#sorry I can’t do continuations well for some reason

[ghostgirl-22]

artrick phone sex

I gotchu, my love <3

CW: 18+ !NSFW! First time dynamics, angst, Art has avoidance issues like me.

Apologies this may be too long and full of my own personal angst I fear.

—-

“Art?” It’s Patrick.

Art feels his stomach sinking and now he wishes he’d avoided his call, again. He rolls over on his bed and looks at the sparsely decorated wall of his dorm room. It’s his first time talking to Patrick since… since…

He shivers and tries to put it out of his mind.

“Hey,” Art says and clears his throat. “What’s up?”

Patrick chuckles.

Art shivers again. Did his voice always sound that way? Or is Art just crazy still? He’s been really crazy lately. It’s been two weeks and he’s still…

“Really? What’s up?” Patrick mimics. “That’s all you have to say?”

Art shrugs for the benefit of no one but himself. “What—um— what’s wrong with that?”

“Oh I don’t know…” Patrick hums and then he sighs. “Okay fuck it. I’ll go with it. Are you okay?”

Art is still anxious, his stomach still uneasy. It’s just Patrick. His oldest and closest and best friend and yet he can’t relax. He can’t settle down and they're just talking on the phone. He can’t imagine seeing him in person when he inevitably shows up to Stanford again to watch Tashi play. Everything is different now.

“I’m fine, Patrick.” He lies.

“But you don’t want to talk to me?” Patrick sounds weird. Worried? A little. Disappointed? Probably. Sad? Definitely.

Art sighs, he doesn’t want Patrick to be sad. “No I— I’ve just been busy. We had finals last week. And um…. practice has been crazy. I’m um… I started seeing this girl and—” he hears Patrick huff a laugh but barrels through, ignoring it. “Sorry I missed your calls.”

“And texts,” Patrick adds.

“I’m sorry,” Art says again.

They’re quiet for a while. Art turns back to look at the tv. He was watching Sports Center, they were talking about gymnastics. Apparently there had just been some kind of qualifier competition.

“Who’s this new girl your seeing?” Patrick asks. This time Art can’t tell what his tone is.

“Uh well she’s nice, pretty. She’s actually not on the team. She’s an English major.”

“Sounds hot,” Patrick says, flatly.

“Yeah, she’s um— she’s nice,” Art says. “Are you—are you high?”

“A little. I won’t lie. Me and the buddy I was telling you about we smoked a couple and then went and got tacos and Margaritas. So fucking good. Who knew Dallas was a food town?”

Art laughs. He begins to relax, this feels more like best friend stuff. Maybe he was overreacting. Avoiding him for two weeks. But of course that wasn’t the only reason Art was avoiding him. “What happened to your match?”

“Uh well— I lost again. This shit is so fucking rigged.” Patrick complains.

“Dude that fucking sucks,” Art says. He sits up on his bed and looks around for his own weed stash.

“Yeah, it’s fine though. I’m going against this guy tomorrow, stats are all over the place but I think I can take him.”

“Whats his name?”

“Moussa or Mousso… I can’t remember but he’s French. Kinda hot, actually.”

Art feels his stomach flip flop again. “Uh… so what about Tashi?”

“She’s good, she actually answers my calls. I mean not tonight but she told me her cousin would be in town so…”

”Do you want me to beg for forgiveness or something?” Art says, smirking.

Patrick takes a breath and doesn’t say anything while Art is rummaging through the bottom drawer of his night stand. He finds the baggy he was looking for and sits up on the bed, legs crossed as he opens it.

“I’m sorry but I was honestly busy.” Art adds when Patrick still hasn’t said anything.

“Are we ever gonna talk about it?” Patrick asks.

Art stops moving. His stomach begins doing all kinds of things again.

“Look I don’t want to… I don’t want it to be weird,” Patrick continues. “I can do whatever you need. If you want me to pretend I didn’t fuck you… okay fine. But you have to talk to me because I’m going fucking crazy.”

Art stares at the television but he’s not seeing anything. He gives up on the weed and tosses it on the nightstand. “Yeah um… okay.”

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing,” Art mutters. “I’m— we can talk.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“No,” Art says. “I—“ he lays back down on his side and looks at the wall, pulling his knees up. He wishes with everything in him that they hadn’t done it in here. In his fucking bed.

He’s got it on a loop playing in his head all the time. Patrick crawling between his legs. The way he looked, hair still damp from the shower, freckles all over, pupils too big, blue eyes all sparkly. How he smelled, like vanilla soap and cigarettes. What he sounded like, voice so much deeper and softer than normal, saying stupid things like “You’re so fucking pretty”, “Gonna make you scream my name,” and then moaning when he got it in.

And how it felt.

God.

How it felt.

That’s the part that stays with him. How much it hurt. And then how much it didn’t hurt at all. By the end Patrick was touching something inside him and he was seeing stars. In between consciousness and some other plane of existence is how good it felt. That was the silly part. Feeling like he wanted it again and again and again.

He let Patrick do it again in the morning. Patrick’s arms wrapped around his waist fucking him on his side while he stared at this wall his whole body blooming with pleasure. And then just sitting with it for the rest of the day. The ache. The stretch. The feeling like everyone could tell. Patrick left that afternoon for the airport, sent Art a text. Well that was fun. Which he ignored. Called him that evening. Also ignored.

Art had been trying to avoid thinking about it ever since (it was impossible). He’s thrown himself into school, tennis, he’s even tried to talk to a new girl. It didn’t go anywhere. In his worst moments he’s even tried to flirt with Tashi. But then he remembers she’s fucking Patrick and his mind swings right back around to the way Patrick fucked him. And that makes him more crazy because now he doesn’t know what the fuck he actually wants.

And every fucking night, late at night he’s lying in bed staring at the wall touching himself over and over… thinking about it.

He doesn’t know how to say any of this to Patrick.

“Did you die?” Patrick asks, dryly. Even now since they’ve been on the phone, just hearing Patricks stupid voice is making Art’s stomach hurt, and his cock fill up.

“No… I’m just confused okay,” Art says.

“About what?”

“I don’t know.”

”Did you hate it?” Patrick asks.

“Not really,” Art murmurs.

“You’re so fucking full of shit,” Patrick groans.

Art sighs and realizes he just mindlessly put his palm on his cock because of how gravelly Patrick’s voice sounds. And fine. Patrick can make him crazy all the way in whatever fucking city hes in however many fucking miles he is away from Palo Alto.

“I’m sorry if I don’t know how to feel. I’ve never… I’d never done any of that before.” Art says quietly.

“And yet you practically begged for it in the morning.” Patrick says softly.

Art swallows thickly.

“I can’t get it out of my head.” Patrick continues. “The way you were rubbing against my dick before you even woke up properly. Fuck. I can’t get you out of my head.”

Art’s rubbing himself now. “I can’t either,” he sighs, he’s starting to lose it again. He feels silly. Too silly to care if Patrick can tell.

“Yeah?” Patrick sounds eager, breathy.

“It was… I still… I still feel it. Is that crazy?” Art says quietly.

Patrick takes a deep breath. “Fuck. You drive me so fucking insane. Are you fucking touching yourself?”

“’m sorry. I just…” Art says, closing his eyes. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Art knows he’s never gonna recover from this but right now it doesn’t matter. He would stop if he could but he can’t.

”You still feel me?”

“Mmhm.”

“Feel me stretching you? you’re so fucking tight I don’t even know if it’s all gonna fit,” Patrick says, his voice sounds like it did. When Arts eyes are closed it’s almost like he can feel Patrick’s breath on his skin.

“Ah—“ Art gasps, grabbing himself properly. “I like the stretch.”

“You love it.” Patrick says. “You don’t even want to wait. Don’t want me to take my time, you’re just so eager you’re pushing that pretty ass back on me.”

“Yeah,” Art gasps, he rolls onto his back and puts the phone on speaker, letting one leg fall open as he jerks himself. “It feels so good—when you fuck me. Its too much. Im too full please… please I don’t think I can take anymore.”

“Oh you fucking liar,” Patrick moans. “You can take it baby. I know you can. You’re a little cock slut already and its only your first time. Fuck. You’re so tight.”

”So tight,” Art says mindlessly as he tries to ease two fingers along his ass, the way Patrick had done before he entered. “I wanna… I want you to… I—I miss you.”

”I miss you too,” Patrick says. “If I was there I’d have you on all fours taking my dick all night.”

“Ah—mmh— Patrick I’m gonna— you’re gonna make me—“ Art cries. The fingers are enough… even dry.

“Come on, yeah… fucking come on my big fat dick sweetheart… come on.. nngh…” Patrick moans.

It’s enough. Hot strings of pearly white are suddenly spurting out of him and spilling everywhere, on his fingers and clothes. On the bedspread. He’s breathless, as his whole body goes lax.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck… I need to be in you again, gahhh..” Art can hear Patrick’s bed squeaking wherever he is and then he’s groaning loudly, and gasping through his own orgasm. “Oh god, oh shit… that was…”

“Yeah,” Art says breathlessly, looking up at the ceiling.

”Mm don’t fucking ignore me again,” Patrick says.

As relaxed as Art feels right now. Distantly, the pit in his stomach is returning. “Patrick… are we… I mean… are we still gonna be… friends?”

“Yeah of course,” Patrick says, easy. He yawns. “Always.”

Art feels tied up in knots but he can tell Patrick’s relaxed, sated, relieved even. If anything he’s going to be asleep in five minutes. No point getting any deeper now.

“You wanna fall asleep on the phone or—?” Patrick asks, yawning again.

“No it’s… it’s fine.” Art says. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Mmkay. Sweet dreams.”

Art bites his tongue to keep himself from saying something fucking stupid that he can’t take back. The line goes dead. Art stares at the ceiling for a minute, the three words he can’t say platonically to his best friend who he’s now fucking, are flitting about in his head. And Patrick wonders why he’s confused. He grabs his second pillow and pulls it over his face. He’s so fucked.

[fappellmoan]

damn sometimes i try i really do try to follow along on the posts where people try to address intracommunity issues among queer people and different relationship dynamics etc but as much as y’all want to say This isn’t abt hating women/lesbians/etc that’s. very much what you’re saying. like you realize that right. like you realize saying that women being bitchy and whiny about uwu their oppressors :((( while being no better than them and etc like. is fucking bullshit. like you realize how shitty that is right. like you realize that once again trying to pin these issues on lesbians and women for discussing misogyny and talking about how that affects our lives isn’t always just about Bonding over Victimhood lol it’s like. sure there are those people they sure exist but. talking abt misogyny doesn’t inherently hurt other queer people including masc presenting ones and like. it’s not our fault that we still exist in a patriarchy….? like i feel like i can pick apart what you’re saying and it’s very much about White Feminism but that’s not. every post on here discussing misogyny. like you realize how fucked up your stupid ass discourse is right. you realize how fucking stupid you’re being. how fucking idiotic it is to lump all those discussions into the same fucking category. sorry i’m being mean but like. you have to get there at some point right. we can’t keep going in these fucking circles kill me

[rafey-baby]

clumsy!reader is still bad at yoga and yoga instructor!rafe wants to keep her all to himself...

18+ mdni!

c/w: rafe being touchy & blatantly flirting w her, him getting jealous, slightly suggestive, reader being oblivious

wc: 1.9k

idk if anyone missed him but he's back & better than ever !! (after a small vacation that ended up being almost 3 months :D)

some parts are more or less inspired by this, this, this & this ask

part 1

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

Rafe is in the midst of helping someone fix their posture when he hears the gates of heaven opening in the form of a melodious giggle chiming from the back of the room. He lifts his head in order to detect the source of such a vibrant sound; noticing that his favorite client is currently directing her attention towards some guy next to her.  

The joyful expression she’s sporting makes a scowl paint over his features. Why is this random man making her laugh like that?  

“Yeah, you got it. Just keep workin’ on it though,” he quickly dismisses the person he was helping before stomping over to find her practically lying on the floor with the guy’s hands on her calf, along with his mat pulled far too close to hers for Rafe’s liking.   

“I think you should bend it more here, right? I’m honestly not too sure,” the guy chuckles as he tries to figure out what she’s doing wrong.  

“No cause I have no idea how everyone else makes it seem so easy. It’s so hard to get it right, I feel so stupid half the time,” she complains with a huff, not even noticing Rafe looming within earshot.  

“Seriously, I thought this was a beginner’s class but it feels like some of these poses are meant for like literal pros,” he continues with a shake of his head. 

“I know, right?” another peal of laughter bubbles from her throat as she shifts into a seated position, giving up altogether.  

“Everything alright?” Rafe doesn’t mean for his tone to come out so clipped but there’s something in the way the guy’s touching her so freely that makes his hands curl into fists. 

He keeps reminding himself over and over again that this is a client, which means that he can’t just smash his face in— no matter how severely his fingers are itching for it right about now.  

“Oh, I was just trying to help her with this,” the guy explains in tandem with her head turning to look at Rafe. She seems startled.  

“Well, why don’t you focus on your own form for a change? I mean, s’kinda my job to help her, yeah?” he scoffs, making the guy halt his movements in a state of surprise before he's lifting his hands up in apology.  

“Damn, sorry dude,” he mutters out from under his breath while Rafe merely glares at him with the words stay professional bouncing around his skull.  

A tense silence follows, making her grow quiet while she takes slow sips from her water bottle as a distraction; wondering why he seems so bothered to see her talking to someone else.  

However, when he finally turns his attention towards her, she shrugs it off as him merely having a bad day because it seems like the only logical explanation to her. Because at the end of the day, him being jealous makes as much sense to her as her math homework in high school.

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

Rafe is convinced that the universe is purposefully trying to poke and prod at his limits, giving his carefully curated facade opportunities to crack— allowing for the borderline psychotic aspects of his personality to breathe through the crevices. Because only a week later, Rafe sees her entering the gym with another guy she seems to be awfully friendly with. 

“That’s crazy, I don’t even wanna know what Kie said to that,” she rolls her eyes jokingly while he’s showing her something on his phone.  

”Yeeeah, guess you could say she wasn’t the biggest fan,” he laughs in a carefree manner, raking a hand through his disheveled, sand-colored hair.  

“For some reason I’m not surprised,” she mutters out before she notices Rafe standing in the hallway leading to the yoga class. “Oh, gotta go so I’m not late. See you after?” 

“Yeah, I’ll be here. Think Pope said he’s gonna join me for leg day, so we’ll see if I’m still standing when you get back. But you have fun,” he offers her a wave before walking away towards the locker rooms. 

And at last, her warm eyes meet Rafe’s. “Hi,” her voice is soft, nearly shy; a stark contrast to her demeanor only a few seconds ago.  

“Hey,” he greets her in a casual manner, although his mind is somewhere else entirely. “So, that your boyfriend or?” he tries to approach the subject with nonchalance because it’s not necessarily any of his business.  

He’s not even sure why he’s asking— keeps telling himself that he’s just curious and tries to appear friendly by making small talk. After all, some clients have given him feedback on his apparently intimidating aura, claiming they don’t always have the courage to ask for his help because they get anxious he’ll judge them. Therefore, it's something he’s been trying to work on.  

“What? Oh, JJ? No, he’s just a friend. He goes to the gym here, so I usually just tag along with him. Free ride, right?” she answers with a lighthearted tone.  

“Right. Yeah,” he scratches at the back of his neck, contemplating whether or not to ask the next question since he doesn’t want to overstep any boundaries. However, there’s something deep in his stomach that grumbles at the prospect of her being in a relationship, makes him feel nearly insane and ultimately, makes the decision for him. 

“You, uh, you got one?”  

“What?” she asks, features coated in confusion. 

“A boyfriend, I mean,” his gaze is unwavering, eager.  

“Oh, um— no, I don’t. Why?” her puzzled eyes flit over the lines of his countenance, seemingly trying to grasp onto his motives. 

“Just, uh…wondering. I mean, he’d be kind of a dick if he’s not drivin’ you here himself,” he shrugs, a strange sort of relief making his shoulders feather-light when she lets out an airy giggle in response.  

“Yeah, honestly sometimes wish I had one just so he could drive me around and stuff,” she jokes while they begin to pad over to the class. 

“You don’t have your license yet?” he raises his brows in surprise.  

“No, I do. I just don’t really like driving. I don’t know why but it’s so stressful to me. Usually try to avoid it as much as I can,” she elaborates while gathering her hair away from her face and securing the strands into a ponytail.   

“Oh yeah? Well, if you ever need a ride home just let me know, alright?” he says, fighting the urge to tuck a loose tendril that has managed to escape the restraints of her hair tie back behind her ear.  

“Really? That’s so sweet of you! But, um, wouldn’t wanna be a bother,” the hesitation is present in her voice.  

“Nah, couldn’t bother me if you tried,” he promises, wishing they could talk for longer. However, the ocean of people flooding inside the room behind them cuts their conversation short.  

“You’re just saying that,” she dismisses him with a playful scoff. 

“M’being for real. You’re my favorite face around here. Plus, makes my job more fun when you’re always stumblin' on your feet,” he can’t help his mouth from twisting upwards at the way her eyes round out in response to his words. 

“Shut up. I’m gonna go set down my mat now, before there’s only space right in front of you,” she offers him a giddy smile that makes him grin like an idiot. Then, she’s tiptoeing away from him in order to locate a vacant spot. 

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

Rafe has become awfully familiar with these newfound feelings of fondness for the girl who’s by far the most helpless little bambi he’s ever encountered. He thinks she should honestly pick another hobby at this point, because maybe yoga just isn’t meant for her. However, he’d never say any of that out loud because even the thought of not seeing her getting all flustered while she loses her balance whenever he’s near makes him feel physically unwell.  

He’s not entirely sure whether her apparently oblivious brain simply hasn’t caught onto the fact that he so clearly has a thing for her, or if she’s well aware and merely chooses to be a tease about it. Nonetheless, the moment she walked into the class today, he could feel his workout shorts tightening and all she’d offered him was a simple smile.  

And now she’s right in front of him, all tangled limbs and pretty eyes blinking up at him— practically begging for his guidance and for him to put his hands all over her (something she doesn’t seem to mind all that much).  

“You put this cute little set on just for me, huh?” he rasps out while his thumb smooths over the bubblegum pink fabric; feeling it out as he pinches the stretchy fabric between his fingertips, making her breath get caught in her throat in the process.  

“Oh, um— just wanted to…try out some new stuff I ordered. You think it’s cute?” she stares at him with something bashful glimmering in her eyes. 

“Mhm. Fits you nice,” he mumbles out as his gaze lingers on the way the tight material wraps around her figure, not leaving much to the (his) imagination. He bets it’d be so easy to just rip right through these cute yoga pants and pull her closer with a firm grip on her hips before burying his face between her plush thighs.

“Thanks,” she peeps out, flustered.  

He tries to shake off the improper, filthy thoughts with a clear of his throat when he gets caught staring at her for a little too long.  

“So, you actually wanna bend your leg on the other side of your body on the mat and support your foot with your left arm not the right one. Easy to get them confused,” he chuckles as she shifts her position according to his instructions as best as she can. 

“Like this?” she seeks reassurance with a soft tone.  

“Yeah, just like that, Bambi. Good job,” his mouth quirks up some while her mind begins to cloud over in response to his low cadence. She’s not entirely sure what exactly it is about him that makes her feel so fuzzy on the inside, but she thinks it’s nice, thinks she wants to always have him this close to her— wants him even closer.

She doesn’t remember the last time she’s had such an intense crush on someone— slowly turning into a crazy person by each second of not knowing whether he’s merely flirting with her for his own amusement or because he’s actually into her. However, she thinks she’s embarrassed herself in front of him far too many times for the latter to be true in any reality.  

“Then need you to move your right hand here,” he adjusts her form with a grip on her wrist while he maneuvers her to his liking; tingles erupting all over the skin he skims over with his fingertips.  

Her head is spinning.  

“See? Knew you could do it. Feels nice, hm?” he rumbles out, letting his hands rest on her shoulders for support, despite the position not really requiring it.  

She hums her response because she doesn’t trust for any coherent words to stumble out of her mouth at the moment, all the while Rafe is desperately trying to not pay attention to the nearly painful situation in his pants.

[httpsserene]

𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 - 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐜

˖♡ - ̗̀ ⇢ saw this tt about how these two toddlers shared their dad's notoriously rough bed head and this post when i opened tumblr last night and had to write smth for it! sorry, for the baby content 💀 i'll get back to writing y'alls requests now xxx

the careful messiness of brunette curls has been charles’s signature hairstyle for ages. it suits him, and when paired with his dimples and green eyes—it’s no wonder why every italian and monegasque prays for his success on sundays. well, maybe bleeding rosso corsa and winning two championships driving the famed red car are the proper reasons.

if only they knew that the artful styling of his curls is nowhere to be found after he sleeps. when he wakes, his hair is in absolute disarray—the deep brown ringlets are clumped together as they stick straight upwards and yet they manage to point in every direction possible.

when you first moved in with charles, you convinced him to buy a satin pillowcase to combat the bed head. it didn’t help, and neither did the bonnets you tried to have him wear. no matter if the ties were knotted, buttoned, or even velcro-strapped tightly, the bonnet would end up by the foot of the bed and his hair was in it’s usual disordered state by the early morning hours.

so, your morning routine begins with taming charles’s severe case of bed head. he awakens slowly as your fingertips gently untangle the deep brown ringlets, moaning lowly and nudging his head into your hand like a large cat when your nails glide along his scalp. you carefully guide each curl back into their assigned positions, tutting disapprovingly at the one strand that never seems to stay in it’s place.

charles’s chest shakes with a chuckle at your slight irritation and he shifts to meet your eyes, tenderly directing your hands away from his now orderly hair to his lips, pressing kisses to your fingertips before pulling you forward to cuddle into his chest.

you didn’t expect to have to deal with more than one head of messy hair. unfortunately, it seems like your daughter inherited her father’s bed head.

your mornings now consist of charles climbing out of bed at the first crackle of noise through the baby monitor, rushing to scoop the 9-month-old from her nursery and have her join the two of you in bed. he crosses the doorway with your daughter cradled to his bare chest and leo yipping at his feet—she stares up at at him, a perfect reflection of the sea green pools of his eyes, the absence of a bonnet, and the chaotic sprawl of his brunette curls. you’ve never been bothered with the fact that she’s an exact replica of her father, as some tried to tease that your genes didn’t do more than deepen her complexion. however, you always joke back that it means that she’s been blessed to be as beautiful as charles is.

she coos and babbles up at her father and he dutifully responds in french as if he understands her baby gibberish. he sits in bed with her on his lap and she beams, her little arms and grabby hands reaching towards you. you smile back widely, stealing her from his lap and greeting your babygirl with a flurry of kisses pressed all over her cute little face. her giggles ring through the air as you pull backwards to watch her laugh and, there’s another trait she shares with her father; deep dimples decorate her chubby cheeks and you can’t help but press your thumb into them with adoration.

charles picks up his first baby, plopping the mini dachshund in bed, and leo bounds forward to press his own kisses to your daughter’s socked feet.

addressing charles’s wild bed head will have to wait as you settle her back in his lap. you rest your head on his shoulder, apologizing for interrupting the clearly important conversation the two were having. you start fixing the jumbled ringlets on her scalp with the softest touch of your digits and she nuzzles up into your hand the same way her father does. he continues from were he left off, asking your daughter if she thinks a one-stop strategy is too ambitious for the next race and she babbles back to him in reply.

charles nods in agreement, promising her that regardless of a one-stop or two-stop, he’ll bring back his third championship trophy for her.

© httpsserene - do not repost. photos in header from pinterest.

[cathnospam]

Continuing from This Drabble about you and your BF Katsuki answering sex questions about each other<3

Black Female Reader x Katsuki Bakugo , mentions of panty stealer bakugo, slight smut???

“Okay uh, how do you rate your partners kisses 1-10.”

“9”

“9?! Muthafucka I taught you how to kiss—-“

“You always push back first like you can’t handle it, it pisses me off.”

“I like breathing.”

“So.”

Rolling your eyes, “I was ganna say 12/10, but since you’re being a bitch—“

“So, 12/10 got it. Next.”

“Does your partner have any dirty secrets?…oooh.—-”

“M’going to bed.” Bakugo immediately gets up to take off his tank top seeing as he was going to sleep in your dorm tonight, but as the shirt clung to his semi flexing biceps you grab him, “No, y/n.”

“Oh c’mon boy are the secrets THAT bad?! I’ll tell you mine at least—-fuck.” He considers for a moment. Curiosity weighing heavier than his will to sleep at the moment, “You ass.”

“What did you call me—“

“I think…” You place two fingers on his soft lips, “One secret is that……….one time, when you were out on work study you left your black tank top in my room….and….i missed you….and i was ovulating so i….put on your tank top and ….played…with myself.”

The air was thick, it’s as if Bakugo took it as he grew closer to you while speaking, there wasn’t much to make him speechless but dammit that’s a new one.

Fuck. That’s actually more sexier than he wants to admit right now. He crossed his legs, hoping a tent won’t form in his grey sweats and noticed your eyes wandering at every part of your room but his eyes.

“I…moaned your name too.”

“You…you damn….pervert fuck—-“ His voice almost broke into a groan, looking away also embarrassed you knew he didn’t mean it in a malicious way from how he looked back at you, Adam’s Apple bobbing up and down, “Stop acting fucking weird. You did it. Who cares. As long as it was MY name you moaned.”

“Of course dumbass. I only want you…”

Bakugo felt his ears burning, already annoyed he was flustered once he groaned, “I took your panties once.”

“What?”

“Why the hell would you wear that lacy frilly shit during class in that short ass skirt? It’s like you want those idiots to see you.”

“That CANNOT be the reason—“

“IT IS. If you’re ganna wear ‘em wear them IN OUR dorms you dumbass.”

“…well.”

“Well what.” He pouts.”

“Well where the fuck are they I like wearing them after I get waxed.”

Bakugo hesitates, not wanting to actually answer mainly because he doesn’t just have ONE pair of panties. But a few. “I’ll show you later.”

“Tch.” You mock his sounds, “Ever use ‘em to masturbate?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

You giggle, you can only imagine what his perverted ass has done with them. And the last time you seen them was in your hamper so you assumed they got lost somewhere in the laundry. Honestly it’s kinda….interesting he’s telling you this.

“Does your partner have any no’s during?”

“I’m not calling you a bitch.”

“Aw.” You sarcastically sigh, “Why.”

“Why the hell would I call you out your name—“

“You called me your slut yesterday.”

“…Slip of the tongue.” He crosses his arms like a child, making you giggle. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize it was hot.” You say adjusting yourself closer to him, you could actually feel the heat from his body rise as you kept speaking, “It’s fine. Degrading isn’t something I’d need from you anyway.”

“I don’t get that kink, who the hell likes to be disrespected by someone they…are y’know with.”

You shrug, you understand why certain people have kinks, but it’s hard to put in words for someone like Katsuki. He’s a very simple man when it comes to relationships. Almost traditional and old fashion which is what charmed you the most about him. He never even called you a bitch before in any sense nor has he ever told you anything that would genuinely hurt your feelings, “Some people are just into that.” You concluded, your boyfriend looks at you with an unresolved look, but accepts it anyway. Weirdos.

