#that never fails to suck even when i get More sleep than this so i really don't know if it's even worth it.
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remember being a teen and watching shit like soul eater and kimono jihen and thinking god damn i wish I had a perpetually exhausted but badass mentor to help me get through things?
well now im 27 and im the perpetually exhausted mentor with bedhead and a slight alcohol problem to my 15 year old cousin and im gonna tear my hair out about not being able to just let her stay for a bit because i know it doesnt matter fuck all what i say to her dad, shes still gonna be treated like shit just because shes a moody teen with undiagnosed add and an autustic brother who constantly talks over everyone. i suddenly need a cigarette.
#like he was going on about shes doing bad in school because she sleeps late and all she needs to do#is got to bed early!!! reset her internal clock!!#BRO IM LITERALLY RIGHT HERE AT 27 STILL ONLY FALLING ASLEEP AT 5AM AND WAKING AT NOON BEVAUSE THATS NOT A THING YOU CAN CONTROL#ESPECIALLY WITH ADD/ADHD.#IM LITERALLY DIAGNOSED I CAN TELL YOU YOURE WRONG AND I CAN EVEN SOURCE THE ARTICLES THAT EXPLAIN WHY#FUCKING ARE YOU KIDDING ME#im still mad cause i sat with with poor kid while she tried to keep from bawling her eyes out because she made a snarky comment#about her brother talking about his coin collecting (and to be clean its not jus tthat he cant understand social cues he just literally#never stops making noise. we all know he cant control it but we also all know its because his parents denied he was autistic until he was 21#despite the fact he stopped maturing at 11. we love him.to death but oh my god i cant handle it for two visits a year#Of course his sibling feel like they live in an insane asylum)#like yeah it was a rude comment but fuck can you blame her?????? when shes silenced because he talks over everyone then gets awkward#because she has no idea what to say when she DOES get the chance to speak of course shes going to resent him#ALSO NOT TO MENTIONT HE FACT SHES CHINESE AND WERE ARE ALL VERY VERY WHITE#SHES GOT OTHER SHIT SHE SHOULD BE IN THERAPY FOR#DO NOT MAKE IT MORE COMPLICATED FOR HER BY BRINGING ACTUAL SYMPTOMS AND HER SCHOOLING INTO THIS#My god i hate academics like the world does not end because you failed a math class. i dropped out at 16 and all the useful skills i have#i gained after the world opened up when i left and i wasnt being told no thats not on a standardized test you cant do that#im much fucking happier and frankly intelligent than the rest of my family thats wasted time on universities#and like being happy is what matter#why would you wsnt her to be âsucessfulâ if she isnt also happy#like if school fucking sucks for her then why send her to a rich white private school and fucking SUMMER SCHOOL#imo thats just abuse#like the graded education system is inherently abusive anyway but its worse when its pushed on her like that#i need to move so we have room out east for her to come stay and maybe do some classes free of them#but i dont work and cant drive so i cant help her#hell i can barely take care of myself#but im just so fucking mad on her behalf and she doesnt deserve to feel this way#its happened twice in the three days shes been here#just they all need therapy but they need to fucking listen to her ans i know she wont even feel okay speaking up
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this time im really gonna do it!
#ENTIRELY forgot ab a big gdes assignment because she made it due half a week early (her work is ALWAYS due next wednesday after she gives it#us but this time it's this friday 8am)#stayed up til midnight working on it & it still looks like dogshit. gotta be up at 630am tomorrow and#that never fails to suck even when i get More sleep than this so i really don't know if it's even worth it.#this is also RIGHT AS she's been spending the whole week telling us she's DONE with ppl turning in late work etc...#anyway i didn't fucking get a shower didn't get to grab clothes for tomorrow which sucks because it means ill be#wearing the same shit as today because my sisters still in my fucking room!!! didn't get to look through my new spinning stuff which ive#been waiting for for weeks n am so excited for.... gah.#i know its said 2 not trust ur brain after 11pm + i should just go Sleep#but. consider. i know im going to wake Up feeling fucking doomed and exhausted. which really isnt a great incentive.#and i don't even fucking have any way to incentivize myself because i can't engage in any of my brain go brrr interests on my nice friday#afternoon because i have zero privacy!!!! and im not looking forward 2 my weekend because i work all saturday + busy all sunday. ghgghhhhh.#txt
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Statistically Speaking...
part of the svt TA collab
kim mingyu x reader
word count: 21k
contains: TA! mingyu, fluff, smut [minors DNI], angst, statistics, ur honour they're stupid for one another, descriptions of stress exhaustion and burnout, academic burden, disagreements, mingyu is smart as hell, shitting on bad professors, smut but its a surprise [gyu gets his soul sucked while he's reciting statistical models I mean what]
words of conviction from @highvern: Kim Mingyu, total asshole , 1-800-HOT N DUMB , THEYRE IN LOVE MINGYU SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU LOSER , sick fucking freak , i know when you wrote this you put your head in your hands , OHHHM YW GOD
synopsis: In all your years of academic endurance, youâve never failed. A 100% success rate, despite you cutting it close at times. However, the line graph that is your life starts tanking somewhere around the time you began taking this hellsent Statistics in Psychological Research class. With a professor that wouldnât know his ass from his head, and an overworked, overenthusiastic, and overcaptivating TA, it couldn't possibly get any worse than this. However, statistically speaking,âŠit could.
[a/n]: this fic is set in the same universe as @highvern's wonu fic endpoint [read here!!!], some insight for wonu's pov is included here as is some of Mingyu's pov in cam's fic if you'd like to see more about what happens in the gaps!!
I want to start by thanking everyone who chose to be part of this collab fic and for being the reason cam and I were able to open up @camandemstudios in the first place. everyone's been so kind and cooperative and I still cant believe we managed to convince such amazing writers to join us on this collab journey đ„č I love u guys
Thanking my wife camothy @highvern for brainstorming with me since day one and for betaing for me. @seokgyuu and @miabebe for also looking over the doc and reassuring me. I'm for sure forgetting someone and I'm really sorry about that, know that I appreciate you just as much đ€
on that note, I hope you guys enjoy this fic, im HELLA nervous for some reason so plsplspls remember to reblog and send me feedback on how you liked it, I will love you forever <333
masterlist
Monday
A normal person wouldâve cried. Perhaps even sued the entire institution for all it was worth. Burn down the world, if it came to it.Â
But as you stare at the tiny 37/100 on your screen, you feelâŠnothing.Â
You couldâve said you saw it coming, which you did, but something about blaming someone else for an exam you took was beginning to feel a little manipulative.Â
Clicking off the student portal, you huff loudly, five in the morning too early for you to begin breaking down over a grade that was completely unreflective of what you were taught.Â
Or maybe it was, because as you count one, two, three hours till your dreaded Statistics in Psychological Research class, you can only hope youâll hold back from spitting in your professorâs coffee. But alas, you can only shut your laptop harder than necessary for what it costs and push the grade out of your mind.
You were tired enough to sleep for a couple more hours, and you take it as an opportunity to spite the entire course by giving just as many fucks as your professor did. Â
Which was little to none.Â
That was a lieâon your part anyway. Because you continue to show up, and probably will until you can put this course and all of its trauma behind you. Even now as you feel the inclining beat of your pulse sitting in the white lecture hall, you know this is all but you versus the universe.Â
Dr. Cho might as well have wheeled himself into the room on a skateboard with the way he struts into the room.Â
Heâs wearing a denim jacket with the sleeves cut off and jeans of a matching finish that do not fit him properly. Thereâs pins in every last colour on this earth, littering the front of his jacket with sayings that toe the silver controversial lining. There was one that said Vote for John F. Kennedy, another plain black one with I Eat Kids, and of course, the blaring Cunt written in cursive, pink sparkly letters.Â
This man thatâs pushing into his 60s stands before his slightly wilted class in his crocs, hands on his hips as he heaves a long breath.Â
âI have to say, not the turn out I was expecting on that last report.â
Heâs talking about the report you coincidentally failed, the same one you were pushed into with little to no direction and a deadline tighter than any youâve had to bully yourself through.Â
âAll I can say is to read through the feedback Iâve given and try a little harder next time.â His voice is somewhere bordering comical exasperation. Feedback that consisted of sparing â?ââs and ânoââs with zero further explanation. He could say more, but youâve learned that he simply chooses to not.Â
Besides the man that drones in the front of the room, thereâs another person in the other corner of the lecture hall. Heâs hunched over a giant pile of papers, sifting through each and every one with a pen in his other hand.Â
The TA doing a mundane task is somehow more interesting than whatever seminars of disappointment your professor was giving. Heâs crossing something out on every single leaf of paper that he flicks through, and you vaguely wonder if those were todayâs worksheets.Â
â...and post hoc tests last week, we can start on Bayesian today. Mingyu will be handing out the tutorial papers.â
The poor TA looks like he thought heâd have more time, snapping his head up to look at the professor with an expression of pure incredulousness. He staggers for a moment before heâs flicking past the pages even faster somehow, striking out what seems like the same instruction in the giant pile of papers meant for an entire lecture hall. Thereâs a rustle as about a hundred laptops are being pulled out and booted up, waiting for the worksheets to land on the desks.Â
You hear the familiar warble of papers being passed out and you watch as the TA pulls chunks of sheets out of the giant stack in his arms to slam down onto the front tables.Â
âPass it down, please⊠pass it down, pleaseâŠâ
Thereâs a voice that calls from one of the front seats, âWhat formula is the sheet talking about?â
Mingyu looks startled as he snaps back to look at the blaring empty whiteboard. In the midst of passing papers, you watch him sprint to the rolling whiteboards, pulling one of the giant flats of white over to the other side, the mechanism slamming into place with a louder than comfortable slam. It reveals another whiteboard underneath with the detestably long formula already written (and the one youâd have to figure out yourself).
 The professor remains with his chin in his hands behind his laptop, unphased.Â
By the time youâve registered the foreign symbols on the board, one of the tutorial papers has made it into your hands.
Sure enough, thereâs a quick line across one of the steps with a thick black marker.Â
Blinking hard, you attempt to pull yourself into the zone, staring at the white sheet with words that are barely stringing themselves together. Nothing out of the ordinary, especially as you lift your head to find hunched shoulders and furrowed brows all around.Â
Thereâs one person thatâs zipping back and forth, just like there always is.Â
You watch as Mingyu hunches over certain laptops and whispers in rapid explanation before moving on to the next, a looming sense of dizziness that trails behind him as he shoots up the stairs to the back rows to help someone else.Â
Thereâs a brief consideration to raise your own hand to ask for help, but one look at his disoriented gaze and the amount of hands that shoot up by the second, you guess it wasnât going to help.
Back you go, hunched over the same wretched paper as everyone else, and praying for some divine revelation.Â
Tuesday
Divine revelation did not come to you, but the good sense to make use of office hours did.Â
So here you are, a printed copy of your supposedly horrid assignment and a pack of multicolour pens in your tote, and determination in your stride, you make your way to the department building.Â
Youâve double, triple, quadruple checked the times to ensure you donât dip in at the wrong moment, swiping open your phone to re-check the room number yet again.Â
Standing outside the door, you knock with mustered confidence, waiting for something akin to an affirmative from the other side of the door.Â
Nothing.Â
You knock again.
Silence.Â
You glance around the empty hall before grasping onto the cool brass handle of the door, wrenching it open just a peep. Poking your head in, you find the roomâŠempty.
The chairs and tables that usually buzz with discussing students lay barren as you step into the room. Moving to look at the front of the room, you inhale sharply as you realise the professorâs desk has been occupied this entire time.Â
Except heâs asleep.
No, thatâs not the professor.Â
Moving closer, you watch the way his back rises and falls ever so slowly, head resting on his arm as his hand hangs limp off the table. Whipping your head around with more attention this time, you attempt to find an explanation written on the walls. But thereâs none, even in the papers that litter the table he rests his head on.
You donât need to see his face to know itâs the TA. But as you stand in the empty room, clutching the straps of your tote, you arenât quite sure what to do.Â
Another glance around the table and you realise his laptop remains on, the screen yet to sleep. Before the obvious issue of a blatant invasion of privacy can befall you, you take a step forward to take a peek.Â
Itâs his schedule, a million colours blaring on the screen in a colour coded regard with barely any white spaces. It doesnât take long to find his time slot for right now, red with importance.Â
Glancing down, the man remains fast asleep, pen still in hand as it inks a faint line on the page. You look around the room for the nth time, taking constant glances back at his laptop that tells you heâs actively missing something right now. Clearing your throat, you hunch over a tad bit.Â
âUm, excuse me.â He hardly moves. So you try a little louder, hunching over his sleeping form even further. âExcuse me.â
You couldâve sworn you heard a snore.Â
Out of instinct, you bring a hand forward to his shoulder, shaking ever so slightly as you call for him again. âExcuse me!â
Thereâs a sharp inhale and he shoots up quicker than you can back away, ensuring you get an entire backâs worth of force as he bumps into you, hard.
âWhâow!â The noise is collective, yelps and thuds as you both back away from each other.Â
âWâwhatâre you doing here?â he asks, hair still ruffled and eyes barely open as he stands at the table. Thereâs a bright yellow sticky note on his right cheek, ink scribbled on in something you canât decipher.
âUm, itâs officeââ
His eyes land on the same screen you were peering into just before and it looks like his life flashes before his eyes, widening at the sight as he slams around the table looking for something.Â
âI have to go,â he announces, gripping onto an unstrapped watch as he registers the time, his other hand shoving his laptop and a few papers into a dark messenger bag.Â
âWait, isnât it still office hours?â you call out as he whizzes past you.Â
Heâs swinging his bag over his shoulder and half tripping to the door as he calls out, âWednesdays and Thursdays.â
âButââ
âItâs on the portal.â
âNo itâs not.â
âYes itââ he pauses as he exhales loudly, closing his eyes and bringing a hand to rub across his tired face. âIâll double check. But itâs Wednesdays and Thursdays from now on. You can wait till I get back if you really want help.â
âHowââ
A loud slam! of the door.Â
ââlongâŠâÂ
Youâre left draped in silence yet again, the echoes of the slammed door ringing in your startled ears. It all happened too fast for you to process, blinking rapidly as you registered that you were now alone in the room.Â
He said heâd be back, but left you with no indication as to when. By the looks of his god awful schedule, it looked like he had something else to attend to right after whatever it was he buggered off to right now.Â
Fingers clenched into a fist, you consider your options. You could wait, sit on one of the desks and try to get some work done until he gets back.Â
The universe gives you your answer as the door opens with a loud creak in the empty lecture hall. Itâs another professor who looks quite startled to find an overenthusiastic student already present for class.Â
She stares before craning to look at the room number outside the door, âAm I in the right room?â
âUh, yes! I was just leaving,â you buffer out, moving to shuffle out immediately.Â
Youâre halfway out the door when you hear another call of an âExcuse me!â
âAre these your papers?â The professorâs full arms are up as she gestures to the still littered table.Â
The No is ready on your lips. Until it isnât.Â
Later on, youâd consider how you left that room with an armful of papers that did not belong to you. How youâd ducked under the table to ensure youâd gotten everything, down to the leather strap watch with the cracked clock face.Â
But as you stare at the stack of files and sheets that lay on your desk at home, you only know of the decent act that youâd committed.
And nothing of the hourglass youâd just turned over.Â
Wednesday
In your Sent box are three emails sent on three separate days, all asking the same recurring question, all responding with the same recurring reply.
I wanted to confirm the days and times for office hours. Iâm aware itâs on the portal but Iâd like to reconfirm.Â
Regards, YN
Dear YN,
Wednesdays and Thursdays. 4 to 6 PM.
Kim Mingyu, T.A.Â
So there you were on a Wednesday afternoon, 3:59 PM sharp, outside the lecture hall where office hours have always been. With the same tote hung on your shoulders, with the same printed assignment and pack of multicolour pens, and a separated stack of files and folders, you wrench the door open with bated breath.Â
The blended murmur of the usual hustle and bustle of the appointment reassures you first, the sight of scattered students of familiar faces reassures you second. And most of all, a conscious TA that sits at the professorâs desk, speaking to another student over a laptop screen.Â
The man does nothing to acknowledge your arrival, continuing above the babble of students that occupy the chairs and the discussion. It isnât too full, but considerably busy nonetheless despite how early youâve swooped in.Â
Thereâs a brief consideration whether this was in the TAâs job description at all, craning your neck to take a full sweep of the room to find a sparing glimpse of the man who should be here. The professor and his loud fashion choices are nowhere to be found.Â
The sigh you let out is heavy and full of an emotion you cannot possibly begin to unpack, taking a seat on one of the unoccupied chairs to slump against. Shoulders sagging, you feel every fibre of your being screaming against your better judgement to pull out some work and to be productive while you wait. Reading over your failed assignment for the nth time, the same one that seemed to be some sick form of rage bait.Â
You pull a couple things out so as to not look awkward sitting and staring into nothing on an empty desk, uncapping your pen and pulling up your sleeves like there was business to be done. Which there was, but none of which you wished to entertain.Â
People watching, you realise, is a lot easier when most of the room is preoccupied with whatever it is theyâre doing, too busy to notice your blank stares.Â
The faces are familiar, none of which are people youâve interacted with before but classmates nonetheless. The room is full of shaking legs, spinning pens and hunched backs, not an un-scrunched brow in sight. Thereâs a particular gaggle of girls somewhere around the front, their tables suggesting a work environment but between the whispers, giggles and glances to the front of the room, you assume thereâs one thing in common the both of you werenât doing.Â
Speaking of the front of the room, your matched glance finds you face to face with the student at the main table in the middle of pushing himself off his seat. Your reaction is immediate, hand coming over to slam against the flat of your bag to find the lost straps, moving out of your seat as you keep your eyes on the front of the room.Â
Bad luck must be a lover, because you realise quickly that somebodyâs already beat you to it. Before you even noticed the firstâs intentions to. The student stands beside the chair ready to keep it warm as the previous occupant leaves.Â
Slamming back down on your own seat, you realise very quickly that trying to get an audience with this TA was going to be harder than you anticipated. Thereâs multiple other sounds of frustration around the room, and you doubt the slowly increasing pool of students was going to help anyoneâs time management.Â
Realising you needed to be a little more tactical if you didnât want to sit here for the next month and half, you find an empty spot near the gaggle of girls youâd noticed before. It was right up front, just enough for you to hear when the conversation would begin to conclude at the main table.Â
Once again, the TA doesnât seem to notice any of the hustle and bustle of the room as his mouth continues to move rapidly, eyes on the question as he invests himself in his explanation.Â
It was unfortunate that the only remaining seat was right next to the louder than necessary group, but you take it as a blessing anyway. Itâs then that the one right next to you turns to stage-whisper to you.Â
âAre you here to see him?â
You donât expect a conversation, ears straining to eavesdrop on the other conversation in front of you to find your cue. You snap to look at her in surprise. âPardon?âÂ
âAre you here to see him? Mingyu?â
âUhââ Wasnât everybody? âYeah, I had a couple things I wanted to clear out.â
The revelation makes her shoulders drop as she lets out a loud sigh, âGod, I can never get anything this professor says. I've been here nearly every week trying to figure it all out.â
âYeah heâs a bitâŠunorthodox.â
âHeâs unorthodox too.â She looks over to the main table towards the TA, chin in her hands as she gazes. âA face like that is rare.â
It wasnât that she was wrong, it didnât take more than a glance to convince yourself that Mingyu was possibly one of the more attractive people youâd meet in your lifetime. But the appeal lasted for all of five minutes for you, flitting away when you noticed that he dragged along a veryâŠoverwrought⊠suggestion wherever he went.Â
It was clear he was stressed seemingly all year round, nearly just as relaxed as your professor seemed to be.Â
But Mingyu was attractive. And you realise how much of a fool youâd sound if you admitted to anything other than such.Â
âIt is. His willpowerâs somehow even rarer,â you add. âDonât know how he does it.â
âGod, tell me about it. Forget getting his number, trying to have more than a three sentence exchange with him without some statistical nonsense involved is near impossible.â Her face has fallen, a tight little frown on her face as she irritates herself with some other memory.Â
Taking a glance down at her notes, you find the printed sheet littered with glitter gel pen ink lining the edges, doodles of stars and hearts and small anime characters next to p values and z scores.Â
Thereâs a distinct sound of a chair screeching, and itâs like a large GAME OVER sign is hanging above your head.Â
You jerk in your seat, like you could jump over the table and land in the emptying seat with some god-given stroke of luck, like the person already standing next to the chair wouldnât hold a lifelong grudge against the insane girl with an unnatural acclimation to statistics.Â
Although, nothing was more unnatural than the way this TA seemed to know more than the professor. Or you were just really behind.Â
Alas, you donât tumble over the table or kick back your chair, merely making a forceful motion in your seat, palms itching terribly as you watch the girl with her open laptop balanced in her arms move to take a seat.Â
You were preoccupied, hence you do not notice that the TA has also noticed you.Â
Suddenly, the girl looks startled as sheâs told to wait.Â
âSheâs been waiting nearly a week, I really hope you donât mind,â you hear him say, voice strained as you turn to look at him. His hands are outstretched to motion towards you a few feet across from him.Â
For whatever reason, you had no thought that he mightâve remembered you. Something about his half asleep state when heâd spoken to you, perhaps he mightâve thought he dreamt it. Or heâd just forgotten it altogether.Â
The girl glances at you, and her shoulders sag a little as she nods in formality.Â
âThank you.â
It comes out of both of you, snapping to look at each other hardly a moment as you go back to smiling at the retreating student.Â
âYou can come right after her,â he reassures, his own upturned mouth tired and fading.Â
Never have you felt more awkward trying to come around the elongated student tables.Â
You pause at first, staring at the table in front of you like it was worth trying to climb over or even crawl under it to get to the desk. Another moment of eye contact as he stares at your unmoving form with a blank look, and the heat pools your skin.Â
Staggering for a moment, you end up moving past your chair and walking the way round anyway, the screeching of the chairs only nurturing the existing budding humiliation for no apparent reason.Â
It only gets worse when you sit across from him finally, backside barely touching the plastic before realising youâd forgotten your bag in your seat.Â
Mid smile in a timid greeting when you make a sound resembling something of an âOh!â as you spring back up immediately. Itâs easier to reach for your bag over the table you were sitting on, reaching across to grab it off your vacated seat.Â
The girl you were sitting next to just before makes a motion like sheâs trying to help and you have to remind yourself to smile at her as you retreat.Â
Mingyu has the very beginnings of an amused expression on his face once youâve finally made yourself comfortable across from him, clearing your throat just for something to do.Â
âRight. How can I help you?â
Pulling out your printed assignment, you bring out the sheets of stapled paper to the centre of the table, writing facing him.Â
One look at the sparse format of the cover page, he blows a full mouth of air at the sight of recognition. Without you having to say a thing, he flicks to the very last page, finding the rubric printed on a separate page.Â
âItâs a 37,â you inform him like he couldnât see the bold 37/100 in the bottom Total cell.Â
âDo you think you deserved a better grade?â he asks. It would have sounded direct, an accusation even. But he asks with an intonation of genuinity, like he actually wanted to know.Â
It stumps you regardless.
âWellâŠI know I can do better, at least,â you decide to answer.Â
âYouâre here, which means youâre at least willing to try. Thatâs a start,â he murmurs. His eyes are laser focused on the sheet beneath him, holding it open as his eyes move faster across the page than you can keep up with. Somehow talking to you while taking in the words on the paper.
âI remember marking this,â he says, looking up to address you. âYour concepts are nearly there, but your structure and presentation was off.â
âYou marked them?â
He raises his brow, âI hope that wasnât an accusation. I need to stick to the rubric.â
âI thought the professor marked the lab reports.â
âHeâsâŠsupposed to.â Thereâs a forced reservedness in his voice. âI mark them and he puts in his comments if he has any. But Iâm not sure youâd fare any better than this if it was him behind that pen either.â
Every question that floated in memorisation, from the form and structure, to the nitty gritties of the data presentation, all evaporate as you realise youâre at a loss for words.Â
Even more embarrassingly, you feel tears prick the back of your eyes. You donât have an explanation, but itâs somehow easier to feel helpless in front of the man thatâs meant to help you. âI donât know what to do anymore.â
âThatâs alright,â he says as reassurance, though it sounds awfully rehearsed. Like he has to say it everyday. âWeâll work through it.â
He lets out a big sigh, adjusting in his chair and running a hand through his hair. The motion has you noticing the dishevelled nature of the mop on his head, un-uniformed and sticking out at certain places, yet still somehow cohesive with his look. His shoulders are straight and taut, fingers working as they fiddle and flick the pen in his hand.Â
Despite it all, his shirt is ruffled and creased, unbuttoned at the first couple steps. The buttons are misaligned, one side of his collar higher on his neck than the other. It takes an effort to not reach over and fix it for him.
âLab reports can be quite tricky if you arenât sure what youâre doing. Did you refer to the tutorial?â
You mean the one that did nothing to help? âYes.â
âYou got those bits right, format and whatnot. Butââ
âIt was a lump of writing about subheadings and word counts,â you say plainly.
Mingyu lips are in a tight line. âWell, yes, but it helpsââ
âI know the results are supposed to go in the results section. I donât need a PDF to tell me that,â you cut him off. Your voice is reserved, and you hope it comes off as a point across and not a complaint. Although it was a complaint. âI want to know why the entire section was ruled off as incorrect when we were never properly taught how to write it in the first place.â
âDr. Choââ
âIs no help.â
âI understandââ
âHe canât even mark his own papers. Iâm quite sure thatâs not in your job description. Itâs supposed to be him here. Not you.â
Itâs silent. There was nothing in your voice that suggested you wished to pick a fight, on the contrary, quite calm and matter of fact. Mingyuâs fingernails are going white as his grip on his pen and paper grow stronger.Â
âAnd yet, we continue to show up. Because we do what we must.â He raises his head in control, a small smile on his face, eyebrows unnaturally raised. âAnd, better that Iâm here rather than no one at all. I can help you too.â
Help, he did.Â
Mingyu had made it quite clear his time with you was limited, but by the end of the near 25 minute session, nearly every inch of your printed assignment was covered in a rainbow of notes and corrections, additional papers and post-it notes pasted on the back as you remain careful to not lose them as you slip the stack in your bag.Â
You only remember when you spot the segregated file of papers in your bag.
âI almost forgot,â you say, slipping the files and tidbits out and in front of him.Â
âWhere did you find this?â he asks sharply, eyes widening as sees the familiar blue.Â
âYou left them at the desk of the lecture hall last week,â you say, before quickly adding, âThere was a class right after you left. I took them off the professorâs hands before they got lost. Thought it might be important.â
âIâve been looking all over for these,â he says as he goes through the pages and files. Random sticky tabs and highlighted regions across the pages. The leather strap watch with the broken clock face remains on top, and he picks it up. He looks up to you with wide, sparkling eyes and a smile that feels genuine. âThank you.â
You flush for some reason, âOâof course, couldnât just leave them there.â
Pausing, you wonder if you should make the next comment, the words tumbling out before you can make a decision. âMaybe donât run out of rooms still half asleep.â
By the grace of God, he laughs, âNo, youâre right. I should be careful.â
It isnât till youâre pushing yourself out of your chair that he continues. âYou can come in at 3:30 tomorrow.â
âPardon?â
Heâs stood up as well. âI have a free thirty minutes before office hours formally start. I can help you out a little more without the crowd.âÂ
Feet planted on the ground, thereâs not much you can do but stare. âUm, sure. I can come in a little early.â
He nods casually, âThanks again for the papers. And the watch.â
You smile, âNo problem.â
Thursday
True to your punctual nature, you make yourself known at exactly 3:29 PM.
Mingyu is at the desk, conscious and on the phone, eyes closed as he rests his face on his fist.
âI donât know if I can make time for thatâno, I understand, sir,â
Another pause as the noise from his speakers fill his ears, his rubbing over his face a little harsher than you doubt heâs entirely comfortable with.Â
âIâll see what I can do.â
His phone hits the table with a heartbreaking thud, both hands covering his face as he presses the heels of his hands to his eyes.Â
âLight on your feet or something? I can never tell when you come in,â he startles when he notices you.Â
Sheepish smile on your face, you move to sit down. âSorry.â
You know itâs invasive, and you also know you might be asking him to break some unknown university code of conduct, but curiosity takes charge as you ask a casual question. âImportant call?â
âUh, yeah, um, just work stuff,â he states, shaking his head swiftly like heâs trying to shake the thought out of his mind.Â
Thereâs a pause while you're slipping your papers and laptop out of your bag, during which he seems to have decided to divulge a little more.Â
âIt was Dr. Cho. More stuff for me to do,â he says. âAs always.âÂ
âDoes he do anything other than show up to class?â you ask through a snort.Â
âOf course he does. He cusses out every article he doesnât agree with, is anything but objective andâŠthe occasional relay of blatant misinformation.âÂ
For the record, youâd never really heard Mingyu speak at all for the months heâd been TA-ing for the semester. It was small whispers of choice words in a vague voice, the distant murmur as he exchanged with the professor too far for you to hear.Â
The voice of the seemingly quiet and diligent TA was never known to you, not until yesterday as he explained statistical models and the flaws of your data presentation.Â
Passionately too. Incredulous for a discipline so dry and unapproachable.Â
That being said, something about the grit in his voice as he positively sneered through his teeth, badmouthing his professorâit was something you couldnât quite believe he was capable of.Â
âIâm sorry you have to put up with him.â
Once again, by whatever stone of tolerance the universe bestowed in his heart, you watch him sigh and smile, âAnything for that recommendation. And the pay too, I suppose. Besides, heâs done a lot for the area, canât discredit him entirely.â
With your eyebrows raised, he seems to catch your expression. He pants out a laugh, and your stomach lurches as you watch it reach his eyes, teeth on display, a lurch in his chest; a true laugh.Â
Raising his hands in surrender, he responds, âIâm stuck.â
Thereâs nothing you can do to stop the smile that reaches your own face, turning your laptop screen towards him with the JASP software display. âI am too. Help.â
Help, he does.
Monday
Mingyu ended up giving you an entire hour on that Thursday.Â
The thirty minutes before office hours began soared by like they were nothing, and you were ready to take your leave the minute students began to scatter in as the clock hit a swift four. Except he kept going, another 30 minutes in deep concentration as he retaught you nearly everything from scratch.Â
Perhaps his proven determination to ensure you donât tragically fail is what prompted you to do this, standing at the till of your regular coffee shop as you ask, âMake that two, please.â
It might also be important to mention the 7:30 AM on the dial on a bright Monday morning as you walked into your slightly less dreaded Statistics in Psychological Research class, knowing there would only be one other person insane enough to get to the lecture hall this early.Â
Something isnât right.Â
Mingyu is in a position all too familiar to you and everyone else who shares this class, hunched over something or the other in deep focus. The sun pours in through the lifted blinds, the lights of the class turned off as natural light does more than enough of the job.Â
It also shows you a blaring hot pink post-it note on his face, all too familiar to a previous interaction youâve had with him.Â
He notices you before you need to announce yourself, brows separating as he recognises you in the doorway. ââMorning!âÂ
â...Morning.â
âYouâre early,â he comments, straightening his back with a hand behind him for support as you approach.Â
âFigured we both needed this,â you hand him a tray with his cup of coffee, eyes still trained on his lower cheek with the paper stuck to it. âItâs a latte with no sugar, but I added a couple packets on the side anyway. Just in case.â
âOâoh, thank you. And youâre right I did need this.â
Now that youâre closer, the scrawled writing on the post-it note is clearer.Â
To Do:
Call mom
Shoot myself
âYou, umââ Itâs alarmingly difficult for you to say it, despite the words being so simple. Hey! You got a lilâ something on your face.
But all you do is dumbly point to your own cheek, eyes trained on the loud piece of paper that tells more than he might like the world to know.Â
Thereâs a loud slap of his hand on his own cheek as he crumples the paper in his hands, bringing it forward to see. âFor fuckâs sake.â
âItâs okay! I wannaâŠshoot myself too sometimes.âÂ
What the fuck?
âI mean!â you correct louder than you anticipated, before covering with a laugh. âItâs okay, it happens. Good thing I caught it before someone else did.â
Itâs all the more petrifying when your voice echoes across the blatantly empty lecture hall, reverberating like it was a punishment for you and your horrid lack of volume control. Meeting his eyes feels like a sin right now, so you keep them downcast and pray he doesnât try to sabotage your education.Â
âGood thing it was just you. Yeah.â
Just you.
