts of your insides are hit each time. The hard and deep thrusts knock the air from your lungs. Desperate gasps, and cute little squeals are a constant amongst the pure filth that is coming from him.

"Fuck I've missed you" He says and leans his body as close as possible as he can into you. He groans and places a foot up on the bed for a better angle and yanks on your hair to arch your body the way he wants.

Your body tenses at the angle and the feeling, eyes rolling back, drool dripping down your chin. "Ky-" you can barely form words. The pleasure is too much for you, and the sounds of his hips slamming into your ass are deafening. "I can't -" a moan chokes you off, and you make the mistake of trying to crawl away.

His grip only tightens on you, and he yanks you back into him. "D- don't run, baby. Don't try to take what's mine away from me."

And boy, does that do something for you, and his words shake you to your core. You're coming hard, and the knot that had been in your stomach finally snaps apart. "I'm yours, Ky. I'm yours!" You shout, and you're trembling from the orgasm that literally snuck up on you.

"Fuck" He grunts and the wetness from your pussy only makes it so that he can fuck you faster. His movements are a bit sloppy and rougher. He's close. As another orgasm approaches you, you can faintly hear him babbling. "Mine. Mine. Mine." He repeats with each thrust. He shoved you forward and pressed you face down into the pillow, he gives three more thrusts and stills. His moan seems to be a bit of a whine because your body clenched up after spiraling into another orgasm. Your own teeth chatter from the intensity, and you feel dazed. You feel him twitch and throb inside of you as he cums inside of you, he's panting and trying to catch his breath.

"Fuck." He exhales.

The next week, Kyle doesn't come by as often, and you're a bit worried. You know he isn't deployed yet. He's still posting on Instagram stories about his day with the one friend who has the mohawk. They've been hanging out, bar hopping, and you've been dutifully just waiting for him. Your messages go on read or not answered, and for some reason, that irritates you. Deep down, you know he and you aren't 'official' or 'together', but you do couple things together. You talk daily, have dinner together, date nights, and you share the most sweetest pillow talks. So when you see just a glimpse of some other girl in his Insta story, you feel like you might just crash out. (And your friends, who never approved of the guy since he won't claim you egg you on)

So that's how you find yourself outside of Kyle's apartment. He rooms with the mohawk guy, and you distantly remember his name being Dawn or some shit. You knock on the front door, and Kyle answers. He looks a bit confused.

"Babe what-" He goes to start

"Who the fuck is this?" You show him your phone and it's the profile of the girl from the insta story. "Is she why you haven't been around?"

"Wait, how did you -" He looks like a deer in headlights, he stumbles over his words, "Please don't act crazy about this." He steps into the hallway with you and closes the door.

"Don't piss me off, Kyle Garrick! You can't just damn near rip of my frontal and tell me I'm yours and then ask me to not be crazy!" You're close to really snapping.

Kyle knows you have a point... but if he feels like if he says anything about you not being together, he may just not get out of this mess unscathed. He thinks quickly on his feet, and he prays that Soap goes along with it, "That's Johnny's girl."

You squint your eyes at him, seemingly mollified by his answer. Just a bit, though, you look him up and down and nod your head once. "Don't embarrass me, Kyle." You whisper and give him a hug.

He finds it a bit odd, that choice of words. But he's gonna do his best to not tip off his crazy fuck buddy.

Kyle would be the one to end up with a crash out. No real reason why this exist lol, just woke up with the idea.

[daryltwdixon]

Summary: You and Tommy had been trying for a baby for years. When a trip to the gyno answers questions you didn’t even know to ask, your husband enlists the help of his one and only brother.

|| smut MDNI 18+, pinv, no outbreak, talk of infertility, not cheating but def not exactly kosher, baby makin', breeding kink, dirty talk, size kink, boundaries being crossed || notes: forgive me father for I have sinned. this is filthy. but also thinking about a part 2. kinda sorta maybe inspired by some crazy reddit stories. you'd be surprised how many there are like this LOL

You knew this was a crazy idea. Batshit crazy, actually. You were aware. But maybe, just maybe, if you spun it the right way, if you framed it with enough love and logic, it wouldn’t seem so absurd.

See, the thing is, you and Tommy had been trying for a baby for years. Trying and, well, failing. It wasn’t until your last visit to the OB-GYN that a simple question—"Has Tommy ever been tested?"—sent everything spiraling. A few weeks of waiting. A single piece of paper. An answer you never expected. It wasn’t you. It was him.

Not that you’d ever blame him. You loved him too much. But no matter how many old wives’ tricks you tried—holding your legs up after he emptied himself into you, orgasms before and after, cinnamon and honey in your morning tea—nothing could change the fact that no amount of effort would make it stick.

Which brings you to now. Sat at the kitchen table in your quaint, cozy home with Joel across from you, a few glasses of wine deep. His expression was somewhere between exhausted and mildly entertained from whatever dumb story Tommy had been telling. You’d needed a glass yourself, just to steady your nerves.

And then Tommy popped the question.

Joel blinked once. Twice. His mouth opened, then shut again, then opened just enough for a noise—somewhere between a scoff and an incredulous laugh—to escape. He shifted in his chair, pushing back just slightly, like he needed to physically distance himself from what he was hearing.

“You…” he started, then stopped. Shook his head. “You want me to—?”

He didn’t even finish the sentence. Just motioned vaguely, like the words were so ridiculous they refused to come out of his mouth.

Tommy sighed, his grip firm around your hand while the other wrapped around your shoulders. “Yeah.”

Joel exhaled sharply, eyes darting between the two of you, like maybe, just maybe, this was a joke. That you'd all start laughing and point at him with a big 'got ya!'. His lips parted slightly, his forehead creased.

“You’re serious.”

“We wouldn’t ask anyone else,” Tommy said, voice steady.

Joel let out a breathy laugh, hollow and disbelieving. He dragged a hand down his face before pressing his palms against the table, fingers splaying out like he needed to brace himself.

“This ain’t a normal conversation to be havin’ over dinner, Tommy.”

“We know.”

“Do you?” Joel snapped, finally looking at his brother again, his voice sharper now. “Because I gotta tell ya, it really don’t seem like you do.”

“This ain’t easy for either of us,” Tommy said, his voice steady despite the tension winding between the three of you. “But we wouldn’t ask anyone else. We want to keep it in the family, so…the baby would still be related to me.”

Joel’s jaw tensed. His fingers gripped the stem of his wine glass like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. 

He looked over in your direction, but not directly at you, just at the table. At your hand in Tommy’s.

“And you’re…okay with this?” His voice was different now. Lower. Measured, like he was afraid of the answer.

You nodded. “We’ve talked about it. A lot. Ever since the results came back, we’ve been weighing options, and this—” You hesitated, swallowing, trying to gauge if he was even absorbing a single word. “It makes the most sense. More than adopting. More than a stranger. It keeps things in the family.”

Joel’s jaw clenched, his ears tinged pink. He still wasn’t looking at you.

Not until you said his name. Soft. Careful.

His eyes flicked to yours, just for a second. Just long enough for you to see everything—the disbelief, the sheer what the fuck of it all—before he dropped his gaze again, shaking his head.

“You don’t have to decide now,” you said gently, exhaling softly. “Just… take some time to think about it.”

Joel didn’t respond.

A few minutes later, he left—no joke, no small talk of the next Sunday night football game could cut through the weight pressing down on the room. Just a stiff nod, a muttered see ya, and the quiet sound of the door closing behind him.

The following Sunday, it almost felt like the conversation had never happened.

The three of you sat at the sports bar, watching the Cowboys play on the massive screens, the air thick with the scent of beer and fried food. Tommy was his usual self, shouting at the refs, leaning into Joel’s shoulder every time the score tipped in their favor. Joel, on the other hand, was harder to read. He was relaxed enough, beer in hand, his usual dry remarks slipping out here and there, but there was something quieter beneath it all—something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

Not one mention of a baby. Not a single word about what you’d asked of him.

And maybe that was his answer.

When your husband got up, throwing out the excuse of takin’ a leak, the energy between you and Joel shifted. Not in a way you could name—just… thicker. More noticeable.

He sat a seat away, the empty barstool between you like a buffer neither of you had the nerve to close.

You tried to let it roll off your shoulders, but as you sat there, your mind wandered. What if Joel had said yes? What if it worked? Would the baby have his dark eyes, that heavy, thoughtful brow? Would they get that serious little crease between their eyes when they were thinking? His thick hair, his strong hands?

Tommy would still be their father. That was what mattered. That was the whole point. But the idea of seeing traces of Joel—subtle things, the shape of a nose, the curve of a smile…

The thought sent a strange, unfamiliar feeling curling in your chest.

It hurt, his lack of an answer, of course it did. But how could you blame him? You were asking for too much. Asking him to do something unnatural, something messy, something that could never be as clean and logical as you and Tommy had tried to convince yourselves it was.

You swallowed, setting your drink down as the silence stretched. “Listen, Joel—”

“I’ll do it.”

It was quiet. Like he wasn’t sure if he meant to say it out loud.

Your breath caught, as you stared at him, mouth agape. The side of his face gave nothing away as he kept his eyes on the TV as you waited for some kind of smirk, some sign that he was messing with you.

But he wasn’t.

Joel kept his eyes averted, like this was the kind of thing a person could say without looking someone in the eye. He took a long drink from his bottle, then set it down with a dull thud.

“You and Tommy deserve this,” he murmured, rolling the glass between his palms as he stared down at it. “To have a kid.”

Your heart constricted at the sincerity in his voice.

He exhaled, shaking his head slightly. “My life is better ‘cause of Sarah. Don’t think I ever told Tommy that outright, but… it is. I’d love to see him get to have that too.”

You blinked. “Are you…” Your voice was barely above a whisper. “You serious?”

Joel turned to you finally, his eyes meeting yours for the first time since last week before you dropped the bomb on him, “Yeah.” he said finally, “Yeah, I’m serious.”

He was clearly uncomfortable, clearly still working through it—but the fact that he said it at all, that he meant it... that was more than you expected.

To be honest, you knew the baster idea wouldn’t work.

Not that you’d ever say it out loud. Not to your very loving, very kind, very hopeful husband. But deep down, you were pretty sure that by the time Joel had taken care of himself, transferred it into a container, driven it over, and you’d sat back on the bed with your legs up, whatever needed to be alive in there was long dead.

You didn’t bring it up. Couldn’t. Not when Tommy was trying so hard to make this work.

Across from you in the kitchen one morning, another negative pregnancy test sitting between you, your husband sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw before reaching for his mug, “If I ask you somethin’,” he murmured, voice low, hesitant, “will you tell me the truth?”

Your eyes flicked up to his. “Of course, baby.”

His hand rested on the granite, fingers close enough that you reached out, tracing them lightly with your own. His eyes drifted down to your delicate touch against him.

Then, he exhaled slowly and cleared his throat.

“Do you think we should try…” His fingers twitched under yours. “Ya know. The old-fashioned way?”

For a second, the words didn’t land.

Not until you saw the way his eyes found yours and he was looking at you—serious, thoughtful, like he’d been turning it over in his head for longer than he wanted to admit.

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

Tommy sighed, pressing his lips together before setting his coffee down. “I just think… for it to stick properly, we might need to try somethin’ more… natural.”

Your mind reeled. Heat crept up your neck, flushing your skin before you could stop it.

The idea of being with another man…

Tommy saw it. The way your lips parted, the way your breath caught just slightly.

He stepped closer, smoothing his hands over your cheeks, tilting your face up toward his.

“Only if you were comfortable with it,” he assured, voice gentle, steady. “I’d never ask you to do somethin’ you didn’t wanna do.”

You swallowed hard, still trying to process. “I—I don’t know, Tommy.” Your voice was barely above a whisper. “And Joel would flip out if we asked that of him.”

Tommy hummed, thumbs brushing over your cheekbones. “Yeah, he might.”

Might was an understatement.

Joel was over the following day to help with your bathroom remodel, a project the brothers had taken on during the slow season. You were busy finishing whatever odds and ends you needed to get done upstairs when you heard his voice traveling through the house.

Not just his voice—but the volume of it.

“Are you outta your goddamn mind?!”

The sound rattled through the house, shaking the walls as you hovered at the top of the stairs, heart pounding.

“Joel—” Tommy’s voice, calm but firm.

“No. No, you don’t get to ‘Joel’ me right now, Tommy, because what you just said—what you just— Christ.” There was the distinct sound of something slamming—a fist on the table? A chair shoved back? You weren’t sure, but it made you wince.

“Look, man, I knew you’d be pissed,” Tommy started, only to be cut off immediately.

“Oh, did you?” Joel’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “You knew I’d be pissed, but you went ahead and asked anyway? Jesus fuckin’ Christ. I’m already crossin’ so many lines with what we’re doin’, and now you’re askin’ me to…to—!?”

You could picture it perfectly—Joel pacing the length of the room, one hand on his hip, the other raking through his hair, winding up, because when Joel was really mad, he didn’t just stand there.

“You’re makin’ it a bigger deal than it is,” Tommy tried, tone even.

Joel let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Oh, I’m sorry, did I misunderstand the part where you just asked me to fuck your wife?”

Heat crawled up your neck.

“We ain’t askin’ that, Jesus, Joel, don’t talk about her like—”

“You are absolutely askin’ that.”

“It’s not like that.”

“The hell it ain’t!”

Silence. Heavy, tense.

You swallowed hard, gripping the banister, unsure whether to go down there or stay put.

Then—Joel’s voice, lower now, but still laced with disbelief.

“Tell me you didn’t really think I’d say yes to this.”

And Tommy, just as steady as ever:

“I think you wanna say no.” A pause, and you could almost feel the shift in the air between them. “But deep down? I think you’re already considerin’ it.”

Joel let out a slow, sharp exhale, but he didn’t argue.

And a week later, he was back at your doorstep.

There were three rules.

1. No kissing.

That was the hard line, the non-negotiable. Kissing was too intimate— too personal, too close to something else entirely. You could rationalize everything else, strip it down to the mechanics of what needed to happen, but kissing blurred the lines. That made it mean something. And this couldn’t mean anything.

2. No talking about it outside the bedroom. 

No slipping up over dinner, no awkward mentions in passing, no weird jokes over a few beers. It had to stay contained. A thing that only existed in a room with the door closed and the world shut out. Because once it bled into the rest of your life—once it became something you acknowledged beyond those four walls—it would become real.

3. No names

No whispered Joel in the dark, he couldn’t say yours while he was inside you. Names had weight. Names had meaning. And the second you said them, it stopped being about a baby.

So when your ovulation window came within the next few days, you found yourself in your bedroom with the two brothers. When Tommy excused himself from the room—pressing a kiss to your forehead before heading out to meet his buddies at the bar like this wasn’t the weirdest fucking thing in the world— you turned to Joel

Over the years, you’d come to know him, grown comfortable with him. That familiarity should’ve helped, should’ve made this easier. But sitting here now, alone in the bedroom with him, awkward was an understatement.

Joel sighed, rubbing his forefinger and thumb along his brows as he stood at the edge of the bed. “Guess we better get to it, then.”

You nodded numbly, tucking your legs beneath you on the bedspread, looking up at him.

He was already tense, broad shoulders squared, avoiding your gaze like you weren’t even in the damn room. He exhaled sharply, then—without ceremony—unbuckled his belt. The clink of metal sent a strange ripple through your stomach, but you forced yourself to focus, watching as he shucked his jeans down to his thighs, taking his boxers with them.

Your breath caught.

Even soft as he was at the moment, he was bigger than Tommy. Thicker.

Joel cleared his throat, shifting his stance, one hand bracing against the bedpost while the other wrapped around himself. He wasn’t looking at you. Not even close. His gaze stayed fixed somewhere off to the side, jaw locked, the muscles in his forearm flexing as he started moving his hand.

It wasn’t working.

Minutes passed, the air between you thick and suffocating, but he remained… soft. The tension in his face deepened, brows knitting, his motions growing stilted.

You chewed your lip, watching as his frustration mounted.

“You don’t gotta sit there starin’ at me,” he muttered, voice gruff, like this was somehow your fault.

You exhaled through your nose. “I’m just… tryin’ to think how I can help.”

His hand stilled. “You’re fine. Just–just give me a minute,”

Then suddenly as the idea struck, you reached for the hem of your shirt and pulled it up.

Joel’s head snapped toward you, eyes going wide. “What’re you doin’?” His voice was sharp, edged in something that sounded suspiciously close to panic.

You hesitated. “Just… thought maybe it’d help.”

“Well, don’t.” His ears were red. “Keep your damn clothes on.”

You huffed. “Jesus, it’s just a shirt.”

He grumbled something under his breath, but let it go, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe any of this was happening.

Another beat of silence, only the sound of skin on skin filling the air as he fisted himself.

“Can I help?”

His gaze flicked to yours, skeptical. “Help how?”

You shrugged. “I dunno. What do you like?”

Joel tensed. “…The hell kinda question is that?”

“A valid one,” you shot back, tilting your head. “C’mon, there’s gotta be somethin’. What do you like?”

He hesitated, shifting where he stood, uncomfortable. You rattled off a few suggestions, some kinks you’d heard of. He barely reacted.

Then finally, one seemed to slap him upside the head, “Do you like dirty talk?”

His entire body stilled.

His eyes finally, finally found yours.

Bingo.

A slow pulse of heat curled low in your stomach.

You leaned forward slightly, voice softer now. “What kind of things do you say?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just stared at you, the tension in his jaw loosening, his pupils starting to widen.

“Come on, Joel,” you said, then immediately pressed your lips together, realizing you’d already broken one of your own rules—not even five minutes in.

“Sorry—” You exhaled, shaking your head. “But c’mon, do you want me to talk to you? Or what do you usually say to women?”

Joel’s eyes were suddenly burning into you, his chest rising and falling just a little heavier now. He exhaled sharply, remembering himself as his gaze flickered around the room like he wasn’t sure where to land it, like maybe if he didn’t look at you, this would stay clinical—mechanical.

“I uh��” He wet his lips, voice rough. “Usually will tell ‘em they’re bein’ real good for me,” he said, exhaling through his teeth. “Bein’ a good girl.”

The temperature of the room shifted, the air growing heavy, pressing down on you. A slow, pooling ache pulsed low in your belly. His nostrils flared as his eyes found yours again, like maybe he could see exactly what that did to you.

You swallowed, “What else?”

Joel’s hips twitched. He hesitated, his grip flexing around himself, fingers curling just slightly. You caught the bob of his throat, the faint shift of his stance. He was getting there.

His gaze dropped to your mouth. “Tell ‘em how pretty they look on their knees.” His voice had taken on a new weight—thicker, heavier, his drawl rolling low in his throat. “How sweet they sound when they moan for me. How bad I wanna feel ‘em wrapped around me, drippin’ and ready, beggin’ for more.”

The room contracted, the air impossibly tight, each breath harder to pull in. Your skin felt hot, your lips parting as you fought to keep your breathing steady. And you knew—knew—your pupils were wide, knew your face was flushed.

Because his was too.

His eyes had darkened, locked on yours, heat simmering beneath the surface. You inhaled deeply, the air between you charged, electric. You reached out, fingers grazing along his forearm. He tensed, muscles flexing beneath your touch, but he didn’t pull away.

“You wanna take this off?” you murmured, voice quiet but sure, fingers tracing up toward the sleeve of his shirt.

Joel let out a slow breath, something flickering behind his eyes—hesitation, uncertainty—but then, after a beat, he reached down and pulled his shirt over his head, dropping it to the floor.

Your gaze raked over him.

Christ. He was the epitome of masculinity—broad and solid, built like something carved from rough earth, from long years of labor and hardship. His chest was strong, lined with thick, dark hair that tapered down his stomach in a steady trail, leading lower—disappearing into the patch just above where he was hardening in his hand. 

Your mouth was dry, your pulse a slow, deliberate thrum in your veins.