“I wouldn’t hit you either. Like in the face or anything. Only on the ass”

“Good because my face is too pretty for that.” Katsuki smirks at you, you’re absolutely right you’re too pretty for him to hit.

“Nobody else.”

“Hm?”

“…Nobody else is allowed to join us.”

Squinting for a moment his statement clicks , “OH! No threesomes and stuff. Oh yeah of course not. If I see you with any other girl I’ll kill you and her.”

Katsuki swallowed his laughter, masking it with a clearing of his throat, your eyes not tearing from his making sure he knew you were serious. You don’t scare him typically, but he knew the moments when you genuinely had an aura about you that screamed “Fucking try to play with me.” And this was one of those moments. “You look at me like I didn’t just fucking say —“

“I know.” Your voice cracked a little trying to cover up the jealous tone you were about to spew out. Just the thought of Katsuki touching another girl had you upset.

Little did you know it was the same for him with you.

“Anything else?”

“I won’t do race or age play.”

“What the hell…?—-“

“Well I am black so obviously no and then you have age play which is just a cute way of saying you like children—-“

“WHAT?”

You pause to cover up his loud mouth with your small hands, “SSSHH! Before we get in trouble again!…anyway moving on!”

Not wanting to argue, he takes your laptop and smacks your hand away, “What is something you DONT like that your partner does during sex.”

“Take my laptop away from me.”

He strikes you and look, he doesn’t say anything verbally but he says “quit fucking around” with his eyes, admitting defeat that he won’t give you back your laptop you sit back and think for a moment.

“Eh…Oh! I don’t like that you won’t let me ride you.”

Damn it.

He had a feeling you’d say that too. Bakugo scratches the back of his neck roughly while letting out a groan. Throwing his head back a little he side eyes you, “Why do you wanna be on top so bad. I’m the man I should—“

“It’s not even about dominating you or anything you can still fuck me from below, ‘Suki. You’ll still have all the power.”

Bakugo has seen porn videos where the guy fucks up into the girl. Even some where the man is straight up holding the girl up and pumps her full. It’s so erotic he couldn’t even finish the video, but even though he enjoys vanilla sex, he is quite certain riding him isn’t too far off from what he likes.

Besides he loves having your tits bounce in his face and feeling your nipples practically bounce into his mouth makes up of great reason.

“…Fine. But when I’M ready.”

“Yaaaayy mkay….now what is something YOU don’t like about me.”

“You’re ganna be pissed.”

Your smiles immediately transforms into a straighten line, “Uh oh.”

“I don’t …like when you cum too fast.”

It was a bit embarrassing yet confusing to hear. Clearly that means he’s doing a good job so why —

“Because I want to keep fucking you.” Bakugo speaks up as if he read your inner thoughts, all you could do was blink a few times at him, and he continued more, “Even though I don’t cum until after you do which isn’t that long, sometimes I wanna keep going. I’ve timed it, the moment I start fucking you sex only last about 6-8 minutes.”

“That’s average. Some people are 2-3 minutes.” You spoke with an unimpressed and deadpanned voice mostly because this sounded ludicrous to you and Bakugo seen it in your expression causing him to sigh in annoyance. “Shouldn’t your ego be filled knowing you make me cum fast?”

“Yeah, but —-fuck sue me for wanting more. And don’t say some shit like I’m a nympho or some shit because that’s fucking disgusting and those freaks are usually only in a relationship to fuck—-“

“OKAY OKAY CALM DOWN, BOY!” His voice kept getting louder and louder and you refused to have another write up because you have him in your dorm past curfew…again. “I get it though.”

“You want to be overstimulated.”

What? Bakugo scrunched yo his eyebrows. He never heard that term before used when talking about sex.

“Overstimulated means …well… showing you is actually better than telling you.”

In an instant Bakugo’s furrowed eyebrows soften, his gaze transitioned from confused to darker and subtly lustful. You felt the vibe of the room change so quickly you practically had to clear your throat to make him focus again.

“So the next question…”

“Nah, show me.” He firmly shuts your computer and places it on your nightstand. Arms still crossed, “Show me what that word means or should I look up a video and figure it out myself.”

“….y’can.”

It wasn’t ideal for your evening to end like this with him, but it’s just you and your slightly horny boyfriend watching porn videos.

What’s the worse that can happen?

[uronlywon]

INTENTIONAL OR UNINTENTIONAL? ; drabble ➤ overstimulation with hyung line + jungwon . . .

pairing .ᐟ hyung line + jungwon x afab!reader

contains .ᐟ dom!heeseung, soft dom!jay, dom!jake, mean dom!sunghoon, dom!jungwon, jay being husband material at the end, sunghoon being down right mean

warnings .ᐟ MINORS DNI, porn without plot, overstimulation, use of pet names (pretty, baby, love), riding (heeseung), praising (heeseung + jake), mentions of dacryphilia (sunghoon), jealous sex (jungwon), lmk if there’s more

vee's note .ᐟ i wrote this in about 2 hours at 4am (finished 6am)  so if some parts don’t make sense, i’m sorry. feel free to tell me if there are any parts that i could improve a bit :D also you can kind of tell where my creativity plummets lmaoo

total wc .ᐟ [ 0.8k ]　　other works . . . masterlist ; read more !

LEE HEESEUNG (이희승) — intentional

I feel like Heeseung is the type to make you overstimulate yourself. You’d be riding him, and after your first orgasm, he’d tell you to keep going, “C’mon, pretty. Keep moving those hips f’me,” he’d say. Listening to his orders, you’d make an attempt to continue moving your hips on him, but due to the sensitivity you gained, your attempt was quite pathetic. “H..Hee, I can’t– ‘m tired..”, you whine, halting your movements to a stop. I just know he’d laugh at how fucked out you. “Tired? You were just fine a minute ago, baby,” he teases, brushing the hair sticking to your face out of the way. “That’s fine, pretty, that’s why I’m here,” Heeseung continues, placing his warm hands on either side of your hip bones. “You look so gorgeous like this, Y/n. Could have you on my cock all day,” He would coo and end up moving your hips for you. ”That’s it, taking me so well, hm?”

━━━━━

other members ⬇️

PARK JONGSEONG (박종성) — intentional / unintentional

I’m a little bit on the fence for Jay. I can see him overstimulating you both intentionally and unintentionally in the same fuck session. He’d start off intentionally, pushing you a bit after your first orgasm, “Sorry, love, just a little bit more–”, he’d say this because he was trying to reach his own high, but to do that, you’d have to hang on a little longer. Passing that, he wouldn’t realise you’ve already had enough, making it to the point where you have to tell him to stop, “Ha-.. Jay! Can’t take anymore!”. I feel like he just wouldn’t realise how many more times you’ve came after the first time, if that makes sense, “Ah fuck– I’m sorry Y/n.” In the end Jay would apologise and give you literally the best aftercare. He’d always wipe you clean with a damp towel and run a warm bath for you. “You okay now? Does it hurt anywhere?” Jay would question, peppering you in soft kisses.

━━━━━

SIM JAEYUN (심재윤) — unintentional

Jake would be too lost in pleasure to realise you’d have already come. The man is like a dog in heat, not even kidding, “Fuuck Y/n, you f..feel so fucking good.” He’s the type to just continuously praise you while you fuck, which is partially the reason why he wouldn’t take notice of your desperate pleas for him to slow down. “Sensitive– Jake… Jake! P-please slow-..” You’d say, but he’s so busy praising you whilst he pounds into your used hole. It would take him a while to realise you’ve been begging him to tone it down a little, only realising when he feels the sensation of your nails digging deep into the flesh on his shoulders. “Oh god, I’m so fucking sorry, baby, I-I didn’t mean to hurt you,” He’d say after realisation hits, and he would continuosly apologise to you over and over again. “Y/n, I’m sorry about before–” “I already told you that I’m fine, Jake,” You’d laugh.

━━━━━

PARK SUNGHOON (박성훈) — intentional

Let’s be real, Sunghoon is the cruellest one out of everyone. He will definitely overstimulate you on purpose, and he isn’t even sorry about it, “Yeah– There you go Y/n, such a good little slut f’me, huh?” Sometimes, it would get so bad that you would be crying and begging him to stop, “Mmn! ‘t’s a..a lot, too much– Ah!~ Hoonie!”. To be honest, I think he has a little dacryphilia. Just watching your tears streaming down your pretty face turns him on. He would coo and mock your begs, degrading you in the process, “You’re already crying? I’ve only made you come twice, how pathetic are you?” Sunghoon just seems like the type to be really mean during sex, dismissing all your begging and just continuing to fuck you into oblivion “N-no more Sunghoon, please!” “Who’s Sunghoon? I only know Hoonie. You’ll take whatever the fuck I give you.”

━━━━━

YANG JUNGWON (양정원) — intentional

Jungwon would sooo do it intentionally, and we all know that he is in fact a jealous guy based on the questions fans asked at fansigns. He’d have you pressed into the mattress of your shared bed after seeing you all over one of your guy friends, “You don’t touch your friends like that, huh?” He asked you, driving you to your 3rd orgasm of the night. Jungwon isn’t a mean dom, but I can see him intimidating you with his words. “Won ‘m sorry, p-please s-stop I can’t.. Can’t do another–” You’d apologise, then he’d scoff at you and start saying things in between thrusts. “Oh so now you’re sorry?” Thrust. “You sure didn’t seem sorry when you were all over that guy’s arm, yeah?” Thrust. “Surely you can give me another, Y/n. Isn’t that right? Thrust. He wasn’t going to falter, no matter how much you apologised or begged him to. “I-I really am sorry! A-ahn!”

LIKES ONLY GO SO FAR ! IF YOU LIKE IT, REBLOG IT.

©𝘶𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺𝘸𝘰𝘯, 2024 𝘈𝘓𝘓 𝘙𝘐𝘎𝘏𝘛��� 𝘙𝘌𝘚𝘌𝘙𝘝𝘌𝘋 | 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘱𝘺, 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘻𝘦, 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦, 𝘮𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘺 𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘮 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯. 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘥

[shockercoco]

Necessary Revenge

Art Donaldson x reader

Warnings - 18+, smut, sub!art, dirty talk, handjob, overstimulation

Word count - 2111

a/n - yeah this is definitely on the list of the dirtiest things i've written. by popular request, here's part 2 to Cheer Up, but it can also be read by itself. Also tysm for all the love on Cheer Up. Sorry this took so long, and I hope you enjoy :)

You hated it when Art teased you, which is exactly why he does it. All you want is a loving boyfriend who listens to you and does what you say, is that too much to ask? Apparently so.

Obviously, the only reasonable solution is to seek revenge. Unfortunately for Art, after being denied an orgasm earlier after a rough day, that’s exactly what you plan to do. Well, maybe not unfortunate since this is most likely what he wants. 

You were trying to study and watch playbacks of matches on your laptop to better your skills, but since you’re no longer in the mood, you decide you might as well close it.

After cleaning up your area, you head into the bedroom to see Art leaning against the headboard on his phone, his back propped by pillows. The television is on but on low volume, he always needed some type of background noise. Art glances up from his phone once he notices you walk in and can’t help the smirk that grows on his face. As soon as he looks back down, you shoot him a glare.

“Back for more?” Art asks.

Just you wait.

“Not exactly,” you tell him as you climb next to him on the bed, using the sweetest tone possible. You get yourself situated against the headboard with him, making sure you’re comfortable – you plan on being here a while. “What are you doing?” 

“Just texting Patrick, he’s complaining about the match he just lost and how he needs to find a way to improve.”

“Well, he always was a sore loser,” you say. Art hums and nods in agreement as he continues to text his best friend. He doesn’t make a move to continue the conversation, so you decide to begin your revenge plan.

You turn your attention to the tv hanging on the wall as you place your hand on Art’s thigh. He must be too into his phone since he doesn’t notice, so you continue to raise your hand higher along the fabric of his sweatpants.

Art’s body tenses as he feels your hand move up his body, his fingers frozen above the keyboard on his phone. You notice the questioning glance he gives you from the corner of your eye, but you continue to play innocent as you keep your attention forward.

You wait for Art’s focus to go back to his phone before drifting your hand even higher and stopping right over his crotch. You don’t hide the smile that starts to grow on your face as you feel his cock slowly starting to harden over your touch. Art’s breathing begins to shallow out as he tries to maintain his focus and keep his mind straight. Well, that is until you give his crotch a firm squeeze causing him to let out a small moan and his eyes to flutter.

“What are you doing?” he asks you, his voice low.

“What do you mean? I just want to spend some time with you,” you answer in a casual tone, but Art can see right through your facade. He can feel his heartbeat getting faster. You finally turn your head towards him to notice his blue eyes not slightly widened as he stares back at you. You notice the way his chest slowly rises and falls in anticipation as his grip tightens around his phone. “Is something wrong?”

He gulps. “N-No, just a question.”

“I’m pretty sure Patrick is waiting for you to text him back,” you say, nodding towards his screen. 

Art continues to stare for a few more seconds before nodding and looking back at his phone, but you don’t take your eyes off of him. You let your hand hover above him as you wait for him to send a few more messages out before beginning to palm him through his sweatpants.

Art bites his lip as he lets a whimper. His cock is at full attention now as your hand continues to move. The grip he has on his phone is faltering, his hands starting to tremble and his face completely flushed. When his hands fall into his lap along with his phone, you stop and raise your eyebrows.

“Pick it back up and continue texting him,” you command, your tone firm. His phone is vibrating non-stop from Patrick’s pettiness.

“Baby-.”

“I said continue,” you tell him. 

A look of desperation flashes across his face before he lifts his phone back up and responds to the messages. Your hand starts back up again, and Art lets out a noise, sounding like he wants to start crying. 

He’s falling apart with just a touch of your hand.

Art is starting to get annoyed at Patrick’s texts and wishes they would just stop so he could enjoy himself. He knows you’re not too pleased right now, but he doesn’t care. It just feels too good.

You lean your head into his neck for you to kiss just below his ear, his favorite spot and his weakness. “What’s wrong? You were so cocky earlier, where’s that same energy?”

A shiver runs through Art’s body at the feeling of your breath on his neck. He lets out another whine as he closes his eyes for a second before opening them back up. He’s looking at his phone, but given the fact that his head is starting to feel empty, he can’t really make out the words on the screen.

“You don’t have anything to say for yourself?” you taunt as you press down harder on Art’s crotch, causing him to buck up into your hand. 

You pull away from his neck to get a good look at his face, which now has a distant look on it. His mouth is ajar as he looks back at you. You tilt your head, waiting for him to respond to you, but all he does is whimper and pant. He’s a complete mess.

You bring him into a kiss by grabbing the back of his neck, which he happily gives in to. The kiss is filled with nothing but need – more on his end than yours. Art drops his phone on the bed next to him so he can grab your waist, pulling you even closer to him. He whimpers into your mouth as you give his hair a quick put firm tug.

He plunges his tongue into your mouth, needing even more from you. You allow it for a moment before pulling back just a little to wrap your lips around his tongue. Art lets his eyes roll into his head at the feeling of you sucking his tongue. He feels his climax coming quickly from the combined pleasure, and you can tell by the fact of him squirming under your touch more and more.

“You’re not going to cum without my permission are you?” you ask after pulling away from his mouth.

Art feels his eyes become heavy as his forehead pressed against yours. “No.”

“Good boy,” you smile, and that brings Art even closer to the edge. He removes his hand from your waist to grab a hold of the cover beneath him.

“Can I cum?” he pleads as he throws his head back against the headboard, your hand still on the back of his neck.

“Not yet.”

“Baby please,”he pleads again, his breathing speeding up.

“No,” you tell him, wanting to torture him.

“Baby I can’t. I-I can’t,” he stutters, his eyes squeezed shut and his brows furrowed.

“That’s too bad,” you tell him. You feel his hips stutter under your touch making it known that he’s about to cum anyways. You already knew he wouldn’t be able to hold back for much longer. 

Art lets out a cry as his orgasm floods through his body and shoots out of him. A wet patch begins to appear through his sweatpants as you keep on pressing against him. He continues to roll his hips into your hand as he rides his orgasm out, a string of gasps falling out of his mouth.

“Oh no,” you fake pout, “Looks like you didn’t make it.”

“I’m sorry, I tried,” he pants as he opens, looking down at the stain on his pants before making eye contact with you. A look of embarrassment falls on his face.

He’s so cute.

You move your hand away from him. “What a shame,” you shake your head in fake disappointment. There’s a moment of silence before you say, “pull your pants down.”

“What?” Art asks, confused. He thought you were done, but he was so wrong.

“You heard me,” you say in a plain tone. 

Art hesitates before shimmying his pants down his legs to his knees, along with his underwear. You look down to see a mess of his cum covering his shaft, and as you take a look at his underwear, you see some sticking to the fabric. His cock is red and starting to soften, but that’s going to change.

Art gives you a look of realization as he lifts his head from the headboard once it registers in his mind what you’re about to do. “Please don’t.”

You ignore his request as you wrap your hand around his shaft. He jumps at the feeling of your cold hand around him, still sensitive from his orgasm. You stare into his eyes as you begin moving your hand up and down. Art lets out a pathetic whine as his body jerks, trying to escape your touch, but it doesn’t work.

“You know, you’re just so easy,” you tease.

“Baby, please-,” Art cuts himself off with a whimper, his hips starting to writhe against the cover.

“Please what? You should be thankful that I’m doing this, unlike how you denied me my orgasm earlier,” you tell him. “I’m letting you cum as many times as you want.”

“Oh my god,” he says as he drops his head. His voice strangled as his second orgasm unexpectedly arrives. You watch as his cum lands on your hands and the bottom of his white shirt. 

A sticky and wet sound echoes through the room as your hand speeds up around him. Art’s mouth falls open as his breathing picks up once again. He looks at you, silently begging, but you ignore him once again. You remove the hand from behind his neck and place it on one of his legs to help keep his body still.

“Say you’re sorry,” you tell him as you run your thumb over his tip a few times..

“I’m sorry,” he gasps, his grip on the cover tightening. He feels like his hands might be stuck in fists by the time this is over.

You pretend to think in your head before saying, “I don’t think you mean it.”

His voice is high and whiny as he throws his head back once again and says, “I am. I promise.”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” you shrug. “Make me believe it.”

Art begins to rethink his choices and starts to regret messing with you. “I’m so, so, so sorry, baby. I swear. It was wrong of me to do that to you.”

“Hmm.”

“Baby.”

You smirk at his desperation. “I forgive you.”

“Oh, no, I think I’m going to cum again,” he cries, his eyes rolling back once again as his body tenses.

“Go ahead,” you tell him.

Art’s third orgasm hits him harder than his previous two. He trembles as his back arches away from the headboard while watered down cum spurts out of him. Drool spills out the side of his mouth as you continue the motions of your hand.

He uses a hand and reaches down to pull yours away from his cock, but you slap it away. Art gasps as he continues to twitch in your hand, feeling like he can’t stop as cum flows out of him. You finally move your hand away, but his cock continues to spasm with your touch.

Wanting to torture him one last time, you lean down to wrap your mouth him, sucking and cleaning. Art’s body jerks as he curls forward and grabs your head. You laugh as you pull away.

You lean back against the headboard, pulling his head into the side of your neck to help him calm down. His breath tickles you as he tries to slow his heart down. You glance down at his spent cock with a smile as you gently rub his back.

After a long moment of silence, Art’s phone vibrates from its place on the bed beside him.

You shake your head as you ask, “Are you going to answer that?”

“Patrick can fucking wait,” he breathes out.

like what you see? check out my masterlist :)

[crazy-only]

oscar finding his reporter cute ! (fluff)

pairing: oscar x fem!reader

premis: oscar helps a shy reporter during an interview and ends up crushing on her! short and sweet, fluff!

preface: posting this in honor of him getting 2nd place in austria !! good job oscar <3

you felt a tap on your shoulder and you spun around, finding a tall guy staring at you. his eyes were bored and a bit annoyed.

“um, can i help you?” you ask politely, checking your watch.

you had already interviewed the drivers that came in third and second place, and you were currently waiting on the first-placing driver to show up.

truth be told, you weren’t really qualified for the job—your sister decided to suddenly honeymoon with her wife and begged for you to replace her. hesitantly, you agreed, dying your hair to match her natural color and hoping your features were similar enough.

the young man scoffed and ran a hand over his face. “woman, you’re joking, yeah?” he asked after rolling his eyes.

honestly, you would’ve assumed this moody guy was the winner as he wore a racing suit, certainly an f1 driver with the after effects of participating in a race apparent, sweat running down his neck leading to the contour of his—

no, y/n! focus! your sister called moments ago saying the winner of the race was extremely ugly, and, according to her words, “you can’t miss him.”

and, as much as you hated to admit it, the fiesty male was far too attractive to fit your sister’s description.

“sorry, i, um, don’t follow?” you say, nervously running your fingers through your hair, microphone in the other hand.

the man looked back to face an older man sporting a mclaren hat, the former muttering something while angrily staring at you.

is this what a red flag feels like before getting torn to shreds by a bull?

“ok, lisa, you’re on air!”

you turn around rapidly at the mention of your sister’s name, searching for the driver you needed to interview.

“um,” you start shyly, looking into the scary camera. “we are still waiting on the pole position winner for the silverstone grand prix—“

there’s laughs amongst the viewers, and you cock your head trying to find their source of amusement.

“—well we are waiting on him to arrive, so sit tight while we try to find him!”

yet, to your horror, the camera stays on, the filming crew motioning for you to continue.

“hey.”

you turn to find the same utterly attractive yet rude driver staring down at you, mouth in a line and arms crossed as if he were the one that should be stressed.

“oh, you again,” you accidentally mutter into the microphone, freezing once you realized what you’ve done. except, the crowd simply laughed.

you cursed under your breath.

they’re laughing at you, y/n. you’re such a dumbass.

“yes,” the young man said sarcastically while tugging the mic towards himself, only helping to raise the volume of the laughs from the stands. “it’s me again.”

you nodded, anxiety burning in your veins, not knowing what to say. this was not as simple as your sister had said it would be.

“while we’re waiting for the grand prix winner,” oscar said, now stealing the mic completely, “why don’t i ask you some questions, reporter?”

crap!

“uh, okay,” you murmur into the mic the driver stretches towards you. for some reason your palms started getting clammy. was it your nerves?

he puts a hand on his hip and pretends to be in a deep state of thinking. “let’s start with an easy question.” he came closer so your bodies were only a pace away.

“who’s your favorite driver?”

uh oh.

“th-that would be, erm, lan?—lando!”

phew. thank god you remembered the name of the last driver you interviewed!

but the driver interviewing you walked away, suddenly a bit angry. then he ran back into frame, looking into the camera. “do you see how i’m treated around here?”

the crowds laughed, and you hid your smile.

was this the same person you met earlier? how was he so. so—so amiable?

“ok ms. reporter, next one: do you have a sister?”

“yes,” you said into the outstretched mic, trying to hide the shakiness in your voice.

then the man brushed his hand against yours just below the vision of the camera, and—was that a smile? did he just smile at you?

your breathing slowed, thankfully feeling a lot more calm.

you continued, saying, “i do. her name is y/n.”

the driver nodded, acting as if he were actually interested. “is she cute?” the man whispered into the mic.

and god, you would’ve thought this was a comedy show thanks to the immense amount of laughing if he weren’t dressed in a sweaty race suit that perfectly hugged his abdominal region and quads—

then you saw him walk slightly out of the frame, waving at you frantically. he mouthed:

ask me about the race!

good idea.

you leaned into the mic the man held, flooded by his addicting scent. “how was your race?”

“ah, thanks for asking,” he said, clearly having a talent for acting. “it was great! i’m really happy with my results. i scored a lot of points for my team, so honestly i couldn’t have asked for more.”

he went on about the technicalities and such of his car, what went wrong and right, what he should improve on; thankfully he talked until the time was out.

“well, there you have it!” you say as the camera crew gave you the cue to stop the interview.

“what’s your name, again?” you whispered to him.

at this point he just leaned into the mic. “it’s oscar piastri.” the crowd went wild, making him smile.

for some reason you got stupidly jealous.

“seems our pole position driver never showed up—“ you started saying, until the camera crew pointed towards a lit screen with words.

“but nonetheless, thank you for tuning in,” you said, and then continued reading the transcript, explaining the time and date for the next race.

once finished, the camera finally shut off, and with a big sigh, you retired your mic and made your way to your car. never again were you doing another favor for your sister.

“good job, y/n,” oscar murmured, having bent down from behind so only you could hear him. “turns out you are cute.”

fuck. how did he find out?

you swept around, hand over mouth in dread.

“oh, come on, it was obvious!” oscar said proudly. “you did not know a single thing about racing—and you look so different from your sister.”

you simply stood in shock. quietly gauging whatever despicable plan he was carrying out.

“do you still not know who i am?” he asked incredulously.

you cocked your head. “you’re a driver. what was it? osc-oscar pastry?”

he handed his heavy helmet over to you.

“there. now you’ll never forget my name again. it’s fucking piastri.” he ran his hands over his face, losing patience.

“ask me who won the race!” oscar finally said, cracking.

“um, we aren’t in the interview anymore?—“

he shook you by the arms, saying, “i won the goddamn race! i got first, y/n!”

“you’re the grand prix winner?! b-but my sister told me you were supposed to be unattractive!”

oscar raised his eyebrows, asking “is that so?” he tilted his head slightly, a cheshire cat’s smile forming.

“does that mean you find me attractive?”

uh oh.

your body was on fire, maybe more anxious than from the interview.

“since you kept staring at my body the whole interview,” oscar said as he smirked down at you, his brown eyes clearly satisfied at your shocked reaction. “take me out and i won’t tell.”

maybe you would do more of your sister’s favors.

[ellecdc]

✋🏻 i have a request

so i’m a loudmouth, a D1 yapper if you will. could you maybe please write something with a yapper reader who just gets quiet and flustered in regulus’s presence?

like she’ll be going on about the randomest thing and regulus walks by and her mouth snaps shut and her face gets bright red.

hiiiii! I decided to pair this with two anonymous requests for our dear reggie too! prompt 2: I was thinking maybe a Potter! Reader who is in the same year as Regulus and has a huge crush on him, she just kind of watches him from a distance, here comes James and Sirius noticing and they try to set her up with Reggie prompt 3: I was wondering if I could get a regulus x reader where regulus is like close to the marauders and then Reggie gains like a crush on reader and the marauders find out and like kinda spy on them but like not well and maybe it ends in Reggie asking reader out

Regulus Black x Potter!reader who has a 'big fat crush' on Reggie

CW: sibling squabbles, this was hard for me to write for some reason so I'm sorry if it reads awkwardly!

“I’m just saying, if you didn’t want your essay to go up in flames, maybe you should have spent less time talking about which of your classmates were ‘filthy blood traitors’, and more time making sure I couldn’t point my wand at your parchment, you know?” You asked rhetorically as James and Sirius roared with laughter. 

“How far along was he in his essay?” Peter asked with a low chuckle before taking another bite of his lunch.

“Oh, he was done. He probably should have handed it in instead of running his mouth.” You said with a proud smirk as your brother roughly patted you on the back, letting out another bark of laughter. 

“I would have paid good money to see the look on his face.” Sirius said as he wiped fake tears away from under his eyes. 