âAnyways, I think Iâm done with prepping for class. Do you wanna squeeze in twenty minutes of ANOVA?âÂ
âHave you seen the time?âÂ
âNot a morning person?â
âNope!â
âAnd yet itâs 7:40 on a Monday morning and youâre absurdly early.â His brows are raised as he pulls around the professor's chair to bring it to you.Â
âDo you want the coffee or not?â you ask, watching as he drags another chair for himself.Â
The both of you sit away from the professors table, coffees in hand as you watch Mingyu run a hand through his hair.Â
He gives you a crooked grin,âI apologise.â
âTo be fair,â he continues. âIâm not much of a morning person either.â
You narrow your eyes the slightest bit as Mingyu takes a sip of his unsweetened coffee, âIâm starting to think no moneyâs worth this job.â
Mingyu snorts, coffee suspended in his full cheeks. He swallows with much difficulty before answering, âYouâre right. Not sure why Iâm still here either. I could get an offer from another professor.â
âAnd that isnât happening becauseâŠ?â
Elbows on his knees, Mingyu swirls his capless coffee cup, the beige liquid moving in a growing tornado. âI like Dr. Cho.â
âYouââ
âI know,â he laughs loud, a deep, echoing sound that shakes in your ears. âI know. I sound like a lunatic.â
âI donât know about lunacy, but insanity can have its reasons.â
âAnother would argue that insanity was the very absence of reason.âÂ
âDonât get smart with me.â
âExcuse me for doing my job.â
He takes another sip of his coffee, and you ask again, âNo, but really. I canât imagine this man having too many redeeming qualities as an educator.â
Mingyu lifts his chin as he presses his lips together. âWhen I was in my first year, there was this other class I had where we had to write a lab report for the first time.â
âPSYCH101?â
âThatâs the one. Iâd never written one before, but I liked statistics enough to do a little more digging than what the assignment called for. I ended up finding one of Dr. Choâs studies, read the entire thing, word for word. I was up all night reading nearly everything heâd published, some of âem before any of us were even born.âÂ
âOh. So youâre a fan.â
âEveryone tells you to never meet your idols,â he snickers. âHeâs done amazing things, but I guess he pays for it with his flawed personality.â
âIâm sorry it had to be you,â you half joke.Â
Mingyu looks at you sheepishly, âThat might also be my own fault.âÂ
âDonât tell me you offered.â
âI might as well have. All my assignments referenced his work the most. I was always talking to him about upcoming research after class, and it was like he was a different person. Forget differing opinions, some of what he was saying was justâŠplain incorrect. He welcomed the argument though, and I couldnâtâcanâtâstand listening to someone spew nonsense when I know itâs not true. He was always emailing me extra resources whichâŠIâm pretty sure he isnât supposed to do. Only reason I did so well in his class was because I taught myself.âÂ
He sighs a loud sigh, straightening his back, âI guess he liked me more than I thought, because next thing I know Iâm getting a call over the summer telling me I have a job.â
âDid heâŠhave a TA when you were in his class?âÂ
âFour.â
âFour?!â
âTwo at a time. All of âem quit at some point. Said they didnât want the recommendation or the pay.â
âWould heâŠnot give you a recommendation anyway? You said he liked you.â
Mingyu shakes his head solemnly, âHeâs a tough cookie, everyone in the field knows that. If youâve impressed him, youâve impressed everyone.â
You take a moment to really absorb everything youâve just learned. âThatâs a sucky position youâre in.â
âTell me about it. But itâs okay. Threeâthree and a half more months to go? This isnât even the worst of it, Iâm just dreading study week when Iâm gonna have to handle all the crying.â
You wince as he mentions something even remotely close to exam season, still barely at a stage where you can accept youâd be alright with this class.Â
âI know youâre not nearly as qualified or experienced as him, but I think you could take over his class.â
âEver heard of barriers to entry? Iâd be ruined if I wanted a career in this.â
You roll your eyes playfully, âAll Iâm saying is Iâve learned more from you in barely a couple hours combined than the last two months Iâve spent cursing this very lecture hall.â
If you werenât lying to yourself, you couldâve sworn you saw a blush creep up his face, and paired with his shy laugh and hand at the back of his neck, you canât help but bite back your own smile.Â
âIf I can help you then itâs worth losing myself.â
Your heart is in your fucking throat.
âIâm glad when students tell me that,â he continues, utterly oblivious to the landslide happening in your digestive tract. âMakes me feel like Iâm doing something right.â
âYouâreââ you swallow thickly because you sound like a toad. âYouâre doing more than just something right. Youâre saving us therapy and an extra semester.â
He laughs at that, and you wish heâd let you breathe.Â
âFeels like Iâm doing something wrong sometimes,â he huffs. âMy friendâs a TA too and heâs got himself a girlfriend on top of everything else heâs got going on.âÂ
He goes on, âDo you know how many times I need to ask people to quit twirling their hair? To look at the page and not my face? Asking for my number, I have an email for a reason, for fuckâs sakeââ
Mingyu is cut off because youâre laughing, hand to mouth as your shoulders shake through your sniggering. âWâwhat?â
âIâm sorry,â you hiccup. âItâs justâŠIt sounds like you donât know what you look like.â
âWhatâs wrong with how I look?â he frowns.
âNothing!â you exclaim. âBut thatâs the problem isnât it.â
Mingyu doesnât seem to buy it, even through your coaxing as you attempt to explain to him that he is, in fact, desirable.
âCanât possibly be enough to distract people,â he huffs in earnest, still hung up on the students he canât get through to.Â
âMajority of the class would beg to differ.â
Thereâs a pause as he registers what you imply.Â
After a few moments, he drops his head, opening his mouth, âWould⊠you alsoââ
Thereâs a loud creak of the door as you hear the immediate noises of shuffling feet and chattering mouths, as low and tired as they sounded. Turning back to look at Mingyu, heâs already jumped out of his seat, wrist to face as he checks the time on the same leather strap watch you returned.Â
âThatâs our cue,â you breathe, pushing your chair back behind the professorâs desk as you manoeuvre around Mingyu whoâs suddenly frantic.Â
Of course you realise thereâs people other than just the two of you in the room, heightened in seats that are designed to ensure they can absorb every detail that goes on right where you stand in the front of the room.
But you feel the soft of Mingyuâs shirt over his wrist as you give him a gentle squeeze despite it all, barely enough pressure. Half your index finger brushes the skin of his hand, just enough to register how cold your fingertips are and how warm his body is.Â
âRelax,â you whisper. âYouâll be better off without all the panic.â
You donât see his face as you brush past him and up to your seat, looking up to see him disappear somewhere in the corner hunched over another stack of papers. The next time you see Mingyuâs face is when the professor arrives and has begun his regularly scheduled tomfoolery, and realise all the age that can accumulate in the span of five minutes.Â
Thursday
Midterm season is nothing youâve ever really had to worry about.Â
Something about the halfway point did make it obvious that the clock was ticking, but danger was far enough away to prevent the ultimate breakdowns reserved for the peak seasons.Â
Except this class isnât ordinary, and itâs all youâre able to worry about all semester. And as Dr. Cho in his Thrasher vest announces the date for the in class midterm, the glass once half empty, suddenly looks very half full.Â
âIâm not ready.â
âYouâre more ready than anyone else in class.â
âHow do you know that?â
Mingyu stares at you blankly, âIf I donât know that, then who else does?â
You have tears in your eyes, which is embarrassing enough since this is the second time youâve teared up in front of him, but also because youâre in a library following Mingyu around like a lost duck because he insists on putting the books he borrowed back onto the shelves himself after registering the return.Â
âBut I donât feel like Iâm ready,â you whine, turning the corner as he searches for the last spot to place his final book.Â
âYouâll realise just how ready you are when all those hieroglyphs on the page start to make sense to you,â he grunts the last bit out as he reaches on his tippy toes to shove the book back up.Â
Dusting his hands off, he adjusts his shirt before turning to you, âYou only feel that way because Iâve been giving you harder problems to work on. Youâre past the level you need to be at right now. Trust me, youâre more than prepared.â
âButââ
âListen,â he waves to the librarian as you both leave the library, your eyes still glistening as you fiddle with your sleeves. âItâs only the midtermââ
âOnly theââ
âIf this goes wrong, Iâm just gonna have to work you harder for the real thing. Even though I know it wonât go wrong because I said so.â
You fall into silence as he walks you towards the coffee shop across the courtyard.Â
âIâm assumingâŠâ you start.Â
âHm?â he looks over to you.
âIâm assuming you canât hint at whatâs on the paper.â
Mingyu barks out a laugh of disbelief, âYou assume correct. Iâm not going through hell with this job just to lose it because of a paper leak.â
âBut itâs just the midterm,â you mumble, not even close to remotely audible.Â
âWhat did you say?â Mingyu smirks.Â
âNothing,â you huff.
âYou know, Iâm a little offended you donât trust me.â
âWho said I didnât.â
âWell then, stop being such a worrywart.â
There must be something written on your face, because as you pass Mingyu standing at the door he keeps open for you, entering into the coffee shop with fallen shoulders, he seems to change his mind.Â
He brings you a coffee, sits you down, and gives you something else you need. âI made the paper. Every question. And I taught you. Every concept. So I definitely know youâre gonna be fine.â
In that moment, with the large glass walls of the warm coffee shop, the afternoon sun comfortably resting on every last object of the room, you donât see it illuminate anything other than the man before you.Â
Perhaps you're being dramatic at the revelation, but you donât take anything into account as you note Mingyuâs eyes and how they sparkle like they were gifted from the centre of a flaming volcano, brown and polished more than any jewel or stone youâd ever seen. Reaching out to touch him, you know youâd feel nothing but smooth stone, the indentations only possible by a being beyond what you could comprehend.Â
Heâd given you more than just reassurance, and at times, his timing makes it feel like he was sent from the heavens itself, just for you.Â
You sniffle.Â
His hands brush over yours as he hands you a napkin, and even more so, cover your own as he takes your freezing fingertips into his own palm, the contact burning you like hot coal.Â
You know heâs real. And you donât know why quite just yet, but that reassurance is enough to give you calm.
Monday
You were alright, but it seems that Mingyu seemed to disintegrate right after he was done reassuring you to the moon and Saturn and Jupiter and back.
Itâs midterm day, and as always on every Monday morning, you enter the empty lecture hall with two warm coffees in your hand, ready for whatever shitshow youâd have to perform for today.
It seems Mingyu must defect from at least one regular string of behaviour to remain as Mingyu, who on this occasion, stands before you in a baby blue polo sweater.Â
Except you only know that because you can see the unique collar, but it might also be important that his back is turned towards you.Â
âMorning, champ,â he gruffs, nothing encouraging about his voice in the slightest.Â
Your breath hitches when you finally see his face, eyes sunken in and face pale. His lips are chapped and peeling, eyes half closed.Â
âWhyâre you looking at me like that, why has everyone been looking at me like that?â he huffs in one long, rapid question.Â
âUm, I mean,â you stare at his shirt thatâs backwards. And inside out. âI canât tell if thatâs a choice or a mistake.â
Looking down at his front, he looks back up, âWhat?â
âYour collar isâŠnot at your collar, Mingyu. And your shirtâs inside out.â
Hand at his nape, he reaches his fingers down and finds the unmistakable starched planes of his collar, eyes closing at the realisation. Heâs immediately pulling his arms out of the shirt with his eyes still closed like itâd all disappear if he keeps them like that.Â
âWait!â you exclaim before he strips entirely, scrambling to put your coffees down to push him out of the room towards the restrooms. âDo you wanna strip for the CCTVs?â
You only hear him sigh as he moves out and into the hall, doors closed behind him.Â
Youâve nearly forgotten about the midterm at this point, your concern now growing in a completely different direction. By the time Mingyu returns, heâs blabbing about wondering why everyone he ran into since he left home was giving him the strangest looks, and then something about you always swooping in to save him before the real bout of disaster strikes.Â
Itâs hard for you to listen to him when youâre more worried about him passing out, his face doing him no favours to reassure you that he wasnât a breathing corpse.Â
âMingyuâŠdid you sleep at all?â
âHm?â His eyes are glazed over and unfocused.Â
âSleep? Rest?â
âOh,â he frowns. âNot really. I had emails coming in all night.â
âAnd you were replying?â
âIt's the midterm today,â he responds flatly, like it shouldâve been enough explanation.Â
You almost donât believe him. âDoesnât mean you stay up to answer something that shouldâve been cleared out beforehand!â
âCouldnât just leave them to fend for themselves,â he dramatises.Â
âYes, you could!â Your voice comes out louder than you expected, eyes wide as you realise what heâs doing to himself. âYou barely look human and itâs only the midterm.â
âWhatâre you trying to say?â
âI donât know if this job is really worth as much as you think it is.â
Mingyuâs jaw is clenched, fists tight as he releases them to grip paper weight on the desk, knuckles white. âI canât get anywhere if I donâtââ
âMingyu, please. This isnât good for you.â
He says your name. Declarative, almost like a warning. âIf you think this job isnât worth it then you just donât know.â
âMingyuââ
âNo, you donât, because Iâve seen how good of a job Iâve been doing.â
âYou have, youâve been amazing butââ
Mingyuâs own voice is raised, a hard impenetrable floor to the words he spills. âThen whatâs the problem?â
âHave you looked at yourself in the mirror lately? You look like a corpse!â
And then heâs getting out of his chair with so much force it almost knocks it backwards, âWhy on earth do you care so much? So what if I look like a corpse, if Iâm doing my job?âÂ
It mightâve been better if he knocked the chair right into you, your breath dissipating in your chest like it never existed. His face is morphed in an expression of exasperation your anxieties fear the most, every line on his face committed to irritation and anger.Â
Why on earth do you care so much?
Right. Why do you?Â
âAre you asking me that?â
âWhat?â
âAre you asking me why I care?âÂ
Mingyu only sighs, shoulders dropping and eyes closed. Like so many times before, you watch run a hand through his hair, except this time he yanks on the strands harder than ever before.Â
His eyes are bloodshot.Â
âI have to get the exam pack.â
Marching out the door in front of your own eyes, youâre left with a feeling thatâs right in the back of your throat, curling and whirling into something you wish you could hack and gag out. Gripping the corner of the professorâs desk, you feel the peeling wood cut into your skin.Â
Thereâs a draft, the delayed slam of the door has only hit its wind now, a delayed reaction. Itâs like it registers in your mind as you feel strands of your hair shift, the clarity that comes with it.
Delusive. Chimeric. Cruel.
Everything youâd subjected upon yourself. A whimsical fantasy between pages of logic and numbers, a story that simply didnât fit where the laws wouldnât allow it.Â
The null hypothesis of your most elaborate nightmares.
Monday
Your favourite commonplace box, where your mother once placed all her most prized jewels, had a finicky latch.Â
It wasnât broken, simply worn in from years of opening and closing. It took a few tries to get it shut. Simply pressing down with pressure didnât work; you had to open it again, press down on the individual elements of the latch and then try again.Â
You were never satisfied until you heard the distinct click of the latch fixing itself, the box closed and ready for you to hook your lock through.
Earlier on in your undergraduate career, you remember a professor talking about the effects of external factors on the mind, how they can sometimes cause it to âshut downâ when overwhelmed or stressed.Â
Itâs happened to you on many a occasion; like when you stayed up too late on a school night to watch a documentary about the Stanford prison experiment, or when youâd neglect food or water on busier days, or when youâd stop paying attention in class because you were too preoccupied thinking about Taco Tuesday.Â
Regardless, youâd found a way to recognise when your brain would fall into some strange kahoots with daydreams, or whatever was bothering you, and learned ways to give yourself a reset.Â
Pressuring and forcing the attention wouldnât work, just like how the latch wouldnât fit when youâd do the same with your beloved old box. So youâd take a walk, drink something cold, spray yourself with a garden hose, or even take a nap altogether. Opening yourself up, so the latch can finally click.Â
On the morning of your midterm, when youâd ensured your brain was in optimal condition for the exam you knew would be one of the worse ones youâll have to take, you were sure the only external force that could ruin your vibe was from God himself.Â
Having been so preoccupied with your mind and its functions, youâd seemed to have forgotten where your heart had wandered off to.Â
Somebody else might consider it a minor disagreement; an anxious squabble if you will. But your breakfast in your throat was enough reason to deem what happened that morning much more than that. At least for you.Â
âPass it on, pleaseâŠpass it on, please.â
The sound of his voice is tectonic. Rattling in your head like a superior force had slammed into your skull like a padded hammer to a gong.Â
You hated it. You hated everything. You hated yourself. And as the midterm paper reaches you with your pen in your clawed fingers, the first three questions already making perfect sense, you realise you hated Kim Mingyu the most.Â
That was a lie. You were lying to yourself, yet again.Â
Because it was quite the opposite. You couldnât hate him.Â
As you drift past every question of conditional experiments and screenshots of data and tables on a software, you hardly remember what you circle and what you donât. Hardly remember what words you picked for the short answers and labels. You hardly remember taking the steps down from your seat to the front of the room, where the professor sat scrolling through his Skateboarders [!MEN ONLY!] facebook group, placing your paper down and leaving the classroom.Â
Throughout your years of living, youâd learned what you needed to get your brain out of its clouded muffle, to refocus when you needed it.Â
Everything. You tried everything.Â
But on that day, when it mattered most, your latch never clicked.
Itâs Wednesday.Â
You order lunch from the Italian place a few streets down. Ravioli; itâs safe and you know youâll like it.Â
Savouring it is easy in front of another true crime show. You pull a lone soft drink from your fridge, one that your friend left weeks ago. It tastes just as bad as the last time you tasted it from someone elseâs cup, but you drink it anyway, the empty can now in your trash.Â
Itâs 3:30 PM, and you sit at your desk. Itâs strange. It feels like youâre missing something, which in ways, you are. But as you pull your laptop from your nightstand instead of out of your bag, you slow your movements.Â
The papers are the same. But you read them anyway.Â
Parameter estimation: Make inferences on characteristics of the population, including distributions of the variables and the effect of one variable over another.Â
Itâs accursed the way the universe wonât let you live.Â
Thereâs a scribble in the corner in a dark blue, estimation cannot be perfect.Â
Estimation cannot be perfect.Â
[_]
Itâs Thursday
Class. Eat. Drink. Work.
Hypothesis testing: Determine whether null hypothesis is rejected or not after data observation.Â
Thereâs a scribble in the corner in a dark blue, no null hypothesis in bayesian approach!!
[_]
Itâs Friday
Eat. Drink. Work.
Latent means to have meaning but is yet to be manifested. The greek letters are placeholder values for values yet unknown.Â
Thereâs a scribble in the corner in a dark blue; values that you will find out
[_]
Itâs Saturday
Eat. Drink. Work.
P(A|B) = [P(B|A)P(A)
              ââââââ
                     P(B)
Thereâs a scribble in the corner in a dark blue;
 it gets less complicated
 promise :/Â
[_]
Itâs Sunday.
Eat. Drink. Work.
The page is blurry. Your eyes hurt.Â
Thereâs a scribble in the corner in a dark blue;
youâve got this!!! < 3
You give up.
Itâs Monday.
8:14 AM.Â
You barely glance at the front of the room; swift turn to the left and right up the steps. Dr. Choâs outfit almost goes unnoticed by you, tamer than most. Bright Barbie pink with large polka dots, untucked into too tight white jeans. His crocs are sparkly, at least thatâs what the twinkle from up here looks like.Â
Heâs insulting another author, the manâs ProQuest journal article open for the world to see like a mediaeval scandal.Â
Thereâs another person next to the whiteboards, back to the wall, hands clasped in front of him. His hair is messy, shooting lasers into the carpet as he rocks the slightest bit, listening to the professor rip this author to shreds.Â
An hour later, youâre staring into the JASP software like it was written in a different language.Â
Glancing next to you, the boy in the spongebob hoodie is playing sharkboy and lavagirl by himself. On your other side, the girl has the same thing as you open on her laptop, her pen occupied with drawing about a hundred tiny gojos on a bright pink sticky note.Â
Bright pink sticky note.Â
You snap your gaze back to your screen quickly after that.Â
9:58 AM. You start packing up, shoving everything into your bag.Â
Dr. Cho doesnât even notice you slip out of the room, hardly a minute to the end of the lecture.
In the hallway, you take your first real breath in two hours.Â
Itâs Tuesday.
Youâve come down with something, head heavy as you feel yourself burn up. Skipping class is easy when you sleep through your alarm and every phone call from a friend asking where you are.Â
They drop by, armed with medicine and soup. You almost feel better.Â
Itâs silent after they leave, and you realise in that moment how much you hate it.Â
Opening your laptop for the first time in over 24 hours, you turn on a random podcast to play in the background, needing something to fill the air before you lose it entirely.Â
The screen lands right where you left on the incredulous data presentation, unsolved tutorial paper crumpled between the screen and keyboard like a wilted leaf.Â
Hot, scalding tears sting your eyeballs when you realise there was nowhere to turn to.
Itâs Wednesday.
After a long day of doing nothing, still sick from whatever plagued your body, you go to bed earlier than usual.
Itâs Thursday.Â
Walking out of class, your mind is empty. Youâre still sniffling, still achey, but better than you were. The shawl wrapped around you is warm, and your hood covers the cold tips of your ears.Â
This other class makes you feel better about yourself, especially when the content is digestible and so is the professor. The TA feels like a mere accessory in the room, something youâve learned to appreciate.Â
With your gaze lowered, you only see midriffs as you walk out the classroom into the busy hallway.Â
It happens in an instant, the flash of a clenched hand as the owner walks by in quick stride. An unmistakable leather strap watch with a broken clock face on the wrist.
You freeze like youâve been caught.Â
The hard bump of someone coming out the room behind you is welcomed, the annoyed âHey!â knocking you back to earth before you could even exit the dimension.Â
Youâre off centre. But itâs fine.Â
Itâs Monday.
âMidterm results are out Tuesday morning. If you have any questions Iâll be sitting at office hours on Wednesday and Thursday, four to six in the evening. Or you could send me an email, eitherâs fine.â
Dr. Cho isnât here. Something you only found out when the pitt sank in your stomach as Mingyu cleared his throat at the full hour.Â
You want to leave, not caring about how strange itâd look if you did. Not caring about how he would definitely notice if you did. You want him to shut up, to stop talking, for anything to halt the way his voice infiltrates your entire being, talking about things you donât understand but more familiar than anything else.Â
Mingyuâs voice is hoarse, and you loathe the way you can tell the difference.Â
Itâs Tuesday.
Midterm Results for Statistics in Psychological Research.
â 92/100
Itâs Wednesday.Â
4:10 PM. Itâs almost too much for you. Almost.Â
The screech of the door is loud, the slam of the handleâs rebound even more so. The room doesnât so much as glance at you at the door, the half full seats preoccupied with more important things.Â
The front desk perks up immediately, eyes shooting towards the door for the nth time that day, like he was expecting someone that never seemed to show up.Â
Itâs ironic, you think, how Mingyu never seemed to notice you walk into the room for the many months youâve walked in just for him. And now, as you walk in fists clenched and jaw set, eyes wild and burning, heâs breaking away from a student to look at the door before you even come into view.Â
âDid you feel bad?â you spit.
âWhat?â he whispers. He seems to come around, glancing back before continuing, âCan we talk? Please.â
âAnswer the question, Mingyu,â you snap. You donât care thereâs a confused student sitting right across from the both of you, his slot interrupted by your barge. âDid you feel so bad you had to give me something I didnât earn?â
Heâs stood up now, half confused. âIs this about the midtermââ
âI did not get a ninety two, I know I didnât,â you grit. âWhatever happened before that stupid paper made sure I wouldnât.â
Mingyu says your name and the sound makes you want to vomit. âWhat makes you think Iâd do something like that?â
âI donât know, maybe because I fucked up because of you?â you announce, louder than before.Â
The world disappeared, your tunnel vision pointed at Mingyuâs face that wears an expression you cannot even begin to read. The unbecoming tears in your eyes are of a type of unadulterated rage youâve felt only a few times before. Your heart is going about a million miles a breath, everything else only triggering an added bout of infuriated tremble in the forefront of your emotions. Nothing makes sense.Â
Mingyu pushes back his chair in silence, stalking over to a large cupboard in the corner of the room. He shuffles around for a minute before returning.Â
Thereâs a packet being thrust into your fists when he reaches you. He does not meet your eyes.Â
A bright red 92/100 marks the front page.
âHere. It was all you, if you canât believe me.â
Itâs a careful mark, unmistakable lines and curves of the nine and the two.Â
Reality is slow to sink in, but for some reason itâs only making you angrier. The paper curls under the pressure of your fingertips. You donât open the packet. You refuse to flick through the pages.Â
Because you know youâve lost.
Itâs Thursday. And itâs full of regret.Â
Thereâs a sickness in you, from that dreaded day, something beyond what affects your body temperature and your energy. Itâs in your mind, flooding the nerves that swim through every crevice and cave of your brain, a physical venom that does the opposite of kill but also the opposite of letting you live.Â
Thereâs a feeling in you, that even if you were to open your mouth, unhinge your jaw, try to scream as loud as your throat would allow, there would be no sound. Something like a horrible dream, that you need to screw your eyes tight shut to fall out of. Except you arenât waking up from this one.Â
In a coffee shop, where Mingyu held your hand in a reassurance you now bleed for, you were sure he was real. Real like some deiform image; too good to be true.Â
In your bed, dry tears on your face, midterm packet sifted through that showed you absolutely everything that you did right, thanks to him. He feels too real. Real like a cloud of obsidian that follows you everywhere, like the sad thatâs been sleeping with you every night.Â
If there was a way to hate someone more than a human limit, youâve crossed it with the resentment youâve now fostered for yourself.Â
Barging into office hours like that, accusing him on a basis of nothing but your own dangerously stewed thoughts. If there was a hope of salvaged parts, you took a hammer to it in disregard; tearing it to ribbons that lay at your feet.Â
Itâs Friday.
At least it was. It bled into Saturday before you realised the 3:23 AM on the dial.Â
Two weeks of no help and you already feel lightyears behind. The hour is getting to you, and you feel the frustration pool into tears, that turn into full fledged sobs. Youâre crying over Bayesian inference and itâs somehow more pressing than any other emotion youâve ever felt.Â
Impossible numbers on your data sheets taunt you, not a single reference to if it was a button you clicked wrong or if you were playing a foolâs game altogether.Â
Ding! You pick up your phone, the weight of it is enough gravity to pull you back to earth.Â
[Mingyu]: switch to bF10Â
[Mingyu]: youâve been pulling numbers from bF01
Itâs immediate the way your eyes dart towards your lit screen, clicking off tables to get to the drop down menu you need. And there on the left, two tiny buttons, one clicked on bF01.Â
With shaking fingers, you move your cursor to hover over the tiny bF10, anticipating. You click. It takes a moment for the numbers to change, but they do. The nominal values turn into something you can actually work with.Â
Something akin to a tut leaves you, hidden in the breath of another sob. Itâs stupid, unreasonable, absurd. Your fingers hover over your phone, shaking as tears drop onto the screen, faster than before.Â
Do you not miss me?
Do you not want me around?
Talk to me
I miss you
Please talk to me
âI couldnâtâcanâtâstand listening to someone spew nonsense when I know itâs not true.â
Mingyu is a product of his personality. You can only imagine heâs helped because he saw you struggling in class, heard from someone else, or perhaps, he just knew the very thing youâd make blunders out of.Â
The reasons come to you, that Mingyu is a product of his personality. Then why does it hurt? Why does it feel like the knifeâs twisted a full 360, that despite the way you accused him of the thing that would strip him of everything heâs bruised himself for, he helps you. The very thing that caused this rift in the first place.Â
Thereâs a reason for that, and it is again, that Mingyu is a product of his personality.Â
Itâs Saturday.Â
Perhaps you relied on your olfactory senses to remain calm, because you always knew you could count on a coffee shop to forever and always smell the same.Â
The universe seems to want to ruin that for you too.Â
âLatte, please,â you voice. âIced.â
âWe have a one plus one for the week! Would you like to receive another latte?â The lady taking your order looks no older than 17, a pep in her voice.Â
âUm, no thank you. Just one, please.â
She looks taken aback, a reasonable reaction to anyone turning down a free drink. But you couldnât bring yourself to walk home with two cups in hand.Â
Youâre plucking a napkin from the pickup counter when you hear his name.Â
â...that he manipulated her grade because they were hooking up.âÂ
âHe has time to hook up?â
âI remember hearing about that! She barged in during office hours and asked why he fixed her grade or something.âÂ
âA ninety two? In that class? Oh, they were definitely fooling around with each other.â
âWhatever, at least we know heâll entertain you if he likes you enough. Iâm just glad those two are over so I can swoop in.â
Thereâs an eruption of giggles. You press your head down further.Â
âUnless he flirts in variables.â
âAll is forgiven when youâre born with a face like that.âÂ
Another explosion of giddy laughter, through which your drink is slid across the counter towards you, like it was waiting for you to hear the damning evidence before you could leave. You grab it anyway, grip tighter than usual.Â
Turning around, your eyes search, finding a group of people that sit in smiles and in various states of trust-falls.Â
There she is, the girl you sat with on the first day you attended office hours, the one with the glitter gel pen doodles on her notes and her blatant fawns over the TA you slipped under just as easily.Â
She locks eyes with you and her face falls, eyes widening the slightest bit in recognition.Â
Pressing your lips into a smile, you hope it doesnât look as menacing as you feel. You donât wait for a response before you walk out the large glass doors.
Itâs Sunday.
It seems every sip of water youâve taken during the week has been used up in all the tears youâve seemed to be shedding. By the bucketload.
Alas, even blurry and puffy eyed, you pour over statistical formulas anyway, running on no energy and all antagonism. Itâs another tutorial sheet left incomplete, a single question taking a pour that lasts in at least an hour of struggle.Â
Reading the same question for the nth time, your palms press into your temples as you stare lasers into the paper, like the revelation would come to you if you stared it down hard enough. It doesnât make sense, the commands youâve toggled on and off identical to the instructions on the page.Â
Hence the question begs why the data was coming out like someone pressed the ultimate on a number generator.Â
With a heat of unreasonable embarrassment, you find yourself checking your selection in one of the drop down menus, switching to bF01 and back just to see the difference. It does nothing to help, and you canât help but feel a little relieved it wasnât that particular snag.Â
The library is as silent as it could possibly be on a Sunday morning, near empty as you occupy the mostly vacant seats. The librarian is having her own day off, as you could swear sheâs playing computer games behind the counter instead of actual work.Â
The only noise in the room is your own breathing, and that seems to be enough to mess with your concentration. Youâre going cross eyed staring at the page for so long, the words doubling and disappearing before going back to normal.Â
Bayesian inferenceâŠz scoresâŠnull hypothesisâŠ
Wait.Â
Itâs like you can see it in front of your eyes right now, the scribble of someone elseâs dark blue on your notes.
no null hypothesis in bayesian approach
Bayesian approaches donât use null hypotheses. And z scores are inâŠ
âOh my god, this is a t test,â you whisper to yourself in disbelief. Immediately, youâre scrambling to shake your laptop out of its sleep, switching over to a t test to redo everything, following the instructions on the same data set.Â
And there it wasâŠa clear 0.067 under the p value.Â
In a moment of questioning, you laugh out a breathy sound, the absurdity of it all becoming too real. T tests were the first thing you learned, the foundation to all your statistical knowledge. Coming so far, and it took you days to realise the instructions under a Bayesian approach were for a different realm entirely.Â
It was stupid of you. But in this difficult aftermath you canât help but feel victorious. Laughing to yourself quietly in this empty library.Â
When the initial adrenaline fades and youâve double, triple checked to ensure you were right, you can only stare at the tiny mail button in your shortcuts on the screen. It was clearly an error, one that was given out to nearly a hundred students.Â
The first step was clicking, your inbox coming to life as you drift towards the big blue button with the readily available NEW MAIL. So you click.Â
Thereâs an attached file in the email you draft.Â
The tutorial paper has titled t test instructions as a Bayesian approach. Just wanted to point it out and ask if I could receive a corrected version.Â
Regards, YN
Itâs almost like youâre trying to remember how it feels like when you type an experimental m in the To bar. His name pops up immediately, email address typed out in full, full name clear on top as a regular contact.Â
You donât need a suggestion to remember, his email came easier to you than your own.Â
But you donât email him, backspacing till itâs empty once again.Â
Dr. Choâs email sits in that place instead, a first for you.Â
SEND.
You donât expect him to reply on a Sunday, in fact, you arenât sure if heâs going to respond at all. Youâve already shut your laptop, half out of your seat in an attempt to pack up. Youâre forced to consider.Â
Would it be terrible to go back and cc him as well?Â
A spiteful part of you might find joy in correcting him for a change. The rational part of you wants to actually finish the tutorial before tomorrowâs class when youâd have to tackle another beast for the rest of the week.Â
Sitting back down, you move without thinking. Your mind is still cooking up possibilities as you swing your screen open once again, still weighing as you click back into your inbox.Â
Thereâs a new email in your sent box after youâre done, a copy of the one you sent your professor, the same attachment and the same question; word for word. The only difference, a more familiar name in the address bar.Â
Before you can chicken out, you slam your laptop shut for the actual last time, shoving everything into your bag before the speeding thoughts can infiltrate your mind's barrier. Youâre out the door before you know it, ready to be done with this.Â
Youâre afraid if you put a hand to your stomach itâd be met with kicks and punches, especially with the way you feel the aggressive cartwheels slashing away at your insides. The butterflies are making it to the end of your food pipe, and you briefly wonder if you need to break into a sprint to make it to a safe throwing up zone. Your entire being jolts as you feel a buzz in your hands, a loud click that signifies a new email in your inbox.Â
Right there, in the middle of the sidewalk, you stop.Â
The grip you have on your phone is unyielding, your fingers beginning to hurt from the pressure. Thereâs no way to tell if youâre shaking or not, but you bring your phone to your face anyway. The screen flips on, a lone notification on the screen.Â
RE: Tutorial Error from Kim Mingyu
It couldnât have been more than ten minutes since you sent that email, the library still in sight from where you stand. At the same time, itâs almost funny you expected any different from him.Â
The kicks and punches in your stomach halt, the cartwheels have calmed, the butterflies have fallen asleep. The grip on your phone has loosened, and itâs like every nerve in your body went from on fire to serenity in a whiplash inducing shift.Â
Clicking on the notification, the email opens.Â
Noted. I have another tutorial sheet for you if you want it. Iâll be in the room where office hours are held for the rest of the morning.
Kim Mingyu, T.A.