You lifted your hands to the hem of your own shirt, pausing just slightly. He hadn’t looked away.

“Okay?” you asked softly.

His jaw flexed, gaze dark, unreadable—but after a second, he nodded.

You pulled it over your head, the fabric slipping away, baring more skin than you’d ever thought he’d see.

Joel exhaled sharply, his eyes dragging down your body, heavy and slow, his pupils swallowing the color of his eyes. Your nipples pebbled in the open air, a shiver running through you as his gaze settled there, his breath hitching just slightly.

You reached for him again, fingers trailing along the hard lines of his chest, dipping over the planes of his stomach. He was warm beneath your touch and he smelled like pine and musk and something richer, something leathered and sun-baked—something distinctly Joel.

He sucked in a sharp breath. “O—okay,” he exhaled, voice rough. “I think I’m… good,” he added shakily, and you could see his body finally catching up to the filth rolling off his tongue, the thick weight of him fully hard now. You swallowed dryly at the sheer size of him in his palm.

Standing slowly, your hands dropped from his body, but your eyes never left his as you slid your pants down your hips and let them pool at your feet.

Bare. You were both bare.

Your gaze dragged over him, from the broad stretch of his shoulders down to his stomach, the solid cut of his thighs, his cock standing thick and heavy between you. It was the most you’d ever seen of him. The most he’d ever seen of you.

And he was beautiful.

Joel swallowed hard, his jaw tight as his gaze traveled over every inch of you. Then, wordlessly, you laid back down on the bedspread, opening your legs for him.

He cursed under his breath.

You caught the way his throat bobbed, the way his fingers twitched at his sides before he climbed onto the bed after you, settling between your legs. His eyes darted down, locked onto the wetness pooling between your thighs, and his nostrils flared.

“All this from just a few sweet words, huh?” His voice was lower now, edged with something amused but dark, something he hadn’t meant to let slip through.

He shifted forward, but you stopped him with a hand to his chest.

“I, uh…” You cleared your throat, suddenly shy. “It’s said that women are more likely to get pregnant if, um… if they orgasm during or… or before, I think.”

Joel stilled for half a second before a slow smirk pulled at his lips. “You doubt me so much?”

The teasing edge in his voice—the cockiness—made some of the tension in your chest loosen. You let out a breathless laugh, your body unwinding slightly from the tension earlier. “I just… I’ve never…”

Something shifted in his face. The smirk faltered just a little. “You’re sayin’ my baby brother doesn’t take care of his own wife?”

“No!” you said quickly, your hand flexing against his chest defensively. “He does, it’s just… I can’t finish just from penetration. Most women can’t, actually.”

“I know, darlin’.”

You gasped as the thick head of his cock suddenly swiped through your slick arousal, and he hissed, pressing his other hand into the pillow beside your head as he leaned over you.

“Fuck—”

His voice was rough, gravelly, wrecked, and something about it made your thighs squeeze around his waist, made the heat coil even tighter in your belly.

Joel lingered there, his cock sliding through your slick, slow and deliberate, teasing against your swollen clit with every pass. The thick head caught at your entrance, nudging just slightly, and a gasp broke from your lips before you could swallow it down.

His jaw ticked, fingers flexing in the pillow beside your head, his body wound tight like a spring.

“This okay?” he asked, voice rough, strained.

You nodded quickly. “Yeah. Yes.”

He pressed forward, just an inch, just enough for you to feel the blunt stretch of him, and your breath hitched.

“Jesus,” he muttered under his breath. “So damn wet.”

Heat flooded your face, but you couldn’t think—couldn’t focus on anything other than how thick he was, how different he was from Tommy. You felt like you were being split in two, but you wanted more. Every inch only made that need, that hunger, grow.

His hand lifted from his cock, skimming over your hip before settling on your thigh, holding you open.

“Gotta take it slow,” he murmured, mostly to himself. “Don’t wanna hurt you.”

You swallowed hard, fingers curling into the sheets beside you. “I can take it.”

His head dropped for a second, a quiet curse slipping past his lips. “Don’t say shit like that, sweetheart.”

Something about that word, the way it left his mouth—low and full of something dangerous—made your stomach clench.

The stretch was slow, unbearable in the best way as he pushed forward even more, your body giving inch by inch, and you let out a sharp exhale as he filled you.

Joel groaned, deep and low, his fingers tightening on your thigh as he finally buried himself to the hilt.

Jesus Christ.

The weight of him inside you, the way he fit—it was overwhelming, taking up every inch of space, leaving you panting beneath him.

“Fuck,” he gritted out, his hips flush with yours now, his jaw tight. “You’re—shit, you’re squeezin’ me so damn tight.”

Your thighs trembled around his waist, your body working to adjust to the fullness, to the sheer size of him, and then—oh god—then he moved.

A slow pull out, a deep thrust back in.

You moaned, head falling back against the pillows, fingers flexing against the sheets.

Joel’s breath was ragged, his grip tightening. “That’s it.”

As he began to set a steady pace, a deep thrust in, a gentle pull out, the tingling sensation you knew all too well was rising fast—too fast. It climbed up your spine, coiling tight, and your breath hitched in your throat. The sensation was familiar, so familiar, but not like this. Not from this.

Joel moved with deep, deliberate thrusts, each one stretching you full, dragging against every oversensitive nerve inside you with agonizing precision. His cock was thick, heavy, unrelenting—pressing deep, pressing right, pleasure licking up your spine like fire.

His hand moved between you, thumb finding your clit with ease, the calloused pad brushing over the swollen bundle of nerves, a touch just firm enough to make you jolt. Your whole body reacted, thighs trembling, an involuntary gasp ripping from your lips.

His breath hitched as he felt it too, and he let out a dark, pleased hum.

“Feel that?” he murmured, his voice a slow, deliberate drag against your skin. His thumb moved again, slick and sure, working tight little circles against you. “Now, what was it you said again?”

Your chest heaved, your fingers gripping at the sheets, at him, anything to keep yourself tethered, because the pleasure was coming in hot, hard waves now—building, climbing, making your skin flush and prickle with heat.

“I—I never—” You gasped, voice breaking, lips parting as your back arched into the feeling, as you felt your muscles tighten and clench under him.

Joel leaned in, lips brushing against your ear. “C’mon, sweet girl. Use your words.”

Your hips met every thrust, dragging a moan from deep in your chest.

“I’ve never—ah!—never come like this before,” you choked out, breathless and desperate.

Joel swore under his breath.

“You’re tellin’ me,” he rasped, voice dripping in absolute filth and sin, “my pissy little brother never made you come on his cock before?”

The shame of it—the filthy, shameless truth of it—slammed into you just as hard as the pleasure. Your breath came in short, stilted gasps, your thighs twitching, heat curling low and tight, twisting like a wire pulled too taut. You gripped his biceps hard where they caged you in, your nails digging into his skin.

“I–”

“Never felt the way you’re squeezin’ the life outta me right now, baby?” His voice dipped lower, rougher, as his thumb pressed, rubbing slow and tight. “Never had you like this? Drippin’ and desperate? Makin’ the prettiest fuckin’ sounds I’ve ever heard?”

Heat flared in your belly, your legs shaking around him, pleasure tearing through you.

Joel felt it, the way you clenched down around him, and he grinned, breath hot against your mouth as he groaned through his teeth.

“Fuck—that’s it. Let me feel you.”

And you did.

Your body suddenly snapped. The orgasm slammed into you, white-hot and merciless, every nerve in your body firing at once, blinding you with pleasure so intense it was nearly unbearable. Your breath punched from your lungs as your back arched clean off the bed, thighs trembling, a cry tearing from your lips as waves of heat crashed through you.

Joel swore under his breath, hips stuttering as you clenched tight around him, and his mouth hovered just above yours, his breath mixing with yours, the air between you thick and electric.

He felt the way your body fluttered around him, still pulsing with the comedown of your orgasm, dragging him deeper, tighter—trapping him. His breath was heavy, coming in sharp, ragged exhales as he dropped his head, his forehead resting against yours.

His hips kept moving quick and uneven, dragging his cock in and out of your still-clenching walls. He was throbbing, thick and hot inside you, every roll of his hips sending sharp little sparks of overstimulation through your system.

That was when, after coming back to earth, you saw the way his lips parted slightly, his breath hitching whenever you squeezed around him just right. The tension in his face, the way his muscles coiled and flexed with every deliberate movement.

He was close.

You wondered…

Your breath was still shaky, voice unsteady, but you let it slip out, slow and sultry, testing the waters, “You feel so good,” you whispered.

Joel froze for a split second, a sharp breath punching from his lungs as he reeled his head back to look down at you.

"Does it feel good for you?” you whispered, your fingers trailing up the nape of his neck. “Filling me up? Making me feel so full? So good?”

Joel let out a ragged, wrecked sound, his fingers digging into your skin, gripping you like a lifeline.

And in that moment—fuck the rules.

Because this was anything but clinical now.

You pressed a soft kiss to his jaw, letting your breath fan against his ear as you whispered, gentle, teasing.

“You gonna give me a baby, Joel?”

Joel let out a wrecked groan, his grip on your hips tightening, his pace faltering. His thrusts turned rougher, sharper, his body moving on pure instinct now—chasing it.

And then he snapped.

A strangled moan ripped from his throat as he slammed deep, burying himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing inside you as heat flooded you. His whole body shook, a ragged, guttural sound tearing from his chest as he came, thick and hot, spilling deep, his fingers flexing against your hips like he was trying to ground himself.

You gasped at the feeling, at the warmth spreading inside you, at the way his body shook above you.

Joel was panting, forehead pressed to yours, sweat damp at his hairline, his breath fanning against your lips, warm and unsteady.

For a long moment, neither of you moved.

Joel was still inside you, still filling you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, grounding you. His breath was heavy, warm against your cheek as he turned his head, his chest rising and falling against yours in slow, uneven waves.

“I should, uh…” His voice was hoarse, thick with something he wasn’t naming. He swallowed, clearing his throat as he sat up. “I should probably—”

You shifted slightly beneath him, still sensitive, still pulsing with the warmth of him inside you. Your thighs trembled, the ache delicious, spreading through you like slow heat.

“You can go,” you murmured, voice soft, a little sleepy. “I’m gonna stay here for a while.”

He hesitated as he looked down at you, your bodies still connected. 

You blinked up at him, lips curving in a lazy, satisfied smile.

“It’s said that if a woman stays lying down after, it increases the chances of conception.” You hummed, stretching slightly, body still warm and loose. “Just want to give it time to stick.”

You felt him twitch inside you, like his body had just caught up to the meaning of your words, and then he was pulling out, hissing under his breath as he eased away from you.

His heat vanished instantly, and a shiver ran through you at the sudden emptiness, the cool air replacing where he’d been pressed so solidly against you. You exhaled, tugging the covers up over yourself, shifting deeper into the mattress, letting your body sink into the afterglow.

Joel, on the other hand, was already moving, and fast.

He turned away from the bed, running a hand through his hair, reaching for his jeans like he needed them back on, needed the barrier, needed to be done with this.

“Hey,” you called softly as he stepped toward the door, one leg shoved into his pants.

He paused, turning slightly, just enough to look at you over his shoulder.

You blinked up at him sleepily, the blankets pulled up to your bare shoulders, your voice softer now. “You okay?”

Joel hesitated. Just for a second.

His hands hovered at his belt, his fingers twitching. His lips pressed together, like he was weighing his answer, like he didn’t trust whatever was sitting heavy on his tongue.

Then, he gave you a short, stiff nod. “Yeah. ‘M good.”

You hummed, unconvinced, watching the way his chest still rose and fell in uneven breaths, the lingering flush at his throat, the tension in his hands as he buckled his belt like he was fighting something.

“Okay,” you murmured, turning your head into the pillow, eyes half-lidded, “And, Joel?”

His gaze flickered back to you, hovering, like he was bracing himself.

You swallowed, shifting slightly under the blankets, warmth settling deep in your bones. “Thank you.”

Joel’s fingers twitched where they grabbed for his shirt, his throat working around something thick, something stuck. His eyes dragged over you one last time, heavy, unreadable, before he gave a single, curt nod.

“I’ll see you,” he muttered, voice rough, almost hesitant.

Then he turned, and with the sound of the door clicking shut behind him, he was gone.

[theslumberinggod]

Thinking of You Oft (Oneshot)

You have been kidnapped, and facing your untimely and inevitable death. But all you can think of are words unsaid and love not loved.

Pairing: Cyno X Reader

Other: Happy ending! I promise

•~°~•

“You know,” You sigh into the dry air, the shade of the ruined building you were in doing little to combat the heat, “I sometimes get the sense he feels he doesn’t have a true home.”

Your captor, Neth, scraggly with a vaguely wild look in his eyes looked up from the pit he was hastily digging artifacts out of. Exasperation was an underrated word on your fellow scholar’s face.

“What are you on about now?” He groaned, quickly turning back to his pile. “Do you ever shut up?”

“I’m talking about my best friend,” You quip tiredly, “I’m allowed to yap as much as I please, since I’m slowly bleeding out.”

“That’s your own fault, you moron,” Neth hissed at you, slipping further into the pit. Honestly, it sort of was. You weren’t paying attention as he dragged you down the crumbling stairs of the half-buried building. And well--you tripped, and fell forward onto broken railing, giving you a pretty nasty cut that Neth decided he wasn’t going to bother treating, since when he got what he wanted he was going to leave you to die anyways.

When you came to the revered Sumeru Akademiya you had no idea there’d be this much drama---in hindsight though, it made sense. There was too much power at play for there to not be. For the first few years, you only got to hear about it, but now you were the drama. There was something slightly ironic about it, since all you ever really wanted to do was just…learn.

Never once had it crossed your mind to break a rule. Like never once had it crossed your mind that maybe when you’re going down stairs, you should watch your step. Perhaps you got used to Cyno keeping you from hitting your head all those times, you mused with bittersweet somberness.

“Yeah, maybe,” You hum, laying on your side on the hard ground, wrists aching from where they tired, “But won’t you give this dying soul a little reprieve? It will be an interesting story to tell later.”

Neth furrowed his brows, “Gah! Fine, but let me know as soon as you see what I’m looking for!” He said as he tossed another artifact onto the floor in frustration. You winced, it certainly wasn’t the arcane device of mass destruction he had forced you to find, but it certainly was still valuable.

“Yay. Anyways, my friend---we’ve been friends for years at this point---tends to drown himself in his work. Which, considering his job is a good thing, he takes it seriously. But…he seems like he doesn’t know where to go when all is said and done, ya know?”

You looked up to the holes in the ceiling as you felt your own blood begin to drip down your sides under your clothes. You rolled onto your back, weakly pressing your arms to your side in an attempt to slow your fate. “I think he’s just torn, ya know? He’s from out here, the desert, but for the most part he grew up in the jungle. He has origins from all the way out here that pull him towards the dunes, but no one is…well, here for him. His dad is in the Akademiya.”

“How often do you think of this guy?” Neth grimaced, and you huffed out with a sigh.

“All the time. Especially since I’ve been kidnapped, fated to die. I really should’ve told him I loved him. I would’ve liked to be his home---they say true home is where the heart is. I would’ve loved to be that for him.”

The soon-to-be murderer groaned out loudly, “That is the dumbest thing I've ever heard. You call yourself a scholar, yet let your mind be occupied by thoughts of some…person! It��s disconcerting. Perhaps you do deserve to die.”

“Keep telling yourself that, buddy,” You whispered, sweat beading down your brow, a horrible fatigue settling on you, and you could only stare up at the ceiling, at the rays of hot Sumeru sun slipping through the gaping holes. What was this place? What stories did it once tell? How soon in the next sandstorm, would it all be buried?

When it was, would Cyno walk those dunes at night, to clear his head? Would he think of you too---does he think of you now? Would he think of you long after you’re gone? It’s too late you know, he’ll find you too late.

“You know,” You speak again into the dust you were soon to be a part of, “He tells good jokes. No one else likes them, but I think they’re hilarious. I wonder what jokes he’s come up with today.”

“Please, I can’t take it,” Neth hissed out again, aggravated by everything you were, “Who--who even is this freak?”

“The General Mahamatra Cyno,” You sighed sadly, lovingly, as the feeling grew worse, the faintness, the slight sense of panic, the cold, the weakness.

“...You’re kidding, right?” Neth looks at you directly in the eyes since he kidnapped you, fear all over his dirty face. You can’t help but chuckle.

“No. Not at all. He gives good hugs. I miss him,” You struggled to speak above a rasp, watching Neth pale in complete horror, “Even if I wasn’t, he’ll still find you. There’s no corner in Teyvat you can hide from him. He might not be able to save me, but he will find you.”

“Shut up,” He snapped. “You don’t know…what…”

Your kidnapper looked up and past you as black spots crawled into your vision, as the ground beneath felt warm with your own blood. There was a crackle in the air, the subtle sign of electro that tickled your skin.

“Found you.”

.

If the note tucked in the folds of General Mahamatra’s garb was the last words you ever spoke to him, he would never forgive himself. How could he be so blind? Why didn’t he look closer, to all the signs? It was one thing for a fool to run off on his own for the sake of his greediness, it was another to take a life in such a quest.

Had it been a stranger, Cyno would still be enraged with himself for his slip up. But it was you, and there were strings attached, ones he feared if they were severed---would break him.

He pulled the note out, standing under the hot, hot sun, dunes spread before in an endless sea of pale gold against the hazy blue of the sky.

Hello, Cyno!

Even though we don’t always get to hang out, I want to let you know I think of you, and should you ever need company or a friend, I will always welcome you into my home.

Lately I’ve taken to studying the ruins westward, not far from where you like to take your long walks.

Perhaps you’ll take me with you next time. I would love to enjoy the stars with you. - Thinking of you oft, Y/N

For the hundredth time, the General looked upon the hastily given note. You had been on your way to a meeting, you had said. You looked tired, as you so often did, so he did not think much of it. It was only when he read the sweet words that made his head spin and his heart soar for the third time he realized the cry in the note.

Cyno told himself as he marched that he should’ve known sooner, that something in the Akademiya was amiss, that Neth was up to no good. He had always been a little ambitious, but so were so many of the other students, and they had never crossed lines. Especially lines like these.

He should’ve known that your franticness that morning wasn’t from your usual rush to not be late, he should’ve known! It was his job, it was his duty! To not only enact the law but keep it, to make sure it wasn’t broken in the first place---and the one time he missed something, you were set as the price for his failing.

The General could not lose you, he could not lose his home.

Memories of a childhood forgotten, an origin beckoning him back, a duty and calling him pulling him the other way…Cyno often felt tired. But then he met you, and suddenly when returning from his long walks and many hunts, he did not find himself returning from a place he couldn’t quite settle in, or returning to a place he couldn’t quite call home, but returning to you.

He should’ve said it sooner!

So now when he holds you tight in his arms, stopping the bleeding in your side, he says it again and again, the words he should’ve said sooner.

“I love you, I love you, I love you…”

You still breathed, and your heart still beat, but Cyno didn’t know for how long. He only knew if he was just fast enough, maybe he could save you. Maybe you could wake to hear those words.

He did not stop for shade, he did not stop for night, as if he was on a hunt once again, not a hunt to bring down that hammer of justice, but to get his home back.

Over the dunes now soaked in nighttime blue, you are still unconscious in his arms. He took the time to listen to you breathe, hoping your lungs would never cease, praying and begging to gods old and new that you’d stay alive, to forgive him for messing up so terribly.

It was a beautiful night, he thinks to himself as he slides down carefully another slope of sand with you bundled securely in his arms. You would’ve loved it, he thinks. To see all these stars up in the sky, the whole universe on display, the moon beaming brightly down as his guide.

Your breathing shifted, shallow. No. Please no…

Cyno looked down to you, ruby red eyes violet in the dark of the night, his stoic expression changed with one of apprehension. You looked back up at him, awake, and alive. You drew in a deep, full breath, smiling in relief at him as you awoke.