“Find me a pensieve, Black, and I’ll show you.” You offered with a wink before remembering something.  “Oh! James, I meant to tell you; I heard from Janey who heard from Cromwell who heard from Collins whose sister works at Honeydukes that they’re having a sale on those caramel sugar quills that-”

“-Lily likes so much!” James finished for you. “My hero! Thank you!” He said as he pressed a sloppy kiss to the side of your head.

You feigned disgust and rubbed it off before continuing. “If you want, I can ask Janey to ask Cromwell to ask Collins to ask his sister to put some aside for you?”

“I’d owe you my life.” He responded solemnly. 

“Chocolate frogs will suffice.” 

“Consider it done.” 

“I’d like chocolate frogs too, Prongs.” Remus offered then.

“What have you done to help me win over the girl of my dreams, Moony?” James countered. 

“I’ve not told her about the time you screamed like an ickle little first year when you found Fenwick’s toad in your shoe.” Remus replied plainly.

“Why do they have to have warts!?” James groaned miserably as he remembered his toad assault. 

“The bumps aren’t actually warts, Jamie; they’re glands. They contain a toxin that they will secrete if they feel threatened.” You explained.

James blinked at you owlishly before shaking his head in disgust. “That doesn’t make me feel any better.” 

“Hello, Sirius.” Regulus’ voice interrupted then, standing stiffly behind Sirius as he looked around the group of you. “Lupin, Pettigrew…Potter’s.” 

“‘Sup, Reggie?” Sirius responded easily.

“‘Lo, baby Black! What brings you to the red side of the Great Hall?” James asked then, earning him a glare from the younger Black brother.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Well that just makes me want to call you that even more.” James admitted.

“What brings you to the Gryffindor table?” Remus repeated with a knowing smirk.

“Can’t I just come say hello to my brother?” He asked defensively. 

“You could, but would you?” Sirius asked sceptically then.

Sirius and Regulus stared at each other in silence before Regulus finally sighed. 

“Potter, erm… Y/N, I was wondering if you’ve finished Professor Sprout’s essay about the proper propagation of venomous tentacula’s?” 

At the following silence, James turned to notice you staring at Regulus in what appeared to be abject horror before you slowly nodded your head. 

“How, uhm… how many feet of parchment did it end up being?” Regulus continued awkwardly; his eyes flitting between you and his brother. 

The group watched as you opened your mouth a few times only to close it again - not unlike some socially awkward fish - before clearing your throat. 

“Erm…I think it’s about four feet.”

Regulus seemed relieved by your answer and nodded in understanding. “Good, mine is about that as well.”

James looked between his friends, his sister, and his best friend’s little brother after a few moments when it became clear that no one was going to say anything else.

“Was…was that all, Regulus?” Peter asked then, clearly agreeing with James that lunch had quickly become painfully awkward. 

Regulus seemed to look at you first, only responding when you kept your gaze down at the wood grain of the table. 

“I suppose so. I’ll see you lot around.” 

And with that, the Slytherin boy hurried back to his side of the Great Hall.

James’ eyes only left Regulus’ form when he heard a miserable groan escape your lips as you let your head fall to the table with a thunk.

“What the fuck was that?” Sirius and James questioned at the same time.

“I’ve gotta go.” You muttered miserably as you gathered your bag and stood from the Gryffindor bench.

“Where?!” James called after you. 

“To run away with the fucking centaurs at this point!” You called back before disappearing through the doors. 

“Since when does Regulus come to say hi to you, Pads?” Peter asked then, still watching Regulus from across the hall who now had his eyes glued to the door. 

Sirius, who up until that point looked just as bemused as Peter did, had a look of understanding dawn on his face. 

“Merlin’s beard.” He hissed as he smacked James in the arm from across the table.

“Ow! What? What? Why are you hitting me?” James called as he rubbed his arm protectively. 

“When was the last time you saw Y/N be reduced to awkward silence?” He asked then.

“At mum and dads fundraising gala when that wizard from Witch Weekly attended.” James answered quickly; knowing that one of his sister’s greatest strengths was her ability to talk (especially when it helped get them all out of trouble). “Though she’s been doing it an awful lot lately.”

“Like when you coerced Regulus into joining us at the Three Broomsticks last weekend.” Remus offered.

James nodded. “And when I made her come with me to scout the Ravenclaw vs. Slytherin game last Monday.” 

“And when Regulus just happened to be looking for a Herbology textbook when she was studying in the Herbology section of the library.” Remus continued.

“Godric’s balls.” Peter breathed out, looking towards Sirius incredulously. “You’re not suggesting-”

“-that our littlest Potter has a big fat crush on the littlest Black? I sure am.” Sirius said smugly. 

“I don’t think she’s the only one with a ‘big fat crush’.” Remus added, nodding towards Regulus who was chewing aggressively on his lip, still looking in the direction you just went.

“Oh my Godric.” James hissed as he turned towards Sirius excitedly. “Oh my Godric, Pads! We’d be real life actual brother’s-in-law!” 

“I’m going to walk Reggie down the aisle.” Sirius added wistfully as he clutched at his chest. 

“Merlin and Morgana. They can’t even make it through a sodding conversation; stop planning their wedding.” Remus muttered as he turned a page in his book. 

James let out an incredibly dramatic gasp as he looked at Remus. “You’re right. We have to do something!” 

“What do you say, boys? Up for some mischief for the greater good?” Sirius asked with a perfectly arched eyebrow. 

“Operation turn Potter Black!” James cheered to the group, causing the three boys to look at him in various levels of bemusement and discomfort.

“Erm, Prongs…” Peter started.

“Absolutely fucking not.” Remus added.

“We can’t call it that.” Sirius agreed. 

“We’ll circle back to it.” James said as he stood from the table.

Sirius shared a slightly panicked look with the other two Marauders before standing as well. “No…no James, we really can’t call it that.” 

“It’ll be a placeholder until you guys think of something better!”

“Anything would be better.” Peter whined as they all trailed out of the Great Hall in the name of mischief. 

。.。:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:。.。:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:。.。.。:+*ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:。.。:+*ﾟ

“Quick! You’ve got to see what we’ve planned.” James had said to you as he grabbed you roughly by your arm outside of Transfiguration and hauled you in the direction of the library.

You allowed him to nearly drag you through the courtyard and into the central haul; apologising to students that you nearly collided with in his haste. 

“But…what did McLaggen do? Why are you pranking him?” You asked breathlessly as the two of you made it to the library doors.

“The bloke’s a prick, Trouble, do keep up.” Sirius called as you met up with him. 

The two boys ushered you through stacks of books towards the end of the library that held private study rooms when Remus and Peter materialised from a row of shelves.

“He’s coming!” Peter squeaked as Remus quickly redirected the three of you. 

“That way, quickly.” 

Knowing better than to question Remus, you allowed James to guide you by the shoulder towards one of the private study rooms in order to hide from McLaggen as he walked into their trap. 

Except…

Except no sooner had Sirius opened the door did James bodily shove you into the room before they slammed the door behind you.

“Wha- James!” You shouted as you heard him cast a locking charm and a muffliato around the door. 

“What are they up to now?” A tired voice sounded from behind you.

You squeezed your eyes shut as you realised what they had done, praying to every deity that the voice didn’t belong who you thought it belonged to. 

But of course, the deities didn’t give a bowtruckles arse about you, so you turned on the spot to see Regulus Black sitting at the end of the table looking at you with a sceptical expression and one perfectly arched brow. 

Godric, he was beautiful.

“Making my life hell.” You answered despondently. 

Regulus offered you a tight lipped smile as he nodded in understanding. “Ah, so, regular brother stuff then?”

You breathed out a chuckle as you nodded, trying once more at the door before giving up in your efforts to escape. 

“What did you do to get yourself locked in a room with me?” He asked then, fiddling with the tomes and notes in front of him.

“Had the audacity to be born into the Potter family, I guess.” You muttered.

Regulus made a non-committal sound as he considered you. “I’m sure a lot of people would have loved the honour.”

Your face softened as you looked at the Slytherin boy. “I know they’ve asked you already, but you should come, you know? I know Sirius would love it if you did, and my parents would too.” 

Regulus nodded slowly at you, though he never moved his gaze from your eyes. “I wouldn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable?”

Regulus smiled ruefully then. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t get the impression that you like me very much.”

You stood there with your mouth agape like some mute opera singer. “Okay, I’ll correct you then; you’re very wrong Regulus Black.”

“Oh, I’m very wrong, am I?” 

“Horribly so, I’m afraid; I can’t believe you’d even say such a thing.” You continued haughtily; finally sitting down in a chair across from him. 

“Well, you see, everyone is always telling me how much of a chatterbox you are, yet you never seem too keen on chatting with me. In fact, I’m pretty sure you’ve exchanged more words with Mulciber at this point.” He teased.

“The most I ever talk to Mulciber is to tell him to go fuck himself!”

A divot formed between his brows as he tilted his head in confusion. “Is that not just your love language? I’ve heard you say the exact same thing to Potter and my brother.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him as you leaned back in your chair. “Touche” 

Regulus smirked at you then. “So, why don’t you talk to me?”

You let out a heaving sigh and looked to the ceiling. 

You were trapped, and you knew why you were trapped, and you figured there was no use in pretending that you didn’t. 

“I suppose I find you a little…nerve wracking.” You settled for, figuring that telling him you thought he was so handsome that even standing within his vicinity seemed to short circuit not only your brain but somehow your entire nervous system would perhaps be a little much. 

“Oh good.” He responded, sounding truly relieved by your answer. “I thought it was only me.”

What? You thought stupidly.

“What?” You asked stupidly. 

“I find you a little nerve wracking too.” He responded.

“Me?” 

“You.”

“Why?” You nearly shrilled before remembering yourself and feeling immediately embarrassed for your theatrics.

“Well, I suppose for the same reasons you find me nerve wracking?” Regulus offered. “You’re really quite pretty, Y/N.” 

You swear to all of the gods that your brain made an audible record scratch sound at that moment as you tried to compute what he had said to you. 

He called you pretty, that much went without interpretation. But did he just insinuate that he knew you thought he was pretty?

“You do know that, right?” He asked, shaking you from your internal spiralling. 

“Know what?”

Regulus smirked then. “That you’re pretty?”

You scoffed and crossed your arms petulantly. “Of course I knew that; I just wasn’t aware that you did, too.” 

“Ah,” He started with a smile. “My apologies, I’ll make it more obvious that I find you attractive going forward.”

“Thank you.” You huffed.

“You’re very welcome.”

The two of you allowed a semi-comfortable silence to lap as he continued watching you and you continued looking anywhere else but him.

“So,” He interrupted eventually. “What now?” 

You tapped your arms in thought. “Now I figure out how to get back at my meddlesome brother.” 

Regulus hummed as he nodded his head. “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

“Yeah…hey, do you happen to know where I could find a toad or two?”

“Yes, actually. I’m quite certain Evan and Barty are breeding some in the dungeons.” He answered with a look of ill-hidden discomfort at the thought.

“Do you think they’d let me borrow some?”

“Well that depends; would they be used for chaos and/or destruction?”

“Yes.” You responded quickly.

“Oh, well then absolutely.” He quipped back.

He smiled and held your gaze before leaning on his arms against the table. “How about this? I’ll ask Barty and Evan for some of their toads, if you go to Hogsmeade with me next weekend.”

You narrowed your eyes as you pretended to think about it before extending your hand across the table. “Deal.”

He shook your hand as he offered you a crooked smile before leaning back into his seat.

The door popped open just enough for your brother to poke his traitorous head in. “Are you guys in love yet?”

He barely had time to pull his head out of the frame and shut the door as you hurled your book bag at him; the blunt force instrument you had hoped would at the very least incapacitate your brother simply thudding against the wall before falling to the ground in a sad heap.

“You know he’s just going to keep you locked in here longer for that, right?” Regulus asked you then.

You made a non-committal sound as you settled back into your chair. “Perhaps that isn't such a bad thing.”

[smileysuh]

heart aches

🌙 starring. Jeong Jaehyun x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. Your ex finds your sweet spot as easily as ever, as if it hasn’t been two years since his tongue stroked this specific patch of skin and made your whole body tingle with pleasure. You let out a shaky sigh, threading your fingers through his hair and relaxing against the pillows. “Don’t leave me again,” you whisper. “Never again,” he promises.

tw/cw. foreplay, fingering, mutual masturbation, hand job hand fucking, spitting, finger sucking, inklings of oral fixation, praise, dirty talk, pining, reminiscing, breast worship, teasing, Jae being a simp, unprotected sex, handholding while fucking, Jae is pretty vanilla but pent up as hell, etc… I pet names: (hers) baby.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 5.3k

🍭 aus. ex's to lovers, non idol au, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. I don't normally do angst, but Idk, this felt right for some reason this month

Prologue:

“What’s wrong?” Jaehyun asks, watching you fiddle around the bedroom while he cuddles with your cat on the bed. 

Part of you wants to push back your feelings - you’d kind of been hoping to talk to him at the airport in the morning - but you should have known Jaehyun would realize something is up with you. It’s been a nice long weekend having him home with you.

It’s almost been like he never left.

Almost.

With a deep sigh, you go to sit on the foot of your mattress, staring down at your hands. “I can’t do this anymore,” you say quietly.

The room feels achingly silent, and then the comforter ruffles as Jaehyun sits up. “This?” he asks. 

“Us.” The word hurts to even say. “The distance… I mean, I knew continuing our relationship while you’re in a different city at a new university doing your graduate program would be rough… but… I just didn’t know I’d ever feel this lonely.”

Tears are welling in your eyes. You don’t want to break up with Jaehyun- he’s had your heart for four years. Starting over with someone new sounds impossible- but at the same time, being away from him hurts more than you could ever have imagined. It hurts when he calls you every night, being the perfect boyfriend, smiling and telling you about his day. It hurts because you thought you’d go through life together- you thought you’d be there to see it all yourself, not hear about it after the fact on the phone.

“Come here,” Jaehyun says softly, moving your cat off his lap so he can open his arms to you.

You allow Jaehyun to pull you into an embrace, his fingers stroking your hair. His heart is thundering in his ribcage, and you can hear it as you cuddle closer.

“I’m sorry that it came to this,” he breathes, “but I understand.”

You can’t help the tears now, and a choked sob escapes you. You grab at the front of his soft hoodie, wanting to crush the emblem of his new school. Part of you wishes he’d never been accepted into the elite business graduate program, but another part knows that Jaehyun deserves to be where he is now.

You love him, more than you’ve ever loved anyone, and that’s what makes this so painful.

Jaehyun needs to focus on his studies, to build a new life for himself across the country- and you need to do the same. You can’t be a ghost anymore, walking through life like a zombie and waiting to hear from him, constantly checking the time zone differences and calculating what he’s doing based on schedules.

“I can still…” you rub at your eyes, swallowing thickly, “I’ll take you to the airport in the morning-”

“It’s okay, baby,” Jaehyun shushes you gently, kissing the crown of your head. “I can get a cab.”

“Are you angry at me?” you ask, pulling away from his chest to look up at his face, worried about what you might find there.

“Of course not,” Jaehyun assures you, immediately stroking a thumb across your cheek to wipe away your tears. “No matter how much I didn’t want to admit it, I knew things had changed when I moved away. I could see that the distance was a problem. You have needs, and I’m proud of you for voicing them, even if it hurts.”

“My heart is breaking,” you whimper.

Jaehyun frowns. “Mine too.”

“You’re really not mad at me?”

“I could never be mad at you,” Jaehyun promises. “I think it will be easier to talk about this with time, if that’s something you’d be interested in. But for now, how do you feel about just laying down, holding each other, and doing our best to enjoy tonight- if it’s going to be our last.”

It might be easier if he was mad at you, if he yelled and swore and tried to make you change your mind- but Jaehyun’s never been an abusive type. Instead, he holds you close, and as you softly cry on his chest, you begin to drift off to sleep.

One

Even in a crowded bar, one distant laugh makes your blood run cold. You grip your drink, heart thundering in your rib cage as you scan your surrounding area.

It’s been two years since you broke up with Jaehyun. Even so, you’d recognize his voice anywhere.

“You good?” your best friend asks, reading your change in expression.

“Yeah, I just thought I heard-” as you’re about to say his name, you spot Jaehyun. He’s leaning against the bar top, chatting with a man whose back is to you.

God, he still looks so good. 

Your chest aches, throat going dry. As you watch him, his eyes move to take in the bar. You’re quick to shift your gaze, lifting your drink to your lips to down the rest of it. 

“I need to get out of here,” you mutter.

“What? Why?” Your friend reaches for your arm, pulling you closer to check in on you.

“My ex is here.”

“Which one?”

“Which one do you think?” You let out a laugh, but there’s no humor in it.

“Fuck.” 

“Yeah. Listen, have fun, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” You hand her your empty glass, giving her one last look before you turn to head to the entrance of the bar. 

You can feel eyes on you as you push through the crowd, but you chalk it up to being paranoid. You slip through the front doors, intent on hailing a taxi. As you make it to the cement sidewalk, you hear your name behind you, and that familiar voice has your blood running cold for a second time tonight.

“Y/N?”

Your whole body freezes, and for a moment, you truly consider running. But you’ve already run from Jaehyun once before, and you don’t have it in yourself to do it again.

With a deep breath, you turn to face your ex, your first love, the man you’ve never recovered from.

“I thought that was you,” Jaehyun mutters quietly, shoving his hands into his pockets as he stares at you.

You don’t even know what to say, so you keep your mouth shut, taking in his pretty face and the broad set of his shoulders. 

“Sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have followed you,” he admits finally. “It doesn’t look like you want to talk.”

Jaehyun turns to head back inside, and your body reacts on its own accord; you grab at his arm, and it makes him stop. He looks down at your hand, wrapped around his forearm, then up at you.

“We…” you swallow thickly, “we can talk. I just… I don’t know what to say.”

“That makes two of us.” 

You drop your hand from his arm when you realize he’s not going anywhere.

“I uh…” Jaehyun clears his throat. “I got back to town a month ago. Meant to message you- but I didn’t know what to say then either.”

“You completed your program?”

“Yup. With flying colors.”

“I guess I always expected you to be a big shot and move to some other city- what are you doing back here?”

“Unfinished business… maybe.” Jaehyun dips his head, looking down at the ground. You watch him absentmindedly kick at an old cigarette butt.

He can’t be talking about you… can he?

“Anyways,” Jaehyun meets your eyes again, “how’ve you been?”

“I’ve been…” you search for the right word, “okay.” 

“Yeah? Happy?”

“Sort of. You?”

Jaehyun shrugs, offering you a lopsided smile that makes your heart ache. “Sort of. It was two years of studying. Didn’t have much time for extracurriculars, as you know.”

So your breakup is still a sore spot for him, you can sense it in his words. He’s not outwardly saying it, but… it’s there all the same. There’s something of an apology in his statement, because you do know how hard it was for him to find time for things outside of school- it had been the main reason you’d had to call things off with him.

“How about you?” he presses. “Any uh… any protective boyfriend who’s about to show up and beat my ass?”

You can’t believe he’s asking you outright about this, and the question actually makes you let out a small laugh. You shake your head. “No. No boyfriend.”

“Good. I mean… I hoped you were happy, but uh, you know, it’s nice to hear that, well, you know what I mean.” Jaehyun looks down again, and you can see his ears turning red.

It’s as clear as day that Jaehyun still cares about you. The way he’s acting tells you everything you need to know… well, almost everything.

“So…” you wrap your arms around yourself, “are you planning on leaving again? Do you know how long you’ll be in town?”

“Nothing is set in stone,” Jaehyun admits, cocking his head to the side as he looks at you. “Listen, I’m just going to say it.” He takes a deep breath, meanwhile, you can’t even breathe. “I never got over you. I mean, how could I? You’re everything, and- I understand why we broke up, I really do. But my program is over now, and if you give me another chance, I promise not to go anywhere ever again, at least, not without you right there by my side.”

“Jaehyun-”

“If you need some time to think about it, I totally get that-”

Jaehyun goes to take a step back, and you find yourself grabbing at him once more. Your body simply can’t let him go- not now, not ever again.

Your ex looks down at your hand on his forearm, and as you open your mouth to give him your response, no words come to mind. Your gaze dips to his lips, and before you know what you’re even doing, you’re moving in to kiss him.

Jaehyun is frozen in place at the initial meeting of your lips, but after a moment, you feel his body relax. His hands gently slip to your waist, tugging you closer as he slants his mouth against your own. You feel him release a small groan, and a whimper bubbles in your chest.

How many times have you dreamt of this moment? How many times have you thought about kissing Jaehyun? 

Your arms wrap around the back of his neck, and you allow yourself to get lost in the feeling of him-

Someone lets out a whistle, and you roughly pull back from Jaehyun, your eyes finding the two bouncers outside the bar, who are staring at you with wolfish grins.

“Is there somewhere we can go to talk?” Jaehyun asks, resting his forehead against your own.

“Come home with me.”

Two

It feels like deja vu to be walking into your apartment with Jaehyun. You’ve had the same unit for years- and you know it must feel even weirder for your ex to be here again after practically living here with you for half of your time in university together. 

As you toss your keys onto the entryway table, you hear a familiar meow. Your cat slinks in from the kitchen, but instead of heading to you, she immediately moves toward Jaehyun’s feet, letting out an obnoxiously loud purr as she begins to rub against him.

“Looks like Mittens hasn’t forgotten me either,” Jaehyun smiles, immediately bending down to pick up the fluffy grey and white kitty. She leans into his touch, purring like an engine as he scratches he cheeks. Her paws begin to make softies on his arm, and it makes your heart ache.

You’ve dated a few guys casually in Jaehyun’s absence, and Mittens has never liked any of them. She always was a daddy’s girl- after all, you’d started dating Jaehyun only a few months after you’d picked her up from the shelter. 

You still have pictures of the two of them on your phone, hidden in a secret file- you’d never had the heart to delete them, and as you watch their reunion, you’re glad you never did.

“She missed you,” you admit. “We both did.”

You watch Jaehyun’s Adam’s apple bob with effort, your words clearly invoking emotion. You’re quick to look away.

“Can I get you anything?” you ask, kicking off your shoes. “I had a few drinks at the bar, was planning on making a grilled cheese-”

“You still do that?” Jaehyun asks.

“Yeah.” Your throat feels dry admitting another ghost of your past you still haven’t been able to shake. “I still do that.”

Grilled cheese after a night out had always been your thing, and when you’d started dating Jaehyun, it had become his thing too. You can’t even count how many nights the two of you came home from university parties only to make a grilled cheese and collapse on your bed, giggling and kissing like kids in love.

“A grilled cheese sounds perfect,” Jaehyun says. “Thank you.”

He follows you into the kitchen. As you begin to make the late-night snack, you realize Jaehyun has no intention of putting Mittens down. She basks in his attention, letting out upset chirps any time he tries to stop petting her to help you in small ways.

Jaehyun asks you about your job, and from that, the two of you begin to talk about your lives over the past two years. It feels too natural to slip into this type of conversation. His presence is so calming and familiar- by the time you’re done making the grilled cheese for you to share, it’s almost as if the past two years never happened. 

It’s almost as if you never left him.

Almost as if he never left you first.

“Do you want to eat in here?” Jaehyun asks, heading to the small kitchen table.

“We can go to my bedroom,” you say softly. “Unless you wanted to be here.”

“Your bedroom is good.” 

He follows you through your apartment, but when you get to your room, he stops in the doorway.

“I can’t get over how little this place has changed,” he muses, looking at the layout of the space.

“Yeah,” you sit down on your bed, lifting your legs onto the mattress and setting the plate by your knee. “I guess I’m used to it like this.”

Jaehyun knows all too well how comfortable you get, how hard it is for you to make changes. You think it must be one of the reasons he never fought the breakup. If you’d gotten to the point of needing an emotional separation to deal with the physical distance, pushing you to change your mind would have only made things worse.

“Can we come sit with you?” Jaehyun asks.

“Of course.” You gesture to the mattress. “Make yourself at home, Jae.”

With a small chuckle, he comes to join you. He’s careful when he sets Mittens down, and she immediately stretches, letting out a massive yawn before coming to investigate the grilled cheese.

Jaehyun reaches for his half of the sandwich. “I missed these.”

“It’s just a grilled cheese,” you laugh.

“Yeah, but there’s something special about the way you make it. I can’t explain it.”

You can only offer him a smile as you both lift the gooey, cheesy, greasy, crispy bread to your lips. The crunch is satisfying, and Jaehyun shifts the food to his right hand so he can pet Mittens with his left. 

The two of you eat in silence, but there’s nothing uncomfortable about it. As your meal comes to a quick end, your phone begins to ring, and you stand up to answer it. “Give me a sec,” you tell him, exiting the room while Mittens rushes to follow you.

“Hey girl,” your best friend says. “You okay?”

“I’m good.”

“Seeing your ex must have been pretty hard.”

“Actually, uh…” you look toward your open bedroom door, swallowing thickly then lowering your voice, “he’s at my apartment with me.”

“What!?”

“Yeah, we’re talking things out.”

“Just talking?” You can hear the cheeky grin in her voice.

“Don’t be like that,” you laugh.

“Girl, you and that man were a dream couple. He’s the one that got away, and now he’s in your apartment- he’s probably sitting on your bed, eating grilled cheese-”

“God, stop,” you groan. “Am I that predictable?”

“Nah, it was hashtag just couple things. Okay, look, obviously you’re doing good- I was worried you were somewhere crying and drowning yourself in booze. I’ll leave you be. Say hi to him for me.”

“Will do.” You hang up, looking down at Mittens. She’s circling your feet, and with a sigh, you go to refill her food bowl. You’d given her lunch hours ago, and you feel bad that she just watched you down a grilled cheese with nothing for her own little mittens to get a hold of.

Also… your best friend knows you too well. 

Your body is reacting to Jaehyun as if there was never a separation- or maybe, your body is reacting because there was a separation. Your pulse is picking up with each step back to your bedroom, and when you close the door behind you, Jaehyun cocks a brow, finishing his grilled cheese with one last large bite.

“You good?” he asks.

“I’m great,” you tell him, approaching the bed.

“Yeah?” Jaehyun’s gaze moves to the closed door, and he offers you a dimpled grin, mischief flaring on the edges of his expression. “You locked out Mittens.”

Nothing gets past this man. You’ve never loved getting intimate while Mittens is trying to hog Jaehyun’s attention, and you shouldn’t be surprised that he got you figured out the moment you closed the door to your bedroom.

“Don’t even with me, Jae.” You sigh, collapsing onto the mattress next to him while he moves the grilled cheese plate to the side table.

“Look, I don’t want you to feel any pressure just cuz I’m here and we’re sitting on your bed-”

“Does it look like I feel pressure?” you ask, hyper-aware of the way your dress is riding up your thighs.

Jaehyun gives you a slow once-over. “I guess not.”

“You really mean what you said about not going away a second time?” You look down. “Because I don’t think I could take it if we gave this another try and three months down the line you moved cities again.” 

Your ex nods. “I promise. If you give me one more chance, I won’t let you down.”

You stare at Jaehyun for a moment, studying the sincerity on his face. “Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You open your arms, resting back against the pillows and spreading your legs. “Now come here.”