There was no way he didnât have a softcopy he could send you in less than a minute, and youâre sure he knew youâd realise that too. You should scoff, be upset, roll your eyes.Â
But instead, you find your feet making a 180, turning around to go right back to where you came from. You walk, eyes still half trained on the email, reading and rereading as you walk back onto campus, towards the building youâd once considered a second home.Â
You walk, and walk and walk, in through the doors, up the stairs and then another set of them, you take a left and look up. The hallway is empty, the door on the right coming into view as you slow your steps significantly.Â
Closer and closer, you realise the light surrounding it is brighter than usual. The door is open, and you can see the empty rows of tables and chairs, set neatly against one another. Itâs strange, youâve never seen it wide open before.Â
Walking even closer, you can see the beginnings of the professorâs desk come into view, and it only takes you one more step forward.Â
Standing in the doorway now, you find yourself in the direct path of the sun that pours in through the open windows. Itâs warm, but just enough to combat the cooling weather.Â
The desk up front is occupied, as it always is.Â
Mingyu is only in a t-shirt and trousers, glasses perched on his nose as he scrawls away on the paper in front of him. His laptop is turned on, screen facing the door where you stand, his inbox open and available even on the weekend.Â
It wasnât that you were waiting for him to notice, but you found yourself inadvertently taking your time looking at him. Every other situation, youâd done your absolute best to avoid your eyes grazing over him at all costs, hardly drifting over his form before flitting away. You never did it on purpose, but it was more like you were unconsciously protecting yourself.
 Like looking at him would only make the ache in your heart worse.
If that was the case, you wouldâve been right. Thereâs a tug in your chest, and in that moment, it all comes flooding in like a gate destroyed.Â
Mingyu looks up and sees you in the doorway, standing immobile. He sets his pen down, taking his glasses off. Thereâs the smallest hint of a smile on his face as he greets you, ââMorning.â
You take it as your cue to move forward, stepping foot into the patch of sun slowly. ââMorning.â
You reach the desk, standing in front of him, the only thing blocking you being the littered table with files, papers and stationary; the trench between you both.Â
Itâs so silent it tears at your insides, gripping the strap of your bag to have something to do.Â
âI, uh, double checked when I saw the email. You were right, nobody noticed in class either.â Thereâs an airiness in his voice, like he might be struggling just as much as you are right now.Â
He clears his throat when you donât respond, looking back down at his workspace like he was looking for something. He finds a paper from some stack, handing it over to you.Â
âThanks,â you hoarse. Itâs the same tutorial you had, except the instructions had been crossed out, replaced by a list of handwritten instructions instead, detailed in their annotation. You recognise it, because of course youâd recognise his handwriting.Â
âI didnât have time to print one out right now. Iâll probably send a corrected copy to everyone tonight,â he explains.Â
âThatâs alright.â You look up, lips pressed together, eyebrows forced into a regular position on your face. Nodding, you thank him once again. âThanks again. IâllâŠget going.âÂ
Every fibre in your body screams at you to turn back around, hollering profanities at your inability to deal with this. Youâre already halfway to the door though, and your prideâs already deemed it too late.Â
Please stop me, please stop me, please stop me, please just say something and stop meâ
There it is. Your name, from his mouth, in his beautiful voice.Â
Turning back around is the easiest thing youâve ever done.Â
Mingyu has stood up from his seat, out from behind the desk. He looks like he wasnât expecting you to turn back. âCan we talk?âÂ
And then heâs pulling out the chair he was sitting on, presenting it like a piece offering. If you heard correctly, you couldâve sworn you heard his voice break the slightest bit when he pressed, âPlease?â
So there you were, in a position all too familiar as you sit across from the man thatâs haunted you for the past weeks, trying to keep your chest from falling in.Â
âI guess I should start with an apology,â heâs fidgeting with his own fingers. âI donât need to give you excuses about stress or exhaustion becauseâŠâ
He closes his eyes, trying to find the words. âI didnât mean to lash out at you. You were only trying to help and I was too preoccupied with myself to notice. Iâm sorry I spoke to you like that when you didnât deserve it.âÂ
For about the millionth time, you realise youâre tearing up again. He continues. âAnd thenâŠright before the midterm too. You were right, I did feel horrible. But I swear that grade was all you, I didnât touch those numbers.â
He really didnât, because the papers he had thrust into your hands on that fateful day in this very room proved that you earned that mark. You wince regardless.
âI thought I could apologise before the exam started but I couldnât find you, and then you were gone right after. I didnât text or call because I was sure Iâd fucked it all up.âÂ
âIâm sorry too. For barging in in front of everyone and basically accusing you. I wasnât thinking straight.â You look up from your lap, wet lashes and all. âI really hope you didnât get into any trouble.âÂ
âIâno, I didnât.â
âAre you sure? Becauseââ
âI promise I didnât.â He locked eyes with you when he said that, hoping youâd believe him. You nod slowly.Â
âIt wasnât even that bad, what you said,â you sniffled.Â
He scoffs at that, âIâd beg to differ.â
âI wouldâve gotten over it,â you continue, bracing yourself to admit to something youâve had trouble admitting to yourself. âI shouldâve gotten over it. I donât know why it hurt so much, why watching you walk out felt so horrible. But I havenât been acting like normal ever since, and Iâm sorry for stretching this whole fiasco out into something that didnât need to turn intoâŠthis!â
âYou were hurt because I hurt you.â
âPeople have said worse things to me. And you were practically a zombie, I shouldâve just left it for another time. It was a little bit my fault too. ButâŠyeah.â
Thereâs a silence as you try to remind yourself to breathe. You speak up again. âI just want us to go back to normal. Iâve missed you. Alot.â
âMe too. The go back to normal bit. And theâŠmissed you bit.â
Mingyuâs half smiling when you look up, biting your lip hard as you try to keep a smile of your own at bay. âIâd thought if I gave up and admitted I was struggling that day, thatâd be admitting defeat. That youâd think IâŠcouldnât do it.âÂ
Why on earth do you care so much? It rings in your ears.Â
You sound light when you say it though, knowing now it wasnât what he meant.âSince when are we on caring terms?âÂ
Mingyu cringes. "We are. I am, at least, if you aren't anymore, which is fine. I care about you. A lot."
Itâs hard to not let out a laugh. He looks half constipated as he tries to navigate his words.Â
âOh well Iâd hope youâd care, since youâre my TA and all.â
âNot in a TA way.â
âTutor way.â
âUm.â
âFriend way? A human way?âÂ
âNo.â
You both know youâre being obtuse on purpose, and you arenât sure why. Maybe you just like to watch him squirm.Â
âYou know what?â he rasps.Â
âWhat?â
Your answer comes in the form of Mingyu lurching to grab the legs of your chair, pulling the wheels to crash into him where he sits. Youâre not expecting it, the clashing legs causing you to swerve forward, hands on Mingyuâs lap.Â
And then his hand is on the back of your neck, and his lips placed on your own.Â
Youâre stiff as a board, brain computing the fact that Mingyu is kissing you in a classroom.Â
Itâs short, hardly a few moments before he pulls away. âDoes that clear things up?â
Thereâs nothing you can do but blink at him, the reality of it all settles in. âHm.â
He laughs at your half dazed state. Itâs a purely instinctual part of you that speaks after this. âMaybe one more time. To make sure.â
Mingyu doesnât even wait to laugh again as he wastes no time, putting his mouth on yours properly this time. Thereâs more of a drive in you this time, moving your mouth against his and he keeps your head close.Â
The ecstasy is slow but sure to build in your stomach. Mingyu is kissing you. Mingyu is sitting with you and kissing you so good youâre already half faint.Â
His mouth tastes like coffee and remnants of berry, a combination you canât believe you could enjoy this much. Licking into his mouth, you let your tongue drag over his, like the tactile would convince you this wasnât some too vivid fever dream.Â
He pulls away for a moment, but hardly so as his lips remain pressed onto yours.Â
âFor the record,â he pants. âI love that you care. And I hope youâll keep caring. Because I donât think I can handle it if you walk away after this.â
Mouth back on his own, you decide thereâs only one way to convince him you werenât going anywhere without dragging him with you.Â
MINGYU'S APARTMENT IS CLEANER than you expected. You arenât sure what you were expecting, perhaps more mad scientist than anything else. But the most you find is a mug and plate in the sink, and a moderately crowded study desk, which is to be expected.Â
Mingyu decided to abandon his work for the day to spend it with you, to which you contest that it was Sunday anyway. His response is making you change into something comfortable of his so you could laze on his couch.Â
Like you would run away if he didnât, Mingyu keeps his arms around you in a tight hold, fingers curling around your shoulders as you lay on top of him. Your head rests directly over his heart, his cheek and lips taking turns to occupy the top of your head. Â
You fill him in on everything, and realise the most eventful weeks youâve spent were actually quite uneventful in hindsight. He feels up your cheek and forehead when you tell him you got sick at one point, to which you have to reassure him it was either something going around or stress that you subjected on yourself.Â
âI went to a frat party,â Mingyu mumbles into your forehead. âFor Halloween.â
The information has you shifting to look up at him in bewilderment, âYou went to a frat party?â
He snorts, âDressed up for it too.â
âOh my god,â you voice in mild horror. âDo I wanna know?âÂ
âWonwoo and I matched,â he hums as he pulls out his phone, scrolling his gallery to look for pictures. âI was Mario, he was Luigi.â
âHow adorable.â
He only gives you a look and shoves the phone in your face. By some grace of god they arenât wearing moustaches, but the distinct red and green outfits are enough to give you enough recognition.Â
âThing 1 and Thing 2 were also possible contenders,â he informs.Â
âThat mightâve been a little better.â
âWhatâs wrong with Mario?â he asks sharply.
âNothing. But I do hope you werenât sporting an Italian accent throughout that.âÂ
âI was,â he pushes. âA horrible one too.â
You give him the satisfaction of an eye roll.Â
âYou couldâve gone as Peach. We couldâve matched.âÂ
âI donât know if Iâd wanna wear any available Peach costumes during Halloween time.â You crinkle your nose as you think of all the racy costumes that unearth every October.Â
âMaybe in private,â he says with an insufferable smile on his face.Â
Placing your hands flat on his chest, you rest your chin and look up at him. âIâm not sure I want to interrupt whatever you two have going on.âÂ
âWho?â
âYou and Wonwoo, youâre practically married.â
Mingyu laughs out loud, and you can feel the rumble in his chest against your hands, his body moving against your own thatâs stuck to him. âNot with whatever he has going on with his girl.â
âOh right,â you frown in remembrance. âWhat happened to not understanding how he does it?âÂ
âHm?â
âHeâs a TA too. Probably just as busy as you. You said you didnât know how he could juggle a relationship and his job at the same time.â
His eyes spark in remembrance, pausing for a moment. âI may owe him an apology.â
âDo you?â
Mingyu frowns, âActually no I donât. I donât think he and his lady are doing too well right now. Heâs been insufferable lately.â
âIs it because of the TA-ing?â
âI never know with those two,â he sighs.
Thereâs silence once again, in the midst of which Mingyu leans over to kiss you a few times, soft and lingering. Like heâs trying to familiarise himself with the shape of your mouth, the tactile feeling of kissing you.Â
âDo youâŠknow about us?â Thereâs hesitancy in the way you ask. But you canât help but ask anyway.
Mingyu thinks for a moment, and it has your heart beating out of your chest. âI know that I want us to be concrete. That I wanna work around whatever life throws at us. You can decide what to call it, but I know Iâm in it for the long run.â
âIâm glad youâre smarter than your husband,â you smile.
He only rolls his eyes, âHeâs only good at one kind of chemistry.âÂ
âDâyou think theyâll be okay?â
âOh yeah,â he assures. âTheyâre just going through aâŠrough patch.â
âLike we did?â
âIf youâre asking me, Iâd say theyâre being a little more stupid about it.â
The snort that leaves you is unanimous with his own. He continues, âTheyâll be okay though.â
âI hope so. Iâd like to go on double dates with my boyfriendâs husbandâs girlfriend.â You start giggling in the middle of your sentence, too ridiculous even for you to voice.Â
âThis is getting weird,â Mingyu breathes.Â
You only hum against his mouth, âDo I have to take your husband's blessing before we can move forward?â
âFor fuckâs sake.âÂ
Youâre both laughing again, a sound that comes from your stomachs, true and uncontrollable. For a moment, you canât help but be conscious of how light you feel, how happy you feel with his scent infiltrating your nostrils, his presence known where his fingertips touch you.Â
âI did the sticky note thing again too,â Mingyu says into the silence, and thereâs nothing you can do to stop the fit of giggles that erupt all over again.Â
âSaid something worse this time,â he continues as you laugh into his chest. âAccept that youâll die alone or some other shit like that.âÂ
Thereâs comfort in this moment. In your giggles and in your tears, in his voice and in his affection. His lips are another sanctuary youâve found, and perhaps even another way to make your dreaded latch click.Â
Nose nuzzled in his cheek, the feeling of his skin so soft against yours, fingers at his chin where a slight stubble grows, you relax in ways you cannot comprehend.Â
MINGYU'S LIPS BECOME A feeling youâve grown dangerously accustomed to.Â
It isnât that he has them on you too much, regardless of what an outsider might suggest; to you they simply arenât on you enough.Â
The following Monday went as usual, for you anyway. You werenât avoiding Mingyu this time, and you were grateful for it. It was two hours of following him with your eyes as he darted around the room. You could hardly constitute it as not paying attention when Dr. Cho was preoccupied with explaining every reason he hates JASP over SPSS, but also ultimately, hates them both.Â
You donât even notice his loud outfit (overalls and a neon green sweater underneath), happy to watch Mingyu flit about and whisper incoherent explanations to students.Â
The tutorial paper is barely looked at by you, because you know your boyfriend will be happy to help you out later at his place.Â
Youâre barely through the door that night when he gets a hold of you, tight grip across your waist as youâre catapulted into his arms, door slammed shut behind you.Â
Bag still on your shoulders and your shoes still on, Mingyuâs slammed his mouth onto yours before you can take a proper breath. You stumble, squealing through the kiss as you realise you arenât escaping the iron grip heâs got on your face.Â
Somehow between it all, you manage to slip your bag off to let it drop to the floor of his doorway, shoes kicked off one after the other as he leads you inside, littering the way.Â
âYou arenât actually paying attention in class anyway,â he breathes against your mouth before kissing you again. âSo why donât you sit in the back where you donât distract me.â
âWho says Iâm not paying attention.â You open your as your back lands on the couch, looking at him as he looms overhead.Â
âYouâre paying attention to me.â
âIt was in my job description when I signed up for the girlfriend position.â
Heâs all over you now, hands at your sides, mouth underneath your earlobes as he husks, âWas letting me take you in front of the entire class also a clause? Because if this goes on I might have to take up on that.â
If you didnât know any better you wouldâve assumed heâd been possessed, everything about his behaviour screaming the opposite of the well behaved, restrained man youâve been accustomed to. The fact that heâs whispering directly into your ears isnât helping either, a conspicuous shiver dragging across your spine.Â
It lands with precision, right at your core. Youâre too hot to tell, but there isnât a doubt youâve begun to pool.Â
Thereâs a ding in the background.Â
Heâs suckling underneath your ear, his hands roaming in ways that would smear your reputation altogether.Â
Another ding.Â
Heâs reached your mouth once again, groping your right breast lightly. Like heâs testing the waters.
Ding.Â
Mingyu makes a noise of annoyance, the other hand trailing underneath your shirt.Â
His ringtone blares throughout the room, whoever the caller was having reached witâs end.Â
âGyuâŠâ you whisper.Â
âIgnore it,â he growls. The ringing has stopped.Â
He ducks underneath to kiss at your stomach, lifting your shirt oh so slowly. He goes higher, and higher and higher, leaving a trail of kisses at the skin, taking deep breaths as he drags his mouth over your torso.Â
His phone begins to ring again.Â
Your head is spinning, your senses overcome. If you werenât sure before, the air of wetness between your legs is definitely obvious now.Â
He brings a hand to your centre, pushing inwards at your jean clad core. You exhale sharply yet shakily.Â
The ringing stops.Â
Mingyu makes a gumbled sound that you canât quite make out, too preoccupied with the way your shirt is now up past your bra, at which Mingyu has taken to leaving open mouthed kisses to your cleavage.Â
Thereâs a ding.Â
âMingyu, I really thinkââ
His phone begins to ring again.Â
âOh for fuckâs sake,â he curses, rearing his head like an interrupted animal, wet mouthed and bleary eyed. He looks at his buzzing phone on the floor in an accusatory glare, like he wants to chuck it out the window and go right back to burrowing into your chest.Â
âYou should answer.âÂ
He looks irritated as he takes his phone in his hands, and you find a flash of Dr. Choâs name on the screen. âItâs eleven Oâclock.âÂ
âIt might be important.â
âThe last time he did this he asked where his peacock feather pen was,â he grunts as he silences his phone.Â
You laugh, running a soothing hand through Mingyuâs hair, a tiny attempt to calm him down. Pulling your shirt down, you attempt to sit up.Â
Mingyu makes a noise of denial, attempting to stick his face into your now clothed chest, knocking you back down, âNooooo, Iâm gonna ignore him.â
âHeâs not going to leave you alone,â you sing quietly, running your nails across his scalp lightly, holding his head to your chest. You place your cheek on his head, playing with his ear.Â
As if to prove your point, Mingyuâs phone begins to ring again, and he groans at the prospect.Â
âGo on.â
He swipes to answer it. A loud sigh and then a tired, âHello?â
His volume is bumped up enough for you to make out whatâs being said on the other line. âWhere have you been?â
âItâs nearly eleven, sir. I was in bed.â
âMy flash drive wonât open up on my computer.â
You have to stifle a snort.Â
âIs itâŠplugged in?â
âOf course it is, Iâm not an idiot.â
âIs it showing up on your files?â
âDiskâŠis notâŠformatted.â
âErm, it might be corrupted.â
âHow did that happen?â
âDid you download something off the internet onto it?â
âHardly matters, I need the attendance sheet on it!â
Your fingers are massaging Mingyuâs temples as you feel him tense on top of you.Â
âYour attendance sheet is on the teacherâs portal,â Mingyu grits before adding, âsir.â
â...I have other things on there too.â
Mingyu exhales ever so quietly and you tighten your hold on him a smidge. âThis sounds like something tech support could help with.â
âWhy canât you help?â he asks sharply.Â
âIâŠI donât know how, sir.â
Thereâs a noise of indignation from the other end, and you canât help but keep from laughing.Â
Mingyu sighs into the phone, this time doing nothing to hide it. âIâll take it to tech support for you tomorrow. And Iâll send you a direct link for the attendance sheet for Monday and Tuesdayâs classes.â
The line beeps shut. Mingyu brings the phone for you both to see the professorâs hung up as soon as the words left Mingyuâs mouth.Â
âWow,â you whisper into the silence, the weight of Mingyuâs head heavier on your chest. âNot even a thank you.â
âAbsent father behaviour,â Mingyu grumbles as he moves his face to burrow into your shirt.Â
Itâs a bad joke, but you laugh anyway.Â
âWill I be an asshole if I say Iâm not in the mood anymore?â he murmurs.Â
âAbsolutely not. Everything sucked right back in the minute I heard his voice on the line.â
âGross,â he comments, but heâs laughing too.Â
âShould we call it a night?â he asks, rearing his head.Â
Nodding, you rise with him. By the time youâve reached the bedroom, youâve already begun taking off your accessories, fiddling with your bracelet as you voice.Â
âI need a shower.â
Mingyu throws you a towel and a t-shirt, which you catch and move towards the bathroom. Halfway through the door, you sneak a look at him fiddling with his belt.Â
âDo you wanna come in too?âÂ
Mingyu looks at you peering through the door frame. Youâve never seen anyone leap across the room as quickly as in that moment.Â
THE FOLLOWING DAYS WERE just as eventful as that phone call, Mingyu running around as the midterm low passed and the line creeped up towards finals season.Â
Perhaps it was better that you stopped attending office hours, because the room seems to become increasingly packed as the days progressed.Â
You only ever saw Mingyu in the wee hours of the night at his place, where he begged you to camp out till the end of the semester so he âdoesnât move to insanityâ. It might even be better for you, going about your day as usual, without the usual added distraction of a partner.
Coming home to him was easier, where he could clear up your doubts while in ratty pyjamas and starfished across the bed, where you could find solace in Mingyuâs chest without prying eyes when the information became like filling an already stuffed junk drawer.Â
It was a Friday night, youâre alone at Mingyuâs place sitting cross legged on the floor. The table in front of you is pouring over the final question of this weekâs tutorial paper, everything seemingly whizzing right past the top of your head.Â
Despite that, as Mingyu stumbles inside past eleven, you know you shouldnât ask him for a thing.Â
Tired was a look on Mingyu youâd gotten quite used to, so youâve learned to not comment and simply let him fall into the couch cushions with all his weight.Â
His face is parallel to yours as he closes his eyes with a light groan in greeting. Moving forward, you kiss the flutter of his eyelids softly, down to the apple of his cheeks, the tip of his nose, the corner of his mouth.Â
Your fingers run through his tangled and distressed hair as he mumbles against your mouth. âDid you finish the tutorial paper?â
You huff in mild annoyance, that despite his state he still thinks about work. âNot yet. One last question and Iâm done.â
He hums and waits a moment before reopening his eyes. With a loud groan heâs pushing himself off the couch, sliding off of it to sit with you on the uncomfortable floor. âAlright, letâs get this over with.â
âI can figure it out myself, Gyu.â
âYou wouldâve been done by now if you could,â he answers. Itâs annoying that he says it but heâs also right.Â
Mingyu holds the paper a mere inch from his eyes, the sight almost comical if he also didnât look an inch from passing out.Â
He mumbles the question as he reads, âItâs nothing, just worded weird. Toggle this off and move this to mixed factors and youâre done.â
The toggles are done for you, and Mingyu takes the liberty crossing he question off with a pen he finds on the table.Â
âDid you get everything else?â he asks in earnest.Â
âHm? I think so.âÂ
âGood.â And then heâs throwing his head back to rest it on the couch cushions behind him, breathing slowly.Â
Heâs in a navy sweater, collar of his undershirt peeking through the top. Your gaze leads up further, to the exposed area of his throatâclean, tan and naked. You realise this might not be a good time, but itâs only natural your mind cooks up other ways to translate your helplessness as you watch your boyfriend push himself to the brink. Release is never a bad idea.Â
Besides, itâs a Friday night. No reason to not.Â
âGyu,â you shuffle closer.Â
Lolling his head to look over at you, he answers in a small voice, âYeah?âÂ
You put on the guiltiest face you can muster, complete with darting eyes and fidgeting fingers. âDâyou thinkâŠdâyou think you can go over post hoc tests again?â
âPost hoc?â He furrowed his eyebrows. You bite the inside of your cheek, having blurted the first plausible model you could think of to ask him. Itâs an older bit of the syllabus, something you should already be well versed in.Â
Not that you care what he thinks right now, heâd figure out why you were asking anyway.Â
âPost hoc, um,â he rubs a hand over his face as if to jog his memory.Â
Shifting forward, you plaster you front onto his side. He thinks nothing of it.Â
âAnalysis tool after youâve already run the data,â he begins.Â
Placing your chin on his shoulder, you let your nose nuzzle against his cheek. Trailing up, your lips find the shell of his ear.Â
âResults have to beâŠthey have to beâŠâ He falters when your hand reaches his front, running across the expanse of his clothes stomach, nails digging ever so slightly as you reach his abdomen. You continue to place open mouthed kisses at the space of neck you can reach.Â
âHm? Has to be what?â
âStatistically significant,â he breathes when your palms reach the tops of his thighs. âTo run a post hoc test.â
His trousers are less barrier inducing than regular jeans, something youâre both grateful for as you begin to palm his clothed bulge. âResults of what, baby?â
âFor the love ofââ
âGo on,â you whisper in his ear. âPlease.â
One flick and his trousers are unbutton, pulling them aside as the zipper pulls open. You're pushing down his boxers when he answers you. âANOVA.âÂ
âWhatâs that again?â
âYou little shit.â
You move your mouth forward to kiss him.
âAnalysis of variance.âÂ
You hum against the column of his throat at that, his half hard member in your hands. Light touches, thatâs all they are, running the pads of your fingers across the pulsing length, coaxing him into full length.Â
âWhatâs it for though? We already got our results.â Bending forward, you stick your tongue to kitten lick at his tip. Mingyu hisses, hips shifting. Your tongue swirls around the tip, pushing into the skin on the head where heâs most sensitive.Â
âUgh, fuck, for um,â he falters as you begin to suck at his head, tongue running over each hollow of your cheeks.Â
âForâŠforâŠâ His chest is moving up and down in quick breathes, every sound from his mouth coming from a deep rumble in his stomach.Â
Letting go of his cock, you continue to pump him with your hand as you gaze up at him from your position. âFor? Keep talking, baby.â
âForâŠTo identify groups,â he grunts out. He lets out a louder moan when you place your mouth back on him, going past his tip and taking as much as you can of him into your mouth. âIdentifyâŠthe differences, shit, hmph.â
He takes a loud breath before speeding through it again, âIdentify which groups actually differ, oh my god.â
The bit of him that you canât fit on your mouth is being pumped by your hands, fingers pushing into him like you were trying to indent them on the base of his cock. A glance upwards and you find his head thrown back, hands coming to tangle in your hair. His thumb caresses the side of your cheek.
âHow many groups?â you ask, before diving back in.Â
âThree,â he chokes out. âThree or more, oh Iâm gonna cum, fuck donât stop, holy shit.â
Both of his hands are at your head, guiding you as you suck him harder, faster, more tongue digging into his slit. You hum against his dick on purpose, making sure itâs coarse enough to get the reaction you want.Â
You succeed, because immediately after you hear Mingyu rip out the loudest moan youâve ever heard, his grip on your strands harder than ever. He cums into your mouth, hips stuttering as you place your entire weight on him to keep him in place.Â
You let some of it dribble out your mouth and back over his softening dick like a hot coating, sucking him through shooting spurts of cum that land on your tongue.Â
When you emerge from underneath, Mingyu looks like he got the soul sucked out of him; eyes closed, stuttered breaths raking through his entire body, a light sheen of the beginnings of sweat that glisten in the low light of the room.Â
Reaching for the tissue box and water bottle on the table, you soak the napkins and bring them to clean him up. He whines when the cold tissues touch him where heâs most sensitive right now, you want to kiss him but account for the cum that is actively stuck to the walls of your mouth.Â
You leave for a few minutes, much to Mingyuâs hoarse protests. Heâs almost on all fours, hands on the floors as you promise to be back. By the time youâve hauled his tired ass into bed, youâre just as ready to knock out as the half asleep man beside you.Â
Mingyuâs face is plastered into your neck, arms and legs thrown over your form as he hugs you close to him.Â
âI might love you,â he says into the darkness. A secret, just for you and the walls to hear.Â
You hide the way your heart absolutely leaps, conceal the way your hands tighten around his form into an affectionate caress, hold your breath to prevent the inevitable hitch.Â
I might love you too.Â
You hide that as well. For now.Â
Smiling into the skin of his temples, you sigh.
âFeel free.â
[Mingyu]: class ended earlyÂ
[Mingyu]: be there in 5Â
[You]: ???
[You]: wdym ended early
[You]: kim did u end class early to come home
Your response comes in the form of the front door lock jiggling loudly. Youâd stayed the night at his place, knowing you didnât have anything to do but study by yourself. Sickly as you were, you doubt you could sit through two hours of even more statistics.Â
Heâd left you in bed with a kiss, needing to be extra early since Dr. Cho decided to dump the last crucial few weeks leading up to finals season entirely on his TA. As much as there was on Mingyuâs already overflowing plate now, you couldnât deny the elated feeling of your attendance being taken care of regardless of whether you show up to class or not.Â
A very real violation, but no one truly notes one skipped student in the midst of hundreds. Besides, the bag under Mingyuâs pretty eyes might be enough for anyone to have mercy and let the supposed mistake slide.
As Mingyu walks into the room, shoes flying and back dumped on the floor, he finds you still half clothed with leftover sleep in your eyes, standing in the middle of the living space like you were lost.Â
He drops his things to come and drown you in his arms, loud kisses all over your face as you talk. âYouâre getting too comfortable with this job.â
âAm I?â
âYes.â
âCanât possibly expect me to teach a bunch of half asleep idiots when my woman is all alone at home, sickly and cold without me.â
You grumble wordlessly as you feel him check your temperature with the back of his hand. âHowâs the congestion?â
âBad,â you respond nasally. âI canât find my Afrin.â
âItâs on the bedside table, baby.â
âNo, itâs not.â
Still wrapped in his hold, Mingyu begins to take steps forward that lead towards the bed, pushing you to walk backwards.
âIâm not awake enough to navigate,â you sniff.
âIâve got you,â he lowtones, pushing backwards slowly.Â
The back of your knees hit the bed and you let yourself fall back into the unmade sheets. You crawl back under the covers as Mingyu navigates between used tissues, water bottles and pills on the bedside table. But no sign of your nasal spray.Â
You have to breathe through your mouth and you hate it, but you send a remark his way anyway. âTold you.â
Mingyu bends down and emerges with a familiar red capped bottle. He stares at you while you stare at it, choosing to simply snatch it from his presenting hands and be done with it.Â
âGood thing I came back early, hm?âÂ
âShut up.â
He leaps over your form to claim the spot in bed right next to you, still fully clothed as he burrows under the covers next to you.
Thereâs nothing flattering about the way you stick the nozzle up your nostrils and sniff hard, but the gleam in your boyfriendâs eyes might as well suggest you were trying to get him to look at you like that.Â
âAre you gonna keep doing this till finals?â you ask throatily, shifting under the covers.Â
âTeaching during class time is just extended office hours, Iâm gonna go insane if I keep going like this. Probably just today. OrâŠonce more if I feel it.â
âDidnât you say you were gonna extend office hours to Fridays too?âÂ
Mingyu moulded himself against you, giving warmth to your shivering body even under thick blankets.Â
It seems throughout the course of your relationship, your time with Mingyu is either spent laying down or in the process of doing so. Not that you mind, youâve found that remaining horizontal was what worked best for someone like Mingyu who seemed to want to fuse with your very being whenever you were together.
âUgh, not this week. Do not have the patience.â
âIâm proud of you,â you say, eyes closed, already on the highway to dreamland.Â
âThank you, I do think Iâve been very brave.â Even while slipping into dreamland, you find the good sense to find his nipple through his sweater and give it a hard pinch. He jerks away in a yelp, clutching his chest.Â
âWhatâs that for?!â
You ignore him and simply run your hand over the area you just attacked. âYouâve gotten better at knowing when to slow down. Iâm proud of you.â
Youâre too far gone to make out what he answers you with, but with the hot breath against your already warm forehead, you decide it's more than enough for you.Â
MINGYU DOES IT FOR the fourth time, but this time round heâs smart enough to not tell you.Â
Itâs the Friday before finals week officially begins, and you remain in your own place for once to crack down on the last bits of syllabus you want to go over, away from your extremely distracting boyfriend.Â
Thereâs a text when you check your phone after a couple hours of hyperfocus, and you narrow your eyes at the notification.Â
Itâs Wonwooâs (actual) girlfriend, and sheâs sent you nothing but a picture of both of your men on Wonwooâs living room floor, thoroughly occupied with the floored expanse of sheets, pillows and cushions.Â
Itâs a pillow fort.
Your boyfriend is building a pillow fort in his not-husbandâs living room mere days before the final exam for the most dreaded course of the semester. All while heâs actively meant to be available for office hours.
You want to laugh. The man that stayed up multiple nights to answer stupid questions in emails, is now less than concerned about the pandemonium that is probably ensuing in the department building. It isnât that youâre upset, because this was what you wanted from him. To learn to take a break when it was needed. But you would also prefer heâd time them a little better.Â
Inevitably, you text him, but not before sending an encouraging text to your girlfriend-in-law for putting up with the both of them all by herself.Â
[You]: where are you
[Mingyu]: where im meant to be?
[You]: office hours?
[Mingyu]: mhm
[You]: are u and ur husband conducting them under a pillow fort in his house
You imagine him sending Wonwooâs girlfriend a betrayed look. Perhaps even throw a frilled throw pillow in her unassuming direction.Â
[Mingyu]: DONT KILL ME
You let him suffer in your silence, clicking your phone off and leaving it somewhere you wonât be tempted to look.Â
Besides, it wasnât long before there was an incessant banging at your door that you ended up needing to get up to open. He looks so timid, the face of an innocent perpetrator that waltzes into your space.Â
âIâm sorry,â he begins, following you to your desk like a lost duckling.Â
âWhatever for?â
âFor lying.âÂ
You snort as you sift through tutorial sheets, âMight wanna take that up to the poor hopeless student that thought you were their last hope.â
Mingyuâs head sinks to your shoulder where you sit at your desk. âGod.â
âHim too.â
In another few moments, his arms have come around to cage you into your desk where youâre sat, hands placed on the table as he towers over the top of your head, mouth to crown.Â
âRumour has it,â he starts.Â
You make a face. âNow youâve joined in on gossip? Maybe I have steered you wrong.â
He ignores you valiantly as his mouth drops lower, down to the beginnings of the tips of your ears. You can smell him. He smells good.Â
âThat a textbook recitation is all it takes to get you all bothered down there.â
Lifting your head from its craned position over your papers, you stare straight ahead. Blank and unassuming.Â
âTake a hike, Kim.â
â...Sorry.â
NO MATTER HOW FAKE annoyed you were at your boyfriend, you cannot possibly credit anyone else for how smooth your finals had gone.Â
Not a single tear, hack or whine. Your meals were on time, your sleep schedule the healthiest itâs been for months. You even managed a movie night break in the midst of it all. A record for you.Â
The very first thing you do after walking out of the exam hall, stretching and sighing, you find Mingyu waiting with nervous eyes.Â
âWell?â he asks, eyes wide and lips pulled into his teeth.Â
You merely grab for his hand and pull him out of the crowded hall and past a few familiar turns.Â
âFor the record I didnât want some of the questions on there,â he yaps as he follows behind your stalks. âHard ones werenât mine. I promise Iâm not a sadist.â
Then, in an un-CCTVâd corner, marked by the broken, empty vending machine, you round up on him. In seconds youâve pulled him down to meet your lips in an eager, full kiss.Â
In the moments your lips remain intact, you can feel all the horrid statistical knowledge youâd gathered over the months slip out the cracks and crevices, relieving you.Â
Mingyu is careful to let you pull away first, eyes sticky to open when you do. Thereâs a smile on your face. âIt went great.â
A strong tug against your waist and youâre suddenly pressed into Mingyuâs all too familiar hold, so everloving tight you can hardly breathe. His lips are smacking and pressing into your skin, all over your face, neck and hands. Anywhere he could possibly reach.Â
There wasnât much he could do standing in a huddled corner at nine in the morning on a Tuesday, where anyone could pass by and question what in the high school was going on. But there was more than enough Mingyu could do behind closed doors.Â
In true Mingyu fashion, heâs begun to grope in every way you love the minute the lock clicks shut of his apartment, every fibre of both of your beings giddy and jumpy, giggles erupting from your tired mouths. You havenât been touched in ages, always too tired to do anything even when you would find the time.Â
It isnât remotely strange that you're wet from only a few kisses and hot breaths against your neck. Although Mingyuâs hands havenât been modest either, already reaching your clothed cunt as you fall into bed.Â
He says it was your reward, for doing so good, his illustrious mouth suctioned onto your naked core, moving and grinding in ways you can more than just appreciate.