You were alive. And you would live. It was not too late.

“...the moon is beautiful, isn’t it?”

[batsbratsandbarbedwire]

omg plsss write some steddie and/or platonic stobin!!!! my fav tags/themes are getting together, bi steve, gay eddie, wingman robin, steve and robin having no boundaries (and generally being a bonded pair of stray cats that cannot be adopted separately), and dustin/the kids being lil shits /lh

any rating!! (if youre still wanting writing ideas!) :D

Uh yes platonic no boundary stobin and getting together steddie are my favorite things okay. Soooo, it's a 5 and 1 and I'm only halfway through part 3, but proof I'm working on it. I'll post the finished story on ao3, though. Because I got real invested actually.

1.

It’s been 158 days since Steve’s seen Eddie. Not that he’s counting or anything, it’s just that he does that sometimes… he counts. It’s like, well, he can’t help it.

Anyway, it’s been a long time. They have Eddie all holed up in quarantine, something weird in his blood work. They keep saying they don’t really know if it’s safe or, uh, contagious or whatever.

Steve didn’t allow any blood work. But he’d been conscious. His own bat bites taken care of already. Had sat pretty with Eddie’s neat little row of homemade stitches holding him together and hadn’t told anyone else he’d been attacked by the bats. Not if they hadn’t been there to see it. And the party pretty much knew to keep their mouths shut by now, anyway, so.

Not the point.

The point is, it’d be 159 days in a couple hours and Steve missed him. Missed Eddie so aggressively, even though he’d never even known him before spring break.

Count his 2023 bingo card as all fucked and jumbled but, Jesus Christ, they’d gotten close in those 159 days.

Because they could hear each other.

That’s how Steve knew Eddie wasn’t contagious. Either that, or Steve was too, but the two things had to be related, right? And nobody else had really said anything about catching new symptoms, or whatever.

You’re thinking too much, big boy. He heard. Heard in his head. Which had been jarring and weird at first, really, Steve hadn’t ever heard thoughts before. He knew some people did. Robin said he had a thing with a funny A name he could never remember, and that’s why he couldn’t hear his own thoughts, but that everyone else could hear theirs. That other people could even see thoughts in their heads. That sounded maybe a little overwhelming to Steve. Hearing is one thing, but seeing too?

Eddie’s voice was clear as day.

“I can’t help it, I want them to let you out.” Steve said aloud to his empty bedroom. He did that. Tried not to when he wasn’t alone, but, again, the thinking in his head thing wasn’t normal and it confused him a little how it all worked. Still did. Eddie laughed and called it demobat sonar. Seemed really good at using it.

We’re working on it. You need to sleep, sweetheart.

Sweetheart. At least Eddie couldn’t feel his heartbeat.

“Don’t want to,” Steve whispered.

His head reverberated with a soft hum. Something warm and cozy and safe.

Then tell me a secret, baby.

Steve closed his eyes. What secrets did he even have? He didn’t know.

“What kinda secret?” he whispered.

It was like a laugh in his head, something soft. It made Steve smile.

Any kind, Stevie.

Steve’s brain was blank. He blurted out the first thing he remembered he’d never told anyone before. “I peed my pants leaving basketball practice once.”

Hot.

Steve snorted. “Coach wouldn’t let us go.” He shrugged to himself. To his empty room. “Whatever.”

Another hum. Whatever.

“Oh,” Steve said. He focused hard on feelings that he didn't think were his. “Hot? You’re serious?”

A laugh.

“Tell me a secret?” Steve asked.

Eddie didn’t have to think like Steve did. I like when pretty boys pee their pants in my lap.

“Eddie.”

Hm?

“Has that? Have you?”

Has it happened before?

“Yes.”

Once or twice.

“On purpose?”

Another hum. Course.

“Oh.”

Steve didn’t know what else to say. He twisted his fingers in his sheets and turned on his side to bury his face in his pillow.

You’re jealous.

“No,” he whispered. But he was. He felt it low in his gut.

I can feel it, sweetheart.

“I don’t know how you’re so good at controlling it.”

Pretty boys or the connection?

Steve snorted. He had no questions about how easy it might be for Eddie to control boys. “The second one.”

A hum. Maybe the more meat you lose to the beasts the better you are at it. I dunno. You give a little, you get a little.

“You haven’t told anyone, right?”

No.

“Me neither.”

I know, Sweetheart.

“How's your side?”

His voice came through soft, amused still. Same as it was an hour ago.

Steve sighed. “Not healing.”

Healing real slow.

“Allegedly.”

It’s not infected anymore, sweetheart.

“I just miss you.” Steve knew he was pouting, maybe. Was probably supposed to be embarrassed about it somewhere, but he wasn’t. He never was with Eddie, even when he thought he might be or should be.

You’re a dream, baby.

“Mm mm,” Steve hummed. “Real.”

A soft laugh. Kind of low and mellow. Indulgent maybe. I’ll believe it when I see it, sweetheart.

Steve nuzzled his face against his pillow. Three laughs so far, tonight. He felt warm. “I’ll be the first one at your door when they let you out.”

Mm, yeah. That’s how I’ll know it’s real.

“What, you don’t need a tattoo on my forehead or anything?”

The fourth laugh. Maybe on your ass.

Steve smiled into his pillow. “Only if you bend me over and do it yourself.”

Oh, I promise, big boy.

2.

Robin was going on a date. It was a girl from highschool, someone who’d been in Steve’s year, who Robin swore Steve had had at least three classes with, but Steve didn’t recognize her name.

They were going on a picnic somewhere and she was picking Robin up from Steve’s house and Eddie was laughing again.

Robin was panicking. Pacing. Not in a panicky sort of way, but in a goofy nervous sort of way that had Steve rolling his eyes and Eddie whining about tearing his stitches.

“What if she hates me and thinks I talk too much? You know I talk too much. Especially when I’m nervous. And you know I’m nervous. Where the fuck is Munson and his quality weed when you need him?”

A snort here from Eddie himself.

“You’re listening?” Steve whispered.

You’re just so loud sometimes, baby.

“Because you know Kelsey’s shit just isn’t as good. It’s like, if you want half the high for half the time, sure whatever, buy it, but really it’s just a waste of money and it just smells dry. Do you know what dry even smells like, Steve, because it’s not a good smell. Especially not for weed. And he just charges like a little bit more, which, like, I know some people think is worth it because Eddie is scary or whatever. But Eddie has never actually been scary, you know–”

Oh she’s so charming.

“–But people are who people are and. Ugh, this isn’t even the point, Steve. I wish I was high right now, is the point, and then I would be quiet, and then she’d be more likely to actually like me, and then I could go on a second date, maybe. And then I could kiss a girl, Steve. Do you know how long I’ve wanted to kiss a girl? Because it’s been a pretty long time, and I just feel like–”

“Robin?”

She stopped mid step. Almost 253. Shimmied a little in his direction. “Huh?”

“If she only likes you because you don’t talk a lot, then she’s not really worth kissing.”

A hum in his head. Approval.

“You don’t get to decide that Mr. I’ve kissed 87,000 girls and boys in the last three years and who knows how many of them were actually worth it.”

Eddie snorted. Worth it just for how good you’ll be with that mouth, weren’t they?

Steve frowned. Ignored Eddie. “Maybe that’s not really fair, huh?”

“I’m sorry. I’m freaking out. That’s no reason to slut shame you.”

“Oh, thank you.”

How do you feel about that, baby? Slut shaming?

Robin slid up in front of Steve and pressed her forehead to his chin. “She’s so pretty, Steve.”

He wrapped his arms around her. “I don’t remember her.”

“I know.”

I don’t like her tone.

“You’re so nosy,” Steve muttered.

“Hm?” Robin asked.

Eddie laughed.

There was a knock at the door and Robin froze. Finally.

She pulled back to look at Steve's face. “You’ll be here when I get back?”

“Awaiting every sordid detail,” Steve said.

“And you’ll be ready to call if you get my SOS text?”

“Your number’s already dialed and my thumb is hovering over the call button.”

“And–”

“Robin. Breathe. Have fun.”

She blinked at him. Took a deep breath. “Right.”

Steve stepped back and kissed her on the cheek. “Go get the door, bird.”

“Right,” she said again.

Steve listened as she made her way out of the kitchen and into the foyer. It was all muffled, but he could hear her smile. “Andie, hey.”

You love her, Eddie said.

“Of course I do,” he said. He heard the door close behind the girls.

I think I do, too. It’s your fault maybe.

“You could blame it on the connection, but she’s just charming.”

I know, we used to eat lunch together. Before she joined band.

“No way.”

Sorry, Stevie, but you’re not the first boy to call her Bird.

“Shut up.”

You'll have to make me, sweetheart.

“I have a feeling you're better at bossing people around.”

We can test that theory.

“We will.”

In my dreams, baby.

“I'm real,” Steve breathed. “I promise I'm real.”

Well, then, in my dreams until you prove It.

3.

Every time Steve shifted, the fold out chair Nurse Amy brought him screeched a loud awkward sort of sound that seemed to echo across the whole goddamn hospital. It's been 26 times already. It was just so hard to sit still enough to avoid it.

I can't hear it from here, came the amused whisper in Steve's head.

You're, like, three floors down.

And full of delusion, I'm sure.

Steve grunted at the soft, bitter laugh in his head. Thirteen accusations of this being all a hallucination on Eddie's part.

Max's floor was oddly quiet compared to the rest of the hospital. It always was. And she wasn't allowed more than one visitor at a time, hence Steve stuck in the hallway every time he brought one of the kids to see her. He'd come every time though, no matter how often any of them asked, or how long Lucas liked to stay.

I wish I could just sit with you while he's in there, Steve thought at Eddie. He was getting much better at it, at thinking to Eddie and not just having every sinful thing ever filter through. He wasn't as good as Eddie was, though. Steve only ever got exactly what thoughts Eddie wanted him to hear.

Sometimes he wished he got more.

Would be nice, wouldn't it?

You know I miss you.

A soft hum, cozy and sweet. One Steve wished he could feel through his cheek, pressed up against Eddie's chest.

167 days. Steve sighed. Leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes against the fluorescents.

Tell me a secret, sweetheart.

Six secrets shared between them so far.

I can't tell if it's so quiet in here because it's just the floor or if it's my hearing getting worse, still. Steve thought.

Seven.

The pause was slow and warm. Like Eddie was just processing. Thinking about how to respond.

Steve took 4 deep breaths before he answered. How concerned are you about that?

Steve smiled. Wished he could nuzzle himself into the lack of panic. The calm, confident warmth that now had its own little place in his mind.

Not very. Not yet anyway.

A hum in his head. The second in only a few minutes.

You're anxious today, baby.

What do you mean?

Lots of numbers this morning.

Steve had never talked about it before. Never wanted to. It'd never felt this easy or normal or casual. He pressed his head back against the wall just a tiny bit harder.

It's being here, I think.

Yeah?

And not being able to see you, Steve added.

[goldsbitch]

Twelve Grapes

-chapter 9, part 2 - Successful, a winner

"Say it," Charles murmurs, voice barely above a whisper. A dare. A challenge. A mistake.

Max leans in just slightly, just enough to make Charles feel it, to test how much he can take, as close as he possibly can without touching Charles' face.

"Don't tell me you don't already know."

"We shouldn't."

"Then don't."

word count: 7k too many warning: minors DNI, smut all the way (probably the first time I'm actually proud of a scene like that lol AND first smut from Max's POV), tiny tiny hint of toxic vibes you know how it is

Max stands still, waiting for some reaction and when nothing comes from Charles, he simply exhales and turns back to unpacking, as if this is just any other night. Charles watches, dumbfounded. His fingers twitch at his sides, the heat in his chest growing with every second Max refuses to take this seriously. He had a whole speech drafted in his mind and now he feels like an actor who forgot his lines.

"Do you want a beer?" Max asks as he approaches his fridge.

"Wha-I don't-" Charles is stuck, still not able to process just how casually Max is acting. His pulse is hammering, his hands already curled into fists, but Max is just… What? Making himself comfortable?

"Maybe we could put on a match, since you're here, I think tonight they play in-"

"Could you shut up for one fucking second!"

Max pauses, then–smiles.

"And stop smiling!"

"Okay," Max says easily and pops the lid of his beer. He takes one small sit and the speaks again. "What do you want me to do?"

Charles shakes his head and his hands fly up and down. "I don't know, be mad that I basically broke into you apartment?!"

Max tilts his head, considering. "It really is not as surprising as you might think, if it was anyone else-"

"Stop this," Charles exhales maybe too loudly. His chest is too tight, his breathing shallow, and Max's absolute calmness is making it worse. "Why are you doing this. Pulling out of the race, like it's no problem."

Charles has an answer he'd love to hear slip from Max's lips. One that would make this all make sense, one that would prove something he doesn't even want to admit he's searching for. But he can't even allow himself to think about it. He knows better than to fall into that trap. Doesn’t he?

Too late. Probably.

"Thought it was unfair for you to get dragged through the shit all by yourself," Max says lightly, as if the topic of their conversation were the current weather conditions and takes another sip before he continues. "I asked Lewis if he would join the boycott, you'd think with his constant activism he would be the first one doing, funny enough-" he speaks and it looks like he is more than excited to tell a very amusing story that will drag on for minutes, so Charles stops him while he still can. He raises his finger and puts on a stern face.

"This isn't how it works, Max. You don't get to miss races just because I had to."

"Why not?" Max shrugs. "Felt unfair. I fixed it."

Charles lets out a humorless laugh. "You fixed it? So now what, we boycott races together? Are we a movement now?"

"Charles," Max sighs. "It's one race. I'll win the next one." The smugness dripping from his voice is unbearable, but when it's paired with that lazy, relaxed smile, Charles has to physically clench his fists to keep himself from throwing something.

"Never took you for an LGBT activist," he spits his words like a venom, the memory of Max, standing in the same kitchen as they are now not even full two years ago, Max who almost begged him to hide their relationship, still plaguing Charles' mind.

"Never was and never will be," Max replies, unphased.

"So, why are you doing this?"

Shoulder shrug. "Don't like Jeddah anyway."

The answer is so maddeningly Max - absurd and out of this planet. Charles says the words before he's able to think about it. "You're impossible."

There it is. Like a theme song of an old favorite TV show. Charles freezes, refusing to meet Max's eye.

"Always was," Max replies, drifting of the usual script.

Charles looks up and stares, saying about thousand things without opening his mouth. He doubts Max can pick up on any of them. He wants to break the silence before it crushes him whole. But the words dissolve before they even reach his tongue.

Because Max is still standing there, like it's all so easy. Like something inevitable is about to happen.

And Charles - God help him - wants to let it.

It's Max and Charles. Two magnets staring at each other, and one of them finally turning.

Charles doesn't know which of them budged first - whether it was him, stepping into the pull, or Max, shifting just enough to change everything. But the force is there, undeniable, pressing against his ribs, tightening the air between them like an invisible string pulled too taut.

For so long, they've been forced into opposition, locked in a push-and-pull that never quite aligned. Too similar, too stubborn, too much of everything all at once. The same poles repelling, no matter how much force tried to hold them together.

But this - this is different.

This feels like standing at the edge of something irreversible. Like gravity has shifted, and all Charles can do is fall.

"Fine, let's watch some football," he says, because what else is there to do in this situation. Nobody ever gave him a manual for life. They won't race in Jeddah no matter what happens.

//

Max doesn't move when Charles speaks, just watches him for a beat longer than necessary. He knows Charles. Knows when he's looking for a fight, knows when he’s struggling not to say something that might wreck him. Senses when he's already made up his mind about something, even if he won't admit it yet.

"Fine, let's watch some football."

It's a retreat. A messy, temporary surrender. Max smirks but doesn't push, just reaches for the remote and flips the TV on. The glow of the screen cuts through the soft lighting, casting flickering shadows against the walls.

Charles drops onto the couch with a loud tuff, stiff like he's still bracing for impact. Max lets him be. Take the sight in, before he cracks open another beer, puts it in front of the Monegasque and sinks into the other end of the couch. Charles grabs the beer and stretches his legs out on the coffee table. This has Max having to swallow a laugh. He knows exactly what kind of passive aggressive intent is behind this and he won't give Charles the satisfaction by reacting to one of his biggest pet-peeves. 

A few minutes pass. The game starts. The commentators fill the space between them with chatter and crowd noise.

And then, inevitably - 

"So when did you decide?"

Max glances over, raising an eyebrow. "Decide what?"

Charles gives him a flat look. Like he knows damn well Max is playing dumb but is too stubborn to acknowledge it outright. 

"To pull out of the race. Was it after the FIA refused to back down? Did you just wake up and think, ‘Oh, I'll skip this one, it's fine’?"

Max expected Charles to act out and to be fair, it's probably the main reason behind his current actions. A part of him still can't believe Charles is standing here again, in his apartment. Funny how the longer hair Charles has these days suits him. Max takes a sip of his beer, dragging it out before answering. He won't tell Charles boycotting the race was the first thought he had when he read the statement damning Charles. He'll keep to himself just how easy it was to make this decision. Honestly, it's so painfully obvious one, that Max does not really understand why is Charles acting so surprised. "Tuesday morning." The news came on Monday afternoon, so that lie seems realistic, right?

"Tuesday - Jesus, Max." Charles exhales sharply, shaking his head. "You didn't even - 

"Didn't even what?" Max cuts in smoothly. His tone is light, but there’s something sharper underneath. "Didn't even think about it? Didn't even consult my team? Didn't even consider the consequences?" 

Charles blinks, momentarily thrown off by Max anticipating every accusation before he can even launch it.

"Yeah," he mutters finally.

Max shrugs, eyes flicking back to the screen. "Well, I did. And then I did it anyway." If he knew just how many people Max managed to have working overnight, he’s probably flip out. 

Charles makes a frustrated noise, shifting in his seat like he physically can’t sit still. "That's not how this works, Max."

Max doesn't take his eyes off the match. "Seems to be working just fine."

"You're impossible."

"We covered that already." Every time Charles says this, it puts another dagger into Max's heart. Serves like a bright reminder that this is just a momentary relapse of the past–and probably not even that. He decided the second his concierge warned him about Charles' presence that he was going savor every damn minute of it. Play pretend with the past he let slip through his hands. Fake it, as if they'd made it. 

The commentator yells something about a near-goal. Max barely registers it. He's too aware of Charles, of the restless energy radiating off him, of the way his knee is bouncing slightly, the way he keeps looking at Max like he's waiting for him to say something else.

"Did you really ask Lewis?"

Max tilts his head, considering. "Technically, I asked him. In a hypothetical way."

Charles scoffs. "A hypothetical way?"

"I might've said something like, 'If someone were to boycott Jeddah, do you think other drivers would follow?' And he said probably not, because people have short memories and even shorter attention spans. But he pointed out it would be the right thing to do. And out of all people, he’s benefiting from it the most." 

Charles rolls his eyes. "And then you went and did it anyway."

"Yep."

"You're such a dick."

Max winks at him, falling for his own illusions. "You always say that right before you start liking me."

Charles glares, but his mouth twitches, just barely. Max sees it. Max sees everything.

They fall into silence again, but it's different now. Not as sharp, not as dangerous. The game is still on, but Max is not really watching.

He takes another sip of his beer, glancing at Charles out of the corner of his eye.

They both know this conversation isn't over.

But for now, it can wait.

He thinks back to his Jeddah escape, honestly it's going to become a funny memory very soon. His moves were sneaky about this one and there is a hint of pride in his chest, because for once, he managed to play the Red Bull corporate machine for his good, instead of the usual "getting crushed by the amount of people getting added on cc’". He approached the PR people first. Played it out as him feeling regretful for his reluctance to express support for Charles in the beginning. The PR people were probably a little too happy about that for their own good. So, they made it almost sound like their own initiative. For better or worse, Red Bull Racing is first and foremost a bloody PR project of an energy drink. And wildly enough, it took only few hours of sneaky Zoom calls with the right people being contacted at the right time, to get Christian cornered and presented to this as a done and approved deal. Even Christian does not have the balls to say no to the global CEO (well, to his assistant…)

Max of 2021 and all the years before would have never done anything like that. But, the memory of the lonely championship podium haunts him regularly. He knows this does not mean anything and that it won't fix mistakes made in the past. He owes it to himself probably more than to Charles or anyone else. Maybe once this calms down, he’ll be finally able to forgive himself. 