Jaehyun practically leaps on top of you. He slots between your thighs like he was made to be there, his mouth pressing to your own while you wrap him in a tight embrace. He kisses you like he’s been starved of your lips. 

He retains some of the gentleness that he’d exhibited outside of the club, but there’s a desperation too, you can almost taste it on him… along with the grilled cheese.

The thought makes you smile, and Jaehyun breaks the kiss to look down at you, also grinning. “What?”

“Nothing, just- I’m happy.”

“Me too,” he admits, looking down at your beaming face before he grabs your jaw between his thumb and forefinger, angling your head to the side so he can access your neck. Your ex finds your sweet spot as easily as ever, as if it hasn’t been two years since his tongue stroked this specific patch of skin and made your whole body tingle with pleasure. 

You let out a shaky sigh, threading your fingers through his hair and relaxing against the pillows.

“Don’t leave me again,” you whisper.

“Never again,” he promises, voice husky in your ear.

His hand slides down the curve of your body, grasping at your thighs and slowly pushing your dress up. Your hips move, rutting in an attempt to spur him on. When his fingers finally find your core through your panties, you swear you see stars. He begins to rub your clit, circling it as he applies more and more pressure. 

His mouth continues on your neck, and you begin to whimper from the stimulus.

You’d nearly forgotten how good it feels to be touched by someone who knows you inside and out- by someone who cares about your pleasure more than he’s ever cared about his own.

“Jae,” you whimper, breathing heavily as he rubs your core. 

“Yes, baby?” His lips are gentle along your throat, and the feather-light touch almost teases you more than a rougher one would.

“Can we skip the foreplay? I need you.”

Jaehyun’s fingers stop on your clit, and he pushes himself up on an elbow, looking down at you with a quizzical set to his brow. “Skip the foreplay?” he repeats, letting out a scoff. “Baby, I’ve been thinking about what I’d do to you if you ever gave me a second chance for over two years. We’re not skipping the foreplay.”

“But-”

“Please don’t argue with me. Just let me have this. Just let me enjoy the body I’ve missed so much. I’ve missed your sounds, the way you react to my touch-” his fingers pick up their pace on your clit again, and you let out a whine, pushing toward him again. “See? You’re perfect. No matter how many memories of this I have, nothing compares to the real thing.”

When you’d been dating Jaehyun initially, he was - for lack of a better word - pretty vanilla. This dirty talk is new, and it makes your stomach erupt into butterflies. Your mind goes practically blank, lulled into a lusty trance by the musings of a man who’s clearly bewitched by you, body and soul.

When your gaze dips down to his hand between your thighs, you notice the way his cock is straining in his pants. “Can I…” you swallow thickly, “Can I touch you too?”

“Yeah.” His mouth returns to your throat, and he pushes your panties to the side, dragging his fingers through your soaked folds. “Fuck, baby, you’re so wet for me.”

You mewl at his words, quickly fumbling with the button of his pants so you can push them down just far enough to take his cock out of his briefs. Jaehyun releases a low groan and it makes your pussy flutter as you begin to stroke him.

Your ex reacts by slipping his fingers into your core, two long digits going knuckle deep. He tests your walls, grazing your g-spot when he begins to lazily pump his hand, his palm firmly pressing to your clit.

A whimper of pleasure escapes you, and you can feel Jaehyun grin against your neck. “The prettiest sounds,” he muses. “How did you ever get this pretty?”

It’s a rhetorical question, and it makes you feel cock drunk and dumb, your chest pushing up against his own, looking for stimulus- your nipples are hard in your bralette, but you wish you were naked already, wish you could feel him better-

“Jae?”

“Yes, baby?”

“Can you take my dress off?”

Jaehyun pulls his hand away from your core, bringing his two wet fingers to your lips. He pushes them into your mouth, propping himself up so he can look down at you while you suck his digits clean. “I thought you’d never ask.”

You groan around his fingers, the act of sucking is turning you on more than you’d care to admit, but it ends too quickly as Jaehyun pulls his hand away.

He sits up, taking off his own shirt first. Then he reaches down to grab at the hem of your dress, slowly dragging it up your form. Jaehyun’s eyes take in each strip of newly exposed skin, and you can see the way his pupils have blown with interest.

You lift your shoulders off the bed, making it easier for him to tear the fabric off of you and toss it to the side. This leaves you in your bralette and panties, both of which you’re eager to have join your dress on the floor.

Jaehyun’s hand reaches out to cup your breast, his thumb smoothing over the pebbled nipple that’s pushing through the silky fabric. He squeezes you gently, forcing you to release a moan of pleasure. 

A moment later, he’s removing your panties, then your bra, fingers pinching at your newly exposed nipple.

Your hand, meanwhile, returns to his cock- only for Jaehyun to grab at your wrist, pulling you away.

You’re about to ask what’s wrong, but then Jaehyun turns your hand palm up, and he spits into the center of it, bringing it back to his cock. 

There’s no way that action should have been as sexy as it was- your core throbbing as you begin to stroke his rock-hard length. 

With one last lustful look at your body, Jaehyun settles over top of you again, his mouth seeking out your breasts while you pump his cock. The feeling of his tongue flicking against you has you crying out, pushing your chest toward his mouth. His teeth graze over your sensitive nipple and you respond by applying more pressure to his cock.

Jaehyun groans loudly, rutting his hips into your hand, which stills so you can allow him to fuck your palm. He continues to worship your breasts while his hips do most of the work, and you surrender yourself to the pleasurable scenario you’ve found yourself in.

“You know…” Jaehyun presses another kiss to your nipple, “I was going to ask you to sit on my face, but… it’s hard being this close to your pretty pussy and not just… slipping it in.”

“Yeah?” You guide his cock closer to your core, so that when he ruts his hips, the tip of his cock glides through your soaked folds. “Then just do it.”

“Here I was, saying not to skip the foreplay- but here I am, giving in to you like always.” 

Jaehyun releases a laugh, and it makes you giggle along with him, because it’s true. Jaehyun may have this sexy, devil-may-care attitude, but he’s always been a total simp for you. 

He was completely wrapped around your finger when you first met, and he’s completely wrapped around your finger now. It’s interesting how so much can change, and so little can change at the same time. 

“You just feel so good,” Jaehyun groans, thrusting again, the tip of his pretty pink flushed cock just slipping inside of you- 

“Fuck, Jae, please-” you push your chest up toward his face again, pumping his length, trying to guide him deeper-

He brings his mouth to your own, capturing you in a breathtaking kiss as he sheaths himself into your wet core.

You let out a low whine, wrapping your legs around his hips and releasing his cock in favor of grabbing his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin.

“Fuck-” Jaehyun moans, staying still inside of you while your walls pulse around his shaft. “Missed this perfect pussy, baby.”

“Missed your perfect cock,” you retort, tangling your fingers in his soft hair and drawing him in for another kiss.

His tongue clashes against your own, his hands finding your hips so he can steady himself as he begins to rut into you. 

You love getting lost in him. You can feel your mind slipping away, your body giving into its primal instincts as Jaehyun makes love to you the way he has so many times before.

One of his hands finds your own, taking it from his shoulder and lacing your fingers above you, pressing you into the pillow. He breaks the kiss to look down at you, breathing heavily.

“There’s so much I’ve wanted to say,” Jaehyun admits.

“Then say it,” you urge him, cupping his cheek with your free hand.

He nuzzles against your palm, closing his eyes for a moment while he enjoys your touch. “I’ve missed everything about you. You’ve been on my mind every day for two years.”

Your heart aches.

“It’s more than just the sex, and you know it. I’ve missed holding you,” he squeezes your hand, “missed sleeping next to you. Missed late-night talks and grilled cheese. Missed your laugh and the way your eyes light up when you’re happy. Missed the way you cry at sad parts in movies-”

As he talks, the pace of his thrusts gets faster, and you find it harder and harder not to moan like a whore and interrupt his cute little speech about missing you. 

In fact, it’s hard to even keep your eyes open, but your gaze is caught in his own. Jaehyun’s staring into your soul, baring himself to you like a man who’s brought all his walls down. 

“I love you,” Jaehyun says gruffly, “I’ve never stopped loving you. Not for one single day. It’s you, and it’s always been you.”

Your stomach muscles clench at his admission, orgasm bubbling to the surface fast from the combination of his movements and his words.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he assures you, licking his lips. “Just rub your clit and let me feel your perfect pussy clench around me as you cum, that will be answer enough.”

With a loud whine, you throw your head back against the pillow, threading your free hand between your bodies. The first touch of your fingers on your clit has you throbbing already, and you release a gasp.

“That’s it, baby,” Jaehyun coos, lips finding your throat. “Just like that.”

“Jae-”

“I know, I know you’re close- must be pent up like me, right? We’re both going to cum way too fast, but that’s okay, we have all the time in the world to enjoy each other- the way I’m going to eat your perfect pussy for breakfast tomorrow morning-”

Your core pulses at the thought, and you rub your clit harder.

“Gonna let go for me, right, baby? I’m so close, want you to cum with me.”

“I’m there-” you tell him, shivering as he licks the sweet spot on your throat. ‘Fuck, Jae-”

“You want me to cum inside right? You’re still on the-”

“Cum inside,” you interrupt him. “God, fuck, please- need you to fill me up-”

Jaehyun groans, squeezing your hand again. His lips move from your neck to your mouth, and your tongues clash in a breathless, moan-filled frenzy, your orgasms just out of reach-

One more whimpered “please” out of you has Jaehyun moaning, his high crashing into him. You can feel him filling you up with his cum, and it triggers your own orgasm. A gasp escapes you, your sensitive nipples pressing against his chiseled chest-

You can feel him everywhere. He’s all-consuming. You completely let go, sounds uninhibited, pussy throbbing harder than it has in the past two years. 

Jaehyun fucks you through it, until you’re both sweaty, gasping messes. Then he collapses on top of you, giving your captured hand one last squeeze before adjusting. He rolls off of you just enough to tuck you close to his chest, hand finding your hair and beginning to pet you.

You can hear the racing of his heart as he catches his breath.

As you come down from your high, you feel a welling of emotion bubbling inside of you. You’re shocked when a tear rolls down your cheek, and you’re quick to brush it away. Jaehyun notices the movement and tilts his head to assess you.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you sniffle. “I’m just…. I’m happy, and I missed you a lot.”

“Baby,” Jaehyun’s fingers draw pretty nothings on your back, “I promise I’m not going anywhere ever again.”

☀️ mlist + an. Thank you so much for reading! I've been reading a lot of shorter smut fics recently, and after doing such a big kick-off in January, I wanted to try a shorter piece again, and challenge myself with a little angst :)

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below! 

🔮 preview. “Listen, I promised myself I wasn't going to cum in or on you tonight - you know, seeing as you’re my wife tomorrow and I don’t want to disrespect you - but since you’re begging for it,” Jaehyun slips the tip of his cock inside of you, only to pull away, “I guess I can settle for cumming on your ass, but only if we shower together after.”

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, creampie, pussy eating champ Jae, pussy worship, fingering, 69, blow job, hand job, deep throating, gentle choking, begging, dirty talk, slight cum kink/mentions of exhibitionism,  finger sucking, multiple reader orgasms, etc…   I petnames. (hers) baby. 

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 3.1k I teaser wc. 200

🌙 starring. Jaehyun x afab!Reader

bonus

Since you got back with Jaehyun over a year ago, the two of you haven’t been separated for longer than twelve hours, but tomorrow is the day of your wedding, and there are certain traditions about the bride and groom staying apart- so here you are, cuddled on a couch in your hotel room, missing your fiance.

When your phone rings and Jaehyun’s pretty face shows up as the contact on your screen, you fumble over yourself to pause your movie and answer it. “Jae?”

“Hey, baby. What room are you in again?”

You think about it for a moment. You’d never actually told him where you’re staying in the hotel… “Why do you want to know?”

“Maybe I wanna send my fiance flowers before our wedding tomorrow.” 

God, why’s he so charming?

You give him your room number without a second thought, hanging up with an ‘I love you.’ 

Five minutes later, there’s a knock at the door, and you open it to find Jaehyun standing there with a massive dimpled grin on his face, and a vase of flowers in his hands. “Hi, baby.”

☀️ to read the full fic AND 3.1k bonus NOW, subscribe to my Patreon, then click here

👹 or check out what else is on my patreon here

🔮if nothing strikes your fancy, check out my m.list

general taglist

@gotshinct - @subhyuck - @fraechan - @learnthisfeeling

@runahways - @d-abin - @milkteade - @woogyuhae 

@anothershorthuman - @nihxxy - @vantxx95 - @bangshii

@poutypoutybin - @notbeforelong - @creepybakeoven

@ninetechculture - @yungiland - @suhsfam - @binchangf

@chogiwapadada - @librarian-stacks - @meowniee

@learnthisfeeling - @gigilame - @cumtrov3rsy

@mocha000 - @darthlunaa​ - @just-here-to-read-01​ - @shiningnono

@lovelyhan - @grilledbananas - @aaniag

✘ nct taglist

@milkyway-vxm - @nctsawrus - @shiningdery - @freezerandfame

@fairieblog - @fairybr3ad - @peachyjaemin - @chemaistry

@sehunniepot

thank you to those who interacted with the teaser :)

@bobathi - @jeffreysleftdimple - @babieculture - @nominsgirl

@viscade - @axo-l0tl - @icedearlgreytea - @shiningnono

[mingigoo]

look after you || k.hj (m.)

🩺 pairing ⇢ nurse! (fem) reader x struggling musician! Hongjoong

🩺 synopsis ⇢ after a long night at work with little to no sleep, you nearly doze off on your way home, hitting a tattooed, spikey-haired guy in the middle of the road. Panicking, you run out to help him and go with him to the hospital, only to lie and say he was your husband so you could go back with him. Well, when he woke up, he didn't exactly take it the way you thought he would...

🩺 genre/au ⇢ enemies to lovers (kind of), some angst, smut, fluff, hospital au

🩺 warnings/tags ⇢ 18+ MINORS DNI, injury, car accident, hospital scenes, unprotected sex, undefined relationship, mention of possible suicide attempt, Hongjoong is a scruffy underground musician, trauma with touch, tattoo!joong, grumpy sunshine, cum shot, biting, teasing

🩺 word count ⇢ 10.3k

🩺 taglist ⇢ @atinywhore @jjhmk @yukine-smx @roe-sinning @meowmeowminnie @yeritheloml @y00nzin0 @yesv01 @halesandy @shegotboreddsoo @kangyeosangelic @gayliljoong @sanshineeeeee @kodzukein @baguette-atiny @seokwoosmole @nyeatinyjunkie @juliettechokilo @pockyddalgi @justaqueerbufoin @hwaightme @likexaxdaydream @ssaboala @gtr-skyline-lover @miriamxsworld @daegale @knucklesdeepmingi @naiify @yeoyeoland @arya9111 @mdibby @8tinytings @angelicyeo @wooyoungjpg @lonewolfjinji @asjkdk @charreddonuts @mangishii @yeoyeoland @pink-hwaberry @wooyoluvrr @maru-matt @pearltinyy @loveuwoo @m3chigo @northerngalxy @silverpixiedust23 @interweab @skz1-4-3 (if I missed you please lmk!! bold = can’t tag)

masterlist

A/N ⇢ this story is purely fictional! I am not nurse, and do not have unlimited knowledge on this topic. However, I am a healthcare worker, so I know a little, but not a lot. I am sorry for any information this is incorrect. This is meant for entertainment purposes only. This is not meant to take place in reality.

They never prepare you enough for the things you might see within the hospital walls. 

Nothing is ever enough within those few years of education, the desperate attempt to create life savers. No one tells you how much it hurts to see a child suffer until death, a mother, a daughter.

You just wanted to be something. Do something. Be like the girl you dreamed of being as a child—a child who put bandaids on her mother, all over, decorating her like a painting. Sometimes, your mother would act like she was hurt, just for you to play make-belief, “stitching” up her “wounds.”

And here you were, in the hospital locker room, tears falling silently down your cheeks as you unclipped your hair, letting it fall just like the tears. You sniffed, hiding your face in the locker, although no one was around to see. It was embarrassing enough to yourself—you couldn't believe you were crying. You just…couldn't stop.

The day was rough—just too much. Too much death, too much sadness. This wasn't what you dreamed of. You never thought about how hard it would be to put a smile on your face to a patient, right after witnessing someone leave the world. To act, really. You should've taken up that career instead. You were pretty damn good at doing it—well, until you landed behind the curtain.

You haven't slept in ages. It's been constant insomnia on top of twelve-hour shifts, sometimes even longer, and once you are able to lay down, the only thing you hear is the sound of a patient crashing, the cries of family members. It had you questioning your profession. Your devotion. Your childhood.

As you made your drive home, for some reason, the lines on the road soothed you. Your eyes began to beg for sleep, rolling back ever so slightly as you continued. The gentle patter of rain graced the windshield, the red hue of the stoplight in front of you nearing. 

You stopped at the light—pausing to look at the city around you. The city was bright, even at the dark hour of midnight. People were walking, carrying on,  bar lights bright, apartments lit up in an array of colors. You took in a breath and closed your eyes.

And you closed them a little too long when a car horn sounded behind you.

You jumped, feeling apologetic for holding up the line, and continued forward. People passed you with impatience, but you didn't care. You kept going, crawling, really, till you felt sleep creep up once again, shutting your eyes. You drifted off, only for a short moment, and suddenly you awoke with haste—but not quick enough. In your headlights stood a man, walking across the street, and you didn't have enough time to move. You slowed as best you could, tires screeching, praying to anything, anyone, that this was your imagination.

As your car came to a screeching halt, you hit the man with a thump, causing him to crumble to the ground. You gasped, now wide awake, a scream caught in your throat.

You swallowed hard, hands shaking as you pulled over as best as you could and put your vehicle in park, looking around for any sign of someone. 

No one, absolutely no one, but you and this man you just hit. Just a few blocks back, the city was bustling, bars were hopping, but now, it was like a wasteland. You stepped out of your car, gasping for air, and sprinted through the rain to get to the man.

He was lying still, his head bleeding, his back on the asphalt. His black clothing hid the damage he received from the hit, hiding his body, his black hair covering his face. The only thing you saw was the black ink of a tattoo on his hand as it grasped the road.

“Oh my god,” you breathed, kneeling down to him. You assessed him as best as you could, fighting an anxiety attack. “I am so sorry, oh my god.”

He groaned in response, his arm visibly broken. You hurriedly dialed the emergency line, panting, nearly in tears. You didn't even think about the consequences of this action—you were only worried about the man, the stranger, in front of you. 

After nearly crying once more on the phone, the paramedics explained that they would arrive quickly. You hung up and looked over the stranger once more. “Are you alive?” you asked like a dumb ass, nearly face-palming. You were a nurse, goddammit. Act like one. 

You leaned over him, as gently as possible, putting a finger under his nose, and you felt a soft breath hit it. You checked for an airway obstruction, but nothing. He was breathing fine. In pain, but breathing.

The man tried to move, to roll over sharply, but you quickly bellowed, “Wait, please, you could have a spinal injury,” you pleaded, and surprisingly he stopped. “Don't move.” You caught a glimpse of his face. A large cut near his eyebrow painted his skin crimson, but his eyes were beautiful. His lip was cut, too, and you felt immense pain just looking at him. God, what if he was homeless? He looked it. What if he didn't have insurance? Oh god—

You saw how much blood was coming from his head as he looked up at you. His eyes were hazy, like he wasn't really seeing. You hurriedly looked around for anything to stop his bleeding, and when you found nothing, you took your coat off, then your scrub top, and you quickly put your coat back on. You held your shirt to his head as gently as possible, applying pressure, praying that the paramedics would come soon—

Your anxious thoughts were interrupted by sirens. You let out a sigh of relief.

When the ambulance pulled up, two men came to you with a stretcher. You were barely alert enough to hear them say anything. You mumbled a few things, your hands shaking as they set down the gurney. You mumbled to have them put on a neck brace, chest tightening at how the man cried in pain. You let out an ugly cry with him, but no tears fell. They gently rested him on the stretcher, his head steady, but his arm—

“Are you crazy!” you hissed, standing up quickly. “His arm….he needs his arm stabilized!”

“I’m sorry, mam,” the one man condescendingly said, giving you a dull look. “We know how to do our job. We don't need your input.”

You huffed. Mam? Mam? That was insulting. “I’m a nurse, I also know what I’m talking about.”

They ignored you like everyone seemed to ignore you. They began to move away, but a small object caught their eye that lay right where the man was. You picked it up, finding it to be an empty wallet—you’d give it back later.

They rolled him towards the ambulance, and you followed, forgetting about your car, and everything in it, leaving the scene behind. The paramedics didn't seem to care that you went with them, so you sat in the vehicle, watching them treat the guy you hit. You wanted to throw up as they treated him, as you sat still, like a worthless piece of paper. A crumbled-up piece of paper. Yeah. Crumbled. 

When you arrived at the hospital—a hospital that wasn't yours, you walked beside the homeless man, nearly reaching for his hand. However, your race with him was put to a stop as the emergency room staff stopped you as he headed into the wing.

“I’m sorry, only family members are allowed inside,” the woman softly muttered, her eyes genuine. 

She reminded you of yourself.

What….what if this man was really homeless? What if he had no help, no insurance, no family? You had to do something. You’d feel horrible if you didn't do anything.

“I’m—I’m his wife!” you blurted out, louder than you intended. 

The young lady gave you a heartfelt look and nodded towards the door. “Go ahead. There’s a waiting room inside. What’s your name? I’ll let them know you’re the guardian.”

You told her your name, sparing no second longer than needed, and you ran into the emergency room, sitting down in a hurry.

It was now a waiting game.

—

For what seemed like forever, a doctor came out into the waiting room, looking right at you. 

“Miss y/n?” He asked.

“Yes?”

He cleared his throat. “….You are Kim Hongjoong’s guardian?”

You paused, almost forgetting your whole spiel at the entrance. You remembered the name from his ID in his wallet, and nodded sharply, standing up quickly. “Is he all right?”

“He sustained many injuries, but nothing too major. His arm is broken in three places, and that will limit his mobility quite a lot. We set his arm, but he might possibly need surgery.”

You nodded, relief washing over you. Good, minor injuries. Phew. 

The doctor pondered for a long while as he stared at you. “The paramedics stated that you were the one to hit him with the car.”

You sighed. “Yeah, he came out of nowhere—”

“Why was he walking alone so late at night?”

You looked around the waiting room, seeing only one other soul in the corner seat, sleeping. You wondered about what to say, as your little white lie was becoming a web. 

“I uh….he works late?”

“He was intoxicated at the time of the accident—”

“He works at a bar?” you tried not to sound like you were questioning that statement.

The doctor deadpanned and then sighed. “Listen, I’m sure there's stuff that’s none of my business. So I’m going to choose to ignore this,” he nodded toward the emergency wing. “But you’re welcome to go see him. He’s awake now.”

You wondered for a second whether you should go back there. If he was going to rip your head off for lying, for hitting him with your damn car.

You nodded, telling yourself to grow some damn balls. “Okay, I’ll see him.”

The doctor led you to a room at the very end of the hall, the lights dim. There, in front of you, was the man you hit. He was all bandaged up, a large one spanning around his forehead, covering some of the spikey black hair. His arm was wrapped in a cast and held up for circulation, and his eyes were wide open. Right on you.

“Your wife is here,” the doctor spoke nonchalantly as he entered with you. However, you were stationary at the door. 

“Wife?” he scoffed, coughing a bit. He tried to sit up, but you put on your act, walking up to his bedside. 

“Don't move,” you spoke sweetly, eyes pleading. The attractive man just furrowed a brow, his lips curling down in a grimace.

“We’re gonna keep you here for observation tonight, and see how you are doing in the morning to keep an eye on that arm of yours.” The doctor quickly did what he needed to do and left, leaving you alone with….your husband?

The pretty homeless guy spared no second in the questioning. “Who the fuck are you?”

Your eyes widened, looking down at him. He gazed up at you, his eyelashes fluttering as he blinked. A tattoo peaked out of his hospital gown, where it met the skin of his neck. 

“Listen,” you sat down roughly on the seat next to the bed. He watched you emotionlessly. “I’m sorry—I didn't see you when you walked across the road. I take full responsibility,” you breathed, getting nervous under his gaze. 

You were expecting him to scream at you. Well, at least to freak out in some way. It was more alarming that he sat still, completely still, his mouth set in a line.

You blinked.

“I don't care, it’s fine,” he sighed. He showed no emotion, nothing. Not even a twinkle of anger. It was the look in his eye that told you that maybe, just maybe, he ran in front of your car on purpose.

Your eyes widened at the man in front of you—at hongjoong in front of you. He looked distraught tired, brown eyes never leaving your face as you gazed at him. He raised his eyebrows slightly, tilting his head.

“You can leave now,” he huffed, eyes dropping to your open mouth before darting up back to your eyes. “I’m not sure why you're even here in the first place.”

It was your turn to scoff. You crossed your legs in irritation at his lack of care. “Well, maybe because I hit you with my damn car? Maybe I’m worried, maybe I feel horrible, maybe I wanted to see if you were going to be okay.”

Hongjoong just blankly stared. He didn't show any signs of pain, of anger, of anything, really. 

“You don't have to worry,” he spoke eventually, turning away from your gaze to look forward. You watched the tattoo dance against his neck as he moved. “I’m fine. This is all fine.”

You didn't know what to say, how to feel. Your head was spinning, all the tiredness washed away. It pained you to see him so empty, so barren, even though he was a stranger. “I feel like I need to do something for you.”

He bit the bottom of his busted lip, as if forgetting. He made a face, the only expression he’s shone. “No need.”

“But I need to,” you leaned forward, closer to him. He turned to you, eyes void. “I’ll pay for your hospital bill, maybe treat you for a dinner, I don't know—”

“Don't,” he hissed. His eyes grew dark, the fire in them rising. You nearly shrunk back in response to his sudden change of attitude. “Listen, just forget about this, about me, all of it. I don't need your money, or your time, or—” he paused, his anger faltering as he looked at you. “Just…just carry on with your life. I’ll only affect it if I stay in it.”

You frowned, wondering what he meant by that. It didn't matter, though. Your guilt was all-consuming—and the fact that he most likely ended up in front of the car on purpose really was overbearing.

After a second of just…staring at one another, you sighed. “One meal.”

He didn't make a face. Didn't change his plain, empty expression. You looked at his starless eyes, his pale skin. You had the need to brighten him up, to heal him. That was your job, after all.

He opened his mouth to speak, but a nurse came in before he could say a word. You immediately straightened, putting on a smile, hoping he would keep up the act even though he had no reason to. You didn't want to be kicked out—not right now. 

“How are we feeling, Hongjoong?” the young nurse asked, a smile on her bright face. 

“Fine, I guess.” His response was toneless. The nurse still bubbled around, checking his vitals. You watched as he stiffened as the woman touched him. 

She looked at you, arching a brow. “Oh? Are you the wife?” she let out a hum of appreciation, then turned her gaze to Hongjoong. “You’re lucky with this one. They said she freaked out when they didn't stabilize your arm and when they wouldn't let her inside the emergency wing! She must really love you to nearly fight someone to get back here.”