His tongue is nothing below made for you, like he knows exactly when to flick his tongue, graze his teeth and all but suck the daylights out of you. Itâs marvellous, even more so as you realise he wonât stop. One, two, three mind blowing orgasms later, your legs still shake around his head as you cry out for him to stop.Â
Not that he was going to listen, as he did not the last fifteen times you tried, simply pushing a finger into your abused hole to chuck you into yet another climax. Youâre sobbing, trembling, sweating; but also half hearted in your attempts to stop him.Â
By the time heâs relented, youâre sure you wonât feel a thing down there for at least a week. If Mingyu will even let you go untouched for that long.Â
But as youâre finally able to catch your long lost breath in bed, and Mingyu has curled up right beside you, like he always does, you let the finality of it all sink in. You were done. And so was he. And you could now begin to experience a Mingyu that wasnât exhausted, stressed or tired. Even now, the long indented layers of fatigue begin to melt away, revealing a less strained man.Â
Mingyu was beautiful either way.Â
âAre you okay?â he asks you, his fingers tracing your features.Â
The pads of his fingers glide across your eyelids, down the slope of your nose, tracing the outline of your lips. You kiss his fingers as they reach you there, hand coming up to hold his wrists. You kiss the tips of his fingers, down to the palm of his hand. Eyes closed, you keep your lips there.Â
âMore than okay,â you mumble.Â
âGood. Thought I lost you there.â
Stretching unceremoniously, you drape yourself over his naked form, head on his shoulder. âYouâre not losing me. Not after being the sole reason I pass this devilâs module.â
âIs that all it takes? Make sure you donât fail?â
âAnd give head like that.â Itâs a half joke. âBut also be Kim Mingyu comma TA.â
He mimics you between a breathy laugh, âComma TA. Not anymore, I guess.â
âHow happy are you?â
âStill have to grade the last set of papers. But I got what I wanted.â
âThe recommendation? You deserve it.â
âThat, and not having to be in Dr. Choâs presence every other day. And you.â
You kiss his shoulder. âLook at you. All grown up with your big boy grad school on the horizon.â
âNot just yet.â
âYouâll get there too. If you can power through this hellsent semester, you can power through anything grad school applications throw.â
Mingyu shifts where he lays, taking a turn to lie on his side to face you. The afternoon sun peeks from behind his form, his outline made of pure gold. His breath is in your face as he talks, and thereâs comfort in the air it penetrates.
âI only powered through this because of you. I hope you know that.â Heâs smiling.Â
âGirlfriend duties,â you quote solemnly.Â
âI mean it. I knew I was walking into disaster with how this stupid job was going, all that work was just a distraction. I didnât wanna believe this was a bad idea. And then you walked in.â
You cup his face and pout, âOh, my damsel in distress.â
âHm, my knight in shining armour,â he giggles. âGalloped in and saved me from myself.â
âYou saved me too. From the world and its horrible creations.âÂ
âIâll start talking in formulas if this keeps up.âÂ
You can only grumble in mild annoyance.Â
âIâm glad I asked you to come in early that day,â he says.
âIâm glad I was a good samaritan and gathered all your stuff that day.â You grin.
Mingyu leans in and kisses you. Itâs soft, slow, and drips of the romance heâs trying to bring into the conversation. His lips are bliss, the feeling of him is bliss.Â
Itâs almost scary how easily youâve been able to give yourself to him. How quickly heâs placed himself in every nook and cranny of your heart. With his tired eyes and stronger than himself smile, the hand he extended in ways beyond you could ever explain to him. Itâs terrifying when you realise what remains on the tip of your tongue, ready and bursting.Â
But itâs true, and you can only pray it remains that way. Because in that moment, naked and tangled between Mingyuâs limbs, his heart in your ears, your hands on his being, you just know.Â
âI think I might love you too.âÂ
#svthub#camandemstudios#mingyu fluff#mingyu angst#mingyu smut#mingyu fic#mingyu scenarios#mingyu imagines#mingyu x reader#mingyu#seventeen fluff#seventeen angst#seventeen smut#seventeen fic#seventeen scenarios#seventeen imagines#seventeen x reader#seventeen#svt fluff#svt angst#svt smut#svt x reader#svt#em.writes#seventeen fic recs#mingyu fic recs
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IT'S (NOT) JUST SEX ft. SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY
Warning(s): Sexual Content, AFAB!reader, (Sorta) Daddy Issues, Half&Half Proofread idk
Author's note: Guess I'm drowning in Simon right now, I just have so many ideas for him and honestly this is not original but fuck it I think it's cute mwah
"It's just sex."
But he's literally paying attention to every staccato of your moans, as he angles his hips perfectly to hit your sweet spot every fucking time. The way you arch your back, and your whimpers are elongating with every stroke, adding just the right amount of pressure to have you cumming all over his dick. And he doesn't even care if he's finishing anymore, as long as you're getting yours he's more than satisfied enough. And he's definitely not flipping you over on your back every time without fail just to see your pretty "o" face.
"It's just sex."
But he's waking up before you with your coffee exactly the way you like it, down to the milk preference, brand and roast. Your eggs perfectly fried, and a tender kiss to your temple asking you,
"How'd ya sleep, love?"
"It's just sex."
But he's always fixing your hair when it's out of place, the collar of your shirt when it's tucked in incorrectly and making sure he's holding your hand when you're crossing the street together.
"It's just sex."
But he's talking you down over the phone when you get into a catastrophic argument with your dad and moments later he's showing up at your door with your favorite snacks and beverages. His arms are enveloping you in the most snug bear hug, kissing your temple and rubbing your back while you cry it out. And then you're watching reruns of your favorite tv show and until you're passed out in his arms.
"It's just sex."
But he's letting you in. You're seeing all the sides of him that he never shows to anyone else. The scars under his mask, the way his lips curve up into a smile when you're doing you're little dance to oldies on the radio, and the genuine, hearty chuckle that effortlessly escapes his now loosened sternum.
"It's just sex."
But then you're under the steamy water coming out of his showerhead, as he sings in his off-key baritone while he suds up his loofa to clean you up after he fucked your brains out on his loveseat. Memorizing every mole, stretchmark, and crease in your skin as he's exfoliating your pretty skin.
But,
It's not just sex.
Because he's sitting there on the sofa, wondering how the fuck he ended up with the prettiest, vintage engagement ring you pointed out when you two were antiquing (antiquing? he doesn't bloody go antiquing) between his stout, scarred fingers, glittering in the moonlight and all.
"Si?"
He turns from the ring to the most stunning woman that's ever graced his miserable presence, leaning against the doorframe with his shirt hanging loosely over her thighs, hair disheveled in the cutest way humanly possible. Her playful smile etching into her dulcet features as she sucks in her bottom lip. Oh yeah, she's a fuckin' stunner.
"Are you coming back to bed?"
His eyes visibly softening as he drinks you in.
"Ya, dovie, I'll be right there." He murmurs, licking his dry lips, and you're already padding back to his room, making sure you sway your hips provocatively. That causes his lips to kick up into a genuine smile and a chuckle to escape his chest. And then he's up, carefully putting away the precious metal in a false bottom drawer under the utensils, and then he's jovially treading back to you. Face first into the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet, natural musk. He could bathe in this shit.
Fingers carding through his hair and he's oblivious to the knowing smirk on your sly face. That fucker thinks he's so slick.
#call of duty#call of duty imagines#call of duty x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader#ghost x female reader#ghost x you#call of duty ghost#ghost smut#simon riley smut#simon riley x female reader#simon riley imagine#simon ghost x reader#simon x reader#cod#cod smut#call of duty smut#simon ghost x you#simon ghost smut#simon riley x you#simon riley x y/n#simon ghost riley x reader
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all's fair in love and viscera...
pair: logan howlett x mutant!fem!reader wc: 6.7k contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, violence, blood, gore (more so thoughts of gore) nat probably blatantly ignoring canon, fighting as foreplay, bleeding as foreplay, written with X2 logan in mind, p in v, rough sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (fem!receiving), finger sucking hehehe, light choking, hair pulling, blood play, biting is just another form of sexual penetration guys, scent kink, pain kink, porn w/o plot, no use of y/n. authorâs note: i have a rotting note that says "logan spar fic turned face sitting" so that's what this is but it kinda got a little weird lol i also just wanted an excuse to write more about the mutant ability that's been bopping around in my brain since watching season four of the boys. kisses!
logan wants to spar...
You can smell him before he even opens the door to the training room.
Itâs funny, because almost all blood smells the exact same. It melds into one coppery, metallic tang that stings your nose everywhere you go.
Mutant blood is only slightly different, something sharper with a tartness that lingers in the air longer, that tingles along the edge of your senses and burns the back of your throat.
Logan's blood is something entirely different.
The first time you met him it almost brought you to your knees. It was so overwhelming, the smell swarming you so intoxicating and all encompassing that it made you feel dizzy.
Loganâs blood is a wild mix of earthy musk and something like charred wood. His scent carries an electric charge, like the smell of air right before a thunderstorm, like ozone after a lightning strike.
It's like nothing you've ever encountered beforeâhot and acidic, with a barely there underlying sweetness that never fails to turn your insides to liquid. It seems to defy normalcy, bending the rules of what you know about blood and biology.
You know in the back of your mind that it's the adamantium. It's been fused to his skeleton for so long, it must be something chemical. A reaction happening in his body that makes it so distinctly different.
Part of you likes to think that it's just Logan, that the scent is a reflection of everything he is. The raw, untamed essence of his nature, something primal thatâs deeply ingrained in his being.
The door creaks open behind you, you make it a point to keep your focus on the punching bag. You've been here for hours, your arms only finally starting to burn with exertion. The bag feels solid and grounding under your taped knuckles, swinging lightly with every hit.
Logan's heavy footsteps get closer and closer, echoing through the empty room until he's striding past you to lean against the wall next to the bag's rig.
You don't look at him, but you can feel his gazeâan intense, almost palpable thing.
âFigured youâd be down here,â Logan's voice is the familiar rough and gravelly rumble you've become used to, cutting through the silence between the two of you with a barely there teasing edge. âCouldnât sleep, huh?âÂ
You fight the urge to roll your eyes. Logan has an even better sense of smell than you do, and he can sniff out a lot more than blood. You're sure he knew you were here this whole time, that he could smell you from his room two stories up.
You give a small, noncommittal grunt, ignoring him as you throw another punch. Sweat is dotted across your hairline, it drips down the small of your back and the column of your throat. It's not that you don't like Logan, that you donât want him here, you have the complete opposite of that problem.
You like Logan too much, more than you should.
Every time heâs near, youâre intensely aware of how much his presence affects you, of the way all the blood in your body starts to sizzle under your skin with a throbbing need that's getting harder and harder to ignore. Itâs like a constant, low-grade fever that only flares up when he gets too close.Â
âCome on, kid. You canât ignore me all night,â he says, thick arms crossing over his chest. "Don't make me beg."
You let out a breath, more exasperated than anything else, and finally turn to face him. Loganâs standing there, all broad shoulders and rugged confidence in his white tank and gray sweats, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
That smirkâit's almost as dangerous as the claws hidden just underneath his skin.
âDidnât know you were the begging type.â Your attempt to sound casual is overpowered by the slight breathy edge of your voice. You blame it on the workout.
Logan's smirk widens just a fraction, and you can tell he's caught the hitch in your voice. His eyes, sharp and knowing, narrow in on you with that familiar mix of amusement and something you can't quite place, something that sends a shiver down your spine.
"Only when I really want something," he replies easily.
Your form falters, just barely, but itâs enough for Logan to notice. You can hear the amused huff he lets out.
You throw another punch at the bag, more to steady yourself than anything else. The impact reverberates through your knuckles, but it doesn't do much to dispel the heat pooling low in your stomach.
"Back to ignoring me?" he asks, needling. You can see the raise of his brow in your peripheral vision.
âTrying to,â you mutter under your breath, though it's more to yourself than to him. You keep your gaze locked firmly on the bag, willing your pulse to steady.
"What's that?" he leans in closer, his scent wafting over to you as he does. Somehow stronger than before, an assault on your senses. You barely conceal a shiver.
"Itâs not my fault youâre here when I'm at my least chatty," you retort blandly, a little louder, willing your voice to sound as steady as it can.
"Looks to me like youâre always at your least chatty,â he shoots back, not showing any signs of backing down.
"It's late,â you reply tersely.
"Yeah," he says. "It is late."
The words hang in the air, laced with a double meaning that neither of you acknowledges.
"Too late to be up hounding the bags like they owe you money," he adds, the tone of his voice almost gentle in a way that catches you off guard. Nothing like the Logan you're used to.
âYeah, well,â you grunt, throwing a particularly sharp jab. âSome of us donât need all the beauty sleep."
Logan lets out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling deep in his chest, you can feel the vibration of it in your bones. "Funny," he muses to himself, voice going quiet like he's turning your words over in his mind. "I can see why Charles keeps you around."
You huff, sweaty brows knitting together in frustration. âYou donât have to babysit me, you know.â
âBabysit?â He smirks, clearly amused. âIs that what you think Iâm doing?â
Your resolve finally cracks, your fists sore when you drop them to your sides and turn to Logan with a questioning look on your face.
"What do you want, Logan?â
It sounds harsher than you meant it, rough and exasperated as you start to catch your breath for the first time since he walked in.
Logan doesn't respond, just pushes off the wall to step closer. His scent hits you like a truck now that your focus is solely on him, you can feel your blood start to thrum under your veins. The sweat dripping down your back feels like itâs igniting the tension in your body, and Loganâs only making it worse the closer he gets.
He stops a little less than a foot away from you. Itâs too close, he evades your space until all you can see is him. The width of his shoulders, the strong muscle of his chest and torso filling your view.
Logan doesn't say anything for a few beats, just stares down at you with a studying look on his face. It's a struggle to keep still under the intensity of his gaze. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, the rhythmic thud loud in your ears as the silence stretches between you.
He tilts his head to the side slightly, eyes narrowing as he trails them over your sweaty face. You're seconds away from saying something, from turning and running with your tail between your legs, when he beats you to it.
He lets out an amused scoff, shaking his head as he walks past you to the large blue training mat in the middle of the room.
"C'mon," he calls over his shoulder, "Try hitting something that hits back, might help clear your head."
You blink, caught off guard by the sudden shift, but Loganâs already made his way to the center of the mat, turning to face you with a challenging glint in his eye.
You shake your head slowly, not moving from your place across the room. "I don't want to fight you."
Logan chuckles wryly, âCouldâve fooled me, sweetheart.â
The nickname sends a jolt through you, your pulse skipping in response. Itâs always the way he says itârough around the edges but with a softness thatâs almost affectionate. You clench your fists tight, as if the simple act of it will keep your thoughts in check.
"Think you can keep up?" he teases, rolling his shoulders in that casual, self-assured way of his. But there's something in his tone, a challenge that makes you want to prove yourself.
You cast your eyes to the ceiling, exasperated, a bemused laugh bubbling from your chest as you do. "You know I can," you reply, your voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through you. "This isn't about that."
You should just say no. You should say no and go back up to your room so you can go to bed and forget all about this in the morning. You can barely stand to be in the same room with Logan for more than thirty minutes at a time, training with him is too much of a risk.
"What's it about then? You scared?" Logan's voice snaps you out of your thoughts, a playful smirk curling his lips. He raises an eyebrow, daring you to join him.
That does it. A spark of defiance flares in your chest, overriding the nervous tension thatâs been building since he walked in. Youâre not one to back down from a fight, especially when Logan's practically begging for one.
Without thinking, you stride over to the mat.
Logan watches you approach, his stance relaxed but ready, like a predator sizing up its prey. You try your best to ignore the smug look on his face as you kick off your shoes and join him.
"Not scared," you shrug, running your fingers over the tape on your knuckles. "I just don't need you getting all pissy when I win." You roll your shoulders, shake out your arms, and square up, focusing on the way Loganâs eyes are locked on yours.
Logan's grin widens, a flash of sharp teeth that makes your pulse quicken. "We'll see about that."
You drop into a ready stance, the tension in your muscles coiled tight like a spring. For a moment, neither of you moves, just sizing each other up. The silence between you stretches taut like a bowstring. Your eyes lock onto Logan's, each of you reading the other, waiting for the right moment to strike.
The air between you feels like it's vibrating, charged with a mix of tension, anticipation, and something elseâsomething unspoken, simmering just beneath the surface.
Then, in a blur of motion, Logan makes the first move, just like you expected him to. He lunges, fast and strong, but you're ready for him, sidestepping the blow and bringing your forearm up to deflect his fist away from your body.
"Slow start, old man?" you quip, a sly smile tugging at your lips as you regain your footing. "Speed isn't what it used to be?"
Logan chuckles, a low and throaty sound. "Just warming up, sweetheart. Don't want you crying unfair when I take you down too quick."
You scoff, rolling your eyes dramatically before launching your own attack. You swing a swift roundhouse kick aimed at his midsection. He anticipates the move, catching your ankle with one hand while his other reaches out to grab your wrist.
But you're quicker. Using the momentum, you twist your body and slip free from his grasp, landing lightly back on your feet a few steps away. The brief contact sends a jolt up your leg, his touch searing even through the thick layer of your sweats.
"Stop holding back," you say roughly, your lips turned down in a displeased frown. "Hit me."
Logan's eyes flash with amusement. "Careful what you wish for."
He advances again, this time more aggressive. He throws a combination of punchesâleft, right, leftâeach one precise and controlled. You block the first two, but the third grazes past your defenses, skimming your rib cage hard enough to sting.
You hiss softly at the impact but don't back down. Instead, you duck low and sweep your leg out in a wide arc, aiming to knock him off balance. Logan slides back just in time, your foot swiping through empty air as he evades the attack with a kind of brute grace that you wouldnât expect.
"Getting fancy now?" he remarks, that infuriating smirk never leaving his face.
You don't respond, springing to your feet with a raised fist in a swift uppercut. This time you connect, your knuckles catching his stubbled jaw with a loud 'crack'. Your whole hand throbs, you can feel the break in your thumb snap back together in a sharp pinch.
Logan stumbles back a step, his head snapping to the ceiling with the force of your hit. When he turns back to you, there's a large bruise blooming along the sharp cut of his jaw. You watch the color of it spread across his skin, angry reds and dull purples that fade as fast as they appear.
There's a glint of something dangerous in his eyes as he meets your gaze. The brown of them darker than before, his pupils blown out and glossy in a way you've never seen.
With a low growl, he comes at you again, faster this time. His movements a blur of muscle and intent. You manage to block the first hit, but not the second, his fist catches your side with enough power to make you stumble back a few steps. Pain flares white hot through your ribs, but you grit your teeth and bear it.
You lose yourself in the rhythm of the fight. The world narrows down to the two of you, the sound of your breaths and the feel of his skin brushing against yours in fleeting moments of contact.
There's a thrill in it, in the way you challenge each other, in the way you push past your own boundaries.
But there's also something more, something deeper. Every time your eyes lock, you can feel the electricity between you, the way your heart skips a beat, the way your breath catches in your throat. It's not just about the fight anymore.Â
You feel more alive than you have in a long time. More alive with every sting of each new blow, with the way your muscles burn, with the stray hairs that stick to your forehead.
The heat between you is almost tangible, mixing with the sweat and exertion. Every punch, every block, sends a jolt of adrenaline through your system, making it both exhilarating and maddening.
The scent of himâearthy, electric, and utterly intoxicatingâgrowing stronger with every second. Your senses are on high alert, every part of you tuned in to his presence.
It wraps around your whole being, making it hard to think straight. But you donât need to thinkâyou just move, letting your instincts take over.
Logan feints to the left and uses it to sweep your legs out from under you in the same move he mocked you for. Your back hits the floor with a hard thud, the give of the mat not doing much to soften the hardwood underneath.
All the breath in your lungs rushes out of you in a sharp gasp. Before you can recover, Logan is looming over you. He cages your body under his own, thick arms on either side of your head, his weight pressing you further into the floor. His breath is hot against your ear as he leans in close, his voice a low, almost growling murmur.
"Gotcha."
You try to come up with a witty comment, a snarky line, a petty insult. Anything at all reallyâbut the words catch in your throat. Instead, you just stare up at him, your chest heaving violently, your heart pounding so loud you're sure he can hear it.
The whole room feels like itâs spinning, and for a moment, all you can focus on is the intensity in Loganâs eyes, the heat of him against you.
Suddenly, your entire body feels like it's on fire. Phantom flames lapping at every inch of your skin that send your head reeling quicker than you can blink. It's not an unfamiliar feeling, but you've only ever felt it outside of a mission once, and it didn't end well.
For a few heart stopping seconds, you're more than confused. Panic starts to set in at the thought of having another "accident" and not even knowing what's triggering it.
Through the messy haze of your panic, you finally see it. The tiny cut above Logan's brow leaking a thin trail of red down the side of his face.
Everything around you dissolves into static, your eyes zeroing in on that single bead of crimson. The cut's long gone by the time it drips from his jaw to the mat right next to your shoulder. Logan's skin stitching back together and leaving no trace that it was ever broken in the first place, but it doesn't matter.
The damage is already done, and you can feel your body start to react.
You can feel your resolve crumbling, the edges of your self-control fraying with every passing second. Your own blood pulses beneath your skin like liquid fire as your stomach churns and twists. The intense need to feel, to taste, to take claws at your throat.
You let out a low, guttural sound, somewhere between a growl and a whimper, as you lose the last of your control.
Hank had called it a frenzy, but that wasn't a technical term.
"You're not in your right mind. You've essentially been conditioned to react strongly to the scent and sight of blood, particularly when you're already in a heightened emotional or physical state. The combination of adrenaline, exertion, and the scent triggers this...well, this 'frenzy' for lack of a better term."
It's like you blackout, and when you wake up, you're straddling Logan's chest with your hand wrapped around his throat in a vice-like grip. The tan column of his throat glowing red beneath your hand, a map of blue veins inked along his skin like spiderwebs as you watch the blood pulse through them.
Your grip tightens instinctively, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you try to reign in the storm swirling inside you. Everything narrows down to the pounding in your ears, the blazing heat of Logan's skin under your fingers, and the urge to let go, to give in.
Logan's voice starts to trickle in around the static buzzing in your ears, your name falling from his lips sounds strained, but there's a calmness to it. The fog of your instincts begins to fade, the world around you slowly starting to piece back together.
You blink, the haze in your mind clearing as you try to focus on his face, the way his eyes are locked onto yours. Intense, but not clouded with fear like you expected.
Your chest heaves with every breath, ragged and short like they're being ripped out of your lungs. Your wide eyes dropping to where your hand is still locked around his throat, panic surges in your chest like ice freezing over a lake.
But before you can do anything, Logan's reaching up, his hand catching your wrist in a tight grip. His thumb brushes over your pulse pointâthe touch sends a jolt through you, as if heâs touched a live wire.
âDon't,â he says, like he knows what you're thinking, his voice a rough whisper. The rasp of it vibrates against your hand. âDon't stop now."
Loganâs other hand comes up to rest on your hips, his touch firm but not forceful. He doesnât try to wrestle control away from you; instead, he holds you steady. His fingers dig into your skin, grounding you.
âCome on,â he coaxes, his voice dropping to a husky whisper that sends a shiver of anticipation through you. âI can take it. Give it to me.â
The world around you blurs, your focus entirely on the man beneath you, the way his body feels under your hands, the way heâs willingly surrendering to your control.
You take a breath, trying to steady yourself, but itâs no use. You search his eyes, dark and full of want. There's a heat there, a spark that crackles between you, and it only adds fuel to your fire.
If he wants to push, you're ready to push back.
Silently, you slide your hand up the expanse of his throat, feeling the way his pulse beats strong and fast under your palm. The glow under his skin dissipates as you make your way up, tracing your fingers over his jaw and up to his bottom lip.
Loganâs breathing is rapid, his chest rising and falling under you quicker than before. His lips are slick and red, parted so enticingly that you can help but slide your index finger over them. Your nail digs into the fat of his bottom lip, not hard enough to hurt, just hard enough to let him feel it.
Logan lets you toy with him, meets your gaze head on as you push further. Your finger presses deeper, pushing past the seam of his lips to feel the warmth of his mouth, the wet glide of his tongue against your skin.
The sharp bite of Logan's teeth pinches your skin as he closes his lips around your finger and sucks.
Your breath catches in your throat, heat blooming in your core as his tongue brushes over the pad of your finger. You can feel the ache of your cunt between your legs, arousal leaking wet and sticky in your panties.
Your other hand rises up to rest on the side of his face, your fingers grazing over his cheekbone. The touch feather-light but filled with a fierce, unspoken energy. Loganâs breath hitches slightly, his eyes darkening even further.
Your palm splays over the skin of his cheek, the heat of his face seeping into your hand. Loganâs eyes close for a moment, his breath coming in shallow bursts as he tilts his head into your touch.
In a quick move, you dig your fingernails into the fat of his cheek roughly. Loganâs body arches under you, his back snapping off the mat with guttural groan ripping from his chest as you pierce his skin.
You gasp at the scent of him wafting up through the air, at the feeling of his teeth digging into your own flesh. His blood leaking onto the tips of your fingers feels like a shock to your system, both electrifying and terrifying.
His skin glows even brighter than before. A mix of reds and oranges that light up just beneath his skin, the blue of his veins like rivers on a map. Your nails dig deeper into his skin, drawing more blood, the warm, sticky liquid coating your fingers. You watch, mesmerized, as the glow under his skin pulses in response, as if feeding off your energy, amplifying the connection between you.
Loganâs breath hitches, his body tensing beneath yours, but he doesnât pull away. If anything, he leans into your touch, his eyes dark and hooded with desire.
it takes barely any energy from you. The faintest traces of your power used for something none of those demented scientists in white lab coats intended.
None of that matters. All that matters is the raw, animalistic connection between youâthe way his body is responding to your touch, the way his eyes shine with want, the way his blood sings in harmony with yours.
You could boil Logan alive in less than a second, burst every vessel and capillary in his body until he's nothing more than a copper stain on the floor. But his hands only tighten their grip on your waist to drag you impossibly closer.
"More," Logan growls, his voice vibrating against your palm as his teeth sink a little deeper into your finger, the heat of his breath searing against your skin. He hooks his hands under your thighs, dragging your body up his chest until your legs are spread on either side of his head.Â
Your hands fly to his hair, steadying yourself with two fist fulls of the brown tufts that sit atop his head. Youâve always been curious if Logan styles his hair this way on purpose, or if it just grows like that naturally. You don't have time to ponder it for long before he's letting out another ragged groan and burying his face between your thighs.
You can feel the heat of his breath over the clothed expanse of your cunt, his nose trailing along the inseam of your sweats as he inhales greedy lungfuls of your scent.
"Logan," you gasp, voice gone high and breathy around the edges.
"Tell me what you want," he says lowly, his lips brushing over you with every word.
It's muffled slightly, but the demand in his tone still sends a shock through you. Your grip on his hair tightens as your mind falls into a whirl of sensations and emotions you couldn't possibly confront.
He presses a heated kiss against the fabric of your sweats, right over where your aching clit pulses with need. The sensation sends an electric jolt straight through your core. Your whole body hums with an intense craving, a need that burns hot and fierce.
"Tell me," he repeats, his voice a rough rasp that vibrates against your core.
You swallow hard, your breath hitching as you try to form a coherent thought, let alone speak.
"I want..." you start, your voice trembling with a mixture of desperation and desire. The words are there, lodged in your throat, but saying them out loud feels like crossing a line youâre not sure youâre ready to cross.
"I need you,â you breathe out, the confession slipping from your lips like a secret finally set free âI need everything.â
Loganâs eyes flare with something fierce and wild. Without a word, he pulls you closer, his hands surging up to tear through the fabric of your clothes like it's nothing but tissue paper. The tattered remains of your panties and sweats pool to the floor in a crumpled mess.
The heat of his breath is replaced by the pressure of his mouth, his tongue sliding through the wet slit of your cunt. He lets out a filthy groan at the first real taste of you, the flat of his tongue lapping eagerly through your dripping slit.
The thrill of his mouth against your most sensitive spots sends a jolt through your entire body, your back arching taut as you grip his hair even tighter. Loganâs groan reverberates through you, the vibration sending a fresh wave of heat pooling in your core.
Logan is relentless, devouring you like heâs been starving for this, starving for you. The wet sounds of his mouth working you over mix with your breathless whimpers and the low growls rumbling from his chest. He works his tongue expertly, tracing every inch of you, mapping out every spot that makes you tremble and moan.
Your thighs tighten around his head, hips grinding against his face almost unintentionally as heat starts coiling tight in your belly. The scruff of his jaw rubs against the sensitive skin of your thighs with each drag of his head, the sting of it just adds to the assault of pleasure. You wish he could leave his mark on you, wish that your skin wouldnât work overtime to fix the angry red blotches of raw skin he leaves in his wake.
Logan grips you hard enough that you can see the bruises decorating your skin every time you look down. His arms firm and strong where theyâre locked around your thighs to keep you pressed against his mouth. His nose bumps against your throbbing clit each time he fucks his tongue into your leaking cunt.
âLogan,â you moan, your voice a breathy plea that only seems to spur him on. He flicks his tongue over your clit, sucking it into his mouth with a harsh pull that makes you cry out, your whole body shuddering with the intensity of it.
âTaste so fucking good, baby,â he murmurs against you, the words muffled by the slickness of your folds. âCould eat you all night.â
âLogan, Iâmââ you start, but the words catch in your throat as he sucks hard on your clit, sending you careening over the edge. Your orgasm crashes over you in waves, your entire body convulsing with the force of it as you cry out his name, your nails digging into his scalp as you hold on.
Logan doesnât stop, doesnât give you a moment to catch your breath. He licks you through your release, his mouth working you over with a single-minded intensity that has you writhing against him, overstimulated and desperate for more.
âFuck, Logan, please,â you gasp, not even sure what youâre begging for, just knowing you need something, anything to ease the ache thatâs still throbbing deep inside you.
Logan pulls back just enough to look up at you, the bottom of his face slick with your arousal, eyes dark with a hunger that matches your own. He licks his lips, savoring the taste of you.
Loganâs hands slide up your thighs, his touch gentle now but still impossibly firm. He trails his fingers along your skin, tracing the sensitive lines where your skin starts to heal the damage he left behind.
âStill with me?â he asks, his voice is softer than before but thereâs still an unmistakable rough edge coating his words.
You nod, your voice barely a whisper as you try to collect yourself. âYeah...Iâm here.â
âGood,â he growls softly, his hands squeezing the sore skin of your hips. âBecause Iâm not done with you yet.â
Youâre on your back in less than a second, Logan flipping your positions so fast it has your head spinning. His mouth crashes against yours, hot and desperate, all sharp teeth and bruising pressure.Â
Itâs a kiss that feels like a fight, like a challenge, like a promise of something much darker and more consuming just beneath the surface. His stubble scrapes against your skin, adding to the raw, visceral feeling of it all. Your teeth clack together violently, you can taste the faint coppery tang of blood on his lips.Â
You kiss him back just as fiercely, pouring all the pent-up frustration, all the desire, all the fear and anger and need into the contact between you. Your hands are everywhere, clawing at his hair, his shoulders, his backâneeding to feel him, to mark him, to claim him as yours in a way thatâs as undeniable as the blood pulsing through your veins.
Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, needing him to fill the ache thatâs building inside you. Logan grinds against you, his hard cock still trapped in the fabric of his sweats rubbing against your spit soaked cunt. You canât help the desperate whimper that escapes your throat. âPlease, Logan,â you gasp out against his lips, your voice trembling with need. âFuck me, I need it, pleaseâ.âÂ
He growls low in his throat, his eyes locking onto yours with a fierce intensity that makes your heart skip a beat. âYou sure youâre ready for this, sweetheart?â he asks, his voice rough, his breath hot against your skin.Â
You nod frantically, your hips bucking up against him darkens the fabric tent of his bottoms. He feels huge, heavy and hot where he pushes against your slick folds. âYes, please, justââ Logan doesnât let you finish.Â
With a swift, almost feral move, he pushes the hem of his sweats down roughly, the sound of seams ripping rings through the room. You barely have time to gasp before heâs pushing his cock into you, stretching you wide, filling you so completely that all you can do is cling to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as he immediately sets a relentless pace.Â
You donât have any time to adjust to the thick length of his cock carving its way inside of you, the sting of it has your eyes screwed shut. Itâs only barely straddling the knife's edge of where pain and pleasure meld together, but it has you crying out his name all the same.Â
Logan fucking sounds identical to Logan fighting, guttural groans and growls that are ripped from somewhere deep in his chest to pierce through the air between you. That ring in your ears and shake through your very soul like thunder.Â
âFuck, youâre tight,â he grates, his voice thick with lust as he holds himself still for a moment, eyes glued to where youâre stretched around him. The puffy, abused lips of your cunt slick with his spit and the pre-come steadily leaking from his dark red tip. âFeels like heaven, sweetheart.â
You moan, high and loud in the back of your throat as your ankles lock around his lower back. Your heels dig into the skin just above his ass as your cunt trembles around his cock, your spongy walls working over him desperately, milking him.Â
âYou like that donât you?â Logan taunts, starting to snap his hips with purpose. âYou like getting fucked like this, princess?â He leans down enough to growl directly into your ear, âI can smell how much you want it, how bad you're aching for it."Â
He slides his hands up your sides, rough palms gliding over your sweat-slick skin as he continues, "You drive me fucking crazy, sweetheart. I can barely think straight with you on top of me, with your scent all over me. You know what you're doing, donât you? Getting me all riled up like this."
You canât respond, canât speak. You can barely form a coherent thought, your lips falling open in a stream of desperate moans and whines as you bury your face in his neck.
The pulse of his carotid artery under your lips is maddening, each beat of his heart like a drum driving you further into madness. You want to sink your teeth into the skin there, to pull flesh and muscle from bone so you can watch the blood run in rivers and streams down Loganâs body.
The taste of him fresh and heady on your tongue as you watch the layers build back up from nothing, nerves and veins weaving themselves back together grotesquely.
âFuck,â Logan groans, the sound vibrating through your mouth as you press your lips against his throat, your teeth scraping against his skin with barely restrained hunger.
You nip at his throat, your teeth leaving small indentations that fade almost as quickly as they appear. Loganâs breathing is ragged, his chest heaving with every shallow breath as he leans into your touch, his body taut with anticipation.
"Atta girl, that's it," he growls, voice thick with desire as his hands grip your hips even tighter, nails digging into your skin as he ruts into you like a beast. His hips snapping against yours hard enough to sting, the loud slap of it bouncing off the walls to echo lewdly in your ears.
Heâs fucking you like he wants to break you, reinforced hips heavy as he pounds you into the floor mercilessly. âTaking my cock so well, best fuckinâ pussy Iâve ever felt.â
You can feel the way Loganâs cock jerks and pulses inside of you, the taut heaviness of his balls slapping against your ass with every thrust. You know heâs close, the brutal rhythm of his hips gets sloppier by the second.
You press your body up against his, your chest flush with his own as your hands wander over the hard planes of his back, tracing the lines of muscle beneath his skin. You dig your nails into his shoulder blades roughly, basking in the way his muscles roll and flex underneath your greedy palms.
You can feel the heat radiating from him, the pulsing glow of his blood under your fingertips as you explore every inch of him with a hunger thatâs almost feral.Â
And then, with a low, guttural sound that you barely recognize as your own, you sink your teeth into his neck.
Loganâs reaction is immediate and visceral. His entire body tenses above you, a sharp hiss escaping his lips as you bite down, hard enough to draw blood. The taste of him floods your mouth, metallic and rich, and it sends a wave of heat crashing through you.
You can feel his blood on your tongue, warm and thick, the taste of it driving you wild. Itâs everything youâve been craving, everything youâve been trying to resist. And now that youâve finally given in, itâs like a dam has broken inside you.
Loganâs growl is pure animal, his hips bucking up hard as he thrusts into you one last time, burying his cock as deep in you as he can. The force of his orgasm rips through him, your name falling from his lips like a prayer as he unloads inside of you. Itâs so much, pulse after pulse of hot come that floods your insides. His hips donât slow, still pumping and fucking like heâs trying to stuff you as full of himself as he can.
The feeling of it pushes you over the edge, your own orgasm crashing over you in a wave of white-hot pleasure that leaves you gasping and trembling above him. Your shaking cunt gushes over his cock as you swallow the blood pooling on your tongue.
Loganâs hips finally still, slotting flush with yours as he slumps onto the floor next to you, dragging you along with him so you can lay flat on his chest. The coarse hair scattered along his pecs scratches the skin of your cheek, you bury your face in the sweaty crook of his neck. You feel hazy, like youâre floating through the air, completely weightless.Â
You think you could live here, plastered to the strong planes of Loganâs body, stuffed full of his cock and leaking his come in messy trails down your shaking thighs.Â
But eventually, you have to pull back, your breath coming in short bursts as you lick the blood from your lips. Loganâs eyes are on you, shining under the chandelier light, his chest heaving with the effort of breathing. The wound on his neck is already healing, the skin knitting itself back together, but the blood still stains his skin red, a vivid reminder.
Thereâs a moment of silence, the air between you thick with tension and something elseâsomething new and unspoken. Youâre both panting, bodies still trembling with adrenaline.
Loganâs hand comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your lips, smearing the remnants of his blood across your skin. His eyes are locked on yours, and for a moment, neither of you says anything.
Finally, he reaches down slowly, like youâre a cornered animal that might turn and run any second. He takes your wrist in his hand, dragging it from the middle of his chest to the muscle directly over his heart. He presses your palm flat against him, blanketing your hand with his own.
âWhat do you feel,â he murmurs, his voice barely more than a breath.
The question catches you off guard. Itâs a challenge, but itâs also an invitationâa chance to confront whateverâs swirling inside you instead of running away from it. You hesitate, searching for the right words to encapsulate the storm of emotions you feel thrumming through your bones.
"You," you whisper back, your palm sliding over the sweaty plain of his bare chest. "All I feel is you."
Loganâs eyes soften, and a rare, genuine smile tugs at the corners of his lips. The intensity of the moment seems to dissolve, leaving a quiet understanding between you. He leans in, his breath warm against your cheek, and you can feel the steady, reassuring beat of his heart beneath your palm.
âGood,â he murmurs, his voice a tender caress against your ear. His thumb brushes along your pulse in a feather light touch. âThat makes two of us.â
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When fertility clinics fail to give you what you want, you decide itâs time to take the matter into your own hands. And whoâd be better for the job than Choi Seungcheol?
Pairing: Seungcheol x Fem!Reader
Genre: Porn with a small bit of plot.Â
Warnings: This work contains adult content! MDNI! This whole fic revolves around getting pregnant!! So if youâre uncomfortable, please do not read. Smut warnings under the cut!
Word Count:Â 4.3k
A/N: Omg look, sheâs back with a work!! And itâs a standalone Cheol fic??? Damn. I wanna thank the lovely @idyllic-ghost for the beautiful banner!! Have fun reading and please be a bit more patient in case you are a reader of Challenge Me. I swear there is more to come!! also big thanks to @beomcoups for reading this over and telling me it doesn't suck, lol.
Tagging:Â @duhnova, @yoonguurt, @highvern, @smileysuh, @cheolism @the-boy-meets-evil @ourdawnishotterthanourday @gyuswhore
âI donât really know how to start.â You finally break the silence, sitting on the couch across from Seungcheol, your legs crossed and your hands laying in your lap. He watches as you lick over your lips, nervous eyes roaming around the room and something like a chuckle wants to creep out of his throat. He suppresses it and instead smiles.
âMe neither, donât worry. We can take it slow if you like. Or I can finish this water and we can go upstairs,â he pauses for a second, âor stay here, whatever you prefer.â
Smut Warnings: unprotected sex (duh), creampie, dirty talk, blowjobs, face fucking, usage of the word daddy, squirting, multiple orgasms (f&m)
Choi Seungcheol has never done this before. He has never sat in the living room of a woman he barely knew with a glass of medium sparkling water in his hand and a pounding heart in his chest. If anything, this had only ever happened in his dreams. Not the medium sparkling water (mainly because he didnât even like his water sparkled, medium or not) and perhaps with less clothing - even though that specific part was probably about to become reality.Â
âDo you want something small to eat, or something?â You ask now and Cheol flinches slightly, looking up at you with his big eyes and his mouth slightly dropped.
âOh, no, thanks!â He smiles back and takes a sip from his glass. It tastes awful but heâs not about to say that.Â
Your living room is huge; two big couches the color of creme surrounded by tasteful art on the walls. A fireplace and a huge flatscreen above it, pictures of friends and family on the shelves, books from authors Cheol has never heard of. He wonders for a quick second why you would choose this route when you obviously had the funds to do it the⊠more professional way, but then he remembers that he is getting paid for this. In fact, he already has the insane amount in his bank account waiting to be used to pay off his student loans.Â
âI donât really know how to start.â You finally break the silence, sitting on the couch across from Seungcheol, your legs crossed and your hands laying in your lap. He watches as you lick over your lips, nervous eyes roaming around the room and something like a chuckle wants to creep out of his throat. He suppresses it and instead smiles.
âMe neither, donât worry. We can take it slow if you like. Or I can finish this water and we can go upstairs,â he pauses for a second, âor stay here, whatever you prefer.â
You think itâs cute, the way he blushes. In a situation like this one, definitely not surprising. Youâve been thinking about this for months now: fertility clinics in your town and even outside of it werenât working. It wasnât the money that was the problem, but your body apparently. Or anything else. At some point one of the doctors joked that it would probably be best if you tried getting pregnant in the old fashioned way. By sleeping with someone who had a penis with functioning sperm. And whilst he had meant it as a joke, very clearly trying to uplift an incredibly sad situation (kind of distasteful, you find) you had taken it to heart and here you are now.Â
A friend of yours owned a few gyms in town and Cheol was a regular turned PT in one of them. He was handsome and strong, a gentleman, healthy and in desperate need of some easy made money. Your friend had overheard him talking to one of the other PTs and even though it might not have been the most professional thing to do - she had asked him if he wanted to help out in your specific situation. You have to admit - back when she told you it felt extremely humiliating. Asking some stranger to have sex with you to, maybe (hopefully?), get you pregnant. Not to mention her being his boss - if he hadnât reacted the way he did, he could have more than likely sued her for this.Â
But he said yes. And now he's here. Many dollars richer and with an embarrassed flush on his pretty face.Â
âUpstairs is probably more comfortable,â you finally respond and he nods, emptying his glass. After, he looks at you expectantly and you feel your insides growing hot. Heâs everything you wished for and more. Better than who you had picked first in the fertility clinic for sure. Itâs crazy, all of this, you know it, and yet you canât help but feel like this is also the only right thing. You want a baby. Seungcheol wants to help you get one.Â
Finally, you get up and he joins you, a nervous smile on his lips as you lead him to the stairs in the foyer, your legs shaking as you walk up, the sounds of his footsteps behind you echoing in your head. Youâre about to lead a stranger into your bedroom. A sexy stranger that will (hopefully) father the child youâve been wanting for over a year. Your stomach turns in excitement as well as arousal and you clear your throat as you reach the top of the stairs.
âItâs right over here,â you say, pointing at the door to your left and Seungcheol nods, eyes only temporarily leaving your frame.Â
A part of him feels like he should come clean about how much heâs been looking forward to this. To sleep with you, to breed you. Ever since his boss had asked him about this, heâs been excited. It was almost as if she had known. Showing him pictures of you, telling him how much you want to have a baby. She obviously didnât say the obvious, didnât say that you were desperate for cum in your pussy to get you pregnant. Mainly because that would have been even more inappropriate. But Cheol knew. He still does. Knows that youâre probably dripping into your designer panties wanting nothing but his cum and his only. Fuck, he is growing harder by the second. He has to calm down, remain professional. This is supposed to be nothing but a business transaction, he is well aware. But itâs not like he chose to have an extreme breeding kink, right?Â
The door to your bedroom opens and Cheol takes in the furniture and decorations only for a second before his eyes land on you again. You stand in front of your bed, your arms wrapped around yourself.Â
âI- uh, I think itâs probably best if we, uhm, get ready by ourselves?âÂ
Cheol nods. He kind of figured there wouldnât be much foreplay. Still, just the thought of you behind him, touching yourself⊠he comes to the conclusion he wonât need much handy work to be hard for you.Â
âShould we take our clothes off, orâŠ?â He asks carefully and you swallow, your eyes trying to be subtle as you check him out but he can clearly see what youâre doing. You want him to take off his clothes. You just arenât sure if you should. It would probably make the situation easier, yes, but it would also expose you to this man that is built like a god. You bite down on your lip and swallow the lump in your throat. Then, you nod.Â
With a sense of pride, Cheol moves his hands to the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head without any trouble. Your eyes are immediately glued to his toned torso - the abs, the strong shoulders, his chest.Â
âMaybe we should turn off the lights.â The words escape your mouth before they reach your brain. A small smirk tugs on Cheolâs lips - youâre flustered because of him. Without a word, Cheol nods and turns off the light, sitting down onto the bed with his back turned to you. This is nerve wracking. Your face is hot and your heart is beating fast as you sit down as well. You hear him behind you. Hear the sound of his pants opening, of his hands moving to shove it down. There is no stopping the wish to see him, his beautiful body. When you hear the small sigh he lets out a few seconds later, you decide to just follow your instincts. It was you who had called him here. Backing out now would be foolish. So, you bite down on your lip and lean back slightly, your hand wandering down to your clothed core, pressing against it for just a quick moment, before you move to open your jeans as well, making quick work to get them down your legs.Â
You begin to circle your clit over your panties, eyes closed and the image of Cheol right there in front of you. The smug smile, the lean muscles on his torso⊠you wonder what theyâd feel like under your fingertips. Now, it is you who sighs softly and Seungcheol behind you groans quietly. The sound shoots through you, makes you crave to hear it even closer, right by your ear. You want him to hold you, want him to say your name as he slides into you.Â
The sounds you make drive Seungcheol crazy. His big hand is wrapped around his cock, moving up and down, precum helping to make the glide easier. His whole head is filled with you and nothing but you and he has to stop himself from shooting his load right away just thinking about feeling you tightly around him. Yes, Seungcheol seriously doesnât know how long he can go on like this without cumming. So, he slightly turns around, tongue slipping over his lips.
âIâm readyâŠ,â his deep voice reaches your ears just when two of your fingers slide into your pussy, already longing for more. You moan, feeling another wave of heat running through your body. Nodding, you let your fingers slip out and turn around, moving fully onto the bed. You hadnât discussed positions earlier, but you decide to get on all fours, Seungcheol slowly getting up.
He canât see you, only your silhouette that looks ever so perfect, ass up in the air and, fuck, he thinks he wonât last long. Swallowing hard, he moves and places his hands on your hips.
âIs that alright?â He asks and you nod.
âY-yes.â
Thatâs all he needs. Moving forward, his right hand grabs his erect cock, leading it to your core. God, youâre wet. No problem at all to slide into you, into your seemingly perfect pussy that begins to squeeze him right away. Seungcheol is sure there are stars dancing in front of his head already.Â
His size almost takes you out. The stretch hurts deliciously and the second he is buried fully inside of you, your head drops and a moan you couldnât suppress even if you wanted to makes Seungcheol thrust for the first time. He starts out slow but deep, trying to hold on longer by not speeding up. While the goal is obvious, he doesnât just want to cum inside of you and leave. No, he wants to make this a good experience for both of you. So, he listens to the sounds you make to the way your pussy clenches, the way your body shoves back against him. You seem to like it deep, seem to want it harder and, fuck, if Seungcheol wasnât so keen on still kind of keeping it professional he would push your head into your pillows and fuck you til you begged him to never stop.Â
All that fills the air is the moans both of you let out as well as the sound of skin on skin, of his cock sinking into your wetness over and over again. You want to scream, want to tell him to go harder, faster. All sense of professionalism is slowly but surely leaving your body and when his big hands squeeze your hips, you finally falter.Â
âH-harder, please!â You cry out and Seungcheol twitches inside of you, nodding to himself before doing as heâs asked. He leans forward, his hips hitting yours harder and faster than before, fingers digging into your skin as he groans in pleasure.Â
âFuck!â Your hands grab the sheets, knuckles white just when your first orgasm hits. Throwing your head back, crying out in nothing but pure bliss, leaving Seungcheol speechless. He can feel your climax around him, can feel you clenching, vibrating almost. He can feel just how good you squeeze him and there is no stopping his own release following right away, spurts of hot cum painting your warm walls white. He fucks both of you through your orgasms, sweat running down his face and finally pulls out, wishing the light was on so he could see his seed spilling out of you.Â
You turn around, falling onto your back, your eyes closed.Â
âThat⊠wow.â You canât find words. Mainly because you canât even remember the last time someone fucked you this good. Seungcheol licks over his lips.
âCan I turn the light on?â He asks then and something in his voice makes chills run down your back. Your eyes fly open and you bite back down onto your lip before telling him yes. Once the light is back on, you feel another wave of lust rush over you. Heâs fully naked. Heâs sweaty. Heâs perfect. Blonde hair sticking to his forehead, brown eyes taking in every bit of your body thatâs free for him to see. Different from what you had believed you donât feel uncomfortable. More so the opposite. His gaze on your body seems to light you on fire, making you crave more.Â
âYouâre beautiful.â He lets his hands fall down onto your bare thighs, slowly pushing them apart. His cock hardens again at the sight of your pussy, his cum slowly dripping out of you.. You allow yourself to check him out, seeing how his blood rushes down, how much he enjoys the view.Â
âI think⊠I think maybe another round⊠would make the probability higher that it works.â Another thing you say before it registers.Â
The smug smile appearing on his face now almost makes you gasp. Itâs so different from the person he was downstairs, from the shy and slightly awkward man who didnât know where to look. Now, he looks like a wild animal with its eyes set on its prey. Oh, god.
He leans forward, hands still on your thighs and your throat goes dry. His tongue licks over his bottom lip and his eyes seem to already fuck you a second time.Â
âWe should get this back inside, donât you think?â It takes you by surprise when you feel his fingers on your core, when you feel him gathering his release and shove it back inside you, his thick fingers splitting you open deliciously. This time you canât stop the gasp, your hands moving to hold onto his forearms, eyes wide and mouth dropped.
âThatâs right, take all of Daddyâs cum,â his lips are right by your ear and your body is hit by an enormous wave of lust, your pussy clenching around his fingers as he keeps fucking them into you. Moans escape you and your head falls back - at least you think it does until you feel his other hand on the back of your neck holding it steady.
âLook at me,â he breathes, âlook at me when I fuck my first load back into you before giving you another one.âÂ
You whimper as you nod, eyes watering from the desperation of wanting to cum again. Seungcheol is sure to give you as many orgasms as you can take. As many rounds as you let him have you.
His plump lips are opened as he watches you, your sweaty face, your blown pupils, your obvious need for more. Fuck, heâs a goner. Before knowing what heâs doing, heâs leaning in even more, crashing your lips together. Your eyes flutter shut immediately and you kiss him back, opening your lips to invite him inside. He groans against your mouth, his tongue sliding into your warmth, feeling yours a few seconds later.Â
The kiss is heated and desperate and every vein in your body seems to be on fire. Your heart is pounding at triple speed in your chest and when Seungcheol parts for air, youâre already craving him again. You want to touch him, want him to hold you close when heâs back inside of you, when he gives you what you need, what you want. There seem to be no coherent thoughts left in your brain as he continues to kiss you with his fingers buried inside your sweet cunt.Â
âDo you even know how hot you are, fuck,â he breathes against your lips now, pulling his fingers out of you to have both his hands on you the next second. He kisses you again, hungry for your touch. Hands all over you, gliding from your hips to your breasts, getting rid of the shirt you were still wearing. He wants to see all of you, lose himself in your body, wants to get high on what it feels like to know you want him just as bad as he wants you. This isnât just about making you a mum anymore. Seungcheol wants to give you pleasure, wants to treat you the way you deserve. He saw it in your eyes earlier - saw how you want it hard and rough, heard it in your pleads for him.Â
âOn your knees, face me.â Itâs an order youâre more than happy to follow. You bite down onto your lip and get on your knees, looking up at him. God, he looks ethereal.Â
âGood girl, so, so good for me.â You shiver when he lets his fingers slide over your face, down to your mouth, sliding them in. You suck them in without having to be asked. They taste like you and him and your eyes roll back when he begins to fuck them down your throat, his free hand cradling your tits again.Â
âThatâs right. Fuck.âÂ
Itâs like he is in a trance, hypnotized by the way you look with his fingers in your mouth, knowing full well his seed is still inside and will soon be joined by more. He feels like he is addicted to you already, like he just canât get enough of you. He wants to taste you, wants to have you come on his cock over and over again.
His eyes are glued to you. You, who is sucking on his fingers so prettily, your tongue swirling around the digits and Seungcheol grows impatient. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth and instead grabs his half hard cock with his slicked up fingers, jerking himself off a few times, eyes never leaving yours.Â
âOpen up wide for me, baby girl.âÂ
His cock slides through your lips and into your mouth and your eyes roll back, tongue already pressing against his thick length. The groan he lets out makes slick run down your thighs. You want him so bad, your pussy is throbbing and clenching and you feel like your head has never been this dizzy before. Nothing but arousal is in the air, the smell of you and him and what youâve done just as hypnotizing as your eyes.Â
Working forward slowly, Cheol watches as you take more and more of him down your perfect throat, his own mouth hanging low. No one has ever looked as good with his cock in their mouth. He doubts anyone ever will. Heâs big, he knows he is and while he wants to be careful with you - he also wants to ruin you. Wants to see drool dripping down your chin, wants to hear you choke on his huge cock.Â
âTake it all, I know you can.â He pushes further, his tip gliding down your throat and you choke, your eyes filling with tears, but there is no part of you that isnât fully enjoying this. You want him to fuck your mouth, to be rough, harsh. Want to be used by him all while having him breed you later on. He watches you, watches the first tear and the first small pool of drool, his cock growing heavier on your tongue by the second.
âLook at you. So, so pretty. Getting Daddyâs cock hard so he can breed you again, isnât that so nice of you?â
He does his first thrust down your throat and you choke once more, followed by a moan around his cock that makes him groan. Everything around him is a blur. There is only you and your mouth, the warmth of it, the feeling of how your throat restricts around his length, how you seem to vibrate around him.Â
Getting your throat fucked certainly wasnât on your list of probable things happening tonight. But you lose yourself in the feeling of him using you to get off. Feeling him grow harder in your mouth, spit dripping from your mouth onto your bed, his taste ever so present. God, you wanna devour him until he explodes inside of you.Â
As much as he enjoys this, though, there is a reason he is here. With a last hard thrust down your excellent throat, he pulls out, watching you gain back your breath, your eyes fluttering open and looking at him with such desperate want it makes shivers run down his back.Â
There is no need for words - he leans forward, pushing you over so youâre on your back, his lips catching yours in another heated kiss. His hand is around his cock, leading it to your entrance. The tip breaches you and you moan into the kiss, your arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him even closer. Your legs almost automatically set around his waist, his cock sinking as deep into you as possible.
âFuck,â he breathes, settling inside of you, giving him and you a second to adjust. God, he could already shoot his load. You feel perfect around him. Like you were made for him and only him. It suddenly bothers him - the fact heâs gonna get you pregnant and never see you again. The thought is scary, and he might have spiraled into something - but you have a different idea.Â
Wiggling your hips, you are whining into his mouth, trying to finally get him to move. Your pussy squeezes him, begs him and Cheol is just a man after all. He does his first thrust that is quickly followed by more. Soon, both of your moans are filling the room, his lips kissing every inch of you he can reach, your heartbeat rapidly increasing. You feel like youâre in a different dimension, a dimension that only exists for you and Seungcheol and your pleasure. You arch your back, his mouth on your tits, sucking and biting them, your moans getting louder every second.Â
While you donât want it to end, you also want nothing more than for him to fill you up again. Feel him twitch and lose control because of you. Your nails dig into his muscular back just as he leans back, his dark eyes staring into yours as he fucks you harder, his hands shoving your thighs back, his movements becoming more fluid. Your eyes roll back and you sure you can feel him in your stomach, or no, you can feel him everywhere.
âLook at you, so fucking beautiful, could look at you forever.âÂ
You wonder if he knows what those words do to you. If he knows how hot he is, how ethereal he looks. Probably. With your mouth and eyes wide, your body in his hands and your pussy crying, begging, yearning for release, you let yourself fall. Fall down into the greatest pleasure of your life, waves and waves of it hitting you, liquid shooting out of you and onto Cheolâs cock and thighs, loud and lewd moans leaving your throat as you reach the highest height youâve ever been.
Seungcheolâs response is the prettiest sound youâve ever heard, his own eyes not able to stay open as he fucks into you faster and harder, so close to bursting. And when he does, when he lets go as well, when all he has to give is ready to be given - there is no stopping the wave of yet another orgasm hitting you. Spurts of white are met by your pussy squeezing him, by you crying out his name over and over while his hips crash against yours at rapid speed over and over again.Â
Then, he collapses on top of you. Your legs fall into their natural position and your hands find the back of his head, stroking through his wet strands of hair. You are both panting, his chest glued to yours. Sweat and drool and other bodily fluids give the air the smell of sex and you wonder how long itâll linger in your bedroom. Youâre not sure you ever want it to leave. Or him, for that matter.
It takes a good couple of minutes before Seungcheol is able to lift his head to look at you. His eyes sparkle and you smile, one hand wandering to cup his cheek and caress it softly.
âHi,â you whisper. He canât help but smile back.
âHi,â he replies quitely.Â
He kisses you after. Soft and sweet. He is still buried inside of you, keeping his cum inside you, making sure itâs all right where it belongs. The thought makes him wonder. Makes him ask himself why it feels like itâs not just his seed that belongs to you. He doesnât dare to speak whatâs on his mind. Instead, he just continues to kiss you.
Unknowingly that you were just thinking the exact same thought as him.Â
#svthub#seungcheol x reader#kvanity#scoups smut#ksmutsociety#scoups x reader#seventeen smut#seungcheol smut#seventeen fanfiction#seventeen imagine#scoups imagine#seungcheol fanfiction#seventeen x reader
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âany regrets? anything youâd do differently?â
eddie knows the interviewer is just doing her job, probably doesnât even realize thatâs the worst question she could ask. but the guys tense and the air gets thick and something shifts inside eddieâs chest.
âitâs been two years and i still havenât apologized.â
the interviewer doesnât know what the fuck heâs talking about, but she doesnât need to. heâs not gonna explain more than that and he doesnât care if people make their own connections and excuses.
maybe steve will hear it. maybe robin will. maybe dustin will convince steve to call him.
or maybe he was cryptic for nothing and steve will keep ignoring his calls. he used to think his timing sucked until mike let it slip that he lets all calls go to his answering machine to avoid picking up when eddie calls him.
eddie only calls on bad nights, if heâs drunk or high, or sometimes on the nights that could only be better if steve was by his side. eddie calls most nights.
the interview is done and eddie is being whisked away, getting berated by their publicist about his answer to a question that can never have a good one. the guys are pretending not to listen, but failing. eddie loves them for trying.
the next interview, he stays quiet, at least as much as he can get away with. he fakes a smile, a laugh, whatever it takes to seem like he didnât just admit that he fucked up on live television.
they get to sleep in their own beds tonight, but tomorrow is the start of their radio show tour to promote their album. itâll be two weeks long, hitting the major stations daily until theyâve answered all the hard hitting questions like if gareth snores or if they ever find time to eat healthy on tour.
but his bed is his least favorite place to sleep, and no amount of tossing and turning is gonna give him what he needs.
so he calls steve.
âharringtonâs house, youâve reached the harrington who actually lives here.â
eddieâs so shocked that steve answered he barely even registers his words.
âhello?â steveâs voice turns serious. âanyone there?â
âstevie?â
eddie shouldnât have started with that, but he wasnât in control of his body anymore.
steve hangs up.
somehow itâs worse than if he hadnât answered at all.
but eddie is fine. he is.
heâs gonna close his eyes and go to sleep and maybe not dream about dying or fucking up the only good thing he ever had.
his phone rings and heâs almost certain heâs dreaming already.
âhello?â
âsorry i panicked.â
steveâs voice is like a reverb in an arena, sending chills down eddieâs arms.
âyouâre not the only one.â
âbutâŠyou called me.â
âbecause you never answer.â
âso why call? if iâm never gonna answer.â
âbecause if you do answer, i can hear your voice.â
steve sits with that answer for a minute before he speaks.
âdustin played me the interview.â
âyeah.â
âwas it me? was i your regret?â
how could steve think that? how could the man who saved his life ever believe he was anything less than a gift? in no universe would eddie regret steve.
âno. my regret is making you ever think that you could be a mistake.â
eddie should end it there, let steve marinate with that. he knows no amount of apologies will actually help, but he could give it a try anyway.
âiâm sorry i left when you needed me. iâm sorry i was selfish and chose to get out and leave you behind. and iâm sorry none of my sorries even matter because itâs too late.â
for a minuteâyes, eddie countsâ thereâs silence. and then thereâs a small shuffling sound and eddieâs almost sure that steveâs gonna hang up.
instead, steve sounds like heâs holding back tears when he speaks.
âare you gonna come back?â
eddie canât. he canât just put a pause on the band or any of their plans. itâs not fair to the guys or the fans or himself.
but he can do something he shouldâve done two years ago.
âwill you come with me?â
the question hangs in the air for what feels like forever. steve may say no. thatâs part of why eddie didnât even ask the first time. but he may say-
âyes.â
âyou will?â
âon one condition.â
âanything.â
âyou stop trying to forget all the bad parts. the bad parts sucked, but they brought us together. running from them means running from me. at least hold my hand so i can run with you.â
eddie thinks maybe he could write a song about that.
and he thinks heâd like to hold steveâs hand while he does.
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#drabble#angst with a happy ending#yall blame berries because im reading sweet surrender and the angst is causing problems in my head#and also just being so exhausted lmao#rock star eddie munson
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đđđ đđ đđđ
đ, đđ đđđđđđđ .á
synopsis: the boys taking care of you when you're sick ! (smau + hcs cs I love domesticity and I was listening to w2e and laufey)
chars: keigo takami, touya todoroki, tomura shigaraki
note: I was sick and mentally ill (devastating combo...) so! this was made cs I missed my babies. also, touya being rehabilitated (as always)
k. takami
- He rarely ever gets sick, so he gets home and starts panicking when he sees you next to the toilet throwing up and looking like death
- his ass is literally like âI know what to do, don't worry!â while he's running to the kitchen to google what to do before forcing you to chug medicine
- I've never seen someone more overprotective than him when you're sick. He'd be telling you to lay down the second you drag yourself off the bathroom floor
- God forbid you do any work around him, he'd give you the mom stare and tell you to go to sleep (like his ass even sleeps when he's sickâŠ)
- he'd attempted to make chicken noodle soup but failed miserably. He put in too much salt and was like âit's fine, electrolytes are good, right??â Then he gives it to you, and even with broken taste buds, you can tell it's assđ
- he's trying he swears, he's js not the best at taking care of sick peopleđâïž even though it kinda sucks he does put in a lot of effort and it's honestly pretty sweet even if he fucks up half the time! (When ur better tell him he did well, he'd melt even if he knows he sucked)
t. todoroki
- he doesn't know SHIT about being sick, patching up wounds and burns? ez. anything else? absolutely fried, COOKED!
- if ur horribly sick, he'd call his mom and fuyumi for advice. He'd be really aggressive while doing stuff for you, almost like he's mad, but he's not he's js aggressive đđ
- sucks in the kitchen, he's trying to turn on the stove but it doesn't work (or so he says), he runs back home and rei gives him a tub of soup to bring to you.
- he pretends he made it btw, reheats it and brings it to you on a tray, then goes âyeah I made itâ when you praise him he looks proud and tries to hide his smile as if he fr made it (you know he didn't but ignore it)
- reads to you, don't ask why I think that he js does âŒïž you'd be laying your head on his shoulder and he's reading to you til you sleep (he's so cute clutching my stomach SOBBING)
t. shigaraki
- there's touya clueless then we have tomura clueless, tomura was taken care of by kurogiri if he got sick so he wouldn't really know what to do. He'd js try and copy what he remembers kurogiri doingđ (he's trying his best okayâŒïžâŒïž)
- he'd do what you asked no questions, except he usually doesn't know what to do so he's js walking around clueless going âI know how to do thisâ (he doesn't know)
- unexpectedly, he's actually really good at making soup. He was gonna ask the chefs in the plf mansion, but he decided to try (soup is the only thing he can make without it burning)
- if you said it tasted good, he'd be grinning so hard thinking he's a chef and being all cocky & shiđđ like it wasn't allat calm down!
- when you came to find him, he jumped cs of how dead you looked and said damn, if u js started cussing him out he'd be stuttering and apologizing while trying not to giggle (beat his ass pls) (he should've stayed lost)
#bnha#touya todoroki#bnha x reader#mha#bnha x you#mha x reader#mha x you#bnha smau#mha smau#bnha hcs#bnha headcanons#touya todoroki x reader#dabi smau#dabi hcs#dabi x reader#tomura shigaraki x reader#bnha tomura#tomura shigaraki#shigaraki tomura#tenko shimura x reader#tenko shimura#hawks x you#hawks x reader#bnha hawks#keigo takami x reader#keigo takami#mha keigo takami#mha hcs
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MRS. AND MRS. SMITH â abby anderson x fem!reader
ways you can help gaza đ”đž
do not buy tlou2 remastered!
a/n: this is way more inspired by the mr and mrs smith series (2024) not the 2005 one!!! this explains why theyâre wives :3
youâre an assassin along with your assigned partner/wife, abby anderson. fed up with her toxic behaviour, youâre pleased when the mission is centred around you seducing a man for murderous motives. why? well, because you know itâll get under abbyâs skin. little did you know, things would blow over way more than you thought it would.
cw: mdni, owen featuređ€źđ€ź, long fic, kinda slow-burn ig?, femme fatale, arranged marriage couple, kinda toxic relationship, violence, mention of blades, car sex, mean!abby, bratty!reader, dom!abby, degrading, bdsm, ass-smacking, finger-fucking, cursing, jealous!abby, hair pulling, dry-humping, finger-sucking, choking, rough sex, teasing, squirting.