"So, I have one question, since you seem to be out of yours," Max asks out of nowhere, grateful for the bottle occupying his hands.  

"Go ahead."

"Why did you come out? Also–why did you do it few days before the last championship fight race?" Max is never not going to be mad about that one. It's almost shameful how often he thinks about that in the middle of the night. He hopes he's managing to keep his tone casual and that Charles does not pick up on his eagerness.

He dares not to look directly at him.

"I swore to myself I'd come out when I meet someone who's worth stopping hiding."

Max's worst nightmare comes alive. There is someone who gets to hold Charles every night, who gets to hear his darkest secrets–someone who's worth throwing his life in jeopardy. Sour, bitter feeling crawls up Max's spine. The thought of him wrapped up in someone else's bed is sickening.

"We broke up a month after that," Charles adds casually, after letting Max boil in his thoughts. He can't help but look–and of course, there is a little evil smile glazing his lips. Dramatic. He's doing this on purpose.

"Shame," Max lies and hides his emotions behind the bottle of his beer.

Max leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, rolling the beer bottle between his hands.

"You still haven't answered my question," he says, keeping his tone even.

Charles raises an eyebrow, feigning ignorance. "Which one?"

Max exhales through his nose. He's not playing this game.

"Why did you come out then? Of all possible moments, why a few days before the most important race of my life?"

He watches Charles closely, waiting for the usual deflection, the casual half-truth. But there’s a flicker of something else, something Max recognizes from years of knowing him—hesitation.

"What do you think?" Charles asks eventually, eyes fixed on the screen.

"I want to hear you say it."

Charles shifts, stretches out like he's trying to get comfortable, but Max knows him too well. Knows his typical stalling.

"Because if I did it after, people would talk about it all winter," Charles finally admits. His voice is steady, but his fingers tighten around the bottle. "I wanted it to get buried under the championship. Under you and Lewis and Abu Dhabi. The moment the race started, it stopped being the biggest story."

Max lets out a short laugh, bitter at the edges. "That's bullshit, Charles."

"Yeah, well." Charles shrugs, still not looking at him. "It worked," he mocks Max's accent to prove a point.

Max doesn't say anything at first. He doesn't have to. Charles is watching the match, pretending this conversation isn't happening, like he didn't just drop a piece of information that makes Max's stomach twist.

"You could have told me," Max mutters.

"Why? So you could stop me?"

"So I could—" Max stops himself. He doesn't know how to finish that sentence without saying something he shouldn't.

Charles glances at him then, just briefly. Like he knows. Like he always knows.

The tension settles between them, low and humming. The match is still going, but Max couldn't say the score if his life depended on it.

"You still think about it?" The tension builds, thick like syrup, slow like the inevitable. Max isn't sure when the football match turned into background noise or when Charles' presence became the only thing he could feel. It's always like this—Charles walks into his space, and suddenly, it belongs to him.

Max’s eyes flick to Charles. "Think about what?"

"That night."

Max grips the bottle tighter.

"You'll have to be more specific, Charles. We had a lot of nights." Adrenaline starts pumping thought Max's veins as he says it. 

Charles rolls his perfect eyes, but there's something sharp in them. Something Max has no business chasing anymore. 

"You know which one."

Max does. Of course he does.

"No, actually. Enlighten me." Max pushes, because he can't help himself. This new, older Charles is perhaps even more hard to pull away from that his shy past self. 

Charles exhales, shaking his head. He's staring at the screen, but Max can see the tension in his jaw, the way his breathing has changed, just slightly.

"You really want me to say it?"

Max shrugs, feigning indifference. He should look at the match. He should leave it alone.

"I remember everything," Max says instead.

Charles' breath catches. Not much. Not noticeable. But Max sees it.

The air shifts. The silence turns into something else.

Charles' eyes flick to Max's mouth, just for a second. It's fast. Almost imperceptible.

Almost.

Max smirks, leans back slightly, but the tension doesn't break. It lingers, pressing against his skin.

"Good," Charles mutters.

And–fuck.

Max is a complete goner.

Something in Max shifts. He can't just sit here, left at complete mercy of the menace of Charles Leclerc. The man haunting his dreams and occupying his inappropriate daydreams. His competitiveness kicks in and takes over. He won't have Charles pushing him. In fact, he needs to be the one who will win this encounter. Have Charles either crumble beneath him or watch him run away, like he always does. It's obvious that Charles is moving on, unlike Max is. Time to claim him back. 

Max leans back against the couch, feigning ease, even though every cell in his body is aware of Charles. The way he shifts and bends his legs. The way his fingers tap the bottle in his lap like he needs something to do with his hands. The way he still hasn't looked away.

Max lets the silence stretch, lets Charles sit in it, lets him wonder if Max is going to say something, if he's going to let him get away with this—the tension, the game, the deliberate little pushes.

Then, Max moves.

Nothing dramatic. Just a shift, just enough for their knees to knock together.

Charles doesn't move away. Of course he doesn't.

"You're staring," Max says finally, keeping his voice even.

Charles snorts, shaking his head. "Please."

"I'm serious," Max continues, turning his head slightly. "If you have something to say, say it. Now's the best time to.“

Charles exhales sharply, looking away like he's already regretting walking into this. "You do this every time," he mutters.

"Do what?"

"This." Charles gestures vaguely between them, frustrated in a way that has nothing to do with the match still playing on the screen. Max makes a face, like he's got absolutely no idea what Charles hints at. It earns him a loud sigh from the Monegasque. "Act like it's nothing, like you're not—" He stops himself, lips pressing together.

There it is. A crack in Charles' complex walls he's surrounded himself with. "Like I'm not what?" Max wants in - to say he wants to own Charles is a bit of overstatement, but in order to gain some self-respect back, he needs to see that Charles still reacts to his advances. That somewhere deep inside he still cares. 

Charles clenches his jaw. Max can almost see the war happening inside him, the part of him that wants to let it go and the part of him that never could.

"Forget it," Charles mutters.

Max exhales, amused. Never. "Well, tell me—what exactly were you expecting when you stormed in here again?" Max asks, voice smooth, just edged enough to be a challenge.

Charles huffs, shaking his head. "I don't know." He exhales sharply, looking away. "Why would I have to expect anything. I felt sorry that you also can't race. Figured we might watch the race together.“

Max clicks his tongue, leaning in slightly, just enough to make Charles feel the shift, to make him aware of the space between them growing smaller. They both must know that is total bullshit, as they'd be required to watch it online with their teams. Also, the race is in two days. 

"Yeah? You just happen to break into my apartment, just to say thank you?" He's pushing, he knows that. It feels like diving into a corner and hoping the other car backs down. Max feels alive again. 

Charles glares at him, but it's weak, unfocused. "I never said thank you," his note letting a clear massage in that something like that will never happen. "And–I didn't break in."

"Right, because you sweet-talked my concierge into letting you in. What'd you do? Promise him race tickets?"

Charles scoffs. "Please, I’m much more persuasive than that."

"Oh, I know," Max says, and watches, satisfied, as something flickers in Charles' eyes.

The energy between them shifts, heavier, charged. Max can practically feel it rolling off Charles, like he's fighting something—his instincts, their history, maybe even himself.

Max almost has him. He just has to push a little more.

"You came here for something," Max says, voice lower now, deliberate. "So what was it?"

Charles doesn't move, doesn't pull away. His knee is still against Max’s. His grip is tighter around the beer bottle. A tell.

"You pulled out of a race," Charles mutters, voice tight. "You don't do things like that."

"I just did."

"Yeah, and I want to know why."

Max shrugs, like the answer is obvious, like he considers that whole question plain stupid. "Already told you. Didn't feel fair."

Charles lets out a short laugh, sharp and humorless. He tilts his head slightly, studying Max the way he studies telemetry - looking for weaknesses, for gaps.

"You don't give a shit about fair."

Max smirks. "I give a shit about you."

It lands. He can see the impact in the way Charles' fingers twitch, in the way his throat moves when he swallows. And then - something clicks in Charles' face. Max can almost hear it. Challenge accepted. 

"Max Emilian," he says and it sounds like someone pulling a trigger. All the times he's called him like that flash in front of Max's eyes. And in most of those memories, they're lying naked, in some form of shape entangled in each other. Suddenly, it all feels very deliberate from Charles.  "You promised once you'll never use games to get into my head."

Oh, Charles is good. Too good. "What do you want me to say?" Max counteracts, pushing forward, pressing Charles exactly where he knows it'll hurt, because it still feels like Charles is winning. "That I did it for you? That I wanted you to come here? That I knew the second I made that decision, you'd show up at my door just like you always do?"

The air between them tightens, the weight of the moment settling over them like a slow, inevitable collapse.

Charles exhales sharply, but he's still looking at him, still holding his ground.

Good. Max wants the fight. Needs it.

"Would that make you feel better?" Max asks, voice quieter now, like a hook thrown into the water, waiting for Charles to bite.

Charles' breath catches. His jaw tightens, his breathing shifts, but he doesn't move.

And then–his eyes flicker down. Just for a second. Just enough.

He’s looking at Max's mouth again. Checkmate.

A wildfire sparks low in Max's stomach, something hungry, something impatient. It would be so fucking easy.

He tilts his head slightly, letting the corner of his mouth twitch up, the ghost of a smirk. Licks his lips. 

"Say it," Charles murmurs, voice barely above a whisper. A dare. A challenge. A mistake.

Max leans in just slightly, just enough to make Charles feel it, to test how much he can take, as close as he possibly can without touching Charles' face.

"Don't tell me you don't already know."

"We shouldn't."

"Then don't." But he does. Max manages to hold of temptation long enough for him to crack. The inevitable becomes real. One, two, three breaths later–finally–Charles caves in. He kills all the remaining space between them and presses his lips on Max's. Stays like that for a bare second before he start kissing Max's upper lip and there is not a moment of hesitation from Max. His Charles is back. Kissing him in a way so smooth and perfect the devil himself must have taught him. Max does not wait with his response. Their lips dance together and soon enough Charles slips his tongue into Max's mouth. Licks the top of his mouth and it still makes him crumble, just like it did two years ago. How can a thing you see coming from miles away still be a surprise once it stares in your face?

Images of all the times they'd kissed rush over in Max's mind, and then, just like that, it's all blank. Like coming home after a long a dreary trip. The forbidden fruit has always tasted the sweetest. Charles' lips will forever be the softest thing Max has ever tasted. His hands are finally again roaming Max's body and a temporary illusion, that they never really stoped clouds him mind. Max wouldn't mind savoring the moment and progressing slowly, but by the looks of it, he'd held Charles on the edge too long for that. The visitor once again shamelessly takes up all the space and before he can count two breaths, Charles' legs are locking Max's in. Hands on Max's shoulders, while he's busy pressing his own arms on Charles' back. As if to prevent him from running away again. Charles draws his hand around Max's jaw and then holds it firmly. This new feeling, a move Max has never seen from Charles before, takes him by surprise. As he twirls his tongue in his mouth and mercilessly sucks Charles', new images flood Max's brain. Charles being touched by random, faceless people. Foreign tongues exploring places once reserved for Max only. Charles learning moves from others and using them now on Max's own body. The language they'd developed throughout their shared nights being taught to strangers passing through his bed. Charles, stuck where he does not belong - in hands that are not Max's. Charles pulls away and it only stirs up Max's anger, that is building up in his chest, taking up space together with the breath he's holding. The hand on his jaw has moved to his neck and now rests on his collarbone, just above his heart. Max looks him in the eyes and demands the same from the guy strangling his hips. His eyes speak the secrets he's not brave enough to tell. I’m going to fuck out all memories of anyone else from the cute, devilish brain of yours. 

He pulls him in harshly, and while Charles could protest and move away, he only matches and the tops his urgency. 

Max feels Charles everywhere. Pinned to him, pressed against him, wrapped around him like he's never learned how to let go.

Max knows better than to let himself believe that.

Charles kisses like he's trying to win something, like he's trying to punish Max. His fingers dig into Max's shoulder, a grip that should hurt, but Max just smirks against his mouth, nipping at his bottom lip like he’s daring him to do more.

Charles always played like he had nothing to lose.

He pulls him in closer, one hand pressing into the small of Charles' back, sneaking below his t-shirt to touch him skin on skin, the other curling around his ribs, trapping him against him like he could keep him here, like he could make this last. Charles' breath stutters against his mouth, and Max feels a surge of satisfaction curl in his stomach.

"That all you got?" he mutters, voice rough, pulling back just enough breathe into Charles' neck.

Charles doesn't answer, just tugs harder at his shirt, pulling him deeper.

It's messy, all of it. Not romantic, not careful, just a tangle of heat and hands and unsaid things. Charles kisses like he's trying to erase something. Max doesn't know if it's himself or the ghosts of everyone else who came after, but his ego wins and opts for the latter.

But then Charles pulls away, and it's not hesitation, not retreat—it's calculation. His hand slides from Max's shoulder back to his throat, resting just at his collarbone, fingertips barely pressing down. A warning, a threat, a claim.

Max's vision tunnels.

He looks up, meets Charles' gaze, and there's something in his eyes that hits Max in the chest like a punch.

Like he's daring Max to say it.

The anger, the frustration, the unbearable, relentless craving - Max isn't built to hold it in.

"You think you're the only one who hates this?" Charles whispers, voice wrecked.

Max clenches his jaw. He does not know what exactly Charles is referring to, however he knows damn well what type of regrets prevent himself from a good night sleep. And loving Charles has never been one of them. It was always the moments he knew he didn't love him enough that haunt him. He bucks his hips up into Charles'. To prove he's at his mercy, again and probably as always. But saying it out loud would make it real.

So instead, Max growls, fingers tightening where they grip Charles' hips, pulling him in so sharply it knocks the breath out of him.

"Play pretend with someone who does not know you the way I do." And he means it. Charles can't fool him. Vice versa and for once, Max accepts that. "Now's the time to back out. I dare you to." Max waits, hovers his mouth just right next to Charles'. 

Charles' lips part like he might answer.

Instead, he kisses Max again, harder, like he's trying to shut him up before he says something they can't take back. Max let's all if his inhibitions out. His dirtiest dreams are coming alive and he has Charles' on the tip of his tongue again. As Charles keeps their lips locked, Max leans him down to lie on the couch. He does not have to press too much, Charles goes down willingly. Max takes his chance before he second-guesses himself and moves his hands that are squeezing Charles' hips up, in order to get rid of the hoodie that covering the chest he plans on kissing. Once again, there is no protest on Charles' behalf and it only adds fuel in Max's eagerness. Soon enough, Charles is lying down, half naked and all for Max to take. He had his suspicions that with time, Charles has only managed to get hotter, but seeing the real-life proof is making his assumptions comically underwhelming. Max stares at his toned, grown up chest, hold his now broad shoulders and slowly starts kissing him up and down, from his ever-so-sensitive neck all down to his v-line. He's hovered over him and savors each and every quiet moan Charles grants him. The salty skin shivers under every peck and it does something really dangerous to Max's ego. When he feels Charles' hands that go from being tangled up in Max's hair reaching over to his own t-shirt, he dares to looks up at him. He's met with fiery look settled deeply in the dirty green eyes. His mouth parted, breath seemingly stuck in and pupils dialed up to Max. It's clear as a day. He's his, again. Max is searching for any hint of doubt in Charles' face as he obey his hints and removes his own t-shirt. But Charles is looking him up and down shamelessly, without any remorse, and it makes Max feel proud that he is the one who managed to capture attention of someone so divinely hot and attractive like Charles. He leans back down to nibble the thin skin just above the collarbone and wonders if this spot is still the one that makes Charles melt when touched. It must be, because his arms are now wrapped around Max's shoulders, pushing him down even more. Max reaches over to Charles' legs and guides him to wrap them around his hips. As he keeps kissing him on random spots on his chest and neck, he pushes his crotch onto Charles' and rolls his hips. Even through the thick fabric of his jeans, he can feel both of their hard-ons pressing on each other and it shoots pure lust into his veins.

"Max," Charles lets out in a series of muffled breaths. It's different than when he addresses his casually. Sounds more like a prayer. Max does not respond, instead he grips Charles' thighs even harder. To his amusement, Charles leans into this and rocks his hips up, practically grinding himself on Max. It makes him chuckle lightly.

"Look who's eager now," he whispers into Charles' skin.

"Fuck you, Max," Charles replies and keeps on moving his hips.

This has Max arching up on his arms, so that he can look down on Charles and hover over him. He examines him for few moments, drinks in every detail, because he might just be so unlucky to never see Charles like this again. He wants to photograph this flushed out look. "No, Charlie. Fuck you," He leans in, lips brushing against Charles' ear, voice dripping with challenge. He stands abruptly, offering Charles a hand, a smirk playing at the edges of his mouth. For a moment, Charles looks like he might be second guessing his decision, but soon enough he chuckles and accepts his hand.

"Terrible pun, Verstappen," Charles proclaims as he lets Max lead him over to the bedroom. The Dutchman turns around to flash him a smile followed by a simple answer.

"And yet..." Charles lets out a loud sigh and that's his only response.

//

Charles is in his bed again and nothing feels more like being home. Max is taking his time removing all of their remaining clothes and Charles lets him take the lead. He makes sure to turn on the lamp on his nightstand while he's at it.

Once they're in the bed, naked and uninhibited, something wakes up in Charles. Max has seen this side of him before, but never this heightened. No longer the somewhat passive figure he used to gradually become under Max's touch. He's not letting him do what Max wants anymore, he's cheeky, fighting back, pushing forward and then pulling right back. He's gripping his arms tightly, kissing and biting at the same time, one moment he's sitting on his lap, making Max anticipate the next move and then he drifts back and has Max having to reach out to pull him back to him. It's making Max worshipping him somewhat complicated. He wants to bend him over, fold him up like a napkin and make him scream out his name until his lungs run out of air. It should be thrilling, the push and pull of it. But something ugly coils in Max's stomach. Jealousy. Not of anyone else, but of Charles himself. Of the fact that he's this unbothered, this daring, this bold. Of the possibility that he's like this with others, too—and then, it comes back. The fear that Max is not the only one who gets to see him like this. He used to giggle under his touch, head his head back and let it all just happen. Now, instead of soft laughs, his smirks are silent, his moves more determined, calculated. It's like the youthful innocence is completely gone. Max presses harder in his kiss, as if hoping to get push some of that old Charles that lives in his memory back into the body that's holding him a bit too harshly.

And then Charles does something new. Something that feels taunting. He's sitting on Max's lap again, leans in, not for another kiss, but to drag his lips down Max's jaw, slow as hell, like he's tasting him. He doesn't press a kiss—just hovers, breath warm, teasing, infuriating. Then, just as Max starts to move, Charles' teeth graze the skin just beneath his ear and bite down, sharp.

Max's whole body tenses.

Charles fucking smirks against his skin.

Oh, so this is what we're doing?

His hands wander lower, nails grazing around his lower abdomen and finally reaching Max's dick. Max had imagined this moment thousands of times when he was alone in the middle of the night. But, Charles' touch is different. It's not his soft fingers playing with Max's skin, it's his nails brushing up and down and he ends his journey by squeezing his balls, up to a point where it's almost painful. All while having this undeniably whorish look on his face. But this time, Max does not find it alluring. There is something repulsive about it, vile and incredibly dishonest. He can't stop his thoughts creeping in, knowing that to anybody else, Charles' current look would seem like the ultimate invitation–come and get me. It should work on him too, maybe Max is the one who's broken beyond fixing. But everything inside screams too loudly to ignore. This is not the real Charles.