Hongjoong, for the little time you knew him, showed more emotion on his face than ever after hearing that. After hearing that someone—you, a stranger nonetheless—was distraught at his expense. His lips flattened in a line, his gaze faltering.

You grabbed his good hand, although bruises were painted across his knuckles. Old, yellowing bruises. You furrowed your brows, subconsciously rubbing a thumb softly over the colored skin. Hongjoong stiffened, eyes widening, at either your caring touch or the pain it could have been causing. Or both.

You felt your stomach tighten as you met eyes with him. The air was stuffy, his eyes were….practically begging for a reason for your attention, as if he’d never had it before.

“I’m lucky to have him,” you sighed, acting but feeling an intense pull to him. Just touching him, although you didn't even know him, felt like a second nature. 

Maybe it was the regret, the disparity, of hitting him, of being the reason his life was almost nonexistent. Maybe this feeling was because of the responsibility you felt for doing this to him. It didn't matter if it was true; this tension you were feeling with the stranger was more powerful than what you felt with your ex, the one before that, and the one before.

His face was devout of color besides the bruises that scattered his skin. He looked drained, tired, alone. The nurse just smiled at you two, noticing your bloody scrubs and messy exterior. “You’re a nurse, too?”

You just nodded, lost in the feeling that strummed through your body.

Hongjoong’s hand twitched under your hold, his eyes still wide. Still on you.

“Well, Hongjoong,” the friendly nurse smiled. “Don't let her go, she’s a keeper.”

He tore his gaze from you to look at your hand on his. He swallowed hard, blinking. “Ah, yeah.”

Soon after the nurse left, your hand still rested on his. He sat silently, staring forward at the whiteboard with his name on it.

“I….” you struggled with your words, realizing you were still caressing his hand. “I’m sorry,” you said as you pulled your hand away. His head shot towards you.

After a few moments of silence, he said, “It’s okay.” His tone was soft, defeated. 

You wiped your hands on your thighs, sweating buckets. “I, uh, I should go.”

He watched you stand up, but your back was turned, unable to see the wishful glance he offered you. 

You stopped in the door frame, turning around to meet his eyes once more. 

“It was nice to meet you, Hongjoong,” you smiled, watching the glimmer in his eye trying to sparkle. “I wish you well.”

Before you were able to leave the room, he called for you.

“Wait,” he breathed, voice raspy.

You froze.

He took a breath in, exhaling his words. “What’s your name?” 

You turned around. “Y/n,” you spoke softly, your chest aching at the little half-smile peeking through his bruised lips.

“y/n,” he repeated, blinking slowly. He didn't say anything else. You didn't either. You smiled at him once more before turning on your heel and walking out of the room, despite the tear in your heart telling you to stay.

And on your way out, you paid his hospital bill in full, not a single regret in your mind about it.

—

After a few days, you continued your days like normal.

Well, as normal as they could be. Your mind wandered to the spikey haired guy at every sparing second, thinking of how his eyes pleaded something unreadable, how his hand twitched underneath yours.

You were at the hospital, reaching the end of your workday in the emergency room. After running in with a few scruffy-looking guys, they reminded you of a certain someone, and you just wanted to tear at your hair. You were certain your odd feelings were due to the fact that you hit him with your car, and nothing else. This will pass. 

When the quietness of the night was about to still, a man ran into the emergency room door.

“My friend is hurt,” The man huffed in desperation. You turned to the commotion, seeing a thin, black-haired man holding up another—his friend. But that friend and his familiar spikey hair jolted something inside of you.

You jumped out of your seat behind the nurses’ station and ran to the men, meeting eyes with the taller one. He was just as beautiful as hongjoong was, but his eyes were frantic.

“Sir, what happened?” you questioned, reaching out to the man who was just who you thought. Hongjoong’s head rolled back, his eyes squinted in pain, his teeth barred. You carefully steadied him. “What’s hurting you?”

At your voice, Hongjoong opened his eyes wide, looking straight at you. “Y/n?” he grunted out, his breaths strained. He shut his eyes again, and you almost couldn't take the look he had on his face.

“His arm,” the other guy said to you as you called for help,  struggling to hold Hongjoong up. “He got into a fight at the bar, some guy decided to mess with his broken arm and, well…..”

You felt a sense of rage fill your body. You wanted to ask Hongjoong why the hell he was at the bar only days after getting hit by a damn car, let alone getting into a fight.

A few other nurses gathered around, all helping to walk him over to a bed. The wing was empty at this time of night—only a few people around. Once again, Hongjoong looked extremely uncomfortable as the nurses touched him.

You held him gently as you set him down on the bed, feeling his fingers curl around your arm.

He held on to you with his good arm—the hand you held only days before. The other nurses fluttered around, setting things up, but Hongjoong just stared up at you.

“Hi,” is all he said, his fingertips etching into your skin.

Your chest tightened, forcing yourself to smile. “We must be fated or something,” you joked, hoping to brighten him up. “That or you just frequent hospitals often.”

He blinked up at you, his eyebrows knitted in pain. “Maybe I just wanted to see you again.” He coughed as he joked.

Your heart skipped a beat, the other nurses and the man that came with him side-eyeing you.

“If you wanted to see me again, there are better ways than this,” you huffed, looking around. “We have to get an X-ray, alright? We’ll give you something to ease your pain meanwhile.”

The air between you two was undeniable. He nodded, emotion sparkling in his eyes, unlike the days before. You wondered if you were the reason for it.

It was probably just the pain.

The other nurses wheeled him to the radiology room, leaving you alone with the man who brought him there.

“You’re the girl that hit him, aren't you?” His voice was soft, gentle. It held no anger.

You turned to him, seeing the caring exterior he showed. “I….yes.”

He tilted his head at you, blinking, as if figuring you out in a single glance. “He’s been looking all over for you. You…paid his bill. He doesn't like handouts.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh? I didn't think he ever wanted to see me again. You know, I hit him with my car—that isn't something to take lightly—”

“You paid his bill,” the man repeated, crossing his arms. “He feels indebted to you. Please just make sure he knows not to feel that way.” The man sighed, looking into your eyes. “Despite how he looks, he ruminates over things. He’s sensitive. He’s a mess right now.”

You sighed, too. “I…I paid his bill because I did this to him—”

“No,” he interrupted, eyes serious. “You didn't.”

You knitted your brows. “....What do you mean?”

The man gave you a deadpan stare, as if not wanting to spell it out. He let out a breath he seemed to be holding. “He….he jumped in front of your car on purpose, y/n,” he bit his bottom lip. “So no, you really didn't do it to him. He’s…he’s just been a mess lately—and now that you acted sweet, played a wife, held his hand or whatever, he’s even more of a mess.”

Before you could ask what he meant by that, Hongjoong was back, alert and upright, but the pain still rested on his face. His gaze met yours, and you felt your stomach swirl in a mess of emotions.

You couldn't look him in the eye as you took care of him.

—

Hongjoong was sleeping as your shift was about to end. Before you clocked out, you couldn't help but go to him, check his injury out, check his vitals. His friend—Seonghwa, you learned his name—left about an hour ago.

As if noticing your presence, his eyes slowly peeked open, slightly drugged and delirious from the pain medications.

“I didn't expect to see you here,” he mumbled out, blinking lazily.

“I didn't expect you, either,” you spoke, keeping your emotions in check.

Silence enveloped you as you checked his pulse ox. 

“Why’d you do that?”

He turned his head to look at you. “Do what?”

You unclipped the pulse oximeter from his finger. “Why’d you get into that fight? You were really injured.” You wanted to ask the deeper question, the question as to why he stepped in front of your car, but you didn't want to overstep.

He shrugged, wincing. He didn't have an answer. He didn't owe you one, really. 

“Just,” you breathed, moving over to the computer to open his chart. “Just don't do anything like this while you’re healing. You need surgery. You need rest.”

He bit his lip, probably stopping himself from saying something he shouldn't. 

“Also,” you sighed, looking over at him. “Your friend told me you were looking for me?”

“Yeah, well,” he scoffed. “I really didn't mean to meet you here.”

You let out a chuckle. “Well, here we are.”

He nearly smiled at you, lips curling beautifully. He had a bit of dried blood on his lip, and knowing that you were supposed to be leaving, you still reached for a washcloth. You didn't need to do this—in fact, you were acting against every thought in your head as you leaned forward and brushed the cloth against his lip, watching them part.

His breath hitched as you neared, as you touched him, and once again, his hand twitched, begging to touch you.

Your hand lingered on his cheek for a moment too long, meeting his eyes. He stared at you, expression unreadable, lips parted.

“Thanks,” he muttered.

You took a second to study his face before you moved away from him. His eyes followed you as you put space between you and him, dark and beautiful. 

You logged out of the portal on the computer. “We’ll move you to your own room before we prep you for surgery,” you said gently, heart aching as you met his gaze once more. “The doctor will tell you more.”

“Will you….be there for the surgery?” he showed no specific feelings as he asked the question.

“I am only part of the emergency department right now,” you shrugged. “I don't think so.”

He pondered for a second before nodding, settling himself back into the comfort of his hospital bed. “Okay,” he spoke softly.

You offered him a solemn look, causing him to stiffen.

“What?” he asked.

“What?” you repeated, confused.

He blinked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” you frowned.

“Like you feel sorry for me.” He looked pained, a deeper type of pain.

You thought about a response to that—you didn't necessarily feel sorry for him, you didn't pity him either. In fact, you just felt an immense feeling of wanting to see him happy, to see him without pain.

Which confused you incredibly, given that he was just a stranger.

“I don't feel sorry for you,” you clarified. “I just don't want you to be in pain.”

“You don't even know me,” he huffed, his expression contorting, and you figured that he didn't even know how he was feeling—what he was feeling. “Why would you even care if I’m hurting?”

You smiled at him. “Because you don't deserve the pain.”

He just stared at you, hazily, emotionally. There was a light in his eyes—a light that wasn't there the other day. “You don't know me well enough to know that.”

The air grew cold; you had nothing left to say. You wished he realized that he didn't have to suffer like this.

“Goodnight, Hongjoong,” you hummed, walking away, feeling his stare burn into your back.

—

The next day, you found yourself drawn to the bed Hongjoong was in yesterday. It was empty, with him now in a room of his own in another part of the hospital.

You typed away at your computer as your colleague, Yeosang, came up to you. 

“Hey,” he leaned over the counter of the nurses’ station. “There's a guy asking for you.”

Yeosang, although very young, was a surgical resident in orthopedics. He was super smart, super sexy, super everything. You went to school together, spending lots of time in the library and everywhere else together. 

“Who?” you mumbled without looking up.

“He’s a patient I’m prepping for an open reduction surgery, but he’s having a hard time letting anyone touch him. Says he only needs you or something.”

You looked up, hands freezing on your keyboard. Hongjoong. “He won't let anyone touch him?”

Yeosang sighed, propping his head up on his palm as he leaned on the counter. “We had to give him more pain medication, and it made him a bit….difficult. I suspect he has some sort of trauma.”

You frowned. “And why is he asking for me?”

Yeosang gave you a knowing look. “I don't know. He kept saying your name, saying he needed you.”

You tried to avoid the rush of blood to your cheeks. “I don't even know him.”

“Yeah, about that….” Yeosang looked a bit confused, a smile peeking through his lips. “He keeps calling you his wife.”

Oh, dear god. “How drugged is he?” you huffed, looking defeated. 

Yeosang laughed. “I kept telling him that you weren't his wife, and he got super mad at me. He said only his wife can touch him. I really need him to stop this so I can get him into pre-op,” The surgeon sighed, giving you a pleading glance. “I’ll ask the attending if you can scrub in—”

“I’m an ER nurse,” you raised a brow. “I have other duties, Yeosang.”

“Y/n, please,” Yeosang pleaded, “ignore the rules or whatever. Can you just come and help me so we can get him into surgery?”

Your mind wandered to the fact that Hongjoong was having a hard time. Sure, he was delirious off of his meds and pain, but knowing that he was struggling with touch, a part of you crumbled.

So you followed Yeosang—after getting approved by the charge nurse, and went up to the third floor.

As you neared the room, you let Yeosang enter first. 

“Mr. Kim, I have Nurse y/n here for you.”

There Hongjoong was, his eyes frantic, his breathing rushed. He was anxious, a mess. The nurses tried to ease him, and relax him, but he wasn't having it. That is, until he saw you in the doorway.

“y/n,” he breathed, as if he knew you forever. Everyone in the room let out a sigh of relief.

“Hi, Hongjoong,” you spoke softly, walking slowly near him. You sat in the chair next to his bed, scooting closer as the room emptied, Yeosang being the only other presence. “I heard you were asking for me.”

He blinked, his eyes lined with worry, with anxiety. For someone who looks so tough, he looks like a completely different person.

He didn't speak; he just looked at you, his eyebrows furrowed, his expression all over the place. You took a glance at Yeosang, who was observing you before you reached for Hongjoong's hand just like before. 

The bruises were faded now, only old scars left on his skin. A tattoo trailed the skin of his arm. You went to rub his knuckles,  but Hongjoong gripped your hand tightly.

You met his frantic gaze. No words were spoken. He just pleaded with his touch, his eyes. You knew he was scared. 

“It's okay,” you hummed, fighting the urge to tuck his hair behind his ear. “It's a simple surgery. You will be just fine.”

He mumbled something, but you weren't able to catch it. Yeosang stood in the doorway with his arms crossed, the other nurses peering over his shoulder from the hall. Hongjoong’s gaze moved to the door, seeing everyone watching him.

And you realized that, more than being anxious, he was embarrassed, too.

You looked to Yeosang, giving him a desperate look, a silent cry for him to leave and to get those damn nosy bitches out, too. He complied, and they were alone once more.

“It’s alright,” you hummed, and this time, you did reach out to his face, gliding a gentle hand across his cheek. Without thinking, he leaned into your touch, craving it, longing for it, as if you were really his wife. “They’re gone now.”

His eyes were droopy, his lips downturned. He looked tough, someone with a rough exterior, but now, he was crumbling. He was alone. Alone to the point that he called for you, basically a stranger to him. 

The moment could have lasted forever. His eyes bled into yours, yours into his, your hand on his cheek drawing circles into his skin. He took in a breath, and nodded.

“Will you let them take care of you?” you asked him gently.

He hesitated. You also did, as you realized that he leaned into your touch rather than avoiding it. That he felt comfortable with you—the one who hurt him. In his eyes, though, he didn't see it that way.

Your hand stilled on his cheek, his worried eyes lighting up a little. You didn't even realize that his good hand—the hand that you were holding just a minute before, was now resting on top of your hand that was on his cheek. He gripped it, his medical haze confusing him, confusing you.

You froze, your eyes wide. You allowed his fingers to interlock yours, having him hold your hand to his face as he shut his eyes. He was vulnerable. Human. Although he looked tough, looked troubled, he was just a person under all that trouble. Just a normal guy with normal feelings, normal fears.

And you were indebted to each other. You for hitting him, him for his gratefulness of your care.

“I’ll be there with you,” you murmured, knowing that Yeosang was still outside the room, close enough to hear, close enough to see. “I’ll be in the room while they’re operating.” 

He nodded, his grip loosening slightly, but he still didn't release your hand.

“I’ll look after you,” you offered, and his eyes met yours once more. 

He slowly let go of your hand, allowing you to move back. You looked at Yeosang through the window, giving him a curt nod for him to come back in. 

Hongjoong let the other nurses touch him, but not without a grimace on his face. Yeosang’s words swirled around your mind; I suspect he has some sort of trauma.

Trauma. Trauma that didn't quite reach you—your touch. He allowed it, actually, he wanted it. You wondered what made him okay with yours. Why he needed you when you were the one to do this to him.

Eventually, Hongjoong entered the operating room, knocked out by anesthesia, but not without you holding his hand, making him childlike, making him….a normal human being.

—

After the surgery, Hongjoong sat in his bed even more dazed than before. Before the daze wore off, he kept calling you his wife, causing confusion to stir around the hospital. 

As you left Hongjoong’s room to go back to the ER, Yeosang followed. “What’s this about?”

“I don't know what you mean.” 

You walked faster.

“I mean, why does that guy keep calling you his wife?” Yeosang’s shoulder bumped into yours accidentally as you turned a corner. “And why are you the only one who can touch him? Why did you—”

You stopped suddenly. “Why did I what?”

Yeosang let out a breath. “Why did you….touch him like that? As far as I know, you….you aren't married.”

“I’m not married, you’re right,” you nodded, confused by why you touched him like that, too. Confused as to why he looked so relaxed with your touch rather than freaking out. “And…let’s just say we have met each other before. I did that to calm him down.”

You continued walking towards the elevator, Yeosang following still. “Okay, but you still didn't answer my question about why he keeps calling you his wife.” you pressed the down button and waited.

“Is that really any of your business?”

“Just a little—”

“Why?” you interrupted, turning towards him, arms crossed. “Why does it matter to you?”

You didn't mean to sound rude, you and Yeosang were good friends for a while. You've never dated, but you’ve flirted with each other occasionally. You never thought much of it other than being a little playful.

But the look on Yeosang’s face caused you to pause your racing thoughts. “Because I thought we…we had something going on?”

You blinked. “Do we?”

“I mean,” Yeo scoffed. “With the way you were looking at him, I don't think I have a chance.”

The elevator dinged, doors opening. You paused for a second before entering, Yeosang following.

It was quiet before the doors closed.

“I didn't think I looked at him any differently than anyone else,” you admitted honestly, causing Yeosang to look over at you. 

He gave you a smile, although it didn't quite reach his eyes. “You feel something for him, huh?”

You frowned, leaning back against the wall. “I barely know him. I only…” you sighed. “I only met him twice.”

“But yet, you are the only one he allows to touch him,” Yeosang breathed as the elevator dinged on the first floor. 

“That’s something to think about.”

—

Hongjoong was back to his normal self when you went to check on him in the evening; the anesthesia and meds had worn off. His arm was bandaged up and held in a sling, his eyes empty once more. 

You hesitated on entering, but his stare moved to you.

For a second, you saw regret, and embarrassment, cross his face before melting back into a void stare.

You entered, but he didn't look at you. He avoided your gaze, too. Very unlike his earlier, medical high self. 

You took his blood pressure, fingertips gently wrapping around his tattooed bicep as you put the cuff on. He didn't say anything, didn't even spare a passing glance. He just kept looking forward.

“119 over 79,” you mumbled out, letting loose of the cuff.

He nodded, coughing a bit. He didn't say anything, though.

“Dr. Kang told me that you’re cleared to be discharged,” you tried to start a conversation, but things just felt too awkward. You wrote down his vitals in his chart. “That’s good. Can I call anyone to pick you up? Maybe the guy that was here—”

“No,” he said quietly, looking down at his arm. “There is no one to call.”

“You need someone to help you. You just had surgery—”

“I have no one, y/n,” he hissed, finally looking at you. “Not like that’s any of your business, anyway.”

You didn't know what to say, so you just stared at him with confusion. He was putting his walls up.

“I just….don't want you to suffer alone,” you admitted.

“Why?” he let out a laugh, but it wasn't humorous. “I don't need your worry.”

“Okay,” you breathed, defeated. There was no point; he was just a stranger, just a man. Although, this feeling you had about him was overwhelming. And when you touched him, you wanted to hold him longer. Wanted him to feel better.

You left the room without a glance toward him and carried on the rest of your day as best you could.

—

Hongjoong was sitting on the bench outside the hospital entrance, head low, as if sleeping.

You knew you should keep walking. You shouldn't give him any attention, any time of day. But your chest ached as you got closer and closer, and as you reached him, you couldn't bear to walk past him.

“Why are you still here?” you asked him, keeping a good amount of distance away from him.

At your voice, he looked up quickly, as if waiting for you despite his nastiness earlier.

He took a second to respond. “I, uh, I’m just sitting here.”

You looked him over. His black hair was no longer styled spikey, it laid flat across his forehead softly. His tattoos were on full display in the black t-shirt he wore. 

“You don't have anywhere to go,” you meant to ask it like a question, but it came out more like a declaration. He furrowed his brows at your words but didn't deny it.

“I’m fine, I’ll figure it out,” he sniffed, the cold air dancing around him. He didn't even have a coat.

Without thinking, you spoke quickly. “Come with me.”

He tilted his head. “Why?”

“Because,” you huffed, taking a step closer to him. “I owe you.”

“For what?” he spat out, probably not intending to sound rude. 

You gave him an honest look, and his eyes softened. “Did you just forget that I hit you with my car? That I broke your arm?”

He just sat there, blinking slowly. “You don't owe me anything, y/n.”

You reached your hand out. His own hand twitched. “Come with me.”

After a long moment of just staring at your outstretched hand, he let his hand find yours, standing up at his full height. You got a good look at his face, his eyes, his lips. He was breathtakingly beautiful. So beautiful. 

You held his hand as you walked to your car, feeling a flutter of emotion in the pit of your stomach.

When you got to the car, you helped him into the passenger seat, despite his aggravated digs at you. You leaned over him, buckling his seatbelt, feeling his hot breath against your cheek.

You paused, frozen, inches away from his lips.

He swallowed hard, eyes glancing down at your lips. He didn't make a move. You didn't, either. 

You pulled away, forcing yourself to get out of his personal space to shut the door. You saw him tilt back his head and take a deep breath before you got to the driver's seat.

As you drove, you asked random questions like a goddamn idiot.

“So, uh,” you swallowed, looking over at him for a second. “What do you do for a living?”

What kind of damn question is that?

“I’m a musician,” he mumbled, looking out the window. “Kind of.”

“Ah,” you nodded, thinking of what to say next. Now you were thinking way too much into things. “What do you play?”

He looked down at his arm, sighing. “Well, I played the guitar, piano, some other things. I don't think I’ll be picking anything up for a while.”

“You will, eventually,” you tried to encourage him, but he just kept his gaze even out the window. You arrived at your apartment, pulled into the parking lot, and shut off the car. “We’re here.”

He nodded, watching you get out of the car. You opened his door, and with slight hesitation, you leaned over him again to unbuckle his seatbelt, but before you could, he stopped you with his good arm. 

You paused, inches from his face, meeting his eyes.

“Thanks,” he muttered quietly. “I’m sorry for how I acted earlier.”

“You don't have to be sorry,” you whispered, feeling an immense pull to him, to his lips.

You ignored the urge and unbuckled the belt, but you didn't back away. Not like you could, anyway, with Hongjoong’s grip on your arm tightening.

The belt slowly slipped off of him.

He chewed on his bottom lip, his eyes dancing with emotion. “I was just… embarrassed. And drugged, and uh, well,” he paused, thinking. “Mostly embarrassed. I can't believe I freaked out over a little surgery. That’s so lame—”

“No, it's not,” you hummed softly, delicately. “It's a normal fear.”

He smiled. Actually smiled. From the little time you knew him, you haven't seen a genuine smile on his face. Or any sort of light, really.

“Thanks, uh,” he sniffed. “Thanks again. For looking after me.” his eyes fell to your lips. “You don't even know me, and you still…” he trailed off.

You realized that you were inhaling the air he was exhaling, that you were eye to eye, almost nose to nose. His breaths were shaky, labored, and tired. 

“I would want someone to look after me in the same way,” You whispered. “That’s all.”

“That’s all?” he tilted his head upward, leaning against the headrest, warm, brown eyes on full display. 

“Mhm,” you swallowed. 

His eyes glimmered. He didn't have anything to say, and you didn't either. Realizing that you were shrinking the space ever so slowly, you took the opportunity to back away from the musician. He let go of your arm, but not without a little tug on it beforehand.

You cleared your throat as he got out of the car. You shut the door for him, and you walked together—slowly, till you reached your apartment door.

When you entered, hongjoong strayed back behind the door, not entering. You turned to face him, eyebrow raised. 

“Come in,” you beckoned, and with one more second of hesitation, he followed you in, shutting the door behind him.

He surveyed the place, his eyes finding the piano that sat in the corner of the room. His eyes danced as if surprised to see it there.

The air was thick. The room was quiet. You tossed off your shoes with ease, noticing his struggle with his own, so you bent down the help him. He didn't pull away, didn't speak. He just let you take care of it—of him.

“I don't mean to be a bother,” he mumbled as you untied his shoe. “But I’d really like to shower.”

You glanced up at him. “Oh,” you nodded, taking off his shoe before standing up. “Sure. it’s the first door down the hall.”

He didn't make any move. He stood, a confused, shy look resting on his face.

And then you realized.

He had no clothes to change into. Nothing. He also only had one working arm, and one covered in material that couldn't get wet.

“I can help you,” you trailed off, trying not to read too much into his stare. 

“If you comfortable with that.”

—

In the bathroom, Hongjoong stood anxiously as you waited for the water to warm up. It took a second, and most of the time, the hot water only lasted so long.

You figured a shower would be too difficult to help him with without seeing too much. You opted for a warm bath, filling the water up once it got hot enough. You made sure to add some suds to it, so he wasn't too uncomfortable.

When you turned around to face him,  his eyes were cloudy, his lips in a line.

“Do you….not like baths?” you mumbled, scratching your head. “I probably should've asked you before I—”

“It’s not that.” His eyes met yours, switching his weight onto his other leg. 

You didn't pry, knowing he was just probably embarrassed that he needed help for something as trivial as a bath. 

Walking toward him, he backed up into the door. You nearly smirked but maintained your cool as you grabbed the plastic bag off the sink counter. “I just have to wrap your cast in this. It'll just be a second. You might want to take your shirt off before I….”

He blinked, eyes wide. “Huh?”

“I don't think you normally bathe in clothes,” you murmured slyly, tilting your head. “Unless you like that.”

He didn't move. His body was as stiff as a board, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

“Just take your shirt off, dammit, or I’ll do it for you.”

You saw his expression change the minute the words left your mouth.

His good hand found the hem of his t-shirt, hesitating to take it off. You realized that he probably did need your help with taking it off, but with the look in his eye, you weren't sure what would happen if you got any closer to him.

But you moved closer, anyway, setting the plastic bag back onto the counter. His back was nearly up against the wooden door, his breath hitching as your fingertips gently pulled at the fabric.

“Why are you….so okay with this?” he breathed before you could pull the shirt up.

You met his gaze, his eyes unreadable. Almost as if he didn't know what he was feeling, either. 

“I told you already,” you shrugged, smiling.

He blinked, his eyes red with emotion, begging to send a flood down his cheeks. “I don't deserve your help.”

“You do, though.” Ever so slowly, you began to pull his shirt, soft, carved abs appearing as you moved it up. “Because you know, you don't have to suffer alone.”

“Who said I was suffering?” he croaked out, his eyes, his tone, spilling his guts out on the floor for her to see. 

You didn't say anything. You just slowly tugged the black t-shirt over his casted arm, watching him wince slightly. Then, he stood, half-naked, emotionally charged in front of you. He was no longer a stranger. No longer someone that you classified as a patient, either.

His eyes spoke volumes, his good hand twitching at his side. You looked at it, and took it in your own.

“Come on,” you nodded behind you. “I’ll help.”

He looked like he was ready to cry. Ready to break down. He didn't, though, and you walked him over to the bath. You unbuttoned his jeans, but turned around as he stepped out of them and into the tub. 