âshort brown hair, rugged beard. got that?â abbyâs murmuring voice comes in from the earpiece youâve got attached. you groan and roll your eyes, wishing you could mute the goddamn thing.
see, any other day, you wouldâve loved to hear your wifeâs pretty little voice guiding you â her praises when youâd do something right or her degrades if youâd do something wrong both sending shivers down your spine, compelling you to do whatever she wanted.
but not today. today youâre over it. so what do you respond with?
âyeah, i know, anderson. we both got the fucking brief.â you hiss. you know how pissed abby gets whenever you curse at her; so thatâs exactly what you do. you relish at the thought of her gritting her teeth, not being able to snap at you in front of all of these people.
thatâs right, you two are at a charity gala event. itâs fancy. too fancy to the point where itâs intimidating: glistening chandeliers, artistic decorations and bustling people wearing glamorous attire. you and abby needed to blend in with the crowd so not only are you two dressed smartly for the occasion but are also split up. not that youâre complaining. youâre sick of her. sick of her petulance whenever youâd get glorified by the agency instead of her, sick of how sometimes she can be so simple-minded, sick of how, at points, she lacks at making you feel loved.
your job is to take out an owen moore, for unforeseen reasons. you never question what the agency tells you to do, neither does abby.
youâre planning to lure him in an concealed area with your enticing charisma, make him believe youâre going to sleep with him before slicing him dead with your blade. you prowl through the many people, scanning the area with a keen eye to find him. claude debussy plays as background music, taming your harrowing nerves. killing is never easy.
âfound him yet?â abby sighs.
âplease donât distract me.â thereâs way too many people and itâs beginning to stress you out. what if you never find him? failing the mission is the last thing you wanna do.
âiâm getting bored. plus, small talk with strangers pisses me off.â she complains.
ânot my goddamn problem.â you retort, the ends of your tight-fitting dress flailing against your legs as you pick up the pace, worrying if thereâs not enough time, worrying if heâs even here in the first place.
âliterally what is your problem? acting extra fuckinâ snobby tonight...â
your eyebrows knit together. abby always finds a way to get under your skin.
âletâs not fucking startââ youâre about to snap and make yourself look like a fool in front of all of these people until somebody accidentally bumps into you: spilling his drink all over your dress. great!
âoh shit. sorry, i didnât mean that.â you hear a manâs voice as you stare down at your ruined dress in disbelief. you slowly glance up at the culprit; only to find the noted brown hair and rugged beard staring right back at you. owen moore.
despite your worked up embarrassment and your extreme annoyance, you manage to flash a smile.
âitâs okay, but... you do realise you owe me now right?â you bat your eyelashes, hoping you donât look silly.
âand whatâs that?â owen chuckles, rubbing the back of his head and making immense eye contact. heâs already flirting back, you think. this is about to be so fucking easy.
with a few drinks, owenâs already tipsy and youâre leading him to the vast room. you make him believe youâre just as woozy; stumbling and giggling away. you take advantage of his obliviousness: your hand brushing against the slit of your dress, fingers cupping the wooden handle of the blade in the garter wrapped around your thigh. whilst he laughs and babbles nonsense, you carefully trace the edge of the blade â feelings of excitement rushing to the surface. regardless of the fact that killing is never easy, itâs also never not exhilarating.
youâre about to fully whip out the blade until owen decides to be bold: setting his slobbery hands against the small of your back and trying to lean in for a kiss.
âwoah.â you feign a grin, pulling his hands away. âwe go at my pace.â
âaww⊠please?â he mumbles, trying to seem like an adorable puppy but instead making it look disgusting. this is sad, you think. you try to grab your knife again but heâs now grabbing your arms; desperate for a fruitless smooch.
âcome on⊠donât play hard to get.â he growls, his sudden aggression catching you a little off guard. no need for stress, you know what to do. your knee prepares itself to kick hard in between his legs until somebodyâs arm suddenly emerges from behind, wrapping around his neck and squeezing hard.
âwhatââ you breathe in bewilderment, eyes widening. despite owen choking and uselessly clawing at abbyâs arm for escape, her gaze stays intently trained on yours; a death stare. itâs unnerving.
it doesnât take long for owen to turn cold and slack, eyes rolling to the back of his head. abby lets him go, but not without cracking his neck first, and you watch as he flops onto the floor.
âwhat the fuck, abbyâŠâ you mutter, palming a frustrated hand across your face. âwhere the hell did you even come from?â
âthereâs doors.â she tilts her head towards the backdoor behind her. you hadnât even noticed it. your eyes travel back to her; irresistibly ogling at the black suit clinging to her body, complimenting her form. you almost forget youâre supposed to be mad at her.
the blonde chuckles wryly, a petty exhale. âyou starinâ? assumed pussy boys were more your type.â
âreal fucking mature.â you snarl. âi had him. i was this close to killing him, abby.â
âyou were taking too long.â abby shrugs, condescendingly pouting. you grit your teeth.
âjealousy? really? grow up.â
âat least i watch where iâm going. nice dress, the wet splotch is a nice touch, really.â she slanders, narrowing her eyes. you scoff, trying to pretend as if that dig didnât offend you.
âyouâre a fucking child. help me with the body.â
you two leave the building with ease, pretending as if owen is a friend thatâs had too much to drink, wrapping his arms around the both of your shoulders and leading him to your car. abby opens the boot and you two push him inside. you two will decide on how deal with the body later.
for now, youâre sat on the passengerâs seat whilst abby drives, the two of you salty and quiet. abbyâs driving way too fast; her hand gripping the steering wheel like her life depends on it. sheâs obviously fuming.
âcan you slow down?â you glare at her.
âyou owe me⊠i mean, who even says that?â abby grumbles, ignoring your request.
âa lot of people do. now slow down, we donât wanna attract attention from police knowing thereâs a dead body back there.â
ânot to mention that youâve had an attitude since last night! the way you were flirting with that oliver guy? or whatever the fuck his name was, had to be on purpose. to spite me.â
abby starts driving even faster, increasing your stress. âowen.â you correct, âyouâre so self absorbed!â you continue to beg for her to slow down.
âheâs, like, the embodiment of revolting too. donât even get me started at the way he was trying to force himself on you. i shouldâve put a bullet in his brain.â abby rattles on, pure jealousy oozing from her tone.
âyou were definitely enjoying it too. i know you were.â she turns her head to look at you, not paying attention to the road.
âabby. abby!â you scream as abby almost runs through a poor family trying to cross the road.
âfuck.â abby murmurs as she swerves messily, just in the nick of time, steering into a deserted field. the two of you are out of breath from the fright, hearts racing from the adrenaline. abby rests her head on the wheel, letting out a long sigh.
âjust what the hell is the matter with you?â you scold, âall this shit over a mission? are you serious?â abbyâs lack of response leads you to continue yelling at her.
âof course weâre going to have to flirt with our targets now and then! the fuck happened to your professionalism? if i had known youâd be acting like this then i wouldâve neverââ
âwhy didnât you kiss him?â abby raises her head to look up at you, her face blank. you blink, a little taken aback by the unexpected question.
âiâŠâ you look away. youâre not exactly up for abby knowing that you couldnât kiss him because of her. âwhere even are we anyway?â
ânice try. since youâre so professional, why didnât you kiss him? he clearly wanted to. you couldâve easily killed him then.â the corner of abbyâs lips arch up into a smirk â the familiar smug look of hers that never fails to get you weak.
âfor someone whoâs had so much to say just a second agoâŠâ she leans in a little, arm resting against your headrest, ââŠyouâre awfully quiet.â her voice is hushed down to a soft whisper, and you swear youâre beginning to feel a little lightheaded.
âlook, abby, youâre my wife⊠soâŠâ you mumble in response to her pressing question, avoiding eye contact. abby chuckles, loosening her tie. here comes the floodgates.
âdonât play dumb and pretend as if the agency didnât arrange that.â her finger presses against the dome light of the car; illuminating your embarrassed face. just what she wanted to see.
âyouâve been enjoying yourself, seeing me all jealous like this. you liked playing femme fatale, hmm?â her finger slowly twists itself around a strand of your hair, before she yanks a handful, forcing your head closer. you wince, eyes clenched shut. your cunt decides to flex too â reminding you that sheâs got a mind of her own, and that she finds being in an empty field like this, in abbyâs car, pretty fucking hot.
âletâs face itâŠâ abby whispers, so close that you can feel her breath tickling your ear, shooting heavy tingles down your body.
âyou want me so bad it hurts.â her eyes drift down to your thighs that are starting to shift uncomfortably in your seat. itâs beginning to ache down there and it seems like abbyâs aware of that. you canât help it. after all, abby sitting so close: loose strands of hair framing her face, unfastened tie and darkened eyes fixed on you, feels so good that itâs suffocating.
you squirm a little and abby grins, her fingers still laced in your hair. her grip slightly tightens as she licks her lips. she looks hungry.
âmaybe what hurts is your fingers in my hair.â you quip, though your voice is a little shaky.
âmaybe you need to fix your attitude.â abby retorts, âlike, seriously, pipe down⊠youâre probably soaking down there.â she snickers, right on the money.
âfuck you.â you glare at her, gauging her reaction. you want to believe youâre saying this out of sheer anger for what went down tonight, but deep down, you know thatâs not the case. in reality, you just want to get under abbyâs skin. itâs what youâve been craving since the beginning; to get her pissed.
you wipe the pleased look off of abbyâs face, which is now replaced with a frown. your heart pounds with anticipation: so much so that your chest faintly heaves, lips parted.
abbyâs eyes wander to your lips and in one swift movement, she pulls you in; pressing her lips against yours. youâre quick to kiss her back, the sweetness of her mouth sealing yours. fervent canât even begin to explain the way you two are kissing. akin to wild animals, small muffled groans escape the both of you.
desperation is thick in the confined air of the car, as abby pulls away and shrugs her blazer off. you stare up at her.
âhurry⊠with your slow-ass.â you whine.
âwatch your fucking mouth. câmere.â abby commands. you naturally do as she says and she begins to unzip your dress â not without making sure to go deliberately slow.
âwhy do you have to be so mean?â you sigh, burying your face in the crook of her neck.
âoh, trust me⊠iâm only gonna be meaner.â she warns whilst planting gentle kisses on your neck. youâve always admired abby for her ability to vary from being sour to tender in seconds. little did you know, the peppered kisses on your neck served as a prior apology to how cruel sheâs going to treat you in a second.
once everything is off, abby marvels at your body. like a painting in an art gallery, she makes sure to pay attention to even the minuscule details of your body. itâs her favourite thing in the entire world.
âturn around.â abby mutters, her eyes hazy; voice bleeding with lust.
âwhat?â
âjust do it.â
you hesitantly do as she says. abby beams: finding your weak resistance amusing yet is also excited to break you.
ânow⊠bend over.â she coos, clearly poking fun.
you shoot her a glare, cheeks flushed. âwhat am i, your dog?â
âdonât piss me off.â
you glare at her for a few seconds longer before sighing, reluctantly bending over.
âarching that back and everything⊠wooow.â abby teases, âand to think i havenât even touched you yet.â
âoh, just fuck off, abbyâŠâ you complain, the embarrassment beginning to overwhelm you.
âwhat was that?â
âi said fuckââ but youâre cut off by a yelp when abby brings her palm down flat against your ass. you flinch violently; very, very taken off guard.
âmm? didnât quite hear you. repeat yourself.â abby taunts, smacking you again. you grunt and flinch yet again, feeling the sting of her slap coarse through your body. abbyâs humiliating you, milking every last drop of your embarrassment. the worst thing yet? youâre enjoying this way more than you should be.
âiâm not kidding. speak.â abby commands, showing no signs of mercy. your skin is already starting to gleam red, and your pussy? well, itâs a fucking party down there.
âabbyâŠâ you cry, completely under her control. the more she smacks, flesh recoiling under her palm, the more your head goes blank.
âgo on babe⊠finish what you were saying before.â abby prods. this time, when she smacks you, her fingers grasp the flesh on your ass tightly; watching in delight as her fingertips leave little red marks. youâre trembling like a leaf, both from the pain and the arousal.
see, the thing with abby is that she never likes to let things go. she adores jabbing at you until she gets what she wants.
another smack, this one so hard that you need to press your palms against the window. abby then grips your waist and pulls you way closer; making your ass press against her hips.
âyou wanna get fucked?â abby mutters, teasingly bringing your waist back and forth against her hips: hard, playful thrusts. your bare cunt pressing against her crotch is, without a doubt, driving you insane. you frantically nod in response to her question, in which abby replies with latching her hand around your neck; forcing you upright so that your back is now against her chest.
âuse your words.â
ây-yesâŠâ tears begin to stream down your face. youâre desperate, yearning for her touch as if itâs a life or death situation.
âso finish what you were saying.â her fingers slightly squeeze around the sides of your neck.
âi-i told you to f-fuck off but i d-didnât⊠haa⊠mean it.â you splutter. the you a while ago wouldâve had her mouth agape in horror at your behaviour right now.
âsee? that wasnât so hard, was it?â abby coos, her fingers tracing down your stomach, in between your thighs. long, drawn-out circles are traced on your swollen clit, her fingers pressing just the right amount of pressure. you groan, and abby taps her chin against your shoulder; smirking at how your legs are writhing, desperate for more.
âwhereâd all your attitude go?â the blonde ridicules. her other hand moves over to your breast, squeezing it, her thumb caressing your nipple. as to the hand working on you, her middle and ring finger brush against your folds; up and down. sheâs touching you but it doesnât feel like itâs enough: abby knows that.
âdonât do this to me, abbyâŠâ you exasperate. she lets out a breathy chuckle before flipping you over and setting you down onto the car seat. she reclines it back, eyes yet again fixed on you. you stare up at her with big glossy eyes, your head blank as if youâve been dumbed down.
abby gloats at how helpless you look, grabbing your face with one hand and squishing your cheeks. âyou look stupid.â
âshut up and fuck me.â you mutter in a muffled tone. abby laughs as if what youâve said was the funniest joke in the entire world. you wonder if abby can feel your cheeks burning up against her palm.
before you know it, abby plows her thick fingers so far inside your cunt that youâd squeal, if it wasnât for abbyâs hand still clenched on your cheeks.
âthis what you wanted?â abby purrs, fingers curling up against your g-spot already. you moan, back arching and squirming.
âoh! riiiiight, you canât speak.â she gloats, playfully shaking your head with her hand. you whine in embarrassment, yet you secretly enjoy how sheâs handling you like a doll.
abbyâs finger-fucking you rough, wet squelch noises filling up the car. the sound of it is so erotic that it leaves you dizzy, eyes rolling to the back of your head. the blonde releases her grip on your face but not her thumb, that slips inside of your mouth.
âsuck.â you mindlessly do as she says, as if youâre brainwashed. you can see abbyâs cheeks tint red when you slowly suck her thumb, making sure to keep eye contact.
abby chuckles, looking away. seems like she didnât think youâd actually do it.
âyouâre shy.â you point out. you triumph over the fact that now itâs her turn to be embarrassed, but not for long.
âshut the fuck up.â abby says brusquely, her fingers operating way harder than before; relentlessly pounding against your g-spot. you cry, feeling overwhelmingly good.
that rigid attitude you had a moment ago? now dead and buried. you feel surreal, a series of mewls and sobs leaving your lips.
ânothing smart to say anymore? you look fucking pathetic.â and sheâs right. you look like a hot mess. abby smothers your tears all over your face. you mindlessly move your hips, fucking yourself on her fingers. she smirks, loving what sheâs seeing. you feel a knot beginning to untie in your stomach, sublime throbs coursing all over your body.
âiâm cummingâŠâ you manage to choke out.
âi know.â abby buries her face in the crook of your neck, and you shiver at the feel of her breath against your skin.
âiâll decide to be nice and let you finish.â
and thatâs your cue. with an ending moan to seal it off, you feel your body tense up, eyes widening. abby leans in and presses her forehead against yours. you squeeze your eyes shut, before your body relaxes. youâre panting like a dog, staring up at abby with foggy and depleted eyes.
âso cuteâŠâ she murmurs before cupping your chin and kissing you â this time, soft and tender as opposed to the way she was kissing you before. you feel warm.
so absorbed in each other, you two forget about how youâre in the middle of nowhere and how the body in the car boot needs to be dealt with. for now, you two have something more important to worry about: how youâre gonna clean up the mess youâve left all over the chair and dashboard.
a/n: you made it !!! thought itâd be funny if the target was owenđđ hope u enjoyed reading <3
#abby anderson#abby tlou#abby anderson fanfic#tlou2 smut#tlou2#wlw#smut#the last of us#abby the last of us#abby anderson smut#abby anderson tlou2#tlou fanfiction#abby x fem!reader#abby x reader#abby anderson x reader#abby anderson x female reader#abby anderson x y/n#lesbian
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Tis I, good ol' âïž nonnie đïžđ«Šđ Dw, the kids and Bartholomew Chungus Roofus Goofy Achilles Pedro Pascal are doing great..
NOW.. I opened my eyes and saw a real nice rq you wrote out, abt the husband cow hybrid? Now.. hear me out, I was thinking with my cat, but...
Male lactation, gynaecomastia and milk flavoured/consistency cum.
He gets overstimulated by the smallest touches and has a crazy oral fixation, so, THINK ABT THIS FOLLOWING SCENARRR.IO.... ;
Your darling husband, after a long day of your teasing is oh so overstimulated, teh poor guy is rock hard.. and, although it IS your fault, he'd never blame you, the sweetheart <3..
Suddenly, as you finish washing the dishes, he walks over behind you, his abnormally tall frame casting a shadow on your body. He slowly loops his arms around your waist, licking stripes up your neck, his nipples already begging for attention, dribbling due to his arousal.
After he gets your nod of consent (BC CONSENT IS SO SO HOT.. đ„”đ€€) he drags you to the couch and gets on his knees infront of you, while you sit in a relaxed position, your legs slung over his shoulders as he begins to eat you out/give you head.
His round eyes are teary, his long lashes stuck together. He just can't help himself! He loves you so so much, so when you tuck his bangs behind his ear so compassionately, before gently tugging on his nipples with one hand while the other gently strokes his head, petting his ears, he almost blows his load, his eyes rolling to the back of his head before you cut him off, telling him softly to get on the couch, before he can cum
He obeys, but is teary eyed at his failed attempt to cum. As he lays on his back you suck and lick his nipples, drinking drops of warm and sweet milk, before pressing kisses along his torso and abs, before sucking him off, holding his trembling hands in yours.
While the milk from his tits was sweet and reminded you of cow milk, his cum is slightly saltier and reminds you more of oat milk, the consistency still runny and the temperature still warm.
After you drink every last drop, he hoists you up, hugging you close and pressing soft kisses to your neck, lips, shoulders, cheeks and forehead, effectively lulling you to sleep better than any lullaby.
Today was eventful, but with him.. every day is a dream, the sex being only the silver lining, while his love and kindness being front stage.. You both silently think to yourselves "How did I get so lucky?" with a smile on your faces before drifting off to dream land.
Yeah I hyperfixated on this bs, but hey, even when you are neuro-divergent, you can stay thuggin'. Shout out to my boy Nagisa from 50% Off, he's the OG đŁïžđŁ
And to the lactose not tolerant and lactose challenged pookies, uhh, oopsies
Here's some dookie wiping paper, aha (with rizz) đïžđ
đïžđ«Žđ§»đ§»đ§»đ§»đ§»đ§»đ§»đ§»đ§»đ§»đ§»đ§»đ§»
I don't think there's much to add to your story. This is it, the magnum opus of hucow husband. All I have is a humble doodle to match your literary work.
#doodle#cow hybrid#hucow husband#hybrid x reader#monster x reader#monster x human#monster smut#monster fucker#terato#teratophillia#monster boyfriend#âïž anon
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# I'LL DO ANYTHING YOU SAY IF YOU SAY IT WITH YOUR HANDS
pairing: paige bueckers x reader
word count: 642
warnings: none !
summary: sleepy paige doesn't want you (her favorite pillow) to leave.
â from lani: heres a super duper short fluffy blurb before i drop "imgonnagetyouback" tmr ! also this was not proofread so it might suck a bit..
masterlist !
THE WARM SPRING sun spills into your room, hugging you and your girlfriend as you lay entangled underneath your white comforter. paige's off-season has been treating you both so well.
with finals being over and graduation right around the corner, the two of you finally have a breath to relax and truly focus on each other.
you've been spending countless hours together, some of your friends commenting that they miss your appearances at their casual hangouts. regardless, you and paige have been all over each other, savoring the calm before the inevitable storm that is graduating.
when paige announced her decision to stay at uconn for a fifth year, it rocked everyone's worlds, including your own. not only did this mean that both of you would be separated, but it meant that you would have to leave her. the stressful thought has been stuck in your mind, and it is currently what keeps you from falling back asleep in the early hours of the morning.
anyone with eyes could see how much you truly loved each other. whether paige is picking up coffee for you in the middle of the night or you're rebounding for her as she practices on weekends, your relationship has never been so rich in affection.
but of course, there's nothing you love more than having your arms wrapped around your favorite person. gazing down at paige, you observe her soft features illuminated by the sun peeking through your blinds. her smooth skin, slightly pink cheeks, and fluttering eyelashes all adding up to make her undeniably beautiful profile.
gently, you place a kiss on her forehead and begin to slowly twist out from under her. she stirs from the sudden movement, snuggling even further into your frame.
"paige," you whisper.
"mm.." she mumbles, still fast asleep in your chest.
âi have to get up, baby.â
âno you donât.â
âhow do you know that?â you tease.
âbecause you belong in this bed, with me, sleeping,â she replies in a raspy voice, still not fully awake.
âi have to meet up with nika.â
âcancel on her.â
âsorry?â you laugh.
âyâheard me,â she says, adjusting her position so that sheâs now fully on top of you.
âpaige.â
âhi.â
âyou gotta let me up, babe.â
âbut iâm so comfortable. youâre so comfortable. so warm and soft. like a pillow,â she breathes in your scent and sighs in content, bearing the most adorable sleepy smile. sheâs practically drunk on sleep - on you.
âcâmon, iâve already canceled on her once,â you beg, âsheâs gonna hate me and you if i cancel again.âÂ
after a beat of silence you tilt your head down only to be met with paige being knocked out again. you wrap your arms around her large frame as you roll the both of you to the empty side of the bed. now paige is underneath you, giving you the perfect escape route. you carefully retract your arms and sit up to head to the bathroom.
you failed.
âwhere do you think youâre goin?â the blondeâs arms are secure around yours, preventing you from moving at all.
âpaige.â
âhi.â
ânope, iâm not doing this again.â
âthen just stay here.â
âpaige-â
âplease?â you falter as her cold hands work their way under your hoodie, softly rubbing your bare back. you release a deep breath as you feel her hands begin to massage your shoulders gently, closing your eyes from the feeling.
âhand me my phone, will you, babe?â
she removes one of her hands from your skin to reach for your phone on the bedside table. she hands it to you with a confused look on her face as you raise your head from her chest to scroll through your contacts.
âhey nika? iâm gonna have to move our hike to tomorrow morning,â you feel paige squeeze your shoulders at this, âmaybe next week.â
â leilani signing off ! đ
#leilanihours#laniwrites#paige bueckers#paige bueckers x reader#paige bueckers fluff#paige bueckers smut#uconn#wcbb#ncaa#ncaaw#paige buckets#fluff#Spotify#taylor swift#treacherous#red#taylors version#pinterest#wlw#music
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Please write a story where Marc and Jake tease Steven for being soft in bed so he becomes this dominant rough guy who overstims the reader IVE BEEN THINKING ABOUT THIS ALL DAY I JUST DONT KNOW HOW TO WRITE IT DOWN
a/n: idk how to write it down either, but i'll give it a shot! btw, marc and jake would never talk to steven like this, but just for the sake of the story they're assholes :( also sorry this is a YEAR late 0-0
cw: smut (18+), voyeurism (3x), f!masturbation, mean/ooc!marc + jake, rough sex, overstimulation, oral (f!recieving), multiple orgasms!, slightly possessive lovemaking, slight breeding kink (creampie), sad-ish/insecurity, feelings, dom-ish!steven, fluff -- (idk why it got so soft so fast im sorry), L-bombs, commentary from the other moon boys~
wc: 3.5k
masterlist
---
he watches from the doorway as you whine and mewl on the bed, desperately attempting to get yourself off.
your whole body glistens with heat as you squirm under the dull lighting of the room-- clearly, you've been at this for a while.
you are dressed in a familiar white undershirt that is definitely from the boys' closet, but your bottom half is bare and spread out, dripping onto the comforter as your fingers work their magic.
a perfect eye-full for your 3-in-1 boyfriend.
"this is why you're not allowed to have her on the weekends." marc taunts from a nearby mirror, though his eyes are locked on your writhing body. steven clenches his jaw as the grating voice in his head pulls him away from the alluring scene in front of him.
god knows why he decided to put up so many mirrors in the flat. it's like he's trying to drive himself crazy.
your eyes are squeezed shut as your finger delicately circles against your clit, spreading your slick all over your pulsing cunt until wet sounds begin to fill the air. you suck on your bottom lip as you frantically tease the sensitive bud, your legs tense from the build-up, and your back arches off the mattress.
"she needs a real man to take care of her after a long week of work."
that irks steven.
you've never talked about being unsatisfied by his slower pace -- by his need to savor each look, sound, and touch that you give him.
of course, jake needs to chime in as well, "look at our girl, stevie, she's so needy. let me have the body. i'll give her what she needs."
steven tries to block them out, but it's hard when their voices are coming straight from his own mind.
when he thinks back on your time together, everything is perfect. at least to him, it is.
he loves hearing your soft breathy moans, tasting the sweetness of your pussy dripping from his kitten licks, and feeling those delicate kisses that you share as you ride him gently. you fall apart in his arms, hold him close, and exchange whispered 'i love you's.
sure, he's always been the softer side of the three -- kissing over jake's bites or gently caressing marc's bruises -- but he thought you liked that. he thought that was enough.
but now you're getting yourself off without even seeking him out first.
you're close, so fucking close, panting out stuttered breathes, thighs clenching together, and body shaking, but --
"fuck!"
it's not enough.
your heart beats rapidly against your chest as you start to come down from that unreachable peak you've been chasing all day. as your foggy mind finally clears up, you sense someone at the door.
"s-steven!" you're surprised to see him, especially just standing there, watching you fail to pleasure yourself.
his work shifts have been running later and later since marc's last mission (donna is forcing him to work unpaid overtime instead of firing him) so you weren't expecting him until dinner time.
the shifts have been brutal for him.
these days, he just eats sleep for dinner, too tired to do more than just collapse on the couch and cuddle you. you've tried to convince him to just quit, that jake's cab escapades and marc's more 'eccentric' job opportunities can pay for everything, but he really loves the job, despite the weirdly toxic work environment.
"darling."
it's a flat greeting, a tone you've never heard from his lips, especially not when he's fronting. he doesn't seem happy to see you. actually, he looks quite upset.
you cover yourself up with a blanket, suddenly uncomfortable with your partial nudity when he's unhappy like this.
"why are you back so early?" the usual glimmer in his eyes is snuffed out, instead replaced with an eerie darkness. "what's--are you okay, honey?"
"take it off."
"w-what?" you know he's referring to the blanket, but the way he demanded it --
"off."
you hesitantly move the blanket, revealing the evidence of your unfulfilled desperation. you shyly look up at him, embarrassed and terribly turned on that he's making you do this.
you can't help but press your thighs together, already feeling another spark of heat simply from seeing your darling boyfriend with his head of messy curls.
"keep them open."
you obey his command and spread your legs, leaning back to give him a good view. his eyes meet your center, the frustration you couldn't get rid of. you immediately see need blooming in his body, particularly under his slacks.
soft-spoken steven has never been as forthcoming as his counterparts, but he doesn't need to be, his body does all the talking for him.
you're watching each other as he slowly approaches you, tension thick in the air. he's so desperate to give you exactly what you need and deserve.
steven's mind runs through all the times he had stuck around while marc and jake fucked you.
the first time it happened, he didn't mean to watch through marc's eyes, but once he saw how easily you submitted for him, how utterly ruined you are once marc is done with you, he couldn't help but pop in once in a while.
steven nearly flushes in shame from the memory. he's so perverted...
marc is possessive, steven learned. he likes to know that you're his. he marks you up with his hands and mouth so you'll never forget who you belong to, then he makes you scream his name as you reach your high as he fucks his cum into you.
of course, you're happy to give him whatever he demands, laying right where he wants you and taking anything he'd give you.
jake's methods are different: he makes you cry.
it's the overstimulation that gets him off the best. the sight of your body shaking and writhing to get away from his insatiable touch gets him hard, makes him growl against your tacky skin. he gets off to getting you off, and you love it.
so maybe a mixture of both is what you need.
he can do that.
"i need you to do something for me." he curses inwardly at how soft his voice is when he talks to you. it's a reflex. he's supposed to be confident and rough.
"anything." you breathe out.
"turn around for me, love." he's standing right by the bed, leaning over you. "on all fours."
the surface of your body ripples with goosebumps as you position yourself on the bed for him. he hasn't even touched you and you're already humming with pleasure.
you hear him sigh behind you before he shuffles closer and delicately caresses your bare hips and bottom with warm hands. you feel yourself melt against the mattress as you drop from holding yourself up by your hands to leaning on your forearms. he always makes you feel soft and cozy, even with the simple contact of his hand against your body.
steven watches you arch your back as you get comfortable, hungrily taking in the way you unconsciously push your ass toward him. you're effortlessly sexy to him. you could simply put your hair up into a ponytail and he'd be rock-hard in his slacks from seeing your bare neck. so this...is distracting him.
"so..." marc's voice pulls him out of his thoughts, "you gonna do anything or just stare at her all night?"
"I'm working on it!" steven grits out (in his mind).
"alright, show me how it's done then, loverboy."
you gasp quietly as steven suddenly forces your legs to spread wider for him. you would have lost your balance if it weren't for his steady hold on you.
he slowly kneels in front of the bed, briefly adjusting himself in his pants to relieve some of his desperation. you struggle to keep your legs apart when you feel his warm breaths brush against your needy cunt. you swear you're literally throbbing with need for him.
jake's done this before, steven recalls, eating you out from behind. you seemed to really enjoy it despite the intense overstimulation that pushed you to tears and the bruises left on your thighs from his tight hold and nipping mouth.
he can do this.
he leans in and lightly brushes his plump lips against your wet center to test the waters. your muffle a whimper against the pillow you cling onto, but he hears it loud and clear.
you're so soft and wet, already falling apart in front of him. he can't help but poke his tongue out to taste your sweetness. the warm softness of his tongue has you urgently pushing yourself against him and he takes that as his sign to go deeper.
this time he holds you closer, wrapping his arms around your thighs as he dips into the hot opening of your cunt, working his tongue against your tender walls. his mouth waters at the taste of you and he's desperately leaning in for more.
he thrusts his tongue into your cunt, filling the room with slurping noises that nearly make you blush with how lewd they sound. he's pressed so closely behind you that he's practically supporting your weight as your legs grow too weak to hold you up.
"s-ste-- a-aah-- mm..." you fall apart when he starts licking from your entrance to your clit, flicking eagerly as you start to gush against his tongue. he can already feel your legs twitch and tremble as you try to escape his hot mouth.
your eyes roll to the back of your head when you feel his soft lips wrap around your aching clit. it's almost too much for you to handle. he suckles on your sensitive bud until you're whining out against your pillow as your body trembles with the crash of your orgasm.
steven ignores your pleas and your attempts to escape his mouth as he continues to work you through your high. he cleans you up with a gentle mouth, making sure not to miss a single drop. drool pools against the pillow as your exhausted body struggles to stay conscious.
âhm, not badâŠâ jake admires your trembling frame from a reflective surface nearby, hungrily taking in the scene and wishing he were in steven's place instead. "maybe we were wrong about you, stevie."
steven watches you as well, but with a hint of reluctance. he's never seen you like this first hand. usually, you're the one staring down at him with a small smile as he attempts to catch his breath from your teasing antics.
he's not sure if he likes this any more than the usual dynamic the two of you have. of course he loves knowing that he can make you fall apart just as much as marc and jake, but it's not him.
"you're not done with her yet, right?" marc asks, "'cuz if you are, i'd be happy to finish her off."
jake is quick to argue, "actually markie, i'm pretty sure it's my turn to spoil our little princess."
steven finally bites back, "no, tonight she's mine."
he grumbles, making an effort to push his annoyances into silence so he can give all of his attention to you.
steven nudges you to lay on your back so he can see your face, "love, are you alright?" his tone is light, despite the fact he's eager to continue ravaging you -- even if you do end up falling asleep.
"mhm," your eyes flutter open, sparkling with satisfaction as you stare up at him. you're adorable with that post-sex flush on your skin, highlighting the tops of your cheeks. "i just... wasn't expecting this from you."
"did you like it?"
"steven, i can barely feel my legs."
he lets out a nervous chuckle like he's unsure whether that's a good thing or not, but you ease his mind with a soft smile. you reach up and cradle his face, "yes, baby, i loved it." he presses his cheek against your hand, enjoying your embrace, "i always like it when you touch me."