And then, as if to fully push Max over the edge, Charles' hand grips his throat—not tight, not enough to take control, just enough to test.

Max sees red. Before he even processes the thought, his body reacts. His hand shoots out, wrapping around Charles' wrist fast and tight, ripping it away from his throat like a challenge he refuses to acknowledge. The moment Charles' smirk widens, Max snaps.

He shoves Charles backward, forcing him down onto the mattress with a force that makes the whole bed shift. Charles lets out a breathless laugh, but it's cut off when Max grabs his jaw, tilting his head back sharply. Charles speaks before Max can gather his own thoughts into a sentence.

"Don't tell me you stayed so super vanilla this whole time," he speaks with tone spiked with un-like Charles cruelty. He pairs his statement with a seductive shuffle of his hips against Max's. He's trying to mock him, but Max somehow finds it in himself not get lured into this fake trap. Charles continues, when he does not get a reply. "Pain is a great way to have sex," he says and Max's stomach turns. Because yes, he completely agrees with that statement. He however has one big condition to it.

"It is, when it's not the only thing that makes you feel things."

Unlike Charles' words, Max's seem to land in the dead centre. Not that it makes it any better for him. His smile breaks just a tiny bit and Max feels his body tense down. It's a flicker, quick snapshot into the past.

"Stop being a smartass, Verstappen."

And just like that, Charles is gone again.

"Whatever you say, Charlie," Max concludes and decides to ignore the warning signs ringing off in his head.

He prompts Charles' legs up with more force than he'd normally use. Makes his way over to his hips and without anything else apart from his tongue, touches his cock up and down. Licks over the tip few times and the magic works quickly. Immediately, he is lost in the perfect shape again, his hunger for Charles stronger than ever. Max finds himself closing his eyes for a moment and allows his mind to drift back to when this was a normal occurrence in his life. When Charlie's legs were less toned and his pubes untrimmed. He puts one of his legs over his shoulder and uses his free hand to start roaming around Charles' hole. To his surprise, it is tightly shut, leaving it all for Max to get worked up. Nothing could make him more happier. He opens his eyes again and meets Charles'. It's somewhat less sour this time. His finger is drawing small circles around the opening and already it's doing something to Charles. Max observes, like he's afraid to miss any piece of information written over on his face.

"Tongue," Charles whispers so carefully it's almost cute. "Please." Max smiles and obeys him this time.

Immediate, he's tasting Charles with his tongue and plays it up together with his finger, that gently finds the way in. Max takes his time, cherishing every moment he gets to do this.

"More," Charles demands and Max finally leans over to grab his lube, shakes the bottle up, hoping it hasn't got that much stale, and lubes up his fingers before he adds a second one.

Charles is responsive, sure. His chest rises and falls too quickly, his lips parting on breathless sighs—but it's strangely controlled. Measured. Like he's rehearsed this reaction, like he's making sure it's just good enough to be convincing, distracting enough to fool anyone that desires him.

Max doesn't want good enough. He wants real.

He pulls back slightly, lips slick, breath warm, and tilts his head up to meet Charles' gaze. For a second, he's hopeful.

Charles' pupils are blown wide, his cheeks flushed, but there's something still lingering beneath the surface. Something wary.

"Charlie."

Max watches the way his throat bobs. The way his fingers flex on the sheets, curling, uncertain.

"You with me?" he checks, unsure he will believe the answer anyway.

Charles blinks. Just once. And it’s so goddamn fast, so practiced, Max almost wouldn't have noticed.

"Yeah," he says casually and leans up. "Don't stop now." His tone is encouraging, smile bright as the day. He moves up more and gestures Max to remove his fingers from him. Max does such without any objections, just watching whatever is happening below him. Charles turns around and arches his back down, sitting on his knees, hands crossed under his head. It's impossible to deny how hot this view is, Charles almost presenting himself like a little snack for Max to devour. Max does not spend too much time on thinking, instead he lubes himself up, strokes for few times and after what feels like a lifetime ago, slowly pushes his cock in. And it is just like it's always been. Overwhelming, divine and irreplaceable. He holds Charles by his hips and allows himself to drown in the feeling. The warm grip. The way he can feel every inch of Charles. He starts slowly moving in and out, making sure to hit up his prostate.

Charles start to whimper almost immediately. Moaning loudly, maybe too loudly Max thinks, but he does not let that affect his rhythm. He's picking up the speed and it does feel like being let back to paradise.

"Oh my God, you're so big, so good to me," Charles whines and grips the sheets hard. Max keeps pounding and watches as Charles keeps saying more words and with each new phrase Max feels less and less aroused.

That should be good. Hot and irresistible.

And yet—it's not.

Because something still feels off.

Because it's not real. For a split second, his hips slow, hesitation creeping into his bones like a bad omen. It's the tone with which Charles says it all. The way the words roll off his tongue too easily, too rehearsed, almost no matter what is actually happening.

"Keep going, oh, mon dieu."

The first time, it makes Max's stomach twist in pleasure. The second time, it makes it twist in doubt. By the third, it feels wrong.

Charles arches even further, pushes his ass up, angles himself into something almost obscene. Performing. Max watches him grip the sheets, moan like a fucking pornstar, whimper at every thrust.

Max knows what Charles sounds like when he's being fucked. He knows the sharp inhales, the stuttering moans, the way his voice gets caught in his throat when Max hits the right spot.

He knows how Charles used to whisper his name like a midnight wish, how he'd cling to Max's arms, leave bruises in his skin like he was trying to keep himself from floating away.

This isn't that. This is wrong.

Max grits his teeth, tries to push the thoughts away. Tries to focus on how Charles feels around him, how perfect, how warm, how familiar.

But then—"Fuck, baby, you're stretching me so good."

Max's whole body locks up. No.

No. That's not—that's not him.

"You like that, don't you?" Charles purrs, twisting his head just slightly over his shoulder, eyes lidded, expression sultry. Max freezes.

Because he's seen that exact look before. Not on Charles. Not on him at all. But on someone else. Someone Charles must have learned this from.

His hands go still where they grip Charles' hips.

"Charlie," Max breathes. His own voice doesn't sound like him.

Charles makes a high-pitched, needy little sound, grinding back against Max's cock, like he didn't even hear him.

Like he's acting through it.

Right. That's it. Enough. He pulls out almost violently and flips him over again. This obviously catches Charles off guard and Max is happy that he is now staring at a confused man, instead of this wannabe whorish persona that seems to have settled in.

"Stop whatever this is," he says sternly, his voice so strict it almost surprises him, but does not stop him. Charles watches him, dumbstruck. "You want pain? Is that the only thing that works on you anymore?"

No answer. Charles seems genuinely surprised.

I can tell you're faking something, Charlie. Max keeps this thought to himself. Instead he burns his stare into Charles' eyes, looking for answers that don't seem to be there.

"Fine," he says and mimics Charles previous move, licks his neck down to his shoulder and bites into his flesh. Hard. So hard that Charles hisses and then cries out in pain. Max holds on for just a little when he hears him and then releases his grip. Moves up back so that their faces are almost touching. Charles is breathing heavily and is obviously taken back.

"You with me finally?" Max asks in a tone that does not allow any room for more lies.

Charles nods few times, looking almost scared. Max shakes his head. This is not how they play.

"Real words, Charlie. Words and eyes, I know you can do it."

Gulp. "Yes, Max."

"Do you want to do this? For real this time? No bullshit?"

He waits as Charles tries cling onto these walls he built up. He fails. "Yes," he breathes out and it sounds almost desperate. But, honest.

At last, Max finally feels like he's getting through to him. As a reward, he leans over to kiss him hungrily. While he lets his tongue get sucked in by Charles, he gently brushes over the bite mark on his shoulder. He pushes down any notion of guilt. Strangely, for the first time this evening, Max is actually eager to proceed and fuck Charles. So, he does. Without breaking the kiss, he pushes himself inside again–and Charles falls apart in his arms. His body relaxes instead of tensing up, he lets himself be held and sighs into Max's mouth. Warmth spreads through Max's insides and this time, he can focus on the heavenly sensation that is fucking Charlie. He's gentle and slow at first, as if he's starting all over. Hovering over him, letting his breath hit hits cheeks, planting small kisses on his mouth. Then, he goes and makes Charles his again.

He pushes in and out, increasing the speed and while pleasure sets in as he looks into Charlie's eyes that seem to have some color in again, he thinks about all the other people Charles had been with and what could have made him turn into someone who would rather fake things than go and search for something real. He holds him tight and does not let his eyes look anywhere else but into Charles'. Soon enough, there is it–the soft whimpers that haunt his daydreams. Charles lets go and relaxes completely, Max feels it everywhere their bodies connect. Max's name starts to roll of Charles' tongue and it sounds like the greatest melody ever written.

And as he keeps moving and blood starts to leave his brain completely, lack of oxygen clouding his mind and unavoidable pleasure setting in, he can't stop his mouth from speaking.

"I will fuck anyone else out of your brain. You're mine. Always were and always will be." He's thrusting and Charles is clenching over him. Max is close. He tries to prolong the end as much as he can. Still so much to say.

"You and me, Charlie. No bullshit."

Heavy panting echoes under him. "Please."

"Charlie."

"Max."

"Charlie," he cries, almost in pain, but it's pure pleasure.

"Max," he joins and it's so sincere it almost hurts.

"Charlie."

"Max," he breathes and Max can see his eyes getting more and more glass-like. He does not reply anymore, he just watches. A tear forms in Charles' eye and slowly rolls down, leaving Max stunned.

"Color?" he asks automatically, worry slipping though his tone and he stops his moves once again.

"Orange," he gulps and swallows a sob. He blinks and for the first time this evening, it's like he's finally looking into the eyes of the Charles he knows. "Please, don't stop. I want to feel again," he pleas and it almost breaks Max too. It's like the key finally fits the lock. He rests his foreheads against Charles' and mindlessly kisses away the tear rolling off his cheek. I love you, Charles. Still. He desperately wants to allow these words to roll of his tongue for once, but his body is so used to stopping them and the muscle memory is a hard thing to beat.

"Me too," he says instead and slowly starts to move again. This time, he holds him tightly and makes sure to lock eyes with him. After, it was him who taught Charles to keep his eyes open when they'd fuck together. At least this stayed. A tiny mark Max left on his sweet, sweet Charlie.

Finally, Charles stiffs up in his arms and then comes all over their chests, without having to be touched. Max stops breathing and pulls out in the last second, before he inevitably joins him and stains Charles' chest and the sheets next to him.

It's pure exctasy. Max chases air back into his lungs, because it's starting to feel like he's going to black out just by the weight of the sensation only.

He collapses next to Charles, tingles running in every fingertip. It's just so much better in real life than when he tries to replicate this alone. He can't help himself but turn over to Charles again, lying face to face, hair stuck to his face with sweat. Only now he notices just ho good Charles smells. Unlike Max, Charles keeps his eyes glued to the ceiling, no smile on his face, more of a frozen expression painting his face. Max's come down from nirvana speeds up after he sees his face. There is still one lonely near tear rolling down. Was Max too intense again? Too much? He tries to reach for his hand, but he's quickly brushed off by Charles, who seems to wake up from his paralysis by this gesture, new emotion ruling his face. Max knows this one too. Determination. He's absolutely certain of what's to come now.

"Charlie," he whispers, but before he can even finish, Charles is smudging off the residue cum of his chest, moving frantically and gets up, making Max wonder, if his head spins by the sudden move.

"I can't do this," he mumbles with extra thick French accent creeping through and is dressed before Max can even blink. He barely manages to get up, as Charles nears the door.

"Charles!" Max wants to scream, but his voice fails him and cracks, making sound like a desperate calling, rather than a demand. As always, once Charles is on his way, nothing can stop him. Just like that, Max stands alone in his apartment, naked, confused and defeated. Again.

His fingers curl up into a fist and he punches the wall.

chapter 10

-------

@chezmardybum @biancathecool

[criminallyvenomous]

Anytime, Always - Spencer Reid X Reader (part five)

part four story masterlist

•Plot - When Dr. Reid came to speak at your University, you were thrilled. A big-time F.B.I. agent at your own school, how could you resist? Soon, that wasn’t the only thing you couldn’t resist. Random meet ups and nights together were fun at first, but when he started guest lecturing on a regular? That was a whole new experience.

•Ship - Spencer Reid X Reader

•Fandom - Criminal Minds

•Warnings - Age gap (legal consenting adults), Alcohol, Fluff, Eventual smut, Pining, and of course a warning you might fall for Spence even harder post reading)

•Word Count - 807

~

You hopped onto the bed and pulled out your food, handing Spencer his as he sat next to you.

“Wait, what are your socks?” You asked, sitting up.

“Penguins. I like to add a little light to my days.” He placed his food onto the nightstand and turned to put his foot near you.

“Cute, but get those dogs out of my face.” You laughed.

“Dogs?” He asked, putting his leg back down and sitting up to grab his dinner.

“Yeah, feet? Dogs? Don’t tell me you’ve never heard that.”

“Gotta say I haven’t.” He admitted and you laughed.

Man, he had to take a few more weekends off, this was great. He tried to remove some of the pressure, like Derek suggested, and it felt nice not trying so hard with you. He felt like he could be himself. He liked that you were yourself with him too. You were a little shy at times, but still more confident than he was on any day of the week. Other than at his job, which he had completely forgotten about with all of the spare room in his brain going towards being with you.

“Do you think we could try watching that Parks and Recreation show again?” He asked as you looked through the apps on the hotel’s smart T.V., ruling against cable.

“Spencer Reid, are you actually asking to watch a T.V. show?” You teased,

searching for it on the screen.

“What can I say? You’re rubbing off on me.”

The two of you were watching an episode about the miniature horse, Li’l Sebastian while you ate your dinner and drank some wine. It was a great date, Spencer went over some brief history on the usage of tofu and you in turn put a bite of it into his mouth to stop the tofu talk.

“Jokes on you, It’s delicious.”

The food was good, so was the wine, but the atmosphere and ambiance were fantastic. Spencer was fantastic. It was cute to watch the strong and intelligent man snort at a dumb joke in a show. It was hot when he drank wine, just the way his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. It was sweet when he looked right at you and told you something you wanted to hear.

“Theophrastus said ‘time is the most valuable thing a man can spend.’ I’m glad I spent it with you.” He spilled quotes out of his brain as if it were water falling out of a faucet. His easiness in complimenting you brought a smile to your face you felt like you’d have for years.

“Me too. You’re amazing, Spencer.” You blushed as he smiled at you.

“I truly try.” He laughed. “Come ‘ere.” He said, placing a hand on your waist and pulling you onto his lap.

You leaned in to kiss him and he met your lips with the same excitement. It was more aggressive than expected, the time apart having pulled you two closer in desperation of one another.

“I could get used to this.” You let out as you separated to catch your breath.

“Me too.” He smiled, leaning back in. He went for your neck this time, stumbling trying to move your shirt with his right hand as he moved his lips lower.

The two of you were in a daze of desire. Hands roaming with need and clothes falling and thrown anywhere and everywhere.

“Perfect.” He shaped his hands into a little camera, pretending to take a picture.

“You’re cute.” You chuckled, just the simple sound of your laugh making his stomach flutter. He could really get used to this.

You reached towards your wine glass that you were beginning to forget about and taking a rather large in comparison sip. He decided to join you.

“Liquid courage, or so I’m told.” He took a swig and extended the drink towards yours.

“To liquid courage.” You clinked your glasses, cheers-ing.

You set the glass down as the sound of the next episode’s cold open filled the gap of silence between the two of you. It wasn’t an awkward silence, which was the plague to Spencer’s existence. He enjoyed a good gap of conversation, allowing his thoughts to have a moment to shine, but when it became tense or awkward between two or more people, he hated it. There were already so many moments shared between the two of you that he would hold onto. He just wanted to hold onto you, to be as close as possible.

With confirmations of consent and the heat inside of you growing every second he wasn’t inside you, Spencer smirked. He had kissed his way down your thighs and was teasing you with every waking minute.

“Spencer.” You stated with a fake anger tone of voice.

“Hmm?” He muffled against your skin.

“Please.”

[erithel]

Hi! Happy birthday! (If it still is in your timezone, and if it's not - happy belated birthday!)

Seeing your latest post, i wanted to tell you how much your fics, comics and art in general changed my life.

Reading your fics got me through the hardest times of my life. It's written to a degree so high it's astonishing. No fic i have ever read has made me feel the way yours did. Each and every one of them - even the unfinished ones - are so important. To me and so many others who have read them.

The things you write about, the angsty, sad and angry parts of life many are afraid of - they make processing the accidents that happened in your readers' lives so much better. Reading the characters letting their feelings out, reading them talk about the harsh truths, is what makes doing it in real life so much easier. It makes it less frightening.

Through your fics i learned how to communicate so many problems and difficulties in the last two years of my life, i genuinely don't think i would be alive today without them.

Your art has made a place in my heart at least 3 years ago. Your art has been a lighthouse in a dark, dark ocean. Always saving the lives of so many.

Your art-style, your comics, are some of my favorites. It's so beautiful, and it's so delicate - every detail perfected to a fault. The plot in your comics is, in my opinion, on par with the plot of your fics. Every plot twist is masterfully crafted, each word impactful. The characters never lacking in any way.

Your effort is showing in ever comic page, in every new chapter of your fics. It's been a pleasure to follow your art for so long, seeing the new things you tried. It's never invisible, never wasted. The thought you put into every single piece of any form of art is appreciated, and very viable.

Your art is never going to be replaced as long as people buy and read it, and i know it's never going to be replaced because i am one of those people. I will always be exited to see your url on my notifications, never mind the state i'm in or how uninterested i am in the fandom at that point in time.

Your art saves lives, and it's not going to stop doing that. Never.

Thank you for continuously putting out your art, even at times when you felt like giving up on it.

I hope this made you feel a little better about yourself in that regard. Your existence itself, and not just the art you put out, is important and appreciated. By many. Please never stop doing what you love as long as it's not hurting you.

I had to sit on this message for a bit just to process it.

Now, I think I want to say three things in response.

This is incredibly meaningful and the fact that you took the time to type this all out means the world to me.

I hope that you are okay. Obviously since this is posted anonymously, I cannot reach out to you directly or privately, but learning how to process emotions and communicate issues is such a tough road sometimes. It's one I'm learning to do, myself, and I am so happy to hear that you are learning what works for you. Progress might not feel like it's there at times, but it is there, I promise.

Everything that's been written here should be validating for anyone who writes or reads fan content. Personally, I have always written stories that hold personal importance to me, and I know I am not alone. A lot of people use fanfiction as not only an escape but as a means of catharsis. It feels more personal, in a way, than some traditionally publishes books or widely available shows/movies. And it makes sense because people aren't writing about things that will do well in the market at the time, they are writing about things they truly want to write about. Things that often hold deep, emotional meaning to them, and they are simply using the form of already established characters to convey those things. Creating fanfiction can often feel like something not to be taken seriously (and, to be fair, there are those who truly just do it for fun). But I know I need to remember — and others probably need to remember, too — that you never know who might find your story at the exact time they need to read it. You never know how much these things might stick with someone, or what they could mean to someone other than yourself. Thank you for reminding me that even though these fan creations aren't taken seriously by so many, the chance that they might actually have an impact on even one person is the thing that matters.