The soap covered his lower body, all that was on display was his torso, his slim shoulders, the tattoos inked on his tanned skin.  He didn't break away from your gaze as you began to wash him.

“I feel….something I shouldn't be feeling,” he swallowed, his voice raspy, tender, defeated. 

“And what’s that?” you wondered before running your hands through his silky hair, coating the strands in your lavender shampoo.

He shut his eyes, sighing. “I don't know what it is, but what I do know is, for some reason, your touch is very calming when everyone else’s hurts me.”

You paused, hands still tangled in his locks, but he opened his eyes.

A confession of feelings—worth more than any other cliche words. He stared up at you, heart on his sleeve, confusion and fear and everything in between dancing around his eyes.

“For the first time,” he whispered, the only sounds in the room being your shaky breathing and the quiet trickle of water from the spigot. “I feel…comfortable being touched. I….need it.”

His lips parted, his hair dripping wet, your hands still frozen within the strands. You didn't know how to respond, didn't know exactly how you felt, either. But you also knew one thing, and it became ever so apparent as his hand slowly reached your cheek, wet fingertips leaving a trail of soap across your skin.

You blinked slowly.

Softly, gently, you moved forward, over the tub, and brushed your lips against his. His eyes remained open from shock, but his lips moved slowly along with yours.

You pulled away, but didn't go too far, resting your forehead against his. His breaths tickled your skin, sending a blush to your cheeks. 

Emotions are complex. You didn't know exactly why you kissed him. Why you needed to. Why you wanted to do it again. But what you did know was that you liked how his touch felt, liked the little smile that appeared as you kissed him, liked how he gently pulled you back into another kiss.

You took in his breath as you kissed once more, this time a bit more urgent. Your hands gripped his soapy hair, his hand rested softly on your cheek, his thumb on the corner of your lips, his fingers tickling the lobe of your ear. 

He kissed you like he knew you forever. Like he knew just how you liked it. You found your hand trailing down his tattooed neck, fingers dancing on the ink, his dewy skin, his tongue in your mouth.

You parted once more, so close, breaths tangling, fingers scrunching. His breath was hot against your face, his dark eyes pleading.

You’d so get on top of him in that damn tub. You wanted to, so bad. But you remembered that his arm was hurt, that you were the one that did it, and you nearly stood up to move away before he gripped you by the arm.

“Don't go,” he breathed hazily.

So you didn't. You washed him, this time, knowing that you were begging to end this bath and fuck him silly till the sunrise. Till the warm, glow of the burning star fluttered through your blinds. And with that damn look on his face, you knew he was thinking about it, too.

You helped him out of the bath, not turning around this time. He stood slowly, body on full display, even more tattoos, even more scars covering the skin you didn't get to see. 

You sheepishly handed him a towel. He took it, but didn't use it to cover himself up.

“You’re not dating that damn doctor, are you?” he spoke, his tone serious, deep. Sensuous. 

You breathed out, “No.�� 

He grinned, cheshire-like. “Good.”

You could tell he wanted to rip your clothes off. He wanted to claw at your skin like some goddamn animal, his expression pained in all of the right ways. 

You needed air. God, this bathroom was stuffy.

Turning on your heel, you forced yourself to walk out of the damn room, because if you didn't, Hongjoong would become something far more stranger than, well, a stranger to you.

But he had other plans. More impulsive plans.

He followed you out of the bathroom and into your main living space. He gripped your hand, his fingertips gently pressing into your skin. When you turned to face him, he was dripping wet onto the lightwash wood floor, beads of water collecting on the ends of his hair. His eyes were wide, begging you for something, anything.

So you gave up on your act.

“Do you want to fuck me right now?” you wheezed, smiling as his eyes widened even more. “Is that what you want?”

You stepped closer to him at his silence, and arched your body against his bare torso, feeling the hardness of him press your thigh, his lips begging to meet yours once more.

You teased him, lifting your mouth to his, letting out a sigh. He shivered as your hands felt up his bare skin, and your hot breath tickled his face. 

He nearly growled, his good arm wrapping around your waist swiftly, tugging your body towards him completely, holding you here as his mouth crashed to yours. His broken arm begged to touch you, too, and without thinking, he moved it quickly. He hissed in pain, his arm definitely hurting him, but he didn't care as much as you did. You tried to part from his lips, to ask him if he was okay, but he bit hard down on your lip to keep you from speaking. 

You moaned while he stuck his tongue down your throat, his hand now tearing at your top, your waistband. You hurriedly tore off your clothes for him, giving him no second to stare at your body before tossing yourself onto him again. He grunted, moaning into your mouth, the vibrations tickling every part of you. He pushed you back, nearly tripping over the throw rug, the coffee table, until your back slammed into the keyboard of your piano.

The keys slammed as your ass hit them roughly, the musician making music without even intending to. His hips bucked into yours, your core right where he needed it, his dick pulsing, aching to be inside you. You lifted your hips, grinding them against his cock, gaining pleasure in his expression.

He nearly whined as you bit his ear lobe, his hips shifting into you, begging for you.

“Can I get inside you?” he moaned, eyes frantic. “I need you, fuck, I need it bad.”

In more ways than one, he needed you, but now, he needed your body. Needed your touch, your moans. You obliged, your body already wet enough for him to enter. You lined up, and without a second to waste, he slowly moved into you, causing you to toss your head back at the feeling. His eyes rolled back; a whine left his pretty pink lips, his chest heaved in pleasure.

His head dipped to suck your nipple, tongue gliding over the sensitive skin of your breast. You huffed, trying so hard to breathe. He let out moans that did something dangerous to your body, to your mind. You moaned along with him as his hips snapped.

“Oh, god,” he whimpered, his tone light, airy. Water dripped onto the soft skin of his chest from his hair. “You feel so good.”

You smiled, tearing your hands up his back as the piano cried along with you. The keys clicked, moaning from the weight above them. The music filled the room, tangled within your breaths, your sweat. You gripped the back of his head, lacing your fingers through his wet, dripping hair, feeling yourself get wetter and wetter by the minute.

Your walls caved into him, his cock pulsing inside you. He looked into your eyes for a long moment as he moved, his black hair stuck to his forehead, his mouth open in gratification. He kissed you, tongue dragging across your bottom lip, tugging on it. He liked to bite.

You felt euphoria reach you before you knew it, and you cried out, gripping his hair, pulling it as he fucked you. His face pained, his teeth barred, his eyes shut tight. Just his expression—his appearance—could've made you come on the spot.

You felt tingles in your fingers, and your toes, and saw stars in your vision. Black spots fluttered, your heart rate probably much higher than it should be. You didn't care if you died right here, right now. It didn't matter. Nope. This was bliss. So much better than that damn vibrator.

You felt like you were on fire—no, more like a falling, burning star crashing to earth. Your stomach ached at his pressure, your hips aching, your head pounding. You came onto him with haste as your vision blurred, tearing into his shoulder blades, leaving little marks on his skin. At your actions, you witnessed the look of utter satisfaction on the pretty boy’s face, his breaths quickening, shallowing. He let out a whine, just as musical as the keys underneath you.

Before he could come, he pulled out, cumming all over your breasts, your stomach. You sighed, closing your eyes, trying to catch your breath.

He stared at you, eyes low, lips swollen and red. So fuckable, so delicious. 

He looked at how he painted you, smirking a bit to himself. He was so full of life, full of emotion. “Let me go grab that towel,” he breathed, his voice crackling a bit. You watched in enjoyment when he walked away from you, watching his ass, his legs, the tattoos move with him.

He returned with the towel, wiping you gently as if he hadn't just made you nearly black out. You gazed at him, not sure what you were feeling, how you were feeling. You could do it all night with him, with this guy who was a stranger only a couple of days before. It wasn't too often that you acted on your desires, but there was no possible way you were supposed to avoid this, avoid him.

When he was done, when you were clean, he set the towel down on the floor, but his eyes didn't leave you. 

“What?” you hummed.

“Just,” he breathed, smiling. “That was really good.”

“I hope so,” you chuckled the feeling of the room lightening, almost in a playful way. “I hope this wasn't your goal all along—you really freaked me out when I hit you.”

He looked down as you jumped off the piano. “Uh, yeah. I bet I did.”

You moved to him, gently reaching to hold his cheeks for him to look at you. “I got you now, huh? No more running in front of cars, unless it's mine. I’ll be prepared next time.”

His eyes widened as if he was shocked by your words. That you knew he did it on purpose. He didn't deny it. He just leaned into your touch, eyes closing tight in comfort.

“Like I said,” you started, giving his lips a little peck. “I’ll look after you, if you’ll allow it.”

He took in a deep breath, opening his eyes, meeting your sincere gaze. His lips curved up. “I’ll look after you, too.”

You smiled along with him. You wrapped your arms around his waist tightly, embracing him, feeling even more intimate than sex. He let out a shaky breath, as if finally realizing he wasn't alone, didn't have to be. That he deserved a caring touch, a longing touch, a needy touch. That he could actually have something to himself.

You didn't know what you were to each other, and it really didn't matter. There was no need to label it so specifically. You could be his rock, his personal nurse, the person to stitch him up when he gets hurt. The one he could confide in, have sex with, whatever he needed. Whatever you needed. 

So when he kissed the top of your head while you hugged him, you tightened your arms just a little, holding onto him as long as he’ll let you.

You’ll look after each other.

[misctf]

Me and my buddy get along well but I don’t have a father and for some reason I feel like I look up to him. He’s a brunette hockey player who really cares about his body and tracks all of his cals. Any way you could spike one of his beers and give me the best exjock dad ever?

“Let’s go!” Your bro throws down his game controller and looks over at you. His confident smile adorning his handsome, angular face, “I used that same move on the ice the other day.” His clear excitement is infectious and you can’t help but smile.

It was another one of your usual game nights with your bro. The two of you sitting on the couch, controllers in hand, playing some hockey videogame. And even though he always seemed to win, you just enjoy the moment. Your friendship started out when you were younger- the two of you meeting in grade school. And as the years went on, you grew closer. You’d go to his hockey games and cheer him on. He’d fill in as that male role model you needed. When you went to college, he’d continue playing hockey, while you focused on your studies. But you continued to enjoy each other’s company. But this was your last year, and he planned to move across the country. The very thought was painful. Losing him would be tough.

“Hey, you good?” He asks, “I told you I wasn’t going easy.”

You smile, “I was wondering,” You begin, “I know you don’t like beer...”

“Gotta keep these toned.” He says, running a hand down his exposed abs.

“But it’s bro night.” You continue, “I got some special beers for us.”

He seems to consider the offer. Part of him looking a bit apprehensive. After all, he spent much of his time focusing on maintaining his body. His lean muscles and thicc hockey butt were all products of his careful diet and dedicated workouts. But he could tell it would mean a lot to you. He nods slowly.

“One won’t hurt.” He says with a grin, “Cheers to another game night.”

Part of you feels relieved. Another part of you feels somewhat apprehensive. If the man you bought this beer from was telling you the truth... well, you didn’t know what to think. It was probably some prank anyway, and you probably wasted the money. You hand him a solo cup with the beer in it.

“To bro night.” He smiles and takes a sip of the beer, “You know, I’m gonna miss this.” You feel a pang of sadness in your chest, “But we’ll always be bros.”

You nod, taking in his words. Feeling a sense of impending loss. Wishing you could just enjoy these moments forever.

“I’m gonna miss this too... dad.”

He looks over at you and raises an eyebrow, “What did you just call me?” He chuckles.

And you can see it. A few hairs starting to emerge from his once clean-shaven face. A few greys appearing in his brunette locks. Was it true? Was this stuff really going to do what the man said it would?

“Nothing, dad.”

And as the words leave your lips, your buddy groans. His youthful skin starts to lose its glow. A few wrinkles appear on his forehead. And the hair on his face sprouts into a full beard. His hands rush to scratch his new facial hair and his eyes widen.

“Bro, what the hell...” He whispers, “Something’s wrong...”

“What do you mean, dad?”

You watch as his brunette locks begin to recede and his tan vanishes. All the while, small, itchy hairs start to sprout from your buddy’s chest and abs. At this point, he stands up and runs his hands down his new body hair. There’s a look of disgust and confusion on his face, and you can’t help but feel bad for him. After all, he did pride his clean-shaven look.

“You keep calling me dad.” He says, staring at you, “And now...” He catches a glimpse of his receding hairline and aged skin in the mirror, “Bro, please. Whatever you’re doing, you gotta fuckin’ stop.”

You could tell he was getting angry. But you were still marveling over the effects of this drink. You couldn’t believe it was actually working.

“Bro, are you even listening to me?” He says, “Please! You can’t...”

“Sorry dad.” You reply, putting even more emphasis on “dad.”

The effects are more dramatic. Your buddy lets out a pained moan and falls to his knees, gripping his abs. You can see tears fall from his eyes as he realizes his firm abs are feeling softer. And in only a few moments, his abs are covered by a thick layer of fat. And another. And another. And although your buddy is too busy squeezing his new flabby stomach, you can see his pecs fill with fat and sag, resting atop his new gut.

“This can’t be...” He winces at his new, gravelly voice, “Oh god, I sound so old.” He looks up at you, tears still staining his eyes, “Dude, come on... please... I can’t be this.”

A part of you feels bad, even guilty. Your friend’s anger replaced by fear. His confidence shattered. His toned physique truly replaced by that of a middle-aged dad. Part of you wants to reverse this. But you don’t even know how.

“I...” You bite your lip, “Look, I don’t even know if I can undo this, dad.”

Your buddy shuts his eyes and shakes as the short hairs erupt into longer follicles. You watch as a forest of hairs emerge from under his shorts and travel down his legs. His new gut and soft chest are covered in a forest of gray and dark hairs. And you realize now there’s nothing left of your old buddy, at least physically. His receding hairline, gray hairs, gut, and hirsute form all scream middle-aged dad. He slowly stands up, wincing at a pain in his lower back and knees, as he becomes more familiar with his new age.

“Dude...” He whispers, “What did you do?” You can hear the anger return to his voice.

“I didn’t want to lose you, bro.” You say, “And I’ve always looked up to you. And truthfully, I’ve always wanted a dad and the beer promised it could do that. Just as long as I called whoever drank it dad.” Your friend looks shocked and picks up the solo cup.

“Good one dude.” He laughs, “Okay, okay you got me. Maybe if I drink the beer and you call me bro or something, I can return to normal.” He says hopefully, “I promise we can forget all about this.” The desperation starts to creep back into his voice, “Just... please I don’t want this.” He begs.

You’re not a bad person. You even feel a bit guilty. And part of you even wants to do as he suggests. But another thought enters your head. Would he be able to forget all about this? Would he forgive you? You bite your lip and sigh.

“I’m sorry,” You can see his eyes widen in terror, “Dad.”

He drops the beer in his hand, causing the beer inside to spray everywhere. His eyes glaze over and his jaw goes slack. A part of you worries for a moment, but slowly he smiles. There’s no evidence of concern on his face.

“Ah sorry, I spaced out there for a second.” He chuckles, “Looks like I made a mess.” He goes to bend over to pick up the cup, but winces, “Damn back’s been acting up.”

“Don’t worry dad.” You say as he sits back down on the couch, “How’re you feeling?”

“I’m good, I’m good.” He reassures, “Come on, we have to finish our game.” He says with a grin, grabbing the game controller, “You know, I was quite the hockey player back in my day. Well before this.” He chuckles, patting his beer gut.

“I know.” You reply, sitting next to him, “You tell me all the time.” The two of you start to play, and you immediately notice his videogame skills are not where they used to be. But you’re enjoying this moment- going on as if nothing changed.

“Look at that!” He cheers when he scores a goal, “I told you not to take it easy on me, son.”

You go to reply but you feel a warmth coarse through your body. You quickly shake your head and return to the game. And only a few minutes later, he scores another goal.

“You doing okay there, son?” He asks.

And again, you feel a warmth coarse through your body. You look down at the controller and can’t help but notice that your forearms look a bit thicker- your hands meatier. You shake your head and look up at your dad.

“Uh, I’m good dad.” Your voice even sounds deeper- somewhat dumb too, “I-I gotta go to my room.”

You stumble towards your room, feeling somewhat off balance. Entering your room, you’re immediately hit by the smell of intense BO. The same way your bro would smell after a hockey game. There’s gear on your bed and random posters of hockey players on your walls. You barely have time to comprehend what’s going on, when you hear your dad’s voice.

“Hey son, are you okay?”

You groan as your muscles begin to contract violently and your shirt tears from your growing musculature. You can see yourself in the mirror- abs, thicc ass, and lean muscles- the body of a hockey player. And you realize that you’re becoming your dad’s ideal son. Somehow, the beer that splashed on you had the same effects as drinking it.

“Wait dad!” You call out, wincing at the oafish jock-like tone that saturates your words, “Please...!”

“Son?” He asks opening the door.

And your eyes glaze over. Your jaw goes slack. And you feel your mind warping and changing. Any memories you had of your old life or self are being forced into the very back of your mind- all to make room for your new existence as a smelly, ripped, hockey jock. Your dad’s perfect son.

“God it reeks in here.” Your dad laughs, patting you on the back, “Must be workin’ hard out there.”

“You fuckin’ know it.” You reply, eyes dull, “It’s gonna be a good game tomorrow, pops.”

“You learned from the best, champ.” He smiles, “Now come on, we got a game to finish.” You smile, “I want to show you one of my favorite moves. Worked every time. Maybe you can try it out on the ice tomorrow.”

“For sure, pops.”

You follow your dad back to the couch. The two of you playing videogames late into the night, filling the air with boisterous cheers as you played. You couldn’t have asked for a better dad. And he couldn’t have asked for a better son.

[heavyhitterheaux]

Sorry For My Actions, All That I Projected (NSFW)

Synopsis: An argument ensues between you and your husband making you pull away from him when you were only trying to lift his spirits. You give him space just as he requested, but he was soon asking for forgiveness and thinking of the best possible way to make it up to you

Pairing: Husband!Joe Burrow x Wife!Reader

Requested by: a gorgeous anon 😘💕

DO NOT ENGAGE IF UNDERAGE

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

The door slammed once again to your shared house with your husband, indicating his frustrations as you were sitting in the living room watching the highlights from the most recent game that he played in. This had been the running theme for what was now three weeks in a row. The lights had been turned down low as you anxiously awaited his return and you already knew that he wasn’t going to be in the best mood. You hadn't been feeling very well and told him earlier that day that you would probably watch the game from home. He nodded his head when you told him as he kissed you goodbye and went on his way.

“Babe…” You started to say once you finally spotted him in the foyer as you sat up and looked in that direction, but he immediately cut you off.

“Not now.” Joe quickly said as he threw his bag to the side of him and let out a sigh.

“I just…”

“Y/N, I can’t right now, okay? I need a minute.”

“Um, okay.” You quietly answered as you went back to looking at the television and quickly decided to change the channel so Joe didn’t have to hear people possibly questioning his abilities. As far as you were concerned, he was the best quarterback ever in the history of the NFL and didn't care what anyone else said about it.

Joe then picked his bag up off the floor before heading upstairs as you continued to sit there and think of ways that you could possibly lift his spirits. He didn't get like this often, but not having a win for three straight weeks after working your ass off in order to get to this point, there was reason for him to be upset. He had confided in you before the season started and this was one of his biggest fears.

But the game that was just played honestly wasn't his fault. He played amazing and you could tell he was frustrated by the actions of some of his teammates. The blame could be put on the defense, but it was well known that it didn't matter. Because of him being the quarterback, the blame would be put on him.

It was now reaching twelve at night and you started making your way upstairs so that you could check on Joe. You found him in your shared bedroom watching the anchors on ESPN practically picking him apart at every chance they got while very few were defending him. You simply tried to take the remote away from him, but he held onto it tighter.

“Baby, this isn’t helping. You don't need to be watching this.”

“I'm fine.”

“No you aren't. You are nowhere near fine, and that's okay. You're frustrated and pissed off and for good reason. I get that.”

“I said I was fine, now can we drop it?”

“I'm just trying to help. I see my husband is upset and I'm trying to make it better.” You told him as you attempted to brush your hand through his hair, but he moved away from you.

The gesture definitely hurt your feelings but you did your best not to let it show.

“I'm going to sleep.” He simply told you as he turned the television off and got under the comforter.

You sighed before making your way into the bathroom to brush your teeth and do your nighttime skin care routine. Most nights Joe would do it with you, but you figured that he would rather not participate tonight and that you were better off not asking him.

While washing the face mask off, a few tears couldn't help but to slip out. The start of the season had been extremely hard on him and it seemed as if nothing good so far had come out of it. You tried not to let it get to you that he was being distant, but all in all it did. You knew he had to focus and having less distractions was important and by now you honestly should be used to it.

Once you were finished and changed into your pajamas, you climbed in bed next to him and could tell that he was still awake from his breathing since it hadn't slowed and debated on whether you should say anything to him.

“Babe?” You softly said and Joe turned around to face you.

“Hmm?”

“Still proud of you.”

It was now Monday night and excitement was evident as you were making dinner and planned to tell Joe after the two of you had eaten about the little one that was now growing in your belly. You hadn't been feeling well for the past two weeks and finally got a doctor's appointment earlier that day leaving Joe at home to sulk and also go to practice which he just recently got back from. After your appointment, you had stopped at the store and got a Bengals onesie along with a tiny football since you also found out that the baby was a boy. The two of you had been trying for a while and it seemed as if when you were about to give up that it finally happened.

Joe had taken up residence at the table once you told him that dinner was ready. You could tell that he was still in a mood, but it didn’t seem as bad as it was the day before and was hoping that hearing the news would turn his bad mood around. You were trying your best to give him space, but also be supportive at the same time. You understood that he had a lot of pressure on his shoulders at the moment.

“Babe, I made your favorite. I was hoping that this would help you feel better.” You told him as you kissed his cheek and he sighed before answering you as you set the plate in front of him before walking back over to the stove to make a plate for yourself.

“Y/N, you seriously don't know how to take a hint do you?”

“What? Joseph, what are you even talking about?”

“You have been all up under me for the past twenty four hours when I want to be left the fuck alone. What is it that you aren't getting?”

Hearing this, you turned around to look at him and noticed that he pushed his plate of food in the middle of the table, indicating that he in fact did not want it.

“Are you serious right now?” You asked, looking at your husband in disbelief.

As many games as he had lost in the past and the injuries he had gone through along with the surgeries, he had never blown up at you and you were not understanding what his issue was. Yes, he was frustrated but the last thing he needed to do was take it out on his wife.

“You act like you need to be under me every waking moment of every day and follow me around like some little lost ass puppy when I lose a game. I already have a mother and don't need another one. Last time I checked, you were my wife.”

“I'm only trying to help and want for you to feel better. I understand that you’re frustrated, but this is not the way we go about things and you know that.” You told him as you were trying to do your best to even your breathing. Because it was only a matter of time before you started to yell at him. You didn't want to do that, but he honestly deserved it because of how he was speaking to you.

“Well I guess this is news to you that you're not helping. None of this is fucking helping. What would help is my wife giving me space when I ask for it.”

That was the last straw and you knew that it was necessary for you to walk away when you looked down at your watch to see that it alerted you about a high heart rate.

“Hmm, noted.” Was all you said before walking out of the kitchen and leaving Joe there with his thoughts.

Tears couldn't help but make their way down your cheeks as you walked down to where your mini library was and you angrily wiped them away. It was a gift from Joe last Valentine's day and that was your place of peace when you wanted to get away from everything. A lot of times when Joe couldn't find you, he knew that more than likely that is where you would be and would always cuddle with you while he also grabbed a book to read or he always loved when you read to him.

Curling up in the corner with your pillow, you placed your phone next to you and opened your book at the place where you left off earlier. If he wanted to be left alone, you didn't have any problem with it. But you knew for a fact that he would come crawling back sooner or later asking for forgiveness.

And you weren't sure if he deserved it.

Regret filled Joe instantly when he saw you walk away from him. He debated on if he should go after you, but he knew better. He would give you time and give you your space to cool off. He got up and began putting all the food away so that it could be eaten tomorrow because he simply didn't have an appetite.

He could admit that the last thing that he ever wanted to do was take something out on you, but he did. He knew that you were only trying to help and the blame couldn't be placed on anything except for him being an asshole who clearly didn't deserve you.

The thoughts were running through his mind as he was going through his ideas of what he could possibly do for you in order to receive your forgiveness for how he had acted, but he was coming up short.

He would simply sleep on it tonight and hoped that things would be better in the morning and that you two could talk and be able to get on the same page.

Waking up, Joe reached for you since you were never one to get up early unless absolutely necessary and instantly frowned when he noticed that you weren't next to him and probably weren't for the entire night when he saw that your side of the bed was completely untouched. He got up and immediately went on the hunt to look for you and found you in the kitchen sipping what looked like tea and reading your book.

Joe cautiously approached you before saying anything, anticipating that you were immediately going to shut him down.

“Babe, can we talk?” He quietly asked and you glanced up at him before putting your attention back onto your book.

“For what?” You replied and Joe muttered a quiet ‘fuck’ under his breath.

“I need to apologize for how I've been acting towards you. You didn't deserve that when you were only trying to be supportive and help me.” He told you as he came and sat across from you. He wanted to grab your hand, but decided against it since you were holding your book and more than likely you would pull back from him.

“I don't want to talk to you right now.”

“Okay… I get it. But um, later?” Joe wasn't surprised at all by your answer and knew that he deserved it.

“No, I'm busy.”

“With?”

You simply placed your bookmark to keep your place in your book before looking up at your husband and folding your hands as you leaned on the kitchen table.

“When that becomes your concern, I'll let you know. And I have things that I have to do. So, therefore this conversation is now over.”

“Baby….”

“No. Immediately no. You do not get to do that. You were an asshole to me and quite frankly, I don't have to put up with it. So like I said, I don't want to talk to you. Matter of fact, I don't even want to be in the same house as you so I'm leaving.” You replied as you got up from the table, put your cup in the sink and walked out of the kitchen leaving Joe sitting at the table just like you did last night.

It was now Friday afternoon and once again Joe was blowing up your phone and had been for the past three days. You had decided to stay with your best friend Jazmine for the time being to let Joe think about what he did. Besides, he did tell you that he wanted his space, so he got what he asked for. You were sitting on her bed while the two of you were watching The Nightmare Before Christmas which happened to be one of your favorite Halloween movies that Joe would watch with you every year. You could feel her eyes on you as she saw you looking down at your phone.

Husband- Baby, can we please talk? I told you that I was sorry. I understand why you're mad but it's been three days since you've been home.

You- You pissed me off so much so don't be surprised if you don't see me until the playoffs and even then you’d be lucky if that even happens. You asked for space, so that's what I'm giving you. Get off my phone Joseph.

Husband- What can I do to make this up to you? I miss you.

You- Oh, now you miss me? Give me my space. Oh my, doesn't that sound familiar? Goodnight.

Husband- Babe, it's only 1 in the afternoon

You- And? I said goodnight Joseph Lee Burrow.

Jazmine glanced over at you before looking back towards the movie on the screen and sighed.

“He still doesn't know? Does he?” She asked inquiring if he knew about the pregnancy.

“No, simply because I was going to tell him that same night that he decided to have a temper tantrum.”