"then can we do more?"
of course, you want to have sex with him, but...that, no matter how mind-blowing it was, wasn't him. steven is the type of guy to hold eye contact with you while eating you out, wanting to catch every expression and moan of praise as he brings you to the edge. he's the type to hold your hand as you cum, squeezing lovingly to encourage you to fully let go because you're safe with him.
all night he's been acting off. he's been distant and in his head -- and you have a faint idea as to why (their names rhyme with "bark and bake") but you want your sweet and gentle steven back.
you take his hand, "w-wait...steven?"
âyes, darling?"
you sit up, "can you, um, kiss me first?" it's a bit embarrassing to ask when he's already been nose deep in your cunt, but you need that sweet embrace that he's always given.
"of course." stevenâs eyes soften.
cool relief rushes through his body. maybe he was wrong, maybe you do like his soft touches and sweet kisses. maybe you like him for being himself. it's not like marc and jake are the same anyway. each of them gives you something special.
he leans in closer and presses his lips against yours, his body trapping you against the bed. he immediately feels you relax against him as you start to move your mouth over his. he kisses you gently, taking time to trace over the sensitive edge of your bottom lip before dipping in and laving his tongue against yours.Â
when you separate from each other with puffy lips and heated breaths, you can't help but admire the pretty man above you who regards you with pure admiration in his eyes.
"make love to me steven," you whisper, "a-and hold me after, please." his soft brown eyes, full of longing and admiration, meet yours.
"always, love." he pecks you once more on the lips, "i'd do anything for you." you feel his lips move down from your mouth to the edge of your jaw, then your shoulder, and finally the top of your covered chest.
he sits up briefly to pull your shirt off before doing the same with his own clothes. once he's in nothing but his briefs, he's back on top of you.
steven has stars in his eyes as he watches his hand slide over the softness of your curves. he loves how perfectly you fit against him.
you gasp softly as he teasingly brushes his thumb against your nipple. your body is already so sensitive to his touch.
"you're so beautiful..." he whispers.
as he leans in and captures the bud in his mouth, his hand drags down to the spot where you need him the most, sending a wave of sensations through your body and causing you to arch against his mouth.
you're already wet enough for him to slip his fingers inside of you, so he immediately begins thrusting deeply against your spongey walls, letting sloppy sounds of your wetness echo through the bedroom.
you tangle your fingers into his curls and arch your back as he starts to suckle at your nipple. his slick tongue flicks over the hardened bud, sending tingles up your spine. you are already half-delirious from how expertly he's working your body.
everything seems to speed up when you start to squirm under him. he's pushing you harder onto the bed, he's nipping love bites at your tits, his hand is moving faster against you -- from the sounds coming between you, you're sure you've made a mess of his hand.
"s-steven...mm...please!" your thighs squeeze around his wrist as he gets overzealous, hitting your g-spot over and over again without giving you a breather. he groans against your breast when you tug at his hair.
without any warning, he pulls away.
you reluctantly let him get up (though you're definitely too weak at this point to stop him) and you're left to breathlessly watch as he licks his fingers clean and pulls himself out of his briefs.
pleasure continues to buzz against the surface of your skin as you hungrily stare at the way he pumps himself delicately in front of you, his cock is already dripping with desperation. he looks at you with glazed eyes and flushed cheeks while he touches himself.
what a pretty boy...
"need to feel you," steven mumbles, shifting closer to you to press his cock against the seam of your cunt.
"feel me," you beg, canting your hips upwards to meet him.
steven gently moves himself against you, rutting himself against your wet center. he pants when his tip just barely presses into your entrance, proving how ready you are for him.
slowly, he pushes himself in, shuddering at how soft and wet you feel around him.
you whimper softly when he starts fucking you at a slow pace, forcing you to feel how perfectly he stretches you out, over and over again.
your body shudders every time he bottoms out and presses so intensely against that spot inside of you, making you feel like you're about to burst if he doesn't pull out soon.
steven looks down at your face, wanting to see if you're liking this -- but it turned out to be a mistake. he meant to make this sweet, to hold back and make love to you like you asked, but when you look up at him with those shiny eyes and that blissed, fucked-out expression, he can't help the way his hips start to frantically grind against yours.
"i'm sorry, love, i can't -- uhh -- c-can't help it when you look at me like that!" steven pushes your thighs upwards, forcing them closer to the mattress on either side of your head. you cry out as the new angle pushes him deeper within you, hitting every buzzing nerve inside of your sopping cunt.
"mm...steven!" the bed below rocks as his hips violently slap against you in a rhythmic motion.
he groans as he watches his cock thrust inside of you, making a mess of your wet center as you gush around him. you look so small under him, yet you're eagerly taking every inch in that tight cunt.
"i-i want to be inside of you forever..." steven pants out, "and i want you to feel me," he reaches between your bodies to press against your stomach, "here, forever."
"ahh~" you pant heatedly as the added pressure of his hand makes him feel even bigger inside of you. you squirm under him from the intense feeling, but you can barely move out from his hold.
"i love you, darling." he chokes out as he grows closer to the edge, rutting deliciously against the top wall of your pussy. "t-tell-tell me you love me too."
"fuck -- i love you, steven. i'll a-always -- nmph," you flutter around him as the heat of your own climax explodes throughout your body. "love you~" you can barely get the words out as he finishes inside of you.
you don't mind the way he rests on top of you as he attempts to catch his breath. his body is hot and sticky against yours, but it feels comforting nonetheless.
"mm...i missed you and your sweetness." you sigh, enjoying his weight over you, even if it is a tad difficult to breathe.
steven sheepishly mumbles against you, "but that wasn't exactly sweet lovemaking."
"sure, but it was you."
he simply hums happily in response, dotting light kisses against your tacky neck before nuzzling his face against you.
when you both cooled off, you decidedly needed a little space from the man pinning you to the mattress, "ok i need to breathe a little, steven."
"oh, oops, i'll get up." he pushes himself up so he can give you some air. you can't help but shudder as he starts to pull out of you.
"ah~" you can feel the warmth of his cum start to drip from your center, "you came so much, steven. look -- you made a mess." you tease, opening your legs for him.
"m'sorry, love." he sits back on his knees in front of you, staring down at the mess he made (as if he isn't just as messy). "didn't mean to..."
it doesn't sound like he's sorry though -- not by the distracted way he mutters out the apology while scooping up his cum and shoving it back into you.
"steven."
"i'm just trying to minimize the mess!" he defends.
you don't stop him because it feels oddly pleasant to be doted on like this. you'll just have to do a final cleanup later, you decide.
"imagine if i weren't on birth control," you joke, "i'd definitely be pregnant by now."
"..."
"steven are you hard again?!"
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The Sleepover-Chris Sturniolo (Part 1)
Summary: (corny, basic ahh title I know) You are good friends with the sturniolos and at their house, unabe to catch an uber late at night you are offered to stay the night on the couch, however you could not sleep and someone with the same problem comes to join you..
Warnings: smut;unprotected sex; handjobs; swearing; mentions of alcohol; NO use of y/n!
A/N: I donât use any degrading kink language with characters (e.g slut) or overusing of words such as baby, bc idk bout you guys but it kinda cringes me out when i see that in other fanfics, okay back to the story :)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I took the last sip of my coca cola before saying goodbye to a couple other friends who were leaving.
"For fuck's suck." I say, a little too loud as I could see Chris and Nick abruptly glance in my direction in the corner of my eye.
"Whats up?" Nick asked
"There are no uber's available for another hour, like how is that even possible?" I exclaimed, adding a small smile at the end, I didn't want to bring down the good vibes that everyone had for the past six hours.
"Hey you know you're more than welcome to stay the night, I would have made Matt drive you but you know how much he had to drink tonight, plus he's probably out of it right now."
"No, you don't have to do that anyway, i'll check some other taxi websites theres gotta be one available righ-"
"Hey it's fine, just stay on the couch, its way too late now anyway i wouldn't want you out there alone." Nick explained.
"Okay, thank you so much you guys are the best!" I say, scanning the room to meet eyes with Chris, who was watching our conversation from the kitchen counter as he was clearing away the plastic cups and chip bags.
"Okay, now that's settled i'm going to bed, i'm wiped" Nick says as he grabs his phone from the other side of the couch. Chris followed with a quick "Me too, goodnight" before hurrying down the stairs.
"Theres more blankets in the basket down there if you need, goodnight!" Nick says before trailing up the stairs, turning off the main kitchen light.
About fifteen minutes had gone by, I somehow wasn't even sleepy even though it was nearing three in the morning. Maybe i had too much soda. I grabbed my phone from my bag and began scrolling through tiktok. I figured after a while of scrolling my eyes would get tired.
Suddenly the dim living room light turned on, I flinched as I saw Chris's silhouette approaching the couch. He sat down about a foot to the right of me.
"Can't sleep?" He asked, in a quiet,almost whisper.
"Nope." I reply, switching off my phone and placing it behind my pillow.
We both stared at eachother for a moment, Chris had a curious look on his face, as if he was dying to ask me a question.
"Hey i thought you said you were wiped, like twenty minutes ago." I say, narrowing my eyes teasingly. I knew the smartass reply he would say.
"I never said that actually." He replied, a small grin forming on his face, returning the teasing mannerisms.
"Well you said same when Nick said, and I quote,I'm going to bed, I'm wiped". I said, smiling knowing this would just egg him on for a lame excuse. Mine and Chris's friendship had always been like this, teasing and joking around, he never failed to make me laugh.
"Well, maybe thats just what i wanted him to hear." He replied, staring back at me with a grin, waiting to see my confused reaction.
"What are you doing?" I asked, half serious now.
"I figured you'd be lonely down here by yourself in the dark, so I came to stay with you."
"You're drunk" I state.
"You're sober." He replies, stating the obvious.
"Yeah well remember last week when you were holding my hair back as I was puking in the toilet? I learnt my lesson and thought i'd give myself a break tonight." I replied with a small chuckle.
"mhmmm" He mumbles. "Besides I didn't drink that much myself actually, definitly not as much as Matt." He states,clearly proud of him self and awaiting my approval.
"Wooowww" I tease, indulging into his ego.
He then moves closer to me, and squeezes up close, moving me over and laying next to me, pulling the grey fluffly blanket over us. We look deep into eachother's eyes for a moment again. His eyes were so beautiful, a crystal clear blue, which accomodated to his warm smile. That damn smile. It always triggered a comforting feeling, like i could never feel negative again when i saw it.
He was moving his head closer to mine, I watched his eyes as they were flickering from mine to my lips, which he was slowly approaching. Without warning I felt his soft lips touch mine, and i unexpectedly started to get lost in the moment, and i placed my hand around his head, gently running through his soft hair. I slowly pulled away from his lips.
"Wait what are we doing?" I whispered,coming back to my senses as i realised that maybe he had liked me all along when i have liked him.
"I thought you knew I had a mondo crush on you, I know you have one on me too, I can feel it in your energy whenever we're close." He said quietly, smiling that he had just outed my secret.
I didn't know what to say, I just gazed back into his eyes again, inspecting his playful look. He slowly put his hand on my stomach, which made me let out a gasp.
"See, I make you nervous" He said with a grin, before trailing up to my chest.
"Oh yeah, no i definitly knew" I replied sarastically, smiling at both my joke and the touch of his hands on me.
He let out a soft laugh before trailing his hand down to my waist, meeting the waistband of my shorts.
"Are you okay with this?" He asked, serious look on his face now awaiting my answer.
"Yes" I whispered, kissing his lips again to confirm. He pulled away and smiled, before trailing his hand down to my panties, moving inside of them and meeting my arousal.
"See, I knew you wanted me" He whispered jokingly into my ear as he starting moving his fingers in slow circles around my sweet spot.
I smiled at him, before moving my head back and closing my eyes in relfex to the pleasure he was inducing on me, as he was speeding up. I let out a few deep breaths.
"Ch-chris.." I whispered. "We can't, not...here what... if they hear us" I said, stuttering through deep breaths.
"Shhh, they wonât. Theyâre both out of it remember?" He whispered back. He stopped moving his fingers, which made me open my eyes.
He moved in to kiss me again, moving his body slightly closer again, alerting me of his hard-on against my thigh. I reached my hands down to the waistband of his shorts. Still kissing, my hands made contact with his shaft, I started moving my hand up and down, slowly speeding up the pace. He drifted away from mouth to let out a deep breath in reaction to the stimulation.
âFuckâ he whispered.
He moved my hand away, which at first confused me, until he started taking off my shorts, and then his own. He repositioned himself until he was hovering on top of me. He started burying himself into my neck, painting it with kisses. Again, I had tilted my head back to indulge in the moment.
âYou ready?â He whispered, lifting his head up.
I nodded eagerly, at this point I was desperate, I had never imagined that this is how the night turned out, but this rush of everything was just what I craved for right now. I felt his tip brush against me, and the slow but intense entrance of himself inside of me. We exhaled loudly, though this made me feel conscious that one of his brothers could hear us again, I tried to put that feeling aside for now and just enjoy the moment, enjoy him.
As his thrusts increased in speed it was becoming more hard to stay so quiet. Chris noticed how I was trying so hard to suppress moans, and put one of his hands over my mouth gently. The other hand interlocked my left hand above my head. His deep breaths alone were just setting me off more. His eyes squinting as the climax was nearing. Small, muffled moans left my mouth, thankfully Chrisâs hand was suppressing the evidence, I donât think it was a noticeable enough sound for Matt to hear, even though he was just down the hall in his bedroom.
The thrusts were rapid, I began gently moving my hips along with the alignment of his to amplify the pleasure. This made his breaths become more louder, so I put my free hand over his mouth too. We were now gazing into each otherâs eyes, taking in the moment, the euphoric feeling which was shared between us. Our eyes struggling to stay open as we were both so close to finishing. Our palms became sweaty from the exhales. Boom. There it was. That indescribable feeling which illuminated throughout my whole body. Throughout his whole body. As the thrusts slowed down into a halt. We looked deeply into each others eyes again, lay still for a few moments as we uncovered our mouths. Deep breaths still escaped our mouths, but we tried to keep them quiet.
There it was again. That smile.
âI think I might⊠I think I might love youâ he whispered through exhales.
âShut upâ I quietly laughed, still breathless.
He kissed me once more, his soft lips were the cherry on the cake, I never wanted him to let them go off me. He exited me and lay on his back next to me again, his hand in mine.
*ding*âŠ..*ding*
I opened my eyes, the warm sunlight melting through the blinds. I reached for my phone, with two texts from my mom, asking if I wanted to go to lunch with her. The time was 10:48. I looked to my right, and sure enough Chris was lay next to me. It was real. It actually happened? Holy shit.
âChris?â I whispered.
No answer.
âChrisâ I whispered, a little louder and slightly nudging him. This alerted him and he opened his eyes.
âOh hey sexyâ he said, his morning voice was raspy, but also kind of a turn on. Fuck.
âI gotta go, and you should probably go downstairs before Nick or Matt come out here and wonder why you were on the couch with meâ I explained. He still had his eyes shut, but he slowly started to shift, so I knew he was listening.
âMhmm, okayâ he mumbled before sitting up.
We both put our shorts back on and he put the blanket back.
âOkay, my mom wants to meet me for lunch so I gotta run, Iâll see you soonâ
âSure thing, we should do that again soonâ he said with a smirk, before trailing down the stairs to his bedroom.
#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo smut#sturniolo fanfic#chris sturniolo#sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo#nick sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo
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Your Ride, Best Trip
Summary: You sleep with your boyfriend Marcus for the first time Word Count: 9,001 Pairing: Marcus Pike x f! afab! reader Rating: 18+ Explicit Warnings: 18+ mdni, first time, vaginal fingering, oral (m! and f! receiving), unprotected PIV, squirting, creampie, dirty talk, so much fluff, so much kissing Betas: @for-a-longlongtime and @perotovar as ALWAYS. Love you homies I'm kissing u both <3 A/N: I have nothing to say for myself this time
Marcus Pike is perfect.Â
Heâs your dream man.Â
Heâs sweet. He brings you flowers just because, and heâs remembered your go-to coffee order, and he never goes to bed without texting you goodnight.
Heâs effortlessly kind. He offers to walk your dog for you when you arenât feeling well enough to get out of bed, and he always does the dishes when you cook for him, and he makes sure his bathroom is stocked with all the personal products you use at your own place.Â
Heâs fucking handsome. His smile is straight and pearly white, and his big brown eyes warm you up, and the way his broad shoulders fill out those suits he wears to work never fails to make you weak in the knees.Â
Heâs so smart, and heâs so funny, and heâs all yours⊠finally.Â
See, when he hadnât so much as kissed you by your third date, you wigged out a bit.Â
How could you not? Heâd been so thoughtful and caring and all you wanted was to feel those pillowy, soft lips against your own.Â
So you asked him what was up, and he told you.
Divorced. Broken engagement. A whole year of therapy to pinpoint what went wrong, what he could change, and how he could do better, how he could feel better. And then, he said, he found youâ like fateâ when he wasnât even looking, when he least expected it.Â
You had no problem taking it slow. Youâre still convinced youâd wait forever for him, as perfect as he is.
After too many little dates to count, he told you he wanted to be your boyfriend, if youâd have him.
You told him youâd love for him to be your boyfriend, of course. Youâd be crazy not too.Â
And then he finally kissed you.
It was slow and hesitant, but it still made your heart race, made your stomach do flips. He cut it off before it could become anything more than chaste, and left your front door with a sheepish goodnight.Â
Youâve kissed a lot since then. You never really enjoyed kissing that much, before. It always just seemed like a means to and end, a formality before moving on to other things.Â
But now itâs one of your favorite ways to pass the time with him. Waiting for an Uber to take you downtown, finally getting to his place on Friday after a long work week, cuddling in bed together with an old movie playing.
You havenât made out with anyone this much since high school. And you enjoy it, you do, but Jesus Christ, heâs been your boyfriend for three weeks now and you need him.Â
It doesnât help that he touches you like youâre the last person on earth. His hands are so big and theyâre gentle and electric when they find the bit of skin just under the hem of your shirt.Â
You think itâs going to happen, this time. Friday night takeout has long been abandoned in the living room. Youâre in his bed, in his clothes, and his pinky is teasing at the waistband of his sweats that youâre wearing.Â
His tongue in your mouth is making you dizzy, and thereâs no more blood in your brain with all of it rushing between your legs. You whimper, and you arch against him, and you want him so bad but you canât say it. Youâd feel bad, making him rush when heâs made it clear he wants to take things slow.Â
When his lips leave yours, you open your eyes, and find his pupils obstructing all the deep, dark brown you adore.Â
You have to squeeze your thighs together for a miniscule amount of relief. He notices. Of course he does. Damn that Quantico training.Â
âSweetheartââ
His eyes flicker down to your lips. Youâre sure they look obscene, red and slick from nearly an hour of him sucking and nibbling on them.Â
âIâm sorry,â you whisper.Â
You donât know why you say it, but you are sorry. You feel so bad for wanting him like this, desperate and aching in his bed, over eager.Â
âDonât be,â he shakes his head and gives you a reluctant smile, a smile that tells you youâre going to fall asleep extremely sexually frustrated.Â
But itâs fine. Heâs so worth it.Â
You give him a soft smile back, and lean in to peck his lips. But he pulls away with his brow furrowed.Â
âWhat do you want?âÂ
His voice is gentle when he asks. So is his hand on your back, under his shirt youâve claimed. But it doesnât stop that fight or flight response from kicking in.Â
âNothing! Nothing, Marcus, Iâm okayâ Iâm great. Just wanna cuddle.âÂ
But the creases in his forehead donât smooth out, and his hand ceases the soothing circles across your spine.Â
âYouâre lying.âÂ
You sigh and close your eyes.Â
âIâm not lying, Iâm justâ I donât want to push you to move too fast.âÂ
You expect him to be angry. But when you open your eyes again, his own have taken on that puppy-like quality you usually love. Right now, it just makes you feel guilty.Â
âIâve been lying, too,â Marcus whispers.Â
Itâs your turn to scrunch your face up. Your blood runs cold, waiting for him to elaborate. A million scenarios run through your head at lighting speedâ all worse and worse until your breathing picks up and you beg him with your eyes to just get on with itâ
âI have a small dick.âÂ
His face is so flushed. He canât meet your gaze.
Heâs staring at the bedsheets between you, and youâre both just silent for a long, awkward moment.Â
âI meanâ the divorce and all that, itâs all true. And I did want to keep from moving too fast. Butâ the last few weeks I guess Iâve just been⊠stalling?âÂ
He finally looks up from the threads to gauge your reaction.Â
âMarcusâŠâ
âI get it, okay? If you wanna go. I know I lied, and you didnât sign up forââ
âMarcus.â
You watch his shoulders raise and his mouth snap shut, and he looks terrified.
âI donât want to leave. You didnât lie. Itâs justâ you really think that would bother me?âÂ
He lets out a big breath, and the tension in his body eases up a little.Â
âI donât know. Most people were⊠bothered. I guess,â he shrugs.Â
You cradle his jaw in your hand, let the day-old stubble tickle the pad of your thumb as you think about how to best navigate this conversation.Â
Because saying âI donât careâ seems too dismissive. But you donât. You couldnât possibly care less about whatâs in his pants, when everything else about him has made you fall so, so deep already. But you donât want to make it sound like itâs something you have to even bargain with, like the pros outweigh the cons, like it even is a con. Because itâs not.Â
âIâm not bothered,â you finally tell him.Â
He still doesnât meet your eyes, in fact, he rolls his.Â
âYou donât have to lie to me. Itâs okay, Iâve heard it all. I know Iâve lead you onââ
âJesus,â you cut him off, âwhat didâ who made you feel this way?âÂ
He finally looks at you. His eyes are wide and he looks vulnerable and hesitant. You swipe away some hair thatâs fallen flat across his scrunched forehead.Â
âEveryone?âÂ
You sigh his name, and youâre tentative when you lean forward to kiss him, softly, when he lets you.Â
He looks less terrified when you pull back. You try to smile, but this whole interaction has left such a bad taste in your mouth that it feels more like a grimace when your lips turn up.Â
âThatâsâ Fucking awful, to be frank. Pardon my French.â
He chuckles, but his gaze falls away from your face again. His sheets are not that interesting to look at.Â
âReally, Marcus. I meanâ maybe if someoneâs just looking for a hookup, then I get it. You want something specific, whatever. But why would you ever think you were leading me on?
All youâve done is be sweet to me, and shown interest in me, and taken care of me. Unless youâre like, secretly an ax murderer, or committing some kind of major tax fraud, you havenât led me on at all.â
Heâs still not looking at you. Why wonât he look at you, and believe you?Â
âI donât want to sound dismissive. I understand youâre insecure about it. Iâm insecure about some things too. I donât want to invalidate that. But I need you to know that the last thing I care about is how big your dick is.âÂ
There. Heâs looking at you. He looks a little mortified, but heâs finally meeting your gaze.Â
âReally?â
You scoff.Â
âReally really.â
A reluctant smile tugs on the corner of his pretty mouth.Â
âWhy?â
âBecauseâ now, donât go getting a big head about thisâ youâre perfect. Like, everything about you. Youâre sweet and you make me laugh and youâre gorgeous.â
His face flushes, but he lets you continue.
âAnd Iâm in this, with you. I want this to go somewhere. And I think weâre super compatible.â
âMe too,â he whispers.
âGood, so⊠weâre on the same page then.â
You watch him lick his lips, and his hand thatâs been loosely draped over your waist finally starts back up, drawing little circles across the base of your spine.Â
âAnd⊠Thereâs other reasons,â you mumble, voice low with a hint of mischief.
âOh yeah?âÂ
âYeah⊠For one, your hands.â
âMy hands?â
He emphasizes his question with a squeeze of your hip, and you giggle at the way it tickles, and also with a bit of embarrassment.Â
âYeah⊠Theyâre uh⊠big. I look at them a lot. Honestly surprised you havenât noticed.â
He huffs, lets his big hand travel further up the shirt on your back.Â
âYour nails are always trimmed, andâ your fingers are long and thick. Iâve thought about them a lot.â
He breathes your name, and now you realize youâre the one avoiding eye contact. When you look back, his pupils are all blown out again, and it spurs you on.
âAnd I love to give head.â
âJesus.â
âAnd the bigger it is, the quicker I get tired. I could stay down there all night, if my jaw didnât get sore.âÂ
âSweetheartââ
âReally, itâs one of my favorite things, making someone fall apart under my mouth. But I hate gagging and choking my way through it. Itâs tedious.â
He says your name again, this time with a warning tone.Â
You bite your lip to keep anything from tumbling from your mouth unwarranted.Â
âYouâre not lying.â
His eyes dart back and forth across your face, and you shake your head in lieu of opening your mouth again.Â
âFuck.â
Itâs the first time Marcus has cursed in front of you. Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and your clit throbs.Â
âIâve thought about you so much. Your lips, you have to know, right? How plump and full they are⊠I think about them at night, when Iâm touching myself.âÂ
Thatâs convincing enough, apparently. Before you can embarrass yourself any further with your confessions, he surges forward to press those plush lips against yours and groans into your mouth.Â
His hand flattens against your back and pulls, manhandling you closer to him. Your fingers find his silky hair and tangle in the strands, holding on for dear life at this shift between the two of you.Â
You canât muster up an ounce of shame. Finally, you have Marcus where you want him, pressed against you. You hike a leg over one of his, getting it between your thighs for even the smallest amount of friction.Â
You feel him gasp, chest inflating to press even closer against yours. Itâs a rush, finally getting this after waiting so long.Â
Your hands scramble to get under his white t-shirt. His skin is hot, even against your sweaty palms. Thereâs so much to feel, the slight swell of his stomach, and the muscle of his flank, the soft but firm pecs.Â
You whine when he pulls away from your lips. He shushes you gently, and you open your eyes to watch his slick lips and his hooded eyes and flushed face disappear briefly, just quick enough to shed his shirt.Â
Smooth, is the first thing that comes to mind. His tan skin has no hair above his belly button, just the errant freckle here and there. His nipples are peaked, and you reach out to press your thumb against one before your mind catches up to the action, before you realize youâre gawking.Â
But when your hand stutters against his skin and you look up at him, heâs smirking, amused and turned on. You falter a bit, mouth open while you search for something to say, some sort of excuse as to why youâre devouring him like youâre starved.Â
He saves you though, with his low, grumbled voice.Â
âI think about you, too. All the time.âÂ
You dig your nails into his soft skin at his admission, scraping against his chest.Â
âYou know that? You think I havenât had you a million different ways in my head?âÂ
Your heart stops beating, and you stop breathing, and the heat between your legs only gets heavier and wetter.Â
âYou want me to show you, sweetheart?â
Your heartbeat comes back as a rush in your ears, and you squeeze the meat of his pec as you nod.Â
He kisses you again, licks at your lips until you suck his tongue into your mouth, and now itâs just filthy. No more pretense, itâs been months of pretense, and neither of you have any more patience.Â
His fingers seek out your own nipple, a tight bud protruding through cloth, and he rolls it between his fingers gently over the material of his shirt.Â
âYou come over and wear my clothes like this, and you think you donât drive me crazy?âÂ
The words are grumbled into your mouth, against your cheek, then your jaw and your neck as he seeks out more of you to kiss.Â
âI donât wash them when you leave. I wear them and I smell you all day and it makes me feel insane.â
You mewl at his admission. Everything he says now is so fucking raw, now that youâve broken down his walls. He shushes you again, grabs the hem of his shirt to help you pull it over your head.Â
He curses when he sees you. Itâs the first time. Youâve both been toeing this line of modesty, and maybe youâd be more nervous if you werenât careening toward the pleasure heâs promised you.Â
He coaxes you to lie on your back beside him, and his mouth works a slow trail down the side of your neck, nipping and suckling until he finally gets your nipple in his mouth. You arch into it, encouraging him with a hand tangled in his thick hair. You feel his groan reverberating around your rib cage when you scrape your nails back and forth across his scalp. You need him, like nothing youâve ever craved before.Â
âMarcusââ
âI know, I know.â
His syrupy voice isnât as soothing as his lips, though, when he cranes his neck back up to kiss you again. He nips there, a sneaky distraction from the way his fingers trail down to circle your navel, and then even farther, teasing the hem of his sweatpants youâre wearing. His featherlight touch makes you jolt when it finally registers, your stomach jumping under his fingers.Â
âCan I?â
Youâre nodding against his lips, into the kiss, and then whining when his hand breaches the waistband. Those thick, long fingers flutter across your mound. Your breath catches on every wiggle. But when his fingers splay out, half on one side of your slit and half on the other, teasing your lips, you exhale hard and press up into his touch.Â
âOh, are you that sensitive?â
His voice is half-teasing, half-shocked, as he mumbles into the tingling skin of your neck.Â
âItâs just you.âÂ
And itâs true. Thereâs no ego-stroking here. Youâve waited too long to get this and now youâre fiending, any touch is a relief.Â
And heâs huffing into that skin under your ear, like youâre playing it up too much, but he bites down on the skin anyway and groans.Â
âSo sweet, huh?â
You make a disgruntled noise but thereâs not enough blood in your brain to get your point across. Instead, you wrap your hand around his meaty forearm and force his fingers lower, where you know your underwear is a soaking, sticky mess.Â
He curses and pulls away from his assault on your neck to look at you. Youâre certain you know what he sees, blown out pupils and sweat-slick forehead and bitten, shiny lips.Â
âThatâs all for me?âÂ
Thereâs a sly smile tugging at one side of his mouth, just barely there, but you see it in the way one dimple grows more than the other. You nod in answer, scrape your nails up the hair on his arm and watch him shudder.
But he retreats from between your legs, and chuckles when you squeeze his forearm tighter in protest. The sound makes you shiver, all low and gruff and teasing. But he softens the blow with another one of his kisses, heated and sloppy and needy. His hands, always so gentle and careful and big, find the creases between your hips and thighs. It makes you arch up into the touch and whimper again, and you wonder briefly if youâll ever not be desperate for him again.Â
He watches your face twist up when he pulls away from you, watches the way your breasts move with every heave of your lungs. His dark eyes travel lower, where his thumbs sear circles into your hips, and his tongue swipes across his lower lip.Â
âCan I take these off, sweetheart?âÂ
The tenderness in his voice fills you with a completely different warmth, white hot flames simmering into a blaze of feelings you arenât sure youâve ever truly experienced before. You let it consume you.Â
âYes, please.â
He hums a satisfied little noise as his fingers hook under the waistband. He takes his time, making sure to catch your underwear as well. Itâs a sight, his huge hands working your only remaining cover down, down, until youâre bare to him and heâs gently cradling each of your calves to fully remove the last of your clothes.Â
Those hands work their way back up, attentive, memorizing the valleys and peaks of your flesh, the nuances of your skin, the way it bends over your joints. Before you know it, heâs propped himself up beside you once again, one arm supporting his weight so his other hand can work its way between your thighs.Â
You drag your eyes away from his fingers to look at him, only to find him focused on your face.Â
Itâs a few long moments before either of you move or speak or breathe. Itâs you who breaks the spell, only because you know youâre at the very edge of control.Â
âYou sure youâre ready?â
You reach up to cradle his neck in your hand. Itâs hot to the touch, and so are his ears, the tips of them burning a cute pink where your thumb grazes them. His eyes get softer and crinkle even more around the edges.
âIâm positive⊠canât believe I psyched myself out for so long.â
He huffs and shakes his head at himself. Youâre ready to kiss that apprehension away again, but his hand on your thigh pulls, as gentle as everything else heâs done, to spread yourself open for him.Â
The cool air makes your breath catch in your throat. Or maybe itâs the anticipation. So close to what youâve thought about every single night for weeks. Monthsâ since the day you first met, if youâre being honest.Â
He keeps his eyes on you, and you hold his gaze even though it burns. But only until his fingers brush you. Your eyelids flutter shut at the feeling, mouth open wide in shock at how electric just one simple touch feels.Â
His finger glides so easily around your opening, and you hear him gasp as he explores all the slick.
âYouâre soaked.âÂ
His voice is thick with awe, as another finger joins in on the fun, gathering up your arousal. But they donât breach, and you feel like heâs teasing, readying a whine in protest.Â
The noise gets stuck in your throat when they trail up, gliding through your swollen folds. They find your clit, full and begging for attention, and circle with hardly any pressure.Â
Oh, heâs fucking good at this.Â
Thereâs no apprehension in his movements. Itâs like heâs read a fucking manual on how to press all your buttons. The light, slick touches are building up that heat in your gut quicker than you can ever remember with anyone else.Â
Youâre stunned silent, eyes pinched shut and your head tilted back into the mattress, digging in for even an ounce of grounding.Â
âThat feel good, sweetheart?â
Your vocal chords come back to life, finally, as you whimper from the gentle drag of his fingers.Â
âYou have no idea.â
He chuckles, and you open your eyes to see his own still trained on your face.Â
âI think I do,â he mumbles.
He shifts, presses his hips into you, and the hard line of him digs into your side.Â
You clench around nothing, and your clit pulses under the pads of his fingers. He curses and responds to the needy little bud, applying more pressure and speeding up those little circles.Â
All the while he grinds his hips into you, soft little movements that sync up with his hand, and you want him so bad. Youâre losing patience by the second, the only thing keeping you from pouncing is the way his fingers work you over so perfectly itâs like youâre touching yourself.Â
Youâre not, though, and that becomes perfectly clear when one thick, long finger presses lower and slips into you. It slides so easily, despite how much girth it has on one of your own. You both make stuttered noises at the feeling, and Marcusâ lips capture your own to let them mingle together.Â
Your hips egg him on, lifting and shifting, but he is teasing now. Itâs a slow drag in and out, his finger pin straight, and if he hadnât been so diligent this entire time youâd think he didnât know what he was doing.Â
But you whine, a soft plea of his name into his mouth, and he obliges. That thick finger crooks up, just as the heel of his hand flattens against your clit, and stars bloom behind your eyelids.Â
You groan, and he laps it up before his lips leave yours.Â
âThatâs it. This what you needed?â
A pathetic whimper comes out in response as you nod your head. His finger presses harder into that perfect spot, and his palm slides over your wet clit. Youâre clenching around him, savoring the feeling of being filled by him, working your hips down and back to meet his motions. It grows and grows, that feeling in your gut, so close that you canât be bothered to worry about what needy noises youâre making.