[bestfluteninja]

my roommate told me to stop thinking of myself as embarrassing for this and to be kinder to myself about it and she’s right but damn that thought pathway is well-worn

[nezuscribe]

there’s been a couple nights where you and arranged!gojo have had to host little dinners at the estate to show face and let people know you two are still alive.

it’s before the big confession, when the two of you were becoming closer, so it was just pretend niceness hiding the tension for a couple hours.

you tried to talk to the people around the large dining room table, sitting near gojo as you listened in on the conversation, but it was better to just be a part of it rather than the center of the spotlight. gojo had become increasingly aware of the long looks people gave your way, the hushed talks behind the women’s hands. you didn’t notice, maybe you’d been jaded to it, but he did, and he was becoming more tense under their stares.

he noticed how you’d try to jump in and say something, but was instantly cut off by somebody else. gojo had told you before the dinner started that the two of you should hold hands, but you hadn’t let go of his, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to let go of you either. he’d give you an encouraging squeeze, one which you gave him a little smile to, but still clammed up, sitting back in your seat.

"want me to tell them to shut up?" he whispered to you, dropping his head near your ear so that nobody else could hear.

"no it's okay," you say with a laugh, waving it off, "i was just going to ask what cashmere is," you say, in relation to a previous story one of the girls was telling about cashmere moth, and how her entire closet was chewed to bits because of the creatures.

"it's a type of fabric," he explains gently, his eyes searching yours, "very soft," he adds with a little smile and yours grows wider.

"i'd like to see it," you comment, leaning a little bit closer to him.

"i'll have your closets full of cashemere by the morning if you'd like," he says, but you know deep down it could be a promise if you simply said yes.

but you giggle, shaking your head.

"no," you're looking up at him in that way that makes his tongue feel heavy, "the moths, they must be huge," you murmur and he snorts, squeezing your hand a little bit tighter in retaliation.

to be honest, gojo hated these dinners. these people he grew up with were dull and annoying, their conversations full of lame gossip and cheap jokes, and he’d much prefer your lively stories with just you, but they were a necessary evil.

when the servants had cleared the meal away and had begun setting up for dessert, he could feel the stare of one of the girls, anya, and the way her eyes squinted when he caught her looking. he saw the way she sneakily tipped her head back, chin pointing to the opening near some of the stone columns, and excused herself a couple seconds later, looking over her shoulder at him before she disappeared.

gojo knew anya. he’d fooled around with her a couple of times long before the two of you got married, but he found her a bit shallow and dim, nothing he found interesting. he looked over at you to see if you had seen her, but you were looking at your plate, moving some grains of uneaten rice around with your fork.

curiosity got the better of him, wondering what it was she wanted, and so he stood up, his chair scraping behind him as you let go of his hand, you, along with everybody else, looking at him as he excused himself to the washroom.

he walked briskly past the table, leaving through one of the openings of the stone columns, looking around until he say anya at the end of the hall, waiting for him.

“what?” he bit out, hushed, looking behind him to make sure that nobody had followed him out.

anya smiled, her teeth glimmering as he neared her, standing a safe distance away as she pouted slightly.

gojo winced. he forgot how her smile up close was unnerving, the way it wasn’t as soft or full of emotion like yours. her eyes, a deep hazel, glimmered as she took a step closer, her fingers reaching for his collar.

“i missed you,” she whispered, lips glossy as she peered up at him, her lashes batting against her cheeks as he felt his mother dry up, feeling a sudden air of nausea overtake him as he swatted her hand away.

he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“is that all you wanted to tell me?” he hissed out, knowing how stupid he sounded seeing how he had followed her out, surely expecting this.

“what?” anya tilts her head, “thought you’d like to hear it.”

gojo rolls his eyes, crossing his arms across his chest.

“i thought you had something important to say,” he shrugs, looking away, focusing on a crack, getting ready to leave until she laughs, shaking her head.

nobody said he was the brightest soldier in all the land. he’s not above some actually good gossip, but he had a feeling this ain’t about to be that.

“you’ve always loved gossip,” her eyes glimmer as she takes another tentative step closer, “is that why you married the center of it?”

his eyes narrow slightly, but she just sees him listening to her.

“come on,” anya snorts, her hand coming up to his face until she stops at his cold gaze, pulling her hand away, “we all know it’s not rank or looks that made you marry her.”

gojo feels his arms tighten, a vein bulging in his neck as he swallows thickly. he doesn’t say anything, wants to see how she continues, wants to see what everybody else thinks without saying it.

"i mean, your mother keeps saying it was reciprocal," she rolls her eyes, laughing mirthlessly, "but i know that's a lie. you look miserable whenever you're around her."

gojo feels his eyes twitch, his ring shining in the slivers of moonlight through the large, overarching windows.

"did you call me here to talk ill of my wife?" gojo bites out, but she can't sense his tone, giggling as she shoves him, his body not moving.

"drop the theatrics 'toru," he feels bile in his mouth at her sweetened words, "it's just me," she says, biting her lips as indiscreetly as she can, eyes raking over his toned body as she looks back up to his face, "but regardless, no, i had something else i wanted to tell you."

she sighs, her voice a little higher as if he wouldn't notice.

"i'm staying at the hostelry in the town near here for a couple of nights," she bats her eyes again, and suddenly gojo wonders if he had been insanely ill when he had slept with her those months ago because now he feels sick just looking at her, "if you wanted...i'm there for you."

he raises his white brow slightly.

"gods anya," he breaths deeply through his nose, his eyes darkened, "you have audacity if nothing else."

she smiles brightly, taking it as a compliment.

"i know," she winks, "i looked around the area, and nobody of import comes near there. i know you need it as bad as i do," her voice drops a little, eyes falling slightly to the ground, "people are talking. i know how lonely you must feel."

his nose wrinkles slightly in confusion.

"what are you talking about?"

anya looks at him briefly before looking away, shrugging.

"everybody knows you two don't share a room," she explains, "and how she's not even showing signs of pregnancy. is she frigid in bed? you know, some people are saying she's infertile."

gojo straightens up, a new look taking over his face that makes her voice die down.

"what? who's saying that? who's talking?" he presses, and she feels her mouth dry up, suddenly picking up on the fact that he doesn't seem to be at all interested in the deal she's trying to make.

he feels a sudden wave of mixed emotions washing over him.

are the maids taking? gods, that makes him feel even worse. it surely couldn't be yours, they care for you too much. but it must've been somebody who knows your situation, somebody who sees the way you live on different sides of the estate. gojo feels a sinking pit in his stomach. these rumors that are growing because of his own selfish actions, rumors at your own expense, ones you have no control over, by people you've been trying to befriend for ages.

he knows people look at you whenever you enter a room, hears their awfully concealed whispers. and despite the fact that you try to hide the hurt on your face, he sees the way you avade their glances, hide into yourself to act like it doesn't bother you.

are these whispers now because of him?

"i don't know," she mutters, annoyed, "everyone. you barely look at her. did your parents pay you to marry her? she must've been-"

"stop it." gojo warns, and she shuts her mouth, eyes shimmering with shock.

she looks like she's about to say something but stops, looking over his looming body at something.

"gojo? is that you?" another voice calls out, and he turns around, all the anger melting off of his face when he sees it's you, standing near the pillars as you try to find him.

you smile when you see him, still not seeing anya who's hidden behind him, and wave for him to come back.

"they're about to serve dessert," you say, trying to be as quiet as you can, "oh, are you with someone? sorry, i didn't mean to interrupt..." you trail off, your smile falling when anya shuffles around, making sure you see her behind him, your eyes widening.

gojo feels his world slipping beneath him as your shoulder drops, looking at him and then at anya, a somber look taking over your features. you look for another second, not knowing what to do. gojo feels like a fish, gaping silently at you, never looking back at anya, but you excuse yourself, going back to the dining hall without saying another word.

gojo stares aimlessly at the wall in front of him, not sparing his energy to look at the girl peering up at his face.

"get out," he murmurs, his voice low with timber.

"w-what?" she stammers, brows furrowing in confusion.

"get out before i call the guards," he snaps, looking at her from the side of his eyes, "fucking now anya, leave."

she looks up at him, swallowing thickly, but gets the memo that he's being serious. she scammers away, sniffling dramatically as she disappears through another hallway.

he drops his head into his hands, massaging his temples.

his eyes fall to his ring, the one that seems to be growing cold on his finger.

he feels his heart burn in his chest, every step feeling like he had stones tied to his feet as he makes his way back to the hall, hearing the edited clammer of the people welcoming him back, but there was only one person he cared about.

and you weren't looking at him.

in fact, you didn't speak to him that entire night. nor that following week.

gojo has almost bled to death before and has had arrows pierce his back and exit through his chest, but he'd rather experience that ten times again than feel the agonizing silence of the woman he's starting to love.

(second part)

[hxxsxxng]

Past Wounds, Present Hearts P.SH

「Pairing」 : exbully!sunghoon x fem!reader

「Word Count」 : 10.5k

「Genre」 : smut, angst, somewhat fluff, college au

「Summary」 : you have felt resentment for sunghoon ever since the hell he put you through in middle school. now you find out he goes to your university.... and he's kinda hot?

「Warnings」 : MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!! mentions of bullying, lower quality of life due to bullying, self doubt, mentions of drinking alcohol, implied intoxication in some scenes, college parties, sunghoon calls reader petnames, kissing, sharing a bed, nipple play, fingering, titty sucking, handjob, sunghoon turns out to be a sweetheart, cum eating, falling asleep together, and more

「Authors Note」 : i originally intended for the story to have a different ending but i changed my mind half way though and it would have been too fast paced for the word count given, i will definitely make a part two if enough people ask! not proofread

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I hate him. The smug look on his face when I walk pass him in the main campus hall. All of the girls clawing on to his shoulder, begging for his attention without knowing what fucking loser he is. The way all of the professors are so impressed with him for doing practically nothing in class. Getting a full ride scholarship for basketball to this school. I have grown sick of it.

Park Sunghoon. The name still twists my stomach after all these years. Middle school was when my hatred started for Him. He was my middle school bully. Always teasing me in front of the whole class, or making comments behind my back. What hurts the most is that he doesn’t seem to care that he used to act this way, or maybe he thinks I have forgotten. The truth is, I will never forget. It sits at the back of my mind all of the time. The people who know me from middle school still view me as this ‘disgusting’ girl who was unlikeable, because of the things that Sunghoon would do to me.

It took years for me to build myself back up, so when I saw that he was planning on going to the same university as me last fall, I was more than worried. But this wasn’t middle school anymore. I can’t let him get away with treating me like an outcast who doesn’t deserve friends.First semester of university is always scary, I was always afraid to come out my shell and meet new people. I wanted to stay on top of acedemics. My best friend Yuqi was the complete opposite. Any opportunity she got to go out and party, she would be there. And, she would surprisingly maintain decent grades as well. Now that I think about it, I have never been a party goer, not even in highschool. Then again, there weren’t too many parties that either sounded interesting, or that I was invited to.

“Kappa Alpha is having a party this Friday, you in?” Yuqi suggested. She always gets the same response. “No, you already know I can’t, we have finals next week” I shrugged. “But Kappaaaaaa!” Yuqi whined, her voice getting higher every passing second. We were walking down the hallway towards our classes. A few students looked over, but quickly decided that they didn’t want to look any further. “I hear that Kappa Alpha has the best Christmas parties every year. You have to come” Yuqi insisted, grabbing onto my arm. I rolled my eyes. “Yuqi… You don’t actually think I’m going to attend one of their parties?” Yuqi gave me a confused stare, trying to read through my expression. “Why not?” “Sunghoon is in that frat, I’m pretty sure he lives in the frat house as well. You would catch me dead before seeing me step foot into that trashy hell hole” I explained, crossing my arm defensively. She knows how he treated me in middle school, she was there to witness it.

“What? He can’t be, out of all the parties I have gone to there, I have not seen him a singular time” Yuqi said with her eyebrows furrowed, putting emphasis into each word.. I tried to tell her that yes, he is the type of guy to hide out in the frat house and not attend, but she had no idea. After some debate, she eventually gave up asking me.

That night, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling fan as it spun lazily above me. Yuqi's words echoed in my mind, mixing with memories I'd rather forget. The Christmas lights strung across my dorm room cast a soft glow, but they did little to brighten my mood.

I rolled onto my side, hugging my pillow close. Why did Sunghoon have to be here, at my university, in my space? It wasn't fair. I'd worked so hard to leave that part of my life behind, to become someone new. Someone stronger.

But was I really stronger if I was still letting him dictate my choices? I grabbed my phone, thumb hovering over Yuqi's contact. She was probably out somewhere, living it up like she always did. I envied her sometimes, her ability to just… exist without all this baggage.

"Maybe I should go," I whispered to the empty room. The words felt foreign on my tongue. Me? At a Kappa Alpha party? It was absurd.

I sat up, running a hand through my messy hair. Yuqi would be ecstatic if I went. And isn't that what college is supposed to be about? New experiences, stepping out of your comfort zone?

But then I imagined walking into that frat house, the pulsing music, the crowded rooms. And somewhere in there, Sunghoon. Everybody loving him not knowing the kind of cruel person he is on the inside. My stomach clenched at the thought.

"This is stupid," I muttered, flopping back onto my bed. "I don't need to prove anything to anyone."

But even as I thought it, I knew it wasn't true. I did need to prove something - to myself. That I could face my past, that I could exist in the same space as Sunghoon without falling apart.

I picked up my phone again, this time opening my messages to Yuqi. "Hey," I typed, then paused. Was I really doing this? My finger hovered over the send button as doubt crept in. But then I thought of Yuqi's excited face, of the possibility of actually enjoying myself for once.

Before I could change my mind, I quickly typed out the rest of the message and hit send. "Hey. About that Kappa Alpha party… I think I might go after all." I set my phone down, my heart racing. What had I just agreed to?​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​Yuqi didn’t see my message until the morning, but I can only imagine her physical reaction after reading her written one. “Really???? I never thought this day would come. I promise you will love it!!!” my screen read. Her overuse of punctuation was telling enough about she felt. It was Friday morning, meaning that the party was going to be later in tonight. If I plan my time correctly, we can leave my dorm around 8pm, and I would have had all of the studying done that at I needed to do for the night.

I couldn’t help feeling nervous at the thought of attending a party with Sunghoon, but I decided that this may be the perfect chance to get to know him better. Okay, not ‘get to know him better’ but maybe this could finally give him a chance to clear the air between us, to apologize properly for everything that he did to me. But the chances of him apologizing are slim to none. When I see him in campus he seems to be the snobby type, unable to admit that they are wrong. Trust me, I have heard the stories going around campus.

I spent the rest of the day in a fog, my mind drifting between lectures and study sessions. The impending party loomed over me, a mix of dread and nervous anticipation.

By the time I returned to my dorm, the sun was already setting. I sat at my desk, attempting to review my notes, but the words blurred together. My phone buzzed - another excited text from Yuqi about outfit choices. I sighed, closing my textbook. There was no point in pretending to study anymore.

~~~~~

At 7:00, a knock at my door announced Yuqi's arrival. She entered with her usual whirlwind energy, arms full of clothes and makeup. "Okay," she said, dumping everything onto my bed. "Let's make you look amazing."

I eyed the pile warily. "Yuqi, I'm not trying to impress anyone. Especially not Sunghoon." She paused, giving me a soft look. "This isn't about him. It's about you feeling good about yourself. Now, let's start with this sweater."

For the next half hour, we sifted through outfits. Yuqi was patient, letting me veto anything too revealing or flashy. We finally settled on a soft, cropped sweater and high-waisted jeans - comfortable, but still party-appropriate.

As I changed, Yuqi chatted about her day, her excitement for the party. Her casual banter helped ease my nerves, reminding me why I'd agreed to this in the first place. This was about spending time with my best friend, not about Sunghoon.

We left my dorm at 8:15, the cool night air a welcome relief for my flushed cheeks. The walk to the frat house was short, but with each step, the butterflies in my stomach intensified. Music pulsed in the distance, growing louder as we approached.

Outside the house, we paused. Yuqi squeezed my hand. "You okay?" she asked, her voice gentle.

I took a deep breath, nodding. "Yeah. Let's do this."

We stepped inside, and I was immediately overwhelmed. The air was thick with the smell of alcohol and too many bodies in too small a space. Yuqi leaned close, "I'm going to get us some drinks. Will you be okay for a minute?"

I nodded, not trusting my voice. As she disappeared into the crowd, I stood there, taking in my surroundings. Groups of people clustered around, laughing and dancing. I recognized a few faces from classes, but no one I knew well.

And then, across the room, I saw him. Sunghoon, leaning against a wall, surrounded by his usual admirers. He was laughing at something someone said, his head thrown back. For a moment, I was transported back to middle school, hearing that laugh directed at me, mocking and cruel.

Our eyes met for a brief second, and I swear I saw something flicker in his expression. Surprise? Recognition? But before I could process it, someone bumped into me, breaking the moment.

I turned away, my heart pounding. What was I doing here? This was a mistake. I was about to head for the door when Yuqi reappeared, pressing a red cup into my hand.

"Here," she said with a smile. "It'll help you relax." I took a small sip, the unfamiliar burn of alcohol hitting the back of my throat. As we stood there, Yuqi chatting animatedly about the people around us, I felt myself slowly start to unwind. Maybe agreeing to come here wasn’t too bad of an idea.I was just starting to relax, the music and Yuqi's chatter creating a comfortable bubble around us, when I saw him approaching. Sunghoon, weaving through the crowd, his eyes fixed on... us? No, it couldn't be. But it was.

He stopped right in front of us, that infuriatingly perfect smile plastered on his face. "Hey, Yuqi," he said, his voice smooth as ever. Then his eyes slid to me. "And Y/N,… it's been a while, hasn't it?" I felt my body tense, my grip tightening on the red cup in my hand. Yuqi glanced between us, her eyes wide with surprise and a hint of concern. "Sunghoon," I managed to say, my voice coming out colder than I'd intended. But then again, why should I care? He seemed unfazed by my tone. "I didn't expect to see you here. You're not usually the party type, right?" The casual way he said it, as if he knew me, as if we were old friends catching up, made my blood boil. How dare he act so nonchalant after everything? "People change," I replied curtly. "Not that you'd know anything about that." I avoided eye contact. I saw Yuqi wince beside me, but I couldn't bring myself to care. Sunghoon's smile faltered for a moment, a flicker of... something passing across his face. Confusion? Hurt? Good.

"Right," he said, recovering quickly. Looking down at the ground with a half smile, he takes ​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​my snarky response as a que to leave. “I’ll see you around, (Y/N)” he scoffs and walks away.

“He is such an asshole” Yuqi complains, rubbing my back as a way to try to comfort me. “You responded well” I watched Sunghoon's tall, muscular figure get lost in the crowd, a mix of emotions swirling inside me. Part of me felt satisfied with how I'd handled the encounter, but another part felt... unsettled. I took a long swig from my cup, hoping the alcohol would dull the conflicting feelings. "Thanks," I mumbled to Yuqi, grateful for her support. She gave me a reassuring smile, but I could see the concern in her eyes. "Do you want to leave? We can if you're not comfortable." I considered it for a moment. The idea of going back to my dorm, burying myself in my blankets and pretending this night never happened, was tempting. But then I thought about how that's exactly what the old me would have done. The me that let Sunghoon's actions dictate her life.

"No," I said, surprising myself with the firmness in my voice. "I'm not leaving. I have just as much right to be here as he does." Yuqi's face broke into a wide grin. "That's my girl!" she cheered, linking her arm through mine. "Let's mingle a bit, shall we?" As we made our way through the crowded room, I couldn't help but notice Sunghoon's gaze following us. Every time I glanced in his direction, he looked away, but not before I caught a flicker of... something in his eyes. It wasn't the cruel amusement I remembered from our school days. It was something else, something I couldn't quite place.

Yuqi introduced me to a few of her friends, and I found myself actually enjoying the conversations. It felt... normal. Like maybe I could do this whole college social scene thing after all. But then, over someone's shoulder, I saw Sunghoon again. He was looking right at us, his expression unreadable. Our eyes met for a brief moment, and I felt a jolt of... something. Before I could analyze it further, he quickly averted his gaze, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. Wait, was Sunghoon blushing? I shook off the thought. It was probably just the alcohol playing tricks on my mind.

As the night wore on, I found myself relaxing more and more. The alcohol helped, but it was more than that. Every minute I spent here, laughing with Yuqi and her friends, was a minute I was reclaiming for myself. Yet, I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Every so often, I'd catch Sunghoon looking in my direction. But it wasn't the mocking stare I was used to. There was something almost... wistful about it. Once, when our eyes met, he even offered a small, hesitant smile before quickly turning the other way. I don’t understand why he is trying to smile at me. It was confusing, to say the least. This wasn't the Sunghoon I remember. The Sunghoon who had made my life miserable. This Sunghoon seemed... different. Unsure. Almost vulnerable. As Yuqi and I were preparing to leave, I excused myself to use the bathroom. On my way back, I quite literally bumped into Sunghoon in the hallway. "Oh, sorry," he mumbled, steadying me with a hand on my arm. The touch sent an unexpected jolt through me. "You okay?" I nodded, unsureness in my voice. We stood there for a moment, an awkward silence stretching between us. "Listen, Y/N," he started, then paused, running a hand through his jet black hair. "I... I'm glad you came tonight. It was good to see you."

Before I could respond, he quickly walked away, leaving me standing there, completely baffled. It wasn't until much later, as Yuqi and I were stumbling back to our dorms, arms linked and giggling about nothing in particular, that I realized something. For the first time in years, I'd spent an entire evening in the same space as Sunghoon without letting it ruin my night. And more than that, I was left with the strangest feeling that maybe there was more to Sunghoon than I'd allowed myself to see. As I collapsed onto my bed, exhausted but oddly content, I couldn't help but feel like something had shifted. I wasn't naive enough to think one party had erased years of hurt and resentment. But maybe it was a start.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

~~~~~

The next morning I woke up disoriented, borderline hungover. Roll over to the side to check the time on my phone. 11:09AM? It honestly felt like I slept for three days with how many drinks I consumed. I look further down the screen to see the notifications:

1:18 AM: @prksnghn02 started following you!