“Well maybe….” She started to say and you eyed her.

“Maybe what?”

“You need to tell him and the two of you need to make up and make up soon. I am not taking up for him in any way, shape, or form, but he has apologized multiple times and quite frankly, I am tired of him also blowing up my phone to check on you.”

“I'll text him the sonogram picture.” You told her as you shrugged and went to your phone gallery.

“NO Y/N! That is not what I meant.”

“And throw the mini football I got at his throat. It won't hurt, it's soft.”

“Okay, I sense that you're still angry, but you need to calm down and stop being petty.”

“You're taking his side.”

“No I'm not! I'm just saying that man loves you and will do absolutely anything for you. He messed up big time, but wants to make it up to you. It is literally only a matter of time before he shows up on my doorstep.”

“You have a ring camera so you can see him. You don't have to open the door.”

“We are finishing this movie and then you are going home to talk to your husband.”

“You're kicking me out? WOOOOOWWWW.” You exclaimed as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“You have a literal mansion to go to! Yes, I'm kicking you out.”

“Will you at least feed me first?”

“You're getting McDonald's and that's it.”

“I'll make sure it takes me three hours to eat it.”

Jazmine simply rolled her eyes in response.

It was now around four in the afternoon when you were finally pulling into the driveway of your house. Sighing, you grabbed your bag from the passenger and made your way inside. You went through the garage and then through the kitchen in order to make your way upstairs in the hopes of Joe not seeing you. You still didn't feel ready to talk to him. As you made your way upstairs into your bedroom, you were surprised to see Joe sitting there scrolling on his phone and sighed. When he heard your footsteps, he immediately stood up and walked over to you.

“Only reason I'm here is because Jazmine kicked me out. I am still extremely pissed off at you.”

“I know because I told her to.”

You did a double take and looked at your husband in disbelief.

“I was desperate and wanted you here so we could talk. Besides, she told me you kept eating all of her snacks.”

Rolling your eyes, you dumped your clothes into the hamper and set your overnight bag in the bottom of the walk-In closet with Joe following behind you. You reached up behind a pair of your shoes on the second shelf and got the Bengals onesie along with the mini football and handed it to Joe who looked confused.

“Uh? Who is this for?”

“You. Even though I should throw the football at your head for how you talked to me.”

“I… wait… you're pregnant?”

“Yes and you would have found out on Monday if you weren't busy being an asshole. I was so excited to tell you, but that quickly went out the window.”

“Babe…. I… I'm sorry. I promise that it will never happen again. You were only trying to help me and I took that for granted. And I also ruined this.” He said as he held up the onesie to examine it.

“Hmm.”

“I bought you some peonies. They're downstairs in the kitchen.” He quietly told you as he played with the football you had handed him.

“I'll look at them later. The baby is a boy and I hope you teach him how and how not to speak to his significant other so he can learn from your mistakes.”

It was still awkward between the two of you after you had come back home from being with Jazmine for a few days. Now that he knew about the little life inside of you, It seemed like every waking moment he was asking you if you were okay and getting you anything that you might need and bringing it to you. You could admit that it was nice and he was trying to do his best in order to make it up to you.

Since you had somewhat finally got your nausea under control, you decided that you would go to the game this week and see him play but made sure to have meds and ginger ale on stand by. It was an away game as they were playing the Carolina Panthers and Jazmine quickly volunteered to go with you. She told you that she wanted to keep you company, but deep down you knew it was because of her huge crush that she had on Ja'Marr even though she would probably never admit it.

The two of you had just gotten situated in your suite because you knew for a fact that if Joe caught you in the stands with regular fans that he would have a fit. An incident occurred last season before his wrist injury which included so called ‘fans’ harassing you. He knew how much you liked being near the action, but from that point on, in order to not compromise your safety, you always needed to be in a suite for his peace of mind.

“Oh! There's your man!” Jazmine said as she nudged you, but rolled your eyes.

“You only noticed because of who he's standing next to.”

“I… don’t ever know what you mean bestie.” She replied as she was heavily eyeing Ja'Marr.

“Sure, sure. I need to get you two to go on a date so that we can all be put out of this misery.”

“He's cute!”

“And single, so shoot your shot.” You told her as you felt a wave of nausea come over you and quickly grabbed your ginger ale taking a sip.

“Tell his bestie a.k.a. your husband to put in a good word for me.”

“I'll see what I can do.”

“I literally can't wait for the double dates.”

It was nearing the end of the game and it looked like for the first time this season that the Bengals would actually have a win which you knew Joe would finally be excited about.

“You know what you should do?” Jazmine asked as she turned to look at you.

“What?”

“He already doesn't know you're here so surprise him in his hotel room. You know where he's staying so….”

“And he always leaves a key for me at the front desk just in case I decide to come to an away game.”

“See? Perfect. Yall need to have make up sex because both of you are still acting awkward around each other when you've seen each other naked and his private parts have been in your mouth and yours in his which is still so weird to me.”

“Jazmine….”

“Like I remember the first time you told me you deep throated him.”

“Jazmine….”

“Had him seeing stars and shit.”

“Jazmine….”

“Just saying. You need to get dicked down. And his first win of the season? Oh girl the paint on the walls needs to be peeling by the time yall get finished.”

“JAZMINE!” You called her name for the fourth time before you busted out laughing.

“What!? What'd I say!? You know it's true. He might end up putting another one in you.”

“Don't you wish that on me!”

“That man is about to turn you every way but loose. You always said you wanted a lot so don't switch it up now. I'm actually surprised yall don't have ten kids already.” She said as she held her hands up in defense.

You rolled your eyes before laughing at her and unlocked your phone to go to your text messages. You read where Joe had sent you which hotel that they were staying at and saw that it wasn't very far from the actual stadium. If you didn't want to hit the stadium traffic, you decided that you should leave now to give yourself enough time.

“What's that look for?” Jazmine asked as she saw the wheels in your head turning.

“I'm about to head to the hotel. That way it'll be easier for me to maneuver because everyone else is still watching the game.”

“Well don't let me stop you. Go and spend time with your man. Just lay on the bed with nothing on. I'll text you when my flight is about to take off.”

Getting to the hotel and getting the key to his room wasn't a problem and you were waiting patiently for him to get there as you were laying down on the bed and scrolling through your phone.

You then noticed that you didn't have a lot of battery left and stood up to get your charger out of your bag when you heard the door open.

Joe walked in and was surprised to see his wife in front of him and instantly smiled.

“I didn't realize that I was going to have a special guest.” He said as he walked over to you and wrapped his arms around you as he placed a kiss on top of your head.

“I decided at the last minute to come and Jazmine volunteered to come with me.” You told him as you stepped back to stare up at him.

“Congratulations by the way. I'm very proud of you. Even though I was proud of you before.” You told him as you reached up to kiss him.

“Thank you. I think because you’re here is why we probably won.”

“I don't know about that. You give me too much credit.”

It was quiet for a few minutes as the two of you simply stared at each other before Joe was the first one to break the silence.

“I hate fighting with you and I'm sorry. The entire thing is my fault and you were just trying to help. Are you still mad at me?”

“How many times are you going to apologize? It happened, we moved on from it. And no. It takes too much energy for me to be mad at you.”

“But I still feel like shit. I can't believe that I talked to my own wife like that. I see why you wanted to throw the football at my head. You had a good reason.” Joe muttered and you stifled a laugh.

“You can make it up to me now, though ” You told him as you let go of him and reached behind you to undo the clasp on your bra.

“How and what are you doing?”

Instead of you answering him with words, you simply pulled your bra out from underneath your shirt and threw it onto the floor after you had taken it off without taking off your shirt.

Joe simply bit his lip before he reached down to kiss you as he backed you up until the back of your legs hit the bed. He gently laid you down and told you to move until you got to the top.

“Move up higher for me.”

Once you did and got settled, Joe was playing with the bottom of your shirt which happened to be his jersey before pulling it up over your head leaving your top half bare in front of him.

Soft kisses were placed all along your body starting from your collar bone and working all the way down until he got to your shorts quickly unbuttoning them. You lifted your hips so that he could pull them away from your body along with your panties and spread your legs wide as he placed kisses along each thigh.

“You're so beautiful, baby. You know that?”

“Hmm, I think that you've told me once or twice before. But I always love hearing you say it.”

“And I'll never get tired of saying it.”

As he held onto your thighs, you instantly felt his mouth on you and a quiet moan couldn't help but to escape your lips.

“Shh. Stay quiet for me, baby. The last thing I want is to hear Ja'Marr complaining that you were too loud because his room is next to mine. I won't hear the end of it.”

“You shouldn't make me feel so good then. And it's not like he hasn't heard us before.” You replied as Joe immediately scoffed.

“Like that's ever going to happen. Keep those legs spread for me or I'll do it for you. You’re already so wet and I've barely done anything.” Joe quietly said as he was running his fingers along your folds making you buck your hips forward.

“I think my wife is growing impatient and she better behave herself because if she doesn't I'll edge her all night. You know I love you, right?”

“Yes and I love you right back.”

“Good, remember that because I'm about to fuck you like I don't.”

—

“Oh shiiit.” You blurted out as Joe was pounding into you as you wrapped your arms around his neck and brought him closer to you so that your noses were touching.

He quickly took advantage of the opportunity and brought you into a kiss before placing your legs on top of his shoulders.

You had lost count of how many times you had hit your peak that night and was surprised that Joe still had so much energy. Seeing as it was now close to two in the morning. You guess you can blame it on the high from winning the game.

Without warning he slipped out of you making you whimper before he moved down to be face to face with your core once more and began to eat you out again which felt like the millionth time this evening.

“Mmm, baby. Right there, stay right there.” You gasped as he began moving his tongue in and out making you squirm.

Joe could tell you were close as he held you down in place and began to suck on your clit.

“Fuck! Babe, I can’t take it.”

“Yes you can. Give me one more.” Joe answered you as he went back to sucking on your clit.

Your back arched off of the bed as no sounds were coming out of your mouth and knew that it was only a matter of time before you came all over his face, as you've done so many times already. Sure enough you felt it building up and tried to push Joe away from you, but he just held onto you tighter.

“I know your ass is not trying to run away from me. I thought you were my good girl. Good girls don't do that.”

Your response to Joe was you squirming all over his face.

“And there it is. I knew you had one more in you.” Joe told you as he placed small kisses all along your thighs. You didn't even bother responding as you were trying to regulate your breathing and Joe crawled back up your body to kiss you before laying his head on your chest.

“Do you forgive me now?” He asked as he nipped at your breasts before taking one in his mouth and lightly sucking.

“Yes, but I had already forgiven you. This was just a plus. But promise me that nothing like that will ever happen again no matter what the circumstances are. We communicate better than that.”

“Promise.”

The two of you laid in silence for a few minutes with your arms wrapped around each other when Joe's phone went off. He reached over to grab it while still holding onto you and unlocked his screen to see that it was a text from Ja'Marr.

Ja'Marr- are yall done yet? Because I have YET to go to sleep. I knew she was mad at you, but got damn.

“See? Baby, I told you that you were too loud.” Joe said as he was trying not to laugh.

[yenqa]

firsts

synopsis — sakusa and you have never had a conversation, and honestly you’re terrified of the man. but one conversation turns out to be many more of your firsts with sakusa.

warnings — reader is scared of men LMFAO, not really any

pairing — sakusa x implied fem!reader

wordcount — 710

a/n — happy birthday to himm! also my first hq post in a while OOPS also not proofread sorry!

You’ve never really talked to Sakusa.

You had been the manager of the volleyball team since your first year–and you had known him since then, but for some reason, you haven’t talked to him unless it’s volleyball related.

In fact–you don’t think you’ve ever had a conversation with him. But there's a first for everything, right?

Itachiyama has made it to nationals (not like it’s a surprise), and everyone has just arrived. The room continues to fill with people you don’t know, so you decide it’s best to stick with your team so you don’t get lost.

Well apparently that was a horrible idea to everyone else. Because you’ve lost everyone but Sakusa. 

And you’re terrified. Surrounded in a room full of men you don’t know sounded like your worst nightmare, and you were living it currently.

Frantically scanning the room for anyone that’s not Sakusa, you somehow can’t spot any of the familiar bright yellow and green jackets your team is wearing.

Everyone knows that Sakusa doesn’t like to be bothered. But when you make eye contact with him, you change your expression to a way where he understands you’re pleading for help.

And he nods once.

Your mouth breaks out into a smile, and you shimmy your way to the crowd. Letting out a sigh of relief–you lean on the wall for support, muttering a small thank you to Sakusa. 

You don’t expect him to say anything back, but you can hear his muffled voice say, “You okay?”

Tilting your head slightly up to make eye contact with him, you smile as you say, “Yeah–I’m fine. Are you nervous?”

You’re not sure why you ask the question, he probably doesn’t want to be bothered. I mean–you were still kind of shocked that he let you even be near him.

“Not really. Are you?”

You’re even more shocked when he continues the conversation. You’d expect he’d be the most rude person if he didn’t want to talk. “I-uhm I am a little bit. But we’re exempt from playing today right?”

Yeah–this definitely is the first and last conversation you’ll ever have with him.

He nods.

Then it’s silent.

Surprisingly, the silence isn't the most awkward thing you’ve experienced. It feels as if you’re just two people co-existing.

You watch as everyone excitedly hugs each other or glares at their next opponent. One person even tries to rile up the other, eliciting a small chuckle from you.

From the corner of your eye you can tell he’s curious, but he hasn’t said anything yet. This time, you take initiative to point at the players, also describing the jacket colors.

And you swear you can hear him laugh.

Not a full–hearty laugh obviously, but a small chuckle. A quiet one that you don’t even notice. But it’s definitely the first time you’ve heard him do anything resembling a laugh.

“You laughed.” You blurt out, before you even realize. 

He furrows his brows, “I did.”

Your eyes widen, “Sorry–oh my gosh, it’s just the first time I’ve heard your laugh before, Sakusa-san. I swear I didn’t mean it like that–you just have a nice laugh–”

And now he’s actually laughing–like not even hard to hear.

He’s laughing, he’s hunched over, shaking and clutching his stomach. You don’t think you’ve ever felt more mortified in your life.

“It wasn’t that funny was it?” You ask, a frown on your face.

Sakusa catches his breath, “Funnier than any of the jokes Komori tries to make.”

“There wasn’t even a joke! And I happen to like the jokes he makes!”

“Only if you’re sick in the head.”

You scoff at his remark, “Wow, Sakusa-san, you’re very hard to please.”

“Kiyoomi.”

“Another complaint?” You tease, trying to play dumb at what he’s trying to imply. 

“Call me Kiyoomi.”

You can feel heat rush to your cheeks, you tuck your hair back behind your ear and mutter, “Okay, Kiyoomi.”

And even though he’s wearing a white mask, you swear you can see his eyes crinkle and you can assume the corners of his mouth turn up ever so slightly. 

You’ve had many firsts with Sakusa today. This is the first time you’ve seen him smile–just maybe next time he’ll do it while his face is fully shown.

yenqa © please do not copy, steal or translate.

[lustfulslxt]

Spoiled Rotten - Chris Sturniolo

summary : chris spoils you like no other and you show him how grateful you are

warnings : chris basically being a sugar daddy, swearing, m! oral, p in v, breeding kink, probably some other shit idk

a/n : hii, it’s been entirely too long. i’m kinda rusty but i hope this makes up for it!!

—

Getting everything you’ve ever wanted, even without having to ask, is something you never would’ve imagined for yourself. You’ve always had to work so incredibly hard for even the smallest things. Hell, you’ve had to work two jobs since you were old enough to work, just to be able to afford your bills.

Having a deadbeat father and a mother who had passed always made your life hard. It was up to you to keep things afloat. Keeping the bills paid, the kitchen stocked with groceries, the house tidy — it was all up to you, on top of having to keep your grades up to avoid the wrath of your absent yet, for some reason, still abusive father.

After your mom died, everything went downhill. Your father spiraled out of control. Because of his own wrongdoings, he took his anger out on you. He lost his job, gambled away the majority of your family’s savings, and spent the rest of it on alcohol and drugs. He made it all out to be your fault. If you hadn’t stepped up and started working your ass off, you’d definitely be living on the streets right now.

So, from where you were only a few years ago, to where you are now — you never would’ve pictured having any and everything you could ever want. Especially, from someone else’s wallet.

Chris’ wallet.

Your boyfriend knew of your previous struggles. He’d been your best friend since you were in elementary, so he witnessed what you had to do to get by. He’d beg and beg for you to just let him help, but you’d always refuse. If your own father can’t take care of you, why would you expect someone else to?

However, after so long, Chris ignored your reluctance and was quick to pamper you. Quick to provide for you. You’re everything to him, and he wants to make up for your sorry excuse of a father.

He moved you in with him after being together for two years. He doesn’t let you pay for anything. Him and his brothers keep the bills paid, as well as food in the kitchen. Anything to do with money, he’s got covered. And he still makes sure to spoil you rotten. Yet, not without a complaint from you.

“Chris!” You pouted, “Will you put your damn wallet away?”

Instantly, he’s shaking his head, “No. I don’t know why we have to keep going over this. Whatever you want, I’m getting. So, stop complaining and accept it.”

“But-“

He’s quick to cut you off with a peck to your lips. When you huff, he only grins and wraps an arm around your waist, continuing your stroll through the store.

Chris is extremely observant, and he knows you. He knows you like the back of his hand. So, when you turn away from something too quick after checking the price tag, he knows it’s something you like. You’re trying to throw him off and act uninterested in the entire store, but he can read you better than anyone.

So, while you’re off browsing through everything, grabbing the few things that you can afford, in hopes of talking him into letting you pay for it, he’s backtracking and grabbing your size in everything you took a liking in. By the time you make your way to the registers, Chris is already swiping his card.

Upon seeing the multiple bags on the counter in front of him, you can’t help but frown. You slowly turn around, heading to put the few shirts you had grabbed back. There’s no use in trying.

When you head back to Chris, he’s eyeing you with furrowed eyebrows. You walk next to him and he’s looking between you and the rack you were just at.

“Did you want those?” He asks.

You quickly shake your head, “No.”

“Are you sure? I can-“

You instantly loop your arm with his and drag him to the exit. You’re extremely grateful, but you can’t help but a little guilty because he spends so much money on you. You don’t want him to feel obligated just because you had a shitty past.

However, that’s far from how he feels. He just loves and adores you, and wants to give you everything you could ever want.

On the way home, Chris has your hand in his while he drives. Your eyes never leave him as you’re deep in thought. Thinking of everything he’s ever done and continues to do for you makes you so happy you could cry. You just want to show him how appreciative you are.

Pulling up to the house, you notice a big box sitting in front of the door. You furrow your eyebrows for a second, before concluding one of the boys must have ordered something. Once you both get out with the few bags, you head over and Chris picks up the box with a giant smile on his face.

You can’t help but smile at his smile, “Is that for you? What did you get?”

His eyes twinkle as he looks at you, “You’ll see.”

You give him a quizzical look before following him inside. Rather than stopping at the kitchen, he goes straight down to your shared room, so you follow him.

He places the box on the floor and is quick to open it. You set your bags down on the desk chair and walk over to him, your brows raised with curiosity. As soon as he gets the box open, he smiles widely and gestures for you to look and rummage through. Which you do. What you see has you gasping.

“Chris! You did not…”

He proudly nods, “I did, baby.”

Inside the box are numerous purses, shoes, fragrances, and several boxed skincare products. All things you had in your online cart. Things you never actually planned on buying, for the prices are too expensive, and you were only having a little fun.

Your heart swells at the gesture. He’s always doing the absolute most for you. There’s never ever been a time where he’s denied you of something you want, especially if it comes with a price tag.

You turn to Chris, a downward smile pulling to your lips as you look at him. He smiles back, only bigger and brighter. You take his hands in yours and yank him into you. Your lips meet his in a soft kiss. When he pulls away, you’re left chasing his lips for another. Passionately kissing him, until you’re both left breathless.

As soon as you part, you’re pushing him back onto the bed behind him. He falls with a bounce and wide eyes as he stares up at you.

Before he gets a word out, you’re straddling his lap. “You’re always so good to me. Let me be good to you.”

It takes seconds for Chris to start growing beneath your center. You lick your lips and lean forward, diving into a feverish kiss. His hands quickly meet your back, rubbing up and down, and along your sides.

You hum against his lips, enjoying the feeling of his hands on your body. Your hands move from his face to his hair, sharply tugging on it, eliciting a groan from him that makes your heat throb.

You pull away, your breathing shallow as you tug at the hem of his shirt. He leans up to assist you in removing it, before taking your lips in his again. Your hands instantly meet his bare torso, touching along his pecks and running your hands down his abdomen. His skin is hot beneath your fingertips and it stirs something inside of your stomach.

Your tongues dance together, moving in perfect sync with one another. The kiss gets sloppy, saliva coating both of your mouths. Chris is now rock hard beneath you, and you can’t help but grind against him, the two of you moaning into the kiss.

Your hands travel down his stomach, hooking onto his belt. Without parting from him, you undo his buckle and pull the belt from the loops of his jeans.

“God, you’re so hot.” He groans against your mouth.

You grin and push him back, his hair fluffing as his head hits the pillow below him. Your fingers grasp the button on his pants and quickly part it, slowly sliding his zipper down. He bucks his hips into your hands, desperate for more friction.

You lean forward, whispering in his ear, “Easy baby.” You place a kiss on his neck, causing him to shudder. “Promise I’m gonna make you feel so good.”

With one last kiss to his lips, you remove yourself from his lap and kneel beside him. He lifts his hips up to help you pull his pants down, his boxers following shortly after.

His cock stands tall, fully erect. Precum dribbles from the tip as his veins practically throb. Your mouth is watering at the sight. You take him in your palm, gripping softly. He takes in a sharp breath at the feeling, already fisting the sheets.

You stare into his eyes, puckering your lips, and push forward a jewel of saliva. It falls onto his head, trickling down his length, causing his mouth to fall slack as he takes you in.

You never cease to amaze him. Looking so innocent, but about to swallow him whole. He loves everything about you, especially the way you wrap your mouth around him.

Your tongue flicks over the slit of his tip, causing him to let out a small groan. You smile and wrap your lips around his head, sucking softly.

“Fuck..” He whispers, breathlessly.

Letting your mouth salivate even more, you continue teasing him. His breathing is erratic, eyes wide as he watches you. He so badly wants to shove his dick down your throat.

Luckily for him, you stop with the games and take him into your mouth. You force yourself down to the base, your nose pressing into his pelvic bone. He lets out a throaty moan at the feeling of his tip digging into the warm walls of your throat.

You flatten your tongue and begin bobbing your head up and down, working his cock the way he loves. Occasionally humming around him, pulling more moans from his pretty mouth.

“So fucking good.” He groans, bucking into your mouth.

His hands entangle in your hair as you look up at him and give him the slightest nod, keeping your mouth on him. His grip on you tightens, holding you in place as he begins thrusting in and out of your mouth.

The sounds of wet gagging fill the air, topped with his moans and groans. Your eyes prick with tears before they’re soon falling down your cheeks. Your face is flushed and stained with mascara streaks, drool falling down your chin. Chris can’t help but think you look the prettiest you’ve ever looked as he fucks your throat.

Your hand cups his balls, softly massaging them. His moans grow louder from the sensation, his orgasm approaching rather quickly from the combined stimulations.

His thrusts into your mouth grow sloppy and disorganized. His stomach tightens and his arms flex as he’s pushed over the edge. His hands push you into his dick, holding you in place as it bulges through your neck. He tosses his head back with a lewd moan leaving his mouth, his cock simultaneously spilling down your throat. It’s warm as it smoothly coats your throat, almost like honey when you’re sick. You love every bit of it.

Licking around his member, you pull your lips from him, making sure to suck every bit of cum from him. He groans at the sight of you swallowing every drop, and instantly pulls you up to him with a rough grip on your jaw.

He smashed his lips on yours, kissing you deeply and hungrily. Your pussy throbs for more, aching to be filled with his cock. It only takes a few seconds before he’s flipping you over.

He kneels between your thighs and tugs at your shirt, swiftly removing it. You bite your bottom lip in excitement, ready for him to fuck your brains out. His hands are quickly at your shorts, tugging them and your panties off in one motion. Him being eager to be inside you has you clenching around nothing.

His hands grope your bare tits, squeezing them in his palms. Your soft moans only encourage him. One hand goes back and forth between them, tweaking your nipples. His other hand slides between your legs, running through your folds.

He hums, “So wet already. Does sucking my cock turn you on? Hm?”

You only nod, your bottom lip still pressed tightly between your teeth.

“Mm, such a good little slut for me.”

You whine at his words and push your core into his hand, desperate for more. He pulls away from you, his hand suddenly coming down on your pussy in a quick motion, causing you to yelp as your body jerks. Your arousal only leaks more than it was. To which he notices.

He pouts, “Aw, you like that? You want it rough, don’t you?”

Your head quickly shakes up and down, whining as he rubs your clit. “Yes! Please, please. Want you to fuck me dumb.”

It didn’t take much for Chris to become fully erect again. You always do it for him. The second he kissed you after you swallowed him, he was growing again. That’s something you both love. Sometimes, you can go round after round.

He takes hold of his dick and runs it along your pussy. You whimper from the feeling, slightly grinding down into him. After a few teasing touches, his cock his saturated with your juices, making it easier to slide into you.

Your walls stretch around his girth in such a painfully pleasurable way. Your breath is stripped from your lungs as he bottoms out. You’ve never felt so full. His breath staggers from above you, loving the way you hug him so snugly.

He waits for you to adjust, and once he feels you aren’t so tense, he begins rocking in and out of you. Soft moans leave your lips as your hands run up his arms and grip his biceps. He leans down and presses a few kisses to your hand before picking up the speed.

“You feel so fucking good.” He moans, his strokes deep and hard.

Your mouth falls open, continuous moans emitting from it as your eyes roll back while your head falls to the side. Chris nudges your head to the side and attacks your neck with wet and sloppy open mouthed kisses. His hand suddenly wraps around your throat, applying a great pressure as he pushes himself up. His opposite hand grips your tit before smacking it, causing you to moan and clench around him.

“Look at me when I’m fucking you.” He grits, his hips snapping into yours with a strong force.

You want to look, but you can’t. Your eyes are practically stuck rolled into your head. You can hardly breathe with how hard he’s fucking you. Before you can even try, his hand slaps your face. Not enough to cause damage, but enough to feel the remaining sting. You can’t help but gush around his cock, loving every bit of it all.

You forcefully put your head down, eyes straining to focus on him. And boy are you glad. His hair is slick against his forehead, his skin glistening with a sheen layer of sweat. His cheeks are flushed a rosy pink color, his lips plump from your previous make out. His brows are furrowed in concentration and his entire face is struck with absolute pleasure. He looks like a dream.

You reach your hand out to caress his face and he leans into your touch. You love that he can still be sweet while completely wrecking you.

“Tell me how you feel.” He groans as he fucks in and out of you.

You bring your bottom lip in between your teeth, biting hard to control your moans. Though, it doesn’t work as your jaw drops and loud cries fall from your mouth.

His hand meets your jaw, slightly jerking to snap you out of the blissful trance he’s put you in. His eyes are dark as they bore into you, reiterating with every thrust, “Tell me. How you. Feel.”