He mutters another frantic curse, and his hips jump to press his cock into you harder.Â
âI gotta taste you, sweetheart. Can I? Will you let me?âÂ
You nod so fast youâre surprised your head doesnât detach from your neck. He soothes that frenzied part of your brain with another kiss, slips his finger out of you, and moves to get between your legs.Â
You thread your fingers through his hair to keep him still, even if itâs just for a moment. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, and the drag of his sweatpants across your sensitive center makes you arch up into him for more, to seek out more friction.Â
He just huffs a laugh against your lips and angles his hips away, denying you the simple pleasure of grinding against the tent in his pants.Â
âNot yet. Let me take my time with you. Youâve waited so long, right? Iâll make it up to you, you just gotta let me.âÂ
You huff.Â
You shouldâve known Marcus would be just as much of an infuriating tease in the bedroom as he is outside of it. The trivia dates and the cocky smirk he always sported when he won, the little bets heâd make on how a movieâs plot was going to twist, the refusal to ever let you pay for dinnerâ itâs all adding up now, and you canât believe you didnât expect it.Â
Marcus Pike is a smug little prick underneath the humble, sheepish grins, and itâs hot and itâs yours.Â
âPut your money where your mouth is,â you breathe.Â
He chuckles and trails said mouth down the length of your naked body. You watch his plump lips explore your skin and leave wet patches littered in their wake, shiny little stakes claiming you. His five oâclock shadow is just long enough to abrade your skin a bit, delightful little pricks that make your muscles jump involuntarily.
He makes it to your mound before looking up at you. His brown eyes are mostly obstructed by his pupils, but they shine all glassy in the dim lamplight of his bedroom. His shitty grin has faded and he looks determined, and it steals the breath from your lungs.Â
He teases some more, of course he does. His lips peck and tickle the creases of your thighs, the skin of your outer lips, and the very tip of your hood before you finally see his pink tongue slip out.Â
All of a sudden you canât watch, can only let your head fall back and close your eyes and drown in the anticipation.Â
The pointed tip of his tongue just barely grazes you, tracing a razor-thin line from your dripping hole all the way to your mound. It tickles, and your breath comes in faster as he does it again, and again, and again.Â
Just before you can beg for more, he flattens his tongue and drags it up your slit. He laps at your folds, slow and calculated, and the satisfied noises tumble out of you as you feel his taste buds glide against you.Â
All you can think to do is find his hair and use it to hang on. Your legs spread wider, and he takes the encouragement. His tongue finds your clit, so swollen and sensitive with need by now. He circles it, then wiggles his tongue back and forth, playing with it, playing with you. He shakes his head from side to side to give you more, presses even more firmly, and the heavy feeling in your gut tightens tenfold.Â
Your hips start to move on their own, rocking up into his face, helping his motions along. He groans with it, muffled and wet between your legs.Â
A delirious thought gets stuck in your horny brain. You donât know how youâll ever let him leave this spot between your legs now that youâve finally got him here. Itâs so wet and warm and incredible, and your nails dig into his scalp to drive the point home, to try and lock him here forever.Â
His voice snaps you from your reverent thoughts, thick and deep.Â
âFuck, sweetheart. You taste so good, looks so fucking pretty.âÂ
You brave a glance down at him, his red soaked mouth and his dark eyes that are boring holes into your pussy. One of his hands releases its grip on your thigh to glide across the dripping mess of your center. He toys with you, spreading you open with splayed fingers, watching the way your folds bend to his whim. With it exposed and protruding and aching for his touch, he leans down to wrap his plush lips around your clit and suckle. Curses fly from your lips at the concentrated attention, and itâs so so so fucking good youâre sure youâre going combust.Â
His hand slips lower, and his mouth doesnât stop, and youâre dangerously close to tipping over the edge. And then two thick fingers slip easily into you, immediately seeking out that spot inside you and tapping there.Â
Itâs blinding pressure overwhelming the two places you need him most. He drums up a rhythm that would remind you of a dance, maybe, if your brain were cognitive enough to form a coherent thought. Down with his head, engulfing your clit, and up with his fingers, squeezing that spongy spot inside you. Over and over, he works you with soft grunts against your cunt until your fingers lock up in his hair and your hips start to shake.Â
âPlease donât stop,â you pant, âIâm so close.âÂ
To his credit, and this is more than you can say for the majority of men youâve been with, he doesnât stop. He doesnât slow down, nor does he speed up. He keeps at you exactly how you need it, moaning strung-out little noises into your center until youâre dropping.Â
All the wind is knocked out of you. Your hips jolt into his face and he takes it in stride, lapping at your clit when the seal of his lips is broken from your erratic movements. You tremble through it, clench around his fingers, and squeeze his head between your thighs as you ride it out on his tongue.Â
As the shivers roll through you, Marcusâ fingers slow, and though he canât remove his tongue from you because of how your legs have him in a headlock, he stills his tongue so you can take the last bit of what you need from him.Â
His breathing is just as heavy as yours, wheezing out moans and muffled words of encouragement. When you feel yourself slipping down from your peak, you let go of the death grip on his hair, and open your legs, and grant yourself a few deep breaths before you dare to look down at him.Â
He carefully, cautiously pulls his fingers out of you. A comforting âshhhâ is cooed into the sweaty skin of your thigh when you make a strangled sound. Both of his hands splay out on either hip, a light and grounding touch accompanied by the kisses heâs dropping all over the skin he can reach.Â
Finally, you grant yourself a peek down at him. The first thing you notice is how his broad shoulders are, heaving with baited breath. Then, his normally pristine hair, sticking out every which way and then some from your frantic fingers.Â
His face is red, you guess from exertion. Or maybe you really did restrict some blood flow. Christ. Thatâs what he gets, being so goddamn good at that.Â
And then his lips. His lips. Those lips that up until now youâve only ever kissed or dreamed of. Theyâre even more plump, swollen and slick with you, shining just like his chin is.Â
You donât know what to say. You know you want to kiss him. Funny, considering thatâs how all this started, but youâre dying to see what you taste like on him.Â
Luckily, he breaks the silence, after licking those delectable lips and clearing his throat.Â
âSo⊠Howâd it compare?âÂ
Your face contorts on its own, surprised at the sudden and intrusive question.Â
âPardon?â
But then he laughs, pressing those wet dimples into your heated skin to hide them.Â
âTo all those thoughts you told me about. Howâd I do?âÂ
You laugh too then, a weary huff of breath as you sit up.Â
âDonât go fishing for compliments,â you tease, though thereâs not much heat behind it with how out of breath you still are.Â
He goes to respond, but you get a hand in his hair again and coax him up. You meet him halfway, swallowing his surprised noise when you finally get those pillowy lips against yours and lick at them, his tongue, his teeth, until you arenât sure what taste is you and what is him. Until you realize youâre flat on your back again as he hovers over you, still between your thighs.Â
You both hum when the kiss breaks, and you rest your forehead against his, nuzzle his nose and sigh at the floaty feeling in your limbs.Â
âBetter,â you whisper.Â
You feel his grin bump into your own. You nip at it, playful and languid as you finally begin to get some of your bearings back.Â
And then youâre shocked back into the realization that thereâs all this smooth skin right in front of you, this hunk of a man hovering above, the one who just melted your brain into a fuzzy little mold of itself. You grab his hips as he licks into your mouth and scrape your nails up his flanks, unhurried, while the touch makes him shiver.Â
You feel out the strength in his pecs, those broad shoulders you often daydream about, and then you push. Catching him off guard, he gasps as he loses his balance and tumbles to the side, and then laughs when you press him into the mattress and straddle his hips.Â
You laugh along with him, but it slowly tapers off as his hands find your naked skinâ your stomach and hips and back and then your ass, where it hovers just above that bulge in his sweatpants.Â
Heâs looking up at you with what you can only describe as horny apprehension.Â
His eyelids droop over his dilated pupils, but his brow is all pinched up in the middle. His mouth hangs open, like he wants to say something, but nothing comes out.Â
So you kiss him, soft and gentle, as gentle as heâs been with you all night. His sigh washes heat across your cheeks, and you feel him relax under you just a little.Â
But then you shift in his grasp, lower your ass, and press your soaking center to his crotch. You whimper at the feeling of his sweatpants dragging across your sensitive, wet cunt. He moans and bites at your bottom lip maybe a little too hard.Â
But itâs okay. He pulls away and pants your name and you settle there, your weight pressed down on his cock. Your lips find that smooth patch in his stubble, biting that chiseled jaw, licking down the curve of his neck, his shoulder, up to his ear. You delight in every goosebump you draw, and breathe in his scent before you speak up.Â
âWill you let me suck it?âÂ
All his breath rushes out in a big gust. His fingertips dig into your naked sides, and he nods.Â
âPlease.âÂ
Itâs a barely-there whisper. You pull away from that silky soft skin where his pulse is hammering to check his reaction.Â
Heâs begging with his eyes. It makes you smirk, sitting up straighter, trailing your fingers down the front of his body until you reach the drawstring of his sweatpants.Â
Youâre still sitting on his groin, though. You give a little playful wiggle, and his hips rock up to grind harder. But you donât want to tease any more. Every moment spent teasing him, youâre also denying yourself, and youâve been patient for long enough.Â
So you shift down the bed, nestled between his legs, and get to work on the tie of his pants. Every time your fingertips brush the hair below his belly button, he sucks in a breath. You finally get the thing untied, and look up one last time for permission before you start to drag the material down, grabbing his boxers as you go.Â
Your eyes stay trained on his face instead of staring at his crotch, especially as he wiggles a bit and lifts his legs to remove his pants. You donât want to stare, and you also donât want to not look, you donât want him to be uncomfortable at all with you.Â
You want it to be perfect. You want to make him feel the way he makes you feel.Â
He nods his head, and you cease averting your eyes to trail down his body, the bushy happy trail and the neatly trimmed hair above his cock and his cock.Â
His little cock.Â
It is, indeed, on the smaller side. Probably one of the smallest youâve seen in real life. Three and half or four inches long, if you had to guess.Â
And itâs so pretty, cut and on the thicker side, the slightest upward curve that makes your pussy tighten around nothing.Â
You dive right in, press your nose to all the hair while you kiss at the base of him, humming when his cock twitches against the side of your face. He smells so good and clean, like always, but down here thereâs even more of that Marcus smell that always lingers beneath his soap and cologne, salty and warm.
When you drag your eyes up to him, his headâs thrown back against the pillows, not looking at you. You want him to look, you want him to see how much youâre going to enjoy this.Â
Youâll make him look, one way or another.Â
For now, you just lathe your tongue up the underside of him, then back down to tickle his balls, all the while enjoying how his prick jerks under the attention.Â
Heâs making little noises, mostly puffs of breath and gasps, and his hands twist up in the sheets beside you. You grab one of them, slow and steady, and lead it to the back of your head.Â
And then, you finally get your lips wrapped around the head of his dick, and you slowly sink down until heâs entirely in your mouth.Â
Itâs not until your nose presses against the flatness above his cock do you hear him release a strangled groan. Thatâs when you look back up at him and find him staring down, mouth agape, locked on your mouthful of him.Â
You pull back up, wiggling your tongue as you go, memorizing the ridges and hairs and veins. Your eyes are locked on his, and his are locked on your lips, so you try to give him a show.Â
You open your mouth and stick out your tongue, nod your head up and down to let his cockhead tickle your tastebuds. A gruff noise leaves him, hearty and hoarse, and you want to smile but youâre not in a position to.Â
Instead, you flick your tongue against that little band of tissue just under his slit, and his hips stutter as his grip on the back of your head tightens.Â
âFuck, sweetheart.â
Now you do smile, your lips upturned against the head of his cock, and it jerks against your mouth while you kiss it, until you envelop it once more.Â
You hum around him, at the weighted feeling of him occupying your mouth, how smooth it feels against your tongue and how nice it is to take him all the way in and not gag or choke or drool.Â
It makes your cunt ache, makes you crave him even more, makes you want to be full of him everywhere.Â
You reach a hand down to touch yourself. Youâre still dripping, can feel it all slipping from your entrance and cooling your skin in the air conditioning. Youâve had just enough time to recover from the mess Marcus made of you. Youâre sensitive but not too sensitive, when you trace your clit with your fingertips and moan around the mouthful of cock.Â
âOh fuck, are you touching yourself?â
Your eyes flicker open and look up to him. Heâs clenching his jaw, grinding his teeth as his nostrils flare. You hum and nod your head to answer, his cock slipping back and forth through the ring of your lips. He whimpers, and his head tips back against the mattress again, and it makes you speed up the efforts on both him and yourself.Â
He curses, soft little chants, kneading the back of your neck in his big hand as you suck him in over and over. You close your eyes and lose yourself in it for a bit, the way he slips so easily in and out, the way his hips move just a little, like heâs trying not to but he canât help it. The sounds, his grunts and your sloppy mouth and your fingers working over your slick folds.Â
He says your name.Â
You hum, use your free hand to play with the fuzzy skin of his balls.Â
He says your name again, and this time itâs urgent, almost panicked.Â
âSweetheart, stop, please.â
You do, immediately. You open your mouth wide and let him fall from your lips and unhand him while you look at his exerted face.Â
âAre you okay?â
He huffs, and his cock bobs beside your face.Â
âIâm so okay. I justâ did you want me toâŠ? Itâs okay if you donât, I just didnât want it to be overââ
âMarcus.âÂ
His heated babbling stops as he clamps his mouth shut. His broad shoulders lift and drop with his heading breath.
âDo you want to fuck me?âÂ
You smooth your hands across the scattered hair on his thighs when you ask. His prick twitches again at your question.Â
âIâ Yeah. Yes. I do.â
He looks almost guilty about it, with his wide eyes and the bashful expression spreading across his face.Â
âI want you to fuck me so bad,â you tell him, âIâve wanted it for way too long.â
His breath leaves him in a shuddery exhale, something like relief or awe.Â
âYeah? You still want it?âÂ
His hand skates from the back of your neck to your jaw, his thumb brushing the apple of your cheek.Â
âPlease, Marcus. Give it to me.âÂ
You turn your head to kiss his thumb, a sloppy little peck before you take it into your mouth. You smile around it when he groans, and bite it before it slips away.Â
âCan you get on the edge of the bed for me?âÂ
You can, but not without throwing a cheeky âyes sirâ his way. Youâre not sure if the noise he makes is from arousal or a lack of amusement, but there will be plenty of time to explore that later.Â
For now, you do as he says. You scoot so your ass is just about to fall off the side of his bed. The wooden bed frame is the perfect height to rest your heels on, and as Marcus slips a pillow under your head, youâre as comfortable as ever.
The mattress dips when he gets up to stand in front of you. The lamplight from the nightstand is really doing things for him. The slight sheen of sweat on his chest glistens, as does the wetness at his temples where his hair is starting to curl up. All those lean muscles have never been more apparent than they are now, the golden glow creating beautiful shadows across his naked body.Â
Heâs so hot.Â
It doesnât help that his big, warm hands snake up your bare thighs as he gets between them. His small dick stands at attention, pointing toward the ceiling, and you feel your pussy spasm with anticipation.Â
âPlease,â you whisper.Â
He nods, steps closer as you spread your legs wider and wiggle even further off the bed.Â
âPerfect, sweetheart.â
He leans over you with one hand on the bed to brace himself. The other is wrapped firmly around the base of his cock, and he looks down to watch it as he glides it through your slit.Â
âAre you ready?â
You nod and hum your affirmative. He takes the go-ahead and his cockhead slides across your clit, down, so slowly, until it catches on the rim of your hole and you both gasp at the feeling.Â
You look down to watch too, lifting up on your elbows to see the moment your pussy lets him sink inside, fluttering around him, engulfing his prick one inch at a time.Â
You knew it. You fucking knew his cock was perfect but still youâre shocked at the way the curve makes him drag across your upper wall. And when his hips are flush with yours, all that pressure is concentrated at that bundle of nerve endings inside of you, and youâre going to lose your mind if he doesnât move.
âOh fuck.â
You let yourself flop back in the bed, but reach for his hand thatâs supporting his weight. Your nails scrabble for purchase against the skin of his wrist as you curse again, your walls contracting around him as you tense.Â
âFuck, Marcus, please.â
Youâre so far past caring about how desperate you sound. You need him, the textbook definition of it; itâs an absolute necessity that he fucks you.Â
He curses, and you realize youâve closed your eyes. When you open them, his jaw is hanging and heâs looking at you, your face, like itâs something heâs never seen before. Like heâs shocked youâre here in front of him.Â
But his hips are still, and youâre helpless to the way your own cant up to urge him, and finally heâs pulling back out. The slow drag against the most tender spot inside you rips a noise from your throat, involuntary. He pulls almost all the way out, until the head of his dick is kissing your opening and you can feel how he stretches the tight ring of muscles.Â
And then in again, almost as slowly, and youâre already out of breath. The feeling steals all the wind from your lungs. Itâs setting you on fire, perfect friction against just the right spot, the one thatâs still tender and alight from your previous orgasm.Â
âItâs so fucking good,â you manage to choke out.Â
Marcus moans above you, and his hips snap into you, and his free hand finds your waist so he can dig his nails into your flesh.Â
âIt is, fuck, sweetheart, youâre so fucking good.â
A bead of sweat drips from his nose and lands on your belly, and that seems to make you snap out of it.Â
âFuck me. Fuck me hard, please, make me come.â
You watch his mouth quirk up into a pretty smirk, dimples on full display.Â
âYes maâam.â
Your giggles only last for a moment, dissolving into a high whine when he slides out of you and back in, a harsh thrust of his hips that doesnât let up.Â
He fucks you. You try to watch; itâs too hot not to. His biceps flex respectively, one with his effort to hold himself above you, and the other where he holds you in place by your waist.Â
His neck, the one vein there thatâs protruding as he bares his teeth. The way his chest is rapidly rising and falling as he drives into you. His big brown eyes, even darker now as he succumbs to the feeling of you.Â
But you just canât keep your eyes open for long. It feels too good, youâre too close to the edge. Your insides are so tender and alight from the first time you came. Every single thrust inside you is taking you apart and building your second so quickly. Your eyelids droop closed and thereâs already stars blooming behind them.Â
His little noises are louder, like this. Grunts and gasps and moans, falling over you, all for you.Â
âFuck, Iâm so close,â you warn him.
Your back arches to encourage his pace. His skin slaps into yours faster as he groans.
âThank god, me too. What do you need, sweetheart?âÂ
Without a verbal answer to his strained question, you slip your hand down to press against your throbbing clit.Â
âShit, yeah, play with your pussy for me. I wannaâ fuckâ let me see you come. Looks so gorgeous.â
His voice is thick in his throat, and you work your fingers over yourself faster. Youâre clenching wildly around him, you canât help it. Every thrust in sets your nerves on fire, almost too much, but not quite. His grunts are turning into growls, uninhibited and primal. You feel the mattress shift and open your eyes to find him standing up straight.Â
Both hands grab your hips now, and that little angle change makes him grind even harder into your g-spot, and youâre tumbling over the edge. Itâs been building under the surface for so long that when it hits, itâs blinding. Thereâs static in your toes that washes over you, up, up, dragging a fiery heat with it that consumes your center and makes your head fuzzy.Â
Thereâs screaming.Â
Youâre screaming. Your eyes are clenched so tight, as are your fingers, all your joints, your pussy, around Marcus as he fucks you through it with sloppy thrusts.Â
âThatâs it, oh my god, sweetheart, youâ fuck. Iâm gonna come, Iâmâ where?â
âIn me.â
Your throat is scratchy when you answer, and you donât have any time to elaborate on why thatâs not a bad idea. Youâre still coming, wave after wave of warmth rolling across your body, and youâre vaguely aware of how wet everything is, the sound of him fucking you even more obscene.Â
His shout doesnât quite rival yours, but you feel it when he empties inside of you. His cock jerks and and twitches, wringing out every little bit of pleasure from you, and you think youâre still coming, the pinpricks of pleasure are still too intense to be aftershocks.Â
He stays pressed as deep as he can be as his stomach convulses and his thighs shake, just like yours do where theyâve somehow wrapped around him. Your eyes open again, and the lamplight is so bright now, his breathing is so loud. He grunts and pulls out a bit, then presses back in, and again, until it falters and his whole body slumps.Â
His top half collapses onto you, his little breaths huff and tickle the tingling skin of your belly. Your own breath comes out in a weak moan, and it takes all the strength you can muster just to run your fingers through his sweaty hair.Â
âJesus,â he says.
Your name cascading off his lips in such a strung out voice that it makes you clench around him again.Â
âHuh?âÂ
God, how are you ever going to move again?Â
âYou uh⊠Is that a common occurrence?â
Christ, why is he using such big words?Â
âWhat are you talking about?âÂ
He clears his throat.Â
âYou likeâ You squirted?â
You laugh, one delirious huff. It makes his head rock on your jiggling belly.Â
âI what?â
You gather the will to look down at him. His mouth is open, surprised and amused, and his eyes are shiny and bright.Â
âYeah, like, a lot.â
Heâs still inside you but softening, and his own chuckles make him slip out.Â
You lift up on your elbows as he stands up straight and the evidence is clear. The hair above his dick and high on his thighs is all dark and soaked.Â
âOh my god, Iâm so sorry.â
The sheets on the edge of the bed are absolutely ruined, and you pray heâs one of those men that has a mattress protector. Youâre more than a little mortified, and the way heâs staring at you, silent, is beginning to make you squirmy.
âWhat?âÂ
âWhy do you seem so surprised?â
His fingertips are feather-light across your thighs, and you shiver.Â
âIâve never actually⊠done that? I would have warned you.â
He makes a pained sound, and those fingertips turn into a tight grip just above your knees.Â
He doesnât speak up. Instead, he lies on the bed beside you. He holds himself by his elbow, but that hand strokes your scalp while the other traces up and down your thigh, your hips, your breasts, anything he can reach. You avoid the topic at hand to relax into it, and you think youâre finally coming down as that boneless feeling washes over you.Â
Youâre vaguely aware of his cum dripping out of you, but the sheets are a lost cause anyway. You just watch his lax face, the way the wrinkles in his brow are all smoothed out, the way his eyes follow the patterns heâs drawing on your body.Â
He catches you staring. His gaze meets yours and he smiles and itâs sunny. It warms you through, despite all the sweat thatâs cooling on your body.Â
âHi,â he whispers.Â
You giggle, and he does too. He tries to hold it in by biting his lip, but itâs no use. You will your exhausted bones to shift and face him, and he presses his lips to yours and they meld together.
Itâs languid, unhurried, just reacquainting after too long apart. It feels a little goofy, with how youâre both smiling so wide, but it calms you into settling down after such a high.Â
Both of your breathing seems even, when you part.Â
âThat wasââ
âItâs neverââ
You both chuckle.Â
âLadies first.â
You feel shy now. You canât imagine why, but a fluttery feeling overtakes your stomach.Â
âI was just gonna say⊠That was better than all those times I imagined it.â
You didnât think it was possible, but his smile grows even wider. His eyes flicker from yours to the sheets between you, and you think maybe he feels as bashful as you do.Â
âItâs never been that good.â
A sigh escapes him when he speaks, and his nervous gaze lands on you when his face falls into something more earnest.Â
It takes your breath away. Because itâs never been that good for you either, and isnât that such a perfect coincidence?
You tug him to you by the back of his neck, eat up the surprised little sound he makes against your mouth.Â
âWhen can we go again?â
#Pedro pascal#Pedro pascal x reader#Pedro pascal smut#Pedro pascal fanfiction#Pedro pascal characters#x reader#marcus pike#marcus pike x reader#marcus pike smut#the mentalist
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can you do rough g!p kate bishop??
BOYFRIEND
PAIRINGS: Kate bishop x reader
WORD COUNT: 1,149
WARNINGS: smut, cheating (R had a husband), kitchen sex, breeding, Kate has a dick, being caught, blood kink, knife kink, use of knives, kinda playboy!Kate, degrading, praise kink, think thatâs all :)
NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!
Your walls clamped tightly around the younger womanâs cock as she drove into you, forcing her hand over your mouth in order to silence your loud moans. Your eyes squeezed shut while your body continued to rock back and forth, her smirk only bringing you more annoyance combined with a sick pleasure. Your husband was sleeping a singular room away, your body being placed on the cold counter of the kitchen as Kate stood in front of you. Her clothes had been discarded previously along with yours, creating a small pile of fabric by her feet but neither of you could care less about the mess.
âYou need to be quiet, slut. Werenât you just worrying about him hearing you?â She muttered in a hushed tone, yet you could still hear it loud and clear as the words seeped into your mind, the degrading nickname sending you into spirals. She picked up on this.
âAwh, you like it when Daddy tells you how bad you are? You must fucking love it, I can feel you clenching around me.â She moaned lowly, goosebumps traveling across her body as a chill went down her spine. You werenât the first to be panting beneath her, but you were definitely her favorite sight out of all.
âCâmon, tell me, tell me how much you love it.â She removed her hand from your face, and before you could even process what she had done, whimpers were escaping you faster than the speed of light.
âI-I love it, Daddy.â She slapped your cheek, causing the rising tears to suddenly fall onto the now reddened skin.
âYou love what, baby?â You threw your head back, hands fumbling to find her biceps as you held onto her for dear life. Her grip landed on your thighs as she held you firmly, her face close as she created marks of her arrival on your neck.
âI love it when- fuck! I love it when you treat me like a bitch, wanna be your slut.â She groaned, chuckling darkly in response. You shouldâve never let her back in, but when she came to your door late at night after sending you a quick yet truthful âI miss youâ message, you knew there was no hope. You felt so shameful for acting on such sins, but it felt so heavenly when her cock would tear you up in ways your husband could never do.
Thatâs when it all started, her pinning you to the wall as she groped you through the loose pajamas you had worn for your partner, only to receive a small compliment before he went to bed, not even registering what you were ensuing or just not wanting it. Kate would never. Sheâd never miss an opportunity to worship your body in all the ways he failed to do. She thought, no, knew he was a fucking idiot for not falling to his knees and begging to make sweet love to you right then and there, so it was her job to make up for it.
âMaybe Iâll get you on your knees to suck me off like a dirty whore. Youâd like that, wouldnât you?â You nodded sharply, placing your chin on her shoulder as she inhaled your scent. It was her favorite perfume, the one she bought you during her shopping spree where only you were on her mind, resulting in thousands of dollars worth of clothing, expensive jewelry, and slutty lingerie, none that were meant for your husband's eyes.
She fluttered her eyes open as her sight landed on a knife holder placed on the same counter you were just on, now you were in her arms and it was even better.
âHereâs the deal, baby,â She started. âYouâre gonna cum all over my cock and in return, Iâm gonna fill up this pretty cunt. Then, Iâm gonna take that knife, and âima carve my name on your beautiful body. So whenever Steve wants to fuck you, heâll see that youâre all mine.â There was a part of you that feared the pain sheâd cause, but the other side of you craved it. You craved her touch, whether it was sweet or painful, you wanted it all.
âPlease- need your babies, Daddy.â You pulled on her long, black hair that caused an ache in her scalp, but she didnât mind. Your feet dug into her ass, your legs around her waist starting to become sore.
âIâll make you a Mommy, baby girl, I fucking promise.â She grabbed the sharp object, now holding your entire weight in just one arm. Her strength had always amazed you.
The blade sunk into you, causing you to let out a silent scream. She bit her lip as blood seeped out of you, droplets landing on the counter and floor. It hurt so bad, but it felt so good.
âYou doing okay?â She asked in the heat of the moment, and you could feel the care she held for you, creating a puddle of warmth in your heart.
âYeah, ju-just keep goingâŠplease?â She didnât give a worded response, only continuing as you asked. You looked down, noticing the letter being carved into your soft skin. It was a K, and you realized there would be no hiding it from Steve. This was it. This was the moment when everything would change for better or for worse.
Her thrusts werenât as fast but exchanged for a deep, powerful desire. She didnât want to ruin her creation, she wanted it to be perfect, itâs what you deserved.
âNothing but the best for my princess.â She admired her work before disposing of the knife, letting her thumb brush over the open wound. Now she could fulfill her promise, now she could release her finish deep inside of you like both of you had been wanting for months now. Ever since you two slept together for the first time, it all changed. You couldnât get enough of one another, youâd grown addicted as if she was some sort of drug, a highly illegal drug that is.
âCum.â A small phrase did so much as your release instantly hit, bringing Kate even closer. She wasnât letting you go, not even when her thrusts stilled in response to her cum filling you up, a few drops leaking out of you and joining the mess on the floor.
âTake it. Fucking take it, whore.â You choked out a sob as you felt your womb being filled to the brim, just like she planned.
âI hope you get pregnant, just so I can show that bitch youâre mine.â There was a small moment of silence between the two of you, the only sound being your shared pants and your winces whenever she brushed over your torn skin.
âY/N? Honey, is that you?â You both shared a look of fear when the deep voice was heard.
âShit.â
#kate bishop x reader fluff#kate bishop fluff#kate bishop x fem!reader#kate bishop x y/n#kate bishop x female reader#kate bishop smut#kate bishop x reader smut#kate bishop x reader#kate bishop#kate bishop angst#kate bishop x you#kate bishop x gender neutral reader#hawkeye x reader smut#hawkeye x you#hawkeye#hawkeye x gender neutral reader#hawkeye x reader#hawkeye x y/n
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talk to me
pairing: matthew sturniolo x reader
summary: matt knows you too well, especially when you arenât being yourself
a/n: this was a request but i kinda gave it a little more plot :)
you didât know what happened, really. one moment you were sitting on the couch at the tripletsâ watching tiktoks aimlessly on your phone, and the next you were uncontrollably crying and shaking - to a person from an outside perspective, it might have seemed as if you had just fallen into frozen cold water, but you hadnât. it was just your mind playing foolish tricks on you.
see, you and matt have been dating for a while - and you trusted him, so much - but this was a rare occurrence where your mind was doubting what it believed so thoroughly.
amongst the many tiktoks you had scrolled passed that night, one of them seemed to blur the vision of whatever in your head kept you thinking straight - it was a tiktok of matt⊠obviously, with a girl who seemed so so much younger than you suggesting that matt and some random influencer had been secretly dating.
the video had intense details, and things not even a mastermind would have thought to put together - which is probably what made you believe it - it suggested that matt and this influencer had met at taraâs party a while back, and displayed evidence of matt and her started liking each otherâs posts not too long after the date of party.
now you werenât one to usually believe these things, but it was so unrealistically possible, that your mind decided to play tricks on you, and thereâa a high probability that your lack of sleep the previous night did not help.
matt was currently out with his brothers, filming a late night car video, and the shitty thing was that even if he wasnât out - you couldnât never get yourself to talk to him about something like this. you loved him so much that the possibility of him taking it the wrong way was too much to risk.
so when matt came back home later that night, and your mind was still racing, you had ultimately decided to suck everything up - but he knew you, maybe even a little too well, and when he noticed you werenât laughing to his jokes as hard as you usually do, and that you werenât as excited for the mcdonaldâs he brought you home that night, he just knew something was up.
so he laid beside you on the couch when both nick and chris had gone down to their rooms for the night and asked you a simple question⊠which may have just sent you downhill.
âhey, whatâs up? somethingâs wrong, i can tell.â
and with that, you broke down. anxiety flooding through your body, causing you to shake and stutter trying to respond to his question. in attempt to act like you were just fine, you failed. miserably.
âno-nothing. iâm- why?â
and with that he let out a harmless chuckle, purely to the fact you thought that he would believe your stuttering mess of a sentence.
âcâmon, angel. something's wrong.â
âyou can take your time, just talk to me. please, i donât want to go to bed worrying about you.â
your mind was moving fast. very fast. but you knew he wouldnât drop it unless you told him exactly what was bothering you and what he could do to help.
âi just- i may or may not have seen a tiktok- god this sound so stupid-â he cut you off the second those words left your mouth.
âhey no, nothing you say is stupid, just tell meâ
âto be clear, i am fully aware you arenât cheating on me- but there was a tiktok and it suggested you and some influencer were dating and iâve just been dying all night thinking how i would actually survive without you if that ever happened and- i donât actually know, i just panicked.â
his eyes widened at the word âcheatingâ, and then softened when he realized you were just overthinking, and then turned into this type of frowny shape when he thought of you having to doubt his never-ending love for you.
he didnât know where to start from, so he just didnât think about anything and let his heart speak.
âoh angel, you donât ever ever ever have to worry about anything like that. i am so so so lucky to have you in my life, let alone call you mine, why would i ever trade that for anything else?and you know i understand more than anything that your anxiety is speaking right now, but please donât worry so much over a tiktok made by some girl whoâs probably twelve years old. if you donât mind, can i see the video please?â
and with that you showed him the tiktok, the look on his face as confused as yours the first time that you had seen the video.
âi have never seen that girl in my life, angel, you can go through my phone if you want to feel better, but i promise you i havenât.â
but there was no need to go through anyoneâs phone - you trusted matt with your whole being, and now you yourself are doubting why you didnât just a few minutes ago.
âno, matt,â you let out a slight breathy laugh âi trust you. iâm sorry, i think I just panicked, i donât even know what was going through my head.â
matt made a gesture with his head, silently asking if he could hug you. you just put your weight onto him and he caught you with his warm handstand reciprocated the hug.
âyouâre good, sweetheart.â he kissed the top of your head, and picked you up swiftly in one motion moments after, carrying you to his room.
#matt sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#chris sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#nick sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#emssturniolo !#chris sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo x reader
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