1:19 AM: @prksnghn02 Liked your post!

I must have fallen asleep to quickly too see this last night, but that was definitely right after we left the party.

I scroll through the conversation, smiling slightly at the messages

2:11 AM: @prksnghn02 Hey! You still here?

2:11 AM: @prksnghn02 I get it if you don’t want to speak to me.

Why was he messaging me. What gives him the right? I igonore the message and delete the message request. All that before my thumb hesitantly hovered over the follow button on his profile, eventually turning it grey. I spent the weekend as usual, going to my job at night and studying in the mornings. Though I had the awkward interaction with Sunghoon at one party, I think that I could see myself going with Yuqi to another party some time. Not soon though because finals start on Monday and I have to pass to keep my financial aid. That’s another thing that pisses me off. I work day and night to pay for my schooling by myself, and Sunghoon gets it all handed to him for being okay at basketball. He teased me for growing up less wealthy than him, but if he were in my shoes, he wouldn’t have thought it was so funny.

Monday morning I was walking through the main hall on campus, where they have to coffee shop that I occasionally stop by. Of course this time when I went, Sunghoon was standing at the bookstore across the walk way, talking to his girl-toys. It took everything in me to not make things awkward by looking in his direction, but for the split second I looked that way, he was already eyeing me down. I pretended to not notice, continuing into the coffee shop line as I would do normally. The line was fairly short. I looked down at my phone to distract myself until it was my turn to order. “I am sorry (Y/N)” a familiar voice says behind me, him lightly grazing my shoulder.

My eyes immediately snap to the owner of the voice. His brown eyes were staring directly into mine as if he could tell exactly what I was thinking just by looking at me. And I know he can. ‘Hey’ he seems to say, flashing me the smallest of smirks as his hand rests on the counter to my left. I scoff in disbelief. He really is serious now isn’t he. I try to ignore him and continue with my order, but Sunghoon stops me in my tracks. My heart starts hammering harder in my chest as I glance around to make sure no one overheard. “Hey (Y/N),” he repeats, giving me his infamous smirk. “I really am sorry” he continues. He’s watching me with a curious tilt to his head as he waits for my response.

“Can I buy you a drink? Maybe we can talk some more?” For a fraction of a moment, it’s hard to believe what’s happening.

“Whatever you are trying to do, I don’t want any part of it” I said sternly, trying to shoo him away. I know he could see the annoyance on my face but that wasn’t enough to get him to leave. “Please, I want to make things right” he begged with a hint of charm in his voice. He reaches out to hold my wrist but this time instead of swatting him away, I let him. If anyone deserves an apology it should be me. He takes a step closer to me, tilting his head slightly. “Fine I guess, but do not expect to get anything out of me” I agreed hesitantly. His facial expression completely changed from worried to… relieved? We ordered together in line while I tried my best to ignore him. His scent was a distraction. It was captivating. It was comparable to mohagany and mint. Admittedly, he is tall and handsome, even when we were in middle school he had always been cute. But I would never say that out loud. Eventually, his named was called and we both went up to grab our drinks. “Thank you Sunghoon” I said while looking down, trying to get out of the situation as soon a possible. “Wait” he says before I get to far away. “I will text you” he added. I half way smiled and walked away.

~~~~~

At lunch, I found myself leaning against Yuqi as we sat at one of our tables outside. “How do you feel?” she asked. “Better” I admitted. “It’ll take some getting used to, but I think I’m doing better” She nodded, seemingly satisfied by my reply.

“Yuqi?” I spoke again once I had my full attention back on her. She turned her attention towards me expectantly.

“Why don’t you give him another chance?” she sighed, rolling her neck around. “I mean, he seems like he is genuinely trying to make it up to you.”

“Yes he is putting in the effort now, but the pain that he put me through doesn’t just go away in an instant, it will take time for me to trust him”

“I understand” she muttered.

~~~~~

A few days had passed but I had never received a message from Sunghoon. Maybe he forgot or maybe he was scared…. I don’t know. But I can’t help but to think that I was maybe looking forward to that message. Yuqi was right, maybe he does deserve another chance. The library was my number one studying location. It was quiet, I could focus, and nobody bothers me. I actually have some time to myself. I have tested out every study area here and the to floor is by far my favorite. I press the 5 on the elevator control pad, and as the doors start closing, someone’s hand is placed between the doors, causing them to shoot back open. It was Sunghoon. I awkwardly scoot to the edge of the confined space to make sure there was more than enough room between us. His eyes light up when he realizes I was the one in the elevator.

“Would it be a problem if I rode with you?” he asked hesitatingly with an awkward smile.

“No, why would there be a problem?” I replied quickly. There was an awkward silence for a few seconds after my answer, and then I heard the elevator ding and the doors slowly start closing again. God, being around him gave me mixed emotions. His aura is so captivating, but his personality is the opposite. And not to mention that mohagany scent again. We rode to the fifth floor in total silence and exited the elevator once it stopped. When we both made way out of the elevator to walk our own directions, He gently grazed my shoulder and said “Good luck with finals” and walked the other direction.

-

Later that same evening while I was still on the library, my phone pinged with a new notification.

prksnghn02: Hey are you available?

prksnghn02: I know I said I was sorry but I really want you to know how I feel. I can’t do it over text.

I think this is the message that I have been waiting to see. I would appreciate to see him and have him fully apologize, though I don’t think this is the right time. It’s the middle of finals week and lord knows I am already struggling as is. I look up from my phone, observing my surroundings, and spot Sunghoon across the almost empty room lounging on a library bean-bag. Alone. That’s a first considering his royalty equivalent status on campus. He was clearly looking at me when I opened his message.

yourusername: Hey, sorry. I really need to study for this Sociology final. I can definitely carve out a time to meet next week.

I look up at him and point at my phone, making a frowny face and his expression mirrors mine.

prksnghn02: Who is the professor? I aced my sociology class I took over the summer. If you need any help lmk.

He looks at me with a thumbs up. His offer seems tempting, but what would I do? Sit there and hear him lecture me? It would already be hard enough to pay attention given how his arms are looking in that black fitted top.

yourusername: I will think about it.

I try to focus on my sociology notes, but my eyes keep drifting back to Sunghoon. He's still lounging on the bean bag, but now he has a textbook open on his lap. Every so often, he glances up, catching my eye before we both quickly look away. The tension is palpable, even from across the room. I sigh, running a hand through my hair. This is getting ridiculous. I'm here to study, not to play this weird game of cat and mouse with my former bully turned... what? Potential friend? The thought makes me uncomfortable. I make a split second decision on impulse and grab my phone, maybe regretting my decision later.

yourusername: Okay fine, come help me.

I witness Sunghoon look at his phone and shoot up out of his seat within the span of 3 seconds. Impressive. My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs as Sunghoon practically skidded to a stop in front of my desk. It was a stark contrast to his usual nonchalance. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and for a moment, I was back in middle school, his laughter echoing in the halls, the same laughter that used to sting.

“So, sociology huh?” he said with the most awkward tone possible. “What do you need help with” he continues, signaling his hand towards my messy notes. My notebook has definitely seen better days. I sighed, shoving my phone into the abyss of my backpack.

"Everything feels like gibberish. Professor Ramirez throws these massive lectures at us, and it all just blends together." Surprised laughter rumbled out of him.

"Ramirez? Yeah, he can be a bit much. But trust me, sociology isn't actually that complicated. Let's see your notes." Tentatively, I slid my well-worn notebook across the desk. He flipped through the pages, his brow furrowing in concentration. The silence stretched, broken only by the soft rustle of turning paper. I snuck a peek at him. His features were softened by a focus I wouldn't have expected. "Okay," he finally said, looking up. "This isn't so bad. You've got the basic concepts down. I think you're just getting overwhelmed by the details."

Relief flooded me. Maybe I wasn't completely incompetent after all. He settled into the chair across from me, his arm brushing mine for a moment as he reached for a pen. He continued to sort through my notes, trying to piece together what I may not be understanding. He was surprisingly patient with me, and even created examples for me to try and understand better. Not to mention that I couldn’t keep my eyes off of him as he spoke. His black hair falling loosely in front of his dark brown eyes and black glasses was so sexy.

"So basically, social stratification is like the ranking system within a society?" I summarized, feeling a flicker of accomplishment. Sunghoon grinned, a genuine smile that reached his eyes. "Exactly! See, you were getting it all along." He paused, then reached for a specific page in my notes.

"Now, let's talk about power structures and how they influence social mobility…" Time melted away as Sunghoon patiently guided me through the sociological knowledge. I peppered him with questions, surprised by my own comfort level.

He answered them all with good humor and a surprising depth of knowledge that made him seem worlds apart from the bully I knew in middle school and the jock he is now. I looked at his face once again, admiring the way he furrowed his eye brows when he concentrated. I am snapped out of my trance with

“What?” Sunghoon questioned me, tilting his face to the side. I couldn’t even comprehend what had happened until a second or two later.

“Nothing! It’s nothing. Go on with what you were saying” I averted my eyes towards the table to try and hide the blood in my cheeks. “Heh, Okay….” he chuckles fiddling with the ring on his finger. He pauses for a few seconds and picks up with “You should get home soon. You don’t wanna have late nights, right?”

He looks me dead in the eye as he says this, a hint of playfulness in his gaze. I glanced at my phone, startled to see it was already 1 AM. We'd been studying for hours without realizing it. The library, usually bustling with stressed students, was now eerily quiet.

"Oh wow, I didn't realize how late it got," I mumbled, hastily gathering my notes. Sunghoon stretched, his shirt riding up slightly. I pretended not to notice.

"Yeah, time flies when you're having fun with sociology, right?" he said sarcastically. I rolled my eyes, but couldn't help the small smile that tugged at my lips. "Right, because power structures are just a barrel of laughs." As we packed up our things, Sunghoon hesitated, then asked, "Hey, um, would you like me to walk you back to your dorm? It's pretty late." I paused, considering. The old me would have immediately refused, not wanting to spend an extra second with him.

But now... "Sure," I found myself saying. "That would be nice." We stepped out into the cool night air, the campus very quiet around us. For a moment, we walked in silence, the only sound our footsteps on the pavement.

"So," Sunghoon started, breaking the silence. "Did you find the study session helpful?" I nodded, surprised by my own honesty.

"Yeah, actually. You explain things... differently than I expected." He raised an eyebrow.

"Different good or different bad?"

"Different good," I admitted. "You're more... patient than I thought you'd be." Sunghoon chuckled softly. "Well, don't sound so surprised. Im not just a handsome face ya know.” I felt a retort forming on my lips, but bit it back.

“Yeah yeah, don’t flatter yourself.” As we walked, I couldn't help but sneak glances at him. In the soft glow of the street lamps, he looked... different. Softer somehow. Less like the arrogant boy I'd built up in my mind and more like... well, just a guy. "You know," he said suddenly, his voice quiet. "I meant what I said before. About being sorry." I felt my body tense. "Sunghoon, we don't have to-"

"No, please," he interrupted, stopping in his tracks. I turned to face him, surprised by the earnestness in his eyes. "I was a jerk in middle school. More than a jerk. I was cruel, and I've regretted it for years. I just... I want you to know that. I am sorry." I stood there, stunned. This vulnerability was so at odds with the Sunghoon I thought I knew.

"I... thank you," were the only words that were able to come out of my mouth. - I turned to face towards him as we reached the enterance of my dorm building. “Okay, I guess I can take it from here” I said, grabbing my key card out of my backpack.

“Goodnight, Sunghoon.” I entered the building and the door was already halfway closed before Sunghoon grabbed it and called out behind me, "Wait!” I stopped mid step and turned to meet his curious gaze, confused by what he could possibly want to say. I gave him a questioning look as he approached me slowly. His hands fidgeted nervously, and he took one last glance around, making sure no one was watching before reaching up to touch my cheek hesitantly. His thumb brushed the area under my eye lightly, his hand moving downwards slowly until he rested his palm flat on my jaw. I was somehow okay with this, despite the butterflies in my stomach.

My heart thudded loudly against my chest as I stared at his hand resting gently on my skin, unable to tear my gaze away from his. There was something magnetic about the way his eyes bore into me with an intensity I have never felt. “Have a good night, (Y/N)” he said softly, grazing my bottom lip with his thumb. He leaned down slowly while gazing into my eyes, a soft smile gracing his lips. My breath hitched as he brought his other hand up and cradled my cheek, brushing some loose strands of hair out of my face. “You too, Sunghoon”

~~~~~

The end of finals week had finally come and I am not exaggerating when I say that this is the most relieved I have ever been in my life. I was lounging on my bed scrolling through tik tok and I saw a message pop up at the top of my screen.

prksnghn02: Hey! A few of us are having a small get-together at the frat house to celebrate surviving finals. You and Yuqi should come.

I stared at the message, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. A month ago, I would've immediately declined. But now… things were different. The study session with Sunghoon, our late-night walk, the way he'd touched my face before saying goodnight - it all swirled in my mind, a confusing mix of old resentment and new… something.

yourusername: Let me check with Yuqi. What time?

His response was almost immediate.

prksnghn02: Around 8? It's just a few people, nothing crazy. Promise it won't be like last time.

I couldn't help but smile at that. The last party had been a turning point, in a way.

yourusername: Okay, I'll let you know.

I rolled over, dialing Yuqi's number. She picked up on the second ring.

"Please tell me you're calling to drag me out of this post-finals funk," she groaned.

I laughed. "Actually, yeah. Sunghoon invited us to a small thing at the frat house. You in?"

There was a pause on the other end. "Sunghoon, huh? You two seem to be getting along better."

I could hear the smile in her voice. "We're… working on it," I admitted. "So, you coming or what?"

"Obviously," she said. "I'll be at yours in an hour. We need to talk about this Sunghoon situation, by the way."

I groaned. "There's no 'situation', Yuqi."

"Uh-huh. Sure. See you soon!"

She hung up before I could protest further. I flopped back onto my bed, staring at the ceiling.

An hour later, Yuqi was sprawled on my bed, watching me rummage through my closet.

"So," she said, drawing out the word. "You and Sunghoon, huh?"

I threw a shirt at her. "There's no 'me and Sunghoon'. We're just… I don't know. Not enemies anymore, I guess."

Yuqi sat up, her expression serious. "Look, I know he was awful to you in middle school. But people change, you know? And he seems to be really trying."

I sighed, sitting down next to her. "I know. It's just… complicated."

She bumped my shoulder with hers. "Life's complicated. Doesn't mean you can't give it a chance."

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Yuqi always had a way of cutting through my defenses.

"Now," she said, her tone lightening. "Let's find you something cute to wear. Just because it's not a 'situation' doesn't mean you can't look hot."

I rolled my eyes, but let her pull me back to the closet.The frat house was quieter than I'd ever seen it. No pulsing music, no crowds of people. Just the soft murmur of conversation and laughter drifting from the back patio. Sunghoon met us at the door, his face lighting up when he saw us. "Hey! You made it." he said, ushering us inside. His eyes lingered on me for a moment, and I felt a flutter in my stomach. "Drinks are in the kitchen, we're all out back."

As we followed him through the house, I couldn't help but notice how different he seemed here, in his element. Relaxed, open, a far cry from the popular Sunghoon I was used to seeing on campus. He was wearing a simple black t-shirt and jeans, but somehow he made it look effortlessly attractive. The back patio was strung with fairy lights, casting a warm glow over the small group gathered there. I recognized a few faces from classes, but it was indeed a much smaller crowd than the usual frat parties.

Yuqi immediately gravitated towards a group she knew, leaving me standing awkwardly by the door. Sunghoon appeared at my side, two red cups in hand. "Here," he said, offering me one. "It's just punch, but fair warning - Heeseung made it, so it's probably stronger than it tastes." I took a sip, the sweetness masking the unmistakable burn of alcohol. "Thanks for inviting us," I said, surprised by how much I meant it. Sunghoon's smile was soft, almost shy. "I'm glad you came. I wasn't sure if you would." "Honestly? I wasn't sure either," I admitted. He nodded, understanding in his eyes. "Well, I'm glad you did. Come on, let me introduce you to some people." As the night wore on, I found myself relaxing more and more. The punch was indeed strong, but the warm buzz it provided was pleasant.

Sunghoon stayed close, always making sure I was included in conversations, laughing at my jokes, his hand occasionally brushing against mine in a way that seemed both accidental and deliberate. I found myself studying him when he wasn't looking. The way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, the gestures he made when he was explaining something he was passionate about. It was hard to reconcile this Sunghoon with the boy who had tormented me in middle school. At some point, Yuqi caught my eye from across the patio and gave me a not-so-subtle thumbs up. I rolled my eyes at her, but I couldn't help the smile that subtly appears on my face.

As the night progressed, people started to drift away in twos and threes. Yuqi had gotten into an intense discussion about some TV show with a guy from her psych class, leaving Sunghoon and me alone on a small bench near the edge of the patio. The fairy lights cast a soft glow on his features, and I found myself staring longer than I should have. "You know," Sunghoon said, his words slightly slurred, "I never thought we'd be here like this." I raised an eyebrow. "What, drunk on your frat house patio?" He laughed, the sound warm and genuine. "No, I mean... talking. Like friends."

His hand found mine on the bench between us, his fingers intertwining with mine. The touch sent a jolt through me, but I didn't pull away. "I was such an ass to you in middle school," he continued, his voice dropping low. "I... I didn't know how to deal with how I felt about you back then." I froze, my heart suddenly pounding. "What do you mean?" Sunghoon turned to face me, his eyes intense even in their alcohol-glazed state. "I had the biggest crush on you," he admitted. "But I was too stupid and insecure to know how to handle it. So I lashed out instead." I sat there, stunned.

The Sunghoon I knew in middle school, the one who had made my life miserable, had a crush on me? It didn't make sense, and yet... "That doesn't excuse what I did," he continued, his thumb tracing circles on the back of my hand. "Nothing excuses that. But I want you to know how sorry I am. And how glad I am that you're giving me a chance to make it right."

I looked at our intertwined hands, then back up at Sunghoon's face. The vulnerability in his expression took my breath away. "I... I don't know what to say," I whispered. "You don't have to say anything," he murmured, leaning in slightly. "I just wanted you to know." We sat there for a moment, the air between us charged with possibility. Then, without thinking, I leaned in, closing the distance between us. Our lips met softly, hesitantly at first. Then Sunghoon's free hand came up to cup my cheek, deepening the kiss.

It was sweet and a little clumsy, tasting of punch with a hint of alcohol. His lips were softer than I'd imagined - not that I'd been imagining it, of course. When we broke apart, I could feel the heat in my cheeks. Sunghoon's eyes were wide, a mix of surprise and something else I couldn't quite name.

"I... wow," he breathed, his thumb gently caressing my cheek. Before I could respond, the patio door slid open and Yuqi's voice rang out. "Y/N? You out here?" Sunghoon and I sprang apart, but not before Yuqi caught sight of us. Her facial expression completely changed, a knowing smirk spreading across her face.

"Sorry, am I interrupting something?" she asked, her tone teasing. I stood up quickly, nearly losing my balance. Sunghoon steadied me with a hand on my arm, the touch sending another jolt through me. "We were just... talking," I managed to say, knowing how unconvincing it sounded. Yuqi's grin widened. "Uh-huh. 'Talking.' Got it. Well, hate to break up this... conversation, but it's getting late. We should probably head out." I nodded, suddenly feeling very sober. "Right. Yeah. Let's go."

As we made our way back through the house, I could feel Sunghoon's eyes on me. At the front door, he caught my hand. "Text me when you get home safe?" he asked, his voice low. I nodded, words not being able to leave my mouth. He squeezed my hand once before letting go. - The walk back to the dorms was quiet, Yuqi mercifully holding back her questions until we were safely in my room. "Okay," she said, flopping onto my bed. "Spill. Everything. Now." I sank into my desk chair, my mind replaying the kiss over and over. "I... I don't even know where to start," I admitted.

Yuqi's expression softened. "Start at the beginning. And don't leave anything out."