Your face contorts in pleasure, sobbing out in between thrusts, “Mm, so good. F-feels sooo good, baby.”

“Such a good girl for me.” He coos, breathlessly.

Your mouth falls open, silent moans leaving it as he fucks into you. You’re on cloud nine. Your body feels on fire as pure bliss floods your veins. You can’t help but repeatedly clench around him as your climax nears. Your face contorts in pleasure, nails digging into his arm, leaving behind crescent shapes in his skin. The knot in your stomach tightens before unexpectedly snapping. You clench around his cock, your juices saturating him as you come undone.

He moans at the feeling, burying his face in your neck as he drops down again, digging into you deeper and deeper. “Gonna fill you up, ma. You’d like that, yeah? Give you my babies? Just wanna have even more to give you, you drive me fucking crazy.”

You soak in his words as you come down from your high, your legs immediately wrapping around his waist, pulling him into you. He smirks at your action, pressing a few sloppy kisses on your lips.

“Yeah, I knew you’d like that.” He moans as his thrusts grow erratic and out of rhythm.

His grip on you tightens, surely leaving behind purple finger shaped bruises. He buries cock into you, loudly groaning as he fills you up. He keeps fucking into you, determined to give you all he’s got. As soon as he can’t take it anymore, he pulls out and collapses beside you.

The two of you lay there, sweaty and panting, trying to recover from your intense orgasms. You both meet eyes, silly grins pulling to both of your faces. Neither of you have ever loved someone more.

Before succumbing to the exhaustion he felt, Chris perks up and leans over to his bedside table. “Oh, I got you one more thing.”

He turns back to you with a small black bag in his hand, offering it to you with a bright smile. You look at him with a pout, before taking the bag.

“When are you gonna stop with this?” You question, cheekily adding, “Aren’t your kids enough?”

He chuckles at you, “Just open the bag.”

So, you do. Inside it is a small black wallet — a wallet that is known for being one of a kind. Its intricate patterns are displayed along the material, the infamous logo engraved in the corner. You open it up to further examine it, your brows furrowing at what’s inside. Upon retrieving it, you look at Chris with a deadpan expression. His black credit card.

He smirks at you, “Yours now baby. No limit, so don’t even bother asking before you swipe it.”

—

a/n : ughh, okay so tbh i rushed the ending bc i ended up losing half of what i had since my cellular device is a literal piece of garbage. anywho, fingers crossed this was enjoyable lmaoo. it’s gonna take a minute for me to get back into things! missed you guys tho <3

taglist : @luv4kozume @worldlxvlys @flowerxbunnie @sturniolowhore @creamoncreamoncream2 @lvrsparadise @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @tillies33ssss @chrissfavwh3re @its-jennarose @sophssturn @defnotayonna @ksskianshd @d0wnbad4chris @braindead4l @avasturn @knowingnothingnoel @luverboychris @remussbitch @stunza @rootbeerworshiper @dracoflaco @strnlsblog @venusbabysblog @domaniquessidehoe @mattslolita @junnniiieee07 @pepsienthusiasts @gamermattsgf @cupidsword @iloveneilperry @leprechaunbirthdaygirl @luul223 @matt444nixi @sturniololol

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

please please please more hockey cregan

Synopsis: You both agreed it was casual when you began this situationship with the Wolves’ hockey captain. It was exactly what you needed at the time. But, as time passes, it’s getting hard being a chill girl — because you're not. Every time you hear him tell people it’s nothing serious, it stings a little more. Because in your heart, it hasn’t felt casual for a while now

Three times Cregan tells people you’re not together, and one time he does

After weeks of waiting, my new modern!Cregan fic is here!! Sorry for the long wait. October was stressfull and busy (creating halloween content is fun but also exhausting!), and then my mom got bad health news and that turned my whole world upside down. I hope you'll like it <3 Please send more hockey au requests, i love writing them

Warnings: 18+, sexting (sort of), oral (f receiving), car sex, misunderstanding, men being clueless and blind

—

You: A little something so you think about me while on the ice 💕

You: [picture attached]

It was cruel, but you liked to tease Cregan before his games. Especially the away ones where he wouldn't be able to touch you after. Today, you went with a simple snap of your lace panties, the kind you knew made his dick painfully hard. 

Cregan: Fuck 🥵

More messages appeared on your screen. 

Cregan: Hate when you do shit like that 

Cregan: How am I supposed to be getting ready for the game?

Cregan: Little minx! 👿🖕🏻

You were tempted to send another picture, to push with the teasing. You could imagine Cregan in his bedroom, in his gray joggers, cursing as he felt his dick stiffen from the sight of your underwear. It was almost 5pm, and he needed to be at the arena an hour early for warm ups and some locker room talk. If he jerked off now, he would be in a time crunch for the arena. You didn’t want him to get in trouble. 

You: If you win tonight, I might let you take them off 

It was crazy to wear a skirt to a hockey game, but you didn’t think of the cold air of the arena when you got dressed. All that was on your mind was the after-game party at the hockey house…and Cregan’s delicious cock inside you. The Wolves were playing against the Lions tonight — easy win —, so he’ll still be full of energy after the game. In other words, tonight will be a long and fun night.  

‘’Aren’t you cold?’’ Rhaena’s eyes fell on your bare legs.

You shrugged. ‘’Nothing I can’t handle,’’ you brushed off. 

The reason you dressed like that was so you wouldn’t need to go back to your dorm to change. You could go straight to the party. At least you wore a sweater over your corset bra. You would get frostbites by exposing your nipples to the arena’s cold air. Not pleasant. Although Cregan probably wouldn’t mind warming them up with his tongue later. 

‘’You’re lucky Baela’s not here tonight,’’ Rhaena said, pulling you out of your naughty thoughts. ‘’She would have lectured you about the risks of getting sick and spiraled about how irresponsible it is to risk getting the whole campus sick. People will miss classes, possibly fail their trimester, and blah blah blah.’’ She laughed, perfectly imitating her sister’s softer voice with a tinge of scolding. ‘’Nursing school is getting to her.’’ 

Sweet Baela. You were curious how she’ll make it as a nurse if she continued being this stressed about sickness. It was sweet of her to care, but she really needed to relax. 

A group of girls came to your row and next to you. One of them had a hockey jersey on — a girlfriend, assumingly —, and the others were dressed casually. If you remember correctly, her name was Talisa. You gave her a smile, then turned your attention back to Rhaena. 

‘’How was your date with Luke? You never told me.’’

Judging by the smile on her face, it must have gone well. 

The hockey house was packed, the typical crowd buzzing after another one of the games. Players, friends, usual fans, and even people who didn’t go to the game came to bask in the afterglow of a win. It’s an ambiance no frat party can match. 

You walked through the crowd, expertly dodging a spilled beer incident as you searched for the Wolves’ captain. You saw some of the players around, shower-damp hair and a beer in their hands, so they must have begun to arrive at the house. 

While you waited, you busied yourself with a drink and sent Cregan a little teaser. 

You: Come find me 🍒💋

You: [video attached]

The video had been taken prior to the game. Just a short little video of you groping your tits, which were spilling at the top of your corset bra. 

Although he claimed to love all of your body, Cregan Stark was a breasts man. He liked to lay his head on them, suck on them — and come on them —, and to use them as stress balls. They fit perfectly in the palms of his hands. 

So, when you hit ‘send’, you knew he would search the house for you and drag you to his room. 

Standing in the kitchen in all his post-game glory, Cregan was laughing with his teammates like he didn’t have a care in the world. A joke about one of the rookies — they get teased a lot. His laughter came short when he opened your text, not expecting a fucking video. He held back a groan as he watched you play with your tits, wishing he had his hands on them right now.

Cregan must have been staring for too long because Ben peered over to his phone screen to see what had taken his captain’s attention. ‘’Ohh, nice tits! Who’s that?’’ 

Beside him, Jace took a look too. He whistled, agreeing with Ben.  

‘’Damn, is that your girl, Stark?’’ another teased, taking Cregan’s phone to get a better look and replaying the video again. 

Cregan shook his head, taking a sip of beer. ‘’Nah. It’s casual.’’

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

‘’Did you see my bra?'' you asked as you walked around Cregan’s bedroom in your panties and one of his shirts, searching for the missing piece. ‘’I can’t find it.’’

Cregan, still lying in bed, barely lifted his head to glance around. ‘’Eh, no,’’ he muttered, too lazy to really help. 

You sighed, hands on your hips as you scanned the room. It had to be somewhere.

He pointed lazily toward his dresser. ‘’I think it’s by my gym bag, over there.’’  

You raised an eyebrow. His gym bag? How could it have ended there? 

You bent down and checked, pushing aside sneakers and a Wolves hoodie. ‘’Are you sure? Because I see no bra here.’’

‘’Search deeper, maybe you should see to get glasses,’’ he teased, a smirk playing across his mouth as his eyes stayed glued to your bent-over form, obviously enjoying the view more than helping you search.

‘’Cregan, it’s not there! Maybe you should get glasses,’’ you returned, your tone showing your patience was running thin. ‘’Are you fucking with me right now?’’ 

His laugh gave him away, and that’s when you realized what he was doing. 

You shot him a glare over your shoulder. ‘’You’re an ass.’’ You stood, his shirt covering your thighs again. ‘’And I thought you liked my tits better?’’

“I do.” Cregan smirked, leaning back into the pillows, arms behind his head. “But they’re covered right now, and your ass is right there in my line of sight. So I’m appreciating the view.”

Before you could shoot back a reply, his phone buzzed on the bedside table. His smirk faded as he reached over to grab it, glancing at the screen.

“Hi, Mom,” he said, voice dropping to a softer, more polite tone.

You, too focused on hunting down your missing bra, didn’t even notice the phone conversation. Where was that damn bra? You could go home without your bra — you had other ones — and free the nips on the way to your dorm, but it was your favorite and you needed it back. 

Finally, you spotted it half-hidden under the chair. “Got it!” you exclaimed, holding the bra up triumphantly. “It ended up under the chair. Probably wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t flung it across the room like an animal last night.’’ 

 You laughed, but it died on your lips when you heard a woman’s voice faintly from the phone. Cregan’s mom.

‘’Cregan, was that a girl I heard in the background?’’ her voice asked, clear enough in the now-quiet room. ‘’I didn't know you were not alone.''   

Cregan stiffened as he fumbled for an answer. ‘’Eh...''

‘’Bring her over for Thanksgiving next weekend,'' his mom cut in, excited.

‘’I don't think—''  

‘’Sara is coming with her girlfriend, the more the merrier!''

‘’She's not my girlfriend, Mom. She's just... She...'' 

‘’Oh. Got it,'' she replied, the awkwardness sinking in over the line.

You couldn’t believe he said that to his mother. He could have said you were a friend. It would have been discreet and more respectful to you. But no, he told her you were the girl he was taking to his bed when he needed to empty his balls. 

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

Panties pulled to the side, you had one of your feet on the dashboard while Cregan was knees deep in the passenger seat with his mouth on your cunt. A symphony of mewls and moans was slipping from your lips, your head thrown back against the headrest of the seat. Going to the backseat would have been a smartest idea, but it was filled up with hockey shit and unusable. 

To make more room, the passenger seat of the jeep was pushed as far as it would allow, but Cregan was tall and broad — it was simply impossible to make it comfortable for him. He didn’t seem to care that it was cramped and that he could barely move. All he cared about was watching and hearing you squirm from his tongue. 

You gripped his shoulder, fingernails digging through the thick material of his sweater, needing something to grip as he sucked on your clit and sent jolts of pleasure up your spine.

It’s crazy what a 9pm trip to get In-n-Out can lead up. The puck bunnies who hung around the team would throw knives at you if they knew where you had him right now…

‘’I’m close— Aah, please don’t stop.’’ You pushed your cunt against his face, as if it wasn’t glued to it already. ‘’If you stop I’ll fucking kill you, Stark.’’

Cregan was very tempted to stop just to mess with you — he took pleasure in that —, but instead kept going, his stubble scratching your inner thighs as he kept his head buried between them. 

The jeep's interior filled with the sounds of your ragged breathing and the wet, desperate noises of his mouth working against you. You felt the buildup, that white-hot tension coiling tighter and tighter until it finally snapped, sending you tumbling over the edge. Your thighs trembled around his head, and your hips bucked uncontrollably as a loud moan escaped your lips. Cregan kept going, drawing out every last shudder, his tongue working you through the waves of pleasure until you were nearly limp in his hands.

He finally pulled back, a crooked grin curling on his lips as he looked up and slapped the crotch of your panties into place on your sensitive cunt. You winced and glared at him. Could he be a little more delicate? 

You watched as he opened the passenger door, getting out with comical difficulty. What was he expecting?

He moved to the driver side and turned on the car, swearing when he saw the time. ‘’Shit.’’ Cregan ran a hand through his hair, and searched for his phone, quickly typing a message to someone. ‘’Do you mind if we’re making a little detour on the way? I was supposed to pick Jace up, but we got…carried away and it completely slipped out of my mind. I’ll drop you off after.’’

Couldn’t he take a bus or an uber? You felt uncomfortable about someone other than Cregan seeing you like that — fucked out. You must be looking a mess with your panties going up your ass from being pulled to the side and your skirt all hiked up, face flushed from your orgasm. 

‘’Yeah. It’s fine,’’ you said with a forced smile, shifting on the seat to adjust your clothes and trying to regain some composure.

After a few minutes of driving, Cregan pulled up to the curb where Jace was waiting. He got in the Jeep, complaining about all the junk that was on the backseat while pushing it away to make space to sit. 

When he finally clicked his seatbelt, his eyes flickering over your disheveled form and messy hair with a raised brow. ‘’Were you two on a date or something?” he asked, his tone carrying a teasing edge, not minding his business. ‘’Because you both look a little messy over there.’’

You felt your heart rate pick up. Was this a date?  A date at a fast food place was not very romantic, but you couldn’t imagine Cregan taking a girl on a date at a fancy restaurant. It wasn’t him. He preferred simple things. 

But this was not a date. 

Maybe it’ll be one day.

Cregan rolled his eyes and shifted the Jeep back into drive. ‘’Shut up. We were not on a fucking date. We just got In-n-Out.’’

‘’And you didn’t take anything for me? I thought we were best friends, man…’’ Jace shook his head in disappointment.

The words stung, but it was his tone that hit deeper, as if the idea of a date with you was too absurd to even consider. It twisted something inside you, and you hated yourself for letting things drag on this long, pretending it was still casual when, in your heart, it hadn’t felt that way for a while now.

When you got to your dorm, you sent Cregan a text saying it was over between you. 

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

''I don't want to be mean, but what were you expecting?'' Rhaena said, lounging on the couch beside you and Baela. Her tone was blunt, like she was stating the obvious, and it stung more than you cared to admit.

You had just finished telling them how you had called it off with Cregan — if you could call it that. 

''Rhaena!'' Baela shot her sister a sharp look.

Rhaena shrugged, unfazed. ''It's known that hockey players don't do girlfriends. Clearly, he didn’t want anything serious; he just wanted sex. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have stayed casual for so long.’’

You didn’t expect Rhaena to turn on Cregan so fast, but it was comforting to hear that she had your back.  

Baela shook her head, letting out a sigh. ‘’They're not all like that, Rhaena. Don't put everyone in the same basket. Cregan had a girlfriend for three years before college.''

Your brows shot up. A girlfriend?  

‘’How do you know that?’’ you asked, surprised. Cregan never mentioned any past relationships. 

‘’Alysanne told me,’’ Baela explained. ‘’She and Cregan used to go to high school together. Apparently, he had a tough time after the breakup and never had a girlfriend since.’’

That would explain why he never brought it up. Any why he was always correcting people when they assumed you were his girlfriend. Maybe that relationship scarred him so much he was scared of commitment now? 

Rhaena scoffed. ‘’So it’s a valid reason to treat Y/N like that?’’

Baela glared at her. It was not what she was trying to say. ‘’Of course not. I just think it’s best to try to understand the other person’s side before jumping to conclusion. Girls are not the only ones who can get hurt from relationships, guys too.’’ She turned to you. ‘’What did he say when you told him you had feelings?’’

You looked down at your lap. ‘’I…I never told him.’’ 

Unexpectedly, Baela hit your arm. 

‘’Why did you do that for?!’’ You rubbed the spot, frowning.

‘’For not telling him!’’ Baela said, exasperated. ‘’Guys are blind as hell. They don’t pick up signals. If you don’t tell them you like them, there’s chances they’ll never make a move.’’

You turned to Rhaena, who agreed with her sister about needing to be straightforward with guys. So, maybe the reason he corrected everyone was because he didn’t want them to get the wrong idea because this situationship was what you agreed on? 

And they dare say girls are complicated and confusing… 

‘’Well, that’s a bit late for that, isn’t it?’’ you concluded. ‘’Besides, if Cregan liked me, he would have said something when he got my text or called. He didn’t. Case closed.’’

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

 The case was not closed.

A few days later, Cregan was in the living room of the hockey house, hunched over on the couch with a controller gripped tightly in his hands. He was playing Call of Duty with Jace and was sorely losing. Every time his character took a hit, he grunted and smashed the buttons like he was trying to punch a hole through them.

''If you break the controller, you buy a new one,'' Jace warned, not even looking up from his own controller.

Cregan rolled his eyes. ''I'm not gonna break the damn controller,’' he snapped.

''Could've fooled me," Jace shot back, a smirk across his face. "Smashing the buttons is not gonna help your game, bro.'' 

Cregan grunted in response, and just as he got his character back on his feet, he got taken out by a sniper. Again. The muscles in his jaw tightened. ‘’Bullshit," he muttered, slamming the controller onto his thigh. "This controller's definitely broken. Let's switch, Jace."

Jace snorted, still lounging on the floor with his back against the coffee table. "Your controller's not broken, you’re just shit." He looked over at Cregan, who was glaring at the screen like it had personally offended him.

‘’Or, maybe our captain is sexually frustrated,’’ Ben chimed in as he wandered in from the kitchen, a bag of flamin’ Cheetos in hand. He plopped onto the couch next to Cregan, crunching loudly. ‘’You've been playing shit on the ice too, and you’re irritable.’’

Cregan shot him a look. ‘’I’m not—’’ 

‘’He got dumped by his girl, Ben,’’ Jace interrupted. ‘’So little Cregan’s getting lonely.’’ 

‘’First off, she was not my girlfriend,’’ Cregan said, setting the record straight — again. ‘’How many times did I tell you that? And second, don’t call my dick that. Actually, don’t call it anything.’’ 

Ben laughed. ‘’We should make you a Tinder profile so you can find a girl to fuck tonight or tomorrow, and we can have our captain back just in time for Friday’s game. What do you say, Jace?’’ 

Jace grinned, picking up on Ben's suggestion right away. "I’ll even help you with the bio, Cregan. How about, ‘Hockey captain, terrible at video games, but makes up for it in other areas’?’’

Cregan groaned, tossing a cushion at him. ‘’Fuck off. I don’t need a Tinder profile.’’ 

‘’But you do need to get laid,’’ Ben reminded, eating some more Cheetos. ‘’Why don’t you call that girl with the nice tits? You know, the one who sent you dirty pictures the other day?’’ 

His question was answered with the darkest glare.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

The Wolves broke their winning streak since you called it off and lost every game. According to the whispers on campus, Cregan’s head was not on the ice. 

Baela tried to convince you that it was because he was thinking of you, but you laughed and told her she was ridiculous. If Cregan was thinking about you, he would have called. 

It wasn’t until the first fall of snow that you got a text from him, asking to come by the house to pick up a few things he had found in his room. Nothing worth going seemed to be missing, but you went anyway. 

The house was quiet when you got there. Robb let you in and said Cregan was upstairs. The door was open, but you still knocked on the doorframe, announcing your presence. Cregan turned, and you had to fight the smile from your lips. It’s been a while since you last saw him — you missed him. 

He greeted you with a hug, which you accepted. It was a brief but warm embrace, the scent of his pine cologne faint, yet familiar.

As he pulled back, you saw he was wearing shorts and a hoodie, a strange combo for late November. 

‘’Thanks for coming,’’ Cregan said, not really knowing what to say. 

‘’Well, you said you had some of my things,’’ you replied softly. The silence that filled the space was a tad uncomfortable, and you shifted your weight on your feet.

He nodded, remembering why you were there in the first place, and grabbed a bag — which contained your things. Cregan handed the bag to you, and as you took it, your fingers brushed lightly. A brief moment of contact, that sent a subtle spark through your fingertips.

The bag was light. Probably just a thong or two, and maybe a hair scrunchie. ‘’Is that everything?’’ 

He nodded again, but before you could turn on your heels and leave, Cregan stopped you. ‘’Actually, there's something else," he said slowly, his hand moving to rub nervously at the back of his neck. ‘’Can we sit down for a minute?"

You were momentarily thrown off by the request, but nodded nonetheless and took a seat on the edge of his bed, while Cregan sat beside you, leaving a small gap between the two of you. The last time you sat on that bed, Cregan’s cock was deep inside you and you were clutching his sheets.

‘’I want to apologize for how I treated you when we were…together-but-not-together,’’ Cregan began, snapping you out of your dirty thoughts. ‘’I didn’t realize I was hurting you when I was correcting people. I was just making sure people wouldn’t label us something we were not. I’ve never been with a girl outside a relationship before, so this was completely new to me. I didn’t know the dos and the don'ts, or how it worked…other than the having sex part.’’ He let out a dry laugh, then continued. ‘’I know it’s not an excuse. What I’m trying to say is, I truly didn’t mean to make you feel unworthy.’’ 

You listened as Cregan admitted his mistakes, and fidgeted with the hem of your sweater’s sleeve to keep your hands busy — to stop yourself from reaching for him. He hadn’t intended to hurt you, his lack of experience in situationships had gotten in the way. 

His words hung in the air, and you could hear he was struggling to find the right words. It didn't feel rehearsed, he was genuinely apologizing and opening to you. Cregan was never one to lay himself bare like this. Feelings were not something he often discussed.

‘’If anyone is unworthy, it’s me. You’ve always been kind to me, even when I treated you poorly in your face.’’

You took a slow breath, steadying yourself. ‘’It’s okay, Cregan. What’s past is past.’’ 

He shook his head. ‘’No. It's not okay.’’

‘’We both agreed it was casual. I should have known better than to expect anything serious…’’

‘’What if I want something serious too?’’ 

You raised your head toward him, meeting his gaze for the first time in weeks. 

‘’I didn’t ask you to come over just so you could pick your things up,’’ he admitted, his voice low. ‘’It was an excuse to talk to you, to see you…and hopefully fix what’s between us.’’ His hand inched a bit closer to yours on the bed, like he was considering reaching for you but hesitated. ‘’Being away from you made me realize what you meant to me and how important it was having you in my life, close to me. I miss your perfume lingering on my sheets and seeing your face in the stands cheering for me. I miss the way you feel in my arms. I miss hearing your voice, teasing me and making me laugh — I haven't laughed properly in weeks.’’ Cregan’s eyes were fixed on your face as he spoke, studying your reaction.

It was rare that you were speechless, but you truly didn’t know what to say. You came here to pick up a few personal items, and ended up listening to Cregan apologizing and confessing his feelings to you.

So you decided to make him laugh. ‘’I have to agree, your sheets do smell better after I’ve been in them. My expensive perfume doesn’t smell like sweaty balls.’’

Cregan cracked a smile, his eyes flashing with amusement. ‘’My sheets does not smell like sweaty balls.’’ 

They didn’t. 

‘’But they do smell better when you’re there,’’ he added, his voice low and his eyes never leaving yours. 

You tried to resist his charm and him, but he was just too good at working his way back into your good graces. With that irresistible northern accent, he’d flirt his way out of anything, his words always smooth and a little too convincing. And when he looked at you with those soft, pleading eyes and that crooked, boyish smile… Staying mad wasn’t exactly an option.

You leaned to kiss him, but before your lips could touch, Jace’s voice came from the hallway, asking Cregan about getting food. 

‘’Oh, Sorry. I didn’t know you had a girl over,’’ he said, pausing in the doorway when he spotted the two of you. It was clear he’d interrupted something, hence why he apologized.

‘’No just a girl. My girl,’’ Cregan corrected, making you smile.

—

House of the dragon taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @domoron  @ididliquorice @lover-of-helios @lover-of-helios  @shine101 @tanyaherondale @mikariell95 @serrendiipty @lantsovheiress @gilliananderfuckme @shine101 @tetgod @clayzayden @memeorydotcom @tnu-ree @futuregws @blackravena @winxschester @mysteriouslydelightfulchaos @xxlaynaxx @secretsthathauntus @pilarxxxaguayo @emmavan39 @stargaryenx @erylilly @bbblackmamba @rainedrop97 @dreamer087 @gothicgay14 @ashlatano7567 @superkittywonderland @justaproudslytherpuff @evesolstice @buckysmainhxe @padfootsvixen @scarletmeii @evesolstice @dkathl @kaywsworld @tetgod @padfootsvixen @domoron   @weird-addiction @angeliod @xjennyx2 @adaydreamaway08  @mymultiveres  @secretsthathauntus  @puffycreamcakes @thirsty4nonlivingmen @naty-1001 @katiepie67 @moshpot24x @hc-geralt-23 @lovelynerdytraveler @saturn-sas  @zgzgh @sssjuico10 @tabloidteen @timetoten @deekaag @wondxrgurl @aerangi @strmborns @astridyoo15 @daemonslittlebitch @queenbeestuffs @severewobblerlightdragon @agentstarkid @msliz @vane1999-blog @fairyfolkloresposts @todaywasafairytale07 @otomaniac @zgzgzh @thebeardedmoon @golden-library @kikyrizuki @hnslchw @camy85 @winxschester @armstrongscommentsection @withfireandbl00d @randomstory56 @JudgmentDays-Girl @darylandbethfanforever9 @darylandbethfanforever9 @aegonswife @dakotapaigelove @jays-bullshit @blublock404 @Icefyre19 @paulilvsremus @mfedits @aemondwhoresworld @angrybirdxx @YarianyIrizarry @frutiloopslupin @minedofmoria @aleemendoza2425-blog @quinquinquincy @Rosey1981 @maria-reads-everything @eddieslut69 @barnes70stark @baybaybear @prettyduckling22 @Briefwinnerpersonaturtle @darlingcharling-blog @deliaseastar @Wolfgirl-205 @visenyareads @Nanaldy @Lovelywiseprincess @not-neverland06 @newtmyhusb @mikimimic

All and more taglist:  @kenqki @hawkegfs @gillybear17 @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade  @mellabella101 @vxnity713  @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart  @xyzstar  @graceberman3   @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @idkwhattonamethisblogs  @lexasaurs634  @notasadgirlipromise @zoeynicolas @thejuleshypothesis @multi-fandom-bi-bitch @lexasaurs634  @notasadgirlipromise @thejuleshypothesis  @katherinejess  @rafesgirlstuff   @lafleshlumpeater @iamluminosity  Anouk nani-2305 @books0fever @papichulo120627 @qardasngan @ghostlyvoidydragon @M0rgans1nterlud3 @dahlia-blossom21 @Spacexdrago @nhlfs