~~~~~

Going over to Sunghoons frat house became a frequent thing over the winter break. About twice a week I would go with Yuqi and kick back with a few of his friends, the same ones that were there the first time.

During those times, we'd always end up hanging out in Sunghoons backyard, or playing in his pool. He definitely acted a lot different around his friends than I expected. More relaxed, open, less guarded. In turn he opened up to me a bit too.

“If I beat you in a round of pool, you have take a shot with me” Sunghoon said chuckling, nudging his elbow against my arm. “Come on, that’s fair!”

“I guess, but what do I get it I win?”

Sunghoon narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “You know what, I can think of something…” He moved closer to me, the tip of his nose inches away from mine. A shiver ran down my spine as I tried to resist the urge to pull away. Instead, I remained still, watching nervously as his mouth slowly drew closer and closer. “I think you might like it” he said teasingly.

“I guess I should just let you win then” I sighed sarcastically, trying to ignore the butterflies built up in my stomach.

He scoffs “I promise, sweetheart, I don’t bite” he said, moving back just enough so he could meet my eyes. His voice was low and husky, sending a ripple of heat through my body.

“So, what kind of shot?” I asked lightly, trying to ignore the way my voice shook as I spoke.

“I think I have some Don Julio” he mused, running a hand along the back of his neck.

Sunghoon it first to break all of the pool balls apart, declaring him as solids. Drinking beer between each of our turns and chatting about family and work, Sunghoon was a lot better at pool than he originally let on, because soon enough he had only 2 solid balls left, while I still had 5 stripes.

I was expecting him to have already won at this point. When he set his cue on the edge, lining up to hit one of the solids into a hole, the 8 ball shoots across the board, into the hole closest to me.

“Aw shit, I guess you won” He said with a fake defeated look.

I laughed, setting my bottle aside. “Looks like it. Thanks for letting me have a couple extra rounds” I said, winking at him. I missed my cue stick by mere centimeters, but didn’t care. My eyes were locked on Sunghoon; his hair stuck up everywhere, his skin glistening with sweat after his game, his shirt clung tightly to his frame.

A loud bang echoed off the walls, making us both jump slightly. Sunghoon’s eyes snapped towards the window behind me, his eyebrows furrowing in concern. “Someone just slammed the garage door shut” he whispered. “Did they close up for the night?”

We had spent so much time playing pool, we didn’t realize that slowly, one by one, people started to go home. This meaning that Yuqi probably caught a ride home with someone and the only people left here are the 3 frat guys staying in the house over the break.

“It’s getting late, I should probably call an Uber” I said, rubbing my eyes for focus.

“Why leave so soon? Doing Uber this late at night could be dangerous, you never know what kind of people could be out there.”

“What other option do I have? Yuqi went home already” I replied, grabbing my phone.

“You can stay here, you can sleep on my bed and I will set up a bed on the floor” he offered.

“I don’t know if that is the best idea” I muttered, staring at my feet.

“Just sleep here. Don’t waste money on an Uber, and I promise I can take great care of you.” he urged me, placing his hand under my chin so that I would finally look at him. “Do you really believe that I would let you get into a strangers car right now?”

I hesitated before nodding. “Fine, but only because I trust you.”

~

We pack up all of our stuff from outside, including my purse and all of the extra alcohol. There are so many room in the frat house and I have never been upstairs, I have no idea which one is Sunghoons. As the two of us climb the stairs up to his room, we both silently agree not to mention the previous events from the other night.

Sunghoon doesn’t know why I kissed him, And I don’t know why he kissed me. Even though he did tell me a little about the reason behind our relationship, it wouldn’t matter, he was too far gone for it to change anything anyway.

The moment we step into his room, he tosses his backpack onto the floor and gestures to the large queen sized bed sitting in the corner of the room.

“I didn’t bring anything to sleep in, I can’t sleep wearing jeans and a tank top” I said, gesturing to my jeans.

“Don’t worry about it, I can lend you something” he said, walking over to a laundry basket of clothes lying on the floor near the wardrobe. “I haven’t gotten the chance to put up my laundry, let me find something” he explains, rummaging through the basket.

He pulls out a large black t-shirt and some basketball shorts. “Here, try these on” and walked over, handing them to me, a slight smile tugging at the edge of his lips.

“Look away!” I playfully shouted while waving my hand to shoo him. “

“Oh my gosh, okay” he covers his eyes like a cartoon character.

Luckily I was wearing some spandex shorts and a sports bra underneath, so even if he did sneak a peek, which I’m sure he did, nothing too important would have been exposed. On him the clothes look normal size, but on me, the shirt fit like a dress and the shorts touched half way down my shins. “I guess I have no choice” I shrugged.

I crawl into his bed while he went to fetch an extra blanket for me out of his closet. At this point, he was already in his sleep attire. No shirt and some basketball shorts. It was hard to concentrate when he was standing there wearing nothing but shorts. I admit that maybe I was staring a bit longer than appropriate.

“You like what you see?” he says in a cocky tone, chuckling at my embarrassment.

“Shut up, you are so annoying” I scoff and roll my eyes, laying back down on the bed.

“Haha okay…” he smirks as he stands up from the closed with the blanket in his hand. “Hopefully this will keep you warm enough” he said, covering me with the big piece of fabric.

“Thank you, Sunghoon” I said, turning over to attempt to catch some sleep. He set up a little bed on the floor with a blanket and a pillow right next to the bed and layer down as well.

After sometime of just listening to the sound of the crickets outside, the quiet noises of the street, cars passing by, the occasional chirp of a bird. The atmosphere was rather peaceful, comfortable almost. I couldn't help the small smile forming on my face as I lay my head on my arm.

My brain kept drifting away from sleep, my thoughts constantly drifting back to Sunghoon. My heart rate was rising with every second that passed, I tried desperately to calm myself down, not wanting to give any indication that I was starting to get aroused. The more I listened to the sounds outside, the more I felt the overwhelming desire to be wrapped up in his arms. Just to feel him hold me.

I sigh deeply, rolling over onto my side and facing him. The soft glow of moonlight illuminating the entire room, casting light patterns on his sleeping features. If this was any other day, I would definitely stare at him until dawn, taking in every minute detail of him.

I scooted over to the edge of the bed, just close enough for me to nudge Sunghoon with my foot. “Hoon, are you awake” I whispered.

His eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the brightness of the moonlight leaking through the blinds. “Yeah” he clears his throat. “Why?”

“Can you lay with me?” I whispered again.

He stared at me for a second, trying to understand what was going through my mind. Eventually, he crawled onto the bed, lying down next to me. His body was hot against mine, making goosebumps erupt throughout my skin, but the feeling was comforting nevertheless. We laid like that in silence for a few moments, simply enjoying each other's presence.

Eventually, it became too awkward and I had to move closer into Sunghoon, cuddling up next to him. “I like this” I say quietly, resting my head in the crook of his neck, inhaling his faint scent. He chuckled slightly, positioning himself to where his fingers could comb though my hair.

I mumble, wrapping my arm around his torso. His fingers stopped their ministrations then, hesitating for a moment. I looked up at him from my position on his chest, curious as to what made him stop. I met his deep brown eyes that were focused solely on me. His gaze was soft, yet intimidating at the same time. Slowly, carefully, he lifted my head off his body and held it between his hands. Then he brought his lips to meet mine softly.

He pulled me in closer, gently running his fingertips along my jawline, making my heartbeat pick up in pace. His kisses were slow and sweet, the most tender kiss I've ever had. After several seconds of pure bliss, he pulled away slowly, watching me as if waiting for some sort of reaction. When my eyes fluttered open I met with his eyes, gazing deeply into each others’. A smile formed on my lips, making Sunghoon lean in to reconnect our lips again.

He placed his hands on the sides of my neck, holding me close to him, deepening the kiss, our tongues intertwining in a passionate dance. Our bodies pressed closely together, moving together rhythmically. His hands lifted up my oversized shorts and began roaming across my bare thighs, tracing up the hem of my shirt. We kept getting tangled in each other’s clothing as we continued kissing.

He reached my breasts, pushing up my sports bra to give them an affectionate squeeze, causing me to gasp in response. My hands moved down from his shoulders and ran up the backs of his arms to his neck, pulling on his short hairs slightly. Pulling on the strands of hair caused him to release a low growl and deepen the kiss, pulling his tongue into my mouth. Suddenly I felt his teeth graze my bottom lip, causing me to whimper slightly at the unexpected pain. When he released my lower lip, he sucked on it, sucking on it harder and harder with his sharp canine teeth. “Fuck…” I moan, gripping tightly onto the ends of his dark brown locks.

He took the opportunity to slide his hands under my shirt, rubbing his thumbs over my nipples lightly, causing my stomach muscles to tense up involuntarily. A slight smirk crept onto his lips as he noticed this, but then he proceeded to push the crop top further up on my shoulders before placing soft gentle kisses along my collar bone. He sprinkled kissed on my shoulders and chest and then moved down towards my waistline, placing soft soft kisses along my belly button. His hand started to work its way downwards, slowly caressing the insides of my thighs.

He latched one of my nipples into his mouth, gently suckling the tight swollen bud of flesh with his teeth and tongue. As his hand reached down and slid his middle finger along the underside of my left thigh, causing me to grind against his hand.

He trailed his hand back up to the bottom of my shirts and bunched it up in his hand “Can I take this off?” he leaned next to my ear and whispered. My breath hitched at how sensual he sounded.

“Please” I managed to speak out. He didn’t reply immediately, only gave me a reassuring smile before pulling it over my head, only leaving my bra. His lips found their way back up to mine, sending a surge of electricity through me. His hands worked their way to bottom of my bra, lifting it up and throwing it to the side as well. The cool air on my bare stomach and chest suddenly sent tingles all over my body, sending shivers down my spine and goosebumps all over my skin. He smiled at my reaction, continuing to caress my inner thigh.

“Is it okay if I take these off too?” he whispered, grazing the waistband of my shorts.

I let go of his arms and nodded my head yes, watching his expression change from relaxed to excited. I watched him pull those off and discard them as well, leaving only my thong on. “I hope this is okay” he smiled. He was still looking at me with those intense eyes, making it difficult for me to breathe properly.

He removed the last piece of clothing from me, both my spandex and the shorts he gave me, revealing my beautiful skin and perfectly plump curves underneath. He took a few seconds to appreciate every inch of my body before sliding his slim fingers between my legs. Instinctively my knees fell apart slightly, allowing him access to my core which caused his eyes to darken even more. As he gently traced circles around my bud, sending me into complete ecstasy, I moaned loudly, moaning in pleasure as my hips began grinding into his finger tips.

“God, you’re so pretty” he whispered, trailing kisses along my cheek. I bit my bottom lip to suppress the moans coming out of my mouth as he continued to stroke the wetness inside of my thighs. “So perfect.”

He spread my wetness all over his fingers and slid one finger inside of my desperate hole. At first, he started slowly, his thumb circling my clit while his middle finger slid in and out of my warm opening, slowly increasing the amount of pressure until I was gripping down onto his fingers with all of my strength. He increased the speed of his movements, adding another finger, pumping them hard into me. I closed my eyes and arched my back, trying my best to keep a good grip on his fingers.

“Shit, you’re so wet angel” he groans. He took his hand away to pull off his own shorts, with his boxers. His dick spring free, tip raging and dripping with precum. It was big, a lot bigger than I had expected.

I take all of his length into my fist as he continues contact with my folds. “Fuck, that feels good, baby” he says under his breath. I collect spit in my mouth and layer his tip and slide my hand up and down slowly.

I feel a familiar knot forming in my stomach as he keeps a consistent pace pumping his finger into my gushing pussy. “Agh yess” I moan on his cock, feeling the burning sensation building up. He leans down to place a tender kiss on the back of my shoulder, his warm breath fanning my sensitive skin, causing my back arch even higher. "Let go babygirl"he murmurs against my shoulder.

I let my hand rest against his erection, stroking him slowly, feeling the tip get longer by the moment. Soon enough, I can no longer contain myself as I let the orgasm rip out of me. His name came spilling out of my mouth, followed by a loud moan “Fuck Sunghoon, just like that.” I continue to hold on to him as the wave of pleasure takes over me, feeling my muscles start to seize up and my vision starting to blur.

As I'm regaining my composure, he pulls out of me, bringing his fingers up to his mouth. “You taste so good, princess” he praises, with sweat droplets forming in his forehead.My face turns red with embarrassment. I cover my face with my palms as I try to control my breathing. Sunghoon chuckles and grabs my wrists, pulling my hands away from my blushing face and places them on his cheeks instead. “Don’t be embarrassed, babygirl. That was hot” he says. My blush gets stronger by the second.

“Let me get you cleaned up” he suggested, getting out of the bed to go to his bathroom where he kept his extra cloths. He came back with a small smile on his face. He runs the rag between my legs and said “I am really happy you decided to spend the night”

“Me too Sunghoon” my smile only visible by the moonlight. He went back into the bathroom to put the cloth into the dirty clothes hamper.

“Now come here…” He brings his lips to meet mine once more. He wraps his arms around my sore body, making my face bury into his chest. Our bare skin resting against eachother was so relaxing. His skin was soft, and he was perfectly toned to my liking. He runs his fingers through my hair and begins to massage my scalp, making my whole body tremble. “It’s really late, sweetheart, let’s get some rest” he whispers and kisses my forehead, then rests his chin on the top of my head. As I lay there in Sunghoons embrace, feeling the warmth radiating off him, my eyes gradually fall shut.

-

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[starcurtain]

Teyvat's "Most Down Bad" Award Goes to Alhaitham for a Second Year Running

Seeing everyone making fun of Alhaitham for his "stalkerish" tendencies in this event is funny, because I feel like a lot of people missed that "Be literally everywhere Kaveh is" has been Alhaitham's MO from the day Kaveh appeared in the game.

From only grabbing his house keys after Kaveh returned from the desert (he couldn't have had both sets of keys at the end of the Archon Quest unless he went home and got Kaveh's copy) to ditching conversations to get back to his house only after Kaveh came home, to showing up without any warning or explanation in Kaveh's hangout with some ridiculous excuse about hearing his voice through noise-cancelling headphones... Refusing to offer any help in the Temple of Silence story quest other than staying in the library with Kaveh...

Since when does Alhaitham willingly cover anyone else's duties?

But this trend of "Be everywhere Kaveh is" didn't start when they were adults. It was already in place when they were still Akademiya students--and it's a trend that didn't end even when they had their fight.

Even when they weren't speaking, Alhaitham dogged Kaveh's every step through published responses to Kaveh's research articles in academic journals. He insisted on keeping a line of communication between himself and Kaveh open, even if the only way to do that was through very public ideological clashes. Pulling Kaveh's pigtails to get his attention lolol. It's implied that, for at least the few years between their fight and Kaveh moving in, this was the only communication between them--Alhaitham's refusal to allow their connection to entirely fade away. (And the fact that this is revealed in Kaveh's character stories--through his precious journal that records the moments of his life that had the most impact on him--shows just how deeply he values the fact that Alhaitham didn't give up.)

Another relevant side note: Alhaitham never asked Kaveh to give up his half of their house. Knowing half of it belonged to Kaveh, knowing that Kaveh may one day want to reclaim his part of it, knowing that it was listed as theirs, Alhaitham moved into the house and made zero effort to change its ownership. He was completely fine with living in "his and Kaveh's house." The stories suggest it was only months later (or even longer) that Kaveh even noticed he had the house, and he transferred away ownership of his portion without Alhaitham ever asking him (or even seemingly wanting him) to do so.

Please, let that sink in. Alhaitham actively left his grandmother's (presumably comfortable) house to move into "his and Kaveh's house," with no apparent explanation for why, and after doing so, he made no attempt to change that "his and Kaveh's" label. He moved into the house with no promise that Kaveh wouldn't show up on the doorstep the very next day and move in too. It almost feels like another deliberate provocation--I've moved into our house, are you going to come stop me? LBR, if Alhaitham had had his way, Kaveh would have been living there with him from Day 1...

There's also the fact that Kaveh literally can't write on a single message board anywhere in the entire nation of Sumeru without Alhaitham hunting his messages down and responding to them (which absolutely no one else does, by the way).

"NUH-UH!" "UH-HUH." "NUH-UH!"

Alhaitham's own character stories tell us explicitly that one of Alhaitham's defining character traits is "He is never where you need him to be," yet somehow...

Shot, and chaser:

Any time Kaveh is in the slightest bit of need or danger or just wants Alhaitham near, Alhaitham is "coincidentally" exactly where Kaveh needs him to be, whenever Kaveh needs him to be there.

Alhaitham didn't just "happen" to run into Kaveh in Port Ormos, an entirely different city from where he was supposed to be working. He didn't just "happen" to read the same terrible book as Kaveh when we know he otherwise would not waste a moment of his time on poorly-written literature...

He didn't just "happen" to appear when Kaveh was upset and needed a distraction in the House of Daena during Kaveh's hangout. He didn't just "happen" to be sitting around waiting when Kaveh needed answers after the Archon Quest. He didn't just "happen" to find Kaveh's academic publications and every single message board posting and respond to them at length and in public.

Which is exactly what Kaveh's mother told Kaveh he needed.

What level of down bad is "Abusing your powers as an Akademiya employee to keep tabs on your crush's library loans"? Just asking for a friend.

The only person for whom Alhaitham just "happens" to be available is Kaveh, over and over and over again--because he is very deliberately making himself a constant presence in Kaveh's life.

(Like, out of all things, I think people really underestimate the devs deliberately paralleling the romantic relationship between Kaveh's mother and father with Kaveh and Alhaitham's relationship. If you want to point to one thing that says "These two characters are intentionally queer-coded," it doesn't get any more obvious than this.)

Alhaitham, are you not embarrassed to be this transparent??? 🫣

[sovaghoul]

Mine own trans Dew series.

reblog with your fave trans ghoul porn fics please i'm doing research (the research is jorking it)